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thesunisatangerine · 1 year ago

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against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part six

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit descriptions of violence, blood, and death

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 3.3k

You had to get out of there.

Tremors shook the ground as another shell made impact somewhere far to your right but it was close enough that the explosion left your ears ringing. You flattened your back further against the fallen wall behind you when you heard the unmistakeable sound of gunfire, the rubble that cut into your skin barely registered in your mind from the adrenaline that rushed through you. But the cacophony of noise amalgamated into something continuous, something malevolent and cruel; something that promised death in its wake.

Bullets embedded themselves in a column, a wall, a body–everywhere–and fine pieces of debris flew and pelted against the exposed skin of your cheeks and against your helmet. Your eyes watered from the fine powder of pulverised cement and the oppressive heat, while your lungs were smothered by smoke and a choking stench–something like freshly-laid asphalt mixed with the distinct, rancid smell of burnt human flesh, sulphuric and sharp.

Through lidded eyes you witnessed the depravity; the extent of humanity’s appetite for senseless destruction and anarchy. It was total chaos–no, it was worse than that: it was butchery and brutality at its finest; a type of hell on earth.

All around you were bodies upon bodies, men and women alike–children. Their faces, frozen and pallid, permanently bore imprints of terror and agony; their crooked fingers and still eyes fixated to the sky imploring in violent judgment–resentful and anguished in their silence–the unspoken question:

Why?

Everything overwhelmed you all at once: the sight and the smell made your stomach churn to no end. Even when you heaved the remnants of your stomach to the ground, the nausea remained, pulsing and gnawing.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you brought your camera to your eye and you willed the shaking in your bones to still.

You took a shot.

Another round of bullets splattered to a nearby wall and this time, you threw yourself front-first to the ground and you felt the rhythm of your heart reverberating against the mud. And a sinking feeling hit you. You’d bore witness to many conflicts, faced mortal peril, and was familiar to death like it was an old friend. Each time you were in such a situation, hopelessness never got the better of you–it was like you’d always known you were going to make it out each time.

This time it was different, you could feel it in your bones. You were going to die here and it wasn’t a matter of if, just when and how.

But you had a job. If you were going to die, you would die being the mouthpiece for the ones who’d already been silenced–from their premature deaths or from the hand of the power meant to protect them or both–to show the world what they’d suffered, what they’d sacrificed.

With that in mind, you steeled yourself. You loaded your camera with another ring of film, fingers stiff from the cold and marred by blood and mud, and you captured the scene.

Repeat.

There were people screaming, running, clamouring for survival. As you moved with them, you kept an eye out for other survivors who needed help to get out of there. You scanned the faces for the familiar ones of Jones and Gilda but they were nowhere to be seen. You’d lost track of them after the initial explosion and the chaos that followed so the only thing you could do now was to look for them as you went and hope for their safety.

Meter by meter, inch by inch, you moved slowly away from the direction of gunfire. You were farther ahead now but the gunners were still dangerously close, still close enough to be able to catch up to where you were if they continued their pursuit, so you remained crouched and cautious for any sound that could indicate danger.

When you came across the rubble of a fallen building–freshly destroyed by artillery from the smoke that came from it–you heard a whimper. It startled you; the softness of the sound barely pierced through the ringing in your ear but when you peered under a slab of concrete braced by a rugged beam, you caught sight of a scene that shattered what was left of your heart.

In the shadows, big eyes that you could not mistaken belonged to a child shone with terror, a little girl that looked no more than ten years of age, her mouth partly open in fear. You could discern another person next to the child but they weren’t moving at all and from the blood smeared on the girl’s cheek, you had a sinking feeling that the other person was dead.

Gunfire echoed somewhere behind you and you flinched at its closeness. How did they get so close so fast? You needed to get the both of you out of there. If you could save this child’s life then maybe, just maybe, your life was worth something after all.

You raised both of your hands up and spoke gently, hoping the little girl would be able to understand that you were there to help as you stooped to fit through the gap. The child hesitated and receded further back into the rubble so you tried again as you inched closer to where the other person laid unresponsive, patient despite the ever-closing sound of shots being fired.

You reached the other person–a woman–and when you placed two fingers against her pulsepoint and found no rhythm, you bit your quivering lip and looked at the child, chest heavy. And as if the little girl finally understood that you meant no harm, she inched towards you and placed her small hand in your open one. With a firm yet gentle grip on the girl, you guided the both of you out of the rubble.

Once outside, you carried the little girl behind a wall, heart breaking when you felt her shiver and at the fact that it took little effort carry to her for she weighed so little. And now with light and cover, you inspected the little girl.

To your relief, other than the trail of flaking blood that originated from the crown of her head and on her cheeks, the little girl looked like she didn’t sustain any other physical injuries. Satisfied for the time being you began to tend to her, gave her water and what little food you had on you, and then wiped away the blood.

After she finished, you detached the velcro of your bulletproof vest and unbuckled your helmet before you put them on the little girl. Then you hoisted the girl up on your back, leaving your camera dangling heavily on your chest.

You managed to sneak across the district without being noticed but you knew the danger was never far away. A little farther on, you began to recognise key landmarks that let you know you were close to the base you came from. So even when the muscles in your legs protested for you to rest, you pushed on.

Not a moment later though did loud shots fill the air and immediately, you fell to the ground, feeling fine rubble and shrapnels cut into the side you landed on as you manoeuvred your body so that the child wouldn’t get hurt. The little girl cried out and adrenaline coursed through your veins, instinct driving you to keep the child safe so you pushed the two of you against a nearby wall, your back to the open space while you shielded the child with your body, her head safely caged between your arms and chest.

You craned your head over your shoulders to figure out where the shots were fired but then a feeling of lightness passed through you followed by a growing thickness at the back of your throat. You coughed, the force of it made you keel forward, and as you looked down you saw fresh blood splattered on the face of the girl, her eyes wide with horror as she looked up at you.

Then you felt it, a burning sensation that enveloped the entirety of your right side which left you cold. When you looked to your side your shirt clung to your skin, soaked with blood.

No.

You sputtered again and you tried to breathe but the pain only intensified and instead of feeling relief, the act smothered you–it felt like you were drowning. Then everything began to blend together: the shapes lost their edges and some images doubled, but the light seemed to intensify on its own, swallowing all in its wake. Then you sagged forward and the ringing in you ears, too, blared unceasingly.

No.

You must…

The child…

Wait.

Alexia–

“–are you okay?”

You started as Derek’s voice brought you from your reverie, your mind someplace else that you’d already forgotten but the feeling that you were missing something important lingered behind in the back of your mind.

“Huh?”

“Honey, your brother’s been trying to get your attention for the past minute. Are you alright?” The familiar voice of your mom brought your focus to her. She sat at the head of the long table while Derek opposite you, and you found twin pairs of blue eyes looking at you with concern. Your mom stood, chair scraping against the tiled floor as she did and she made her way towards you. She put a palm over your forehead once she was close enough before she asked, “do you have a fever?”

“Mom, I’m fine. I’m just–” You began but suddenly, a wave of exhaustion came over you which left you cold. It was as if a sheet of ice was put over you and you felt the coldness cling to your bones, weighing you down as your body slowly began to freeze over. “I’m–I’m just tired. I think I’ll rest up now.”

When you moved to stand, staggering slightly due to the weakness in your knees, Derek snatched your hands and clung to them, and you looked at him in alarm, eyes wide.

“Please, don’t. Don’t.” He said through gritted teeth, the corners of his mouth drooped low in a pained grimace, blue eyes glazed over and brows furrowed in a silent plea.

His obsecration confused you and you were about to ask him why you shouldn’t rest if you felt tired when your mother placed a hand on your shoulder, her grip gentle yet firm. You turned to her and when you found her gaze, she wore the same expression as your brother.

“You’re brother’s right, honey. Just–please, just stay with us for a bit more.”

What was going on? Why weren’t they letting you go?

Another wave of fatigue doused over you but this time, pain erupted from your chest. So intense was it that it nearly made you keel over the table, nails digging into its hard surface as you tried to catch your breath but with each inhale the more it felt like you were running out of air.

“I’ll–I’ll join you in a bit. I just… I just need a nap.” You staggered to your feet, pulling your hands away from Derek’s grip with the remaining strength you had and brushed off your mom’s protest.

As you passed the full-body mirror just beside your bedroom door, you saw your reflection, haggard and pale, and with her were the familiar silhouettes of the people that haunted you… your mother and father. They stood there behind you–your mother to your right and your father to the left–but you only found an empty space where they stood when you whipped your head back to look for them.

So there you stood, rooted in front of the mirror as you soaked their images in but for some reason, your couldn’t quite discern their faces. They were blurred; it was as if someone had swiped their thumb over the freshly laid ink of their image and made their features indecipherable.

Longing prompted you to reach out a hand to try and trace the lost edges of their faces but instead of meeting the mirror’s smooth surface like you expected, your fingers sank into the mirror like it was made of water. Quickly, in fear that it would hurt you, you retracted your hand and you watched in awe as the mirror image went still again, back to the reflection of yourself and your parents.

Then out of curiosity you plunged your hand again into the mirror and instead of feeling pain, you felt… nothing. The sensations in your hand in the mirror stopped as if it had ceased to exist completely.

Would it soothe then the pain in your body if you stepped into it?

The thought tempted you and you stepped forward, ready to sink into this silver miracle, but something stopped you–a weight on your shoulder pulled you back from the mirror. You staggered backwards, caught off guard from the force of it, but when you looked back you found nobody however this time, when you returned your attention to the mirror, the reflection of your parents was gone.

Emotions bubbled in your throat, bitter grief and burning confusion a familiar taste on your tongue. Where did they go? Why did they leave you? And as these questions filtered through your mind, another wave of exhaustion doused over you, its weight was unbearable. You needed relief, and soon.

You were ready to step into the mirror–into oblivion–but it wasn’t there anymore. In fact, everywhere you looked there was nothing, just negative space as if the light had dissolved all existence but you. You looked down and you saw your reflection on the still water you were apparently standing on.

It was so still, so peaceful, and you feel so heavy. It would be easy to just sink into this blissful nothingness–this silence–after… that’s right, after having witnessed the revolting boil of humanity’s thirst for blood. Yes, that was it, the reason you were here: you were here to forget.

The longer you stared into the water, the more your will to remain standing frayed.

Not a moment later, you let yourself be plunged downwards into the cold water. Into nothingness.

You woke with a start, breathing sharply as you did, the sensation of falling still with you and the memory of the dream you just had lingered. It was about… what was it?

When you opened your eyes, you found golden light and you squinted at the stream of the early sun that found its way through the gap between the heavy curtains. Your cheek was warm against Alexia’s bare back and you relished the way her muscles shifted beneath her skin as she breathed, still deep asleep.

With her so close like this a sense of peace and calm washed over you, the kind that only Alexia’s presence could provide. You turned your head slightly and shifted closer to her, pressing a soft kiss on one of her shoulder blades before you nuzzled the nape of her neck where her scent was most prominent.

You sighed as you breathed her in.

“What are you up to back there?” Alexia’s voice, rough and heavy from slumber, met your ears and the question elicited a small laugh from you.

“Nothing. Just getting comfortable.”

Alexia hummed then she murmured, “come here.”

You moved as she began to turn and disappointment filled you from the separation but when she pulled you into her embrace after she settled on her back, the disappointment quickly faded away. And when she kissed you, soft and languid, everything melted away except for the tender warmth of Alexia’s lips.

You were content.

Suddenly, a gnawing feeling seeped into the edges of your mind and, little by little by little, apprehension filled you. There was something you’d forgotten, somewhere you needed to be.

You pulled away from Alexia’s lips. “What time is it?”

“Don’t go.”

Her answer jarred you. You lifted yourself up on your elbow and considered Alexia, confused as to why she would say such a thing. She knew you had to go. How could you not go? Where else could you possibly be? So you asked her as much.

“No, you don’t have to. Please.” Alexia placed a hand on your cheek, her eyes glassy. You sighed, turned your cheek away from her touch, and extricated yourself from her warm embrace. You stood at the foot of the bed and regarded Alexia again who was now sitting up, the sheets pooled around her waist, her chest bare, shoulders hunched forward as she looked at you. You only shook your head before you went into the en suite bathroom to get ready.

Once you got in the shower you, unsurprisingly, thought of Alexia and your confusion returned twofold. Why was she making this difficult? She knew you had to go. You already told her…

At that thought, you frowned as you tried to remember. When did you tell her? Why did you need to leave? The questions were beginning to make your head hurt so you left the shower, wrapped yourself in a towel and headed to the closet. In there, you found your stack of simple white clothes. You picked a white shirt and a matching pair of jeans and you made your way to the bedroom door.

As you passed by the bed, you saw Alexia just as you left her and from where you stood, you saw how small she looked. And those eyes… they shone with something you could only name as plea, the tears in them now in danger of falling.

Your chest ached and so did your head.

You shook your head and made your way to Alexia, pressed an apologetic kiss against her temples, then you moved to the door.

You opened it and an abyss greeted you, a world of no outlines, shape nor colour, just a brilliant white that called to you. Its pull was magnetic, like a tide that wanted to sweep you away, but there was something keeping you in place, an invisible tether and it was anchored to the woman sitting in your bed.

“Please, don’t go.”

You had one foot out of the door when Alexia spoke with such gentleness you couldn’t do anything but look over your shoulder. The sight of her crying made the pounding in your temples unbearable and the pain in your chest blazed anew, excruciating and cruel. The world blurred and warmth slipped down your cheeks.

Why were you crying? Why was this difficult? You had to leave, you were about to miss something important.

“Alexia, why?” You sobbed, clutching your chest. It hurt.

She was out of the bed now, right beside you, and she reached out and cupped your face with one hand, the other went to your hand on the door handle. Her touch that used to soothe you, that used to bring you peace and clam, sent pain to every nerve in your body. You gasped, your chest was in danger of bursting and your knees lost their strength. And then you remembered why you needed to leave: you needed this pain to disappear; you had to get better.

Finally, your knees buckled under your weight but Alexia was there to catch you, her body strong and firm, and oh, so warm.

“Alexia, please let me go,” you sobbed into her arms.

Everything hurt. But she held you, unyielding.

“Stay. Please, stay with me,” she whispered in your ear and the words were followed by another wave of pain. This time, you screamed in agony and clawed at Alexia’s shoulders to get yourself away but still, she didn’t budge.

“I got you. I got you. I got you,” she repeated as every nerve in your body screamed at you. Everything coalesced into a singular, never-ending noise but Alexia’s voice pierced through the veil like a silver lining, a life line that you held onto as you were washed away into an ocean of light.

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n: sometimes it just hits you: the magnitude of man's madness. where does it stop? when? who will pay? why?#cant think anymore right now but let me know what you think about the story so far #apologies for the mistakes i wrote this in sleep deprived mode ill fix them later #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

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royalelusts · 1 year ago

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collegestudent!choso who gets paired with you for a project

collegestudent!choso who absolutely hates the class the project is for and finds the whole ordeal tedious but then you come in with two cups of coffee and make everything a little better

collegestudent!choso who notices the dark circles and bags that form under your eyes from the noisy dorm next to yours

collegestudent!choso who offers for you to sleep over at his apartment in his guest room

“I don’t have a roommate so it’s fine.”

collegestudent!choso who lets you borrow a shirt when you finally decide to come over. the shirt that absolutely consumes you because of his bigger frame

collegestudent!choso whose apartment is just cool enough for you to nap comfortably without freezing

collegestudent!choso who slowly grows used to your presence in his apartment

collegestudent!choso who starts missing when you aren’t there

collegestudent!choso who gives you a spare key just in case you need a nap and he isn’t there

collegestudent!choso who slowly starts to join your naps. his surprisingly muscular arms wrapping around you while your head rests on his chest.

collegestudent!choso who hates his class just a little less now because of this

#✰—writes!!!#choso x reader #choso x black!reader #choso drabbles #choso fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x black!reader #jjk drabbles #jjk fluff #choso’s sleepy ass is on the brain right now #this is not proofread at all

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morgana-ren · 1 year ago

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On the subject of cheating…. How do you think Astarion would react to a dark urges Tav who doesn’t show any disapproval towards him for infidelity but does try to brutally murder all of his other flings

I can’t reconcile if he would be upset about them having too much agency in this situation and stop it or just into Tav being possessive of him in the way he’s possessive of them

He wakes to the pleasant and unmistakable tang of blood.

It's not uncommon for Astarion to greet the morning steeped in the sweet, saccharine scent of blood. Not at all. In fact, it's most welcome upon first waking, ranking among a deep, rich brandy and defiled silk sheets for his favorites. A metallic bouquet of a lovely, robust breakfast just begging to be supped on, just for him. If you were to ask him, there's truly nothing finer in the world.

An indulgent inhale has him sitting up, slipping a lazy hand through his hair and tongue running over his fangs as his mouth waters. The pit of hunger gnawing at his gut isn't quite so terrible as it used to be when he was but a filthy spawn, but he wouldn't ever deny himself the decadence of breakfast served up to him in bed.

The source of the delectable scent lies flopped over on the opposite side of the mattress, and he glances over with sleepy, hazy eyes to admire the sight. Her long, silky hair splays raggedly over her face, one of her arms limply hanging off the edge in what cannot be a comfortable position. The sheet haphazardly wrapped around her only scantly covers her rear, and by proxy, the sloppy mess he'd made between her thighs a few hours prior.

Clearly, he'd worn her clean out.

He chuckles; he can't help it. He's almost proud of himself-- if it wasn't so commonplace, that is. It's so terribly difficult for these weak and paltry little things to keep up with his kingly stamina, and he cannot begrudge the delicate humans that end up beneath him for losing consciousness.

Still! It's time to wake up, as he's remarkably hungry and he will not go another second without sinking his fangs into her swan-like neck.

"Darling, you sucked me dry and left me ravenous," He reaches for her, tracing a teasing claw up the dotted curve of her spine. "It would be positively unacceptable to leave me in such a state before you go."

She doesn't respond to his sentiment, and so after several seconds of testing his patience, he prods at her upper arm, eventually resorting to jostling her lightly with his hand, pinching her flesh between his clawed fingers--

--and it's only then that he realizes that her skin is ice to the touch, and he cannot feel her chest move with her breath in his palm. While that is entirely normal for him, it's not normal for small human women.

The sharp aroma of blood is far too palpable, even for his palace.

His red eyes truly focus on the girl contorted in his sheets for the first time: Her skin far too pallid, her stench far more enticing than it had been hours ago. His hand goes to brush the hair from her face, and there's a slick, wet feeling between his fingers as he does.

He is hit with the subtle yet bitter scent of freshly dying blood. Something that is usually sequestered only to beings beginning a state of decay. Something that should not be in his bed.

Unsettling, he thinks, but mostly irritating. Dead, hmm? He's almost certain he didn't kill this one on accident. Fairly certain. He callously rolls the woman's dead weight onto her back, frowning as he's met with a scene that he's quite certain he couldn't have done accidentally.

What was her throat is now a gaping maw of blood and bone-shine, scraps of gore clearly ripped out from inside. Her mouth-- or what is barely left of it-- is twisted in an eternal wordless scream, her face eternally contorted in some unseen horror. Her lovely eyes are wide and frozen in terror, unblinking and milky. Upon further inspection of her body, there is a hole where he assumes her still-beating heart had once been, clawed savagely free from her ribs by some brutal, unrelenting force.

He scowls, needling his lower lip with his teeth. It's a shame, he thinks with an exasperated sigh. He's sure was a beauty before all of this.

Another vicious, deadly beauty clearly demands his attention now, and he pushes the dead whore off the bed with an annoyed huff, snatching his long silk robe from the bedpost before affixing it around his body.

"Such a pity," He fastens the tie around his narrow waist, stepping carefully around the bedframe to stand in front of the newly made corpse with a grimace. "You were so vivacious last night, dear girl. But you're making the wrong kind of mess of my sheets, and I cannot abide that."

With a careless tug, he rips the remains of the young woman off his mattress, her mutilated body landing on the floor with an uncomfortable, wet thud. He steps over her, striding towards the door, feeling decidedly irritated. He was planning to spend a lazy afternoon in bed, but it appears something more urgent demands his immediate attention.

"Good morning, my lord--" A servant greets him just outside of his door with a sweeping bow and an expertly balanced tray. Astarion doesn't bother to look at him, instead grabbing a morning glass of wine, taking several deep swigs before finally sneering unpleasantly down at the man.

"Where is my wife?"

Another scraping bow, but Astarion doesn't stay to witness it. Rather, he takes off down the hall in search of someone more important. Someone that, he imagines, was rather busy last night after he fucked-- Hells, what was her name? He doesn't remember. Did he ever know?

"In her garden, sire."

"Right," Astarion carelessly tosses the glass back onto the floor, where it shatters to pieces. "There's a rather putrid corpse on the floor in there. Have it taken care of. I want it spotless before I return."

"Yes, my lord."

He tries to recall as he makes his way through his palace and towards the garden, and ultimately decides he doesn't care.

He finds his lovely wife right where he expects to, taking a leisurely stroll in her strangely fruitful garden. The scent of damp, rich soil permeates the air, mingling with odd, exotic flowers he has brought her and lush, fertile plants that she has coaxed into life with her hands. Blossoming organic life from nothing is not something that he imagined was in the wheelhouse of a favored child of Bhaal-- quite the opposite, really-- and yet, she seems to have nurtured a niche talent for it of late.

It irks him that she's grown somehow cold to his affections. She no longer stares at him with owlish eyes and flushing cheeks and a rapidly beating heart; rather she seems to shrug off even his most endeavored attempts at seduction with an ease that, if he didn't know for a fact that he was the most powerful and attractive man in a country mile, might hurt his pride.

She seems entirely at peace and unbothered, gently cradling a small rose between her fingertips, admiring it as it slowly blooms into a lovely, blood-red bud. The placid expression of someone either entirely unacquainted with the art of murder, or a masterful artist with it, and he knows all too well which one. As he approaches, she doesn't acknowledge him with anything other than a brief turn of her head and flick of her eyes.

"Your garden is looking lovely as always," He saddles up behind her despite her aloof silence, gingerly sliding his arms around her waist and leaning to scent along the side of her neck. "As are you, my sweet girl."

She only hums her acknowledgement, her ever-present sly semi-smile unfaltering as he speaks, still clearly far more taken with her flowers rather than his company and flatteries.

A deadly mistake for everyone other than her.

"Been busy this morning, little love?"

"Oh, only as much as usual," She gives him nothing--no guilt, no anxiety, just the hints of a mischievous, murderous smile-- as she releases the flower from between her fingers, turning instead to continue sauntering through the row. "I try to keep busy."

A quick sniff reveals all he needs to know. He doesn't need to get any closer to the freshly filled hole to smell the rancid stench rising from it. Underneath the sopping wet dirt, mingling with fertilizer and fallen leaves is the unmistakable stench of dead flesh; A muscle steeped in still blood, to be specific. Buried beneath soil alongside the foreign seeds lies what is left of the mangled heart of the woman he'd taken to bed last night, now planted in his wife's garden in some macabre ritual to sustain yet another carnivorous horror she's gotten her hands on and is now coddling into growth.

"I can see that," He croons, eying a fresh mound in the dirt, clearly freshly dug. "Is this one new?"

"Just this morning, dear," She lulls softly, a barely discernible playful edge to her voice. "Newly planted."

Dozens more peculiar vines twist up from the ground in various states of growth in nice, even spaces carefully organized into rows. Under the lively essence of plants and sticky-sweet flowers is the painfully apparent stench of decay and rot; Months and months of the still-lingering scent of blood of all the lovers he'd taken, turning spoiled and foul in putrefaction in her grisly little garden. All of their lives ended preemptively by his wife with the same feral glee that a rabid mongrel must feel upon sinking its fangs into a terrified, defenseless creature.

All for daring to indulge in him.

What a senseless thing. Died so futilely and no doubt miserably at the hands of his wife, alone and panicked only feet from their powerful king, and for what? Finding their way into his bed? How absurd. Who could resist him? Who would dare? He almost pities the funeral procession of poor creatures whose hearts have become fodder for the dirt, no honoring of their lives save his consort's nursery, fed and weaned on their innards. Their final moments belong to his insatiable wife's ruthless bloodlust through no fault of their own, and yet--

--Something about her vicious possessiveness over him smolders in his core, igniting a twisted arousal that coils the length of his spine and constricts like a serpent until he simply cannot stop himself. Deadly, precise, perfect little wife of his, so vicious and yet so precious to him. He swears her bloodlust only serves to stoke the flame, and how he longs to devour her.

(How long has she denied him? How long has she teased and tested him, tantalizing him with memories of burying himself inside of her sweet, tight heat with merciless drive, supping from the delectable blood of her soft body, her voice crying his name like a chant to some dark God until she rips what is left of his soul clean from him to take it into herself. She would yield for no one, a primal and ferocious creature beneath the veneer of illustrious, undead beauty, and yet she would heel to only him, letting him lose himself in her warmth, her fire until he burned--)

He reaches around and whirls her to face him so that she cannot feign indifference under his scrutinizing gaze. She knows better than to fight his manhandling and allows him to spin her towards him, though she refuses to wilt under his sultry glower. Her expression remains entirely passive as his hand reaches up to take her chin between two fingers, squeezing hard enough to have her wincing.

"Another one, darling?"

"You dislike the roses?" She blinks big eyes at him, the perfect picture of innocence. She hasn't been innocent a day in her life, and today certainly isn't a start.

A part of him wishes he could remain angry-- or at least a little indignant-- about the fact that she believes she has some overarching and indisputable claim on him, but deep down, he knows that she's right; she does have a staked claim in his heart in a way no one else ever possibly could. Even as his eyes and body might stray from her, he is forced to admit time and time again that nothing compares to his wrathful little lover. The strays he shepherds into his bed don't fill the gaping hole she leaves within him in her absence, her wretched denial of him. It is only silently that he acknowledges his wayward lust is just his spiteful response to her cruel neglect.

"Don't play the fool for me, my dearest girl, you're a terrible actress. Another concubine. Another corpse in your grim little graveyard. Is calling it a well-tended monument to your jealousy perhaps too romantic?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, my love," She smiles gently, lifting a hand between their chests and up to her face, slipping a finger between her plush lips. He smells the lingering blood on it and yet he cannot take his eyes off her tongue as it curls sensually around the length of her knuckles and how immaculate it might feel on him. He cannot help himself but think just how graciously daddy Bhaal has blessed him with his beautiful daughter; How fiercely alluring it is to watch his undomesticated little monster clean up her homicidal mess.

It started as all things do: With a seed. A bladed joke bloomed into irritation and resentment. His endless libido and her cresting bloodlust come to blows over priorities. The only woman who dared to gainsay him, her lovely little hands covered in blood and the power of Bhaal coursing through her veins keeping her too wild to be truly tamed by his vampiric blessing. His appetite for domination was insatiable, as was hers.

A child of Bhaal would not be tamed-- even by him.

He craved obedience and reticence-- he craved raw reverence and worship. To be viewed with wide eyes and admiration and blind devotion from some poor, pitiful creature too weak and foolish to resist him; To be seen as a God before a miserable little mortal; For his subject to offer willingly for a chance to taste of his splendor.

It is the only thing his beloved would never give him: acknowledgement of his superiority; submitting before him, allowing him to enforce his will upon her willingly. She is a fanged and clawed creature, wild by nature, and she would not purr her praises chained at his feet. She commands respect-- even from him.

She could never play the fool for him, encouraging him to believe that she was helpless against him, or weak, or pitiful, or foolish. It would insult her pride and her lineage. She is a force of nature in her own right, and he could never truly own her without her consent-- consent she has withheld.

And so, he would tell you that he simply retaliated.

She never spared him a sour word when he teased the waters about bringing other people into their marital bed. She only smiled that damn smile of hers and told him that he can do as he wishes as the king. Hells, she hardly seemed to notice when he first took some pathetic creature into their sheets for some harmless fun. The reaction he yearned for from her, some measly sign of her devotion to him, she wickedly denied him, seemingly knowing full well the impact it had upon him.

It drove him to madness, a spiraling misery fueled by his pride. He refused to beg for her, and she would refuse to kneel before him. He came to believe that truly she did not crave him with the same veracity that he longed for her. He no longer sought her out, and she did not come seeking. Surely, if she loved him, she would show some sign, some indication of caring that his fingers caressed a pale pastiche of her rather than where they desperately longed to be: Tracing her lovely mouth, coaxing her clever tongue, circled around her neck, between her warm thighs--

--And then corpses began popping up like flowers, and his beloved suddenly took up gardening.

She grinds his patience to a fine powder, and something about that gets his fires burning hotter than it ought to. Her insouciant dismissal of him, the absurdly casual slaughter of insignificant sex partners and then having the audacity to seem almost bored of his presence. She clearly cares enough to rip the bleeding hearts out of his inconsequential conquests, and yet, here she stands, utterly unfazed by him, having the audacity to feign indifference.

"If you're jealous, my love, you only need say so," He hushes to her, batting her cheek softly as he forces her to look up at him. "You needn't kill everyone who finds their way into my bed. I would cease if you simply said the words."

"Jealous?" Her brow furrows, head cocking, her lips jutting into a little pout. "I don't know what you mean."

What he asks is simple, so dreadfully simple. So easy, so, so easy--

Acquiesce to me.

And yet, she dares to deny him even as there is blood on her hands from strangling and wringing his full attention from his lover's corpses.

The wall of the greenhouse he built for her isn't particularly comfortable, but he couldn't care less as he shoves her against it, bullying his body against hers with brutal force, slamming her head against the glass with a lightning-fast palm encircling her throat.

"Why do you insist on being such an obstinate little brat?"

She opens her mouth to reply, and he squeezes tighter in response, choking the air from her little neck and stoppering the words on her tongue. There is a flash of something in her eyes once they open again, but he isn't entirely certain which sin it's indicative of: wrath or lust, or some degenerate mix of both.

It had to be her.

"I don't know what you mean, my lord," She croaks as he allows it, her hand clasped on his wrist as he clenches the rounds of her neck. He swears he sees her lip twitch in the ghost of a smirk even as he suffocates her. He holds all the power over life and death over her, and yet she is insufferably calm.

"I warned you not to play stupid, darling. You know very well what I mean." He growls against her ear, frustration and arousal building to impossible levels. Of all the women in Toril, it had to be her-- it had to be--

"Admit it," He hisses, sharp fang nipping at her ear. "Just admit it, and ask-- beg me, and I'll stop."

He feels the chuckle bubble in her throat even as he cannot hear it through the pressure he applies to her windpipe. "Beg what, my lord?" Her eyes narrow, her amusement apparent even as she has a practiced expression of apathy, whispering back to him with a strained voice still somehow full of unmitigated audacity. "Do you think I suffer?"

His lip curls downwards, and he realizes that he has no leverage here other than her violent jealousy, which she will happily unleash upon his unfortunate bedfellows rather than swallow her pride and cling to him as she should. She has no qualms with murder, and he might as well hand-deliver her victims. It has become an inevitable truth that whoever finds themselves romping beneath the sheets with their king won't be leaving alive because the queen would rather die than admit she cares that he spends his affections elsewhere.

"You can't hold out forever," He knees her legs apart and wedges himself between them, grinding his lust into the clothed heat of her core. "You will beg for me. You will acquiesce. You know your place is at my side."

He pushes forward again, lips brushing against her cheek, his warm breath on her neck sending shivers spiraling down her spine. The way she rhythmically gyrates her hips deliberately against where he wants her most has his hands flexing, kneading deeper into her flesh. His nails dig into her deceptively soft skin, sliding one hand up her body to grope gratuitously at her curves before crawling up to thread his pale fingers through her hair. With the silky strands weaved between his knuckles, he yanks, exposing her throat to the mercy of his razor-sharp fangs like a wolf perched over carrion. He'd die before admitting the overwhelming, frantic need she inspires within him, but he swears if he doesn't have her now, he will perish.

She exhales ragged and husky, squirming against him in apparent need, but still manages to stand her ground. "I am at your side, my lord. Your front, to be more specific."

"On your knees, on your back, whatever I demand. Give in to me. Heed my command, my love," He releases his fingers from her neck, both his arms snaking behind her to scoop her ass in his palms and hike her up against his waist, bidding her wordlessly to lock her legs around him. She does it instinctively, throwing her arms around his neck, tugging playfully at his silver hair as she does. He keeps her up with easy purchase against the wall, keeping her prisoner between a wiry cage of eager limbs and foggy glass panes. "Submit to me of your own free will. Kneel to me, your husband and king, and submit to me fully."

His voice is low and husky as he exhales against the shell of her ear, doing his best to swallow down the desire to rip her pretty dress to shreds with his bare hands and ravage her on the filthy ground of her greenhouse.

"All you need do is say the words," He mutters, barely audible even to her, the scent of her driving him to the precipice of insanity. "Say you belong to me, body and soul. Submit to me, girl, and I'll never have need of another."

He feels the derisive chuckle in her throat reverberate against his own mouth and pulls away to observe. Her eyes are glassy and low as they meet his, moist lips parted in a little 'o', trying so hard not to do that hateful little smile of hers. His hand tightens in her hair, jerking his hips ruthlessly against her once again. So close now, he can feel it, he's going to destroy her, ruin her, tear her to pieces only to put her back together and do it again--

She dares to deny him, dares to have the raw audacity to mock him-- he's going to hurt her so badly, sink his fangs into her neck and drain her fucking dry, force himself inside of her until she has to beg him through hiccupping sobs to stop, unable to fend him off in his full power. He will show her who is the master--

"No."

She cranes her head forward just a little and gives him a mockingly gentle peck on the mouth. It's deceptively gentle and cruel in its intention, entirely meant to taunt him. In his shock at her gall, he is stalled, almost paralyzed and entirely unresponsive and numb to the tidal wave of rage and lust that collides in a nuclear cocktail deep in his gut. It's but a brief moment before he regains control over his senses, and when he does--

"Maybe," She flicks her tongue out, licking a small, red stripe up his cupid's bow. "But not yours-- and you can try, my love."

He releases his grip on her hair only to grab her cheeks, digging his fingers into her jaw so hard that he can feel her gums scrape against the ivory ridges of her fangs. Her wince of pain doesn't escape him, fueling the inferno inside of him as he snarls, baring teeth down on her as a predator might.

"You dare to play games with me? You are a miserable, stubborn little whore and I'd see you put back in your proper place!"

It's more animalistic growl than spoken sentence, and even as he squeezes her face, he can see the twitches of a smile on her crumpled mouth. He can smell the blood on her tongue, the utter defiance in her expression, and despite his frenzy of anger, he throbs between her thighs.

--and yet it's him on the cusp of inescapable frenzy, the taste of her now blasting away the dull, gray months and the now; this one fiery moment where she is wholly his, reminding him of the untamable bonfire of desire she stokes within. His beloved consort, his wife, until death take them both or not at all--

It should drive him into a blind, red rage, but it just makes him harder, pulsing against her insistently, his body demanding entrance to what is rightfully his--

"You will always belong to me."

He crushes his mouth to hers so hard it pains the both of them, more devouring gnashes and fierce, hungry greed for her than passionate kiss. His fangs break the skin of her lip, his tongue thrusting between her teeth, determined to taste every inch she offers up to him. She mewls weakly into his mouth, trying to break the kiss to breathe, but he won't allow it; she only breathes by his will and he'd see her reminded of that--

A battle he will win.

"Mine-- only mine--"

He pants it sloppily into her open mouth, still desperately trying to swallow her essence into himself. She manages to tug away from his unhinged fervor, though only briefly, just to heave and whoop air into her lungs, desperate to catch her breath before she speaks:

"Not if you're not only mine."

It's a fool's facade, this game they play. Around and around and around once more, each demanding prostration of the other only to burn themselves on their own encompassing greed for the other. A toxic whirlwind of emerald-green jealousy and blood-red rage, enveloped entirely by hazy, punch-drunk lust. Two titans locked in a battle for dominance, chasing the vulnerability of the other one.

He hard-swallows, using every ounce of strained willpower he has in his willowy body to retreat away from her, casting his savage need into an abyssal pit inside of him and sealing it before it swallows him. instead. Slowly, he manages to peel away, slowly setting her feet back on the ground, doing his best to compose himself despite the very blatantly obvious signs of arousal and his apparent state of both mental and physical dishevelment.

"I won't humor you forever, darling," He purrs, giving her one last squeeze before stepping back away from her, distancing himself from her control over his body that he loathes. "I always get what I want. You should know that."

She blinks up at him again, her lips puffy and skin smeared with swatches of blood that he has to bite his tongue to keep from tasting. "Not this time."

His lips quirk in a condescending grin at her adorable little show of defiance, resituating himself within his linen pants without shame. "We'll see, my dear."

With that, he abandons the 'conversation,' turning to walk out of the greenhouse, only sparing one last glance at her garden of flesh-- and then once back at her. It breaks his willpower in a way he is miserable to admit, but his need for her overwhelms his pride.

One last snarl in her direction, and he turns to stalk out, itching to backhand the smugness from her pretty face. If he does, he knows well enough that he will not be able to walk away from her. He will take her here and now in a maelstrom of blood, violence, and ruthless sex, and he will lose this little game of control, and he cannot have that.

Still, that doesn't mean she is allowed to believe she has any choice in the matter.

"It's been long enough. I am expecting you in my bed tonight. Do not make me come searching for you. You won't like what happens if I must seek you out."

She seems surprised and almost pleased with his minor acquiescence. It comes in the form of a demand, but she knows full well that it's the best she's going to get. She offers him a sweet smile, smoothing her skirts back down her legs from where he'd hiked them up around her still-quaking legs. He can still smell her, the wet between her thighs, the rich, royal blood flowing through her veins, her body that sings to him a siren song luring him to his fall. If he doesn't break something in soon, he is going to combust--

"We'll see."

He traipses back into the palace, body shuddering and shivering in its effort to control the raging hormones. He is ravenous, needing to drain someone dry and be drained dry-- and soon. Another well-trained servant greets in the halls, cautiously approaching upon seeing his dour expression, bowing from some distance away in case his master decides to lash out.

"My lord--"

"A concubine. Now. Sent directly to my chambers. We are not to be disturbed, no matter what you hear. Do not keep me waiting."

#morgana and friends #ascended astarion x tav #ascended astarion x reader #astarion x dark urge #nasty boy stuff and there's a body count in this #don't read if sensitive #lots of tension and a ping pong game of idiots trying to get the one-up on each other #just as toxic as you'd imagine #sorry this is not edited or proofread I was far too lazy #im proud of myself for just getting it out #It ain't great but hey it's what I got in me right now

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 1 year ago

Note

no please bc just once I wanna make hobie nervous flustered.. like why can’t he can’t be intimated by me why I always gotta be intimidated by him 🙄🙄

TRULLLYY The opportunities are endless!! Let's talk about it!!!!!!!!!!!

Hobie Brown Loves Feminists and Defying the Patriarchy aka Hobie Brown and Writing write Non-Conventional Romantic Relationships in 'x-readers'

[this is an analysis where I analyze Hobie Brown, non-conventional relationships, and how feminism factors in to it all. Basically a critique/dive/rant into the narrow 'x-reader culture' in the Hobie Fandom

I touch on issues in Smut, labels, and how we can write 'Y/N's that challenge that status quo and fit Hobie better. I also break down how I personally use feminist themes to write a non-conventional relationship for Hobie.] [Also there's now a PART 2 HERE]

Despite the man from the 1970's - the era of bra-burning second-wave feminism - I don't ever think I've seen anyone talk about it, him, and how it influences him.

We all know Hobie isn't down with labels, but it seems like in X-Fem!Reader, the only two options out there are play-boy guitarist and traditional out-of-the-box boyfriend.

Hobie. The man he follows no social quo. Don't expect flowers from him.

Hobie diverges from the norm in nearly every way, and he does it purposefully and intentionally. And I think that'd extend to his romantic relationships too.

So why do we only see him in heteronormative, traditional gender-role based relationships?

Would Hobie be into this? And does the way we write him and his relationships in x-writers serve Hobie emotionally, allowing him to be a full character? (No, they don't.)

How can begin to acknowledge that, just like Hobie cares about race, and class, and housing and queer rights - he'd care about feminism too.

And how would that influence him in romance? How can we start writing healthier x-reader's?

We have enough insecure, blushing 'Y/N's being woo'd by [insert tumblr sexy man]'. Hobie can have so much more - in the words of Beyonce "Where the ladies up in here who like to talk back?!"

Hobie Brown, Romance, and Gender Roles

Why can I be the one calling him 'love', and 'darling', and 'sweetheart'?

Where's the fic where I'm the one comforting and taking care of him when he's sick/down?

Why can't Hobie be the one asked to be held?

There's something lacking here!!!!!!!

I honestly think Hobie would be into it, and find it very attractive - having a feminine partner who defies gender roles in their relationship purposefully and proudly.

Hobie loves subverting expectations and challenging society. So, and seeing many people unthinkingly assume he'd have a completely normal, routine heterosexual relationship without question -- uhhh I don't like that!!!

Like, Hobie is very clearly attractive. He's like 6'5", a guitarist, and punk. Let's be real, people of any gender are gonna be flirting with him, whether he's into it or not. He without a doubt gets flirted at all the time.

I think he'd love someone who cuts the bullshit and is like "You're really cute. I've got the biggest crush on you."

Not in a pushy way, but a relaxed way.

But I hardly ever see the x-reader advances being initiated by the reader. Why? It can be really nice to take the confidence to ask someone out and they say yes.

In fact, a lot of x-readers are written demure, passive, and down-right unhealthy in their ability to defend themselves and stand alone. So many are based off the x reader needing Hobie for some reason, whether it be confidence, or protection, or for him to teach them something.

Never Hobie needing the reader for something. Never Hobie being the one to express emotion and need comfort.

Which is funny, because Hobie can show emotions like anger, which he does in the comics. That's NEVER brought up in fics. In no fic do we have the reader witness Hobie hitting someone with a guitar or kicking them in the face. Which Hobie does do.

No, that's too violent for the romanticized fandom of Hobie. He has to be the good boyfriend to the shy girlfriend.

And I feel like there's a reason many of these x-readers are written this way - is heteronormativity and a dash of misogyny-flavored sexism involved??? maybe.

Especially with x fem readers, feminine people are always expected to be passive and submissive. Women in the real world are expected to mute their advances and 'be coy' for the sake of sexist 'respectability'.

We're taught that 'giving them the eyes' is (somehow??) an 'advance'. Or that you have to wait to be asked out or else you're 'too forward'.

[Insert Barbie Movie Monologue here]

Personally, I think Hobie would be SO refreshed by a girl who comes up to him and is like "Hey, are you busy on Friday? Do you wanna meet me then? I wanna go on a date with you."

Because, realistically 95% of the people in the Hobie fandom - including me - would probably be too nervous to even speak a sentence to Hobie.

So for someone to approach him directly, state their intentions, and be so open to potential rejection, that's impressive - I think he'd LOVE that shit!!!

I think it's a nice juxtaposition to have him with someone who diverges from the 'demure ideal of a girlfriend'.

A girl who walks around like Jessica Drew. Walks in the room like "My man is SEXY AF and he about to walk in so LOOK. BE JEALOUS."

I imagine so many people around him try to act like they DON'T like Hobie when they clearly do - and he can tell. So to have someone who isn't hiding it is a kind of candidness that differs from it all.

So often are women forced into the passive role of waiting to be 'chosen'. Fuck that, you want him, go get him.

Hobie, Romance, and Labels

I also think Hobie would REALLY like a partner who knows what they want.

I always see people be like 'Hobie doesn't like labels!! He wants to keep it casual!' or 'Nooo he was kidding about the labels thing - he'd love a committe-'

WHO SAYS HE'D BE THE ONE DEFINING THE SITUATION????????? WHO SAID HE GETS THE LAST SAY???!!!!!

I feel like Hobie would go fucking NUTS for a girl who is straight up like "yeah I'm just trying to fuck. Are you okay with that?" or "I like what we've got going on. I'm not looking for anything serious, but let's keep going."

Or a partner that is very clear about their labels. A person who's like "I like you but if you're not trying to be exclusive I'm gonna get a move on." Because he's not gonna have you out here looking DUMB, people better know you're in the mfing picture.

That's some grown ass shit! It shows she knows what she wants and that she's not wavering on it, even for him. He's with it. I don't think Hobie would be down to be like "I'm ur boyfriend now" OR "I'm ONLY down for fucking lol srry'.

She gets a say too. And she should be clear on what she wants.

If she's the one to take the initiative and name the game - that's great for him. He's down for whatever, what is it that YOU wanna do??

Hobie, Romance, and Intimacy (like for the grown folks 18+) __________________________________

🔞

In a LOT of fic and especially SMUT, it's always Hobie making the advances, or at least initiating them. In society, women are taught that's how is, that being sexually 'aggressive' and proactive - not just SUGGESTIVE - is inappropriate.

Wait till Hobie slaps your ass, then the smut could start. Wait till Hobie kisses you, then there's romance.

Nah, I'm the one smacking his ass. I'm the one pulling his belt loop saying Come 'ere. What if I'm the one who wants to pull him down for a first kiss, huh??? I gotta wait??

Even in dialogue-

In a lot of fics Hobie can talk as raunchy as ever, but the woman can't say 'pussy'? Hobie can say three sentences straight about how my coochie feel but the reader only gets to moan submissive requests back??

Can the dirty talk be two-sided? Because women should be allowed to be vocal in their pleasure.

Hobie can tell you he wants you to suck his dick, but when's the reader gonna say "Come eat this pussy like you mean it." HM??????

In fics the reader can only be suggestive - in order to bait him into initiating, like sending him a suggestive picture or throwing a bra on stage. But it's hardly ever the other way around. With the reader being the one to say 'Enough of the teasing, we fucking NEOW.'

Because in our society, a guy slipping a girl's shirt off to get the scene going is hot. But a woman going for a guys belt before he begins to undress her - nooo, that's too forward.

Maybe Hobie wants to feel like the sexy, desired, sought after one.

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Hobie, Romance and Feminism

Let it be known: Hobie loves people who are socially educated!!!!

If you can look at him and explain what anarchism actually is - like in a politcal theory sense - I think he'd be impressed, because you're seeing through the 'pseudo-rockstar' persona he puts on.

Most if not all of his actions are choice are driven by political action, so having a partner educated in things like anarchy or communism just makes sense with him. Hobie cares about stuff like that, and actually goes out of his way to study and live in line with those ideals.

That includes feminism!!!

I think Hobie would love a girlfriend who is invested in feminism, cares about it, and thinks about it in her decision making.

A woman that is educated about her oppression and how to combat it, and purposefully goes against the strict stereotype labeled on women - especially feminine women - as an act of protest.

A girl who can and will defend herself, go off on, or put a sexist pig in their place. You can't tell me he wouldn't be into that.

Social movements of the oppressed are super important to Hobie, and I think feminism is the same, but I never see it mentioned.

I definitely think that Hobie would have a clear understanding of his privilege as a man and how that effects relationships.

I can see him being like "I'd never propose." Not because he hates labels, but because he acknowledges that for centuries marriage was used as a financial and social transaction to oppress and control women and their bodies, and he doesn't want to be involved in that.

Hit him with that "Same - the gold and diamond rings are trash anyway. Both materials being mined and pillaged in African nations for centuries at the expense of the indigenous populations really puts me off it."

He'd wanna somehow find a way to marry you without marrying you you know what i mean

Hobie loves feminism and feminists. Give him a 70's bra-burning feminism so help me god. He was alive for Roe v. Wade passing (1973), he KNOWS about feminism and probably knows many outspoken feminists.

Hobie, Romance and Individuality

You know what I don't like?

Headcanons or fics that be like "You and Hobie NEVER disagree or argue. Never ever, you always talk it out."

Like...Bullshit. I'm sorry but I don't think it's very realistic.

Hobie is a very opinionated too. He's very outspoken and when it comes to topics, and he usually knows exactly where he stands. I think, without a doubt he'd care what his partner thinks too.

Asking them about a record that's playing, or what they think of a movie they saw in the past, or a new political issue going on. He'd absolutely ask, because he cares. He's interested.

If if ya'll are never disagreeing that means:

Either you agree with his opinion all the time without fail or exception OR

You're biting your tongue around him

I don't think one is very realistic in terms of things. You can't like every song your boyfriend likes. You can't like every movie he shows you, or agree on EVERY political issue. That's not how people are.

And for two - if you're biting your tongue around him, he'll notice.

Yes, Hobie is a very emotionally intelligent person and extremely compassionate. But he's also very strong in his morals, thoughts, and beliefs. He doesn't budge.

If you're biting your tongue, I'd imagine he'd be like "You wanna say something." or "Whatever you're thinking just say it." cause he can see it in your face.

He's not trying to put you on the spot, he just wants to know what you're thinking.

When you explain what you're thinking, he's probably gonna wanna hear why, and respond, etc etc.

Hobie is a very individualistic person, and I think he'd be drawn to someone who is as well. Someone who is solid in their opinions and personhood enough to express them.

It leads to interesting conversation and knowing each other deeper -It's a form of intimacy.

If you watch a film with him and don't like it, he's gonna ask why. Did you not like the theme? Was the dialogue bad? What part did you think sucked the most, he thought x, y, z. What do you think about the part he disliked, did you notice a,b,c?

I feel like Hobie would want to know his partner deeply, and he'd care and love the things that make them different from each other.

Including differing opinions.

Discussions and debates aren't bad. Discussing something and getting heated defending your point can be really fun and stimulating, if it's with someone you care about and the two parties are mature and not assholes.

Tell him why you think he's wrong about something - he wants an excuse to talk more about his opinion. INTELLECTUALLY CHALLENGE HIM DONT JUST AGREE.

Along with being very individualistic, Hobie is very independent. He refused to rely on the Society for their watches - he made his own. So I think the next important thing to him is:

Hobie, Romance and Independence

I like the idea of Hobie having a partner that has their own place and is committed to that, and their space.

Or a partner that emotionally supports him!!

95% of the time, he's the one asking what's wrong, or holding reader, or comforting them.

Can we get hectic bf and organized girlfriend energy?? A gf where he says plans during missions and she's like "What are you thinking? You're gonna get us killed."

A gf that soothes HIM when he gets angry - cause comic Hobie GETS angry, especially after a fight.

Give me ONE, ONE fic where he's drunk coming from a pub and READER has to deal with drunk Hobie and put him to bed.

Hobie is ALWAYS expected to take care of himself, and the people around him. He takes pride in this and he's good at it. But why should he have to do it all the time?

_____________________________________________

In general,

Hobie is a confident person. He knows what he wants, and how to handle himself, and how to approach people and get respect just by being himself. He's assured, and outspoken, and VERY independent. He does what he wants, when he wants and lets you know when it happens

I think pairing him with a confident, assured, outspoked, independent person is only natural. I think him having a relationship with a personality like his would be a ROCK SOLID one.

There's be no fics like 'Groupies were bullying you' because his she would be like "Sis, if I swing on you he isn't gonna hold me back so be careful."

I want a reader that when they do that trope of 'A girl was flirting in front of him making you insecure and uncomfortable' - The reader squashes it right there. Like "Girl, I know you see me standing here. You know we're together. Cut the cute shit!!"

I'm tired of fics taking me for an insecure, submissive, demure, sexually innocent, wimp of a babydoll girlfriend that needs to be babied at every turn. There's nothing wrong with being shy and demure, but when it's all you're offering it's not gonna cut it.

Especially not for Hobie Brown.

Let the tall, dark, actively oppressed black man be the one to vent, or be held, or romanced, and spoken sweetly too. There's so many comfort fics, but not many of them consider Hobie's own trauma - and how a relationship could include that.

Hobie Brown deserves more.

_______________________________________________

If you wanna know how I use this to write a non-conventional relationship for Hobie, that's below this break.

Okay so I'mma leave it here but if you read this far, thank you!!!! I be SO pissed when fics be talking me (Y/N) as a punk (in the wimpy sense not the Hobie sense). Like...nah I wouldve said something in a lot of situations. Irk my last nerve. Like the one where the girl PINCHES you??? Like?? Nah I we would've been fighting, I'm sorry this is unrealistic

Alsooo the section below is about my Spidersona Disco-Spider and how I encorporated all of this into her creation- because I wanted to write a sona who subtly defied gender roles while still being feminine. So if you wanna read there thank you so much, and if not, thanks for reading this far! He's a pic of Hobie in thanks!

[If you wanna check out Part 2 for direct examples, how to write NCRs, and a more in depth look into Disco and Hobie - check it out here]

_______________________________________________

DiscoSpider Diane and The Great Groupie Act [How I use all of this to a write a feminist Spidersona and a non-conventional relationship]

Diane is a HUGE Hobie Groupie - and that's kinda of her main thing.

She runs the Hobie Brown Fanclub on campus, attends all his shows, and wears his guitar pick. She's into him and she's not afraid to show it.

I wanted to write Diane as a purposeful groupie, one who is fine with the title, and even leans into it. Because a lot of the time - and in a lot of fics including guitarists - 'groupie' is seen as a negative thing.

Like K-pop stans, being a 'groupie' - and openly expressing your romantic interest in a hot guy is seen as desperation.

But I wanted to write her as one in spite of this. To swap 'desperation' for unwavering boldness. A girl with the motto 'Closed mouths don't get fed'.

And much like Hobie uses the 'typical punk' label to disarm others, I wanted Diane to mirror that - in the opposite direction.

Diane is a self-proclaimed groupie. And because of that, many (mainly misogynists) assume that she can't think for herself - or at all. And Diane can use that to her advantage.

If Miguel and Jess really believe she only cares about conversations involving Hobie, then they'll talk like she isn't there. And she can listen. If it looks like she's hanging all over him, no one realizes if she's slipping him information.

And it also helps in their relationship.

They both enjoy their privacy.

HQ prohibits relationships between Spidey-people. It's an anomaly waiting to happen - and they make sure to keep a close eye out for it. Plus with Jess breathing down her neck, it's much easier for Diane and Hobie to just keep it underwraps.

In comes the Groupie persona.

No one actually expects the groupie to get the guy. She's desperate, and he's the player guitarist. Plus, if they were dating she couldn't be a 'groupie' right? They wouldn't make sense, would it?

They let people make their own assumptions. By calling herself a groupie, suddenly people think there's no possible way there's something going on, and they don't look closer.

This also allows them the freedom of no labels. Are they boyfriend and girlfriend? Nah she's his groupie. Quit asking questions.

All of this allows me to write Disco in a way that connects back to everything in this post.

By calling herself a 'Groupie' suddenly Diane can subvert expectations of affection, avoid the pressures of labels, and control her image and the amount of information she lets on to people

That in turn helps me write their relationship in a nonconventional way - a way that challenges misogyny around affection and reclaims a sexist fan trope for something more empowering.

Sure, the concept seems silly at first. The ditsy, bubbly, party girl on campus, but I wanted there to be a reason and drive behind it.

Disco-Spider Diane is exactly who she wants to be, an unapologetic, outspoken disco-girl. One that's highly educated and knows her shit.

And also a huge groupie.

-----------------------------------------------

If you've read this far, thank you so much. It genuinely means a lot to me! This is reaaaaaallly long.

[Part 2 here]

Now how about you take this photo of Hobie and we both pretend like me writing this is normal well-adjusted behavior okay? okay

Bye.

#im back and I got something to say!!!!!!#these are just my opinions and Headcanons #but also they're correct I know because I'm with Hobie right now in my mind palace and he told me all this #no proofread ever lolllll #spiderman #atsv #hobie brown #marvel #spider man #spider punk #spiderpunk #across the spiderverse #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x oc #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #atsv anaylsis

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andmineisyellow · 5 months ago

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I think episodes 4 through 7 have some of the consistent writing we've gotten from Bridgerton. And on a micro-level, I enjoy episode 8 as well. I love most of the individual scenes and moments we got (minus the epilogue). My personal favorites are the Cressida and Colin scene, everything with Portia and Pen, John and Francesca's wedding, and Penelope's speech. But on a macro-level episode 8 also underserved Colin and Pen's arcs.

I understand why the writers decided not to have Colin reveal Whistledown like he does in the books. This version gives Pen more agency, which on the surface, I prefer. But having Pen handle it all by herself also doesn't satisfy the over-arching narrative the show has set up.

Yes, Colin needed to realize that Pen doesn't need to be saved all the time, but Pen also needed to realize that it's okay to ask for help and to rely on others. The resolution should be meeting in the middle and working as a team. We should have seen them use their individual strengths to come up with a solution together. This would have been easy to do as they've already established that Colin is a schemer with how he handled Jack in 2x08 and sneaking Pen into the house 3x02. There's no reason for him not to participate in the plan. Some potential payoff was definitely missed that could have easily connected to his arc. And on top of that it should not have been Portia standing beside Pen before she stands up to speak to the queen. It should have been Colin.

And, this is more of a nitpick, but season 1 clearly foreshadowed an assured, furvent, and loud speech. It feels strange that we don't get that moment. They could have given Pen her moment and also given Colin his as well.

#this all might sound like nonsense I'm still processing #not proofread #i love this season a lot #but I want to get my negative thoughts out now so I can celebrate the stuff that I love #polin #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton season 3 part 2 #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton season 3 spoilers #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #i was right about Colin's arc not getting the emotional impact it deserved but not in the way that I thought #And his arc was still handled with more care than I was expecting which is good? I think?#idk #I'm still reeling

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screamingcrows · 4 months ago

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what about 17 with dottore bestie? 👀

Bestie I was gonna randomise the prompts buuuut it's a great prompt so I'm doing it 💙 "There is a fine line between stupid and genius"

It's established relationship kinda? There's a very tasteless plot point lmao, drugging in a sense but it's not reader on the receiving end.

Steam caressed your skin as you brought the cup to your lips, eyes focused on the man in front of you. You saw him swallow once, twice, before setting down the fragile procelain with more care than he usually showed you.

It was a rare occasion that you both have time to sit down, nevermind the nerves swirling around in your gut. It was fifteen minutes before The Regrator would arrive. Fifteen minutes before the future of your project, and in turn your position under Dottore, would be determined.

"You're afraid," Dottore's voice was gruff, taking another sip before continuing, "he will know the moment he steps foot in here, and you'll be all the more sorry for it. He despises people who fail to keep a level head."

A frown tugged at your lips, trying to will your hands to stop their incessant trembling.

"But-"

"Don't start on that," the dismissal in Dottore's voice had you feeling like a scolded child, "Pantalone is well aware of his own hypocrisy, pointing it out will only sour his mood further."

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath and mentally trying to get all the important pointers in order. Dottore had made you rehearse those three minutes over and over to the point where you swore they must've been burned into your mind.

"Good, deep breaths. The tea is brewed to his tastes, I've handed in all reports in a timely manner as of late, he's sustained no significant losses, the beast should be as agreeable as he gets."

The sight of your rough sketches spread across the wooden coffee table made you wince. Were the measurements off? Did they even have use for a weapon like this?

It didn't look particularly presentable either, the graphite lines smudged in several places. Your fingertips brushed against them, trying to reassure yourself that Dottore had encouraged this, and he wouldn't entertain poorly thought out ideas.

"What if he refuses to fund it?"

"We've already discussed this, you retain your current position and-"

"And I can try to polish it before attempting again..."

Hail clattered against the window, the dark skies outside perfectly encapsulating your current hopes. It wasn't so much that you wanted to be Dottore's equal, you weren't delusional enough to think it possible, but the chance of seeing pride warm his garnet eyes once more had your stomach doing flips.

Before you could slip further into the trenches of your mind, you felt the couch dip and the familiar heat of his body against yours, an arm unceremoniously circling your shoulders and tugging.

"A rejected project isn't the end of the world."

Dottore gave your shoulder a small squeeze, a little too tight to be comfortable, and you had to hold back a chuckle at his somewhat endearing attempt. Resting your head atop his shoulder did help to soothe your nerves, if only-

"Can't you do the talking? You know the technical details as well as I and have more experience negotiating with him, not to mention the question of rank-"

"And how do you hope to get experience if you refuse to try? I said that I'd support you, not that I'd coddle you," there was a sternness to his voice that would've made your toes curl in any other situation, "and in the unlikely situation he brushes you off due to rank..."

Your shoulders slumped as you curled a little closer, eyes drifting back to the golden liquid swirling in the fine porcelain.

"Then I watch him drink his tea and regret it."

Dottore's fingers were wrapped around your chin before another heartbeat could pass, digging into the soft skin as he angled your head upwards, the beaked mask nearly taking your eye out.

"What?"

How you wished he hadn't put on the mask yet, seeing his eyes widen in disbelief was such a rare occurrence, and from how his chapped lips had parted, you'd wager disbelief would shine clearly in them.

"You said we'd get back at him if he was mean, so I did some preliminary work," a small chuckle left your lips along with some of the unease that had gnawed at your bones.

Right. You would have the last laugh no matter what.

"I- that," Dottore fumbled for but a moment before letting out an almost tired growl, "what did you do?"

Small giggles rippled through your body as he pushed you to the side, reaching forward to snatch a cup. You could see him bring it to his lips, this time inhaling the steam.

"I didn't poison it, not really anyway, just added a laxative."

The snort that left you was downright disgraceful, but little did you care, not when The Second jolted as he did, almost sending the cup flying before turning to you with a sneer.

"There is a fine line between stupid and genius, and this, darling, has to be the most idiotic thing you've done. We have been drinking it as well," he practically spat out the words, only encouraging your amusement.

Seeing him this frustrated was well worth the trouble of having kept the petty revenge plan secret. You simply grinned, wiping tears from your eyes as his hand tangled gently in your hair, the subtle concern for not messing up your appearance right now making your heart flutter. The punishment for keeping him in the dark would come later and be all the sweeter for it.

"It's not in it's active form, it won't work unless the catalyst is also consumed," you gestured to the plate of sweets atop the table, "so we have nothing to worry about. I haven't had any tea, so I'll eat some and offer him if it comes to it. You simply pass and we'll be safe."

The groan that slipped past Dottore's lips had warmth blooming in your chest, his hand loosening it's grasp before gently stroking your hair. Decently proud of the little insurance, you relished in seeing how his frustration died out, and the fond tone of his voice.

"Little vixen..."

You leaned into the touch of his gloved hand as it came down to fondly hold your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin.

The loud knocks against the heavy door was enough to have every muscle in your body tensing, every shred of confidence slipping through your fingers as Dottore rose to open it.

You saw him grasp the handle and look back at you, signature grin in place, baring the pointed teeth that so often left marks in your flesh.

"Well? Do we greet a Harbinger sitting down?"

Frantically you scrambled to stand at attention, nearly knocking over the table in the process, the sound of Dottore's rumbling laughter when he opened the door doing little to make your now prominent blush fade.

#screaming at the murder #for some reason I feel ashamed for writing this much about such a stupid fucking idea but yeah #the thought of doing this to pantalone after he's been a bitch to you and dottore is just always at the tip of my mind #imagine how angry he'd be lmao #not proofread because I'm lazy right now #I guess it's sort of comfort?#both reader and dottore are little bitches let that be made clear #il dottore x reader #dottore x reader #x fem reader

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aroaceleovaldez · 7 months ago

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the show chb logo was also ripped from fandom, like in the past decade all the official chb shirt had the logo without the circle and then the fandom started doing and the show went for it, sorry your tags reminded me of that

[Link to post/tags in question]

Yeah, I know Delphi Strawberry Service has done more circular-based CHB shirt designs for ages, and I've seen the more circular-based designs floating around for awhile. I think Magicbysab's circular-based CHB shirt designs also predate the show design? Those are just the ones I can think of off the top of my head. I understand on a level that if they did base it off fandom designs, particularly if they're basing anything on widespread fanon or fandom-based concepts, it can be difficult to pin down credit or may even seen unnecessary. But if they're going to be doing that I feel like at least they could hire like, a fandom consultant of sorts? Instead of just ripping off from the fandom, hire someone from the community who produces that already so at least there's some recognition and acknowledgement of where it originated.

Heck, in some instances if you ask around in the fandom it's not hard to pinpoint who specifically popularized certain concepts! I could talk for ages about Cherryandsisters being a driving force behind photokinesis!Will, or Saberghatz with plague!Will (tbh between the two they spearheaded a ton of early Will/Solangelo fanon), and I swear Drksanctuary alone is behind like 50% of Alabaster fanon, etc etc etc. People in the fandom know these things! Heck, we know ReadRiordan company knows how to do that kind of thing! They commissioned Viria for the official art, and the UK Riordan newsletter reaches out to fans all the time to feature their work (with credit, they're one of the better ones)! Though in Rick's book tours he did showcase Viria's art (at least with credit) without asking before she got commissioned, and during the Tower of Nero book tours they actually straight up stole a solangelo edit from Pervysloth with completely zero credit (link is to my canon url readriordan parody blog).

I think it doesn't help as well that Rick and his editor allegedly use the fandom wiki in place of a series bible. The PJO wiki is notorious for putting inaccurate information or fanon onto pages at random and having no sources. (What I wouldn't give for the PJO wiki to have frequent book/page sources a la Warrior Cats wiki...) There are what, now almost 18 books in the main series alone? Of an extremely renowned best-selling series that's 20 years old and now being adapted for TV? And they STILL don't have a series bible? That's like, step 1 of writing a series. This kind of reliance of the fandom for resources and concepts definitely isn't new for them.

It just feels so bizarre as to what it says about how the ReadRiordan company views the fandom and the creatives within it. I understand that trying to figure out how to give credit to the concept of "CHB shirt design, but circular!" is difficult, if you even can find out who did that first or popularized it. But if you're going to rip things from fandom, at least find somebody to try and credit? Show that you put in even the tiniest amount of effort? And if you get it wrong and people know, they'll correct you and that's that! But ReadRiordan just keeps trying to actively obscure these kinds of things, even with their own media, not ripped from the fandom, which makes it feel all the worse when it gets pointed out. And a lot of the time the whole reason those concepts get popular is because they're filtered through big names in the fandom! The fandom is a community! We know these people! We can point to them and explain exactly what they popularized! Remember how Velinxi popularized long haired Piper with the heart-shaped flyaways? Goodness only knows how many fandom designs are heavily influenced by Viria and Minuiko and Burdge (and Indigonite and Fuocogo and Ikimaru and Thecottonproject and Joker-ace and Sixofclovers and Vikingmera and Saber and Cherry and and and-). If you are in the community this stuff is easy to find. But Rick and the ReadRiordan company clearly being ~5 years behind with fanon pretty obviously tells me that they're not in the community at all, and aren't bothering trying.

#riordanverse #pjo #readriordan #pjo tv crit #rr crit #Anonymous #ask #long post //#sorry i am passionate about fandom history and crediting artists #its late and im too lazy to proofread right now so im just throwing this one out there #apologies if it's nonsensical #anyways Rick and ReadRiordan stop ripping off literally everyone challenge #stares pointedly at Rick blatantly recycling his own writing. its not a fun callback my guy thats just lazy writing #percy making a dam joke to himself in SoN? cute callback #solangelo falling into tartarus scene in TSATS being a direct rip of percabeth in MoA/HoH? what the hell man

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teastainedprose · 7 months ago

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Homelander x fem!reader

Listening to the rain together

The drumming of the rain against the windows of his penthouse has been something Homelander has grown to love. The sound of rain on a window or on a roof had been a distant confusion within the lab, heard but never seen. An unknown from the mysterious outside he never had been allowed to see until his debut. Sure, the doctors had tried to explain it to him. They'd shown him videos and images, but he'd never been allowed out to experience it. Not until his first day in a crowd, when he'd fled and been exposed to the yawning blue of the sky.

It had cracked open later that day, after he's run off. That endless sky had cracked open, and water had poured down as if by magic. He'd been soaked through by it, bhut it had felt cleansing. The sky had cried with the child-god in its own way. Now Homelander can watch nature rage on unobstructed from his bed. The beating of the rain and lightning flashing is just as untamed as the first time he'd seen it. Magical in a way only nature can be. It thrills him as much as it soothes him, the constant patter of rain drops becoming a relaxing thrum that helps dull the clamor everything else his ears pick up. Even the colors of his penthouse feel muted under the grey haze of the sky. The perfect scenery for a nap. Which is exactly what you're doing. You'd insisted this was an ideal time for a book and cuddling. Swore up and down that you wouldn't doze off, yet here you are. Asleep. His lips quirk up, recalling your insistence that this time you'll keep your eyes open. The only lie he'll let you get caught in, because it means Homelander can memorize every detail in the soft, grey light. You're tucked in against his side, back towards him and head propped up with your book discarded atop the pillow. Your breathing is slow and measured, chest rising and falling with each deep breath. There's that content curl to your lips with them slightly parted. Pure temptation sprawled beside him, utterly content and trusting of the monster you're nestled against. Yes, he's grown to love rainy days.

#it's raining right now and I would like to be snuggled in bed with a book #sigh #homelander #homelander x reader #drabble #homelander writing #ask #anon ask #the boys fanfic #canon x you #no proofreading just splatting text onto the screen #I WANNA BE HOME IN BED WITH A BOOK #FUCK I LOVE RAINY DAYS #wasted in the office

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wooahaes · 1 year ago

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under the sun [jeonghan]

pairing: non-idol!jeonghan x gn!reader

prompt: darl+ing inspired fic.

word count: 11.5k~

warnings: skinship. food + alcohol mentions. jeonghan denying his feelings a bit. one kiss with dubious consent (reader is drunk and kisses jeonghan) that gets addressed and apologized for.

daisy’s notes: me fighting for my life trying to finish this fic before the end of july

< day 3 || masterlist ||

summary: It all starts when you wake up in a field without a name or any memories to define yourself with. Thirteen men take you in as one of their own, and slowly you begin to wonder what is going on within this world… and between you and one of them.

Jeonghan worried about you more than he would ever admit out loud. Despite the fact that he knew you were cared for (by everyone, but especially by Chan, who seemed to follow after your every step like a puppy--overjoyed, no doubt, that he was no longer the “new kid” in the group), you were still on the quieter side. It was too early for him to know for sure if you were just a quiet person, like Minghao, or if you were uncomfortable. While Seungcheol led the group well, a watchful eye on everything and any potential problems, Jeonghan was always the one who served as the shoulder to cry on or a listening ear when Seungcheol was too intimidating to approach. Sure, he could tease from time to time--but it was always toward people he knew could handle it (no bad days there) and out of love.

So Jeonghan snuck away after he helped the others wash laundry one morning and found you out in the gardens. There were enough people that your absence wouldn’t be missed if he just happened to steal you away for a little break.

“You look tired,” he said from the foot of the tree you were picking fruit from. “Do you wanna take a break?”

“Chan told me not to,” you said with a concerned frown. “If you need to rest, it’s okay. But Chan said that it just creates more work for the others when--”

“It'll be okay,” he said. “It’s better to rest than to overwork yourself.”

Truthfully, Jeonghan knew you were overworking yourself. Always eager to pick up a task whenever someone needed a favor done, or making sure to put your all into doing chores correctly so that it would be less stress on anyone else. You shouldered the work the same way Seungcheol did without much of a fuss. Maybe that was why Jeonghan worried about you: you seemed to be cut from the same cloth as Seungcheol in certain ways. He wondered if you felt the need to “earn your keep” even though they would have let you stay if you physically couldn’t.

“How many were you supposed to pick?” He nodded up at the ripe peaches just within your reach.

“Enough for all of us.”

“And how many do you have?”

You looked away sheepishly. “Like... maybe twenty.”

“You don’t need to do anymore,” he said. “You did your part. The others can handle the rest. Come take a nap with me.”

“But--”

Jeonghan extended a hand up, “If you get in trouble, I’ll take the blame. You need to rest before you burn yourself out.”

With a sigh, you relented: you’d leave your share inside the church at the very least before going off with him. So he smiled to himself as he watched you search for a safe enough place out of the way to leave your picked fruit, and extended his hand back out to you. When you took it, he merely gave you a reassuring squeeze before heading out toward the river. He’d mapped out nice napping places forever ago, and he was sure every single person in the group (except you, but you’d learn in time) knew where all of them were. On other days, he’d bring a blanket with him. Maybe next time he stole you away, he would--or maybe the two of you could hide out in the attic, cozy on that bed underneath the sun window. It was usually a pretty good spot to nap, especially since everyone tried to clean that room first when they were on cleaning duty. Less people to disturb Jeonghan’s rest.

Yet he didn’t want to nap anymore when he was lying out in the grass. You had sat down next to him, still sitting up and watching the river pass by. If you looked close enough, you could see the occasional fish. The river always felt so clear most of the time, and yet occasionally you’d see one darting through the water--almost like the universe was taunting you.

“Are you adjusting well?” Jeonghan asked, finally sitting up after a few minutes of just watching you silently sit there. “You can tell me if you’re having a tough time. A lot of people do, to begin with.”

You looked up, uncertainty etched into every feature. “I’m fine,” you said, and Jeonghan could tell it was a lie. “I mean... I’m adjusting. It’s just taking some getting used to, that’s all.”

He frowned. Despite the way you seemed to get along with the youngest three in the group, Jeonghan noticed that you still seemed a little quiet around the others. Soonyoung you’d cuddle with during some nights (usually because he wanted you close by--he liked cuddling and you seemed happy to let him snuggle in), but the others... Jeonghan had kept an eye on and an ear open for any concerns. Joshua had outright told him that he was worried you might change your mind about staying--something he and Seungcheol had talked about one night.

Which Jeonghan understood. Seungcheol had told him you wondered if there were other people out there. Jeonghan had questioned it, too, before Seungcheol told him that he hadn’t seen anyone else. He wanted to leave, too. That was before they found Joshua. Truth be told, Jeonghan still wanted to go--only when it was getting too late for him to think straight. He’d made peace with that urge long ago, yet it still scratched at the back of his mind, begging to be let back in.

Would you go with him if he asked? Jeonghan pushed the thought away. No point in thinking about things like that when he had a group to help care for, you included.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asked quietly. “I know I can’t relate to being uncomfortable, but I’m happy to help if I can.”

He watched you breathe in slowly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. He could practically see the way you were weighing your options: open up to Jeonghan, or shoulder the problems longer on your own. Is that why Seungcheol seemed so attached to you sometimes? Because you were a little like him? Even though the reasons differed, both of you seemed to carry the weight of your problems alone despite there being others there ready to help lighten the load.

“I dunno,” you finally said after a slow exhale. “It’s not that I don’t like being here with you all, it’s just...”

“Just?” Jeonghan prompted. You can tell me.

Another deep breath. “I just feel like I’m intruding on something. Chan and Hansol and Seungkwan always try to stick by me--Chan more than the others--but... I dunno. Sometimes it feels like I’m not fully 'one of you’ now. Especially since I couldn’t remember my name on my own.”

Jeonghan frowned. Jihoon had pointed out the pale gray lettering in the collar of your shirt that day--it felt right to say it to you. Maybe it was a mistake, but Jeonghan didn’t want you to go by a name that wasn’t fully yours longer than you had to. Everyone else had hated it--some more than others--and there had been relief in getting that key part of themself back. Was it wrong to tell it to you instead of letting you remember? Would you even remember without his prompting?

“It’s dumb,” you traced a finger through the small patch of dirt, “but... I think all of you are close enough already. Even Chan seems to be a part of the group more than I am, you know? Chan can go off with you or Hansol or whoever and fit right in. I’m just... here.”

“You don’t think we like you?”

“It’s not that--” You looked up. “I just don’t feel like I fit in. Sometimes you guys tell stories that I like listening to, but I can’t help but feel left out of a joke. I don’t want that to stop you guys from reminiscing, I just... I wish I knew how to make memories with you guys without feeling like I’m forcing myself where I don’t belong.”

Jeonghan had already begun formulating plans in his head. He wasn’t going to force the group together, but... Sometimes they’d get together for things. Maybe he could push the others to put something together, an open invitation for everyone to be a part of it. Just to be together as a group again. Hansol had that old projector that he liked to set up sometimes to watch old films with them--maybe Jeonghan could bring that up over dinner one day just to put the idea out there.

If you weren’t feeling like part of the group, then Jeonghan was sure he would fix that. If Seungcheol was right and the fourteen of you were all that’s left, you needed to stay together. Seungcheol had enough on his plate. Jeonghan could handle this.

He laid a hand over your own. “You do belong here if that’s where you want to be.” He looked you in the eyes, “Do you want to be here?”

You nodded. “I think so.”

“Then it’s okay,” he said. “You’re still new. Just give it a little more time.”

You smiled at him after a moment, more genuine than the nervous ones you’d given him before. “Thank you, Jeonghan. I feel a little better.”

“If you ever need to talk, you can talk to me,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.”

Jeonghan found Minghao working in a corner, painting a little tree onto the landscape. He sat down beside him, watching him work slowly but happily. Despite the fact that Minghao got along great with everyone else, the guy liked to have his moments alone--and Jeonghan had, admittedly, given him that. Minghao had been painting alone for the past hour, and Jeonghan would give him space again if that’s what he wanted.

“Minghao,” he said, voice soft enough to keep the conversation between them. Mingyu and Seokmin were working on dinner that day. “Do you remember when you used to guide us through meditation?”

He nodded, not looking up. “It’s been a few weeks.”

“Would you like to do it again?” Jeonghan watched as Minghao added a little red apple into the tree. “I think it really helped us before.”

“Did it?” He looked up just for a moment. “Some of you fell asleep.”

Soonyoung had, and so did Seungcheol. Admittedly the two that Jeonghan fully expected to last time--it was a few days before Chan’s one-month celebration and Seungcheol had been a bit tense about the whole thing, which meant Soonyoung was going to get tense because he wanted it to be good as well. Jeonghan knew the tension would come again in a week when your celebration was closer.

“Because it helped,” Jeonghan insisted. “If you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to. It looked like you enjoyed it last time.”

Minghao nodded along, brows furrowed slightly as he thought it over. “I’ll see if anyone’s interested.”

“Ask Mouse,” Jeonghan said. “They might be interested in meditation.”

Minghao nodded. “I will,” he said. “Did they say something?”

Jeonghan shook his head. “Just trying to make sure they’re included.”

A soft chuckle. An eye roll. Jeonghan almost definitely knew what he was thinking: team mom Jeonghan was back. He had a track record of doting on the other members and making sure they were being cared for.

“I’ll talk to them,” Minghao said after a moment. “I don’t know if they’ll be interested.”

Sure enough, you were. Jeonghan had agreed to be there when Minghao had gathered them in the church a few days later. While not everyone was partaking (a few of them were working on getting things prepared for dinner later, opting to prioritize prep-work over meditation), Jeonghan was happy with the turnout. The chairs had been stacked and put away, Jeonghan sitting in the back as he watched Minghao slowly weave in-between the different people lying on the floor--you included. Minghao stopped near you at one point, not pausing in his speech at all as he crouched down and gently moved you into a more comfortable position.

The air grew quieter for a moment. “Better?” Minghao whispered to you.

You merely nodded, and then Minghao continued on, calmly speaking in that same even tone of voice. He stepped over where he’d just positioned your arm a little further out without any sign of annoyance at his own decision, continuing to slowly walk between the different people. He paused as he looked at Jeonghan, giving a tiny nod to the others. It’s not too late to join them.

Jeonghan merely raised a hand to signal that he was fine. He didn’t need any meditation. You needed the group activity. Maybe Jeonghan could talk him into doing another yoga day sometime--that had been fun to watch last time. This worked, too, though. When Minghao’s back was turned, he saw the way you opened your eyes just for a moment--meeting gazes with Mingyu--and then smiled at him. It was something small, but it was a little connection that was being strengthened through shared experience. That was what Jeonghan had wanted.

Jeonghan noticed the way Seungkwan was about to head outside until he saw the scene before him. Minghao had given him a pointed look--everyone knew that he was going to do meditation today, and Seungkwan was one of the ones who hadn’t felt up to it. Jeonghan quickly rose to his feet, making his way to the edge of the room and gesturing for him to come over--avoiding anyone sprawled out a little too close to the walls. With an open hand, Jeonghan kept his arm outstretched for Seungkwan to make his way over, gently guiding him out of the church. He quietly shut the door behind him, standing out in the warm summer air with him for a moment.

Seungkwan had already been mid-apology when Jeonghan asked if he wanted to go for a walk with him. Just down to the river, where they could walk together for a bit. By the time they’d get back, Minghao’s meditation session would be over. So Seungkwan nodded, agreed, and walked a step behind him as the two went together for a while.

“Have you come up with anything new with Seokmin and Soonyoung?” Jeonghan asked at one point, hands tucked into his pants pockets. Sometimes the three came up with their own little songs and dances that they’d show off after bringing everyone together. It was nice and always a fun time.

Seungkwan looked up, humming in acknowledgement before thinking the question over. “There’s something we’ve been doing,” he admit.

“Jihoon’s still working on things,” he said. “I think Hansol has, too. Maybe we should have another music night.”

Seungkwan lit up at the suggestion. “Why now?”

“Why not?” Jeonghan continued along, hands still lazily hanging from his pockets with each slow step. “They’re fun. Jihoon’s comfortable showing Mouse his music, even though it’s not done.”

None of it ever is. Not the songs Hansol worked on in his spare time, not the songs the trio worked on: nothing was ever finished. Jeonghan had heard Jun mutter a lyric that he later heard from Minghao. When he asked, neither of them knew the song--they both said the same excuse that it was probably something they knew in their old life. They made things work, though: Soonyoung had been the one who proposed Jihoon share his songs with the others an eternity ago.

(”Maybe we might know part of it, if it’s a song someone else wrote...” )

It’d been a while, though, since the last one. Sure, they shared music with one another during Chan’s celebration, but before then... Jeonghan was sure that the last night they had dedicated to it was a week before Chan showed up.

Seungkwan hummed to himself softly as he thought, brows set in tight concentration as he weighed the options (to do or to not: the only options he had) against one another. When Jeonghan said he’d talk to Seungcheol about getting it set up, Seungkwan slowly nodded, as that must have helped tip his decision over.

“Okay,” he said. “But you have to help set up.”

Jeonghan laughed warmly, throwing an arm around Seungkwan’s shoulders. “I will,” he promised. “You just get the others together. We’ll figure out plans once I distract them.”

Seungkwan accepted that and, once the two returned to the now-finished meditation session, already went off to get Seokmin and Joshua to go find Jihoon. Jeonghan saw the way you lit up as you talked to Minghao about something, and he casually slipped into the conversation to see if maybe he could push you toward Minghao. If nothing came of it, then fine, but at least it meant that maybe the two of you would grow closer as people in general. He’d been talking about meditation and ways to find peace.

“Like with your paintings,” Jeonghan had casually said, an arm curling around you.

Minghao nodded. “Right. Painting helps, too.”

“Why don’t you show them your work?” Jeonghan gently nudged you forward. “Maybe they’ll take up painting, too...”

Minghao raised his brows, and Jeonghan was sure that if you hadn’t been watching him, he would have mouthed a ‘What are you doing?’ to him.

But you’d grown a little more excited, “Oh! I’d love to hear about them, actually,” you then grew a little more sheepish, most likely over remembering the fact that you and Minghao weren’t exactly the closest so far. “If... that’s okay, I mean.”

Jeonghan could see the way Minghao lit up, though, and he happily obliged. Which meant that you had that cute twinkle in your eyes again, and Jeonghan found himself smiling as the two of you went off--Minghao taking your hand as he guided you down into the passage leading back to the main room, just to secure you. He’d heard your happy giggle as you went, and he let out a quiet sigh.

As long as you were happy... then Jeonghan would be, too.

Music nights were common enough occurrences, for the most part. They already knew how to set up the church to make things look nice: the stage set with a microphone and the acoustic guitars, chairs lined up in rows (some of them with designated seats, as if it’s their own little VIP preserved seating, with those little plush animals to designate each person). Seokmin roped Mingyu and Jun into helping with making snacks for this, and Jeonghan can hear Joshua and Jihoon as they check over everything to make sure tonight will be ready. Jeonghan, on the other hand, was focused on the seating arrangements. Sure, they could sit anywhere... But he’d quietly picked up the tiger-striped hamster that’d been sitting in a chair next to a mouse, and set the otter from the end of the row next to it instead. He hadn’t noticed anything sparking between you and Minghao, but you and Chan...

Well. He left his rabbit plush on your other side. Just to ensure that you’d be able to enjoy yourself tonight, and to play wingman for Chan. The guy probably needed a little help considering how flustered he’d get with you.

People began to filter in once Seungkwan gave word that everything was prepared. There was a loose enough schedule for tonight, starting with Seungkwan performing something he’d been working on with Seokmin and Soonyoung, followed by either Jihoon or Hansol performing whatever they’d been writing lately. From there, they’d play it by ear: plenty of the others had things to share. Dances they’d choreographed, songs they’d grown better at playing... And Jeonghan would stand by, watching as people took their seats. He noticed the way Chan lit up upon realizing he’d be next to you, and he’d already warmly greeted you with that love-struck look on his face that everyone else seemed to notice except you.

Jeonghan settled in on the other side of you, and didn’t fail to notice the tiny way you shifted a little closer to him. He chalked it up to the fact you seemed to be drifting toward him a lot more lately, probably because he’d been trying to include you in things more. It was a guaranteed space where you felt loved and appreciated. That was all he’d let it be, at least.

Wonwoo had been asked to essentially emcee the beginning of the night, and he’d been the one to introduce Soon-Seok-Seung (which... in Jeonghan’s opinion, still felt off, but maybe a smidge better than the previous ‘Soon-Seok-Kwan’) in a song they’d been working on. Which made Jeonghan realize something: you, despite hearing Jihoon and Joshua sing, had no idea how talented all of them were. Music was something that unified all of them, and Jeonghan wasn’t afraid to say that all of them were pretty talented at it.

“Are you going to do something?” He’d whispered to you as Chan went to prepare for his own performance.

You shook your head. “I don’t think I’m as good as you guys.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, and when you nodded, he decided he wouldn’t push. “That’s fine,” he said. “You can stay here and enjoy the others’ performances with me, then.”

Of course, this wouldn’t ring true for too long. Once the night devolved into singing other songs they’d found on records and whatnot, Joshua had pulled him into a duet. Jeonghan had tried to dodge it--he’d already told you he’d stay with you, after all--but Joshua had taunted him a bit and it’d been enough to get him up to sing. He’d do one song and then go back to you (although now that he saw the way Chan was holding your hand, the two of you happily snuggled together... maybe he’d stay up a little longer).

He kicked himself a little for noticing the way you lit up when you heard him sing, and for the way it made his heart flutter a little. He already liked you from the first day you came, but this only endeared you to him further. But if anyone asked if he felt anything over the fact that Chan was so lovingly holding onto you, he’d deny it. Not while Chan clearly felt something for you. Not while other people did, too.

Instead, he settled for pulling you into the next group song that they’d begun singing at the top of their lungs. Although your voice was far quieter than the others, he could hear you underneath the cacophony of chaos around him. Every lowly sung syllable hit his ears, alongside the warm sound of your laughter at the others dancing goofily, throwing themselves fully into enjoying this song. Soonyoung had turned, seeing you, and Jeonghan recognized the twinkle in his eyes.

So with a light shove, he pushed you toward Soonyoung, who’d extended a hand to you. You’d shot him a look over your shoulder, but Soonyoung happily swept you away into dancing with him instead. The way you laughed would stick with Jeonghan for the rest of the night, leaving him with a warm sense of joy over another job well done. You’d fallen asleep in Soonyoung’s arms that night, giggling as he and Seokmin continued to pepper kisses onto your skin, saying something about teaching you one of their dances sometimes.

When Jeonghan woke up the next morning, he realized how much you looked like you belonged there. You always did, in his eyes, but now... It truly felt like you were one of them in every way, happily curled up and completely at peace in a way he hadn’t seen before. You were finding your home with them.

Jeonghan smiled to himself at the thought.

A few days later, Jeonghan had called out to you as you lounged around the common area, a book you’d borrowed from Wonwoo in your hands. You held it to your chest as you made your way over to where he was packing wrapped meals into a bag alongside Jun and Joshua, and he’d already begun to fill you in: the three of them were going on a little picnic outside today. The weather wasn’t too hot, and they’d been wanting to go out for a while now...

“Do you want to join us?” He asked. He nodded toward the other two, “It was their idea.”

(Jeonghan, unfortunately, did not notice the look Jun and Joshua shared behind his back--which said to you that Jeonghan had just outright lied to you.)

“Are you sure?” You glanced over to Joshua, who’d continued to pack extra food into the bag. “I don’t want to bother you guys--”

“You aren’t!” Jun piped up immediately, making his way over. “We’d be glad to have you, if you want to come.”

With the extra support, you agreed to come along. The blanket had been handed to you to carry along, and you followed along behind them as they talked casually. Joshua and Jun seemed to head the charge, while Jeonghan lingered behind, just to stay in step with you. He’d waved casually enough to Soonyoung, who had lit up with realization that the five of you were going off for some sort of picnic, and darted off while calling out to Jihoon. Maybe you should have realized then and there that this wasn’t going to be limited to the four of you. While Joshua had found a cozy place for the four of you to eat, it’d barely been maybe twenty minutes at the most before you heard Soonyoung yelling for you all.

And where there was Soonyoung, there was the rest of the group. He’d found you five with ease and took off running, carrying a bag and a blanket in his own arms.

“What if we wanted to come?!” He huffed at Jeonghan more than Joshua or Jun, who’d giggled at how pouty the man had become.

Jeonghan had smiled, shoulder bumping against yours as he shifted into a more comfortable sitting position. “We didn’t say you couldn’t--”

“You didn’t tell us where you were going,” Chan whined as he made his way over, already taking up the empty space next to you. “That makes it look like you guys wanted to be alone.”

Jeonghan had rolled his eyes, making a comment that they found you all, didn’t they? Soon enough, everyone had joined all of you, blankets spread out and the conversation flying as you all ate yet another meal together. It was something you truly began to appreciate during your time living with them: breakfast and dinner together always felt like a way to center you all. It brought you all together, and it reminded you that you were cared for. Even now, Jun casually fed you a piece of fruit when he saw you eyeing it in the spread he’d set out, too far for you to reach casually since it was settled between himself and Joshua. There were plenty of dinners where he did the same for you, or he served you extra rice to make sure you were eating well... It was sweet to see. Jeonghan would wordlessly move the fruit closer to you after a moment, continuing on in his conversation without a care.

Eventually, the remnants of this meal was set aside to be carried back in when all of you decided to head in for the day. While you had been happy to sit with Jeonghan on your picnic blanket, the others had brought along other things to do. Mingyu had pulled out a ball to kick around with the others, already bringing up a game they must have played before you came--which had fired up Seungkwan immediately when he claimed that the last victory was a fluke. You watched as part of the group broke off and into two teams, taking the ball off to a more spacious area to hopefully avoid disrupting the rest of you. Wonwoo had decided to pass on the game this time, though (although not without Mingyu pouting at him for abandoning their team). You had pulled out the book that Wonwoo had given you, and you noticed the subtle way his eyes lit up with joy when he saw you’d brought it along, and he made a small comment that you should tell him how you like it eventually.

Jeonghan had been watching Seungcheol with the others when he spoke up a while later, mind seemingly elsewhere this entire time. “You know,” he said, “we almost left this once.”

You turned to him. “You... almost left?”

As if on cue, Joshua had been making his way over to rest for a few minutes, settling in on the other side of you. “Yeah,” he said. “Before Jun came, actually. It was... a really, really big fight we had with Seungcheol.”

Jeonghan nodded along, not quite looking at you past a tiny glance before he continued to watch Seungcheol. “When I first woke up here, Seungcheol hated how I kept asking questions all the time. He’d already accepted a lot of things as fact. But I didn’t know them, so I would ask.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And when I asked him why we don’t move on, he asked me why we should leave when we have everything here? And... I thought he was right.”

“And then I came along,” Joshua said, “and I asked a lot of the same questions--even after I saw Jeonghan end up with a fever because he’d asked too many. Whenever Cheol wasn’t around, we’d keep talking about things. Wondering what else was out there, why we’re staying here when there could be people out there.”

Jeonghan continued the story from there, “We agreed on a lot of it. And one day, I think we were both tired of never getting answers. So I looked at him, and I said, ‘Shua, let’s leave together.’ And he looked at me, and said ‘Jeonghan, let’s leave.’“

Even recounting the story now... Jeonghan felt an odd sense of familiarity with those words. As though they weren’t exact, but they were close enough to invoke a feeling that had long since been sleeping in his soul.

“So why didn’t you?” You leaned forward a little, trying to gauge anything from his face.

And with uncanny timing, Jeonghan and Joshua spoke together: “Cheol.”

Joshua shifted in his spot. “We went to Cheol, and we told him we were going to leave. And... I don’t remember who started crying first. It was one of us,” he leaned to where he could see Jeonghan, “because Cheol didn’t cry until after--although he definitely looked like he was going to at any moment--”

“It was me,” Jeonghan openly admitted, voice a little softer while did so. Not out of shame, from what you could tell. Jeonghan never seemed ashamed of his emotions. “But you cried after I broke.”

“Neither of us wanted to leave, but... I don’t know. We kept questioning it, and it felt like we were trapped here without real answers.” Joshua’s gaze settled on Seungcheol, who’d nearly run into Mingyu while chasing the ball. “And then Seungcheol started crying because we were all he had.”

“We were all any of us had,” Jeonghan tugged at the grass, pulling up loose strands. “But if I had left with Shua, then he wouldn’t have had anyone. He opened up to us after that, actually. He tried to leave a few times before I came along. He’d pack a bag, and walk, and eventually end up coming back here in the end because it was the safer place to be.” He looked up, “So when he kept saying he didn’t think anyone was out there... He meant it.”

“Would you leave?” You asked, curling up a little tighter in your spot. “Now, I mean.”

Joshua didn’t hesitate, “No. You’ve never seen the city, Mouse. I think we’re really all that’s left now.”

And Jeonghan said nothing, only nodding along as he didn’t meet your eyes.

Joshua popped up from his spot. “You wanna play?” He nodded, offering a hand to you. “I think I’m gonna join back in.”

You shook your head. “I’m happy here with Hannie,” you said. “But thanks, Shua.”

“Keep this stuff to yourself, by the way,” Joshua said as he stretched in place. “We’ve never really told the others about it. We didn’t want anyone to think we’d take off one day.”

With the secured promise that you wouldn’t tell, Joshua ruffled your hair and returned to the game, running in to try and steal the ball from someone else. Jeonghan, however, remained quiet. You turned, watching him as he merely continued to watch the game, his gaze always returning to Seungcheol. And now with Joshua back in, he’d glance his way sometime, too, and linger a little too long...

“Jeonghan?” You said quietly, and he looked up with a hum. “Would... you leave?”

He shook his head. “This is home,” he said. “I don’t think I could leave it for anything now. Like Joshua said... If you’d seen the city, you’d know.”

“Then... Can I?”

“No.” He paused, realizing how harsh he had sounded with that serious edge to his voice. “Not now, I mean. Maybe next time Seungcheol takes some of us to scavenge. It’s okay,” he said, sliding a little closer to you. “Chan hasn’t seen it, either, and I think Hansol hasn’t, too... It’s a hard truth to swallow. You should enjoy not knowing while you can.”

“But I want to see it,” you frowned. “I just... I need to see it for myself.”

Ignorance is bliss, Jeonghan wanted to tell you. But he didn’t, because he knew the truth: ignorance was something that could swallow a person whole after a while. It was something that made you turn to someone you love wholeheartedly, and say Let’s leave together. Those words still rung in his head even now, the weight of them and a decision that wasn’t seen through resting on his shoulders. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he and Joshua had just... left. Would they have come back? Would Seungcheol even accept them back if they did? Or would the betrayal have been too much for even him, so determined to keep this group of people banded together that he took on his position in a direct attempt to make things easier for the rest?

Even weirder, those words haunted his dreams in this strange sense that he had said something similar to them. Had he? Jeonghan was sure that he said those exact words to Joshua, too. Maybe that was why they were so close now, soulmates of a different variety but soulmates nonetheless. They must have met in a past life and come together again, as if drawn to one another.

If Joshua was a soulmate to him, then Jeonghan felt as though he had more than one. Call it him being sentimental for the twelve--now thirteen, with you--people that he lived with, but sometimes he felt as though life brought them all together for a reason. There had to be a reason why they all seemed to fit together in this puzzle, as though they were always meant to be with each other. Jeonghan wondered where you fit in. He still felt complete with you there, yet it felt... different. Seeing you for the first time was a far different feeling than when he found Chan. There was no subtle sense of recognition that he felt in his soul, just.. peace. He felt at peace when you came. How peculiar.

“Mouse?” Jeonghan said quietly, waiting until you turned to him again. “Please... don’t leave us.”

It was vulnerable in a way you didn’t expect, based on the way that you looked at him--all wide-eyed and brows raising at his words. Yet you reached over, resting your hand over his, curling your fingers around it. That, too, made him feel at peace.

“I won’t.”

Jeonghan found himself drifting. Not in the sense that he used to, back before even Jun had joined the group. He was drifting closer to you, as if there were this invisible pull that always brought him to you even when he was wandering aimlessly. Sometimes he wondered if the two of you were tied together with a little red string that neither of you could see, always bringing you to one another. At first, Jeonghan thought it was his own worries that made him find you and try to pull you into the group. Now, he was sure it was becoming something else: something he wasn’t quite ready to face. Something he was less willing to name, too...

So he turned his attention to the fact that this was well into your third week of living with them. Next week meant hard work to get everything ready to celebrate you coming into their lives. Which, in Jeonghan’s eyes, meant that now was the time to take things a little easier. The weather was hot outside, and that meant it was the perfect time to not push themselves, but enjoy life a little more. He woke up early just to greet Seungcheol, wordlessly setting a cup of tea before him with one of those little cherry desserts Seokmin had made the day before.

“What?” Seungcheol looked up, already knowing that Jeonghan wanted something. This was the way most people tried to butter Seungcheol up, after all... because Jeonghan had started it.

He merely smiled, resting his head in one hand. “You’ve been stressed lately.”

“Just ask already.”

Where was the fun in that? Jeonghan chuckled, “I was thinking that we could take today and go to the lake together. As a family.”

It earned a tiny snort from Seungcheol: while they were a family, Seungcheol knew as anyone else did that throwing it around now was just meant to sway him further. “Jeonghan...”

“Just one day,” he pushed. “All of us deserve a day off. We can always afford it, you know.”

Seungcheol wiped away crumbs from the corner of his mouth, chewing slowly as he thought it over. Then he met Jeonghan’s eyes again. “You’re still worried about Mouse.”

Well, shit, that was... too spot-on.

“You shouldn’t be,” he said, looking back to the little dessert in his hand. “You’ve already done a lot for them.” Then he paused, gaze lifting to meet Jeonghan’s, “Unless... they said something to you?”

“A few weeks ago they said--”

“I meant recently.”

Jeonghan frowned. Couldn’t he just dote on you without it being this big thing? He always doted on people. Why would you be any different? “I just want to make sure they feel included here. They were right: people tend to pair off neatly. Chan always keeps them involved, but what about the rest of us?”

“We’ve been getting better about it,” Seungcheol said. “Are you worried about them not staying? They already made their decision.”

“I know, but...” He sighed. “I did the same, and Joshua and I almost--”

“They’re different,” Seungcheol interrupted. “Jeonghan. You can be honest with me.” He set aside the remaining piece of the dessert, fully turning to face his friend. “I’ve seen the way you look at them sometimes,” he lowered his voice, “as more than a friend.”

Jeonghan swore his mouth went dry within seconds. Shit. “I don’t feel that way about them,” he lied. “I just want them to be happy here--”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Seungcheol stood up, picking up the empty cup and plate. “You should be honest with yourself.”

“I am,” Jeonghan followed after him. “I love them like I love everyone else.” That was his job, in a way. Seungcheol was the leader of this group, Jeonghan was the heart. Joshua was a balance of them both. The three of them worked together to help lead--the same way Soonyoung and Jihoon could step up without hesitation when they needed to. Jeonghan always saw his job as being the one who openly loved and embraced people now, just to help things feel more like home.

Seungcheol looked up. “You pushed them toward Minghao when he brought everyone willing into a meditation session. And you did it again with Soonyoung, when he invited them to dance during our music night. You practically shoved them toward him,” he crossed his arms. “If you’re falling in love with them, then accept it, because I think they’re starting to fall for you, too.”

“They aren’t.”

Seungcheol sighed, shaking his head as he walked past. “If you’re going to reject them because you don’t feel the same, then do that. But don’t lie to yourself and pretend you don’t feel anything for them.” He paused for a moment, looking back, “start getting our bags ready. I’ll come help once I tell the others where we’re going.”

Jeonghan lit up with joy, planting a tiny kiss against his friend’s cheek before taking off--laughing at when Seungcheol groaned and told him to knock it off with the affection right after when he got his way (a teasing statement, surely: Jeonghan wasn’t afraid of skinship with Seungcheol in the slightest). Seungcheol eventually joined him alongside the others, filling bags with spare clothes and everything they would need to go off for a day and enjoy the lake. He smiled to himself when he saw you with Chan, packing your own bag as he excitedly talked about the last time they took a trip out to the lake. He’d been dunked under the water that time... a few times too many... but it was still a nice trip he’d enjoyed. He’d already warned you that some people would get competitive, since he already saw that Soonyoung was packing a ball to toss around.

If you’re falling in love with them, accept it. Jeonghan stopped what he was doing, repeating the words again and again. Was he falling in love with you? It was one thing to think that you would ever fall for him when he merely showered you in affection to make you feel more at home... But what about him? He liked you. He knew that he did. But love? Could he even love a person after knowing them for a few weeks? Maybe that was the part that made him hesitate so much. He felt a sense of love for you, but that was entirely different from capital-L Love. There was something different in what he felt for you, sure, but...

The thought hung with him far longer than he meant for it to. Jeonghan wasn’t jealous. Except... he felt something when Soonyoung threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in tight on the walk to the lake. He felt that same annoyed something when Joshua looked him in the eyes and pressed a lingering kiss into your hair, smiling at him knowingly. He felt it again and again when Mingyu was too affectionate, when Chan held your hand...

Oh. Fuck. Jeonghan shut his eyes, head falling back lightly against the tree he’d been sitting against. “You might be right.”

Seungcheol hummed, looking up. “About?”

“You know what.”

And then he let out a soft chuckle. “I know.”

The day of your celebration arrived quicker than he expected, and Jeonghan felt... antsier than he usually did on these days. There was always this shared sense of anticipation when these days came, this nervous energy filling the room as they prepared to celebrate either the decision to stay, or the decision to keep staying. When he hit his two year mark, postponing the celebration the same as Seungcheol did so that they could celebrate it with Joshua... he remembered staring at himself with this realization that this was it for him. That the day he and Joshua looked at each other and decided to leave was long since gone. Sometimes he felt this tiny desire to go out and look for real, to know for sure that they were the only ones left in the world, but he’d learned to live with it. Maybe one day, if things changed, they’d all leave together. The idea of leaving (whether that be alone or with Joshua or with you, if you would have him...) lost its appeal over time. This, Jeonghan had decided, was home. The people here were home.

You, too, were home. Jeonghan had become certain of that over the past few weeks. Seungcheol had said as much in his usual speech, too.

The celebration slipped through the night like sand through Jeonghan’s fingers, gone all too soon. He’d committed the lines of your face into his memory, the way you smiled, the sound of your laughter... Every evidence of joy, Jeonghan wanted to remember. Even though he, like everyone else, didn’t remember what came before all of this... He could still make new memories. He could memorize the way the light danced in your eyes, the way the last rays of sunlight kissed your skin as it peeked through the curtains. The way his lips lingered on your cheek as he planted a kiss onto you, the same as everyone else did, for what felt like a few seconds too long. He’d commit the warm way his chest felt like it was glowing to memory, too: that was because of you. That much he was certain of. Who else had come along and made him feel like he was filled with sunlight so easily?

With almost everyone in bed, Jeonghan found himself enjoying the quiet that often followed big nights like these. He’d made himself a cup of tea, already making mental notes of who he would have to check on come morning. Chan had drank a lot alongside you tonight, so that already marked down two, and he was pretty sure Seokmin and Soonyoung did, too (Soonyoung was the one who kept leaning forward to kiss your cheek, even happier to do so once he was met with your happy giggles)... He was sure that he’d end up on clean-up duty with Seungcheol and Jihoon to get a head start on sweeping up petals and scrubbing at dried paint, while the others slept in a bit more before getting some sort of breakfast together.

“Hannie?”

He looked up from where he’d been standing in the kitchen, right in front of the sink so he could wash his mug and go straight to bed, to see you lingering in the doorway. You looked exhausted, and he felt his heart soften at the sight of you.

“You’re still up,” you rubbed at your eyes, mindful of the streaks of paint on your skin--a result of the others breaking out the paints alongside markers. Slowly, you made your way over to him, stopping just a few steps away. “Are you okay?”

The slight slur to your voice only made him worry a little. Had you gotten back up because he wasn’t in bed yet...? “I’m okay,” he said. “I thought you were going to cuddle with Seokmin--”

“Why do you do that?” You cut him off there, brows drawing together. “Why... Why do you keep pushing me away and toward Channie and the others?”

That was... one way to put it, maybe. “I’m not pushing you away--”

“You are!” You frowned, and then repeated a quieter “You are... I don’t understand what I did to make you not like me.”

“I do like you.” He set aside his mug, taking the few small steps he needed to be in front of you. Jeonghan gently took your face into his hands, your eyes snapping up to meet his, “Mouse... I care about everyone here. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I don’t.”

“So why,” you curled your fingers around his hands to pull them from your face, yet you didn’t let go, “don’t you want me around? I wanna... I wanna be around you, Hannie. Just you sometimes.” You squeezed his hands. “I... I think I love you...”

“You don’t love me like that,” he said quietly, “it’s okay, Mouse--”

In a rash moment of needing to prove him wrong, you leaned in, kissing him without a second thought. Jeonghan didn’t think at first, either, as he kissed you back as his soul had been so deeply craving to do so, eyes fluttering shut. Yet reason kicked in quickly, and he realized you weren’t sober right now. He pushed you back by the shoulders, hands lingering there as he searched for the right words to say. He saw the way your confidence seemed to dwindle down and extinguish out, leaving a smoky version of the you he loved in its place.

“We can’t,” was what he said. Not like this refused to go past his tongue, uncertainty squeezing in his chest. Did you even want to actually kiss him? Or were you just drunk and affectionate in the way Soonyoung was? Why couldn’t he just... believe that you loved him as much as he wanted to?

Your eyes began to water, and your name died on his lips as you pulled away, already babbling off an apology for bothering him. Although you tried to get away, Jeonghan stopped you.

“It’s okay,” he tried to say, hand loosely curled around your wrist, “you don’t need to apologize--”

All at once, the dam broke, and you began to cry more. Your words were muffled as you buried your face in your hands, but Jeonghan could make out the apologies you kept spilling, saying something about how you loved everyone there but you had started loving him more. That kissing him was bad and you hoped he didn’t hate you...

“Jeonghan?” Seungcheol called out as he came in, fully awake in a way that made Jeonghan’s heart lurch. Shit, was he listening? Did he see what happened? His gaze flitted over to check on you, and then he met Jeonghan’s eyes again, “Are they okay? What happened?”

Jeonghan wasn’t sure what to say. “They’re just overwhelmed,” he lied, trying to spare you any embarrassment. “I think they drank too much.”

It was clear on Seungcheol’s face that he didn’t believe any of it. “I’ll get them to bed,” he said, “and then we can talk. Alright?”

Jeonghan sighed, nodding as he leaned back against the counter. He watched as Seungcheol gently wrapped an arm around you, speaking in a low voice about how Seokmin was still waiting for you--and that he could help cheer you up. He played into the lie, though, saying not to worry about chores come morning, that you could sleep in with the others who drank a little too much, too. The room fell silent soon enough, and Jeonghan shut his eyes. When did all of this become so complicated? He felt like other people would be upset or mad that you had impulsively kissed him like that, yet... Jeonghan couldn’t be angry with you. Not when he grew weak and kissed you back because loving you and being loved in return was the one thing he wanted more than anything else.

The quiet footsteps signaled Seungcheol’s return, and Jeonghan lifted his head to watch his friend as he grew closer with each step.

“Joshua and Seokmin are taking care of them,” he said, slowing to a stop a few steps away. “I told them the lie you told me.”

Jeonghan let out a sigh. “I can’t get anything past you.”

“You can,” a tiny smile tugged at the corners of Seungcheol’s mouth, “just not this.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the counter, “So? You can talk to me.”

Normally, Jeonghan might try to weasel his way out of these conversations. Seungcheol dealt with enough as it was, and he wasn’t fond of adding onto that weight. But he merely looked up. “They kissed me. And I pushed them away because they’re drunk.” After kissing them back, a voice piped up in the back of his head, you greedy--

“But that’s not all,” Seungcheol spoke up, drowning out that little voice before it could go any further. “Jeonghan, I... I didn’t hear everything they said. If something’s wrong, I need to know.”

“They said that I keep pushing them away,” Jeonghan hugged himself. “And that they think I don’t like them.”

“But you do.” Seungcheol let out a quiet sigh. “Jeonghan--”

“They’re not wrong,” he said. “I have been pushing them toward other people because I do like them. If I stop spending so much time with them, these feelings will go away.”

“Do you want them to?”

Jeonghan decided enough was enough. He turned, fully facing Seungcheol. “Tell me you’ll be okay.”

“What?”

“I know how you feel about them,” Jeonghan said. “The reason I’ve been trying to push them away is because I feel like I’ll betray you if I actually let something happen between us. You love them, Cheol. So do I. So does Chan, and I think Joshua and Hansol do, a little, too.” He curled his fingers into his arm, digging them in to ground himself. “The others I know will be okay, because we’ve talked. But will you actually be okay, or are you going to just say it because you always put the rest of us first?”

Seungcheol said nothing as he watched Jeonghan, brows drawing together as his words sank in. “Jeonghan--”

“If you say no, I’ll wait until we’re all ready to take this step.” Jeonghan took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “This isn’t just something that affects them and I. It affects all of us. Things are going to change,” he drifted a step back, bumping into the counter as he leaned against it once more. “So I want to know everyone’s ready to deal with that.”

Seungcheol slowly nodded after a moment. “Jeonghan...” His eyes met Jeonghan’s a moment later. “I wouldn’t stop you--”

“That isn’t what I want to know.” Because I know that, Jeonghan watched him for a moment. I know you’d never stop any of us.

Another slow nod. “I promise,” he said in a low voice, just to keep it between the two of them, “I’ll be okay.” His voice returned to its normal volume a second later, “We’re all adults here. I want them to be happy. If they’re with you, then I know they will be.”

Jeonghan chuckled warmly at the thought. “Just with me?”

“You know that I mean,” Seungcheol rolled his eyes. “Really... Sometimes I feel like we’re immature about these things.”

Jeonghan shook his head. “I just needed to hear you say it.” If he heard Seungcheol say it, then he could fully let himself believe it. He could then finally let go and let himself fall fully, embracing the sweetness of a love reciprocated with everything he had.

“So...” Seungcheol grew closer, his shoulder almost bumping into Jeonghan’s now. “You fell for them.”

He nodded. “At first I just liked stealing them away to have a napping buddy during chores, but... I don’t know. They’re sweet,” he shrugged, “and at some point, I realized I was falling for them.”

“Is that why you pushed them away?” Seungcheol watched him. “Or were you trying to matchmake them with Chan?”

Another warm laugh bubbled up from Jeonghan. “Both. Before Minghao organized the meditation session, I actually pushed them toward Chan. But it’s a little obvious they only see him as a friend.”

Seungcheol nodded along. “And you said you talked to him?”

“He got mad and said he’s an adult who can handle this kind of thing,” Jeonghan said. “And maybe that if I didn’t treat them right, then he was going to try and steal them.”

“That’s true of all of us,” his shoulder bumped against Jeonghan’s, the two chuckling at the thought. “Do you think... in another life... we’d even be having this discussion?”

Jeonghan lifted his gaze to meet Seungcheol’s, brows furrowing as he mulled over his words for a moment. “What?”

Seungcheol opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped, shaking his head. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not. Talk to me.”

Seungcheol pushed off. “Maybe another time,” he said, walking off, only to stop and look back to Jeonghan. “Take care of them,” he said, “I know you will, but... I just need to hear you say it.”

Jeonghan smiled a little. “I will,” he promised.

Whether you were avoiding Jeonghan or if Jeonghan was avoiding you, you weren’t sure anymore. For the past few days, you’d been trying to avoid him. The morning after your celebration, you woke up with a killer headache and the sickening memory of the fact you’d kissed Jeonghan. When you tried to apologize to him, he merely ruffled your hair and said that it was fine before making sure you were feeling alright. The laid back nature of that talk was enough to make you decide to keep to yourself, your worries that he was hiding how he felt were running rampant. When you tried to ask Seungcheol about it, he merely told you to give Jeonghan a little space--only confirming the idea that you fucked up, to be honest--and talk to him about how you felt when you felt the time was right.

“I just don’t want to ruin things between us,” you told Chan one day, long after chores were done, while you were resting on your stomach as you watched him search through the games that were downstairs. Seungkwan and Hansol would join the two of you soon enough, but you’d rather keep this conversation between you and Chan. You already knew what they’d say: Hansol would tell you that you should talk to Jeonghan about how you felt, and Seungkwan would call you silly for worrying so much.

“You won’t.”

“But how do you know that?” You sat up, pouting at him. Yet when Chan didn’t meet your eyes, realization struck. “Wait. He said something?”

He turned, wide-eyed that you’d guessed. “No--”

“Channie,” you got up, making your way over to sit next to him. “Is he mad at me? Just tell me if he’s mad at me. I’ll apologize again if he is--”

“He’s not mad at you.”

Despite the relief that statement brought you, you still felt as though something was off. You watched as Chan looked through the games again, although it felt like he wasn’t quiet looking now that you were seeing him closer. Like he was just distracting himself. “... Channie?”

“I...” He paused, and then turned to you. “I like you.” He said quietly. “And I know you don’t like me the same way. But I do, and I still want to be your friend,” he paused for a second, gauging your reaction, “so if that changes your mind about hanging out today, then that’s okay.” He paused, “I just... I wanted to tell you for once.”

Your gaze softened. “Oh. Chan...” You reached for his hands, taking a deep breath as you let everything sink in. “Thank you for telling me. I... I’m sorry I don’t feel the same way, but I do love having you as my best friend.”

That made his eyes light up. “Your... best friend?”

“Yeah!” You beamed, squeezing his hands. “You’re my best friend here, Channie. You’ve been here for me since the beginning. I really do appreciate you being honest with me, and... and if you need time to deal with this, then that’s okay. You can just tell me when. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re my best friend and that I still love you.”

His eyes were twinkling, and he turned away for a moment, “Really... I didn’t think you’d be so...” He trailed off, “but I still love you, too. I’m glad you’re my best friend, too.”

The two of you grew closer as Chan wrapped you in his arms, squeezing tight. You smiled, hugging him back happily. If he needed the time to get over his crush on you, you could give him that as long as it still meant he’d be your friend in the end.

“Am... I interrupting something?” Joshua called out from the entrance to the room. “I can go if I am--”

“No!” Chan called out, pulling away from you. “No, we’re just--We talked. It’s nothing serious, just--” His cheeks were growing redder. “Do you need something?”

“Hansol said you guys were going to play games,” he made his way over. “Have you picked one yet?”

Chan shook his head. “We got distracted talking...”

“Great!” Joshua sat down. “There’s actually this card game I wanted to show you.” He turned to you, “Mouse, can you go get the deck from upstairs? Seungkwan likes it more.”

You furrowed your brows. “What?”

Joshua gestured vaguely in the shape of a stacked deck of cards, “There’s this cute deck of cards that’s upstairs. We brought it back from our last trip into the city. They’ve got flowers on one side and the stripes on the other with the suit and numbers and stuff. I wanna use that deck,” he said. “Please?”

Chan looked between the two of you. “Um... I can go get it--”

“Mouse needs to know what it looks like,” Joshua pushed a little more, “in case we ever lose it. Just so they know what we’d be looking for.”

“You aren’t making any sense--”

You stood up anyway. “It’s with the other games, right?”

Joshua lit up immediately. “Yes! You can’t miss it. It’ll stand out, trust me.”

Although you swore you heard the sound of Joshua smacking Chan’s arm as you walked away, you continued on your little quest without much thought. The trek from the room you’d been in up to the church wasn’t too bad, although you’d always hate scaling the ladder into the attic. Was it really so vital that you get this one deck of cards? There were a few downstairs, and you thought that deck was down there anyway because Seokmin had used it for a game with a few of the others--you included. But maybe there was a second one you weren’t aware of.

The moment you could see into the attic, you realized what Joshua had been doing. “Jeonghan?”

He made his way to you quickly, helping you into the attic. “Hi.”

“I was supposed to--”

“That was a lie,” Jeonghan said quickly. “Joshua said he’d find a way to get you up here.” He took a few steps back, not bothering to try and hide the dinner that was sitting on a blanket he’d spread out on the floor. “Can we talk?”

You nodded, although you looked down at everything he’d spread out. “How did you--”

“Shua.” Jeonghan slowly sat down, patting the empty spot near him. “He helped with all of this, actually. I asked him to.”

After a moment of hesitation, you sat down and faced him. One way or another, the two of you hadn’t spoken all that much in the past few days... and now Jeonghan had prepared dinner for the two of you, likely to have alone. You might not have seen through Joshua’s not-so-subtle ruse to get you up here until now that you were thinking about it more, but you were definitely able to put two and two together now that the only person you needed to focus on was Jeonghan.

“So you...?”

“I love you.” He said it out loud, unafraid to finally let himself say it. How long had he fought against it? How many times had he pushed it away while trying to think of your own happiness by pushing you toward everyone else...? “And I denied it because I thought you’d be happier with someone else. I’m not sorry that I pushed you away that night, but I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t blame him for pushing you away: you were drunk. Even though you wanted to kiss him now... You didn’t like the idea that your first kiss with him was like that. “Jeonghan... I’m sorry I kissed you.”

“You were drunk,” he said, “you weren’t thinking. And... I kissed you back at first, too.”

“That’s still not an excuse,” you quickly said. “I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have done it--”

Jeonghan nodded. “Right. So let’s let it be in the past now,” he said. “And... Talk about us and what comes next.”

What comes next... The idea made your face grow warmer, heart beating a little quicker than before. Jeonghan wanted something to come next, and so did you... That meant a lot to hear out loud, to be honest. “So.. You love me?”

He nodded. “I... I think I do. At first, I thought I just wanted to help you feel more included here. I wanted you to be happy. And... I don’t know--I think I realized it at some point and decided that your happiness came first in more ways than usual.”

“Do you normally put everyone else first?” You frowned a little. You understood it would happen sometimes but...

He sheepishly nodded. “I’m used to it. Seungcheol and Joshua do it, too. We watch over everyone together. That’s... That’s our role, I think.”

“So....” You toyed with a loose string on your sleeve, not quite meeting his gaze now. “You were pushing me toward other people?”

Another nod, although he seemed a little more factual this time around. Like it was something he just needed to admit and move past. “I was. I decided I would do anything to make you happy, even if it meant watching you love someone else.”

“Was I not obvious enough?” You asked quietly. “I mean... I always ran off with you whenever you asked. I spent a lot of time with you--I went to everything that you arranged because you were involved.”

“Not for the others?” He raised a brow.

“For them, too,” you said. “I just... I knew you were doing it for me. So I’d go and be a part of things so that your effort wasn’t wasted. I liked being a part of the group, but I liked seeing you happy.”

“Well...” Jeonghan shifted so that he’d be sitting a little closer to you. “Then that’s something we have in common,” he smiled. “I like seeing you happy, too.”

You had a feeling you knew what was coming next. So you moved a little closer. “Hannie?” You felt your face grow warmer. “Can... Can we have a do-over on that whole ‘first kiss’ thing?”

He chuckled warmly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. “So you want to kiss me again?”

“You’re such a dork,” you sighed blissfully, “yes, I want to kiss your stupidly handsome face again. For real this time.”

He chuckled. “As you wish.”

Jeonghan leaned in, letting you close that distance between the two of you as your lips captured his in a gentle kiss. The first time you kissed him, it had been impulsive, and something he’d leaned into out of a need to be closer to you. Yet this time that need was far softer, far gentler than it had been before. It was as though letting himself love you wholeheartedly made him feel safer in taking things slower, in kissing you far gentler the way he thought all first kisses with someone so beloved to him should be (not that there was anyone else on the same level as you). He cupped your face, eyes fluttering shut as he felt you smile into this kiss.

When he drew back, he saw the way your confidence seemed to burn brighter in you. You pulled him back in for another quick kiss, as if it was your way of having the last word. He’d let you have it this time (but next time? He’d fight a little more, just to leave you breathless and to tease you further). This time, he just wanted to admire you, hand still cupping your face as he ran his thumb along your cheek.

“Things are going to change between all of us,” he said gently. “Are you ready for that?”

You thought, for a moment, that hearing it would have brought this sense of dread. The two of you would have to face everyone at some point and announce that your relationship had changed, and that did mean the dynamics among the group would shift a little, too. Yet with Jeonghan saying it to you... You felt ready. If you faced everyone with him by your side, hand-in-hand, you would be fine.

“I am,” you said after a moment. “Are you?”

And he smiled, leaning in for another kiss. “As long as I have you, I will be.” He knew deep down that he could face anything as long as he had everyone together, especially if he had you right beside him. His lips ghosted over yours for a moment. He drew back, quietly saying your name. “Let’s stay together.”

After a moment, you nodded, taking his hands in your own. “Let’s stay,” you said, taking his hands in your own. He weaved his fingers with your own, holding on tight. “Together.”

general taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @gyulbabie

under the sun taglist: @shiningstar-byulxx @twogyuu @strawberri-uyu @bbmyungho @thedeeppoet @heeseung-lover686 @bfwonu @fifty-shades-of-mischeif @blackwhiteandshadesofgradient @dreamhannies @yourfavoritefreakyhan @amethyistheart @jeonnyread @nap-of-a-starr @anidolcalledaoife @vernxnsfool

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #seventeen x you #svt x you #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x you #wooahaes.uts #ill be honest i did very minimal proofreading bc its 8 am and i was determined to put this out Right Now #and i MIGHT. probably wont but MIGHT. come back and add something if i feel like i need to #i just need to finish rewriting cheol's part and UtS (main version) will be done

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osamusriceballs · 9 months ago

Text

The Accident - Part XVIII

Atsumu x fem reader

Warnings: NSFW!!

Words: ~ 4,9 k

About: Finally! Pure smut, barely plot. Can be skipped if you're uncomfortable with that. The longest part so far xD

Part I II -> Final Part

Your relationship with Atsumu has been thriving.

You came to appreciate that he is actually a very reliable and vivid texter and how you both regularly went on dates- something that he insisted on, and you definitely couldn't complain about that. You know that he has a tight schedule, but that apparently doesn't stop him from inviting you over every single weekend, without exceptions, always making sure that Saturday night belongs to the two of you. Often, you would go to Onigiri Miya's to eat, much to Osamu's delight. He always insists that you don't have to pay, yet you still often place a crumpled 10 bucks note in the tip jar to keep the guilt at bay.

You both have developed a routine of eating out together and then watching a movie at Atsumu's place. He's told you a lot about his work, sometimes complaining about other players, but he seems really confident in his skills, with the start of the Olympics getting closer and closer every single day, which he is anticipating quite a lot.

You'd tell him about your work too, tell him about the things that you like, that you enjoy to read, confessing with reddened cheeks that you sometimes read rather unconventional stories, to which his smug grin had intensified, and he seemed very interested in getting details of that, which you denied at first, but then promised him to send him recommendations. You had also told him how Yachi and you met and how you got to know Hinata and Kageyama. You came to enjoy this caring side of Atsumu, and it feels rather domestic to spend time with him like this, just the two of you talking and having fun.

And more often you'd find yourself in Atsumu's lap after talking for hours, heavily making out with him until you both gasp for air- just like today.

You barely pay any attention to the movie, the sounds only faintly in the background, some action movie that Atsumu found with a good rating and insisted you both watch—and instead, it didn't even take him ten minutes to scoot a bit closer and to gently turn your face towards him to kiss you, deepening the kiss quickly and then pressing your back against the couch. He's now hovering over you, your legs wrapped around his middle and your hands deeply entangled in his hair. You came to notice that he loves when you play with his hair, sometimes even resting his head in your lap just to have you give him a head massage, so you don't hesitate to feel the soft strands in your fingers and scratch his scalp softly.

He groans against your lips when you slightly pull on the strands, and a breathy moan escapes your lips when he grinds his hips against yours. He's hard already. Very much so. You feel his cock pressing against you, just the fabric of his sweats and your panties separating your bodies from each other. Your skirt rode up when Atsumu had forced your legs open to settle in between them, but you don't mind laying under him like this. The tension between you is thick, and you're glad that you're wearing a nice matching set of underwear tonight, even though you're convinced that he couldn't care less about your choice of clothes.

"Gosh, yer driving me crazy." He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, and you swear you could combust at the sight of pure unrestricted lust in his eyes. This is usually what you'd do: make out until you both couldn't take anymore and then fall asleep together while cuddling, without going further. He made it pretty clear that he wants to take this slow and earn your forgiveness for the situation, and while you appreciate his efforts, you'd also appreciate him doing just a bit more with you. "Tsumu—can we... you know... go a bit further?" You ask with bright cheeks, hoping that he's also willing to take that step with you, and he raises a brow in a teasing way, and you almost push him back when you see his sexy smug grin. "Oh? Wifey wants more, huh?" He dips his head, and his lips find your neck, kissing down to your pulse, causing you to release a soft breath while you arch against him, his cock now hardly pressing between your legs. "I would be a bad husband if I deny your wishes."

His kisses get just a bit rougher, his teeth grazing against your skin, and you arch into him when he bites down slightly. "Atsumu—" you try to even out your breath, but you can't seem to calm down when he nibbles on your skin, the feeling almost painfully intimate when he cages you underneath him like this. "We can go a bit further, if ya want to. I could go right here." He shifts his weight and angles his face a bit deeper to press a kiss against your collarbones, leaving a tingling sensation on your skin when he pulls back. "Or right here." His fingers pull down the side of your shirt until you expose even more cleavage to press a sensual kiss at the swell of your breasts. You feel heat rushing through your body, and you softly moan at the action- he's driving you insane.

"How far do you want me to go?" He looks up at you, his eyebrow raised in a silent question while he looks at you. His face is close, so close, you can see his flushed cheeks and widened pupils, and you're certain that you could explode any second when he looks at you like this. "All the way. If you're okay with that?"

You barely manage to finish the sentence before he already starts moving to press your back harder into the couch until you lay flat. A soft gasp leaves your lips, and your eyes widen when he thrusts his hips against yours in the process, the friction so good and welcoming against your sensitive spots. His fingers find the hem of your shirt, and he gently pulls it up until your bra is exposed to his eyes. An almost dangerous glint is in his eyes when his thumbs hook in the cups of your bra and simply pull them down until they rest under your tits and force them to stand up. Your chest heaves heavily, your nipples perky, not only because of the chilly air but definitely because of his undivided attention.

He suddenly brings his thumbs to his lips, one after the other, quickly licking the digits, before his hands cup your tits, his wet thumbs rubbing over your perked nipples, a sensation that has you release a small whimper. His hands start to softly massage your breasts, and you thank all deities for his setter hands, so big and warm and skilled, feeling so good against your bare skin. Your own fingers grab into the cushion below you while you try not to squirm too much—not that you could escape from him now when he's basically straddling you and keeps on playing with your tits.

It feels good—really good, the tingling sensation between your legs growing stronger with each passing second, and you start to wiggle underneath him, your body aching for more of his touch. Atsumu notices the shift in your demeanor and softly pinches your nipples one last time before he moves a bit down, his hands caressing your bare sides while he does so. The way he's treating you makes you almost whine out loud, so soft and tenderly, it's making your head spin. "I love how your skin feels. So soft and warm." He mumbles, his eyes scanning your whole body before he suddenly gets up, just enough to not sit on you anymore. Instead, he kneels between your legs, grabbing your thighs and pushing them apart a bit further to have a good look at your panties. "A matching set?" he asks when his eyes wander back to the bra that still pushes your tits up. "Yes," you nod a bit breathless and flustered, and the way he's taking things so slow makes you feel even more needy for him, while he seems so calm and cool. Probably his year-long experience of keeping his cool every single day when he's playing.

"I like it. But I think these need to go." He nods towards your panties, the sheer material not hiding much actually, but the clear wet stain on them makes the situation even more scandalous. You nod with reddened cheeks, and he places two fingers against the wet stain, caressing and softly rubbing against the spot, while keeping his eyes on your face. "Though, I'm really glad to see that yer enjoyin' this as much as I do." His finger softly presses inside of you, just a little bit with your panties still between you, a shock of electricity rushing though your body when the fabric stretches against your clit, and his finger enters just the tiniest bit inside of you. He stills for a second, watching your reaction for a second, before he brings his other hand to the fabric, hesitating, before he clears his throat before he meets your gaze. "Can I rip 'em?"

You stare at him with wide eyes, unable to form words, understanding that this is something that he wants to do even though he seems slightly embarrassed by it. You're so turned on by the question though that you simply nod, and he brings both of his hands to the fabric and pulls. It takes him two more attempts before the fabric softly rips, his attempt to be gentle and careful to you very clear, and the simple display of his suppressed strength has your pussy clenching around nothing. He scoots slightly back, his eyes focused on your cunt, drinking in the sight of you, while you tremble in anticipation. This is even better than all the fantasies you've had about him so far, all the dirty thoughts about his arms and thighs that made you stick your hands into your panties when you're in need of release. All of that can't compare to what you're feeling right now.

"I'll eat ya out first 'kay? Get ya nice and ready for me." You open your mouth, ready to protest that you're already wet for him and you don't need further prep, and that you just want him to fuck you, but your protest gets stuck in your throat when he settles on his stomach, his arms grabbing your legs and hoisting the above his shoulders. He is on eye-level with your pussy and you suddenly feel so exposed, yet still so safe with him.

"So pretty," he mumbles, and you're not sure if that was even meant for you to hear, and you let out a gasp and a soft choke of his name when he softly licks against your folds. Softly, just testing the waters- and judging by your reaction, his is convinced that he can do more to you. His tongue licks against your folds again, harder this time, putting more pressure on you and you mewl contently. "Just like that, pretty girl. Let me do my thing and enjoy yourself. Part of my husband duties, to keep my wife satisfied."

He kisses against your entrance, resting his lips on yours and letting his tongue peak out just the tiniest to get you a feeling of it, and you clench involuntarily at the feeling of his warm tongue. He licks against your folds again, this time pausing when he reaches your clit, softly closing his lips around it and sucking. "Atsumu-" you gasp with wide eyes, your legs almost caging his head when he sucks a bit rougher. "Shhhhhsh," he hushes you and sucks just a tad bit softer, one of his hands letting go of your leg and moving between your legs too. Your breathing pattern is irregular and you moan when you feel a wave of need rush through your body.

One of his fingers prods against your entrance while he keeps his lips enclosed on your clit and you feel like you're going to explode. It's hot- so, so hot when he softly pushes a digit inside you, his tongue messily licking your clit until your eyes roll back and your back arches off the bed- you can imagine how lewd you look right now. Flushed cheeks, crossed eyes, your tits exposed while you arch your back like you're in heat with Atsumu's head between your legs, licking your cunt while he fingers you open.

It's hot, oh, so hot. The way he's pumping his finger inside of you, slowly adding another one when he feels you easing up for him. The way he's licking up all of your arousal, groaning against you and humping the bed for a bit of friction for himself while he gives you pleasure. The way he's watching you heavy lidded, probably unable to see much of your face, but the occasional glances of your expression are enough for him. He's addicted to your taste, addicted to the way you moan his name, softly at the beginning, but now with more urgency and need, getting louder for him when he increases the pace of his fingers. You didn't know what to do with your hands at first, but now you're gripping his hair and pushing him ever so softly against your pussy, unable to resist the need to get more friction, and he so willingly gives you more. The wet sounds of his fingers pushing into you and the way he's messily eating you out makes you feel like you're in heaven. He could do this for hours, worship your taste and listen to your sweet sounds, but he can feel you clenching repeatedly around his fingers, indicating just how close you are.

"Tsumu- I can't- gonna-" you barely manage to form words, moans and deep breaths hindering you from saying what you want to say, but he simply keeps going at the same pace and you suddenly feel your high overwhelming you.

It's too much. The heat, his face between your legs, the way he's fingering you, the way his tongue is teasing your clit and giving you just the right amount of attention- it takes you like a wave and you feel your muscles tensing and arching against his face while you come. Your mouth is wide open a lewd sounds leave your lips while you feel the delicious sensation rushing through your body. Atsumu doesn't change his position, nor his pace, he simple keeps his ministrations up and licks up your juices until you only whimper softly and your hand falls weakly onto the couch. He kisses your cunt, gentle and caring while he pulls his fingers out, his lips ever so soft while he whispers a praise against your folds, and you feel how you blush at the sudden unexpected sweetness.

Your body finally relaxes and you fall back into the cushions. He slows down his ministrations and looks at his hand with a grin, your slick on them evident. You focus your eyes on him and follow all of his movements when he shortly licks his fingers with a groan before he grabs his shirt, his fingers leaving a mess on the dark fabric before he pulls it over his head and throws it away. You silently ogle him, taking in the sight of him, broad chest heaving heavily, strongly defined shoulders and arms, and the slightest bit of dark hair trailing down to the band of sweatpants. "Ya alright? Wanna go further?" His voice is a bit raspy and his cheeks slightly reddened and it makes your heart beat faster. His hands find your sides and softly caress the skin while he waits for your answer. He's still hard, you can see it through the fabric of his pants, but you're convinced that he would not push you to go further, no matter how painful it is for him. You look at him softly and nod, a small smile on your face when you reach out to him. "Kiss me, please?"

He nods with an approving hum and leans down to kiss you, his weight now settling on your body in a comforting way. Your hands reach for his hair when he kisses you, your body arching up against his when his lips meet yours in a gentle but firm kiss. You allow your hands to wander and to explore his naked body while you return the kiss, your tongue moving against his while you rake your nails softly against his bare back. You can feel a shudder running down his spine and you repeat the motion, only to be rewarded with a little groan against your lips. You let one of your hands roam to his stomach, feeling the muscles clench under your fingers, and hesitantly move further down to the trail of soft hair, waiting for him to either stop you or to encourage you.

Atsumu is quick to raise his hips to allow you to have your way, his hips raising just enough to allow your to move your hand between your bodies. The soft hair on his abdomen tickles the palm of your hand and you let your fingers roam to the hem of his pants, until you feel the bulge. He inhales sharply when you palm him through his pants, his muscles clenching hardly when he finally gets some friction. You softly move your hand, feeling his length, the hardness of him, his balls, heavy and full. He takes a shaky breath, his eyes closing for a second, before he opens them abruptly and leans down to kiss you. His lips are glued to yours, deepening the kiss while he angles his face to push his tongue just a bit rougher against yours. You finally move your hand inside his pants, fingers hesitating for a second at the hem, but then you slide them under the fabric and reach for his cock.

He is big. Big and warm, wet with precum already, and you trace the shape with one of your fingers while your other hand holds his shoulders for support.

You explore his cock, getting a feel of him, how long he is, how he feels against your skin- and you love every single second of it. You softly close your hand around his shaft and start stroking, being rewarded with an airy gasp against your lips. You start jerking him of, moving your hand in a steady rhythm, while making sure that you don't push him too far. "So good," he rasps against your lips and you moan in response, feeling a wave of adrenaline rushing through your body. Your free hand moves to his ass, boldly pulling the fabric down, and clumsily you release his cock after you managed to pull his pants down just enough to have his cock spring free and to poke between your legs.

You only now realize that he is indeed bigger than you thought- just having him pressing himself against your body makes your eyes open widely. He looks at you through half-lidded eyes, observing al of your reactions while he waits for you to make a move, effectively showing you that you're in charge. He just hovers above you and looks at you expectantly.

As if you could stop now. Your body is screaming for him, aching for him and you simply spread your legs further and gently grab his cock, lining him up at your entrance without any more words.

His eyes widen, clearly surprised by you taking the initiative this fast, but he nods and seems to brace himself for what you're about to do. You collect some of your slick with the mushroom head of his cock, making sure he is well-lubricated before you line him up once again. Atsumu suddenly takes in a sharp breath and pushes his hips back, just out of reach for you now- much to your confusion. Did you read the signs wrong? What if he doesn't want to-

"Do ya want me to use a condom? I don't mind, ya just hafta tell me and-" he starts and vaguely gestures towards the bedroom, and you look at him wide eyed.

"Tsumu-" you whisper, your heart swelling with affection, tears almost dwelling in your eyes at his honest expression. "I uhm... I'm assuming that you're clean? i don't mind if you... if you don't use a condom. I use contraceptives." You know that your cheeks are bright red while you keep talking, but the moment just feels so painfully intimate, when you're basically asking him to fuck you raw- it almost feels like love. It makes you vulnerable and you have a hard time looking into his eyes, but he is quick to turn your face towards him, his hand gently cupping your chin, while more of his weight suddenly lasts on you.

He looks at you for a moment, not saying anything, simply studying your face before he presses his lips against yours in a longing and gentle kiss. You return the kiss your hands quickly wrapping around his broad shoulders while you move your lips against his. He pulls back, his eyes so soft while he watches you. "Your trust means a lot to me. I'll make sure to keep it forever."

You're too flustered to say anything, your heart heavily pounding in your chest, so you take that as a cue and line his cock up at your entrance, this time angling your hips a bit, until the head of his cock disappears between your folds and stretches you out. "Please-" you gasp for air when you feel him pushing inside. You see how his gaze turns hazy, your own eyes also unable to focus on the sight of him while he pushes deeper and deeper inside of you, until he's finally bottoming out. His breath is shaky, his facial expression looks like a mixture of shock and pure bliss. "Yer- squeezin' me- so good, fuck," his eyes roll back, his muscles clenching hard while he tries to keep his weight as steady as he can.

You're not any better under him. His cock feels so big inside of you, a stretch that you haven't felt for so long, feeling better like anything you've ever had before. You feel tears dwelling in your eyes- from pleasure and from feeling so close to him, so connected like you're meant to be with each other, and he is quick to notice the change in your expression. "What's wrong?" He seems more focused when he leans down to press kisses to your cheeks, your nose, your lips, gentle while he holds you. "N-nothing. It's just- I'm feeling a lot of things right now- please, Tsumu, I- I just like you so much-" your voice is low and soft, and he lifts his face to look at you, his expression so gentle and kind, you're sure that you'll never forget this moment. "I like ya too. Don't wanna live without ya, y/n. Yer precious to me- in a way I don't think anyone has been precious to me." His confesses, and you feel like your heart is skipping a beat.

He's not confessing his love to you- you've only known each other for a few months, with a rather long pause during the incident, it's too early to talk about love. Yet, you're convinced that he feels the same. That you're both made for each other and will love each other. Unconditionally.

You both don't need more words, and he presses his forehead against yours and looks deeply into your eyes while he starts to move his hips. Your jaw drops and your lips part slightly when he pulls away, his cock almost leaving you completely before he thrusts back in, slowly and controlled, so much that it drives you crazy. You can't even talk and beg him to do it again, yet he still understands what you need, and repeats the motion, thrusting into you nice and slow just how he is convinced that you like it. You moan softly, your breath meeting his lips while he starts setting a pace, sensual and slow, angling his hips slightly different until your hands grab into his shoulders just a bit harder when he hits the spot that makes you see stars. He curses when you clench around him, but he doesn't stop but keeps thrusting just a bit harder.

You don't know how long he keeps on fucking you like this, the pace nice and slow, just like lovers would, both of you enjoying the pleasure of being so, so close to each other, until you can't help but to feel your high approaching. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist, your heels digging into his back while you clench around him, knowing that you're almost there. His facial expression shifts at that sensation and his eyes shoot wide open.

"Fuck- y/n-" he groans and suddenly grabs your hips tighter when he pulls out- completely this time. Your jaw drops at the loss of friction, your hips trying to fight against his grip to bring him to push back into you- fruitlessly.

"Why are you-" you whine, feeling robbed and empty, your body needing him to be closer, needing him to give you something. "Shhh, I got ya." He moves your hips and you understand what he's trying to do, helping him to move your body until you're kneeling in front of him. The new position makes you tremble uncontrollably, and you know that his gaze is focused on your pussy while you nervously shift in his grip. "So, so pretty," he groans and leans down to press a kiss against your ass cheek, and you whimper at the praise.

"My pretty princess, I'll make ya feel so good, 'kay? Just a bit more, can ya wait for me, huh? I'll fill ya up nice and good if ya do." You could come from his dirty talk and his voice alone, your pussy helplessly clenching at the thought of what there is to come, and you loudly moan when he finally pushes inside, the angle so much deeper than before, it makes you see starts and until you tighten around him like a vice. He curses, his hands gripping your ass cheeks hard and spreading them to watch his cock disappear into your wet folds. You meet his thrust, desperate for more friction, and he slams back into you harder, making you slowly lose your mind. Your arms give up and your face lands on the pillow, but you barely notice that, all of your nerves only consisting of the pleasure that Atsumu is giving you.

"Fuck, y/n- can ya cum for me? Can ya do that, pretty princess?" He groans, one of his hands releasing your ass to rub circles on your clit- a little sloppy and uncoordinated at first, but when he finally hits the spot you drool on the bed sheets. "Tsumu- gonna cum- gonna cum for you-" you whine out loudly, and it only spurs him on to move faster until you cry out his name, only able to form this one word while you clench around him and reach your high. You realize that he's cumming to, but he doesn't slow down, his groans turning into an overstimulated whimper while he keeps on fucking you while cumming. He's coming so much inside of you, it's already dripping down your leg before he's even finished, but you enjoy the feeling of the hot sticky liquid on your skin.

You don't know how much time has passed until you finally calm down and simply lose all tension. He softly pulls out and places your hips on the couch before he collapses and flatly lays down on his back next to you. His arms reach out for you, and you allow him to pull you against his sweaty chest. You're sweaty too- something that you only notice now, but he doesn't seem to mind. He's probably used to sweat anyway. His hand starts caressing your hair, and your fingers roam along his chest, feeling the soft flushed skin under your fingers.

"How was it?" His hand still caresses your hair while you lay on his chest, listening contently to the sound of his heartbeat with a smile forming on your lips. "That was... really good," you airily laugh and cuddle closer against his chest, and he wraps his free arm tightly around you, instantly making you feel warmer when your barely clad chest presses against his naked one.

"Just really good? I'll need to work on my stamina, can't have ya sayin' really good only. Wasn't that mind blowing or something like that? Felt mind-blowing to me at least."

You softly snort at his words and look up to him, only to find him looking at you fondly. "Wanna stay over? I'll order some take out and we can finish that movie?" His eyes flicker to the screen, only to see that the movie is basically over. "Or we can start another movie. I think there is a sequel to that."

"Shouldn't we finish the first one before we start the sequel?" You look at him with raised brows, and he laughs softly at your reaction. "You're perfect. Just stay right here." His arm wraps around you, and you feel warmth in your heart,

while you lie in the arms of your husband.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #atsumu x reader #atsumu #atsumu smut #HERE YOU GO!#I caught a cold unfortunately right after I finished my exams #I'm laying in bed all day #but I'm sure it will be better soon #I hope you enjoyed this part #it's so long omg #like the longest I've ever written I think #I hope it's alright #I tried proofreading it but I'm sure I missed some things lol #I hope you'll still enjoy it! <3 #LOVE YA! <3 #I'll be more active now! because I'm on my semester break <3

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mizukiprsk · 7 months ago

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Heat levels with MORE MORE JUMP!, WONDERLANDS x SHOWTIME and 25-ji de, Nightcord de.

(i thought i had already made something like this, but i can't find? so here goes i guess)

Heat source: Airi, Mizuki, Emu, TSUKASA Average heat(switch): Mafuyu, NENE, Minori, Haruka Heat seeker: Shizuku, Ena, KANADE, RUI

EXTRA:

Kusanagi Nene

Nene is the true heat switch. There is days that she can barely be near you, claiming you emit too much heat. And other days she is snuggling next to you, like a cat seeking the heater's warmth

"Uh? didn't you say I'm too warm?" "That was yesterday. Today's colder"

Hinomori Shizuku

Now, Shizuku is kind of cheating here. She is technically a switch, but since physical touch is one of her main love languages, she might claim that she is just cold to be closer to you.

"You are so warm~" "Are you really cold?"

Kamishiro Rui

It can be a little surprising that Rui is actually cold most of the time. Since he is tall, you could think he has lots of body heat, but since he is usually stuck working on his machines, his body might forget to reheating itself, sometimes.

"-woah! Your hands are very cold!" "Oh, are they? Could you help me warming them, then?~"

#oh yeah i'm alive #but i'm running out of ideas maybe i could open request for this type of thing #hinomori shizuku #kamishiro rui #kusanagi nene #hinomori shizuku x reader #kamishiro rui x reader #kusanagi nene x reader #project sekai x reader #headcannons #more more jump! x reader #wonderlands x showtime x reader #25 ji nightcord de x reader #also i just wrote these and didn't proofread much but since i don't have a publishing schedule right now i figured i should just upload it

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plasticfangtastic · 1 year ago

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American Royalty ch. 5

A Homelander X F! Reader and Dadlander fic.

A/N: prev. chapters available in my pin post, if ya like to be added to my taglist feel free to drop a comment with a request. I wanted to post this tomorrow but yeah am a liar with ADHD UwU.

Tags: mild gore, angsts, lots of angst, slow burn, fluff, oc characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance... i guess i should also say unhealthy/toxic relationship.

Chapter five

Thick lines.

Ryan and Helena were exhausted, most of the obstacle course had been partially destroyed, the walls damaged quite severely, and the ceiling was dented, Homelander had learned two things: 1) Ryan holds back too much– too afraid to harm, too afraid to break things, too afraid of his own powers as if they would come right-back around and harm him, and 2) Helena’s forcefield could take a beating, it had taken Ryan quite a bit of rage for it to start cracking, the girl continued to taunt hi, calling him inept, throwing insults without care before it cracked down.

She had learned her limits, making notes for future reference.

So here he was putting pressure on her arm, as she bled profusely.

Ryan was crying blaming himself, while Homelander took her to the labs. The girl didn’t cry much, seemingly just angry, only wincing as her father squeezed her arm with curses in her lips.

You had run out of the kitchen, guards refusing you entry to the labs, while you demanded entry Homelander had emerged and ordered them to step aside, throwing daggers at them as he took your hand.

You cried as you saw the bandages on her arm, you cried harder when she wrapped her arms around you, bawling and shaking underneath them.

Homelander calmly explained that she ended up with twenty stitches and some blood transfusion, but she was fine, no bone had been touched and her body was healing slowly.

You barely listened.

When was the last time you saw her cry? She was a quiet baby, a perfect baby, by the time she could talk, crying seemed redundant when she could simply spell it out for you.

“What did you do!?” You picked your child, retreating from him– I fucking qu–

“It was my fault…” Ryan said drying his sobs– I’m sorry.”

“It was an accident. The kids got a little heated during training… I should’ve stepped in earlier.”

Homelander took Ryan under his arm.

You stared at the kid, then back at your own.

“Helena did you–” You stroke her back– Sorry that my daughter antagonized you… It won’t happen again.”

Your voice was quiet, unable to look at either child.

“Let’s go get your stuff. My apologies, Homelander but I won’t be able to continue my work today. She won’t be a cause of future concern…” You wanted to quit and leave this tower forever.

He lets you go, no doctor tried stopping you either, but you wouldn’t let your daughter stay at Vought, a nurse informed you to come back to change the bandages in two days but you rather take her to an actual hospital.

You looked at him knowing he was going to come around.

Coffee already on the stove and biscuits on the table already waiting for him.

“How is she?” He was genuine.

“She says it's too itchy… but her arm is alright.” you scratch at your head.

“You look tired.”

“I haven’t slept for almost a decade… that’s just my face now.”

“You didn’t quit.” He sat beside you on the big round-table, turning pale as you saw him sit on his cape, his eyes reddened as he tried to look calm– are you quitting?”

“I dunno. Helena can be pretty abrasive. I’m sorry your son fell for it, she doesn’t mean it… she just thinks that people are going to be cruel, so she’s cruel first.”

“Why?” He presses taking a quick glance at the livingroom and the misplaced toys.

“Try being in a classroom full of teenagers and be the smartest one in the whole room, they just see a smug midget who thinks she’s better than anybody else– they’re mean… kids in general are mean… but she eventually just scares them enough… there were other kids she’d hurt, nothing too severe.”

You stayed in silence not knowing if you should ask him to leave or not. If you should let him be privy of those events.

“She knows.”

“You!”

“She either figured it out or used her powers to find out.” He rested his elbow on the table stroking his tired eyes– I didn’t tell her but she would’ve noticed there was something going on.”

You yawned, taking a couple sips of coffee as he copied you. The silence unbearable and your eyes heavy and aching, gawking at him made you think of her.

“Your eyes and lips are identical.” That was an unusual smile on your face– when she was born that was the first thing I noticed, the second was that mop of hair on her head… she had so much hair and it was so long, but those were your eyes… sadly, you know I always thought your nose was your best feature but she got mine.”

You stood up asking him to follow you to the living room with a finger, taking a seat on the same sofa you refused to throw away.

“Tell me about her… Becca never had the chance… I cleaned that house and found pictures and trinkets, but without the stories I can only speculate. I don’t know his first words, the first time he walked, his first time riding a bike… I don’t know anything. She never wanted to tell me.” He leaned closer, his hand close to yours but never touching– Ryan is sorry, he was quite shaken.”

“Her first word was ‘morning’.” You spoke wanting to indulge, wanting to seem better for some reason.

You told him stories, there had been a time when you fantasized sharing all these moments with him, when you were younger and stupider. When you two began to get too serious, when he had called you baby, darling and honey with genuine affection, when you watched him sleep and caressed his hair awake. You’d dreamed of drinking wine while your kids slept by his side at one point and in this forced intimacy you could be as deluded as he was just in case he was holding something nefarious over your head.

You let him know about her silly things, about her first love… the chemistry set you bought her when she was five. About how she lived in their local library and everybody knew her by name, about how some of the kids expected her to become Brooklyn’s finest, about her hatred of pistachio and strong emotions about bird keeping.

You never expected to talk to him like this after everything, but today has been a rollercoaster and you simply hadn't been in you to fight, not now when your daughter knew, you were doing this to yourself so you couldn’t fight it, you gave him morsels and crumbs because you had no one to talk about this things.

“Is Ryan alright?” You asked leaning away from him, the night was so dark and only the kitchen in the back lit the house– it must’ve been so scary.”

“He was pretty shaken. Took me a lot to get him to stop crying…”

“Helena won’t hold any grudges… I think… I got an idea… has Ryan ever been to Coney Island? Maybe we can take the kids to the boardwalk, have hotdogs and hit the aquarium, Helena will not misbehave in there.” You put your empty cup on the coffee table– they can make up.”

He gave you a tired smile, knowing he had to head home soon but wanting to talk some more.

“Are you angry at her?” He asks weakly.

“She would’ve hurt Ryan. I figured out she was forcing him to attack when you said things got a little heated, that’s how she dealt with bullies in the past.” you looked him straight in the eyes– I am upset.”

He found a way to touch your hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Don’t be… I think Ryan would like the aquarium, he’s never been.” He seemed ashamed of that statement.

“Remember when we used to sneak out to Central Park?” You said suddenly with a chirp in your voice.

“Those were long nights.” He dares give you a flirty look.

“No… those handful of times where we went during daytime… ditch the suit… more witnesses, more likely to behave.”

You tried ignoring those sharp fangs, he was so good looking still and it had been so fucking long since you got laid, being forced to remember him, to interact with him, to let him touch you… some people like to be used… Helena had said it best, and in this nice house he bought you, and the nice stuff he got you all around you, you remember what he was trying to get out of you, and that was to play a role.

At the doctor’s office, Helena cried a lot when the doctor took her stitches out, it had taken a day to heal but she was left with a gnarly scar.

“Phantasma” You sit next to her while she eats some ice cream, she really did not like getting the stitches out, the visit had reduced her to an actual little girl, even after her words were incoherent, skipping words as she cried all the way out to the ice cream shop, Helena’s skin was hard not like her fathers but it was near impossible to penetrate it with a needle, forced to proceed without real anesthesia– sounds better than ‘Ghost Girl’, no?”

She looked up.

“Sounds cool. Why?” she sniffed hard.

“Your father did ask about it…”

“Huh?”

“Honey. He told me you figured it out. How?”

She licked her ice cream cone, as you tucked her under your arm. Scooting her closer on the park bench.

“I used Elmo to break into his apartment. I turned us both invisible and I went up there.” You pulled on her ear– ouch!”

“Helena!”

“He’s been following us for weeks!” you let her go– I was curious as to what he was doing… I was suspicious of his intentions, found the paperwork in his office and played stupid for a couple days.” She handed you her slobbered cover ice cream– Is not appropriate for a grown man to be following little girls.”

“You shouldn’t use Elmo like that!”

“You aren’t mad I broke into his house?” She looked perplexed.

“Nah… I could have given you the passcode it's the first thing they gave me when I started work. Don’t involve the kid!” You took a bite– Jesus Helena! You being invisible is hard enough… I don’t want you ending up like Translucent! Guy was so mentally ill.”

“You knew translucent?” her ear perked up.

“He would walk around naked in the bathrooms– I’ll explain to you when you’re older, honey.” you handed the ice cream back, your lips tight under your teeth– I knew your father for three years… So I got to meet some of The Seven. Either way leave the kid alone and for all intents and purposes you never told me about the stalking…”

“You got something in mind?”

“We’re going to play his game. You’re his daughter… so that tower should be yours, no?”

“There’s my older brother to worry about, too.”

“He’s just a little boy, riding thru life with only nepotism as his anchor” You stroke her hair pushing her bangs away from her beautiful eyes– but he’s not you.” You leaned into her ear– you are my daughter.”

Her smile was sickly sweet.

Here you were waiting for him at the entrance of the boardwalk, when you felt a light touch on your shoulder.

He looked uncomfortable and maybe too dressed up for the occasion, you took the lapel of his suit jacket. It was the nicest fabric you’ve touched in your entire life, surprised to see his hair not as gel-up and his eyes hiding behind versace sunnies.

“Did you raid Kendall Roy’s closet? I swear I saw this jacket in season 3.”

“Is a good show.” he laughs looking painfully stiff, his eyes moving rapidly behind his lenses– and yes.”

“Wait, is this actually from the show?”

“I just said yes.”

Your mouth dropped slightly, but you did like the feel of the jacket.

“You’re more Shiv.”

“Not Logan I hope?”

You snorted in horror, your daughter pretended to be confused by his appearance trying not to look at Ryan, who looked like a deer in front of a hummer.

“Are you doing okay, little guy?” You asked, making sure to lift his hat playfully– Ever had a Nathan’s glizzy? Is an institution.”

The kid looked so shy.

“No, I never had one…” He was one bad word away from sobbing.

“Is okay. My arm is all good again” Helena's adult size hoodie had a big enough collar for her to pull down and reveal nothing but a scar– I am not mad at you. It was an accident… Besides, you can’t be a supe if you’re afraid of getting boo-boos.”

Ryan seemed more shaken than anything, but before he could do his best sad little orphan boy impression, Helena took his hand and dragged him forward, telling him that he needed to try Nathan’s before doing anything, rambling about how good they are, and that she couldn’t wait to see the Aquarium.

Both you and Homelander stood a few steps behind as your daughter gave the kid no time to rest.

“She’s always been this pushy?” He whispered into your ear.

“She just found out that’s her brother… She's a tad excited.”

“You had the talk? Without me!?” He looked upset, staring at his kids with a bit of bitterness.

“I was ambushed. I swear to god you need to figure out a weakness with her damn bubble.”

“What's the limit before she runs out of oxygen?” he asks.

“1 minute and 46 seconds is her personal best.” you whispered back.

“What did you tell Helena was happening today?” He wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you close.

“That it was a play-date, to try to mend the situation… after all she instigated it.” You leaned against him tugging on his jacket with a cheeky smile– not whatever you were thinking this was… now… get your hand off my ass, John.”

“I told you. I have a story to sell. Both kids are in the same school, now they can start being friends and she knows I’m her dad. Let’s just skip to the good part.”

“You want to pretend we are dating?” If your teeth could separate and let you talk with ease, you would bite his nose off before finishing your next sentence– Did you run that past your team? Sure I wouldn’t rank higher than Maeve or Starlight in the fake girlfriend department… I think even Taylor would rank better… she did make a great single out of you.”

He cringed at that comment.

“You’ll do great in the fake mother department– The team has concocted something extra juicy, a real page turner. Way above Hallmark channel christmas movies, we are talking award circuit instead.”

You both did that fake little laugh that sounded more like a growl as your kids turned around after spotting the white, green and yellow hot dog restaurant.

As Helena headed to the line, with Ryan in tow. You played your role, Helena would have what she deserves– if he wanted to force you and her into his life, you were going to wrap those chains so tight around his neck, he would forget he ever lived without it.

Your mouth met his for a brief moment, startling him enough that his hand left your hips, he was left stuck in place as you went after the kids.

The breeze tousled his hair, as you looked back at him with a saddened smile.

“I haven’t forgiven you… but I want to give you a second chance… I want to put all those things behind us… if you are going to be here for her– for us.” You whispered from afar out of your kids reach as Helena took your wallet, knowing full well he was listening attentively– I’ve missed you. Even if I don’t want to admit it.”

The seagulls squealed as he took his place beside you, wrapping his arm again around your waist just to kiss you yet again.

The moment Helena saw a fish tank it was game over. All her ‘Wednesday’ facade had melted as she became an over excited amateur marine biologist, giving his eldest no time of rest as she explained as many animals she could to the child, he had learned an awful lot about corals and kelp as they moved from exhibit to exhibit, admittedly Ryan was having fun, hanging out with other kids as school had been a bit difficult, his socialization skills were poor from years of isolation and homeschooling but this was nice.

Homelander could only see a kodak moment ruined by the myriad of The Deep billboards staring at him.

It was a bizarre game of stealth kisses happening behind the kids, he was starving for you, a desire he had put down in the cellar and today he found again, excited to play this game with you.

Wanting to feel your comfort, happy that you took his offer, now he only had to tell Ryan.

As you left for the bathroom he was left alone with the two kids, Ryan fixated on some animals and his mind elsewhere when Helena pulled at his sleeve.

“You look like you want to rip your skin off.”

“I don’t usually wear clothes like this?” he says politely– what about you? Why are you wearing that giant hoodie again? Don’t you own other stuff?”

It was big enough for an adult, her sleeves had been rolled up quite a bit and its length still touched her knees making her appear shorter than she already was, this had been the fifth time he had seen her in this fit, she wore black hoodies most of the times on top of her normal clothes– cheap thrifted clothes and hand-me downs somethign that irked the man; But this ridiculous hoodie seemed to be a favorite. The newest and nicest thing she owned was a pair of A-T Force 1, it pissed him off to watch her wear those shoes– why worship that fat slob when her father was the fucking Homelander! he thought.

“Is really nice… found it in an old box mother had with her while we were living in one of her cousin’s garage.” She stretched her arm urging the man to have a feel of the soft cotton fabric– She didn’t wanna throw it away ‘cuz she could sell it but I ended up wearing it a lot. I like it.”

The fabric was worn down but it was evidently of good quality, he spun the little girl around as he looked at the size tag, only to see the name of the brand… Brunello, his eyes widened as he noted that this hoodie easily cost over 1000 dollars, but as the girl glared at him a light sob escaped his lips as his eyes tingled– this had been his sweater.

Of the few items of clothes he had owned over the years, he knew this was his.

In those secret dates in central park and escapes to Paris and Seoul, where he was forced to hide who he was just so you two could hold hands without causing a scene, he had bought this, you liked it enough to steal it from him from time to time.

Homelander had become John Gillman for you, he had never needed a secret identity before he met you, not even mulling on the idea for long. He only had to be the Homelander, but he had become a mild-mannered executive named Mr. John Gillman, to be with you– forcing himself to wear strange clothes and mingle with lowborn folks, just to hold your hands and kiss you.

This stupid hoodie that he had ordered an intern to buy only to arrive a size too big, that had gone missing years prior, now stood here wrapping his daughter.

“How did you find out about me?” He asks with shaky lips.

“After you showed up at Lucci’s… thought it was weird that you showed up at my house not long before… I suspected you knew my mom, and after she told me that she worked at Vought. Well, I looked at her resume and did some math. I only really began to suspect it after you broke into my house” She raised her chin– you left the window open by two inches, not enough to matter but enough for me to notice as I always leave them close all the way… you left my hairbrush in the sink’s and not the trolley. Why would you touch my hairbrush? Wonder what you could get out of it…”

The little shit turned around to spot her brother still admiring the clover reef while they waited for you.

“I was taking a gamble when I called you a ‘deadbeat’, dad.”

Homelander's heart skipped a beat when her mouth uttered the word, unsure if she was mocking him or otherwise, from her it was hard to tell.

“You don’t want him to know about me, right?” Her voice was quiet, a knot buried itself in her throat.

“What? No!” He said in a panic, getting on one knee to see her eye-to-eye– Helena… I … I want us to be a family, Ryan will understand but I have to wait… he’s not like you or me… he’s… sweet.”

She looked away squishing her little fist, hiding her beautiful kyanite stones behind those long bangs, his hand lifted her hair, trying to peek further into those beautiful skies, feeling the creamy skin under his palm, her warmth as her cheeks turn a new shade of pink.

“You’re my daughter… my blood… I am sorry… I was… I was an asshole for what I did, but I just want to be there for you now… so If I can… you can call me ‘Dad’ if you like.”

His voice quivering as he spoke, she was frail, he could feel it under his touch, how easy it would be for him to hurt her.

Little girls were to be handled with much more care, dainty things they were, she was a peony blooming in his hands, so he had to be soft and strong for her. she rested her cheek against his hand, his so warm and soft, surprised at the way he looked at her-- there was a twinkle of desperation behind his gaze.

She rested until her eyes didn’t sting anymore.

As you left the bathroom, you spotted the curious scene, biting at your lips as your guilt finally catched up to you, you didn’t need it, you would not allow yourself to be harmed but as you saw your daughter play her role, you knew… she would be lost inside the character… She was a lonely child, deprived of you and without him ever in the picture... she had a weakness.

You let them mingle from afar as they walked around towards some river exhibition, while Ryan made his way towards the duo, their hands intertwined as he turned calling for his boy.

For a moment you saw a glimpse of the life you always wanted… Revenge was a nasty game… could you really play it? You wondered as you fixed your clothes.

Before you could say anything, your sight followed a faceless passerby.

A service dog in tow.

The passerby had simply bumped into Helena, the dog had been just close enough, you didn't worry immediately, she had gotten used to dogs and you were certain she had been good and taken her allergy meds.

You were sure.

Helena turned but it was too late.

With a single sneeze the gates had opened.

The walls rumbled, as the pale blue wave of sharp wavering light exploded out of her body.

Everybody swallowed a shared gasp, as the glass began to crack.

taglist: hope y'all like the chapter @fromforeigntofamiliarity @immyowndefender @demodemo909

#Homelander #Homelander x reader #Homelander x you #the boys oc #american royalty #personal #my fic tag #the boys fanfiction #homelander fanfic #homelander x F! Reader #I have so much energy right now and am riding the high.#barely proofread so sorry for any spellign errors

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