#which is great for people who hate lifting weights but terrible for people who are trying to get over their hatred of lifting weights

[clowndensation]

obsessed with the fitness center at my hotel that created a wall of mirrors through which to watch tv

[blackjackkent]

We do get a nice little conversation with Wyll after all that craziness. c:

"Ansur is dead."

He sounds so tired, so dejected. Hector realizes in this moment how much weight Wyll has been putting on the possibility of finding Ansur. And why shouldn't he, in truth? It was a mission given to him by his father so soon after their reconciliation, a mission that entailed the fulfillment of a destiny and a savior for the city he is sworn to protect. He needed this moment to be a success... but the dragon lies dead, never to rise again.

"There will be no great tempest roaring through the skies, no dragon redeemer to save us. What hope, then, for Baldur's Gate? Without the great wyrm's aid is the city doomed to fall?"

He looks pleadingly at Hector, at Jaheira and Karlach, lost and uncertain in the wake of this terrible setback.

Before any of them can speak, though - the Emperor's voice resonates between them all from within the Prism. "You braved the wyrm's lair seeking a savior," the mind flayer says. "Yet it was you - all of you - who vanquished the undead abomination which Ansur became. You are more powerful than you understand. It is you who are the tempest. It is you who are the Heart of the Gate."

Hector scowls. The last thing he wants is the Emperor proving able to provide any comfort here, or any logic either. This is no longer your concern, he thinks bitterly.

But he knows, deep down, that the Emperor speaks truth - a truth that Wyll needs to hear. And at his side, Karlach nods.

"Hate to say it, Wyll," she says, "but I agree with the mind flayer. Baldur's Gate doesn't need a dragon. It needs you."

Wyll hesitates, the encouraging words starting to work on him, to bring back his sense of hope. "You're right," he says slowly. His shoulders square and his head lifts. "We are the warriors who'll slay the Absolute. We are the guardians who'll defend this fair city."

Hector smiles slightly. Wyll is sometimes so unassuming in camp that it is easy to forget that he is the hero which has spawned stories across the entire Coast. But he can see why now - in this moment of rising confidence, the words instinctively couched to rouse those around him in turn. He feels a flash of pride in his friend for the strength he displays in that moment, and he feels his own hope rise in answer to it.

Nod along silently.

"The brain will fall," Wyll goes on, warming to his speech. "And the people will hail us as champions." He blinks, cocks his head with a sudden thought. "I could even claim my father's own ducal title and carry his banner after this. 'Grand Duke Wyll Ravengard.' Marshal of the Flaming Fist, the city's truest defender."

OK, well, this is going off the rails just the slightest bit, Hector reflects dryly. Adrenaline is a hall of a drug - that and Wyll's eagerness to be accepted by his father and his father's world after so long on the fringes.

Jaheira raises an eyebrow skeptically. "A title you would earn, no doubt," she says. "But I wonder if the people would be so quick to look past the horns, Wyll. Baldur's Gate is not an oasis of open minds."

"The Absolute's end would be the guarantee, devilish visage be damned!" Wyll says fiercely. "If I were to call myself Grand Duke, no patriar would deny the claim."

Hector feels as if he hears echoes of conversations with Gale in Wyll's words. The same underlying sentiment - that there is power to be claimed, power to do good, yes, but dangerous power as well. And more than that... Wyll is wrestling with something inwardly; there is an argument happening with himself, of which Hector is only able to hear one side, and he is not sure of the other.

But... he trusts Wyll deeply, trusts that he is a good man who wants the best for this city. And, frankly, there is a long, long road before this is a decision that has to be made.

"Follow your heart, Wyll," he says with a grave nod. "I trust you to make the right decision."

A long pause. Wyll turns away, his head bowed, thinking. And Hector can see the exact moment where he comes to a new - and altogether surprising - decision.

"I fought to right the wrongs of the Coast," he says quietly. "To slay the monsters that hunt the helpless. What good is a champion who puts himself above the people? What good am I as a politician, just out of reach?" He shakes his head sharply, turns back towards Hector and the others. "There will be no Grand Duke Wyll Ravengard. And there will be no Blade of Frontiers."

They all look at him with some perplexity. What, then? Hector wonders.

"I am now the Blade of Avernus," he says gravely. "For as long as demons and devils imperil the Sword Coast, they will be my prey."

Hector blinks slowly, processing this. It's a surprising left turn for the conversation, and yet on some level it makes sense. Wyll is recognizing that he is no longer the man he was - not always through any fault of his own, but changed nevertheless. And with those changes, with that growth, comes a new name, a new mission.

And so Hector will support him in that too. And, in truth, it is a cause he can get behind, he reflects dryly. Perhaps one day, when all this is done with, you and I will travel into Avernus together and tear Zariel apart.

"Hail the Blade of Avernus," he says soberly, lifting one arm in Wyll's trademark salute.

Jaheira laughs softly, not unkindly, and raises one hand in a similar salute. "The Blade of Avernus!"

Narrator: A calm settles over you. The elder brain is a menace - but with the Blade of Avernus at your side, you know you will triumph.

Or at least... at least he hopes it so hard that it feels like knowing. And one more piece of the puzzle has slotted into place.

[the-firebird69]

And she had him put it out there which is great and it's Aerosmith and it started already. And they want to do it during a transition and that's actually dangerous and we're paying attention now and we are getting ready to go to war also our DNA his DNA is similar and we needed back all the samples and blood and everything they took I'm going to wipe them out for it up at Brandon Hillsboro Tampa and the mental hospitals all of them wherever the samples are they're going to pay and we are going to go after it very very hard. And he needs it and he says if there's a problem and we're going to do that too they're trying to grab him in the hospital and we'll hear why

Frank Castle Hardcastle

If you take those samples we're going after you

Mac

I'm taking the samples because I need them if I need a blood transfusion none of your blood might work and if you don't like it you're going to be in the grave

Zues

So I said it so he says the other stuff and they'll get to me first they say and they probably would so I say he needs it for a blood transfusion and we're all incompetent and don't do anything for him that's what he sees and hears everyday and that's how it is I didn't protect him at all the douchebag is on him saying he won the game the code is beating the s*** out of the snot nose a****** doesn't even know it he's doing it on purpose because she wants the oil but really the guy with some money and wants him to take a pay cut it's ridiculous now it's getting worse it's not his fault it is right to him his own blood so I guess I was online by seeing it and you took it and we didn't do anything people are fighting over it's ridiculous he says it's going to be a whole bunch of idiots fighting over it and I've got an idiot on board and I wouldn't say the stupid stuff if he wasn't here and he knows it too I would say it's your blood at first it takes two or three comments and arguments to get it there and it is known now that's how it goes usually but he's not one of us so max please we are now in a dire need he's going to go to the casino it's a wise thing to do these people are at them all the time and they screwed up the casino thing I was going to have him win to help him get his back on his feet not in a mental hospital or mental house like he ended up in because he attacked his mom and his mom has DNA that made Dave and Dad together and people are now becoming aware that they were huge and they're seeking his mom's body and it might help and he says it definitely will and it might ruin things but it's going to do something rather than just losing her and we want tea bag we don't really care about having Giants running around

Mac

I noticed that there's something happening that these morons are wrong and the mutants hate them too and we can see why it just keep pestering until they get attacked and they try and take what they have including their bodies and I sympathize with them and haven't heard the story and my son somehow knew about it that's kind of weird but he's got friends who are he talks to them later human because they are so we're moving out pretty soon now we're going to get this done and I tell you what this is a terrible situation he's in he's being brave and Ken is not it's kind of a wimp

Camilla

Yeah you are a whimp and I'm going to challenge Frankie lupena to weightlifting contest. If you don't accept you have to pay me because I'm going to get other people like Matt and force it and I want one of these Bradley GT sedans

The rock

Just wanted to take a bird noise it's more of an act of heroism and it's for people who are mutants and more luck are mutants even though your lower level and very stupid

Zues

Haha it's true it is an act of heroism and Ken will probably have to pay up

Bja

How many weight lifting positions and how much weight

Frankie lapena

It's probably going to be like a bench press deadlift clean and jerk overhead and maybe a pole which might be just either the horizontal pull upwards where bent over at a 90 or at a 45 with both hands on the bar which is vertical almost set up 45° angle it's just I think it's like a three or four and no squats he wants a squat in there so if you do a squad if you want

The Rock

I'm going to go ahead and do this and we know where it's not a Cincinnati Bengals California in Los Angeles California but we're not there to the gym out here we can go to Miami start there

Frankie lapena

I think it's going to start now science at the time and date and we're going to show that he can actually move and if you lose or at some time LOL if I lose I have to give the Bradley PC it says he says no in other case you get to stand but then it makes sense so we're going to do this

The Rock

[kallmaker]

How Much He Must Have Hated Himself

This is not an obituary. For more than four decades of my life, Pat Robertson brought out the worst in terrible people. Today he made me a worse person.

For more than four decades of my life, Pat Robertson heaped vitriol and invective on me and my kind. He unceasingly called us deviants and dangers to our country and the world. Every natural disaster, every plague, every ill in the world was our fault or the fault of those who tolerated our existence. We were the reason for the suffering of billions of people.

He mouthed the words "Hate the sin, not the sinner" -- six short words -- after "sermons" of thousands of words that hated the sinner.

His "Christian" credentials allowed violent people to claim beatings, torture, and murder were godly. He openly praised political opportunists using our lives - of late, our trans family's very existence - as a way to make money and cultivate power and encourage cruelty. They claim godliness too, while many don't even hate us. We're convenient. Which is one of the aspects of abuse that leaves those on the receiving end feeling like they're not human to their abusers. We're just the thing that's handy.

On hearing the news, my first thought was to paraphrase Clarence Darrow: That's an obituary I will read with great pleasure. But my feelings can't be dismissed with a quip. Also, I have no intention of reading that obituary and even if I did, it would give me no pleasure.

Pat Robertson's damage to me wasn't limited to his hatred and empowerment of evil against me. He also made me - briefly - the kind of person to be glad someone died. Even worse, to want to gloat.

I don't want to be that person. It's not the best self I aspire to. It took me some time to leave that thought and get to a better place.

Now, as I wish for all like him, I hope he finds the afterlife he wished on me and mine, and along the way has a conversation with the Jesus from the Bible I've read, who gave only two commandments: Love God, and Love Thy Neighbor as thyself.

We were his neighbors.

How much he must have hated himself.

I wish for all of us a sense of a weight lifted, an evil banished. We need all the energy we can spare to resist all those who remain, doing the work of hate he empowered and praised.

That's all the mental space I will give to the man for the rest of my days.

[painted-doe]

Okay, Tumblr. I’ve got a thing to say.

Here’s a fun IRL fact about Doe. I’m a Big Lady. I’m six feet tall in ballet flats. I can carry my 200lb husband on my back around a festival like a sleepy toddler. I am, as my grandmother delicately put it, “built like a brick shithouse”. As far as descriptive usernames go, Painted-Clydesdale probably would have been more appropriate.

I absolutely love the “step on me, mommy” meme/kink — partly because it’s just hilarious, but also because it feels great to think that people are actually into tall muscular gals like me these days!

Because they weren’t. There were no big strong female characters in the media I watched growing up. None. No one who looked like me, especially not portrayed in an attractive way. All the women, even the strong ones I idolized like Buffy and Agent Scully, were delicate and petite. From as early as first grade, I felt terrible about my body and my height. I learned to slouch. I hid myself as much as I could — which wasn’t easy when you’re half a head taller than all the boys in your grade.

Now I’m a grown-up human, and I’m mostly over the years of bullying and self-consciousness and have mostly learned to love my big weird body (hey, no man has ever needed to open a jar for me). But I still get genuinely thrilled to see beefy female representation like Captain Carter, Gina Carano’s character in The Mandalorian, and Luisa in Encanto — powerful women whose worthiness and femininity have nothing to do with their daintiness.

So when I see that Disney has pressured its artists to slim down She-Hulk like they have… well, it kinda stings, man. It kinda hurts.

The news that they’ve revised her character design to be smaller is so sad to me. It tells me: go back to slouching, quit lifting weights, go back to hating your body. It tells me: you can’t be both beautiful and strong. Quit trying to love yourself and get back to fixing yourself. Get back inside this box we’ve made for you.

I guess I just thought we were going forward, man.

[katierosefun]

hi caroline can i vent to you a lil bit? i just saw a post with a terrible take about BE and juwon part specifically irked me, probably due to personal experience, so i wanted to share my pov with you.

the post -among many other things- said that juwon had ocd and it was terrible that the writers went "yeah let's just force him to stop by the end of it" and tbh I didn't get it, i always thought that when juwon said "mysophobia, I don't have it" he was right. ocd is an anxiety related issue and my boi definitely has that and it's quite bad yeah. But i always felt like it was due to the fact he was striving to uphold the standards of perfection his father has been projecting onto him since he was a kid. As much as juwon hated him he still tried his best to do everything he could in order to get some sort of praise or acknowledgment from his absent father. So that's why in the end he slowly learns to let go of all of that, he must have felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders. He's a complex multidimensional character and both the writer and the director did a brilliant job with BE.

Sorry if i bothered you, I'm probably exactly like that post "why do you like him?" or smth and with ds it's just "look at him❤️" and with jw it's an entire paragraph. yup relatable indeed aldhakd

hi anon! oh, i think i know the post you're talking about, because i remember reading something along those lines pretty early when i was getting into beyond evil . . .

also, this got long. maybe because i have a lot of thoughts + also because i wound up talking more about mental illness rep in beyond evil as a whole:

but like. hm. yes, i absolutely agree with you because while i might not have ocd myself, i do have family members + friends with ocd, and i also have pretty severe anxiety + i used to struggle with an eating disorder, which overlapped with some ocd tendencies (at least, according to what my friends/family struggling with ocd told me from their own perception of me). because of that, i absolutely saw joo won and his tendencies and realized that. like. yeah, a lot of his behaviors can absolutely stem from anxiety-driven issues like ocd.

i think what makes me personally upset about the kind of "ugh the writers just dropped joo won's ocd storyline" is that it totally misses the fact that not all mental illnesses or disabilities are quite the same. because mental illnesses like ocd or anxiety disorder or panic attack disorder are actually mental illnesses that people want to better cope with/somehow heal from. when i was younger, i remember being told by someone who was also struggling with similar mental illnesses as mine that "yeah, you're never gonna get 'better'--this thing is gonna stick with you forever", and as a teenager, that really made me scared about like. oh my god. am i going to personally be living this weird half-life for the rest of my days? that's terrible.

but of course, that's not true! yeah, people with mental illnesses like ocd, anxiety, depression, etc--they all struggle from time to time, and that def. all varies with different degrees of stress (ie. my own anxiety and depression gets significantly worse when i've encountered a triggering situation, and my own past eating disorder tendencies like to pop in when i'm feeling stressed out with work/school/etc). but the thing about these mental illnesses is that you can get better, usually with the help of therapy, medication, a support system and, as cheesy as it sounds (but it's true!), compassion and love for yourself.

in the case of han joo won, who has clearly never had a very stable family or friends situation, it would make sense that his own ocd or other unspecified mental illness would be pretty severe at the start of the show. we've seen how he was raised, even if only for 5 minutes--we see his interactions with his father. it seems that his family also has some history of mental illness too, given how his mom was.

but the great thing about the show is that over the course of the series, joo won gets some greater sense of support and love than he had felt in his entire life. even when he was still being a jerk, the station was so accommodating to joo won (ie. chief nam cleaning out the bathroom for joo won if he wanted to take a shower, and then even later, ji hwa telling jae yi that wait, inspector han needs new bowls in a totally nonjudgmental manner).

the thing about han joo won no longer struggling as severely with his ocd is simply because he's received more support. he's found people who seem to genuinely care about him, and i think along the way, he subconsciously started to let go of his tendencies. his entire dirty history is out there--and unlike han ki hwan, who was so obsessed with perfection, the manyang gang love and appreciate han joo won anyways, annoying attitude + messy mistakes + all. ofc, love doesn't "fix" a mental illness, but it helps one get better, because that's what a support system is all about.

it's also worth noting that, like, beyond evil is a show that's very conscious about the discussion around mental illnesses. dong sik pretty clearly struggles with some kind of ptsd, and jeong je pretty clearly struggles with his own depression, and even oh ji hoon's mentioned in passing about struggling with depression. but what i like about beyond evil is that writer kim su jin and director shim na yeon and the entire cast also seemed pretty intent about those depictions of mental illness--oh ji hoon's a pretty sunshine-y looking guy, for starters, all smiles and cheer, which is the exact opposite people assume of those struggling with depression. (the most frustrating thing a depressed person can hear is oh, you don't look like you have depression though?) as for dong sik, we see him pretty clearly struggling on his own (crying alone in the basement, tucking himself away when he's grieving, the fact that he sleeps on the couch without any heat speaks volumes about how little he cares about himself), but as soon as he's around friends or his loved ones, he automatically puts on a whole act. as for jeong je, we see that he's a pretty timid guy, maybe the kind of more expected representation we see of depression and/or anxiety, but maybe that makes a little more sense, given his relationship with an overbearing mother who never really . . . allowed him to heal or get better, even despite sending him to all those doctors.

in short, i think that it's pretty unfair + also kinda narrow-minded to act like writer kim su jin dropped joo won's ocd line. she's been super intentional with everything in beyond evil, and the fact that joo won slowly loosens up on his tendencies was just another factor that really demonstrated how he'd started to get more comfortable around people who actually liked him for who he is, not for this perfect, logical robot that he was pressured into being. human beings are messy! for han joo won, who cries when he's frustrated or angry or getting scolded, being loved and respected and liked gave him enough reason to let go of his own ocd tendencies and get better.

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

For the First Time (What’s Past Is Past)

Pairing: Neighbor!Hoseok x f!reader

Summary: After your eight years relationship comes to a brutal end, you don’t really see yourself getting back into dating — ever, probably. And then, your new neighbor who has the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen needs to borrow a corkscrew, and you don’t realize it just yet, but your resolve doesn’t stand a chance. 

Also available on Ao3.

Word count: 15.7k

Genre: Fluff, (light) angst, eventual smut

Warnings: heavily discussed/referenced cheating, cursing, soft and gentle smut, penetrative sex, some pining, alcohol consumption, reader is not great with feelings, hoseok is good with feelings, the boys make cameos

A/N: Woohoo, first work in this fandom! This is actually the longest one-shot I’ve ever written (by my standards it’s LONG). Enjoy!

He doesn’t beg you to stay. He doesn’t tell you that “it’s not what you think”, doesn’t tell you that “it didn’t mean anything”, doesn’t ask for your forgiveness, doesn’t tell you that the two of you can work it out, that you can get through this together.

Instead, he tells you that he loves her, and when your entire world shatters in front of you, there is nothing you can do. You are completely and utterly alone.

When you first meet Jung Hoseok, he’s coming out of his apartment right as you’re getting into yours. He looks a little startled at first, but then he smiles at you, and you just stare.

You’ve never been good at interacting with people, especially strangers, especially when you’re not expecting it. You have to prepare yourself for those things, and right now, you’re very much not.

“Oh,” you say, looking at him.

The thing is, you recognize him — sort of. You’ve seen him around the building, and you immediately noticed him. You think it would have been impossible not to, frankly. You have ever seen someone who shines as bright as he does.

There is no other word for it. Hoseok shines.

It’s everything about him, and nothing at the same time. It’s his bright smile, first and foremost, and the way his brown eyes sparkle. It doesn’t hurt that he looks the way he does, all tall and thin and muscular, carrying himself like a dancer, but it’s his smile that you can’t get out of your mind. You’ve barely seen it, he gave you a quick, polite one when you passed him by in the parking lot, and yet you’ve thought about it more than you should have.

You’re surprised to see him here, though. You’ve been here for a month now, and you had never met the person who lived right next to you. You certainly never even considered that it could be the man with the bright smile and kind eyes you saw around, though the laugh you got used to hearing through the walls certainly completes that picture beautifully.

His smile widens a little, and he has a silent chuckle at your reaction.

“Hi,” he says.

You nod. You forget to reply, or to smile back, and you only realize that after you’ve closed your door behind you and Hoseok is already in the elevator.

You decide, firmly, to push that encounter out of your mind and to forget it ever happened.

(You can’t.)

There’s a gentle knock on your door, and you go to open it, surprised and a little confused. Your friends don’t live in the area and aren’t the type to drop by unannounced, and you don’t know anyone in your building. You wish you could add ‘yet’ to that sentence, but you are quite terribly antisocial, so you doubt you’ll ever get there, unless someone actually wants to get to know you. Which is not going to happen.

Hoseok’s smile greets you, and you blink. You note that his cheeks are slightly flushed, that he’s wearing a nice shirt, and that his hair is a little ruffled. He looks good — very good.

“Hi!” he says, when you forget, once more, what your lines are supposed to be in such a situation.

“Hi,” you remember to reply, but you’re late and offbeat, so you actually interrupt what he’s trying to say next, and you know you would be furious at yourself if you cared.

It’s been a long time since you’ve last found the energy to do that though.

“Sorry,” he smiles again, “I— I was wondering if you had a corkscrew I could borrow?”

You look back at your kitchen, mentally making an inventory of what you own. You know for sure you’ve never bought a corkscrew, you wouldn’t have the use for it, but there is a distant memory of—

“Just a second,” you say, walking to your kitchen.

You rummage through your cupboard for a few moments, before emerging victorious, holding a corkscrew you’re pretty sure Hyejin bought you when you first moved after The Break-Up, telling you that you would need it. You hadn’t, but you didn’t like throwing things away, so you had kept it, even after you had changed apartments a second time.

“Ah, you’re a life savior!” Hoseok rejoices when you hand it to him. “I’ll give it back to you as soon as possible, okay?”

You want to say that he doesn’t have to. You don’t.

“Sure,” you say, lifting a corner of your lips in a poor attempt at a smile. “Enjoy yourself.”

He seems a bit taken aback by the comment, but then he nods, and something strange twists in your stomach because of how he looks at you. Fondly.

God. You must be terribly deprived of affection if that is all it takes.

“Thank you, I will! Have a nice evening!”

The “Thank you” you reply with sounds awkward to your ears, and you grimace as you close the door. You’re pretty sure you’ve handled that interaction terribly, and you half regret not telling him to put the corkscrew back into your mailbox when he returns it, to save you the embarrassment of going through something similar again.

But you also don’t regret it that much, and that’s something.

Hoseok catches you again a few days later. This time, he pokes his head out of his apartment as you’re turning the key into your lock. You’re not that surprised. If he can hear you half as well as you can hear him, it’s no wonder he hears you coming in.

“I have your corkscrew!”

The weirdness of that sentence, out of context, amuses you. You wait for him to reappear, and when he does, he gives you the corkscrew back with a strange reverence, like you did him a huge favor.

“Thanks,” you say. “Did it, uh, did it help? Was the— was what you drank good? Was it wine?”

That’s too many questions.

“Yeah— Yeah, it was good!” Hoseok lightens up, like he hasn’t even noticed that you can’t, for the life of you, have a normal conversation with someone. “We had some wine. I don’t have wine often, but I thought it was good. Not that I know much about it, though,” he laughs, and the sound is extremely nice. “You drink wine?”

You shake you head.

“No, the— the corkscrew’s a gift from a friend. I barely use it. You can keep it, actually.”

His eyes widen.

“You’re sure?”

You nod.

“I probably— I shouldn’t accept that. It’s yours. And it’s a gift.”

He looks genuinely worried, and you find it extremely endearing. He seems so worried about whatever rules are to be followed when it comes to accepting gifts from a neighbor you’ve met twice and— You think it’s sweet, is all.

“It’s fine, I don’t really drink. And when I do, it’s usually beer.”

And mojitos. You’re a big mojito fan. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, if you’re sure…”

The corkscrew changes hands. Again.

“I’m Hoseok, by the way,” he says.

You don’t tell him that you know that. You do, because you’ve looked at the mailbox to see what your neighbor’s name was — when you moved in, mind you, not after finding out what he looked like — but you think that maybe that’s not the type of things people normally do.

Instead, you tell him your name, and Hoseok’s eyes seem to twinkle when he smiles at you.

You part awkwardly, the awkwardness mostly coming from you, as usual, and you think that’s the last you’ll see of your neighbor, outside of the occasional run-ins that you should be able to escape without having to talk to him. So that’s a relief.

(But it’s also just a tiny bit disappointing.)

You don’t drink, but Hyejin does. Especially wine, especially after a break-up, which you guess explains the corkscrew gift. When she arrives at your apartment, you’re first worried that she’s going to get offended you don’t have it anymore, but it quickly becomes clear that she doesn’t remember giving it to you. That doesn’t stop her from sending you out to get one from one of your neighbors. Usually she’d do it, because she knows how much you hate asking strangers for things, but she’s not herself tonight. The relationship was nearing the six months mark, something she had been really excited about, so you want to do what you can to help

That leaves you in an uncomfortable situation, though. You could ask another neighbor, but there’s the risk that they wouldn’t have a corkscrew — you’ve thought of that word way too much recently and it’s starting to lose its meaning in your mind — or that they wouldn’t want to give it to you, or that they’d slam the door in your face, or—

That’s irrational. You know that’s irrational and unlikely to happen. Still, knocking on Hoseok’s door is going to be awkward, but at least you’re pretty sure that he will be nice about it. So you do.

“Yeah— Oh, hey, (Y/N), what can I do for you?”

He does have a truly beautiful smile.

“Well, I have a friend over, and she actually drinks wine, and—”

Hoseok lets out a loud laugh that has you freezing like a deer in headlights first, then brings a careful smile to your lips.

“I’ll give it back,” you mumble sheepishly.

“It’s fine, it’s yours,” he chuckles, stepping back in his apartment, but leaving the door open behind him. You wonder if you should follow, then decide against it. Instead, you stand in the hallway, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. About as uncomfortable as can be.

You do take a peek inside, though. The rooms seem to be laid out pretty much the same as in your own apartment, with the kitchen on the left when you walk in, and you guess the bedroom door is the one you can see facing you, after the lounge. The interior design is simple, but stylish, and you notice movie posters on the walls. It’s nice and, though you barely know him, you can’t help but thinking that it’s a distinctively Hoseok place.

You haven’t really done anything to decorate, apart from bringing in your plants. It’s not your thing. At all. Maybe Hyejin will do something about it tonight. Wouldn’t be the first time she decorates your place while drunk. Last time, she’d ordered wallpaper. You’d forced her to come to help you put it on, and she had found it hilarious.

That was probably why she’d told you you were ‘better than therapy’.

“A-ha!” Hoseok exclaims before quickly returning to you. “There you go,” he says. “Is the wine your friend brought any good?”

You honestly have no idea. You don’t know the first thing about wine. Hyejin does, but you doubt that is something she feels very concerned with tonight.

Right as you’re thinking that, she opens your apartment door, calling out your name, way too loud, and seems satisfied when she sees you so close.

“Got one,” you tell her, waving the corkscrew. “Thanks, Hoseok, I’ll—”

“You look like you need a drink too,” Hyejin says bluntly, eyes set on him. “Wanna join?”

You look at him, surprised. You didn’t notice anything. You thought he looked fine. A little tired, maybe, and not quite as nicely dressed as he was that first night he had knocked on your door, but not any different from when you’d see him around. Hyejin is good with those things, though, so you suppose she’s probably right, but you don’t want Hoseok to feel pressured.

“You don’t have to—”

“You know what? I think I’ll take that invitation,” he says, and Hyejin nods in approval. “If it’s fine with the hostess,” he adds politely, giving you a wink.

As if. You already can’t deny Hyejin anything, so there’s no way you can deny him, especially when that wink has you weak in the knees.

“Sure,” you smile. “Let’s get you guys drunk.”

“That’s the spirit!” Hyejin shouts, raising a hand for high-five, which Hoseok gives her enthusiastically, a light-hearted laugh leaving his lips.

You shake your head, but you’re grinning.

As you expected, Hyejin passes out on your couch, drunk and sad and tired. Her and Hoseok had an amazing time, talking about their love life, while you sat on a stool by your kitchen island, sipping the same glass of wine for the entire evening. You don’t drink, you don’t even like alcohol that much, but you want to be supportive, and you’ve noticed it makes people feel better when you at least have a glass in your hands.

You listen to them, though. They have the same type of chaotic energy, and they get along immediately, in a way you could never dream of getting along with a stranger. Hyejin talks about her break up, and she’s as devastated as she always is. Hoseok nods along with just the right amount of intensity, at just the right times, and punctuates her talking with gasps. When it’s his turn to share, he talks about ‘people who don’t know what they want’, and his bitter tone worries you a little. You guess things didn’t go that well with whoever he was sharing that bottle of wine with. It comes as a surprise, because you certainly heard that it was going fine, that night.

After Hyejin falls asleep, Hoseok looks around your room, and, as soon as his eyes lock with yours, he walks over to you. He’s a little tipsy, and there’s a red tint to his cheeks. He sits across from you, then leans on the island and rest his chin on his hands.

“So, what about you? Any terrible break-up you want to talk about?”

The question almost makes you jump, but you manage to keep your composure. Still, you can feel a cold hand wrapping around your heart and squeezing it. You hate that you’re still so affected by any mention of it. You should be over it by now. You certainly don’t have any feelings left for Minsu, so you don’t understand why this is still so hard.

At the same time, it feels kind of refreshing to hear him asking that without sugar-coating it. You friends have been walking on eggshells around you ever since The Break-Up, and none of them know exactly what happened. They just know that Minsu has a new girlfriend now.

“It’s been almost a year,” you tell him, keeping your voice light. “I’m okay. You two look like you need to talk a lot more than I do.”

“That depends,” he says, frowning, though you’re not sure if it’s because of what you said or because he has a hard time focusing with all the alcohol running in his blood. “I wasn’t serious. Were you serious?”

Ah.

“Yeah.” You shrug. “I was.”

You don’t date someone for eight years unless it’s serious. Sure, it started when the two of you were in high school, and a lot of people probably didn’t think you would make it that far, but you felt— you felt comfortable with Minsu. You felt good around him. You liked talking about your work with him, liked hearing him rant about video games, liked how you goofed around when you did the dishes. You hadn’t seen anything coming.

A third of your life. When he’d broken up with you, you had spent a third of your life with him.

“Then you probably should be drinking some more,” Hoseok says decidedly, grabbing the bottle of wine to refill your glass. You remove it just in time, and he stops in time not to spill anything Looks like his reflexes aren’t too bad, even after drinking. He pouts at you, and it’s, actually, adorable.

“What about you?” you ask, trying to change the subject, trying to push aside memories you want nothing to do with anymore. “Things didn’t work out with the girl you had over the other day?”

His face falls, and you feel bad, but at least you’re not talking about yourself anymore.

“I thought it was going good. I mean we— You probably heard it, right? I can hear you walk around at night. At ungodly hours, by the way. Your rhythm of sleep must be fucked.”

You laugh.

“I did hear you,” you admit, unable to stop yourself from grinning. “So I thought it was going good too.”

“Well, she ghosted me,” Hoseok sighs dramatically. “I couldn’t even get a nice ‘it’s not me it’s you’!” He tilts his head. “Wait. No.”

“You’re drunk, Hoseok,” you say affectionately. “You should get back to your apartment.”

“I’m not drunk,” he protests. “Hyejin’s drunk. I’m doing great. Could a drunk person do that?”

The second the words leave his mouth, you get ready to stop him. Every single time you’ve heard those, disaster followed. You’ve seen drunk men fall into bushes of nettles with their pants down, watched several girls faceplant, and, once, witnessed someone breaking a wrist. He’d been lucky, though, because his bike had never been the same after that.

You get out of your stool, worried both for Hoseok and for your apartment, and then he breaks into some elaborate dance moves. You can only stare in disbelief. You couldn’t do that at your most sober. You can’t take your eyes away from the graceful, efficient way his body moves, like he has absolute control over every single one of his muscles. When he shoots you a satisfied smile at the end, there’s only one thing you can think to answer.

“Wow.”

“Exactly.” He makes finger guns at you with his right hand, clicks his tongue, and winks. In doing so, he somehow upsets his balance, which was perfect only seconds ago, and has to catch himself on your table, but he doesn’t fall. That is, possibly, even more impressive. “So I’m not drunk,” he says, shaking his head to push some hair out of his eyes and leaning against your table like he’d planned for it all to happen exactly that way.

You look at him, and an unexpected softness blooms in your chest. Hoseok’s hot, you knew that already, but that’s not what you marvel at right now. No, you’re impressed by how endearing he is. How lovable.

All thoughts of Minsu are long gone. If you noticed it, you would probably hate the impact any mention of the break-up has on you, even though Minsu is such a small part of what you think about.

You would also realize how easily Hoseok takes your mind off it.

“You’ve convinced me,” you nod, hoping he’s too drunk to pick up on the sarcasm. “But I’m sure you’re tired.”

He tilts his head, considering it.

“This time, I think you have a point.”

He’s so serious that you have to laugh, and that makes him smile. It’s not one of those wide, bright smiles that you’ve gotten used to. It’s much more subdued, lifts only a corner of his lips, and yet it feels… intimate. It’s not performative. It’s just for himself, and it takes your breath away.

“I’ll get going,” he tells you softly. “Thank you for tonight. Your friend was fun and it was nice of you to let us bother you.”

“You didn’t bother me,” you answer honestly.

Hoseok smiles and looks down at his feet, and you wonder if he believes you. It’s true, though. You like listening to people talk. You don’t mind that you weren’t included. Him and Hyejin needed to vent, and you were happy to be there for it.

“If you ever want to talk to someone about that again, I’ll be here,” you find yourself saying, hoping it doesn’t come off as strange. “And Hyejin won’t mind either, if she’s around. I think she liked you.”

Hoseok laughs, and you feel relieved. You’ve noticed it before, but he does have a nice laugh, and you’ve gotten used to it since you’ve moved in. It would suck if you couldn’t hear it anymore.

You walk him out, then wait for him in his embrasure until he gets to his door. He sends you a mocking glance while turning his key into the lock.

“I’m not going to collapse in the five meters that separate our apartments, you know.”

“I don’t. What if you fall asleep between our doors and you spend the night there?”

He laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard, and you nod. Yup. He’s definitely drunk, and you’re definitely making the right choice by waiting for him to be back in safely.

“Say goodbye to Hyejin for me!”

“Don’t forget to lock the door behind you!”

Another laugh, but no reply. You smile, then close and make sure you lock your door behind you.

Inside, you cover Hyejin with a blanket, clean up around your apartment a little and then, after brushing your teeth, let yourself fall into bed. You’re exhausted, and you know you’re probably going to regret that one glass of wine in the morning — you can’t do alcohol.

It was a strange night, all in all. Fun, by your admittedly low standards, but strange. You don’t know where you stand with your neighbor now. You like things to be clear-cut, otherwise you risk getting lost in the awkwardness of the in-betweens, and they’re definitely not — are you friends? Are you neighbors? Were you too cold? Too friendly? Does he think you’re weird?

“G’night, (Y/N),” a sleepy voice says from the other side of the wall, and you smile. He’s drunk, and you’re sure that’s why he says that, but it’s still nice.

“Goodnight, Hoseok.”

Maybe, for once, the in-between you’re standing in is not that bad.

Hoseok has another date. You know, because he asks for the corkscrew back. He looks as excited as the last time when you open your door, and you can’t help but compare him to a puppy. You note, again, the nice white shirt, which does marvels for his arms and shoulders, with the top buttons open, revealing some skin. Hoseok looks— he looks good. You knew that, of course, and yet it still hits you.

You find yourself a little jealous of the girl who’s in his apartment. Not just for that, but because, from what you’ve seen of him so far, he’s a pleasant guy to be around. He’s nice, energetic, funny, he has a great laugh. There’s simply nothing not to like.

For the first time since— For the first time, you think that maybe you should date again. Not him necessarily, he’s probably way out of your league, but someone. Surely, you could find someone. You don’t think you’d look as happy as Hoseok does now, but maybe you could have some fun.

You give him the corkscrew, wish him good luck.

“You don’t need luck when you look like that,” he says, putting a hand under his chin and winking, and it makes you laugh. “Thanks,” he adds. “I’ll invest in one of those so I don’t have to keep annoying you, by the way. I promise!”

That night, you spend a lot of time with your headphones on, and you end up sleeping on your couch, in a weird attempt to give him some privacy.

(You hope he doesn’t keep his promise.)

You’re surprised to see Hoseok at your door the next time. Not because of the promise, though you remember it — you doubt that he does. You’ve learnt through time that people often forget things they don’t find important. You never do, and you wonder if it’s because your brain has trouble separating what matters and what doesn’t.

No, you’re surprised because it’s too early for him to have a date, and because he already has your corkscrew.

“Hey,” he says, and the smile he gives you is a little droopy and tired, “does your invitation still stands?”

Your eyes widen and you nod, pushing yourself out of the way so he can come in.

“Of course, but I don’t have alcohol. Do you want me to call Hyejin?”

He laughs, and you wonder if that was a weird thing to say.

“If she’s available, absolutely. I don’t know how I made it without a Hyejin in my life until now.”

That makes you chuckle, and you whole-heartedly agree. Hyejin’s indispensable.

Unfortunately, it turns out she can’t make it that night, but she sounds excited by the idea. She asks you to tell Hoseok you’ll invite him next time she’s around, so you do, and he’s as happy about it as she is. The two of them make an obvious pair, and you’re sure they’d grow to be good friends if they spent more time together.

After that, Hoseok gets a pack of beer from his apartment, and you grab one, which you keep in your hand while he downs several others. He talks about things that are happening around him. His job as an accountant — “Can you tell me why I thought that was a good idea?” —, the dance lessons he takes on the side — “otherwise I’d go crazy“ —, his friends — “Idiots! All of them! They’re lucky I love them so much!” —, and also, your taste in music, which he’s very aware of given the complete lack of soundproofing between your apartments — “Listen, sad ballads are well and good, but have you considered listening to something happy?”.

At this point, he gets on his feet and starts to dance, and just like the last time, you think he’s amazing at this.

“C’mon!” he says, dancing his way to you and grabbing your hands. “You have to join me!”

You try to protest, but you know you’re not going to be able to resist him. When he makes you spin, you let out a loud laugh, and you try not to think too much about the way his hand naturally falls to your hip to help you keep your balance. You’re sure he hasn’t noticed, that it’s normal behavior for him, and you don’t want to look too affected. Your cheeks likely betray you, but Hoseok doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he lets you go after rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, once.

“You need to enjoy yourself sometimes!” he says, almost threateningly. “If you don’t, I’ll come over and make you!”

You wish he would.

“So,” you say after he’s fallen back into silence, staring at his beer bottle with a little too much intensity, “things didn’t work out with the girl you had over last time?”

Hoseok sighs.

“No,” he mumbles. “She said I was moving too fast for her.”

“Were you?”

He looks taken off-guard by your question.

“I don’t think I was,” he replies after giving it a second of thought. “I didn’t pressure her or anything. I think she didn’t want a relationship, and she didn’t want to tell me that.”

“That sucks,” you say, shaking your head. Hoseok seems pretty calm about it, if a little dejected, but you feel annoyed just thinking of that girl that you’ve never met. “She put the blame on you instead of being honest.”

“Better now than later, though,” he says, sounding deep in thought. “I’m disappointed, but I’m not hurt. If she realized after the date that we weren’t a good fit, she did the right thing.”

For a fleeting second, you wonder when Minsu knew, how long he’d had doubts, what he could have done differently to hurt you less, but the thought quickly vanishes. You still think the girl should have been truthful about it. You’re about to say so when Hoseok lets out a little laugh.

You’ve come to realize that there is a lot of depth to both his smiles and his laughs. They don’t always mean that he’s happy. He does them even when he’s sad. You’re not sure why, but if you were to guess, you’d say he doesn’t like giving in to the sadness, and the smiles and laughs are ways of fighting it off.

“The thing is— I get it. I know I can be… a little too much,” he says sheepishly, and you can tell that the words are painful to say, even if he’s acting nonchalant. He might have heard them one too many times.

Hearing that makes you feel bad. It makes something deep inside you ache. Maybe because the corners of his lips are falling, or maybe because, for the first time since he’s walked into your apartment, he looks like he’s about to cry. Maybe it’s because of how unjustified it seems to you. You love Hoseok’s energy, his enthusiasm, but you’re not sure how to tell him that.

So, instead of trying to come up with something, you reach over the table and grab his hand gingerly. The gesture is not the most smooth, because you’re pretty bad at physical demonstrations, but Hoseok immediately squeezes your fingers in his.

“That’s fine,” you tell him, doing your best to smile at him. “I can be… a little not enough.”

“You?” he protests immediately, shaking his head, “No way! I refuse to believe anyone’s ever told you that!”

His offended tone makes you chuckle, but you don’t miss how relieved he seems by the distraction, and you don’t blame him.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” you tell him conspiratorially, “but I can be a little awkward, and I’m not the best at making conversation.”

At that, he bursts out laughing, but when he stops, the look he gives you is so soft that you feel yourself melt under his gaze.

“But you’re the best listener,” he says, and his tone is gentle and fond and you don’t know what to to do with yourself. You feel rooted to your spot, unable — and unwilling — to escape. You have the feeling your hand is burning up in his. You’re sure you’re blushing. There’s no way you’re not blushing right now.

“I don’t think you’re too much,” you blurt out. “I think you’re just the right amount.”

You really, really wish you were even just a little better at speaking to people.

Hoseok’s eyes widen at your statement, and then he smiles at you. It’s a genuinely happy smile that you couldn’t have imagined on his lips a moment ago.

“Thank you,” he says.

He doesn’t add anything. He doesn’t have to.

After that night, after you made sure once more that Hoseok got back to his apartment safely, even if he was far less intoxicated than the last time, and after he wished you goodnight from his room again, Hoseok and you start making small talk when you see each other. It doesn’t seem like much, but it’s a huge victory for you. Before that, you’d stayed years without exchanging more than a nod with your neighbors.

There are a couple more times at your place. Him and Hyejin meet again and, like you’d predicted, get along perfectly. Sometimes, your stomach twists a little when he puts his hand on her knee, or when she wraps an arm around his shoulders for a brief hug, but you try not to think too much about it. You don’t want to think about it, even if deep down, you know what is happening.

You’ve been through it before, after all, and it didn’t end well for you.

You blink when the lights turn back on, trying to adjust to the light. Next to you, Hyejin stretches.

“Well, that was something,” she says.

You feel too awestruck to reply just now, so you nod.

“Hoseok really is that amazing, isn’t he?”

“He is,” you say, and you let out a soft chuckle. You remember him dancing in your kitchen, completely wasted, and you remember how impressed you’d been then. You hadn’t realized then how much better he would be when he was sober.

“We owe him one for inviting us,” Hyejin continues. She’s used to making the conversation for the two of you anyway. “Think he could introduce me to one of the other dancers?”

You laugh and, in an unusual demonstration of affection, link your arm with hers. It’s not like you, but you’re feeling great after watching the performance. Hyejin’s right, of course. It was really nice of Hoseok to give you tickets to his dance group’s show. He’d looked so nervous, and after seeing this, you absolutely cannot imagine why. He has to know how incredible he looks, right?

You and Hyejin wait around for a little while, until Hoseok comes out. You’re not the only ones here to see him and the other dancers, and though Hyejin would happily call out to him, you manage to make her wait until he approaches you. His smile is bright and blinding when he finds you, and you feel your heart flutter. Hoseok’s smile has the strangest effects on you.

“So,” he starts, rubbing his hands together, “what did you guys think? Did you like it?”

“You were incredible,” you say, and the way his eyes shine when he looks at you disarms you completely. For a second, the world fades out around you. The people, the noise, the voices — gone in an instant. It’s just the two of you, and the affection with which Hoseok looks at you has you frozen in your spot.

You’re familiar with the feeling, have tried your best to dismiss it in the recent months, but this time, you don’t shy away from it. You like how Hoseok makes you feel, and even if a part of you is whispering in your ears that you’re taking a risk in letting anyone make you feel like that again, you ignore it. You’re willing to take that risk, and that realization makes your head spin.

You can’t look away from Hoseok, and he isn’t looking away from you either.

Then Hyejin starts to talk about the show, and the spell is broken. You don’t mind the interruption, and in fact, when you hear her speaking, you quickly find yourself interested. Hyejin is good with visual arts, in a way you aren’t, and it’s fascinating to hear her commentaries. Hoseok seems sucked in, too, but there is a strangeness in the air, a feeling, between you and him. You feel it in the briefest of looks, the softest of touches, his hand brushing against yours, in a smile that’s much softer than the ones he usually gives. You’re aware you could very well be imagining it, but there is also a chance you aren’t.

(God, you hope you aren’t.)

You weren’t too happy when Hyejin told you about the party. Now that you’re here, you want nothing more than to run away. You’re seriously considering it when Hyejin grabs your arm, and you know that she knows you were about to bail on her. Usually, you’d feel bad, but not tonight.

Minsu is here.

With his new girlfriend.

The one he cheated on you with.

You knew it was only a matter of time, because you have the same group of friends, and because it’s not like anyone knows what he did to you — you’re not sure they would pick your side even if they did —, but you still aren’t looking forward to seeing him again. In fact, it could never happen, and you would find it to be too soon. It’s not like this is still a gaping wound. It’, You don’t think you will ever forget about it, about the feelings you experienced then, sure, but the love you felt for him is long gone. Now it’s more like a phantom limb that throbs every once in a while.

Part of you is somewhat afraid that seeing him will revive it, though, and you never want to go through that again.

But it’s been over a year now. You need to be over this, and you guess tonight might as well be the acid test for that.

You expect Hyejin to berate you, but the look in her eyes is one of pity, which you hate. When she leans to whisper in your ear, you think she’s going to say some encouraging words. Instead, she hits with something else entirely.

“Hoseok’s by the drinks.”

…What?

“I invited him, I thought it would be a good idea.”

Right.

“You should go keep him company!”

Then she quickly vanishes, but not before you can throw her a piercing glance. You know your friend. You can tell when she’s trying to set you up with someone.

She’s lucky you don’t mind, but you’re pretty sure she knows that. You don’t tend to be the best at hiding your feelings, no matter how hard you try, and you’ve been in the situation before when she knew you liked someone before you did.

You guess the set-up merely confirms something you had felt building up for a while now, all while avoiding the obvious conclusion.

You like Hoseok.

You find him quickly, making small talk with some of your friends, and some more people you don’t recognize. The group isn’t what it used to be. Over the years, some people left, others brought in friends of theirs, and while there are still a good portion of your high school friends — well, of people you went to high school with — you definitely don’t know all of them.

For a second, you wonder if you should interrupt. Hoseok’s a natural when it comes to all this social stuff, a real extrovert. He looks amazing, right now, in one of those shirts you’ve seen him wear on dates, his hair nicely done. Everyone he’s talking to looks absolutely charmed, and for the second time tonight, you consider running away.

Then Hoseok sees you, and his smile widens, and he waves you over. You give polite nods and introductions, finding out that you actually do know some of the people you originally didn’t recognize, and grab yourself a glass of wine to feel a little more included. Hoseok puts his hand on your shoulder at first, and then if falls to the small of your back. You find yourself relaxing a little, standing by his side. You don’t know what it is about him and his touch that you find so grounding. You’ve never disliked physical contact, even if you don’t tend to initiate it, but with him it’s— different. Everything is.

That doesn’t stop you from feeling relieved when the group moves on and you find yourself alone with him. Maintaining a conversation with a lot of people is exhausting.

“Is everything going okay?” you ask. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Well, it’s not a party until I walk in,” Hoseok grins cockily, tilting his head towards you. “Why, are you tired of seeing my face everywhere you go?”

“I don’t think that could ever happen,” you laugh, and there it is again, on Hoseok’s face, that look he gives you from time to time, for a reason you haven’t figured out yet. His eyes widen, and his lips curl into that smile that’s not as bright as the one he usually gives, but just as sincere. It makes heat pool in your stomach.

“That’s good,” he says softly.

There is probably something more there than you realize, and you want to ask about it, but you see Minsu and his girlfriend from the corner of your eye. Before you can think about it, you’ve grabbed Hoseok so he can serve as a shield between you and the rest of the room. The move surprises him, and he grabs onto you to stabilize himself, fingers wrapping around your arms. He’s close, but you can’t think about this right now.

“My ex is here,” you mumble when he shoots you a questioning look.

“Oh,” he says, and you miss the hint of disappointment in his voice. “The one you were serious with?”

You didn’t think he would remember that.

“Yeah,” you reply with a grimace. “With his new girlfriend. I just— I don’t want to speak to them.”

A decided expression settles on Hoseok’s face.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he whispers at you.

You barely have the time to blink at him before he starts leading you towards the exit. You don’t know if it’s that much more discreet, not with the way he keeps his back turned to the room and his shoulders squared, taking his role as your human shield very seriously, but you’re still grateful.

The second you’ve set foot outside, you burst out laughing, and Hoseok quickly joins you.

“Thank you, Hoseok,” you smile once you’ve caught your breath. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“Walked out the door, I guess,” he replies, lifting his hands to arrange your hair.

You stay still for him. You don’t mean just that, though. You can’t express how much you appreciate his support right now, instead of the pity you usually get. You like that Hoseok turned this into— a joke. That he made you laugh about the way you’re hiding from your ex, instead of making you feel pathetic.

Just as you're thinking that, a wave of affection for him bursts in your chest, filling you with warmth, and you have no idea what to do with it. Especially not when he’s standing so close to you, biting his lower lip with concentration as he runs his fingers through your hair.

You kind of want to kiss him, but something tells you the timing isn’t right.

Finally, Hoseok takes a step back with a satisfied smile.

“There. Perfect.”

“I’ll have to let Hyejin know you’ll replace her as my personal hairdresser,” you chuckle.

“Oh, I’ll fight her for that spot!”

And there it is again. You’re laughing. You just saw Minsu again, and yet you’re laughing. The very idea would have sounded ludicrous a few months ago. Not because of Minsu per say, but because you didn’t think there would be anything to joke about. Or anyone to laugh with.

But Hoseok is here. By your side, in your life.

In your heart.

Someone clears their throat next to you, and you know even before turning around.

Minsu’s standing there. He looks good, if you’re being honest. He doesn’t have the dark circles under his eyes that you had gotten used to when you were dating, from the all-nighters he pulled when he was in college, and he’s clean-shaven. He’s wearing his favorite jacket, and that might be what you’re most taken aback by. The fact that you know this jacket. He used to put it on your shoulders when you got cold.

You suddenly feel an unexpected hatred for it.

“(Y/N),” he says, softly, and you can only look at him. You didn’t expect this. You didn’t expect that he would say your name so gently, with such affection. It wasn’t— It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. You’d told yourself he hated you, that he would make fun of you, that he was such an asshole. This is so much worse, and yet you can’t say you haven’t thought about it. This is so much worse, because if he’s not an asshole, how could he do that to you?

What kind of person would you have to be to deserve to go through that?

“Hi, I’m Hoseok!” Hoseok exclaims next to you, filling the uncomfortable silence. He extends a hand to Minsu and, while doing that, wraps an arm around your shoulders, and you feel a little better.

“Hi,” you say, belatedly, while Minsu shakes Hoseok’s hand and smiles genuinely.

“Minsu,” he tells Hoseok before turning his gaze back to you “This is great,” he comments, pointing at you and Hoseok, and you don’t get it. “The two of you— You look great together. I’m so happy for you.”

You’d like to say that you snapped, that you lost control, that you didn’t know what you were doing, but that would be a lie. Sure, in that moment, you feel burning, seething rage running through your veins. Sure, you consider murder for a hot second. But you’re in control of yourself when you dismiss the idea, just like you’re in control of yourself when your hand makes a circular movement, splashing Minsu’s face with the entirety of your glass of wine and, hopefully, ruining that stupid jacket of his.

Minsu looks at you in disbelief. You look at him in disbelief, as wine drips from his chin.

Then you run. Hoseok’s hand slips from your shoulder, and you’re all too aware of the way people stare at you as you beeline towards the exit. You hear Hyejin, and perhaps Hoseok, call your name as you put your glass back on a table, but you’re out before either of them can get to you, and as much as you love them, you think it’s probably for the best.

You get home at 7 am, which is late, even for your fucked up sleep patterns. You feel a little better. You spent a good chunk of the night outside, walking, before finding a café that was open. You didn’t want to go home.

When you arrive at your door, and find a sleeping Hoseok leaning against it, you think you may have made a mistake. He looks peaceful, but he’s still sitting on the floor in the cold hallway, in front of your door, and guilt spreads through you. You kneel in front of him, and try to gently shake him awake.

He barely budges. You try again, and he lets out a sleepy groan, head rolling to fall on his shoulder. He looks adorable.

“Hoseok, hey,” you call out gently. “You can’t stay here. We need to get you to bed, okay?”

The only reply you get is another groan. With a sigh, you pull on his arm, trying to lift him up. He’s heavy, way more than you would have thought with his figure, but you guess muscle weighs a lot. You’re about to give up when you feel him straightening a little. Not enough to walk on his own, but enough for you to half carry him. You make it to his door, fish the key out of his pocket while trying not to think about his muscled thigh under your finger or— anything else, then struggle to open it and get the two of you through.

Inside, you bump against his couch, and you swear between your teeth. You’ve always met at your apartment, and you’ve only been in his for a few minutes at a time, so you’re not familiar with the lay-out. You make it to the bedroom, unsteady under Hoseok’s weight, and are delighted to be able to push him down onto the bed.

That delight lasts for less than a second, though, because as he falls, the arm that you’d put around your shoulders to carry him drags you down with him. Your exhausted brain manages a ‘fuck’ before you collapse into Hoseok’s chest. It’s not the most pleasant feeling, feeling rather hard under you, but that doesn’t change anything to the fact that your heart is beating like crazy. Your nose is pressed against his neck, and you breathe in the smell of his after-shave, and you want to stay here.

But, as tempting as the idea is, you can’t do that when Hoseok doesn’t even know you’re here. Gathering all your willpower, you push against his chest to get up.

And then Hoseok rolls over, suddenly covering you with his body while all you can do is squeak.

This is the dumbest thing ever, you think as you vaguely try to push him off, already knowing that this is a lost cause. There’s no way this is happening.

Yet, as the minutes pass by and Hoseok shows no sign of moving again, instead wrapping an arm around your waist with a contended sigh, you have no choice but to accept your fate. You’re trapped, in Hoseok’s bed, underneath him, he’s probably drunk — that would explain why you can’t wake him up — and tomorrow morning is going to be unbelievably awkward.

It should be hard to fall asleep, in those circumstances. In fact, you shouldn’t fall asleep at all, just wait patiently until he lets you go to slip away. But right now, engulfed in Hoseok’s warmth, you can’t manage to stay awake and, as you drift into sleep, you cannot find it in yourself to regret it.

You wake to the feeling of hands gently moving up and down your back. The second you stir, though, they stop, and the warmth they provided you disappears. Whatever you’re laying on also tenses, hardening under you, and you want to protest. Fortunately for you, even in that state, you realize that mattresses and pillows can’t harden, which helps you piece together that you’re not laying on a mattress, which means you have to be laying on—

Oh God. Your eyes snap open, and you sit up way faster than you probably should have.

“Careful!” Hoseok protests, sitting up as well, reaching out to steady you. He removes his hands quickly once he’s sure you’re not going to fall over, burying them under his blanket.

“You— you’ve been awake a long time?” you ask, voice thick with sleep.

“Um, a little while,” he admits, shifting under your gaze. “I assumed you needed the rest. You must have come home very late.”

There is a hint of reproach in his voice, laced with something else that you cannot identify, and you grimace. You take a second to rub your eyes, but even once that’s done, you find you can’t look at Hoseok.

“I did,” you mumble. “I’m sorry about last night, by the way. It must have been very— very uncomfortable. Especially after I left you with— I’m so sorry.”

Hoseok lets out a soft laugh, but you get the distinct feeling that it’s to make you feel better. You’re getting good at telling what his laughs mean.

“It’s fine. Your, erm, your friends told me about you and Minsu. I didn’t realize you guys were that serious.” Silence. “Eight years, huh?”

You press your hand against your forehead. Talking about you and Minsu’s long relationship always makes you feel weird. The fact that he was in your life, practically everyday, for eight years, and that he disappeared from it without a warning and now he’s gone and everything is practically the same is unbelievably confusing to you. Maybe you should miss him, and you do miss some things about the relationship, like being in love, and sharing an apartment, and having someone to come home to, but you don’t miss him. Not anymore.

You know Hyejin’s worried you moved on too fast, after him. That she thinks you didn’t take time to heal. Truth be told, it hurt for a lot longer than she knows, but it was still relatively short, compared to what you’ve seen her go through after some of her relationships. You don’t know what to say about it. After the break up, you couldn’t find it in yourself to still love him, or to miss him.

“Eight years,” you repeat, shaking your head. “Is that all they said?”

“…Not exactly, no.” Hoseok sounds so different from his usual self, all serious, looking at his hands, anywhere in the room but you. You can’t blame him, though, considering you’re doing the same thing. “They said you were high school sweethearts. That you were basically— perfect for each other.”

You want to scoff at that. It’s true that you got together in high school, and it’s true that people thought you made a nice picture. They were surprised that you would have gotten a boyfriend, usually, but the surprise vanished once they saw Minsu. You two clicked, in so many ways. The two of you worked. You made sense.

But you don’t believe there is such a thing as ‘being perfect for each other’. The two of you always had to try to make the relationship work.

Until one day he stopped trying.

“So I wanted to say— I get it. It must have been hard to hear him say that. You should try to deal with your sadness in other ways but—”

What? What is he talking about?

“—but I know what it’s like to see an ex you still have feelings for with their new partner, and it sucks, though, again, next time you could—”

“That’s not it,” you blurt out, and Hoseok stops in the middle of his rambling to finally look at you.

“What do you mean?” he asks, tone cautious, almost guarded.

You can’t believe what you’re about to tell him. You haven’t told anyone before, not even Hyejin. If she finds out, she’s probably going to kill you for not telling her and for telling someone else, and yet, in that moment, you can’t not talk about it. The thought of Hoseok thinking that you did that out of jealousy, that you still have feelings for Minsu is unbearable to you.

“What did they say about the break-up?” you ask.

Hoseok blinks, then frowns as he tries to remember it. He drank a lot last night, especially after you left. More than he had intended to.

“That no one knew what happened.”

“And Minsu didn’t have anything to say to that?”

“…I think he was cleaning his jacket at that point.”

You hope you stained it and he wasn’t able to get them off.

“We didn’t just— break up. I— We lived together back then. In an apartment. Because— That’s not important. What I mean is that— I walked in on him. And her. In our bed.”

You hadn’t made a noise for a few moments, so you’re not sure how they noticed you, but next thing you knew she was shrieking, covering her chest, and Minsu was walking towards you, awkwardly pulling up his pants.

“He— He told me he was in love with her. And that was it.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Hoseok isn’t saying anything, and you don’t want to look at him for now.

“That’s why I got angry. It’s not that I was jealous, it’s that— He doesn’t get to say that to me. Not after doing that.”

Hoseok grabs your hand, intertwines his fingers with yours.

“You didn’t tell that to anyone?”

You shake your head.

“Why not?”

You stare in the emptiness for a while. Reliving the story had been unpleasant, even if you don’t feel anything for Minsu anymore, but it’s the answer to that question that brings a choked sob to your lips.

“Because— How can you do that to someone? How can you— how can you do that to someone you’ve been with for eight years? Someone you said you loved?” You feel small and the weight on your chest is painful, unshakeable. “What kind— what kind of person would they have to be for you to feel that it was— that it was okay to do that?”

At that point, the tears are rolling down your cheeks and your sobs make it impossible to talk. Not because of Minsu, but because of the fear that is building in your stomach even now. The fear that you deserved that. You hiccup loudly, and then you’re pressed against Hoseok’s chest and he’s holding you tight, hand gently caressing your hair.

“It’s not your fault,” he tells you softly.

“You don’t know that. M-maybe I’m a terrible person.” You don’t believe that, not when you say it out loud. But… what if?

“(Y/N),” Hoseok says, almost sternly, “you’re not a terrible person. Sure, you listen to Taylor Swift at two am, and you cook at two am, and you take your shower at two am, and— Actually, you could fix all of those issues by going to bed like a normal human being.”

That has the benefit of making you giggle.

“None of that makes you a terrible person,” he continues, satisfied with that small victory. “And I know we haven’t known each other for long, but I have never thought you were anything close to terrible.”

You let a long breath out. It doesn’t quite rid you from your fears — Minsu knew you for over ten years, he had much more time to discover all of your ugly parts — but it still helps.

“You know, I was doing really bad, the night you and Hyejin invited me to join you for a drink.”

“That was mostly Hyejin,” you say with a sniff. You’re not crying anymore, thankfully, but you don’t want to leave Hoseok’s embrace just yet.

“Because you’d rather die than talk to a stranger unless you absolutely have to,” Hoseok laughs, and you think that he’s gotten to know you quite well. “But you were really nice to me that night and I think I needed that.”

He lets go of you carefully, like you made of porcelain and he’s afraid you’re going to break if he’s too brusque. You don’t, obviously, but the world suddenly feels cold, without his arms around you. He grabs a box of tissue from the night-stand and hands them to you.

“Minsu’s an asshole for what he did to you,” he tells you, looking more serious than you’ve ever seen him. “He should never have put you through that.”

“But—” But if he didn’t love me, he was right to leave me. He had the right to fall in love with someone else, even if it was going to hurt me. Sure, he could have done it another way, but is he to blame here?

“Not buts!” Hoseok protests. “Look, I know you must have loved him. I know that it’s not easy to reconcile that image of him with his actions, but you don’t have to look for excuses for him. You don’t even have to forgive him.”

You stare at Hoseok and, without a warning, you feel the absolute need to kiss him. You’ve thought about kissing him before, certainly, but it’s never been such a powerful urge. You can’t think of anything other than his lips against yours, his body pressed against your own, and it takes all your willpower to resist it.

Because, of course, kissing him as you’re talking about your ex would be a terrible idea and send all the wrong signals.

“You understand that, right?” he insists. He leans towards you so that his eyes are on the same level as yours and you think you really shouldn’t be looking in his beautiful brown eyes right now.

“I do,” you reply, glancing away.

“I’m serious. You shouldn’t blame yourself for—”

“I get it, Hoseok. I promise.” Then, still without looking at him: “Thank you.”

He sighs.

“I’m so angry you had to go through that,” he says with a pout. “If I see him again, do you give me permission to break his nose?”

It should worry you that you actually consider the proposition.

“He’s not worth it,” you decide. “But I appreciate the offer.”

“What if I accidentally kick him in the shin?”

“Well, if it’s an accident…”

Hoseok bursts out laughing, and you’re utterly and completely in awe at the sound.

“You can count on me!” he winks, and he doesn’t know how he makes your heart flutter, how in this moment, you realize how utterly head over heels for him you are.

(It’s a pretty nice feeling, actually.)

Hoseok has another date over. You sleep on your couch again, and you try your best not to think about it.

(You take it back. It sucks.)

You run into Hoseok after coming back from doing your laundry. He’s in a good mood, and you hate that pang in your chest at the thought that it’s because of the girl he saw the other day. You should be happy for him. That’s the least you can do.

“Hey!” he greets you cheerfully. “Need some help with that?”

“Not really, I—”

But he’s already taken it from your hands. You shake your head with a smile as he gestures for you to get into the elevator before him. God, you like him.

“I can do that, you know,” you tell him at the doors close.

“Sure, but I can do it better.” Hoseok winks at you, then regains some seriousness. “How are you doing?”

From his tone, you know he doesn’t mean ‘in general’. He’s probably worried because of how you cried in his arms the other day, which you find a little embarrassing, but you still like that he asked.

“I’m doing great,” you tell him honestly.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.” Then you nudge him playfully. “Thanks to you.”

He has a little laugh, sounding unsure what to make of that, but you mean it. Talking about the situation did more good than you would ever have expected, and you’re… you’re just happy you did it with him.

“What about you?”

“Oh, I’m fine!” he says, one second too late, like he’d been lost in his thoughts — except he wasn’t, he was looking at you. “Work, neighbors keeping me up, you know how it is.”

“Ugh, neighbors are the worst,” you grin.

“You’re telling me!”

The doors open with a ding, and the two of you step out, slowly making your way to your door. It’s silly, but you don’t want to leave his presence. You linger at your door for a few more minutes, talking about the weather, of all things. Finally, when all the small-talk you can muster has left your mouth, you hold your hands out to get your basket back.

“I feel like I’m constantly thanking you, these days,” you chuckle. “I wonder how I ever got anything done without you.”

“I think that deserves a kiss!” Hoseok exclaims, and your heart stops, but when you look at him, you see he’s tapping his cheek. He’s probably not serious and not expecting you to do anything.

But you get on your tiptoes and plant a brief kiss right where he was pointing.

“Thanks!” you say quickly, slamming the door behind you as fast as possible so you don’t see his reaction. “Have a nice day!” you yell from behind it.

Hoseok looks at your door. You’re leaning against it on the other side, dying to look through the peephole to see his reaction, and yet not daring to. Because of that, you miss the way he rubs his cheek, the amused smile that follows it, and the way he skips away. You do hear his happy whistle, though, so you decide you can’t have gone completely wrong, and you’re happy with that.

You hesitantly knock on Hoseok’s door. Things didn’t work out with the girl, and he texted you to come over for one of your usual pity parties, but he didn’t seem as down about it as he usually is. Still, you stopped at a grocery store to pick up some wine while coming back from the publishing house where you work as a proofreader. You usually work from home — hence your ridiculous schedule — but you had needed to drop by to discuss some things. The conversation had been difficult on your end, taking a lot of energy from you, and you were definitely happy about going home and blowing off some steam with your neighbor.

From inside, you can hear Hyejin’s voice, but also several others, and that makes you recoil. Talking with strangers is not something you want to do tonight. But before you can choose to run off, the door opens, and you’re greeted by Hoseok’s beautiful smile, so of course, there is no way for you to leave.

“(Y/N)!” he exclaims happily. “And you’ve brought wine! That’s great, Hyejin was worried we might not have enough. Come on, I have some people I want to introduce you to.”

You don’t even try to escape when he puts an arm around your shoulder — you have to remind yourself that it’s Hoseok and that’s just a thing he does, that it doesn’t necessarily mean anything — and leads you into the apartment.

There, you find Hyejin sitting next to a tall, dark-haired guy you recognize from Hoseok’s dance performance.

The introductions and the smiles they give you almost make your head spin, and once they’re done, you’re relieved to be able to fall on a chair next to the one that’s been the most quiet so far — Yoongi, if your memory isn’t playing tricks on you. That relief only grows when he doesn’t try to talk to you. Instead, you give each other a silent nod, and you both seem very content to let the others do all the talking.

As it turns out, they don’t limit themselves to talking. They clearly all have a lot of energy to spend, and you can merely stare at it, mesmerized. The blonde guy standing by the kitchen sink — Jimin, you remember, forcing yourself to recall their names — starts to demonstrate some dance moves with perfect grace, and it doesn’t take long for Jungkook to abandon his spot next to Hyejin to join him, not as precise, but very enthusiastic. Hoseok jumps in, too, and suddenly there’s a dance crew in his living-room. These three have no business being this good.

“Jin, aren’t you going to join them?” Yoongi yells to a guy who has carefully moved out of the dancers’ way.

“Do you want to fight?” Jin shouts back, and Yoongi chuckles, clearly delighted he got a rise from his friend. “Why don’t you join them?”

Then Taehyung — fluffy brown hair — seemingly comes out of nowhere and tackles Jungkook, Namjoon — tall guy with glasses — who’d been pretty quiet so far gets up and tries to separate them, everyone picks a side and— It’s chaos.

It’s kind of like watching a car crash happen, except you’re having a lot of fun.

“They’re always like that,” Yoongi says next to you. His expression is perfectly stoic but his voice betrays his fondness.

“I guess now I understand where Hoseok gets all that energy from. He just doesn’t have a choice,” you smile, and Yoongi sighs.

For a moment, you don’t speak, happy with simply observing the others’ antics. You’re not sure how or why it happened, but Jin and Jungkook are the ones fighting now, and Hyejin, who’s clearly in her element here, is shouting some encouragements from her seat, which she hasn’t bothered to leave.

“Hoseok’s doing well,” Yoongi comments suddenly.

“I was thinking that, too,” you admit. “Usually, after things go wrong with a girl…”

“Is something happening between the two of you?”

You… had not been expecting that bluntness.

“Um,” you say, taken aback. Yoongi turns to look at you, and the way he glares at you makes you feel compelled to answer. He looked harmless a second ago, but now you’re thinking if looks could kill, you would be seconds away from getting murdered. You’re not sure what you did to deserve that, though. “I don’t think there is.” You tilt your head, thinking. “There definitely isn’t anything official.”

“I think Hoseok likes you,” Yoongi says without batting an eyelid.

You’re pretty sure telling you that breaks some kind of code, but, with the wonderful warmth spreading in your chest, you don’t think about complaining. Not for a second.

“I think I like Hoseok too,” you reply instead. You don’t know why you’re saying that to a near stranger, but when Yoongi nods, you feel that there is a deep understanding going on between the two of you.

“Hurt him and I will kill you,” he says matter-of-factly.

“That’s a little dramatic.”

“Hurt him and I will steal your doormat.”

Yeah, that sounds more reasonable. If you hurt Hoseok, you’ll deserve to get your doormat stolen.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything else on the subject, so you’re happy to drop it. You bring your attention back to the room to discover that Jungkook has wrestled Jin to the ground.

“How…”

“Don’t ask. I stopped trying to understand a long time ago.”

But, despite what he says, when Jin calls him, Yoongi jumps to the rescue. Namjoon takes his place next to you, making polite small talk, and it doesn’t feel as difficult as those things usually are for you. You’d even go as far as to say it’s… pleasant.

When you look up, you meet Hoseok’s worried eyes, and he smiles at you, silently asking if you’re okay. You smile back, and it’s like something melts inside you. It’s because of him, you piece together. You feel comfortable because you trust Hoseok to make you comfortable. And because those are his friends, and he wanted to introduce them to you… You feel safe.

Yoongi’s words replay in your mind. You have a hard time believing them, if you’re honest, but something has bloomed inside you, something you haven’t felt in quite some time, and something you don’t want to get rid of so quickly.

Hope.

“Will you be okay, Hobi?”

“We could help you clean!”

“I’m sorry about your lamp…”

Hoseok is quick to dismiss his friends’ concerns.

“It’s fine! (Y/N) is staying to help me, so you guys get home safely, okay? Namjoon, we can figure something out for the lamp.”

The tall man grimaces at that, and self-consciously rubs the back of his neck. You haven’t known him long, but something tells you it isn’t the first time something like that happens to him, which might explain why Hoseok is so calm about it. Then again, Hoseok always makes the best of every situation, so you can’t be quite sure.

“Here are your keys!” Jungkook says, handing them to you. He had just half-carried Hyejin to your apartment, where she’s going to spend the night. It’s for the best — she’s too drunk to get home by herself.

“Thanks,” you smile. It’s obvious that him and Hyejin have taken an interest in each other and, well, you think it wouldn’t be that bad if something happened there. He’s nice.

“So you guys are good?” Jimin insists, sounding worried. “You don’t want us to help?”

Hoseok firmly shakes his head.

“You get a good night of sleep!”

Greetings are exchanged, and then the door finally closes behind them, and it’s just you and Hoseok. He lets out a little sigh, then smiles at you.

“They’re a lot, aren’t they?” he asks, proudly.

“They’re great,” you reply, and you mean it. Sure, you feel tired, but you actually had fun tonight, which is not something you can say about most of the parties you go to. “Namjoon knows a lot about books. It was nice talking to him.”

Hoseok hums, moving past you to start cleaning up.

“I’m glad you liked them! They were really looking forward to meeting you. Yoongi said I was talking about you too much and that it made him curious.”

“I think Hoseok likes you.”

“You were only telling them good things about me, of course,” you joke, picking up the dishes that are laying on the table to put them in the sink.

“Well, there’s nothing bad to talk about,” Hoseok replies with the same tone, but there’s an underlying note of honesty to his voice.

“That’s simply not true.”

Hoseok laughs. You wonder if he means it, even a little. There are bad things to say about you, no doubt, but you wonder if he at least thinks the good outweighs the bad.

You’d take that.

You do some more cleaning while talking about his friends, and you end up perched on a worktop next to him while he does the dishes. The rest of the room isn’t spotless, and you doubt that lamp can be fixed, so Hoseok will need to get rid of it, but you think you did a pretty good job, all in all.

Hoseok starts humming to himself, and in that moment, you feel— satisfied. There’s nothing in particular to produce that feeling, and yet it’s exactly it. Cleaning a room at one am with him and being by his side while he does the dishes… You’re happy like that, you realize. It’s a strange thing to think about, and maybe that’s why it gives you the courage to talk.

“Hoseok?”

“Hm?”

When you don’t reply immediately, he looks up at you.

“What is it?” he asks. You take in a deep breath, run your fingers through your hair.

“What would you do if I kissed you?”

His eyes go wide, and his movements stop completely. He just stares at you, and in that moment, you really, really hate yourself for asking.

“That’s— That’s cheating,” he manages to say after what feels like an eternity. “You have to try it to find out about that.”

That’s fair, you decide, and before you can question yourself further, you lean forward, choosing to take that as an invitation. You’re slow in your movements, in case he wants to pull away, but he doesn’t. He stays perfectly still as your lips part, centimeters from his, as you put your hand on his shoulder to stabilize yourself, and he’s still perfectly still when you finally press your lips against his mouth.

He tastes salty, like the snacks you had earlier. You don’t mind it.

The first thing to move is his mouth, pressing back against yours, and it’s the softest kiss you’ve ever experienced.

Soon after that, his hands come out of the water and he quickly removes the gloves he was wearing. The second his right hand cups your cheek, the kiss turns urgent, passionate. His tongue darts into your mouth, and you wrap your arms around him with a pleased sigh, running your fingers on the back of his neck. A shiver runs through him, and next thing you know, he’s positioning himself between your legs, one hand firmly pulling you closer to him.

His body’s warm, toned, everything you’ve wanted for the past few months. He feels so good, and you’re quick to pull him in, hooking one of your legs behind his knee. He buckles, catches himself on the worktop and his lips stretch into a smile against yours. He tilts your head up ever so slightly, kissing you like he’s starving and wants to devour you whole. You respond with the same energy, fisting your hands in his shirt. It’s like you can’t get him close enough.

“How dare you,” Hoseok finally whispers when he pulls away from you, out of breath.

You shake your head, confused and a little dizzy. He’s grinning widely and looking at you like you’re one of the seven wonders, so he’s definitely not mad at you, but you have no idea what he means by that.

“How dare you make the first move?” he says, pressing a kiss against your jaw. “You’re the— the most infuriating person I know.”

You laugh at that, let him kiss his way down to your neck. You trail your foot up his thigh to wrap your leg around him, beckoning him closer.

“Yoongi said he thought you liked me,” you admit to him, with one hand in his hair, softly caressing his scalp.

“Seriously? I feel like I should beat him up— but right now I kinda want to buy him flowers.”

“A cactus.”

“Joke’s on you, Yoongi loves cacti. Hey—” He stops kissing you, straightens, and looks into your eyes. Affection is dancing in his, but you can tell he’s being serious. “I like you. Like, really like you. So, um, if you’re not— if we’re not on the same page here…”

He can’t think that.

“I’d just— I’d just appreciate if you could let me know. Because I don’t think I can have something with you if you don’t— don’t really want it.”

He sounds worried, genuinely so. He’s looking at you, and you know he’s baring his heart out to you in that moment. It almost shatters you, this moment, this honesty, his fear. Somehow, the idea that you could hurt him, without meaning to, is the most terrifying of them all. Your mind flickers to Minsu, and you wonder how he could hurt you like that, if he felt that way about you even for a second — but you don’t care. All that matters is that you know you would never hurt Hoseok like that.

You kiss him and he closes his eyes, hand tightening on your waist.

“I really like you,” you whisper. “Really like how you smile,” He smiles softly against your mouth. “really like how you laugh,” You start unbuttoning his shirt. “really like it when I see you in the hallway and you always take the time to ask me how my day has been,” You run your fingers over his chest, enjoying the feeling of his skin underneath yours, “really like the way you shine.”

“I shine?” he asks, stopping your hand to bring it to his lips, placing soft kisses on your fingertips.

You hum.

“More than anyone else.”

He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but decides against it. He can’t find the words to respond. Instead, he kisses you.

“Bedroom?” he asks. As much as he would love to have you, right here, it’s not the most comfortable setting for the first time, and he wants to give you an opportunity to back out, if you don’t want that now.

But you very much do.

“That sounds perfect.”

It’s a small miracle that you make it to the bedroom when you can’t keep your hands or mouths off each other. On the way there, which is extremely short when you actually look where you’re going, you manage to bump into the table, several walls, and to kick down a plant.

“We’ll blame it on Namjoon,” Hoseok mumbles into your mouth, and you laugh. You’ve been doing a lot of that, ever since meeting him.

He pulls away from you to take off his shirt, and you’re quick to get rid of your pants, discarding them on the floor. You’re about to do the same thing with the top you’re wearing when Hoseok’s hands stop you.

“May I?”

Of course he can. He pulls it over your head, and kiss you when you emerge from it. First, his hands settle on your naked shoulders, then, slowly, he trails them down your arms, intertwining your fingers with his. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, and you yourself get lost in the sensations, in how he’s towering over you, in how his hair brush against your temples, in the heat that radiates from him.

You inch closer to him, and he lets out a soft moan when you press yourself against him. You reach behind to get rid of your bra, and when it falls to the ground, your finally feel his skin against yours.

“Fuck,” Hoseok whispers in a low voice.

You pull him towards you as you climb onto the bed, and he follows, just like he follows when you lay down. Everything, his kisses, his touches, his body on top of yours— it all feels slow. Intimate. His long fingers run over your side, and you shiver. You want so much more than this, and yet it already feels overwhelming.

“Are you sure?” Hoseok asks you.

You look up at him. He’s kneeling between your legs, still wearing his black pants, draped over you. His pupils are wide, his body is so hot it could be on fire, and you can definitely feel his hardness pressed against you. He’s perfect.

“I’m sure,” you say, and when you kiss him again, his response isn’t slow anymore. Instead, he rolls his hips into you, and the friction forces a low moan out of you. That makes him smile.

One of his hands runs over your thigh as he gently spreads you open.

“I want you so bad,” he tells you in an urgent whispers.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“You’re impossible.”

But he listens, and after that, you don’t know what to focus on. His lips and his tongue, making their way down your neck, kissing your breasts, teasing your nipples, or his hands, as his thumb rubs against your clit and he slides a long finger inside you.

Your fingers dig into his hair and you bite on your lower lip harshly. You’re not usually loud in bed, but you know that moans and whimpers and pleas will come cascading out if you don’t stop them. You wouldn’t normally have a problem with that, but Hyejin is sleeping in your apartment, and you would appreciate it if she didn’t hear you.

Hoseok easily pushes another finger inside you, scissoring you open, and your entire body arches into him. You close your eyes, quietly calling out his name.

“You’re doing so good,” Hoseok whispers to you, voice so full of affection you feel that your heart is going to burst. “You look so, so beautiful for me.”

You’re so wet, so tight around his hand, and you want him so badly, want more than that, but there is no way you can stop him right now. You feel at his mercy and, fortunately for you, he’s the kindest tormentor there is.

“Fuck,” he says one more time, eyes roaming over your body, the way you’ve completely abandoned yourself in his arms, head thrown back, eyes closed. He wants to give you everything.

He increases his pace and wet sounds fill the room. You can’t think of anything other than him, and your mind is filled with Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok!

You come when he adds in a third finger. You tighten around him, letting out a high-pitched moan over which you have absolutely no control. Hoseok lets you ride your orgasm before removing his hand, still whispering praise in your ear.

It takes you a few moments to come down from your high, and when you do, you’re only too aware that he hasn’t gotten much from this at all, still painfully hard against your hip. You reach out to cup him through his jeans, and he groans, burying his head in your neck.

“You don’t have to,” he says, despite bucking against your hand. “I’m fine with—”

“Hoseok, trust me, I want this as much as you do.”

You kiss him, fumbling around to unbutton his jeans, and he joins you in pushing his pants down. He moans, louder than you did earlier, when you wrap your hand around him. You stroke him at a devilishly slow pace. His body is tense as a bow, his kiss turning sloppy when you tighten your grip ever so slightly. You love it, love the way he moans for you, love how vocal he is, love how his hips jerk to meet your movements even though you’re pretty sure he’s trying to keep still.

“If you keep that going, I’m going to—” Hoseok starts, small gasps breaking off his sentence, and you regretfully take your hand off him.

He’s thankful for it, because he desperately wants to have you, but he still can’t help the moan of disappointment that escape his lips. Someone else might feel embarrassed at how it makes you giggle, and maybe he would, but he sees adoration in your eyes when you look at him, when you lift a hand to stroke his cheek, and he simply doesn’t. He can’t when everything about you screams how much you care for him.

You slide your drenched panties down your legs and wait not so patiently as Hoseok reaches in the nightstand for a condom, then struggles to open the wrapper. Your foot rubs against his calf as he struggles to open it up, working as a painful reminder that you’re there, so close, so wet, so ready…

“Not helping,” he mumbles, fucking finally opening it. You join in to roll it on, your hand feeling so damn good around him, and when you lay on your back, there’s impatience in your eyes. He kind of wants to tease you about it, make the moment last, but he doesn’t have the strength to do that right now.

Instead, he lines his cock with your entrance and slowly pushes himself inside you. Your moan sounds loud, even with you trying to muffle it, and he replies with a groan. You push yourself on an elbow, shifting to find a more comfortable position, and you end up sitting on his thighs, straddling him. One of his hands comes rest on the small of your back, stabilizing you, while he puts the other one behind him to support his weight.

It’s overwhelming already, you around him, your breasts pressed against him, the kisses you’re peppering against his mouth.

And then you start moving. At first, you roll your hips experimentally, making sure you’ve adjusted to his cock inside you. When Hoseok throws his head back, though, you start bobbing up and down. It’s not a movement you could do for too long, but you don’t think you’re going to need long.

You wrap your arms tightly against him as you find just the right angle. You barely know what you’re doing, hips moving almost uncontrollably so he keeps hitting that sweet, sweet spot. Your thighs’ muscles start burning, but Hoseok’s moans, the desperate way he repeats your name like a mantra, keep you going.

“(Y/N), I’m— I’m gonna—”

You reach down to touch yourself, fingers rolling over your clit so you get just what you need to get over the edge.

Hoseok comes seconds before you do, with a loud moan. His fingers dig into your hip, and it’s probably going to leave a mark, but you’re doing the same thing with his shoulders. You chase your second orgasm of the night frantically and find it as he’s starting to soften inside you.

You collapse on top of him, both your bodies sweaty and exhausted but so, so deeply content.

It takes a while before either of you speaks again.

“Shower?” Hoseok asks, sleepily, and you nod. You feel good. You feel good against him, and you feel good when the two of you stumble towards the bathroom. You feel good when your body is pressed against him inside, all tensions gone, and you feel good when you rest your head on his chest in bed, drowsing into sleep next to him.

That’s all him, you realize. That’s all Hoseok.

And you’re more than happy with that conclusion.

As you’re getting ready for the marriage of two of your high school friends, you idly wonder how it’s going to be, to see Minsu there again, and then it hits you. You haven’t thought about him in a long, long time.

It’s not like he was always on your mind, after the break-up, but it did feel like you took a piece of him everywhere you went, a pain that never quite disappeared, a constant thorn in your side. You had tried your best, fully aware that it wasn’t doing you any good, but it was hard, after eight years, to get used to a world without him again. You wonder when you became okay with it again.

There’s a knock at your door, and you find Hoseok waiting for you when you open the door. He looks amazing. Perfect. Like all you ever wanted. You've been together for months now, and yet you can't seem to get used to it. You don't know if you really want to, either. You like being dazzled every time you see him. He flashes you a smile and leans in to give you a quick peck on the lips.

“You remember that you have a key, right?”

“Oh, I do remember, I just like knocking here. Brings back some memories I like.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning.

“You look beautiful,” he tells you, eyeing your dress, and you humor him with a little twirl.

“Hyejin helped me pick it.”

Hyejin is probably the reason you’re invited to the wedding, actually. She had never cared about your outburst against Minsu, but some of your friends definitely hadn’t appreciated it, and you understood why they wouldn’t want that kind of crazy to their wedding. However, after you’d told her about how the break-up went down, she had pleaded for you, and gotten you off the persona non grata list.

She would probably have murdered you for not telling her sooner, but you used that same conversation to tell her about you and Hoseok, and that had overshadowed the first half of that discussion entirely.

Yes, you’re aware, that was a little manipulative, but it was that or being killed by your best friend, so you have no regrets.

“Hyejin has great tastes.”

“Don’t tell that to Jungkook, or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

Hoseok bursts out laughing, something akin to pride shining in his eyes. He loves that his friends are your friends now, loves that his favorite people all enjoy each other’s company.

He extends his hand to you, smiles when you take it. He initiates physical contact more often than not, but you never decline it.

“All good to go?”

You nod. You don’t tell him that honestly, he’s all you need to face the rest of the world.

It doesn’t make it any less true.

You don’t like weddings. You know, shocker, considering how sociable of a person you are, but seriously, the more weddings you go to, the less you enjoy them. It’s not that you don’t love your friends and don’t want to see them happy, because you do, and they’re the only reason you put yourself through that. You guess you’re put off by how many people there are, and how big it all is. Hyejin’s a bridesmaid here, so you heard a lot about the planning, and it sounds like something straight out of your worst nightmares. It’s simply not for you.

Hoseok puts his hand on the small of your back, palm open, and it immediately ground you, calms the anxiety that had been bubbling inside you. Your anxiety is such an old companion when you’re in a public setting that it’s almost weird to feel it disappear. It’s not like Hoseok is a magical way of making it go away, it doesn’t always work, but it definitely helps. Just another one of the many perks of being with him.

“Everything okay?” he asks gently, and your heart explodes with the love you feel for him.

Without thinking, you push yourself up to kiss him. It’s a chaste kiss, appropriate for the situation, but Hoseok closes his eyes, loses himself in it. When he opens them, he looks a little surprised, like he always does when you’re the one to initiate a kiss.

“Everything’s fine,” you say.

His eyes glide to stare at something behind you, and you turn around before he can stop you.

There, of course, are Minsu and his girlfriend. It looks like it’s working well between the two of them.

You can’t say this doesn’t make you feel anything. That would be a lie. You don’t think you can forgive Minsu, don’t think you want to, and you certainly don’t want to be his friend, or even to talk to him, but you’re not angry anymore. If he did come over, you’d probably handle it better than you did last time. Hyejin might not, though, and judging by the way Hoseok tenses next to you, he might not either.

But instead of walking over and throwing a glass of wine at Minsu’s stupid face, Hoseok wraps an arm around you and you put your head on his shoulder.

You definitely like that better.

“They—” He clears his throat. “Your friends told me they thought he was the love of your life.” You snort at that. “That you guys had so much in common, and that they didn’t know how you’d ever find someone you were as compatible with.”

It’s so strange to you that Hoseok is the one who has insecurities about your relationship. As if he let you any choice but to be completely and utterly taken in by him.

You put his hand over his, which is spread over your stomach.

“They were wrong. He’s happy without me,” you tell him quietly. “and I’m definitely happy without him.”

At some point, maybe Minsu was the love of your life. When you were sixteen and you thought you would never love anyone else, or when you were twenty and moving in together, or even when you were twenty-four, the day before he shattered your heart.

But he isn’t anymore, and you can’t even imagine what your life would be if you had stayed with him, can’t imagine what your future would have been like. Can’t imagine your life without Hoseok.

“I love you, Hoseok,” you say, and he takes in a deep breath. “I don’t care how compatible I was with him— clearly, it didn’t change anything in the end. You’re the only one I want.”

“We’re not very compatible,” he comments.

“That’s true.”

“Your schedule is the absolute worst.”

“I think it’s fine.”

“You like horror movies.”

“Horror movies are great, but I promise I won’t make you watch them.”

“You refuse to ask the landlord to break down a wall between our apartments.”

“That is objectively a terrible idea.”

“Then we should find a place where we can live together.”

That quiets you for a few seconds as you think about it, before turning towards him. Hoseok has a cautious look on his face, but hope is shining in his eyes. No matter how scared he is, he is always willing to try. That’s only one of the many things you love about him, but that’s exactly what gets you right now.

“We should,” you say.

Minsu disappears from your mind, goes back to the oblivion where he belongs, and you only focus on the present, on the man you have in front of you.

“I love you,” he says before kissing you, and in that moment, everything feels perfect.

As long as Hoseok is by your side, you know you can take on anything.

[tecchous-thicc-buttocks]

doa and hunting dogs, olympic au!!

Sigma

- Artistic ice skater

- His hair? Absolutely iconic, some people say it's cheating because it makes it look super pretty when he twirls but they're just jealous 🙄

- He also has the best agility on the planet it's kinda terrifying the way that he goes from one pirouette to another like it's child's play

- His backstory was that, at a young age, he kept getting thrown from foster home to foster home, but always visited the skating rink, that was his comfort zone😣💕

- He got injured A LOT while training, but now he's gotten so good at it that he's one of the highest ranking in the world

- A lot of people compare his skating to flying, just because he's THAT graceful on the ice 🥰

- His biggest challenge is getting over his anxiety, which acts up in front of crowds, so he would do great individually, but then flop once he hears people cheering

- The media TERRIFIES HIM

- Runs away as soon as he's done his routine

- However, he has the stupidest, cutest smile afterwards if he performs well 😭💕

Nikolai

- I literally cannot make up my mind because my brain is frying at the prospect of nikolai in a uniform 😳😳😳

- OK PUTTING THAT ASIDE-

- Artistic gymnast

- Obviously he won't shut up

- Spends half the competition answering the media's questions with questions of his own

- "What inspired you to become a professional athlete?"

- "What inspired you to become a reporter?"

- The guy knows it's all about him and he's cocky af

- Omg and he won't stop socializing with the competitors

- Makes it a point of shaking everyone's hand, and they just standing there like? 😃⁉

- He was probably banned from the games at some point in his lifetime for talking too much

- "Nikolai Gogol, please step forward in order to begin."

- "THANK YOU ALL FOR BEING HERE I APPRECIATE IT AND MY JOURNEY TO THE OLYMPICS STARTED WHEN I WAS JUST A LITTLE BOY AND-"

- The reporter who asked him what inspired him to begin his journey to the Olympics from before? Crying.

- He has some kind of a vendetta against the chalk???

- Refuses to use it without several people reminding him that he will hurt his hands if he doesn't, and nobody knows why, they think it's some kind of a tragic tale or he'd gotten sabotaged before or something, but it's actually just because he once ate the chalk out of curiosity and coughed it out for weeks

- NIKOLAI IN A GYMNASTICS UNIFORM HELP I'M GONNA MELT

Fyodor

- Fencing

- This fits him so perfectly because fencing isn't about building up muscle, but rather muscle memory, and it's about brain and skill

- Mind games are his thing, so I could see him as the type to analyze his opponents thoroughly before the games, just sit down and watch hours upon hours of footage before he even gets to the games

- Hates the press but won't get anxious, he just doesn't care

- "Fyodor, what is your tactic, how do you win so easily?"

- He would look straight at the person, then at the camera, then just walk away

- I'm not a professional fencer but I've tried it recreationally for some time and HOLY SHIT YOU SWEAT FAST IN THESE THINGS

- However, Fyodor is anti-shower

- So I could see him drowning himself in AXE deodorant or something before a game and it smells so terrible 💀💀💀

- He never hits his opponent hard, it's usually just a tap, enough to get the sensor to go off because he doesn't need to go for more

- Fencing players do this thing where they yell (go youtube it 👹) just to release energy and pump themselves up after a good touch, but fyodor??? yelling??? not gonna happen 🙂

- He's so calm and collected, it's a bit scary

Bram

- Football 🥰

- No like he actually IS the football ⚽

Fukuchi

- He's be the trainer, have you seen this guy?? His mustache is probably longer than his dick ffs

- LET'S SAY, for the purpose of this headcanon, that he were younger and I didn't hate him

- Weight lifting

- Okay so maybe I don't hate him and he has nice muscles, but that's BESIDES THE POINT-

- Fukuchi boasts about his strength

- A LOT

- He's not like Nikolai, who just rambles and talks and is always smiling, Fukuchi is more the type to challenge people head-on because of his pride. Whenever he talks, it's to gloat.

- His coach/manager?? Doesn't even listen to them👨‍🦯👨‍🦯👨‍🦯

- He screams really loudly

- Like... lifts the weight from above his shoulders, drops it, then SCREAMS AS IF HIS LIFE WERE IN PERIL

- Then he probably walks around, flexing, just because of the adrenaline

- He's the best in the world, yet he still has particular rivals he always targets in public

- "You! Yeah, you, you're going DOWN!"

- He's not exactly humble 🤓

- When he's not competing, and is just in front of the press, he's surprisingly sweet though

- He has a tie and combed his hair and is smiling and everything???

- He has a LOT of fangirls for that reason

Jouno

- Judo

- Heheheh totally didn't pick that because it sounds a lot like his name

- I feel like it's perfect in the sense that it's the perfect balance for Jouno: strength, flexibility, agility and endurance

- He has muscle, unlike the rest of the lanky characters here, but not too much, just enough for him to be able to put down his opponent

- The press loves him because he's a pretty boy, duh 🥰

- He, however, does not love the press

- People make fanfics about him??? It's so weird, tf is wrong with them, get a life 🙄

- He finds it amusing though, and still smiles whenever a camera is shoved in his face

- He's close friends with Tecchou, and takes a break to accompany him to the winter olympics

Tecchou

- Speed skater

- Just because Sigma has skating as well doesn't mean that it's related, because speed skating is a whole other thing

- He's really fast and trains all day long

- (Canon) he does pushups and physical training in the middle of literally ANYTHING

- If he goes to a vending machine and it refuses to accept his cash, he'll just do pull ups on it for no reason 💀

- He does NOT talk to anyone, much less the competition, but unlike fyodor, it's just because he doesn't feel the need to talk, not because he hates the people

- Tecchou is quiet af and the media is so perplexed that they hound him whenever he shows up

- "Why are you eating that egg with the shell on?!"

- He just chews cluelessly and pouts at them with his cheeks stuffed with food 🥰🥰

- Has NO clue how to handle the press though

- Most of the time, his agent/coach would have to take care of that for him because if the guy gets put into a press conference, he'll just respond with yes or no

- "What is your inspiration?"

- "Yes."

- "How many years have you been training?"

- "No."

- "Do you think that the competition is strong this year?"

- Looks at his coach, then back at the reporter, then THE MF SHRUGS AT THEM

- He's close friends with Jouno, and takes a break to accompany him to the summer olympics

Teruko

- As much as I love her, she's probably like 12 years old (🤡) and thus participates in the youth olympics

- Snowboarder

- It's a sport that doesn't require height, and, as a hunting dog (canonically) she was able to undergo a lot of pain so she can probably endure the butt-smashing that comes with snowboarding

-  Sometimes she gets mad and just cusses at the snow

- Her coach (I hc this as Fukuchi) builds snowmen for her to punch during training

- RIP frosty ⛄

- She doesn't like tying her bindings (tbh no one likes tying their bindings) so sometimes she just goes down the hill with one foot barely attached

- In the middle of the frikkin olympics

- 💀

- She's alright with the media to a certain extent, but wouldn't go so far as to say she's "against it", or "a fan favorite". People like her for her skill and grit, and she's perfectly content keeping it that way

- Sore loser 😃

- IF SHE MAD BC SHE LOST, YALL BETTER RUN

Tachihara

- Swimmer

- You know that bandage on his face? I hc that's because he has sensitive skin and the nose plug irritated his skin, so he has that bandage

- HIS B A C K

- HE DESERVES A WHOLE SHRINE DEDICATED TO HIS BACK OMGOMG

- M u s c l e s

- He's somewhere between scrawny and muscular, in the sense that he is clearly ripped, but if he wore loose clothing he would look like any lanky guy

- His thighs, however, cannot be concealed, as they are two raging beasts that can crush people's skulls and everyone is aware of this

- He would likely participate in faster, shorter events, such as the 400m

- The media barely notices him???

- He has so much respect for his coach and trains non-stop, his dedication is unrivaled

- However, no matter how good he is, he does have an inferiority complex, probably because of his brother and his family.

- Speaking of his family, they don't support him. At all. Fuck them 😍

- He's on generally good terms with everyone, given that he's pretty nice and usually returns a smile if given one

- Because he doesn't have an eccentric personality, his name is often lost in the crowds, even though he's one of the top competitors

- someone PLEASE appreciate this man why tf is he so underrated 😭

Bonus: Chuuya

- Okay so I'm sad that Chuuya disappeared from the manga and i'm a thot so i'm doing a bonus🥰

- Trampolinist 100%

- Dazai is his coach and spends the entire event flirting with other girls and asking them on a double-suicide, so he ends up getting kicked out and Chuuya is left with no coach 🕴

- However, he doesn't need one because this man SLAYS

- He's flipping around like a mf penguin and the entire time his hair stays flawless

- Also, I firmly believe that he inhumanely stays in the air for like 9384923849 hours

- Dazai makes fun of him for wearing tights but we all know that's because he likes what he sees 🙄✋

(a/n: this is my first of a few hcs and oneshots i'm reposting from my wp, so expect some more and don't be afraid to request!)

[tomhardysteeth]

Use Your Imagination

[ao3]

2.9k Eddie Brock/Venom Based entirely on the Venom: Let There Be Carnage trailer

Eddie woke up to the feel of his body tugging indiscriminately out from his back. He sighed and reached behind himself, easily finding a tentacle and tickling it until it retreated back inside him.

Wake up, Eddie, Venom said cheerily, running a slimy three-pronged tendril across his face delicately. We’re hungry.

“Ugh, can’t you just bring me something in here?” Eddie replied grumpily, burying his face in his pillow.

No. Venom took control of his legs and lifted him up and onto the floor, and Eddie momentarily lost his balance before a tentacle righted him.

Eddie groaned and stretched his back, cracking it. He headed to the bathroom and took a piss while a tentacle brushed his teeth.

He was exhausted, because he and Venom had finally tracked down all the guys harassing Mrs. Chen and had spent half the night running—literally running—them down. But Venom was even more chaotically energetic than usual because it had gotten to eat three people.

And Eddie couldn’t drink caffeine anymore—Venom hated it—so he was resigned to his orange juice and to spending the entirety of the morning just trying to wake up. 

“Babe, what the hell are you making?” Eddie asked as his body shifted minutely with the extension of several tentacles all over the kitchen. 

Breakfast, Venom replied as it knocked several things out of the fridge and onto the floor.

“You can’t possibly be hungry.”

No, but you are. 

Eddie wasn’t entirely sure how their digestive systems worked, but he knew his body didn't even notice when they ate people, and his appetite was completely different than it used to be and also completely different from humans in general. He had to eat big, disgusting meals at least three times a day, and despite Venom assuring him that they both needed the sustenance to survive, Eddie couldn’t help but notice that he had gained weight.

Not that he could get on a scale. He broke his bathroom scale when he tried, presumably because a massively dense alien inhabited his body. That being said, his belly stuck out farther than it used to and his jeans were too tight.

Venom was making a mess and singing along (terribly) to the radio, so Eddie took a seat at the kitchen table and tried to dig his phone out of the pocket of his robe with his hand, but a tentacle got to it first and handed it to him.

He scrolled for a few minutes, ignoring the crashing sounds and the fire that he could see in his peripheral vision. Venom would clean it all up eventually, so it was fine. 

“Don’t forget to feed the chickens,” Eddie said distractedly, still looking at his phone.

Don’t forget to feed the chickens, Venom mocked in a nagging voice. 

They always had a few chickens in their apartment that Eddie got from a local farmer so Venom could eat live meat whenever it needed it. Except for the one chicken Venom had apparently imprinted on and was actually just their pet. Venom had named her Popsicle.

Ta-da, Venom said as it dropped two plates stacked high with who knows what underneath the waffles. 

“Thanks, Vee. Looks great,” Eddie lied. 

Venom swirled the end of a tentacle across his face, and Eddie reached up a hand to hold it steady so he could kiss it. 

Venom always helped with eating, because despite Eddie’s weird appetites, he still found it difficult to actually put food to mouth without gagging a bit. He also hated how long it took to eat enough to make him full, so Venom took to mindlessly feeding him, quicker than Eddie could feed himself, while he checked his emails and read the news.

What do you want to do this weekend? Venom asked as it put a fork to Eddie’s mouth.

“Nothing,” Eddie mumbled around the food.

Oooh, spicing it up a bit from last weekend when we did nothing.

Eddie huffed a laugh and reached for a limb, tangling his fingers through the threads of Venom’s biomass. 

After breakfast, Eddie got caught up in reading on his phone, so Venom took over control of his body and moved him onto the couch. It laid him on his back and propped pillows behind his head and under his arm, then it produced several tentacles out of the center of his chest and took to cleaning the mess it had made.

Eddie couldn’t see his phone past the tentacles, so a smaller tendril emerged and held it for him. His hands free, he stuck his right down the front of his boxers and lazily played with himself. 

Venom ignored him, too busy humming along to the radio to notice that Eddie was getting hard. After about five minutes, Eddie got bored and stopped his hand, resting it palm down inside the waistband of his boxers. His neglected boner softened.

There was a knock on the door, followed by Anne’s voice shouting at them to turn off the music. 

Eddie jumped and reflexively sucked a couple tentacles back into his body. Another limb caught his phone before it fell to the floor, then even more tentacles came out of his back and pushed him upright and closed his robe for him. 

Venom had cleaned much of the mess in the kitchen, but there was still cereal all over the counter, dishes piled precariously in the sink and on the stove, bullet holes in the fridge door, a tire swing hanging by the kitchen table, gaping holes in the ceiling, a four-foot stack of various bones from different creatures in the corner—hacked up by Venom during digestion.

“The chickens—grab the fucking chickens,” Eddie whisper-shouted as he walked to the door, Popsicle under his arm. 

Venom grabbed the other three chickens and held them out of sight of the cracked door. 

“Hey, Annie,” Eddie greeted. 

She tried to peer through the door, but Eddie had a tight grip on it, only revealing a sliver of his body to her. 

“You didn’t text me last night,” she said.

Eddie closed his eyes. “Right. Sorry. We got home really fucking late, and it just slipped my mind.” 

“Eddie, I have to know you’re OK.” Anne tilted her head and moved her eyes like if she looked hard enough then the door would magically swing open. 

“We’re fine, Annie. We took care of things.” Eddie avoided telling Anne details of his and Venom's vigilantism, but he always tried to text her to let her know they were safe. 

“Eddie.”

“Hmm?”

“Are you holding a chicken?”

As Eddie looked down at the chicken under his arm, Anne shoulder-tackled him and the door simultaneously and made a break for it into his apartment. Venom immediately encased her in tentacles and tossed her back into the hallway and slammed the door shut in her face.

I HAVEN’T FINISHED CLEANING UP IN HERE, ANNIE, AND I’D LIKE TO SPEAK TO YOUR MOTHER ABOUT YOUR FUCKING MANNERS, Venom shouted.

Several neighbors yelled and banged on the walls, demanding that Venom shut the fuck up. 

“HEY!” Eddie shouted at the top of his lungs. He grabbed a broom with his hand and a mop with a tentacle and aggressively hit the ends of them against the ceiling and walls. “NEED I REMIND YOU FREELOADERS WHO TOOK CARE OF CRAIG?” 

Craig was their (missing for 35 days and counting) landlord. 

Anne pounded on the door. “Eddie, open this fucking door, I swear to god!”

Eddie forcefully cracked the door, only enough for Anne to see one of his narrowed eyes. “You’re not allowed to judge how we live.”

She pushed on the door, and he allowed her to come inside. A solid minute passed in which Anne stood in the middle of the apartment with her hands on her hips and surveyed the room without saying anything. Then, in an even tone:

“Alright. First question. Tire swing?”

Venom continued cleaning. Eddie stood next to Anne.

“Do you want the real answer or the PG answer?”

Anne’s whole body revolted. “Ew, oh my god. Gross, gross, gross—”

No, Annie, look, it’s just for this, Venom said, extending a head out of Eddie’s shoulder and snaking several tentacles around the tire. It spun the tire as fast as possible in one direction and then unraveled itself in a gooey mess as the tire spun in the other direction. 

“Oh,” Anne said. “Is that really what you use it for?”

Venom’s head was in the middle of the tire with limbs extending out to swing itself back and forth. No, I suspend Eddie in it and fuck him until he cries.

Anne cursed and threw her hands up in the air. Eddie and Venom laughed.

“Alright, next question.” Anne said after she had recovered. “Are the chickens for eating?”

“Yeah, except for Popsicle.” Eddie pointed across the room at where Popsicle was pecking at unidentified detritus on the floor.

“How the hell do you know which one Popsicle is?” 

“What do you mean? She’s that one.” He pointed again.

“They all look the same, Eddie.”

No. Popsicle looks like that. Venom pointed a tendril toward Popsicle. And the food looks like that. Another tendril split off into three prongs to point at the other chickens. 

Anne dropped her head and put her fingers to her temples, rubbing in circles. 

The toaster oven exploded. 

“Jesus, Vee, what did I tell you about—”

WELL maybe if SOMEONE would let me steal an oven then we could—

“Where the hell are we gonna put an oven in here? You gonna steal it from one of our neighbors?”

They continued arguing with each other while a tentacle grabbed a fire extinguisher from their stash of fire extinguishers in the coat closet and put the toaster oven out. 

“I don’t think you’re gonna get your deposit back, Eddie,” Anne said, still looking around his apartment. Her eyes stopped on the wicker basket full of dildos by the TV, but she didn't comment on it. 

A rock hit Eddie’s window. Venom opened it and stuck a tentacle out, and the neighborhood kids down on the street cheered and asked if it had time to play. 

“Go ahead, babe,” Eddie said.

It always felt a little strange when Venom removed so much of itself from inside Eddie’s body. It of course had to leave some still inside him, but just one tiny thread connected them together as Venom fanned out on the outside of the apartment building and juggled as many mundane objects as the children had in their power to throw up at it. Rocks, old toys, dolls, basketballs, baseball bats, a lawn chair, a pan of broccoli casserole, a cat. 

“How the hell do you live like this, Eddie?” Anne asked. 

Eddie cleared a space on the kitchen counter by shoving cereal onto the floor, then he grabbed two mugs off the sink pile and dug the coffeemaker out from the back of an extremely disorganized cabinet. The coffee itself was hidden from Venom in a plastic bag duct taped to the wall behind the fridge, so Eddie easily nudged the fridge to the side to retrieve it. He figured if Venom played with the kids long enough, he could get a little bit of caffeine in his body without it noticing. 

He said to Anne, “I’m in a relationship with an alien. What do you expect?”

Anne looked at the fridge then at Eddie, clearly confused by his inhuman strength. “I don’t know? For you to still act like an adult human?” 

Eddie internally tugged at the strands of Venom still inside him and found just enough biomass to make thick black veins pop out all over his face. “How ‘bout now? Do I still look like an adult human?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Eddie pulled the veins back in. “Stop worrying about us, Annie. I know it looks like a disaster in here, but that’s because our life is a disaster. It works for us.”

A child shrieked in a loud laugh. Eddie could just barely see through the window that Venom was juggling the 5-year-old twin girls that lived in the apartment below them. 

“Babe!” Eddie yelled. “Put the girls down before somebody calls the fucking cops!”

The girls aww’d their disappointment as Venom carefully lowered them to the ground. 

“Eddie.”

He turned his attention back to Anne and waited for her to continue.

“Are you, um, safe? Like, what are the logistics of your...sex life?”

Eddie scrubbed a hand down his face. “Well, Annie, Vee is made up of a whole bunch of malleable tentacles, so I’d say use your imagination.”

Venom slithered its way back in, so Eddie tried to gulp down his coffee but didn’t finish before a tentacle wrenched it out of his hand and slung it into the sink.

“How do you know you’re not, like, subjecting yourself to some kind of alien STDs?” Anne asked. “Or, like, what if it’s changed your body composition so much that you guys are, like, capable of reproducing?”

Venom and Eddie both gasped and smiled at each other, Venom’s head floating just a couple feet away from Eddie’s. 

Eddie said, “Oh, that would be so cute if we had a little—” at the same time that Venom said Aww imagine if it had your good looks and my complexion—

“Fucking Christ, you guys are intolerable,” Anne interrupted. “Can you not be weird for, like, two seconds?”

Venom pouted at her and moved its head over to Eddie’s shoulders, nudging at his face and bumping against him like a needy cat. It wrapped two big tentacles around his waist like arms, and Eddie dropped his hands over them and squeezed affectionately. 

“What else did you come over here for, Annie?” Eddie asked.

She cleared her throat. “I was going to ask if you and Venom would like to come over to my apartment sometime to have dinner with me and Dan.”

Venom’s head popped up from where it was resting on Eddie’s shoulder. Dan is finally ready to hang out with me?!

“Yes, but he’s still a little delicate since—”

I tried to stick my tongue in his mouth when you were kissing him goodbye before going to rescue Eddie from Riot, yeah, I get that.

“You what?” Eddie asked.

“So if you could just try to temper yourselves a tiny bit, maybe leave the chickens at home and don’t talk about fucking each other,” Anne concluded. 

“He knows that we’re fucking each other, though, right?”

“Yes, but knowing it and being confronted with it are two totally different things.”

Hey, Annie, tell Dan I think he’s boring.

“Hey, be nice,” Eddie chastised, reaching a hand up to pat Venom’s face. 

Anne told them she would let them know a date and time, then she headed for the door with Eddie close on her heels. She turned and hugged him on her way out and didn’t flinch when a couple tentacles clung to her, too. 

They’re not going to feed us enough, Venom said after she was gone. 

“Yeah, we’ll have to pre-game.”

Eddie went back to his lazy spot on the couch and Venom went back to tidying up. This time, when Eddie’s hand inevitably found its way into his boxers, Venom took notice right away and teased a small tendril out of his thigh to join in on the fun. 

ALEXA, PLAY “LET’S GET IT ON” BY MARVIN GAYE.

“You broke the Alexa yesterday, babe.”

Right, I’ll just have to sing it myself.

Eddie closed his eyes and leaned his head back, stroking himself slowly. “Please don’t.”

Venom rumbled a complaint through Eddie’s entire body, but then it snaked two tentacles over his shoulders and down his chest and pulled his boxers off completely. Two more tentacles pushed out of Eddie’s back and hammocked him in, folding underneath him and then turning up toward the ceiling to grip the holes.

When they started having sex, it wasn’t really so much of a monumental decision as it was Venom participating in literally every single other aspect of Eddie’s life that it just didn’t make sense for it not to be involved in the most fun bit. After Venom had been with Eddie for a week or so, Eddie couldn’t avoid his sex drive anymore and tried to quietly jerk off. Venom, having already stuck its tentacles into everything else Eddie did, simply wrapped a limb around Eddie’s hand and helped him out. And Eddie, stupid and horny, had immediately asked the alien to fuck him with its tongue. 

So, here they were.

With Eddie suspended, Venom moved its head under him and licked its way around his rim. There was still only one small tendril helping his hand pump his cock, but they had plenty of time to—

“Eddie, I forgot my—oh my god, oh my fucking god, oh my fucking—”

Eddie dropped back down on the couch, biomass encasing his nakedness in a safe little cocoon, but Anne had already rushed out the door and slammed it shut. 

He sighed. “I guess she doesn’t have to use her imagination.”

[teamxdark]

The sun beat down from overhead, and the scent of salt carried over as the breeze guided the waves to the shore. Below his feet, the captain felt the soft rocking of the ship sway him from side to side, back and forth, a sensation so familiar that he had to concentrate if he ever wanted to notice it.

And, well... He wanted to notice it right then. Anything to keep his troubled thoughts at bay.

Shadow was no captain. He had never considered himself good for the role. He could govern himself just fine, but when it came to a group, the weight of responsibility for others pushed him to his worst.

The problem was that no one noticed it.

The hedgehog lifted his head, keeping a hand on his hat to prevent it from flying away, and looked up at the clear skies, dotted by a few seagulls gliding on the currents up above. A perfect day to set sail, as the navigator had told him; Knuckles had an exceptional sense of direction and the strength of body to carry out duties as the helmsman or at the rudder, even when weathering a storm.

Even though he still sometimes drank himself to sleep to handle the guilt of refusing to accompany her.

A flash of yellow swooped by his periphery, and the captain turned to see Tails hard at work, checking the rigging and assessing the sails. The lad was young but brave, and had exceptional knowledge about the structural integrity of the ship. He could spot issues that most would gloss over, even with years of experience. A prodigy, an asset, an invaluable member of the crew.

Shadow still saw the boy's hands shake as he retied the knots, and he knew he still slept in the same hammock as his brother, worried that he might meet the same fate as her.

"Here you go, Captain!"

Amy's cheerful voice interrupted Shadow's brooding, and she pressed a large sandwich into his hand. "It's the last day we can have bread, unsalted meat and fresh vegetables, so I decided to make everyone something special."

The cook was her own force of nature, with a bright and friendly disposition that made those around her feel calmer and happier, and she made meals so good, even with a limited pantry, that the crew swore she was capable of magic. Yet, Shadow had seen her at the cannons, firing mercilessly at those who threatened them. She never missed a shot.

She still cried into their stew, sometimes.

Amy carried on, bringing the next sandwich to Silver, who thanked her with a kind smile. The cabin boy was the newest addition, a stowaway-turned-crewmate that they couldn't manage to turn away. He was an odd one, optimistic and thoughtful, yet impulsive and filled with a rage that brought the worst storms to shame. His telekinetic abilities helped him keep the ship spick and span all over, and when obstacles couldn't be avoided, it was often he who held the ship together... quite literally.

Shadow knew she would have found him to be priceless.

"Ready to set sail, Captain?"

Shadow held back a sigh and looked over to his first mate. Sonic was leaning over the side of the ship, feeling the breeze hit his face, his eyes serenely closed as he noticeably avoided looking at the water. For someone who didn't know how to swim, Sonic still fit in the crew like a hand in a glove tailor made for it. A jack of all trades, he was quick, decisive, courageous, fearless...

She should have picked him.

Shadow's hand rose to his chest, feeling the bumps and indents of the necklace hidden underneath his shirt, until it stopped over his heart, where the jewel lied.

Pink. Heart-shaped. Not worth much by a jeweller's appraisal, but absolutely priceless to any and everyone on that ship. The true symbol of the captain.

"Sometimes you have to make the value yourself," she had told him as she slipped the stone back under her shirt, safe from view.

"Just about," he finally responded to Sonic, noticing how the other hedgehog's ear dropped a tad before lifting back up.

"Sorry Cap, but it doesn't really sound like it."

Shadow hated that he was right. He hated that he still didn't feel ready. He hated that he had such a fantastic crew that he didn't feel worthy of inheriting.

When he was only responsible for himself, it was one story, but he didn't know if he could stand being responsible for anything that could happen to the rest of them. Shadow knew himself; after so many years of following her orders, so many instances of breaking away from her plans because he needed to figure out something for himself, he had come to a conclusion:

He was selfish, self-centred, and unfit to be the one calling the shots for people who needed someone with a strong mind and a constant focus on the big picture.

Why did you give this to me, Rouge?

Any of them could do a better job. Sonic, though he seemed carefree, commanded attention and loyalty and inspired trust and morale. Amy was a natural leader, responsible and resourceful. Even Knuckles, who still fell for Sonic's dumb pranks, had shown that he could step up to the plate and lead when he needed to.

Shadow had been the wildcard, a mix of a lone wolf and a follower, a gun to be aimed and fired by someone with enough clarity of mind to know what she needed to shoot for in the long run.

Rouge had been the perfect captain, except for one thing.

For some reason, she had named Shadow as her second in command.

"Still comparing yourself to her?"

Shadow's hand fell from his chest. He refused to respond.

Sonic leaned back from the railing, opening his eyes to the sky. "I guess I get it. Big shoes to fill and all that. But no one's a perfect captain, you know. Captain Rouge might have been one of the best there was, but the instant she saw a pretty gem..."

"... we'd get sidetracked," Shadow finished, pressing his lips together. It was true; as great as Rouge had been, she had a weakness, and that weakness was why she wasn't with them now.

"I just wish she had told us where she was going..."

It was a question the crew often asked themselves. Why had their captain run off to find a treasure reputed to have a curse so terrible that the map was torn apart and scattered. Why they had spent the better part of a year sailing around to find the pieces. Why Rouge had put together the map in secret and left to find it alone, leaving Shadow her necklace with the announcement that he was in charge. Why she hadn't taken anyone with her, save for the joking offer to Knuckles to accompany her, which the echidna still managed to convince himself was a true offer as a way to find something concrete to blame for the guilt and fear that he felt. That they all felt.

Shadow had nothing like that. He envied Knuckles in a way for it.

"Think of it this way," Sonic said, once again pulling Shadow from his thoughts. "It's an adventure of our own, and the prize is finding her again."

Shadow clenched his fists, crushing his sandwich in the process. "If she's still alive," he muttered, saying what so many of them were afraid to even think about.

"Hey now, come on--"

"Six months!" Shadow snapped. "It's been half a year and there's been no sign of her at any of the rendezvous points!"

You left us. You left me here, with your crew, and now I have to do what I could never do.

"And that's why we're looking for her, right?" Sonic asked, remaining calm even as Shadow felt his world split apart, yet again, as it did far too frequently when he was left with his thoughts. "That's why you ordered this search. Because you know that giving up on her when there's still a chance is the worst thing you could do for her."

Shadow breathed in heavily through his nose, forcing his hands to unclench. Sonic was right. There was a stupid, dumb, idiotic, pathetic part of him that couldn't accept what he knew should be the truth.

Rouge, if we find you and you're still alive, I'm throwing you overboard myself.

"We set off in two minutes," he ordered, stuffing what was left of his sandwich into his mouth. Next to him, Sonic grinned and gave him a salute.

"Aye aye, Captain."

With that, he was off, no doubt relaying Shadow's order to the rest of them. Shadow, meanwhile, walked to the bow of the ship, looking out to the horizon as he drew the necklace out from under his shirt.

They had no leads. They had a great many countries and vessels after them thanks to their history of heists. The odds of finding anything helpful were so astronomically slim that they might as well be sailing to their deaths.

But if any crew could do it, it was this one.

And Shadow, no matter how little he believed in himself, no matter how much fear he held, had to lead them.

"Sit tight, Captain," he whispered to the necklace's heart-shaped gem. Behind him, he heard the sound of Silver raising the anchor and Knuckles calling out directions to Tails at the helm while he pushed the rudder.

It was time to begin their adventure.

[vs-redemption]

hello there i just wanna say i love your work and you have great talent!! anyway can i request a part 2 of your cheating hawks?? aaaa thank you!

A/N: Ah! I still can’t believe the response the first part of this story got. I’m almost nervous to post the sequel because I don’t want anyone to be disappointed. I did my best though, and I really hope it lives up to everyone’s expectations!

Betrayal: Part Two (Cheater!Hawks X Fem!Reader)

✨Please click HERE if you haven’t read part one

⚠️This story contains angst and some hints of manga spoilers⚠️

Hawks had persevered through a lot of hardships during his life so far. He’d spent the first few years of his life living in a dump with neglectful parents. Then, he’d had his childhood stolen away by the Hero Public Safety Commission who put him through over a decade of grueling training and emotionally detached living conditions. After that, they had thrown him out into the world to be their obedient pro-hero puppet with hardly any freedom to make his own career decisions. He used to lament over the difficulties of his life, wishing he’d had a more normal and easygoing upbringing. Now, however, he understood that he hadn’t known what true suffering was before. The struggles he’d experienced in his past were nothing compared to the soul crushing agony he was living right now. It had hardly been a week since he’d broken your heart, but it may as well have been years with the way the time seemed to stretch out as if wanting to add minutes on to the miserable haze he was stuck in.

The alarm on the nightstand goes off, telling him he had to get up for work even though he was already wide awake. Mornings were torturous for him now with the empty space in his bed taunting him with the memories of waking up with you held safely in his arms. Hawks covers his face with his hands as unshed tears well up and sting his sleep deprived eyes. Every night he went to bed hoping that when he woke up, the nightmare of your absence would be over. Such wishful thinking only made the truth hurt all the more when it came creeping back into his mind with the morning sun.

“Wow, you look awful,” Jet stream grimaces once Hawks makes it into work. She gives him a once over, taking in the unkempt state of his hair and dead look in his eyes. “You really should put more effort into keeping up appearances or people might start to suspect that something’s going on with you.”

Hawks blinks a few times as he stares at the woman who had been sent to work at his agency by the Hero Commission. All the public records showed that he had recruited her from a different agency to make use of her incredible flight speed that nearly rivaled his own. That was just a cover up though to keep anyone from knowing the truth.

“Something is going on,” Hawks states flatly while glancing down at the canned coffee he held tightly in his hands. He’d been forced to betray the trust of the only person in the world who had genuinely cared about him. Jet stream frowns and folds her arms over her chest.

“You know what I mean,” She tells him in an authoritative tone of voice that made Hawks feel like he was five years old again. He hated being reminded just how little power he had even though he was the number two hero in the country with one of the highest popularity ratings. If only he’d known better way back when the commission had first offered to help him achieve his dreams. But how could he have predicted that the hands which had gladly lifted him up to unimaginable heights would be the same hands threatening to crush him if he didn’t obey their every command?

“You don’t want to blow your cover,” Jet stream raises an eyebrow before turning on her heel and sauntering away. Hawks reaches up a gloved hand to massage the bridge of his nose, wishing with every fiber of his being that he could call you up and apologize for the hell he was putting both of you through. He wanted to tell you that you were the love of his life and that there wasn’t a single part of him that would ever even dream of looking at another woman let alone what he’d led you to believe he’d done. He couldn’t contact you though. The higher ups at the Hero Commission had made him promise that he wouldn’t, especially with the undercover mission they’d assigned him recently. They’d told him it wouldn’t be safe for him to have any unnecessary personal connections for a while.

What they didn’t seem to understand though was that you were necessary. Despite it being a dangerous time to be associated with him, Hawks sometimes felt like it was impossible to even breathe whenever the reality hit him that he would never have you by his side again. Knowing what you must think of him now made his stomach roll. And even if the Hero Commission allowed him to explain everything, he doubted it would make a difference. The damage was done. The pain and hurt he had caused was real, even if the story behind it wasn’t.

Weeks stretched into months and as Hawks progressed with his mission he found himself faced with terrible decisions that made him question whether anything he accomplished in the end would be worth the sacrifices he’d made. Since he was a child, all he’d ever wanted was to be a great hero. And when he’d first debuted, saving people’s lives and making the world a safer place seemed to offset some of the less glamorous parts of the job. Now though, Hawks felt numb as he went through the motions, doing whatever he could just to survive day to day. At a glance, it probably looked like he was the same confident, charming hero everyone knew and loved. On the inside though, he was an empty husk. He’d wanted to be a great hero ever since he was a child, but now the only thing he really wanted was you.

“You know, I think it’s about time for some costume upgrades,” Jet Stream says casually one day while flying over the city with Hawks on patrol. She was fidgeting with one of the gadgets on her wrist that he’d never even seen her use. Hawks hated having to share the sky with her so much. The only purpose she served was to spy on him for the Hero Commission, making sure he didn’t so much as bat an eye without their explicit permission. The weight of her presence felt like a shackle.

“Oh, look who it is!” Jet Stream points down to the street below and Hawk’s feel’s a spark of life in his chest when his golden eyes zero in on you. Just the smile on your face is enough to send his heart fluttering around his ribcage. He hadn’t seen you in so long, but the happiness of seeing you again is short lived when a man steps up beside you and takes your hand into his. Seeing you lean comfortably into the man’s touch felt like a knife stabbing him in the gut. Hawks has to physically swallow back the bile rising up in his throat when he realizes just how lost you really are to him. Part of him was happy to see that you weren’t suffering the way that he was, but another part of him envied your ability to move forward from the tragic end of your relationship. Hawks would never be able to move forward. Unlike you, he was a prisoner to his past with what seemed like no means of escape. Perhaps one day he would break free of the Commission’s hold on him, but until then, he’d have to continue enduring the hardships life threw at him.

Tags: @hawksexual// @lilnachochip// @todominica// @neonokinawa// @iluvvhewer// @effmigentlywithachainsaw// @sunniethesimp//

[wanderinginksplot]

Hi! I wanted to make a request from the “Everything is terrible, so why not have some fics?” post. You said you didn’t have any and I loved the Tech - First Kiss fic you wrote. I wanted to request 15F with fem!reader. I’m thinking more fluff but reader needs to let out some emotions that have been bottled up for a while through some tears. (I hope I’m not asking too much)

Wrecker is my favorite and I moved halfway across the country from home to figure out life for myself and I’m kinda homesick myself.

Hey, @gjrain20-starwars! Thank you so much for the request! I’m realizing that this is probably toeing the line between fluff and hurt/comfort, and I apologize! Enjoy!

---

Wrecker + Homesick Fem!Reader

You crept quietly through the halls of Spearpoint Outpost. There was a strict, recently established curfew on base. Ever since Anaxes had become the focus of a Separatist campaign, security on Spearpoint had stepped up from ‘routine’ to ‘unpleasant’. 

The only reason you were out and about so late at night was to try to make a rare call home. The middle of the night was the only time there was a chance of catching a spare bit of signal to make a personal call. GAR-standard comms were strong enough to hog all available frequencies when they were being used, so nighttime was the only option. Besides, the time difference meant that your calls would come through in the morning back home on Bespin.

At least, they would if you could ever get through. After a full hour of trying without success, desperate for a scrap of a familiar voice, you had bitten back tears of lonely frustration and started the return journey to your bunk.

You probably should have been more worried about being caught out of barracks after curfew. If a superior officer found you, it would mean a solid dressing-down at best, and likely some disciplinary action. At absolute worst, they could discharge you from the GAR altogether considering the state of things on Anaxes. That didn’t sound like as much of a punishment as it should have in your current emotional state.

Still, you walked quickly and quietly through the winding tunnels that made up Spearpoint Outpost. There weren’t many people around so late, and you were wearing your full uniform. No one would notice that you were out of place unless they were looking.

“Hey!” a voice bellowed from beside you, so abruptly that you fumbled and dropped the comlink you had been cradling absently.

“What the-?” you glanced around rapidly, zeroing in on the source of the noise after only a moment. The greeting had come from Wrecker, the largest, loudest member of the Bad Batch, who had recently been based on Anaxes. It was only a temporary assignment while the GAR had them run a series of missions around the area to ward off the Separatists, but they had been at Spearpoint for a few weeks and would likely be here at least a few more. 

A solid chunk of your coworkers weren’t a fan of the Bad Batch. Hunter was nice enough, you guessed, but quiet. He kept to himself as a rule. Tech was whip-smart but not great with social situations. He had alienated some of Spearpoint’s officers by pointing out ways they were minorly breaking regs. Crosshair seemed to be purposefully unpleasant, so most people avoided him on principle. Wrecker, though, had gone out of his way to make friends on Spearpoint. 

Somehow, you in particular had attracted his attention. If the Bad Batch were on-planet, you saw Wrecker at least once every day. 

“Wrecker!” you hissed, clutching at your chest. Unnecessarily, you told him, “You scared me!”

You stooped to pick up the comlink, but Wrecker got to it first. It was unfair for someone that big to be so fast, you mused. You tried to grab the comlink from him, but he had a good grip on it. There was no way you were getting it back through force. The idea was laughable.

“Why are you awake so late?” Wrecker asked, ignoring your efforts to get the comlink back.

“Late shift,” you lied. “Just got done.”

He watched you skeptically, the eyebrow over his good eye lifting. “You’ve been off-duty since nineteen-hundred hours, liar.”

You stared at him, aghast. “How do you know that?”

“You’re always done at nineteen-hundred,” he answered simply, studying the comlink. 

“Then you know why I need to get back to my barracks before anyone sees me,” you told him, deciding to trust the Bad Batcher. “I’m breaking curfew by about four hours, here.”

“Curfew?” he asked, belting out a laugh that made you nervously glance around at the empty hallway. “No one obeys curfew.”

“I do,” you argued, nettled. “We’re in a war zone.”

“Barely,” Wrecker snorted. “Do you think you’ll bring the Seppies here by being out of bed too late?”

“No, but I’d rather not be demoted,” you said icily. “Now, give me my comlink. I need to get back before anyone catches me or turns me in.”

“Okay,” he agreed easily, handing the comlink over. “I’ll walk you back.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder. Wrecker seemed nice enough, but he was big and loud. Your chances of getting caught with him were much higher than if you were alone. “No, thank you. I’m all right.”

He tsked at you. “Don’t you know we’re in a war zone? I’m coming along.”

You rolled your eyes and walked a little faster in hope of losing him. Of course, he was faster than you ever gave him credit for, so he kept up with ease.

“So, who was important enough that you’re willing to risk a demotion to talk to them?” Wrecker asked, gesturing to the comlink in your hand. “Boyfriend?”

“No,” you denied instantly. “My family. I haven’t… haven’t seen them since I joined the GAR. I’ve only gotten to speak to them a few times.”

Wrecker was silent at that, but a glance up at him revealed that he seemed deep in thought. “You miss them.”

“I do,” you admitted, wrapping your arms around yourself, “but it’s more than that. I miss everything about my home. I miss the food in Cloud City. I miss the birds and the sunsets. I miss being home, you know?”

You vaguely recognized that you were rambling, but the words wouldn’t stop. “I don’t know what I’m even doing here. Everything is different and I’m scared all of the time. Sometimes, I think all of this was a mistake.”

You finally stopped talking and pretended to study the hallway wall, doing your best to sniffle in a way that he wouldn’t hear. Of course, it would have been hard to miss the horrible, thick sound of tears in your voice. You subtly wiped your face and cleared your throat. 

What were you doing? Wrecker was an elite soldier, even more so than the other troopers that constantly surrounded you. He had literally been bred for strength and durability. You couldn’t afford to look weak in front of any of them, but especially not in front of Wrecker. He was the strongest man you had ever known. He must think you were so silly, crying over a home and family when they were safe. You were just away from them right now. There was no need for tears. You were just having trouble convincing your heart about that.

A large hand settled on your shoulder, the immense weight of it grounding you. 

“I understand,” Wrecker said softly - well, as softly as you had ever heard him speak. “I don’t have a home, but I have a family. I don’t know what I would do without them. I’d hate to be away from ‘em.”

“Even… Even Crosshair?” you joked weakly, interrupted by a slight cracking in your voice.

Wrecker chuckled, the sound lower and more personal than you were used to hearing from him. “Even Crosshair. Don’t tell him I said that, though. Family is family, even if we drive each other crazy sometimes. And it wasn’t a mistake, coming here. I might be biased, ‘cause this is the only way I met you, but different isn’t bad, ya know? You’re doing your best and it’s helping you grow. It’s uncomfortable now, but uncomfortable and scared are the first steps to some great stuff.”

“I guess-” you hiccuped softly and laughed a little at the ridiculousness of having a post-midnight philosophical therapy session with the massive Bad Batch member. “I guess you do understand.” 

Wrecker hummed an agreement at that. “Besides, home and family aren’t just the stuff you left behind, ya know? You’ve got friends here.” He beamed, squeezing your shoulder with what must have been a tiny fraction of his immense strength. “And, hey, you’ve got me!”

“Do I?” you asked, enjoying the first effortless smile you had worn in a while.

“Of course! I want to be part of your new family.” He paused, rubbing at the back of his neck. “If that’s okay with you, I mean.”

“I…” you paused to swipe under your eyes once more. “I would like that, I think.”

“Good!” Wrecker smiled, stooping toward you. You were wrapped up in the best hug of your life before you knew what was happening. 

Wrecker was even more giant this close, and you were surrounded on all sides by warmth and solid muscle. He squeezed and lifted you just a bit, letting your feet dangle a short distance above the ground. You couldn’t reach all the way around his broad back, but you had your arms wrapped around him anyway, holding onto him just as tightly as he was to you.

When you finally patted his back, Wrecker gently deposited you onto your feet once more and stepped back. His eyes were bright and warm, which perfectly matched how you felt. Hugging Wrecker had felt like taking a deep breath, like a sip of water after a hard workout, like stretching after a long transport ride. 

“Thank you, Wrecker,” you said. It felt like too simple a phrase to sum up everything you were feeling, but it was everything you had.

“Anytime,” he replied easily. “I mean it. If you need anything, whether it’s a hug or to hit someone, come find me.”

You nodded, and he pulled a faux serious face. “Now, off to bed before someone finds out you’re breaking curfew.”

“We are in a war zone,” you agreed with a grin. 

The rest of the short walk to your bunk took place in a companionable silence. As you reached to type the code into the pad next to the door, Wrecker tapped your wrist to stop you. 

“Hey, you should come by the Havoc Marauder tomorrow,” he suggested quietly.

You frowned. “Why? Didn’t you guys crash-land like, two days ago?”

“Yeah, why?” Wrecker asked, looking confused. His face cleared a moment later. “Oh, no, we aren’t going anywhere. But I’ll get Tech to kick up the power on your comlink. You should be able to talk to your family without GAR comms interfering. Your long-distance family, I mean.”

You felt the smile spread over your face, but Wrecker interrupted as you started to thank him. “And, that way, you’ll be able to contact us when we’re off-planet. Ya know, in case you want to talk to your new family, too.”

“That sounds perfect,” you accepted gratefully, not typing in the code to your barracks even after he gestured you toward the keypad. You really shouldn’t risk making him uncomfortable… but you were too selfish not to take advantage of the opportunity. You held your arms out a bit. “One more hug?”

From the chuckle that rumbled through his chest as you were squeezed against it, Wrecker was only too happy to oblige.

---

A/N - if this was a little too hurt/comfort and not enough fluff, let me know! I’d be happy to write another chapter with more fluff. Thank you so much (again) for making this request! (As a side note, I also moved far away from home and it was one of the best decisions I ever made. It’s hard, but the experience will make you a stronger, more independent person. You’re doing amazing!)

If anyone wants to make a request, I dearly love writing them! I might come up with another prompt list eventually, but here is the original prompt list in case you need some ideas. Read other one-shots from the same prompt list on my masterlist.

Thanks for reading!

(Update 7/02/21: this now has a sequel chapter here!)

[awake-dearheart]

it took me a couple days but here’s a rundown of things sebastian said during the zoom call with his trainer don saladino and the march challenge group. he was on for an hour and three minutes total. keep in mind this challenge was fitness oriented so most of the questions revolve around that. this will also be LONG.

first of all he had trouble unmuting himself which was hilarious

he had a carboard cutout of the falcon with him which made everyone laugh

he loved being able to support ronald mcdonald house and he was sad they couldn’t go this year. sweet baby

when he was asked what he struggles with in his fitness he immediately said body dysmorphia. like no hesitation. he said he felt like he could stand to be less hard on himself.

he prefers cardio over other kinds of workouts.

he mentioned a role he’s getting ready for that’s “a lot different” but he laughed it off and said he couldn’t talk about it. i’m thinking it might have been tommy lee?

he tries to workout even just a little before he goes to set even when his schedule is crazy.

when he started training he had NO idea what he was doing. it took him a while to get into a routine and figure it out. he credited don with working a lot with him and finding a routine that works for him.

he feels better when he can do something physical every day. he said it really helps him mentally because the two go hand in hand for him.

someone said they were learning romanian and asked him for phrases to learn in romanian he said (in romanian) “oh my GOD why would you do that?” he also said he thinks people learning romanian because of him is “one of the sweetest things.”

he was asked how he balances training to look good vs training to feel good and he said if he’s training to look good he’s never 100% satisfied. training to feel good and setting short term goals has been better for him. 

don praised him for working hard to pivot his focus on the overall vs the day to day. seb said it was a lot harder when he started than it is now.

someone asked him if the workouts or the nutrition was harder and he immediately started talking about pizza and how much he loves a good cheat meal. the chat blew up talking about his cheat day video for men’s health. 

seb asked don his favorite cheat meal and they went on a tangent about burgers and fries and vodka that had us cracking up. seb said he went through a period where he was eating some kind of chocolate every day.

someone asked if he found it mentally difficult to go from one body type to another for roles and he said absolutely. he said if he has a shirtless scene to do then a month before he cuts out ALL sugar. fruits, carbs, everything and he turns into a very irritable person for about two weeks.

he was asked how the pandemic has changed his training and he said of course it has. him and don worked together to create a program for him to do from home with dumbbells and they had to get inventive. he’s been running a lot too.

someone asked the strangest item he’s used for weights and he said he’d go to the grocery store by himself without uber or anything. he tried to do one big shopping trip to last him for a week and half and he’d be laden with bags and it took him an hour and a half to walk home.

he told a story about using a towel and a bar in his house and he said “you probably know it because some “super fans” love to leak my address. so kind. lovely people.” the chat became v enraged.

he’s never had to get in shape on super short notice. marvel usually gives him about a 2 month heads up before he has to shoot things.

someone asked if he was a dog person. he said he loves dogs and he’d love to have one but he travels too much to give one the right kind of attention. he said if he could have a dog he’d have a bulldog or a husky.

he was asked his favorite nyc cheat meal and his first answer was “seeing all of you there” and we all cracked up. his real answer was a pizza place called rubirosa. he specifically likes their white pizza. (who wants to go to new york and get pizza with me?)

who would win in an iso squat challenge? him or don? (iso squats are when you drop into a squat and you hold it. it’s been the most hated exercise throughout the challenge). his face was HORRIFIED when he remembered what they are and he said don would definitely win. “don you have thighs of glory” the group is contemplating making shirts.

he played some sports in school but he wasn’t a super athletic kid. he struggled in school a bit because he had an accent and people were picking on him. it took a long time for his confidence to build.

celebrate victories where you can. he talked about when he posted that shirtless picture from the gym as an example. he said it’s more for motivation and pride in his achievements than about showing off.

he mentioned the documentary “the weight of gold” as something he watched recently. he said it’s a good example of people who are gold medal olympians struggling with the same things as everyone else when it comes to fitness. he comes back several times to not being too hard on yourself. 

he hasn’t lifted any weights in about a month and a half but he’s been running. he’s surprised at the amount of muscle he still has because he thought he’d lose a lot of it.

taking breaks when you’re working on fitness is so important. he says taking a week off sometimes is ok if that’s what you need.

they have talked about pizza at least 5 times at this point (32 minutes in) and it’s HILAROUS honestly.

he hates leg day. he knows how important it is because you need strong legs but he prefers doing arms and chest. “the squats can be so annoying UGH.”

someone asked him his advice for people who are starting an acting career and he laughed and said “quit all social media.” he walked it back and said you have to find a way to quiet the noise. 

this mfer went to theatre camp when he was 15 and he did MUSICALS. we tired to get him to sing. it didn’t work.

“you gotta do you. you cannot lose you as you’re going. and you cannot care what people think.”

he talked about imposter syndrome in terms of getting reviews and stuff. he said when he gets bad reviews it hurts but sometimes when he gets good reviews he can think “oh my god they made a mistake” or “oh my god i have to deliver like this every time.” he said if you’re starting out ask yourself why you want to do this and make sure this is what you want to do day in a day out. make sure when you face rejection and obstacles you have the energy to push you to get back up and say “fuck you i’m doing me.”

recommended the book “the subtle art of not giving a fuck” as something he loves.

“there’s creativity in everything. you don’t have to be a pianist or an actor or a writer. there’s creativity in all functions. as people we’re all creative.”

he went back to instagram for a minute and said to use it for the right things and follow the things that you like or are inspired by. he loves that social media can be used to reach people but you have to filter through the negative stuff.

someone asked the meanest thing don’t ever said during training and he said don’s never been mean but he’s always been inspiring and motivating for him. cute lil bromance moment.

he was asked if it’s harder to get into shape physically for the winter soldier or mentally. he said now it’s more of a head thing than it was in the beginning. the physically part was challenging for him in the beginning because he wanted to feel strong to build his confidence. he felt he couldn’t be bucky without being strong. 

civil war was his real hair but when they started filming it wasn’t long enough so he had extensions. by the end of the shoot it was long enough to cut the extensions out. 

the line between overtraining and not being motivated to train enough is hard for him sometimes. things tend to come all at once or not at all and it can be a struggle. 

he meditates and does some kind of physical activity every day at the start of his day. it makes him able to do the things he needs to do for the rest of the day better.

he thanked everyone for their support of tfaws and “making us look pretty good.” he’s very grateful for the turnout.

don says falcon weird. that’s not important but i wanted to mention it.

running is his go to thing. he feels like it’s a good meditative thing for him.  his go to pandemic workout was 100 pull ups, 100 push ups, 100 sit ups, 100 squats and alternating with running. we all panicked and were like “100 PULL UPS AT ONCE??” and he was like no no no no no no no no space that shit out during the day.

he loves breakfast but he doesn’t eat it at breakfast time. he joked he was going to eat breakfast after the call (which ended at 7PM). he likes anything with eggs and avocado. 

there are still directors he wants to work with that he can’t get to see him for parts. he did three audition tapes, two in person auditions, and a screen test to get bucky.

he just recently learned what “thirst pics” are (he figured out from the chat it’s thirst traps). when someone told him that picture from the gym was a thirst trap he was like “oh great well that sounds terrible.” men’s health didn’t call him until after that pic. he had reached out to them before that but that was the thing that made them call.

“make fun of yourself. you have to not take yourself too seriously.”

they both talked about how being able to do things like this is a privilege. there are always days when seb or don or anyone walks into a gym and doesn’t want to be there.

this is the part that made me emotional as FUCK. he’s had days where he’s gone to set and been like “what the fuck am i doing?” he says every time that happens he thinks “this is the time they’re gonna realize i can’t do this. this is when they’re all gonna know i’ve never been good at this.” he said in those moments you can’t just say “no no no i’m the best.” he said sometimes affirmations work and they can be as simple as “i’m gonna try to have a good day today” and it doesn’t have to be “i have to be the best version of myself.” it can just be “i wanna have a good day today” but on the days when you don’t feel good about things and don’t know what you’re doing he said you have to go there and say “ok i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing. fuck everything.” be in the thing that’s happening to you and give yourself permission to be down for a minute. find a compromise with yourself. if you can’t run the same three miles you’ve run all week and you just don’t want to, maybe you go for a walk instead. (his example not mine i DO NOT run). when he’s been in those moments of defeat accepting it had lead him to things he didn’t plan for and he finds those moments to be gifts in a way. accepting it and saying “today is that day” your body and your mind can start moving into finding other little things to do.

he came back to pizza one more time. i love him.

he recognizes how lucky he is to have the life he has. he says it’s important to pay attention to give a fuck about things and to give a fuck about things that will help other people. 

watching him talk the whole time he seemed so happy and relaxed. he seems like such a light hearted and fun person and he laughed SO much

that’s the end y’all. thanks for sticking around and reading all my hastily typed notes

[emerald-amidst-gold]

OC Interview: Fane Lavellan

Thank you for the tag @dungeons-and-dragon-age! I’ve been eyeing up this meme for a while actually, so this was perfect timing! X3

This takes place Post-Trespasser, about a month or two after, in fact. Solas brought the idea forward, and of course, Fane refused. But after some coaxing, some explanation as to why, and the promise of a whole cake, Fane agreed to humor the request. 

*THERE BE BIG THINGS REGARDING FANE HERE* 

I got carried awaaaaaay! XD

Introduction

Can you introduce yourself?

“I can, but it’s a lengthy list,” He sighs, “...Those who are close to me, who see as but an elf, call me Fane. Those who wish to meet cobble, call me Lavellan or Herald. Those who are blinded by reverence call me ‘He Who Flew Above’. Denizens of the Fade refer to me as, ‘Devotion’ or ‘Tenacity’. However, my true name is..” He sighs again, “...Aterian. I rarely go by it, but the truth won’t be ignored. It never can be.”

What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?

“Male. Elvhen. Dragon.” He huffs through his nose, shifting his gaze off to the side, “That’s all I’ll say on that. As for orientation, I’m...emotionally driven. If you asked me to look at another and tell you what’s attractive about them I would say, ‘Nothing.’ I don’t know them, so I feel nothing for them.“ He shrugs, turning his gaze back, but brandishes a glare, “There’s only one person who defies that response, and that’s because he knows me, without and within. More than that, is none of your business.”

Where and when were you born?

He lifts a hand, massaging a temple, “The ‘where’ is simple; Elvhenan. Specifics are lost to me, however, so you’ll have to be content with that response.” He shifts his gaze downwards, slowly crossing his arms, “As to when?” He sighs heavily, “...I have no answer for that other than: I’m roughly the same age, if not older, as Solas. Does it matter, honestly? Numbers fall through the cracks after a specific threshold is crossed.” What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

He unravels a crossed arm and guides his hand downwards, tapping the pommel of a sword he has fastened to his waist, “Sword. I use either long swords, short swords, or great swords.” He raises an eyebrow as a question is forwarded, “Shields?” He sneers a bit. “I don’t use shields. They get in the way, and anyways,” He raises his hand once more, the expanse steadily beginning to glow blue and silver before a spectral coating of scales cover the entirety, “this is better than any shield. I prefer the front lines, the place I can make sure no one breaches, and the lingering memory of what I once was makes sure I can do just that.” He dispels the scales and shakes out his hand before returning it to his crossed counterpart, “It takes energy to maintain, but I’m getting better at holding it for longer.”  Lastly, are you happy?

He blinks before his entire expression softens, two toned eyes shining with primary gold as they shift downwards, “...If you had asked that of me over twelve years ago I would have spat in your face and said, ‘Happiness doesn’t exist in this world’. But now..” He trails off, casting a sidelong glance towards one of the fortress’s entryways; a familiar voice sounding, firm, but soft, as if reprimanding a child, “...I understand what happiness is, and it’s in every corner if you allow yourself to see it.” His eyes shift back, holding a far away look and voice coming forward in a murmur, “I only wish we all could be happy; together.”

Family and Friends

What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

His face holds a conflicted look, as if the memory is painful before speaking, “Complicated,” he says before beginning to tap a finger against his bicep, “I had a mother. She died when I was fifteen from a wasting disease, but she was the picture of serenity. Calm, guiding, measured. Hair like moonlight. Eyes like a clear autumn day. She was--” Unbranded features twist with a look of grief, eyes going dark as his voice drops, “...I’d rather not speak of her. It still hurts to. It hurts to speak of any of them,” His eyes narrow, grief stricken expression turning somewhat bitter, “...Especially those who throw all you did for them back into your face because they refused to listen when you needed them to most. Even so, I still wish for her happiness. Cullen better be treating her right,” That bitter turns outright malicious, dark eyes going darker as another question is meekly asked, “Father? I have no father. I only had a monster that haunted my childhood, tore my token of devotion apart, and then stalked me in my dreams. So, no. I have nothing to say about that concept.”

Have you ever ran away from home?

He chuckles, “Many, many times,” He throws most of his weight into one side, tilting his head back as if thinking, counting, “I can’t even remember the amount of times I fled into the forests, to be honest. All I know is that it happened weekly, maybe even daily,” He brings his head back, snowy hair moving with the action to brush the tops of his cheekbones, “Why do you look so surprised?” he asks, snorting a bit at the meek response of, ‘Why so often?’, “Because I refused to endure being treated like a beast every hour of the day merely because I believed differently, or rather, not at all.” He sighs within the next moment, “...I wasn’t any better than the Dalish, though. I lashed out, I spat in their face, dragged their heritage through the dirt, inflicted harm from the smallest of things...” He squeezes his arms, eyes narrowing into a glare, but seeming to see through everything, “...The past repeats. An infernal spiral that will never slow.” Would you consider marriage or having children?

“Marriage? Children?” He blinks, pale visage suddenly going flush before he snarls, “Why do I need to answer those questions?!” The blush deepens and he responds despite his displeased expression, muttering and biting the inside of his cheek, “...Damned keen eyed elves. They know, don’t they? I swear if Abelas fucking ran that mouth of his, I’ll--” He sighs heavily, letting his head fall limp a bit in defeat, “...Yes. To both. The latter is already taken care of, as everyone situated in the Crossroads knows, but...” Pointed ears are now a deep shade of red, “...marriage is...on hold. War time isn’t an ideal summer wedding.” His voice drops, eyes shimmering as if he was before the person his heart yearned for, “...The sky deserves a venue better than a garden of death and deceit.” Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

“There were those in the Inquisition who I didn’t exactly see eye to eye with,” he started before shaking his head, “but I didn’t hate anyone. Everyone is entitled to their own views and what they find important.” He scowls a bit, tapping his bicep once again with a finger, “...Even if they didn’t extend the same kindness to me in the beginning. ‘Do you believe in the Maker?’ ‘Do you believe you’re chosen?’ ‘You need to use the people’s faith. It gives them hope.’” He mocks before snorting harshly, “No. No, I don’t. Oh, that suddenly makes me trash? Ohhh. How terrible.” He scoffs. “Disgusting.” Which friend knows everything about you?

“Solas,” He says within a heart beat before clearing his throat, shifting his gaze away sheepishly, “He knows me without and within.” Emerald and gold blaze as the orbs go wide, the blush of roses coming back in full force, “Wait, wait, wait! I didn’t mean--! Fuck! You better wipe that shit eating grin off your face, elf, or I swear I’ll do it for you!” He growls in frustation, throwing his hands in the air, “Why did I agree to this? What fucking dragon entertains an interview!? This is worst than the courts in Arlathan used to be! And that’s saying something!”

Asked by Fans

Are you literate? Have you been to school?

”I am literate. Sometimes to a fault, in fact,” He smiles a bit, “Poetry is my niche; a lingering memory of my mother. So, I speak cryptically at times,” He snorts, amused, “Although, I guess that isn’t much of a surprise since the Elvhen language is riddled in verse rather than practical application. Still, even some of the ancients left have a hard time deciphering my words,” He shrugs, smile turning into a smirk, “They never expected a dragon to be able to talk, I guess. Well, ta-dah.”  The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

A somber expression flits across his visage and eyes, “...That, eventually, I would hurt the one person I never wanted to.” The corner of his mouth twitches, holding both bitterness and grief; a painful duo, “...And retribution came just as swiftly, but it--” He sighs, shaking his head in defeat before muttering under his breath, “Observe and accept. Observe that what came to pass was uncontrollable, and accept that it had to happen for your path to continue, for your soul to be complete.” What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

His face blanks, mouth going into a hard line before a sigh exits through his nose slowly, “...That I don’t have tail.” He snarls, blank expression twisting in warning, “Laugh, elf. Do it.” He nods in the next second when no sounds of amusement come forth, expression going stoic once more, “That’s what I thought. You try living centuries in one form and then transitioning. See what happens.” Do you have mental health or physical issues?

He nods, sighing tiredly. “Like my names, I have a lot.” A hand motions to his body lazily, “My entire body is littered in scars, inflicted through crude experiments by an abomination that sought power like so many others,” He expression sours, jaw working back a forth, “They’ve calmed over the years, but the memories are not so kind.” He sighs, trying to calm himself and lifts his left hand; the Anchor glowing faintly and his eyes watch it, “I have an illness, or rather, sensitivity to any Fade born essence. That, too, has calmed and I’m grateful for that. As for my mind..” He trails off, grimacing a bit as if suddenly in pain, “...Visualize the Void, and there’s your answer. Black walls with crimson torches, seats empty, but somehow wanting for memories to take their seats. However, those occupants never come, burnt to ash by fury’s flame. That’s my mind in a nutshell.” What is your current main goal?

He raises his eyebrows, pursing his lips, “Mm, as of right now, I’m busy helping Solas unlock the eluvians that he couldn’t while I was away,” He flexes his marked hand, watching it with a look of determination in his eyes, “That’ll take time, but after, my people, my kin will have their skies back. I won’t let this power be squandered, and I won’t let the key that I’ve been entrusted with fall into the wrong hands.” His face hardens further, “For if that key rusts, the locks break and the sky will blacken as surely as the earth will redden.”

Choices

Drink or food?

“Drinks.” He says with ease, shrugging, “Food is comforting, especially sweets, but a glass of rum or ale, or a cup of chamomile tea really pounds the word ‘relaxation’ into my head.” Cats or dogs?

He smiles, warmth caressing its edges, “You’ve seen Nislean wandering about the halls, laying on the window sills and curling up in front of the fire,” He hums suddenly, crossing his arms again, “Which reminds me, I need to go out of the Crossroads for milk. I’ll be getting more than five bottles this time.” Optimist or pessimist?

“Depends on who you ask,” He shrugs, seeming unbothered, “I’m neither from a personal standpoint. I try to see the bright spots, but shadows can be very persistent.”   Sassy or sarcastic?

He snorts, “Ask Fen’harel,” his voice is light upon the title, playfully mocking in its deepness, “He knows all about that side. Although, he would label it, ‘insufferable’. I would call myself dryly sarcastic, though.”

Have You Ever

Been caught sneaking out?

He purses his lips, “Hmm. Not that I can recall,” he says slowly before his brows jumped and his eyes lit up with memory, “Oh! Wait. There was that one time where I was with Solas and Mythal in a...courtyard, I think?” He shrugs before shrugging, “Doesn’t matter. But, I tried to slip away, tail and all, and I...may have shattered one or two or three eluvians trying to get to the balcony.” He somewhat wistfully, smirking, “Elgar’nan got fucking stuck in a far off settlement for a week, though. Completely worth getting my horn chewed off by a wolf.” Broken a bone?

“Surprisingly, no.” He huffs in amusement, “Wonder of wonders, truthfully.” Received flowers?

“I have,” He scowls, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disgust, “but I always throw them into the fire. Most are from suitors, those who don’t know what the fuck ‘taken’ means.” Ghosted someone?

His face tightens, completely deadpan, “...No?”, he says, voice raising in question a bit, “At least I don’t believe so. But, then again...oh.” He blanks further, “...Oh. I understand the term now. You mortals are forever twisting the languages, aren’t you? I can’t keep up, but the answer is still no.” Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get?

“Maybe once or twice, but I don’t ‘laugh’ per say.” He huffs through his nose deliberately, “I do that; a puff of air. Some habits are never truly able to be broken. No matter the form.”

Tagging: @oxygenforthewicked @blueheaded @little-lightning-lavellan @noire-pandora @the-dreadful-canine and anyone else that’d like to play! (no pressure, of course!)

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

whumptober day 10: crying

slightly more straightforward h/c this time!

summary: set after the ric grayson/joker war arc in nightwing. 

dick’s been missing for two months. jason finds him first, but it’s just the first step in finding how very, very lost dick really is.

warnings: SPOILERS for the aforementioned nightwing arcs. plentiful cursing. moderately graphic descriptions of injuries.

crying

The last time Jason received a family-wide SOS to help them rescue Dick, the guy was a twice-brainwashed mess whose brain was being pulled in opposite directions by the Court of Owls and the fucking Joker, and that was after said brain had been shattered by a fucking sniper’s bullet. (And a period of being left to fend for himself with a broken brain in between, but Jason doesn’t really like to think about that.) This time, he doesn’t know quite what to expect. He can’t imagine things have gotten even worse than the last go-around, but then again, Jason knows from personal experience that there’s no end to the list of ‘things that are worse than dying’.

Besides, the alert came from Babs. And, in quick succession, Tim, Bruce, Duke, and Cass. If nothing else, Jason is curious.

Dick disappeared from Bludhaven about two months ago. The reason the oh-so-precise Bats have the word ‘about’ in that statement is because nobody can really pinpoint the exact date it happened. Donna can recall dropping by his place ten weeks ago. Tim maybe exchanged a few emails or text messages a few weeks ago but didn’t really get alarmed about Dick not responding to his messages until the radio silence stretched for over a month. Bruce had his trackers on (that bastard) but Dick hates them and is known to destroy the ones he finds. And they can’t even really depend on reports of Nightwing sightings in the city because having his brain knocked around and pulled apart like taffy means Dick takes regular holidays from patrols if he’s not feeling particularly steady that day. (Look what being sensible and having a smidgeon of a sense of self-preservation got him.) And the CCTV in his apartment complex was shit, so. 

It’s almost like it was a planned thing, like he was kidnapped, but honestly it’s how things go and how they’ve gone for a very long time: they drift in their own worlds for long periods until an event brings them together, and then it’s back to being scattered across the country again (or sometimes the world, or sometimes the galaxy). Dick is more prone to this than most; he’s probably gone undercover more than any of them, and he’s lived the longest on his own as well. 

Even after the clusterfuck that was the last year and change, it’s nothing new. And if that isn’t the most fucking depressing thing that Jason’s had to think about today, it turns out that not only have the Family figured out where Dick is, but that Jason is the one that’s closest to his location. 

So here he is, shivering, on a particularly icy night on the Gotham docks, scoping out the warehouse where Dick’s supposed to be. It’s not very well-guarded, which either means there’s nothing in there and this is a massive waste of his time, or that it’s a trap and what’s waiting on the other side is a fucking bomb or something even worse. It’s not a great situation to be in either way, and Jason’s got half a mind to have Tim or even Bruce take over--but it’d take too long for them to get there and Jason’s never been fond of the idea of handing over to someone else anything that he could potentially do by himself.

Besides, like he said, he’s curious.

He crouches down at his vantage point overlooking the warehouse and presses the communicator in his ear. “Two guards in front but nothing else; the place is practically abandoned. Infrared picking up three people inside.” He shifts his weight from one foot to another, bracing, ready to spring. “I’m about to go in.”

Tim grunts. “I’ll be there in fifteen, give or take a couple.”

“Twenty,” Bruce says. Then: “Hood, you--” An uncharacteristic pause, and Jason can feel the sudden, uneasy chill across the entire comm channel. Bruce clears his throat. “Be careful. Assess the situation first. Don’t engage alone unless it’s an emergency.”

There’s a thanks for stating the obvious on the tip of Jason’s tongue, but something about the gravity of the situation, the mildest quaver in Bruce’s voice (he’s been missing for two months, god, two months) has him say, instead: “Roger that.”

Jason makes quick work of the guards in the front, leaving them in unconscious heaps on the ground before he creeps in. They’d hardly put up a fight, which just makes Jason’s stomach twist in anxious knots. The anxiety is made worse by the complete lack of resistance when he’s actually inside: there are only two huge, cavernous rooms, and one of them has two of the three people that he’d detected. They scatter as soon as they see him and Jason considers chasing, but now his nerves are stretched so taut that he thinks he’s going to vomit if he doesn’t see Dick now--

The night-vision on Jason’s helmet catches a figure sitting, slumped, in the corner of the room. A chain connects a manacle around its ankle to the wall, and another between the same wall and… a collar around its neck. Jason’s blood is already boiling before he steps closer and recognises the figure as Dick. His hair is long and shabby, having grown past his chin, curtaining his face. He’s shirtless but wearing ripped, stained jeans. His hands are cuffed in front of him, the thin metal biting into his wrists enough to leave his hands puffy and slightly purple from the lack of effective circulation. He looks considerably thinner--Jason can just about count the ribs under his skin--and every visible part of his torso is painted in bruises in various stages of healing. And--

--and he’s breathing.

Well, thank fuck. That’s a start.

Jason crouches in front of Dick and presses his comm again. “Found N. Little worse for wear, but alive and safe.”

He ignores the immediate clamour of questions from the others to focus on trying to get Dick awake. He brushes Dick’s hair aside and gently lifts his chin to have a look at his eyes. 

Dick smiles at him. “Hey.”

Jason is beset by an onslaught of emotion that’s part relief, part incredulity and part anger, so much so that he thinks he’s going to fucking burst with the pressure of it. Of course that would be the first thing out of Dick’s mouth--hey--like he’s meeting Jason for cocktails after work instead of being rescued after two months of captivity and torture! Well he can take that hey and shove it right up his fucking--

“Is there anything else here we need to worry about,” Jason says, busying himself with picking the locks on Dick’s manacles so that he doesn’t snap and say something he’ll regret.

Dick shakes his head. He’s got a shaggy beard going and he stinks of sweat and urine and filth, but there’s a sense of… togetherness to him, like he’d always known that Jason was going to show up at this exact minute and that had always been part of his plan. “They scattered as soon as they got word that you guys were coming,” he says, voice thin and raspy. “I guess not enough of them were curious to stick around to find out why so many capes would be coming for me.”

Jason pops the manacles and collar loose and goes to work on the cuffs. “So you weren’t taken as Nightwing.”

Dick sighs, then winces as the motion pulls on the gigantic bruise around his neck. “I wasn’t taken as Dick Grayson, either.”

The cuffs come off with a click. Jason stares at him. “So… what, you were just some poor mug they picked up off the streets to… torture for shits and giggles?”

Dick is silent for a moment. His eyes flick to a point behind Jason and back again. “They knew me as Ric.”

It takes a moment for the name to click in Jason’s brain, but he finally remembers that it was what Dick called himself during his brain-injured year in Bludhaven. “Why would Ric have enemies?” he says, without thinking.

There’s that smile on Dick’s face again, but this time it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Ric did have a life, Jason. And friends. And… enemies.” He begins to move, bare feet shifting against the floor and shifting his weight onto his hands as if he’s trying to figure out a way to stand up, but barely manages an inch of elevation before he runs out of energy, breathing heavily. “Ric--I used to fight. Street fights. Involved a lot more money and people than I remembered, and… apparently a lot of people felt betrayed when I just up and left the city one day. I’ve been fighting matches here almost every day.” A sudden, sharp grin. “I haven’t lost yet.”

Jason--stops. Utterly freezes, hands midway to helping Dick sit upright, because there’s something terribly, terribly wrong here. “Why didn’t you ever try to escape? And how--I mean, in the first place--”

How did you even get caught?

To Jason’s horror, tears start rolling down Dick’s face. His expression doesn’t really change, so Jason’s not sure that Dick’s even aware that he’s crying, but right now Jason is already halfway to being mortified. “I was on my way back from the gym,” Dick says finally, “and I think I--I blacked out. It happens sometimes.” Dick gives a wet laugh. “Talk about bad timing.”

“And--and what, you blacked out for two months?”

At this Dick’s face crumples, and suddenly Jason gets it: this is a man pushed and pushed to the end of his rope and beyond, utterly exhausted, past the point of caring who knows about it or why. “I guess…” Dick swallows. “I didn’t really see the difference. Between--between here and out there.”

Jason wants to scream, shake his shoulders--a shameful part of him even wants to hit Dick--and tell him that of course it was different outside of this stupid, dank warehouse: he has friends and family and a lifetime of experience to support him while he flies free. It’s ridiculous to even compare the two, and Jason is ready to put these words down to the effects of too much pain and too little food.

Except--

(plucked you right out of one life and stuffed you into another, didn’t they? treated you like a puppet without a past and a future, didn’t they? didn’t let you entertain the idea of a different life even for a minute, did they? punished you for straying, reminded you there was just too much at stake, and that those stakes were always, always bigger than you or your health or your happiness or your future--)

“Dick, I--” Jason really doesn’t know what to say. Tim says, “ETA five” in his ear while Bruce says, “Right behind you, Robin” and Jason knows, just knows, that this isn’t how they would want to see Dick, and more importantly, this isn’t how Dick would want them to see him.

He gathers Dick in his arms and presses him to his chest. Dick freezes for a second, surprised, then melts into his embrace. His shoulders shake, hands coming up to weakly grasp at Jason’s jacket. The sobs reach a crescendo quickly, a pathetic keening muffled into Jason’s chest, before tapering away and Dick is still, just… breathing. 

Jason breathes with him.

That’s how Tim and Bruce find them a couple of minutes later. Dick peels away and somehow musters the energy to reassure them. Bruce helps him up and carries him to the car while Jason follows; just as Dick’s lowered into the backseat his hand shoots out, grasping Jason’s arm in a silent plea. 

Jason gets in with him. Neither he nor Bruce say anything through the whole drive at the tears that continue to pour down Dick’s face, but Jason doesn’t let go of his hand for the whole ride.

[uswnt-keeper]

Focus Isn’t My Strong Suit

Prompt by @cpaeralricey: Can you do a Kelley x youngersister!reader quarantining together and the reader has to to do School online but struggles cause of their ADHD and just lots of fluff and Kelley helping the crazy kid out. Does that make any sense? If not don’t worry about it.

Note before we start. Sorry if this is terrible, I don’t have ADHD so I don’t really know what it’s like, I tried to make this is fun as possible. Also just for future reference I will no longer be writing Kelley, Alex, or JJ fics. (There will be my final Alex post today, but that’s it).

This royally sucked... like to a whole other level of sucking... does that sound weird? It sounds weird, oh well... whatever. That’s not the point, the point is, I’m stuck doing online school, which normally isn’t that bad, but it all kind of happened all at once.

You see, I’d been flown out to visit Kelley, my older sister, in my spring break which happened to be at the beginning of March. I hadn’t seen her in a long time between her traveling for different teams, and I missed her. I miss all of my siblings honestly. Jerry was off doing business man things, and Erin was off hanging with her besties on some beach somewhere. Kelley was the youngest of my older siblings, but shes 32, I’m 16, big age difference there. I’d been adopted by my family at a young age and so, of course there would be an age difference, but they were family and Kelley and I were close.

Anyway, back to my main point of how much this sucked. The nation went on lockdown literally a week into my stay, I couldn’t leave for the airport or anything and Kelley’s games and trainings were suspended after the SheBelieves cup, even the Olympics were cancelled. So I was stuck, but that wasn’t what sucked, I was with Kelley, that was great, but then came online school.

Online school, for someone like me, is the worst possible option. I struggled with ADHD and paying attention in a normal class, but sitting on my own in a room of distractions would be even worse, I mean... how was I NOT suppose to say dream or cheat on a test?!

Not only that, but I was awaiting my prescription, we had to start ordering it so it shipped to Kelley’s apartment in Utah. So with that going on, we were now in late March and we realized it would be another day before my pills arrives... and I was out.

“Kelley!” I yelled from my bathroom, looking at the empty bottle.

Kelley came rushing in, “What, what is it?!”

“I’m out of meds,” I said hyper focused on the writing on the bottle.

“Oh.... OH WHAT?!” She grabbed the bottle out my hands, shaking the orange container around as if she was trying to summon more pills to her.

“It’s just a day, it won’t be that bad right?” I said and Kelley looked at me with a glare.

“When was the last time you weren’t on your meds?” She asked.

I thought about it for a moment, “Uhh, probably before I was diagnosed.”

“So when you were bouncing off the walls?” She asked and I shrugged, walking out the bathroom.

“Look, I have school in like... oh actually I’m late,” I said looking at my phone, it was only 8, but class started at 7:45.

Kelley groaned as I rushed to my laptop, she had moved to the dining table after finding me staring at my ceiling for an entire class, she was fun as a sister, but her feeling of responsibly over me was unbearable.

I logged into the class with my camera off, apologizing for being late and I made up some random excuse. I looked to Kelley who had just walked out of my room, and she rolled her eyes at me and tossed me t-shirt. I muted myself and looked at her confused.

“You forgot to put one on,” she said before I could ask and I looked down at myself realizing she was right, so I begrudgingly pulled in on with a huff.

After my first class, I had my second period, which was a study hall, and I hated it, all I ever did was stare at off into space, which ended up happening this time too. I went through the whole school day, completely unable to focus on anything as I felt my ADHD consume my movements and thoughts.

“Y/N!” Kelley snapped me out of my trance, I realized she sat in front of me, working on something of her own, “Your teacher asked you a question,” she said.

I unmuted myself to apologize before asking her to repeat the question. The one good thing about ADHD was that I often retained large chunks of info if it was interesting enough, so I had the knowledge to answer the question this time.

When I muted myself again I sighed, it was times liked these I hated my condition, it was unbearable and made me miss so much shit.

“You okay Speedster?” A nickname Kelley had gifted me at the age of 4 when I literally couldn’t stop running around, it’s fitting now as I’ve followed in her footsteps and started playing soccer.

“I hate not being able to focus,” I complained and finally, as I said that, the class was over.

“Well,” Kelley started, closing my laptop for me, “Maybe you should walk around or something, get some focus back?” She asked, I sighed again, it was the best idea so far, “I’ll be here if you if you need me.”

I stood up, taking my computer to my room and threw it on the bed. There was no way I could focus on doing yoga or lifting weights, not at all. All I wanted to do was run around, do anything but what I was doing. It was probably about 5 minutes in my room before I rushed out my room, heading to the kitchen to search Kelley’s cabinets.

“What are you doing in there?” Kelley turned after I rummaged for a few minutes.

“Food,” I replied.

“If your hungry I can make you sandwich or something,” she said, looking away from her computer.

“Ughhhhh,” I complained, “A sandwich sounds so boring,” I groaned and she rolled her eyes at me, going back to the meeting she was in.

I left the kitchen, heading back to my room, sitting on my bed feeling restless. I tried writing and reading, I even did some homework, but eventually I got bored again, and I felt antsy. That is, until I found something I could compare to gold.

“No way,” I whispered to myself, pulling two things out from under the guest bed, “This is gonna be so much fun.”

Kelley’s POV

I was worried about Y/N, I knew she would feel bad about her ADHD, usually I’d go distract her, but I was caught in this stupid meeting for another few minutes. I was listening to what my manager was saying amongst the other people there, until something stung me.

I flinched, looking at my arm, then around me and at the floor, finding a... nerf bullet?

There was a click and another one hit my temple this time.

“Ow,” I complained, looking to where I heard giggling.

It was Y/N of course, hiding behind a cardboard cut out of me with a nerf gun reaching around it.

“Y/N, don’t you—“ She shot me again, laughing hysterically, I turned to my computer, “Listen guys, I’m gonna have to go, got something to sort out,” I said and they nodded as I logged off.

Y/N looked at me with a challenge, if this is what she needed to calm down, then I guess a little match wouldn’t be bad.

“It is so on,” I said, reaching into one of the kitchen cabinets.

“WHAT?! You have a nerf gun just sitting in your kitchen?!”

“Never know when it might come in handy,” I shot at her, the bullet sticking itself right in her forehead and she huffed and smiled.

“I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“You wish,” I replied.

Turns out the one round turned into three hours of an intense and heated nerf battle, ending with Y/N surrendering to the couch where sweat fell from her head.

“Alright, alright, you win,” she said exhausted for once and I plopped down on the couch next to her.

“Told you I’d kick your butt,” I said.

“Surrendering doesn’t mean you kicked my butt,” she complained and I laughed.

“How you feeling?” I asked, looking to her now.

“Exhausted for the first time today,” she said with a smile, “Never thought I’d be happy to be tired.”

I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her in to a hug, “You know there’s nothing wrong with your ADHD right?” I asked and she shrugged, “If you ever feel bad about it, remember that you can totally start a nerf war and it’s completely justified,” I said and she laughed.

“Thanks Kell.”

“Anytime kiddo.”

There was a pause.

“Do you have food?”

“I knew you wanted something.”

She laughed again and we spent the rest of the night eating and watching movies until we fell into a deep sleep.