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plasticfangtastic · 9 months

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Can We Be Lonely Together? Ch. 11

A Homelander X Stalker! Reader fanfic

This is also a supe! reader fic, GN reader but male leaning.

Author's note: Thanks for all who've read this so far, only 1 more chapter to go unsure if I shoudl write a short epilogue. This is a long chapter, wanted to post this last Sat. but R.L. got in the way.

R18+ mild smut, murder mention, cheating, bruise kink, drug mention, long chapter.

Chapter 11

For us

After the cops showed up, the evening had become a blur, cops had come over the bullet that shook the whole floor, conveniently soon your neighbor had called the cops about an out of control supe, Homelander had stepped out claiming that his friend had called him frightened by the gunshot sounds, the neighbor melted at the sight of the handsome Super accepting a quick CashApp transfer to paid for damages after exchanging details for Vought lawyers, while throwing a quick embarrassing lie about allergens and the physiological nature of superpowers.

You hadn’t care much for it as moments after– you were flung around his shoulders and taken miles away, back into Vought towers not the 62 floor but down the basements’s besements, beneath layers of concrete, in walls so thick you could’ve bet your ass you were trapped in the same facility that once held Homelander– but instead of bare walls and stilted air conditioner breeze, you got beeping machines , a nurse looked over as your eyes opened, saying nothing towards you, instead to your guest of honor, Homelander lowered his copy of “Reminders of Him” he waved his hand urgently towards the nurse to leave.

He had been so caring making sure of emptying the floor leaving only a single nurse and doctor left hovering around for your comfort.

“Morning Pusher.”

A light smile crossed your lips, the way Homelander had mentioned your “hero” name made it blatantly obvious of whom he was referring to deep down, it was amusing.

“It must’ve been fate… that both me and your arch nemesis names rhyme.”

“Some sweet irony I recond, you’re far cuter than William if that’s any consolation.”

“You still jerked off to that guy.”

“The accent… is irresistible.”

He clicked his tongue straightening himself, placing a nude hand on your forehead brushing loose strands off your face.

“I prefer you over William." His face turned stern-- Your body is wrecked. The V… has likely caused you permanent cognitive decline, you suffered loss of gray matter according to the doctor, which made your already unstable powers even more unstable. The V was just a piece of sticky tape holding what it had broken… your heart is fairly erratic and your blood pressure” he shakes his head wide eyed– is awful, even if you quit cold turkey your brain is ruined– you ain’t like A-Train you can’t get a new heart and be all hunky dory.”

“And the good news is…?”

“Your body will heal your cardiovascular system eventually, and maybe over time your healing abilities regardless of how limited they are… might heal your brain… but I already have a couple supes in mind that could potentially help you.”

“Basically I did this to myself.”

It hurt taking fistfuls of your blanket, harsh lines formed on the bridge of your nose.

“Pusher… ugh… Y/N you can’t take anymore V! I can keep you here where it’s quiet until you start feeling better.”

It failed to sound like a request.

“You already told Deep about me… am surprise you didn’t kill him”

You changed the topic.

“He was pleading and crying telling me he was being blackmailed by you. Sounded like something you would do.”

He stroke circles on your forehead leaning closer until his body rested entirely on the bed’s handles, pulling his chair towards you breaching in all the remaining space as his book felt with a loud thud into the ground, he wanted to laid beside you but all the cables put him on edge that just too much pressure and your already thin veins will pop open, squirting all over the place. In truth both him and John had known of your health simply blaming to your use of V and other narcotics, hoping it would cure itself. Yet you pulled on his sleeve raising your arm above your head urging him to join, his eyes turned black and wide rushing in an instant to taste your warmth, relaxing as your heartbeat picked up– it excited him, reassuring him that it was still functional.

Placing his hand delicately around your stomach, a flash of sound creeps into your mind thinking of the corpse in your bedroom.

It had been a long two day coma while Homelander watched and allowed selected hands to touch you. You kissed the top of his head having a quiet conversation where neither of you spoke, just the sound of the machines and fingers exploring surfaces and each other, both hoping that this tranquility would last a minute longer.

“What did you tell John? About Firecracker, and shit?”

“John is asleep for now… I broke up with her'' He shoved his hand into a hidden compartment on the back of his belt pulling out a thin albeit outdated iphone– see I texted her.”

It was a long chain of message bubbles after a simple “We’re done ;)” he kept scrolling down her replies hadn’t really stopped for the last two days.

“He’s angry at me… but I told him that Firecracker was a fling… why waste our time with that! When this works so well– I told him that you forgive him… us, and that you’re here because of your drug habit.”

He kissed the bottom of your jowl, scooting closer as if that was even possible.

“You lied to him?”

“Lying to oneself doesn’t count, pumpkin.” He murmured against your neck– I told Ashley to keep an eye for her just in case she tries making a scene… she’ll be more than just fired if she tries to get back at me.”

“Or I could just read her mind and give you the heads-up.”

That got him excited.

“I’ll make sure it’s all perfect.” he kissed you again.

He kissed your chest, catching a whiff of your sweat, scrunching his hand on your blanket, two days of watching you immobile terrified him, to think you wouldn’t be there to cuddle him until he sleep, of stroking his hair gently until he woke up from his nightmares, of never feeling your tender flesh shivering under him.

He needed you to comfort him… always.

He wanted you next to him for every dawn to come.

“That girl… she was… she was my mother…” His eyes were hidden but you felt their sting– I look a lot like my grandfather… His name is Otto y’know. That aunt of mine, she looks nothing like her. John was happy… that you did all of that to give us a family, I might need your help to calm him down about wanting to meet them, our cousins are still young so we can’t hang out but Ryan could”

“You took the body to the police…?”

It had been a strange memory to witness, Homelander had called the last detective that had kept working on the cold case, personally flew him to witness the corpse while selling him a crazy story, his biological grandmother had dementia and cancer so it would’ve been impossible to get any information corroborating Homelander claim that she was another one of Vought Compound V recipients, and the receipt he had faked held too much weight.

His aunt had come this morning, her hair a mess and her skin clammy– she had been frightened.

A ghost slept peacefully in the metal slab, hardly touched by time questioning nothing about the V, simply accepting that it would be something her parents could’ve done.

The corpse was still fresh, by the time it had traveled from your home to the Vought morgue, it had shown no signs of deterioration, her skin still dewey and peach, her lips still pink and her fingers still soft, the pathologist was just as baffled as to how her body stood so fresh, ever her eyes were wet– she was dead but her body had missed the memo.

The woman had shared, that their mother had been a professional ballerina, she had traveled the world until she met Otto a man 12 years her junior, and decided to start a family– Frida had been talented but her mother was cruel forcing her to dance until all her toes had broken twice, and her father desired nothing but perfection from her which was rich coming from a drunk. She had ran away, and for two weeks they assumed she was with some boy that had caught her fancy… Homelander was the only man who knew the truth.

Even thinking of it in your arms made him whimper, lingering on the memory of his mother fading warmth, John dawdled on the memory while staring at her untouched corpse… of what if’s– Would he have grown loved? This woman was only eleven years older than him, could've been more sister than aunt, would he have been spoiled by her? Would he have grown to be a dancer like his grandmother? Or a gymnast like his grandfather?

John wanted to tell them somehow.

To agree that his mother had been a runaway, who met a boy got pregnant and due to her circumstances was unable to get an abortion, that she gave birth at a clinic ran by Samaritan’s embrace who gave him V, and soon after she had run away leaving Homelander nothing but a short papertrail, John could’ve sold the Vought storyline, that he was adopted by his fake TV parents or diverge… Claim she was found by Vought one way or another willfully handling her infant to them. No matter how he tried to sell it, his mother couldn’t be a martyr, she couldn’t be pious– if he wanted to lie to them.

His Aunt held the corpse until her whimpers and the cries of animals were indistinguishable, waking him from his trance.

Grateful that Homelander had finally brought her peace, that she could finally grieve and heal, to know her sister had come home… They had wished you'd been there… the way the woman stared at him– had his design evoke a deja-vu? She showed him pictures of her sons and how one looked just like her sister, as if he didn’t look carved from the same stone as Homelander, the teenage boy looked so much like him even if the nose was all wrong.

You stroke his hair, seeking to comfort him for John was too upset and only wanted to sleep, to remain oblivious to all… angry and upset at his brother.

It would be a couple more days before you were allowed out the infirmary, an armed bodyguard escorted you home, your place had been cleaned– not a spec of hair or dust had been left behind and all your damaged furniture had been replaced with identical replicas, your fridge had been restocked of all expired items and made to look brand new, even the damaged wall had been completely repainted leaving it with a glossy finish, your clothes had been neatly folded and not even one single dirty sock had been left on the plastic laundry basket.

The guard had been given a simple instruction to make sure you made it home safely, and for you to pack a day bag as Homelander had requested your stay for a couple days, just as a precaution, you obeyed making sure to take some of your ingredients to cook for him as a thanks for doing so much.

He had doctors check on you daily, monitoring what he’d already recorded in his brain and made sure to think very loudly too, readying your medication for you, watching you take it even using his X-ray vision to make sure the Buprenorphine and others went down your throat, taking great care to carefully drop your beta blockers eye drops, watching your veins and heart react to it– Homelander had forced a routine and you comply not out of fear but out of novelty. Nobody had once cared for you in such way, he prepared your baths and clothes making sure to join you and wash your back, glad you always returned the favor. He had demanded Deep to restock the department. By the end of the second week of your stay, the entire department had been returned to its former glory, something your supervisor Anika was over the moon about, you couldn’t afford to stress your frail heart and damaged brain..

Before you knew it, you were barefoot in the kitchen humming old songs while a precocious child asked for your help with homework, Ryan had wanted all sorts of company more than anything– he had figure out his father had a soft spot for you, he was a spoiled child and out of the two adult he had access to (the second being Ashley) you were the only one willing to talk over with his dad about friends coming over and sleepovers… as if you both didn't have a tracker on the kid to make sure he was safe, plus you had him wired, there wasn’t a single childish conversation that you weren’t privy to anyhoo– mic or not.

Homelander had made routines and ceremonies, he would come home and your scenes began: the welcome homes, the picking of his gloves in lieu of coats and fedoras, a cold glass of milk while awaiting for dinner, listening to him catching up with Ryan, rubbing his shoulders after dinner (not that he felt it but it was a kind gesture nevertheless) and then the pre-bed cultus– washing his hair, listening to his loud moan as your fingers stroke roughly at his scalp, washing his back and letting his pamper you with lotion more expensive than it should be legal to sell, giggling alone as he wiped out the car polisher not that he understood what made it so funny to you, your conversations one sided only the sound of your voice filled the void within marbled walls, he loved the sound of his voice but there was a comfort that came from this unique brand of silence, constantly testing just how sharp your powers were, forcing himself to get used to them.

Homelander invited you to bed, suffocating you with his unusually high body temperature.

Kissing you until both your lips were bruised, nipping at your skin and painting purple constellations, marking you– this was his own brand of chains and collars, softer on your skin than metal, making sure nobody in this building would dare staring at his beloved, to remind you he was whom you belonged to, lost in the storm that was your eyes as you watched him paint you, feeling how hot your body became as he teased you further, your touch, your voice and your sight poisoned him with a love he was certainly began to doubt he deserved, how could you look at him so tenderly as he bit with such possessiveness, after forgiving his impulses.

As your apartment became more bare, and your fridge was left with nothing but unopened water bottles, you settled officially as a live-in maid.

In the eyes of Vought employees– of the few aware of your presence that had been his cover-up. Somewhat demeaning but it was the closest you both could get to a normal relationship at the time– you were a whole can of worm of dangerous loose ends, both your friends were clean on the outside: a rising star of the culinary world and former Supe whose extraordinary senses, could had once detected the smell of a bomb hidden inside an airport from the entrance or detected a trapped stranger under meters of rubble with just her hearing; Now used her keen senses to create extraordinary dishes. Your former handler, an accomplished journalist married to a high profile New York socialite with pedigree, A man who rubbed shoulders with the upper echelons of New York and country.

Two people whom it made sense for them to be friends with each other– not you.

A mystery with no past, no presence, no real name, and a long list of suspicious crimes, your friends were career criminals using their wealth and status to hide their amorality, how you came to befriend a cannibal and a two-face crook… not to mention Roman Ban and company was a mystery.

Homelander couldn’t even be certain that these friends of yours even knew your real name, or if they would as he burned all proof left in the Vought archives.

Homelander cleaned house for you.

If he ever wanted to present you to the world, he was going to make sure all your affairs were in order… Roman’s wife had received quite the visit when he found the star spangled icon in her living room, more surprised to learn he wasn’t just shorter in person but was quite the personality, all she needed was a head on her piano and a hefty manila folder curated by you to behave. His wife was smart enough to know when to give up, she had young grandkids to protect, and Homelander had been nice enough to remind her that her family had inherited a large sum.

In the face of death and money people were painfully predictable.

John had come from his slumber playing pretend around you both, letting his brother feed him talking points, as you helped Ryan set the lighting for his latest film you could hear them both catching up as his son watched his father do its weird staring routine.

Reminding yourself that you couldn’t reply to his silent questions, to open your mouth and to not be perfectly in sync with him.

Alone at last, as Ryan slept– he handed you the last pill for the day.

“Your heart is sounding a lot better.”

“It would be a lot better if you would slip me a buspirone or a xanax.”

He didn’t laugh, hiding your teeth under a hard line you avoided that judgemental glare, he had a hundred questions about what happened with his mother but he wasn’t ready to let you think he was crazy, his mind already toying with the idea of introducing you both, brushing your hair imagining crushing your neck if you responded the wrong way, kissing your neck right at the spot where he thought your bone would tear the skin open, the way you smell more and more like him filled him with delight, steering him away from such intrusive thoughts.

“Just joking mi sol… something bothering you?”

“Roman’s wife, she backed down but… his kids are continuing the investigation… should I give them a visit?”

He wanted reassurance, the way he stroked your neck down to your back watching your lungs inflate as you leaned into the black marble countertops.

“I almost want to say ‘I told you so, silly’ but I also wanna suggest a ‘team-up’”

He raised his eyebrow urging you to speak.

“I need to make a phone call.”

You dial an all too familiar number, even late at night you knew Bruno would answer your call– after all it had to be serious and urgent if Kent wasn’t answering your calls.

“Hey, I need to speak to Kent urgently.”

Bruno closed a door behind putting you on speaker as he walked around his lavish house.

“He’s in the office… I am starting to suspect he might’ve fallen asleep on his desk. I was just about to send one of my men to check up on him. He’s been covering the presidential election so he's been up and down the whole country following that Neuman…eugh”

“Not a fan? I’ll swing by his office then I’ll let you know if he's there… I was on my way there anyhoo.”

“That chick screams champagne liberal. Give her 2 weeks in office before she conveniently forgets all her selling points, plus have you seen her VP… anyways it was nice talking to you, ciao.”

You turned to John.

“What are you planning?”

“One of the things I would’ve used on Roman before you decided to kill him, call it Plan G. Now let me get a coat… y’know where the USA network offices are in the city right?”

He nodded and followed you as you took a coat and brushed your hair as neatly as you could with your hands.

“Let me take care of you, John. Let me take some of the weight of the world off your shoulders… you don't have to be Atlas on your own.”

Your hands wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, always watching him with that adoration not adulation in your big eyes.

Eyes had hardly moved him before he met yours, none would ever move them as much yours could, pulled by your invisible strings, he reluctantly agreed, he understood why his brother had strongly fallen for you.

Flying about the city, watching a myriad of colors, the city so quiet from this height. you arrived at the offices entering from the roof after breaking the roof door locks.

The offices were near empty, especially at this hour–a couple souls stayed behind working but unsurprisingly for Homelander you knew where you needed to go and the few that were around didn’t take note of you, mostly focusing on the hero close by,

Spotting his office you couldn’t even bother to knock.

“Don’t believe him when he says he thinks your article was incredible, he has definitely not read it.”

A couple files and knacks fell off his desk, as a young man's head came from behind the desk edge, mouth still sticky and Kent trying everything he could to hide his phallus.

“You know he's married with seven kids, right?” Your attention turned to your friend as you sat on the chair across from them– You’re lucky ‘cuz your husband was about to send one of his men to come check on you. Now scram!”

The man red like a beet wiped his face with his sleeve and with wobbly steps hurried out, turning suicidal and on the verge of tears as he saw Homelander blocking the door, shocked at the morbid chagrin on the Supe’s face, flashing his fangs as he watched the college intern run for his life.

“You blocked my number.”

“I said I never wanted to see you again.”

His fluster died down, putting his cock back in his trousers, throwing Homelander a dirty glance from the side, unafraid of the demon in spandex.

“Look if you had seven kids you would understand how sexless your life gets”

He said to Homelander for some odd reason, not that the man cared.

“What you don’t like waiting for the kids to go to sleep to have a quick fuck?” He replied, slightly irritated as you grinned towards Kent– can we get this over with, babe.”

“I agree with your owner. What do you want?”

“Release the news on Fowler Ban. Perks of babysitting his kids all this time… I got you enough shit to destroy that lil’shit.”

“What the crack, underage prostitutes or the possible murder?”

“All of it. Get the guys at Banvision distracted and away from me and him, now that Fowler and Sean took over the company it’d be perfectly timed.” You paused looking at the cumstains on the carpet– Fowler did kill that waitress at Bruno’s charity ball three years ago. I already emailed you the proof, check your spam folder.”

He turned to Homelander, he could see the scary supe but all he could think of was the small frightened little boy that was left alone in the dark for days until some lab coated freak remembered to feed him, he threw you a curious look figuring out that you had stayed silent about the dead kids, since that day Kent had been counting the days before he had to report on the end of the United States.

“Is not leverage you can use on me, and you should know that Kent.” You spat.

“I don’t want to die.” he chuckles– just surprised he’s kept you… Y/N is a handful, do you have what it takes to care for it?”

Kent stood up, wanting to see how far into the lion’s mouth he could put his fingers before its mawls dropped, Kent moved around until he could take your face pulling your chin up to examine the collar of hickeys, deducting just how possessive your new owner was from this alone and not the blinkers reflecting at the edge of his glasses, Kent pets your hair, stroking your cheeks with an intimacy that should only be known to Homelander.

“You will make him hate you in due time.”

“You hated me?” Homeland jumped as he heard your heart pick up.

“No. It takes a special kind of person to care for you… all your past lovers ran from you or stopped being good enough. Somebody always came by that ignited a flame… this one” He pointed at Homelander– you must be just as insane as they are to last this long”

“Get your fucking paws off Pusher before I shove your spinal cord up your own ass.”

A red light crossed the space between the two, earning Kent a chuckle even if his heart rate was highly elevated.

“Pusher. Damn… he even knows that… you must genuinely love him. I’ll write the piece not because I want to help you but because it’ll do me good in the long run. I trust Pusher to keep quiet about the intern, will you?”

“why would–

“We’ll stay quiet about Holsen. Is not like Homelander cares about your affairs.”

The red didn’t dissuade him, Kent continued to stroke you, gingerly teasing the man as the light continue to illuminate the room, Homelander didn’t attack more out of fear that this man would use you as a meat shield, mudblood or exalted being, it was hard to tell and he wouldn't risk a single scratch on your face, the way he held you so still as if you feared him, but more so the fact that you didn’t fight Kent, your sight solely focused on the skinny man.

Whatever he was thinking, whatever Homelander wasn’t privy to– had you enrapture, your heart rate erratic and the bitter stench of adrenaline attacking his nostrils.

“Don’t bother me again.”

He let go of you, even as you stood up your sight continued to follow Kent, taking Homelander’s arm as you pulled him out the office, trying to close the door behind you.

“By the way– you still interested in the Stillwell kid? I can have Dolores swing him a visit if you still convinced it's his bastard.”

He snorted as the door closed behind you thanks to the last bit of inertia.

You Froze, Kent was a vindictive man already sitting on his computer without care, you were a loose end for him, getting rid of you was the end goal, knowing this made your tongue bitter, you choked gasping slightly as your head crook towards your partner, his mouth agape, shaking slightly he watched the man every move, seeing how nonchalant he was behaving.

“What…w-what is he talking about… is he talking about Teddy?” The way his name rolled of his tongue was acrid, the vision of that child still in her arms, still stealing his most precious possession, the weightlessness of the child in his grip as he taunted Madelyn and Butcher, or its crying as he placed him on a bed of grass a few houses away from the explosion behind them and the temptation to have left him there, to let go of his love for that traitorous woman, but out of what little love he had clung to he made sure he would live– what the fuck is he talking about?”

“I… John… I swear I was going to tell you, I just didn’t see the need to stress you out so much after what happened to the girl” You clung to him forcing him to watch you plead, to feel your trembling being– I don’t even have any proof just a suspicion I discussed with Kent ages ago. He’s just being a bitch.”

“Why?” His voice is cold, still like a statue– why do you think Teddy was mine?”

Telling him the truth was out of the question, you knew just how bad he would be but in his mind he kept lingering on the last seconds of Stillwel’s life fantasizing that soon it would be your face copying hers, awaitign with his heart in histhroat for you to give him the wrong reply.

“There were no documents of Stillwell taking any IVF treatment– in the sense that there was no outside clinic she attended to receive it, she received multiple sessions but there were no receipts… I was bored trying to find something to give to Roman. I thought it was odd, in the end I found out she received the treatment at Vought obviously… She received two rounds of ICSI as part of her IVF treatment which proved successful.”

“ICSI…?”

“It’s what’s done in cases of male infertility.”

His eyes redden but he refused to cry, a strange half smiled creeped as he scoffed, her brows touched his mind racing.

“I thought that maybe… it was yours… because I mean everybody knew you two were close. I had no proof John, and you told me you couldn’t have kids easily.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“Why? To stress you out!? To make you think that this William Butcher that’s been haunting you down– who brought your father to kill you! Also tried to kill your kid! He tried taking Ryan from you, yet he gleefully would’ve murder your other son!?” The poorly lit fluorescence office lost all its color as his blue eyes faded in and out a red hue– It was just a passing comment.”

John pushed your hands away, moving further away from you stomping on some of the desk in his way, a mare flick out of frustration sends desks crashing, cables sparkling as paper flew and screens cracked.

“I tried to kill Theodore. I was going to let Butcher blow himself and the kid… I hated Teddy… he took what was mine” His tongue spits that sentence with poisonous resentment– she was mine! And then she had that fucking handbag! Do you have any idea… do you have any idea of what it will do to me… if that kid… if Teddy is mine?”

“No, all I know is that I’ll be here for you. Madelyn hurt you… if she hid that from you… after knowing all these years you two were together just how much you wanted to have a family, if she did that and robbed you of your right to be there for him– then I’ll be there to help you deal with whatever it’d be that hurts you… I’m sorry I didn’t mention it, I am sorry if I had proof I would’ve told you but I had nothing!”

“Too high to remember to bring that up?”

“Pretty much.”

A part of him wanted you to flinch, to cry a little more but you returned to your icy demeanor.

How easy it came for you to switch, thinking of that man behind the door he had at least figured out whom you learned that from.

Homelander waved his arms in defeat, you didn’t chase after him.

He wouldn’t come home until dawn.

Left alone in the apartment after catching an Uber. He arrived through the balcony door as Ryan got ready for school and you packed his lunch, as you decorated his healthy bento box, he came in– his hair out of place, and his eyes puffy, his scowl sharper than your knife.

“Breakfast is almost done– made quiche muffins!”

Your eyes focused on slicing carrot sticks.

He stood silent watching you from the kitchen entrance.

“You look like you had too much tequila.” Your voice is meek– you want some coffee?”

“I went to see my aunt… just watched her from afar… then I went to Malta, found a small town, and just sat on people’s roof listening to these European hicks.”

“You killed them?”

You kept working casually, your indifference was comforting him.

“No. I just watched the sea… walked around the coast lines… broke some boats… is actually quite lovely. Malta… Monaco and Albania are quite beautiful… I should take you both to visit one day”

“Am I going to find out you sank a small mediterranean island in a minute?”

“I killed nobody…” His tone was so frank it was out of place– but I drank, found a winery… drank, puked a bit… kept drinking… I just… kept wondering about in the mediterranean…”

He told the truth, he had killed a couple animals and destroyed a small reef yet he had simply gotten buzzed, and pissed a lot.

He hadn’t cried which surprised you.

He wrapped his arms behind you, pressing his head against you, where it had always belonged he thought, your perfume a gentle caress after pointless meandering, his body fighting off the alcohol with ease there was hardly any remains of wine in his system but it remained in his breath, at least your skin was delicious.

John wanted to be enveloped in you, to be forever held and adored, all his rage melted at the sight of you still in your jammies, with an apron tied around you, your eyes were swollen and the bags under them just as big, but here you were doing everything you could to stay strong for a kid that wasn’t yours, and for him.

“You love me?”

“I love you… what’s wrong?” your worried pinch him.

“I don’t want to drink ever again… it tastes awful. I… Is not your fault, you had no reason to tell me about Teddy, no proof, nothing but a vague papertrail… but don’t ever hide anything from me… nothing… no matter what…”

He kissed trails at your nape, pushing you closer to him, his suit reek of the Ionian sea.

“Always be honest with me… my love. You know… maybe… we should get a cat… they’re low maintenance, we don’t have to walk them and they don’t bark… maybe a summer house in Monaco near the beach.”

You turned to face him, cleaning your hands before touching his face.

You kiss shy and exploratory, seeing how calm the beast was around you.

He kissed you, holding you so tight he had to remind himself not to break you, restraining himself, wanting you so close to wash Palermo off his skin.

"Two cats."

John almost had it all… A family he was too afraid to talk to, the grandparents who could do so much better than that old person’s home, and he had Ryan now, he had you and possibly another child.

Thoughts of your breakdown, of your fantasy that he had almost ruined– John would give you that.

The house, the children, the animals and the tree.

He kissed you, grinding on your body pressing you roughly against the edge of the counter, intertwining his hands against you, quickly unwrapping your apron, exploring the flesh beneath the layers.

You giggled, as his touch tickled your goosebumps, his fingers warm against your cold skin

It was the only music he wanted.

Your laugh filling all these sorrowful spaces, he could see it so vividly, he could live in these fake future memories, you in this kitchen baby talking to the cats… he could brave the litter boxes, if that meant you would be there.

Ryan shouted from across the living room asking where his smartwatch was, you both stopped holding each other, planting playful kisses on each other in your forced departures.

He threw you that charming smile that melted your heart, as he ripped his soiled jacket off and headed down to help Ryan, throwing his boots without care.

Your fingers traced your lips, tasting him still.

John was a sweet boy. A hotheaded, capricious creature, his impetuous nature was part of his charm.

John… you loved him… loved him too much… loved that damaged lil’boy, he was earnest in his desire to bring that fantasy to life, he loved you, he thought of you half way through it all.

He thought of you as he undressed and touched her velvety walls, he thought of you as he stopped himself and flew to the other side of the world, he thought of his brother and you as he drank for the first and last time in his life.

In his lips were the leftovers of her spit, washed away by wine.

“It has to go… all of it… has to go… for us.”

I love you… but I had to make sure that in order for the both of us to be happy… I had to discipline you, in an absence of parents, in the absence of any responsible figure, I would.

The ‘Greywal & Co.’ sign staring down on me.

#homelander #personal #the boys #Homelander X reader #Homelander X you #Homelander fanfic #proof reading is not a thing #I'm ESL sorry for my english #1 more to go!!!#hope y'all like this #my fic tag #can we be lonely together?

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sandsorghum · 2 years

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The fic I've always wanted to write I don't know what to say about this one because it means a lot. Maybe once I get some distance, I've spent too much time with it. I'm just glad to have made it for Nanami's birthday, under the wire. But also it's unbeta'd. The format is new for me too, sort of a slow-burn triptych, best thought of as snapshots. I want to experiment more with it in the future, so I hope it does well. Please let me know your thoughts! Thread Count Genre: Slow Burn, Romance, Friends to Lovers WC: 5.3k

Ache, behind the eyes. Throbbing. Fizzling fiber optics.

Static hissing. Constant haunting. Pelting silver sibilance. The ghosts chorus against asphalt.

Chill in the air. Condensing upon dewy brows. He tilts his head ever so slightly. Satin relief, the sheets are cool too. Except in one spot.

Warmth already leaching into his fingers. He flexes them against his palm, to assess how sticky he's made the bed.

This thread count is too high.

Shit.

"Relax."

His body refuses, does the opposite. Freezes as he hears his name dissolve into a warning. Something fractal spreading in his lungs, spidery and sharp, an icicle breaking off between his ribs as he struggles to sit up.

A hand settles in the crease of his elbow, touch no longer tentative. Firm as the voice, equally familiar. Too familiar.

"It's okay, Akemiuchi's loyalty program is gonna guarantee me a decent discount on the next duvet."

"I'm-"

"It's a good chance to rack up those points. There's this crocheted quilt I've been eyeing? It's the cutest thing ever. I'll show it to you next time."

Nanami winces, sweet intentions souring into an implication. An imposition you've already accepted as inevitable. He's the worst. He had a few moments of consciousness to spare, he knows he did, could have called Ijichi or Shoko even, directly, but no he'd wasted those final flickering seconds to drag himself over here.

The last thing he remembers before slumping over was your welcome mat. Rubber now, instead of fabric.

He can't keep doing this. Not to you.

"Phone." He rasps.

You fluff the pillows behind his head. "It's charging."

A rectangle glares in the periphery of his slits. 3%. It'll do. Ijichi's prompt with calls, especially those coming in at this hour.

" - a real viper's den of cables, took me a while to find yours. I told you you should switch to Android, that port design is super dumb - Hey."

Fingers clamp down on his wrist before he can even reach the nightstand.

"It's late-"

"I was editing a presentation anyway. Clearly we've both got issues with work boundaries."

His arm stretches out again, sinews shrieking their protest, bones creaking their own echo. He ignores them. Deft fingers skate up his swollen biceps, insistent. There's a pressure at his shoulder and he flinches. When had you gotten so strong?

When had he gotten this weak?

"Crap - sorry. That hasn't healed yet? Or is it new..."

He doesn't dignify you with a response, but the tight seam of his lips reveals enough. Nanami's further given away by the loose slump of his limbs. Defeated and betrayed by the mutiny of his howling muscles.

His body sings its triumph with a fresh pang rolling hot through his gut, crimson banner unfurling over ragged veins. He'll be damned if he admits to such a vicious victory. Nanami sucks in a breath instead.

"Fine, don't tell me."

There's something clipped in your voice, something abrupt in the way you stand and stride to the bathroom. A cabinet creaks, but that's all. Nanami watches the silhouette of your hands meld into the shadows to retrieve something off a shelf.

The lowest shelf.

There isn't any other sound besides the soft shuffle of your returning footsteps. Well, of course you'd know where everything is in your own home. Including the things you rarely had a use for. You hadn't even bothered to switch the lights on. Nanami wishes you did. Wishes he could confirm your dry eyes and blank face, numb and neutral as you moved through the motions of getting medicine for a man who has soaked your front step scarlet again.

Routine, right?

The tub thuds against the table, crisp and resolute.

"There's a quarter of the salve left," you mutter. You aren't looking at him. You wouldn't be able to see him in this dark anyway.

"If it isn't enough, I've another jar. Top drawer. Aspirin's there too."

Easy access, even blind, Nanami thinks. The room's still swathed in navy blues. He's invisible in this ink. It feels safe to smile, just for a moment.

"Thank you."

Your head tilts up and his mouth hardens with restraint once more. They were just two words, you couldn't possibly have detected anything beyond civility in them.

But there's a suspicion, once tightly coiled, now starting to slither from the base of his spine and it's this: People don't unquestioningly accept their ex-colleagues into their apartments at 3am to bleed into their bed, out of sheer politeness.

A sliver of a pause before you say,"You're welcome."

You move to the door.

Nanami exhales, the exhaustion deflates and the stubbornness exsanguinates as his bones relearn their weight. Your palm meets the handle and you let go of the breath you didn't know you were holding. But it hitches when you hear the grunt of your name. You glance over your shoulder.

"Akemiuchi, was it?" An index prods at your comforter.

"Uh. Yeah?"

The confusion furrowing your brows is clear in Nanami's mind, he knows just how those lines will knit and scrunch your puzzled expression. He knows, even at a distance, with you all the way across the room how you'll shrug and shake your head at his apparently random question.

"Okay."

"Okay. Rest well, Nanami."

Then you're gone, and it's safe now.

It's a famous brand, there's a branch three blocks down from his neighbourhood. He's seen the quilt, a recent addition to the autumn collection. An elaborate fuss of mint and pastels, taking pride of place in the storefront window. It's got tassels too.

Gaudy, unabashedly.

Nanami closes his eyes and his mouth twitches.

ii.

He shows up at your doorstep tonight, a night of thunderstorms, looking like an envoy of Zeus and giving you about as much warning. His always imposing silhouette had crumpled in a crack of lightning.

When the skies next belched and blanched, you'd seen his clothes drenched with rain and red. And a goopy violet you'd never seen before.

"What do you tell people?" you had asked early on, not expecting any proper answer. You were right not to.

"They don't ask."

"You don't let them." It's neither question nor confrontation, but you get confirmation in his silence, eyes downcast amidst the downpour.

He'd had the decency to be mollified about the dramatics.

You were people to him too. He'd given you the same answer he gave everyone else. You could tell how well it was rehearsed, even through his grimaces, mumbling his way through something about Private security.

Unlike others however, you weren't polite enough to accept his excuses. Especially not when he dripped all over your carpet.

"I'll replace it," he shudders, heaving himself against the edge of your bathtub.

"It's $3000," you pointed out, kneeling and pressing a towel to his side. He arches a brow, not so much shocked by the hefty price tag, but by your lavish attitude towards interior decorating. You, on the other hand, are startled by a swoosh and soon after, the chime of your phone receiving the bank's notification.

You stare at your screen, then back up at Nanami, who simply pockets his mobile with a small shrug.

Somehow, it seemed smug.

Whatever this new gig was, it paid a hell of a lot better than the previous one at which you two had met. You pull the cloth away.

The fibers are saturated scarlet, staining your fingertips. What kind of job could be worth this? Moral fetters at the expense of financial freedom, was that the trade off Nanami had made? Nanami Kento, whose resentment and disdain for Mondays was sustained throughout the week, whose bleak, sombre expression stayed whether cast under cost-cutting fluorescents or the neon glitz of Shinjuku's excess.

You remembered the distant din of middle management's chants, the chugging and choking of sycophants, all muffled by plumes of cigarette smoke escaping thin lips, and a jacket draped wordlessly over your shoulders. Sobriety never seemed to be an issue for him.

Yet, he always appeared more exhausted than his hungover colleagues, the shadows beneath his naked eyes darker and deeper than those hidden under the department head's sunglasses. Nods to decorum couldn't disguise the stench of alcohol or the slur of his speech, a nasal wheedling appealing to Nanami's efficiency as another stack of files thumped down unceremoniously before him.

You gaze at Nanami now, beneath the bright white lights of your bathroom, teetering on the edge of your tub. He looks just as tired, except now he reeks of iron, not whiskey. Liberated from a desk, still duty-bound. We all pick our poisons and our prisons, you think.

The two of you have an understanding by now. Whatever his next chapter was, that story is sealed behind a steel vault, nothing will ever rust away at its hinges. You don't care. You're just...nosy, occasionally. Fiction formed from a few bad habits.

The consternation had been there before, threatening to bubble over, acidic enough to bleach bones. Yet even then you knew, Nanami had no use for emotional effervescence.

So what could you do, but wipe away the stains and residuals? Return him smudge-free glasses so he's immaculate and impassive once more. Though there's no alternative to ignoring your instincts, the filtrates of fear never quite boiled down to what you could label mere curiosity; still corrosive, always gnawing away at you.

In the stretch of months after, in his indefinite absences, the fangs drill down to your marrow. You only muzzle its maw when Nanami reappears with gashes and abrasions and an expression masking whatever else his shredded suits can't.

And you, you've gotten pretty decent at disguising the twisted relief that comes with finding his pulse; intermittent, but in your hands. You're the worst.

"You always did have expensive taste," he comments, catching your stare before you can tunnel further down that rabbit hole.

You blink, then snap the clasps on the first aid kit and scoff, "Please, your midweek coffee bill was double my lunch budget for the month."

Your hands make quick work of the packaging.

"Even if I was buying for two," you add.

"Did you want a reimbursement? You always said it was your treat."

You roll your eyes. "Because someone always forgot to take a break. Seriously? Not even a vending machine sandwich? Nobody should be able to survive solely off six espressos."

You pause, laying out a few other implements. "The cafeteria's ciabatta is a lot better now though, after you gave them those tips. Shame you left before you saw the benefit of your feedback pay out."

"Hm."

To anyone else, the sound is non-committal. But you recognize that hum, the rich roundness hinting at his satisfaction, that a minor injustice of yeasty mediocrity had been redressed.

You recognized it, because it was rare and you'd always had to strain to hear it, replaying it in your mind to compensate for the sore dearth set by reality's quota.

"Besides, I couldn't risk our top sales lead collapsing from low blood sugar at an important stakeholders' meeting. Oh, and Shuichi's department head now, so thanks for that."

There's a suspicion of amusement which rumbles low in his chest, a sound you've heard even less frequently, and so conversely, dreamed about more. But it cuts off abruptly into a rough grunt when your fingers ghost over his ribs, swiping antiseptic. You look up sharply.

"This is even worse than-"

"It should have been you." Nanami's interruption rings mildly vexed, to your surprise. He grips your hand with a force that's even more unexpected, as he pulls it away. "You had more seniority than him."

"Yeah well, you know how it is." you mutter, fist clenching around the cotton swab before hurling it into the bin. "Apparently women my age are meant to be running nurseries, not boardrooms."

Nanami watches you fiddle with the surgical thread, spooling it through without hesitation. Meets your gaze, unclouded by worry or weariness. It had been 2am when he had turned up unannounced. And he feels your hands, reassuring warmth hovering over his wound. He nods once, and you touch skims over ruptured skin, where a fresh scar awaits to adorn his obliques.

His breath seems harsh and loud to his own ears.

"You could manage both if that's what you wanted."

"What makes you think that?"

"You're capable of a lot. Discipline and kindness."

The crescent of your eyes and lips glint brighter than the curved piece of silver weaving in and out of his flesh. It's a pleasant distraction, he'll admit that much.

"Ruthlessness too," he adds, wincing as the needle digs into a particularly tender spot.

"Go on," your smile is sardonic, both bee sting and nectar. Nanami feels a twinge in his rib cage, in his chest free from any visible bruises.

"You're beautiful."

Maybe he lost a lot more blood than he realised. He only notices his accident of sincerity when the thread is tugged tense, the needle jerking back abruptly. Then the anvil drops over his windpipe.

He glances at the gleaming point, barely quivering between your thumb and forefinger. The tremble of your lips is terribly obvious by contrast.

Desperation surges through him suddenly, a riptide of an urge to have them quake against his own, to savour your whimpers shaking against his tongue, give you a taste of your own medicine, have the pinprick of his incisors sink into where you're soft and vulnerable. You've given him countless stitches, and he hasn't left a single mark on you. It's unfair. It's cruel.

"How-" A distracting slip of pink darts out to wet your lips. The needle nips into his skin again and he has to hold back a groan.

"How is that trait relevant to being either a manager or a mother?"

Nanami grips the edge of the tub, white-knuckled as its porcelain. There's a pause. Longer than he's comfortable with, though you don't seem to notice. Or comment on it at least. Small mercies.

Then he says, "It doesn't hurt your odds."

"My odds aren't that great."

For a moment, Nanami wonders if you're still fishing for compliments. But then, dorsal finned mischief flashes in your grin and you let him off the hook.

"Most smooth-talkers aren't like you. More style than substance."

Your smile stretches wry, deprecation retreats into the furthest corners of your cheeks. "Not that I meet many of them though."

"It's difficult to find someone compatible." You lean forward, on the pretext of inspecting the knot before you snip the thread. Your hand settles on his knee. His spine stiffens into a limestone column. The caterpillars in Nanami's belly curl into tight cocoons.

"Someone who isn't intimidated by my ambitions," your fingers are feather-light, trailing up his toned hamstrings. Nanami feels the winged creatures twitch in their chrysalis.

"My desires..." Your palm curves higher, like your lips, closer to the apex of his muscled thighs. Newborn butterflies stir, damp with arousal. Nanami swallows, perhaps his spit could extinguish the sparks fluttering in his gut.

"Someone who's sensible and strong, who could hold me down long enough to..." The ridges of your knuckles have met the crest of his seams, any further and you'd feel the effect of your touch, of your smoldering eyes.

"...put a child in me." Your whisper fans the flames in his hollowed cheeks, in his skin scorching and stretched thin over the flint of his jaw, in the recesses of his throat, scratchy with kindling.

"If that's what we both wanted." It's the slightest graze of your thumb, but Nanami's already doomed by the briefest jolt of his hips. Fuck. You definitely felt that. Your eyes flicker, but by some sheer miracle, not downwards, to where the wet spot is staining and straining against his fabric and your fingers.

"Do you know someone like that, Nanami?" you murmur and he breathes hard, sees the vapour of his harsh pants slip behind your own mouth, parted and patient. Your fingers haven't moved a fraction too.

His brushes with death have sculpted his body, corded his chiseled torso with complete control, each synapse wired with lightning to assess curses, salivating for his flesh and demise.

Nanami knows the anaerobic burn of adrenaline, what it is to run on fumes into the jaws of danger, to dispatch nightmares, to delay the inevitable. Countless demons slewed in calculations of perfect precision, in single fell swoops and too close shaves.

You are the greatest peril Nanami has faced in years.

It takes every last fiber of his being, of his battered body, crafted far beyond the demands of labour and the delusions of purpose, not to buck into the threat and promise of your gentle heated hands or crush his mouth to yours.

"No," Nanami croaks. "I don't."

iii.

There's something soupy about the atmosphere tonight, thick with humidity, hot fog rolling in. The sheets stick to his clammy skin.

He doesn't remember how he got here this time.

Regret reverberates together with recognition as his cuticles clink against glass. There's the rustle of foil, conveniently within reach too. The plastic pops twice underneath his nail. The end of the row, Nanami notices.

He wonders if these are the drowsy kind, or maybe it's just a moonless night and all the shadows are melting together. Eventually he finds the silhouette he's looking for, slumped into a chair.

Nanami squints at the world's saddest mountain, gradually losing its slope. It's the blanket sliding off you. It puddles by your ankles, next to a basin of water, tinged pink and tepid by now. You shiver slightly, his eyes dart up and sure enough, there's the rag, twisted in your hands.

An exhale wheezes its way from his ribs and Nanami winces; he should know by now shallow sighs are all his sunken chest will allow. But the pain is dulling everything, pounding against his ivory dome like a petulant brat with balled fists.

His mobile - had you confiscated it? Such sly sweetness - Focus, landline then for a taxi, tip extra for the smears on the seats -

"You should be carrying an umbrella with you these days. Could probably fit one in that holster."

Your admonishment pierces through his haze, sounding less groggy than he'd hoped.

"It'd obstruct movement."

"Or try wearing a poncho, unless you're worried it ruins the lines of your suit." You stand up, retrieving a familiar looking quilt off the floor. The shipping had been free, he recollects.

"Given the latest state of your jacket however, I doubt that's a priority."

Nanami hauls himself up, or tries to. His deltoids have other ideas, and every muscle beneath them agrees. The veto is unanimous, and he grimaces.

You shuffle over, remarking, "I've been looking for a good tailor. I'm sure you have recommendations."

"Bulk orders from the department store," Nanami grunts, combating gravity as he attempts to swing his leaden legs over the bedside. You drag the duvet back over his lap and it might as well be lumber.

"Shame on you," you scoff with such force that he stops struggling for two whole seconds to look askance at you.

"Deluding some atrocious tie designer out there into thinking they have a shot in the fashion industry."

Against his better judgement, Nanami decides a snort is worth the risk. It isn't, obviously. He learns, too late, the appeal of mirth's medicinal qualities is gravely overstated.

"And if I told you they were custom pieces?" he snipes.

"Then I'd applaud whatever keeps attacking you."

A warning filters through the back of his brain, Whatever, not whoever. Suspicion alone is a lethal enough threshold to his world, he can't risk you. And yet he's here, the voice whispers. Far from an emergency.

"My assailants are probably acquainted with decent tailors."

Nanami's cynicism towards humour as a balm ebbs, watching your lips curve.

"I'm in stitches," you state, digits skimming Nanami's pectorals, skirting around the petunias starting to clot there.

"You took a dozen this time," you add, a little softer.

He lets your palm stay on his chest. "Where's my cell?"

"Down the chute."

"I'll use yours then." He brushes your hand away.

"Mine's outta juice too." A fist this time, knuckles pressed to his breastbone.

Nanami's eyes flick up to the ceiling for a moment, he's long suspended belief in heaven or gods, the gravity of his bones remind him of this; Any covenant he's made is between his cursed technique and body - more altar than temple.

"Got a pull out couch?" he asks at last.

"Oh shut up. You're staying here," you huff in disbelief and he looks at you, a Vestal Virgin with embers for irises. A braver man than him would wait for the hint of a spark.

But instead he says, "More water, please."

You nod, handing him a mug that's still warm but empty. "I'll fetch the thermos - oh, hang on. Let me rinse that out, sorry."

Nanami takes a quick sniff before passing it over. "Nicaragua?"

"Guatemala, Santa Isabel," you elaborate. "Tea's probably better for putting you down though."

"Water's fine."

You slip out into the shadows, taking the aroma of the dark roast with you. Nanami reclines against the headboard, your scent lingering in his passageways. Yet another inconvenience he's instigated. A longstanding tradition, fitting its origins. There had been a time when you insisted on oolong instead, or the superiority of Ceylon. You were convincing enough in those first few months, with your tiresome tirades and passionate grandstanding in the pantry, all before 8am. Nanami had almost attributed your bright eyes to the beverages you rigorously argued for, even as he refused to deviate from the ritual masochism of his "sad bean juice". Not so much elixir as IV drip. "That much caffeine will wreck your melatonin production," you berated him. He had no idea what you were talking about but then, neither did you. The destruction of Circadian rhythms, the annihilation of any balance beyond the kind in the books you pored over (long after your bosses had dumped them on you a quarter to 7), would never boil down to what was poured into your mug. The defeat was inevitable. Nanami told himself he didn't miss your near daily trivial one-sided debates; they just interfered with his morning reports. Still, he had stared too long at the pair of steaming takeaway cups you carried in one day. "A peace offering," you said. "Robusta. The cafe down the street has a fresh batch every Tuesday." You leaned forward, depositing them under his nose. "Here's to the grind, on our terms." A croissant wrapped in the white flag of a serviette slides next to his cup, over the grey laminate of the table. Compromise shouldn't smell this good on you, he had thought. In your kitchen he's spotted both the conical slopes of the Chemex, and your stash of pyramid pouches with their loose leaf treasures. Just one more thing he's taken away from you on a night like this. He's an aberration, an intrusion - much like the flavours infringing upon your tongue. It ought to be the routine lull of chamomile, instead it's coffee, keeping you alert; iron and tannin tangling in the air. Nanami's mind drifts to the rude awakening your taste buds must endure, wonders about the sweetness there, more hazelnut than herbal, strong or mellow, aggressive or pliant- "Here." Nanami reaches out, fingers grazing ceramic that feels like hearthstones. He finds the handle by sheer luck. The sips he takes are small and slow, tendrils of steam climbing up his sheer cliff face. Over the rim, Nanami feels you watching him absently. Your concern suspended over the ravine between the both of you, silence slack in your carabiners.

Then you murmur, "Your mouth's too hot."

His throat goes taut. "What?"

"I forgot. Now the reading won't be accurate," you sigh.

Something rolls off his shoulders when he recognises the thin beak of the thermometer outlined in your grasp. The sensation is more weighted than mere relief, Nanami can't quite name it. It's a residual sludge in his gut, turning the ground to mud as he tries to trample it.

"I'm fine."

"Liar." The mattress dips and the boulder in his belly plummets as he feels your body brush next to his. He pushes back, it's Sisyphean, your breath against his clavicle, his soles are slipping.

"What are you-"

"Last I checked," you interject, wrestling the covers over your laps, "this is my bed."

His knees buckle as you shove aside his thigh with yours.

"You'll catch this bug." The warning is futile, Nanami knows. He's already set down the mug.

Your tone takes on a solemn timbre. "An extra risk. There's no known cure for cooties either. Sorry to break it to you."

Nanami huffs through his nostrils, he ought to feel more patronized than placated. But there's a levity to your touch, gently pressing him back against the bed.

"And I really hope you're not a blanket hogger because I'll kick you out. Injured or not."

There's already too little space between you and him but Nanami turns on his side, stoic expression that much closer. "You should have kicked me out a long time ago."

"Probably," you agree.

Nanami startles as your fingers sweep beneath his fringe, pressing your palm to his forehead, then to yours, then back to his.

"At least your fever's broken, I think."

Perhaps the pills worked, but Nanami doesn't feel the same relief flooding your gaze.

"Are you sure?"

Your touch lingers, he leans into it. His temperature is rocketing, if anything. Hesitantly, Nanami's hand glides over your temples.

"You're too warm yourself."

"I'm not," you object, despite the steadily building furnace in your cheeks. "Check again."

"This isn't accurate," Nanami mutters, but his touch settles over you. His fingers should stay in a delicate arch over your head but his hand is drifting to cup your face, feeling your smile curve into his palm. He cradles it, together with the quiet of your breathing slowing into sync.

"I should keep a couple of shirts in the closet. What size do you wear?" you mumble sleepily.

"That's not necessary."

You crack open an eye. "So you're gonna insist on staying half-naked in an unmarried woman's bed?"

Nanami retracts his hand swiftly, as if he's been scalded.

"That's not what-"

"Don't get me wrong," you smirk, drowsiness completely vanquished. (Had it really been there in the first place? Nanami wonders.)

"Wearing just perspiration and bandages is a great look on you, but..."

You pull the blanket higher over the distinct curves of his biceps, shifting closer. "You'll get cold. And the forecast said rain tonight."

The meteorologists must be right for once, he thinks.The atmosphere is electric, frenetic with an impending summer storm. He can feel the crackling in his capillaries, heat condensing in the air.

You're an inch, maybe less, away from his face now. Near enough anyway that he can make out the feathered arc of your lashes, can see how they'd flutter with each of his exhalations, if he isn't careful.

Nanami holds his breath, becomes statuesque. You notice.

He's a magnum opus of masonry, Michelangelo's misery, muscles cast in moonlight and breaking all mortal molds - but the truth is, he's built himself from scratch. You know this. You've admired his Adonis belt, cut from alabaster, yes, but you've also witnessed that rigid expression, pale as chalk. The bricks in his abdomen, the welts chiselled crudely into his spine, your hands have traced all this.

It's how you know where to look for movement now, your palm pressing over the telltale pounding in those marble pectorals, fingertips skating the shadows that dance along the column of his throat. Nanami swallows cinders, the inferno in his belly growls. There is smoke in his lungs, his trapped protests, his warnings will taste like ash.

Because Nanami's not sure how much more of your mercy he can take, how many more miracles will lay to waste his mornings and nights as he remembers the softness of your skin, free from soot.

Reality isn't this good to him, Nanami isn't kind enough for it-

But you are.

Your kiss is gentle, glacial. Mouth drifting over his, as innocuous and inevitable as an iceberg.

A kiss so gentle it rips the hull of him wide open.

A hissing, gasoline fumes siphoned from his clenched teeth as he rolls your body on top of him and his cracked ribs, your gasp tangling with the rustle of the sheets. They bunch in your fists as he feels you struggle to push away from him, to alleviate the weight, but Nanami needs it, like pressure upon a spurting wound, grabs your hips and holds them flush to his own as he locks his other hand around your nape. He nips your protest in half, teeth and tongue raking and tilling along your bottom lip, until at last you let submission bloom in the bruises there.

Nanami doesn't know if he will survive this tenderness; if it'll survive him. The struggle is exhausting. But then, your hand clutches the hair at the back of his neck, roots silken in your strong grasp. Soft blonde strands sprout through the gaps of your fingers, the furrow of your brow eases into a plateau, a quiet moan pushes into his mouth; and Nanami knows he's lost.

And found again.

He feels the sickle of your smile, the swipe of your tongue as it reaps the first fruits of spring.

The scent of rain starting to fall can't compare to the taste of you, the scattered sounds are even more vague. Nanami doesn't register the gale's shrill whistle, too focused on the high peals of your whimpers. Precipitation's heavier pitter-patter against the panes is drowned out by the hammering of your heart underneath him, all of heaven's rumbling can't contend with the rushed whispers of his name and yours. Nanami links your hands together, the syllables loop around your bodies tighter and tighter as the intervals between your chants get shorter, breathier.

You pull away from Nanami at last, not quite completely, as he tries to temper his greed by suckling at your neck, your pulse barely a pacifier for his petulance. You pant, head lolling further to the side.

The sky has mistaken itself for the sea, deluge of melodrama lashing against your window. The cityscape is shrouded in silver, though you're not exactly enamoured by the view at the moment.

Nanami coaxes your attention back to him, lips roving over your cheeks and chin and nose. He rests his forehead against yours, gazing deep into your eyes. The silence is different now.

There had always been a certain detachment and distance, as if he were tuned to the frequency of a far away planet, a separate world. Still, you were pulled into each other's orbit; a pair of satellites emitting mixed signals.

You sense him drifting now, calibrating, calculating again; static buzzing as he searches for the right words.

You sigh and tug Nanami into another kiss.

He's a little surprised the atmosphere isn't scorching, that he isn't burning up upon reentry, falling back into your gravity. The heat is still there of course, just under your tongue and evident in the kerosene trails you're painting across his chest. It's diffuse this time, simmering rather than searing. Languid as syrup, as butter browning in a skillet. No flash in the pan, you tell him, lips still occupied.

Nanami closes his eyes, the liquid light filling him brighter than any solar flare. You drag your kiss, slow and soothing, till it's tucked into the hollow of his throat.

"Sweet dreams, Kento."

How redundant, he thinks without verbalizing it, arm curling around his one impossible yearning that has already come true.

Quietness seeps through the room as you curl into Nanami's side, and he allows himself to drift into warmth's embrace; the warmth of a sunbeam spilling through billowing muslin curtains.

Perhaps he could get used to this thread count.

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x you #sandsorghum #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami x gender neutral reader #nanami x reader #nanami headcanons #kento x reader #kento x you #kento x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk headcanons #nanami kento headcanons #nanami kento hcs #nanami hcs #happy birthday to the LOML

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stuckybingo · 2 years

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Stucky Bingo Round-Up #7 (October 16th - 22nd)

Don’t forget to fill out the submission form to be a part of the round-ups and to get your bingo badges!

Stucky Bingo October 2022 Round Robin by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy, cable-knit-sweater, Dogsled, Girl_Back_There, jessybarnes, Politzania, Meg Square filled: AU: Reality TV, Telepathy, “Before we get started, does anyone want to get out?”, First Date, Muscles, and Nick Fury Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply, Ableist Language Major tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Reality TV, Dating Show, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Steve Rogers, Game Show Host Nick Fury, Brock Rumlow Causing Trouble Summary: “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Avenge Your Love, the newest and biggest show on the Marvel Network, designed to match a man of honor and bravery with the love of his life. I’m Nick Fury, your host for this adventure, and I’m here with Captain Steve Rogers of the U.S. Army. Captain, tell us a little bit about yourself.” Format: Round Robin

“I hate you” - “I love you” by cable-knit-sweater Square filled: N2 - Scott Lang Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Fluff and humor, stripping, lapdance, Steve Rogers is a little shit Summary: Scott plays the song "Under Pressure" each and every time he joins the Avengers on a mission. Bucky is sick and tired of it. Steve decides to tease him a little, and try to change his mind about the song. By taking his clothes off. Format: Medium oneshot (1000 - 5000 words)

It was about time by otp-holic Square filled: O3 - Engagement pictures Ao3 rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Fluff, headcanon, engagementX dancing Summary: Their first engagement picture Format: Headcanon and manip

Scars That Never Heal by Dogsled Square filled: Adopted Square Sept - Sokovia Ao3 rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: ghost steve rogers, angst, love confessions, unrequited love, sokovia Summary: Zemo was right about visiting Sokovia. He needed to come here, needed to see the things that Zemo has lost. Beyond that, it's a good place for some introspection on the things that Bucky himself has lost along the way. Format: Medium oneshot (1000 - 5000 words)

Tough Act by bugsandcoffee Square filled: N2 - Fake Dating Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply, Past Abusive Relationship Major tags: Fake Dating, Mutual Pining, Musician Bucky Barnes, Getting Back Together Summary: A decade after they broke up Bucky shows up on Steve’s doorstep. He needs his help. Bucky needs a boyfriend to convince his record label to let him release his next album and if he can't get a real boyfriend, a fake boyfriend will have to do. Steve agrees. After all there's nothing that could go wrong with fake dating the guy you've always had feelings for, is there? Format: Long oneshot (over 5000 words)

How About Love? - Chapter 2 by cable-knit-sweater Square filled: N3 - Free Square Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Shrunkyclunks, Flower Shop AU, Getting to know each other, Fluff Summary: Bucky Barnes owns a flower shop, and he’s not having the best day. A customer enters his store right when he’s about to close up for the night, and he couldn’t be more annoyed. He’s won over quickly though, by sad blue eyes, ridiculous shoulders, a soft voice and an appreciation for his craft. Format: Part of a multichapter fic

As Your Heartbeat Keeps Me Warm by Voylitscope Square filled: B5 - Forehead Touching Ao3 rating: Mature Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: angst with a happy ending, fluff and angst, friends to lovers, light sexual content Summary: ""I was awake,"" Bucky says. Steve's almost sure that's a lie. Bucky's breathing had been steady and measured as recently as five minutes ago. Steve decides not to point that out. Instead, he reaches his hand out between their bedrolls and grabs for Bucky's. ""Too strange for you, too?"" Steve asks, turning his head toward Bucky. ""Too something, anyway,"" Bucky says, moving his hand so that his fingers lace with Steve's. ""Too a lot of things, I guess."" (Or: Steve Rogers at exactly 2:14 am on 10 different sleepless nights between 1937 and 2020.) Format: Long oneshot (over 5000 words)

Soft Touches and Nose Kisses by jessybarnes Square filled: N2 - Nose Kisses Ao3 rating: Mature Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: FLUFF, nose kisses, Bucky has a cold, medicine, pills, worried Steve, clingy Bucky, pet names, maybe a curse word or two? Summary: Bucky gets a cold while Steve is out on a mission. Format: Medium oneshot (1000 - 5000 words)

kiss for good luck by buckyismybicycle Square filled: N1 - Long Distance Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Goodbyes, fluff, light angst Summary: “I wish it didn’t have to be like this,” Steve blurts out. I wish I wasn’t losing you again. I wish you didn’t have to do this. “It’s for the best, Steve,” Bucky reminds him. I have to. Format: Medium oneshot (1000 - 5000 words)

Stucky Pumpkin Family by Girl Back There Square filled: N3 - Free Space Ao3 rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Pumpkin Carvings, Stucky Family, Spoopy Season, Digital Art Summary: The whole family is represented for the spoopy season! Format: Art

#stucky bingo #stucky bingo round 4 #round up 7 #weekly round up #don't forget to fill out the submission form

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late-to-the-party-81 · 2 years

Text

Stranded - Bucky Barnes Bingo B3

AN: Here is my next fic for @buckybarnesbingo

Thank you for @yarnforbrains for beta-ing. Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Please check out my BBB master list, my SamBucky Stories master list and my main master list.

WC: 1.3k

CW: Angst, Injury, and Fluff.

Well, Bucky thought, this was just great. This was why he didn’t come on missions often, because if anything was going to go wrong, it was going to go wrong for him. He should have known when he found out that the recon was going to be in the Alps that he should have just said no. But then, he’d have had to say no to Sam, and it would have to be a cold day in hell before he said that.

He snorted. He was fucking cold enough for it to almost be that day.

Bucky shifted how he was sitting and then wished he hadn’t, as pain lanced up his left leg and he stifled a yell.

He’d been searching the first floor of the bunker they’d infiltrated. It had appeared abandoned, which was what was expected, and he, Sam, Joaquin and Yelena were searching for anything that might be useful. Not expecting any trouble, he’d taken the first floor, ‘Quin and Yelena the second and Sam the third. Fifteen minutes into his search, and he’d taken out his earwig because ‘Quin’s inane chatter was getting on his nerves. Of course it was then that the universe decided that Bucky had had too smooth a ride of late.

Why there was a hole in floor of a bunker – one that had been hastily and shoddily patched – he would never know, but one moment he’d been walking across the room, sweeping his rifle from side to side, the light attached to the barrel lighting up the room and it’s contents, and the next he’d been falling.

Bucky hated falling.

He also hated landing.

The floor had been uneven, and the crack of his leg had been audible as he’d hit it. He’d somehow managed to drag himself to the side, away from where any debris may fall down and land on him before he’d collapsed against the side of the space he was now in.

The light on his rifle flickered as he moved it around, and he was able to identify that he was in some sort of natural cavern that had been altered by humans, before the damn thing gave out, leaving him in the dark.

He’d shuddered, more a psychological reaction than a physiological one, but he was sure he could feel a cold breeze washing over him. His left hand felt around his neck and shoulder for the earwig and cable.

Shit.

It wasn’t there. Had it snagged on something as he fell?

So, no light, no way of contacting the others, and a broken leg. Normally this would be no biggie for Bucky, but unless his leg got set properly, it would start to heal wrong, meaning that when he did get out of here, it would have to be re-broken again. It had happened before, back in the past when he’d been The Soldier, and the problem with Shuri having unscrambled his brain, it meant that he remembered the pain. Of course, the HYDRA doctors hadn’t used any anaesthetic, just popped in his mouth guard and got on with it. The SHIELD doctors would be a lot nicer about it, of course, but it wasn’t something he wanted to go through if he didn’t have to.

He rested his head against the cool rock behind him and closed his eyes. He couldn’t see anything anyway, no point straining his eyes. No point in shouting either. He’d fallen from one dark room into another, although he reckoned it wasn’t more than 35 feet. Either way, given the others were on different floors, until they got closer to him, they wouldn’t be able to hear him.

Bucky wondered how long it would take them to realise that the fact he wasn’t answering was because of an actual issue, and not because he was being his normal, stoic self.

Obviously, he thought, Sam would notice first.

Right?

Bucky smiled to himself in the dark.

Of course Sam would realise first. He’d probably swap to their private channel, say something sweet, maybe a bit suggestive, and then the concern would come when Bucky didn’t respond. Then Sam would swoop down to the first floor, discover the hole, and come down to rescue him, like an angel descending to earth.

However, Bucky would never hear the end of it; of that, he was certain. Although it might be worth it to have Sam scoop him up gently against his broad chest and have Sam coddle him for a few days while he healed.

Another breeze came whistling through the room, stronger and colder and this time Bucky’s shiver was most definitely physiological. He was probably losing blood from his leg, and he ought to do something about it. Gritting his teeth and shifting his weight to his right leg, he unbuckled his belt and pulled it free from his pants in increments. He tried not to bite his lips too hard as the pain wracked through him; he needed to kiss Sam with them when this was all over.

Muttering under his breath, Bucky slipped his belt under his left thigh. The break was in his shin bone, so hopefully a tourniquet above the knee would work. He hissed as he tightened it, the leather creaking, and the lancing pain changing to a dull throb.

How long had he been down here? And why was he getting antsy? He’d stayed still in worse places for longer. Maybe he was getting tired of all this? It wasn’t like he was always on missions now. He’d slowed down, only coming along when he was needed. Or if Sam persuaded him, and Sam could be very persuasive. Like he had been this morning, when Bucky didn’t want to get up and was questioning whether he was truly needed, but it really was hard to say no when you’re having your soul sucked out…

Bucky’s mind drifted through his memories, but his eyes snapped open as his head nodded sharply. He was so tired, but he needed to stay awake. He needed to listen out for Sam; he needed to let him know… let him know…

“Hey, Buck!”

Pain bloomed across Bucky’s cheek from a light slap. Not anything he couldn’t cope with, but definitely unexpected. He opened his eyes and then snapped them shut against the bright light.

“Hhhmmmpphh”

The sleepy mumble of disgust he let out elicited a chuckle from behind the light. He cracked one eye partly open and tried to focus, but the light was blinding.

“There’s my Jamie…”

“Sammy! You found me.”

“Of course I did, baby. You don’t shake me off that easily. But please, next time, you want some attention, just tell me. Don’t go off disappearin’ and breakin’ somethin’, okay?”

“It’s a good thing I love you,” Bucky mumbled. He could almost feel Sam grinning. This was going to be as bad as he thought.

Sam moved closer, bending down to help pull Bucky upright.

“There we go, let’s get you up and…”

There was a bit of manoeuvring and a lot of grunting as Bucky felt himself being lifted up into Sam’s arms.

“Right, let’s get outta here, yeah?” Without waiting for an answer, Sam lifted off, flying along in the direction of the air flow and Bucky watched the light from his partner’s head torch skim over the rock surfaces.

He’d been stranded before, but he knew that Sam would never let him be left behind again.

And if anyone should ask, he was holding onto Sam tightly because of the pain, and not because he craved the closeness. No, siree.

Tag list: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @beelicious-barnes @sidepartskinnyjeans @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions

#bucky barnes bingo #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #sambucky #bucky barnes x sam wilson #late writes

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cleverthylacine · 1 year

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StarWave?

Before I answer, which Wave? I think you probably mean Soundwave but you could have also meant Shocky.

OK this is anon so you won’t know I asked. I’ll just have to do both.

Starscream/Shockwave: maaaybe? could be fun! Mad science love affairs are always fun, and you know that each of them has at least one angle, usually more. I would like to see this in a fic. I’m particularly fond of Shockwave discovers An Emotion fics so I am all for it.

Starscream/Soundwave: NOPE

This is almost NOTP for me, but it’s not as much of a NOTP as Cosmos/Soundwave is, so at least there’s that for ya?

First of all...Ravage/Soundwave is my OTP, except in Cyberverse where there’s no evidence Ravage ever existed. Now, Soundwave has two hands (and an immense number of cables even in G1 where you only see them a couple times). But I prefer that his other hand be attached to either Jazz or Megatron.

If they do it in Earthspark I will be very disappointed unless it’s a “Soundwave has two hands” situation involving both Ravage and Starscream. I don’t know enough about ES Starscream to have an opinion on whether he is good enough for my space husband, but...Ravage/Soundwave is my absolute OTP, and in Earthspark, they have shown us all the cassettes giving up on Soundwave except Ravage. I know that it’s probably not going to happen because idiots will consider it bestiality despite the fact that she’s smarter than Bumblebee is, but that doesn’t mean that anything which replaces it will be easy for me to love.

In Cyberverse, Ravage doesn’t exist, but in Cyberverse, Starscream is the absolute worst, and Soundwave is as always the king mech of my heart. Plus, Soundwave and Hot Rod have hearts in their optics even at first when they’re still annoying each other, so in CV I ship Hot Rod/Soundwave, and yes, Soundwave has two hands, but CV Starscream is a Quint collaborator who tried to destroy their universe. I like Starscream generally, but not this one.

In G1, I can’t see it. Soundwave is deeply loyal to Megatron and Starscream keeps trying to murder him.

In Prime, people who write this are almost always Megatron haters and Autobot stans. And they make Soundwave helpless, which I hate. Megatron is pretty gross in TFP and he’s terrifying, but he respects Soundwave and they’re obviously very close. Every Starscream/Soundwave TFP fic I have ever read involves Megatron raping them both and usually getting one of them involuntarily pregnant, at which point they flee to Optimus and his amazing Autobot healing spike. Gross. This makes me puke.

Megatron is an asshole when his brain is on dark energon, but he loves Soundwave at least as a friend, and since he was an ex-gladiator turned freedom fighter, I really don’t see Megatron raping anyone ever. Addictive, hard drugs make you do worse things than you’d ordinarily do, but usually they only make you do things completely outside your moral compass if you’re desperate to get them and someone else who has them is making you do that thing.

Ravage is canonically dead in TFP, but I like to think that Megs and Sounders both loved her and that this might even be part of what’s making Megs so whack, although he’s clearly not over his divorce from OP.

Anyhow, it’s possible that I could like this maybe if the people who wrote it weren’t always trying to make me pity them both and worship OP’s dick.

In IDW1, even Riptide, who is not on anyone’s top 10 IQ list, has managed to notice that Ravage was in a messy triad with Megatron and Soundwave and that Ravage is being forced to make a decision that Ravage does not want to make or acknowledge. The way Rav and Wave met in IDW is super romantic, and nothing shouts “broken triad” like telling your lover to go murder the other third of your triad when that person betrays you both and also you want to know which of you two she loves most. Meanwhile, I don’t see enough interaction between Starscream and Ravage to have any basis for shipping them.

In TFA Soundwave is robot Pinocchio and not really Soundwave so who cares?

In the UT Soundwave is a Unicron agent and Starscream is desperately trying to be good so I don’t see that happening either.

#starscream/soundwave #(no)#starscream/shockwave #could work might be fun

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castiel · 2 years

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hi hello please tell me more about the lighthouse fic 👀👀💕💕

ahh!! thank you for asking jordan!

i'm not even sure where the idea for this came from. i feel like i was just picturing cas as a lighthouse keeper at one point and decided to go for it.

excerpt:

“I heard this place was haunted.”

The corners of Castiel’s eyes crinkled. “Haunted?”

“Ya.”

Castiel tilted his head. “Are you some sort of… paranormal enthusiast?”

Dean breathed out a short laugh. “Uh, I’m not sure that I’d use quite those words.”

Castiel hummed and narrowed his eyes before straightening his stance. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t believe my home is haunted.”

“It’s not?” Well this was a bust if that was the case.

“No.” Castiel tucked his hands into the pockets of his thick work jeans. He was also wearing a dark blue cable knit sweater that only further served to set off his eyes. Which Dean found himself staring into again. Seriously, what was with that? It wasn’t like Castiel was shy about practically staring into his soul, and it only seemed to drag Dean in like gravity pulling at his gaze.

A sudden crash made him jump to the right as a bottle rolled towards his feet. It had clearly fallen from somewhere, but Dean didn’t see anyone but them in the room. “Are you sure it’s not haunted?” he asked.

Castiel’s lips quirked and he gestured up at the curved wall to Dean’s left. “Not unless you count Mrs. Butters.” Dean squinted in the dim light and saw a small tabby cat winding her way between various objects on a shelf near the ceiling.

Dean raised a brow at the name. “Mrs. Butters?”

Castiel shrugged. “She likes butter.”

-- outline:

so cas lives on this little island with his cat and is the strange lighthouse keeper that the mainland villagers have lots of mysterious stories about. dean ends up going there because he heard that the lighthouse was haunted and with sam away at school, he figures he'll check it out since he's always wanted to do a seaside case. of course, being dean, he doesn't check the weather forecast. so when he arrives on the island, there's a storm brewing. dean ends up getting stuck on the island for a week while the seas are too rough for him to get back to the mainland. he and cas get to know each other, and see a lot of similarities in each other. even though they've both been on their own for a long time, they find they like the company. at the height of the storm, a siren calls out to dean and he goes down to the rocks. the siren looks like mary and is trying to tempt him into the sea. cas saves him but not before dean gets injured. cas heals him and that's when dean finds out that cas is an angel who fell to earth a long time ago, and has just a little bit of grace left.

there's limited electricity on the island, so there's no heater and just a singular bed... and dean has to get warmed up somehow...

#jenn writes #jennmish writes #destiel fic #deancas fic

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moonfurthetemmie · 2 years

Text

The Slash Fic part 2 which is apparently slowly turning into Simping For All Of Them but that’s fine

Previous Next

You wake a couple of times before you manage to stay up.

The first time, you were barely conscious. You heard voices, though they sounded like they’re underwater and you can’t really understand them. You remember being slung over someone’s shoulder and being in pain. You were jostled as the person walked and apparently made some kind of noise, because they seemed to address you before you passed out again. You think you heard something like ‘we’ll be there soon’ before you went.

The second time you were in a strange room, and a familiar figure was wrapping your arm.

“Oh. Morning. Nice of you to wake up.” She’d grinned at you. You still couldn’t see very well, but you recognized Cross’s voice.

“How ya feeling?”

You’d only blinked at her, and then looked down at your arm. You tried to say it hurts but all you could manage was incoherent mumbling.

“…Yeaaah. You might have a concussion,” she didn’t seem to have been talking to you. “Not surprising, you fell down a whole set of stairs. I’m more surprised you’re not dead, honestly.”

Your vision began to dim again, and her voice faded back out, as she mumbled to herself about having a person with a concussion in the maze wouldn’t be as fun.

Finally, you wake up in a makeshift bed made of cardboard boxes, with an old pillow and blanket. It’s…not comfortable.

The room is pretty bare, aside from you and your bed. There’s a plain grey clock on the wall, which tells you it’s either about midday or midnight. There’s a cooler on the opposite side of the room. The door is just a plate of metal with a handle. You don’t seem to be in a house of any kind. The room doesn’t seem to be a cell, either.

There’s a vaguely familiar woman sitting by your guest bed, sharpening a pocket knife. The mismatched red and yellow eyes would be recognizable on any human, but on a dark-skinned lady covered in scars, they stand out a bit more.

Error doesn’t look like she’s been in as many fights as Nightmare and Cross, but she tends to prefer incapacitating her targets from a distance before going in for the kill. Or at least, that’s what the news stations think. No one who’s actually seen them in action has lived to tell the tale. All anyone has to go off of is the fact that some of their victims are found hanging by their feet from trees or balconies, and she’s the only one who has bright blue magic cables, but it’s a fair assumption.

She notices you wake up and grins at you. A sharp grin that tells you you’re in danger.

“Well. Look who decided to face reality again.” She twirls her knife in her hand and stands. “You’ve been asleep for a while.”

Your mouth feels cemented shut, but you manage to say, “Where…am I?”

Error flicks her knife shut and puts it in her pocket. “You’re in our warehouse!” She says, spreading her arms wide. “We turned it into a death maze. It’s going to be great. You’re going to hate it.” She grins more. “But before we get to that, Cross has been in charge of making sure you heal up from your tumble down those stairs, so I gotta tell her you’re up. Do me a favor and try to at least say hi.”

“…and if I don’t?”

She flicks her hand. Before you can blink, there are blue strings coming from her hands and wrapped around your neck.

“I kill you.”

The strings aren’t tight enough to hurt you. But they are tight enough to warn you.

Just as quickly as they’d appeared, the strings vanish. Error chuckles and picks her phone up from the floor where she’d been sitting.

As she dials her friend’s number, she says, “I should also let you know that we took your phone, and your watch, and everything else on you that could potentially be used to call for help.”

After a few rings, Cross picks up.

“‘Yellow,” comes Cross’s voice.

“They’re awake.”

“Yepic.”

Error holds out the phone to you. “Say hi.”

You gulp and do your best to keep the terrified stutter out of your voice.

“Oh you’re coherent and everything too?” Cross sounds surprised. Then excited. “Hell yeah. How are you feeling?”

You don’t want to answer, but Error’s gaze tells you that it would be safer to keep talking.

“Um…okay? Ph-physically, that is.”

“How’s your arm?”

You look down at your other. You’d forgotten that you broke it falling down the stairs.

“It feels fine right now,” you say.

“And your head?” You reach up and feel the linen bandage wrapped around your head. “The bandages are…kind of tight.”

“Well, I had to make sure it would stop bleeding,” she says dismissively. “You ever seen someone get a cut on their head? It bleeds a lot. Even if it’s just a tiny little knick. And you nearly busted your head open, so I also had to take into account your skull possibly being cracked.”

“Do…do you wrap broken bones often?”

“Nah, usually Error does that,” she says casually. “I usually just set the bones. But yeah, we have to do most of our medical care, since there’s not a hospital in the multiverse that would admit us.”

“…how would that work out if you needed surgery?”

“It wouldn’t,” Errors snorts. “So we’re careful.”

“Very!” Cross agrees. “That’s why we don’t jump at walls in dark, unfamiliar, multistory houses.”

You glare at the phone. Not that it’ll do much.

Error laughs. “They’re giving you a dirty look.”

“Okay but it was stupid,” Cross states. “You realize that, right?”

“It was either that or get cut in half!” You snap.

“Which would’ve been a much quicker and less painful death than the one you’re about to get!” Cross says cheerfully. “I’ll get Night, we’ll be there in a few minutes. Then I can do a full check up on our new friend and see if they’re ready to play in the maze with us.”

You do not like how she said that.

“See you then,” Error says, like she’s just talking to friends about hanging out for a game night. She hangs up the phone. “You’re going to be fun,” she decides, looking you over. “You want anything to eat? Or some water or something?”

You don’t feel like eating. You don’t know how long you’ve been out, though, and your throat does feel rather parched.

“Just…some water please,” you say. She opens the cooler and pulls out a cold bottle of water. She tosses it to you, and you barely manage to catch it with your good hand. You jostle your broken arm in the process. You hiss in pain.

“Oops. My bad.” She doesn’t sound very sorry.

You sip on the water, trying to ignore Error humming the Smash Bro’s theme as she examines her now very sharp knife, until the door creaks open. Cross comes in, along with Nightmare, the man who’d been at the desk at the motel you’d foolishly decided to stay at, against your instincts.

You’d always imagined he’d be big and burly, but he was more on the small side. Short and spindly, but with enough visible muscle that you knew he could easily overpower you. His purple eyes were curious, but cold. He was a natural killer, and you could tell just by looking at him.

Cross was more like you imagined. Big and strong looking, and covered in scars. You hadn’t really gotten a good look at her before. She was pale; that much you remembered. And you remembered that red eye. The other was white. You’d never seen a human with a white iris before. Then again, you’d never seen a human with red eyes. Or purple eyes.

Nightmare’s carrying a plastic shopping bag with what look like medical supplies.

Cross comes forward and crouches next to your bed. “You seem alright,” she muses. “Here, try to follow my finger with just your eyes.”

You’re not entirely sure the point of this test, but you manage. Your eyes hurt for some reason, but you can follow her finger just fine.

“Good. You probably don’t have any serious brain injuries, then.”

“Probably??” She shrugs. “We’re not doctors. We just do what we can.”

That’s fair, you decide. You still don’t like that.

Cross does a few more tests on you, then checks over your arm, and then unwraps your head bandage and examines your head injury.

She hums thoughtfully. You’re trying your best to sit still, but every instinct is yelling at you to get as far away from her as possible. She was being very gentle with you, but that didn’t make you relax.

“You seem to be in pretty good shape,” she says finally, backing up. “Night, can you-“

“Yep.” Nightmare pulls out a fresh wrap bandage and tosses it to Cross, who catches it flawlessly. She re-wraps your head, making it just as tight as before.

“There!” She pats your shoulder and you flinch. “You should be good. Just a little bit of food and rest and then we can throw you in the maze.”

“Why do you even have a death maze?” You ask without thinking. The Meme Squad all turned to you and you shrank back.

Nightmare snickered. “You don’t have to be that scared of us yet,” he says. You do not like that smile. Error points at you with her knife casually. “As you might’ve noticed, we’re a bunch of nerds. We found this abandoned warehouse, so we made it into a maze that looks like the backrooms.” She tilts her head to the side. “You know what the Backrooms are, right?”

“Y…yeah. You clip through reality and go to a never ending maze that may or may not be full of monsters?”

“Exactly.”

Nightmare crosses his arms. “Our maze only has a metaphorical kind of monsters. It would be really fun to watch some freaky thing chase you down, though.”

You shift uncomfortably.

All you wanted was to go visit your friends. Why did you have to get caught be these psychopaths??

“What do want to eat, by the way?” Cross asks. “And don’t say ‘nothing.’ You have to eat something.”

“You’re being awfully hospitable for serial killers who are going to chase me through their backrooms-themed death maze.”

“Well it won’t be any fun if you can’t run.”

“What’s the point of running?” You ask. “Is there even a way out?”

Nightmare grins. “There is, actually. The entrance and exit to the maze is the front door of the warehouse.”

“Anyway,” Cross says, snapping her fingers in your direction. “Food?”

#I do not think this has the need for any content warnings I think it's just Dread #oh wait #cw kidnapping #that might be important #Okay but OTHER THAN THAT you're ok right now #Horror!DS #H!DS Slash #H!DS Byte #H!DS Pluto #my fucked up beloveds #I'm trying to keep Slash as the focus but the other two need some attention too....#I ask you again.#if i can't simp for my own characters. What's the point #mmmmm comfy cardboard box bed #the blanket was probably made by Error a long time ago. she still does crafty things! They have hobbies other than murder 😌#part 3 is in the Works we'll what happens with that one #The Slash Fic #Moonfur Writing

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thebuckybrigade · 6 years

Text

Healing Hands Part 1

Cable x reader fic here! Should be about three parts, one each #metalarmmonday lol

Enjoy!

It had been a long shift...like 18 hours long. The kind of shift where someone had thrown up on you at least six hours ago, and the bus had smelled like urine, and you were pretty sure the rain had frizzed your hair into a wild mane, and all you really wanted was a hot shower and sleep.

Well...at least you got the first one.

Fresh out of the shower and half asleep as you stumbled towards your bed, the pounding on your front door made you stop and wonder if homicide by exhaustion was a legal defense.

Groaning softly, you secured the robe around you tighter and paused at the door to grab your baseball bat, tucking it behind one leg as you cracked open the door.

“Doc!” a cheery, red latex covered face greeted you.

Groaning louder you shook your head vehemently, “No Wade, I’m not stitching up whatever dumbass you’ve roped into helping you this time,” you refuted, trying to close the door against his foot.

“Haha, ouchies doc! You’re gonna break my foot!” Ward declared loudly—too fucking loudly for 3am in this neighborhood and in this building.

“Goddamnit, shut up and get in here,” you hissed, unlatching the door and throwing it open. Ward gave a quick salute and then grabbed the—metal arm?!—of someone and dragged him into your apartment.

The other person was an older man, maybe in his 50’s, with silvery black hair and a buzzed undercut, but the most interesting feature was surely the metal arm and bits of metal on his shoulder peeking out from his blood soaked grey t-shirt.

“What happened?” you demanded as Ward carried the unconscious man back to the small bathroom that was just off your bedroom.

“Bad guys with lots of guns. Alien tech apparently, and no one from SHIELD thought they should share the news with us that these fuckers are running around trying to kill mutant kids,” Wade told you, voice pleasant, minus the acerbic note that greatly sounded like he was looking to hunt someone down and turn them into sushi with his swords.

“Right, give me a second,” you muttered, hurrying to your closet to pull out a clean pair of scrubs and hastily pulled them on, ignoring the fact that Wade was cat calling you as you did.

The first few times this had happened with whoever Wade pulled into his bullshit you had been totally unprepared, and confused as to how he had found you.

Then he had lifted his mask and told you his real name and the realization came that he had been on your rounds in the oncology ward.

So here you were, a year later, stealing medical supplies to stitch up whomever Wade dragged into your life, praying that you’d never get caught.

Falling to your knees beside the tub, you ignored the fact that Wade had taken a perch on your sink and was drawing on your mirror in lipstick.

A quick glance told you it was your least favorite color, so no loss there.

Turning your attention to the man in the tub, you quickly went to work, cutting off his shirt to assess the damage. “Hooooly fuck,” you whispered, wide eyed.

Half of the man’s body was metal from the waist up. But that...that wasn’t possible, was it?

The real issue here was the bullet hole in the man’s right shoulder and another along his abdomen. Both were bleeding profusely, steadily.

Looking up at Wade you smacked his leg, “Help me undress him, I don’t want to get more blood on his clothes than I have to,” you ordered.

“Oh goodie, can we see if his cock is metal? I bet it is,” Wade murmured eagerly and you snorted, shaking your head in disbelief.

“You are...” you huffed as you wrestled with the man’s torso, lifting him so you could get at the torn pieces of his shirt, “the thirstiest man I have ever met,” you gasped, settling the man’s shoulders back against the tub wall.

“Aww thank you,” Wade purred, taking the blood stained pants and boots along with him as he hopped onto your counter again.

Smirking, you quickly pulled out a clean wash cloth and turned on the hot water, soaking it before you wrung it out over the wounds.

Metal flashed and pinched—the man was awake and growling profanities at you, your wrist firmly in his grip.

“What the fuck?! Who the fuck are you?!”

“Hey Cable, have a nice nap? This is the doc, she’s our friend so don’t break her, okay?” Ward called tossing a tampon at the man’s—Cable’s—head.

A long moment passed in which the only sound was Cable’s heavy breathing and then, he released you. His blazing—literally, that left eye was glowing—gaze turned to you and you could see the mistrust that still lingered there.

Giving him a faint smile, you leaned back a little, giving him space. “Hey, Mr-uh-Cable,” you murmured hesitantly and stalled out when his eyes narrowed in a glare.

“‘S just Cable,” he rasped, deep voice sounding loud in your small bathroom.

“Right, well you can call me Doc like Wade does, or Nurse Smith, whichever you prefer,” you told him, “but for now, I need you to hold still so I can get the bullets out of you and stop that bleeding.”

Cable studied you a moment and then nodded, begrudgingly. Your hands moved quickly after that, pulling your hair back into a bun, snapping on sterile gloves, and going to work.

To his credit, Cable did little more than grunt and wince when you pulled the bullet from his shoulder and hissed softly when you stitched both wounds up.

When you had finished, you guided him to sit on the toilet and applied fresh bandages to each wound, occasionally peering up at him from where you knelt between his legs.

Ward chattered on in the background, for which you were grateful because by this point, you weren’t sure if Cable hated you in particular or just had a shitty attitude about free medical aid.

Either way, when you were done, you rose unsteadily to your feet, head swimming with exhaustion and adrenaline. When you swayed, black spots dancing in your vision, you felt something warm and metal close around your elbow and hold you steady.

“Easy there doc.”

When the spots had cleared from your vision you looked around the bathroom in confusion, “Where’s Wade?” you asked, feeling groggy.

Cable rose to his feet, a little more steadily than you had, and reached for his pants and boots, still sitting on your counter where Wade had left them.

“Raiding your fridge I think,” was the gruff reply you got as he struggled to pull on his pants without bending over.

Quickly, you knelt and helped to guide the fabric over his muscular thighs—holy mother of god, how is a man his age this hot?! you wondered desperately.

“I-I got it,” he growled, trying to brush your hands away.

Frowning up at him you scoffed and rocked back, waving to his boots, “By all means, rip your stitches open and have me do them all over again,” you snapped sarcastically.

He glared down at you, eye glowing, and then sighed in frustration, looking away.

Taking that as your cue to help him, you quickly guided his feet into the boots and laced them up before standing once more, your head pounding ferociously.

“I think I’ve got a shirt that’ll fit you,” you murmured, swaying a little as you went to your closet and pulled out an oversized T-shirt you had won at some raffle.

Tossing it to him you grinned when he unfurled it and read the front, his scarred, displeased visage deepening.

“Don’t get caught with your pants down, get tested...and clap back at the Clap,” he read out loud, disbelievingly.

Nodding, you grinned when he scowled at you, “It was a public health initiative to try and get people to get tested.”

When he only scowled deeper, you shrugged, “Whatever man, wear it or don’t, but you’ll attract more attention without it, especially with all that metal,” you muttered, waving a hand toward his chest before striding away and leaving him to his decision.

As you entered your kitchen you sighed heavily, because true to what Cable had said, Wade was rummaging through your fridge, even as he ate from a box of cookies.

Scowling, you stormed over and snatched them out of his hands and nudged the fridge door shut with your hip.

“Stop eating my food Wade. I’m the one who worked an 18 hour shift and then had a stranger shoved into my tub for stitches. I get the cookies,” you told him tiredly.

“You know doc, that’s why I come to you,” Wade told you, leaning against the counter to peer at you through his mask as you ate a cookie.

“Mmph curkies?” you asked through a mouthful of Oreo.

“No silly! Because you’re the best at making people feel better even when it’s a really shitty day,” he told you and something in his voice made you pause.

“You have a shitty day?” you asked hesitantly; trying to gauge his emotions through the mask was hard.

He shrugged and stared down at the countertop. “Vanessa was killed a year ago. So, lots of shitty days,” he replied quietly.

Something in the middle of your chest ached and you slid the package is Oreos across be counter towards him.

Lifting his mask back up to rest on his forehead, he gave you a small, grateful smile before shoving two in his mouth. Smirking, you laughed softly and leaned on the counter across from him, sharing the cookies and silence.

Heavy bootsteps caught your attention and you looked up to find Cable walking slowly over, face lined with pain.

When he leaned against the counter you slid the Oreos toward him and shrugged when he shook his head no. Turning away, you dug through your work bag until you found your prescription pad and waved it to Cable.

“I can write you something for the pain,” you offered, huffing in annoyance when he immediately shook his head in denial. “C’mon, recovery from two bullet wounds isn’t going to be easy or quick, you don’t have to suffer and be fucking macho,” you snapped.

Cable’s eye blazed at you as he met your gaze angrily, “I said no. I don’t need to dull the pain,” he growled.

Scoffing angrily, you threw the pad back into your bag and turned to Wade, “As always, it’s great to see you, but I’ve got to sleep. Don’t get shot on the way home,” you ordered, heading to the door to hold it open for them.

Wade snatched four more cookies(in each hand) and tugged his mask down before sauntering over and leaning down to press a weirdly adorable kiss to your cheek.

“Thanks for the fix and the cookies doc,” he replied warmly.

Rolling your eyes you hid a smile and leaned up to hug him, “I’m sorry about Vanessa,” you whispered, giving him an extra squeeze before releasing him.

He nodded and then looked over to where Cable was making his way slowly across the room, sighing exaggeratedly. “Ughh come on old man, time to let the nice lady sleep!” he declared before striding across the room and physically helping Cable.

To your surprise the older man didn’t object, and, not to your surprise, only gave you a nod of thanks before the door closed between you.

Hastily you locked it and then stripped off your dirty scrubs before collapsing in bed.

The mess in the bathroom would just have to wait.

Hey guyyys...so I had this little plot bunny hoping around and thought I’d share! How’s everyone doing this Monday? Is this a good update for a #metalarmmonday / #mancrushmonday ?! More parts to follow!! Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Xoxo 💋

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aziraphales-library · 2 years

Note

hi hi! thank you for all your work with this blog. i was wondering if i might could ask for some fics that would brighten one’s day? soft, comforty type things with a/c and if possible maybe g or t rating if you know of anything? sending all of you little forehead kisses and good vibes. <3

Hello hello! You’re welcome. I have some lovely soft warm fics for you, which are hopefully as nice as forehead kisses and good vibes...

A Better Place For Us To Be by Mackem (T)

A smile spreads across Aziraphale’s face. “You’re not speaking hypothetically, are you?” he asks softly, because he needs to be sure. Because they spent millennia not saying how they felt, and he would prefer never to face that uncertainty again. “Do you really mean it, Crowley? You’d like to move somewhere else? Together?”

“Of course together. There’s no me without you,” Crowley says immediately, his voice low and tender. Aziraphale reaches out to him instinctively with a soft noise, and Crowley lets himself be reeled closer when Aziraphale fastens a hand around his wrist. He chuckles affectionately when Aziraphale nuzzles briefly into his lean stomach, overcome for just a moment by the warmth in Crowley’s voice.

Sometimes he wonders how on Earth he managed to persuade himself that Crowley had ever felt anything other than love for him, when the sheer force of it is like a tidal wave crashing over him, washing away millennia of doubt.

Safe In Your Arms by AppleSeeds (T)

After moving out of his flat following a fire, Aziraphale moves in with Crowley, who turns out to be very lovely and seems determined to do anything he can to comfort Aziraphale when he finds out about the nightmares he's been having.

How You Remind Me Of Some Spring by ineffablefool (G)

Pure plotless ace fat-positive fluff about an angel and a demon who love each other very much. Part of the Do It With Style Reverse Bang, inspired by and featuring artwork by kerkusa! Welcome to the Soft Zone(TM), please enjoy your visit.

How Two Hands Touch by thefoxandtherose (T)

Aziraphale didn't believe in reiki, or healing energies, or crystals, despite the thinly veiled implications and upsell offerings of this particular spa. But he believed in love. He believed in loving the people around him, and he believed in channeling that care into his work. --- Crowley seeks out a new massage therapist when his old injury starts giving him hell.

a picnic plan for you and me by theappleppielifestyle (G)

“It’s angel food cake,” he said. He waited. When Aziraphale did nothing but nod politely: “It’s funny, see, ‘cause-”

“No, no, I get it.” Aziraphale nodded again. “Very funny.”

“Oh, shut up, it is-”

“May I ask what brought this on?”

Crowley paused. “Can’t a guy just want to try baking?”

(Or, Crowley makes Aziraphale food after the world doesn't end. It has absolutely nothing to do with how much he wants to make Aziraphale smile.)

Cables and Argyle by EnchantressEmily (G)

Crowley knows he isn't the usual sort of knitter, and he can't see himself fitting into a knitting group. But the group that meets at the Shangri-La Yarn Shoppe is nothing like what he expects - especially the fussy, charming man in charge of it.

(AKA: the knitting group AU no one asked for.)

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #fluff #domestic fluff #human au #south downs cottage #mod d

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verai-marcel · 1 year

Text

Master List of RDR2 Fics

Last Updated: 3/18/2023

Trigger Warnings in (parenthesis), other tags in Chapter 1 or beginning of fic. If a link doesn’t work, check #writing or #rdr2 fanfic or #rdr2 drabble or #rdr2 headcanons to find it. Latest fics have a *NEW* next to them.

I’ll try to mark things as Female Reader (F!Reader), Male Reader (M!Reader), or Gender Neutral Reader (GN!Reader). If I forget, just let me know so I can update.

Red Dead Online Original Characters are on the bottom of this list. Also find them tagged under #rdo oc.

Also all my fics (including ones not posted on tumblr) can be found on my AO3 page here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verai

——————————————–

One Shots (Newer fics at the top of the list):

Spy Awry 2: Mail Room Boogaloo - Arthur x Fem!Reader, modern AU, 18+ (DubCon)

Spy Awry - Arthur x Fem!Reader, modern AU, 18+ (DubCon)

Serendipitous Meetings - Arthur x Fem!Reader, modern AU, 18+

Forever and Always - Arthur x Fem!Reader, fluff

Of Dragons and Love - Arthur x Fem!Reader, 18+

Sharing is Caring - Arthur x Fem!Reader, Charles x Fem!Reader, 18+

Maid for Him - Arthur x Fem!Reader, Canon divergent AU, 18+

A Bear of a Man - Werebear Arthur x Fem!Reader, 18+

Know Your Place - Angry Low Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader, 18+ (NonCon, DubCon)

——————————————–

My Series:

The Upsides of Property Damage (3 of 5 chapters posted, Ongoing, co-author with @shootybangbang)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Double Dedication - AU, Morgan Twins x F!Reader, 18+ (Complete)

Between High & Low: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Possession & Punishment

Payback

Vulgarity & Vows: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Noir AU - Arthur is head of security in a night club run by the Van der Linde family, and you’re a backup singer in the club. (Complete)

My Song Bird - Arthur x Singer Fem!Reader, 18+

Instinct - Arthur x Singer Fem!Reader, 18+

Ride Through My Heart - Modern AU - “Biker AU” - Tattoo Artist Arthur x Dancer Fem!Reader, John x Florist Fem!Reader, 18+ (Complete)

Before This Dance Is Through - Modern AU Tattoo Artist Arthur x Dancer Fem!Reader - Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Clean - Side Story

The Things That We Could Be - Charles x Journalist F!Reader - Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

This Is Perfection - Model Javier x Photo Intern Fem!Reader

Do What I Dare - Tattoo Artist Arthur x Dancer Fem!Reader

Neighborly Affection - AKA “Neighbor AU”, Modern Mechanic Arthur x IT Help Tech Fem!Reader, 18+ (Complete)

The Man Next Door: Chapter 1 - Beginnings | Chapter 2A - High Honor Arthur version | Chapter 2B - Low Honor Arthur version

First Round’s On You: Side A - High Honor | Side B - Low Honor

Meeting The Friends - Side A - High Honor | Side B - Low Honor

Playing Dress-Up - Side A - High Honor | Side B - Low Honor

Stress Relief - Side A - High Honor | Side B - Low Honor

Taking Time For You - Side A - High Honor | Side B - Low Honor

Tech Support - Side A - High Honor | Side B - Low Honor

Domestic Bliss - Side A - High Honor | Side B - Low Honor

Life Level Up - Side A - High Honor | Side B - Low Honor | Epilogue

Corrections - Modern AU - “Prisoner AU” - Prisoner/Construction Worker Arthur x Prison Guard Fem!Reader, Charles x Vet Fem!Reader, Javier x Barista Fem!Reader, 18+ (Complete)

Submit to Release - Low Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader, originally a request one-shot (DubCon)

Side Story: Arthur’s First Day Out - Arthur & Charles, best buddies

Invitation Only - Medium Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader

Into The Wolf’s Den | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 - Medium Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader

Revealing More - Medium Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader

The Reality of Idle Fantasies - Medium Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader

Lost and Found - Charles x Fem!Reader

Side Story: Charles Volunteers - Charles volunteers at an animal shelter

More Than Words | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 - Charles x Fem!Reader

Confessing Darkness - Arthur x Fem!Reader

Caring for Kitten - Charles x Fem!Reader

All Tied Up - Arthur x Fem!Reader

Breaking Habits - Charles x Fem!Reader

Absolution - Arthur x Fem!Reader

What Is Real | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 - Javier x Fem!Reader

Sweet Surrender - Arthur x Fem!Reader

Forever In Your Arms - Vampire Arthur x F!Reader, 18+ (Complete)

Part 1: Midnight Rendezvous: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Part 2: Midnight Promises: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 (TW: some angst, assisted suicide, death, blood)

Desperate Desire - AU - “Deputy AU” - Deputy Arthur x Doctor’s Assistant/Burglar Fem!Reader, 18+ (Complete)

Sinful Payment: Low Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader (NonCon)

A Fortnight of Falling: Medium to High Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader (DubCon)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

A Reason to Return - High Honor Arthur

An Unconventional Union - High Honor Arthur

Inescapable Rapture: Low Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader (DubCon)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Back Alleys Are No Place For Proper Ladies - Low Honor Arthur, Consensual Non-consent

Taste of You - Incubus!Arthur x Fem!Reader, 18+ (Complete)

Part 1: The Sweet Taste of You

Part 2: The Pure Taste of You

Inevitably, Irrevocably - Arthur x Female OC (Links to AO3)(Complete)

Trial

Tribulation

Torment

Tempest

Terminal

Time & Again

A Corrupting Touch - Low Honor Arthur x Gender Neutral Reader, 18+ (Complete) (DubCon, NonCon)

Part 1: Compulsion (NonCon)

Part 2: Coercion (NonCon)

Part 3: Constriction (NonCon)

Part 4: Captivation (DubCon)

Captured Hearts - Low Honor Arthur x Bounty Hunter Fem!Reader, 18+ (Complete) (DubCon)

Part 1: Reversal of Fortune

Part 2: Chase Me Down

Part 3: Let Go

Part 4: Breaking Point (TW: Attempted Rape)

Wind and Water - Arthur x OC, Grace Chang - Short fics

Open Hand, Closed Fist

Chopsticks

In The Palm Of His Hand

A Name By Any Other

——————————————–

Tumblr requests/gifts (Newer fics at the top of the list):

Not What He Seems - Arthur x Fem!Reader, High & Low honor, 18+

Low Honor | High Honor

Holiday Surprise - Charles x Fem!Reader, Christmas Lovin’, 18+

Heart of Starlight - Arthur x Unnamed Female, Mythology-inspired, 18+

After-Heist Delight - Samson Finch x Fem!Reader, 18+

Snapped - High Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader, 18+ (Slightly DubCon)

Time For Us - Charles x Arthur, fluff, romance

A Smile Worth More Than Gold - Arthur x Eleanor Ivie (OC), fluff, romance

Hidden Desires - Low Honor Arthur x F!Reader, 18+

Surprises - Arthur x Gender Neutral Reader, lingerie, 18+

Motivational Training - Dual Honor Arthur x Gender Neutral Reader, Modern AU, 18+

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2A - High Honor | Chapter 2B - Low Honor

Healing Touch - Low Honor Arthur x Healer Fem!Reader, 18+

Locker Room Lesson - Arthur, John, Charles, & Javier x Fem!Reader, Modern AU, 18+

Rough Competition - Low Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader Outlaw, 18+

Helping Hands - Low Honor & High Honor Arthur x GN!Reader with sensitive gag reflex, Short Fic, 18+

Better Than a Dream - High Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader Outlaw, 18+

Solicitations - Arthur x Fem!Reader, based off this drabble, 18+

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Business Time at the Bistro - Store Manager Arthur x Fem!Reader, Modern AU, 18+

untitled drabble, takes place after story

Alternative Payment - Low Honor Arthur x In Debt Fem!Reader, 18+ (NonCon/DubCon)

Trapper Keeper - Arthur x Trapper Fem!Reader, 18+

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2A: High Honor | Chapter 2B: Low Honor

Just This Once - Arthur x Abigail, 18+

Giving Up Ain’t So Bad - Low Honor Arthur x Bratty Fem!Reader, 18+ (DubCon)

Reading Between The Lines - Arthur x Librarian Fem!Reader, 18+ (Mild DubCon)

Mail for You - Low Honor Arthur x Mail Carrier Fem!Reader, 18+

The Better to Take You - Werewolf Arthur x Fem!Reader, 18+

RIde'em Cowgirl - Low Honor Arthur x Drunk Fem!Reader, 18+

A Curious Experiment - Low Honor Bounty Hunter Arthur x Reader, 18+ (DubCon)

Male Reader | Female Reader

Defying Discipline - Low Honor Professor Arthur x Fem!Reader, Modern AU, One shot, 18+ (DubCon)

Playing for Keeps - Low Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader, One shot, 18+ (NonCon, DubCon)

Worth the Risk - High Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader, One shot, 18+

Steal A Moment With You - Low Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader, One shot, 18+

Lesson In Humility - Low Honor Arthur x Rich Virgin Fem!Reader, One shot, 18+

One and Only - High Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader, 4 Chapters, 18+

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Getting Into Character - High Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader, One shot, 18+

A Hard Lesson - Low Honor Arthur x Fem!Reader, One shot, 18+ (DubCon)

——————————————–

Tumblr Headcanons: Search for RDR2 Headcanons!

——————————————–

Tumblr Drabbles:

untitled - Charles x Reader, fluff by the campfire (Gender Neutral)

Sensitive - Arthur x F!Reader who orgasms too easily, 18+

Installing - Arthur helps install your cable modem (Gender Neutral)

untitled - Arthur has a skinny crush (Gender Neutral)

When Love Blooms - Arthur is the Death Horseman

Arthur in Modern Times AU Series (Gender Neutral):

untitled - Christmas time, Arthur gets a mistletoe belt buckle.

untitled - Arthur helps get rid of your headache, 18+

untitled - Arthur learns about BDSM, 18+

Caught - Wacom Tablet Pt. 2 - Arthur learns what a blow job is, 18+

Wacom Tablet Pt. 1 - Arthur learns how to use a Wacom tablet

untitled - Arthur helps crack your back (Gender Neutral)

Part 1 | Part 2 - Arthur gives you hugs (Gender Neutral)

untitled - Charles gives you a comforting hug (Gender Neutral)

Imagine bartender!Arthur - Arthur as a modern day bartender (Gender Neutral)

Black Belle - Arthur submitting to Black Belle, 18+

Shower Singing - Modern!Arthur sings in the shower, F!Reader

Uniformly Speaking - Arthur as a UPS delivery man, Modern AU, GN!Reader

untitled - Arthur teaches GN!Reader how to kiss

untitled - Beer enthusiast GN!Reader x Arthur

untitled - Soliciting Arthur for “services” (Gender Neutral)

untitled - Merperson GN!Reader x Arthur

Dream Dad - Single Dad Arthur x Single Parent Reader, Gender Neutral

untitled - Bartender!F!Reader x Arthur

untitled - Gender neutral reader sucks on Arthur’s fingers, 18+

untitled - Modern AU, Charles practices hairdressing on you (Gender Neutral).

Change of Standards - Modern AU, Arthur & You walk through Target (Gender Neutral).

See What I See - Modern AU, Arthur gets scouted by a modeling agent (F!Reader).

Timeslip - Modern AU, Arthur falls into a time portal and meets you (Gender Neutral).

GIve or Take - Arthur drops his journal, and you pick it up (Gender Neutral).

——————————————–

Everett Osborn - RDO OC

Everett’s Backstory

Cactus - A short convo between Everett and the local sheriff.

Everett x Thief F!Reader series (Complete):

Domestication - Everett traps you, 18+ (DubCon)

Dominion - Everett finds you again, 18+ (DubCon)

Rewarding His Pet - Everett runs into you and gives you a reward, 18+

Between the Law - Everett x GN!Reader x Tom Davies, 18+

Mistaken - Drabble - Everett gets mistaken for another cowboy.

untitled - Drabble - Everett meets said cowboy after borrowing his hat.

An Unexpected Development - Everett x Allie Foster, RDO AU, OC x OC, 18+

Verai Marcel AKA Min - RDO OC

Verai’s Back Story

untitled - Drabble - A little bit of angst, featuring Fletcher

Firsts & Lasts - Verai/Min x Mateo, a story of her past, 18+

Everett x Verai x Mateo

Inexplicably Inevitable - Min & Everett run into a ghost from the past. 18+, MM, MMF

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 *NEW*

Everett x Verai

Dumpling - Verai/Min & Everett make new year’s dumplings.

Counting Stars - Songfic, Verai & Everett work on their relationship.

untitled - Drabble, Verai & Everett, right after their first night.

Forward - Drabble, Verai, with Everett’s help, moves forward from her past.

Cathartic - Verai tells Everett about someone she loved in the past.

We’ve Only Just Begun - Full Fic - When Everett met Verai for the first time.

Braid - Short Fic - Everett has more skills than he lets on.

Decision - Short Fic - Everett makes a decision. Feature Kira, Stevie, & Ruby from Death Squad.

Stay - Drabble - Everett finds his safe place.

Soft OC Ask - Drabble - A short journal entry from Verai about Everett.

Names - Drabble - Everett asks Verai for her real name.

Rain - Drabble - Everett has a moment in the rain with Verai.

#masterlist #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur x oc #arthur x reader #rdr2 #fanfic #charles smith x reader #everett osborn #everett x reader #charles smith

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emotionallyits2009 · 3 years

Text

deancas fic rec list!

hello everyone! happy christmas to those who celebrate it, my gift to you is my fic rec list that i said i would make like a month ago. the only thing it is organized by is canonverse vs alternate universe. tried to cover a variety of subjects but there are in particular many fics of the genre “postcanon where cas is human and he and dean live together and slowly finally get their shit together” because i know what i’m about, son. HOPE U ENJOY. and if you wanna talk about any of them or rec me other fics please do. :)

Canonverse:

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo, 30k, explicit “Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.” There are many fics set in a post-canon universe where Cas is human and he and Dean live together and slowly fall into a relationship. Imo this one is the best of the best of that genre. This was one of the first fics I read back in July when I was getting Back Into Supernatural where I was like oh fuck I’m like in this. Dean builds Cas planters and bookshelves and a chicken coop and they fight and work through it.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits, 10k, explicit For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental. It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless. Really Gets the dynamic of Cas doesn’t think Dean wants him to stay/Dean thinks Cas will leave the first chance he gets. Also a nice example of Cas thinking he’s not wanted if he’s not useful/powerful and being told otherwise. Another all-time fave!

lonely hearts by outphastthemoat, 4.5k, gen He thinks he might give up having his own anything just to be able to step foot inside the room next door and sit on the edge of Dean’s bed instead. This one is for the CAS GIRLS who know what LONELINESS feels like.

Helionneiros by aeli_kindara, 24.2k, mature In which Dean visits his mother, and Claire takes Cas on a hunt. I’m always on the lookout for more fic with Claire and Jack. Jack doesn’t show up until the end here but the relationship between Cas and Claire is really nice.

Crawl by aeriallon, 11k, explicit It’s been almost four years since Castiel left Kansas; he'd eventually settled in an island town where he has a job, a house, and a life without the Winchesters. Every winter, Dean drives down to the coast to see him. Another fic where Cas is human but in this one he took some time for himself and got some distance from the Winchesters! He gets to be competent and weird as a human and we love that for him. I must warn you all that this fic contains one use of the phrase “making love” which would normally put me right off but it’s still worth reading. The first of a three-part series.

home where you hold me by microcomets, 1.6k, gen Cas and Dean, in the moments between their battles, ache for quiet spaces. Technically this is a coda to 10x20 but you don’t need the episode for context. Short and very sweet.

Build a Home by domesticadventures, 20.1k, teen After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them. He doesn’t. This one is so cute it’s like what if once they were done saving the world Sam and Dean actually invited other hunters to move into the bunker with them. Obviously Dean wants that to include Cas but doesn’t know how to use his words.

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo, 22.4k, explicit This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore. Angst fic! They go on a road trip and Dean is severely fucked up post-Mark of Cain.

Unknown Quantities by xylodemon, 8.6k, explicit No one ever tells Dean anything. Another nice getting-together fic.

Creature of Habit by trinityofone, 5.2k, teen The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well. This one is ancient by destiel standards (written during season 5) but it manages to nail the married couple vibes they give off in later seasons. Cas is a bitch and Dean likes him so much. <3

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by Tuesday, 11.2k, mature Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this. Another old one that is a lot of fun! They get Accidental Angel Married and if you don’t enjoy dumb fanfiction tropes like that I don’t know what to say to you.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi, 4k, teen In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything. The OTHER accidental angel marriage fic written in 2010.

Crazy Diamonds by pantheon_of_discord, 24.8k, explicit A week ago, Dean was pulled out of Hell. Now, he’s apparently woken up in 2018, and the angel that a mere twenty-four hours beforehand had threatened to chuck him back into the pit is sleepily pouring himself coffee and wearing Dean’s second-favourite Zeppelin shirt. It all seems like a perfect happy ending, but with Hell’s scars still so fresh, Dean can’t imagine how he could have possibly gotten there. At the same time, the Dean who went to sleep in the bunker, right next to Cas, wakes up on Bobby’s couch in 2008. He’s instantly bombarded with questions by a Lilith-obsessed brother and a man who’s been dead for years, and must decide between keeping his finally-perfect life intact, and the lives he could save by re-writing history. Regardless of these choices, both Deans are trapped in the wrong decade, and their only way back lies with a Castiel still very much under Heaven’s thumb – one who might find the future Dean describes difficult to believe. Time travel is FUN. There’s an excellent part where (minor spoilers) future!Dean is like, “Guess what, asshole? You like me so much you marry me!!!!!!!!!!!” to 2008!Castiel that made me laugh out loud the first time I read it. Also just a good reminder of how most problems in life are temporary and if you could go back in time to talk to your younger self you’d be like, “Hey man. Chill out. You get through it.”

The Path of Fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, mature After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years. There’s a lot of amnesia fic and djinn fic out there were Dean wakes up ~suddenly together with Cas~ but I like this one in particular because he’s initially very confused and kind of a dick about it until he acknowledges that being with Cas makes him happy.

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden, 95k, explicit Three months ago, when Dean decided to retire, he thought his life was going to end up differently. He'd thought that he might get to have it all, Sam, Cas, Jack, and nice little place to live. Instead he gets Sam and Jack off on their Summer of Love Tour, radio silence from Cas, and a never-ending road trip consisting of himself. Still reeling from the loss of his grace, Castiel travels the country in search of hunts. Driven by a need to prove his usefulness, he pushes himself beyond all limits of endurance. Together, with the help of a few friends, a crumbling Victorian house, and a stray cat, Dean and Castiel patch themselves back together and create a home together. Do you wanna read almost one hundred thousand words of Dean and Cas having extremely intense feelings but refusing to voice them aloud? Haha of course you do that’s why you’re here. There’s also a lot about Cas adjusting to being human and being depressed about it which might resonate if you’ve ever felt weird about having a body. To be honest the author could stand to use a few more commas but there were also half a dozen moments that made me put my phone down and drag my hand slowly over my face and whisper “oh my god” to myself which is like, the ultimate measure of a good fanfiction so it gets to be on the list.

like moses and batman and james dean by saltyfeathers, 31.6k, explicit dean used to turn tricks. over a decade later, he met cas. Have you seen the fanon (apparently pioneered by Mr. Jackles “Original Deankin” Ackles himself) that Dean used to prostitute himself to feed himself and Sam when they were younger? Are you interested in exploring that concept in fanfiction? Well, this is the only fic you need. Mind the tags on this one! It’s not what I’d call happy but it’s good.

Some Assembly Required by narrow_staircases, 47k, mature It’s September of 2005, and Dean Winchester, in an attempt to outrun old mistakes and painful memories, finds himself in southern Kentucky on a wild goose chase. He’s completely certain this weird religious movement he’s “investigating” is a hoax, despite the miraculous healings people report, and he’ll be back on the road in a day or two. Things are looking up when he meets Cas, an awkward (and gorgeous) graduate student who’s actually doing honest-to-god research into the local tent revival meetings. When that research takes a weird and personal turn, Dean’s left to face two very serious realities: one, this may be a real case after all, and two, he’s fallen way harder for Cas than he should ever have let himself. Stanford-era AU of Dean trying to avoid his father and getting in over his head on a case.

Alternate universe:

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets, 57k, mature Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen. Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen. Mundane AUs in this fandom have to be really, really good to catch my attention and this one is! It’s exactly what it says in the summary and the characterization is spot-on.

Out to Drift by deathbanjo, 20.9k, mature Dean drives a black car with a loud engine. He lies too easily. He keeps a gun in the back of his jeans, and Castiel isn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean has killed someone before. Two people in fucked-up unstable situations meeting and forming a connection. Honestly guys I really just love deathbanjo.

#fic #deancas #destiel

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httpjeon · 4 years

Text

FISH ARE FRIENDS — KTH (M.)

synopsis. after moving to the seaside, there is a dreadful storm. when all is clear, a man washes up on shore...only he isn’t quite human.

pairing. taehyung/reader genre. angst, smut, fluff au. hybrid!au wordcount. 10,605 contents. seahorse hybrid!taehyung, possessiveness, mating kink, lots of kissing, fingering, size kink, taes big dick as usual, cunnilingus, slight pain kink, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, blow job, UNEDITED note. this is the result of the fic title game i’ve been playing! thank you to whoever sent in the title ‘fish are friends’

blog masterlist.

You sighed as you dropped the last cardboard box onto the floor with a muffled thud. Placing your hands on your hips, you let out a few deep breaths to allow yourself to relax after moving everything on your own. Looking around, you felt a sense of dread flow through you at the reminder of having to unpack everything as well.

You left your door open, letting the sound of seagulls and ocean waves waft in along with the tangible scent of seasalt. Inhaling, you allowed a smile to drift over your face.

You couldn’t believe that you had actually left the city, after living in it all your life. You felt so light and free, unable to keep the giddy feeling down as you began to unpack the essential things -- your bedding, bathroom sundries, and kitchen utensils so you could eat. Although, as you stood in your sparsely decorated kitchen, you realized you didn’t actually have any food to eat at all. Tossing your head back, you let out a low groan. The sun was already beginning to set so you quickly grabbed your purse and keys, intending to rush to the grocery store before it closed for something to get you through the night and morning.

The town was pretty small, a main grocery store and a few other shops located on a strip. It was the kind of place where everybody knew everyone and when you stepped out of the car, you could feel the eyes on you as people assessed the newcomer. Throwing a few polite smiles, you ducked into the grocery store.

“Welcome!” the nearest cashier waved, a smile on his delicate face.

“Hi,” you greeted softly with a nod as you glanced up at the aisle signs above your head.

Grabbing a basket, you first went to the cereal aisle -- breakfast foods were always your main source of snacking. Going over a mental list in your head, you decided cereal, milk, ramen, break and some lunch meats would suffice until you could do some genuine food shopping.

“Did you find everything okay?” the young man asked as you approached the counter.

“I did, thank you,” you smiled, glancing at his nametag. Jungkook.

“Hey!” someone called from behind you, making you look over your shoulder, “You just moved here right?”

“Um...yeah,” you smiled, holding your hand out, “I’m _____.”

“Jimin!” he beamed, “And that’s Jungkook, a buddy of mine. Everyone here is kind of...friends, you know?”

You nodded, “Yeah, small towns.”

“Your total is $32.50,” Jungkook said, “Hey Jimin.”

You pulled out your wallet to fish your card from the slot before placing it into the chip reader. The two of them chatted a bit about something you weren’t interested in listening to as you put your pin in. The machine dinged with your card approval and Jungkook handed your receipt to you.

“Hey, hang on a minute!” Jimin called before you could walk off.

Turning, you watched him urge Jungkook to scan his item quickly -- a gallon of milk. He paid in cash and quickly rushed after you, taking one of the extra bags from your hands.

“Thanks,” you smiled, leading him towards your car.

“So, where did you move to?” he asked, “I live around the corner from here.”

“Oh, I live over on Pearl Ave,” you said, opening your trunk to place your items in.

“Cool, right on the shore, huh?” he smiled, “Where are you from?”

“I lived in Sunhua,” you replied, “Born and raised.”

“What the hell’d you leave a city for?” he chuckled, slamming your trunk shut for you.

You shrugged, “I finished college so...I just figured a change in scenery would do me good.”

“Really? What’s your major?” he asked, leaning back against your car.

“Hybrid Studies,” you smiled.

He opened his mouth to reply but there was a low rumble from the sky.

The both of you looked up, simultaneously realizing it had gotten much darker with the arrival of storm clouds.

“Shit, I better get home,” he sighed, “Hoseok absolutely hates thunder and if I don’t get home I won’t hear the end of it for 3 months.”

You laughed, waving him goodbye, “It was nice meeting you, Jimin!”

“Ditto!” he grinned, tossing a smile over his shoulder as he began to jog down the sidewalk, milk jug in hand.

By the time you pulled into your driveway, it was beginning to sprinkle. You hurried inside with your belongings -- putting the milk and meat in the refrigerator. Outside, the thunder rumbled a bit louder, signaling the storm getting closer.

Unfortunately, no one had gotten around to hooking up your TV cable or internet so all you had was to sit on your phone until it was a reasonable time to get ready for bed. When you got out of the shower, you could hear the roof being pelted by the downpour of rain. After putting your bedding on, you stopped by the double doors of your bedroom that led to a small balcony. Pulling one open with a small creak, you were greeted with a view of the ocean in the midst of the storm.

The waves crashed angrily against the shore, the sound of the water amplified due to the force of the impact. The sky was pitch blank, the moon and stars obscured by the storm clouds. The only outside light you got with the flashes of lightning that came from within the clouds.

After a particularly loud crack of thunder startled you, you decided to slip back inside, making sure to lock the door in case the wind could throw it open in the night.

When you woke up, it wasn’t to beautiful sunshine. Gray clouds still hung over the sky, pelting the Earth in a light rain drizzle. You sighed and sat up, stretching your muscles.

When you got downstairs, you suddenly realized you never pulled your coffee maker from its box. So, you had to sit there and search through your boxes until you found the one labeled as containing your appliance.

You grumbled listlessly to yourself as you hooked it up and filled the reservoir with water. As you listened to the coffee drip into the carafe, you fixed yourself a bowl of cereal. It was quiet except for the rain and coffee drip.

In the city, the silence would have been filled with the honking of horns and shouts of people on the street which would eventually drive you mad. But here, now, it was peaceful and serene.

By the time you finished your cereal, the coffee was ready and you xoed yourself a cup before making your way to the door, pushing it open before closing it with just the screen door to allow the air to drift through your house.

Taking a seat on the little chair you’d placed in the corner with a small glass table, you relaxed. You took a couple sips of coffee before looking out across the beach, squinting against the rain.

However, you paused when you saw a dark form across the shore. The angry waves crashed against it, pushing it across the sand.

Standing up, you hopped down the stairs and into the rain, uncaring of how cold it was against your skin. Looking around, you didn’t see anyone else standing outside.

The waves crashed forward again and the thing on the shore rolled, making you gasp. It was definitely human.

Running forward, you winced at how sharp the rain felt against your skin. The sand was coarse beneath your feet but you didn’t take notice of it.

Coming to a stop, you knelt beside the person; a man.

Well, sort of.

“What the…” you whispered, taking a good look at him.

He was completely naked, thankfully face down in the sand. He had a small fin on the center of his back, lying limply as it stuck to his skin. On the exterior length of his arms and legs he had little spines that protruded from his skin. Rolling him over, you avoided looking down as you assessed him for any injury.

Cupping his face, you hissed at how cold his skin was. Moving his bangs aside revealed a small cut across his forehead that was still steadily seeping blood. Leaning down, you pressed your ear to his chest, quickly detecting a heartbeat.

Sighing in relief, you desperately looked around in hopes of finding something to help you. The rain was beginning to come down harder and thunder rumbled above, making you curse. You were already thoroughly soaked from the waves crashing against you. They only began to get more violent, however, easily knocking you down and jostling his limp body.

“Sorry about this,” you whispered to the unconscious hybrid as you slid your hands under his armpits to haul him up the beach towards your house.

By the time you reached the shelter of your patio, it was a full on downpour once again. The hybrid was still limp, deadweight.

You didn’t care about your carpet getting wet as you laid him down, rushing to your bathroom closet to fetch a couple towels. When you returned, you set to drying him off, frowning as you watched goosebumps rise over his skin from the chill he no doubt felt.

You pulled a throw blanket you had on the back of the couch down to toss over him.

The next thing you needed to do was tend to that wound on his head. You knew you had a first aid kit around, it took some rifling through boxes to locate it.

The poor hybrid was still out cold and you were beginning to worry about how much damage had really been done beyond a cut. You’d have to see if the town had a hybrid doctor located somewhere.

You set to cleaning the wound, getting the sand and debri out of it before applying ointment to promote healing. Since it was across his head, a bandaid wouldn’t work so you settled for some gauze and a bandage wrapped around his head to keep it in place.

Sighing, you sat back, resting against the wall as you stared down at him.

A marine hybrid. You couldn’t believe you had a marine hybrid in your house.

They were the rarest species of hybrid -- virtually impossible to find although they were being seen as pets as time passed. Illegal hunting and capturing as people grew increasingly interested in owning an ‘exotic’, ‘rare’ hybrid.

Just having him in your home was a crime and you prayed that none of your neighbors were nosy and watched you drag a body into your house.

The best you could guess was that he was a seahorse hybrid judging by the little horns in his hair and the little fins on his temples that were otherwise obscured by his hair.

You stood up, wincing as your knees cracked from sitting on the floor for too long. Walking quietly, you grabbed your phone and looked up a hybrid doctor nearby.

Much to your dismay, the town did not have one and the nearest was over an hour away. Sighing, you stepped back out onto the porch to grab your coffee cup.

You kept peeking around the wall to check if the hybrid was still there as you fixed yourself another cup.

It was just a little past noon by now and you were already exhausted. Taking a seat on the couch, you began to google information about seahorse hybrid. Your major was Hybrid Studies but unfortunately you’d focused on ecological side of domesticated hybrids. You knew virtually nothing about marine hybrids beyond being able to identify them.

As expected, there was very little resources available on seahorse hybrids. All you could find was that they were fragile species and exceptionally terrible swimmers but still preferred to be near water although they survived just fine outside it. There were 45 subspecies of seahorse, though you had no idea what one the stranger would be.

It continued to rain as the hours passed and eventually you succumbed to boredom and fell asleep.

You were awoken by soft groans, however, shortly after you dozed off. Glancing over, you gasped as you watched the hybrid squirm where he laid, slowly waking up. You dove to the floor, sitting on your knees as you watched his eyes flutter open.

Deep brown irises locked with yours. He inhaled sharply and sat up so fast you fell backwards onto your butt to avoid being hit by him.

“Whoa, hey,” you whispered as he groaned and clutched his head, no doubt hurting himself from moving like that, “You got hurt, washed up on shore.”

He looked at you with a frown on his face, his brows furrowed together as he looked around. He eyed the boxes and the couch, leaning to the side to peer into the doorway of the kitchen before his eyes drifted to the window where rain tapped against the pane.

“This is my house,” you muttered, drawing his attention back to you, “My name is _____,” he didn’t reply but he slowly laid back down and relaxed, “I know the floor isn’t too comfortable, you can move to the couch if you’d like. You were too heavy for me to lift up there on my own.”

He just stared at you, those deep brown eyes fixated on every inch of you. He scanned your face and the length of your body down to your feet, making you feel a bit self-conscious being analyzed. For a moment, you were sure he couldn’t even understand you -- it wasn’t unheard of for hybrids without human contact being unable to understand languages.

But after a second, he stood up, making you avert your eyes as you were reminded of how naked he was. You grabbed the blanket and waited for him to lay down on the couch before placing it over him.

He picked at the material for a second, feeling the texture between his fingers before looking at you, “You were getting a chill so I thought it’d be best you were warm while you were out. I’ll get you a pillow, hang on.”

You could feel his eyes on you as you hurried down the hall to your bedroom. You grabbed a pillow from your bed before running back. He was sitting up when you walked in, gazing out the window but looked at you when he realized you’d returned.

Placing the pillow behind him, you urged him to lie back. He did, a look of utter confusion before quickly smiling when he felt the softness of the pillow behind him. You chuckled and took a seat on the recliner across the coffee table from him.

After a few minutes, he fell back asleep, his bare chest rising and falling rhythmically. He understood you at least, but he didn’t speak. You weren’t sure if he was mute or just didn’t know how to. Standing up, you went to the kitchen to make yourself something to eat.

Humming to yourself, you filled a pot with water intending to make ramen. Spinning on your heel to go to one of the boxes tucked into the kitchen’s corner, you stumbled and gasped. He was standing in the doorway, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders thankfully shielding his nakedness.

“You scared me,” you groaned, continuing to the box.

You knelt down, tugging at the tape to open it but quickly realizing how well wrapped it was. Standing up, you scanned the kitchen to look for your scissors before remembering they were packed away somewhere too.

“Oh man!” you complained, knowing you didn’t have any sharp knives out either.

Wandering into the living room, you zeroed in on the first aid kit you’d left out. Popping it open, you grabbed the little scissors which were inside that you used to cut the bandage. When you entered the kitchen, however, you were surprised to see the hybrid crouched down with the box you were fighting with already open.

“Did you open that for me?” you asked him, watching as he stood up and nodded, “Thank you.”

He gave you a crooked smile and stepped back to let you fish through the box until you pulled out the container you’d put your spices in. Giggling happily to yourself, you returned to your ramen.

The hybrid stayed in the kitchen the entire time, watching you flit about as you cooked until you finally went back to the living room. He followed you, taking a seat on the couch again, simply watching you.

“So…” you mumbled to break up the silence, “Can you not speak or…?” he didn’t reply, making you hum before bringing you bowl closer to take a bite of the ramen you’d cooked. His burning gaze made you pause though, a thought occurring to you, “Are you hungry?”

Immediately he nodded, making you sigh. You had no idea what he ate or what he could eat. He seemed to sense your dilemma and smiled, standing up. Immediately, you averted your eyes, unsure how you’d get used to his nudity.

That made you pause. He was a wild hybrid, the only reason he was there was because he was injured in the storm. Once it cleared up and his head healed, he’d be gone so you didn’t really need to get used to it.

Lost in your thoughts, you missed him moving towards you until his hand wrapped around your wrist.

Surprised, your eyes snapped to his hand -- how big it was and how long and pretty his fingers were. You allowed him to control your movements as he moved your fork to his mouth to take a bite of the ramen you’d made.

He hummed, his eyes closing as he chewed. It was the first sound he’d made -- so he was capable of making sounds at the very least.

“You can just eat human food?” you asked, watching as he nodded, “Do you want me to make you some?”

He nodded and you paused. By the time you cooked his, your would be cold. Standing up, you placed your bowl in his hands, making him frown. He attempted to hand it back to you, apparently not wanting you to give up your food for him. But you shook your head and moved to the kitchen with him hot on your heels.

He whined, making you pause, looking over your shoulder. To your surprise he looked genuinely distressed.

“It’ll get cold while I’m cooking,” you shrugged, “So you eat it while it’s hot and then I’ll eat this one. Get it?”

He was still for a second, gazing down at the ramen before slowly nodding. You chuckled and turn your back to him again to fill the pot with water.

Behind you, the hybrid slowly ate standing in the kitchen with you. By the time you finished cooking, he was finished and standing with his empty bowl.

“Just put it in the sink,” you said, breezing by him to sit on the chair again.

You could hear him clinking around for a second, the water in the sink turning on for a second before shutting off. He walked into the living room, holding his hands in front of him as he walked up to you.

Taking a bite, you watched him hold his hands out to you. Raising a brow, you stared at him. You realized his hands were wet and he moved them closer to you. When you still didn’t understand, he sighed, shaking his head. As you went to take another bite of your ramen, he flicked his fingers and splashed the water all over your face, making you flinch.

“Hey!” you whined, “What’s the big idea? It’s just water I don’t under…” you blinked a few times as your mouth opened in a small ‘O’, “Ohhhhh…” he perked up slightly, “Are you wanting...water then? To drink? Or…?”

He bit his lip and shook his head. You were already tired of trying to communicate with him -- at least he understood you though, you suppose.

“A shower maybe?” you asked, making him cock his head, “Let me finish eating and I’ll show you, okay?”

He nodded and took a seat, waiting ever patiently for you as you ate. When you went to put your bowl in the sink as he had, he followed you. You quickly realized you were now used to seeing him naked -- thank god.

When you turned the water on to rinse out your bowl, he immediately stuck his hand under the water. You laughed, and shook your head. He was actually really cute.

“Alright, c’mon,” you led him down the hall and into the bathroom, flicking the light on quickly. When you sat down on the edge of the tub to drop the bath drain, the bathroom went dark. Turning to look towards the door, you watched as he flicked it back on, watching the light bulb in wonder.

His attention was brought back to you, however, when you turned the water on. Excitedly, he took a seat beside you, watching the water begin to feel. You weren’t quite sure what temperature to make it so you chose lukewarm. Before it was even halfway filled, he was sliding into the tub with a smile on his face.

“I’ll let you be alone,” you said, making him look at you, “Just turn the handle this way to turn it off,” you showed him, “Stop the water before it overfills the tub, though, okay? Do you understand?”

He nodded and you stood there for a second before nodding and turning away from him. You decided to leave the door open, figuring he would prefer to not be closed up in a small room. It wasn’t like he cared of privacy or decency anyway.

While he soaked, you decided to wash the dishes you’d used to cook. It was beginning to get dark now and the rain had stopped for the meantime, the storm no doubt finally moving out. After putting the dishes away, you moved to unpack the box Taehyung had opened for you, placing everything neatly where it needed to be.

Realizing, when you were done, that he still wasn’t out of the bathroom led you to peeking in to check on him. You couldn’t help but smile when you saw him in there sleeping. For a second you were concerned that he could drown before reminding yourself that he was literally a fish hybrid who came from the ocean.

Deciding not to disturb him, you went back to the couch.

You didn’t realize you’d dozed off until you felt someone gently shaking you shoulder. Opening your eyes, you jumped at the sight of the naked hybrid.

“Oh, you’re out,” you hummed, standing up to allow him to sit, “I should probably change your bandage.”

He hummed, sitting back as he watched you pull the materials from the first aid kit before taking a seat on the edge of the table.

Reaching forward, you carefully unraveled the bandage until it fell away before peeling the gauze off. The cut was red, no doubt probably stung with a bruise growing around it. But it wasn’t bleeding at least, so you cleaned it once more before doing exactly what you had before.

While he was awake, he moved a bit more to avoid the little fins on his temples from being jostled. You whispered a soft apology when he winced at the bandage catching the corner of his fin. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled to let you know it was okay.

“Okay, all done,” you smiled, standing back up, “It’s pretty late so I’m going to head bed,” he didn’t say anything but you could feel his eyes burning into you so you tossed a soft, “Goodnight,” over your shoulder.

As you entered the hall, you heard a soft voice mutter something. You froze and turned, looking at the hybrid with wide eyes.

“What? Did you say something?” you asked.

He nodded, smiling, “Taehyung.”

His voice was deep, soft with no edge to it at all. It was like listening to the most gentle voice in the world.

“That’s your name?” you asked, making sure you understood. He nodded and you smiled, “Goodnight Taehyung.”

“Goodnight _______.”

You didn’t know why your heart skipped a beat as he uttered your name.

“Taehyung!” you called through the house as you kicked the door closed behind you. After a second, you heard the back door open and Taehyung’s tall form entered the living room. You smiled in greeting, “This package is for you.”

He looked surprise, walking forward with his arms extended. You deposited to package in his hands and stepped back to watch him examine it.

He’d been there for almost a week now and in that time you’d learned he was very curious. He examined anything and everything, you’d had to stop him several times to keep him from licking something questionable.

After a moment, he moved to place the box on the kitchen counter, pulling the scissors from where they hung on the wall to cut the tape open. You leaned against the wall, arms crossed over your chest as you watched him pull out the contents.

Holding the t-shirt in front of him, he looked curiously at you.

“I know this…” you motioned towards his naked body, “Is something obviously normal for you since you’re a wild hybrid but...it’s getting increasingly weird on my part over having a naked person in my house.”

He stared at you for a second, a frown on his lips and for a second you were afraid you’d offended him. You held in a sigh as he grabbed the box and breezed past you, down the hall.

“Well, so much for that,” you whispered to yourself, grabbing the discarded scissors he’d left on the counter and put them back where they belonged.

“I like it,” Taehyung’s voice made you jump.

You spun around and were pleased to see him fully clothed. Part of you felt bad for forcing something human on him like that but the way he happily touched the fabric made you smile.

“I chose the softest materials I could find,” you explained. After the first day, you quickly took notice of the way he enjoyed textures -- specifically anything soft.

“I like it,” he repeated.

“I’m glad,” you breathed, “Come on, let me look at your wound.”

He nodded and took a seat on the couch as you took yours on the coffee table. It was practically a routine now. He didn’t even flinch as you pulled the bandage and gauze away.

The cut was practically healed and you sighed. It definitely wasn’t a concern anymore and both of you knew it. Still, neither of you questioned your situation. He didn’t seem to want to leave and you, truthfully, didn’t want him to leave. You enjoyed his company; he was sweet and endearing. He took up your time in the best way and gave you something to look forward to coming home to.

“I think we can leave the bandage off now,” you said, “Just don’t scratch it, even if it itches, okay? If you pull the scab off you’ll have a big old scar across your forehead for the rest of your life.”

He pouted a bit but nodded, taking the discarded bandages to throw away. He returned from the kitchen a second later, a pack of ramen in hand. He handed it over to you, head cocked to the side.

You smiled, “I’m hungry too,” he followed you, as usual, to the kitchen and hovered over you as you began the cooking process, “Oh! By the way, the cable guy is coming by at 3 to hook up internet and stuff.”

He looked confused and you laughed, pointing over to the TV. He’d hovered around it a bit over the last few days, turning it on the watch the static on the screen. As he realized you were doing something with the TV, he lit up and smiled.

As you both sat down to eat, you glanced at the clock. It was 2:40, causing you to hurry up eating so you could move some boxes out of the living room.

The hybrid had been helping a bit set things up for you; lifting heavy objects and boxes. But you still had quite a bit to unpack -- you had to fill a whole house, after all.

By the time you moved the boxes to the spare room, the doorbell went off. Rushing into the living room, you caught sight of Taehyung’s wide eyes.

“Hi, come on in,” you smiled, waving the cable man inside.

“Hello,” he greeted with a polite smile that quickly faded as he looked behind you.

When you turned around, you caught sight of Taehyung booking it out the back door in the kitchen. Shrugging, you closed the front door and led the man to your television.

“It’ll take me about an hour to set everything up securely,” he explained.

You nodded, “Let me know if you need anything.”

As he went to work, you made a beeline for your back porch. Taehyung was sitting on the stairs, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked up when you opened the door and despite the way he’d run away, he appeared calm nonetheless.

“Did you get spooked?” you asked, sitting beside him. He nodded and you hummed, “I take it you haven’t interacted with humans much?”

He shook his head, “I like to watch them.”

“Oh? People watch?” you asked, “Humans like to do that too. When I lived in the city I would go to the park and just watch people go about their business.”

Taehyung could speak and understand very well but his own vocabulary was quite limited. He didn’t say much regardless, mostly spoke to share his opinions. You’d adapted easily, speaking primarily in yes or no format and it was mostly you doing the talking.

He didn’t seem to mind, however. He gave you his full attention regardless, interest gleaming brightly in his eyes.

A question lingered on your lips, one you dreaded asking but as you looked at the smile on his lips, it dissolved on your tongue and you sighed.

The two of you fell silent, sitting together listening to the ocean as you waited for the cable man to finish.

You stood in the kitchen, making dinner as you listened to the laughing on the TV in the living room. Taehyung had immediately been intrigued by the colors and noises from the device and promptly sat on the couch, becoming glued to it. You briefly wondered what the effect of TV would have on a wild hybrid but when you heard him laugh, all worry was wiped free.

When you’d heard him laugh for the first time, at some cartoon that came on, you felt your heart skip a beat. It was melodic and delicate, almost a giggle, really.

Not wanting to disturb him, you brought the food to him.

“Thank you,” he beamed, waiting for you to sit beside him before beginning to eat.

You smiled, sitting there watching him for a second before picking up your own plate. The way he enjoyed things so organically was charming, it made you see things as if they were new as well.

As the days passed, you noticed a change in the hybrid. He began to talk more, question things and seek out a conversation with you -- which he’d never done before. Sometimes at night, you could hear the TV on at night, the sound carrying through the walls.

One such night, you awoke in the middle of the night with a dry mouth and desire for water. Climbing out of bed, you grabbed your bathrobe and put it on, messily tying the belt to hold it closed. Your door creaked quietly as you opened it, allowing the TV’s low volume to be heard much easier from the stairwell.

Wandering into the living room, you paused to look at Taehyung.

He was sitting on his knees on the floor, close to the TV. You opened your mouth to tell him he shouldn’t sit so close when you realized he was muttering to himself.

Moving closer, you glanced at the screen to see an infomercial was playing. And he was repeating the things they were saying.

“Taehyung, what are you doing?” you asked, fighting back a smile when his head whipped around to look at you.

His eyes were wide and he looked almost guilty as he moved back from the TV, “W-Watching the…” he motioned to the television with a shrug.

“You were talking along,” you pointed out, a brow raised curiously.

He bit his lip and folded his legs in front of him, “When they talk...I learn new words.”

His words bounced around your head for a second before you chuckled, “Is that how you’ve gotten so good at speaking? You’re learning from watching infomercials at night?”

“Cartoons during the day,” he added with a sheepish grin, “Why are you up?”

You knew he was changing the subject to avoid the conversation but you went along with it, “I’m thirsty is all.”

He hummed and it fell quiet, his eyes flicking back to the TV for a second before going to you once more. You sensed he was wanting to get back to what he was doing so you bid him a soft goodnight before moving to the kitchen.

When you were passing through to the hallway, you saw that he was sitting in front of the TV muttering again.

The morning came and you were surprised to find yourself awake before Taehyung. He was usually an early riser, up before the sun was even fully out.

You frowned at the sight of him curled up, knees tucked to his chest as he snuggled into the blanket. He looked cold but it wasn’t like the temperature dipped very low -- you’d slept with your balcony door cracked.

Seeing him lay there, you noticed how he was almost falling off the couch. Sighing you reached over and shook his shoulder until his eyes fluttered open.

“Hey sleepyhead,” you smiled, heart melting at the tired smile he gave you as he sat up and stretched, “How late were up last night?”

He shrugged and sighed, swinging his feet onto the floor before padding to the bathroom. You hummed and decided to start a pot of coffee for the day.

Pulling out your phone, you pulled up google and decided to search for a bed. You had a spare bedroom you were currently using to store the boxed you hadn’t bothered to unpack yet. It wouldn’t hurt to get a bed put in so you could have guests over.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“Hey, Taehyung?” you called when you heard him flick the TV on.

“Yeah?” he immediately responded, poking his head into the kitchen.

“I’ve been thinking,” he frowned and fully stepped into the kitchen, “Instead of sleeping on the couch, how about you take the spare bedroom?”

“Really?” he gasped.

“Yeah,” you hummed, “There’s a mattress shop in town, I can pick you up some stuff.”

“I can’t go with you?” he deflated slightly, making your heart ache.

You sighed, looking at your feet, “N-No...I think it’s best you stay here,” he opened his mouth to say something else but you cut him off, “You can help me assemble everything, though! And I’ll need your help to carry the mattress.”

He grinned once again and nodded, “Okay!”

While you were in town, you stopped by the grocery store to get more food and ingredients to cook with. With Taehyung there, you ran out of food a bit quicker than if it were just you.

Jungkook was there and greeted you with a bright smile as he rang you up, commenting how he hadn’t seen you around much. You blew it off with a quick shrug and explanation that you got internet and cable set up now so you had no reason to leave the house.

Pulling up to your house, you got out and popped the trunk. As you began to pull groceries from the back, the front door opened. Taehyung came bouncing down the stairs with a little grin on his face.

“So, where is it?” he asked excitedly.

“Oh, the guy was right behind me,” you said, “He’ll drop everything off.”

“Here, I’ll take these,” he said, grabbing the three bags you were holding before you could argue, “You got more ramen!”

“Of course,” you laughed, following him inside with the last two bags in your hands, “It’s your favorite right?”

“Yep!” he chirped happily from the kitchen.

The two of you go inside where you ask Taehyung to boil a pot of water and cook some ramen. He wasn’t quite good enough to be able to cook it correctly but you would be back inside before it was ready, anyway. Just as he began to fill the pot, you heard a horn beep from outside.

Taehyung gave you an excited grin and you chuckled before going to the porch.

“You sure you don’t need any help assembling this?” the man asked, a brow raised.

“No, I have a h…” you paused and cleared your throat, “A friend willing to help!”

“Alright,” he smiled kindly and tipped the brim of his hat before moving back to his truck, “Have a nice day!”

“You too!” you waved and sighed, eyes falling to the large box and plastic-wrapped mattress that now sat against your porch railing.

You pushed the door open and poked your head in, calling the hybrid's name. His feet thump against the floor as he runs toward the sound of your voice.

"Yes?" he asked, eyes wide.

"The bed is here," a smile blooms across his face and he excitedly nods his head.

"Come help me finish cooking so we can do it!" he turns his back to you and scampers back to the kitchen.

You chuckle and step inside, deciding to leave the door open. Taehyung was incredibly eager to get things started so the second his ramen was done, he was scarfing it down like a man starved.

"You're going to burn your tongue!" you chastised.

"Too late!" he whined, sticking his tongue out with furrowed brows. It didn't stop him though because a second later he was shoveling another bite into his mouth.

"Are you ready?" you ask, watching with an amused smile as he dumped his bowl into the sink and raced to the open door. You followed behind him only to stop when you caught him staring at the open door, "What is it?"

"You shouldn't leave the door open like this," he said, voice level to show how serious he was. He looked over his shoulder with a frown, your own face a mask of confusion, "It's dangerous."

You opened your mouth to respond but before you could, he was running down the porch steps to the mattress.

It took almost an hour for the two of you to get everything up the stairs into the spare bedroom. With the mattress leaning against the wall, the two of you sat on the floor reading the instructions of assembly for the bed frame.

"God I am beat," you complained, watching Taehyung twist the screw in like you had showed him.

His hair hung in his face, a little damp from sweating. His bottom lip was trapped between his teeth and his brows were furrowed in concentration.

"Yep," he hummed, sitting back with a sigh. He dropped the screwdriver on the floor and fell silent.

"Now we have to put the mattress on the frame," you chuckled at the tired groan he let out.

He stood up and held his hand out, helping you stand up as well. Then, with exhausted determination the two of you finally dropped the mattress down into its rightful place.

"What's next?" he asked with a sigh as he finally took a relaxed seat on the couch.

"Well, we need to get sheets and stuff for the bed," you said, pulling out your phone.

As you typed into the search engine, you felt a hand on your hip. You look down, finding Taehyung was urging you towards him.

You were suddenly pulled into his lap, making you gasp in surprise. Your cheeks immediately heated up, feeling his strong chest against your back with his arms around your body, holding you.

Doing your best to ignore the position, despite your racing heart, you allowed him to look over your shoulder to locate bedding he liked.

"I saw this on TV," he spoke suddenly, voice deep and oh-so close to your ear.

"Wh-What's that?" you whispered, hoping he didn't notice the tremble in your voice.

"Sitting like this," he replied, reaching forward to click a link on your screen, "The guy held her like this."

"You shouldn't be watching things like that, Tae," you joked.

"What things?" he asked, making you chuckle, shaking your head as you dismissed him. Before he could question more, you brought his attention back to the sheets he was looking at.

That night, after bidding the hybrid goodnight, you sat in bed gazing out the window at the beach below.

You truly couldn't believe there was a wild seahorse hybrid sleeping just down the hall. If someone had told you that there would be one living with you not too long ago, you would have laughed in their face.

You never thought you'd be a person who illegally kept a wild hybrid. But it wasn't like he didn't want to be there.

Right?

You shook all thoughts of him from your head and closed your curtains, basking the room in darkness.

One morning, you're woken up by a loud thump. You sigh, staring up at the ceiling as you listen to the hybrid bumble around downstairs.

He'd been there for over a month and had grown increasingly comfortable living in the house. Sitting up, you stretched and threw on a robe before descending down the stairs.

He was in the kitchen, as you expected. His back was to you but there was something off about him.

His body was stiff and his jaw was clenched tight. With a frown marring his face, you grew concerned. It was clear he wasn't in a good mood.

"Taehyung?" you called, watching him freeze for a second before resuming what he was doing, "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," he mumbled, voice flat.

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the wall as you watched him crack an egg into the pan. It sizzled, filling the tense silence.

Neither of you said anything, although you had a lot on the tip of your tongue. You simply watched as he prepared his breakfast on a plate which he promptly deposited on the kitchen table.

He avoided your gaze, grumpily glaring at his plate as he silently ate. You sighed and he tensed again but didn't say anything.

"Taehyung," you breathe, taking a seat across from him, "You can't ignore me forever," he remains silent, "Talk to me...what happened?"

In the silence of the kitchen, he slams his fist down. You jump and look at him with wide eyes. His gaze is fiery, and he bares his teeth in anger before squinting a glare towards you. You can't help but cower away when he suddenly stands up.

"What happened?" he tosses his head and lets out a humorless laugh, "Seriously, what? Did you think I wouldn't find out, hm?"

"Find out what?" you gasp, realizing his anger was directed at you.

"Everything!" he snaps, shaking his head as he makes his way to the back door. You get up and follow after him quickly, "I learned everything about you! I-I can't believe I was almost tricked into--" he cuts himself off and runs down the stairs.

You chase after him, your feet meeting the cold sand as you follow him, calling his name, "What are you talking about?! I don't understand, Taehyung!"

He doesn't offer anything more and you let out a frustrated groan. You stumble, however, you watch him begin to shed his clothes the closer he gets to the shore.

"Taehyung?!" you cry in horror as he steps foot into the ocean. He looks at you over his shoulder and the look of disgust in his eyes makes you falter. In that second of hesitation, he disappeared beneath the surface.

You gasped and stopped at the waters edge, desperately looking over the dark surface.

"Tae..." you whispered, realizing he was gone.

You stand there, waiting, for what feels like forever. The temperature drops and you begin to shiver. Backing away from the shore, you begin to collect the articles of clothing he'd discarded which have long since lost the heat of his body.

Stepping inside, you let out a soft sigh and place the items on top of the driver.

The sun vanished beneath the horizon and the house was dark and silent. You were filled with empty lonliness as you went to bed, passing by his room to take a small peek even though you knew it was going to be empty.

You don't sleep well that night, your mind plagued with thoughts of the hybrid. Every time you shut your eyes, you would wake up with the hope that he would be back by morning.

When you got up, nice and early like he usually does, it was to an empty house. There was no Taehyung sitting on the couch or in the kitchen. It was just you.

He isn't back the next day either...or the next...or the next.

Eventually, you gave up on hoping to see him when the sun rose. You grew accustomed to the habitual silence -- though you didn't like it.

His bedroom was left untouched, the bed sloppily made with the blanket uneven as Taehyung didn't bother getting it quite right before going about his day. The house seemed so big without another party occupying it.

Eventually, you couldn't stand being in the house all the time by yourself. So, you started exploring the town -- which you hadn't bothered doing before.

On one afternoon, you ventured into a little comic book shop where you stumbled upon the familiar faces of Jungkook and Jimin. They were more than excited to see you; gushing about how it had been so long. They were a funny, charming pair who eagerly took it upon themselves to subject you to a day of touring the town.

You discover there was a little bar near the edge of town that most of the young adults frequented. A friend of Jimin and Jungkook's, Namjoon, owned it and allowed friends free drinks.

It was one such night that began with drinking among your new friends that ended with a drunk Jimin crashing on Taehyung's bed. He hadn't bothered getting under the blankets, passing out face down on the mattress with his feet dangling off the end of the bed.

You shut the door, leaving him to sober up overnight on his own.

While the outside company was lovely, kept you occupied and happy outside of the house, when you came home to the empty house you felt the liveliness dissipate.

It was an offhand comment from Yoongi where he expressed living in such a big house must be lonely -- advising you should get a pet or something. The idea bloomed into you begging Jungkook to take you to the pet store in town on his day off.

He was a bit hungover but still agreed after listening to you pester him about how lonely you were.

That led you to getting the sweet little black cat you promptly named Tux.

It felt wonderful to walk into your house after spending a day with your friends to greet someone -- even if he couldn't greet you back beyond a meow and rubbing up against your legs. He began to sleep in your bed, letting you curl around him as he purred himself to sleep.

Never in your life would you expect to be awoken in the middle of the night by your bedroom door slamming open. You bolted straight up in bed, eyes wide as you could vaguely make out the figure of a person standing there.

Your heart began to race in your chest, the sound of your blood pumping as adrenaline flowed through your body. Two seconds felt like hours before you finally scrambled out of bed. With him blocking the doorway, you could only run to the balcony.

As you threw the door open, you screamed when a strong arm wrapped around your waist and lifted you up.

"Calm down!" a familiar voice snapped, immediately halting your thrashing.

"T-Taehyung?" you panted, your feet meeting the floor as he finally put you back down.

"Who else?" he asked, voice flat.

You could barely make him out in the dark but you relaxed significantly as the relief caught up to you, "You can't do that! You nearly gave me a heart attack! I thought you were a burglar or something--"

"Why do I smell another man in my bed?" he cut you off, not caring for the panic he had caused you.

"Huh?" you responded, running a hand through your hair as you skirted past him to flick the lamp on beside your bed.

"I went to my bed," he began, stepping closer to you, "And it smells like another man. Why?"

You huffed a laugh, shrugging your shoulders, "A friend crashed there like a week ago, why?"

"Why?" he scoffed, stopping when he was right in front of you. Your heart skipped a beat when he leaned down, his nose almost brushing yours, "Because there shouldn't be another man in my bed."

His voice was dark, sending shivers down your spine, "W-Well, I thought you were gone so I had a friend over! You left a-and what the hell do you think you're doing here anyway?! You can't just show back up like this!"

"Why not?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"B-Because it's not okay!" he snapped, reaching up to shove at his shoulders so he would back off. He did, straightening up so you could stand up. You breezed past him in a huff, crossing your arms over your chest, "You just left, yelling at me! For weeks, Taehyung! You can't just come back like nothing happened!"

"I'm sorry," he sighed, "I shouldn't have done that."

"You were blaming me for something you didn't even bother explaining!" you cried, "Tell me what the hell happened."

"I..." he looked sheepish, clearing his throat, "I watched something on TV that talked about human’s treatment of wild marine hybrids. I...I got upset for...well, no good reason. I know you didn't do anything at all. I was the one who wanted to stay -- you helped me and let me stay. I'm sorry, _____."

You sighed, relaxing your shoulders, "That's so stupid, Tae," he nodded his head but didn't say anything, keeping his dark gaze on you, "Alright...go to bed, we'll...figure this out in the morning."

You moved towards your door, motioning for him to get out. As much as you wanted to jump for joy that he was back, you were too tired and, quite frankly, still pissed off. When he didn't make any attempt to leave, you cleared your throat.

He sighed and made his way towards you. Instead of walking out the door however, he wrapped his arm around your waist and kicked the door shut, pinning you against it.

"Tae--" before you could get out the rest of his name, his lips were on yours.

Your words were knocked from you as you found yourself kissing him back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he gripped your hips. You could feel the heat of his body through the thin, silk fabric of your nightgown.

He growled against your lips, reaching down to grip your thighs to pull you up. You gasped as you were hoisted up against his body and the door, your knees locked around his waist. His nails pinched the sensitive skin of your thighs but you paid it no mind.

"You're mine," he growled, voice barely above a whisper, "No one else can have you."

You didn't get to reply as you were yanked from the door and tossed onto the bed. You squeaked out his name when his weight was suddenly thrust on top of you. He caged you in, resting his weight on his forearms beside your head, keeping you locked in a heated kiss. Your legs were forced to spread around his waist, letting the cool breeze from your cracked window reach the damp material of your panties.

Simply kissing him, feeling his hands on you was enough to make you wet.

"I'm going to mate you, baby," he growled, nipping your bottom lip before suddenly pulling away, "Prove that you're mine."

You nodded, breathless from his kissing. Your heart was racing in your chest and your stomach fluttered with butterflies. He reached down to find the hem of your nightgown where it had bunched against your hips. He pushed it up until you were forced to sit up to allow him to pull it off. He groaned at the sight of your half-naked body.

"You're so pretty," he whispered, leaning down to press a kiss against your breast, "You're never going to look at another man when I'm done with you. I want to be all you think about, all you need...all you want."

You whimpered when his lips wrapped around a perked nipple, lashing the bud with his tongue. You gripped his hair, mindful of the horns hidden within the mess of black hair. He reached between your thighs to find the material of your panties, cupping your heat with a sigh. You were wet, he could feel it soaking through your panties.

"Please, Tae," you whispered, letting your head fall back to expose your neck as he trailed kisses upwards from your breast.

He hummed but didn't supply a response, too preoccupied with your scent. He brushed his nose against the column of your neck, over your artery where he could feel pounding in time with your racing pulse. He nipped at the skin, a promise of leaving a mark before he slipped his hand into your panties.

You cried out as his fingers immediately delved between your folds. He bypassed your clit to find your entrance, a fleeting graze over the sensitive bud making you whine. One long, lithe digit slid into your entrance, drawing mutual sighs from the two of you.

"A-Another," you gasped.

He chuckled and easily added his index finger, giving you that sweet stretch you craved, "You'll have to take more if you want to fit me," he breathed, making your walls clench around his fingers, "I have to stretch you real nice..."

"Fuck," you cursed, eyes rolling back as he curved his fingers to find your g-spot. Your thighs trembled around him at the fleeting stimulation before he suddenly withdrew, sliding off the bed.

You watched his shed his shirt, a long sleeved t-shirt you'd tossed on his bed shortly after he left when you found it mixed in with your laundry. His body was lean and built from swimming and you could see his biceps flex as he pushed his sweatpants down.

Left in just his underwear, you could see his cock through the thin material -- just as big as you'd hoped. It would definitely give you that painful burn you needed.

Stepping forward once again, he hooked his fingers into the hem of your panties and pulled them down. You raised your hips to allow him to pull them completely free. Once they were off your ankles, he tossed them to the side.

You felt yourself grow even wetter at being exposed completely beneath him. He gripped your knees and pinned your legs open. You whined, clenching around nothing as he gazed at your wet folds.

Moving his gaze back to your face, he lowered himself to the floor until he was level with your pussy. He tightening his grip on your legs so you couldn't close them and leaned forward, sliding his tongue through your folds, making you gasp.

He grazed over your clit, your hips jumping in response to the sudden stimulation. You let your head fall back against the bed, letting him eat your cunt as he pleased. Opening his mouth as wide as he could, he wrapped his lips around your cunt. Your eyes rolled back as he sucked, the wet sounds of your juices only serving to turn you on more.

His tongue found your entrance, licking at your slit before pushing his tongue inside. You gasped, grappling at his hair for purchase.

He doubled back to your clit again, suckling on the bud as he introduced his fingers. He slid three in at once, drawing a moan from you.

The stimulation to your sweet spot and your clit had you hurdling towards release quickly. He fucked you with his fingers, feeling you clench around them as he worked your clit with his tongue. Your bud was swollen and sensitive, eager for release that he was more than willing to provide. He could taste how much sweeter your juices got the closer you grew until suddenly your body froze.

A long, high pitched moan left your lips as you came -- spasming around his long fingers as he diligently worked you through your high. You gushed around his fingers but he didn't case, continuing to fuck you with those digits until your juices were dripping down to his wrist.

It wasn't long before you were pushing him off, needing a breather from the stimulation. He pulled away, watching you close your thighs as you trembled through the last remnants of overstimulation.

You were so wet, the insides of your thighs coated with your cum and his saliva from where his mouth watered from your enchanting taste.

As you recovered, he stood up and shed himself of his final layer -- his boxers. He was finally completely bare to you and you couldn't help but sit up. He wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, giving himself a few good strokes to ease the arousal that had painfully built.

You shifted to sit on your knees, licking your lips as you reached out to wrap your own hand around him. His lashes fluttered as he released his own hold to wrap his fingers around your wrist. He was hard and hot, throbbing in your hand as his tip drooled precum. Your mouth suddenly felt dry and you had the urge to taste him.

Glancing up, you saw he had let his head fall back, losing himself in your touch. Leaning forward, you wrapped your lips around the tip of him. He hissed, eyes flying open as he snapped his head down to look at you. His teeth were clenched and you felt more precum drip onto your tongue and you whined.

He suddenly wrapped his hand in your hair and pulled your back, making you gasp.

"Lay back," he ordered and you hurriedly, scooted back until you laid comfortable in the pillows.

He crawled onto the bed and gripped beneath your knees, forcing your legs open . You bit your lip as your cheeks burned when he spread you obscenely open with your knees up to your ears.

Your cunt was spread open, vulnerable as his cock prodded your entrance. He met your gaze for a split second, waiting for you to stop him. When you didn't he buried himself into your tight heat in one swift stroke.

It burned and ached just as you thought it would; it was amazing.

"Go, please, fuck me," you begging when he paused, intending to let you adjust.

You wrapped your own arms around your legs, keeping yourself spread as he wanted. The sounds that emitted as he began to fuck you were lewd; the wet sound of your juices around his intruding cock and the sound your skin meeting every time he sunk into you.

You were still sensitive from your first orgasm that when he hit your sweet spot, it caused a tingle to run down your spine to your toes. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan; he was forcing you higher and higher onto your peak but you couldn't fall over. Without stimulation to your clit, you felt you would never cum.

However, when he dropped his body over you, meeting your lips in a heated kiss, you finally found release. He groaned as you tightened suddenly around him, trembling and latching onto him as you came around his cock.

He didn't slow, however, reaching down to find your clit. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as your orgasm was pushed higher and higher. You weren't able to come down, being forced to new heights until you were suddenly soaked in your juices.

Taehyung gasped, sitting back on his heels, keeping your thighs pinned open as you squirted around him -- soaking the bed beneath you, his thighs and your own. You whined, pushing him back so his cock finally popped free and you were left you stuttered, trembling mess.

He gave you a second until your body relaxed a bit before he pushed his cock back into you. You whimpered, eyes rolling back as he gave several more thrusts, sinking balls deep into you before he came.

His cum was hot as it filled you up and he let out soft whimpers of pleasure before finally pulling away.

Neither of you said or did anything beside shuffle to lay close together. He wrapped his arms around you and tucked you close against his chest, kissing the top of your head.

"There's something...you should probably know," he suddenly said, voice a little hoarse. You hummed, glancing up to look at him as he continued, "My kind...seahorses...we kind of...mate for life."

"Do you?" you raised a brow, feeling the inklings of exhaustion begin to prick at you.

"Mhm," he cleared his throat, "And I really am...sorry for leaving the way I did. I hope that you'll keep me around because now...you're it for me, _____."

You sat up and smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

There was a soft scuffling noise from outside your door, making Taehyung jump. You sighed and pulled away from him, despite how he tried to keep you from going.

"What is it?" he asked, frowning.

"It's Tux," you mumbled, opening the door.

The cat ran in, taking a running leap onto the bed. As you closed the door, you heard a loud thump. Turning around, you found Taehyung on the floor, the sheet tangled around his legs.

"It's a cat!" he cried, pointing an accusatory finger at the cat who sat on your pillow licking his paw.

"Yes..." you mumbled, bending down to pick up your nightgown.

"Cats eat fish!" Taehyung whined.

You rolled your eyes, sliding your nightgown on, ignoring the slickness of his cum seeping down your thighs.

"Taehyung," you sighed, grabbing his arm to pull him up, "I promise Tux will not be able to eat you."

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