#had to solidify what he looks like in my style

[thanks-obillma]

didn't draw this asshole for 1 day and completely forgot what he looked like

[harstyle]

The Beginning of Something New

Summary: You and Harry Styles could not be more different— so maybe that's the reason you've hated each other from the start. One conversation on a rooftop is all it takes for you to realize that you may have more in common than you've cared to admit.

Word-count: around 3.3k (she's short)

Warnings: they fight a lot lol, mentions of alcohol and drugs

A/N: Hi there! It's been a while. I wrote this short thing on vacation and felt like posting it. It doesn't really follow a time structure or anything, it's just random little snippets of their relationship to the big confessions at the end but I think it's cute, so I hope you enjoy! Both reader and Harry are in uni and Harry is the lead singer of a band that performs in clubs and pubs around the city. I’d say they’re around 20.

credits to the owner of this photo!

You can feel his eyes on you, daring.

You’re trying not to entertain it, to keep your eyes on Luke, to feign interest in his life. But it’s so difficult; it’s so difficult with him standing across the room, this weird hue in the air, this magnetic pull he has on you. And it doesn’t matter that you’re touching Luke’s arm or dragging a finger down his chest— all you care to think about is how hard you’re pushing Harry’s buttons.

And how fucking sweet victory tastes.

Well, aside from… you know, having to actually listen to Luke’s blabbering.

“The hotel’s great but the service is unbelievable. I had to wait fifteen minutes for a guy to bring me an extra towel once and I almost handed in a complaint—“

“Right. Luke, I’m going to get myself a new drink. Do you want anything? No? Wonderful.”

Your rough sigh speaks volumes, wasted air solidifying into something more important as you order at the bar. The bartender smiles at you, almost pitiful, and you writhe in disgust when you think about having to go back in a minute. You suppose it’s worth it to prove your point to Harry that you’re not as undesirable as he thinks, but maybe you should’ve done so with a guy who tells more interesting stories. Or at the very least knows not to speak with his mouth full

“Bored already, princess?”

It does irritate you when Harry sees right through you.

“Were you watching us? How cute.”

He rolls his eyes in your periphery. “You reek of disinterest, is all.”

“As a matter of fact, I’m very interested.”

“Very, you say.”

You lock eyes with him, “very.” Your bartender places the drink in front of you and you’re quick to take a sip. Harry snickers at your side. “What do you want, Harry?”

“Nothing. Are you sure you didn’t pay him to take you out?”

“Are you sure you have nothing else to do with your life? Because it sure is a little pathetic how invested you are in mine.”

“Aw come on, sweetheart,” he pinches your cheek and you recoil in an instant, shoving him back. Harry chuckles like he gets off on it. “Admit that you like the attention.”

“From you? I think I’d rather not.”

His smile never fades. “So this guy, very predictable.”

Your eyebrows pinch together, “what do you mean?”

“Just his look and everything. It makes sense you’d go out with him.” When you don’t reply, simply tilting your head in an even mix of curiosity and disdain, he elaborates. “All of the boys you date, they’re the same. Bet his Porsche’s insurance is under his daddy’s name.”

Your fixated glare could kill.

But he doesn’t mind— in fact, he loves it. He knows he’s struck a cord, that he’s right. “There’s no thrill in it. No excitement.”

“He’s everything you could never be, Harry.”

A beat of silence ensues, you take a sip of your drink.

You probably shouldn’t elaborate, but you do. You find yourself wanting to. “He’s kind, and he cares about me. He opens doors and he holds my hand when we’re walking down the street. So yeah, maybe he doesn’t get drunk tattoos or share a joint with me at three in the morning, but he’s a gentleman. And that’s something you could never understand.”

You don’t even wait for him to interject, because at this point it isn’t fun anymore. It’s true; Harry is exciting, he’s a breath of fresh air. He keeps the chase going— but he doesn’t fucking care enough. So it doesn’t matter how often you’ve caught yourself hoping for him to change and see how good you could be if you didn’t hate each other, he will never be an option for you. He likes the game, teetering on the edge of something more certain and then letting go.

Everything happens at night. By morning time, he couldn’t give less of a shit. You’re not good enough for him. Not exciting enough, not spontaneous enough.

And even though you’re sure you hear him calling your name, you don’t turn back for him. You’re already walking to Luke’s table, and finding yourself happy to do so.

“Everything okay?” He asks when catching wind of your tight expression.

“Yeah. Let’s finish this drink and get the hell out of here.”

—

His eyes are much greener at night, and you hate it.

You hate the rasp in his voice and how smooth it sounds in spite of it. You hate how his eyes close when he’s entranced in the music, when he feels his guitar riff flowing like blood through his veins. And mostly you hate how weak you are, how little convincing it took for you to be here tonight.

By the end of his set, you’re three martinis in and Jessica is poking you in the shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

“Im fucking great, Jess.”

You don’t see why your friends are always walking on eggshells when the topic of Harry comes up. You and Harry can’t stand each other, that’s it.

And yet every time they act like you’ll break into tears when you see him.

Mitch and Harry return to the table in your periphery and you try your best to ignore their presence. Sometimes you feel bad that Mitch seems to be at the receiving end of your cold attitude so often because he’s genuinely a cool guy, but he’s also Harry’s bandmate. It’s aversion by association.

“Great set, guys!”

Jessica and Mitch aren’t officially dating, but they’re fucking. Hanging out. Hence the reason for your frequent visits to this club and to their gigs; she forces you to come and you can never say no to her.

Mitch slings an arm around Jess’ shoulders, kind enough to acknowledge you with a welcoming smile. They’re perfect for each other and you can’t help but let a grin tug at your lips when you see yet again how happy he makes her.

You wish you could have that.

The couple leaves to get drinks, leaving you and Harry alone.

“Didn’t bring your boyfriend?”

Your eyes roll. It’s involuntary at this point how often you do it. “Can you get off of my dick?”

“If you hop on mine.”

Disgust molds your features, “you’re fucking gross.”

He laughs. You don’t find him funny at all.

His grin dims. “Trouble in paradise then?”

“No trouble. He’s just not here.”

You’re lying; you haven’t called Luke in weeks and he hasn’t reached out either. You don’t think that’s going to change.

“So you’re still dating him.”

“Yeah. Does that bother you?”

You watch as his jaw constricts and clenches. Then he shakes his head, surprising you with the silence it’s accompanied by.

And for some reason, it causes a twist in your stomach. A guilty twist, like it’s somehow your fault the air has turned uncomfortable.

It takes you seconds to realize that for the first time since you’ve gotten to know him, he’s failed to deliver a snarky remark or a hurtful comment; anything resembling a testament to the hatred the two of you feel for one another.

It’s like he has something he wants to say, something on the tip of his tongue, but he’s a coward when it comes to relationships and vulnerability, so he can’t bring himself to do it. And you have enough self-respect to not pry it out of him.

“I have a thing in an hour so I’ll get going. Do you need a ride home?”

For some reason, his offer doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. You and Harry can hate each other all you want, but at the end of the day he’ll still care enough to make sure you don’t get harassed on the way home. Somewhat comforting, but only somewhat.

You also know exactly what his thing is, and thinking about it makes you nauseous.

Your first instinct is to say no, but then you pause. Your eyes wander to Jess and Mitch kissing by the bathrooms and you find yourself unable to resist the offer of a ride, as much as you’d hate having to sit in a car with him.

“Yeah, okay.”

Harry’s only confirmation is a subtle nod. He probably hates the idea just as much as you do, but having a death or an injury on one’s conscience can’t feel better than having to endure this.

Most of the ride goes swimmingly, but that’s owed to the silence.

And then you get sick of it, and it all goes downhill.

“You’re the most confusing guy I’ve ever met, you know that?”

His jaw clenches again.

But you don’t stop, probably because the alcohol is finally taking its effect. “You’re mean and as emotionally unavailable as a fucking tree.”

In any other setting he’d probably smile at the comparison, but he’s not in the mood today. He says your name and it resembles a warning.

“I just don’t— I don’t fucking get it. Because you’re nice to everyone else and every one of our friends loves you. But with me you have a problem, with everything I do. I can never do anything right, I’m never right—“

“Do you realize that maybe it’s just you? That you never shut up, that you’re so fucking irritating. You walk around like you’re god-chosen, pretending to know everything better than anyone else. You’re so— it’s so fucking irritating.”

Silence.

He shouldn’t have said anything— least of all anything he didn’t think through beforehand.

But it isn’t his words that terrify you; it’s how he says them. He’s so… genuine. It’s not some halfhearted comment delivered out of spite. No, it’s real, something you can tell he’s kept concealed for a long time out of… what, something he considers kindness?

But you don’t want to self-reflect. You don’t want to open up a can of worms. Instead, your hatred for Harry only flares up. It eats you up and leaves your body in strong waves.

“Pull over.”

You can tell Harry regrets his outburst when he sighs, knuckles turning white as his grip on the steering wheel tightens. “Princess—“

“Pull over, Harry. I want to walk.”

“It’s dangerous out—“

You don’t care anymore, though, his pleas becoming background noise as you’re opening the door and getting ready to step out mid drive. Harry finally gives. He’s not worried about the damage you might’ve caused to his door, he’s worried about your state. How angry you seem and how much alcohol is in your system.

You slam the door shut, hug your blazer closer to your body and start walking.

Guilt spreads in Harry’s chest as he watches you walk away from him. He messed up.

He’s sure there’ll be a special place in hell waiting for him when he sees your shoulders tremble. You’re crying. And it’s all his doing.

His forehead hits the steering wheel.

Fuck this.

—

You’ve always loved watching the stars on your own. You suppose it’s how stuffy the room was that makes this particular viewing significantly more enjoyable, though, the air clinging to your skin in a way that makes you feel protected. The rooftop is secluded, offering a view of the city in its twinkling lights. For a minute, you forget that you’re depressed. You forget that you haven’t spoken to Harry in two months and that it’s left a gaping wanting hole in your chest.

The beer in your hand isn’t cold anymore, your phone has died and your heels are long discarded on the floor somewhere. Your arms are resting on the railing.

You’re a reasonably social person, but the idea of talking to a human being right now makes you want to vomit. And you feel bad, truly bad, because it’s Nina’s birthday. Because you’re having a party in the art gallery she opened earlier this year, because you should be down there celebrating her achievements like all of your friends are doing— and you feel so incredibly selfish for not feeling up to the task. For feeling like you want to fucking cry just because Harry’s here too, and you weren’t expecting him to be.  

You hear your name being called. You know exactly who it is; you would probably know by the pattern of his breathing, really, and that realization makes you want to crawl into a hole and never come back up.

“Everyone’s worried about you. You just disappeared.”

Your frown deepens. You can’t look at him right now.  “Are they?”

He sounds impatient and you don’t blame him. “Yes. Can you come in?”

You sniffle, “in a minute.”

“Princess—“

“I said in a minute, okay? Just— give me a minute.”

He allows you silence for another minute. Two, actually, before walking closer. You can’t see him, but his presence is loud enough for you to know.  

“Are you okay?”

You shake your head, “no.”

“Can I help you with anything?”

“No.” You breathe in deep, readying yourself for something you’ll probably regret later. But the sudden rush of courage is overwhelming, so you’ll take your chances. “I, uh… I’m always terrified of being exposed to hurt. And so I think, as a defense mechanism, I close up around people. At least the ones who show signs of disliking me.” His silence allows you to go on. “And I always got the impression that you hated me. I never knew what I had done, but I knew you didn’t like me, and that sent me into a fucking spiral because I hate when that happens.” You interrupt yourself in a chuckle, watching as lights flicker off in the distance. “And so maybe subconsciously, in the beginning, I made it a mission of mine to make you like me, you know? Which is why I used to try to talk, to keep conversation going, never shut my mouth. And when I realized that wasn’t working, I needed to shut myself off.  Keep you as far away as possible because I knew you would hurt me one way or another.” One last deep breath helps you bask in this feeling of relief. For once in your life, you’re being honest.

“And so I know that I can be overbearingly rude, that I get on your nerves, but it’s because…” you can’t bring yourself to say the complete truth, so you modify it a little, “it’s because if you knew the real me, the version that everyone else knows, then you would know how to hurt me. And I didn’t want that to happen.”

His breathing changes, you hear it. You almost can’t believe you would open up like you did, but somewhere deep down you’re also proud of yourself.

“And I’ve realized now that… that somewhere along the way I got swept up in the illusion of it. The nights we spent together getting tattoos and drinking until morning, I took them for something they weren’t because I wanted it all to be real. I wanted for us to be real, I guess, for us to stop hating each other so much. I held onto the hope, but you would never communicate the same to me. And that scared me because I felt like I wasn’t enough for you. But instead of accepting it, I got meaner and more defensive because I felt played.”

“And I know it’s so… it’s so fucking weird for me to say this to you now like it’s some kind of confession, but… I just can’t shut up, so.”

You find it comical how it all flows out of you like water. How easy it seems now and how much of a big deal you used to make it.

“I never hated you.“ He says after a beat of quiet.

“You didn’t?” You ask as you turn around, pressing your back to the railing. He sticks his hands into the pockets of his washed out jeans and walks closer. He stops next to you, his arms resting on the railing. It’s his turn to watch the lights.

“No,” he shakes his head, taking a deep breath to brace himself. “I… when I saw you for the first time, I felt drawn. I thought you were sweet and funny, and you definitely had me wrapped around your fucking finger by the second time we met. It terrified me, how someone like you could have that effect on me.”

“Someone like me?”

“Someone so caring and deserving of something more than I could offer her. What you said at the bar that night, it was true. It was all true. Because I never had to be a gentleman before, you know? I don’t exactly date. You know that.” You do. “And I knew that you could worm your way in and completely change my life if only you wanted to. You could hurt me a million times over and I would forgive you every time.”

You can feel his eyes on you, studying the curve of your nose like it’s something he wants to memorize. “I was insecure. I didn’t want to get hurt, so I chose to scare you off. But it was real, all of it; the nights we spent together, everything in between. I pretended like it wasn’t, but deep down I knew it would come to kick me in the ass.” You laugh at his choice of words; he smiles in return. “Because you’re… you’re perfect for me, you know? And letting myself be happy was too much to ask, so I resorted to being an arse. I figured if I could control how you felt about me, I could control how I felt about you.”

You always thought you and Harry were complete opposites... you’re talkative, Harry’s quiet. You’re warm, Harry’s cold. You can’t take it when people don’t like you, and Harry couldn’t give less of a shit.

But now you know that it isn’t the complete truth. Beneath that superficial layer you know so well, there are similar fears. At it’s base, you’re both scared of hurt. You’re scared of exploring unknown territory and risking everything in the name of something that could leave you heartbroken. It could all be for nothing.

And yet, could it not still be worth it?

“We’re both stupid.”

Harry chuckles, and you’re convinced it’s the most beautiful sound anyone could make.

He taps his fingers against the metal railing, nodding. “That we are.”

For the first time in a long time, the silence you share is comfortable. It isn’t courtesy of having too much to say and yet saying nothing, instead it’s courtesy of having said everything and agreeing it’s enough. For now, at least.

You smile to yourself.

The door opens, revealing a timid Jess.

“Hey guys, we’re about to cut into the cake.”

“We’re coming,” you say, sharing a short look with Harry. The two of you walk down the stairs, Harry behind you and Jess in front.

Nina embraces you, ushering both you and Harry closer. If she noticed you were gone, she doesn’t mention it and you’re thankful for that. Tonight, you just want to be a good friend.

And although you have more to say, you’re not worried. Because it’ll all be fine— you’ll be fine.

Nina blows out her candles, everyone erupts into cheers. You grin, sharing a look with Harry over the rim of your bottle. It’s longer this time, something worth holding onto. His eyes are daring, they’re sure, and most of all, they’re welcoming.

It’s a guarantee of trust, a confirmation of the beginning of a new chapter. And although you’re eager to explore it, you have no doubt in your mind that the story won’t come to an end for a while.

[writinginpinkpink]

The Price of Life. [0.3]

homelander x fem!reader

summary: Homelander saved you and gave you life, but with one rule: be utterly loyal to him. Despite this, you went beyond mere obedience and provided him with what he needed most: love.

warnings: homelander, violence, swearing, smut (eventually), a bit of stockholm syndrome?

taglist: @tfamidoingwithmylife

masterlist | requests opened! | previous

When morning came, you woke up to find Homelander already up, his hair impeccably styled as he rehearsed his lines in front of the mirror. He glanced at you with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Good morning, YN. Today is a big day for us,” he said, his voice unnervingly peaceful. “Get dressed. We have a press conference in an hour.”

You nodded, getting up and putting on the uniform he had given you. The new suit felt unfamiliar against your skin, a constant reminder of your new commitment, but you liked how it looked on you.

“Save your concern for someone who needs it,” you retorted, brushing past her. “I’ve made my choice.”

The press conference was held in the main hall of Vought Tower. As you and Homelander stood together, facing the flashing cameras and the eager reporters, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Homelander began, his voice strong and authoritative. “I have an important announcement to make. YN and I are now in a relationship. Together, we’ll make sure to combat the lies the media spreads and show you the truth for a brighter future for America.”

You forced a smile, nodding along with his words. The room erupted in applause, and the questions started flying. You answered them as best as you could, sticking to the narrative Homelander had laid out. The applause and the attention felt intoxicating, filling you with a sense of significance you had never experienced before.

After the press conference, you found yourself alone with Homelander in a small conference room. He turned to you, his expression unreadable.

“You did well out there,” he said, his tone almost approving. “But remember, they love me, not you. If anything happens, I can turn them against you in a heartbeat.”

You nodded, feeling a strange thrill at his threat. It wasn’t a problem for you; it was just part of who he was, and you liked it. “I understand.”

“Good,” he replied. “Now, I have something else for you. A mission. It’s a test of your loyalty.”

Your heart raced at his words. “What kind of mission?”

He handed you a folder with detailed information. “There’s a supe disrupting the city. I want you to take care of it. Show me that you’re devoted to me.”

You opened the folder and scanned the contents, your eyes narrowing as you took in the details. The name and face of the target were familiar, and you realized why Homelander had chosen her, you couldn't deny him: this was your chance to prove yourself to Homelander, to solidify your place by his side.

“I’ll take care of it,” you said confidently.

As you left the room to prepare for the mission, you ran into Annie.

“YN, please. Think about what you’re doing,” she pleaded. “This isn’t you. Homelander is dangerous. You don’t have to do this.”

Your anger flared at her words. “Oh, I see what’s going on. You’re jealous, Annie. You can’t stand that someone else might be in the spotlight for once.”

“Jealous? That’s not it at all,” Annie insisted, her eyes wide with shock. “I’m worried about you. Homelander isn’t who you think he is.”

“This again?” you snapped, feeling the resentment bubble up. “We’ve already talked about this. You’ve always been jealous of me. Ever since I joined The Seven, you’ve treated me like I’m just your sidekick. Well, guess what? I’m done being in your shadow. Homelander sees my potential, and he’s given me a chance to prove myself.”

“YN, you’re making a mistake,” Annie said, her voice softer now, pleading. “This isn’t about jealousy. It’s about keeping you safe.”

-

The mission Homelander gave you was straightforward: eliminate a minor supe. As you approached the familiar location, a strange feeling hit your stomach. It was just an old warehouse; there was no reason for you to feel this way. Everything would have been so much easier if you didn’t have so many memories. However, none of it mattered. You knew Homelander, and you knew this was his way to test you, to see how far you would go for him. And you would go damn far.

You entered the warehouse, your senses heightened, and quickly located your target. Your heart skipped a beat. The supe was a young woman with the ability to ignite fire. She turned to face you, her eyes widening in recognition. Affection filled her eyes, but you didn’t allow yours to show the same feeling.

“YN? What are you doing here? Miss the team?” she asked, smiling. Her hair was different, and her face a little older, but the smile was the same. Her expression faltered as she noticed the darkness in your gaze—a look she couldn’t quite recognize. It was you, but something was different, something unsettling.

“I’m here to take care of a problem,” you replied coldly, stepping closer. You knew that to get the job done, you would have to leave it all behind—all the love for your past had to be destroyed so there would be enough space for your savior.

She backed away, her confusion evident. “What are you talking about? Is this about that shirt—”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you interrupted.

Before she could react, you lunged at her, using your improved strength to pin her to the ground. She struggled, but you were stronger, you were better. You could almost hear Homelander's voice in your head, telling you how good you were being for him. You felt a twisted sense of fulfillment as you overpowered her, your hands closing around her throat.

As she gasped for air, her flames flickering out, you leaned in closer, your voice a cold whisper. “I wish I could say I'm sorry that things ended like this.” You saw Ember's tear running down her cheek, but somehow it meant nothing to you. She meant nothing to you now.

With a final, cruel twist, you snapped her neck, feeling a wave of energy and pleasure. You stood up, looking down at her lifeless body, and felt no remorse. You weren't even ashamed about it.

You wiped away a tear you didn't realize was falling. Maybe that was your last bit of humanity. But you knew that everything would be worth it.

-

Returning to Vought Tower, you made your way to Homelander’s office, feeling a mix of pain and pride. Eager to see him as soon as possible, you quickened your pace, anxious for his praise. When you entered, he looked you up and down with a smirk.

“Looks like you’ve been in quite a fight,” he said, his tone a blend of amusement and condescension. “Guess the supe wasn’t much of a challenge after all.”

“I handled it,” you replied, a rush of pride in your voice. “For you.”

Homelander’s expression remained assertive as he stepped closer, his hand brushing your cheek with a calculated touch. “I know. You did such a good job, YN.” Your heart raced, the sound of it loud in your ears. You felt as if you would do it a thousand times again just to hear him say it once more.

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, his approval filling you with a sense of accomplishment. “Thank you.”

He guided you to his desk, where he began tending to your wounds. His touch was far from gentle, but you made sure not to flinch, determined to show that you could endure his roughness. As he worked, his eyes remained fixed on you, a mixture of satisfaction and possessiveness in his gaze.

“You know, you made the right choice,” he said, his voice low and assured. “Now nothing is standing between us.”

You felt a deep sense of commitment at his words, and you looked into his eyes, feeling the intensity of his gaze. “I’d do anything for my family,” you declared, your voice steady.

Homelander’s eyes shifted, an unreadable expression flickering across his face. Without warning, he gripped your chin firmly, his lips crashing against yours with a fierce urgency. At first, you struggled to keep up with the intensity, but soon you found yourself matching his desperation, surrendering to his need.

He used you as he pleased, and you embraced it, feeling a mix of exhilaration and belonging. The lines between pain and pleasure blurred as you gave yourself over completely.

[dduane]

...So once again it's the time of year when I return to this piece of digital art (or its earlier versions), tweak it a little in the attempt to get closer to what I see in my head, and repost it for Pride. (ETA, 3 June 2024: image tweaked a little bit more via late-night re-render because the upholstery wasn't rendering correctly, and as a result the kitty sort of vanished. Which would not be at all her style...)

At the moment I'm looking at These Two Idiots (for so they are) and considering with the usual bemusement how long I've been working with them. Of all the characters I've worked with in print, the only ones I've known longer would be the crew of NCC-1701—and very shortly now, for the first time as paid writing, a couple of gentlemen named Holmes and Watson.

I first "met" these guys in late 1970 in the form of the fellow college students on whom they'd be based: a couple of gents (not gay, as it happens) who were friends to me when I needed some. They were a tall dark guy and a short blond one with a mustache that came and went... so that, not even knowing the word "trope" at the time, I fell headfirst into one.

Less than a year after I met them, I changed educational tracks and schools, and we all drifted apart. But something about them stuck. The nature and depth of their friendship was unusual. So was one way it manifested itself: in ruthless snark that had no meanness or cruelty about it whatsoever—just affection.

In the late sixties I'd begun writing some very derivative fic strongly influenced by Tolkien. Rather to my surprise, though, as I started nursing school in 1971, the nature of that fiction started to change, and began rearranging itself around two characters who had a friendship like those of my college friends. With them as its core, a rather different kind of medieval-ish fantasy world started knitting itself together from various scraps of themes and imagery lying around in the back of my brain.

Even so early in the construction phases of this world, something the characters quickly made plain to me in the writing was that their relationships with one another were not what mainstream 1970s culture would consider conventional. They were gay... but that was a background issue,* and not at all the most important thing in their lives. They had far more important business to deal with—as became clear as their personalities and priorities started filling themselves out in the foreground.

One of them turned out to be the deliberate, analytical, methodical son of a provincial nobleman, all too aware of the expectations of those around him: that he might well eventually wind up running that province himself. Yet at the same time he also became aware that he had other problems, chief among them the discovery of a nascent power that would kill him young if he couldn't master it. And in the last thousand years, no one of his gender ever had.

The other presented himself more and more clearly as a difficult case: someone who wanted very much to be good at the family business, but wasn't... and knew it. Kind of a screw-up, repeatedly doing the wrong things for what he was sure were the right reasons. Yet, no matter how often he screwed up, he was also the kind of person who keeps picking himself up and trying again, because he's been told over and over that that's what people like him have to do: otherwise they're no use to anybody.

Imagine my shock when I realized that these two men—initially canonically enemies in their adolescence, then best friends as they grew, and eventually much more—were the (incomplete) answer to the question I'd once asked my Mom at the end of the bedtime reading of some fairy tale or other: "Why can't a prince rescue another prince?" Because one of them got himself more than once into situations where he really needed one kind or another of rescuing. The other one obliged him, while once or twice getting rescued himself. Those interlocking patterns started to solidify out of concept and into character detail and plot, while their world grew and proliferated into its own detail around them.

Then, without warning, in 1978 both world and characters decided they were ready to get real. I was abruptly dragged gasping and flailing under the surface of a novel that would begin the tale of what those two characters had yet to become. The period it took to produce that first draft was possibly the most interesting six weeks of my life... and that includes the six weeks during which I first scrubbed in on brain surgery. Day and night, for days at a time, I barely even existed except as something for a novel to come out of. When it was done with me, it just as abruptly dumped me back into my life and wandered away, leaving me staring around, blinking and wondering if anybody’d got the number of that truck. Nothing like it has ever happened to me since, which may be just as well. I’m none too sure that these days I could handle the strain.

The book—which sold a couple of weeks after it landed on its first publisher's desk—kicked off my career as novelist and screenwriter, and in its way proved that the world was at least somewhat ready for epic fantasy in which the basic culture was pansexual, polyamorous, and inclusive in ways that hadn't been attempted before.

So I owe them a debt, those two gentlemen up there: the tall dark curly-haired guy with the amateur strategist's mind, the blacksmith's shoulders, and the peculiar sword, his background thought always nibbling away at the question of how to heal the world's wounds: and the short fair gent who if he could would stay at home, live quietly in town, and work in the local library... except for when saving the world (or his found family) requires him to subsume his being into that of his ancestral demigod. Due to the success of the book in which they made their debut, these two became, in their way, the fairy† godfathers of the Young Wizards—and additionally enabled all that Star Trek fanfic I'd started writing a decade before to proceed to its logical conclusion.

More to the point, though, a lot of people in the 1980s and '90s who'd never seen queer representation in a fantasy novel, found it first, or at last, while following Herewiss and Freelorn down their road. It's been my pleasure to hold that space for new readers, and keep adding to it... because (if you ask me) it's needed more now than ever.

So, to the readership of the Middle Kingdoms works—now pushing half a century old—and everybody else who's celebrating the season: happy Pride!

*Not least because everybody else in their world is (at least potentially) some shade of queer, including God.

†(snicker)

[user211201]

Totally Normal

--- Originally posted on 2023-12-08 by dumb-and-jocked. ---

“Welcome back to Totally Normal, the online show where we narrow down the one thing that makes us all meet that standard!”

The host then hit a button on his laptop, releasing an audio for an uproarious round of applause. With his entire audience streaming in live, he had to make due with tracks. He didn’t mind it though; he could always predict what his viewers were thinking. It was like they shared the same mind.

“My name’s DJ, and before you ask, yes I have a side gig in music.” A laugh track obnoxiously inserted itself. “I don’t dabble in the typical jazz; I remix these men back to the tunes they oughta be singing.”

Another fake round of applause. The host smirked before continuing forward with the rules.

“The point of the game is simple: Figure out that one thing that makes someone totally normal. Through a series of questions, I’m going to chisel away at our contestants until we get to the base. For every wrong answer, a vibration will be sent out to their device until they head back on the right track. We want to find out that one thing that solidifies them as an average joe, but we don't exactly know what that thing is."

The host then took a scripted pause. "Well, *I *know what that thing is.”

Another laugh track entered before the host silenced his imaginary audience. “So, let’s get down to it. We have our men here, but ARE THEY NORMAL?”

The last three words were all enunciated with the typical gameshow pazazz. The host even had an accompanying audio that made it seem like there was an audience chanting it with him.

On cue, the livestream booted up a panel of the three contestants. The first was a shy young man, who by his age looked to be in college but by his height possibly younger. The second was the typical corporate homosexual, the breed who was already happily married and wore tight, designer clothing. And last but not least, the third looked just a little older than the first with an office that displayed the inner workings of a minor start-up.

“Help me welcome our first contestant, coming from the cool waves of Cali, here comes Cody!”

Corey opened his mouth to kindly correct the host, but was immediately silenced by the massive track of applause. A small and nervous 20-year-old, Corey was an academically-fine student at a state school. He worked as an IT intern, helping others work through their issues in a manner where he didn’t have to fully engage. Yet he knew he would probably have to work through this introvert problem if he ever truly wanted to make a loyal boyfriend from the crop of surfers across the street.

“Up next is our cowboy-tootin’, bullet-firin’ family man, Norman!”

Nolan made a face of disgust, but he too didn’t stand a chance against the fake cheers. He’d settled down with his husband just about 10 years ago in the suburbs. Working for a Fortune 500 company, he had everything a man of his caliber could want. Great company, great style, great pets instead of real children. Nolan loved his little metropolitan life.

“And finally, the privileged heir to the corporate throne, it’s Asher!”

Aaron rolled his eyes as the artificial eruption burst through his speakers. He assumed that this narcissistic jock host had gotten all of the contestants names wrong. Aaron had built his own business up from the ground, an independent hard-worker with no one tying him down. It wasn’t that Aaron didn’t want a boyfriend, he just needed to focus on himself. That’s why he was keeping it casual, hooking up with boys a little younger and less responsible. He absentmindedly pawed at his crotch a little as the douchebag DJ started the game.

“Now,” the host cracked his knuckles dramatically. “Let’s start off with some easy questions, just to make sure those devices are working after all. Cody, you’re looking comfortable out on that beach!”

Corey looked around the library he was sitting in confusedly, neither comfortable nor on a beach.

“I think you’re mistaking me for the surfers across the street,” Corey tried to joke, but his feeble demeanor spoiled the comeback.

“Men…you all ought to be where all the other guys of your kind are at.”

All three of them put on bewildered faces.

“Cody, what’s holding you back from embracing that Cali life?” the host asked.

“I…I mean there’s the obvious fact that they aren’t keen on ga-”

BZZT

“Ah!” Corey ripped his hand away, the "vibration" more of a literal sting.

“Cody, what’s holding you back?” the host asked again.

“Dude,” Corey uncharacteristically responded. “I don’t know if they will accept me, man.”

“Bro, what’s there NOT to accept?” the host chuckled. “You fit right in!”

Corey looked over his short frame, his pale skin, his shrimpy figure. He appeared better fit for the library than the bea-

BZZT

“You’re right DJ! I'm a gnarly guy like them brahs! They’ll totally accept me!”

Corey looked over his tall frame, his tanned skin, his toned figure. He appeared better fit for the beach than the library–that’s why he was on the beach after all!

“Alright alright,” the host nodded with approval. “Now Norman, let’s talk about your life in the countryside.”

‪‘Country side’?” Nolan interjected. “Do you consider Houston-”

BZZT

Nolan flung his hand back, “HOWARDWICK the countryside? You bet! Population 402, the two being me and my husband.”

“And what massive land you got behind you, I’m assuming you and your male fling built that together.”

“My what?” Nolan peered behind him, noticing his garden he’d built with his hus-

BZZT

-the ranch he’d built with his hustle. Well, not technically–this land had been managed through the traditional good ole ways of his parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. He’d just been fixing it up here and there.

Nolan stretched his thickening fingers, hoping to desensitize them from the pain. “W…What in tarnation is goin' on ‘ere?”

The host continued on, mocking the Southern accent he’d implanted onto the second contestant. “A place fittin' for a cowpoke like y’all’s self! Ain’t no city folk allowed; you don’t want nothin’ queer intrudin' your property, right?”

Queer?!” Nolan spat back. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’-“

BZZT

“Darn tootin’ straight! Ain’t nothin’ strange gonna be happenin’ on this ‘ere land.”

With the second contestant’s location rightfully reoriented, the host moved onto the third.

“And onto our Ivy League, let’s discuss ascension…I mean, ‘climbing the corporate ladder’.”

Aaron shot the host a dirty look through the screen. “You don’t think I worked hard to earn this position?”

“Well, you certainly didn’t do it all yourself.”

Aaron held his breath. He was a decently attractive man with his slim figure and responsible will, and even his anger made him appear wiser than his years. But Aaron's best feature was his independence, and he wasn’t going to let anyone taint his name over that.

“What, do you think my current boyfri-”

BZZT

“-my dating his-”

BZZT

“-my friends with benefits were involved?”

Aaron’s fingers tingled with energy. His body tingled with fury.

“Well,” the host snickered. “If by benefits, you mean…”

“What’s all this!” Aaron flipped. “This is simply…p…preposterous!”

“What are you talking about?” the host egged on. “It's simply normal for a man with your caliber to have such an ‘inheritance’.”

The other two contestants watched on with intrigue.

“I…I may have a b…benefactor,” Aaron suddenly revealed, as if something had just been placed upon his chest. But he was still independent, right? “But that has nothing to do with it!”

“Benefactor? Do you mean your DADDY?”

The fake audience suddenly burst into a chorus of shocked “Ooooohhhh”s. Aaron’s usual calm nature was flatlining, being replaced by a more quickly-agitated behavior.

“We may be really closely acquainted!” Aaron backpedaled. “But it’s nothing of that kind of sort!”

The other two contestants smirked as the growingly-pompous bastard was taken down a peg.

“Sounds pretty queer to me, man,” Corey interjected confidently, scratching at his defining abs.

“Yeah, Ah reckon that fellas a little less normal than us folks,” Nolan added, adjusting the large hat that had secured itself upon his head.

“SHUT UP SWINE!” Aaron spat, his face gaining back a little of his baby fat as he absorbed more child-like aggression. “I'm perfectly normal!”

The two men laughed alongside an obnoxious laughter track.

“He’s right folks, we men are on the right side of history.” The host knew he needed to move on, the show only had so much time of course, but he was having fun. “Surely that father-figure is just some kind of…relative?”

“Just a relative, brah?” Corey asked as his trim cut bloomed out into luscious blond waves.

“Seems closer than that, partner.” Nolan quipped as a graying stubble crawled upon his widening jaw.

“A….A relative?” Aaron stammered, a higher youthful pitch lightening his tenor as this benefactor became clearer in his head. “He’s…he’s someone who I f-“

BZZT

“Father! He’s my father: Asher Osvald the Third!” Aaron screamed, his blond locks gelling up into a refined style that didn’t match his own personality. “And you all better remember it when you see our company in the headlines!”

Both Corey and Nolan took their respectful back-offs, but the host could only smirk with pride. After a moment of self-congratulation, he noticed some slight hesitation from the first candidate.

“Dude…” Corey started. “Can’t you just see he’s messin’ with us, man? Don’t you guys feel kinda strange-“

“Aren’t you supposed to chill, dude?” The host immediately cut him off.

Corey’s mouth went flat, his chin taking the opportunity to curve out a little further. “How can I chill with-“

BZZT

“Without the support from my brosettes across the screen, duuuuude!”

The host watched on with glee as the female portion of the livestream burst into a flurry. Lots of hearts and kisses and even some eggplant emojis were flooding the chat. And the comments were getting suggestive too. One chick wanted to know why he was wearing a dorky button-up, and she was soon exposed to his lean bod and treasure trail. Another suggested he should flex for the camera, and Corey was happy to oblige, each of his muscles pumping larger as he did so.

“Now, Cody,” the host coyly asked. “I’m sure the fans would like to know what you do for work.”

“I uh…I work with coding.”

“You are studying IT?” the host replied, incredulous. “Sounds complicated man.”

Corey beamed at the compliment, an excited fever entering his voice. “Yeah, but I sort of have a gift for-“

BZZT

“IT...like as in ‘it’ man...not ‘eye-tee’ or whatever.”

“But it has something to do with a code, right?”

“Well…yeah man…” Corey’s lifeless vocal fry responded. “But it's not that nerdy crap…something more…uhhh…”

The host graciously provided the answer, “Manly?”

“Yeah man….’it’ is the uh…bro-code brah.” Corey fiddled with the cross necklace that had materialized around his neck, trying to structure his thoughts. Corey felt like his head was spinning in a light vertigo, but not out of stress. Rather, a pleasurable confusion. Cali dudes don’t think that much right? They just go with the flow, so why shouldn’t he man? Wasn’t that what was normal?

While Corey processed his internal dilemma, the host reconnected with the second contestant, noticing he too was becoming a little self-aware.

“Hey Norman, you’re really rocking that fit.”

Nolan was honestly surprised at the comment. He knew he looked good in his tight, patterned three-piece, but he didn’t think the ultra-straight host would notice that too.

“Those shoes must be great for the ranch.”

Nolan laughed. “These ole’ things? They’re Prada from last season-“

BZZT

“Uhh…Ah mean these boots are from that one brand-”

BZZT

“Ah’ve had these kickers for years, fella!”

The host observed quietly as the rest of the second contestant’s clothes altered. The suit jacket and vest disappeared completely. The pants grew out into a straight pair of jeans that had been worn continuously for many seasons. The shirt rolled it sleeves and loosened some buttons, darkening to a dusty black that was meant for hauling hay rather than implying gay. But as the outfit masculinized, there was one item that stubbornly fought back, unlike the man who wore it.

“And that belt, how long have you had that?”

Nolan evaluated the expensive snake leather. “Oh yeah, this ‘ere was a gift-“

BZZT

“What in TARNATION was that for?!” Nolan yelled, the vibration noticeably more painful than the previous blasts. The material of his belt quickly grew cheaper, a massive longhorn buckle blooming forth above his blooming pouch.

“S…Sorry y’all,” Nolan collected himself. “Ah don’t know what’s gotten ovah me, or why Ah’m speakin’ so-“

“Enough apologies,” the host gagged. “You are a man, are you not?”

“Yessiree, but that doesn’t mean we men ain’t got to be sens-”

BZZT

“Ah reckon yer right there, partner!” Nolan puffed out his chest, carrying his emerging muscle gut with him. “We men oughta be tough! The MAN of the household.”

The host snickered, his eyes meandering around the second contestant’s body as additional muscle and bulk was piled onto his frame. “And men like you ought to have a body like that, don’t they?”

The cowboy huffed, his torso heavy with Southern pride. Nolan had worked his muscular frame up over all these long years, from sunrise to sundown. At 6’4, his big hearty body was always devouring meat to stretch out everything from his big strong biceps to his huge Size 15 clompers!

With the first and second contestants almost there, it was time for the host to catch his third man up to speed. He had already advanced mighty far, his skin having cleared up a bit and a few arrogant gold trophies having appeared in the office background, but the host had some additional notches yet to secure before the final round.

“Now Asher, let’s get real here.” The host put on his classic douchebag smile for the audience. “Any ladies tickling that fancy lately?”

“What?” Aaron scoffed. “Are you dense? I'm into g-”

BZZT

“Girls…no…wait what?” Aaron felt strange. Why did the host ask if he liked…girls? And why was the thought of girls suddenly something he…liked?

“Listen ere’, partner,” Nolan suddenly interjected. “Yer talkin’ 'bout women like they’re nothin’!”

The host, displeased, fought back. “Aren’t you married to one, partner?”

Nolan couldn’t believe the disrespect. “Me? Married to a woman? Yeah right-”

BZZT

“-Ah am! Ah’ve been married to my lovely wife for darn straight twenty years! Ain’t nothing QUEER happenin' on this ‘ere normal ranch. I got youngins to raise after all!”

As Nolan became bombarded by memories of his new flock of children, the satisfied host switched back to his third contestant.

“Look, I think we should respect women.” Aaron tried his best to sound mature, now finding it extremely difficult to maintain. “In fact, I think we should respect all others appropriately-“

BZZT

“And by appropriately, I am referring to overlooking these swines of colleagues who cannot afford a top notch education adjacent to my own.”

The host queued up a laugh track for his next one-liner. “They weren’t kidding when they said someone with your prestige had everything handed down to you, including bad manners.”

Aaron felt his anger rising once again, it easily filling his shortening body as he squared out to an average 5’9.

“Well excuseeee me! I am my own person with-“

BZZT

“My father is a reputable man who would wish to-”

BZZT

“DADDY!”

Aaron stomped his foot, bewildered at this idiocracy. Why was he continuously interrupted? Why was he not given the required recognition? He was captain of the country club’s golf team, rowing team, youth league, and the youngest member on the executive board for Christ’s sake! He studied at an Ivy League! He was everything!

As Aaron tried to understand why none of these other men appreciated the absolute honors of his merit–which he refused to ever admit weren’t even his own–a small alarm went off from the host’s computer.

“Like what was that, mannnn?” Corey’s face furrowed into an all-too-natural look of dumbfoundment.

“Yeah,” Nolan reared. “What's y'all gonna do next?”

“I demand to know it this instant!” The host was surprised at the third contestant jumping in, but he assumed it was just his way of trying to maintain his (nonexisting) position on top. “Or else I’ll tell my father about this-!”

An insane uproar of artificial laughter echoed throughout their ears, startling and silencing them.

“Alright folks, you know what that sound means!” the host grinned. “It’s almost time to wrap up our show, and because our contestants still haven’t figured out what makes them 'Totally Normal', we’re going to have to speed things up!”

“But can’t there only be one winner?” Aaron whined.

“Technically, no,” the host responded honestly. “All of you can be winners if you find out what makes you totally normal.”

For the first time since the game had started, all three of the contestants fell silent.

“I mean, let’s look at our surfer stud Cody,” the host started. “You are almost there, but you gotta loosen that one thing that’s still pent-up, man.”

“Brah…” Corey complained. “What else is there?”

As if by some subconscious command from the host, Corey began dumbly palming himself, a light drool dripping from the edge of his lips. The constant cycle of tits and feminine bits in his mind bombarding all over thoughts.

“A totally gnarly surfer focuses on working out, banging chicks, and chillin’ dude.”

Corey guffawed with a stupid relaxed expression, casually groping as the host moved on.

“And Norman, you’ve worked hard for your position in life, haven’t you?”

The Texan father nodded in cold agreement.

“So what would pride a totally traditional cowboy more than his ranch, his woman, and his legacy?”

Nolan groaned as he instantly unbuckled the massive lock hiding his mighty steed. Huffing loudly, the Southern Baptist’s lil’ pony was wrangled into a full-fledged stallion, the kind that was built to produce offspring. And the kind that got worked up over anything that could threaten the generational uniformity his family, religion, and nation he swore to protect.

“And you, Asher,” the host swiped over to the final contestant. “What’s stopping you from becoming the total Harvard bastard?”

Asher’s face went red and his cock went hard.

“I’m talking complete corruption, pure privilege, Daddy’s little-”

The host was suddenly cut off by a loud holler, the exclaim like the crashing waves of the ocean. Immediately, the comment section blew up as the host, players, and audience watched the surfer jock release a blast of his sea salt spray.

But before the host could congratulate the first winner, the southern father turned around the corner. With one hand whipping his meat and the other held tightly onto his hat, it was only mere moments until the inevitable:

“YEEHAW!”

Once again, the audience burst into merriment over the propagating blast. It was then that Aaron’s anger truly took the best of him. He couldn’t be beaten by two no-names! He was the top of his class, an heir to a Fortune 500 company, and a totally normal man for Christ’s sake! Gripping his pecker and shining it furiously, Aaron accepted his heterosexual rage and vowed that he would win and please his…please his…!

“F…FAAAAATHERR!”

A loud, pretentious yell echoed out of the Harvard student, an endless splurge of funds dumping out of his mighty account. It was just one of the many things his heritage’s estate had granted him.

The host didn’t try to hide his devious sneer as the viewers erupted once more. He’d loved his job because everyone won every time. And now, seeing all the new stereotypical straights he’d created, the host couldn’t help but feel his own massive sausage chub. But he laughed the feeling off, knowing beating off over these other men wouldn’t have been “totally normal.”

“And it looks like with just a minute left on the clock, all three of our contestants will be going home as winners today!” The host then added his artificial rounds of applause. “So, did you three ever figure out what makes you ‘Totally Normal’?”

“Isn’t it obvious, brah?” Cody replied, the typical airhead more sure of himself now than when he had dropped out of high school. “It’s that we’re straight, mannnn…”

“He’s right, partner!” Norman added, his fatherly conviction always strong and steady. “Ain’t none of us are them faggots. If Ah do say so myself, we are all what the mighty Lord named men.”

“Well, if that is what common plebians such as yourself are called, then you shall address me as ‘I-V’,” Asher Osvald IV’s voice was doused in entitlement and a lack of understanding for anyone but himself. A pair of offscreen hands adjusted his tie just to prove his privilege. “After all, I do attend Harvard. I guess you could say I was destined for greatness since birth.”

“Yes, Asher, everyone here knows you are a prick.” The host immediately followed up his quip with a laugh track. “But that’s all we have for today’s show. Signing off, this is Host DJ!”

“Hang ten and surfs up, dudes!”

“The biggest rodeo’s the family and kids y’all!”

“I’m probably way richer than you vagrants, so don’t bother.”

“And don’t forget to ask yourself,” the host winked before adding in the final audio. “ARE YOU NORMAL?”

[theunbearableweightofpedropascal]

Angel p.2

Summary: You and Charlie go on your first date.

A/N: I need more Charlie Swan fics, so I've resorted to writing them.

Warnings: Smut 18+, p in v sex,

Word Count: 3.1k

Throughout the day you were taking time to get ready for your and Charlie’s date later. Thankfully you had the day off so you took full advantage of sleeping in till noon. Picking your outfit wasn’t hard, a mini floral sundress with pink accents paired with straw platforms. 

Next up on your agenda was getting the perfect make-up look, precisely one that looked natural. A tutorial on puppy-dog eyeliner catches your eye. Upon completing both eyes you try it with a red lip stain, solidifying your look for the evening. You head into the bathroom to scrub it all off before fixing yourself a snack.

Your parents were going out for their semi-regular date night so you wouldn’t have to explain your absence to them. The clock nears 7:00 and you know Charlie is arriving around 8:30, you gather your step-by-step routine and start the process with a hot shower. Your counter is an array of skincare and makeup products, and your styled hair is packed away in your shower cap. 

The water helps relax you and your thoughts about the date. You take your time exfoliating your entire body before shaving. You decide to leave your vagina alone hoping that’ll keep you from giving it up. Stepping out the the shower you wipe the mirror and check your phone seeing two texts from Charlie.

Getting off work now. - Charlie 7:40

Getting ready now. -Charlie 7:46

Looking at the messages makes you laugh, his personality shines through the texts. Since he was giving you updates it only seems fair you return the favor. You raced to your room to find a tank top and some lounge shorts, but not before lotion and baby oil. You place yourself in front of the mirror in your room, making sure the sliver of skin below your tank is showing. Turning your phone around you smile up at your camera waiting for the click.

Halfway done I promise. -You 7:53 

It took you a little longer than you would’ve liked but the picture turned out great. You head back into your bathroom to make up for lost time. Carefully you begin concealing your under-eyes, the finished product gives you the natural glow you were looking for. The puppy-dog eyeliner from earlier is easy to put back on, and it suits your eyes more. The last two steps are your brows and lips but you decide to put on your dress first.

You check your phone and see 3 texts from Charlie along with the time. 8:20. The dress you picked out was a floral print with pink accents, and the neckline scrunches around your breast allowing you to forgo a bra. The sleeves went off your shoulder and stopped at your wrists, you decided it was best to also take a cardigan in case. The fit was close to your body but not skin-tight, allowing for a flowy bottom. Walking back to your bathroom, you finish your lip with a deep burgundy stain and brush your eyebrows with hairspray. You finally check your text messages, pleasantly surprised. 

You look beautiful. -Charlie 7:53

On my way to you. - Charlie 8:10

The third and final message is an awkward photo of Charlie standing in what you guess is his foyer. You are almost sure that Bella was the poor soul taking the photo, you wonder how that conversation went. But you check what time he left again and realize you might have miscalculated your prep time. Your window faces the street so you check for his car and see nothing and there aren’t any new messages. Quickly you grab your perfume to spritz all over. Your platform sandals are easy to slip on before you make your way downstairs. 

The mirror by the front door of your house is occupied by you checking for last-minute touch-ups. The doorbell sounds and you almost sprint to the door with your purse in hand before turning the knob. Charlie stands in front of you with a beautiful bouquet made of violets and daffodils. You weren’t expecting him to get you flowers, but you step back and motion for him to come inside. After you close the door behind him he hands you the flowers.

“Thank you, Charlie. They’re gorgeous.” You stand on your toes to peck his cheek. 

“Of course Angel.” Charlie smiles down at you with flushed cheeks, he is nervous about if the flowers would be too much.

“Let me just put these in some water and put them in my room.” You run quickly to the kitchen to find a vase to place them in. In your room, you decide to place the flowers next to your bed. You meet Charlie at the door and you take the time to look at what he put on. Gone is his usual uniform of flannel and jeans, instead, he stands before you in a grey knit sweater with dark jeans. It even looks like he trimmed up his mustache.

“You clean up nice Chief Swan.” You glide your hand up his arm and along his bicep caressing it. Charlie feels his heart speed up at your antics, but he rolls his eyes to cover his flushed cheeks.

“Not as nice as you,” His voice is low as he reaches out to play with the hem of your dress. “You ready to go?”

You nod your head and he opens the door for you to step onto the patio. He waits as you lock the front door, When you turn around with a big smile his stomach jolts. As usual he opens the door and waits for you to settle before closing it. When he enters from his side he smells your perfume, and it gives him a reason to be extra close to you later. 

The drive to Port Angeles was smooth, you opted to play the radio rather than start a meaningless conversation. Although Charlie wasn’t a fan of listening to music he didn’t want to subject you to silence. The view kept you mostly occupied, you forgot how pretty the landscape here was. 

Charlie pulls the car into the parking lot of the Italian spot, at least for where you guys live. Surprisingly he places a hand on your thigh telling you not to move before he gets out to open your door. Excitement beats through your body when Charlie rounds the car, the date is already off to a great start. His hand stretches out towards you to take when he gets to your door and you gladly take it. You take the opportunity given and you keep your hand in his on the way inside. 

The hostess greets the both of you with a smile before asking how many. 

“I made a reservation under Swan for two.” Although it’s a small feat the fact that he made reservations in the first place makes you smile. As the hostess checks the books you bring your other arm to his bicep. Charlie sneaks a peek down at you only to see you look at him like he hung the star and moon. He’s worried you can hear his heart thundering. 

“Yes, Mr. & Mrs. Swan please follow me.” She grabs two menus before walking to the right. As you walk through the restaurant you’re happy you see no one from town. Not that you’d be embarrassed by Charlie, but the gossip was already bad enough when you two were having friendly lunches. The booth you’re led to is the perfect opportunity to find excuses to rub against Charlie. 

“Your server should be with you shortly.” You both thank the hostess before looking through the menu. You’re having trouble deciding between what you usually get or if you want to try something new. 

“You see anything you like? You do like Italian food right?” Charlie’s nervous line of questioning makes you giggle. 

“I love Italian.” You seal your admission with a kiss.

“Sorry I just don’t wanna mess anything up, it’s been a while.” Charlie scratches the back of his neck while looking away from you. 

“I can’t see why, you’re a catch. I mean you got me flowers and made reservations, even though you didn’t need them. It shows you are very thoughtful.” You rattle off wanting him to know how much you appreciate his little gestures. 

Charlie has no choice but to accept your compliments, and he’s glad you think so highly of him. Even if he can’t quite see it. 

“Have you thought about which wine we should go with?” Charlie leans over to where you’re looking at the drink menu.

“I thought you would order a Budweiser.” You can’t help but poke fun at him.

“Ha ha I’ll have you know I can be a man of fine dining, sometimes I get my steak medium well.” The laughter that falls from your lips has his heart skipping. 

“Well, then I think a merlot would be good.” You hear no objections from Charlie and go back to your meal options.

The dim lighting in the restaurant makes you feel at home, and Charlie doesn’t make you nervous. He makes you giddy and excited but you’re comfortable around him, despite your attraction.

“Good Evening, I’m Evan,” A teenage boy approaches your table with a smile and a basket of breadsticks. “I’ll be your server tonight. Are there any drinks I can get started for ya?”

“Yes, could we get a bottle of Merlot to start?” Charlie answers the waiter while you grab a breadstick. 

“Of course do you need more time for appetizers?” The server readies himself for Charlie’s answer.

“Could we get a house salad please, I think we still need time for the main course thank you.” You’ve successfully finished your breadstick and reached for another, but Charlie reaches for the same one. He playfully slaps your hand away to collect his first one. Your jaw drops at his audacity.

“So that’s how it is huh?” You playfully glare at him.

“You got the first one didn’t you?” He gripes before taking his first bite.

“What happened to ladies first? Chivalry?” After your rant, he places a breadstick onto your plate.

Throughout the dinner, you and Charlie’s conversation continued to be effortless. You ended up ordering a shrimp scampi and Charlie chose a lasagna. The bottle of wine was one glass away from being finished, and you could feel its effects coursing through you. Although you ate most of your food and had a sliver of Charlie’s, you still had some leftovers. Charlie took it upon himself to help you finish.

You found yourself playing with Charlie’s hand, tracing the prominent veins. The sight of him hounding your food is surprisingly something you’ve come to enjoy watching. 

“Did you want dessert?” Though Charlie’s question would get a ‘yes’ any other night, you had other ideas. 

“No,” You look him in the eye and lower your voice. “But I really don’t want our date to end yet.”

“Then what do you suggest we do Angel?” Charlie, oblivious as ever asks you.

“I think we should get the check and head to the car, I think I saw an ice cream parlor.”

Charlie picks up the check and you don’t even pretend to reach for it, he’d probably smack your hand for real. On the way out you lean into Charlie as he has his arm wrapped around your shoulder. When you get to the car you see Charlie reach for your door but you stop him. 

“What's wrong?” Charlie immediately questions when you grab his hand. 

“Nothing,” You try to find the words to express what you want, so you resort to physical touch. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck. “It’s just you look so good tonight, and I wanted to…” Your eyes trail to the backseat and back to him. 

“Angel, that’s illegal.” His words were chastising you but you knew with a little convincing he’d cave. 

“And who exactly is gonna arrest you Chief Swan?” After your declaration, you trail kisses up & down his neck. Charlie's knees almost buck from the feeling of your soft lips all over his neck. When you pull back he follows you to the back door of the cruiser. 

“Alright but absolutely no sex.” His finger pointing at you tells you he means business. He pulls out his key to unlock the back door.

“Of course Chief Swan.” You give him a peck before climbing in the backseat, Charlie opts to wait. He checks the area to make sure there’s no one to potentially catch you two.

When Charlie meets you in the back you waste no time straddling his lap. His hands are glued to your sides, while his head leans against the headrest. Your hands feel all over his chest like they’ve been itching to do all night. Charlie initiates the kiss this time, his lips languidly moving with yours. Your hips begin to move on their own, desperately rubbing against the growing bulge in Charlie’s pants. 

The feeling of Charlie’s tongue licking at your lips had you moaning into his mouth. He swallowed every sound you made and helped you rub yourself on him. He truly can’t believe he’s dry-humping in the backseat as if he was a horny teenager again. Charlie’s hands slip under your dress so he can cup your ass, skin to skin. He knows he said no sex but the way you grind on him has him seeing stars. 

One of Charlie’s hands slides to the front of your panties, rubbing you through the fabric. You break the kiss to throw your head back in bliss. Charlie takes the opportunity to bring his mouth to your neck, licking and sucking until he finds your sweet spot. He knows he’s got it when your hips stutter their steady motion against his crotch. 

“That feel good baby?” Charlie being a dirty talker was not on your bingo card. “You gotta tell me or I’ll stop.” He gently nips at your neck, prodding you.

“Yes,” You breathlessly let out. “Please don’t stop, don’t stop.” Charlie takes great satisfaction in you begging him. 

“You gonna let me slide in that pretty pussy?” His words awaken the memory of you not shaving your vagina before, in hopes of staying out of this situation. 

“I didn’t shave or prep for this actually,” You slightly pull away thinking he’ll want to stop. 

“That’s even better Angel,” His response has your eyes widening before he finishes. “I’m a grown man and I prefer my women to look that way too.” 

After his revelation, you go straight for his belt and zipper. You slowly unzip his jeans before reaching in to pull out his cock. You’re pleasantly surprised to find him fully hard and leaking. You swipe the pre-cum off his tip with your thumb to taste, the look he gives you has your pussy throbbing. He can’t contain his groans when you slide him back and forth between your wet pussy lips. Your poor panties have stretched to the limit. 

Once you’re satisfied with him being putty in your hands you line up his cock to your entrance. You look him in the eyes as you slide down on him, both of you gasping as you take him. Rocking your hips on him feels so much better, the stretch he gives you makes your eyes roll back in bliss. Your hands grip his shoulders to maintain your balance, while he circles back to your clit.

Charlie has you wildly bucking against him when he finds your spot again. Your walls clench harder with every circle he makes. His other hand snakes up to the back of your neck, cradling it. The mesmerizing sight of your tits bouncing as you rode him made his balls clench. Charlie felt your pussy leaking all over his lap, he loves it. From this point on he knows he’s not gonna be able to get enough of you. 

“That’s it baby,” His words bring you closer and closer to the edge. “That’s my good girl huh?”

“Yes yes, I’m your good girl.” You could not care less how desperate you sounded. All that mattered was the way Charlie’s cock rubbed against your walls and his thumb expertly moved in circles over your clit. The only thing on your mind was chasing your orgasm. The squelching and pants filling the car only spur you on in your quest. 

Almost as if he could sense it Charlie smashes his mouth against yours right before the chord in your belly snaps. Your body is no longer yours, instead moving only on primal urges. The flips in your stomach die down slowly, like a beautiful decrescendo. He soaks in all the noises you make, both for his pleasure and to make sure you don’t get caught. The feeling of you cumming around him has him fucking up into you while you ride your high. 

You feel the tell-tale twitch of his cock before you feel him release inside you, painting your walls with his cum. The heavy breathing coming from you two signals you won’t move for a while. His neck becomes a place of solace for you, his heart rate steadily coming down from your activities. Hands rub lovingly around your back, almost putting you to sleep. 

“You know I wouldn’t mind ice cream.” You mumble into his neck.

“Whatever you want Angel.” Charlie’s low timbre soothes you.

Charlie makes the first move to get up, he tucks himself back in and gently moves you to his side before getting out. He opens the front door and comes back with some wet wipes he had in the glove compartment. Once you’re all cleaned up he works to coax you out of the back and into the front. You are knocked out as soon as he closes the door behind you.

Throughout the drive home, Charlie steals glances at you thinking he must be in some kind of dream. You are something else. Never in his adult years had he done something so reckless, but he would be lying if he said he wouldn’t do it again. 

When you wake Charlie is just turning off the car, you reach out to run your finger through his hair. He leans into your touch before presenting you with a Dairy Queen blizzard.

“Cheif Swan, you are so thoughtful.” You can’t help but pinch his cheek before you kiss him. He simply hums at you in return, but the look in his eyes tells you all you need to know. 

“C’mon let’s get you inside.” Ever the gentleman Charlie walks you to the door, leaning against the brick. 

“When’s our second date? And third?” The laugh that escapes Charlie causes you to follow suit.

“How about next Friday? After work we could go see a movie.” He watches as you smile brightly at him, leaning down to plant one last kiss on you. “Night Angel.”

“Goodnight Charlie.” He waits for you to go inside and doesn’t head back to the car until he hears the lock click into place. 

[daichiduskdrop]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

• Chapter 38

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers,

Warnings: more angsty than usual, mentions of self worth, abandonment

Words: 3557

Taglist: @thelilbutifulthings @ilovemoneymorethenmen @singukieee @cherrysainttt @felicityroth @mageprincess7 @lucis-noctiana @danielle143 @osakis-gf @girl-nahh @vintageoldfashionstyle-blog @neverthefirstchoice @juju-227592 @silentreadersthings @i-have-no-life-charlie @everyonehatesshani @iamkookiesforyou @dragonsflare @fangirl125reader @roseidol @frieschan @popcatx0 @liz67900 @exfolitae @plexcaffeinate @strawblueberrys @massivelyfullenthusiast @iimichie

I might have forgotten someone, please let me know and I'll add you, the list is open :)

So sorry for such a long break I took. I can't make any promises about updates until my finals, but I hope all is well with you. Please let me know if I'll forget any details in the chapters upcoming ;-;

Previous:

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„I wasn't sure which you'd prefer cub, so ...I got many.” The man of usual confidence spoke subtly, scratching his arm as he observed your wide eyes at the array before you. 

The large plushy bed had different packages of all colours and styles laid on it; there had to be at least 20 different pieces to choose from—colourful, bold, minimalistic, and more simple cuts—all available. 

You knew Jin was thoughtful and truly a caring man, an alpha of the right mind, and seeing all the different options he allowed you to have, just for the sake of your comfort, hit you deeper than you would expect. 

You cried so much that day; you were exhausted from doing it over and over, and even as you wished you could just stop with these bothersome happenings, you couldn't help the small tears that brimmed your eyes as you looked at the nervous man. 

The shiny eyes you gave him worried him immediately. Did you not like what he chose? Has he chosen too little or too much? Were you overwhelmed? 

„Cub, baby, no, no, don't cry, I-” 

As he reached for you, his arms grasping at your shoulders, you looked away, quickly wiping at your eyes as you sat at the side of the bed, the alpha doing so too right away. 

„I'm sorry, Jin.” You oh so quietly whispered as you watched your hands on your lap, the alpha's hand coming to cover yours, his thumb rubbing over the soft skin. 

He gulped away the slight shock of you using just his plain name instead of the honorific you seemed to prefer, though he would be a liar saying he didn't like it either.

„...What for? You don't need to apologise; you never did a thing wrong, you know that, right?” The worried gaze of the older man, as he softly spoke, searched yours, but to no avail. 

"I'm sorry, it's so complicated with me.” 

„What? Sweetheart you-” 

„No, I mean it, Jin, I'm sorry that.. that I cry so much and I require all of these things you would never have to worry about before hand, that I'm so sensitive and closed of, that I bother you too much... I'm just sorry, okay?” 

The drop that happened this afternoon took a toll on you; all could recognise, but the eldest didn't expect this—he didn't expect that you would start to apologise. 

Apologise for the things they never would mind about you—all that could only strengthen your bond and help it solidify. Let them care for you. Did you not understand how much they needed you? You should depend on them; let them, for once in their lives, truly freely indulge in the option to care for someone else, fill their needs, and stop holding back. 

„Y/N, don't ever say sorry for something that isn't to apologise for, okay?” His voice was soft, his palm squeezing yours gently. But you didn't answer, only a small shrug leaving you. 

„...You know, when I was younger, before we debuted, it was so difficult to be an alpha, I mean. We would train all the time, have no time to create relationships, and hardly had time for our family packs, yet our relationship wasn't as strong as it is today, as you can imagine... It was a mess, a true mess.”

The low timber of his voice washed over you as you allowed yourself to listen to his calm voice. He wasn't fretting over you, staying serious and communicative instead of letting the sometimes overwhelming mindset of his second gender take over, much like they usually would when it came to you. 

„Jungkookie was just a boy back then; he still went to his school, but I think it took the toll on him the greatest—me and the olders like Yoongi and even Minnie and Tae all already started to grow more self-sufficient; we all stopped being so dependent on our family packs, making the transition smoother, but gosh, ...Kook-ah was just too young.”

You recognised the regret in his voice, the way his voice lightly shook as he looked at the ceiling, blinking rapidly—he too was about to cry, you could tell. Yet as you were about to reach your hand from his and console him like he has done so many times for you, Jin looked over, a small yet smiley, watery frown on his face. 

„No peaches, let me finish telling you about this; it's so important for you to know,” and you could only nod slightly, this time your fingers tightening upon his „about how much you help, I think you don't even realise.”

„He barely presented when we started as trainees, and we were all alphas, BigHit mostly highers alphas and betas only, especially for idols, so Jungkook hardly ever got to care for someone, anything really, and I regret ever letting him do it to himself, god, you don't understand how much I do.”

As one of the most beautiful eyes you've ever seen shed their first tear, the elder too was quick to wipe them away, mimicking just what you had done a while earlier. 

„We could never fill that role for him; I could do so much for him—act as an older brother, be there for him during his graduation ceremony, and whatnot—but he was just so desperate to have a soul to care for... that, that we could never give to him.

And we needed one like that too, but no matter who BigHit would hire, gosh, it was just so uncomfortable, you can't even imagine. But that was the most we could ever get, unless we would have someone sign NDA's and other bullshit you just don't bring up on the first date, you know?”

The alpha sighed, reviving the old memories he had buried so long ago. 

„Sometimes we would unintentionally just start coddling Kook too; he was the youngest, and it just happened on its own, but then later, as we got older, he would snap at us, all valid though looking back at it now... 

I just... Y/N I just want you to know that we had never ever, and I promise you, I've met many, gotten around to such a precious gem like you are. Whatever we do with you just feels right, and you must understand, please, that you are far more precious to us than you'd ever think you are. And I'm so sorry we don't let you know enough.”

Jin looked your way, his eyes once again searching yours, now with much more vigour and need. He needed you to know just how well you filled that deep hollow carved in their chest throughout the years of disappointment and sadness. 

„Jin-”

„I'm serious, Y/N. I would never lie to you about this. How could I? I know people didn't treat you the way they should; I know you are hurting deep inside; and I know one conversation like this just won't smooth the hurt away, and I'm so, so, very sorry it's that way. I'm sorry they hurt you, my precious cub, and I promise I'll never let you hurt alone again. Just let us be there for you, truly.”

This time, his voice was firm, his eyes holding yours until they blurred with tears. You felt sorry for them, for Jungkookie being so lonely, and you felt sorry for them, for you believed they deserved so much better than you could ever be there to offer. 

And so you could only reach out for him, your hands clasping to his shoulders as the alpha lifted you over to his lap, letting both his and your tears cascade, soft sniffles and sobs filling the room.

The eldest held you like you were just the finest, most perfect work of art he was blessed to lay eyes upon. With care and the upmost love the man could offer, you deserved it all.

He let his chin rest upon the top of your head, and as you hid in the crook of his neck, your nose resting close to the scent gland offering a mean to calm you, you noticed a sad undertone you didn't recognise that well there, too close for your comfort. 

Jin was upset; he was upset at how little you thought of yourself, how complicated your life has been, and how terribly the people meant to cherish you would treat you. He was so upset and just wished to take all the hurt you so delicately stored in your heart away and just heal you in his arms. 

„...I just am s-so scared of getting attached... and losing you, oppa.” Your gentle voice against his ears, the reality of all the issues, drops, and tears shared with you and the pack downing on him. 

You didn't want to let yourself be comforted deep inside, letting their words heal just the surface of the problems while the calm waves above hid the true storm below. 

Gosh, he should have realised, Jin cursed himself as he held you just closer. 

„Oh, Y/N, we would never leave you, sweetheart, never... Have you not seen how much we grew to you over time? We need you so much, Y/N, you can't even imagine.”

The man known for his confidence once again seemed to have lost his words, though his actions spoke louder as he just held you closer, letting the tears fall as his soft tears turned into loud sobs, holding you to his chest.

You let your legs wrap around his slim waist, the alpha answering by squeezing you even more, as if you were to disappear, to hurt when he wouldn't be there to offer his hold. 

Not many times were offered for you to learn to comfort and console someone, but with them, it felt different, open, and never uncomfortable to do actions you'd never even think you'd ever even try with anyone else. 

And so, you allowed your second gender tendencies to guide you, your own cheek flush against his neek and jaw as you rubbed your scent over the scent gland, sending distressed waves through the room.

Just as you were in the middle of the scenting, hopefully helping the alpha calm down, a soft knock sounded on the doors, followed by a deep voice you grew to recognise easily. 

„Hyung? Kitten, is everything okay?” 

To be truthful, the man sensed something wrong all too long ago, and so as he, Jungkook and Hoseok were preparing the little snacks like popcorn and drinks to have during the movie night, he felt his heart strings twitch. 

But all seemed well around the kitchen and so in the living room, as Jimin and Taehyung argued about whether they should watch the first movie with Japanese dabing or Korean dabing with Japanese subtitles. 

He couldn't see Namjoon, a soft frown settling upon his smooth complexion. Though he heard the close doors shut, he could smell the pack alpha approaching, just with a package in his arms, the two younger alphas gasping upon seeing him. 

And so, that only left you and Jin, and after a while of the slight distress going through the bond, Yoongi grew worried the others would pick upon it too. 

 Not that he didn't want them to not know whatever was going on, but if it regarded you, he noticed how the large group could be just too much sometimes, and so he abandoned the softly popping popcorn, letting Hobi take over as he went to investigate. 

As he came closer to Jin's bedroom, only then could he recognise the alpha's upset scent, shocking the younger. He realised he had only seen the eldest cry a handful of times and heard the soft sobs coming behind the room—no, that wasn't the sweet omega they grew to pamper over time; that was his hyung, an alpha who holds back his tears until the very last strength he holds, until he crumbles.

And for once in a long time, the usually calm and composed man grew unsure of his next steps. Should he let him be, or should he come in, one or another? But the moment he heard your sniffles, he decided to knock. 

After his voice, it was quiet for a bit, and when he got no response, Yoongi gently cracked the doors open, a sudden heavy, distressed, and sad scent clouding his senses. 

The man's eyes widened, yet he didn't peer into the room, choosing to face it sideways, as if to give you privacy. He wasn't there to giggle at your sadness; he wasn't there to oogle at you and tease you both later. No, he was there to help. 

„Hey,... Hey, is everything okay? Should I go grab someone?” The slight unsureness of his voice made it easy to decipher that he did not know how to approach the situation. His hyung was an alpha after all; it would only do more damage if he started comforting him, and neither did Yoongi necessarily want to do so. 

„N-No, it's okay, you can come in.” You had never heard Jin stutter, and the soft and defeated voice he held squeezed your heart. 

The doors shut soon after, and it took a few seconds for the younger to compose himself, seeing the dishevelled older alpha and how softly you were scenting him. Even in the darkened mood, Yoongi saw the light; you looked comfortable, comforting the older. Another step towards the hopefully near future. 

„...What happened?” He asked softly, coming closer with shuffling steps, his loose sweats, and a hoodie matching the sluggish movement of his. 

The man too sat down next to you both; instead of hugging the elder, he chose to let his fingers gently comb through your hair and instead put soft eyes over the pair. Only then did you stop the profound scenting; your glossy eyes, too glossy for the alpha's liking, took hold of his worried gaze. 

„...It's okay...me and oppa talked about some stuff.;” It was you who spoke up as Jin's soft sniffles quieted down, his hold lightly loosening as he sat up better. 

The teary soft smile he gave you was heartbreaking, but you understood well what his eyes said: „We would never abandon you, never in a million years.” 

And you felt comforted. You trusted the man with all you had; the littlest amount of trust you could offer was all theirs.

„I'm sorry, Yoongi-ah, I didn't mean to cry like this.” The bitter chuckle that left the elder had the other alpha in slight shock, his cat-like eyes widening. 

„Hyung, I don't..." yet his sentence didn't follow, the man choosing to stay quiet, his palm falling upon the elder's arm in a small squeeze, possibly to comfort, acknowledge, or both.

Yoongi would lie if he said he didn't feel like crying at least once because of the hurt you stored in your fragile heart. He had never felt that way, which confused him slightly. He would have never cried because someone took their problems out on the one he grew to care for. Sure, he would have been angry, but not in the same way as with you.

„...Let's talk downstairs, okay? That way, you don't have to repeat anything uncomfortable.” Jin's lightly raspy voice sounded, and the softest peck imaginable landing just at your temple. A last squeeze was shared between you two as you slowly climbed out of bed. The other alpha was quick to take hold of your left hand as the eldest held your right. 

And as you came closer to the living room, full of soft and sweet ruckus, the first to notice the reddened cheeks on Jin was the youngest, the doe eyes widening as he gasped a soft „Hyung!” abandoning the chip packet and approaching quickly. 

Your eyes also shined too much for his liking, but before he could voice any distress, the second-eldest shushed him already. 

„Let's all talk together, Koo.” Yoongi's voice was firm, shutting any questions about to spill as the others worried glances fell upon both Jin and you. 

It didn't take long before you all took a seat upon the couches; all could be dispersed yet sticking together, your seat between the olders. Hobi was quick to offer you both a tissue or two, his distressed eyes set watching closely, as if to seek a way he could allow himself to help once. 

None of the others were any better, just wishing to hold you close and never have to worry about anything wrong coming your way ever again. God, they'd do anything if it meant you'd be safe and sound. 

"...Me and Jin oppa had a talk, and I...” Your soft voice, starting confident, seemed to grow colder and more shaky with each passing word, dying out too soon for their liking. 

But with the men's fingers holding yours closer if possible, you continued, describing just how sorry you were for all the worry you put them through whenever they would take you out and how difficult you were, voicing your worries and distress. 

"...I'm so scared, so scared of how much I rely on you, and I'm just so worried you'll be gone soon, and I just don't want to be alone again.” You didn't dare look up for the entire time of your rant, thought before you knew it, just before you an alpha fell to his knees.

Jungkook, his bright eyes shining with tears as he too softly cried, much like many of the others. 

„Y/N, baby..” The gaze of pure heartbreak he gave you had you looking away, his hands holding your cheeks to make you look back at him again, tears welling up in both his and your eyes, hands trembling with emotion. The pack members exchanged pained glances, realising the depth of your fear of being alone.

"I know... I know you all care for me. And that's what scares me the most—the thought of losing this, losing all of you. I don't think I could live again." 

The youngest too broke into sobs just as the elder had before, his arms taking you from the pair as he gently pulled you to his lap, his nose hidden in the very crook of your neck, his body tense with sorrow. 

He could never forgive himself for not being there for you when you needed them the most. 

The entire pack mourned with sorrows, and even after the others calmed down over time, the pack alpha, the quickest to recover from having to constantly blink his tears away, would envelop you both in his embrace, the softest shushes leaving his lips as he promised on his life that he would never leave you. 

„...alpha would never lie to you, my sweetest love; you know that, right? I'll always be here, for all you need.” 

And soon after, Namjoon pulled both of you back onto the couch, letting the youngest latch onto you, the omega he grew to desire and need over the time shared, as the packalpha rubbed the small of your back, a touch of comfort. 

You didn't cry; just a few sniffles left you ever so often, yet you shook like a feather in the wind realising how open you were about yourself after such a long time. 

Years it took you to be vulnerable with someone other than your throughts, and years it took for you to find someone in your life who didn't take advantage of you even then.

And so, as it dawned on you just how purehearted the pack was, you allowed yourself to truly relax and be truly assailable yet with no fear, a luxury you never realised was foreign. 

When Jimin leaned over to softly ask you if you still wanted to watch the movie, you nodded, sending the man a reassuring smile. The alpha smiled back, gently wiping away any tears astray on your cheeks as he held out a blanket for you to cuddle under, a soft thank you leaving you, letting the older tuck you under. Jungkook was quick to shuffle under the warmth too. 

Not long after did all the alphas rest into comforting places, though to be truthful, all in the end unconsciously formed around you, your soft body closely held in the very centre, like the most precious gem, just as Jin described earlier, laid in the deepest of the dragon's lair. 

When the first Harry Potter movie started playing, the Japanese subtitles turned on, even if you didn't need them, for you was a thought that mattered; the alphas took you into consideration, and you appreciated it more than you'd allow yourself to think you'd do. 

Hobi would lean over, whispering soft, teasing comments about how each character was a bit too silly to begin with, telling you about your house, a true Hufflepuff he claimed, and joking around softly with the new words created in the universe. And deep down you knew he was trying to cheer you up.

You grew to like the story of the movie, not even realising how much time has passed, tiredness coming over you when your eyes fluttered shut, the last memory of the night of Jungkook's arms gently wrapped around your waist, his chest warming up your back as he whispered into your ear with a soft timber: 

„Sleep tight, bunny. I love you so much.” Sealing his promise with a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

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Next:

[dokoni-mo]

Crave: Part Three || William Afton x GN! Reader

summary: Your first time with him.

NSFW // smut

word count: 8,088

warnings: age gap relationship (reader is 20 while William is pushing 40), allusions to mental illness, allusions to dysfunctional parent-child relationships, talks of divorce and custody battles, smoking, will is a bit delusional, will has scars, corruption kink, usage of pet names, Will is a bit of a creep, obsessive behavior like REALLY obsessive, and possessive, sensual touching, swearing, Michael is briefly in this too, kissing, brief and faint sir kink, breeding kink, aftercare, also yandere vibes for a very little tiny bit, praise, body worship, fingering, virginity loss, premature ejaculation, dom/sub undertones, general smut lol

minors dni // please read warnings!!

a/n: omg omg my first fic back!! I had to polish off the rust (esp with writing smut) but i got so many requests for part three of this I just had to!! anyways I hope yall enjoy!! Ive tagged a few people whom I thought would like to read this, but if you'd like me to not tag you pls let me know! enjoy! (also just a little disclaimer, i do NOT condone this type of relationship irl!! this is just my take on being with Willy)

part one // part two // part four

~~

William could remember the first time he ever laid eyes on you. He remembered it as plain as day and recounted it often.

In fact, it was probably one of the most solidified memories in his mind. Even more so than the birth of his children, or even the day he married his ex-wife. He could recall every single little detail; what clothes you and him wore, what you smelled like that day, how you styled your hair. Every last little bit, he remembered. The first meeting is always important, yes. But this one was much more important to William. In a way in which he doubted anyone but you would understand.

For it was the first time in nearly all his life that William wasn't faking.

From very early on, William knew he wasn't normal. Or, at the very least, what everyone else deemed as normal. Even as a boy, William was hard to excite, or even get some sort of reaction out of. Toys, games, new friends, holidays; none of it was ever appealing to him. He found it all boring. It caused his mother great worry too. William could see the way she looked at him. Even as a boy, he knew what that look meant.

Perhaps that's why he began to lash out in his early years. That's why he was labeled a "problem child".

William had thought that if conventional means of joy and excitement couldn't elicit a response out of him, perhaps other means would. Lying, cheating, getting into trouble. It had some effect, he had to admit. The thrill of it all. He had gotten pretty good at not being caught, too. But, of course he would slip up some times. That's when the trouble arose. William was emotive, at last, sure. But no one liked it. At least, no one liked how it came about. His mother often scolded him. Teachers too. And, if William had a father that gave two shits, he was sure he would've received punishment from the man as well.

It was confusing. Terribly, terribly confusing. Couldn't he finally be happy doing what he loved? That's all his mother wanted, wasn't it? What everyone else wanted, too? For William to find himself, and be emotive?

Then why were they mad at him. Every. Single. Time.

It was frustrating. And, the more frustrated William grew, the more he acted out.

It was a balancing match made in hell. And William grew tired of it all. William accepted that in order for him to have peace, he must comply. Mr. Afton would have to wear a mask of his own face, and be what everyone wanted him to be.

Charming. Handsome. Intelligent. Charismatic. Great husband. Better father. Businessman. Inventor. Successful. Approachable.

William played these charades for nearly 40 years now. Enough to where the lines on his face grew deeper, and the roots of his hair turned grey. He played it through the unpleasant surprise that was his eldest, Michael. Then again at his wedding to that bitch Clara. Again though Elizabeth and Evan's births. Then continued after the divorce. And on through the custody battle. And on and on all the way to now.

Every. Single. Day. For 40 years.

William was tired of it but found no avenue to stop. If he dropped the act now, he couldn't even imagine the headache that would be the fallout of it all.

He had to keep it up. He had to. This was the life he made for himself. He made his bed long ago, and now he had to sleep in it. William was in a prison of his own making. That no one even knew was constructed. He hated that he got Michael out of all of his kids. He hated his business. He hated his neighbors. He hated his friends that weren't Henry. He hated his fancy house, expensive car, and clothes.

This life was his fate, and how unfortunate he was.

Or so he thought.

He didn't want to pay for Michael's college. William would never admit it out loud, but he thought that boy trying to make something of himself other than a minimum-wage employee was a joke. That's why he forced Michael to pay his own way. In reality, he told Michael it was to "make him more of a man", but William knew his son saw right through it. Michael could be smart, sometimes.

Sometimes.

Because Michael was, in fact, a minimum-wage employee at his father's diner, the young man couldn't afford much else than the local community college. Not that that was a bad thing to the young man; Michael didn't care that much. William wouldn't have cared either way, but Michael's compliance made things easier. And, being around other people his age, Michael was out of the house more often. This meant less fights that William would have to deal with weekly. It was a win-win all around.

And, when Michael was home, he would often be accompanied by one or two of his friends. William didn't mind, as long as his house was kept tidy, and no one made too much noise. Any distraction that would take his idiot of a son away from him was welcome.

If William was around when Michael showed up with a friend, William was polite enough to them. A smile and a how are you, perhaps even a question or two. Just small talk, enough to keep up his façade of good dad, better person.

That was until, years into his university, Michael brought you over.

William was in his house that day, doing paperwork at the kitchen table with a cigarette pluming smoke in the ashtray nearby. The Diner was closed whilst the state was doing their bi-annual health inspection. While Mr. Afton preferred to keep himself occupied to his workshop in the basement, he thought that perhaps a change of scenery could do him some good. Smoking in the basement made it stuffy down there, anyway.

He would later be so, so grateful for this decision.

From the opposite end of the house, William heard Michael's keys in the door, twisting the lock to let the young man in. Listening a second longer, William could discern two sets of feet walking along the wooden lining of his foyer, along with two hushed whispers bantering amongst themselves.

Mr. Afton breathed a quiet sigh through his nose.

Great. Michael was home. And dragged some other runt along the way.

William knew that in order to reach Michael's room, his son and his friend would have to go upstairs. And, much to William's dismay, the entrance to the stairs was positioned in such a way that his son and his friend would have to go through the kitchen.

Great.

Hearing the footsteps grow closer and the whispers louder, Mr. Afton leaned back in his chair, tamping out his cigarette in the process. Grey eyes situated on the paperwork in front of him, William put on his well-rehearsed soft, friendly smile, waiting for his son to show himself.

Michael was the first to round the corner, the care-free smile slowly fading off the young man's face as he saw his father sitting in the kitchen. Sensing Michael's presence in the doorway, William looked up from his work and to his son, his fake smile growing to make up for the disgust he felt.

"Dad..." Michael groaned, "What are you doing here? I thought you had work today..."

William chuckled, "Michael, I told you this morning. Inspection, remember?"

Michael rolled his eyes and sighed, looking around the corner of the door and saying a few more hushed words. Whoever his son's friend was, they must be shy. William couldn't blame them too much. Mr. Afton was probably the most popular guy in town these days, with the amount of business the Diner had brought in.

Michael turned his attention back to his father, "I have a friend over. Is that alright? Or are you gonna throw another fit?"

William clenched his jaw, "Of course, of course, it's no trouble at all! Just keep it quiet upstairs, yeah?"

Rolling his eyes again, Michael said a few more words around the corner before making his way to the stairs. William had dropped his gaze for a moment to fill in a few of his signatures. When he sensed that his son's friend had finally shown themselves around the corner, William looked up to give them a friendly smile.

Oh, and there you were.

Adorable, precious, beautiful, darling you.

The world around him seemed to fade away when William laid his pale grey eyes on you for the first time. Instantly, he knew you were the single most breathtaking creature he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. You put his ex-wife to shame ten times over. A hundred times, even. All of his past flings as well. They were nothing compared to you.

You were a timid little thing. William could tell by the pink on your cheeks and your hands clasped in front of you. You had a small, soft little smile; your lips so perfectly round and plump. The way your hair had framed your face made you look as if you were hung in the Louvre itself. Your eyes were kind, looking at the older man with a warmth William didn't know possible. Genuine warmth, too.

The way you looked at him. The way you carried yourself. The way you smelled, even halfway across the room. The way you smiled. The way those clothes hugged you in all the right places. The way your body curved and bent...

William swallowed the saliva building up the back of his throat. Without noticing, his lips had begun to part, but he was quick to fix it with a smile.

You gave Mr. Afton a tiny little wave as you shuffled awkwardly towards the stairs behind his son, your voice barely above a peep.

"Hi, Mr. Afton." You had said, "Sorry to interrupt you..."

Shit. Your little voice saying his name like that. It matched you so well.

William's smile grew as he leaned forward in his chair, setting his paperwork to the side.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all, love." He said in his thickly accented voice, "At least you're getting that one out of my hair for a while, yeah?"

William almost never made jokes at the expense of others. At least, not around everyone else. He kept his true feelings in his mind most of the time. He knew most folk wouldn't react too kindly to what he really thought of them. But you...

You didn't seem the type to need such filters. He could see it already. You were the type of person to tell it how it is, and not apologize for it. Just like how he wanted to be.

How interesting.

You let out a little giggle, covering your mouth with your hand. William could feel his jaw clench again. Why were you hiding yourself from him? He wanted to see your smile. Your laugh was so cute, surely your smile is too.

William felt himself still. William wanted to see it. Your smile. That was the first time he had ever wanted someone's smile. And the fact you laughed at his joke about his son...

"Yeah, well, it's not like I wanted to, but someone's gotta do it!" You responded with sarcasm, Michael's groan making you giggle to yourself again.

Without even having to force it, William felt a laugh bubble up from the bottom of his chest. He heard it reverberate off the walls of his shiny, sleek kitchen, and it surprised him greatly. Mr. Afton couldn't remember the last time he didn't have to force a laugh. Let alone a smile. All attempts from others just made him cringe on the inside.

Idiots.

Michael had dragged you up the stairs after your little joke, annoyed by the banter between you and his father. William's eyes were fixated on you as you disappeared from sight, watching as your cute little legs carried you up his staircase.

From your height compared to his kitchen counter, William could deduce that you were much shorter than him. If he had to guess, you'd probably only about come up to his shoulder. From the lingering smell in the air too, he could tell that you took good care of yourself. You were clean. Fresh. Supple. And, from the tiny bit of your personality he saw that afternoon, William already knew he liked you. In fact, it was from that moment on that William would think of you.

He encouraged Michael to bring over more friends in hopes that you'd come back. If you weren't in his house, William found himself wondering where you were. What you were up to. What your routine was. What he assumed to be an infatuation quickly grew. He begun to think of you more frequently. When sitting down for a meal, he would wonder if you would like what he had made. William wondered what such a cute little thing like you was doing in this nowhere town. Did you have dreams away from here? Is this were you wanted to be? He had never seen you in his diner before, he was sure of it. He would've surely remembered such a pretty little thing. Although, his diner was the talk of the town. For both adults like yourself and for children. So where were you?

You became illusive to him. You were full of mystery, and he had to know more. It would never be enough. He wanted more. William began drilling Michael about who you were. This was met by some animosity by the young man, but William didn't fucking care. Eventually, when Michael became obsolete of information, William took to other means. He would eavesdrop around the diner on the security cameras, hoping one of the other college kids in there would utter your name. It was slim pickings, but the thrill of it is what got to William.

Every single little thing he learned about you was priceless to him. He committed it all to memory, as if you would vanish if he had not. You were a plague to him. It was your name he thought of first thing in the morning, and it was the last thing he moaned quietly into the night. His fantasies grew dirtier by the day. He had imagined you in oh so many different scenarios. Different positions. Places. Outfits.

Everything about you was perfect to William. From the very top of your head to the very bottom of your feet. You were his soulmate. He just knew it. Every single little thing about you had been crafted just for him. Everything you did, said, perfection. He could be so, so good for you, just as you'd be so good for him. He made more than enough money to spoil you rotten. His house was big enough for you to move in. Not that you'd need the extra space. Of course you'd be sharing a bed with him. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Couldn't you see it? How you and him were meant to be? Couldn't you picture your budding life together with him? This is what all those years of suffering were for. To lead him to you. You were his everything. His sun, moon and stars. The oxygen he breathed. The food he ate. The ground he walked on. All of it.

You.

His precious, precious little bunny.

~~

William already knew he loved you. He did, he really did. He didn't have to fake that part about him. Loving you came as naturally to him as breathing. And with you pinned underneath him, Mr. Afton felt as if he was on cloud 9.

Sure, this isn't exactly how he'd plan things to go. He didn't want to have his first time with you on his couch. You were better than that. You deserved all the nice things he had to offer. But William wasn't too sure he could contain himself long enough to carry you to his bedroom. He had already waited so long to have you. Surely you wouldn't mind, right?

You didn't seem to, at the very least. As the man continued to grope and squeeze at your chest, his other hand ripping his tie off, he studied your face carefully. His pale eyes never left your pretty little face, not even for a moment. Your cute little hands were gripping the fabric of his couch, and soft little moans escaped past your puffy lips every so often. Your eyes were focused on his arm rather than his face.

He found this to be a shame. He understood that you were probably embarrassed, perhaps even overwhelmed. This was your first time with him, after all. Oh, but it just wouldn't do, little bunny. He wanted your eyes on him.

Where they should be.

After finally getting his black tie off, William used his free hand to slip underneath your chin, using his pointer finger and thumb to tilt it up towards him. Your glossy doe eyes met his, and he could feel an uncontrollable grin creep across his handsome features.

Just look at you. Not even five minutes in, and already so eager to please him. William could see how much you were enjoying yourself already, the pleasure of it all making the ache in his pants all the more tighter.

Patience, William, patience. The night is still young.

You are something to be savored. Not just a quick fix.

"(Y/N), my darling," Mr. Afton said to you, feeling the heat radiating off your cheeks, "keep your eyes on me. I want to see you, love."

William leaned down to kiss you again, feeling how your hands gently found a spot on his chest before he could do so.

"W-wait..." you peeped out, making William still his movements. He pulled away from you for a moment, his smile falling as he looked into your worried eyes.

"What's wrong, my love?" He asked, "Please, tell me. Do you want to stop?"

You shook your head, "N-No! It's just-"

William removed his hands from you, clasping your little fingers around his own, "Please, my bunny. Whatever it is, I'll fix it immediately. Please tell me."

Mr. Afton watched you like a hawk a you looked over your shoulder towards his door, the heat on your cheeks creeping down your pretty little neck at his words.

"It's just..." you whispered to him, "What if Michael walks in on us? He should be back any minute, right?"

Oh, that. The lie he told you. He had forgotten all about that, actually. William was glad you reminded him.

Mr. Afton pressed a small kiss to your fingers to ease your worries.

"Don't worry about him, my love." He said, admiring your features as if they were fine art, "It's all taken care of, I promise. Keep your focus on me, darling. On us. You can do that for me, hm?"

After studying his face for a moment, William watched as you nodded in response, making his smile widen as he kissed your fingers once again.

"Can we maybe just move, erm... this, somewhere else then?" You asked, "Please?"

Oh. So you did mind. William mentally kicked himself. Stupid fool. Of course you would mind. How could he have overlooked that? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

William leaned in and kissed your sweet lips one more time.

"Of course, bunny." He whispered to you, finally letting go of your hands. William got off from on top of you and planted his feet on the ground. Once he was secure, he leaned down to you again and slipped you into his strong arms, holding you bridal-style close to his toned chest. He felt his heart swell inside of him as you wrapped your tiny arms around his neck, nuzzling your cute face into his neck. Gently, the older man carried you through his house and into his dark bedroom, using one of his legs to push the door open.

Once inside, William gently laid you down on top of his bed, giving you a kiss before leaving breifly to shut his door. After he was sure that it was shut tightly, William turned his attention back to you.

Heat creeped down his face and neck when he saw his precious bunny on top of his bed. Oh, little one. If only you knew how many times he had pictured you there. How many times your name was repeated over and over like a mantra within these very walls. Even with all the fantasies William had played over and over in his mind, none of them compared to the real thing. Just look at you. So so cute.

And just for him.

Walking back over to you, William was sure to drink in the sight of you on his bed, and commit it to memory. His hands on autopilot, William unbuttoned his purple dress-shirt as he neared closer, exposing his chest to you.

You must've felt awkward being the only one with all your clothes still on. He saw how you went to shrug off your jacket, but was quick to stop you as he took his place on top of you once again.

Silly bunny. That was his job.

"Ah, ah, my darling." He whispered to you, gently taking your hands away from yourself, "No need to worry about that. Just let me do all the work, yeah? Just relax, and let me take care of you."

Mr. Afton saw that his words seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Your eyes weren't on him. Instead, they were lain gently on the expanse of his chest, going up and down over and over. The dim lighting made it a little hard to see exactly, but William knew what you were doing. Ogling him.

William wasn't sure how much harder he could get. Look at you. Precious little you, drooling over his chest. What a good little bunny. That's exactly where your eyes should be, little one. On him. And only him. He only had eyes for you, so wouldn't you do the same for him? Of course you would, bunny, of course. By the end of the night, you will. Mr. Afton is gonna show you so many levels of burning hot pleasure you didn't even know existed. Why? Because you'll be his. His bunny. No one else's. And if anyone dared try take you away, then well-

"How did you get these?" William heard you peep out to him, snapping him out of his trance.

He felt one of your little hands pull out of his grip, and gently trace lines up and down his chest and stomach, earning a shudder out of him. Elation ran through his veins, knowing this was the first time you had ever touched him. Touched a man like that, too. Slowly, whilst coming down from his high, William could recognize the patterns you were tracing.

Ah, yes. Those. He had forgotten about those, too. His scars. He hadn't even remembered to warn you first. He knew that at first glance, they did look rather gnarly.

But, still. You didn't seem to mind. You were his good bunny, after all. Of course you'd be good for him. Love him no matter what he looked like. Just like how he loved you.

While you continued to feel up his chest, William shrugged off the remains of his dress shirt and tossed it to the floor. He subsequently leaned down close to you, capturing your lips in another kiss. The following ones trailed down the side of your face and to your exposed neck, earning another whimper of pleasure out of you.

"It's nothing to worry about, love." He whispered to you, pressing more kisses to your skin, "Let's just say the early designs of my spring-lock suits weren't without their... flaws."

"Do they hurt?" You asked him, your little fingers finding a place on his shoulders.

William's breath fanned across your heated skin as he chuckled, "You ask far too many questions, bunny."

William gently bit down against the swell of your neck, earning another gasp out of you.

"Just, relax, little one." He said, his hands slowly working your jacket off of you and discarding it to the floor, "Do you want to stop?"

"N-no! I just..." you trailed off, your voice fading to a whisper "I just want you to be okay."

Mr. Afton picked his gaze up from your neck to look into your eyes, committing to memory the pink on your cheeks. Oh, precious, darling little bunny. If only you knew just how much he loved you. If only you knew just how you made him feel; the gravity of your presence around him.

The older man leaned forward to kiss your neck again, his large hand gently slipping underneath your shirt.

"My darling bunny," William whispered, "you're far too kind. So, so good for me. My bunny. Mine."

The brit's movements begun to get more frantic and passionate as his hand crept up to your chest, groping and squeezing from under your shirt. Your moans became more frequent in conjunction, along with the sheer amount of bruises and marks he was sucking into your soft, warm skin. Your hands found their way across his bare shoulders, one eventually travelling up to tussle into his dark brown hair. William rumbled out a groan from the back of his throat as he continued attacking your neck.

Once he was certain that you'd have plenty of hickeys in the morning, William detached himself from you and sat back slightly. His hand ran further up your chest, pulling your shirt along with it. Once your garment was halfway up your torso, William brought his other large, calloused to the base.

"May I remove this for you, my sweet?" He asked through half-lidded eyes, the tent in his pants growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. His mind told him over and over to just cut to the chase and pound you into the mattress already, but he dismissed the thought. He needed patience. William had waited for this day far too long to piss it away. He wanted to savor it. Stretch it out as long as possible. Not only for his selfish reasons, but for your sake too. You were a virgin, after all. He didn't want to scare you away, oh no. Eventually you'll get the hang of it, anyway. Don't worry about that, little one. William promises to show you how all of it is done. Show you just how amazing he can make you feel, and spoil you rotten in the process. Give you the treatment that only his bunny gets to have.

But, for now, slow and steady it is.

You looked him in his eyes as you gave him a timid nod, making another grin stretch across his face.

"Let me hear your words, darling." He said.

"Y-yes, Mr. Afton. Please... take it off." you responded.

Fucking hell you were so goddamned cute. Sweet bunny if only you knew just how many times he imagined your cute little voice saying those exact words to him. How long he dreamt of it.

Another shudder ran through the man's veins as he pulled your shirt off of you, leaving you bare-chested in front of him.

"Please, love," he whispered, "Call me William."

The tips of his fingers ghosted over the expanse of your chest and stomach, earning a shudder of your own under his touch. Leaning down, the older man pressed more open-mouthed kisses to your collarbones and chest and his hands crept down further, stopping at the hem of your pants.

"Though, if you're up for it," he continued, "I'm quite fond of sir as well."

Before you could babble out any sort of response, William gave a few more open-mouthed kisses to the space right above your pants, your hands finding a home in his hair again. Your soft whimpers underneath the brit made his kisses all the more violent, and his hands all the more wandering. They traveled underneath you, coping a few feels at your butt before slowly trailing down your thighs.

It was getting harder by the second for the brit to control himself. He wanted to go slow, he really did, for you. But he wasn't too sure how much longer he could restrain himself from taking you as his. Here you were, right where he had wanted you for so long. Moaning and whimpering underneath him just like he wanted you to. You were already so good for him, even without him having to coach you on what to do. You truly were made for him.

So, perhaps you would forgive him for picking up the pace a little bit.

Could you do that for him, bunny?

"How about we remove these next, yeah?" He asked you through half-lidded, lust-filled eyes, his fingers picking at the hem of your pants.

You nodded in response again. Embarrassed and bashful.

Oh, naughty naughty bunny. Didn't he tell you to use your voice?

"Words, darling." He reminded you, his tone soft yet laced with firmness. He didn't want to punish you, no. Not yet, at the very least. It was your first time, and William was a generous man. He could let you off the hook this time, bunny.

This time.

"William, please..." you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mr. Afton had to take a long, deep breath through his nose to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head, a cold, sharp shudder running down his body. Begging him already? Oh, sweet little one, you were made for him. You were you were you were. You were what he was put on this earth for. Not his stupid fucking business, or being a father. No. Not at all. It was for you. He was put on this earth for you. To be your man. To give you every single little thing your precious heart desired. Money. Fame. Love. Pleasure. All of it. All of it for you. And oh did he have plenty to give you. You were his soulmate, he was sure of it. How else could you be here now? How else would he have happened to find you in this small, puny town? Amongst all these fucking idiots? You and him were meant to be, little bunny. Couldn't you see it too? Just look at you. William fits so perfectly on top of you, doesn't he? And you look so adorable underneath him with that blushy face of yours. His sweet little rabbit. His darling beloved. His sweet angel. His treasure. His love. His. His. HIS. HIS. HI-

...

Oh.

Oh shit.

Pressing a few more kisses to your belly, he snuck one of his hands down to feel around his crotch. The tips of his fingers were greeted by a small wet patch.

Damn. He really got carried away that time. First on his phone call with you, and again now? Could you notice? No, surely not. It was too dim in his room. His pants were dark too, so that made it all the more unlikely. You probably wouldn't care either way.

He was still plenty hard for you.

Composure, William, composure. Don't ruin all the fun before it even begins.

Making sure to settle down the many thoughts in his head, William gently lifted your legs and cute little butt off of his bed. Slowly, he was able to discard your pants off of you, giving your shins and thighs a few small kisses as his hands returned to the hem of your underwear.

"This too, love?" He asked.

Out of instinct, you nodded again, "Yes, but... what about you?"

William breathed out a chuckle. Silly bunny. Don't tell him you're becoming the impatient one now. As adorable as it was, William had to still go slow on you. Patience, little one.

"That'll be soon, rabbit." He told you, one of his fingers hooking underneath your underwear, "You are a virgin, yes?"

He already knew the answer to that. He just wanted to hear you say it.

"Yeah, I am... Is that a proble-"

"No, no, little bunny, no." He said in response, gently sliding your underwear down your legs and discarding it on the floor, "I just have to make sure you're prepared. Besides..."

William shifted his weight down so he was face-to-face with your lower half, guiding your thighs to rest on his shoulders. Looking up at you, he pressed his kisses into your soft flesh, throwing in a few bites for good measure as he cupped your heated sex in his palm.

"Your body is so beautiful, my love." He said, "I want to savor every part of you. My needs can come later."

William watched as your whined and squirmed underneath him as his hand made contact with your lower half, his cock aching inside of his pants yet again.

"I will warn you bunny," the brit said, "It may sting a little to start with, yeah? Are you okay with that?"

You swallowed the saliva that had been pooling in the back of your throat, "Y-Yes, that's okay. I trust you."

William let out a satisfied hum, "Good bunny."

Slowly, William trailed his hand downwards, the tip of his middle finger inching close to your hole. Mr. Afton had to swallow the saliva that invaded his mouth at the sight, worried about drooling on you and making a fool of himself. If he could focus, he would be able to tell that his hands were trembling with excitement. Oh if only you knew how long he had dreamed of this day. He was already halfway there. Halfway to making you his. He just had to make sure his precious bunny was ready first.

He didn't want you in any pain when he filled you up with his love.

William gave you a few seconds to get ready before he pushed his finger inside of you, immediately making your back arch and your hands find his shoulders and hair. The grip you had on his grey-brown locks was tight, but compared to the elation he felt while inside of you, it was nothing. A pitiful drop in the bucket of his ecstasy. You were so warm around him. So so warm and tight. A million times better than what his fantasies made him believe. And a trillion times better than those sex toys he bought.

Mr. Afton let his excitement get the better of him just a touch as he begun to pump his long, bony finger in and out of you. His other hand gripped as your thigh, squeezing it as his lips placing gentle kisses on the flesh of it as a form of silent praise.

The noises his finger made going in and out of you were sinful, and echoed off of the walls of his room. Or perhaps, his shared room now. It'd only be a matter of time now before he'd ask you to move in, if all went according to plan. He was pleased to see that you eventually loosened up around his digit and you started to become more comfortable, once all the residual pain had subsided. This is when you started to moan for him. Quiet at first, but gradually got louder and louder as he found the more tender parts of your insides.

William's eyes would often flutter shut as he heard his sweet bunny's sounds underneath him. He was elated that you were enjoying yourself. If William knew he did one thing right in his life, he knew he was pleasing you like you wanted. He could die happy knowing that. That he got one chance with you; got to hear his bunny's sweet songs just once.

But, no, no.

William was a greedy man.

He wanted more.

And he would get more.

"That's it, my beautiful little bunny," he praised you, his deep accented voiced husked with his lust, "Just like that. You're doing so amazing, my darling. So perfect for me..."

William forgot to give you a warning as he inserted another finger into you. But, with the moan that escaped your lips as he did so, he was pleased to see you didn't mind. And, he was even more pleased with the way you found your own rhythm with his fingers, helping him to finger-fuck you all the better.

"Ah- Ahh! Oh my god, Mr. A-Af- William..!" you cried out to him, your grip on his hair becoming tighter as he found the most tender part of your insides.

You were playing with fire, little one. Did you want him to have another accident?

"Oh, my sweet bunny," he groaned, trying to shift his weight to relieve some pressure off of his crotch, "yeah, that's it. Keep making those pretty sounds for me, love. Make them for me."

"W-William, I-I feel-"

"Shh, my darling, it's alright. Let it happen. Make a mess all over me, my love. I want you to. I want it, bunny. Cum all over my fingers, goregous. Don't dare hold back on me. So, so good... my precious bunny. My bunny."

The pace of William's fingers quickened the more he said, until he felt you spasm around you and a flurry of moans escaped your lips.

He did it.

He finally did it.

William has waited for so long, and he had finally done it.

Halfway there.

Halfway to go.

Mr. Afton helped you to ride out your orgasm by pressing his fingers into you a few more times. Once you had settled down, and your moans had turned into soft, breathy pants, William took his fingers out of you, pressing reassuring kisses into the plush of your thighs.

"So good, little one," he whispered to you, "You did so well, my love. Perfect, absolutely perfect."

After a few more kisses, to allow you to catch your breath, William sat up again on his knees, looking down at your sweat-gleamed, adorable little face. You were still breathing pretty hard as his hands found his belt buckle, the clink of the metal making you look up at him again.

"William... please, I need you so bad..." you breathed.

Mr. Afton's breath hitched in his throat, "I know, love, I know. And you'll have me. You've been such a good bunny for me... 'Gonna make you feel so good, my adorable little rabbit."

A rush of relief washed over William as his belt was shed to the floor, along with his sleek black trousers, making him groan. He watched as you little eyes kept flickering between his tented crotch and his face, not sure of where to look to be polite.

Silly bunny. You were allowed to look anywhere you wanted.

As William finally was able to pull off his boxers, he breathed a sigh of relief. His cock had been aching for what felt like hours now, and he was finally able to give it some relief. He could feel how he throbbed against the cold air of his room as he looked down at you once again, drinking in the sight and committing it to memory.

William knew he was a well-endowed man. Hell, that's probably why he was so popular to begin with, at least amongst the women. None of that ever mattered to him before. He didn't care. Yeah, he had a big dick. So what?

It never mattered to him, that is, until now. He could see how scared you were when you looked at him. See it in your eyes, how you worried how something like that would fit into you.

You needn't worry, sweet bunny. William would never try to hurt you. Not ever. It'll fit, sweet one, don't worry.

Don't you trust him?

Mr. Afton gave a few pumps to his length, coating it in the slick of his pre-cum as he lined up at your entrance. He could feel waves of excitement and need wash through him as the tip made contact with your flesh, making him let out another shaky breath. Though in the past the brit found missionary to be rather boring, he found himself to not mind it with you. It allowed him to be close to you. To see your face, and hear you well. All he ever wanted.

Besides, he could always try new positions next time. If you were ready.

"It might sting a little again, bunny." He warned you, "But it won't for long."

"O-Okay..." you said, "Just... Can you hold my hand? Please?"

William felt his lips part, "Yes, my love. Yes, of course."

Shifting his weight briefly onto one arm, William slipped one of his large hands into your own, interlocking his fingers with yours. His other hand was firmly situated next to your head, careful to avoid pulling on your hair.

"Good?" he asked.

You nodded, "Yes.. I'm ready now. Please, William..."

"As you wish, darling."

Excitement bubbling in his veins, William gently pushed his hips forwards, the tip of his cock entering inside of you. Along with your gasp, the man above you let out a low, breathy groan of pure, raw pleasure, a shudder making its way down his spine.

Holy fuck. It was so much better than he had imagined. You were so much better than he imagined. He was sure of it now, more than ever. You were made for him. You were pure perfection.

And all the more reason to make you his.

Get to work, William. His bunny is waiting for him.

Careful not to squeeze your hand too tightly, William let out another breathy groan as he slowly pushed the rest of his length into you. At the feeling of being fully sheathed inside of your hole, William felt his eyes roll to the back of his head, nuzzling into the crook of your neck to save-face. You were breathing rather hard underneath him, your other arm having come up to drape across his bare, scarred shoulders for extra support.

As you he felt you slowly start to relax around him, Mr. Afton pressed soft, loving kisses to your jaw and neck, the hand next to your hair stroking it softly.

"Th-That's it, love..." he whispered to you, "So good for me... My adorable bunny."

You whimpered underneath his touch, "William, I... i-it's okay to move now. Please..."

Pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, William gently pulled his hips back, then thrusted up into you. He watched as you bounced slightly underneath him, a low moan escaping your lips. With all the conformation he needed, William was quick to find a steady rhythm inside of you. He never found himself to be that vocal in the bedroom from past experiences, so the brit continued to surprise himself with every groan and sigh that escaped past his lips. But, then again, it was quite different now. This was you.

And damn did you make him feel amazing.

After finding a good pace, William was able to angle himself better, trying to find the most sensitive part inside you. With one lucky guess, he was able to see how you threw your head back in pleasure, your nails digging into the skin of his back as you moaned for him.

"Ohh goddd, William..! F-Fuck, right there!" you cried out for him, your encouragement making him pick up the pace.

"Yeah, bunny?" he goaded you, "Does that feel good? You're so fucking cute. You- hahh - you feel so fucking amazing, my love, fuck..."

The brit could feel your peak drawing nearer with every clench of your walls around him, his cock twitching back in response as it continued its barrage of your most sensitive parts. This only made him snap his hips into you all the more sharply.

"(Y/N)..." he cried out to you, "(Y/N), my love. So fucking good for me. So, so good... You're perfect, (Y/N). Perfect, my bunny. Perfect."

"W-William, I-I'm gonna-"

"Me too, bunny, me too. Please, bunny - fuck - please, together, my love. Let me fill you up, my darling. With my love. Let me show you how much I adore you. Will you, my love? Please, please."

"Yes, Will! Oh my god, yes please!"

With your sweet words ringing in his ears, William made one final push inside of you, sinking in as deep as possible. Mr. Afton groaned loudly as he could feel your orgasm around him, his following not long after. He was able to manage a few tiny, sloppy thrusts inside of you as you both rode out your high, feeling as how your insides became coated with his orgasm; no, with his love.

So, so much love.

And, you, finally

were now

his.

At long, long last. He finally had you.

Happy was an understatement. Overjoyed even more so. No, William was a new man. He was now yours. Your man to protect and take care of you. And no one else's. Just as you were his now, and no one else's.

His.

It took a good while for William to catch his breath again, as well as you. Once he did so, William found the strength to pull out of you, one last ripple of pleasure washing over him. You were looking up at him through your glossy eyes and heated face, a small, dumb smile on your face as you breathed heavily. He was able to get one more kiss on your lips before he shifted his weight off of you.

"Wait here, love." He said, "I'll get something to help you clean up."

As much as it pained him to leave you without him, William knew that aftercare was important. Especially to the inexperienced. In the past, he was never fond of doing too much of it, but with you, it came naturally to him. You were such a good bunny for him, it's the least he can do to show his appreciation.

The brit was quick to disappear into his bathroom and grab a towel, feeling the cold air around him in the dark. By the time he returned, he saw that you had already turned on your side, and had wrapped yourself in nearly all the covers on his bed. Creeping closer to you, William saw that your eyes were closed; soft, steady breaths escaping past your little lips.

Damn. You were asleep already. William knew tonight would wear you out, but damn.

Looks like he still has it.

And you were far too cute to wake up now. It would just be mean if he did so. Very well. You win, bunny.

Placing the towel on his nightstand, William peeled back the last little bit of blankets you allotted him and slipped into bed behind you. You being much shorter than him, he found it easy to meld his body against yours, wrapping his arms around your little waist and pulling you close to his chest. You were so warm, and he couldn't help but take a long inhale of your scent. He was hoping to talk to you a little more after, and tell you how amazing you did, but this was fine. He could do all the in the morning. You were too cozy for now.

But that couldn't stop him from giving you some praise.

"You are perfect, my darling." He whispered into your air, as soft as he could as not to wake you, "Just as I knew you would be. You're going to learn just how much better I can make you feel, sweet thing. This is only the beginning."

William pressed a few soft kisses to your hair.

"I'm sorry I had to lie to you to get you here. I just couldn't think of any other way to get us alone. But, you'll forgive me, right?"

You didn't answer, of course.

"Oh, I know you will. If you ever find out, that is, bunny."

There's some things you're better off not knowing, anyway.

"Get plenty of rest, love. I'll be right here, I promise. I promise."

How could he ever leave you now?

"I love you."

Goodnight, little bunny.

~~

tags: @guinea-pig16 , @the-official-memester , @randomwriteralan , @mrsrogerwaters , @laylaaftonshit , @cherry-slushee , @insert-memical-username , @mrssafton , @horrorking2000

apologies to any blogs tumblr wont let me tag!!

[fridgrave2-0]

(something for partners in crime au where felix and turbo both go gamejumping)

once felix overheard a conversation ralph had with gene. ralph was (once again) trying to get positive attention from nicelanders and said that him breaking the building means nothing bc felix has a magic hammer and puts zero effort into the house, for him fixing it is super easy. and this thought stayed in his head. felix started thinking a lot about what he's doing in his life and that without his hammer he is a nobody. on his own he can't fix shit, and when he tried to build something it was worse than what ralph made in the movie for q*bert. it got to the point when felix went to tapper's and got drunk for the first time, and turbo had to get him out of this. turbo was genuinely worried for felix because they knew each other for several years at this point and never it was so bad. mostly it was turbo who had some bad times and felix was comforting him, but now they switched roles in this situation, and turbo tried his best to help. he reassured felix that he'll help him learn at least the basics of building stuff on their own without the hammer, and this was able to cheer felix up. they were taking bricks and other junk to try and make something new out of it - and some time after they actually were able to make some progress, and turbo decided to live in one of the houses (they were experimenting in turbotime most of the time) and while they were working on it, turbo was slowly helping felix accept the fact what his worth doesn't start or ends on having this hammer, and tho it definitely does its job it's not disregarding felix's personality or skills. like yeah, he's the greatest racer in the arcade, but he still continues training and working on his skills, and it's totally ok what felix needed time to get there as well

in the end it helped felix a lot, and after weeks and months of practice he was ready to try something new. building things on his own actually made felix realize that he loves working on design and styles. every building he was making was unique and special because he was putting his soul into it, and this creative process made felix feel something he only knew when he was with turbo. like he actually was alive and not just a piece of code made by someone. the things he was making were his, they were reflecting his personality, his feelings. and they were making him happy when he was ready to try and change niceland, it was the project he put the most of him into. with turbo's (unexpected) drawing skills they designed a completely new building, detailed and magnificent. felix was remaking the niceland for the whole night going beyond the limits of his coding, the hammer was used only to solidify the changes. the house turned out to be just what he wanted, and it was beautiful. for a brief moment even turbo was out of words, he couldn't turn away from the piece of art felix created. there was nothing like it in the arcade, and perhaps even in the whole world. for some unknown reason turbo felt inspired that day, doing his best to break his own limits on the track later that day. he wished he could just return to fix-it felix jr and see the happiness and pride flourish in his boyfriend's eyes. felix did deserve it like no one else

but when turbo came back this evening, niceland looked like it always did. a dull brick penthouse. he found felix at the dump, he looking at pieces of broken marble and colored stone with an empty face. "the game is programmed so that when the building is repaired, it returns to its original appearance. when the day just started, there were untouched bits, something what ralph didn't break. but in the end, everything was wrecked." felix hugged his knees and sobbed when turbo sat down next to him. "it all was for nothing. i can't exceed the code. no matter what i do, it will be destroyed! all i can is to fix this stupid house over and over and over again until they decide to unplug my game. we don't have any control over our lives. this is what's left for us." felix grabbed a piece of marble and threw it far into the pile of red bricks, his hands were shaking when turbo caught them in his. felix couldn't see the anger in his eyes growing. when turbo pulled felix closer, he glanced over the glass of the cabinet and looked at the arcade. "don't worry, love..." he gently stroked felix's hair, "i will figure it out. i promise." it was january of 1987

[always-andromeda]

𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Joel Miller x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 2,896

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ When Joel and Ellie return to Jackson, you learn that Joel might not be telling the full truth about the pair's journey to Salt Lake City.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ this thing is rough. and terrible. but I've had seeds of this in my drafts for the last year and I really wanted to embrace some angst for a hot second. so enjoy my first fic post-finals season lmao. also. I'm experimenting with styles so excuse the hot mess of a title card. divider by @saradika-graphics <3

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ no smut but regardless, minors do not interact. post-outbreak universe. angst, little bits of fluff and banter, but mostly angst. some sweet Ellie interactions. allusions to past relationship between reader and Joel. mentions of alcohol. descriptions of canon-typical blood and violence. nothing else I can think of but please let me know if anything else should be added!

THIS ACCOUNT STANDS WITH PALESTINE ⟡ HOW YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE ⟡ DAILY CLICK FOR PALESTINE

Part of you hadn't expected Joel to come back. The snow melted away and the flowers had begun to bloom once more but he was still gone. And in this world, gone is as good as dead. So that's what you assumed.

While Tommy held out hope – talking about what he had to show Joel when he got back – you didn't even dare to speak his name. You couldn't fathom what had happened to him or the miracle girl he'd ridden into Jackson with. But you hoped it was quick. Though you knew full well that men like him rarely ever earned merciful endings.

You allowed yourself to wish for it, though only for a few seconds at a time. Then it was back to reality, going on patrols, lending a hand wherever it was needed, and keeping the community alive. Anything to get your mind off the fact that he probably wasn't coming back.

You hadn't known Ellie long during their initial visit. Even still, her personality wasn't one that could be swallowed lightly. She had been inquisitive, skeptical, and sarcastic; a bundle of anger and hope so bright that you could see why Joel was so drawn to her. It made complete sense that he would see her deliverance to the Fireflies through.

Which is why you were shocked when Joel Miller and the miracle girl waltzed right back through the gates of Jackson. But they were both different; both fragmented versions of the people who had passed through the prior winter.

For one, he smiled. When Joel first locked eyes with you upon their homecoming, he fucking smiled. It was this crooked, delicate thing that seemed to waver once it reached his eyes. And that's when you knew that something was wrong. He didn't even have to say it. The unspoken truth was solidified with Ellie's silence.

There would be no cure.

You'd shared a weary look with Tommy then. And he'd pursed his lips at you before returning Joel's smile; a quiet acknowledgement that you were both aware of the uncanniness in both Ellie and Joel's behavior. Then he led the two off, probably to get them something to eat and then to confer with Maria on where they could stay.

The two of them adjusted well to the community. You’d heard from others about how large of a help Joel had been on patrols. His experience in taking down infected was invaluable. Ellie, on the other hand, had thrown herself into helping with the animals. At first she struggled to adapt to the early morning schedule of the other handlers, but otherwise she took to the tasks quickly. She seemed the most at peace around them and you understood it.

Jackson was the closest thing to friendly that you’d encountered in years. But it still got a little suffocating at times.

Outside of the animals, Ellie was quiet; mostly keeping to herself with her nose buried in a notebook.

This was another one of those instances. You took a step back from your current task: repairing part of a fence that had been kicked in by one of the horses. As you wiped the sweat from your forehead, you couldn’t help but notice the girl sitting crossed legged atop a bale of hay a few feet from where you stood. 

Making your way towards her, you saw she was drawing again. And as you peeked over her shoulder, you spotted a sketch of the horses as the riders were taking them back into their barn. In the half hour since they’d ridden past she’d managed to capture their swift movements in each rough figure. On the next page over you identified a portrait that was immediately familiar to you.

"Is that Joel?" you'd asked, gesturing to the open book in her lap.

She seemed startled from a daze upon hearing your voice. "Hm?"

"That drawing. It's Joel, right?"

"Oh, yeah," she answered. "I guess I'm getting better, huh? Since you can actually tell who it's supposed to be,” she huffed.

"With those eyebrows and that nose? Who else could it possibly be?"

Sure, he and Tommy shared some similarities. But Tommy’s wrinkles weren’t quite that deep. And though Joel had grown his hair out a bit more since coming to Jackson, it hadn’t quite reached his shoulders the way that Tommy’s did.

Right away, you were sure it was Joel. You could already envision the wrinkle between his thick brows that seemed to perpetually haunt his face. His lips were a thin line – almost pursed – and topped with a slightly overgrown mustache. Yet it wasn’t an angry expression. More…vulnerable, perhaps. As if Ellie had asked him to stand still for a minute before scribbling a rough outline of his features for reference.

"Well..." she trailed off. "The first few times I tried...he just looked like a constipated potato."

You snorted, which immediately made the girl start to smile, "It's true!"

Relieved to see her in such a good mood, you pushed a little further, "One day I'd like to see these angry potato drawings. Because I bet they're just as true to life as this one." You pointed towards her drawing.

Thankfully, she laughed. A few seconds passed and her voice went small, "Do you really think it looks good?" She stared up at you with those dark brown eyes, searching for your approval.

You nodded. "I wasn’t an art critic before the outbreak. But I am an expert on that man’s face. And I think it's pretty damn good. I’m sure you’ll only get better the more you practice.”

She murmurs her gratitude before falling back into a trance. Hair blowing gently in the wind around her face, you can’t help but notice the way that light gradually fades from her eyes.

“You alright?”

“Has he been acting…weird…to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’ve known him longer than I have,” she sounds hesitant to admit. “You used to know him, I mean.”

You didn’t want to tell her the truth and further her worries. But something tells you that if you attempted to lie, she’d see right through it anyways. She’d find some way to get to the truth.

“He’s definitely been a little quiet lately. Just don’t know what for. Then again, he’s never been the type to share his feelings with anyone.”

“Not even with you?”

You snort, “Especially not me.” Remembering years of passive aggressive arguments and wordless apologies, it was unlikely that that part of him had changed much since those days. 

“Could you at least try to figure out what’s up with him?” for a moment, you detect a palpable anxiety in her tone. But she brushes it away swiftly before adding, “At least so we can rule out the possibility of dementia. Or whatever the fuck else it is that old people get.”

You roll your eyes at the attempt of a joke. “You’ve got it. I’ll see what I can find out.”

Turns out that saying you’d talk to Joel was a lot easier than actually doing it.

But then again, it had once been like this. All those years ago when it was just you, him, Tess, his brother, and the rest of the group that was moving through to Boston. Back then you’d always been at least a little afraid of him. Not only was he physically imposing and regularly proved the violence that laid just below the surface of his fingertips, but there was also the way he’d look at you like with that fucking face.

Like he was playing out how he’d get rid of you the moment you fucked up. Like he knew just how soft you were inside; how it was a wonder you’d even lived long enough to be standing in front of him looking as dumbfounded as you did. It was an expression that made your skin burn and your hands shake, only you were too stubborn to outwardly show it bothered you.

Slowly but surely, he’d mellowed out then. Surely, it would happen again.

If he was going to make any actual friends in town, it’d have to happen. He was already popular in his own right. The people of Jackson always got curious when someone new settled. It certainly didn’t help that this new someone happened to be Tommy’s brother.

They seemed to believe that Joel would be just like his bright eyed, bushy tailed little brother. And boy, did you get a kick out of seeing them realize how wrong they were.

Joel was polite, of course. But he wasn’t quick to cozy up with every person who came to his doorstep offering a housewarming present. No matter how many times you or Tommy assured Joel that it was all just friendly, he was reluctant to accept it.

You understood it. You’d had nearly as difficult a time acclimating to Jackson’s genial climate. Places like these just…couldn’t exist. It all felt like a mirage that would melt away in time. However, you came to discover that despite the close quarters and the occasionally nosy neighbors, you liked the place. To explain it simply, you liked belonging to something. The world would never be the way it was before, for better and for worse. But right here…people weren’t just surviving. They would live. 

And ever since he returned, you intended to show Joel just what that felt like.

The sun’s setting and the citizens of Jackson are already settling in for the evening, save for a handful of teenagers lingering in the streets. You pass by them, making your way towards the house at the end of the road. It’s a path you’ve become familiar with in the weeks since you started visiting Joel on an almost daily basis.

They aren’t always frivolous visits. Sometimes you help move furniture around. Sometimes you bring food when he’s been working all day. And sometimes on nights like tonight, if you manage to trade for a particularly good bottle of whiskey, you bring it straight to him to share.

It’s a good routine. One that makes you believe that you and him can bury the hatchet and start anew. If anything, it proves that though much time has passed since you and him had first met, you still know damn good and well how to push his buttons.

You knock on his door and are met with an obviously exhausted Joel. It’s hard to stop yourself from giving him a quick once over. When you do, you notice his hair has gotten the tiniest bit shaggier. Tufts of curls spill over his forehead and under his ears. He’d always cut it before it ever got the chance to grow like that.

The sight makes you smile. Joel Miller will never admit it, but living in Jackson is really starting to look good on him.

He rolls his eyes, “You again?”

“Oh, hush, you’re thrilled to see me,” you say before inviting yourself inside and heading straight towards his kitchen to deposit your alcoholic spoils.

“Thrilled is one hell of a descriptor.”

“Says the man who I’m sharing my liquor with.” You hold the bottle up before setting it down on his kitchen counter. “Besides, I’m just trying to get you a little out of your shell.”

Joel mumbles, “I’m doin’ alright on my own.”

“By fine you mean you’re fine trailing behind Tommy for the rest of your life? Because that’s the direction you’re headed in.”

He lets out an exasperated chuckle, “You know I made friends just fine before you came along, right?”

“Then you should have no problems with surprise visits from an old friend.” You intended to sound smug saying it. Instead it came off more longing than anything else.

Perhaps because you aren’t entirely sure what you and Joel even are anymore. A long time ago there was something more. But now? You look in his eyes and see apprehension brewing in them. He could go back and forth with you all day. Sincerity, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter.

Joel clears his throat before changing the subject. “You seen Ellie today? Tommy and I were up early for patrol this mornin’ so I didn’t get to check in with ‘er.”

“Oh, yeah, she was at the farm earlier. She’s been a real big help.”

“She doin’ alright?”

“Uh, she seems…nervous…to say the least.”

His brow furrows as his eyes meet yours. “Nervous? About what?”

You laugh awkwardly. “Are you even aware of all that she’s been through?”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?” The challenge in his voice is apparent.

“I just mean–” you stumble over your words before stopping to take a breath. You close your eyes and see Ellie’s face all over again; her features the embodiment of white noise. You’re swiftly moving into dangerous territory. But it still needs to be traversed. And there’s no going back after this.

“She’s been through a lot, Joel. One minute she’s being pushed around at some FEDRA boarding school. The next thing she knows she’s traveling across the country with the world on her shoulders. Now she’s here.” And there’s no cure, your mind whispers.

“Your point is…?”

You snap, “My point is that that’s a lot to fucking deal with, Joel.”

“She’s resilient,” he replies with an equal amount of grit.

“She’s a kid.”

He’s quiet. He can’t refute that. 

“And she saved your life,” you add.

He scoffs, “More times than I can count.”

“Don’t you think that entitles her to a little better than what you’re giving? A little more support? She’s living in that garage all alone and she’s–” His expression remains steely. Almost out of desperation, you bridge the gap between your hand and his.

“Please, tell me what happened. Why are you—”

“Don’t,” his tone is jagged and low; the growl a wounded dog gives when you step towards it. That’s when it hits you. Something about this terrifies him. And the shreds of trust leftover between you and him are the only thing keeping him from showing his teeth.

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him look that afraid. The closest memory you can grasp is one from nearly a decade before when you and Joel had strayed from the group to scavenge a nearby grocery store. You’d never been very good at checking your surroundings. You hardly saw the haggard man coming at you. But you saw the flash of his knife. Felt the blade slash the side of your arm as you struggled with him. Felt a store shelf jab you in the back.

It had taken seconds after hearing the sound of your scream pierce the air for Joel to fly over and bring the man to the ground. A guttural yell in his throat, his fist fell continually. Over and over and over until the man was audibly choking on his own blood. You heard a small, strangled please. Then there’s one final, wet thunk; the sound of his own blade being buried into his flesh.

You remember Joel’s shoulders sagging when you got back to camp with the others. His knuckles were bright red. You gently wrapped them with cloth as he squeezed your knee with his uninjured hand.

You were exhausted that night but sleep wouldn’t find you. Joel would though. Through the quiet you’d realize that Joel was the only person you trusted to do so.

He barely uttered a word for a day or so afterwards. Part of you had expected to hear him chastise you for paying such little attention; to tell you that you were lucky he’d saved your ass again. Strangely, those words never came.

The next night he stared intently at the gauze covering the cut on your arm. In the cold, dark, dead of night while everyone else slept, he was fixated on you. Something about that look of his scared you more than his judgment ever did. 

The only words he ever spoke of the incident would come out of his mouth as the fire crackled and reflected in his dark eyes, “Don’t scare me like that ever again.” That was the moment you saw how much fear this world had instilled in him. Even more, you finally understood that his love language was violence.

That’s how you start to understand why he practically snarls at you now. But it doesn’t mean you agree with it.

“You have to tell me at some point or another,” you say slowly and carefully, trying to make it clear that you mean no harm to him. “At the very least, you have to tell her. She’ll never forgive you if you don’t.”

Joel sighs. You can tell that he knows this; knows it better than anyone else in the world. He’d probably run the notion over in his mind dozens of times at that point. “I will. Just…just not now. Just—”

Though his eyes will no longer meet yours, you hope that he’s telling the truth. 

“Alright,” you reply softly.

Eyebrow raised and lips pursed, he looks skeptical. “Alright?”

“Yeah. You–” There’s so much more you wish you could say. But you doubt he’d really hear any of it. After all, he’s just as wounded and stubborn as you.  “I believe you.”

“Okay.”

[entropyvoid]

So anyway my hot take about the bit where Sunday is taking you on a guided tour through a dramatic play about the history of Penacony is that the confusion of him narrating over the story so you can’t parse what’s goin on is that it’s actually an EXCELLENT creative choice in interactive storytelling actually, because that whole scene isn’t really about Penacony’s past, present, or future, it’s about cult programming. Sunday’s goal is not for you to witness a dramatization of Penacony’s history and form your own thoughts and opinions about it, his goal is a last ditch effort to get you to share HIS specific perspective.

He talks over the story to tell you what’s happening, giving his conclusions from the get-go and sometimes even saying things that seem to directly contradict what he’s speaking over, but by the time you can even parse it, it’s gone and you’re left with little to do but move on. It’s overwhelming and makes it very difficult to form a coherent thought about it, much less a proper refutation to his arguments. It is a tactic intended to melt your brain and repeatedly hit it with a hammer of his view - the only reasonable view. So reasonable that it doesn’t even seem to occur to him that someone might have an opposing interpretation that’s logical, (more on this later,) he’s not open to new ideas, he is so completely and utterly set in his philosophy that he takes a chance in trying to hold your hand through it and explain it to you because he believes that if he just talks you through it, you’ll see the light. He is trying to convert others into to accepting the Order. Inducing mental exhaustion combined with repeating a specific philosophy, backed with an narrative to make it feel credible over and over again until your brain is too fried to do anything but accept if is a pretty common brainwashing tactic. For the devs to actually manage to induce that direct feeling in the players within the safety of fiction is actually a really impressive feat.

And he probably isn’t even really taking the specific approach he does consciously, rather, he is likely repeating some of the tactics that Gopher Wood put him through. Gopher, probably the closest thing Sunday had to a parental figure after his mother’s death, is an entity with no physical form that’s practically nigh omniscient and omnipresent within the dreamscape, is able to take over the bodies of anyone within the Oak family (possibly without their knowledge or without them remembering it?) and has been looking after Sunday from a young age. Firstly, we see them employing very similar (conversational? Argumentative?) styles. From the scene about the rehabilitated bird, we see Gopher giving a very scientific but ultimately leading explanation of natural selection (and the inherent cruelty of nature that Sunday heavily internalizes and repeats further down the line,) then poses a question that seems very open: what do you want to do about it? What do you want to do with this fucked up little fledgling that can’t fly? In his inner world, Sunday presents you with this, and several other personal experiences intended to lead you to a particular answer, then calmly asks you what decision you would’ve made in his place, in a way very reminiscent of how Gopher himself spoke to Sunday and Robin.

Sunday’s answer, to build a cage for the bird so it could live”no matter what,” happens to have aligned pretty well with the philosophies of the Order, and the quick unfortunate end the bird met when it was later released solidified his desire to protect via control, and proved to be a very formative experience for him. I think it’s highly plausible that this an early illustration of Sunday’s cult grooming already taking root, or at the very least, of Gopher fishing for a kid who’s open and susceptible to it. Gopher, seemingly being Sunday’s sole direct conspirator, is almost certainly the one who guided him on the path of worshipping the Order, while also making Sunday feel like it was his idea.

We don’t see too much in the way of interactions between Gopher and Sunday beyond that, so we’ll have to fill in the gaps - but Gopher is shown to be constantly watching over the schemes Sunday is involved in via possession of birds long before we actually learn who he is. He is always there, always watching, he can instantly overtake the will of others (so long as they’re in the Oak family - but that’s abt 1/5th of Penacony’s population and the group Sunday is a part of and thus most surrounded by,) and despite seeming very calm and reasonable, he’s clearly not above shutting people down through direct metal suppression if their questions start to pose any kind of a threat. When Welt’s questions became too direct and poignant, leading to him and Robin realizing that Gopher and Sunday were followers of Ena rather than Xipe, Gopher quickly commands Sunday to use his own mental suppression powers on them (since they’re both outside of Gopher’s control,) and Sunday does not hesitate. I have to wonder - how many times has Gopher potentially used this on Sunday, or any of the people around Sunday who got a little too close to presenting him with ideas that challenged the Order’s philosophy? It would not only be extremely easy for him to isolate Sunday intellectually while retaining his status as the sole voice of reason, but also likely, given that protection through control and domination is kind of the whole theme of the Order. (Or at least - Gopher and Sunday’s interpretation of it.) We can thus extrapolate that Gopher may’ve likely used other tactics of manipulation and control on Sunday that we haven’t seen, but which Sunday may imitate, such as in the segment with him narrating over the play about Penacony’s history.

And Sunday, clearly, is extremely isolated, long before he tres to pull his little stunt that ends in him as the lone awake person in an eternal dreamworld. Aside from Gopher, who can’t really be called on and only shows up when he feels like it, the only person he has to confide in is his sister Robin, but Sunday has long since internalized his whole “the strong protect the weak, and they protect the weak through control” bit to the extent that he tries very hard to shelter her from the things he sees as dangerous and painful. He doesn’t tell her about what happened to the bird (though she figured it out on her own anyway,) he doesn’t tell her a damn thing about his lil Ena cult, and he most certainly does not tell her about his doubts, his troubles, or the emotional weight of hearing about the worst of humanity (like that guy who sold his kids for a ticket) through the confessional booth day in and day out with a script that just says “Xipe forgives you.”

And Robin is, frankly, way stronger and smarter than her brother seems to give her any damn credit for. She’s left Penacony to tour the universe, and she headed into a warzone to help in the process, got shot in the throat, and kept singing after recovery. She’s experienced so much more of the universe than Sunday has, she’s had actual conversations with people about their problems that were not one-sided and driven by some sort of ulterior motive. She’s been the first to pick apart his faulty logic or catch on to him hiding something every time, (whether she mentions it in the moment or not,) she was the first to realize something was wrong and wake up in the end, and she ultimately rallied everyone to save her brother from himself. Had Sunday confided in her, talked about deeper life philosophies with her, shared his thoughts and feelings with her, not been isolated or isolated himself from her, treated her like she was just as strong as he was, things may have turned out very different.

Who’s really more sheltered? Robin, or her brother who tried to protect her from it all?

[nemo-in-wonderland]

And finally, after solidifying them and their backstories and whatnot in 2021, I was able to properly put my Notre-Dame clan on paper!!

FINALLY FML.

I just wanted to do a quick sketch of Mathias today, but then, I HAD to draw Antoine as well.

And then I told myself "Why not drawing Xavier as well, since I am at it?"

And after I was done, I said "you know what? it would be wrong of me to not draw even Claude (plus, Antoine would kill me lol).

SO YEAH.

I QUICKLY JOTTED DOWN ALL OF THEM, AND OMG I AM JUST SO HAPPY WITH HOW THEY TURNED OUT.

Like, they look *precisely* as I saw them in my mind whenever i think about them or I imagine them when I write about them :D

(and my twins. Look at my precious twins. look at them. So precious. One would make you the best tea, the other would kick you Chuck Norris style lololol).

FUN FACT ABOUT THE TWINS.

Antoine and Mathias wear similar clothing because they like to pretend that there is only one "Greencoat" patrolling Paris when, IN TRUTH, there are two and oftentimes, they do this to confound the Templars lol.

I love just drawing all messy, without having to be precise and whatnot, it's very liberating! (and lately I do need to do stuff without focusing too much on precision and more on fun).

Also, I am particularly happy with how Xavier turned out, he resembles his dad a lot!! :D

WELL, TIME FOR ME TO CATCH SOME ZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

Hope you will like them! <3

--Nemo

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 17/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Back in business, y'all!

It finally arrived on this part. I'm excited what you all think of this development.

The italics at the end are flashbacks Lucifer is having on that particularly familiar convo.

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

Lucifer didn't know what he expected to see beyond the entrance to the tree. He had assumed it would be like the outside- plastered with evil and decay and suffocation. Hell, he expected that he would die the second he steps inside because he may be the King of Hell but this is a being as old, possibly older, than his Father.

He didn't expect this though.

Cotton clouds walking along the vibrant blue skies like a herd of sheep. Towering trees, adorned with leaves as shining like the finest emerald, dance gracefully in the soft breeze. There's crystal-clear waters acting like a mirror for the heavens, tranquil movements reflecting the azure sky above. Animals, predator and prey are frolicking without a care in the world as if the circle of life simply does not exist.

And at the heart of it all, in the place where time stands still, lies an apple tree. The clouds make way for the sun above to shine its golden rays, helping Lucifer's brain solidify where he is.

There is no way.

Lucifer: Eden?

The Sin of Pride hears humming behind the tree. He moves closer to inspect and gets his second shock of the day. He chokes up a little.

Lucifer: Lily?

It was Lilith? That can't be right. The woman smiles at him but it doesn't look like Lilith. Her smile was always warm, serene, and full of life- this was not his ex-wife and wow, did that thought just made him start to lose it.

Lucifer: W̶͇͚̫̻͂̄́̽̽͗ẖ̷̮̩̄͂͛̊̓̕͠à̵̯̪͇̝t̵̘͔̪̱̤̗̙̂ ̸̨̡̻̰̼͖̈́̀͐̒̏̕t̶̡̛̼̺̱̳̮̍͌͐͠ͅh̸̫̔͒͠͝ę̶̱̩̪̝̪̏͌͆̾̕ ̶̟̥̒́̎h̵̑̉͜ë̵̹̓l̵͉̘̗̆͑̏͝͝l̸̘̹͔̣̓́̂̚ ̸͉͖͑́̑̋ả̷̹̩̰r̸̩̖̼̔͊̽̈́̈͐̕ͅë̵̡͓ ̵̠͚̝̜̾̒̃́y̸̭͒̽̋̈́̋ȯ̸̘̈́̍̃ͅu̴̪̫͉̯͍̬̠̐̆́ ̷̞͈͒̄̔̑͐͋͝d̴̢̦͚̐̊̓̍͌õ̵̝͍͉͉͔̲͑̇̎͌͋̀į̸̥̮͔̊̾̚ṇ̴̣̬̀̈́̈́̓̎̕̚͜ǵ̵̼̖̄ ̸̹̬͍̓̑́͆̎w̶̛̲̮͓̤̩̗͕̒̌̄̆̈͝ė̴̖̏̀͆̊͑͝ạ̶̺͍̥͌̽̀̒r̸̨̞̣̖̺̱̐̃̔ͅį̸͙͔̈́͐̆ņ̵̺̟̠̏͑̒̚ḡ̵̜͛̆̒͌ ̴̧̞̮̰̦̲̇̄̽̋͆̄ͅt̵̘̓͆͗h̷̳̗̖͘ã̴̘͉̹̘̯͚͠t̵̳̂͝ ̴̨̦̭̳̒͂́͌̓͋͝f̷̢͚̀͐à̷̢̩c̷̤̝̼̞͙̮̄̾́̽̅̀͐͜ẻ̸̛͈͝?̴̮̗͎͓̥̱͑̒̈́̈́̿ͅ!̴̩͍̭͕̳̳̭̉̆

Roo: Well, I can't let you see my true form now, could I? It would likely burn your eyes where you stand. Soooo, I picked something you're... a little bit more familiar with. You like it?~

Lucifer: Y̸̦̥̥̱̞̓̌͐͜͠o̶̥͍̊̈́̋͠ü̶̢̠̩̙͎̈́ ̶̛̮͙̜͔̋͋̽̇̈́ḣ̸̫̈̓̔͂͠a̵̰̤̳̅͒̉̆̕v̵̡̖̰̺̂̂͒̎̀͑͠ḙ̸̟̥́̃̈́̄͝ ̸͎͙̳͎̖̀̍̎͜n̵̢̩̪͉͔̗͈̈́͘o̷̗̻͕̯͋̄̃͝ͅͅ ̷̞̹̥̻̤̥̋r̶̨̫̳͔̀͌̓͊͊͜i̵̧̲̪͍̻̹͍͆̍̈́g̷͚̑h̴̨͎̰̀̀́͗̿͜͝ṱ̵̠̍́͆̃̎̏!̶̢̧͉̻̺̣̬̊

Roo: And who are you to tell me what to do, fallen? You're a mere speck in my sight. Besides, didn't my sister use that other woman's face? What was her name? Eve?

Lucifer: F̶̤͍̪̭̾̑̈͊͠ù̴͈̫̚c̵͇̎́̍̽̚͠k̵̳̩̞̖̝̤̀̒͋͌̉í̶̧͚̟̠̚̚ň̸̨̘̖̳̳̆̐͗̋-̴̮́̾͒̔͆

Lucifer lunges but the fact that it is his ex-wife's face made him hesitate enough for Roo summon roots, essentially pinning him against the Tree of Knowledge.

Roo: Can't have that, dear fallen. Hmm, how can I make you behave? Perhaps this look is a bit outdated. How abouuttt...

Lilith's face was enveloped in red and black, smile morphing into an all too familiar grin. One moment he was staring at Lilith's beautiful face, now he found himself locked in a gaze with the unmistakable form of Alastor.

Roo: This is more your style now right, sire? I must say, this one looks more outdated and tacky.

Anger must still be all over his face because Roo made a pondering look. The Root of All Evil pretended to contemplate before obnoxiously letting out an excited squeal.

Roo: Oh! I got it!

Alastor shrinks, his red bob cut lengthens, turning blond from the roots. Gray skin became porcelain white with red circles appearing on the cheeks.

He's going to kill her.

Roo: Perfect, no?

He's going to kill this fucking bitch for using his daughter's face!-

He breaks free from his restraints in a flurry of rage, hand immediately grasping Roo's (NOT HIS DAUGHTER) neck. Charlie (NO IT IS NOT HER) struggles, sending the roots back to get him but his hellfire is preventing them to get closer.

Lucifer pries Roo's mouth open and began reciting an incantation- runes physically manifest themselves, entering Roo. Lucifer can feel the power of Goodie's seal flow out of him, draining him of his strength. He start coughing up blood but pushes through.

This is for Charlie. For everyone.

By the end of it, Roo is motionless and Lucifer slumps on the tree, exhausted beyond belief. He's holding his throat as golden blood drip from is mouth. Goodie didn't say it was this bad.

He tries not to look at Roo's body. She's still wearing Charlie's whole being and he doesn't want to see an almost dead version of his daughter's face.

Lucifer thought it was over until there was a chuckle. He looks on in horror as the mangled body of Roo sat up in manic laughter. His daughter's lovely smile turned more broken, so much that it's tearing her face apart.

Roo: Surprise!!!

Lucifer: What...? You're supposed to be sealed now. I was inches away. It was supposed to work!

Roo bursts into more laughter like he just said the dumbest thing ever. She looks up to the sky.

Roo: Oh man, you're really that stupid?? This ritual was never going to work and Goodie knew it! All this ancient thing does is barely prick my finger.

Lucifer: I don't understand. I- why?

Roo: Because Goodie knew what I needed and sent you to give it.

Lucifer thinks back to his first conversation with Goodie and feels this sense of dread.

Goodie: I can lend you something that shall be enough to contain her. But for this to work, I need one thing.

Lucifer: And what do you need?

Lucifer: What is it?

Beautiful Eden disappeared and now replaced with a decaying forest. The green grass turned into the red flowers from outside as they continue to excrete miasma.

Lucifer never felt so breathless.

Roo and Goodie: You

[biceratops7]

HOly fucking SHIT-

Guys I just had a complete Shellstrop style “holy motherforking shirt balls” moment at work about Donnie’s unusual speaking patterns. You know, when he does this:

This tendency to narrate his actions in the third person or verbally say onomatopoeias in place of the sound is uh… well it’s autistic right? Look it features in literally every compilation but no one knows why other than “vibes, sometimes it just be like that 🤷”

But NO. No it NOT be like that. I finally know what this fucking nerd is doing, hear me out…

… he’s scripting.

Think about it. You know what else describes action, emotion, and sound in purely words? Books. He has these little speaking quirks, yah, but if you actually zoom out and see the whole picture, Donnie talks like he’s a narrator. This makes a SHIT ton of sense considering we already have textual evidence that he engages in scripting behavior (more specifically some possible echolalia. See: saying “New York! What a Town!” in any situation something kind of abnormal happens after he hears Splinter say it with the exact same infections and everything.)

And we also know from the mystic library that Donnie actively seeks out and enjoys reading. So it stands to reason an autistic 14 year old who likes to be left alone to work on complex machines a decent amount and takes pride in his intellect would model the way he communicates off of written media as opposed to tv or his brothers. He could fill his social tool box with lines from Jupiter Jones and Lou Jitsu movies, but he may think it would give him less of a chance to properly express his capabilities.

Books are also the only form of media that can literally just tell you flat out what a character’s expression or emotion is supposed to be without it being awkward, which would be really appealing for Donnie. What solidifies this for me is the fact that at least once he verbally says “sad face emoji”, which could not have come from a novel or textbook. But we often do flagrantly use emoticons as tone indicators, and Donnie is constantly on his phone.

I think he’s definitely aware that this is not a regular way of communicating, but he’s clearly also self aware of his issues in getting his emotional meaning across and receiving input back. So it stands to reason he would accommodate this in a way that, yes, makes him sound odd, but is at least effective.

Now for my final little “I’ve connected the dots. I’ve connected them” moment, I headcannon that Donnie learned to read before he fully got the hang of speech. Aside from… literally everything I just said, he uses sign language to tell the squirrels to blow up his treehouse in that one episode. But he does the sign for “make” a bit incorrectly (there should be a slight twist in his upper fist), which leads me to believe he was probably taught baby sign out of necessity rather than being fully proficient in asl. This is fairly common for autistic children with speech delays.

[marcmorrigan]

finally delivering on the princess tutu headshots i promised... love these dysfunctional teens 🩰💖💕

LOTS of notes about headcanons/design choices under the cut! like. a lot. dont say i didnt warn you

starting with my specialest guy fakir:

i had a suuuper clear vision for fakir, and i couldnt be happier with how he turned out, he looks exactly how i imagine him! trying to translate his Bird-Shaped Hair into my style gave me SERIOUS homestuck flashbacks. my affinity for knights with Problems knows no bounds...

adding the hyperpigmentation around his eyes and his acne scars is what really solidified this for me-- i put those in and was like oh!!! there you are!!! my boy!!! and you can tell because i gave him acne scars + thick eyebrows that he IS my boy... there are very clear trends among my headcanons for my faves lol. big noses, thick eyebrows, skin imperfections, heavy eyebags, long dark hair... and fakir truly has it all 😤 he is so Ideal Character Design to me

i think fakir is actually pretty self-conscious about his appearance tho! we see characters like pike and lilie say hes handsome to ahiru, but i dont know how often he actually hears that? and im sure its hard not to compare himself to mytho, who is straight out of a fairy tale; being a regular teenager dealing with regular teen body stuff is hard enough without your roommate being a magically beautiful eternally youthful storybook hero. i think he probably internalises more that people see him as scary and angry, and that the girls who do have crushes on him always frame it in contrast to mytho, who is Good and Kind and Handsome, implying (or sometimes outright stating!) that fakir is Bad and Mean and... Well...

fakir is very sensitive but quiet about it, so i think its a very private point of self-consciousness. i think he puts a lot of semi-secret effort into his appearance; canonically he has a lot of very funny and clearly customised clothing, and he chooses to keep his hair long and in a very particular style (i have a whole breakdown in my mind of how he achieves that style and it involves a surprising amount of pins and an unsurprising fuckton of teasing. i think his hair is a little fried from heat damage!), and i think that probably extends to other things, too, like manicuring his eyebrows and doing a lot of very Teenage Skincare that doesnt actually help his acne much lol. i think he probably has a lot of self-injurious habits and BFRBs like skin picking and chewing, mostly at his acne and around his nails (both of which he hates, because he knows he shouldnt but does it anyway). i think if he does it enough that theres noticeable evidence it feels, like, world-ending for him, ESPECIALLY if anyone asks what happened lol. do not perceive him except in the very specific ways and contexts he approves of THANKS

on to the narratives favorite princess, mytho:

again, i had a pretty clear idea of the vibe i wanted mytho to have going into this-- i want him to have, like, extreme prince charming vibes, very Classically Handsome without necessarily being 'conventional.' i thought a lot about 'the happy prince' story while i was working on this, and really wanted him to look like a cross between how the prince statue looks in my head and a porcelain doll. and also a cross between jonny brown and brigitte bardot? lots of very direct influences for him lol. so! lots of gold tones, gemmy eye color, cute little tooth gap, quivering wide-eyed thousand-yard-stare doe eyes and big ol dolly anime lashes, which were the very last thing i added because i was NERVOUS about pulling those off lol. they turned out cute tho! ive only done a handful of pieces for this series and i can already tell princess tutu is gonna make me up my lash drawing game considerably, these kids all look like they blink and cause a hurricane from the gale force wind of their falsies

also wait i lied the very last thing i did was add his freckles/beauty marks because he needed that little extra oomph and those were It. i think he probably has some on his hands/wrists too 💕

i was a little unsure if my idea for his hair would translate with this flat-color approach but im pretty happy with it! its supposed to be afrotextured hair (somewhere between 3b and 4c i think? wide range of potential i knowww but im still kind of hammering out my headcanons okay, this is exploratory lol) thats been rolled and finger-styled into his little feather shapes. i think loose, chunky twists would be another fun way to interpret his hair and twists are one of my fave styles to draw do i might draw him like that at some point too...

i guess fakir is the one who styles his hair for him before mytho gets his heart back? i imagine fakir is pretty meticulous about maintaining mythos health and appearance, even at the worst stages of their relationship. i think itd be hard for fakir to frame the way he treats mytho as For Mythos Sake if he wasnt doing some level of actually beneficial care for him, so being really fastidious about things like mythos diet and sleep hygiene and hair care and such gives fakir an outlet for his 'you just have to do what i tell you' thing that helps him convince himself it really is helping, no really, hes doing this for mythos benefit and he just has to be strict with him because mytho doesnt UNDERSTAND he needs PROTECTING and fakir is the ONLY ONE who can do it so mytho HAS to let him because if he doesnt then why does fakir even EXIST, if he cant manage this then what is he good for, and--

yknow. the usual complexes. and their relationship is so complex!!! but also so simple, but like. in a good way. fakirs behavior is complicated but his motivation regarding mytho is SO straightforward which makes that downward spiral into harm really easy to map out... i wont go much into that in this post since this is about visual/appearance-related headcanons but just. augh. i love this show and i love these characters!!! and i hope its apparent in my work that i do love them so <3

im hoping to do a set of these for the girls next!!! i have some other stuff to finish first but hopefully... Soon... Some Birds...

[yuriisclumsy]

𝖯𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗎𝖾, 𝙰𝚌𝚝 𝙸𝙸: Honorary Knights

Last Chapter | Next Chapter(𝒐𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏)

𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗅𝗒. 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝:2430

Authors note: Sup, how's everyone's day? Amazing as usual I presume? Anywho- I've been trying out this new style of drawing as mine solidifies. Also, I've realized that if I make less drawings with colors these chapters go a lot faster because I can't continue writing if I have an idea for a scene. I NEED to finish the drawing then go back to writing (It's rare if I continue writing after an idea).

A week has passed since I discovered I was in a game.

Sirius helped clear the final temple, returning Mondstadt's elemental flow back to normal after a week straight of work. Paimon and he were on their way to Acting Grand Master Jean to report the good news.

Unfortunately for me, I happen to be walking in the same direction to renew the book I borrowed from librarian Lisa, lest she comes looking for me if I don’t inform her I need more time with it.

Talk about bad luck.

“So, [Name], what’s new? Do you have something interesting to tell us?” Paimon questioned me.

“Nope. Got nothing new,” I did not look at her when I said that.

She stumps her little foot in the air. “What? What about that book you’ve been reading?! Have you not learned anything new after a week of reading it!?” 

“Well, it’s nothing new for you. But it’s new for me. Lost memories, remember?”

“...What is the book about anyway?” She asked instead of responding to me.

“Teyvat’s history. I finished reading it, and I’m getting another one. This one was a very old edition.”

“Is Teyvat’s history that interesting to you?”

“Yes, very,” I nod. “What about you two? Anything else besides reporting back to Master Jean?”

“I wanted to ask them about the teardrop we found in the forest,” Aether responded. “It was left behind by Stormterror, so maybe they know what it is.”

“Good thinking! It could also help us deal with stormterror easier.”

Reaching the Knight's Headquarters, we saw Master Jean who appeared to be talking with someone.

“Look, it’s Jean!” Paimon pointed at her. “Who is she talking to?”

She seems to be talking to a woman. She had a black outfit with purple here and there; her hair a burned-blonde, bangs that rested right above her eyebrows; her face hidden behind a gray mask. 

She spelled trouble through-and-through.

“Don’t know. But I have a gut feeling that she’s no good,” I said, eyeing her with distrust.

“Let’s wait for her to finish,” Sirius said. “We can wait on the side over here. I don’t want to be in the middle of the street.”

As we waited, we saw the frustration from both ends of the party. Jean looked adamant about her position, while the masked woman seemed to be irritated; she looked like she was trying hard to convince Jean to whatever she wanted from her.

I remember this part of the story. Jean gets pressured by a Fatui agent –a Snezhnayan diplomat– Anastasia, to kill Dvalin. Amalia warned me about them: 

“Never. Ever. Trust the Fatui.”

The scary part about that was how she looked dead serious. Before then, I had never seen that side of her. The fact she changed so quickly too… I got nightmares for a month straight; Amalia would come in and tell me how I was a bad friend.

Ahg, I get shivers just thinking about it…  I looked back at two political figures. I’ll trust Amalia and my gut feeling about the Fatui. Note to self: “Don’t talk to the Fatui.”

“Looks like she’s done talking to that person!” Paimon announced. “Let’s go talk to her.”

Jean’s gaze followed the masked woman, face laced with worry. Her eyes then darted towards us as we got in her peripheral view.

“Oh, Traveler, you're back,” she noticed I was with him, “and company… Is she the one you and Amber were talking about?”

“Yup!” Paimon confirmed. “This is [Name], our traveler buddy and official cook!” Her eyes sparkled at the mention of cooking.

I sighed, turning my attention to Jean. I smiled, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Master Jean.”

“Likewise,” she reciprocated the smile.

“Now that everyone is acquainted, Paimon has to ask. Who was that just now?”

“First, I would like to thank you,” she looked at Sirius, “Lisa informed me that the elemental flow is finally stable because of your help, and skill. For that, you have Mondstadt’s gratitude.”

Sirius scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed for getting compliments.

“Is someone getting shy now?~” Paimon teased.

“Leave him alone Paimon. He actually did something, unlike someone.”

“I told you, Paimon is moral support, moral support!”

“Anyway–” Jean intervened before she had to break up a fight, “the aftermath of Stormterror’s last attack is finally settled for the moment. But not the pressure from the delegation, in fact, it has become too big to ignore.”

“Delegation? From Liyue, or Inazuma City?” Paimon asked.

“Snezhnaya,” she paused and then continued, “they choose to follow the god of Cryo. Their envoys go by a particular name: The Fatiu. Heard of them?”

“Are you kidding? They are famous! Wait, infamous is more of the word.”

“Let me guess, the Fatui wants to take Stormterror down, right?” I said fully knowing the answer to the question.

“Correct. I don’t think killing Stormterro will do anyone any good, nor do I think it’s the right action to take. The Cryo god’s Fatui have always coveted the Anemo god’s power.” She had the same worried face I saw when the Fatui woman left, “I don’t believe they have Mondstatd’s best interest at heart.” I nod in agreement.

“Speaking of power…” Sirius began.

“What is it?”

“I have something I need to show the Knights,” he finished.

“Oh? Then let us go inside the Headquarter. We shouldn't discuss important matters…” she looked around, “out in the open.”

Jean led us inside. Before I stepped foot inside her office I stopped. Jean noticed and turned to see if everything was fine.

“Sorry guys, I need to return this book to Lisa,” I said from just outside the office.

“I see,” she understood and said nothing else about it, she knew how Lisa could be when a book was missing. “Before you go, could you do me a favor?”

“Yes. What is the favor?”

“Once you’re done, tell Lisa to come to my office please. We might need her.”

“Okay, I’ll tell her,” Jean closed the door dismissing me. I skipped a few steps to reach the other side of the building faster.

I opened the door to the library and went in. I looked at the front desk only to find it empty.

Lisa’s not there… Maybe she’s over here. I walked through the first floor, but no Lisa in sight.

Not here either… Going downstairs, I ran through the whole floor as there wasn’t anyone in the room, yet she wasn’t there either.

Where is she!? I yelled internally. So, she can miss a day, but we can’t? Talk about unfairness.

“Hi, darling.”

“AHHHHH!” I turned around but managed to slip due to a paper on the floor. “Ouf–! Awo! That hurt…!” rubbing my butt, the voice reached out their hand to help me up. I looked up and saw, the one-and-only, Lisa!

“Oh, dear, are you alright?” I took her hand and responded.

“Yeah, I’m fine…” I lied. My butt still hurts.

“You keep on getting scared whenever I greet you. I’m not that scary to you, am I?” She sounded hurt asking that.

I rolled my eyes. You look harmless, but you’re a rose with pesky thorns… That’s what Amalia has said anyway.

“Of course not, miss Lisa,” I dismissed her. I faked an innocent smile and said, “You look average to me.” 

It looked like an arrow had hit her bullseye in the heart. She was mumbling how cruel youngsters are nowadays, and how, begin quote, ‘her beauty is fading because of her age,’ end quote.

I didn’t mean my comment obviously. I only said that to get back at her for the two times she’s given me a heart attack. She looks young for her age, that’s for sure.

“What are you back here for, returning the book I presume?” She asked me, leaving behind the commentary I made like I never said it in the first place.

“Yes, you see, the one I have is outdated–a century outdated to be precise–of the history of Teyvat,” I explained.

She hummed, “yes, I remember. I found it quite odd that you wanted to read such an old book. Now I know why.” She turned and waved her hand in a follow-me motion, “Come, I know exactly where the newer version is.”

We moved to the section that Amber showed me when I came here last time. Looking at it now, the history section was much bigger than I remembered.

“Here it is!” Lisa handed me a book. “This is the newest version, it came out a year ago.”

“Thank you again, miss Lisa,” I thanked her as I eyed the book.

I wonder what they added.

“Please, this is nothing compared to the work I had to do the past week,” she rubbed her shoulders. “Taking care of the Temples of the Four Winds was more of a hassle than I had imagined.”

We walked up the stairs and stood by the front desk.

“You’re being too modest. Thanks to you and the others, Mondsatdt has one less thing to worry about.”

“Thank you again, sweet-pie,” she smiled. “I checked out the book already, so you’re as free as a bird.”

“Thank you,” I lightly vowed and walked toward the door.

!

I almost forgot!

“Oh! Miss Lisa?”

“Yes?”

“Master Jean asked for you, she is in her office.”

“Ah, thank you for informing me. Now shoo, off you go,” she pushed me out of the library as she herself went out, locking it with a key after she made sure there was no one else inside.

“[Name], if you ever find yourself unable to find a quiet place to read, go to windrise. It was nice weather, and if you’re lucky, you’ll hear the soft strumming of a lyre.”

“Thank you for the advice,” I thanked her for the third time today. I walked out of the Headquarters and made my way to find a place to sit and read.

I can go to Windrise like Lisa suggested, I looked up to the blue, and the sky is clear. Oh! There is a Statue of the Seven there! I can try and obtain powers similar to how the MC did in the game— well, better said how Sirius did. Plus, there is a big space to test out the System.

The air near the sea is the best… I breached in the air.

I basked in the atmosphere underneath the massive oak tree, the symbol of Mondstadt’s hero – Vannessa.

The trail from Mondstadt City to Windrise was perfect. Not a single monster interfered, with a few slimes that minded their own business when I passed by. It was a bit strange, since I remembered they attacked on sight. But, this is the world of Genshin, some things are bound to change.

“All right, time to get to work. System!”

“I’m sorry, I can’t make a proper analysis at the moment,” Lisa said.

“Huh? But Paimon thought you were able to see some impurities.”

“Correct. But it’s not enough for me to come to a conclusion,” she turned to Jean and Sirius, “give me some time. I’ll take a look through the library's restricted section.”

Jean nods. “I’ll leave all the research to you then, Lisa,” she looks at the outlanders.

“I’ll notify you all if I make any progress,” she went closer to the crystal, “thought I wouldn’t go getting your hopes up. They are incredibly ancient texts, not to mention—Ouch!” Lisa retracted her hand from the object as the force of the impurities hurt her. “Gosh, that hurt!”

“Are you okay?” Jean worriedly asked, checking her friend from any injuries. The other two were just as concerned.

“Now, now, you three are looking at me like I’m half-dead. I’m fine. The impurities in the crystal…” she looked at it before continuing, “it hurts when I get close…” She hummed in thought. “It appears to react to Visions, repealing it even.”

“What? How can that happen?” Paimon asked.

“I’m not going over the details, if not we'll be here for days-on-end. All you need to know is that the impurities and the elemental energy we embody repel each other.”

“Really?” She looked at Sirius, “then why is he able to hold it?”

“That is a good question, and a question I don’t have the answer to, unfortunately.”

“...” Sirius stayed silent through the whole interaction. What could be in his mind?

“Anyway, the crystal would be better left in the hands of my cutie,” Sirius places the crystal back in his bag. “It will be a pain if left with – both literally and metaphorically.”

“Okay. I will keep it.”

“Fascinating… Do you know anything about what makes you special?” Jean asks Sirius in wonder. He nods in solidarity.

“Well, that's the end of that,” Paimon said.

“Traveler…” Jean called, “the knights of Favonius have another favor to ask of you. Please accept the title of honorary Knight and the gratitude of the Acting grand Master.”

“Honorary Knight…of Favonius?!” Paimon gave Sirius a smirk, “look at you go. You just arrived in Mondstadt and already have a super cool title! Paimon is impressed.” Sirius puffed his chest with pride.

“We gotta tell [Name] once we see her. Oouu, she’s going to make that angry face again, Paimon can just tell!” she says excitedly with a small fire in her eyes when she thinks of your face.

“Then this is a meeting concluded,” Jean dismissed then. “We’ll meet back here if you find anything.”

“Okey-Dokey! Let’s go!” Paimon and Sirius walk out of the office leaving Lisa and Master Jean alone.

“What peculiar little creatures they all are…”

“What are you mumbling about?” Jean inquired after hearing Lisa mumble.

“Oh, nothing. Just complaining about how I haven’t had a proper nap since the incident with stormterror started,” she lied.

“Don’t worry. Soon, we can all rest properly,” Jean reassured.

A little far from the Knight’s Headquarter…

“Okay, we’re far from the knights to hear us,” Paimon stands–floats–in front of Sirius, making him stop. “There’s something you didn't tell them. The boy. The one that communicated with the dragon, kinda hard to miss.”

“I know, Paimon. But I’d like to investigate on my own first,” Sirius explained to her. “And I don’t think he’s a bad guy.”

“So you do remember him,” a boy in green caught her eyes, “he looked just like the guy down there!” Sirius looked at the guy Paimon pointed at.

“The exact same shade of green, what a coincidence. Seems like green is a popular color.”

“See? See? Wait… Hold on a minute… that… that's the same guy!”

“Hmm… looks like him,” he said nonchalantly.

“Stop joking around and let’s go after him!”

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