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sea-owl · 2 years

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I’m bored at work so let’s come up with some more engagement of convivence au. Continuation of this post and this post

Dear gentle reader,

This author has heard that one Miss Penelope Featherington is now engaged to one Sir Phillip Crane. The two have been seen together at every ball this season so one should not be surprised that a proposal had followed. Though one must wonder . . .

Lady Whisteldown’s Society Papers, 20 May 1815

Penelope shrugs when she sends the column off. “It would be strange if she didn’t say anything.”

Phillip nods in understanding.

The gossip explodes when Phillip and Penelope’s engagement is announced. People have not forgotten that one Miss Marina Thompson had been Phillip’s wife first, and the children are biologically his brother’s. Some claim that Penelope was following in Phillip’s footsteps in marrying to honor her cousin’s wish to see her children looked after. Others wonder had something been going on between them before. Some even saw it as romantic that now the two can follow their hearts in love while others were confused. Wasn’t Penelope in a long courtship with Colin Bridgerton? Oh no, you didn’t hear? He broke it off last year, and at her own family’s ball to boot! Maybe this was why.

The engaged couple ignores everyone as they plan out their arrangement. Penelope would travel to London during the season with the children to work on her writing and help expose the children to small doses of society before they would officially debut. Phillip would visit them at least once a month. They would hope more often but estate running can leave one busy. Penelope would then return to Romney Hall after the season is over and they would live their life in Romney Hall.

That was their plan once they got married at the end of the season, it’s too bad that the Bridgertons planned on tearing it all to shreds.

Neither of them really noticed it at first.

It started out with Eloise becoming their unofficial chaperon. Sticking to Phillip and Penelope like glue.

Next was Colin calling on Penelope almost daily. He apologized about what he said last season. Penelope, whose rose-colored glasses were gone, and she had a future set, forgave him. They became friendly again, though Penelope is now stricter on trying to stop Colin from touching her as freely as he did before.

Then there was the balls, which started to set off alarm bells in Penelope’s head. Phillip and Penelope would share a dance or two as would be appropriate for an engaged couple, even though both of them would be happier in their corner. Grabbing the gossip Penelope needed for her column and leaving at a considerate time. But surprise, Eloise drags Phillip to the dance floor, or off somewhere with a lot of plants, and Penelope’s dance card is almost full of dances by Bridgertons A, B, C, and Simon. Portia would try her best to run interference. Despite her daughter forgiving the boy Portia hadn’t, and she damn well remembers what Colin Bridgerton had the nerve to say in her own bloody home. That’s when Violet would jump in to distract her.

It was during one of these distractions that Portia had enough.

“Why are your children so determined to keep Penelope away from her intended?”

Violet paused. “Portia we’re not-”

Portia gives Violet an unimpressed look. “Violet I am not dumb. Whatever game your family is playing at it needs to stop. Your son practically ruined Penelope last season with his careless words. Now that she is engaged with a comfortable future ahead of her, he is back to taking liberties we both should have stopped years ago.”

Portia sighs. “As your old friend, and as a fellow mother, I am asking you to please stop this. I know you believe in love, but that is not for everyone. Your family is lucky to have love matches.”

“Phillipa was a love match.”

“An exception, my girls knew from the beginning that a love match was a low possibility. I am thankful that Penelope sees that and not living in a fantasy.”

Violet follows Portia’s gaze to the dance floor where Phillip and Penelope were dancing. She looks further away to see two of her own children staring longingly at the couple. She knew that look on her third and fifth born.

“Portia, Eloise is in love with Sir Crane.”

Portia stiffened, her eyes narrowing into a glare.

“And Colin is in love with Penelope.”

Portia shook her head. “Love isn’t enough.”

#i'm gonna stop here or its gonna get too long #where did this angst come from?#this was supposed to be a fun idea #i'm thinking church scene next #engagement of convenience au #polin #philoise #penelope featherington #phillip crane #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #bridgerton

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fullbattleregalia · 2 months

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When I’m writing, I don’t just have a Shoulder Angel and Shoulder Devil - I also have an Elbow Cthulhu, who elbows me in the ribs and goes, “You know how we could make this unnecessarily traumatic and dark?”

#elbow Cthulhu needs to stop showing up to my crack fics #hojo was just supposed to comedically die to a tonberry!#where did this angst come from?#bad elbow Cthulhu!#writing #shoulder angel #shoulder devil #fanfiction

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befuddled-calico-whump · 3 days

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Riot Kings, page 179.1

first // prev //

#bonus page i had ao much fun drawing this #i was on the fence but im flad i did hehe angst #extra fun because somewhere in the back of Wes's head he's imagined them showering together one day #but this is far from what he imagined #riotkings #179.1 #angst #whump comic #forced to strip #(implied)#considering doing a second bonus for that scene because i enjoy forced to strip as a trope #implied nudity #partial nudity #man i have a HUGE scene coming up that im struggling to script #when i say huge i mean logistically like a lot of moving parts #gotta organize the layout of it #their song is 'where are you now' by the wrecks btw i think of them every time

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oppositeslut · 7 months

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do you ever think about how guilty Jay felt after Zane was blasted to the never realm. I mean Zane literally told Jay he had a vision about that happening and jay was like nah it's fine

and then it happened

do you think about how many nights he spent awake thinking about how if he listened to Zane he might still be here. How the guilt was eating him alive but he was too afraid to tell the others fearing they would blame him somehow

how Zane telling him about his vision and him brushing it off is just repeating and repeating in his mind

"I should've listened I should've listened if I did Zane would still be here" his daily mantra to himself

why didn't he listen

#where did this angst come from #ninjago #jay walker

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seishiroh · 11 months

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“THREE KNOTS.” / itoshi sae x f!reader.

— sfw. angst. non-established relationship. long distance lovers. pining. fluff. mentioned rin itoshi (not too canon compliant vague state of their relationship.) insecurity. some jealous undertones. misunderstandings. no real comfort.

— not proofread. might be a bit too wordy. also some chance of ooc-ness cause, idk, i tried though. :] ending might've sounded a bit rushed but i was trying to do something and it was not... doing anything. loosely inspired of NIKI's Autumn.

it's a tempestuous relationship—whatever you have with itoshi sae. but he's all you've ever known. whatever love is, it's defined by him.

you met him only three years ago. when he flew to japan to renew his passport only to stay because of blue lock—and whenever you think about it, it's almost like it was meant to be—you and sae.

the meeting him, the wanting him, the wanting you.

you're not sure what it is about him and what it is he saw in you that kept you together then. but his nights were yours. you'd trace your name against his exposed skin and you know he can tell, because you can feel him tense up whenever you do it.

he never stopped you then.

and you wonder which reaction was the most real from sae: the way he'd tense up as you traced your name or that he never told you to stop.

like you could.

like you had him.

you were both only eighteen; it's the first love you've ever known—maybe it's the only love you'll ever come to know.

but sae itoshi's reality is far from yours. so, so far from yours. that's why you're gripping his hand in yours like you'd fall from the earth or float away from it if you let go.

sae doesn't tell you this, not when he needs to board his plane with only a few minutes left, but he almost wishes he could stay with you.

play house, play lovers.

maybe he won't be itoshi sae, and you won't be y/n, but he'd love you the same.

you've gotten only barely a year of you and sae, but at the airport, you hold out your heart—soft and beating fast.

"i love you," you whisper against the pulse right under his ear, like if his heart could hear it, then maybe he won't have to go.

he hears you loud and clear. only because the language of your love is something he could recognize from a mile away.

sae itoshi is only barely nineteen. and i love you are foreign words even if he means to say them.

his thumb brushes against your bottom lip. it's gentle, along with his gaze, trained on the movement.

sometimes you wonder what goes through his mind whenever he does this, just right before he tilts your chin up, teal eyes meeting yours. you're also unsure what it is about sae's eyes that makes them look so piercing; you only ever see it when he's looking right at you.

he leans in, eyes flickering from yours down to your lips, then he brushes his lips against yours—it's barely there—like he's testing it like he hasn't done this a million couple times before.

then he presses a kiss on the corner of your mouth, butterfly kisses, fleeting then coming back for more.

only then—does he really kisses you. he kisses you like it's enough to make up for the words he's not saying.

"i'll come back," he says in between kisses; even at that, he can feel the smile on your lips. it's just a promise, but you smile like you trust him—like you genuinely believed it, like you'd hold him to it even if it took a decade.

"i'll call you when the plane lands," he adds.(because it's the best he could say.)

"it'll be midnight here," you reply, while still gripping on his unzipped tracksuit, your other hand against his chest—because he could keep the words to himself, but you figured the wild thumping of his heart couldn't lie, couldn't ever keep a secret.

"you'll answer," he tells you.

and he's right. he always is.

and one day, you'd wish all of these stolen moments with him were enough. only because they had to have been, only because itoshi sae knew little else outside football, but he knew you.

sae thinks you're quite easy to read from the get-go, but in the months you've spent together, sae has learned you. as though you mattered that much.

you were only barely nineteen. you think you might've shot to the stars when you dreamt about sae itoshi not leaving you or maybe keeping you.

"sae-chan!" his manager yells from a distance, "we have to get in now!"

it's barely there, but you can feel the way he sighs. when sae lets you go and walks away, he doesn't turn back, doesn't wave, doesn't glance to see if you're walking away too.

he doesn't look out the window once he's seated inside the plane; he doesn't watch the view of japan fade away.

but at one thirty-six am, your phone is ringing.

you pick up at the first ring—because you haven't slept, subconsciously waiting for his call.

his voice filters in first, too monotonous for the words he's saying, "i should've asked you to come."

you laugh. only because you know he doesn't mean it, not really.

you miss him already, though. so you allow his little lie. besides, maybe it's not a complete lie. perhaps he really thinks so, but even if he did, he'd never allow it.

unlike you, allowing his calls at midnight to talk about the day and whisper empty promises for the next few months.

"after soccer," he says silently, "we can stay together."

his voice is warmer through the phone, mostly from his exhaustion than anything, but you think it must mean something at least—that it's always you on the other end of the line whenever he comes home, it's always you on the receiving end of his smile through the screen, always you that you see him texting after his team wins a match.

"after soccer," you echo him with a laugh, "i don't think there's an after soccer for you, sae."

your tone isn't malicious when you tell him this, and he's not sure what comes first—that he knows he's hurting you or that he loves you more for understanding.

"i'll figure it out," he answers you, completely serious. he says he will like he could do it all on his own.

"i'll figure it out with you," you say. "i'm right here with you, sae," and you tell him because you think he needs the reminder.

it's odd, you hope you're not wrong, but you can feel sae smiling through the phone in the silence.

when you whisper these promises to each other, promises that are as empty as they are pretty—you think it must mean something.

sae only wanted things that pushed him towards his goals but then there was you... and for a while, you thought you belonged there.

it must mean something, that there was you—running and trying so hard to catch up to his dreams because he wanted you there. running eastward to the warmth that sae had reserved only for you.

but if you were more honest with yourself, there is nothing between you and sae.

sometimes, when sae is gone from you and far into his own world, you think perhaps you might've truly been delusional to think you ever had a shot at calling him yours.

that's why when he gets involved in a dating scandal—with someone who's not you—you have to pretend everything is fine. you think it shouldn't be much of a challenge to do so, since no one even knows about you and sae.

as for sae, you wait for his calls, but for the next few weeks, they never come.

still, you try to think maybe it's your fault. you haven't reached out since then, but he hasn't either; you're stuck with nothing but a promise that you're starting to doubt ever even existed.

you know you love him, and you'd like to think that somewhere in his heart, sae loved you too.

except it's not enough to keep you from doubting otherwise until itoshi rin comes knocking on your door, plane ticket in hand, like whatever you had with sae hadn't ended when you stopped talking to him weeks ago.

but sae's little brother is there, telling you to come to sae because his brother's not doing well without you.

you're not sure what it means because sae seems to have been doing just fine when you saw his recent game—especially when you saw a picture of him leaving a building with the rumored girlfriend.

that's why you're shaking your head at rin, who's still standing by your front door. at rin, who's sighing and finally relenting.

"i don't care what you do, i'm just here to give this," he tells you (and you can't help but pick up on the way he speaks like sae) but he reaches out and takes your hand, leaving you the plane ticket and walking away without so much as a goodbye.

the flight isn't til three more days.

you stare at it, laid on the palm of your hand, and somehow you feel like crying. sighing, you close your door and leave the plane ticket on your coffee table.

maybe the universe would do you a favor and let the wind take care of it, fly out the window or fall somewhere you couldn't find.

the next morning, it's still there.

when you come home, it's still there. you consider ripping it, hoping you won't let yourself stumble over and stupidly back into sae's arms somehow.

but when the night comes and there's a gaping hole in your chest where sae resides, you miss him so much you think you'd die—your resolve breaks. you think about texting him because that's the easiest part, but the curtains of your window sway forward at the wind, and it makes you think of sae and the way it's the first thing he does when he wakes up, opening the window and letting the air in, and how it would be so lovely to see him do it when you're there.

there's a plane ticket taunting you.

you figure flying all the way to spain for sae is crazy but if it meant seeing his face, hearing his voice—if it meant you'd have the chance to keep him in any way he'd allow, perhaps it'd be worth it.

rin sends you a message just as you're boarding the plane the next day; it's an address to an apartment in spain and instructions to contact sae's manager once you land.

you follow it all—heart over head until he's right in front of you, lithe fingers curling over the handle of your luggage and rolling it inside his apartment—where all his windows are open, all wind and sunlight pouring in.

"rin said you didn't wanna come," he speaks up, turning to look at you awkwardly standing by the door.

"i didn't—" you try to say, but it feels like a lie, "but i missed you more."

sae walks up to you, his hands tucked inside his jacket and his stare that never really gives away how he feels.

"why not?"

you give him a shrug. "is there someone else, sae?" you ask, so blunt and earnest that his lips twitch in a smile.

sae reaches out, holds onto your hips, "you've got a good brain in there. use it," he replies, lets your question fall back to you, "is there, y/n?"

you frown at him like you're a child telling him he's being unfair. "there might," you pause, "but then i'd have to leave," but your hands moving to his chest doesn't make it convincing.

his heart jumps at your touch, it beats steadily. it's a rhythm only you're privy to.

"...there isn't," he says finally, eyebrows furrowing. "you're with me."

you smile because you believe him, "you stopped calling, though?"

"you were upset," he quips.

you nod, point taken. "and you let me be upset at you, itoshi sae? just like that? and let me think maybe you don't love me after—?"

the scowl on his face is quick to form as you spoke, "shut up," he says, completely serious.

"will you say sorry?" you say instead, trying to sound teasing, but your voice is soft and it's the easiest thing in the world for sae to pick up on.

"no," he whispers, pulling you even closer.

"make it up to me?" you continue even though you know he'll shake his head, stand his ground. not scared enough to test his patience, even though maybe you should be.

you want to let up, to take it as it is. to love him with no need for anything else, but the reality of your feelings win and you're asking another question before you could stop yourself.

"am i with you, sae?"

"stupid," he mutters. "i love only you."

right there, in his hold and the sunlight hitting him just right, you find yourself in itoshi sae's apartment for the first time, finally offering you his affections.

perhaps the world can have him every other way, but him just like this, you get to have all for yourself. in the way he pulls you in, presses kisses to your skin. in the way he comes through the door and searches for you in the room, and he smells so good and feels so safe for no reason at all.

while you're there, still unknown to the world, your hands are intertwined beneath the tables when he takes you out, it feels just enough.

in the mornings, you wake up early with him. it's contagious—he's contagious. his habits and idiosyncrasies. when you're brushing your teeth, he's carelessly littering kisses on your neck until you're scolding him about how you can't move. he gives your hips a pat—once, twice—peers at you through the mirror, then he's off.

sometimes, you wonder what it would be like to be able to call him yours. say he's your boyfriend, mean something more.

you think about how nice it would be if you could stay here with him. play house, play lovers.

and no one had to know, because he was enough.

but when sae's stopped for a post match interview and they're asking about her—the girl in the pictures—you wonder if you're enough. because sae stops only for a moment, then he’s sneering at them to fuck off.

under the sheets and a few hours left before you fly back to japan, sae's room is dim in the night. you tug on the necklace he keeps on all the time, bodies pressed together in a bed only fit for him.

he hums, eyes sewn shut still.

"are you only ever with me, sae?"

there's a beat of silence. sae knows exactly what you're talking about, but he's almost sure nothing he could say will never stop you from wondering what if.

so he doesn't try to dispel it, but at least he pulls you in and presses a kiss on top of your head.

he offers you a whisper of yes, and that's all you get.

you're not sure why sae is risking this, when the media always has their eyes on him, but he insists on bringing you to the airport.

there's a sinking feeling in your gut you can't quite shrug off. but sae is holding your hand, igniting your body aflame, peering over you like there's so much he wants to say.

your anxiety insists that it's nothing good. the words never come, though; just sae hooking a finger around one of the belt loops of your jeans to pull you in.

he tugs one, two, three times more, securing you close to him and then he's cupping your face in his hands, kissing you like it's the last time.

all sweeter, all slower. like if he could pause the time, stay there forever, he might actually do it.

you wonder if he feels it now, the way you felt a year ago. in the airport, not really sure when you'd see each other again.

sae doesn't tell you to call him when your plane lands.

instead, he tells you to send him a message when you're home. you nod only because it feels better not to shatter this now, when he's all affection and the one who loves you most.

it's the first thing you do.

your chest is burdened with a weight that doesn't truly exist until his message comes before yours.

we're done.

you'd think that if you anticipate the pain, it would hurt less. but it doesn't, not for the quick sob that rips itself out of your chest, not for the tears that start falling before you make sense of it.

it's only a two-year run and you're barely twenty-one, but you think you'd be sae's forever.

it's a love hard-earned, hard-learned. a love letting go of you before you even stood a chance.

you tell him you're home, just like promised. right before you delete his number, because if you knew sae at all, he'd have your contacts deleted soon enough—if you're optimistic, maybe he'd do it more for him than you.

and miles away, you're right. while you grieve the love you'd always want, sae makes sure he won't crumble from thinking what if.

this is the choice he made for your sake, for his. he could only hope to god if he could finally keep you close to his chest, that you would still let him.

it's a terrible fate, though.

sae could only come back when the chance no longer exists.

#itoshi sae #sae x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #:: thread of fate #sae angst #blue lock angst #can u guys believe this is like almost 3k words #where did fjat come from.

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mediumgayitalian · 20 days

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deferring wip wednesday for a few hours bc i did not end up writing what i expected to write and now i gotta Wrassle with it to write it delicately

#where did this percy angst come from.#and how can i make it work.#are my 2 biggest issues rn #also it’s 3am lmdao

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frostedpuffs · 9 months

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was digging through my fic idea document and found some ideas from when i was in Not a Great Mental State and DAMN. sometimes you really do just gotta make the blorbos cry

#text post #i had a fic idea where gabriel died and adrien had to deal with the grieving process. this idea was before the finale even came out lmfao #and some other angsty stuff #I AM NOT AN ANGST WRITER WHERE DID THOSE COME FROM!!!

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thesupernaturalhouse · 1 month

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More elaboration on ep6, from this post

So I do think imma split ep6 into 2 parts. Jsut because I do want to go more into detail about heaven and sera

Cause it's clear Sera doesn't LIKE doing the extermination, but thinks it's necessary. I also wanna add some stuff into the trial

Lute asks why angle didn't get here in heaven, and charlie says that 'because he DID committed sins. I'm not denying that- but he's TRYING he's getting better- he's not perfect, but he's trying the best he can, and he deserves a second shot."

I wanna add in them challenging chalries pov more, cause I do think there are flaws in it, like. Not ever sinner should be redeemed. Not every sinner wants to be redeemed. And there are vile souls down in hell

Like, I'm sure not all are evil, and some are down there for small sins or, like, killing someone in self-defense. But there are absolutely vile people like Valentino down there that shouldn't be redeemed

And I also kidna wanna make that part of charlies character arc, realizing not everybody SHOULD be redeemed. Not everybody deserves a second chance.

And I wanna like, explore that more in the trial, it want it to focus on back and forths. And then when Sera is starting to seriously consider that 'hey, maybe this could work, we could try and examine souls again' Lute and Adam try to rig it in their favor

Exposing Vaggie, but at the same time what they did, helping Charlies point. And then exposing EMILY when that fails

And oh boy, is that a shit show! I think Sera would be too in shock to really do anything in the moment, and I do think Adam would kinda take advantage of that, like 'those people corrupted your sister and made her fall can we kill them? Pleaseeeee'

And I think he'd spat out a 'fine' just so he leaves her a lone to process it all. She 100% regrets giving him an okay later once she's processed it all, but it's too late by that point

Side note; a theory I have is that she was fed false information, maybe by Adam maybe by lillith, that Hell was planning an uprising. We'll, I have to see

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel emily #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel sera #hazbins fallen au #i love sera as an older sister #i do love the angst potential betwen her and Emily and sometimes like to make her the 'bad guy' in aus caus eof it #but in all hoenstly seras just an older sister trying to run heaven and keeps its people. including her little sister. safe #it is CLEAR she doesnt like doing the exterminations from what we've seen of her. but allows them out of her duty to protect heaven/its peo #i also dont really blame her for doing it i mean. if sinners were supposedly uprising and tyring to destroy heaven wouldnt you do the same?#i mean. most people in hell are probably rapists. abusers. people who did things to KIDS #im sure there are some innocent people. people who killed in self-defense or stole to feed themselves and their families in hell #But I understand where shes coming from. Cause even if there are good people who did bad things in hell #the bad people who did horrible things still outweigh them

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fisheito · 3 months

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Lol angst ? about nukani , my super unserious gayporngacha game? Can't be that bad

(10k words later into a fic) Ooohh.ohhh it was a mistake. I should not have read this hahahahahahahgyrk *choking sounds*

#i typically stay in my lane (fluff) but when i exhaust the fics. we must venture into unexplored territory #but the unfortunate consequence of that is like introducing predators to an island ecosystem #I WAS NOT EVOLUTIONARILY PREPARED. I DON'T HAVE THE DEFENSE MECHANISM S #i AM prompTLY DESTROYED #OMG EVEN WHEN I'M READING ANOTHER FIC NOWADAYS #sometimes something will remind me of that eiden dies fic #and the images will flash thru my mind like Sad PTSD #and I'll just ☹️😭😥😭😟😭#i was cocky. thought angst Wouldnt affect me. what a fool i was. where did that complacency come from #i am changed. i will never forget. i will treasure u even more eiden #u are more valuable than u could ever comprehend my dear little bluetwinkmenace pls stay healthy #tears threatening to spill outta my eyeholes while i'm gathering all the clan members into my embrace #picks up another gay little haremboy and shoves it into my protective hold #nOOOOO you stay with the others safe and cuddled and everyone loves u and everyone is fine and #squeezes them all 🥺☁☁☁☁☁☁#i am reading words and acting in ways

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luvcentral · 1 year

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#10 - rubbing their back soothingly/calmingly, with flat palms or gentle gliding nails

Warning for naked breakdown!homie

The television is a weak, low hum, barely enough to distract from the growing turmoil in Homelander’s mind. He tunes in just long enough to catch his own name. His perfect, shark-white grin flashes across the screen, only to be replaced by some plasticy reporter. Homelander loses focus again, still staring at the television through half lidded eyes.

Why do they always have something to say? It’s scandal after scandal, no matter how many times he saves those people’s asses. He could stop a fucking meteor from touching down and they’d still find some interview clip from 2011 to bitch about.

How could they be so ungrateful? Do they truly not see everything he does for those little people? His whole entire life belongs to them. He has nothing, all for the love of these ungrateful little shits who don’t love him, no matter how hard he tries.

He could smile for hours, say all his lines perfectly, never take a break, and they still wouldn’t love him. They just don’t care.

A steady thrumming from a dozen floors down catches Homelander’s attention. You. A PA with higher clearance, one of the only who hasn’t balked at him barking orders or swooned at his fake ass assurances that “you guys are the real heroes, no, really!”

Come to think of it, you’re the only person he can think of who treats him like he’s real.

Homelander focuses in on your heartbeat, feels it calming him in a way the too-chipper newscasters just couldn’t. Th-thump. Th-thump.

He closes his eyes, forces himself to listen only to the steady beat as it washes over him, getting louder and louder… and then a pit settles in his stomach as he realizes why that beat is getting louder. Homelander opens his eyes slow, fixed on nothing, as he prays you’ll stop at 89. Then 90. Dread forms when you rise past 95, 96, even fucking 99, till the elevator is dinging from his own penthouse.

If he weren’t so committed to sitting there feeling sorry for himself, Homelander could have thrown something. Of all the days, of all the people to brave his personal quarters, it just had to be you. Of-fucking-course.

Sure, he could still get up, put the suit back on, be the version of himself you need, but he can’t bring himself to. Who cares if you see him like this? It’s not like you actually give a shit about him.

The pit of dread grows into something nastier when you knock, then ease open the door. Homelander doesn’t bother to look as you enter, still staring absently out the window. You take in a startled little breath when you realize what he isn’t wearing. Should’ve waited for a fucking invite, Homelander thinks.

“So, ah… this your Sunday casual?” you start.

Homelander fixes his eyes on your blurry form. “Yes.”

Your face softens at the look on his. Infuriating. You should be averting your eyes, apologizing, asking him to put clothes on. Not fucking pitying him.

“Everything okay?” you ask. Homelander scoffs, then barks out a strained little laugh.

“Just fucking incredible,” is what he says. You make a little noise in your throat, step forward, then hesitate. Homelander doesn’t look away, letting you focus in and out as the tears form and blink away. You glance at the big screen.

“What’re you watching?” Your voice is soft, a softness he wants to shatter.

“News,” Homelander deadpans. But the program changed a few minutes ago. Now it’s some bright and peppy talk show, and they’re chattering about—

“God, no,” Homelander groans.

Starlight’s American-sweetheart smile taunts him from behind the hosts. They all fucking love her.

You grimace, then finally approach to steal the remote control. You settle on the arm of the couch, a careful distance from Homelander. He can feel your body heat anyway.

“Is this the only thing on?”

Homelander shrugs, makes a petulant, noncommittal sound.

You take to flipping through channels absently. After fifteen or so flips, you find a channel running a weekend long VCU marathon. They’re about twenty minutes into Homelander: Origin. He snatches the remote back, turning the whole thing off. You blink, glancing at his face. “You don’t like your movie?”

“No, I-the movie’s fine, it’s great work, I just—” Homelander stops, unable to find the words. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, pinching the bridge of his nose. You wait patiently.

“It’s not real. That’s what everybody wants.” He gestures vaguely at the screen, as if Origin was still on. “That’s who I’m supposed to be, and nobody gives a flying fuck that it isn’t real.”

You’re quiet. Homelander turns to face you then, wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“I give everything to these idiots. And it’s never enough! No matter what I do they’ll always have a problem with it. I mean, Christ, they fucking need me! It’d be a goddamn circus out there without someone to protect them, but they just want to sit on their asses and tell me how everything I do is wrong! You know, I’d like to see any of those fucks try to do my job for just one day.” He huffs out an angry breath.

Homelander’s voice is thick by the end of his speech, and he hopes he’s done it. Some loathing part of him wants to scare you off, mark you down as “just like everyone else”. He could deal with that. He doesn’t know how to deal with the way you’re looking at him now.

He turns away again, his sigh now vaguely hopeless. And then the strangest thing happens.

The couch dips next to him. A gentle little hand touches down on Homelander’s back, just above his shoulder blade. It ghosts there for minute, waiting. Once you seem to have permission, or at least no objections, you press in more solidly, hand splayed out on his back. You rub it up toward where his neck meets his shoulder, gently squeezing. Then you drag it down to the middle of his back.

The contact shocks him. The heat of your hand seems to burn straight through his skin, warming Homelander from the inside out. His lip quivers.

“I’m sorry,” you settle on. “People just… they only see what they wanna see. It’s not fair, but it doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong.”

Homelander leans back a little, into your hand.

“And for the record, I think you’re doing just fine.”

“Just fine?” Homelander’s voice is small when he asks, almost petulant again. He catches you smiling in his periphery. Your nails scratch at his skin, still gentle.

“You’re a hero. Even when you don’t feel like it. Even when they—” you nod at the TV “—don’t see it. They can’t take that away from you.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you. Homelander is so used to congratulatory pep talks, but this doesn’t feel like a play to get him back out on the field or in front of a camera. Hell, you aren’t even making him put pants on. Your voice is sincere and soft, hand even softer. You seem like you meant what you said. Homelander sniffles a little. Then, quietly: “Thanks.”

That pit, the weight in his stomach, eases. He can’t remember why he hadn’t wanted to see you.

You rub his back again, and Homelander feels more grounded than he has since he woke up. You think he’s a hero.

No, the day doesn’t feel so heavy at all.

#this got away from me big time #it was supposed to be a cuddle blurb where did the angst come from..#homelander x reader

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