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nataliasquote · 7 months

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Can’t You See This Is Breaking Me? | n romanoff

Summary: Natasha isn’t quite ready to give her entire life for the woman she loves

Warnings: injuries, blood, stitches, no happy ending

wc: 5.2k

note: this idea was given to me by @katyaromanoffpetrova (love you 🤍) and she’s fuelling my love hate relationship with angst. Also, this was so hard to condense, so I’m sorry if it’s lacking detail. I tried to cram three years of a relationship into 5k words :)

-⧗-

It was no secret to anyone how little regard Natasha had for her own life. Even since her very first Shield mission, she’d been a force to be reckoned with, partly down to her pure destructive nature. She didn’t care if taking down Hydra agents meant coming away with a bullet wound or two. Or if destroying an enemy testing laboratory meant four broken ribs and a cracked collar bone. As long as the job was done, that was all she cared about.

Nick Fury was getting tired of how many lectures he had given a young, 25 year old Natasha in his office when he’d read her completed mission report. He knew why she had such a blatant disregard for her life but it didn’t make it any easier seeing one of his best agents beaten and bruised each week. The redhead barely flinched when her wounds were inspected, but to be honest she didn’t really react to anything.

She was more of a ghost really, a pale figure soundlessly walking the halls at night. If her injuries didn’t let keep her awake at night, then the nightmares gladly took their turn, drenching her entire body in a cold sweat and leaving her shivering in her tangled sheets. But if the dark circles under her eyes looked worse, her friend and mentor Clint didn’t utter a word.

The structure and routine that manifested week by week kept her grounded and focused. Wake up, train, eat, surveillance, sleep. Missions were a welcome break from the otherwise monotonous rhythm Natasha had found herself in. She much preferred working solo as opposed to in a team, but Shield was all about team work so she had to suck it up.

A lot of the time she found herself alongside Clint Barton who weirdly offered her a feeling of comfort. She liked how he never pried too much into how she was feeling, or her past, but kept a look out for her whenever they were together. Her icy demeanour slowly melted away thanks to his warmth that he never failed to show her.

He showed her how to let people in, how to not keep her heart so tightly guarded in fear of actually feeling something about someone. And as much as she would hate to admit it, he was right. It did feel better knowing people cared about her. But it also terrified her at the same time. Vulnerability wasn’t her strong suit.

Yet somehow she had managed to let her tough exterior be pushed aside just long enough for a certain someone to wiggle her way in and take up permanent residence inside the redhead’s mind.

Y/n Y/l/n wasn’t really anyone compared to Natasha. Sure, she was a shield agent, and a high ranking one at that, but that was nothing compared to an Avenger. She’d spend years in their shadow, always looking up to Natasha Romanoff. I mean, who wouldn’t? She’s pretty badass.

But the young agent thought her relationship with said Avenger would end at idolisation and daydreaming. She never expected to suddenly be living amongst them in the compound. But when an empty training room was suddenly disrupted at three in the morning, it was a sign things were to change forever.

Y/n relished the silence that the training room at night brought. Most of her colleagues preferred to train in a group at 7am, but insomnia often brought her into the gym a lot earlier. She loved it though; a way to clear her head and exhaust her body whilst maintaining peak physical fitness required in case of a last second mission.

Lost in a world of music playing through her headphones, Y/n failed to notice the door slowly open, caught up in her boxing routine on the punch bag. She should have been more aware of her surroundings, like she’d been trained, so that she didn’t nearly jump out of her skin as a voice cut through her music.

“You’re gonna get a sore back if you keep using the wrong form.”

Without having ever met in person, Y/n would recognise that voice anywhere. She whipped around and quickly pulled her headphones off around her neck, cheeks flushing as she took in the woman in front of her.

A black sports bra and navy sweatpants was all that adorned Natasha’s toned body. She stood there with a hand on her hip, the other holding a small towel, a water bottle and her own pair of headphones. Y/n desperately tore her eyes away from the widow’s toned abs, feeling her own insecurities creep upwards. She itched for her sweatshirt that lay discarded on the bench just out of reach. That was the last time she ever trained in a sports bra.

“You keep twisting your back as you punch. You need to move from your hips.” Y/n just looked at her with surprise, not fully processing that they were having a conversation at all. “Do you want me to show you?”

“Yeah, sure.” That snapped her out of her trance. Y/n took a step back and allowed Nat to place her things down before she packed a swift punch to the bag, sending it swinging slightly on its stand. Y/n couldn’t lie, she looked really good, arm muscles tensed as she threw a few more punches. Her form was impeccable, but of course it was.

“When you swing round you have to rotate your hips for momentum. Just turning from your back will cause injury.” Y/n nodded, mirroring her stance on the punching bag beside Natasha. “Unless you’re doing lots of smaller ones, then you need to keep your hips still. That just comes from your shoulders.”

Nat threw a few more punches before Y/n copied, missing the small smile that broke out on the Russian’s lips as she observed. Fast learner, she noted, nodding in approval as Y/n turned back to her.

“Very good.” She bent down to grab her things, back muscles on full show to Y/n who just could not stop staring. You’d think she was used to the sight of toned bodies after working out everyday, but there was something different about Natasha and she couldn’t quite work it out.

“Thank you. I’m Y/n, by the way. I work in-“

“I know who you are,” Natasha said casually, looking the woman up and down. “You work with Hill. She talks about you.”

Y/n’s eyes went wide. “She does?”

Nat smirked. “Yeah, why? Does she not talk about me?”

“No, she does- we do-“ what happened to calm and collected shield agent she once was? Reduced to a stuttering mess of words in front of a pretty redhead. God, Y/n cursed herself for not being able to talk to women.

“I’m joking, don’t worry.” Natasha gave her a soft smile before walking off to the weights section, her headphones shutting out the world so she could focus.

Y/n however, could not focus on anything except that brief interaction. It was probably so small in Natasha’s life, yet it would consume Y/n for at least a week, if not more. Maria was going to have a field day with this.

Except it wasn’t small in Natasha’s life. The flustered agent had left quite a mark and Natasha found herself creeping down to the gym at 3am most mornings, hoping to see the woman she’d grown to love so much. And, more often than not, Y/n was there, punching away at the bag and pausing when Nat came in.

Over a course of many weeks, both had changed their training plans to match each other. It felt nice working out with another, Natasha had to admit, and Y/n was so easy to talk to she set the redhead right at ease. They talked and laughed and Y/n noticed how the usually uptight Russian had come out of her shell a lot more since that very first night.

However, one night didn’t go so smoothly. Y/n was in the training room first, of course. She sat on the bench and adjusted her socks, keeping herself busy until Natasha arrived. The past couple of nights had been just her as the redhead had been on a mission, but Maria informed her that she would return tonight, so Y/n anxiously awaited her return. She was more worried about Natasha than she let on, but they had no relationship outside of those four walls so she bounced her knee, willing her new friend to walk through the doors.

And she did. Except this wasn’t the confident Natasha she usually knew. No, this Natasha was walking stiffly, almost as if she was in pain.

“Nat?” Y/n asked, standing hesitantly at the sight of her. Small cuts and bruises littered her face and what skin was exposed under the neck of her tactical suit. Agents always had to report to medical following their return from a mission, but by the looks of Natasha, she hadn’t done that. “Why- what are you doing here?”

“Can’t miss training with my favourite girl, now can I?” She tried to sound upbeat but it fell flat, her pain evident even in her voice.

Y/n pushed aside the butterflies that erupted in her chest at those words and sprung up to help her, guiding Natasha to the nearest bench and forcing her to sit. She took note of how Natasha’s hand tightly clutched her side and she feared the worst.

She thought for a second, feeling Natasha’s eyes all over her face. “May I…?” She gestured to the zip on Natasha’s suit and the redhead nodded, stiffly manoeuvring her arms out of her sleeves as Y/n tugged it down to her waist. The agent had switched to processional mode and ignored how close Natasha’s bra clad chest was to her face as she inspected her side.

“What happened?” She asked, crouching down with a hand gently resting on the redhead’s knee as she gently felt the skin around the wound.

“Some stupid agent snuck up on me and threw his knife. Shit aim though.” Of course she tried to make a joke, but Y/n wasn’t laughing as she looked into her eyes. The redhead almost wanted to roll her eyes, and she would have done if anyone else looked at her with pity like that, but Y/n was different. Safer.

“Why didn’t you go to medical?”

Nat looked down, averting her eyes. “I didn’t want to. I hate it there.”

Y/n knew not to push. She didn’t know much about Natasha’s past but knew enough to know that it must have been horrific to endure. She sat back on her heels and bit her lip in thought.

“Will you let me sort it? I keep a suture kit and supplies in my bathroom.” She caught Natasha’s eye and gently squeezed her knee, trying to establish enough trust between them to let her accept the help. But Natasha was stubborn, so there was truly no way of knowing which way she’d swing.

“Ok.” That was not the expected answer but Y/n was happy to hear it. She knew not to help Natasha up, the redhead probably would have punched her, so she collected her things and led them both back to her apartment, walking a bit slower than normal to help Natasha keep up.

Her room was nothing special and probably looked identical to Natasha’s as they both had Shield issued rooms. Although Natasha’s would be fancier thanks to Tony Stark and his upgrades.

There were no personal items on any of the surfaces, not even in the bedroom. Natasha looked around with a frown, not liking how bare everything seemed. Not homely, that’s for sure. Even the bedside cabinets were empty, not even a picture frame for decoration.

“Take a seat anywhere, I’ll be right out.” Natasha chose the couch by the small coffee table and sank down onto it. The couch wasn’t anything special and neither was the table, ring marks displaying its age and use on the surface. The overhead light was dim but brightened up as Y/n stepped back into the room, a medical kit tucked under her arm.

She worked in silence, only broken by a hiss of pain from Natasha as the alcohol stung her wound. Y/n muttered an apology under her breath but kept working, fingers brushing gently over the soft skin as she made light work of stitching it closed. They weren’t the neatest but they’d do the job just fine.

“Thank you for this,” Natasha spoke into the silence, her eyes fixed on her fingers that rested on her lap. “You didn’t have to.”

“Maybe not, but I wanted to. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Natasha stayed silent for a moment, trying to organise her thoughts. She had people who cared about her, the Avengers, but not quite like Y/n had. She didn’t care who Natasha was, or how well she could take down enemies. She just enjoyed her presence and cared for her as a human being, something she rarely felt like she was.

“Can I make this up to you?” She tentatively asked, the strong Black Widow now a weird mess of nerves. What even was this?

“No, you don’t have to-“

“Come out with me on Saturday, into the city. Can I buy you lunch?”

Y/n stifled her smile and hid her face whilst packing up her equipment. She knew Natasha was asking her out on a date, albeit in a very roundabout way. It warmed her heart though, seeing her so soft. It was a side very few people ever got to see.

“Ok, sure. I’d really like that.”

Natasha smiled. “Now I know where you sleep, I’ll come pick you up.”

Y/n scrunched her nose at the odd phrasing. “You had to make it weird.”

“You know me,” she replied with a wink.

~~~

That date was a catalyst for many more to follow, and many midnight training sessions too. It took six more months of flirting and secret meet ups before Natasha pulled her heart out and wore it on her sleeve, asking Y/n to be her girlfriend.

The agent wasn’t stupid, of course she said yes. And at first their relationship was purely in the honeymoon stages; sneaking kisses in the hallway, comforting touches underneath the table, more midnight training and also moving in together. Natasha’s apartment was bigger than Y/n could ever have imagined and she adored the bed, starfishing face down on the mattress the first time she saw it.

But that was two years ago. Sure, they were still very much in love but something had shifted between them, creating a rift that Y/n had started to notice more and more. She knew what was causing it too.

Natasha was going on missions every other week, for days at a time. And she’d fallen back into her old habits, putting the job and the result over the safety of herself. More times than not did she come battered and bruised, open wounds bleeding as she walked into the bedroom. Y/n begged her to stop, to stay home more, to reduce the amount she went on even just to one a month, but her desperate attempts were met with a slammed door and a wall in Natasha’s mind. But she still persisted, trying again the next time Natasha came home. But it was useless.

Y/n always waited up for her though, the nerves of what state Natasha would be in when she returned making sleep pretty much impossible. Whatever she imagined, somehow it was always worse. She used to quiz Natasha as she led her into the bathroom and patched her up, placing kisses on each bruise that she found.

But now they barely said a word, Y/n almost running on autopilot as she cleaned cuts on Natasha’s back for what felt like the millionth time. It was draining her, anyone could see that, and being on edge all the time had made Maria notice.

“Take a week off to clear your head,” her supervisor had ordered, not taking any protests into consideration. “I don’t want to see you in this office before next Thursday, Y/l/n.”

A week off would have been great for anyone else but her. Natasha was away, again, which left Y/n with no ways to fully distract herself like she usually did to cope. She spent the first day in bed, holding onto Natasha’s pillow as her tears soaked the pillowcase. She hated how out of control she felt when Natasha was gone. It was her job, yet Y/n often wished Nat would retire, or at least pull back from constantly being in the field. But that’s what her girlfriend loved, so she had no choice but to respect it.

But on the third day of very little sleep and increasing stress levels, Y/n hit breaking point. She stared at her ghostly reflection as she splashed her face with some water, trying desperately to snap herself out of the lie she was feeling. But under the glaring lights all she could focus on were the heavy bags under her eyes and her discoloured skin, pink blotches littering her cheeks and forehead. She’d been picking at her skin to cope, but it did nothing but make her look worse.

She remained a zombie all day, curling back under the covers at 7pm to shut out the world. There was no telling when Natasha would return but part of her didn’t want it to be yet. She didn’t want to see the state she was in, the mess that she’d have to clean up. She loved Natasha, she really did, but with no contact allowed on her missions and no updates from the team, Y/n was starting to question if their relationship was even working.

She flicked off the light and turned to face the wall, images flashing in front of her as she worried herself stupid about her girlfriend. What if she wasn’t coming home? What if she’d been kidnapped? What if-

The apartment door opened.

Y/n held her breath, pulling the covers tightly under her chin as she waited. She knew the sound of Natasha’s footsteps based on her different moods, but the assassin stepped so lightly it was hard to tell. She felt footsteps getting closer and closer and she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to face the horrors to come. She wanted one more blissful moment, but her heart was racing in her chest and her throat was getting tight.

The bedroom door opened.

Light from the living room flooded in through the small gap as Natasha stepped through, brows furrowed at the darkness. It wasn’t that late, but maybe she’d missed something. Wasn’t like she was around much.

“Y/n?” She whispered, not wanting to turn the light on. But she didn’t need to worry about that when suddenly the room was bathed in light. Her girlfriend was sat up in bed, eyes blotchy as she stared at her with a hand on the light switch. “What happened?”

“What hurts?” Y/n asked, sliding off her side of the bed and padding over to the bathroom. “Stitches? Probably bruising too.” She was talking to herself more than Natasha, hands working to gather her supplies. But she was stopped when a pair of rough hands gathered hers inside them, tugging her away from the sink. “What are you doing?”

“I’m ok,” Natasha said, removing one of her hands to gently cup Y/n’s chin, tilting her eyes to meet her own. “Just a couple of bruised ribs, but that’s nothing.”

“At least let me look at them.” Natasha knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer so she unzipped her suit and pulled it to her waist, revealing the nasty colourful sight. It was swollen and tender and Y/n cursed under her breath. She grabbed the tiger balm and gently applied it, trying to steady her shaking fingers as they touched Natasha’s skin.

“How have you been? How’s work?”

“Its fine, thanks.” Y/n wasn’t going to admit that Maria made her take a week off. She avoided Natasha’s gaze as she worked, even though there wasn’t much she could do for bruised ribs. “I’ll get you an ice pack when you’re dressed.” That was Natasha’s dismissal cue and she took it, but not without lingering in the doorway to watch Y/n for a moment.

By the time Natasha was dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, Y/n had wrapped the ice pack in a towel and handed it to her. There was an uneasy tension between them and Natasha could see something was on Y/n’s mind, just waiting to be said.

“Y/n-“

“This is your last one, right?” She couldn’t help herself but blurt out. Somehow she found the confidence with her back to Nat, sitting on her side of the bed. “Please tell me it’s your last one.”

“Of what?”

“Your missions, Natasha.” She bent one knee and tucked it beside her as she turned her body to face Natasha who was still standing in the middle of the room, ice pack pressed to her ribs. “How many times are you going to keep doing this? Coming home in a state! I never know if one day you’re just not going to come home at all.”

Natasha bit her bottom lip. She knew this was going to happen, it always did. And shutting Y/n down didn’t exactly get easier with practice. “Don’t do this again Y/n, please. You know what my answer is.”

“No, Natasha. I’m not gonna accept that anymore. I’m not asking you to quit all together. I just mean reduce the number you go on, take up desk work or surveillance, just something, anything, to get you out of the firing line.” Y/n ran her hands over her face, trying to keep herself together. But the more she spoke, the stronger her emotions got. “I can’t live like this anymore!”

Natasha had placed her ice pack on the bed, not feeling the need to hold it up right now. She couldn’t move, even though she wanted to run to Y/n. “I know you don’t like it-“

“I hate it.”

“Ok fine, you hate it,” she held her hands up in defense. “But that doesn’t mean I suddenly have to stop.”

Y/n stood up from her position, not wanting an ache in her back from turning so much. She and Natasha were now at eye level although the redhead’s stoic face was a lot more composed than her own.

“You’re not listening to anything I say. I never said you had to stop. Ever. Because that would be hypocritical coming from me.” Natasha pulled a ‘sounds about right’ face which Y/n just ignored. “I’m just asking you to reduce the amount you go on. Once a month, maybe? You can still be in the action, still do everything you love, but that way you’re safer and you’re here more. I hardly see you.”

Natasha shook her head. “Our line of work isn’t safe Y/n, even you know that surely.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She was getting defensive, having reached her limit of Natasha trying to shut her down.

Natasha was too stubborn to give up, even when she knew she fucked up. She just couldn’t let it go. “You rarely leave this place! Always stuck in the same office, the same four walls going insane every day! I don’t know how you do it! I’d rather quit than do that.”

“I do that because I can still contribute to the missions without the risk of getting blown to hell,” Y/n spat, taking full offense to Natasha talking down about her job. Sure, she didn’t go into the field as much as the other agents but she preferred to be in the chair, handling everything from above. “And you know damn well those missions you love don’t work without someone like me.”

“And that’s great, for someone like you. But I can’t do that, you have to understand me. I can’t be behind the fight, I have to be in it.”

“No one else goes on as many as you do, Natasha. Don’t you think that just once, someone else can take a mission-“

“I don’t care Y/n!” Natasha may be a passionate person but she never raised her voice. So her elevated tone made Y/n’s jaw clench, her innate response whenever someone shouted at her. “You don’t get to dictate my life! That wasn’t our agreement-“

“Agreement? What, so this is, are we some kind of, I don’t know, contract that you’re obliged to?”

Natasha scoffed, her eyes rolling back at the pure ridiculousness of her statement. This whole argument was pointless really but she entertained it, too stubborn to give in or let Y/n win. “Oh come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m just sick of lying here in fear every week wondering if you’re actually going to come home or not! I can’t keep doing this Nat.” Y/n was having a hard time keeping Natasha in her vision as tears blurred in her eyes. But she wouldn’t let them spill. Crying meant Natasha won and she was done with backing down.

“We can’t keep having this conversation, Y/n,” Natasha grunted, running her fingers through her hair and tugging out the messy braid. “You know I can’t stop. This is my life, it’s what I was made to do. I can’t live without this job!”

“And I can’t live without you!” Her voice cracked and a tear slipped down but she fought the urge to wipe it, praying Natasha didn’t see. But she did see. Of course she did. The Russian noticed everything.

Natasha went silent. That was the last thing she wanted to hear. In this line of work, relying so heavily on someone wasn’t a good idea. She knew that, it had been drilled into her since she was a child. But Y/n didn’t, and that’s where she slipped up.

“Don’t say that.” Heavy emotions and Natasha Romanoff didn’t really mix well. “You have to, one way or another. You can’t just rely on me Y/n.”

“Nat, I am in love with you but lately it feels like all you care about is your job. When is it going to feel like you actually want to be here? With me?”

“I do Y/n, I do-“

Y/n dropped her head. “I know there’s a but coming.”

Natasha looked at the defeated form of her girlfriend and winced. She never thought she’d ever be in the position where she had to choose between family and her job. But she knew what her choice would be, what it always had been. Long before she even had a family.

“This job means everything to me. I didn’t choose this life, like you did, I was forced into it. It’s part of who I am, and I can’t just stop doing that to be with you.” The second those words fell from her lips Natasha knew that was the wrong thing to say.

Y/n adjusted the collar of her shirt and started to pace. If she was sitting down her leg would have been bouncing all over the place.

“What, that’s it? You’re just gonna call this whole thing off because you can’t take a break from your job?”

“What ‘whole thing’?”

“Us, Natasha! Us!” Y/n stopped in her tracks, gesturing between them both. They were on opposite sides of the room, a clear divide in space and opinion. “Unless there isn’t an ‘us’ anymore. Maybe I’m just the girl who keeps your bed warm and stitches you up in the middle of the night, no questions asked. Occasionally gives you head if you are really in the mood-“

“Stop it Y/n.”

“Stop what? It’s the truth, isn’t it? That’s all I am to you.”

“‘No, you’re so much more.” Natasha’s fingers were fidgeting with each other and they’d stumbled across a small cut on her palm that they were now playing with, the pain trying to keep her grounded. “But you have to understand that I can’t just take a step back. I love this job more than anything because I actually get to do something good with my skills that have been used for the opposite my whole life. I just need you to understand that, please!”

“You’re not gonna stop, are you?” Natasha just stared at her, chewing on her bottom lip. “No matter what, you will keep coming back here in a mess and I will keep fixing you up and we will keep having this conversation. Is there an end to this?”

“I won’t come here then.” Natasha stated simply, eyes darting momentarily to the bathroom door. “I’ll go to medical, where I should be.”

“You hate it there.”

“You hate me here.”

Y/n sighed, her breath shaky. This was the longest they’d ever fought for, and fighting Natasha was mentally exhausting. She had an answer to everything.

“I don’t hate you here, I just wish you’d fucking listen to me for one goddamn second!” Natasha nodded, almost challenging her to speak.

“I am.”

“I didn’t want to say this, but you haven’t exactly given me much of a choice. It’s me or the job, Nat. You choose. And you know what? If you choose me, you still keep half your job! But if you choose the job, you don’t get to keep half of me.” The last part sounded stupid but Natasha knew what she meant. She only had half of Y/n right now. The half that slept in her bed and fixed her wounds. If she chose her, she’d get the other half she fell in love with back.

But she couldn’t, could she? Natasha looked down, not wanting to watch Y/n’s face respond. “I’m sorry…”

“Get out.” It was barely a whisper but Natasha heard it. “Get. Out.” Y/n didn’t want Natasha to see her cry but when their eyes met again, Y/n’s were flooded with tears. She didn’t care, how could she when the green ones staring back at her were so cold. Natasha didn’t say a word, only grabbing her sweatshirt and slipping out of the room. The faint jangle of her keys sounded as the door slammed shut and only then did Y/n allow her walls to come crumbling down.

She collapsed onto the bed, only this time hugging her own pillow close as she choked out her sobs. They echoed around the room and her gag reflex kicked in from how hard she was crying. But all she could see was Natasha’s emotionless face staring back at her, not a hint of remorse visible in her eyes.

Reaching to flick off the light, Y/n caught sight of something that made her cry harder. Her bedside table hadn’t been empty for two and a half years. A single picture frame now sat there. And it was in that moment that Y/n wished it had just stayed empty.

#natasha romanoff #fanfic #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x female reader

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xxcrystalinerose · 4 months

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In light of Hades 2 adding new designs and MORE Nyxblings, here's a little face study I did of Chaos, Nyx, and their family. Someone once mentioned that Nyx's children who's got features she doesn't have actually have Chaos' features instead, and I wanted to compare and see which child resembles who more.

Additionally, shoutout to @blood-starved-beast for their post about the age order of Nyx's children because it has helped immensely with the brainrot.

Detailed analysis under the cut.

Firstly, the parents:

For parent and daughter, Chaos and Nyx don't really look the same. However, the cheekbones and jawline that could cut glass is hereditary lol. I wonder if there are other children of Chaos who look more similar to them?

I also like how Chaos' Hades 2 appearance could be a nod to them reconnecting with Nyx and probably wanting to look more "normal" (or as normal as they could get) for the family reunions. The exact same makeup style is cute.

Next up, we have the older children (excluding the Fates, whom we haven't seen yet):

Charon is a tough nut to crack because his portrait is so heavily shadowed and he also wears a bigass hat, so I don't really know his facial structure, but from what I could see, it's more like Chaos'.

Moros' eye shape is weirdly different from the rest of the siblings, but they appear to be downturned and large, which is closer to Nyx's eye shape. While his facial structure is more like Chaos', his eyes in particular make him look softer.

Nemesis actually has a different face structure from Nyx. Her coloring is the exact same (sans skin tone), but not the face. However, her hairstyle is similar, including the updo.

Lastly, the younger children:

It's probably because Hypnos' expression was drawn more comically, but as soon as I take a good look at his new portrait it's made greatly apparent that he and Thanatos are actually identical in terms of facial features. What makes them appear even more different is the hairstyle; Than's go straight down, Hypnos' is fluffy and piled high on his head. They also have similar face shape as Nyx, but with a squarer jawline.

You'd think their hairstyles are radically different. However, this official art of long-haired Than shows that his hair curls at the ends. His hair is straight now, but I'd like to think he straightens it out, because otherwise it would look a bit wavy still.

As for Eris, people keep saying that Nem looks like Nyx the most, but Eris looks astonishingly similar to Nyx. Oh, the irony of looking like the parent you detest.

Summary (and some thoughts):

Face structure-wise, the older children look more like Chaos, while the younger children look more like Nyx.

Of all Nyxblings we've known, only Nemesis has black hair.

Except for Charon, the children's eye art style is reversed between Chaos' and Nyx's (the ones with purple eyes have visible pupils and highlights, while the gold-eyed ones have no visible pupil or highlight).

Where did the curly hair genes come from? The twins are explicitly stated to be fatherless, too. Maybe some other children of Chaos have curly hair? Maybe Gaia, as she was mentioned in Hades 2?

I have a theory that the older children look more eldritch (more similar to Chaos), and only started to look "normal" during Nyx's separation from Chaos, and the cutoff point is Moros, unless Momus is older than him. Would be cool if the Fates are an amalgam of three bodies, because they're triplets and older than Charon.

Thanatos cutting his hair was actually a smart decision because his new hairstyle flatters his face shape more. I'm sorry darling but you don't have game in styling long hair. Too bad he and Moros don't know each other, big brother could've given him tips.

The entire family is hot. Nuff said.

#ksadraws #ksatalks #i love the variety and slight differences between the nyxblings so much :))#hades 2 #hades game #hades 2 fanart #hades fanart #chaos hades #nyx hades #charon hades #moros hades #nemesis hades #thanatos hades #hypnos hades #eris hades

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vagabond-umlaut · 6 months

Text

meet you where the sky meets the earth

to love is to listen to your heart, not your brain. to dream whilst in love, is to make your brain listen to your heart.

▸ gojo satoru x fem!reader; former teacher x former student [gojo is six yrs older than reader]; bittersweet fluff; you're so in love w satoru, it shd hurt- but it doesn't because you've grown numb to the ache; one-sided feelings [are they really?]; few mentions of food; gojo calls you 'cookie'; this is way too tender even for me, istg; 1.5k wc

▸ belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna! 😊

▸ the header is from pinterest, the dividers are by @benkeibear, the characters used here aren't mine. pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this. hope y'all enjoy reading this ❤️❤️

the first time you think of marrying gojo, you're only twenty years old.

hardly the age to be dreaming of wedding bells at, right?

yeah, right. that's very, very right— still, your heart is your heart, just how your brain is your brain, the former easily swaying the latter by a few skipped beats— and you find your cheeks growing warm, laughs stumbling past your lips as you place the box of cornflakes into your shopping cart.

gojo sputters from beside you, eyes comically wide behind his shades as they dart from you to the elderly woman before.

you take a second to compose yourself before answering the ask that created this mess in the first place, a polite smile lining your face, "oh, no– not at all, ma'am! we're not married. i'm just an old friend helping him with the groceries, haha."

"oh," that's the only thing the woman says in reaction, kind smile now a tiny frown before it reappears. and she apologises, "i'm sorry, dears. just thought you two to be newlyweds from how giddy and loving you seemed to each other... time i went for an eye check-up, yes?"

"hey, please don't be sorry..." you start to say, but before you can get any further, the woman has already walked away with her shoppping basket.

you fall silent.

the same way the man next to you too has grown quiet, an awkward silence taking up the foot between you both. until you break it with a strained chuckle.

"we were acting giddy and loving to each other, eh?"

"were we?" comes the contemplative question to your comment. you look up to find gojo looking at you, the blue of his eyes weirdly bright in the dim lights of the supermarket as he repeats, "were we, cookie?"

yes. no. you don't really know—

yes, 'cause you know you love him.

not since forever, no, but close enough to it: your once-fascination for the supposed mortal deity of the jujutsu world, the mitochondrion on which the cellular structure of the society banks to survive; that grew into something made of wonder, respect and fondness, as you slowly came to know not only the icon but also the man behind it; that grew into something so profound, nestling deep within your existence– so much so that you feel the earth shifting on its axis everytime he calls you or grins at you or just looks in your direction—

no, 'cause you know you aren't loved back.

not the way you wish to be... not that you blame gojo for that, though!

you know he is way too busy to be thinking of such topics– what with being the strongest sorcerer ever, the head of the one-man gojo clan, the teacher to the first-years at tokyo high, the legal guardian– but in fact, the father figure to the two kids, 'gumi and 'miki– or maybe, just maybe, he is busy, alright, but not too busy— gojo simply doesn't see you that way; he sees you to be nothing but his former student— one he knows he can rely on to help with his children, or the groceries, or a variety of other menial daily tasks he can just hire help for—

you don't know.

yeah... you really, really don't know– and by now, you think you don't even want to know anymore. it's easy, it's safe, it's nice to remain not knowing. the word 'yes' comes with too many dreams– the word 'no' serves the perfect haven to nightmares.

the three words "i don't know" bear no such burden on their back– an untroubled answer you decide to offer, decide to escape using for the time being— until a slight knock on the head interrupts you, followed by an entertained set of chortles.

you peer up to find gojo beaming down at you, his eyes crinkled and cheeks dimpled. something twists in the middle of your chest, but it isn't painful; it's grounding. pleasant, even.

"it's too easy to get you worried, y'know? you're unbelievably easy to manipulate, heh."

"oh, am i now?" you retort, eyes narrowing into a cross glare– only to be betrayed by the fond smile grazing your lips not even a beat later. the man hums, grin simmering down to a knowing smile.

"mmhm," he says with that musical sway to his tone that never fails to make your fingers tingle, "you should have seen your face when i asked you the question– so pale and stiff– almost as if i was asking you to leave then and there, hearing that granny's comments—"

"you would have asked me to, if they were true– wouldn't you?"

gojo's smile vanishes in the blink of an eye. and you think the hand he has stretched out to the shelves of biscuits might fall too– but it does not, and you see him take a packet of your favourite bourbon biscuits followed by a packet of the digestives you've been forcing him to eat, and place them into the cart.

he checks the shopping list in your hand before he looks back at you.

before he smiles back at you: so soft, so solemn, so un-satoru— you instantly regret interrupting him with such a question.

but you do know how it is, don't you? what with a thudding heart and a thinking brain...

the handle of the cart digs deep indents into your palm as you press the weight of your worries into the cool metal and lean towards your companion on this grocery run, the same way a moth flies towards a flame, towards its doom–

"don't you ever dream of falling in love, gojo-san?" you let your voice drop to a murmur, audible only to you and the object of your desires, the subject of your worries, "do you not dream of a happily ever after with your 'one'– do you, gojo-san?"

"no," the response to your words comes in the very same instant. the man's shades slip a touch down the bridge of his nose as he pins his sharp gaze on you– though it can do nothing to hide the mild tremor in his grin from you when he says, "and i don't plan on dreaming ever. dreaming is only for fools with too much time to spare– do i look like a fool with too much time to spare, cookie?"

no. not at all. you don't. you look the farthest from it, in fact— is what you know you should say, and just drop the matter. for now. forever—

but you don't... just don't.

retorting instead, still a murmur but with the faint lick of a fire now, "and what do you suggest should be done to those fools, gojo-san? punished severely for their grievous crime of dreaming, hm?"

"oh, don't be too harsh," he tuts with a breezy chuckle, "what people do is honestly their business; one i've got no interest in interfering in— but..." his grin twists into something wry, a change you find tough to tear your gaze away from, "i don't think i would give such folks the time of my day– it's simply not worth it to talk with those whose feet are not on the solid ground, floating around meaninglessly in air–"

"why are you talking with me then?"

interrupted, gojo blinks. once, and twice, then thrice.

you watch your face crumple in the dark tint of his shades, withering and cracking in the dull light and stale air of this stupid supermarket; but definitely not as stupid as you:

messing things up when they're perfectly fine and alright, only 'cause you do not, rather cannot, keep your mouth shut, no matter what– all your inhibitions let gone of as your heart gains control over your brain and your stupid damned mouth—

you feel a tiny knock on your forehead, the second time this evening, followed by strands of hair being gently brushed away; too careful for your breath to not get stuck in your chest. you peer up at the man in front, teeth lightly gnawing the inside of your lower lip.

gojo's features shift into something between fond and worried– you just hope you aren't misreading him right now– the man tucks those strands of hair behind the shell of your ear.

his fingers still right above your jaw, touching yet not really touching, features finally, finally, settling into a smile– "maybe because i enjoy talking with you, cookie, no matter how foolish you are."

some people say, marriage is a holy act, a sacred institution, in and of itself— connecting hearts, binding souls– cementing the promises of staying together forever... whilst few see marriage to be meaningless— paltry affair of papers and signatures and people, none bearing any significance, 'cause nothing can, not when it comes to the matters of the hearts, neither in proving nor in disproving them–

no matter what people think, you think you will be okay, irrespective of whether you marry gojo or not, irrespective of whether gojo loves you or not– provided– and this is a weird, still important 'provided'—

you and he end up shopping together in the supermarket, feeling and seeming so happy and comfortable with each other— others mistake you for a pair of newlyweds, blissfully deep in love.

tysm to my dearest andy [@andysdrafts], mimi [@avatarofstars] & dilay [@roseqzpd] for constantly motivating me while i was writing this. ilysm my darlings 😘😘😘

masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk fluff #jjk angst #kit posts 📝

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fanficriter · 1 year

Text

Dating the BNHA Boys!

Warnings - None

Characters - Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, Shoto Todoroki, Tamaki Amajiki

Notes - Isn’t my best work but oh well :3

Gender Neutral Reader

——————————————————————————

Izuku Midoriya

- Silly lil guy

- Took him a LOT of courage to confess to you

- Just kinda stood there dumbfounded when you reciprocated his feelings

- Poor boy is lowkey insecure

- He’s silently insecure about his scars :(

- If you kissed his scars i think he’d go insane

- Will probably cry

- He has little notes about how pretty you are in his quirk journal thingy

- Will go in rants about how amazing you are to his friends

- “Y/N is just so perfect and i love them and i don’t know what id do with out them they’re always there for me and-“

- If you have long hair, he always keeps a pack of hair ties incase you need them 😭

- When you tell him about something you like, he will write it down so he remembers

- Was soooo nervous when he first held your hand

- He was SWEATING

- Always blushes without fail

- His hand are rough, but also rlly soft? (i need to make hand hcs holy shit)

- Doesn’t really like sparring with you bc he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he will if you rlly want to

- He will train together tho!

- He loves giving you tips, and watching you use your quirk

- Likes setting up little picnics with you bc he’s quite literally the perfect man ever

- He is a CUDDLIER

- Absolutely loves cuddling with you

- Loves it when you face him and dig your face into his neck

- Definitely talks in his sleep

- He loves taking you on dates to a bunch of different restaurants and such

- Gets so nervous when kissing you

- He loves it but he gets flustered way to easy

Katsuki Bakugou

- Malewife fr

- Will cook for you, though he acts like it’s a chore, he loves your reaction to all his different meals

- Deaf bakugou hc is my favourite thing ever i’m sorry

- He can still hear, (kind of) but he needs to wear a hearing aid

- He knows sign language, but really only uses it around his mom bc he’s embarrassed😭

- If you know sign language, you’ll win his heart IMMEDIATELY

- You were definitely the one to confess first

- Actually rejected you at first (he still liked you at the time)

- But after a few weeks, he confessed to you

- “I actually feel the same way or whatever… just didn’t wanna feed your ego to much…”

- Knows how to style hair weirdly well

- Will always make excuses to do your hair

- “Oi, c’mere, your hair looks like shit.”

- He’ll never admit it, but he LOVES head scratches

- Will lay on your thighs without warning, expecting you to scratch his scalp

- Sparring together is a MUST

- Don’t expect him to go easy on you

- Isn’t to big on PDA, but he’ll kiss you in private all you want

- The first few times you guys held hands, he was kinda scared that he would accidentally explode you 💀

- Doesn’t really take you out for dates a lot, it’s usually just movies and popcorn in bed

- But on the rare occasion when he DOES take you on a date, it is at the fanciest restaurants known to mankind

- Or hiking, he likes hiking

- It took a while for him to be comfortable with cuddling, but he loves spooning you, or holding you as you bury your face into his chest

Shoto Todoroki

- Confessed to you pretty soon after he realised his feelings

- Straight to the point

- “I’ve recently developed feelings for you.”

- Has a small smile when you said you liked him back

- He stares at you a lot

- Loves admiring you

- Also gives the weirdest compliments?

- “You have a nice facial structure, it suits you”

- “Thank you??”

- Will pick flowers occasionally and give them to you

- Literally buys you everything

- With his Dads credit card (You have no idea)

- You see a pair of shoes you like? BOOM. They are yours in 0.5 seconds

- He just buys everything bro CALM DOWN

- Loves taking you on fancy dinner dates

- You have to meet his siblings btw

- Mainly bc his sister WOULD NOT SHUT UP AB MEETING YOU

- She loves you

- So much

- It’s actually a bit concerning

- Doesn’t necessarily not like PDA, he just doesn’t feel the need to initiate it

- He can be a bit oblivious, so if you want PDA, just tell him!

- He has no problem with it

- Not really a cuddly person, but he will cuddle you if you want!

- Your relationship is definitely based on a lot of communication 😭

- As time passes, he will start to do those things without you having to ask, he just needed to get used to it

Tamaki Amajiki

- oh my god okay

- He confessed first but it took him SOOOO long

- Needed so much encouragement from his friends

- Then he just blurted it out while he was at your house one time

- “I- I love you!!”

- Almost died when you said it back

- Actually saw god when you tried holding his hand the first time

- CANNOT do PDA i think he would die

- Definitely an act of service man, he is too shy to do anything else

- Can’t reach somthing ? he’s on it. Your bathroom need cleaning? Consider it done!

- Also likes making you random little gifts

- Kiss him on the cheek i dare you

- He will EXPLODE

- Your always helping him calm down in public

- “Y/N i wanna go home”

- Further into the relationship he will slowly get used to physical affection

- I don’t think he will ever not get flustered tho

- He loves taking you out too eat

- Really likes picnic dates

- I feel like he meditates often to try and clear his head (there is a lot going on in there 😭)

- Will always invite you to meditate with him

- He actually really likes cuddling with you

- He almost dies every time but

- Loves when you spoon him

- Also loves laying on your chest (or the other way around)

- Absolute chef in the kitchen

- Always cooking u meals

——————————————————————————

This took my life 3 weeks to write i kept putting it off so it’s not as detailed as i’d like it to be but oh well

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thegnomelord · 9 months

Note

Ahhh! The Harpy Gaz fic was so cute. But that section at the beginning has me thinking about Ghost, who is interested in reader hybrid that has a very unusual courting ritual(s).

Like, apparently, pandas have a weird hostage situation. The female runs and hides in trees while male competitors fight for her. They will follow her around and try to steal her away until she's ready to mate. It's theorized that this little battle actually stimulates the mating cycle. Similarly, female ferrets don't ovulate unless they're being mauled half to death. (Doesn't sound pleasant to me, but to each their own) my thought here would be more like Ghost's total confusion as to why you seem to like fighting him so much.

Or one of my personal favorites, certain birds and pufferfish (and probably many others that idk yet) have taken to terraforming. They'll create intricate designs and illusions with sand, rocks, sticks, bones, whatever you can think of to attract a mate. The structure they create doubles as a sort of nest. Bowerbirds are particularly keen on displaying an assortment of blue things specifically.

Ooh or shrikes, imagine Ghost's reaction to seeing his favorite food impaled on a sharp object (maybe a combat knife). Tbh, that would be a little threatening. Opening the fridge and seeing a steak or something stabbed with a combat knife and a little note saying, "For Ghost, I hope you enjoy 😁❤️"

Sorry for the little rant, I have an unnecessary amount of knowledge about animal mating rituals.

- 👑 anon

No, no, as a fellow animal nerd I find this stuff so interesting!

I think Ghost would be weirdly into the knife being impaled in his food. Especially if you attempt to feed him with the knife, like sticking small chunks on the tip and expecting him to eat off the knife. And while he acts aloof he's hard in his pants because there's something hot about you using a dangerous object so tenderly with him (also weapon kink idk)

I really love the idea of reader being some deep sea monster or of some species that has a "fuck or die" mentality. Like some anglerfish or spider sexual dimorphism thing where if you were to court your own kind they'd be like 4-5 times your size and wouldn't hesitate to eat you. So you're very crafty and your courting rituals are weird as fuck.

Like Ghost is reading up on your species mating habits and seeing you tie up your mate and if they can't get out you fuck? And if they can you die? Should he be worried? And like he's rethinking every enemy takedown simulation you two had when you needed to tie him up like; were you courting him? was he courting you? what?

Or an especially powerful monster that has a tendency to make nests out of bones, to show how strong they are. So Ghost just walks into your room to see it covered from floor to ceiling in bones of all kinds of creatures with you looking at him like a puppy lol

Or or some kind of mercreature monster reader having a ritual where they pull their mate down to the depths away from competitors, because if it's not dark and cold and you're not drowning your mate won't want to fuck, and Simon's wondering if he needs to buy scuba gear?

#gnome's tea break #cod mw2 #gnome correspondence #x reader #👑 anon #simon ghost riley x reader #monster cod au #monster 141 au

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redflagshipwriter · 8 months

Text

Hi, it's Tim (just Tim)

Masterpost

Chapter 1

“Hey!” Tim protested as his feet left the ground. He was manic from lack of sleep, so out of it that he hadn’t even noticed Superboy bursting into the building. In his defense, he’d been concentrating.

“Sorry!” Kon took them up high, holding Tim to his chest. “It’s going to blow.”

Tim struggled like a cat, cranky and disoriented. Then he remembered that things would go very badly for him if he fell from this height. He relaxed into the hold and pressed his cold cheek against Kon’s chest. He let out a sigh, vaguely aware of the sound of Kon’s heartbeat. “I had it under control,” he grumbled. “I almost had that. It was a simple bomb.”

“Very cool if true,” Kon said, stopping and angling to look down at the building he’d evacuated Tim from. “I should have asked if you knew how to disarm bombs, but honestly-”

There was an explosion below them. Tim went limp, annoyed but resigned to losing a source of information. There had been a cache left there from Ra’s’ people. It was gone now. He would have had it too, would have had the time to search the building if Kon hadn’t swooped in and carried him off.

“There wasn’t much time,” Kon finished belatedly. He frowned down at the building and the ash floating upwards. The top floor was now open to the elements. It stayed structurally sound, though, and didn’t fall.

“Why were you here?” Tim asked, annoyed and not hiding that from his teammate. “How did you even know?” He hadn’t called for any backup.

“I heard the ticking,” Kon said simply. “Are you alright?”

Oh, come on. He was not seriously getting babied like this. Hadn’t he proved himself enough? Tim mashed his face into his friend’s chest and groaned. Kon’s heart rate picked up.

Wait. What? What was Kon nervous about?

“I’m fine,” Tim said slowly. He lifted his face to look at the underside of Kon’s defined jawline.

…He wasn’t in uniform, he finally realized. He was in his civvies, and Kon didn’t know who he was. No wonder he’d assumed Tim needed a rescue.

That realization soothed his wounded pride, at least. And it was kind of nice, if he was honest, to be in someone’s hold. He knew Kon was strong, of course he did. But Robin couldn’t lean on his teammate like this. Robin couldn’t let Superboy carry him around. It would undermine him as a leader.

…Tim Drake could enjoy this while it lasted. And he kind of wanted someone to be nice to him right now so he could turn his brain off. It had been a really long week.

Against his best judgment, Tim felt his heart rate slowing down and his muscles melting in relaxation. Kon was sun-warmed and his cologne smelled good. He was holding Tim casually in a sort of hug with one hand around Tim’s thighs and one on the small of his back. It was comfortable. He felt …small. He felt small and safe. Kon was huge in comparison. It was weirdly soothing.

Some part of Tim’s subconscious started to analyze what that said about him. He pushed the self discovery away. He was warm and he knew that there was no way Kon was going to drop him. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

Speaking of, Kon had been frozen for an oddly long time. Tim was probably making him uncomfortable. “Sorry,” he apologized. “You can put me down now.”

Kon started. “Right!” He cleared his throat. They bobbed up and down in the sky over a suburb two hours outside of Gotham for a moment. “Where, ah, where’s good?”

“Bed,” Tim said unthinkingly.

Kon wheezed.

“My bed,” Tim corrected, amused at how awkward Kon was. That didn’t seem to help. “I’m exhausted. I presume you have a long day of heroics planned, you don’t have to actually take me home. You can just put me down anywhere.” He sort of regretted he couldn’t give Kon shit for this without doxxing himself.

There was no way he was actually going to let Kon take him home. Bruce would lose his mind.

It would be funny to subject Kon to Brucie Wayne. But Kon didn’t really deserve that.

“Are you- do you live near here?” Kon was struggling.

Tim huffed a laugh into his friend’s chest, melting like a cat. “I live in Gotham,” he drawled. “Bit far for you. You can just put me down.” Even as he said it he clenched his fingers a little around the edge of Kon’s jacket. It didn’t mean anything. It definitely didn’t mean that he wanted to stay here.

“Oh.” Kon was obviously disappointed. “That’s- I’d take you home but Gotham is a no fly zone. Is there uh- how are you traveling? Do you want to go to a train station? Oh- do you know why there was a bomb there? I could take you to the police station to make a report.”

Wow. Was Kon always like this with civilians? Tim didn’t remember him being this awkward. He was usually pretty smooth, honestly.

“No need for a police report,” Tim decided. “Batman’ll handle it.” That wasn’t strictly true– he would eventually make the report– but it was close enough for Kon’s purposes. “Ah…” He paused as he realized he might, uh, not want to go home right away. He’d told Bruce he’d be at a friend’s house overnight. If he showed up early a few hours after an explosion, he would be getting the third degree. “I think I want to get a hotel, actually. Do you know where one is around here?”

“I can do that, yeah. Are you sure you’re good?” Kon finally started moving through the air. The thickly muscled arm around Tim’s lower back worked its way up to his shoulder blades so that Kon could carefully cradle the back of Tim’s head in his hand and protect him from whiplash. Jeeze, his hand went basically all the way around Tim’s head, ear to ear. Tim simultaneously wanted to push back into the hand and to not move from where he was comfortably pressed into Kon’s pectorals.

“Hey?”

Oh. He’d never answered. And Kon didn’t know his name. “Tim,” he muttered drowsily. Holy shit, was this what people felt every night? This was why they slept regularly? Would he sleep every night of his life if he could do it pressed full-body against someone big and warm? Dick absolutely could never know.

“Tim?” Kon sounded confused.

“Yeah, thas my name.”

“...You’re falling asleep.” Kon sounded delighted by this. “Tim, am I that comfy? Are you so cozy?” he teased.

It was serious business, so Tim forced up the effort to scoff. “Of course I am,” he said. This was probably how everyone felt. “You’re big and warm and you smell good. And I haven’t slept in like, 49 hours. This is inevitable.”

“...You really remind me of someone right now,” Kon said.

It was, uh, probably himself. Tim did laugh at that. But he chose not to answer.

Bruce would kill him if he gave away his secret identity, so there was nothing safe to say. It was a little funny, though.

“You’re not curious at all?” Kon prompted him. A thumb started working lazy circles into Tim’s scalp and it felt so good. “I mean, I usually get a bit more reaction when I save someone. More- wow, it’s Superboy!” He imitated. “You’re so cool and handsome and mysterious. Can I get your autograph and phone number?”

Tim made a pfft sound. “You’re not that cool,” he grumbled. “And I already said thanks. I’m not here to inflate your ego. You’re a regular guy.” He was a good Titan, for sure, and a helluvan ally to have. But he was no Nightwing.

“...That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” Kon actually sounded choked up about it. “Marry me, man?”

Tim patted blindly at Kon’s chest. His eyes were closed. He didn’t remember closing them. “No way,” he rejected. “But feel free to keep petting my head.”

“You need to get somewhere comfortable, so not for much longer.”

Tim made a sound of disgust.

“...Not to be a creep, but I will absolutely keep doing that if you invite me into your hotel room.” Kon sounded like he regretted speaking the instant the words were out of his mouth. “Ignore that,” he said hurriedly. “You don’t know me, so that’s super weird. And of course you wouldn’t feel safe to do that.”

That made him laugh. He’d slept in the same room as Kon a dozen times. “I feel plenty safe,” Tim said. He gave into his impulse and nudged his head into the hand that had stopped petting him.

“Wow,” Kon muttered. He swallowed. His heart was going crazy fast now. “Yeah, okay. You have a hotel you like? Cheap? Expensive?”

“I do not care at all,” Tim said, basically out of it and drunk on skin contact. He roused enough to remember– “Actually, go to the Wayne one. I don’t have my credit card with me.”

“...So you want to go to an expensive hotel without money?” Kon clarified.

“Yeah,” Tim agreed blearily. Obviously. If he went to a non-affiliated hotel, they wouldn’t have a reason to give him a room on credit.

Kon was obviously confused, but he obliged. Tim sighed about it, but he condescended to stand on his own power and walk into the lobby. He didn’t want to do anything. He’d lie down on the floor if it wouldn’t get back to Bruce in an hour. The public was so tedious.

Kon followed a few steps behind. Tim made eye contact with the woman behind the desk at reception and tipped his head to the side. He wondered how gauche he’d have to be. He kinda hoped she recognized him.

Her eyes went wide for an instant, and then her professional mask slammed into place. “Good evening,” she greeted. “How may I help you?”

Great. “Hi,” Tim said. He resisted the urge to lean on the counter. He was crashing hard. All the adrenaline was gone from his body. He couldn’t go to work now, not without catching a serious Bruce lecture. The only thing left was to listen to his body. “Can I get an executive suite, thanks.”

“Of course,” she agreed immediately. Her fingers flew across the keyboard. “As for payment– to your family account?”

“Yes, thanks,” Tim said. “That’s perfect.”

She looked at him again and her lips twitched. It was probably amusement. “Just a moment.” She printed something and then held a set of keycards to some kind of scanner. “Here you are. You’re on the top floor.”

Great. Mission accomplished. Bed next. “Thank you.” Tim nodded and shuffled to the elevator.

“Uh-” Kon hesitated a moment and then Tim heard a rustling of fabric. Oh. Right. He’d forgotten the room cards.

“Thanks,” he said again. He hit the up arrow and stared at the distorted reflection of Robin and Superboy. Superboy’s head momentarily became enormous and then slimmed to hilarious proportions when he shifted on his heels. Tim mentally calculated how long it was going to take to ride the elevator all the way up there. “It would be faster to fly,” he said mournfully. He had never let Kon carry him before and it was a decision he stood by. It wasn’t very impressive to get carried to battle. But he wasn’t unaware of how convenient it made life.

Kon snickered. “Where’s the stairwell, baby?”

Baby? Tim full body jerked at that appellation. He lifted an eyebrow in disbelief.

Kon gave him a toothy grin. “Never mind, I see it. Can I pick you up?”

On the one hand, it was a transparent attempt to show off. Kon was clearly dying to show off his superior physique and impress. Tim generally shot that shit down hard. That asshole didn’t need his ego inflated further.

On the other hand, it turned out that he liked being babied. “Go for it, big guy.”

Big blue eyes darted over Tim, clearly calculating, before he turned and offered Tim a piggyback ride. Tim sort of mourned the chest-to-chest contact, but he kinda got why Kon might not wanna do that anymore. It had been an emergency hold.

He was right, though, it was much faster than the elevator. Kon got him to the hotel room in a swift and smooth ride and unlocked the door without even putting Tim down. He went to the bed- and then came to a jerky stop. Tim hummed and leaned forward to see that Kon’s face was red. Like, bright red.

‘...Did he plan to dump me on the bed and then realized what that would look like?’ Tim held in a snicker. He was starting to think that Kon was talking out of his ass when he bragged about all his romantic and sexual experience. It was cute, honestly.

“Here you go,” Kon said in an extremely strained voice. “I uh, you wanna turn on the TV?”

Tim climbed down and reached up to pat him on the shoulder. “Go for it.” He sure wasn’t going to be watching. He shucked his shoes, tossed his watch on the bedside table, and then starfished out on the bed with a pleasing whumpf.

“Wow,” Kon said again, voice low and fond. “Uh- here’s a soccer game. That cool?”

He made a thumbs up without lifting his head. He vaguely heard the sounds of cheering and electronic whooshing. The bed depressed next to him as a Kryptonian superhero gingerly sat. The weight displacement moved Tim downwards and towards a warm leg. After a few seconds, that hand was back in Tim’s hair.

He could have purred.

Kon pulled his fingers through Tim’s hair and down onto his neck. Then again. And again, and then Tim was waking up to muffled light through curtains. He lifted his head, disoriented. Where’d his friend gone? The T.V. was off. His phone had come out of his pockets sometime in his sleep and was under his leg. Tim fished it out and squinted at the time.

“....Ten hours,” Tim said, impressed with himself. He levered himself up. The breakfast buffet was probably open now, and that meant he could grab life-giving carbs and his first hit of caffeine. He swung his feet off the bed- and noticed something written on the hotel stationary.

Kon had left his phone number. Nothing else. Just the number. Tim already had it from his, uh, background check. But he’d never messaged Kon that way.

He pursed his lips and thought about it as he grabbed the keycards and shuffled to the dining room.

Kon liked him. Kon liked civilian him, crabby and demanding Tim Drake-Wayne. Kon had been his personal taxi and tried to impress him and- in retrospect- been adorably into him.

Huh. He opened up a message. “Hi, it’s Tim,” he said to himself as he typed it up and hit send. “You get home okay?”

#timkon #red just tim #dc fanfic

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hollowed-theory-hall · 6 months

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Can you talk about your thoughts on hinny? I have no problem with people shipping it but to me personally it just doesn't work. It feels like Rowling tried too hard or maybe just wasn't good at writing romance and messed it up. Maybe it was too rushed? The ship doesn't work for me but I'd love to hear your views.

Okay, sorry it took a while to answer this, I actually have a lot of thoughts and I have posts on some of them that I hope to get out soon-ish. I also wanted to go back to the books to make sure I'm not talking out of my ass. But I don't like Hinny, never did. And my reasons are kinda divided into three categories.

Disclaimer: I don't have anything against anyone who ships hinny, it's just really not my thing and I don't see it working with the way I see their characters.

And that's like the core of it. I just don't see Harry and Ginny as compatible on a character level. That and their relationship never really read as believable to me in the books.

The 3 categories I mentioned are:

Harry's character

Firstly, I think Harry is gay. Not bi, but gay. I think he was never actually attracted to a woman and I have a whole post to prove it. So, because that's how I read his character, I just can't really see him with any girl.

(Now, I don't think JKR intended for Harry to come off as gay, but he did)

Secondly, he never thought about Ginny, like, up until book 6, and even during large portions of book 6, he just isn't thinking about Ginny as a potential romantic interest. And when he does think about Ginny in the final two books it never reads like he really likes her. It reads like they decided they are dating, but I don't think Harry knows why he supposedly likes her. He just decided he does, but doesn't know why. It was kind of the same with Cho, where he said he had a crush on her and was nervous around her, but if you asked Harry what he likes about her, his answer would be: "Ehh...."

Like, Harry doesn't really seem to know why he's dating Ginny, and neither do I. It's just how it's written.

2. Ginny's character

So, this is again my opinion, but I don't like Ginny. I just don't like her character. I wish her off the page whenever she talks.

And, when it comes to shipping, for me, I need to find both the characters involved interesting and fun for me to explore to ship them together and care about the pairing. As I don't like Ginny and don't really care for her, I can't really ship her with anyone, not really. It's not even like I hate her (not the way I hate Dumbledore), I just find a lot of her actions and behavior iffy and she annoys me more often than not.

I'm not going to list everything I don't like about Ginny (some of it appears in the rest of this post). But her treatment of Fluer, for example, really soured her character to me. Like, sure, Ginny's young, but, she's 15, and by that point, I think she should take responsibility for being awful to Fluer who was nothing but nice to all of them. Envy is not a good look for Ginny.

3. How they are portrayed together

Like I mentioned in the Harry section, their romance just never really felt there to me. The descriptions were off and left me feeling annoyed at their scenes together more than anything else.

Again, I'm writing a more comprehensive post about it, but the gist of it is that Harry's thoughts about Ginny in books 6 and 7 are weirdly detached for a supposed crush at best or outright uncomfortable for me to read at worst.

Now, we know Harry can describe characters he finds attractive in greater detail. There is none of that detail with Ginny. He only mentioned her hair color and that her hair is long and smells nice. Like, he doesn't talk about her eye color, her facial structure, eye shape (like he does sometimes with characters he does find attractive) — nothing. He doesn't even call her pretty once! At least he referred to Cho Chang as pretty twice in the series.

In the books there is never a scene (not even one) that convinces me they should be together. Like, they have no chemistry. They kinda remind me of Ron and Lavender tbh. They make out and are present in the same space often, but they never talk. Not really. I don't think Ginny actually knows Harry all that well because he never honestly talks to her about anything real. They don't really have chemistry or a relationship, they're just together. At least, that's how I always saw them.

And yes, Harry has his jealousy moments (that are portrayed so weirdly I always narrow my eyes at them to make sure they were actually there, but that's a whole other post about Harry's chest monster of jealousy), but he still doesn't really explain what he finds in Ginny. He doesn't mention she's attractive or pretty at any point, nor does he mention anything he particularly likes about her personality (except that she doesn't weep like Cho and is good at Quidditch. Neither of which are particularly good basis for a relationship).

Like, Ginny mentions why she likes Harry and that she does multiple times. Harry by contrast, just feels so incredibly uninvolved in his own relationship, to me.

Also, personally, I just find the setup of their relationship iffy. Like Ginny outright says she never gave up on Hary and always knew they'd end up together. It means, that since she was 11 (or earlier), she was crushing on Harry, never gave up on her crush, and considered them ending up together fate. She dated other guys to make Harry jealous and pay attention to her, and that's just really gross. I don't like her long obsessive crush on Harry or her treatment of the other guys she dated on her way to get Harry.

Proof of that, for those wondering:

“I never really gave up on you,” she [Ginny] said. “Not really. I always hoped. . . . Hermione told me to get on with life, maybe go out with some other people, relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if you were in the room, remember? And she thought you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more — myself.”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 647)

She literally said she dated other guys so Harry would take notice of her. That just grosses me out.

So, no, I don't like Hinny (or Ginny).

#anti hinny #harry potter #harry potter thoughts #hp thoughts #hp #that being said I don't particularly like drarry either #or most harry parings really #like there are parings with him I don't mind in fic #but I'm not truly passionate about any of them #there is 1 harry pairing I actively like #but I got into it on accident and its with a very minor character #harry is my precious boy and deserves only the best #that's why I'm so picky about who I ship him with #ginny weasley critical #anti ginny weasley #ship talk

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