#when i called out one and asked them what their intentions were if they were not having a dig at people | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fancyfeathers · 2 days ago

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Love the mother daughter pair, but not gonna lie, fascinated by the thought of bruce blackmailing reader, and then having to properly try and woo her back essentially. If he really wants a seemingly loving family, he has to know he needs to coax his wife and the mother of his daughter into a better mood and viewpoint. No matter how much blackmail he has, she can start gaining just as much now that she's in his life, and I doubt the daughter will start trusting him properly with the tension between him and her mother. How would bruce coax the mother back? And would Talia actually have an easier time establishing a connection? Could see Bruce feeling jealous of Talia if that was the case. Idk just the tangent my mind ran on, even if that's not the case still love the work

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

The blackmail is practically all there is he does that truly hurts him, and that’s only if she does not agree to his proposal when states his intent of gaining custody of their daughter. But after that comes to pass everything would be perfect for a normal couple, news about their engagement spreads like fire, and the wedding will probably be the social event of the century given how they were engaged once before and now it’s back on. The most perfect white wedding and Bruce treating his darling like the perfect husband.

Their daughter does not know the details of what happened, one moment it’s her and her mama having a perfect life together, traveling the world and being each other’s best friend, and then the next all of that is over, her father is back in her mother’s life and now she has siblings and none of them feel like the family she had with her mama, it feels suffocating and her mama doesn’t seem as bright as she once did.She clings to her mama every single day and is only separated when her attention is dragged away forcefully from her daughter and one of her brothers of father comes right to the littlest one’s side.

His wife does not push any of them away, she lets her husband hold her in the morning hours when they have just woken up and press kisses onto her face, she lets Dick call her mom as he runs up to hug her, she lets Jason help her daughter with her homework even though she asked her for help, she lets Tim take her daughter out to the park even if it’s their mother-daughter day they have, or used to have, every week, she lets Damian sit down by her and lay against her while she reads to her daughter. She will never be happy but she will fake it, she does not want to make a scene and have her daughter see and realize something is wrong and do something herself. She wants her daughter to be happy and have a future, go to university, leave Gotham and go back to what is left of the life they had, parents make sacrifices for their children and she is willing to do everything for her. She plays the game of pretend, acts like the perfect wife and mother and stepmother, stays calm and bites back all the internal rage she has building up inside her.

Honestly it is after every she has been through just for her daughter’s sake is when Talia starts to think a bit more highly of her, she understands the strength it takes to make sacrifices for one’s child. She also knows how possessive and protective they all are of her and her daughter, so meeting her discreetly is the best option. Like at a charity gala and someone accidentally spills something on her dress and has to go to the bathroom to clean up and-

“Hello again.”

She nearly screamed when she turned on the bathroom light and saw Talia’s reflection in the mirror. Talia helps her clean up and change into a new dress all while talking to her about what she has found out. She went from viewing her as Bruce’s house pet, because it was clear their marriage was not equal, to seeing a mother who is willing to sacrifice and do whatever it takes to take care of her daughter.

But it is during this the question arises and the answer is terrifying…

“What are you going to do if your daughter is just as trapped as you are? What if all you did for her was in vein?”

“I-I….”

“You are far too soft, you will never get what you desire for your daughter while you stay docile, playing the role of a perfect housewife, a house pet…”

“Talia…”

“I should be off now, but do take care of my Damian, he adores you as his stepmother.”

She leaves her alone in the bathroom and she just cries, feeling like a failure of a mother and she she can barely look her daughter in the eye again.

She just lays awake at night with the thoughts of the life she grew up with, she had a golden childhood and all she wanted was that happiness for her own daughter.

After that there is no chance of anyone winning her over, but she will not act out either, she just feels dead inside, like a complete failure of a mother. Her daughter clearly notices something is wrong and while her mother will stay perfectly compliant, her daughter is a completely different story.

The moment she sees her mom loose that shine in her eyes like she had when raising her on her own she knows this is all of their faults, they took her and her mom away from their life they loved and now there is nothing left of the mother who used to teach her to dance at parties, or attend her piano recitals and sat in the front row to applaud the loudest and despite the busy schedule of meetings she had she never missed one, or when her mom who could not help but boast about her daughter’s latest achievements…

Remember she is still her father’s daughter and has a level of determination that should not be tired under pressure.

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scopophobia-polaris · 2 days ago

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So, to add on to Navi's post, because her whole read for the original was getting screenshots from the game to debunk what was said, of course....we are now here. I want to tell you that no one here disagreed with your conclusion about Ganondorf being a victim. What we here disagreed with was the method you used to get there. Simplifying Ganondorf down to solely good or solely evil is something this Fandom does all the time with little to no nuance. And even though you have written an eloquent essay, Published even! You twisted or outright made up parts of the game to get to your conclusion. In essay writing, that's called a logical fallacy, and the whole essay either twists what happens in the game or outright gets it wrong.

Now people are probably gonna wonder why I'm treating this like a big deal or why I'm speaking so blunt, because this is by all means very stupid fandom drama.

But I think when you're a college prof and you get an essay published and it's online for people to read everywhere without you, one, not giving the context behind Ganondorf's creation and the coding of his appearance and motivations, two the complexities of a corporate conglomerate in a notoriously socially conservative country taking aesthetics from countries who were historically colonized. And Three, The way that video games are a collaborative effort with usually no singular vision, this is very true at nintendo despite what people may think, and at any moment changes can be made for any reason by team leads or executives that would hinder or even hurt a story. It detrimental to the audience reading it that you do not provide them more of a couple of screenshots

Basically, many things go into a story and now I'm taking this more from a DOYLIST view right here talking about Nintendo. But I'm doing this because you keep trying to say..... well fuck man do I need to pull up more examples? Navi got them all, the whole essay is you trying HEAVILY to imply that Nintendo MEANT to do all of this, as in intentional in the story, idk I feel crazy, words have meaning, specific wording has implication, oh and this dosent even get into how localization can change things 😃😀 wording has meaning and sometimes translators don't have cultural contexxxtttttttt and to not even mention about Nintendo's history or even the short hand that comes from Ganondorf's design and the historical Orientalism behind it feels like a disservice to the paper, but much more qualified people then I have discussed the way Ganondorf is written and probably would love to discuss or link to previous writing again if asked.

And this is a cold take but Nintendo isn’t the place you should be looking to for deep story telling, they will always be a corporate entity first and the bottom line is a general audience, this does not mean JUST KIDS this means to a generalized population. And this is extremely cynical but a lot of people cant even handle the complexity of a female character who is mean, like Midna, do you really think people would handle a Ganondorf like how he is in Tp being portrayed in any form of film language as good????? This game dropped 5 years after 9/11, Nintendo was never gonna lose out in money like that.

And Dude people have given so much shit to HUGE fanartists and comic authors about their work portraying Ganondorf in a sympathetic light, you would of thunk more people would of picked up on Ganondorf's story being written as tragedy if there was something in the game that actually DID that. Maybe they would of written a blog post about how Midna saw Link kill Ganondorf and was ashamed of that or Ganondorf TOTALLY said the history of light and shadow will be written in blood thing before the final battle, you think people would of talked about huh why did Ganondorf say that there or something and maybe went 🤔 instead of it being argued that Tp Ganondorf had the weakest writing of the series until TotK threw a pile of flaming shit at my door with a picture of Ganondorf on it.

Navi also goes in depth on how Hyrule has not exactly stagnated like what was claimed in History of Light and Shadow by using the Goron merchants and Yeto as examples.

Rynling has stated that the cause of the stagnation and decline is due to an ineffectual leader that has "Not allowed its people to be revitalized by change and diversity."

Now I am familiar with the flaws of an undetermined national unity, I am very familiar with the subject, but I’m not going to speak like an authority. Id rather let someone much more qualified make that post and I link back to it, because i know its coming. But Navi said in her post that the idea of what could of happened at Arbiter's Grounds can completely blow over someone's head if they didn't play OoT first, and I think more or less this is accurate, certain things are lost in Wind Waker even with the recaps, but I wanna join in on this in my own way...

Rynling....you may say Hyrule has been on a decline during Tp......you may even think OoT had a more stable Hyrule or some shit.....i THINK YOU FORGOT ABOUT THE PLOT OF OCARINA OF TIME BAYBEEEEEEE

THE SUPPLEMENTAL MATERIAL THAT I CAN PULL UP TO PROVE MY SHIT ABOUT OOT HYRULE BEING DOG SHIT IN COMPARISON TO TP

Like if you're seriously gonna link me and Navi to your essay then I am about to go full BTW it's a Sativa and eat that bitch after midnight cuZ we YELLIN ABOUT OCARINA OF TIME ON THIS POST FOR EVERYONE🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

All of Ocarina of Time's narrative is haunted by the civil war, the whole reason why Link is being raised in the woods is cuz of the civil war, the Sheikah are implied to have died out during the same conflict, and well its said that Hyrule was unified during it

Civil War yet the translators use unified the country like it WASNT under a sole ruler before? Hello? I need to go back through the Japanese script for the game again to see if i missed something of the game and freak it harder. And do realize the Deku sprout in this screenshot says fierce war but every where else, including the Zelda wiki (not fandom) its CIVIL War.

The Gate to Death mountain and Simultaniously the fence at Zora's river gives us and idea that peace was....tenuous at best downright hostile at worse given relations with the Gerudo

so today we gonna do some fun comparing and contrasting the Gorons and how they are treated in OoT to TP

and we gonna start with his racist ass BHJBHDBHKCJW

I mean, damn remmeber how mad Darunia is at Link for being the supposed royal family messenger? Link Unlocking the door to Darunia's room with Zelda's lullaby, I think it's a little funny that Darunia is hung up , you know, like he knows this is some disrespectful shit

Hey wannna hear some shit? The gates at the edge of death mountain aren't guarded by Gorons and were not built by them you can tell, the only way to visit the mountain is to get permission from the King to go up and not from the people that actually live there

God and like, there is something about the way Darunia locks himself in his room, like he does it to keep the ruby safe from all the other Gorons being so hungry that he's frightened they're gonna eat it, he doesn't know what to do on how to act about the Dodongos that Ganondorf summon on him for not giving over that rock. It qlmost sounds like when Ganondorf came in and Threatened Darunia, and that he (Darunia) sent a message to the royal family asking for help, why else would he be expecting someone to come meet with him?

"If I'm not mistaken, you came out here to eat the red stone too! Well, too bad! It's not here! What? That's not why you're here? You're looking for a "Spiritual Stone?" You must mean that delicious-looking red stone that was once displayed above the city! I was so hungry that I thought it would be OK to just give it one tiny, little lick...so I snuck up there. But it was already gone! I think Big Brother took it away. He always says that everyone is after that red stone! Big Brother has shut himself up in his room saying, "I will wait in here for the Royal Family's messenger!" this is a quote from the Goron that you can find on the middle of the rope bridge thing in Goron city.

Yeah so he sent a letter or something and no one answered yeesh.

contrast this all with TP where OH LOOKS WHO'S GUARDING DEATH MOUNTAIN

so in TP spoilers, this happens

Kakariko is more connected then ever! Renado here is wondering what the hell is going on with their FRIENDS. And yeah the Goron elder Gor Coron is trying to keep the last few people from kakariko left safe, and other Gorons, i mean, theyre keeping a piece of the fused shadow in there. also the way that entry into the temple goes in this game is cute, Darunia was freaking it cuz everyone is starving, but here Link wrestles his way up a mountain to ask the Gron elder whats happening since he was asked to come here by Renado, Gor Coron goes DAMN

unless......?

IDK ITS LIKE? ITS SILLY? Idk Hyrule isnt the best place but why try and act like this doesnt happen during TP?

so where am i getting at with this? the hell was going on back during OoT? If things are so odd and weirdly tense with the gates gaurds and non responses

"As time passed, the Triforce became a legend, and the different people of Hyrule forgot the laws and wisdom that the goddesses had left behind. Warfare and strife became common in Hyrule, as the armies of the Zora marched on the Hylians. The Gorons fought the Gerudo. It seemed every race of Hyrule was at the other's throat. Only the secluded Kokiri, sheltered by their magical forest and the Great Deku Tree, were spared the destruction of Hyrule's civil wars.

After 50 years of ceaseless combat, there arose a Hylian King of great wisdom, courage and power. Through his brilliant military campaigns and wise diplomacy, he was able to bring the varied people of Hyrule into a tenuous harmony. Treaties of peace were signed, and prosperity once again seemed to bloom in Hyrule. But no sooner had people declared peace in Hyrule than trouble once again stalked the land."

Tenuous Harmony, could you imagine if they dropped a line like this in Creating a champion? The tumblr side of the fandom would go fucking nuts with that info like OHHHHH SHIT WAS GOING ONNNNNN

This was ALL on the offical Nintendo Zelda website back when oot was the big game out, we have this cuz someone saved it to the wayback, THIS SCREENSHOT WAS FROM DECEMBER 14TH 2001, ABOUT A FULL YEAR AND A DAY UNTIL WIND WAKER WAS RELEASED IN JAPAN. THAT'S INSANE RIGHT???? ‼️‼️🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

And then it all probably got deleted once wind waker became the new thing!!! Or when they wanted to modernize and deleted it!!! THAT SUCKS RIGHT????

And what's worse is that it introduces some new info and also clarifies something. Hey you know when I made that post like damn Darunia racist as hell

"Warfare and strife became common in Hyrule, as the armies of the Zora marched on the Hylians. The Gorons fought the Gerudo."

NO WHERE IN THE GAME THE LEGEND OF ZELDA OCARINA OF TIME IT SAYS THIS, IT DOES NOT STATE THERE WAS CONFLICT BETWEEN THE GORONS AND GERUDO.....LIKE DIN GET YA KIDS.....IM LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR SOMETHING I MUST OF MISSED.

But Like oh hey a fucking explanation to why he just fucking says that, I figure it was cuz of Ganondorf trying to almond mom all of them or that he kept talking to the King and well.....Navi already showed the GENERAL reaction to the Gerudo in castle town.

it went from oh hes just racist to dARUNIA AND GANONDORF HAVE HISTORY????

But the interesting one is why did thy Zora "marched on the Hylians."

Like sitting here like, I know a comic made in Germany shouldn't be a be all end all in shit I knew it never was and it would like. If you put this in warrior cats canonicoty categorization would be considered lower down supplementary material dubious canon, but their are things in the comic AND the Himekawa manga that behinds some behind the scenes actions given that LINK'S MOM HAS A MOSTLY CONSISTENT DESIGN WHAT THE HELLLLLLLL. And I always thought the Goron Zora war thing was stupid but Nintendo then had that out on their website, what the hell was going ON.

Because idk i didnt think much of Zora De Bon XVI and the Hyrulien King's relationship but

Now a days the Zelda website is much different and does not have lore pages like this anymore, it's more like a summary of the timeline. But yeah actually Nintendo approved shit, Hylian/Zora war.

Hyrule is progressing, its just going slowly, Hyrule is not AS stifled by its monarchy or a lack of integration during TP because Hyrule IS integrating, is people's are intermingling like is hasn't before during this game.

And this isn't even to get started on the E3 demo of Twilight princess that the trip that Link is supposed to take at the beginning of the game was to be the representative of Ordon at the "Hyrule summit

and Hyrule is described in a VERY specific way

Kingdom of Hyrule and neighboring realms? like theyre all not under the crown? so like???? FUN, that didn't end up making it in the game. the dailouge that is, But the remints is still there in the way the game is made up, like how OoT is built off is civil war bones

actually funny, Navi just got me screenshots of the way the dialouge was changed here

Like stuff clearly changed during the demo and finished game, I should of been touching more on the intricacies of how like shit was just change for no reason sometimes but uh....

But maybe @rawliverandgoronspice would want to one day like about games industry stuff if you ever want to 😭 I know you're super passionate on this and I wish I like even off hand mentioned something about how like TP is also effected by how games are made but I didn't and I'm a fool but games are complicated as hell and that post you made talking a bit about it was fun ya know 👉👈 and the Beta of Tp changes a LOT of stuff, one Rusl really is like a brother to link in the way he messes with him, it actually makes some weird Nintendo licensed shit saying hes like a big brother to Link made WAYYYYY more since with the Beta in mind, but....that also mean they tried to keep the big bro vibes....but then put the dad ones in there too like.....uh...did..someone not change his summary anywhere?

that was my big thing i wanted to talk about, navi's already touched on everything else i just think the parallels here between the Goron quest between OoT and TP changes in such a nice way.

And like this doesn't get into other shit about TP, like if we wanna deep dive into shit ya don't gotta do it by twisting the story, like I was going and talking to @blackautmedia to ask with some help when it came to like.......god idk what i even said anymore i was going a mile a minute. He wants to write his own thing on Twilight princess so im not gonna step on his toes but he has recommended Arabs and Muslims in the Media: Race and Representation after 9/11 by Evelyn Alsultany, the link I provided here is too her website and her page on the book this link here is from her own site that has a pdf of a part American Quarterly with a paper by the same name.

Anyways i wanna reflex for a moment cuz ive been up for hours finishing this because my brain wont stop unless i do. But the thing that by all means started this, was not your reblog linking me and Navi to your essay, or that there is 2 versions i found out where the paper published one had a lot more context to why you wrote your tumblr post the way you did, Navi helped me get the parts that were cut, please realize removing these does not remove the sentiment from the essay, its baked in.

fanfic, its a popular Fan interpretation that there was fighting between the Gerudo and Hylians after Ganondorf was caught trying to take the triforce, but this is not stated to of happened in the lore itself or even has evidence to back it up other then the Implications of Arbiter's grounds theory

UGHHHH AND THIS AGAIN "Twilight Princess Delivers a subtle yet poignant protest against neoliberal discourses of empire reflected in the rhetoric of heroism inform the geopolitical movements of Japan throught the twentieth century"

WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING TALKING ABOUT......

i dont mean this in a stupid ass way, im saying where the hell was about the protest thing, wait i really shouldt take from the published one cuz you actually dumbed down the line for tumblr

anyways again, where, Navi made it clear enough with her own post that, no, the way that Ganondorf is animated has no sympathy for him until the light is literally leaving him. Hell Twilight princess inst very kind to the gerudo either given that the only thing said about them is that they were thieves and nothing more. Like somehow OoT is more empathetic to the Gerudo, it doesn't just call them thieves, it aint great its not even good its just a bad portrayal of a people, and yet somehow OoT is willing to show the Gerudo in a neutral light at points then TP ever did.

but the reason i decided to just throw down a post is cuz i was pissed that you went after Ezlo for reblogging ME and NAVI's posts and purposefully misunderstood their fuckin wind waker post about ZELDA YOUTUBERS

dude you had them getting genuinely harassed by people with 0 reading comprehension that thinks a snarky reply to a tumblr post means its 100% correct. Webbed. Site.

anyways, I hope people don't take this as a right or wrong way to interpret a piece of work, as stated before, I read your essay, navi read your essay, you changed parts of Twilight Princess to get to the conclusion of you paper...And im gonna be real but it's kinda crazy that you're using post colonial melancholia for this when it's got some.....well something like idk i need someone to do a full ass review because there are point where i gently raise an eyebrow im gonna be real. but also like

like how do you read his book and then miss out on this, one of your whole big aruments is that hyrule is stagnate and not multi cultural and i had to grab screenshots and Navi had to get shit from the game.

like damn, do yall ever uh feel a strange sadness when dusk falls? i do. Idk this is one of the first and last times Nintendo ever delt with Ganondorf with some form a sympathy for him, cuz we got the dragon explosion in totk its like oh he's turbo evil now and he exploded you exploded him and yet the Gerudo probably still gotta pay for his shit from a billion years ago anyways idk idk idk pot shots at totk again.

I know you dug around a little for that post, and I understand from the numerous people that dmed me about that, you probably went on making an essay on their post so you could sound smart again.

And to be clear, I was told to drop some shit i was about to say about you because no one wants to start fandom drama, neither do I truly and any jab on the post itself would just be rude. people change and some people only learn to shut the hell up, so we'll keep it at that. I just hope you really don't truly recognize some of these people you started shit with.

So yeah tldr, uh.....idk, im going in for an autism screening in a month

also me watching the ending to windwaker cuz i wanted to say something about stong endings TP fans im sorry But Wind waker's ending hits no matter what best sequal to OoT thats isnt Majora's mask

The History of Light and Shadow

At the end of Twilight Princess, Ganondorf delivers one of his most memorable lines, “The history of light and shadow will be written in blood.” He is not wrong. As the player has witnessed over the course of Link’s adventure, Hyrule is haunted by ruins and ghost towns, a mere shadow of what it once was. The landscape is filled with numerous sites of past violence and empty spaces visibly marked by decay and wasted potential.

When Zelda tells Link and Midna that “these dark times are the result of our deeds,” she is referring to specific historical acts of imperialistic aggression. Hyrule established hegemony over its outlying territories by crushing the rebellions against its advances, but the kingdom has suffered from cultural stagnation as a result. Without the dynamic diversity symbolized by Ganondorf, Hyrule finds itself in economic and political decline, isolated from any contact with the world beyond its shrinking borders.

As a representative of a marginalized group of people who have been attacked and driven from their homes, Ganondorf is a tangible manifestation of the horrors of imperialism. He must be defeated, but doing so does not address the underlying problems that have resulted in Hyrule’s decline. I therefore want to argue that Twilight Princess uses Ganondorf to deliver a subtle yet poignant protest against the discourses of empire reflected by the dualistic “light and shadow” rhetoric of heroism that has resulted in tragedy and regret.

Keep reading

#oughhhhhh #oghhnkn eepy time yeah never agian #i have a whole thing about the triforce i wanted to say all this shit because of corruption and power but im so tired and ucked up what if #draw like crazy tomorrow or something like oh hbhbgb but uhhhhhh anyways anyways #now that i dont ffeel like i goot wAIT THE CHAINS BREAKING MAMA DIDNT RAISE A QUITTER #but like idk i dont like fightig or anything online i was just so??????????????? when Ezlo got hit for no reason like hi dont do that they #werent apart of this like #idk maybe im just a little venomus rn too but i also uh....would not be mkaing repeat posts where you wax academic about post colonial #ghosts but can reblog more then 8 posts for palestine in over a year??? like thats mean to say but with the context of Ori....#yeesh #idk bad look. there are real people to care about and this is why i dont wanna do internet discourse no more #its just stupid as hell and i have become SOOOOO normal #god lets hope i didnt eave lose ends i look ill rn ive been up over uh..........36 hours for some ungodley reason #wasnt even writing this the whole time i was clotecting eggs and laying down some diatematious earth for these birds #oh and then i get like.....IM GONN DRAW GANONDORF #I GOT AN ASK ABOUT HIM AND HES BEEN ROTATING IN MY HEAAADDDDDD #OOOOOOOO DORFFYDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO #Anyways back to my shit i will hopefull never be this mean again because its fucking exausting #but like bunch of dudes in your dms like LOOK AT THIS and you go oh YEESH i am so sorry i was a teen when that happened #well anyways im gonna be doing my little tasks and stuff tomorrow cuz #AS I SAID THE CHAINS! I CAN FINALLY KRILL MYSELF (srimp dinner)#one of these days i need to designn this fursona i have in my head and post it #i got so many things to dooooooooo and yet #alright well that was a waste of time #maybe ill come back to this and point at myself like you should of grabbed sunset perril by the throat about the wold cock thing #okay it was average it wasnt even Terato i wanted to SCREAM #this is not normal right? dude come on get weird with that shit #oh shit i should play bloodborne agAIN WAIT IS ELDENRING CO OP A THING #oh i would FUCK SO SEVERLY IN THERE #I May get webfishing soon but after i do some stuff

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novvabee · 1 day ago

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And They Were Roommates pt.7

Summary: this one is pretty short and sweet, but Y/N makes the boys friendship bracelets.

“What colors do you want?” you ask Sirius who is sitting on the other side of the couch, picking out beads and charms that he likes. You were making little bracelets for you and the girls when Sirius walked in the living room and asked what you were up to. He cozied up next to you and watched as you intricately wove and knotted a pink, white, and green bracelet for Lily. Once you were finished he sweetly asked for one, and you of course agreed.

“Do you have red and black?” he asked, still sifting through the little charms.

“Of course,” you replied, “I also have this silvery color I think you’d like.” You lifted the string of the shimmery silver so he could see. His face lit up and he nodded. You cut three equal length strings in the colors he wanted and began tying knots.

He handed you three charms that he wanted: a star, a red guitar, and cherries. You couldn’t explain it, but those charms just made sense on a Sirius bracelet.

He hovered over you, watching intently, sitting close enough to rest his chin on your shoulder. You enjoyed this small, quiet moment with Sirius. You felt like you didn’t get them often, but when they happen, it leaves you with a warm feeling all over.

“Could you teach me how to make one?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, “just grab some colors and copy me.” you turned to face him, legs criss-crossed, knees touching his.

“Ok, just go slow.” he said.

You smiled and showed him the basic knots and loops he had to copy, at a much slower pace, making sure your work was on clear display for him to follow. “See you make a ‘4’ with the strings, and make sure it is tight so that you can see the pattern,” you explained, “and then you move to the next string.”

“W-wait, slow down.” he laughed.

“Keep up, slow poke.” you laughed back. In all fairness, he did try, but somewhere along the way it all went wrong.

The bracelet, if you could call it that, turned into some sort of knotted ball, strings hanging loose. You bit your lip and turned away to stop from laughing.

“Don’t you dare laugh.” he said, this just made you hide your face in your hands to muffle the giggles coming out. “Stop it! I tried so hard!” he said, fake pouting.

“Oh it’s lovely Siri,” you laughed, holding out your wrist for him to tie it to. It looked like something a cat would play with, but you were genuinely proud of him for trying. He grabbed ahold of your wrist and secured it, a goofy smile cut across his face. You loved to see it, loved that he was comfortable to be silly around you, himself around you.

“Ok, ok my turn.” you say to him. He closed his eyes and held out his wrist, the same way you did. You tied the bracelet around his wrist, knotting it to make sure he could take it off when he wanted. “Ok look!”

He opened his eyes. His smile grew and he looked quite pleased. “I love it.” he said, eyes not moving from the strings. There it was again, that warm little feeling. "You gotta tie it tighter so it wont come off." you nodded and tightened it. You thought surely he would take it off soon after you put it on, but maybe you thought wrong.

You heard footsteps make their way downstairs. You looked up seeing Remus, still in pajamas and hair a bit messy.

“Morning sunshine.” Sirius shot at him. Remus yawned and made his way over to the pair of you. It wasn’t irregular for him to sleep in so late, usually allowing himself a day of rest once a month, you figured it was because he always stayed up so late and he was trying to fix his sleep schedule.

“Hi Remmy,” you greeted him.

“What are you two up to?” he asked, voice groggy and deep.

“We are making bracelets, Y/N is teaching me.” Sirius said, holding his wrist up for Remus to see.

Remus took Sirius’s hand and held it close, examining your work. He smiled at you. “Fine craftsmanship, I see,” he said jokingly.

“Would you like one? I can make one for you as well.” you asked. It would not take long at all, you had made hundreds before.

He nodded. “Course I would like one, love.”

You beamed up at him, clapping your hands eagerly. “Pick out the colors and charms you’d like.” you ordered him.

He chose green, brown, and a yellowy tan color. The colors much like the sweaters he often wears. He picked out a singular charm, a crescent moon, and the letters spelling out ‘moony’.

“Moony?” you asked. He was now sitting on the armchair, sitting sideways, long legs dangling over the arm’s edge.

He chuckled, supplying you with a short, “It’s a nickname.”

“But why-” you were interrupted with the front door opening and James swooping in, always the tornado. He was out of breath and sweaty, just coming back from a jog.

“Hello! I need to shower- Ah Remus nice to see you’re finally awake, anyways after that I want to make dinner-Chicken and pasta alright?” he asked, so fast paced and chaotic, the way he always was. He stopped in his tracks when he saw what you were doing, coming to the back of the couch and looking over. “What is that?” he asked.

“A bracelet, I made one for Sirius and now one for Remus. Sirius made me one too, which I love and am very proud of.” you held up your arm for James to see the yarn ball dangling halfway on your wrist. James and Remus both burst into laughter, Sirius chuckling along with them.

“Well that's not fair,” James said, “if you are making friendship bracelets, I want one too.”

You giggled at the slight childishness of that statement, but replied, “Fine, you pick out some colors and charms too.”

James picked red, yellow, and white for his colors and two tiny gold charms; a sun and a lightning bolt. The sun made sense for him, he was always the light and warmth within the house, bright and happy. The lightning bolt however…

“Why the lightning bolt?” you asked, straining your neck all the way back to look at him above the couch.

He smiled down at you and shrugged. “No clue, I just think it’s cool.”

Taglist 💌: @too-efn-old-to-be-here @cometsghost @eeviee4 @giuli-in-earth @spicybearnaise @the-lavender-girl @adharalikethestar @champomiel @itsleroyposts

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peppermintquartz · 2 days ago

Note

If you're still taking prompts, I want someone unexpected to yell (or gently berate, whatever) some sense into Tommy. Like Eddie is the obvious person, but what about, like, Hen? Actually, I was going to suggest others, but now I kinda want to read Hen's version, especially in light of that "intentions" conversation...

"You're a dick. I get why you did what you did, but you're a dick."

Tommy glances up from the magazine he's holding. The dental clinic's mostly empty, and the receptionist only spares them a glance. "Hey, Hen. Wasn't expecting to see you." He takes in her loose stance and relaxes slightly. "You look good."

"You look like shit. Bet you feel like it too." Hen sits down next to him. The silence is weighted. "I know where you're coming from, though. When one really bad experience makes you afraid to trust." She sighs. "With Eva... Well. I got Denny out of it."

Tommy can't pretend to look at his magazine any longer. "How is he?"

"Pretending he's fine. The way you are." She pats his shoulder. "And who knows? Maybe one day you both would be fine for real. But do you really want Buck to be the one you regret, Tommy?"

That question spears right through all of Tommy's shields. He swallows, his jaw twitching.

"Tommy."

"Yeah?"

"I remember you said that you were going at his pace. But it's your relationship too. If he was going too fast, you had every right to tell him to slow down." Hen drums her fingers on her knee. "Be honest with him. That's what's fair to you both. Figure out what you both want, okay? But don't let your fear keep you from what could be real happiness."

As if giving him an example, she tilts her phone screen at him - Karen, Denny, Mara and Hen, big smiles on their faces.

"Say hi to Karen and the kids for me," Tommy says. He smiles up at her. "Thanks. And, uh, sorry. About Buck."

Hen snorts. "If you're not doing major dental work later, you can buy me lunch after this. And then, you text him and you ask to talk."

The receptionist calls out, "Mr Kinard? Dr Bay will see you now."

"I'll wait," Hen says, taking the magazine from his hands.

#hen wilson #tommy kinard #bucktommy #tevan

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italianpersonwithashippersheart · 1 day ago

Note

Hey bestie, dropping by with a mea culpa. When Peaceful Property started, you expressed concern that GMMTV was inching toward a model of using bl pairs in shows that would avoid being explicitly gay but still draw on shipping fandom to be successful. Coming off The Trainee, which was not a bl but did have expIicitly queer characters and romance subplots, I wasn't sure the intentions were quite that dark for PP, but having now finished it and seen the way some in the production have interacted with shipper fans, I have to call it: you were right to be concerned. At no point was this show ever a bl and none of its principal characters are canonically queer, but they successfully leveraged the TayNew ship to have fans interacting with it as if it was in fact a gay love story, that idea and fan commentary was explicitly encouraged by the creators, and the show has been quite successful despite never actually delivering on all the TayNew bait. I'm definitely concerned that we might have somehow swung back around to queerbaiting being seen as acceptable and good, as long as it features popular branded pairs. I don't have any bigger thoughts to offer about how this should be addressed, but just wanted to come back and say you were valid for naming that!

Thank you. I didn't want to be correct. And I am still hoping to wrong about what this says about where GMMTV is going.

But I am not gonna lie, seeing the posts about the finale did regnite the massive fury I had at this project when it was first called a bromance. So I am going to use your ask as an opportunity to vent.

FOR THE RECORD: I am not mad at you, or at the people and mutual on my dash that have enjoyed the show and are claiming as gay out of spite. My anger is at GMMTV and at GMMTV alone.

THEY DID THIS SHIT TWICE ALREADY!!! Back to fucking back.

I know High Schoool Frenemy is being watched by like 5 people on tumblr. But it's doing well outside of tumblr. They are using bl style fanservice with the 2 main boys of that show. I have seen the shippy content and compilations along with the other bl couples. Not to mention people like Jojo saying those characters are the his new favorite ship on twitter.

AND I AM SO PISSED!!!!

I am glad you brought up TayNew because there is no doubt in my mind that they used TayNew for Peaceful Property as a test. They knew there could be backlash. They knew the bl fandom could have rioted. But they also knew that if it that rage would have been directed at TayNew not at the director, not the company but TAYNEW.

And I think TayNew knew this. Because they spend weeks on social media doing preintive damage control, I have seen the posts of them (or at least New) saying it wasn't going to be romantic. I don't think the two of them forgot how they were left to eat the shit alone over the bullshit backlash during the TayGun kiss situation with GMMTV doing fuck all for them.

And what pisses me off is that BL audience didn't even give a backlash. They eat that shit up like it was fucking icecream.

The BL audience is literally doing their job for them. They are taking a show with some gay subtext and running with it.

They are showing up for the fanservice (again broder audience outside of tumblr), and gleefully closing their eyes and ears and saying well I Think It's Gay.

What do you think Mega Corporation GMMTV is going to take from the success and no backlash? If the answear is anything but: We can produce half of the BLs as usual and make the rest Bromances, you have more faith in corporations then I do.

Because Bromances can be watched by non BL audiences as well. The BL niche is a big one, but it is still a niche.

And now they won't even have to bother inserting arguable quality gay commentary or struggles or homophobia. Or any gay kissing, no more workshops. No more worries about how effective these potential straight boys are going to be at playing gay. All they have to do is making them do fanservice, and they are great at training people for that. Or better yet, actually use one or two ships that have kissed before and done actual BLs.

Will they stop doing BL at all, obviously not, you gotta give the BL audience something to remind them they can still show boys kissing, and we have the Ex Morning and Jojo that will never actually stop making BLs and some gay shit. But if in the next line up we will more bromances, and eventually we get half BL and half bromances I wouldn't be surprised.

Of course maybe I am just pessimistic and cynical. Maybe the proto bdsm in the heart killers is enough to persuade people that I am totally wrong. I guess we will see about that.

Thanks again for the ask and the oppurtunity to vent a little. Again I don't fault anyone for enjoying this, it was design to get the BL audience watching.

I will personally be keeping with my own resolution and never watch another gmmtv show live ever again, maybe binge the few that sound interesting and that's it.

At least I can find comfort in the idea that that other companies do not have the same level of BIG cast of boys and big budget to do the same thing and follow in the bromance trend.

#ask #lurkingshan #gmmtv #peaceful property #tagging this because the show is over #and i waited the all the damn way to vent about my issue with this fucking thing #and i want people in the tags to see it #so they can have it in the back of their mind #and i won't have to see too many posts #acting surprised when there are going to be more bromances announces at gmmtv next line up

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chimimon · 3 days ago

Text

Your Words

Astarion x f!Reader

Disclaimer! What you are about to read contains the following: suggestive, like more so than I have previously written, I think… jealously, biting, and it ends pretty abruptly because I don’t plan on posting smut here, so sorry about that y’all. If I missed any tags let me know! Please! Like fr send an ask my way and let chi know!!

& what I have to say is… This game has me in a chokehold. Baldurs Gate 3 has me in a headlock. Like unimaginably so. I’m hyper fixated all over again but this time a stupid fruity vampire calls me beautiful and asks to bite my neck and I asjdjwwsjidkekwakksdnb :) oh, and trigger warning for Halsin mention. <- E.P.

No eyeful sufficed; it was not enough to simply imagine being intertwined when the sudden ache began a week or so ago while Astarion had been playing with a blade. It was one of those things he did often enough to be called routine, ordinary, or unsurprising. What did not happen as often or routinely was how keen your attention had been on such fixed activities. A dozen times over you had traced his veins, memorizing when they were most defined on his knuckles, his forearms and whether it led to the toss of his knife or not. Worse than that, his sleeves were rolled up and around the two-minute mark he noticed your hypnotic gaze.

Curious, Astarion decided to see for just how long he could keep your attention as he made a show of stretching his fingers afterwards, adjusting his sleeves, rolling his wrists and shoulders before sitting onto the floor with his head in his hands to watch the fire from his tent. Only then did he turn his attention to you with a raised brow and all-knowing smirk. It was obvious you were unaware of your staring as you quickly turned away.

But it felt as though every ten minutes you would find something new about him to gawk at, and Astarion read you all too well. In frozen observation you hardly blinked in between shallow breathes. The deeper into thought you dove, the more your shoulders sunk, and the more your shoulders sunk, so dropped your eyelids.

The attention was reminiscent of your behavior at the Tiefling party. After he made his tipsy proposal, he carefully studied just how aware you were of the events to come in every interaction you had before the night ended. How restless you seemed when you lied coyly on your rolled bed. Or just how often you touched your face and neck as you met him in your shared hidden place. Astarion loved how clearly he took up your mind, how blatant it was. He reveled in your tunneled attention and patiently waited for you to give him the word, or a signal of sorts, feeling that it would be nice to have you initiate intimacy as he was secure in your thoughtfully lustful desire.

But no move was made.

Tonight, it seemed Gale had no issue making conversation with you from across the campfire as you two were loudly going over alchemy notes from a journal Astarion picked up just for you. You began to pull out leaves and branches from a pouch in your lap, holding them to fire for light as Gale leaned in studiously. It didn’t mean anything, Astarion was sure of it, but if he thought that if he was newly recruited or hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought you and Gale were a thing within this flame lit scene which burned into Astarion mind as he replayed the last six days.

It was as though you were scared to be near Astarion, to get close to him, to talk to him, but with him alone. Watching him the way animals watch prey, but without any stalk in your stride, without a wiggle or means to pounce. Just heavy glances and light sighs. Karlach had snapped you out of this state a couple of times as it was in her nature to melt you into an easy, giggling mess. Wyll found something that reminded him of some grand adventure while walking a trail and you two seemed to bond over the found item, making Astarion snort. Shadowheart had also decided to warm up in your company and grew intent with whatever you had to say. The way she looked at you seemed far too soft and sticky for friendship and her demeanor buzzed inside of Astarion’s memory.

But the straw that broke the camel's back was Halsin. Despite you currently seated across Astarion, now handing over some mugwort to Gale, he could no longer ignore having overheard Halsin’s request to keep you company, and how inconsiderately close he was to Astarion’s tent moments ago. By then Astarion was just waiting for you to stop by to talk about it, unsure and indifferent to whether you wanted his permission to canoodle with Halsin. But when you b-lined to the campfire, a suspicious creeping feeling pushed him onto his feet to be seated on the log in front of you. Since he became aware of your careful watch, he noticed how keenly you avoided him and began to wonder if you watched him the way rabbits watch dogs; to run.

Gale would not stop talking, so Astarion took it upon himself to quietly appear beside him, peering over his shoulder with a tilted stare at you. When your eyes met and widened, Gale slowly, and unknowingly turned to Astarion before he could be cartoonishly and audibly spooked by the elven vampire's sudden appearance. Gale took it as a sign to leave and politely excused himself from your company. Those blood-soaked eyes followed Gale until he was hidden behind a couple bushes toward his tent.

Astarion seemed to be squinting, his eyes moving from yours, down to your mouth, before landing on your lap. You scrunched your nose when his gaze returned and he rolled his eyes before letting out an annoyed, airy laugh. “My love, should I be concerned?”

You were obviously uncomfortable with your lap sewn shut, and your posture too taut. “Concerned? About what?” Your brows furrowed before opening. Every muscle melted as you tilted your head, mirroring him. "I mean, I haven’t taken Halsin on any offer to play hunter and bear.”

He leaned back, deepening his stare, annoyed at your stiff disposition when that stupid wizard got to have you malleable and full of conversation.

You nervously smiled and averted your eyes. “You know I would ask if I ever wanted to-”

“Would...” He interrupted. “Of course, you knew I overheard his little, steamy proposal. But that’s not why I’m hurt.”

It was written all over your face that you were replaying the conversation with Halsin, trying to figure out where you may have gone wrong or if you sounded too open to the opportunity. Asatrion continued when you began to chew on your bottom lip. “Darling, you hardly look me in the eye anymore.” His chest deflated as he huffed out another whiny plume of air. “I mean, before I at least knew that you could talk to me about, well, all of this.”

All of this swiftly caught your attention.

“Astarion.” You calmly said, ignoring the ache you pressed between your thighs as you ran your hands over your lap. “What do you mean by ‘this’?” You could swear your heart was beating loud enough to let everyone in camp know that Astarion was the item of your mind consuming lechery. Gods, you could knead dough with how hard your palms pressed into your thighs in some feeble attempt to calm a carnal throb.

“This.” He whined with his hands apart, referring to you two. “Don’t be coy. You’ve been keeping an awfully close eye on me, and more than that you’ve kept your distance.”

“Oh.” You whispered, ripping away the steady eye contact.

“Oh? What do you mean oh-?”

“Astarion.” You stood up, awkwardly fidgeting your feet before you rocked back and forth from your heels to your toes. “Astarion can I... I can, um.”

Everything stiff and cold was interrupted with nervous stretching, like you were forcing yourself to warm up in his presence, and he was unsure if he should be bothered or relieved by it.

With mean sarcasm he said, “Your words, darling."

“Don’t- I mean.” You softly snapped, making him nervous. “Could we um… can we maybe speak somewhere private?”

Astarion shrugged, lifted off the log before motioning that you lead the way. When the way led to his tent, he got anxious. To him the conversation could go a couple of ways. One of them being you were too nervous to ask to be with Halsin, and that despite him willing to grant his permission, given his current mood, it would be reluctant permission to say the least. The other way was that you were unsure how to tell Astarion you couldn’t do it anymore. It meaning to be with him, and for that he couldn’t blame you, at least not honestly. The fear of you abandoning him after one good night, in what felt forever ago, grew as you motioned him to sit across from you, both of you on your knees as he watched you struggle once again to look at him in the eye.

He could practically hear it in your inhale, see it in your clenched fists over your knees, and in your eye contact as you finally faced him.

In your mind, everything felt intimate, close, hot even. You could feel your fingernails dig into your palms and you were sure you’d bleed if you balled your fists further. “I’m not sure how to word this without...”

He held in a vain breath, slowly nodding while you searched for the words.

“This is so stupid.” You grimaced, bring a knuckle to your teeth. “Astarion can I just-”

“You can see him.” He said with feigned relief.

“Who?” Your hands relaxed.

“Halsin.”

“What? No, wait.” Your whole body melted as you tried so hard to read the man in front of you. “What the hells are you talking about?” “You don’t have to be so embarrassed, I mean,” Astarion leaned back, sighing more dramatically as he had already come to terms with surrendering you over to him. “I mean who would I be to keep you-”

“Stop.” You held out your hands, shaking them with the same vigor used to shake your head. “Good hells Astarion, no.” You laughed, finally feeling ready to be open about your needs.

Astarion shot back up with a raised brow, tilting his head again as he drummed on his lap. “Okay, well now I really don’t know what you want to talk about.”

The growing silence was easy to bear in the sight of your smile, shy and bashful, making him a little hopeful that this was going to be an easier conversation.

“Great because I’m going to sound stupid.” You sheepishly smiled.

“As if I just didn’t.” He sucked in his teeth. “Come on darling, spit it out.”

“Not if you’re going to ask me to spit it out.”

“My sweet.” The snap in his tone caused you to really look at his face, and he looked anxious. His brows were together and lifted, he may as well have been pouting but you were finally noticing it. “If it’s distance you want, I can provide.” He looked down past your head before his eyes trailed around his space. “I mean you don’t have to go as far as to fighting battles as far from me as humanly possible.”

“Oh, good gods no.” You leaned down to catch his gaze once more. “Wait no that’s not what this is.”

“Then what the fuck is this?”

“I’m just feeling very…” you flicked your hands in the air like you were pushing away the anxiety. “I’ve been feeling rather needy lately.”

“Needy?”

“I don’t want to spell it out.”

“I think I need you to.”

“Damn it, Astarion.” It was clear he was going to quietly wait, as he was also sitting in front of your exit. “Needy, needy meaning… aroused... I’ve been very horny, lately.” With both hands on your face, you hunched over. “I’m sorry,” was muffled into your palms before your hands slid down to see his reaction.

Astarion had a bashful but at ease smile on his face. He let out a sharp laugh until he finally really looked at you. You were gripping your thighs, your eyes dilated and round. The animal like stare and careful distance kind of made sense. “And I thought I scared you away, sweetheart.”

“Quite the opposite.” You whispered, unable to maintain eye contact “So, if you’ll excuse me-”

Astarion hummed as he dropped in. His hands planted themselves on either side of your lap, his nose inches away from yours. “And if I won’t?”

Paralyzed, you held your breath and could feel your resolve snapping. “Astarion, I just… I said… are you sure?” He coyly rolled his eyes, pretending to think about it. “I can be patient.” You breathed, leaning back before he quickly scooted in, catching your chin in his hand before you could retreat.

“Oh, don’t go running away again. Not when I want you.” He was studying your eyes and lips. You seemed so lost in his tent. “Not when I need you.”

“You’ve had me, and I promise I can wait.” You whispered. “Please don’t tease me.” The quiet begging pulled at his chest and his desire.

Then Astarion smiled wickedly. “Don’t think I can’t smell the arousal from less than a foot in front of my nose.” Quickly he snatched your wrist. If your hand were a rabbit, and your wrist its neck, he nuzzled his cheek against its head, playfully biting the neck of the rabbit before you could try to pull away. “And I don’t care to tease pretty things like you,” poisonous desire spilled from his mouth as he asked, “But when you say needy, what exactly to you require of me?”

Mindlessly you shook your head as you feebly fought to take your hand back.

“Your words, darling.”

“Astarion, please this is-”

“Embarrassing?” He purred.

You held your breath as he faced your palm, from the corner of he could feel the heat in your face emit on his as he sighed again. “This couldn’t be nearly as embarrassing as the competition I have, my love.” A shit eating grin plastered onto his face as confusion appeared on yours. “You know... when your hand gets more of affection than I do.”

Humiliated and hot. You were completely humiliated and hot as he waited for you to respond.

“I mean your I’m sure your fingers can only do so much for so long in my place.”

Past embarrassment you felt it necessary to say “Astarion, you know that I need you beyond anything you can do for me.”

“So, you have been touching yourself, naughty girl,” he kissed your middle and ring finger without breaking eye contact.

“I- Astarion I wouldn’t have,” you balled up your hand in which his thumb smoothed it open again. With little force you pushed forward to cup his face with him still latched in your wrist. “I just- gods I just worry you wouldn’t say no if you didn’t want to just because I’m asking.”

“I do say no, & I have.” His hold loosened as he pulled back, taking in the soft concern on your face before the thought of that hand between your thighs flashed in his mind. Astarion’s eyes lids dropped, your kind concern caused him to be hard with arousal while his ruby eyes glistened. “Must I worry you won’t ask even if I’ll honestly say yes?”

Your bottom lip was white between your teeth, so he reached out to hold your jaw, his fingers pressing in as you went doe-eyed and dazed. He was so close to your lips, so he whispered on your mouth. “Go on, my sweetheart. Ask.”

“Astarion…” his breath tickled your bottom lip as your stomach dropped.

“Yes, darling?”

“Please…” you voice trailed off as the humiliation of it all set in.

“Please what?” Astarion lifted you up as he lifted on his knees, looming over you as he brushed your hair behind one ear with his free hand. “I don’t think I know what want.”

With all the excitement this brought, you quietly asked. “I want you to please kiss me. Please kiss me, Astarion.” And without a second lost, he pulled you into his hungry kiss, cupping your face with both hands as he pushed into you.

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x y/n #astarion x tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 x you #astarion

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nourangul · 2 days ago

Text

Missed Connections

It's my first attempt at anything x reader, but thanks to a few notes from @darktrashsoulbear I think I've gotten it. I hope so at least. Comments are always welcome. Reader uses she/her pronouns. Now to enjoy another Ewan Mitchell x Reader oneshot!

————————————————

It had been a last minute thing, Ewan had fully intended just to hole up in his hotel room for the night and rest with a book he was attempting to read. He’d read the same page a few times when a friend on the crew called him–inviting him out to a local show. At first, he’d been teetering on no, but had asked what kind of show–something metal. Matt’s girlfriend knew the band, had even helped get them sorted out with a small label that wouldn’t take them for all they were worth and then some.

What the hell

He’d thought, he’d go and enjoy the evening. More than anything, he wanted an outlet–to do something fun that made his stress melt away. What better way than to go a little mad in the pit?

——

No matter the city or even the country, clubs were all the same: strobe lights thumping along with the bass of varying degrees of quality, shouted conversations to and from everyone and no one, the smell of spilled and shake liquor on top of a hundred perfumes and colognes with a base layer of sweat, the clank of ice and glass as overworked bartenders kept up with the ebb and flow of humanity in search of social lubricant.

It was sensory hell before trying to get through the crowd and Ewan had been firmly left at their chosen table while he nursed a drink and watched his friends “dance”. It had at least started as dancing and now it was a scant step up from grinding. Now he was looking at anything else to avoid an accidental eye fucking he’d never recover from. Everyone was a stranger here and he wasn’t prepared for that, not tonight at least.

Drink in hand, he headed outside to save some of his hearing and to have a smoke. A nasty habit, sure, but one he had no intention of quitting…

“Fuckin’ hell.”

After a thorough pat down of every spare pocket he had, Ewan realized he’d left his pack of smokes god only knew where.

“Ewan? It’s Ewan, right?”

A woman had come up to him and for a long moment, he didn’t recognize her. Was she a fan or…

“Yes… Wait, I know you–from the flight to Heathrow?”

“I thought this was you! Your hair looks good!”

He’d been dark blond the last time she saw him, not the bleached blond he’d chosen for the premier of the second season. He’d run a hand through his hair out of habit, a little smile at receiving a compliment from a pretty girl.

And god she was pretty with that big smile of hers. She looked intimidating, but that could just be the nerves… Oh god, but that smile… fuck, she could light up all of London.

A hug was offered and accepted, they’d become fast friends on a red eye from New York to London. Yet he hadn’t ever expected to see her again when she sprinted away to make a connecting flight to Helsinki. Fate was funny that way, it seemed.

Their conversation was about everything and nothing. Sharing a pack of cigarettes he later learned was from Finland. She’d come back to London to do press for a new ep. Just like he had just finished his own press tour.

Over shared experience, one drink turned into two, then three. His phone buzzed occasionally—Matt had been an unexpected friend and he was grateful. Tom was an even better friend and both liked to check on him from time to time. Especially Matt in this case. He and his girlfriend had invited him out. The least they could do was check on him.

“You have good friends, they like to check on you. Nice for a night out in a loud club.”

“I do, it’s a gift.”

“Any of them here? I can release you if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. I came with a mate and his girl, they’re about to call it a night.”

“And what about you?”

“Haven’t decided yet. The company is good.”

“Hmm…” She played with one of the pendants she wore. “I could eat. Wanna get out of here and find some food?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

——

Which led them to perhaps the seediest kebab shop he’d ever seen, but it was open all night.

It was the sort of place Matt’s girlfriend had called “a greasy spoon”. It fit: the tables were a little sticky, napkins were thin, the plates were almost as thin, but it was the best thing he’d ever eaten. Something about the beer, tobacco, and the company.

It would be a warm memory, he knew it already. Knew it when he brought her back to his hotel only for them to both fall asleep at the beginning of some 2000s horror movie.

A perfect surprise.

A perfect night.

#ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader

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peppymintdreams · 2 days ago

Text

A Catty Man

Elias x Barista

Warden allowed for one trip to the store one trip with no cameras worries or locks around the windows

The day had finally come when Barista and Elias were allowed a rare outing from the safe house. After days spent holed up in a small, tech-filled hideaway, stepping outside felt like a taste of freedom. The sun was out, and the air felt fresh, even in the busy streets of Stockton.

The store was far, and Elias insisted on driving. Barista agreed. It felt almost normal—an ordinary errand, like they weren’t tangled up in the mess of gang politics and danger.

They entered the store, wandering through aisles. Elias seemed more relaxed than usual, half-smiling as he eyed random items, tossing a few snacks into the basket. Barista followed, idly looking at the shelves, enjoying the mundanity of it all.

But on the way back, things took a turn.

A group of guys, leaning against a car in the parking lot, had their eyes on Barista from the moment they left the store. One of them, tall and cocky, stepped forward.

“Hey, sweetheart! Lookin’ good,” the guy called, his voice oozing arrogance as his buddies snickered behind him.

Barista tensed, instinctively pulling closer to Elias. They could feel the heat rising to their cheeks, a mix of anger and discomfort knotting in their stomach. Thoughts of the way their boss spoke to them…the Things… he did to them. It all felt like it was coming back to haunt them, Elias hadn’t noticed at first, his mind still half on what they’d grabbed from the store. But then, as the guy’s words cut through the noise, Elias stopped.

His expression darkened in an instant.

The playful, carefree air around him vanished. He glanced at Barista, seeing the discomfort in their eyes, and then turned slowly to face the guy who had spoken.

“You say something?” Elias’s voice was cold, his usual easygoing tone replaced with something sharper.

The guy, not realizing who he was messing with, smirked. “Just paying a compliment. No harm in that, right?”

Elias’ jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides. “You think that’s a compliment? How about you keep walking before I pay you back with something you won’t like?”

The tension between them was palpable now. Barista felt their heart race, not because they feared the situation—they knew Elias wouldn’t let it escalate unless it needed to—but because they could see the anger flickering in his eyes.

“Relax, man,” one of the guy’s friends said, stepping in as if to diffuse the situation, though it was clear none of them had any real intention of backing down. “He’s just being friendly.”

“Friendly, huh?” Elias took a step forward, forcing the guy to meet his eyes. “Then why don’t you ‘friend’ yourself out of here before you regret it.”

The guy blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden aggression in Elias’s voice. The group exchanged glances, uncertain now. It was one thing to catcall someone, but it was another to deal with a guy who looked like he was ready to throw down at a moment’s notice.

“We’re leaving,” one of them muttered, pulling the ringleader back. “Let’s go.”

Elias didn’t move, his eyes locked on the guy until the group turned and left, the air around them heavy with tension. Only when they were out of sight did he turn back to Barista.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, the sharpness melting away as quickly as it had come.

Barista exhaled slowly, the knot in their chest loosening as they nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Elias’ shoulders relaxed, and he managed a small smile. “I don’t know what’s worse, being stuck in that safe house or having to deal with idiots like that.”

Barista laughed, the sound helping to ease the lingering unease. “I’ll take the safe house over catcalls, any day.”

Elias threw an arm over their shoulders, pulling them close as they started walking again. “Don’t worry. Next time we’re out, I’ll make sure no one even looks your way.”

“Because you’ll threaten everyone?”

“Nah,” Elias grinned. “I’ll just wear something so distracting, they won’t be able to take their eyes off me.”

Barista chuckled, the weight of the encounter lifting a little as Elias’ usual playful side returned. “You in a neon jumpsuit? I’d pay to see that.”

“I might have to now, just for the look on your face,” Elias said, squeezing them gently.

As they walked back to the safe house, Barista felt a mix of relief and gratitude. Even though the world outside could be unpredictable and uncomfortable, having Elias by their side made it all a little more bearable.

#sakuverse #zsakuva #peppymintdreamsproduction #elias zsakuva #zsakuva elias #elias sakuverse #sakuverse elias #elias x reader #angst

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dammit-tazmuir · 22 hours ago

Text

A summary for you! (Will definitely cover a lot you know, of course, but reminders better than assuming and missing things, right?)

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In the epilogue of Harrow the Ninth, we follow a girl living in a city very different than any we've seen in the series. It talks about "the person who went to work for her, the person who taught her, and the person who cared for her." At the end, she asks the person who cares for her, "Do you know who I am?" And Camilla Hect answers, "Not yet."

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So going into NtN:

Characters and Setup

The setting is a city called New Rho, on a planet outside the Houses, though still under the emperor's command. The people here have already been relocated, some of them multiple times, due to resurrection beast threats. Blood of Eden has a lot of activity here, but even the normal citizens abhor necromancers / "zombies."

The person who goes to work for her is Pyrrha. The person who cares for her is Camilla. And the person who teaches her is Palamades, now sharing Camilla's body. It's a tenuous and dangerous arrangement. Being there at all is killing her slowly, and fronting too long or using necromancy takes a much bigger toll as his soul starts trying to consume hers. If he doesn't front at all, her body will also try to expel his soul. They're determined to make it work and communicate via recordings, written notes, and relaying messages through Pyrrha and Nona.

Nona and Pyrrha were both pulled out of the River by Blood of Eden at the end of HtN (Harrow's Bullshit Dead Girlfriend talking in "the wrong voice twice removed" about chest compressions and such). Camilla had already been picked up by Blood of Eden. (No one except Pyrrha, Cam, and Nona know Palamades is also among them for a long time.)

No one knows who Nona is, least of all Nona herself, but she's in Harrowhark's body and woke up with no memory of anything, even speech or motor skills. Every night, Nona dreams about a scene of Harrow and Gideon in salt water, and every morning Camilla makes her recite as much as she can remember looking for new clues. Everyone wonders if she could be Harrow OR Gideon with memory loss, or Harrow AND Gideon as a full gestalt fusion (a new person, like Paul later is), or if it's someone else in Harrow's body and if so who and how.

There's a lot weird about Nona. Her healing factor is overwhelmingly beyond even lyctor capabilities, closer to John's. She can understand and speak any language when she's present for it, "by making her mouth move like theirs", but has trouble interpreting if she can't see the person. She can't read or write and her brain is madly resistant to learning. She can identify people and intentions by how people move. She's barely capable of lying. She hates the sword and the bones that Cam and Pal try to get her to practice with. (They won't tell her why, as they don't want to lead her.)

Their group works with BoE's "Ctesiphon Wing", under Commander We Suffer, as "Troia Cell". Some other cells in the same wing and "Merv Wing" are more antagonistic to them. Another notable BoE member is Our Lady of the Passion / Pash / "two thigh machetes" sometimes by Nona. (She's later revealed to be Commander Wake's niece, which makes her Gideon's cousin.)

Regardless of who's in the body, BoE sees a potential weapon in Nona and wants Camilla and Pyrrha to try to unlock Nona's necromancy beyond just the healing to give them their own lyctor power to use against John. Most ideally they want to open the Locked Tomb but they'll take what they can get. She's "The Lyctor Project".

Judith and Coronabeth had been traveling with Camilla in HtN too, the survivors of Canaan House. Corona has become a full member of Blood of Eden and changed her name to Crown Him With Many Crowns Thy Full Gallant Legions He Found It In Him To Forgive, aka Crown. She likes Nona and fully believes the gestalt theory, envying the idea (wishing she and Ianthe could have achieved that). Judith is doing much worse, because-

Number Seven, aka Varun the Eater, the resurrection beast they fought at the end of HtN that killed G1deon, is approaching. It's not to the planet yet, but "parascoping", projecting ahead of its path and watching from the sky as the rest of it catches up. It's a matter of time until it arrives and devours the planet. Its blue light infects necromancers with "blue madness", driving them mad. (Nona, mysteriously, is not only immune, but finds Varun soothing.) Most necromancers have evacuated the area. Judith is being held underground at a BoE facility, strapped to a bed, in and out of coherence.

Also, the Sixth House seceded from the Empire. Like it was built in a facility that could be mobile and just straight up moved. This was done after word from Cam and Pal (they do also know Pal's there) and orders a while before her death from Sixth House lyctor Cassiopeia. 16 members of the leadership/nobility/whatever were captured by BoE and are being held somewhere in New Rho as extra leverage against Camilla (and Pal).

(Almost done with characters and setup I swear.)

Nona works at a school during the day as a teacher's aide. The Nice Lady Teacher, Jolie, is just a very normal woman in over her head and doing her best. The main kids at the school are a "gang" led by 14-year-old Hot Sauce, and extremely traumatized and serious girl with burn scars. Her "right hand man" Honesty is 12 and a mini criminal. Born in the Morning and Beautiful Ruby are probably 12-ish give or take. And their youngest member is 7-year-old Kevin. (Hot Sauce is just a nickname because she likes it. Kevin is probably a House name, as that's Nona's first language. At minimum Born in the Morning and plausibly the other two are implied to be Nona's auto-translation thing messing with how she hears it.)

The kids know what a resurrection beast is btw. Kevin knows Varun the Eater by name. The Reverend Daughter Harrowhark Nonagesimus with all her resources and studies did not know what an RB was until becoming a lyctor. This immediately says so much about the state of life outside the Emperor's super special Houses.

The other teacher, called "The Angel" by the kids, is named Aim and is also called "The Messenger" by Blood of Eden, who they're later revealed to be part of. Aim has she/they pronouns and not (just?) in a gender way. Upon hearing Hot Sauce say "we love her", Aim's driver (who doesn't like Aim taking risks by working somewhere) scoffs, "Oh, I get it. A chance to be 'her', huh?" To which Aim replies, "It is my enormous privilege to be 'they.'" Later, Aim talks about themselves using "we", "we are the message." It is not yet revealed what the message is, but a few factors imply it may have something to do with genetic coding they're carrying. (It was also passed down from their predecessor MSN and I'm.... Tamsyn plz...) Also Aim has a six-legged dog named Noodle who is a certified good boy.

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Plot - Present Day

Beginning to Broadcast

The book starts pretty slow. Nona is going about her life and we see through daily activities and flashbacks to earlier in the past six months what life has been like her in New Rho. Everything sucks, but Nona is happy. She's only had two tantrums in her whole life, and she's very proud of that, even if that whole life is only about six months. Nona loves swimming in the ocean, and even going to the beach after she stops being allowed to swim helps keep her calm.

One notable early event is Honesty getting a job, and coming to school the next day with a black eye. For a moment it sounds embarrassing and silly when he admits he walked into something, but when he explains, we learn his group had been trying to rob "the convoy"-- a bunch of BoE mega-trucks that drive around underground tunnels-- and saw into a truck filled with people with glowing white eyes who all turned to look at the same time. He was running like hell.

The first time we see Nona's household called in to talk to We Suffer, they head down to visit Judith in the basement. When they walk in, she thrashes and shouts cryptically, stuff about "Green Thing" and "what have they done to you?!" When she calms down a little more, she's still frantic and struggling, but more herself. Toward the end, she once again shouts and thrashes and calls out to the Green Thing.

When the group leaves, Nona asks what the captain was talking about at the beginning and end, and Crown and Camilla stare, deeply unsettled. "Nona...? The captain didn't say anything when we entered. She only screamed." Those moments were Varun speaking through her, and on several other occasions throughout the book, it possesses Judith again to talk to Nona.

Later, there's a Broadcast in the city, projected in a public square. Hot Sauce takes Nona with her as they sneak away from school to watch it. A person whose description matches a very dead Naberius Tern delivers a message from the emperor. It is in fact Ianthe-- now going by Tower Prince Ianthe Naberius, the Saint of Awe-- piloting Naberius's preserved corpse remotely to avoid the effects of Blue Madness. The empire wants the Sixth House and any surviving members of the Cohort returned, and all BoE agents to cease activity and disperse. It's framed like "because God is so merciful, this is all you have to do" when in practice it's more "if one person fails to comply with these demands we'll use violent force."

Ianthe introduces on camera the other Tower Prince, Kiriona Gaia, the Emperor's only heir, and Nona recognizes her as the girl from her dream, aka Gideon. She looks super mega dead.

That night, Aim's driver gives Nona a ride home, because neither Cam nor Pyrrha came to get her. Cam is waiting at home and incredibly relieved to see her, only to realize Pyrrha isn't with her. As far as Cam knew, Pyrrha was going to pick Nona up at the usual time. The next day is somber and rough as they worry about where she could be.

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Day After Broadcast

Cam takes Nona to school, but as a final day to say goodbye, with as tense as things have gotten. A lot of other kids have been pulled out already, and others are having their own last day. Hot Sauce has all the gang swear an oath that even if they're torn apart, they'll always be a gang and always have each others' backs. Eventually, everyone except Aim, Camilla, Nona, and Hot Sauce go home.

While looking through drawings the kids had done the day before, Aim had stopped cold at one. After sending Hot Sauce to shut down the generator to get her out of the room, Aim asks Nona about her drawing. The way Nona describes it matches an elephant, but it's not named and Aim says this is a long, long extinct animal they only know about because of their very specialized studies on their old planet.

At some point while talking to Aim, they figure out "Camilla" is a necromancer, and because "she" has been functioning in spite of Varun's light, they assume she's a lyctor. They subtly sent out a call to BoE. As Pal tries to talk Aim down, a bullet comes through the window, right through Nona's head. She heals from it. Cam/Pal were also shot at but Pal was able to stop the bullet.

Pash is there now, revealed to be a personal bodyguard to Aim. She's freaking out about the shit show, because as much as Pash hates it, that's the fucking Lyctor Project they just called a hit on. Aim's been kept so out of the loop they didn't know. But now Merv Wing is outside and they don't want to back down; they're the wing that burns anyone who might be a zombie in public executions. Aim feels very bad about all this, especially since Nona is just indignant in her usual way after being shot, still very much herself.

As Merv Wing storms in, Nona runs to find Hot Sauce, who Pash locked in the generator room now. Aim tried to warn her but didn't really get it through clear, Hot Sauce saw Nona get shot. She's extremely distressed and confused. How could she make that up?? When the coast is clear and they get out, Hot Sauce sees the blood on the floor along with brain matter and the blood in Nona's hair and realizes she didn't make it up. "You're out of the gang," and she shoots Nona in the head again.

This time, when Nona wakes up, she's zip tied down to a chair. Reaching a breaking point, she throws her third ever "tantrum," aka goes absolutely fucking batshit feral with necromantic power. She rips her body apart and just regrows whatever she needs to discard to escape and goes on a rampage. Finally, enough people get close enough to get her restrained and subdued, as she's still physically frail. She hears her own voice yell, "You're killing her, fool!" Some part of her knows she's talking to herself.

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Infiltration to Finding Gideon

The next morning, Nona wakes again in BoE headquarters, with Pal there. There's a lot of talking and Pal reveals himself to several more people. We Suffer lets them listen to a radio signal as Crown, wearing a bug, goes to the docked ship where Ianthe (still in Naberius) is stationed, begging for sanctuary and to see Ianthe. She's also brought Judith, which BoE did not authorize, begging for help to save her. Ianthe is repulsed by the Judith part, but begrudgingly lets her bring her aboard. With enough pushing, practically anything for Corona, after all.

Also "the Saint of Duty" is there. Ianthe thinks "he's" been weird but hasn't clocked that it's a whole other person. While Ianthe easily catches the bug Corona's wearing and mocks Blood of Eden before destroying it, Pyrrha uses the code words she's trained with Camilla and Nona to let them know there's another hidden bug they can tap into, and they're able to do so.

Ultimately, they're able to use Ianthe's demand to "surrender Camilla Hect and Harrowhark Nonagesimus" to their advantage. With a haircut and some coaching, Nona pretends to be Harrow and Cam pretends to be only herself. Some temporary dye/film is applied to Nona's eyes to make her look blind, and she's instructed to only answer minimal questions and fake fits of Blue Madness like the captain if asked tough questions. The one time she does this, she can't think of what to scream to 'act like the captain' and in her mind just yelps, "Help! Help! Help!" To everyone else, she actually goes trance-like for a moment and has unleashed another horror scream like her tantrums that genuinely fucked shit up.

While talking to Ianthe, Camilla brings up that the Third House once challenged the Sixth to a duel back at Canaan House. Sixth had right of reply but it never happened, so she accepts now. If she wins, she gets to go free, and if not, she dies. Ianthe rightfully points out that's really really really stupid, but Corona threatens to kill herself if Ianthe has become too much of a monster to grant someone even this little bit of dignity. Ianthe is exasperated, but after enough pushing isn't willing to take chances, and even offers Camilla a slightly achievable win condition with just managing to snatch a handkerchief.

Eventually, Ianthe stabs Camilla, seeming to have one, but Cam's voice says satisfied, "Match to the Sixth." It was always a farce to help Palamades invade Naberius's body. A few seconds to everyone else was much longer for him and Ianthe doing battle in a mental space, but he wins, not only taking control of the body but keeping Ianthe's soul trapped and suppressed for a little while, unable to just return to normal.

Nona, Pyrrha, Camilla, Palamades-in-Naberius, and Crown all search for Gideon. They're hoping if Nona IS Gideon, or part-Gideon, her soul will magnetize to the body, but nothing happens on that front.

Nona finds her first and feels an inexplicable urge to kiss her, and does so. She sees Gideon's eyes open, but when the others catch up, Gideon still looks super dead, eyes closed. They drag her body, debating if it's real or some kind of clone. John's effect on it make it impossible for Palamades to read with psychometry. Whatever the case, they agree they should take the body to the Tomb. Pal still wants to take a blood sample; it probably won't be viable outside the body, but the preservation on her is wild, and however the blood reacts will tell them something interesting.

But as he goes to draw a sample from her thigh, she snatches his hand. "Sexpal! If that's how you get a woman's pants off, it's no wonder I stole your girl!" She's back and worse than ever (I love her). She reveals she was awake the whole time (Nona is indignant, she told everyone!!) and just playing possum letting them drag her around. Not playing dead though, she is super mega dead. John's made a self-piloting revenant out of her. Also the wounds from her death in the first book are still very present, preserved open, which characters question but don't get a real answer about. (Also, she reveals John made her invulnerable. The needle never could have pierced her she just didn't like the idea of it and broke character lmao.)

Despite a wild new level of no fucks to give and questionable motives, Gideon goes with them.

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Loose Ends & Reconciliation to Reaching Drearburh

As payment for all this, We Suffer tries to track down the Sixth House, and upon the reveal they're being moved around constantly in a truck, Nona realizes that's what Honesty saw during his job. They're in the Convoy, and she can ask him where the truck was the other day to figure out where it'd be in its path now.

When taken to talk to him, he barely cracks the door. She realizes he's talked to Hot Sauce and knows she's a Zombie, and she's very upset and apologetic, but is glad he's taking that seriously. She'd think less of him if he stopped listening to Hot Sauce. She's still so Nona, so pure and full of love and fury and running on a single brain cell. She says she's gotta go away and tells him where some of her things she wants to leave him are, including the rag she uses at school, because it might have enough chemicals left on it he could sell it to get someone high. And he slams the door, and Hot Sauce opens it, and Honesty is raving that he can't stay mad at a girl like that, who would think of his business! Hot Sauce can't either, though. Nona and Hot Sauce have a sweet moment, the love between all these kids ultimately pure and unconditional and more powerful than their feelings about any factions.

Nona gets the information and delivers it, and the Sixth House leadership are recovered and helped. But also, Varun has gotten close enough that heralds are descending. Everyone has to fight through some, and Nona ends up talking to Varun (through Judith) atop one of the megatrucks. "You said you wouldn't do anything weird!" She begs and begs Varun to withdraw, and ultimately, though it doesn't get rid of what heralds already came down, Varun agrees and does so. When Judith comes back to her senses, she asks in confusion, "Harrowhark...?" And for the first time, Nona, who's on some level known but not wanted to, admits, "No, and I never was."

So now it's a matter of getting to the Ninth House. Preferably fast.

Palamades is confident they can pilot a megatruck through the River. Pyrrha tells him he's not a bloody lyctor and that would be difficult if he was. He's not worried. He and Camilla gather some of their closest friends and family, and have a very deep and heartfelt last talk as themselves. He performs a ritual, and Camilla catches on fire, and when the fire dies down, their eyes are originally-Pal's clear gray irises, with inhuman pupils of originally-Cam's slate gray-brown. They are an advanced form of lyctor, a form where nothing is taken and everything is given, becoming a new person. They name themself Paul.

Nona has begun having "top and bottom" thoughts, her memories trying to surface as she desperately clings to the "middle" thoughts, like someone who can't remember what a thing they hated hearing said, but can hear it approaching and is plugging their ears going LA LA LA LA to block out the details. She'd rather die as herself, this her, and she's afraid to remember, certain she'll forget her life now. She doesn't want to forget loving Palamades or Camilla or Pyrrha or Hot Sauce. Paul tells her they loved her, and she loved them. "It's done. You can't take loved away."

A bunch of people board the megatruck, including Aim, who explains a little of their importance, and Pash, who regrettably goes where Aim goes. Paul is able to take them into the river, and they drive along its surface....

...but it's Wrong. It's not ghostly in the way it should be, and in the distance, an immense distinctly-stone tower juts out and runs seemingly all the way down. Gideon is just "yup" about it. This tower scares those top and bottom thoughts, and we don't get an explanation about it.

At several points since getting shot, Nona has run more on instinct or had her old self seep through. Once she went off on Pyrrha, asking if she had fun playing pretend like this. Pyrrha has also figured out who she is, but Nona made her stop when she started to say it. Harrow's body is incredibly dying at this point, but in the truck, Nona again drags it based on something she just feels drawn to do, taking the wheel from Paul. As she pushes on and on, she starts to wonder if maybe everyone dying together would be nicer; she's known she's dying for ages and has been relieved about it, so why would it be so bad for everyone? Paul reminds her Noodle is in the truck and letting a dog get hurt is too far for Nona. (She's so real.) She books it and makes it to the Ninth House.

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The Ninth House & The Locked Tomb

It's bad here. A bunch of folks stay back but those who press forward encounter??? What the fuck ARE those? "Devils" apparently, or corpses who have been possessed by Devils. Gideon says they've been fighting a lot of them on another planet, Antioch, for months, but John said they couldn't travel elsewhere so what the fuck. They also realize this is what possessed Colum back at Canaan House.

True to at least this word, John did send newly awakened folks to help replenish the Ninth House numbers, but a lot of them have been killed. They encounter Crux, who mistakes Nona for Harrow and her admittance she's not for just having one of her episodes. He goes along with the group and they find Aiglamene with a bunch of the survivors barricaded up. It's explained they need to get Harrow's body into the tomb, and everyone helps.

Ianthe shows up, and after a bit of weirdly casual banter with Gideon that does not at all sound like they're enemies, Nona is appalled to realize they're wearing friendship bracelets. Anyway, Gideon still wants the Tomb open, and Ianthe is very confused. Ianthe insists that'd be really bad for John, daddy has been a useless wreck lately and Ianthe's got to do everything around here. Gideon insists John sent her and she's supposed to kill whatever's inside?? And then she'll become his new cavalier?? Ianthe tells Gideon she's delusional. "He loves her, you idiot! John. loves. Alecto! He needs ALECTO."

And upon hearing her real name, Nona's delusion shatters. She starts to unravel, literally, physically, Harrow's body no longer able to contain her. They need a thanergy burst to help unlock the tomb, and Crux snaps that he's the obvious choice. His other choices are waiting to die of basically-poison and being possessed or being healed and killed by devils anyway. Aiglamene berates that all anyone in this house ever knew how to do was die for Harrow. They could have lived for her, but they didn't know how.

Gideon volunteers, having fantasized about his death for years. She makes sure to rub it in his face that she's God's kid first, and he basically tells her 'fuck you and fuck God' because his loyalty is to Harrow and his opinion of Gideon isn't remotely changed by this??? Like. Okay dude, horrible but weird respect I guess. Nona/Alecto isn't seeing shit at this point, just overhearing as Paul and Pyrrha try keeping the body remotely together and dragging it toward the door. She hears Gideon after killing Crux, "Fuck... Why didn't that feel good?!" (In sharp contrast to John finding death intoxicating...)

The door is opened, and eventually magnetism takes hold, and Alecto drags the crumbling body to her own, where Harrow's soul has been since the end of HtN, when she found herself inside the tomb and crawled into the coffin to sleep.

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Alecto's POV

Alecto wakes up as herself, breaking her body as she rips herself from her chains, just as Nona did with her third tantrum.

She's almost entirely disconnected. The humans are all children, even the oldest among them, and she can barely tell their voices apart. (The audiobook does a few wrong in the second to last scene, and I'm not sure it that's intentionally reflecting this or was just a mistake because it's definitely hard to follow.)

"The black-eyed infant" (Harrow) is still weak as hell but in her own body and holding in one piece again. She throws herself at Alecto's feet, but Alecto recognizes her, from her dreams and from the 9 years her soul has been haunting Harrow, ever since Harrow opened the tomb when she was 10. She "kisses" her, aka bites her mouth, because "this is how meat loves meat", but upon tasting her blood, she realizes she's Anastasia's descendant. Thus, as she once swore to Anastasia, she swears herself now to Harrow, until such time as the bargain has been paid. (This is the first the audience is hearing of this and we don't get explanation.) To which Gideon iconically replies, "Get in line, thou big slut!"

In the final scene, Alecto enters a room where John is sleeping, unconscious Harrow flung over her shoulder, and drives her sword through his heart. But he just wakes up and greets her. "Annabel, good morning."

=========

Plot - In The Dream

John's and Earth's History, Harrow's Connection

In the dreams, a woman and John walk around as John rambles about his backstory. He addresses her as Harrow, but keeps saying "you" in context to the past.

Long story short because the rest is so long, the "you" is planet earth. She was dying, and she saw a man leading a project desperately trying to save her, and she chose him, and she gave him power over life and death. He learned to use it, but more and more budget cuts and bureaucracy and idiots drinking up propaganda led to trillionaires buying their way off-planet and leaving everyone else to rot and earth to die. John was so pissed off by the end he personally triggered nuclear war, but the souls he ate from that weren't enough.

He tried to eat earth's soul too, even physically shoveling dirt in his mouth, but she was simply too big to contain, so he made a new body from dirt and vomit and blood and bone and shaped her into a lifesize Barbie. Whatever he couldn't contain, he stuffed into this form, and their souls were intertwined, becoming one. But it still wasn't enough. He reached and reached and reached and devoured the souls of all the solar system, creating the RBs. With all that power, he was able to remotely grab one of the trillionaire escape ships, could feel them inside and knew they felt him, but then it slipped from his grasp and escaped. (It's possible this led to the creation of BoE? Or was one part of its founding.) He decided punishing those assholes was worth killing everyone including the planet himself, and he didn't even succeed. His takeaway is "That'll teach me to hesitate."

Alecto was horrified by her new form. ("A monster from the moment you resurrected her, and you went and made her worse.") What had he done to her? Where did he put all those souls? But also, "I still love you."

But now, in this dream, Harrow has been experiencing all of this via walking through Alecto's memories the day after everything was killed, before anything but her had been resurrected. (Notably, when he does resurrect them, he fucking changes his friends' names, implied by how Ulysses and Titania were U— and T— on their death certificates but he changed those. Side note, Pyrrha says "Gideon... G—..." at one point, with the dash like that, so it's??? possible she remembers??? But yeah.)

Whatever is happening seems to have some outside connection and awareness of the present, too, perhaps via the part of John that's part of Alecto and vice versa. The conflation of Alecto and Harrow is made more unsettling with John writing in the sand, "J + E", replacing the E with A, then the A with H, before drawing an uneven heart around it...

Like Alecto, Harrow still loves him, loves her God and Teacher. But she tells him, as Reverend Daughter, it is her duty to understand what it truly means to love God for herself. She will find divinity, whether she lies in the Locked Tomb or her search leads her back to him. He asks where she'll look, and she looks off to a tower in the distance in the water, one that shouldn't have been in the memory (likely the tower in the River). She'll start there, and she walks off into the sea.

And that bit was shortly before Alecto and thus Harrow woke up.

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I hope this wasn't too long. I know the book is confusing as hell, and frankly I agree it's the weakest of the three despite being really good, but also feel like a lot of that is from how hard it is to follow and that the actual content is really fun. So yeah, genuinely hope this helps!

Nona the Ninth is really good, even if I found it the weakest of the Locked Tomb books, I enjoyed it a lot. Nona is absolutely adorable, I love her so much.

That being said, what in the ever loving fuck happened in that book?

#ntn spoilers #nona summary #guide post

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thenotoriousscuttlecliff · 2 years ago

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Many of the Chibnall trolls on twitter seem to delight going around mocking or attack other fans often for harmless things like choosing to headcanon Spy Master before Missy, but as soon as someone calls them out for their own bad behaviour they go on as if they are the offended party and its unacceptable for you to use the words "attack" or "offend" to describe their tweets because making fun of people in what is clearly a malicious way is in no way attacking them.

#doctor who #dw #when i called out one and asked them what their intentions were if they were not having a dig at people #and they just said they don't think too deeply about what they tweet and just move on #if you are going to post things thoughtless don't get upset if some take offense to what you've said #as the great detective benoit blanc said #“It's a dangerous thing to mistake speaking without thought for speaking the truth”

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pseudowho · 21 days ago

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"Yuuji-- if you don't mind, can I ask you something?"

Yuuji looked up from his phone, feeling so grown up to be in the Jujutsu High staffroom with Kento. He raised his eyebrows, the scar across his lip tugging up.

"Uh...yeah, sure. Go crazy."

"What is scary dog privilege, exactly?"

"Scary dog privilege? Huh, well...let's see, uhm...so it's like..."

Yuuji explained, all peaches and wide eyes and animated hands. Kento nodded occasionally, listening intently. His mind, naturally, strayed to you; you were what this was all about, after all.

As with any thought of you (you being his blossoming latent obsession), Kento's stomach flipped, his grip tightening fractionally around his coffee.

Kento remembered.

He remembered when he dropped you home. You checked over your shoulder, again, and again, and again, before you unlocked your door and hurried inside.

He remembered how he had once walked up behind you without much thought, and you spun with panic in your eyes. Kento recalled how quickly you had relaxed, to see it was him, and how high his hope climbed as a result.

He remembered how you had spilled the contents of your bag. You snatched your pepper spray up in the hope that his keen eyes had missed it.

He remembered how you headed to the subway after a staff night out. Your keys had been curiously gripped between your fingers, a weapon that wasn't a weapon.

He remembered, how just the day before, he and you had walked together through central Tokyo to get lunch. You had sat on a park bench together, and Kento had been so overwhelmed by the need to hold it together, Kento, keep it together, that he barely registered the relief written on your skin.

You had eaten in comfortable silence, then leaned over to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek on the way to the bins.

"Thanks for the scary dog privilege, Kento. It's the first time in a long time that I've relaxed in public."

Kento's eyes had drifted closed for just a few moments too long, with the warmth of your lips on his skin, and he stuttered, fumbling, unlike himself.

"Ah...scary...dog privilege?" He asked, quiet. But you were already gone; throwing your crumbs to the ducks.

Yuuji's voice snapped Kento out of memory, and back to the staffroom.

"Dunno if that makes sense, Nanamin?"

A molten pit of spite and rage ignited in Kento once he put two and two together. Scary dog privilege. He gave you scary dog privilege. Why was walking the streets in safety a privilege? Shit. Kento kept his voice level, patting Yuuji on the shoulder as he left, his steaming coffee abandoned.

"Thank you, Yuuji. Stay safe out there this afternoon, and call me when you're finished, please."

If Kento hadn't already felt dirty enough with the knowledge that he pleasured himself to thoughts of you every night, he felt worse, now. He stalked through the corridors of Jujutsu High, calling Ijichi, calling Shoko, determined to find you.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Once you noticed how one man's gaze lingered on you, you noticed them all. To you, almost all seemed to do it, and to every woman, be they 18 or 80, tall or short or curvy or lithe or gay or straight or anywhere in between. Then, when you began to notice the gazes on 16 year olds, or 12 year olds, or--

You had nauseated by the time you turned the corner to grab lunch. Simultaneously built up and dragged down and accused, you were a madonna and a whore and a bitch. You wondered, vaguely, how deeply, how incurably the disease ran, as you entered the bustling café. You didn't want to think about it. You'd just grab food, and go, and--

"Ah. Good afternoon."

You blinked, to see Kento before you in the queue, and felt a warm burst of joy from your tummy to your toes.

"Kento, I'm...happier than you know, to see you, actually."

A satisfied hum. "I had a feeling you might be. Now...about something you said yesterday...."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Nanami Kento didn't immediately strike one as a scary dog. He was built, yes, but his suits hid it well, and he was only a little taller than average, and really quite mild, but--

-- oh.

The way his glares could frost a soul. The way other men bounced off him, a stone wall, when a shoulder 'accidentally' hit his. The way his eyes found wayward gazes like a sniper, with the dulcet loading of a bullet behind his sneer. The silent commanding respect. The dares that other men would not dare.

It was no wonder, then, how you and Kento, became you and Shoko and Kento, became you and Shoko and Maki and Nobara and Kento. While individually able to fight your own fights, feeling Kento's scary dog privilege melt threats with acid, was a burden blissfully relieved.

With Kento's protective Midas' touch, your daily lunches turned to gold, unsullied and unmolested. Still...he was there for the whole group.

So why, then, in such a large group, did you look up to find his gaze on you, and only you? How could his eyes caress without staring? It was sorcery, surely.

Kento sequestered you one day, throwing his crumbs to the ducks alongside yours, as the others chatted on the benches behind you. You looked up, shooting him a sideways smile, and wondering how you could ever be good enough for him. He spoke quietly.

"I always believed a dog to have just one owner."

You felt your stomach twist with insinuation. You laid the thread.

"...oh?"

"And while I'm happy to offer my privileges to the benefit of a group, I...would like to be in the position to make such a privilege exclusive."

You swallowed hard, looking sideways again with hope against hope against hope against--

"Are you...saying you'd like to be my scary dog?"

"Very, very much so."

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seelestia · 6 months ago

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✧ i'll show you (if you'll let me).

⎯ there is a certain touch of beauty to witnessing a side of theirs revealed to you so naturally. it becomes as easy as breathing if you just let it happen... so, will you? ( or in other words, a way you enable them to be themselves. )

#STARRING. aventurine, dr. ratio, sunday, dan heng ft. gn!reader. { 4.2k words }

#TAGS. fluff, established relationship. more: minor spoilers for aven's backstory (described mostly abstractly), ratio is referred to by his first name, i called sunday a nerd (sorry), dr. ratio & dan heng are certified workaholics.

#P/S. i think i may have yapped a little considering the word count but i hope it ends up being a good kind of yapping. tysm for reading! ♡

★ 〜 masterlist.

will you let aventurine hold you close when he sleeps? . . . whether it's an arm slung over your hips or his nose buried in your shoulder or fingers tracing shapes onto your skin. he doesn't ask for too much; only that you grant him the permission to cradle you in his arms, somewhere within his reach. it's a habit, he hopes you don't mind.

you have to wonder, though. considering the plenitude of pillows on the bed, why do his hands still seek you out? with all the credits he spent on those cotton-stuffed angels, you thought aventurine would relish them a bit more. but ah-ah, see? that is where you're wrong. sure, the pillows are extremely comfy but he always has a preference for things with much, much more value.

and the truth — well, his truth — is that even the softest cushions from oti mall couldn't compare to the privilege of laying his head on your chest, he'd say. especially when you brush his hair with your fingers - oh, one of the easiest ways to paradise. truly, the best value there is! can you blame a man for being honest and a little lovesick?

(“sappy,” you accuse. he pouts, offended.)

but aventurine has a flair for theatrics, you know that. his witty quips are as feather-light in weight as light-hearted they are in intent. but his touch - in the forms of kind caresses or rhythmic taps to a tune from his forgotten culture - lingers on your skin, with a yearning so heavy. you question whether it could be nostalgia or instead, silent awe at a reality he never imagined could ever be his.

(kakavasha remembers. clinging onto you for warmth like he once did to his sister, falling asleep with her prayers to mama fenge in his ears. the avgins believed gaiathra triclops to be the symbol of humility; so naturally, their prayers to her should also be humble, not too quiet but not too loud. all in moderation. for a frail child like him, those gentle prayers alone were enough to let him drift into a dreamless slumber and to ignore the shackles of reality if not for the briefest moments.

time passed. came a time where the melody he associated with slumber was no longer a soft voice lulling him but pure static, a noise to distract his mind from the chains around his wrists. they burned themselves onto his skin, searing, but he was already too familiar with the sensation to care. the mark on his neck was unwelcome, laughing at him, but he too laughed at his own pitiful reflection so what's the difference, anyway?

time passed again, the call of slumber then turned into clattering noises of chips doused in gold and dice thrown onto a surface. he thought it'd stay that way forever but before long, it morphed into up-and-down waves he couldn't decipher initially. they're gentle, faint like a human's breathing: your breathing as you allowed him to lie beside you for the first time, he realized back then. although he deems himself unworthy, an ugly grime on your pristine existence that still insists on cradling him — but despite it all, he finds this last melody to be his favorite so far.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

ticklish.

the sensation, minor yet still impactful enough, causes you to stir out of sleep. the light of noon greets your eyes and you become vaguely cognizant that the root of it all is the tufts of blond hair brushing against your neck.

there is a solid weight on your torso and a pair of slender arms loosely wrapped around your waist - but they're nothing you haven't grown used to. you comb your fingers through the messy locks licking at your skin, instinctively, and the fragrant scent of what you register as penacony's limited edition perfume kisses your nose.

“...ugh, what system time is it?” you let out a grunt, shifting around slightly to let your limbs breathe. you don't get an answer to your question, instead, aventurine's arms reestablish their hold on you. hooking you closer to him as if to wring out whatever proximity is left, if there is even any. his simple proclamation of “who cares?”, in a sense.

there it is again, that ticklish feeling. you feel soft lips grazing feather-like kisses against your collarbone. oh, he definitely isn't letting go just yet. truly merciless, a dozy morning thought accompanied by your tired sigh. the noise still comes out fond, however, so your feigned act of annoyance is fooling no one.

“it's warm, you know,” you grumble. but the yawn escaping your mouth right after betrays whatever stern image you're trying to adopt. not like you can ever be too stern with him. aventurine knows this, yes, and he gives you an A+ for effort each time.

“mhm,” he finally speaks, snuggling into your chest with no care about anything in the world, “g'morning to you too, lovely.”

his favorite mornings aren't his favorite if not thanks to your innocuous complaints and delightful attempts at pushing his pretty face away, no? a lazy grin graces the stoneheart's lips and eyes like exquisite gems, although sleepy, flutter open to gaze at you languidly. he takes the sight of you in then lets out a sigh - a fond noise just like yours earlier; the both of you really are two peas of a pod.

you must look a terrible mess right now and yet, the sight of you has aventurine smiling dazedly. “ah, what a spectacular sight. i really am the luckiest man in the galaxy,” he hums in approval. you want to roll your eyes but stops as he leans up to pepper (ah, one necessary correction: smother) kisses all over your face, arms dragging you closer to his chest like a cage. your eyes widen comically. what a nefarious trap, he has the advantage!

every remnant of sleepiness clinging to your mind evaporates. you squeal with laughter, shoving at his shoulder using the strength of a baby deer because no, you don't really want him to stop. he knows that too, of course.

“mwah, mwah, mwah—”

“pfft...! kakavasha, i can't breathe!”

(he has half a mind to pinch his skin, as if to remind himself that this is real. he can feel your giggles tickling his skin as if to tell him in return: yes, you are.)

will you let veritas pour his heart out after a long day? . . . well, that could count as too much of an overstatement. others say, “that man is like a brick wall!” some more dare to whisper, “doesn't his temper already exhaust whatever emotional quota he has?!” needless to say, everyone knows that dr. ratio is a man ruled by the mind, not by the heart. alright, that's quite true - but does that imply he has discarded the latter altogether? if so, then you beg to differ.

(not in the literal sense, of course! the heart is a vital organ of the body. saying otherwise would be akin to spitting on his shiny phd in biology... or his seven other phd's at that.)

the pedestal which the public places veritas ratio on reaches still great heights, even if it may not rival an ivory tower a member of the genius society resides in. it is so high up that mundane troubles of those below can't reach a genius like him, surely? well, as tall as he stands - somehow, the universe grants you a front row seat for a particular sight that proves otherwise.

if only they knew the doctor has a habit of mumbling these incomprehensible (more like barely intelligible) grumbles under his breath, striking a resemblance similar to a grumpy old cat. if you strain your ears hard enough, you might catch a “...this has to be it...” or “...i dare not think so...” from time to time as he roams around the room with materials in his hands.

(absurd, people would say. but you think it's extremely cute.)

veritas doesn't say it out loud - but you can tell by the hunch in his stiff shoulders, by the one or two sighs he huffs every six minutes - that he is itching to tell somebody of all the tomfooleries he has encountered today. of course, the topics he laments about vary; it's only when you hear him exhaling the loudest sigh that you get to find out.

mostly though, it's about his students and remarks on how they can further improve their performance — sure, he could phrase it a little gentler — but you still find it sweet that he cares. if not that, then it'd be about indolent colleagues, complicated formulae and more. on some days, he'll even let out an exasperated “truly mind-boggling! could you believe that?” to which you'd reply with an “uh-huh, go on.”

at the end of a ranting session, veritas takes careful note to leave a kiss on your person afterward. no matter where it is - on the lips, the cheek or your hand. no matter where you are - sitting on the couch beside him, behind the kitchen counter or across the room. the warmth that stays on your skin when he pulls away is somewhat tingly. appreciative, you think, especially when he looks at you with such loving eyes that his colleagues would be sure to retch in shock if they were a witness.

looks like you are right on the money; he has never discarded his heart, after all. so yes, to rephrase - will you lend veritas a listening ear when he needs it?

✧ a moment among the stars:

“...yet another headache.”

as unsubtle as ever, the doctor's complaint is barely hidden behind the guise of a mumble. those neatly styled violet bangs of his aren't doing an excellent job at concealing that frown strewn across his forehead either. veritas's posture is tense, a dead giveaway, as he goes over the piles of documents on his desk.

you cock an eyebrow upon seeing the stamp belonging to the intelligentsia guild on one of the papers. definitely work. it has been two system hours since he took a seat at the work desk, you concur, or lifted a finger to do something besides flipping through drafts. a mere glance at the stack of documents is enough to convince you that those researchers at the guild must really value veritas's input.

a perk of being a genius, maybe? the phantom of a weight lands alight on your shoulders. with a mug of black coffee in hand, you make your way to him. your footsteps are without a sound, only the noise of porcelain being placed down onto woodenware is enough to announce your arrival. “rough day at work?” you ask, peering down at his progress.

(a doctor's handwriting really is something. you resist the urge to squint.)

veritas doesn't seem to mind. if the way he smiles at the sight of you, albeit tiredly, is any indication. “hah,” he rests a hand on his temple and scoffs wryly, “so much grievances like you wouldn't believe.”

oh, he is teetering on the precipice of a tangent but stops himself. “...fret not, i'm fine. this is hardly something beyond my expertise,” he shakes his head, the motion causing his reading glasses to slide down a smidgen down the bridge of his nose.

you're too familiar with the self-assured bravado he puts on. you're quite endeared, actually. “okay, mr. i-require-no-rest,” you take the glasses off his face and he breaks into a frown. at the childish tone you're using or for having his reading glasses taken away, you don't know.

“why don't you take a little break?” you suggest. veritas sighs, “need i remind you that dilly-dallying is for fools who wish to waste their time?” and crosses his arms defiantly. he knows your strategy, he has come face-to-face with it several times.

“do you think a break with me is a waste of time?” you present him with a rhetorical question, quite the difficult adversary.

(and he keeps losing to it every single time.)

“well, that's—” the doctor nearly splutters, taken aback. “that's different if you insist on inserting yourself as a variable,” he infers, putting emphasis on the last part accompanied by an incredulous look.

“the answer is up for debate then,” you shrug with a cheeky smile. your hand then deftly lifts the mug you previously set down to your lips, veritas's eyes dilate in bewilderment. “so,” you hum at the rich taste of your handiwork, “wanna tell me about your day? haven't heard about the council in a while.”

“you—” he gasps in defeat, “i thought that was supposed to be my mug of coffee.”

(he has a slight pout on his face, but you dare not point it out lest it disappears in the blink of an eye.)

“our mug of coffee,” you take a few more sips with an innocent decadence. “all is fair in love and war, doctor.”

“i can never win with you,” he buries his face in his palm with a groan. you laugh heartily, a sound that chimes like quaint little bells in his ears - it elicits a reaction from his lips, for them to quirk up at the corners in the smallest of ways.

“regardless. . .” veritas relents and reaches for your free hand. you let him. “it seems a break wouldn't be so amiss, after all,” he then presses a kiss on the side of your wrist, affectionate.

(your heart skips a beat.)

will you let sunday regale you with facts you've never heard of before? . . . a man of eloquent words, no less a man of educated mind. you have no doubt that the books in the dewlight pavilion really aren't just there for show - not that you're allowed to browse through them at your own desire. a servant's voice would stop you in your tracks should your fingers ever brush against something in the family's secret bookshelf.

how mysterious.

but sunday makes it known to the staff that you, in particular, are allowed more access to the shelves - perhaps, not too much - but more than even mr. mccoy, at least. with the way you have to crane your neck far up to pinpoint the tallest height that the shelves reach, you wonder: has sunday gone through everything here personally?

your immediate answer is most likely. you know sunday fairly well; to have something that he hasn't scrutinized from the inside out in his possession will surely gnaw away at his psyche incessantly. not being in the know at all times is a looming fear for him. but of course, you have other ways to confirm the answer for yourself.

pick out a book from a shelf there, either intentional or purely arbitrary, and watch as sunday carefully traces his steps towards you. his curiosity is piqued, which topic has caught your interest this time? but he tucks it under proper cordiality. with a hand behind his back, he'd utter your name in the softest tone and ask the familiar question of “would you like to know more?” — asking for your permission to ramble, essentially — you find this tendency of his to be charming, so you nod each time.

(and he smiles when you do. a smile less refined at the edges, kinder and relaxed.)

the best place to start from is always the beginning. you think sunday agrees because he often starts by telling you the history and its origins before moving on to its impact on the galaxy, then his personal stance on the topic. it's a pattern, you notice, his ramblings have a pattern. and it's consistent every time, you might've believed he was reading off a script. and what's more? sunday is blissfully oblivious of it.

fascinating. you ponder: what kind of things you can do with this information? decisions, decisions, decisions. . . but ultimately, you opt for keeping it a secret like a treasure only you're allowed to see.

(that might be true in a way. you don't doubt that robin, his dear sister, is familiar with this side of him. does that mean he treasures you like he does her? your chest starts to feel a bit lighter.)

if you were to point it out, you fear you might never witness it again - goodness, to know that he has been displaying such foolishness or rather, what he viewed as an embarrassing freudian slip in front of you? his wings might as well resort to covering his face for good until the end of time.

as you listen to him talk (with such elegance at that), you can't help whatever tender look you have on your face. really, who would've thought the head of the oak family could be such. . . a nerd?

(you hope in secret that sunday will be more willing to show sides like these to you in the future. and that they're not a weakness at all, not when they're shared with you.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

“it looks like you're fascinated by the dreamscape nursery rhyme this time.”

sunday spares the article in your hold no further inspection. one glance at the cover and walls of memorized information rush to the front of his mind. he looks familiar with it; could it be a part of his childhood too? but then again, everything found here is within his knowledge.

“i am,” you say with intrigue, “it got me ruminating for a while.”

you meet his gaze, stumbling upon yellow irises that glimmer akin to gold under penaconian chandeliers. you think you see a hint of affection in them, swimming around your reflection like a school of fish in a pond. it makes you smile.

he smiles back, oblivious to your thoughts but returns your gesture. he asks, “how so?” and you reply without delay, “i read through it and the morbid undertone took me by surpri—”

or at least, it's supposed to be without delay until you realize sunday has stepped closer in order to peer down at the page you're holding open. and suddenly, you're extremely aware of every minute detail like how his breath brushes against the side of your cheek and how his chest rumbles as he hums in acknowledgement.

(you flush in the neck and he perceives this reaction of yours with mirth.)

“my apologies,” sunday chuckles and pulls away, “i've simply forgotten the rhyme and wished to refresh my memory.”

“somehow, i feel that isn't the case...” you mumble accusingly. that seems to amplify whatever little amusement he gets from flustering you. “oh, my dove. i can assure you that it is,” he caresses your head, a little placatingly.

most times, sunday isn't so laidback about giving affection in public — since he has an image to maintain — so you assume the fact that the servants are out and about, leaving only you and him here, plays a role in his unusual boldness. you accept the gesture with a bashful pout.

“now, where were we?” sunday clears his throat, “ah, yes. some people have noted on the nursery rhyme's strange quality but still, it retains its popularity in penacony. it is also widely assumed that the hound resembles the bloodhound family while—”

you hold back an amused sigh, but it's more out of fondness than anything. he'll start from the history then the effect on the general public, as per usual, but you're not the only predictable one here. you'd listen to him anytime too, won't you?

(you do adore when the head of the oak family would put off his public figure mask around you. if only for just a while.)

will you let dan heng rest his head on your lap when it's just you two? . . . the sense of comfort it provides isn't something he can explain with words. as if he has ever been good with words in the first place. saying a sentence bereft of logical reasoning or witty remarks doesn't come easily to the express’ guard. neither does intimacy. . . but you know that already, don't you?

after all, it isn't a secret that dan heng prefers speaking with his actions. if to show one's intentions is the end goal, then actions are the fastest route to choose. words, although able to sweeten the trip like how a beautiful scenery can, will eventually lead to actions regardless so why take the extra step?

but you're different from him; you articulate what you think and what you mean. you're honest in ways that keep catching dan heng off guard without fail — just like the first time you offered your empty lap to him when his head was swirling in pain — but he supposes that is one of your charms. “words can be useful. we're not all born mind readers,” you told him once and he hummed, accepting of your perspective.

(“look at you two! opposites attract!” march chirped. he recalled shooting her a look of indignation and she rubbed the back of her head sheepishly in response.)

dan heng has learnt to grow used to your propensities - but by far, your shameless invitations are still one matter that can't be comprehended even with time. he cannot understand; how you smile as you sit on his futon in the archives (he doesn't mind), how you link gazes with him so effortlessly, how you pat your lap knowingly and say, “why don't you rest your head here?”

(he has to restrain himself from bursting into flames like a heliobus.)

sometimes, he'll accept reluctantly or he'll decline with an underlying tone of longing he doesn't want you to notice. because as much of a good hold dan heng has on nonchalance, he cannot deny that this particular gesture of yours has left a mark on him.

(it remains persistently.)

when he rests his head on your lap, he can't help but take a deep inhale - your fragrance fills his senses and he discards the selfish desire to keep it all to himself. your fingers are soothing as they thread through his hair gently. the feeling that washes over him is serene, almost comparable to submerging himself in the pure waters of scalegorge waterscape.

when overcome by such a tranquil state of mind, dan heng wonders what expression he might be making at that moment? he always keeps his eyes closed, so it's a shame he may never know. but you do, and you don't think you've ever seen him look so at peace before like he does now.

(perhaps, that's why you keep offering him this in the first place.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

“someone looks tired,” you state with a pointed stare. the archives isn't a room too spacious and the only ones here are you and him. the target of your sentence is obvious.

but dan heng doesn't take the bait, barely looks away from the entry he is currently authoring. still, he spares you a glance and hums glibly, “are you projecting? if so, feel free to use my bed in the meantime.”

you let out a noise, something gibberish that conveys disappointment but it is effectively drowned out by the typing noises. “you haven't even touched the food i bought you,” your voice becomes mellow, “why don't you rest for a while?”

he isn't convinced, you think, since his fingers are still hard at work. the new info the team brought back must've been a lot if he's that focused.

“dan heng?” you try again, hopeful for the last time. you don't take him for a fool, of course, he'll know when he reaches his limit and have proper rest then. but would that really be ideal? a second passes and that hope flickers like a dimming light. but just an inch before the edge of giving up, the typing slows to a stop.

“. . .alright,” he murmurs. finally, after a good hour spent drawing patterns on his backside with your eyes, dan heng turns around to face you. he look tense, you note with abject concern.

“here,” you usher him to your lap, empty and conveniently so. dan heng shoots you a blank look - this isn't the first time you offered and this isn't the first time he reacted like that. you try to suppress a laugh, failing gloriously at it. “just for a little bit,” you utter through a stifled fit of chuckles.

dan heng shakes his head, not in rejection but in defeat. his eyes slip close, second nature, as he leans to situate his head on your lap. you welcome him with a hum and let your fingers card through his hair. a calm sigh falls from his lips like a water droplet in springtime.

“this. . . is nice,” he admits, sudden and unprompted. you nearly doubt your ears for a moment there. did he— “i don't hate it is, uhm, what i mean to say,” dan heng adds and it dawns on you that your ears are still working. his eyes are still closed, not that you'd expect anything else, he prefers to treat it as a shield from being face-to-face with embarrassment.

(or to avoid your ecstatic gaze. he can feel warmth rushing to his cheeks already.)

“i know,” you smile, brushing away a few messy strands from his forehead. he isn't an open book but you think you've read the pages enough to remember all the little details. “but thanks for telling me. i'm no mind reader but i think i can read yours pretty well.”

“i shall provide no further comment,” he holds back an incredulous exhale, yet his lips still curl slightly at the corner. you feel the teeniest desire to trace the curve of his lips with your fingertip but settle for silently admiring them instead.

“it's fine. i know the answer already,” you say, words dripping with affection. such a shame dan heng never looks up at you during a time like this. because if he did, he wouldn't have missed seeing the sheer fondness in your gaze that rains down on him in light showers. a true shame.

(one day, he'll gather the courage. maybe.)

— thank you for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated. ♡

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #sunday x reader #sunday x you #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #hsr fluff #hsr headcanons #hsr imagines #seelestial.inks

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 3 months ago

Text

ROOM FOR RENT

PAIRING: logan howlett x female reader

RATING: explicit (18+) | WORD COUNT: 5.3k

SUMMARY: logan finds a new roommate.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have logan howlett brain rot and i’m not sorry. big smooch to everyone who let me yell about this to them including @eupheme @pedgito @wannab-urs @chaotic-mystery @kedsandtubesocks @undrthelights and @murder-wife 💕

WARNINGS: post deadpool & wolverine, variant!logan howlett, able bodied reader, reader being picked up (enhanced strength babyyyy), roommates to lovers trope, meddlesome pet cat, a splash of canon typical violence - mentions of blood and knife wounds, wade wilson/deadpool appearances, mild angst, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact) - dirty talk, pain kink, biting, pet names, praise kink, oral sex - m & f receiving, a little dacryphilia during a blowjob, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, begging, size kink. if i’ve missed any, please let me know!

LINKS: masterlists | support for palestine

If Logan has to wake up to Wade's constant yapping for the rest of his life, he's going to go insane. Every morning he's jolted awake by Wade singing in the kitchen. When he notices Logan is awake, the singing stops and the one-sided conversation begins and doesn't end until Logan finally gets up from the couch and leaves the apartment with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Today, with some money in his pocket from a few odd jobs he's picked up, he finds solace in a quiet coffee shop. Sat beside a bulletin board, he scans the postings.

Art show, art show, yard sale, job opening, roommate wanted, art show--

Roommate wanted? Logan tears the paper from the pin.

Room for rent in 2 bedroom/1 bathroom apartment. One cat. Laundry on site.

He folds the ad up and stuffs the paper in the pocket of his jacket before gathering his empty coffee cup and tossing it in the trash on the way out the door, an uncharacteristic spring in his step.

Your phone rings with a number you don't recognize. You consider sending it to voicemail, already exhausted from fielding similar calls about your room for rent, but ultimately decide to answer.

"Hello?"

A man clears his throat on the other end of the line before responding with, "This the number for the rental?"

"Yep," you reply. "Were you interested in seeing it or have any questions?"

"How much is it?"

"Your half would be $950.”

"And it's a whole bedroom?"

"As opposed to a half bedroom?" You laugh at your joke but the man remains quiet and you wince. "I mean, yes. It's a whole bedroom."

"I'd like to come see it, if you've got the time."

"Sure, how's this Friday sound?" You suggest. "What's your full name?"

"Why do you need to know that?" The man's tone grows defensive and alarm bells ring in your head.

"Well, I'd like to make sure you're not, like, a wanted criminal or something," you tell him with an awkward laugh. He's quiet and for a moment you think that he may have hung up on you. "Hello?"

"Yeah, 'm still here," he sighs. "Name's Logan Howlett."

"Logan Howlett," you repeat. You give him your name in return, though he doesn't do much but grunt in acknowledgment. "Alright, well, do you have something to write down the address?"

"Just tell me, I'll remember."

After listing off the address, he ends the call with a rough goodbye. You get to work on your personal research, entering his name into a search engine.

No results.

You refresh the page, thinking that must be an error, but the same message appears.

No results.

You try spelling his name differently.

No results.

You set the phone down, anxiety starting to creep up your spine. It's hard to believe that there's absolutely nothing online about this man, who now has your full address, name, and phone number.

A sharp meow shakes you from your thoughts and you find that your cat has taken up residence on your lap, staring at you intently as his tail flicks back and forth. You run your hand over his head, scratching beneath his chin.

"You'll protect me, right?" You ask.

He leaps from your lap and struts away, fluffy tail disappearing down the hall that leads to your bedroom. You sigh.

Hopefully you haven’t just done something stupid.

Logan's attempt to leave the apartment unnoticed does not go as planned. Althea is sitting on the couch, a re-run of a talk show playing loudly, when he tries to make a run for it. He's distracted, watching her too carefully that he doesn't realize Wade has just returned from god-knows-where.

"Whatcha doin', twinkle toes?" Wade asks, startling Logan, who slams into the kitchen table with a curse.

"Fucking hell," Logan curses, rubbing his hip. "When did you get in here?"

Wade shrugs. "Sometime around the start of your 007 impression."

"My what?"

"Nevermind," Wade sighs. "You look snazzy. Got a hot date?"

"No," Logan grunts.

"A cold date, then?"

Logan pinches his nose. "No."

"Well, care to share, sugar plum? What's got you sneaking around like the Black Widow?"

"The who?"

"May she rest in peace," Wade says, tone suddenly somber.

"He's tryin' to move out," Althea chimes in. Wade's mouth drops open in shock.

"You're abandoning us?!" he exclaims. "After all we've been through?"

"Let the man do what he wants," Althea says. "Damn co-dependent freak."

"Harsh," - Wade places a hand over his chest, -"you know I have daddy issues. And mommy issues. And abandonment issues. And--"

"Enough," Logan snaps. "Yes, alright? I'm looking for a new place. I can't sleep on that couch forever."

"Is it because it smells like old people?" Wade whispers, pointing an accusatory finger to Althea, who flips him off.

"Look, this is your universe. Your timeline. Mine is gone and it's time I start making this whole thing less temporary."

Wade tilts his head and places a hand on Logan's shoulder. "My little Wolvie, all grown up," he says, wiping at a fake tear. Logan shoves his hand away, storming past him for the door.

"Remember to smile! Give 'em the ol' razzle dazzle!" Wade shouts as he slams the door behind him.

You pace your small living room and check the stove clock for the hundredth time in the past five minutes. Logan is due to see the apartment and your nerves have gone from a simmer to a full blown boil waiting for the mysterious man with no digital footprint to show up. Your cat is lounging on the windowsill, blissfully unaware of your inner panic.

Three sharp knocks at the door cause your pulse to skyrocket. You take a deep breath before crossing the short distance to the door, pulling it open with a smile.

"Hi! You must be--“

Your greeting dies on your tongue as you take in the man crowding your hallway. He's wearing a leather jacket over a white tank top that stretches tightly across a broad chest and jeans that highlight thick thighs. His dark hair is cut shorter on the sides than on the top of his head, the ends fanning out in a manner that reminds you of a cat's ears and he's sporting an impressively thick beard.

"'m Logan," he says in the same deep voice you heard over the phone, holding a hand out towards you. You slip your palm against his much larger one and you're surprised by how warm his touch is.

"H-hi," you stutter, shaking his hand. You clear your throat. "Sorry, hi. Uh, come on in."

You move aside to let him through the doorway, not missing the fact that his shoulders practically brush the frame as he steps inside. Your apartment opens up directly into the living room and kitchen with a small dining area set in between and you gesture around.

"Well, this is most of it, to be honest. I know it's not much but--"

"It's quiet," Logan interrupts. "Ain't used to quiet."

"Where, uh," -- you twist the hem of your shirt -- "where are you coming from? Exactly?"

"Kind of a long story. Right now I sleep on a couch in a shitty one bedroom apartment shared by an asshole who doesn't shut the fuck up and a blind cocaine addict."

"Oh," you reply, nodding despite your lack of understanding. "Yeah, it's just me here. Well, and Dumpling."

"Dumpling?"

As if summoned by his name, your cat appears, making a swift beeline for the newcomer. He twists around Logan's legs, butting his head against his shins. You bend down, scooping him up in your arms.

"This is Dumpling. He's cute, but he'll knock over any plants so I wouldn't recommend you take up indoor gardening if you decide to live here." Logan eyes Dumpling warily before holding a hand out. Dumpling sniffs his fingers daintily and rubs head against his palm. "I think he likes you."

Logan huffs, the sound close to a laugh, and it makes you smile. He looks up at you and for a moment you forget that you're complete strangers who have just met. He feels inexplicably familiar, his presence comforting, and you're surprised by it.

"Let's look at the bedroom," you finally say, breaking the moment. You turn, heading for the hall and he follows behind you, steps surprisingly light for such a large man. You take him to the last door at the end of the hall and enter the empty room. "This is it. It's kind of small, but all the rooms in New York are pretty much shoe boxes. It's got a closet and access to the fire escape, though.”

"Better than the couch," he says, looking around the room. "You said $950?"

"Plus half of the utilities," you add. He nods.

"Look, I'll be honest. I'm...between jobs right now." He sighs. "And my schedule can be...unpredictable."

"Oh," you mumble. You think about it for a moment. Renting the apartment to Logan would be a risk but...you can't help but notice that exhaustion in his eyes, how it's clear he's trying to get back on his feet in one way or another. "That's okay. We can work something out."

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Really? You sure about that?"

Were you?

"Yeah," you reply. "I'm sure."

Having a roommate is...an adjustment.

Logan is great. He does his dishes in a timely manner, doesn't leave any clothes on the bathroom floor, and even cleans Dumpling's litter box from time to time.

But he drives you insane and it has nothing to do with his qualities as a roommate and everything to do with how unbearably attractive he is. He could be doing the most mundane activity and suddenly you're more turned on than a faucet on full blast. On top of it all, he's surprisingly sweet for such a gruff man.

Currently, you're watching him pour himself a glass of whiskey. You know he's probably preparing to take the drink to his room so that he can have a cigar on the fire escape, but you find yourself wanting his company.

"Logan?" you ask. He looks at you over his shoulder.

"Yeah, bub?"

"Would you...want to watch a movie? With me?"

He turns to fully face you, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his drink, dark eyes on you over the rim of the glass. You swallow nervously, prepared to retract your offer and hide out in your room for the rest of eternity, but he puts you out of your misery.

"Sure." He comes over to the couch, taking a seat that's a respectable distance away. "What are we watching?"

"Have you seen The Greatest Showman?"

A musical. He's sitting through a goddamn musical.

"You kinda look like that guy," you say from beside him. Logan tilts his head.

"I don't see it."

"It's the bone structure."

"I'm bigger than him." You mumble something under your breath that he doesn't quite catch, though he thinks it sounded suspiciously like yeah, you are. "You say somethin'?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, nope. Didn't say anything."

Logan relaxes against the back of the couch, settling in. You're curled up against the armrest, a blanket covering your legs and your arms wrapped around a throw pillow. You look relaxed, at ease, a stark contrast to how you had been when he first moved in. You spent more of your time hidden in your room and he's happy to see you're getting more comfortable around him.

It's also torture. You're like a drug that he can't get enough of, a high that doesn't last long enough. He clings desperately to every smile you grace him with and falls asleep with the sound of your voice echoing in his head. He wakes up looking forward to seeing you, even if it's just in passing before you head out for your very normal job as part of your very normal life.

That's what gives him pause. You're not like him, not built for violence, and he would never drag you into that life. He thinks about Vanessa and Wade and the wedge that was driven between them they're working to repair and he can't bear the thought of having you just to lose you.

Logan's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't realize that the movie has ended and you haven't moved. Your head is angled in a way that has to be uncomfortable, your mouth dropped open as you breathe slowly and deeply. He grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns the TV off, plunging the room into darkness as he stands and quietly approaches you.

He slides one arm beneath your knees and using the other to support your back, lifts you from the couch. You settle your head against his chest but otherwise your sleep remains undisturbed as he carries you down the hall into your room.

It's not the first time he's been in your personal space. One time he woke up to Dumpling clawing at his chest and he marched the animal back to your room for the night, barging in on you while you had been up reading. He remembers the queen sized bed in a wooden frame and a dresser with a drawer that won't shut take up most of the space, the plain white of your walls replaced by a soft blue. You've installed what he first thought were regular shelves but later learned are meant for Dumpling to use for late night acrobatics that he can sometimes hear from his room.

Logan sets you gently on your bed and pulls the quilt up to your shoulders. Before he can think better of it, he reaches a hand toward your face, tracing his thumb over the high point of your cheek. You turn towards the sensation, chasing his touch, and his chest grows tight. He sighs, stepping back and turning for the door.

Dumpling sits in the doorway, flicking his tail. Logan steps around him into the hallway, the cat's gaze following him.

"Shut up," he whispers.

Dumpling meows in return.

You're disoriented when you wake the next morning. The last thing you remember is being on the couch with Logan and watching The Greatest Showman, but somehow you've ended up in your room. You turn over in bed to find Dumpling on your other pillow, curled in a ball.

"Morning, Dumpy," you murmur, scratching his head. "How'd we end up here?"

Dumpling blinks unhelpfully at you before uncurling from his spot and hopping from the bed, leaving through your open door. It's then that you notice that you can hear grunting noises coming from the living room.

You get up to investigate and stop dead in your tracks, mouth dropping open when you find the source of the noise is a shirtless Logan doing push ups on the living room floor. The broad muscles of his back ripple with each movement, each push accompanied by a small grunt that makes your thighs clench together, imagining him making that noise when--

Logan stops, jumping to his feet and you shake your head free of the salacious image it began to create. He turns, giving you an uninhibited view of his thick chest that's covered in dark hair that trails down over defined abs before disappearing beneath the elastic of his sweatpants. You have to say something, anything, but your brain is full of static, unable to operate when he's standing there looking like that.

"Morning," he says.

"Good morning!" you reply, voice pitched higher than usual. You walk past him in a way you hope is casual, heading for the kitchen and prepping the coffee machine. "You got any plans today?"

"Got a friend who needs my help with something. Don't know when I'll be back." His voice is much closer than you expected and you turn from the counter to find him right behind you, a scant few inches of space between your bodies.

"Oh?" you whisper, keeping your gaze firmly on his face. "Is everything okay?"

"It will be."

He drifts impossibly closer, chest nearly brushing yours. Your heart pounds in your chest, a frantic rhythm that's become familiar ever since Logan entered your life. Reaching above your head, he grabs two mugs in one large hand, setting them on the counter behind you before taking a step back and turning to head for his room without another glance in your direction.

You sag against the counter, a wave of lust addled adrenaline crashing over you and leaving you breathless. The last thing you need to be doing is getting involved with your roommate, no matter how tempting he may be.

Dumpling jumps up on the counter beside the coffee pot and stares at you, likely waiting for food, but it feels more like judgment in his green eyes.

"Shut up," you whisper to him.

Dumpling meows, batting you with a paw.

You're sitting on the couch when there's an unexpected knock at your door. Logan is still gone, helping a friend and you're not expecting anyone, so you’re not sure who it could be. You check the peephole before opening the door and see the distorted image of a man in a red suit and mask supporting the weight of your roommate against his side.

"What the fuck?" you ask as you open the door in a panicked rush. The masked man waves his fingers at you.

"Hi there! I've got a very," -- he grunts, adjusting his grip on Logan -- "heavy delivery."

Logan's eyes are closed, head flopped back on the masked man's shoulder. Blood stains his t-shirt in spots that look suspiciously like knife wounds and you gasp.

"What happened to him?!" you shout. "Oh my god, he needs to go to the hospital--"

"He just needs a little power nap," the man says. "I'm Wade, by the way. You mind if I just--"

Wade drags Logan through the apartment, depositing him on your couch with a huff, wiping his hands together. He looks around and you're shocked when the eyes of the mask seem to move, as if mimicking his facial expressions.

"This is a nice place," he says. Dumpling meows and Wade gasps. "You have a cat?! I wish I could pet you, sweet kitty, but Dogpool would put me in the dog house. Ha! Get it?"

"I'm confused," you manage to say. "My roommate is bleeding out on my couch after being dropped off by some wanna-be Avenger--"

"Ouch!"

"And you're saying he doesn't need to go to the emergency room?"

"Nope." Wade lifts Logan's shirt. "See? Good as new."

Despite the blood and tears on his shirt, there's no wounds on Logan's body. He shifts, lifting an arm to smack Wade's hand away as he groans, eyes fluttering open. He glares at the man.

"Get out," he growls.

"Now, now, that's not being a very good host, Logi. What, were you raised by wolves?" Wade replies. Logan roars, a ferocious sound that's more animal than man. His hand curls into a fist and sharp metal blades extend from between his knuckles. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving, no need for the murder mittens." Wade looks at you. "You should come to Sunday dinner!"

"Wilson!" Logan shouts. Wade finally heeds the man's warnings, rushing for the door without another word, shutting it behind him. Logan sags against the couch, blades retracting into his hand. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes.

You stand there in shock, trying to make sense of everything you just witnessed. Logan should be halfway to dead by now, but he doesn't even have a scratch on him. He has claws. How does he have claws?

"Can hear you thinking," Logan says, eyes still shut. "Just say it."

"Say what?" you ask. He lifts his head.

"Tell me to get out, scream, whatever it is."

You sit down on the couch, facing him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because that's what you should be doing."

His hand rests on his thigh and you reach for it, lifting it to eye level for a closer look at his knuckles. You trace your thumb over the smooth skin, up over his strong forearm. He watches you, face almost pained.

"I'm not scared of you," you whisper. "You wouldn't hurt me."

"But I could," he bites back.

"You won't." You're certain of that. You set his hand back on his thigh and stand from the couch, intending to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen, but he stops you with a hand around your wrist. His grip is loose enough that you could break free, but you don't.

Logan looks up at you with an unreadable expression, something close to fear mixed with a conflicting emotion that you think -- or hope -- might be desire. He tugs your wrist, bringing you to stand between his legs.

"How can you be so sure?" he asks.

You place your hand on his cheek, the coarse hair of his beard scratching at your palm. His eyelids flutter and his lips part on a sharp inhale.

"You're a good man, Logan Howlett," you murmur. He closes his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath.

His next movements are quick -- a hand on the back of your thigh, dragging you onto his lap, the other wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you close, his lips capturing yours in a savage kiss. You melt into him, meeting his urgency with your own desperation, tongues tangling together and fighting for dominance.

You pull back to trail kisses across his jaw until you reach his neck, sinking your teeth into the tan skin, just over his hammering pulse. Logan groans, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, pulling you tightly against him as his hips buck into yours.

"Fuck," Logan says, voice a deep rumble that you feel to your marrow. "Do that again."

"Do what?" you tease.

"Bite me," he demands. "Make it hurt."

You obey, biting down into his shoulder with greater effort, sinking your teeth in deep until he hisses from the pain of it and you let go, lifting your head to look at the mark you've left behind. It fades quickly, disappearing without a trace.

"Jesus," he says, pulling you in for another kiss, slow and deep, as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "Let me see you."

You allow him to lift your shirt up and over your head, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His touch makes you shiver despite the heat of his hands as he traces the curve of your waist up to your chest, his thumbs finding your nipples and teasing them with slow circles. You drop your head back with a moan and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, your collarbone, moving down until his lips wrap around one taut bud.

"Logan," you whine, digging your fingers into his hair and holding tight. He hums, the sensation making your eyes roll.

"Thought about this," he murmurs, switching to your other breast. "Every time you'd wear those goddamn tight shirts of yours."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"Wanna know what I thought about?" You tug his hair, pulling his head away from your chest. "Sucking your cock."

He raises his eyebrow at you and you take the opportunity to slide from his lap, settling on your knees between his spread thighs. You work his belt loose, followed by the fly of his jeans. He reaches past the waistband to free his cock and your mouth waters at the sight. You could tell he was big while you were on his lap, but he's even more glorious than you imagined. Thick, long, with prominent veins and a slight upward curve that you know will hit all the right places.

You take him in your hand, appreciating the weight of him in your palm as you hold him steady. With your eyes locked on his face, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue to lick from the top of your fingers to the flushed head. He groans, his hand curling into a fist that he presses to his forehead.

"Fuck," Logan hisses. You do it again, this time swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him into your mouth, moving down his length slowly. "God, look at you. Mouth stuffed so full you're drooling, huh?"

He's right. Spit gathers at the corners of your lips and runs down your chin as you use your mouth to pleasure him. The sounds he makes above you are downright filthy, deep moans and filthy praise that have you moving faster, taking him deeper, working to get as much of him in your mouth as you manage without gagging. He cups your cheek with one large palm, thumb tracing your stretched lips.

"Keep going, sweetheart. You can take a little more, can't you? That's it," he says. Tears burn your cheeks with the effort to obey, your throat tightening around the head of his cock. "Fuck, that's a good girl."

You breathe deeply through your nose, maintaining a steady pace and using your hand in tandem with your mouth for what you can't easily take. Logan's hips begin to flex beneath you, his words trailing off into guttural growls. His cock twitches in your grasp and he moans your name before his release floods your mouth and you swallow it down.

You pull off of him with a slick pop, gasping for breath. Before you can say anything, Logan is hauling you to your feet as he stands from the couch, lifting you up with one strong arm beneath your ass and urging your legs around his waist.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Just getting started."

Logan kicks the door open to your room, startling Dumpling from his perch. The cat races out the door, disappearing into the living area as the door clicks shut. He sets you down on your bed and quickly rids himself of his boots and rest of his clothing before returning his attention to you.

You're lying there in your little sleep shorts that drive him nuts. The fabric barely covers your ass and there's been more than one occasion where he's shuffled into the kitchen in the mornings to see you in them, all the blood in his body rushing south at the sight. He joins you on the bed, on his knees between your spread thighs, and extends a single claw. Your eyes widen, but you don't pull away. In fact, you start squirming, hips flexing minutely against the mattress.

"Scared yet?" he asks.

"I wouldn't say that.”

He carefully slips the blade beneath the hem of your shorts, inching it up until it peeks out above the elastic waistband before twisting his wrist and slicing through the fabric like it's nothing. Claw retracted, he removes your ruined shorts and takes a moment to appreciate the vision you make, legs spread wide and your dripping pussy on display.

"You're a mess," he says, smoothing his hands over the soft skin of your legs. He lifts one of your knees, pressing a kiss to the inside of it before resting it on his shoulder. "Gonna clean you up."

Logan dips his head to your center, dragging his tongue through your soaked sex, groaning when the taste of you blooms across his tongue. Your fingers curl against his scalp, a sharp point of pleasure-pain as he explores your body. He swirls his tongue over your clit, experimenting with broad circles and sharp flicks until you're writhing beneath him.

"Logan," you cry, hips bucking against his face. He dips his tongue into your cunt, nose brushing your clit as he does, and he hums in satisfaction as your thighs tense around his head.

He looks up at you and drinks in the picture you make, gorgeous skin glistening with sweat and your back arched from the bed, chest heaving with desperate breaths. He wants this exact moment burned into his memory, certain it could chase away the dark shadows that linger there.

Logan presses two fingers to your hole, sliding them in with little resistance. You're so warm and tight, squeezing his fingers beautifully, calling out his name as he curls them when he drags them from your body.

"I'm going to come," you gasp. "Oh, fuck, just like that!"

You pulse around his fingers and he slows his movements to work you through it until you collapse against the mattress with a deep sigh. He carefully removes his hand and sits up on his knees.

"Guess I made more of a mess," Logan says. Your eyes squeeze shut with a breathless giggle.

"I'll forgive you," you reply. You reach your arms up for him and he moves to hover over you to accept your embrace. "God, Logan," you murmur, tilting your chin up to kiss him.

In this position, he's able to drag his cock through the slick mess between your thighs and you shiver beneath him, gasping into his mouth. He does it again, more purposeful this time and it drags a moan from you both.

"Please," you murmur.

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want," he replies. "What you need."

"Need you to fuck me."

Logan reaches between your bodies and positions the thick head of his cock at your entrance, pushing forward. The stretch of him is unreal, almost too much even with how wet you are for him.

"Relax," he says, holding himself steady above you. "You can take it."

You nod and he pushes forward another inch, letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickles your sensitive skin. You've never been so full, no other experience compares to this. No other man compares to Logan, in any way.

He starts moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you're nearly empty before plunging back inside. Each thrust puts stars in your vision, makes the knot of want and need coil tighter in your lower belly, until you're moaning his name and begging him to move faster, harder, deeper.

Logan obeys, thrusting into you with enough force that your head board collides with the wall. He sits back on heels, dragging you up with him until you're sitting in his lap and he's able to thrust up into you.

"Feel so fucking good," he says, lips against your neck. "Need you to come for me, baby."

You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and holding him close, meeting each of his thrusts with a rock of your hips that drags your clit against him, your nerves buzzing with the friction and fullness. While the orgasm he wrenched from you with his mouth felt like a wildfire, this one builds and builds, a wave cresting until it finally crashes and you cry out his name.

Logan leans forward to drop you back onto the bed, reaching a hand up to grip your headboard as he continues to roll his hips into yours, chasing his own release. His thrusts begin to grow more desperate until he presses in deep and you're flooded with warmth as he growls, long and low. The sound of splintering wood breaks through your post-orgasmic haze and you tilt your head back to find that his claws have extended through your headboard, splitting the wood and embedding into the drywall.

"I can fix that," Logan says breathlessly, tugging his hand free, claws retracting. You grin at him.

"Later," you reply, pulling him in for a kiss.

You've got better things to do right now.

Thank you so much for reading! For more of my writing, check out my masterlists!

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x female reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fanfic #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett fic

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ambros1an · 5 months ago

Text

sunday x reader - halovian courtship

warning: no spoilers, gn! reader, pining/soft sunday, Sunday info dumping as usual

summary: where Sunday will do everything except confess, and you just think he’s emotionally stunted.

a/n: i read about birds for this

halovian courting rituals

1. Gift giving. Like their close bird companions, Halovians participate in 'nuptial gifts,' a form of gift giving to a potential partner.

You were walking into the Oak Family Headquarters, Dewlight Pavilion, sent to deliver some letters. Although, you’ve been here before, it was still a bit nerve wracking to be in such a place, undetached from your usual position as a lower end employee.

The entrance to Oak Family Head’s office was right in front of you. You bite your lip, shifting the documents to your other arm and knock.

“Nightingale Famil-“

The door swings open. The family head holding the door stands to the side.

“Ah,” Sunday says your name, “it’s you.”

Your eyes widen, blinking a couple times. He remembers me?

“Yes, it’s nice to see you again Mr. Sunday. I’ve come with documents from the Nightingale family detailing a new plan for the dreamscape.”

He looks a bit disappointed?

He chuckles, then calls out to a lone employee, “you’re dismissed for today, I’ll take care of the rest.”

The Oak employee dips his head and leaves. Watching him leave fills a pit in your stomach.

“Mr. Sunday, is something wrong?”

Sunday sits up suddenly, “Oh, no. Not at all.” It’s that movement that makes you realize that he’s been fidgeting with something in his lap…Is he always like this?

“I guess I was just a bit surprised,” he smiles, looking down to the side. You caught him.

“Surprised? To see me?” Although Sunday and you have met a few times. It was always business, just like now—well maybe he did stare a bit intently at you before, but something really was different this time!

He looks up and sheepishly slides a box across the table. “Take it as…being a good part of The Family.”

For a few moments, your eyes set upon him. What is he planning? It’s a small box. Almost nothing could fit in there. You lift the top up.

You gasp. Earrings worth more than your entire life’s salary. You slam it shut.

“M-Mr. Sunday. This really isn’t necessary. I just—“ you ramble on. Sunday places his gloved hand on yours.

“Please, take it.”

Looking into his eyes, you realize that putting up a fight with the Oak Head won’t get you anywhere. You reluctantly take the box.

2. Preening. Similar to nature, touching a Halovian's wings is an intimate gesture to show one's interest in a romantic partner. Someone should never touch a Halovian's wings without asking!

Soon after, you come across Sunday again. This time at the Nightingale Family’s institution. You were putting away blueprints, plans and documents your coworkers left laying around haphazardly. When a familiar voice calls out to you.

“Good evening. Working hard, I see.”

“Mr. Sunday?”

He approached you, then looked around the room. He seemed to realize the situation you were in and scorned your coworkers. He mumbled something about you and moving to the “Oak Family.” As he spoke his wings were fluttering. They looked smooth and soft.

“You’ve been staring at my wings. Do they interest you that much?” He chuckles.

“Well, they are very pretty but—“

“Would you like to touch them?” A light blush spreads across his face. Despite that, he seemed perfectly poised. His hands clasped behind his back, standing straight and looking right at you.

“I-is that alright?” tumbles from your lips. You hesitantly reach out.

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

Upon touching them, Sunday’s wings twitched away from you before settling down. The feathers are soft and plush. Some are darker in color while others are more pale. They’re surprisingly fluffy. A bit like fur but more delicate.

The blush darkened, his gaze shifted off to the wall. His composure utterly broken, his hands fidgeted behind his back.

“Did you know that birds groom each other as a social activity? It occurs between…ma-members of a flock.” He sputters. What is he saying?

Your fingers stroking his feathers create a flutter within his stomach. He leans into the touch. Taking that as a sign to continue, you reach farther up, a light brush into the coverts of his feathers. Sunday gasps and pulls away.

“…You must take good care of them. Are all Halovian wings soft like yours?”

He wishes that moment would never end.

3. Song. During courtship rituals many birds of different species tend to sing and dance. While that is popular among Halovian people, some may chose show affection through instruments instead.

One day, a notice appears at your door. Upon examining it you realize it’s an invitation from Sunday, instructing you to his office within the Dewlight Pavilion.

Could it be about the documents you sent him last time? You wrack your brain for any possible explanation. He had been acting weirder than usual.

Heat build up in your face upon recalling Sunday’s recent appreciation for you. The earrings that are far too expensive to wear anywhere, and even worse—you bury your face into your hands. In a profound display of unprofessionalism, he let you touch his wings.

Still, every muscle in your body jittered with excitement, even though it shouldn’t.

♫ ♬ ♩

Suddenly, the closer you got, the more the hallway echoed with the sound of a violin. Slowly, you carefully stepped towards the sound, till you found its source.

Sunday was playing the violin. You couldn’t help but freeze where you were and watch him. He truly did look like angel. As he drew his bow across the strings, the light from the window shined down on him. His hair reflected the light appearing almost white. Was he always this beautiful?

Abruptly, he stands up, “You’re early. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” you closed the door behind you, “I didn’t know you could play. What song was it?”

He places the violin down on his table and approached you, “It’s ‘Salut d’amor,’ one of the first pieces I learned how to play,” Sunday put his hand behind his back, “the dream master was the one that taught me.”

“It was very pretty, I can tell you’ve been playing for a long time.”

“Thank you.” A light blush spreads onto his cheeks, but it’s gone before you can realize it.

A loud silence sweeps the room. The two of you avert your eyes. This side of Sunday feels so different from what you’ve been told. He always maintains a professional barrier. But if so, what was this?

Sunday calls your name, “how do you feel about me?”

“What?” The question is so out of the blue, you must’ve heard wrong, “I think you’re a nice guy—“

“I meant as a partner, I thought you knew. Was I not obvious enough?” He mumbles over the last sentence.

“I—well—“ you stumble over your words. He was serious. The earrings, the wing touching, the invitation. You dismissed it as him buttering you up. The ‘most handsome man in Penacony’ as delegated by the latest magazines, had feelings for you?

Your face felt so hot, you felt as if you could combust into flames at any moment, “I feel the same.”

His expression softened. “That’s a relief, I don’t have to cancel those reservations then.”

“Reservations?! Mr. Sunday-“

“Just Sunday. I’ll pick you up later then,” he smiled, then placed his hand near your ear, as if looking for something, “Oh, but this time remember to wear those earrings.”

a/n #2: soft Sunday is real, did u see how protective he was of Robin in the quest? i need more hoyo. feed my delusion

#꒰ა fic #hsr x reader #hsr x you #sunday x reader #sunday x you #sundayposting #divider cred plutism

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ghost-with-a-teacup · 1 year ago

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: Everyone at HQ was convinced there was something going on between you and Miguel. Just...no one knew what. But one group of spiders were determined to figure it out.

Warnings: None! Just a lot of goofiness and a whole lot of fluff :3

When you have a superhuman with superior senses, they’re bound to be perceptive to their surroundings. Now when you have an entire lobby the size of multiple football fields filled with superhumans with superior senses, very few things will go unnoticed.

It’s why people very quickly realize that you and Miguel have…something between the two of you. It’s just that no one is quite sure what.

Camaraderie? Maybe, you were one of the first spiders to join the society.

Friendship? Perhaps, but it was known that Miguel wasn’t one to do friends. Not with the amount of loss he has gone through.

A relationship? This one seemed the most unplausible. Miguel was, well, Miguel. Stoick, cold and calculating. Meanwhile, you were you.

You had a light that drew people in, kindness that knew no bounds and warmth like a fire on a cold winter’s day.

Everyone knew the saying ‘opposites attract’, but it was like comparing night and day with the two of you. Regardless, a small little group within the society were set on trying to figure the two of you out.

“Ain’t no way the two are together, she’s too good for him!” Hobie argues, his legs kicked up on the table in front of him.

“I don’t know, maybe that’s why they work together. Because she makes him better?” Miles says, but his tone of voice failed to hide his skepticism.

“I think you should just leave the two of them be. Besides, what happens if you figure it out or not anyway?” Peter says, feeding Mayday as he does. Immediately a chorus of arguments breaks out from the group.

“OKAY! Okay, forget I asked,” he says with a shake of his head, while Mayday just laughs at the commotion.

They spot the two of you walking into the cafeteria making conversation none of them could make out.

“Look at them,” Gwen says, “have you ever seen the guy happier than he is with her?” she asks, and Hobie snorts.

“C’mon mate, you call that happy? Mans got that frown tattooed on his face, can he even be happy?” he says, but they all continue watching intently.

You glance over to the table they were surrounding, and they all brush off your gaze pretending as though they weren’t just studying the two of you like specimens under a microscope.

You wave your hand, a bright smile on your face while Miguel only glances over for a moment before continuing to walk. You jog to catch up to him, grabbing a tray and picking up things you wanted for lunch.

They watch as they see Miguel pick up the empanada, the last one left. He pauses for a split second, holding it before turning to place it on your tray. Almost as though they were straight out of a cartoon, they freeze at the interaction.

You seem to be slightly surprised as you, saying something to him but he only brushes you off before continuing on.

“Did…that just happen?” Pavitr asks. Everyone at HQ was aware of Miguel’s fondness for the food (even if he did hurl one right at Miles when they first met), there was no way he would give one away so easily for just anyone, right?

“Somebody pinch me,” Gwen says, and Hobie jumps at the request.

“OW!”

Miguel never lets anyone help him out when he’s injured. That was just a known fact. He could walk into HQ battered and bruised and wouldn’t even look in the infirmary’s direction once. After depending on himself for so long, he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, what were First Aid kits for after all?

The only way he was going to the infirmary was if someone dragged his unconscious body there themselves.

Well, unless you were there.

“Miguel O’Hara I swear to god, you better get your ass to the infirmary or so help me I will tie you up and drag you through the halls myself,” you say sternly as you both reemerge in the Lobby. The rest of the Spiders there continued with what they were doing, but their attention was zeroed in on you both.

“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at you as if trying to say ‘Just try’. Had you been anyone else, you would have backed down by now but you didn’t.

“You wanna test me right now? That was a nasty hit, I will not be letting it get infected under my watch,” you retort, and he puffs.

“This is nothing, I’ve dealt with worse,” he scoffs, and in an instant your finger shoots out, making contact with the side that got hit with the anomaly’s flames. Miguel can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the pain from the impact hits him.

Your eyebrow raises, an expression of disbelief on your face before it softens. Murmuring softly, you say something that only he can hear.

For a moment he studies your face before sighing, finally relenting. With a triumphant smile, you place a hand on the man’s broad back, leading him towards the infirmary with a gentle but firm hand.

There, Pavitr is laying in bed recovering from an awry mission of his own. The doctors had ordered bedrest for the next 2 hours at least. Superior healing or not, they were not going to risk it. So there he lay, slinging his golden bangles up and down bored before he hears the two of you come in.

“Mr. O’Hara-" a doctor’s voice can be heard, but he is quickly interrupted.

“She’s got it from here,” he says, Miguel’s tone final. A small “yes, sir” can be heard before footsteps fade away, the doctor’s office door closing once more.

“You know, you should really let the professionals help you,” your voice can be heard.

“You dragged me here, you can deal with the consequences,” he says, and you just laugh fondly before your voices quieten, murmuring too quietly for Pavitr to hear.

Curiosity builds as he recalls the conversation he and his friends had, and before he can stop himself he shifts silently to the side, just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of you both from the small gap between the hospital curtain and the wall.

There, Miguel sat on the bed, a disgruntled expression on his face but his eyes were soft as he watched you fuss over his side.

He only watches for a few seconds before pulling away, this being a clear invasion of privacy, and his boss’ privacy no less.

It wasn’t going to stop him from telling everyone else though.

“This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea,” Miles says, grasping onto the ceiling like his life depended on it.

“It’s only a bad idea if we get caught, so Shut. Up,” Gwen says sharply, hanging from her place on the ceiling as they watched the fight from above.

Gwen had come up with the mighty fine idea of sneaking into a mission between the two of you. It wasn’t often that it happened, Miguel more often than not only went on missions with only Lyla by his side. But when he needed a partner, it was always you.

“Why did you have to bring me with you,” he whispers, “Miguel already doesn’t like me. He doesn’t need more of a reason to.”

“Because I needed backup and you can turn invisible. And let’s be real, Hobie would be laughing his ass off getting us caught, Peter would bring Mayday which would get us caught, and Pavitr is already on a mission, now shhh,” she whispers, turning back to watching the scene below.

You swung from pillar to pillar in the abandoned factory with practiced ease, a carefree laugh escaping your lips as Miguel stands on the ground fiddling with his watch.

“The anomaly’s last known location was here,” Lyla’s voice echoes out, and you let out a sigh.

“Why can’t villains have easy powers. Maybe a giant blob that is easy to take down? Why do they have to be so complicated? What’s this one again, a freaky shadow monster?” you think out loud.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Miguel retorts, glancing up toward you for a moment before turning back to Lyla. “Do a scan of the place, will you?”

“What do we say~” Lyla responds, and you giggle softly while Miguel huffs.

“Please,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“Please, Lyla,” he says a little louder now, irritation growing in his voice.

“Already done,” the AI snickers, and he groans out loud as your laughter bounces off of the walls, a fist held out for Lyla to bump.

“The two of you will be the death of me,” he says lowly.

“Oh, don’t be like that, grumps. You’d be too stubborn to die,” you retort before tensing up, the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the familiar feeling of your heightened senses at work. The moment you sling yourself up is the moment a loud thud sounds out from where you once stood.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that the anomaly was in the far right corner,” Lyla says before disappearing.

“I really need to do a rewrite of her code,” Miguel mutters to himself.

In your previous spot emerges a dark figure, plumes of smoke emerging and dissipating from its form and allowing it to disappear into the shadows with ease.

With a simple nod, you get to work. Like a well-oiled machine, you work in practiced synchrony, bounding across the walls and slinging webs.

And just like that the anomaly is captured, the force field around it effectively trapping it for the ride back to HQ so it can be sent back to its own universe.

“That was…kinda lame,” you snicker, pulling off your mask

“Told you so,” Miguel says as he opens up a portal for you both, dragging the anomaly behind him.

“Don’t say that to me,” you pout.

“What, can’t handle the truth?” he retorts, a smirk playing across his lips as your bickering voices fade through the portal.

“…was that a smile,” Gwen asks as she watches the spot where they both had stood.

“Was that what it was?” Miles asks, a shudder racking through his body.

It was late at night at the HQ, and at this time everyone else had already gone back to their own universes. The few that lingered were the ones finishing up after a late-night mission.

Or, you were Peter B. Parker frantically searching through the kitchen for a bottle of milk for Mayday after a playdate with a select few spiders that went on for way longer than expected.

Mayday was an easy baby. Always happy and smiling, but that all disappears when she was hungry and you did not want a spider baby on a rampage.

“Alright, alright, give Daddy a few seconds to warm up your milk please?” Peter pleads as Mayday continues to babble angrily, crawling all over him.

She pauses for a moment, attention drawn elsewhere as she hangs off of her father’s back before leaping.

“Hey, lil spider!” You say with a laugh, catching her in your arms. “What are you doing here so late?” you ask.

“Playdate with Miles, Gwen and Hobie. Time really flew and she refused to leave until now,” Peter sighs tiredly, and you pat him on the back before putting her up onto your shoulders. “What are you doing here so late?”

You shrug, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Working late. Like you said, time really flew,” you say, but Peter knew that wasn’t the full truth.

“Working so hard that you need two cups of coffee?” he asks, holding out the bottle for Mayday to take, which is what she does happily as she snuggles up in her father’s arms.

“What can I say, caffeine doesn’t really work on me,” you grin, pouring the coffee from the machine. “Goodnight, Peter, Mayday,” you say, ruffling her red hair fondly.

And as quickly as you appeared, you disappear.

People didn’t often disturb the big boss man Miguel when he was working. Not if you wanted to stay on his good side.

It was even less often that someone barges into his room full of screens as he monitors the Archno-Humanoid Polymultiverse, let alone a group of them.

“We heard you talking to someone! And laughing,” Gwen says hesitantly as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. But she was invested in figuring out what the deal was between the two of you now.

“Well, do you see anyone around?” Miguel deadpans, his arms wide and gesturing around broadly. You could barely stifle the giggle as you sat on a beam high up on the ceiling, going unnoticed.

“W-well, no…But!” she says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow which makes Gwen shrink in her spot slightly before recovering. “But we heard you. There was someone here, wasn’t there?”

Hobie, ever the perceptive one tracks his eyes along the ceiling before spotting you swinging your legs with an amused look on your face. It seemed as though no one else had noticed though.

Miguel watches Hobie spot you and his eyes narrow in his direction, as if saying ‘I dare you to say anything’ to which the spider only raises his hands in mock surrender.

“No. There wasn't." He says, his tone final. "If that’s all you’re here for, I have important work to get to. So why don’t you go bother someone else, yeah?”

“I give up,” Gwen says, slumping in her chair. “We’re never going to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Jess asks, walking up to the group.

“Whether or not there is something going on between those two,” Miles says, nodding towards you and Miguel talking over in the corner of the room.

Jessica only hums, a knowing look in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything. Only asks a simple question.

“What makes you think so?”

“Everyone here knows that there’s something there, even if they want to admit it or not. She’s one of the few people he tolerates, they’re together almost all the time and he actually seems happy around her,” Gwen reasons.

“You could have just asked, you know,” you say, coming up on their conversation with an amused look on your face.

Their expressions range from flustered to simply amused and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as you make eye contact with Jess.

“And to answer the question,” you reach down your suit, pulling out a simple chain with a ring dangling off of the end.

“We’re actually married.”

The group goes silent for a moment, eyes wide as they stare at the necklace in your hands, trying to process your words.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

A/N: Hehe, I'm quite happy with this one :3 This is my first attempt at writing Miguel, sorry if I butchered him but I am absolutely hyperfixating on him after seeing ATSV in theatres yesterday.

Based on the prompt by @imslightlycreative though slightly changed :)) I hope you all enjoyed <3

Part two out now!! Read it here.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #spiderverse x reader #miguel o hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #marvel

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