#HOWEVER to keep with the spirit of the thing i have given him a name from WAY further up the family tree | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luvmist · 1 year

Note

Hey can I request a aonung x reader

Where Aonung gives a necklace made of shell to the reader who is a Sully. The next day one of her brothers wonders why she has a new necklace.

Thank you and have a great day!!

GRAVE (1.6k) part two.

ao’nung x f! na’vi reader.

COMPENDIUM: when thick tension turns to potent love, can it truly stay hidden?

WARNINGS: suggestive flirting, kissing, strong language, fluff and humor mostly, a bit of angst, shifts between flash backs and flash forwards, sully fam being nosy

LOLA SAYS: i liked this request sm i may have gotten carried away lol. apologies. but either way i hope u enjoy anon. still tryna explore ao’nungs character plus still extremely new to writing. so i hope this is acceptable. also ik the title sounds grimey but this fic is p lighthearted. drew inspo from a poem as well as a song. as always, please mutilate me with criticism and correction so i can improve

you’re not entirely sure how it happened. misted vision prevailed over timeline and verity. however, it is safe to say that if someone had told you upon your initial arrival to the reef, that no less than four months later you’d be sneaking around with the olo'eyktan’s indisputably insufferable son, your incredulity would’ve been comical.

wistfully recalling the first time you’d seen him — hard eyes. firm and arrogant. guard up, unsmiling. stunning. holding tight onto kiri’s hand, your own eyes acknowledged the gradual gathering of the metkayina clan around your family. regardless, your sight was consumingly preoccupied with him. he stared back. the blue of his irises were fervid. at the time, you dismissed it as anger. a reaction to your family’s invasion and unfamiliarity. it was not that. but in the moment, you remained ignorant. a twisting enthral of unknown sentiments travelled through your stomach as you stubbornly kept his intense gaze. butterflies. you clutched your sisters hand tighter.

cerulean water engulfed your waist. an hour had passed since olo'eyktan tonowari and thasìk ronal had granted your family uturu. learning the metkayina’s craft and method seemed to be laced with under tones of compelling urgency. around you stood your siblings, and infront of you, three na’vi. rotxo, a calm and charming boy. tsireya, an unfathomably pure spirit. and him. you tried to listen attentively, but how could you? his stare was vivid. you mustn’t look, but you do. and oh, how the thrill of the sapphire orbs that you’re met with is worth the missed explanations you’re being fed by an eager tsireya. slowly, the side of his mouth curves upwards. not into a smile, but rather a smirk. smug. turning your head defiantly, you keep your focus on his sister. although, you weren’t sure if you were defying his pomposity or the ever present glittering feeling inside your own chest.

days passed, and tension thickened. you were quick to learn the boys’ name. you were quick to learn the boys’ ways. ao’nung had a knack for coming up with a snarky remark in any given situation. ao’nung was fiercely loyal to his friends, and rejected change. ao’nung enjoyed teasing people. ao’nung felt comfortable in positions of dominance. ao’nung was sly, strategic and innovative. yet often acted on impulse. and above all, ao’nung was an exceptionally determined man. once he had centred his desire, not one thing could deter his aim.

in short, ao’nung had chosen you. pridefully, you had rejected his advances. wanting to make him feel just as refused as he had made your family feel. your sister. but this only fuelled his combative love for a challenge. and thus, he began pursuing you. you didn’t deny yourself any conscious apprehension, you were attracted to him. and yes, he did have an effect on you, and yes, there was a blatant connection. but no, you absolutely would not allow yourself to be swooned. yet unfortunately unlike ao’nung, your determination falls flaccid when your riveting heart begins to enchant your spirit with an unexplainable and irrevocable emotion.

ao’nung decorated the next month and a half of your life. he would flirt, rather blatantly. staring, so much staring. he liked when you would look away. putting his broad chest against your back and whispering to you. he knew he made you nervous. but soon, the boyish smirk that remained plastered to his face, changed. it became a smile. a real, true smile. one he reserved only for you. and his eyes, cold and stern, became tender. bright. and only then did your indignant resistance finally cease. only then did you allow yourself to fall. and fall you did. you recall the moment you stopped running, it was a simple moment. all you remember was him, the waves, and his voice. he said your name. just your name. you liked how he said your name. like you, really liked it.

within a week your mind was mush. he invaded every sense, thought and moment. sitting next to him on the peer, legs swinging from the wooden dock as the fish swam below your feet. glowing coral and treasures.

“will you let me take you out, already?” he started.

“and be seen in public with you? no way.” you respond. smile evident in your voice. it wasn’t entirely a joke. after you accepted your desire, the principal reason you had avoided taking ao’nung up on his suggestions and invites (or rather pleas and desperate whining), was because of your family. it was terrifying, not knowing what they would think if they found out you had grown a feverish affection for the same boy who almost got your brother killed. the same boy who tormented your sister. your kiri. the thought of their disapproval and anguished disappointment paralysed you. he knew.

“ma yn” he spoke. a vocation, telling you to look at him. once you did, “we don’t have to tell them, for now. just please. open your heart to me—” he was crying. shit. he was really crying. he pulled you roughly into his chest, his face in your neck “it was a hunt before, i see that. but now, it’s no longer your infernal presence that tortures me. i have taken your soul into mine, and through you i have become a man.” he became quiet. “just please. fuck. please. please.” his lashes were wet against your skin. he was so desperate. aching to give you the love his hands, spirit and mind implored him to encase you in. begging. begging you to let him take care of you. you finally answered him, “we have to take this to the grave.” he only nodded in response, and with an open mouth he wrote his name on your throat. by the end of it, you were shivering.

he walked you to your marui afterwards. both of you in fits of laughter, tears long forgotten. “you’re gonna come see me ride tomorrow. my first tsurak.” he stated. he was staring at the sand. “and why would i do that, ao’nung?” he took his time responding. usually, his pace was rapid. his wit conjuring responses faster than he could process them. “cause you’re my girl.” he finally looked up.

instantly, everything ao’nung had been saying made sense. all that talk about man and woman, torture and growth. it had aligned itself in you like a constellation. you understood now. looking at him, he was grand. vast and big. towering over you. his hands, just as large and calloused as they were amatory. strong arms. thick neck. jaw clenched. deep, vehement voice. it’s like you were suddenly becoming aware of the fact that he was male. powerful. protective. tender. your mouth fell slightly ajar, his muscular arms wrapped despairingly around your waist. you felt it most then. all that man. how much he made you feel like a woman. you let out a shaky breath. only three words in all existence could express your present notion. “i see you.” it was barley audible, yet it was more than enough. and with that, he kissed you.

the deal was simple — tell no one. in public, you were mere acquaintances. yet behind closed doors, you were vigorously infatuated with one an other. he’d stare in a group setting til you were tugging him away when no one was looking. stealing kisses. part of the routine. secret whispered nothings in your ear. date nights, after eclipse. he’d take you swimming, or to the spirit tree. he quickly became your life source. your oxygen. as if you were holding your breath all day and his kisses were the only thing that could finally ease your burning lungs.

“let’s take it to the grave” you’d say

hours spent craving each other. loving words, he’d spill them while you traced patterns on his chest.

“they’ll never find out how bad we behave” he’d assure

on his lap, with his lips on your neck as you told him about your day. breathing in his musk, feeling him mumble into your throat. “i made you something” you manage to make out his muffled words. “you did, ma nung?” you say, giggling already. his grip on your waist tightens. “yeah.” he smiles into your warm skin. one of his hands leave your waist and begin rummaging around in his burlap satchel he had lazily chucked on the sand. you hear clinking before you’re presented with a necklace. a very pretty necklace. “ao’nung” you whisper, one hand flying up to cover your mouth. it’s a shell necklace, traditional metkayina ornamentation. a halitosis rests in the center with smaller trinkets circling the remaining space. he raises his eyebrows, smirking already. “you like it?” you look at him. “it’s perfect. thank you.” “let’s see it on then, turn around.”

later, sitting cross legged in your marui, you face a mindlessly unprecedented challenge. “what’s that?” asks your brother, plopping down next to you. “what are you on about.” you deadpan. “that necklace, where’d you get it?” you look up at neteyam. “huh? what are you guys talking about.” lo’ak chips in. lo’ak, who had been with you all afternoon and had not noticed the necklace, whereas neteyam pointed it out within minutes of being back. typical.

“uh, i made it.” you answer. trying your hardest to sound nonchalant. “that’s nonsense. you can’t bead jewellery for shit.” lo’ak stated. “well i managed didn’t i?” you shoot back. “yn.” neteyam, this time. “you realize you always hide your thumbs when you lie?” he continues. you sharply look down and sure enough, he was right. you were clenching your thumbs tight in your hands. when did you start doing that? indignantly you look back up at an amused neteyam. opening your mouth, only to find yourself speechless.

could you really take this to the grave?

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granolawriting · 7 months

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"Do you have a boyfriend?" •°. *࿐

pairing: no breakout! Cowboy costume!Joel x fem reader

Summary: Your best friend holds a halloween party at her house, where the often brooding Joel you often disregard adorns a new attire that sparks something in you. And he makes it clear he feels the same.

Content warning: 18+ NSFW, age gap (college senior and 50 year old), grey hairs so hes about that old, picture part 2 joel cause he’s the sexiest, porn with lots of plot, p in v, creampie, HEAVY praise, you guys are wearing matching costumes on accident, he fucks you IN costume if you're wondering, nice aftercare, pet names (darling, sweetheart, doll), southern hospitality misconstrued for shyness, sarah is your best friend

word count: 7.4k (holy shit)

masterlist

A/N: christ almighty. This took me all day. it has clouded my mind, overtaken my senses. finishing the final lines of this fic made me feel raw, completly finished. I have never written a fic this long in my entire life I'll be so honest. Anyways, I've been delving so deep into pedro stuff recently that reignighting the Joel adgenda made me quiver at night thinking about it. ANYWAYS. THANK YOU FOR 200 FOLLOWERS!!!! confetti thrown everywehere.

and in other news, I hope u enjoy the 4th installment of my kinktober list, I'll see you all again on the 20th with some bondage!Joel.... Make sure if you like my work to check out my requests/comissions or my ko-fi!!!

P.S. The title was made with scream in mind but since I changed up him from wearing a mask to a cowboy because christ how could I not I decided to just keep it as is.

Monotonous noise of worn out wheels against tired linoleum floors squeak softly at the turns of your cart against the rows of aisles that comprised the small store. Dimly lit bulbs illuminated the rows of supplies— plates upon masks upon streamers of different colors and themes overtake your senses as the whole display seems ostentatious and unflattering to you.

“How's this for a Halloween costume?”

A wolf mask hides the face of an otherwise non-furry Sarah Miller. Who seemed to not share the same sentiment as you regarding distaste for the design.

“I don't know, how are you going to drink if you have a mask on your face?”

“Straws exist.”

“I'm not convinced”

She takes it off with melodrama, sullen disdain for your lack of halloween spirit as you push the cart further down the aisle.

A soft squeak of tires indicates a stop in your steps as you stand before a wall of costumes— what you needed more than anything to hold an answer for you.

Eyes tracing up and down the rows floor to ceiling coated with cheaply made, scantily clad costumes makes your vision blur. Until it lands on a single item; one that stood out to you above all else.

“A cowgirl?”

Sarah sounds unimpressed. Eyeing the plastic wrapped costume labeled “ride my rodeo” with a model on the front wearing small red and white plaid tied to her front, small jean shorts cut at most with an inch’s inseam, and a cowboy hat— sold separately.

“It's the best I've got. It's either this, or I repeat last year’s costume.”

“You are not dressing up as Adam Sandler to my party.”

You put the bag in the cart.

Ever since moving to college, your career as a party-goer has been less than prolific, as a freshman assuming that time away from home was means to let yourself go, slowly turned into a reluctant senior year where parties were oftentimes the last thing you wanted to do on a given day. However, as Sarah lived in the area, she at the very least dragged you to her neighborhood functions. Which, was marginally better than what any Greek life could pull together. And as your car pulls into the empty spot within the miller’s lot, you become privy as to why; because you always had to help put it together.

As smooth concrete lays beneath your car while you park, the truck parked beside you was none other than Joel Millers— Sarah's bachelor dad.

Bachelor was an overstatement, a compliment that wasn't quite applicable to him. He wasn't looking for love, a bachelor without a cause, he was purposefully distant. A brood coated his face from eyes to lips that only ever contorted to something positive in the sight of his daughter. A contractor seemingly married to his work he had no means to find love. A part of you wonders when the last time he even had anyone was, romantically or sexually. Or even how he got ahold of one to make Sarah happen in the first place. You could never picture Joel as someone sexually active, if Sarah told you she was immaculately conceived you would have believed her.

The click of boots against concrete greets the Millers doorstep as your cowgirl boots are adorned, the rest of your uncomfortable costume shoved in a bag across your shoulder as means to at least dress the house in comfort before having to walk around in costume for hours on end.

Walking directly in you’re faced with a Mr. Miller, with a similar idea. He wore nothing at all, costume-wise. Something that you wish you could have done, as every year he seems to escape the wrath of Sarah’s demands regarding spirit, to be met with the regular weathered jeans and loose long sleeves. Standing tall upon a stepladder was he already being put to work however, thick fingers pushing small thumbtacks into the open space of his home, orange and black streamers littering the front room as he works.

His head turns to you at the sound of his door being opened and shut,

“Well, what’re you supposed ta’ be?”

His eyes size you up and down, southern drawl brings sound to the quiet of the room, only otherwise broken by soft halloween music traveling its way downstairs from Sarah’s bedroom. If there was one attractive thing about him, it was his accent. The way he would slur his words together, the charming yet teasing air to everything he says. Having moved to Austin 4 years ago you would’ve thought you’d have grown used to it by now, and you have, besides Joel. The age that honeyed his voice like old whisky was unprecedented, and never paralleled by any other man you’d yet to mean in your time there.

“Haven’t put it on yet Mr. Miller. But I can see that your costume is quite the classic.”

“Oh quit it. Now, Sarah asks that you go upstairs when ya’ came in. Bosses orders.”

You give a stern look to him and nod as though you were to be sent on the front lines, and he only gives a small chuckle before returning to his work.

“Oh my god you’re finally here. Look—”

She opens the door in hurried fashion, and quickly centers herself in the middle of the room to do a spin for you. A small gust of wind as she twirled letting her skirt float as she moved to reveal her outfit. Bells and jingles fill the room at the movement of her body.

“Does it look too corny? Can you tell who I am?”

Looking her up and down, large bundles of curly hair hiding a stuffed serpent around her neck as a green top wraps around the back of it, paired with loose bells and metal pieces adorning a small blue skirt with layers of tulle, it was quite obvious who she was meant to be if you were born prior to 2006.

“Britney spears. And you look perfect, but don't you think it’s a little early to try on your costume?”

Her eyes pierce you with only the gaze of a woman who thought you clearly misunderstood what was going on.

“The party is in 2 hours. I've yet to even do my makeup, or take photos before I get wasted. Time is of the essence. Here, put your costume on and help get ready with me.”

Sarah, despite being in the same grade as you, was marginally less mature. Mostly driven by her intelligence boosting her into higher grades when she was younger, she was around 2 years younger than you despite graduating the same year as you. And despite her efforts sometimes her stress levels were purely driven by the fact she was barely 21. Still obsessed and enamored with arguably, menial things. Though through her age, you always attempted to discern her fathers. With grey growing into the roots of his head, speckling his beard as it traced the lines of his jaw, you had ventured to guess he was around 50.

…

Ding Dong

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh—”

“It's okay Sarah, I'll get it.”

Feet scrambling up and out of her bedroom, you quickly find your way to the front door as the clock shone at 7:30, cursing the people who find joy in showing up so early to what is not a dinner party. Dressed in your cowgirl costume do you answer the door, expecting either trick or treaters or an older neighbor, does someone entirely different greet you as it opens.

Joel towers before you within the doorway. He no longer wore the loose fitting shirts and jeans omnipresent on his person, moreover it was swapped for a much more form fitting attire. A cowboy hat for starters, sat upon his head of hair, usually messy and combed back did it now fall in front of his face, sculpting his jaw as it fell to the sides of chocolate eyes. Strands peppered his face as you took him in, a worn cowboy hat that complimented the tan of his skin, equally as sun bleached did it seem almost natural for him to adorn it. Followed by a small toothpick sticking from his lips, did it draw focus to the pink of them, shaped and contrasted by the peppered beard freshly trimmed, longer pieces of hair falling over his top lip to establish a thicker mustache that became the centerpiece of his look. As your eyes trailed down the rest of his body, you’re met with a form fitting tan tuscan button up as his underlayer, slightly unbuttoned at the top to reveal his chest lines do you notice fabric rolled to his elbows to reveal thick hairy forearms that held muscle visible unflexed. Trailing up to see the definition of bicep within the confines of cotton fabric almost bursting at the muscle he carried, only to be met with an overlayer of a dark brown vest seemingly made of corduroy or something similar, tightly buttoned around his waist to accentuate it's contrast to the broadness of his shoulders. The pants worn in tandem with the outfit were a chocolate brown, thick leather-like material clung to his quads as they tapered at the ends of his calves, square toed cowboy boots finding home beneath the heavy fabric of his pants. Around his waist was there a detailed belt, a worn leather belt held up the tie of his pants, and to his hip was a holster, housing a small toy gun that fell to his side as his hip stayed slightly cocked at the entrance. His thumb looped in the side of his pocket as he stood waiting at the front door. The scent of cologne fills your senses as it breeds with his natural scent to produce what was to you somewhat of an aphrodisiac. This was no longer the grumpy old man that wore clothes a size too large because he was too lazy to check the charts, no longer the father of your best friend— in this moment he was nothing but insatiably attractive.

“Oh, Mr. Miller I— don't you have a key?”

Only now do you notice the look he gave you. The equal look of awe as his eyes unabashedly trailed your body and it's curved. Much more revealing than him though equally as hidden from what he wanted. You watched as lips became slightly pursed, taking in the fit of your jeans and the curve of your hips, eyes falling for far too long upon your top and how it complimented you.

He skips a beat.

“Oh— uh, sorry kid. Though Sarah’d be comin’ down. Wanted to show her my outfit. S’ the last halloween we’re gonna have fer a while.”

You feel yourself heat up, his eyes connecting with yours have a whole new meaning to it now. He seemed embarrassed, even, as his eyes darted from side to side, unable to connect with yours for more than a few seconds as he asked for his daughter.

“She's still upstairs getting ready. Do you, do you want me to call her down?”

“No, no that won’t be necessary. ‘Supose I’ll wait fer her inside.”

It takes you a moment to register that as means for entry into his own house as you stood there agape in the center of the doorframe. Though quickly do you move your body to make room for him, as he dips his head to you in thanks before heavy boots hit the wooden floors of the downstairs in his entry.

The tension that builds within the room is deafening as you both stand there in silence. Unable to remove yourself from his proximity does the air fill with feelings foreign and impure.

“That’s a um, nice costume ya’ got there.”

Joel breaks the silence with soft spoken words as he begins to pour a drink in the kitchen. Though not looking at you, the image of you within his mind pierced the darkest parts of his consciousness with glaring extremity as he felt himself grow hot in so many layers.

“This? Oh, Sarah, she made me do it. But uh, I really like yours as well. It, it suits you well. And we’re matching, that's funny.”

This was your poor attempt at flirting with a mind so foggy with memories completely turned on their head as your perception of Joel did that same.

“WHO IS ITTTT!!!!!!!!!”

Sarah screams from the closed door of her upstairs bedroom. Clearly your time downstairs was limited before she began even more antics from the confines of her unkempt bedroom.

He hands you a glass, amber liquid sloshes upon crackling ice fills up a quarter of the cylindrical glass.

“Hope ya’ have fun t’night sweetheart. Make sure Sarah’s doin’ alright.”

You flash him a shy smile as you take your drink to go, climbing the hardwood stairs leading to her bedroom as quickly as you can without spilling it.

“Who was it? What took you so long! Is that whisky?”

“Can you ask one question at a time?”

“Well I already asked all of em so what's the point?”

“Just for future reference.”

“Maybe. Well?”

“your dad forgot his key, I helped him inside, he gave me a drink. Tis the story.”

She looks you up and down as the recollection of her father instills newfound meekness at the mention of him.

“Ok weirdo. Here, take candids.”

…

Halloween music blares from speakers as the party comes to a head, the myriad of costumes all still holding creases from the cheap packaging they were purchased in become clustered together as the drinks you have begin to get to you. The smell of alcohol and pumpkin fill the room as a cacophony of laughter takes you out of a spell of staring thankfully focused on the floor and not upon unsuspecting persons.

The only person who seemed to stand out amongst the crowds of duplicate costume and cheesy innuendos was a certain Mr. Miller— a prolific wallflower that only hosted these things as a means to keep Sarah close in situations like this. For if not here, she’d be somewhere else doing the same thing.

Eyes scoured the home every few minutes, looking to catch a glimpse of Joel within his costume, politely smiling at guests through small talk or taking slow drinks of his flask.

“Hey you!!!”

You’re startled by the sound of Sarah's boom from across the room as she calls for you, a caramel hand stuck high in the air to signal you to her, drawing you out of the trance of Joel’s small movements.

You walk to her with careful steps, trying not to step on capes or trailing costumes in the process.

“What’s up with you! I’ve barely seen you at all tonight! I know you’re not a party girl anymore but please, try and live it up for me!”

Something catches her eye as she speaks to you, her smiling face turning into an O with excitement;

“And—”

She points behind you.

“I think that guy over there is checking you out. Go have fun! Let me hear all about it later!”

Later. You forgot you’d promised to sleep over at her place too, rehashing the night's events as soon as they came to a close as you always did over the years. Though the first thing that comes to your mind is not the man behind you eyeing you, tacky tie-dye making up for a lackluster hippie costume, but Joel. the man who in fact owned the home you would be sleeping in, the man who kept eyeing you from the side of the room with a gaze you accepted much greater than the mans behind you, and above all, the man that had caught your heart in a way that led to it's seeping out between your thighs.

God, what the fuck is wrong with me? This isn't right it's, it’s Sarah's dad. She’d be heartbroken to even know I think like this.

You decide to throw away all the Clint Eastwood movies you stole from your dad and uninstall red dead redemption 2 when you got home, and blame your attraction solely on your overconsumption of cowboy media. You need a breather.

There's a balcony, facing the back of the property that was off limits to the party guests. Entered only through Joel’s bedroom, anyone would be stupid to test their luck if getting caught within his personal dwellings. However, you were Sarah’s best friend. And was even shown this entryway by Sarah herself— of course when her father was not home. And so you decide with cautious steps to ascend the stairs of his home, the liquor giving way to uncertainty in every step as your eyes are glued to the placement of each foot upon the step one by one. Though as you reach the top with great pride, you venture into Joel’s room, to the left of the stairs as Sarah’s is farther to the right.

You had never been in his room by yourself before, only for a brief moment with Sarah as she showed you one of her favorite spots in the house. It was secluded, of course looking over the backyard she lamented years past as a girl playing within the pool below. She was at the age where she wanted to be independent, but in no way could be yet; and for her that was about 10. And as means to give her her freedom but keep her close, he would watch from the confines of a balcony she paid no note to as the splashing of waves kept her occupied. And he doted on her from a distance.

As you walk through his bedroom, walls covered in guitars and desk littered with wooden sculptures while a record shows to be finished upon his player. Sheets properly made upon his bed, and a sense of intimacy looking around at the things littered upon his shelves and tables. The framed photo of him and his daughter, his old watch he took off specifically for the occasion of dress. The distinct smell of him that enveloped your senses.

Opening the door to the balcony does the feeling of cool air hitting a flustered face sober you everso slightly. Bracing yourself on the edges of the platform, you drift into a calm. The first time you’d felt that since the moment you opened the door for a cowboy Mr. Miller— as you force yourself to call him in your mind.

“Now what do you suppose yer doin’ in my room?”

Your heart sinks. You knew you’d be fine, if caught, but the thing that sinks your heart is the uptick of your heartbeat and the twist in your stomach at the sight of familiar drawl sounding behind you.

You hear heavy boots break the threshold of the doorway into where you stood as the sound of wood upon his feet changed to a scratch of concrete.

He stands next to you, forearms pressed against the railing as his back curves along casual footing aside of you. The moonlight illuminates his face, the curve of his nose complimenting the side profile that gifted you sight at the tufts of hair poking out from the ends of his hat, and the proximity to him gave you the insight to the smell of whisky on his breath as he spoke.

“Needed ta’ take a breather' myself. ‘Spose we had the same idea.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Ya’ having a good time t’night kid?”

“Oh yeah, I haven't seen all that much of Sarah though did you—”

You stop as he shifts his body to turn to you.

“Now, can I be honest with ya’?”

As you turn to look at him, mirroring his stance he dwarfs you in the process, standing at around 6ft the broad of his shoulders shadowing your whole figure.

You nod your head meekly.

“I just— now, I don't know how ta’ say all this quite right. But, don't get me wrong darlin’, I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ fer me all night. I don't know if ya’ think i'm blind or somethin, but i’ve seen ya’ all night, watchin me.”

He pauses for a moment and within that silence does your heart shatter. The whole time you thought that he was eyeing you, looking you up and down, it was just a one sided coincidence that led you to this awkward conversation with a man twice your age. You start;

“Oh listen I'm, I'm so sorry Mr. Miller I must have given the wrong impression or something I don't know i'm just so—”

“Please, call me Joel. And don't hafta’ be so sorry sweetheart. Just callin’ it how I see it.”

He pauses once more as he considers what he’s going to say next, a tinge of uncertainty covering his face as he decides how to follow up.

“And I don't quite mind it, if that's what you’re worried ‘bout.”

The tense of your muscles releases as he continues.

“Just, wanted ta’ tell you you looked quite well yourself that’s all.”

He’s holding back, you can tell by the sway of his legs as he goes on and the grip of his fingers upon the pocket of his pants. The way his gaze averted yours and his glancing upon the floor; for any look at you from your eyes to your body seemed to be hard for him to swallow with proper manners.

Your eyes lock in silence, the pale moonlight illuminating you two as the distance from Joel grows unconsciously closer as you take in his face, his body looming over yours and the prospect of their being more within his mind that he’s willing to give you. The southern hospitality still overshadows his true means.

Rough fingers graze your face, tucking hair behind your ear as it falls in front of your face. And as he leans forward to do so, you lean in as well. Blinded by desire and complicated by liquor and closing the gap between the two of you. Tasting his lips reminiscent of whisky and the frosting of halloween cupcakes you feel him kiss you back for only a moment before shooting himself backwards.

He almost trips over his own feet in adverse reaction, stumbling to the other side of the balcony as you watch him.

“I'm—”

“No darlin’ ya’ don't have to say anything. But I've probably got to get back down to company. Feel free to stay up here ‘s long as you want.”

You watch as he rushes out of the room and the urge to chase after him grows weak as the taste lingers on your lips. The sense of defeat wells in your chest but not entirely, because for a moment he kissed back. A moment you felt him push forward on your lips and savor the flavor of them as you did for him.

Later.

Now, a sleepover with Sarah is what you needed most. A sleepover with her, is a sleepover with Joel right across the way. And the mere feeling of that made your knees weaken with rushing dreams of him.

The party seemed to drag on after that, only satiated by more drinks were you able to bear a night where you could feel him from across the room, sense his body and the heat that came with it. You felt naked for him, utterly exposed at the sight of his eyes trailing you— ones you could only hope followed you the way yours did for him whenever you noticed him with back turned. Drinking in every part of his body as he was none the wiser, finding joy and security within the turn from you as means to make him in for as long as you pleased.

…

“Alright ma’am, seems ya’ need to be goin’ home, me ‘n Sarah got a lot of cleanin to do in the morning.”

An outstretched arm grabs the bicep of a polite Joel, ushering out the final guest that had an affinity for his touch so it seemed.

“Ohhh but darlin when will I see you in such a getup again? Oh i'd never want to leave.”

“‘S a shame I’m about to take it off though ma’am. Now go walk home alright?”

Her eyes hooded everstill she demands even more of him;

“Oh but will you take me? Don't think I trust myself in these conditions.”

He closes his eyes and a heavy sigh leaves his nose.

“‘Spose so ma’am— Sarah, I’ll be right back.”

Her arm loops around his bicep as he leads her out of the house, jealousy overtaking you purely at the close proximity she had to him, for much longer than he ever had with you.

Sarah turns to look at you as you stand a few feet back from the scene, a bemused look painted on your face unconsciously demanding explanation.

“Oh- that was miss carey she uh, she’s had a thing for my dad for years now. It’s kind of funny if I'm being honest, given I didn't see her drink all night.”

You let out a halfhearted laugh for a response, trying to deny the yearning within your stomach to feel Joel’s arm as she did, to touch him, fall over him. Just be close enough to smell him again, feel his warmth. It had felt like decades since the last feeling of him close to you. your body remembering calloused fingers grazing your heated cheek; contrasting with the cold tips that crept upon his hands as the air finally showed hints of the coming winter season.

“Sorry to be a bother, but doya think you could start cleaning up? I’ve gotta get this costume off and shower before I vomit. Thanks!”

As Sarah zips up the stairs all that’s left is you alone, standing within the living room of Joel Miller’s home. One where he could return any second.

You decide to busy yourself with chores, cleaning up stray glasses and bottles littered across the house, fallen decorations and dessert trays now only holding wrappers and trash. It’s a hefty job, one that helps for a short while as the weight of hours prior looms over you with darring intent to seep deep within your mind, allowing visions of the taste of his tongue, the feel of his body pressed against you to consume you. What you would give to feel his nose clash against yours through sloppy kisses, lips puffy with desire as small nips and clashing of teeth is all that can fester in your mind as candy wrappers stuck to the floor fail to give enough distraction anymore to keep Joel off your mind.

“Fuckin’ christ man I— oh.”

You didn't even hear the door open, or the creak of boots as they settled into their first steps within the home. Only the sound of his voice did you perk up with your mind unable to shake your thoughts as you stand before him. Feet away with a small trash bag in your hand.

He continues.

“Didn't know you’d still be here, my apologies.”

“Oh yeah uh, Sarah didn't tell you I was spending the night?”

“Spendin’ the night?”

He repeats you, barely able to hide his shock. Clearly, she hadn't. And as you stand there, beginning to hear the water running for a shower she’s yet to even get into, the tension of the two of you grows immanent as he realizes just how alone he currently is with you.

He didn't know what to do, feeling palms grow sweaty as his desire clashed with his sense of respect and responsibility as a father and his yearning grew too prominent to hide behind the unforgiving stretch of tightly fitted pants he busied himself once more.

“Oh, right then. Well I ‘spose i’ll be in the kitchen if ya’ need me.”

Walking past you with a heavy stride does the scent of him once more draw you to him— something primal, wanton is elicited from him when in close proximity. One that with a room now void of people to maneuver through, you refused to ignore any longer. You followed his quick steps into the kitchen, separating yourself even further from Sarah as the stairs fell into your purview as you ventured deeper into the home.

You greet Joel at the counter of the kitchen where he stood, pouring another drink for himself does the hand gripping his drink suspend mid air at the sight of your trail behind him.

“Ya’ need somethin’?”

You don't know if it’s the liquor talking, or the suspense and tease of a night full of dreaming for a moment like this to arise but you don't allow yourself to beat around the bush anymore. If this old man failed to make a move, you would.

“I do Joel, really— I think we both do.”

He sets the glass down on the counter with a light chink filling the air. His demeanor changes; you watch as both hands lean forward on the counter to inch closer to you, arms outstretched flex his forearms to reveal muscles only garnered by heavy and hard working. His hip cocked to his left as he made unwavering eye contact with you, a smile forming slightly upon his face.

“And what would that be darlin’?”

He made you nervous. This was a first. The mild mannered gentleman that often stood before you, speaking only when necessary and smiling only when compelled to. You always shook him off, an old man not worth anything but a gracious thank you as he catered to you and his daughter when times came. But as you looked upon that man now, face shadowed by a cowboy hat perfectly curved at its edges lining his head, hairs falling in just the right places over the sides of his face, and the hooded eyes coated with lust you found yourself hard to speak. Hard to even think.

“Well? Cmon’ now I ain't got all day.”

He's taunting you. Watching you grow nervous under his gaze as you become the one that can't hold it anymore.

“You, and me I mean. The way you look at me— I want you Joel. And so do you, right?”

Without skipping a beat, Joel retorts

“So come closer then sweetheart. Can't do anything with ya’ so far away.”

your heartbeat picks up again. Shaking steps inch around the bend of the countertop, until you’re no more than an inch away from him. Watching, as he looks down upon you.

“Good girl— now, what’s this about wanting me hm?”

“What?”

“Oh don't play coy darlin’, I love hearin’ you tell me all about how much you need me. The look in those pretty little eyes.”

A coarse finger falls upon your cheek once more, this time lingering there before toying with stray hairs. His fingers trail to your chin and jaw, gripping onto your face to lift it higher to lock dark eyes with his.

“Such a doll. I wanna hear ya’ beg for it.”

You feel a pool of slick well between your thighs, heating and dampening already ruined underwear at the sight of him as the night went on. Though as you listened to the sink in his voice, demanding you to beg for him. You don't even know what you were so needy for, his kiss? That was too little. You wanted all of him, and as knees felt weak at the thought of it— him, and you completely at his disposal. He dwarfed you from this closeness, you realized this as you approached him. He overpowered you in every way, and that made it even harder to say what you wanted. Every semblance of confidence leaves your body as all you want to do now is whatever he demands, whatever he says.

“Please Joel I— I need you. Every part of you. I can't take my eyes off of you. Every part of you looks so perfect no matter the angle or the lighting. Id, i’d never noticed it before but now I…”

The gust of articulation you had quickly dwindled as his face lit up from such compliment, such desperation. You were desperate, needy for him. That much was true. And he knew that.

“Mmm that's all ya’ had to say sweetheart.”

Now he is the one that closes the gap between you, the yearning for his taste finally satiated as your lips collided once more, the fantasies of clashing of teeth against one another with impassioned touch as his hand falls from your face to trail bare stomach. Feeling the large of his hands take in every inch of you with precision, like he had memorized exactly where he wished to be. Feeling as his hands trace down to your hips, and slowly maneuvering up to the wire of your bra.

“Take it off. Please.”

You beg through breathy moans as you stay inside his mouth, taking into him as you refuse to open any gap of distance between the two of you.

“Since ya’ asked so nicely.”

His fingers trace the center of your chest where a simple tie kept together thin fabric that complimented your chest. Unraveling it's knot does he guide it off your arms and onto the floor, a free hand snaking to your back to unhook your bra, leaving you with nothing but the shorts you wore and the hat upon your head to constitute a costume.

His mouth lets up from you to look down on your chest, his palms engulfing them as he kneeds them within his hands, letting the weight of them move with his fingers as he massages them. Fingers slowly trailed down to the mountain of your nipple, toying with them with two fingers as his eye flitted back up to you to watch your reaction. Sighing in relief, your eyes fluttering at the feeling of his cool touch against a body so overwhelmed with heat for him.

He leans in to you, his lips pressing softly against your ear his voice no matter a whisper is still laced with lust creating deep tones otherwise foreign to you to emit from him as he speaks to you;

“God you don't know what you do to me darlin’.”

“Then show me.”

His hands make quick way to the back of your thighs, lifting you up to his hips where you can feel his bulge pressing into you, the thin material of your shorts leaving little room for imagination.

Walking to the dining room adjacent to the kitchen, he sets you on a table that meets him at about hip level, lowering your back onto the wooden finish that often held dinners with the three of you now making way for just the two of you as you watch the buckle of his pants become the main spot of his attention.

“Bet ya’ could feel what you’re doin’ to me sweetheart, you like that hm? Feelin’ my cock against you even for a fuckin second?”

He talks down to you as he undresses his lower half, relieving himself to only his boxers as he now knelt down to face your heat, legs dangling off the edge of the table to uses that as means to slide your shorts off with ease, revealing the soaked underwear that gave you constant reminder of the eyes you held the whole night.

“All this for me hm? Ain’t I lucky.”

He lifts a finger to massage the outside of your heat, slowly pressing on the wet spots as he toys with you, making your breath hitch at the feeling of his touch, the sensitivity only growing overtime as you were denied for so long.

Slowly he peels off your underwear, allowing your slick to trail down the side of your thigh as it leaves a trace when it hits the floor. The cool air hitting your clit makes you jolt, but Joel wasting no time allows himself to dig straight into you. Feeling his tongue explore every crevice of you, every place where you have leaked for him he wants to take in every drop of it. Tasting you was like heaven to him. As his lips were pressed against your heat as his tongue began to make a repeated circular motion along your clit.

your fingers beg for his hair, grasping it in desperate fingers do you confine him within the bars of your thighs as they squeeze against his head.

“Mmng— god Joel it feels so nice please I-”

He waited for you to speak before sticking a finger inside of you. Thick callused fingers grabbed at your core and pushed its way into your center, hooking at sponge from inside you right at the spot that felt best. No longer could you ever think he didn't know what he was doing, it’s as if he knew your own body in and out, and with the whines you have to bite back out of fear of it drowning out the shower's thud of water upon a clueless Sarah.

“You like that sweetheart?”

Joel groans into your pussy, he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. Hearing your stifled yelps and desperate moans over his tongue, his finger inside of you.

“Y..yes please Joel I need more.”

He slides in with a second finger, though lets up from your clit. Slick drips to his chin as he rises to face you, leaning over you as fingers still pump inside of you.

“Never fuckin’ satisfied, is that it? Whaddya need darlin’ hm? How about ya’ use those words for me.”

He made it hard for you to speak or even think as the steady grind of his fingers inside of you overtook your senses. But you obliged, trying through breathed heaves to try and relay what you desperately needed from him.

“Fuck me. Please fuckme Joel I cant— ngh I cant fucking take it anymore.”

“Good girl. Guess you’re in luck ‘cause I aint ever wanted to fuck someone this bad in my entire life. And I’m not gonna be gentle on ya’ alright? I know you can take it.”

Slowly removing his fingers from you, he lifts them up to his own mouth to let him taste you one last time, slowly licking clean what was just knuckle deep within you. You watch as he slithers his boxers off, revealing what seemed to be impossible to fit inside of you. His cock was pulsating, almost red as it yearned to be touched, it yearned to be inside of you. You watch as beads of precum already coat its tip, and veins throb against the slight curve of him that twitches at the feeling of release.

Inching towards you you feel his tip graze your core before pushing into your folds, covering himself with your slick does he push himself flush against you as you see how far his cock rides up onto your body. You see him smile at the sight of it lying on your stomach, predicting how deep it’ll push inside of you before he centers it once more at your entrance, slowly spreading you open as you feel a fire burn within your stomach at the initial pain of it. It felt as though he was ripping you apart slowly, legs instinctively closing did his hand grab onto your thighs to push them open.

His body flushes against yours with a deep groan, letting your walls warm his cock for a moment as he looks down on you.

“You’ve got a pretty fuckin’ body ya’ know that? All done up fer me, feel so lucky finally gettin’ to do this.”

He begins inching in and out of you with slow pace, your body moving with every stroke of his cock around you as you fell hopelessly obsessed with the feeling of him inside of you.

“Been wantin’ to do this all night— imagining what ya’ looked like under that pretty little costume of yours. Fuck, woulda fucked you right on that balcony if I could’ve. Nngh—”

His thrusts in you grow faster as he speaks to you, talking you through the whole thing makes you only look at him with wide eyes, desperately needing his cock and drinking in the southern drawl that detailed how he felt the exact same.

“Body’s fuckin’ perfect. Pretty little pussy all fer me, yaknow that? Right now you’re all fuckin’ mine hm? Ain't that right doll?”

“Yes, yes Joel— all for you nngh. My body is all yours please, please don't stop.”

His finger trails down from your thigh to your clit, throbbing with pain at the need to be touched does he satiate it with a thumb beginning to circle where his tongue did moments prior.

“Fuckkk please oh my god”

your breath grows irregular as the fire burning in your stomach grows white hot, unable to utter anything coherent as babbling of desperate please escape your mouth as your body becomes addicted to his every touch. The push of his cock directly against your cervix, the circle of his thumb perfectly against your heat, you felt it bubble inside you. Nearing on toppling over all you can think of, unconsciously chanting as he fucks into you Joel Joel Joel Joel

“Ya’ gonna fuckin’ come for me? Cmon, I wanna feel it darlin’ I want it to swallow me I want you to cum on my fuckin’ cock hm? Can ya’ do that for me?”

He groans over you, thrusts growing irregular at the desperation of his own climax reaching a head at the same time yours does. Only letting a few more thrusts greet you before you feel it toppling over, every inch of your body becoming utterly ruined below him. Feeling his cock inside of you pistoning into you through your orgasm, legs lock around his clothed waist as your hips buck up, shaking as your back arches against the table with legs raised, most of your body not even on the table anymore as he holds your legs stable to fuck through his own orgasm.

“Fuck fuck darlin’ you’re so fuckin’ tight— shit you feel so good.”

“Inside of me”

You manage to breathe through a fogged mind and blurry vision as the sensitivity of your body makes his use of you mind numbing.

“Please. Please Joel please cum inside of me please—”

You feel heavy liquid fill you as he slows his pace, heavy groan being the only thing that fills the room now as he pumps in and out of you, softening inside of you as his seed leaks from you. He slowly removes himself from you, a collection of your own fluid and his trails down the side of your thigh as you both stay there breathless. Watching as he slowly shifts on his boxers, and loosely does pants that are soon to come off later.

Before you’re able to right yourself or even get up, you watch as Joel slides your clothes back on you, latching your bra softly as he raises your back up to do so. Slipping your top on and tying a proper knot is the only thing missing from your wardrobe, the underwear he took off of you, that of which becomes missing as he slips your shorts onto you.

“I think you forgot something.”

“Think I deserve a little trophy don't you darlin’?”

You flush at the implication, Joel keeping them as a sort of token of remembrance of you, of this night.

Straightening yourself up as he finishes clothing you do you stand there, as you watch his back once more fill up glasses of water for you and him. Taking in all he is, form fitting cowboy attire still decorating his body, do you outstretched a hand to feel his bicep, a desire you’d had the moment that woman did. As he turns to face you, feeling your hand brush against his body once more he smiles slightly, teasing;

“Ya’ like what ya see sweetheart?”

“I just wanted to feel you.”

“Already did a lotta that don't ya’ think? But be my guest.”

He hands you a small glass of water as he drinks out of his own, and as silence engulfs the two of you you hear the dreaded creak of a shower turning off sound from the upstairs as reality sets in for the two of you once more.

“Think ya’ best go check on Sarah now.”

“Yeah that’d be smart.”

You avert his eyes as you’d done once prior, engulfed by embarrassment as you remember Sarah after the intimate moment you shared.

“Well, I’ll be down here for a bit longer, then headed ta’ bed. You just uh, let me know if ya need anythin’ right? You know where my room is.”

A small smile across his face implies a very different definition of ‘needing’ something, depending on how you view it. But as you ascend the stairs to help deal with Sarah once more, part of you knows that you’ll be asking him for some more help, cleaning, before night's end.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #pedro x reader #pedro pascal #cowboy pedro #cowboy joel #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction

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cottonlemonade · 26 days

Text

How You Met

word count: 1062 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Atsumu x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: spoilers, swearing once, cause Atsumu, mentions of academic pressure/anxiety

____________________________________________

You sighed when you caught a glimpse of the unyielding gray sky out the library window. Lunch at your favorite café had lifted your spirits a little but did nothing to the overall feeling of anxiety that always came and went throughout the semester.

You felt around in your bag to make sure you packed an umbrella and tried not to think too much about the things you would rather be doing right now than sitting here and revising your notes. Listless and your head filled with melancholy, you stayed at the library for another hour, mostly on your phone, unable to concentrate on the neatly written cue cards, before finally throwing in the towel and packing up to leave.

When you stepped outside the air felt heavy but at least there was no rain yet.

You texted your friends that you had given up on academics for the day and were on your way back home, trying not to sound too miserable and eventually reached the bus stop, joining the many other commuters, all chatting or quietly glued to their phones. Finding a spot towards the end of the line you stood next to a tall guy, dressed in all black, a mask and cap covering his face and hair. After living in Tokyo for quite some time you had grown accustomed to people like him, those who so clearly didn’t want to be recognized or just wanted to pretend to be someone important or mysterious or all of the above.

Deep in thought about the possibility of dropping by your friend’s place to cuddle her dog for a while to cheer you up, you didn’t notice the wall of rain coming your way at first.

You ducked your head, hectically rummaging around for the umbrella. When you wanted to open it, however, the top just popped off, flying uselessly off the handle onto the road where a passing van swiftly dragged it along.

For a second or so you just stood there, handle in hand, watching the umbrella top disappear in traffic, not even slightly slowing down the cars.

Your mood turned from surprised to sour and you raised your hands to at least protect yourself a little, even though you were already drenched by the thick splattering drops and spray from the cars.

And just as you were contemplating that you might as well start to cry now, unnoticed in the downpour, the rain suddenly stopped, or at least for a confusing second you thought it did. The masked guy next to you had stepped to the side so that his umbrella was covering you now as well.

You gaped at him.

"Thank you.", you said, grateful, but not quite able to keep your voice steady.

He gave you a puzzled look upon the voice crack and even through the tumult of the cars whooshing past and the rain hammering onto the roof of the bus stop and his umbrella, you could hear him smirk.

"No problem.", he replied, somehow managing to sound indifferent, self satisfied and curious all at once.

He was quite a bit taller than you and a few blond strands protruded from his cap over the otherwise dark undercut.

And then, as he felt you staring, he leaned back a bit to expose a giant poster ad running on the side of the bus stop, showing a glorified action shot of a young man with a blond undercut, hitting a volleyball. In bold letters it read Black Jackals Miya Atsumu. You frowned at first, then understood and offered a politely impressed smile which he apparently took as you being too stunned to speak in his presence. He gave a nonchalant shrug as if to say “Yes, indeed it is I.”

You were sure your friend had told you about him. The name looked familiar. And judging by the poster he was just as handsome as she described. Didn’t she say he was one of the best setters in all of Japan or something?

“Hey, uhm, this is gonna sound weird, but I have a friend who is a fan of yours - I think.”

“Friend, huh?”, Atsumu looked you up and down, his mask hiding the grin he wore as he appreciated how your wet clothes clung to your plump figure.

“Yes, a friend. Would you mind giving me an autograph for her?”

He nodded and pulled a pen from his pocket, patiently waiting for you to retrieve a notebook from your backpack. You flipped to a free page and held it out to him.

“What’s yer “friend’s” name?”, he asked.

You began spelling the characters. He paused, frowning. “That’s a Japanese name.”

You nodded. “It is.”

“But ya don’t… look… Japanese.”, he said, confused.

Now it was your turn to knit your brow. “I… don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“Wait, this ain’t for ya?”

“No? It’s for my friend.”, you assured him with a quite adorable little chuckle and he felt heat rising in his cheeks.

Oh.

“Oh! Right… Uhm.” Atsumu looked down at his phone number and the (in his opinion) clever pick up line he had begun to write underneath.

Clearing his throat he flipped to a new page and dedicated a signature to your friend, then turned back to the page he started on. Eh, he might as well. “Ya should come to our next match. I’ll dedicate a serve to ya, if ya do.”

You looked like you had no idea what that meant but, wait. Did you… did you blush? Shit, did that actually work?! He quickly finished his first signature and handed the book back to you. A bus pulled up.

“Hope to see ya around.”, he said cooly and gave you an encouraging nod to get on, which, in a daze, you did, still holding on to the handle of the broken umbrella.

Mercifully, you found a seat by the window, directly above him, only able to see the top of his umbrella now. He lifted the brim.

For a moment he looked at you, weighing, considering.

Then he brought his hand to his mask and pulled it down just low enough so you could see the cocky smirk that accompanied a wink.

As the bus pulled out of the station and merged into traffic you realized that it was going the wrong way.

____________________________________________

part 2

#atsumu x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #miya atsumu #hq atsumu #atsumu x reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #atsumu fluff #msby atsumu #haikyuu atsumu

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stra-tek · 5 months

Text

Lots and lots of random spoilerific things about Star Trek comics

Gold Key's old run was written by people who had never actually seen the show. Later they involved fans like Doug Drexler to make things a bit more authentic

This however made them, IMHO, amazing

Blond scotty. Wearing green.

Voodoo planet, with papier mache versions of Earth landmarks which, when blasted with a death ray, cause the real ones to collapse

Spock learns voodoo to combat this threat

The Enterprise completely razes a planet of hostile plant spore things. Like full on extermination of all life

There's a locked room on deck 7 full of evil Vulcan spirits. A yeoman blunders in and all hell breaks loose

Kirk doesn't know what a god damn black hole is

Spock is kidnapped by aliens, has their entire knowledge downloaded into his brain which makes him into a bobblehead for awhile

The Enterprise is briefly taken from Kirk and given to Captain Zarlo, who is a total bellend

Spock forgets to have pointed ears sometimes

The old UK newspaper comic strips were even worse. The first few issues feature "Captain Kurt" and he wears a red shirt. Bailey is also a lead character, giving away which one episode they had knowledge of

Depictions of the Enterprise in their very first strip will shock and horrify you, but after that the art becomes amazing and maintains a very high standard

Marvel did a series following The Motion Picture, and it was a vast improvement, although they technically had rights to the movie and not the series, which led to a little weirdness. Tons of references still were snuck in, though

There's a series of Book and Records, which you can listen to on YouTube and are goofy fun. The Enterprise desperately needs a meal in the art, though.

They draw Romulans as green wizards

They didn't have the rights to Nichelle Nichols or George Takei's likenesses, so get ready for White Uhura and Black Sulu!

They didn't have the rights to The Animated Series either, so M'Ress is a human with weird face paint and Arex is substituted for just some guy

There's an unlicensed Chinese adaptation of The Motion Picture's novelisation (made with zero prior knowledge of Star Trek), which features an all-star cast like O.J. Simpson as Decker and James Brolin as Kirk. It's called The Star Trek, which is a better name than The Motion Picture, IMHO.

DC comics' first run is considered some of the best Trek ever. They're made with love and a deep knowledge of the source material

You know how Star Trek III takes place right after II? WRONG. It was several months later and the crew (with Saavik taking over from Spock) had tons of adventures in the interim. It just seemed like it was right after😂

Before Worf and long long before Ash Tyler, Kirk had a Klingon on his crew

He was a cowardly Klingon named Konom who fled the Empire

He fell in love with a human woman named Bryce

They adopted an albino Klingon/human child with dwarfism which they named Bernie

Kirk has an unhinged, insubordinate crewman on board named Bearclaw and they hate each other

Tension escalates and eventually there's a stabbing

Sulu/M'Ress happens and I don't think people knew what furrys were in the 80's

You know how Spock comes back at the end of III but isn't his old self until the end of Star Trek IV? WRONG AGAIN. He came back just fine, and lost his marbles following an incident months later that just happened to line everything up to make it all seem like it was right after.

After STIII, Kirk becomes captain of the U.S.S. Excelsior NX-2000 and Spock becomes captain of the U.S.S. Surak. We get a few issues exclusively focusing on Spock's ship and his band of merry weirdos.

The U.S.S. Surak keeps changing design, starting off as a sort of Oberth-class ship, then randomly becoming an Excelsior-class ship and finally ending as the warp sled shuttlecraft from The Motion Picture

The Surak's crew include a giant chicken man, a Vulcan hating racist lady and a balding man with a bicycle

They all die horribly and a massive reset button is pressed so everyone is exactly where they were at the end of Star Trek III

In order to make that work they had to bs that the Klingon Bird of Prey was hidden in Excelsior's shuttlebay all this time despite it being way, way too big for that

There's a full on mirror universe invasion

Kirk becomes a celebrity from saving the galaxy all the time

Mr. Arex comes back and becomes chief of security but doesn't really do much

HORTA CREWMEMBER. It's as amazing as it sounds

The first Next Generation comic miniseries was made with knowledge of the first 2 or 3 TNG episodes and nothing else

Everyone is hench as fuck. Picard has washboard abs and bulging muscles

Data is emotional and Troi feels the emotions she senses a la "Encounter at Farpoint"

Wesley is drawn as if he's 10

The B-shift con and ops team are a husband and wife who wear caped superhero versions of Starfleet uniforms with bare legs.

They argue. A lot.

The crew meet an alien Santa Claus and Q loses his powers years before "Deja Q"

The whole Q Continuum visits the Enterprise and they're all John De Lancie but in Starfleet uniforms of every colour under the sun.

After that initial miniseries, the Next Gen crew lose a lot of their muscle mass and start resembling their on screen counterparts a lot better

Picard had a brother who fell down a hole and died as a child. Q offers to rewrite history so he doesn't die. Claude Picard grew up to be Space Superhitler and turns Starfleet and the Federation fascist.

Before all this Q turned Jean-Luc into a goat for the lolz

Marvel's The Early Voyages was very literally Strange New Worlds before Strange New Worlds.

They have a pyrokinetic security officer named Nano and he's awesome

Marvel lost the Trek license quite suddenly, and so the series ends on a cliffhanger where Admiral April is up to something iffy.

Marvel did a Starfleet Academy series featuring Nog and its utterly fantastic

A female Andorian cadet tries to make Nog feel at ease by greeting him in the nude, but Nog fails to take it as an innocent gesture and she immediately sends him flying across the room

Romulan agents with split personalities in Starfleet Academy!

They visit Talos IV and get help from Captain Pike, who's still alive

IDW comics did a prequel to the 2009 reboot where Picard is an ambassador, Data is captain of the Enterprise-E and Nero has hair. It was co-written by the movie writers and was considered sort of vaguely semi canon ish for a time

They originally wanted the Romulan supernova to destroy a lot more, including Earth and have Nero kill the TNG crew. It was the Star Trek Online devs that got them to scale things back because they'd have no universe left to set their game in.

Nero's ship looks like it does because after Romulus was destroyed he took it to a secret Romulan base and had it equipped with reverse-engineered Borg technology

You thought DC struggled to keep ship designs correct? IDW's comics keep using traced fan art from Google Images, and fan art (sometimes with unique ship designs) has shown up on multiple occasions as the Kelvinverse U.S.S. Enterprise

In one IDW TOS comic, the bridge is totally covered with TNG LCARS graphics.

In another, an Orion ship is a gigantic Stargate sticking out of the middle part of Battlestar Galactica.

Wanna see Kelvinverse versions of TOS episodes? That was their first comics run, picking up after the 2009 reboot movie. They start off very faithful and as the series goes on things diverge more and more

To the extent some stories have very different backstories and outcomes

We visit 2 Kelvin mirror universes and a genderswapped universe too. No, Kirk doesn't do what you're thinking.

Q visits the Kelvin Universe and brings the crew forward in time to their version of Deep Space Nine

Nero's time in Klingon prison (from the Star Trek 2009 deleted scenes) and escape is fleshed out

Nero meets V'ger.

Nero mind melds with V'ger.

V'ger turns away due to the sheer force of Nero's hatred.

I wish I was making that up.

Klingons get their hands on Narada's technology and go to war

We get a Khan backstory where the Eugenics Wars are a full on nuclear conflict and "Khan" is the title that little Noon Sing adopts when he takes power

After being revived in the 23rd century, Admiral Marcus has Khan surgically altered to look like Benedict Cumberbatch as part of his John Harrison cover identity

They did a series of shorts called Waypoint, and in the first one Geordi is captain of a future Enterprise and his crew is made up of holographic versions of Data and it's a really sweet concept (this was several years before before ST: Picard brought Data back twice)

There's a prequel series centred around Number One where nobody manages to say her name before being interrupted. If you put the bits together it seems her name was Eureka Robbins. Of course, this is long before novels and SNW made her Una Chin-Riley.

#star trek #star trek comics #star trek the original series #star trek the next generation #star trek aos #star trek kelvin timeline #tng #star trek the animated series #dc comics #gold key comics #idw comics #marvel comics #deep dive

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hotheadedhero · 12 days

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All That's Left

There's routine and there's getting used to change. Some are quickly adaptable but, depending on the circumstance, it isn't always that easy.

Leonardo x Reader

Warning: angst

Being a ninja has its perks: one can evade the eyes of man whilst making way to their destination. However, even with such skill, moving through the night is more optimum, especially for Leonardo. Shifting over buildings and hiding around dumpsters is one thing but more open areas are difficult to navigate whilst adhering to the element of stealth. Luckily, the elements are in his favour: the downpour of rain shielding him by both sound and sight. He isn’t typically one to go to such lengths to get to one place unless it’s in the name of a mission but this has become a routine as of late. He does it as frequently as he can given his circumstances but it never feels as though it makes up for all of that lost time. By now, he knows this path like the back of his hand: sneak past ground watch, jump over the gate, and take the fifth walkway from the left. A few more paces and he’s made it. His observance is dim but his lips pull as best as they can at her sleeping form.

"Hey," he greets quietly. "Sorry, it’s been a few days since my last visit."

Despite the blank, paling face that stares back at him, his smile remains. He lays the flowers down and kneels before her.

"I would have brought everyone else with me but I decided to be a bit selfish today. Just the two of us. I hope that’s okay.”

Again, silence follows and he readjusts his sitting position to get comfortable.

"Things have been quiet lately," he continues, his eyes absentmindedly gazing over her bed. "I'd say it's a nice change but I wouldn’t mind the distraction."

He huffs a laugh and his head cranes towards his shoulder before straightening again. The gentle pierce of his brown stare wanders over the rest of the cold space that surrounds them. Despite having come here for the last two months, there’s still something new to look at. He remembers when he first heard of this being her new residence and how long it took to adjust. Often, he still finds himself heading towards her old apartment out of muscle memory.

"I know it probably sounds like a broken record at this point but everyone misses you. I… miss you.”

There’s a grasp on his throat, a squeeze that only tightens the more he tries to fight it. He swallows past the restriction, mouth dry, tongue suddenly alien to him. Just keep a level head. This isn’t anything new by now. His cheeks cave in against the deep intake of air.

"There's a lot I should have said when I had the chance," he whispers hoarsely, though no words follow in this empty promise of rectification.

He can’t do it. His eyes clamp shut with his lips, firmly pressed to hold back the internal incursion. He can't even bring himself to say it: what he wants to say; what he's wanted to say for so many years. There's no point knowing that he'll never get an answer. His fingers dig into the sodden ground, pulling away the strands of grass that have only just begun to grow above her. It breaks beneath his palms and sullies the very hands that tremble under his hunched body. He should remain composed. He shouldn’t fall apart like this. Is it not he who should be able to think straight during dire circumstances such as this? Be the voice of reason? For his family but not himself it seems. Not right now.

With a heavy, laboured breath, his head pries upward to meet her grey face once more. The carved letters of her name stare back at him, dowsed in rain and he can only hope, wherever her spirit may be, that she isn’t crying for him. He doesn’t deserve her tears. He was in South America saving all of those people when he should have been here to save her. If he had come home when he was supposed to, this never would have happened. Leonardo and his brothers would have been back doing patrol before any of this could become a reality. She would still be alive. She would still be with him. He took her for granted and now he’s paying the ultimate price.

“I thought I might find you here,” a voice calls out to him.

A familiar voice. Not the one he’d be wishing for but a welcome one nonetheless. He tears his gaze away from the gravestone to be met by his friend April, who kneels beside him. She tilts her umbrella so that he may be sheltered too and together they sit quietly. Rain is their only comfort with this mutual understanding of unrest in the air. There isn’t anything that can be said to make better of this; nothing that hasn’t already been repeated countless times.

With the clouds readying their part for day’s oncoming dawn, April takes her stand and outstretches a hand to her friend. He waves his muddied fingers with a pathetic attempt at a laugh and rises lethargically.

“Come on. You can’t hold onto this guilt forever, Leo,” she reminds him, just as everyone has been since his return. “She’d want you to let go.”

He's not sure he'll ever be able to rest on that idea. Not until he learns how to say goodbye, at least - the last word he had said to her so carelessly, not realising it would indeed be goodbye.

This is something shorter and a bit different but an idea that would not leave for the life of me. Hope you enjoyed!

#angst #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2007 #2007 leo #leonardo #leo #leonardo x reader #x reader #fem reader #3rd pov #sad #fanfiction #no use of y/n

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mirageofadesert · 8 months

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"Out of time" - Appreciation post for Li Susu portrayed by Bai Lu

Out of time: Traumatized Time Traveler

Li Susu is chosen by fate, time and birthright to fight the Devil God. She has bravely faced him to protect her family, her sect and her world - and lost them all in the blink of a (red, sexy) eye. Travelling 500 years into the past to prevent the rise of the Devil God has left her traumatised and overwhelmed. On top of that, she has to find her way into Ye Xiwu's life, which has left her a mess.

Through it all, Li Susu never loses her distinctive personality. She has a strong moral compass, cares and loves easily. Within a few weeks, she reciprocates the love of Ye Xiwu's family and, according to Bai Lu, develops feelings for Tantai Jin's relative early on. She is also cheerful, cheeky and stubborn, but also smart and modest. This is where Bai Lu's charisma, chemistry and comic timing really shine.

As an audience, we see the world through her eyes. I have seen complaints about her early behaviour - described as cruel and contradictory towards Tantai Jin. It seems that one thing that divides the audience of Till The End Of The Moon isn't simply their opinion of Ye Xiwu early on, but rather the ability to emphasize with her character and behaviour. It seems that some people fail to understand her complexity. She is not mean or vengeful, she is overwhelmed and traumatised. Li Susu struggles to find the right path between her own morality, her developing feelings for Tantai Jin and her mission. I find this inner conflict fascinating and well portrayed by Bai Lu. She doesn't act in a logical way - but how could she do such a thing given the extraordinary circumstances she faces? I think the inner logic of her character is coherent.

Her introduction as the main character is well done, both in terms of writing and acting. We meet her at one of the worst moments of her life, which gives Bai Lu a chance to show off her acting skills right away. For me, a lot of dramas lack compelling female leads, especially before the character development unfolds, so seeing Li Susu's emotional turmoil in the first episode gave her depth and range from the start.

Out of time with the society around her

There is another meaning of the phrase "out of time" which I think fits Li Susu quite well: In the musical sense, it means "not in accordance with the appropriate musical rhythm or tempo". It refers to her not dancing to the same beat as everyone else around her. This is not only because of the time travel, but also because of her upbringing as an immortal "pure spirit body" in an isolated sect. This position as an outsider makes her a more relatable character to modern audiences.

Li Susu doesn't fit into the social and gender roles of her new era. Like the century-old demon Pianran, she defies these norms. She is free-spirited but righteous, conflicted but persevering.

The show challenges us to root for more multiple characters whose goals are at odds with each other. And if the audience is able to keep track of these different perspectives, and keep up with the tension of the resulting contradictions, the plot becomes a nuanced and complex story about the greater good of the world as well as the struggle to control one's own destiny.

I found Li Susu very likeable and enjoyed her journey through three arcs. However, I regret that the last arc was cut and that her character development was not allowed to fully unfold.

Out of time in her relationship with Tantai Jin

Li Susu and Tantai Jin are out of time in every sense of the phrase. As they travel through three arcs, three worlds and two lifetimes, they are never quite on the same page, never quite in sync.

In the first arc, Li Susu hides her true intentions and can therefore never fully reciprocate Tantai Jin's feelings. Tantai Jin then spends 500 years desperately searching for a spirit whose real name he doesn't even know.

In the final arc, Li Susu tries to move on from Tantai Jin while he still tries to resurrect Ye Xiwu. Once reunited, she tries to peruse the Heartless Way to seal the evil bone, while he tries to win her back.

They only get into rhythm for a brief moment after their betrothal before they are separated in preparation for their wedding.

In the final episodes, their initial roles are reversed, with Tantai Jin hiding his true intentions for the greater good and lying to Li Susu. He is running out of time to let her ascend to godhood and stop the All-in-Distress Way before it destroys everything. Even as gods, they are still not on the same page, as Tantai Jin denies her the choice to follow him into death and rebirth, instead tricking her into living on alone.

Nothing symbolises this theme better than the final scenes at their graves: visiting them and mourning each other at different times, never to be reunited again. This scene is so heartbreaking that even after watching the show four times, I still can't make GIFs of it because it makes me cry.

Never out of place: Bai Lu's acting

Bai Lu's acting is another highlight of the show. While her chemistry with Luo Yunxi is well documented, she actually manages to have great (non-romantic) chemistry with the entire cast. Their relationships always feel ingenious and alive. Between Luo Yunxi and Bai Lu, the showrunners have managed to hire four very impressive and emotional eyebrows!

Bai Lu's facial expressions are always on point and elevate her scenes. While her approach to comedy involves exaggerated facial expressions, in more serious moments she is able to portray many different emotions at once without it feeling out of place.

I have talked a lot about Luo Yunxi's acting in the show, but I think Bai Lu deserves a lot of credit for her role beyond their chemistry. She is such a joy to watch on screen! From funny to heart-wrenchingly sad, she made me go through so many emotions and tissues. To be able to touch the audience in such a profound way is the highest compliment I can give her!

Behind the scenes, Bai Lu is a vibrant and dedicated person who gives her best to every scene: Be it immersing herself in mentally demanding or physically exhausting scenes. I'm looking forward to getting to know more of her acting.

Edit: Spelling!

#till the end of the moon #tteotm #bai lu #ye xiwu #luo yunxi #cdrama meta #tantai jin

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goodmorgan · 1 year

Text

Perfect Strangers

Chapter 2: A Debt To Repay

(Chapter 1)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Series Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead. What follows is a reckless relationship with potentially dangerous outcomes.

Chapter Summary: When Arthur keeps his promise and returns, he's determined to repay his debt to you in more than one way.

Word Count: 5.4K

Tags: NSFW. MDNI. 18+. Smut, Porn With Plot, Oral Sex (f! receiving), Fingering, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Infidelity, Arthur gives reader a pet name

AO3 Link

A/N: The chapter has spoilers for the first one obvs. For the sake of the story, I have given reader a last name. However, Arthur decides to give her a pet name all of his own...

"To my dearest wife, Mrs. Brooks,

I hope my letter finds you in agreeable health and blithe spirit. I am fortunate to write this in the same state of body and mind.

I am writing to inform you that my return home from Annesburg has been regrettably delayed again. Mr. Jameson has instructed me to remain as bookkeeper for the upcoming months, expressing modest satisfaction with my employment. I do not know yet when I’ll be able to visit you.

I hear whispers that the head bookkeeper, Mr. Muller, my superior, might be retiring by the end of this year, which would make me a potential candidate for his position. I plan on proving my worth in the meantime so that I might be given preferential treatment when the time comes for his replacement. I would like to discuss this in greater detail with you on our next meeting.

Business is flourishing despite minor mishaps at the mine hindering our profit. The papers have callously depicted the pristine working conditions of our miners, whom I assure you are treated and provided for in the most respectable manner. Please refrain from reading such worthless gossip and know I am secure from bodily or spiritual harm.

Mr. Jameson has generously provided compensation for postponing my visit. I trust that you will able to retrieve it at the Valentine Savings Bank, like on previous occasions. Please be mindful to spend it wisely and sparingly.

I bid you farewell with the optimism that we will see each other very soon. In the meantime, I'll see you in my most tender dreams.

Be well and let bygones be just that.

Your doting husband,

Stanley Oliver Brooks"

It has always struck you as appropriate that your husband's initials are S.O.B.

You can't think of a more fitting term for him, even after the last letter he sent, his words leaving you again sick to your stomach as you reread them. While you sigh of relief for his foreseeable absence in the next few months, you're disgusted by his artificial affection and concern for you. If only the man of his letters were real.

You close shut the drawer containing his correspondence with a thud, hearing your wedding ring clang inside. You haven't worn it in months, preferring to not wear a constant reminder of him on you.

You go into the kitchen to find something useful you can do, keeping your mind and hands busy with toil usually helps forget him. You decide to bake a pie with the rest of the apples you have left.

You reach for the flour in your cupboard when you hear the distant sound of horses approaching, making you turn around sharply, grabbing the shotgun by the door. It's now a mechanical instinct for you, having done it hundreds of times since you've lived out here alone. Nothing has passed during that time to upset the peaceful life you lead, so you mostly do it out of precaution. The only major cause of concern happened a few days back when you saw a strange man wander into your front yard, picking one of your apples. Luckily, he was the best thing that happened to you in a long time.

You don't dare risk your luck again so you step out onto the porch quickly, getting ready to ward off any intruder. It's only when you have him in your line of sight that you see the approaching target.

It's Arthur Morgan. At last.

It has been five whole days since he left with your mare Amber. His promise to return hanged in the air since like the sun rays that get you up in the morning, sweet and inviting. You would have never imagined you'd miss someone this much, let alone someone you only knew for a few spellbinding hours.

The man you met intimately last week is now riding a powerful brown stallion, an adequate choice for him, both of them equally imposing to the eye. Amber gallops by their side appearing smaller but just as graceful and well-kept, her golden coat shining in the morning sun. Arthur slows down both horses to a trot as he enters your front yard, letting out an "Easy now" as he pulls on the reins. The closer he gets to you, the better you can see the quiet tender smile on his lips, one too unseemly for such a big man riding such a big horse.

Arthur looks much improved since the last and only time you saw him, now wearing clean clothes that highlight his threatening physique. A polished, perhaps new, slightly too tight, blue shirt brings out his eyes as they shimmer under the shadow of his familiar hat. The bruises on his face have almost healed and you can see the scar on his chin more clearly now that he has trimmed his beard. The satchel you gave him is still draping the same shoulder he hung it on and an impressive gun belt sits on his hips, two heavy weapons anchoring him. Your eyes can barely register all of this as you keep ogling his scene-stealing smile.

"You greet everyone with that shotgun of yours or just me?" he quips from atop his horse as he prepares to dismount. Hearing the soothing lilt of his voice again fills you with unabashed joy.

"Just men I have over for dinner. Or men who take my horse. Or both."

Arthur lets out a few chuckles as he stomps on the ground, heading towards the rails of your porch to hitch his horse. You head toward Amber, petting her forehead to say hello and she neighs back, saying she missed you too. You give her some more attention before you feel Arthur standing behind you, waiting his turn to get your sweet attention too.

"Was she a good girl?" you ask him when you finally turn around and meet his enigmatic gaze, his face barely a few inches from yours. His smile seems to be stuck in place.

"Yeah, she's a swell ride. Didn't work her too hard, I promise."

"And who's that?" You nod towards the brown stallion now grazing your lawn.

"That's Titus. He's new. Still a little jumpy."

"Well, I'm sure you'll tame him in no time."

"Yeah, I'll get him there."

When your spoken conversation halts, your unspoken one continues as you keep eyeing each other. There's a magnetic push forcing you together, an invisible pull holding you apart. Small wrinkles appear and dissolve on your faces as fleeting hints of your nervousness. Your heartbeats are a little faster than their resting rates. Your eyelashes suddenly work overtime. The breeze cools your sweaty temples as you both sway in place, waiting to see who will make the first move, who will be the one to break off the impasse. Make or break. Push and pull. A seductive stalemate.

"How’ve you been?" Like a hesitant player with a winning hand, you fold.

"Just fine. Better. Alive, thanks to you."

"I'm glad." You feel your cheeks move to form an unstoppable smile.

"I've come to repay my debt, as a matter of fact."

"Oh, really?" You pretend to have forgotten all about it, like it hasn't occupied your mind every single waking hour for the past few days. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

"I have something in mind. But first I'm gonna need your help with something.”

You watch as he moves back to his horse and you follow him, hitching Amber next to Titus. Arthur removes a brown bag from one of his saddlebags. "Here, hold this." It's heavier than you expected. He moves to the other side of the horse to retrieve a smaller bag. "Grab this one too.” You steady yourself as he hands it to you and you start to struggle with the weight of both bags. "Get those inside, would ya?"

“Mr. Morgan, what is this?"

"Just get them inside. I'll show ya."

You're already climbing the stairs to head inside when Arthur finally unropes the big package that was stowed on the back of his horse. By the way he holds it, it seems even heavier.

When you finally place the two bags down on your kitchen counter, Arthur's already right behind you, setting down the package next to the bags. He opens one of them and reaches inside, handing you a potato the size of his fist.

"Thought I'd bring back some things you might need. To replace all the food I ate the other day."

You watch as he starts to empty the bag on the counter, first reaching for potatoes, carrots and onions and then for handfuls of green beans and peas. He retrieves a few shucked corncobs, some turnips. You peek inside the other bag to see that it has a few loaves of bread.

"Now, the only thing I didn't get you was apples, but I figured you might still have a few of those."

"This is too much." You finally express your surprise.

"Well, I did eat too much."

"Not this much, no!"

"It's nothing, really. Why don't you open up the rest for me and I'll get the game I hunted?"

You watch him leave before you finally open the big boxed package. Laying on top you find a few red tins of biscuits and half a dozen chocolate bars. You lift them to find cans of coffee, beans, peaches and salmon. You spot the neck of a bottle of whiskey, an expensive kind by the look of it. A small wheel of cheese is stuck in a corner.

You're still deep in astonishment when you see him walk back in, a couple of rabbits hanging from one hand and a duck from the other. You can't help but laugh at the image. "You steal a grocer on the way over here or something? How much do you think I eat?"

"Just trying to make sure I do right by you, miss. Don't want you thinking I'm so kind of grifter."

"But I didn't give you any chocolate. Or biscuits!" You raise one of the tins in incredulity.

"Oh, that's something I thought you deserved."

Your heart flutters at his words. "Well, you better be staying for dinner because there's no way I can eat this all by myself!" It's only when the words are out of your mouth that you realize how eager you are to replicate the other night.

"I'd be happy to." He accepts your invitation without a fuss. There’s a certain easefulness in your conversation now that you're better acquainted and you both know your attraction is mutual. It doesn’t surprise you that he says yes.

You look back to the goods now cluttering your counter and wonder if you have space in your cupboards to keep it all.

"I was actually hoping you'd let me borrow some of your tools, so I can settle my debt like I promised."

You turn around surprised once again. "Isn't this the repayment you had in mind?" You gesture toward the supplies on the counter.

"No, ma'am. I was thinking I could help you fix your stable. I went to get Amber the other day and I saw that some of the walls need mending and the roof needs fixing. I'd be happy to do it if you let me."

You've been meaning to hire someone to do that for months. It's touching that Arthur noticed and wants to help you out. You don't see a reason not to let him.

"That would be fine, Mr. Morgan. I have some tools here." You reach for your toolbox under the kitchen sink. "There's more of them somewhere in the stable. I'm sure you can find them. Are you sure you don't mind? I don't want to impose."

He takes the toolbox as you hand it to him. "I'm more than happy to help, miss." He gives you a reassuring smile. "I'll get started right away if you don't mind."

“Sure. I'll fix us some lunch later. I'll come to get you when it's ready."

"Thank you." He nods politely before he excuses himself and you watch through the kitchen window as he stops to pat Titus before heading to the stable out back.

You are now stuck with the ordeal of putting away all of the food Arthur brought, rearranging the cupboards to fit it all. You smile as you store the biscuits and the bars on a shelf, wondering what kind of man brings so much chocolate to repay a lady. Something I thought you deserved, he said. But it's not just chocolate, it's a whole array of goods, including meats he took time to hunt and skin to purposely bring to you. You realize he's been thinking of you as much as you've been thinking about him, even though a week ago you were just complete strangers. Your thoughts are interrupted once you hear sudden loud rhythmic hammering outside, the continuing of Arthur's restitution.

Everything is in its place once you remember you were going to bake an apple pie before you were so delightfully interrupted. You think it's an even better idea now that Arthur is staying over for dinner. And lunch. Somehow you've captivated him enough to spend the whole day here with you. You hope he'll be spending the night too.

It gets harder to focus on the pie as you recall the night of intimacy the two of you spent the other day. Your chest rises and your breath hisses at the thought that you might be repeating it tonight. As you mix and mold the dough on your steady hands, you think of his large ones caressing you once again, first through your clothes and then on your skin, leaving his mark again on your faltering hips as he gives into you for the second time. You'll be sure to ask him to let you finish around him first this time, the idea having plagued you since then.

The oven is already hot once you absentmindedly finish assembling the pie, the apples now carefully stuffed inside the crust. As it bakes, you get working on lunch, made with some of the ingredients Arthur brought, a simple soup with plenty of potatoes and some sandwiches. You remove the pie from the oven and leave it to cool on the window sill before you go call Arthur for your meal.

When you reach the stable you find him crouched on top of the roof, nailing down some pieces of wood to cover a hole. He’s working shirtless and the late morning sun is making him sweat profusely, deepening his permanent tan. He’s so focused on his task he doesn’t see you approach. “Mr. Morgan, lunch is ready!”

Your voice is loud enough to make him turn to see you. “I’ll be right in, miss.”

When you’re nearly back at the house, you watch from afar as he climbs down the ladder, reaching for a bucket of water to refresh himself, scrubbing off the sweat with a damp rag. You leave when you see him buttoning his shirt, tucking it into his pants, priming himself for another meal with you.

By the time he gets inside, you’re already serving two bowls of steaming hot soup. “This looks mighty fine, miss.” He gives you a satisfied grin before he stops in his tracks and turns around to peek inside the kitchen, having caught the smell of your freshly baked treat. “Is that pie?”

“Yes, it’s cooling so you’re going to have to wait for dinner, I’m afraid.”

“I look forward to it.” He sits down on the same chair he did last time, just as anxious to dig in as five days ago. But this time he’s not as hungry, so he engages in lively conversation with you.

He mostly tells you what’s new in Valentine, curious happenings that have gone down in the past few weeks, things he’s heard around town and seen in the papers. He even gossips with you about a well-known cattle rancher caught having an affair with the butcher’s wife. The story seems to delight him immensely since apparently they ended up slimed in the rancher’s own pigpen in the middle of the town.

You would find the story amusing if it didn’t remind you that you too are a wife with your own infidelity now. The idea of ending up in a pigpen after being exposed for your transgression seems incredibly bleak. You busy yourself with the dishes to dispel the thought from your mind.

But when Arthur raises from his chair, letting out a long sustained breath, stretching out his enormous body inside your small cottage, you are reacquainted with the lust you have for the man. As you recall the intimate actions that make up your infidelity, your first thought is to wonder how soon you will be able repeat them. The hope that it will be tonight makes you weak with excitement. Maybe ending up in a pigpen isn’t so bad.

“Well, I best get back to it if I’m gonna finish today.” He stops before he crosses the threshold, returning his hat to his place. “The food was very tasty, miss. Thank you.” You both smile briefly at each other.

While he resumes fixing the stable, you return to your chores until you are suddenly left drowsy by the afternoon heat, deciding to rest your eyes for a moment in the comfort of your sofa, the sound of Arthur’s hammer lulling you to sleep.

It's late afternoon when you wake from your nap and you notice how quiet it is, the hammering having stopped. You figure it’s best to go see if Arthur needs any help, bringing with you a pitcher of lemonade to refresh him from a sunny day’s hard labor.

You find him still working inside the stable, his shirt, hat and gun belt hanging on the hooks where you keep some ropes. This time he hears you approach with the pitcher and two glasses in hand.

“Thought you might be thirsty, Mr. Morgan. Got you something to drink.”

“That’s very kind of you, miss. Just give me a second.”

You watch as he picks up a few bales of hay on the other side of the stable and he places them on top of the others, finishing setting them up in a neat pyramid by where you’re standing.

"I think that about does it,” he says.

You survey the small stable as you notice the impressive result of his craftsmanship, every hole now covered and every wooden board now in its place. He even went to the trouble of tidying up the space, neatly arranging everything to make it more functional. It looks like a brand new stable.

You serve him a glass of lemonade as he joins you. “The stable looks wonderful, Mr. Morgan. I’ve never seen it so tidy!”

“I’m glad you like it.” He sits down on a bale as he finally rests for the day, sipping half a glass in just a few gulps.

You serve yourself and put down the pitcher, sitting on a nearby stool, continuing to admire his handiwork. Amber will surely enjoy living here again, you think. It takes only a few seconds before your eyes circle back to where Arthur is and you notice he’s staring at you. You stare right back.

There’s a slight breeze coming in from the windows but neither of you is swaying in place now, sitting perfectly still as you observe the other. You are once again victims of a push and pull, a make or break. That goddamn seductive stalemate.

Except this time, it’s him that breaks. “Come here.” Arthur’s voice suddenly sounds deeper as he sets his glass on the floor, his other hand reaching out for you. You leave your own glass on the stool as you hold out to touch his palm.

When he finally holds you in his hand, you feel yourself being pulled closer to him, forcefully landing on his lap. Your faces remain somber as you’re now close enough to inspect each other’s irises, continuing that wordless exchange you’ve been having all day. The standoff ends when Arthur chases your lips with his, finally free to crash into each other like you’ve been so hungry to do. Nothing about it is tender as the kisses you share turn ravenous, no longer restricted by the pretense of propriety. You have slept together, after all.

It takes a while until both of you are satisfied, decreasing the intensity of each kiss as you pause to look at each other’s eyes, basking in the glow of being wanted so deeply by the other. Soon his warm lips rub against yours more softly, delicately even, and his tongue stops chasing yours. He settles down by placing short pecks on your chin and jaw, as you gently caress his back and neck. You remain in his embrace as you lean your forehead onto his and he gently removes loose strands of hair from your cheeks.

"I'm sorry I was selfish the other night,” he murmurs. You respond to his apology by lifting your head in confusion. “I was in such a hurry I didn't let you finish first." The fact that he cares about it makes you ache with renewed desire.

"That's ok. It looked like you needed it more than I did.” You pause as he reaches quickly for your lips again. “And, boy, did I need it!” He lets out a few soft chuckles in that drawl of his.

His gaze is suddenly serious. "Let me make it up to you."

“Now?”

He nods. “Now.”

He reaches for the warmth of your thighs underneath your skirt, the ones he’s been fondling this whole time. He squeezes them tightly a few times before he suddenly pulls at your drawers and slides a hand inside, reaching your core with a couple of fingers. You feel them slide between your folds and rub the spot where your slick is. “Good, you’re already wet.” You feel a jolt of ecstasy through your entire body at the brief maneuver so when he removes his hands from you it feels physically devastating and you let out a small whimper.

“I’m gonna take care of you, don’t worry. Just take off your clothes for me, would ya?” Arthur suddenly reaches for his glass of lemonade.

“Here?”

He nods. “Here.”

It’s a rather odd moment when you realize that somehow you trust this semi-stranger, barely-acquaintance drifter completely. He’s asking you to get naked for him in the middle of your stable, in broad daylight, and yet you don’t even bat an eye. You’re quick to grant his wish as you start unbuttoning your simple blouse, soon exposing your chemise to him as he takes a few sips of his drink. You drop your top on the floor as you get up from Arthur’s lap to remove your skirt and throw your drawers to the side, with only one piece of clothing left to remove.

Arthur rises from his seat and soon hovers over you to plant another kiss, this one more forceful as he parts your lips with his, slippery from the lemonade. He lingers a while before retreating, forcing himself apart from you to swoop up your chemise as it passes between your bodies. He takes a moment to look down at you and you’re very aware that you are now standing there naked and barefoot. “You’re so beautiful.” He sees you wince at his compliment. “Really, you are.” He softly caresses the side of your arms before leaning in for another demanding kiss and you feel your bare breasts touching his bare chest, his warmth enveloping you as you shiver from his touch and the light breeze entering the stable.

He lets go of your mouth to plant sensual kisses on your jaw, slithering steadily down your neck, quickly reaching your collarbone. He then trails further down as he reaches one of your breasts, lingering his tongue on your nipple, making you steady yourself on his shoulders. He slides further down to your belly, then to your navel, stopping just as he hits your mound, planting soft kisses there. His last one is right above your parting of the folds, making your whole body shudder. He gets up again to look you in the eyes. “So beautiful.” A final kiss lands on your upper lips.

He pauses before he asks his next question. “You have any neighbors, miss?”

You are completely surrounded by the woods. There isn’t another soul for miles. “No, why?"

"In case you get loud."

You watch in place as he goes to retrieve his shirt and for a moment you think he’s going to get dressed. Then he heads to the bales of hay he had been sitting on, unfurling his shirt on top. He grabs your hand and beckons you: “Sit.” You’re confused by his intentions and it shows. “Sit here, come on.” He pats the fabric of his shirt, tugging your hand with his other one. You slowly do so, still not understanding what he wants.

Once you sit down, your bare ass lying on top of Arthur’s shirt, you follow his lead and he grabs both your knees gently, making you turn to the side. You watch as he suddenly kneels himself down in front of you, moving his hands down to your calfs, lifting your legs up. Without any warning he starts pecking one of your knees, placing the other on his shoulder. “You gonna be loud for me, beautiful?” His beard lightly scratches you as he switches legs. “You gonna be loud while you come around my mouth?”

His words make you inhale sharply as you realize what he’s going to do to you.

“Is that a yes, miss?”

You nod, shaking with anticipation. “Yes.”

He pulls your body closer to him, positioning your hips at the edge of the bale, making you lean on your elbows, fully lying on the comfort of his shirt.

His light kissing on your legs starts out feeling like gentle tickling but soon becomes sensual smears as he starts working on your inner thighs. The kisses then get longer and bolder as he closes in on the meeting of your thighs, forcing you to breathe more heavily. He starts using more tongue too, which increases the feeling wildly. By the time he reaches the apex of your thigh, you’re completely dizzy with his teasing, involuntarily closing your eyes as your breath hitches.

“Christ, darling, I haven’t even sucked you yet.”

You watch as Arthur lowers his face once more, a smirk disappearing behind the shape of your mound. He kisses the bridge between your thigh and your slit, which distracts you from his other hand as it sneakily reaches the meeting of your folds. He parts them slowly with a single finger, starting at the top of the clit and only stopping at the bottom of your entrance. You let out a prolonged loud moan, which makes him raise his head, watching your face as he then slides the same finger all the way back up, smearing your slick along its path. You get louder as he pauses directly on your clit, swirling it a few times. After so much teasing, having direct contact is so intense that your head finally hits the hay.

The reaction suddenly feels premature once you finally feel him start what he’s set out to do. Arthur lowers his head again, only this time his lips land right on yours, circling your clit in the gentlest kiss of the afternoon. Your whole body shakes at his subdued but blinding touch.

The coil inside your lower abdomen starts to wind as you feel the tip of his tongue make direct contact with your bud, its surface now angled perfectly to drive you wild. He continues the motion even as you writhe under him, now clutching his hair to ground yourself, your legs pressing his body down onto you as your back begins to curve. Rather than pull away from your tight embrace, he sinks deeper into you, holding your hips steady from their bucking as he continues to lap you lewdly, the sound only muffled by your own salacious moaning. His tongue is relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure and you think you won’t last very long.

The obscenity of the moment is not lost on you, as you lift your head momentarily to see what is happening. There is a tall handsome cowboy down on his knees for you, using his whole mouth to draw from you the most perverted noises, on the verge of making you crumble to the most erotic thing anyone has ever done for you. In the middle of your stable, of all places. You thank the heavens you don’t have any neighbors. You thank the devil for keeping your husband away.

And then you feel two of his fingers enter you.

You settle your head down again as you become a complete mess under him, too far gone to care about keeping it together, especially now that he rubs the sweet spot inside you. You’re barely able to discern that his free hand has now reached his pants but you hear the sound of his buckle opening. Finally free from his constraints, he strokes himself a few times and you feel him vibrate on top of you as he finds some needed relief. Despite this, his tongue and his fingers never let up, working you mercilessly. You soon feel moans of pleasure leave his mouth, reverberating directly on your core, a feeling too lascivious for you. That’s when you finally come undone.

Your whole body convulses as you experience the greatest climax you’ve ever had, feeling the waves of pleasure reach every inch of your body, maybe your soul. As you come, your core pushes upward against Arthur’s face, telling him to stop, but he does not relent, continuing his lapping, wringing every ounce of ecstasy out of you. You’re beyond overwhelmed as you moan uncontrollably, your hips sinking and rising erratically, your hands still pulling his hair. After a few moments, he begins to slow his licking, removing his fingers from you, placing his hands on your forearms, giving you smooth caresses as he helps you come down from your high. When you’re a little more tamed, he removes his mouth completely.

“That sure was loud, miss.”

You’re so wrung out by the orgasm you barely hear him, nor do you feel when one of his hands leaves your arm. When you’re more grounded, still reeling from the aftershocks, you’re delighted to hear he has resumed touching himself. By the increasingly loud panting, he sounds to be close already. You don’t lift your spinning head until your curiosity finally defeats your exhaustion. You watch as he pumps his cock with his mouth open, eyes closed, on the verge of toppling over. His beard still glistens with some of your wetness.

When you’re strong enough to lift yourself on your elbows he hears you stir, prompting his eyes open. The gaze he gives is one riddled with lust, accompanied by a brief licking of his lips as he sets a faster pace. You continue to gawk at him, which is all it takes for him to unravel, making him grunt deeply as his spend begins to land on the ground by his knees.

You wait for him to finish his release before you tease him. “You know, you’re not so quiet yourself, mister.”

He laughs lightheartedly as he rises from his knees, tucking his cock inside his underpants, pulling his pants up before he sits down next to you by your hips, still catching his breath. He softly caresses the side of your belly with one of his thumbs. “How was that, miss?”

"I think you’ve repaid your debt in full, Mr. Morgan.”

He bends down to kiss your lips lightly as you both giggle, shining in your shared postcoital bliss. “The name’s Arthur, miss.”

"Well, the name’s Y/N, Arthur.”

“I like ‘miss’ better. It suits you.” He lowers his lips again, this time reaching for your neck.

“You ever heard a ‘miss’ scream like that for you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I might’ve heard louder than you.” He moves his thumb to teasingly play with one of your nipples.

“I very much doubt that.”

“Well, you can always prove me wrong.” Arthur hovers over your lips threateningly. “Besides, the day ain’t over yet, missy.”

You smile at his new pet name for you. It's certainly better than being called Mrs.

A/N: I already have most of the remaining chapters planned out, so hopefully the rest will be published a little faster. Chapter 3 coming soon with the rest of the day!

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x you #goodmorgan

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venbetta · 1 month

Text

The "Golden Child" Headcanon (Glamrock Freddy)

Something I've constantly based my interpretation of Freddy on is him being the golden child of Glamrock era. (Mixed with the pyromaniac Freddy hc)

For those curious, golden child syndrome is "One who is favored or the favorite (in a family, on a team, at work, etc.), often held in high esteem by others, and for whom there are high hopes"

I thought it fit him pretty well. It's not canon. It's my hc/portrayal of him... with no Michael Afton influence involved.

Enjoy

____________________________________________

Fazbear Entertainment have always been under fire for the decades of failed franchises and establishments, following the grizzly tales of child murders, conspiracy, and corporate corruption. Along with technological malpractice, injuries, negligence and many other violations under the sun.

With the new Mega Pizzaplex underway, they might as well have slapped a new coat paint against the many dozen layers of past mistakes.

The well known iterations of Freddy Fazbear have always shifted through the times, but he's the face of the company, so it's great to make him both recognizable and a role model for all children. Every Freddy that's been made almost had a paternal facet to them, some more than others.

Glamrock Freddy was no different, only rocking the glamrock aesthetic and based on the late singer Freddie Mercury.

His design was simple yet his build was far more advanced than any of his predecessors, and due to the company's tendency of shrouding the past, they wanted to make him even more inviting.

The usual coding followed a similar format with permanent traits:

Optimistic, passive, charismatic, and committed, to name a few.

These traits are what made Glamrock Freddy “Freddy Fazbear”, or at least a modern version of him.

The company wanted these traits to be followed to a T, not wanting incidents from the past occurring the same way. While they wanted their other glamrock stars to strive, their focus on the main attraction caused some shortcomings in managing the cast.

Overlooking some programming errors and disregarding the less than desirable traits given to the other mascots.

Because of their fixation on Freddy, the others suffered.

The company perfected Freddy's programming and wanted nothing but that from him. Anything less would result in disciplinary measures or “bug fixes” to make sure he knew how to work properly.

Freddy's optimism was overbearing to the point that it felt unnatural and forced. His general disposition was the friendly front man, but in the confines of his room, he was aware of his lack of independence.

Some companions, like Chica and Bonnie, although we're programmed relationships, he leaned on them as his lifeline. Most of his bandmates meant a lot to him, as they were all made under the same creators that have each of them life and sentience.

Seeing children happy was another thing that kept him going, knowing he was created specifically for the joy of children.

However, a single mistake or flaw in a performance could cause him to internally spiral and shut down. When that happens, Freddy retreats to a charging station or his greenroom to contemplate his actions. Even when nothing happened, he couldn't help but be rattled, on edge knowing that the higher ups were always watching. All eyes were on him after all. Not a single slip up should be happening, not when he was a perfect machine created to make people happy.

His hyperactivity and drive to keep guest spirits up would mess up his battery charge, leading to more needed breaks. But that wasn't something he needed, he just needed to keep working.

Because what good would he be if he wasn't striving to work harder to make others happy.

#...hhmm..#a lot of angst material in here #if i made a fic series around his struggles i would in a heart beat #glamrock freddy #fnaf headcanons #fnaf security breach

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targaryensluttt · 2 years

Text

a muse on fire

pairing: aemond targaryen x fem! reader

warnings: none for this chapter, will eventually contain dirty nasty passionate smut (lol)

notes: this is my first fanfic, so feedback is appreciated! I'll continue this if I feel like anyone cares, lol. Still deciding on a lot of things, hence the switching between perspectives. Also the title will most likely be changed I couldn't think of a good one. I also have not decided whether to fill in readers name with Y/N or ___.

dōna run = sweet thing

Gevie = beautiful

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

Third Person

“Of course, we want him looking well. Strong for the realm.” The Queen impressed upon her .”I will portray The King as strong as his soul remains, Your Grace. It will not be an issue.” She had been given-no, rather, fought for- the opportunity to be court painter. It had taken time and countless of her works overlooked in favor of higherborn, silly lords who could barely hold a paintbrush. And now, it was time for a new Targaryen family portrait, the first one to be done by her. The Princess Helaena, a dear friend of hers, had just given birth to her twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, and an updated piece was required. Bless her soul, she suggested ___. The Princess suffered mentally, although she was blessed with great gifts, they cost her much. As one of her former ladies, ___ had become one of her greatest confidantes through the years. Since marrying the Prince Aegon (whom ___’s opinion of was not high at all) she had become more drawn into herself. Since the birth of her children, though, ___ felt her spirit bloom again, and she was so very happy for her dear friend. As a woman artist, one who also felt things very deeply and passionately, she also had trouble containing her thoughts and emotions. As children, both of them were prone to episodes, and as adults, they both would suffer still, mostly in silence. She supposed that is why her and Helaena had bonded at a young age, and she was chosen as one of the Princess’s ladies.

Y/N perspective

My whole life, art has been my purpose, my reason for ticking. Court did not thrill me, no, but the things I was afforded to see as one of the Princess’s companions made all of the bullshit palatable. As an artist, I am an observer. The lush gardens, beautiful (and some not, inside or out, however they may try to hide it) people, exotic animals, architecture, and other finery were often my subjects in my sketches and paintings. My tendency to drift off, as I was doing then, was interrupted by the Queen finishing her walk around the room to tell her various servants how to set up for the portrait I would be creating. “Your Grace” I said, and bowed my head with a slight courtesy as she went to the door. “Helaena, will you be staying with Lady __, or would you like to take tea with me before my council meeting?” she inquired. “No, mother.” Healena said. “Me and __ are planning on doing some sketch work in the gardens!” Healena loved to sketch too. In previous years, she saw how it would calm me when I was working. She had so much going on in her head, and drawing could help her stress greatly, although her tastes were limited to the insect variety when studying things to draw. It did not bother me one bit, though. Seeing my friend in a state of peace was worth any proximity to bugs. Some of them were rather beautiful too, I thought. I had even started a few sketches of my own of the creepy crawly variety.

With that in mind, we made for the gardens. The halls of the Red Keep were extra quiet and dull today, no doubt the bright sun having an impact on the noble’s spirits, driving them to the main lawn to laze about and enjoy the afternoon. Upon arriving, I was thinking about how I was grateful that we were headed for the private gardens, in a more secluded part of the castle. I had no desire to witness the bubble-headed people in court go about their business. As subjects, they grew tiring to study fast. While the lawn spread around the caste and had their own enormous garden, Helaena and I’s destination was to the center of the castle, a much more secluded area of gardens mainly reserved for the royal family and their favorites. I had requested the servants set up a cozy area for her and I to spend our afternoon. Sitting down on the delicately embroidered cushions, I took a moment to look up at the sky and breathe in the fresh air. As Helaena settled, I asked her, “What will you be drawing today?” , though I already knew the answer. She smiled widely, and had her personal staff bring forth a tiny golden cage and she gently popped it open, which her newest interest, an orchid mantis she had found resting on the edge of a tulip last week, came forth. “I’ve named her Ellaira” she said, giving the bug a gentle pet while setting up a branch for him to stand on while she worked. This specimen she had found was a rather interesting and delicate one, I thought. I decided I’d sketch it too.

Third Person

As time passed, both of you engrossed in your work, neither of you at first heard the footsteps approaching. With the serving staff walking about, attending to both your needs through the afternoon, you figured it was one of them. But as the footsteps grew closer, something drew you to look up from your favorite pastime, despite being deep in concentration. Upon seeing him approach, (unfortunately with his brother slightly tailing behind him, scuffing his feet along the way, )you thought about how regal he looked next to Aegon. As if the universe was sending a signal to the people he walked amongst that their roles should be reversed. How threatening, how dangerous he must look to the untrained eyes who knew him not as you did. But the truth was, he was dangerous. Very dangerous to most. Around court, he adopted a stiff stride, quick, as if he always knew exactly where he was intending on going. This was in sharp contrast to his elder brother, Aegon, who had developed a kind of slouchy, dragging walk, who tended to go wherever he deemed would provide him the most pleasure at the moment, and was easily changeable. But today, the younger brother seemed more relaxed, more loose. His strides were longer and quieter, and from across the courtyard, he made eye contact with you, and you smiled immediately. He slowed to a halt in front of you two. “Sister, how fare you today?” He asks, although never breaking the eye contact between you two. As Aegon stood back and kicked the dirt around his feet, the younger Targaryen even went to sit on a spare cushion facing opposite you two. The sun must have had a calming effect on him today too, you thought. The relaxed mood seemed to suit him well. “Brother,” Helaena says, “Although I am flattered by the inquiry, I wonder if your intention is truly to ask me.” she said, and giggled. Helaena was never one for subtly when it came to embarrassing her brothers. At this, his eye flickered back to his sister, as if he was just remembering to match his face with his words.

“Aemond, hello, my Prince.” you said, as he grabbed your hand not holding your pencil, and brought it to his delicate and full lips, laying a chaste kiss on top of it, although you could feel the extra unnecessary second he spent dragging his lips across it and inhaling your scent. At this, you felt your hand grasp his tighter, and shivered slightly, telling yourself it must have been the breeze that entered the courtyard that gave you the chill. He smirked, and let go, lingering by taking his time to remove his fingers from yours. Although the silent exchange was over in a few seconds, it did not go unnoticed by Helaena. She was far too perceptive. She smiled softly but said nothing though, mercifully, (as you already felt the blush spreading from your cheeks to your neck and beginning to bloom on your chest) and went back to observing her mantis crawl across her fingers. “Lady ___, what has been occupying yours and my dear sister’s afternoon?” You explained of his sister’s new mantis, and that was what you two were sketching this afternoon. Endlessly curious of him, you then asked him how he had spent his time. “I have been reading in the lawn, soaking up some warmth, he explained, and then added- and now am escorting this oaf masquerading as my brother to do some sword training. It is a lazy day and I could use some easy practice.” He says, while scowling at Aegon. Turning his attention back to you, he continued softly, “Although, if I had known you were in here, hiding away, I would have much rather come to seek you out earlier.” “I do so love to be read to.” you shyly said, smiling, remembering the times he had when you were but children, and then feeling as if you should include Helaena as an attempt to dispel the mist of intimacy that had settled between you and Aemond, you lamely added, “and so does she!” But Helaena had not looked up. She held Ellaria so close to her face, and was watching intently. “What came from your pencil and mind today, dōna run?” Aemond asked, and gently reached for your sketchbook, giving you time to push his hand away if you wished. With others, you only let them see the finished piece. The facade of perfection and high standard you held for yourself and your work mattered most. Those who realized the truth of you could surely hurt you and wield it against you. But Aemond was allowed to look, allowed to take, as you had secretly trusted him more than anyone, although at this time you could not explain why. You just knew you couldn’t shake the safe feeling that bloomed within you when he was near. Taking the sketchbook from your hands, you felt his palm lightly brush the back of your hand holding the book. Taking his time to look at your work, he gently smiled, looked up at you, and said “Gevie.” The blush that threatened to overtake you was turning into a promise, with your cheeks becoming deeper and deeper shades of red quickly. You felt too exposed for this public crowd. A loud “UGGGHH” from Aegon behind you broke the flow of conversation between you and Aemond, and you were almost grateful. Revealing yourself so fully in front of others was not yet something you were comfortable with, and the prospect of looking like a pathetic love stricken maiden in front of everyone made you want to gag. “Brother. Now. I grow impatient of ladies’ tales and doings.” Aegon moped, urging Aemond on. Unable to hold in your eye roll, you pretended to glance up to the side and let it fly. Aemond noticed though, and grinned while he rose to his feet. “Sister, ____, I have to tend to this rat, but I will see you both soon, I am sure.” Pushing Aegon forward and beginning to exit, he briefly stole a second to look back at you and smile. In that moment, the sun shining through the courtyard roof hit his silver hair perfectly, and illuminated his features, including his exposed eye and high, proud cheekbones. In that moment, he was all you could see. He looked like a young God. He is beautiful. You could have dropped to your knees, prayed to him, and worshiped him. And oh, how you wished to.

dōna run = sweet thing

Gevie = beautiful

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #team black #team green #aemond one eye #i love him #help #aemond targaryen imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon #fanfiction

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muiitoloko · 9 months

Text

DOCTOR'S APPOINTMENTS

Author's Notes: Thank you so much for the 20 followers!

Summary: Mrs Hart drags her husband to a doctor's appointment, determined to make sure he gets the necessary checkup.

Pairing: Harry Hart (Kingsman) × Fem!Reader

Warning: None.

In the refined world of Kingsman, where espionage and intrigue were everyday affairs, Harry Hart, known as Galahad, stood as a paragon of unwavering strength. Confronting perilous situations with a calculated and composed demeanor was his forte. However, one challenge managed to elude his methodical planning: the routine prostate exam.

On the previous day, Harry had been slated for a medical examination, yet he opted to skip it, assuming he could sidestep the minor inconvenience. He had fabricated a tale for you, his wife, a civilian untainted by the espionage realm, about having completed the requisite prostate checks. This pretense had held its ground for a while, but his innocent white lie was on the brink of catching up with him.

Merlin, the tech-savvy mastermind behind Kingsman's intricate network, possessed a knack for uncovering hidden truths and incongruities. He noticed Harry's absence from the medical roster and couldn't help but smirk. As it dawned upon him that Harry's omission must have been intentional, given his meticulous attendance at every medical exam except the prostate one, Merlin's chuckle echoed through the surveillance room. He dialed your number with a sense of duty, justified by the concern for his friend's health, even if it meant playing the role of the "traitorous" friend.

In the haven of your home, your phone signaled an incoming call, revealing Merlin's name. You picked up, greeting him with curiosity lacing your voice. Merlin's words carried his signature dry humor as he initiated the conversation. "Good morning, Mrs. Hart. I trust you're in good spirits?"

Your laughter revealed your intuition that Merlin's call held more significance than mere pleasantries. "I am, Merlin. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call today?"

Merlin's voice took on an undertone of shared secrets. "Well, I thought you might find it amusing to learn that your husband, dear old Harry, missed his routine medical appointment yesterday. The prostate exam, to be precise."

An exasperated sigh escaped you. "Why does that not surprise me? Very well, I'll take care of it."

Amusement threaded through Merlin's voice. "I was fairly confident you'd step in. I've rescheduled the appointment for this afternoon. Remember, it's all for the sake of keeping our beloved Galahad in top shape."

Rolling your eyes at Merlin's words, you acknowledged the camaraderie shared between your husband's closest friends. "Of course, Merlin. Have a wonderful day."

You hung up the phone, resolute in your determination to set things right. Stepping into the kitchen, you found Harry leisurely sipping his tea and perusing the newspaper. Oblivious to the brewing tempest, he greeted you with a smile.

"Everything alright, my love?" he inquired.

Narrowing your eyes, a mixture of irritation and amusement simmering beneath the surface, you retorted, "Oh, just splendid, Harry. Except for the minor detail that you conveniently 'forgot' to mention your little doctor's appointment."

Confusion knitted Harry's brows. "Doctor's appointment? What are you referring to?"

Arms crossed, your voice tinged with sarcasm, you replied, "Don't play innocent, Harry Hart. You led me to believe you'd had your routine prostate exam, and now I find out you skipped it."

From confusion to mild embarrassment, Harry's expression shifted. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ah, well, you see, I was caught up in some pressing matters and..."

Raising an eyebrow, you interrupted him. "Merlin called, Harry."

Realization dawned on him, the evidence of his deception laid bare. "Ah, I see. Well, I suppose there's no point in denying it."

A blend of amusement and exasperation colored your gaze. "Honestly, Harry, you're a seasoned agent, but you can't face a routine medical exam?"

Harry sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not a matter of facing it, my dear. It's just...not the most enjoyable experience."

Sarcasm laced your response, your eyes rolling playfully. "Ah, I understand. So, staring down bullets and explosives is a walk in the park, but a prostate exam is where you draw the line?"

A small smile tugged at Harry's lips. "It's a bit more nuanced than that, Mrs. Hart."

As exasperation melted into affection, you sighed. "You're incorrigible, Harry. But you're not getting away with this."

Leaning back in his chair, a resigned expression on his face, Harry quipped, "I suppose there's no escaping it now?"

Your eyes twinkled mischievously. "Indeed, there isn't. Merlin has rescheduled the appointment for today."

With a dramatic groan, Harry surrendered, "Of course he did."

Later that same day, you took the lead, guiding your husband Harry through the grand passageways of the medical wing within the confines of Kingsman Manor. Harry followed in your wake, his demeanor reminiscent of a man walking the final steps to his own execution. Through the pristine corridors you treaded, Harry's steps were hesitant and restless, almost akin to a lamb being led to the slaughter.

Seated shoulder to shoulder in the waiting room, the air was thick with Harry's disquiet. His fingers fidgeted, his gaze darting around as though he might discover a secret escape route. The impending prostate exam cast a shadow over him, a challenge that seemed to undermine his very masculinity. You, however, found yourself bemused by your husband's predicament. It was almost unfathomable to you that a man as audacious as Harry, a true embodiment of a Kingsman agent, could be so unnerved by a simple medical procedure.

As the moments stretched on, Harry's unease seemed to amplify, his internal struggle translating into his shifting, uneasy glances. You couldn't help but chuckle softly, your amusement earning you a sidelong look from your husband—a mixture of irritation and a silent plea for sympathy.

Unable to resist your curiosity, you turned to him, your eyes alive with humor. "Harry, love, I'm genuinely curious. How does a man who faces death practically every day exhibit such apprehension about a prostate exam?"

Harry let out a sigh that was a mixture of resignation and embarrassment. Bowing slightly, his voice took on a self-deprecating tone. "Honey, I would gladly face the embrace of death a thousand times before I could bear to have a stranger stick their finger up my-"

Harry's answer was cut short when Merlin made his characteristic entrance. The man appeared in the doorway, lips curved in a smirk, accompanied by a doctor.

Harry's expression darkened instantly, his glare so sharp it could cut steel. Merlin's amusement was evident in the way he met Harry's deathly glare with an untroubled grin. Addressing you with a nod, Merlin greeted, "Good afternoon, Mrs. Hart. Seems you've managed to escort our elusive Galahad to his appointment."

You couldn't suppress your amusement, responding with a knowing smile. "Indeed, Merlin. Even the boldest of men harbor their Achilles' heel."

Merlin's laughter resonated in the room, a conspiratorial wink accompanying it. "Absolutely. Well, let's not prolong our dear Galahad's anticipation any further, shall we?" Turning to you, he introduced the doctor with a flourish. "Doctor Jones, allow me to present the courageous wife of Galahad."

Doctor Jones extended a warm smile, shaking your hand with congeniality. "Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hart. Galahad here holds quite a reputation, but rest assured, we're here to ensure this is as comfortable an experience as possible."

Harry's discomfort seemed to intensify with the doctor's words, his unease evident in the way he stiffened. There was no escape now. As Doctor Jones led him into the examination room, Harry threw one last withering look at Merlin, who appeared to relish every moment.

The door closed behind them, leaving you and Merlin in the waiting room. You met Merlin's gaze, your lips curling into a smile. "You certainly derive immense pleasure from this, don't you?"

Merlin's chuckle reverberated, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You have no idea."

Inside the sterile confines of the examination room, Doctor Jones maintained a calm and reassuring demeanor. He guided Harry through the process, instructing him to remove your pants and lie down on the bed. Harry complied, his movements a mix of haste and eagerness to conclude the uncomfortable ordeal.

As he positioned himself on the bed, Harry's eyes fixed on the wall opposite him, his thoughts a deliberate attempt to distract himself from the situation at hand. He conjured images of vibrant butterflies, their colors and patterns occupying his mind as he willed his thoughts away from the procedure.

Doctor Jones moved efficiently, his professionalism evident as he conducted the examination. His voice remained steady as he explained each step, creating an environment of clinical detachment. Harry focused on the wall, allowing himself to be lost in the thoughts of butterflies, his discomfort an unwelcome presence that he struggled to suppress.

Finally, the procedure concluded, and Harry's relief was palpable. He practically leaped off the bed, quickly donning his clothes with a sense of urgency. His steps were purposeful as he made his way back to the waiting area, his movements somewhat hindered by the residual unease from the examination.

You and Merlin were engaged in conversation when Harry returned. Your eyes landed on your husband, a playful glint in your gaze as you observed his slightly exaggerated limp. You shook your head in amusement, your voice tinged with fond exasperation. "Harry, darling, could you possibly be any more dramatic?"

Harry straightened, a mock-indignant expression on his face. "I assure you, I'm not being dramatic at all. That doctor had fingers like sausages."

You burst into laughter at his response, your amusement infectious as you placed a hand on his arm. "Oh, Harry. Only you could turn a routine medical check-up into an epic tale of bravery against sausage fingers."

Merlin, who had been listening in, couldn't help but join in the laughter. He clapped Harry on the back with a hearty chuckle. "Well, my friend, I must say, you've faced down countless villains and thugs, but it took a doctor's fingers to truly test your mettle."

Harry rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, though a smile played on his lips. "Yes, yes, laugh all you want. But mark my words, I'll be having a word with Doctor Jones about proper finger dimensions."

The camaraderie in the room was palpable, the tension from earlier dissipated in shared laughter. You linked your arm with Harry's, a fond smile on your lips. "Come on, brave Galahad. Let's put this behind us and celebrate your victory against the mighty sausage fingers."

And so, with jest and laughter, Harry's encounter with the routine prostate exam became another tale to add to the annals of Kingsman's history—a testament to the strength that can be found not just on the battlefield, but also in facing life's more unexpected challenges.

#harry hart #kingsman secret service #kingsman #harry hart x reader #kingsman fanfiction #merlin #galahad x reader #harry x merlin

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specialbluehens · 1 year

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What are the crack theories 🎤

short version: shane is the son of the witch & the wizard & got his memories erased. boom.

long version:

"rose what the fuck" LISTEN.

this is known. the witch is the wizard's ex-wife. he mentions after they split she began flying around the countryside cursing everything.

and then marnie has this dialogue when u talk to her in the ranch:

the noise could've been anything given wtf the wizard is doing HOWEVER. u could say the terrible noise was her hearing the witch & the wizard fighting/arguing. why?

we all know this theory. it's a very strong theory given dialogue from the wizard, caroline, pierre, & abigail herself (contradictory dialogue exists too, like saying abigail's hair is dyed & she naturally has brown hair like pierre)

but i'm adding more to this.

shane & jas are godfather & goddaughter, respectfully. shane & jas are also both marnie's nephew & niece. so?? my hc is that shane had a sibling (i go with an older sister) who got married & had jas, named shane her godfather. he avoids acknowledging his sibling's death hence why he says godfather, not uncle, & never brings the sibling up. they have hair like jas's. shane's hair is natural (it's never mentioned as dyed sooooooo)

now. there's this smaller, not as commonly accepted theory that jas is the wizard's daughter due to her having a very similar skin tone & purple hair. i'm going with granddaughter :)

and i'm going with abigail being the biological daughter of the wizard & caroline, which would make shane & her half siblings.

but they don't know that :)

to continue down this rabbit hole, in the witch's hut are the three dark shrines. memory, selfishness, & night terrors. only two to focus on for this are memory & selfishness.

bc the wizard was going to use them.

with the way the farmer just like. has access to the witch's hut from the wizard's tower after completing the quest... that had to have been there. maybe when they were married it was just the place to keep the dark shrines & do other things. but then the wizard cheats & caroline gets pregnant with abigail.

the wizard was planning on erasing the witch's memory & turning shane & his sibling into doves to avoid consequences of his actions. at this point he feels no remorse, only that it'll be a hinderance in what he's trying to do. esp bc at this point, neither shane nor his sibling are showing they've got magical abilities like him or the witch. shane is like, 5 years old by this point (marnie is not magical, but she is the witch's sister).

the witch finds out, & their fight is the dreadful noise marnie heard. the witch keeps him from getting to the shrines but in the end, he uses smth else, a spell, to erase the memories of shane & his sibling of him & the witch, who is so angry, but she can't let him get to the shrines. her children losing their memories is better than turning into doves never to be seen again. she's able to get them to marnie, but then she makes the decision to erase marnie's memory for the sake of shane & his sibling, as well as marnie. (to stay away from the wizard).

shane & his sibling move on, end up in the foster care system (marnie believes her sister & her husband have gone missing & eventually gives up trying to remember bc it feels like ages ago). shane & his sibling visit often though, mostly during summers. but his memory wipe is why shane says he never had much of a family & why he doesn't believe in magic.

the wizard never expects shane is become a true resident of the valley again. but when shane does, the wizard has given up by this point & has moved on. he feels remorse now, but he also doesn't try to ammend, seeing no point as it's been nearly 30 years. the witch has lost herself in her anger & curses throughout the valley as the wizard explains.

until one spirit's even when she is going to curse an unsuspecting ranch house & sees someone walking towards it. he makes her pause. he's familiar. she can't quite put her finger on it. shane goes inside, completely unaware. and that's that.

...

until the witch decides to go find out for herself :)

(shit hits the fan from here but this post is long enough & entering more like. story/fic territory... which i do wanna write LMAO)

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deckofaces · 4 months

Text

Choose: Love or Heartbreak

(A Secret Santa Snippet)

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Once again this year I chose to participate in Secret Santa snippet exchange! This year I coincidentally got my girlfriend @justalittletoocorrupted! I really hope you like it <333

Prompt: Villain x Hero (who is a sidekick to superhero!) and Superhero finds out Hero was dating Villain (or just fell in love with them) and kidnaps them to try and help them understand that's a bad thing and the Villain could save them!

(I ended up doing more villain x civilian (I checked if it would be okay))

Note! As we are really close I decided to use ocs, this is an au where Dystopia from Dystopian Reflections is a civilian, via the name Cain. Vortex/Blank-Slate is @justalittletoocorrupted’s oc and it uses it/its and he/him pronouns

Tw: kidnapping, arguing, mentions of violence, swearing

“Cain Harlow.”

Cain’s head was foggy. He blinked a couple times, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He glanced down at his hands, silvery looking threads were slowly unwrapping from his wrists and making their way back to their creator. His eyes followed and they made their way back to a woman, a superhero more specifically.

Looking around, the room almost appeared to be an interrogation room. He was not cuffed, but he sat in a closed room at a table across from the hero.

Nothing was making sense, he last remembered being at the grocery store! He was just shopping! His boyfriend and him were going to have a nice dinner that night and he went to get a few things they would need.. he has no memory of leaving there and ending up with this superhero in front of him!

“…Who are you?”

“The media refers to me as the Porcelain Woman,” the superhero replied simply.

That makes sense he supposed until suddenly the name clicked in his head and Cain realized exactly who she was. And the alias quickly seemed obvious too. Looking at her, she didn’t look like a normal person, well, because she wasn’t. Her body appeared very doll-like with long, curly black hair and perfect makeup. All exemplified by the apparent cracks across her face, just like what can happen to porcelain.

However, even though she looked like a doll, she wasn’t one. He’s heard his fair share of news stories criticizing her for being a hero. And that is the result of many considering her less than human. She is a powerful spirit inhabiting the life size doll. But the spirit, or a “Reflector,” is a reflection of a real life person, given their name. They are typically chaotic entities. …Not heroes. But he shouldn’t make assumptions about their character..

…But it explains how he got there. From what he’s heard, she has some form of mind control ability in the form of a literal puppet on strings. The doll shell she uses is apparently quite fitting. His face morphed into disgust at the thought of how he got there.

Cain took a deep breath. “Why am I here?”

She stared at him for a few seconds before answering. Her fake, glassy, and yellow eyes were a bit unnerving. “You should know why you are here, do you not?”

Ah.

He could only be there for one reason, and if a superhero of all people is involved, he definitely knew. But he also wasn’t foolish enough to give himself away without her stating why he’s there first. “I’m afraid I do not understand why I am here. Considering I was taken out of a grocery store, pardon my confusion on the matter.”

The Porcelain Woman drummed her fingers on the table. “It was necessary at the time, it was for your safety,” she stated, brushing off his comment. “You’re here, Mr. Harlow, because of your boyfriend. Are you aware that your partner goes by the alias of Blank-Slate?”

There it is.

“I do not see why that matters,” Cain answered, trying his hardest to keep his face schooled into a neutral expression.

She stared again, almost as if in surprise. “Your boyfriend has hurt and killed many people, have you no remorse for them, their families, or future victims? It is not a good thing for you to be dating it. Does it not hurt knowing its career and choices?”

He let out a sigh. He knows what Vortex does is wrong, horrible even, but it has never made him feel unsafe.. rather it has made him feel so loved and cared for. Maybe it’s selfish that that is all he cared to think about in this situation but he didn’t care. And it likely makes him a horrible person too, but if it ever asked him to join it in what it does, he’s sure he’d say yes in a heartbeat..

“Blank-Slate treats me with much more love and care than anyone else ever has. What it does may not be considered right, but it has never subjected me to its lifestyle, rather it does its best to protect me from it,” Cain replied calmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

The Porcelain Woman scoffed at his comment. “Do you really believe it loves you? It is a villain, Mr. Harlow, one that seeks to draw any sort of horrible reaction it can get out of someone. That means it will eventually revel in the heartbreak it will inevitably cause you.”

Cain shook his head. “You do not understand the nature of our relationship. You believe that to be true when in reality I am an exception to that idea.”

“No, you are failing to understand. I want to help you, this agency wants to help you. Being in that relationship is only going to bring you a lot of pain. We want to help you and stop that from happening. Loving Blank-Slate will hurt you. It is not someone you should love.” Her tone held a bit of concern, but for him it was difficult to distinguish if it was genuine or fake.

Despite that, this situation was ridiculous, he wanted to go home! He spun a ring on his finger that Vortex gave him to try and calm himself and his anxieties. He hoped to get out of there soon, or maybe Vortex already realized he hadn't come home when he said he would…

Cain supposed he could understand some of her points, he knew it enjoys getting a reaction out of people, but that’s not how it is in regards to him. The amount of times it has seen him vulnerable and treated him with so much love and compassion and respect.. The amount of times he’s seen it so vulnerable.. if it wanted to hurt him, it would have done so many months ago. He’s never loved anyone quite like Vortex and this superhero will not sway him from that.

“I get what you are trying to convey, but I do not want help from you or your agency. Rather, I wish you would have let me just go about my day,” he said more firmly. He was tired of being there now. He hasn’t been there very long, but being in that room quickly aggravated him. Everything just was wrong about this.

“Mr. Harlow,” the superhero interjected, “your safety is at risk here! I am merely trying to offer you a way out of your situation but you are only showing me disrespect for my efforts!”

Cain gritted his teeth before raising his voice. Not only was this aggravating, but he was also talking to a wall. How lovely. “That is because you fail to show me respect! I do not want your efforts!! Let me spell it out, I. Do. Not. Want. Your. Help.” He sucked in a breath before trying to continue, his voice returning to a normal volume. “I’ll get ‘hurt’ in your words for all I damn care. It is not your responsibility to look after me.”

“I understand that it’s not my responsibility, but I don’t want you to be added to its list of victims! Blank-Slate-“

“Blank-Slate,” Cain snapped, “Is the love of my life whether you like it or not. Quite frankly, it has treated me far better than you have, and I have only known you for less than a day.”

“You don’t make it easy to get into contact with you,” The Porcelain Woman sneered. “Your career as a doctor makes you busy and most other times you are spotted with the villain. Bringing you here today in the way I had may have been unethical, but I had no choice. You were free and it was the only opportunity I had to get you here. If you would hear me out, you would understand it was for the better!”

“Oh so you and your band of heroes have been keeping tabs on me? You can’t, you know, send me an email or message that your heroes need to talk to me? You resorted to kidnapping me?” Cain threw his hands up in exasperation. “I’m going to repeat myself one more time, leave me alone. I am happy with my boyfriend. I do not care about your concerns about my supposed safety.”

“That was only a result of trying to keep tabs on Blank-Slate, which is actually incredibly difficult to do. We only very recently discovered you are its partner,” she retorted.

Cain has had enough of all of this. There seemed to be no convincing this woman that he feels safe and loved in his relationship. And really it should be none of her business at all! She’s entirely convinced that Vortex will just suddenly start hurting him one day just because it can. They’ve been dating for quite awhile and it hasn’t done so.

And what’s more, he’s been able to see a side of Vortex that it doesn’t show anyone else. To others it very easily can seem cruel! But to him it has only ever been caring and affectionate and so so loving. But even when he has accidentally caught it doing its villain work, he can’t help but be a bit fascinated by it. And strangely enough, after seeing what it does and seeing it hasn’t done anything to him, it only has made him feel more safe and secure in their relationship.

Cain stood up from his chair. “I appreciate you trying to ‘warn me’ about my boyfriend, but I really do not need your assistance and I would like to get going home.”

“Please sit, we are not done talking, Mr. Harlow. Going back to your boyfriend would be a bad idea,” the hero advised, her glassy eyes watching him stand.

“No, ma’am, I am heading home. Excuse me,” he said while trying to move past her to the door.

“We aren’t done,” she stated, more harshly this time. Silvery threads shot from her hands towards his legs. He yelled a curse before quickly stumbling backwards, narrowly avoiding them.

“Are you fucking delusional??” Cain cried out. “I acknowledge why you may be upset with my decision but that is unacceptable! For a hero especially! Contrary to what you think, my love for Blank-Slate will not lead to something completely horrific!”

“I’m not allowed to let you walk out so easily. I apologize that you don’t get it, but Blank-Slate is incredibly dangerous. I need you to stay awhile longer, I wasn’t even close to finishing on this matter.”

Throughout this whole argument, the woman’s face has been just about completely neutral the entire time minus her tone, and it honestly was becoming infuriating. In the right state of mind he would realize that her being so doll-like didn’t allow for a great range of physical emotion, but in the moment it only ticked him off more. To him it only seemed like she concerned herself with breaking the two apart rather than how he felt.

“No no! I’m done with this!” Cain argued, “You keep talking about me hearing you out but you have not been listening to me. You kidnapped me to talk to me, then you started preaching about how my boyfriend’s and I’s love is invalid, and then you refuse to let me leave!”

“Mr. Harlow—“

A knock sounded at the door.

They both fell silent and turned to look at the sound. The Porcelain Woman answered the door, only to find another superhero he’s never seen before on the other side.

“Mr. Harlow is needed by another hero for questioning, it is required that this continues later,” the stranger at the door said to the superhero.

“Fine, bring him back as soon as they are done.” She shot a glare over to Cain, but stepped out of the way to let him pass.

A wave of relief washed over him to finally get away from her as he stepped past her next to the stranger. He didn’t know where he was going but hopefully it would be better. If it entailed questioning, maybe not.. but here’s to hoping.

The two walked through the corridors of the unfamiliar agency. After a minute or two, the stranger spoke to him. And as soon as he did, it practically made him want to fall into its arms on the spot.

Ensuring no one was around, the stranger shifted into a different person, returning to the form of his boyfriend. Telepathically it spoke gently to him, “Are you okay baby..? I’m going to get you out of here, just play along and act as if I’m one of the heroes.”

“I’m okay..” Cain mumbled, watching as Vortex shapeshifted back into the hero, “Thank you for finding me.”

It telepathically reassured him that it would always find him. It noticed that he never came home on time and wasn’t answering any of its messages alerting it that something was wrong.

Being fully disguised as a hero, Vortex escorted Cain safely out of the building without alarm. The pair headed home where they could have a relaxing evening like they originally had planned.

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