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lazyjellyfish300 · 27 days

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Gentleman part 3 🌼💌

Geneticist CEO!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Intern College Student!Reader

Synopsis: your relationship with your new sugar daddy progresses, but meanwhile your jealous sorority members plot against you. Word count 5.5k

A/N: so I know at first the idea was to make this a situationship to lovers but I actually completely forgot about that lol so I'm just rolling with whatever this is that this has turned into. 🫶🏽🖤 This art by blahhberry on insta is Dr. O'Hara's face claim if you wanna see. ;)

TW: MINORS DNI, SUGGESTIVE, MASTURBATION ALLUDED TO BUT NO EXPLICIT SMUT YET (NEXT CHAPTER HEHE), SOME ANGST, LONELINESS, BULLYING, SEXUAL HARASSMENT AND ASSAULT (A GUY NEARLY GROPES YOU AND YOU GET PEER PRESSURED), BAD DRUNKEN BEHAVIOR, YOUR ROOMMATES SHOW THE WORST SIDES OF THEMSELVES, IT MIGHT BE KINDA TOUGH TO READ, TAKE CARE WITH THIS ONE IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE❤️ SUGAR DADDY RELATIONSHIP, (BOSS/EMPLOYEE) don't condone this IRL, maybe OOC Miguel, age gap (reader is somewhere around 24-27, Miguel is mid-late 30s), mild violence

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

-------

Once you got back to your dorm, you ran upstairs to your room, kicking off your shoes. You fixed your hair and held your bouquet, angling your phone for the best lighting and took a selfie, sending it to Miguel along with a quick text:

You: Thanks for the flowers. ❤️💐 You made my whole day!

A couple minutes later:

M❤️: You're very welcome. You look so beautiful. I hope you had a good day.

You: Thank you❤️❤️I did, a lot better thanks to you. 🥰

M❤️: I'm so glad.

You sat there, trying to think of what to say next.

You: So, when can I see you again? :)

M❤️: Well, my flight gets in Friday afternoon, however I will most likely spend the rest of the day with my daughter and my mother. Would Saturday work for you?

You smiled and texted back:

You: Saturday works perfectly! What did you have in mind?

Miguel smiled from his high up hotel room in Chicago, looking out the window and thinking for a moment, then typing back.

M❤️: How does going to the Hamptons sound? There's a waterfront restaurant that serves some of the best food on the East coast, and the views are lovely this time of year.

You smiled widely at this, appreciating that he came up with an actual date idea that sounded incredible and not just defaulting to whatever you wanted.

You: That sounds incredible! I'd love that. ☺️ Thank you so much. ❤️❤️

M❤️: You're welcome. Have you ever been to the Hamptons before?

You: I haven't, no.

M❤️: I will have Noir take you shopping this week.

A ding went off on your phone, and your mouth fell open. $500 was just sent to one of your money apps from Miguel.

M❤️: Use that wisely to pick out an outfit, or a few. You'll want to dress semi-warm, as it can get a little chilly in the evenings. But we'll only go for the day. I'll have you home at a reasonable hour so you can rest.

You just had to shake your head and bite your lip. This truly was the best thing ever.

You: You are seriously so sweet...thank you. ❤️Really, you didn't have to do that.

Miguel smiles, laying back on his hotel bed with a hand behind his head as he texts you back. You're so humble, it's adorable.

M❤️: You're very welcome. But, I insist. You deserve it for all your hard work and for what you've had to deal with lately. I hope it gives you a little something to look forward to this week. ❤️

You can't help but kick your feet at his message.

You: I sure do, I'll be counting down the days. ❤️

Miguel stood up, a little smirk playing on his lips. Man, it felt good to have a special lady in his life again. But, he had more business to get to first. And he knew he couldn't rush this. He did have hopes that this would become something more serious than just a sugar relationship.

Still, he had to ride that fine line between building something longer lasting, without creating friction between you both at his hang-up when it came to the institution of marriage. That almost always ended up being the reliable nail in the coffin for his previous flames. But that was a future problem to worry about.

M❤️: What are your plans this evening?

You sat up, chewing your lip at the sight of your backpack, knowing you should probably get a head start on the ample workload you were issued by your microbiology and health science professors.

You: Just homework for the most part. 😮‍💨 I have soo much this week.

M❤️: I'm sorry to hear that, cariño. The sooner you get to it, the sooner you can rest. ❤️

Your heart fluttered a little.

You: Miguel, what does cariño mean?

M❤️: It's a term of endearment, such as sweetheart or dear. Is it alright if I call you that?

You bite your lip and feel a heat in your cheeks coming on.

You: Absolutely, I love it when you do. It makes me feel special.❤️

M❤️: You should feel special, cariño. Because you are, very special to me... ❤️ Did you eat dinner?

A grumble in your stomach answered his question for you.

You: No, haha... Not yet.

Miguel pauses, dialing Noir while he stands up, crossing the room, trying to secure a pair of cufflinks onto his dress shirt as he reaches for his suit coat that's hanging from the coat rack by a large TV.

After he hangs up, he texts you again while checking his reflection before he leaves.

M❤️: Noir is bringing you dinner. Please text him and let him know what you'd like as soon as you can, okay? I will also have him grab groceries for you tomorrow. Be sure to also send him a list of things you need when you get the chance.

Your heart swells with gratitude and your mouth waters as you envision your favorite pizza from your favorite local joint which sounds perfect right about now. This might have been the most you ate in weeks, as a matter of fact, all thanks to this angel of a man.

You: Thank you sooo sooo much Miguel 😭❤️

M❤️: You're very welcome, cariño, just want to make sure my girl doesn't go hungry. ❤️ I have to go to a business dinner right now, so I won't be able to answer any texts until later. When you're done with your studies, give me a call?

You: Okay, I will. ❤️

M❤️: Good. ❤️ Talk to you soon.

-----

Noir was on your doorstep a short time later with your pipping hot, favorite pizza, a side order of some gooey, cheesy garlic breadsticks, a side salad, a huge bottled water to keep you hydrated, a brand new luxurious fluffy blanket in your favorite color, matching fuzzy socks with your initials, a pumpkin vanilla scented candle, and fancy moisturizer that wouldn't irritate your skin.

"Here you are, madam. The doctor wanted to throw these in as well, since it gets drafty up here in the dorms, and since you deserved a little something to pamper yourself."

"Oh my God, thank you sooo much, Noir!!" you gushed.

Noir noticed the snide looks coming from your bitter roommates as he handed you your food and presents, but he decided not to say anything about it right now. "Can I get you anything else tonight?"

"Oh, no, no, that's okay Noir...thank you, you're the best."

"Course, it's my absolute pleasure to serve you ma'am. The doctor has totally changed my life and given me everything I could ask for, so working for him and making sure his woman is taken care of is the least I can do to pay him back." Noir says with a bow. He tips the brim of his black fedora.

"Enjoy, madam. I'll be here for you at 7:30 am tomorrow morning, be sure to write up your grocery list, too, you hear?"

You nod and smile and thank him enthusiastically again, walking quickly back upstairs to your room, trying to ignore the hateful stares of your bitter roommates.

------

Heather shakes her head as she waits for her lean cuisine to finish heating in the microwave. "Y'all, I do not fucking get it. At all."

"Me neither," Vivian scoffs, taking a bite of her salad at the table next to Isla.

"I give it a month, tops." Heather replies, opening the microwave.

Isla is staring off when an idea comes to her. "Why wait a month?"

"Huh?" The other two look at her with curious stares.

"Seriously, do we really wanna let this get worse than it already has?" Isla asks.

The other two shake their heads, remembering all the extra labs they had to do that Dr. O'Hara issued them, no doubt as punishment for messing with his woman.

"She's gotta go." Vivian agrees.

"But how?" Heather asks. "She's literally fucking the boss. He's not gonna break up with her so easily..."

Isla smirks. "But the university might if she makes a fool of herself at the football game."

----

As you worked on your homework, you looked at your closed door at the sound of your roommates laughing hysterically behind it, half slightly peeved by the loud noises while you were trying to work, half feeling that nagging loneliness you felt in your heart.

The truth was, even though the trio drove you nuts and could be quite mean, you don't know why, but you still cared about their approval. All you wanted was peace between you four while you shared the space. Deep down, you felt left out and sad at their exclusion of you. You knew you could be quiet and awkward, at times, but you missed having girlfriends.

Getting ready to go out on Friday nights, doing your makeup while crowded around a smudged mirror in your jammies while one of the girls played music on their phones, talking excitedly about the night ahead and complaining about the boys you were talking to. Sharing clothes, studying together, slumber parties, talking about things that would be considered TMI with anyone else. Girlhood.

You just wanted to belong. Just wanted someone to talk to and have your back. Sure, you had Miguel now, but you needed space for friends too. You were starting to get worried at how much you craved the sound of his voice and his company. How much you started to rely on him mentally and emotionally. You knew he was a busy man and he could only be there for you so much.

Suddenly you're a little girl again on the playground during recess, wondering why nobody wanted to be your friend. Wondering why you weren't interesting enough or why you were so weird that you couldn't make people stay.

You felt a lump build up in your throat as you tried to work in the darkness of your room while they laughed together outside, holding back tears.

---

A quiet knock comes at your door and you clear your throat, trying to dry your eyes. "C-come in!"

The trio enters your room. Isla's eyes land momentarily on the new bouquet of flowers sitting on your desk but move quickly back to you. "Hey girl."

The other two sit on your bed.

"Are you crying?" Heather asks in a concerned tone.

"N-No..." You sniffle.

"Aw, girl..." Vivian pouts, putting a soft hand on your shoulder.

Your lip trembles as you try to fight off your tears unsuccessfully.

"Hey, we were hard on you, and we wanna apologize." Isla says, plopping down on your bed, the others hum in agreement.

"Come to the football game with us tomorrow night!" Vivian says, piping up. "It'll be fun."

"Yeah we can start over, have some girl time. A couple of our guy friends are coming too! It'll be chill. And we're getting milkshakes afterwards at Caddy's diner like we always do." Heather says with a smile.

"Please?" Isla asks, giving you a grin. "Whaddya say?"

"O-o-okay..." You manage a weak smile. "Thank you guys...I, I don't want us to fight either, *sniff* and I'm so sorry if rubbed any of you the wrong way about anything or offended you."

"Of course not!" Isla says with a wave of her hand. "Seriously, I mean, look, if you're dating Dr. O'Hara, good for you. Get that bag girl." She utters the last sentence with some difficulty, but her tone remains light and friendly, you don't notice. She flashes her lovely smile at you. "We'll get ready in Vivian's room around 4, then we gotta be ready to leave by 6."

"I have a really really cute shirt you can wear!" Heather offers.

"Um, who's all coming?" You ask, sitting up.

"It's us, you, then Heather's boyfriend Chase, and Chase's friends: Jaden, Alex, and I think his name is Will? Yeah, Will." Vivian says with a smirk.

"He's so hot..." Isla says biting her lip.

"Girl, he is your ex's cousin, sit down!" Heather throws a pillow at Isla.

"Oh my goddd let me liveee, dammit!" Isla giggles throwing it back, the pillow hitting you in the face on accident. "Oops! My bad girl I'm so sorry!" Isla pulls you into a hug, catching you off guard as Sexy Angel perfume from Victoria's Secret assaults your nostrils as she hugs you.

"Okay, anyway, see you tomorrow girl. Remember, 4pm, my room!" Vivian points at you as she follows Heather and Isla out, shutting the door behind her.

You feel a little uneasy but you feel the most hope you've felt in weeks after all the tension. Finally, maybe you could be chill with your roommates, and even make some new friends.

------

Miguel waves his room key in front of his lavish hotel room door, entering it with a sigh as he loosens his tie. He smiles widely at the incoming call from you on his phone.

"Hey," he says with a smile. You can hear the warmness in his voice from over the phone, the sound alone causing you to feel tingles all throughout your body.

"Hi, Miguel." You say with a smile, laying back on your pillow.

"How was your day, did you get all your work done?"

"Yee-up." You say, popping the "p" at the end of your sentence.

"Good girl."

Oh God, that was hot.

"How was your day, Miguel?" You ask him, trying to keep the conversation flowing and give you something to focus on other than his tantalizing voice.

"My day wasn't bad." He admits. He starts to unbutton his shirt, putting the phone on speaker.

"Just had a productive chat with a few stakeholders about some investments. I admit, I'm not one for social events." He chuckles.

The corner of your mouth twitches. "Haha, me neither. Guess we have that in common."

"Guess we do." Miguel agrees with a hum.

You smile, fiddling with one of your hoodie strings as you continue to talk to him, "Well, the trio invited me to a football game tomorrow night."

"Oh?" Miguel slips out of his pants and lies down in bed with a small grunt of relief. "I thought you four didn't get along?"

"I thought we didn't either." You admit. "But they apologized and invited me. They admitted they don't mind my relationship with you and wanted to start over fresh."

Miguel nods slowly, feeling a little suspicious about this. He's seen how ugly people can be to one another, particularly if the nasty feeling of jealousy is involved, taking nothing off the table of the lengths someone would go to get what they wanted.

"Just, be careful, cariño. I don't want to see you hurt. If they treat you poorly again, you're to tell me immediately, understood?"

"I'll be okay, promise." You try and reassure him, but Miguel doesn't feel too convinced.

"I trust you. I'm just not sure I trust them." He tells you gently. "You deserve good friends who are supportive and lift you up, not tear you down." His eyes fill with compassion as he speaks to you on the phone, a little astounded at how you manage to tug at his heart strings even hundreds of miles away, a feeling of needing to protect you and make sure you were safe, even if he couldn't physically be there.

"Would you let me have Noir drive you? You're welcome to invite your friends to ride with. I'll just feel much better about it if he's there to keep an eye on things."

You hesitate, but think about it. This might be a good way to get on the trio's good side, if you can let them into your new world of luxury a little bit. It kind of felt wrong to use Dr. O'Hara's wealth to win the favor of your roommates. But he was offering, and you'd do anything to improve your living situation at this point.

"Okay...yeah, that works." You answer. "I'll tell them he can drop us off and pick us up. Thank you, Miguel."

"You're welcome," Miguel says quietly with a smile. "Have fun tomorrow, and be safe okay? Don't be afraid to stand up for yourself."

"I will, I will." You say with a smile, brushing him off.

There's silence on the other line for some time before Miguel speaks again.

"Well, I wanted to talk some more tonight, because there's still a lot that I don't know about you yet."

You sit up a little in bed, "Y-yeah, of course...ask away."

He asks a few questions about your family and your childhood and you answer them honestly, finding yourself turning into an open book as you give him your life story, telling him all about your parents and siblings, your theories about why your upbringing may have effected your personality and so on.

And he listens quietly and intently, all of his attention undivided and owned by you completely in this moment. A small feeling endears himself closer and closer to you with every word you speak. You're so enriched with everything you have to say. You're insightful and intelligent and interesting. You doubt yourself. You're a pure soul who seems to feel lonely sometimes like he does, empathizing for how difficult it can be to relate to others and how the weight of becoming an adult and trying to support yourself through school was much more staggering than you expected.

You're a selfless, kind woman who would even give away the last of what she had to a man like him who had the world at his disposal, reaffirming that his choice to make you his was a resoundingly wise one.

A match between you two that was even more well suited for one another than he anticipated. Nevermind the difference in your ages, nevermind that you were originally an employee. There's something special here that he underestimated. It's jarring and it's refreshing.

It's eerily perfect, even causing himself to re-evaluate his wishes from the beginning to not even think about brushing shoulders with the question of matrimony. He's dizzy with all of these sudden epiphanies he's experiencing within just a hour or two of talking to you on the phone. Then, you say something that causes you to laugh loudly.

Miguel feels a warm feeling in his body at the sound of your laugh. It's infectious and hearty. And he'd be lying if he said the dimming lights of the city outside his hotel room and the sound of your voice weren't making him feel...a little needy by this point.

What, with how physically attracted he already found himself to you in the beginning, now you've revealed the contents of your soul to him and in turn demonstrated you're nothing like anyone else he's been involved with in the past. It was too easy not to find himself agonizingly tempted by simple desires. He's only a man.

"What are you up to this evening, my dear?" He asks in that rich voice of his.

"Just laying in bed..." You say, stifling a yawn.

Miguel hums. You bite your lip. Something about his voice had you missing him. You just poured out your heart to him, pulling yourself closer and closer to him with every layer of yourself that you stripped away and revealed to him. You find yourself comfortable with him, desiring him more than you already had, maybe even letting you toy with the idea of putting a more intimate physical relationship back on the table, knowing that Dr. O'Hara was the kind of honorable man he was. You'd love to give yourself to someone like him.

The sun was well below the horizon at this point, the darkness going straight to your head and traveling in a more sensual, suggestive direction.

"...and missing you..." You add with a little smirk.

"Mmm..." Miguel sighs.

Oh boy.

"Yo tambien te extraño..." (I missed you too) His voice is dripping with something suggestive, almost sly.

"What does that mean?" You ask breathlessly, playing with your necklace pendant.

Miguel smiles. "Means I've missed you too..."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm...."

"Mmm..."

"You teasing me, cariño?"

"Teasing you?" You bite your lip. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Careful..."

"What?"

"Heh...well..." Miguel looks around, despite being the only soul in his hotel room. "You're making me feel a certain way."

"Like what?" You bat your eyes innocently.

"Don't play coy." Miguel says firmly. "Like..." he sighs. "You're making me feel like I want to break those damn rules in the contract."

You relax your shoulders and exhale deeply out, the ache between your legs only growing more and more demanding. You really wanted it to continue, "I don't mind..."

"I'm serious, cariño." Miguel warns. "I'm not going against any boundaries we set together. Not unless you're completely sure..."

"I'm sure..." You whisper quietly to him, a faint groan rolling off your tongue as you draw out the last syllable.

"Ay por Dios..." (Oh my God) Miguel chuckles, turning red and biting his lip, hundreds of miles away. "Are you trying to kill me, sweetheart?"

"Maybe..." You tease, enjoying this effect you're having on him.

"Not tonight, baby..." Miguel says gently. "Not tonight..."

"Miguel..." You whine, your body still hungry, begging for some form of release, your desire hanging untapped, parched for his loving attention, the low timbre of his voice driving you mad.

"I wish you were here with me..."

"Oh cariño..." he groans, unable to disguise his mutual craving. "I wanna be there too..." He slowly licks his full lips. "I'll make it up to you, baby."

"Yeah?" You whisper.

"I swear." He promises you. "It needs to be special and perfect the next time we're together. We'll take our time but I won't hold back as long as you're completely comfortable and okay with it."

You giggle, biting your cheek and clenching at the thought. "I definitely am..."

"Beautiful..." He murmurs. "You've given me something else to look forward to all week."

"I don't think I can wait that long..." You say breathlessly.

"I don't think I can either." Miguel admits, letting out a chuckle of his own. "Oh....the things you do to me. You've no idea... Get some sleep now, yeah?"

As soon as you hung up you both fucked yourselves to oblivion in your separate beds, minds completely drunk with only thoughts of the other hundreds of miles away.

-----

You're all smiles as Noir picks you up the next day, barely able to function during work, only thinking about Miguel and the fun night you have planned with your girlfriends at the college football game as you sip your large iced coffee and munch on your heated pastry Noir bought you that morning, courtesy of Miguel's Platinum American Express.

Your heart does flip flops when you find your newest surprise from him in the backseat of the car after work: a Pandora bag with shimmery tissue paper and a lavender bow, eyes widening when you pull out a gorgeous white gold charm bracelet, complete with a crystal heart dangling from it with a note from Miguel.

Can't let those boys at the football game think that you're not taken. ❤️ Be safe tonight, and I'll see you very soon. Thank you for being so open with me last night. I love where this is going. Call me later.

You haven't left my mind once since the day I met you.

Love, Miguel

------

"Nuh uh!!! No freaking way!!" Heather, Vivian, and Isla squeal as they run towards the Mercedes, hand in hand while Noir held the door open for them with a humble smile.

"I always wanted to ride in a G wagon..." Heather's eyes dart around the interior, feeling the leather seats as though she needed to physically touch them to believe they were real.

"Ladies." Noir says as he comes to the door, holding a box of large, gourmet cookies nearly as big as your hand with frosting that matched your college's spirit colors, along with elegant glass bottles of sparkling lemonade. "A little game day treat for you from the doctor."

Your face erupted into a grateful smile as your friends gushed and raved about the snacks, relishing the bite of the warm chocolate chip cookie that practically melted in your mouth and the refreshing lemonade that left a little fizz behind on your tongue. Miguel was so damn thoughtful.

Once you arrive at the game, Noir helps all of you out of the car. "Anything else you need, miss?" Noir asks you as he shuts the door.

"Um, no, I should be good. Thanks Noir!"

"You're welcome. I'll be waiting out front for your entourage when the game is over. Have a good time, miss. Call me if you need anything."

You smile and turn, jogging to catch up to the others. Noir nods and drives off, parking the car only a short distance away in Miguel's designated VIP parking spot in the front row of the stadium parking lot, hanging a special tag in the window.

Noir gets out, pulling his collar of his trench coat little higher up on his neck in a semi-incognito fashion. You don't know he'll be watching you, and he feels a little bad about that, but, at the same time, he can't say no to the boss. He had good reason to keep an eye on you anyway. Your friends seemed too good to be true, and he had kind of a bad feeling about tonight, their jealousy at not being chosen by Dr. O'Hara rendering them blind.

As you find your seats, you're sat in between Isla and Will, a friend of Heather's boyfriend, Chase. Will is tall and muscular, a lacrosse player according to Isla. His green eyes lock onto you immediately, a fact not gone unnoticed to Isla's dismay and simmering jealousy. First Dr. O'Hara and now Will? What on Earth was so special about you?

Will keeps trying to make small talk with you. You try to discourage him with one word answers but he doesn't seem to get the hint, wrapping his jacket around your shoulders when he notices you shivering with the dropping temperature in the stadium. You immediately thought of Miguel but you were utterly freezing, so you decided to accept the gesture for now, praying that he'd take it as platonic.

Isla seeths quietly when she watches him give you his jacket. Time to put her idea into motion.

"Hey!" She smacks Heather who's getting handsy with Chase on the other side of her, handing her a bottle of vodka. You feel your blood run cold. There were strict no alcohol rules in the college stadium. The consequences ranged from ejection from the game to as severe as possession charges, intoxication, or even explusion from the university.

Heather giggles and takes the bottle, looking around and taking a generous shot before passing it to Chase, who passes it to Vivian and the other two guys before it travels back to Isla. She takes a shot, throwing her head back and wincing as she hands you the bottle.

"N-No thanks." You push the bottle back towards here.

"Dude," she hisses. "Come on, don't be a little bitch."

Will interrupts, taking the bottle from her and taking a shot, shooting you a playful wink. "Don't be shy."

You feel your cheeks get warm under his gaze, Miguel's face coming to your mind again and immediately shaking your head. "No...no thank you."

"C'mon." Will smirks. "Cute girl like you doesn't like to have some fun?"

Isla's face is boiling but it melts into a cheesy grin when you turn back to face her. "Right? She's just adorable huh? Little goody two shoes we like to call her." She elbows you playfully.

You're getting quite uncomfortable at this point, your eyes searching nervously all around the stadium, trying to make sure nobody around was catching wind of what your group was doing.

"We all took a shot, now you have to!" Vivian leans over, shaking your knee. She starts chanting your name in a sort of taunt. The guys quickly hopping on the band wagon, hooting and egging you on.

You're a nervous wreck, just wanting them all to shut up before all of you get kicked out of the university for good, starting to shiver nervously as a couple people nearby you turn around to see what all the commotion was.

"OKAY!" you snatch the bottle from Isla, bending over and sliding off your seat, taking a quick shot with your head down. You wince and cough uncontrollably as your erratic movements caused some of the alcohol to go down the wrong pipe, wheezing for a moment as the liquor stings and burns down your throat and lungs.

"There ya go, good job." Will pats your back and offers you a sip of his soda to chase it down. You grab it from him, taking several generous gulps without thinking, nearly sputtering again when you discover it's not just soda, but a really strong mixed drink.

Oh no.

Will smirks. "Well damn, girl. Slow down."

You feel your eyes watering up, starting to stumble a little. You hardly drank, so you had absolutely no tolerance, the alcohol flowing and dragging you down like dead weight in the water, a fuzzy feeling in your veins and the outside starting to get real shifty.

You can't make out much of what's going on around you but it sounds like Isla and the girls are taunting you again and making jokes at your expense, trying to dare you to flash your tits to the guys.

"C'mon girl, no balls you won't do it!" Heather and Vivian taunt, the guys around you looking at you like fresh meat.

You're utterly sick and confused and drunk, wanting nothing but Miguel to come in and sweep you away from this madness. Confused why your supposed friends were throwing you on display like some sort of sick circus act, expecting you to act like a slut just to appease their disgusting guy friends.

"S-stop..." You slur, falling backwards as Isla grabs at the hem of your shirt, trying to lift it up.

"Don't worry, I got you." Will mumbles. You stare up at him in horror and cringe as you smell the strong stench of alcohol on his breath as he's practically putting you in a headlock, one of his hands tries to grope your clothed breasts.

"N-No!" You whine.."Please!"

Will is suddenly yanked backwards. Noir flips him so Will is facing him before he utterly decks him in the nose, Will letting out an inhuman noise as he falls to the ground. Noir looks at him like he's scum on the bottom of his shoe before landing a nice kick into the middle of his stomach. Will lets out a large grunt, wheezing pathetically on the stadium floor.

By now, everyone's looking at you. You're disheveled and terrified with your clothes askew. Noir wraps you in his arms, scooping you up like you weigh nothing.

"You alright, doll face?" His eyes search you with worry.

You don't answer, just whimper with a trembling lip, shaking your head no as you hang your head in shame, resting your forehead against his chest as you shudder with a sob.

Noir shoots a glare at your group of so called friends. "You will be dealt with accordingly," He threatens with a growl before getting you out of there.

The stadium police come swarming, ignoring Noir because they recognize him as one of the assistants of the most powerful man in Nueva York (and the university's top donor). They surround the group, pulling the girls out of their seats and putting Will in handcuffs before ejecting the rest of them from the game.

-----

Noir tucks you in the backseat of the Mercedes, giving a soft pat to your hair and several murmured apologies as he speeds quickly away. He dials Miguel, and you can hear Miguel's enraged voice booming through the speakers.

"Bring her to the estate immediately. I'll meet you there."

"Yes boss."

"I need the first and last names of EVERYONE involved in this fucking mess."

"Y-yes boss. Don't worry. Campus police are aware and they're handling it as we speak."

"Not good enough!" Miguel hisses. I will be handling this now."

"Yes, doctor, understood."

"Get her to me safely, Noir."

"I will, doctor."

"Thank you."

Noir hangs up, taking a deep breath.

Those people picked the wrong man to fuck with this time. Miguel would make them pay for what they did to you.

"I feel sick..." you groan.

"Hold on, madam....it's alright, we're almost there." Noir eyes the speedometer as it's pushing 110 miles per hour, the countryside zipping past the windows in what seems like mere light seconds.

You whimper and hold your head in your hands, trying so hard not to vomit as Noir drives furiously towards Miguel's mansion in the countryside.

----

Tags��🫶🏽

@scaleniusrm @laysmt @to-the-endoftheline

@criessoft @bammzyboomy @thatone-writer @oharasfilipinawife @lauraolar14 @scaryplanetdestroyer @amberbalcom14

@ofmenanduhhhwellmen @2099hitmylineyline

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@sassypossumm @leonsbimbogf

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel fanfic #miguel o'hara au #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 #Spotify

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magpie-murder · 6 months

Text

it'd be wild if they gave asgard's citizens phones in marvel i bet they'd have the best drama

20 notes

👴🏻 is-odin-dead-yet

No.

#date: 2023/11/23 #when will he croak #i've been running this blog for centuries #frigga for allfather #kick the bucket already i'm getting bored of posting here

112 notes

⛈️ god-of-thunder

I come to Tumblr with a regretful update. As you may know, my family and our fiercest warriors have been traveling between realms in search of our stolen relics.

While attempting to recover one, my brother lost his life in battle while protecting us. He shielded me with his body. My brother died a hero.

einherjarl-deactivated20231120

May he reach Folkvangr. My deepest condolences. But I thought Baldur was impervious to all harm...?

⛈️ god-of-thunder

It was Loki. :( I'm devastated.

einherjarl-deactivated20231120

Oh.

🐍 magic-theatre

is that all you can muster? "oh." you thought i was dead, and that's it? that's all you have? what do you mean by that? let's talk. :)

⛈️ god-of-thunder

You're alive? Where are you?

⛈️ god-of-thunder

Wait, what happened to @einherjarl? He deactivated?

⛈️ god-of-thunder

Loki?

23,034 notes

🎨 bragis-apprentice

Just finished custom making this handle

#metalwork #artists on tumblr #double sided axe #my art

2 notes

⚔️ aesir-warrior-tournament

⚡️LIGHTNING ROUND⚡️

einherjarl-deactivated20231120

Lady Sif is not one of The Warriors Three. It says it in the name. There are three of them. Not four.

Correct this.

✨️ the-dashingest

I voted for Sif.

🪓 valiant-festivals

I voted for Sif.

🔺️ grim-warrior

I voted for Sif.

✨️ the-dashingest

Wait, Hogun? But you didn't tell us you had a phone?

🔺️ grim-warrior

I don't.

#lady sif propaganda #lightning round #poll reblog #only one more round after this! #i'm so glad lady sif doesn't have tumblr lol #i hope you guys dont mind that a mortal is running this blog btw #i really didnt expect any of you to see this 😬 #and srry for the reblog spam #also hogun lol

1,879 notes

🐍 magic-theatre

i see your thirst edits, you sick freaks.

#start tagging me in them #and/or sending them to me

689 notes

⛵️ modern-technologist Follow

umm i'm in ohio to visit my parents and there's like. um . a giant wolf running alongside my car? i'd call animal control but this thing is ginormous and i don't think that would do anything.

it doesnt have a leash or anything (obv its bigger than my car) but it's covered in chains. what do i do??

@identifying-d𝚘gs-in-posts ??

🐕 identifying-dogs-in-posts Follow

Fenrir Lokison?

#😨

197 notes

✨️ the-dashingest

I really don't think Loki is that bad. Sure, he's had a rocky history, but I don't think he's done anything worthy of scorn. Besides, hasn't he just died and come back or something like that, anyway? He has a blank slate, in my book.

#is it just me? #i hear people saying we should banish or kill him #i find that idea preposterous #he's just misunderstood

208 notes

einherjarl-deactivated20231120

I'm not going to @ them, but ugh... Someone I'm acquainted with just died in battle, and honestly? I'm so relieved. Is that terrible? Don't answer that, I know that it is. I'll probably delete this in a few hours.

🐍 magic-theatre

that's what you get for vagueing.

cowards don't go to valhalla.

10,560 notes

🔮 alchemist-aura Follow Sponsored with Blaze 🔥

buy my potions! i'm having a Thor's Day sale! you can get an invisibility concoction for only 3 gold today! cheapest prices in the market! don't let that einar guy force you to pay 230 gold for a wyvern tooth when you can purchase an authentic one HERE from my brand new online shop

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#i know they're all ooc i was just trying to amuse myself #loki #thor #fandral the dashing #moon queen and magic theatre #loki marvel #marvel thor #marvel asgard #marvel #thor odinson #dashboard simulator #the warriors three #odin allfather

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imaginesmai · 8 months

Text

Right around the corner (3) - Azriel

LISTEN I CAN EXPLAIN if you've been here for a while now, you can expect this part. If not, may I present myself - hi, I'm Mai and I'm an angst queen bitch. Fourth part already on the way, don't worry!

(1), (2), (3), (4), (5)

Plot: the turth comes out, but in a way Azriel didn't expect.

Warnings: prepare tissues.

Azriel had taken his time to process the words, and in the meanwhile, he had received so many notes from his family that he had his hands full of small paper balls.

There were notes from Feyre updating him of the screaming match between Cassian and Rhysand, long texts from Mor promising him the house was a safe place for you and that he better hurry to bring you out. Even Amren had written a brief ‘I knew it, boy’ that had him more worried than before.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t want you to meet them. He loved his family like nothing else, and knew they would only be supportive and kind to his new status. Him being mated or not didn’t change the way they saw him, but part of him – the part that had felt rejection from his mother and his blood-family, was scared.

Azriel ended up sitting in the kitchen counter in front of you with a frown and a growing headache. Even though it was late and you had had a long day, you instantly noticed his mood.

“What’s wrong?”

It wasn’t unusual for Azriel to go quiet in your presence. You had learned by then that it didn’t mean you did something wrong. Most of the times, it was his insecurities popping up randomly in his mind, the troubles of the day dragging him away from you.

And through the years, you had learned that there was nothing else to do but to stay close to him and remind him that he was there. Right with you, and that you loved him.

Still, as you stared at him that night, you noticed it wasn’t the usual frown. He snuck glances at you and moved from the couch, where he was banned, to the kitchen. You left the bowl aside and stood in front of him, one arm extended so he could hold your hand.

“How do you know Feyre?” he asked, not taking your hand.

“Feyre as… the high lady?”

“Yeah. You greeted her the other day. You two know each other?”

“Guess so. She has her art study right in front of my bakery, haven’t you noticed?” you answered, not understanding the nature of the question. “When she moved in, I baked her a welcome to the neighborhood pie and she has actually painted two of the pictures I hang on the wall”

“Feyre painted pictures for you?” Azriel raised an eyebrow. “Are you two friends?”

“Well, not friends per say, but we know each other. That’s what usually happens when you work in front of someone else’s work” you shrugged, you open hand still empty. “Why?”

“I didn’t know you knew her”

“Should you know I know her? For any specific reason?”

“It would have been nice to know you know my high lady. My brother’s mate”

“Now you know. What’s with all this ‘you know I know’? Why does it matter?”

You didn’t understand why but there was an annoyed edge on his voice that you didn’t like. As a morning person, you usually went to bed early, and any minute past midnight was a minute you were supposed to be asleep. No matter how nice it was to spend time with Azriel and how good he had made you feel an hour ago, now you were annoyed.

The male stared at you, still not answering your silent call for his hand. One of his many shadows crossed the table and jumped at the chance of tangling between your fingers. That would have been enough to make you laugh any other day.

That night, you just stared at each other.

“Az, why are you so – “

“Because you should have told me, Y/N” he cut you off. “You know how important my family is to me, and I think it’s fair to ask that if you know any of them you should tell me. So I’m prepared for this”

“What’s this exactly? Late night discoveries about my neighbors?”

Azriel was quiet for a moment, frustration clear in his features. It was a stupid argument over a stupid situation, and Azriel being on his underwear and you only on his t-shirt without panties didn’t make it any less stupid. You rarely argued, and when you did, it was you who had the pointless argument and Azriel the calm one.

His shadows moved behind the couch and dumped in front of you a bunch of papers. They were all wrinkled and Azriel didn’t have time to hide them or think about how to approach the situation before a new one popped out of thin air. It landed next to your open hand, his shadow catching it and unfolding the content.

Does she eat cereal straight from the box? Is it why you’re hiding her?

You didn’t need to think hard to know it was talking about you, and who the note belonged to. In the past, Rhysand had sent notes to Azriel while you were having a shower together, in bed together, and one had even appeared inside your oven while he was helping you around.

“Feyre told them about you” Azriel explained, having read the note upside down. “And because I didn’t know you knew her, now they are deeply offended and want to meet you”

It took you a while to make sense to his words, because you couldn’t find the problem past you not telling him about Feyre. Quickly, you read some of the notes where Cassian threatened Azriel and Rhysand demanded his presence. They were friendly notes, no harm in them. Still, you couldn’t understand the utter sadness until you realized the meaning behind his annoyance.

Finally, you pulled your hand back to your side, not with little resistance from the shadow. You must have opened the bond channel because Azriel frowned, hit with sadness instead of the usual love.

The first note, where Rhysand explained that Feyre had told him, was what brought it all together.

“You haven’t told them you have a mate”

It occurred to you that you had believed it done with no proofs. You didn’t mind Azriel being at your house, living in your apartment. You didn’t mind having separate Starfall and lives. You didn’t mind either when he left for a family dinner and kissed you goodbye, because you understood his need of privacy, of having something that was just his.

What you didn’t understand until that moment that he hadn’t even told them you existed. And through all the reasons that ran to your mind at his silence, you couldn’t pick just one.

“It’s not that they don’t know me. They don’t know you’re mated”

“You agreed when I said I need to take things slowly. That I needed time” he blurted out suddenly, your sadness making space for his annoyance. “The bond was a surprise for me. I didn’t want to rush things”

“Azriel it’s been six years. Six! It’s not a casual fling or a one-night stand” you tried to voice your hurt, your sadness. “It’s not the same not meeting them that being a secret”

“It’s not like I keep you a secret. They haven’t asked and I haven’t – “

“Because you haven’t told them! What – How do you explain the days you spend here? And the… I – Azriel, we’ve been dating for six years and they haven’t asked?”

“They’re used to me sneaking around”

“For months?” you chuckled. “We were locked here for months after we mated. How did you explain that?”

His words were background noise because, above his absences, there was something you realized they should have noticed. Something anyone noticed from mated pairs as soon as they left the house. White noise filled your ears as he tried to excuse himself by talking about missions.

About your safety, about the worry of something happening to you if they discovered you were his mate.

Azriel blurred in front of you as realization hit you and tears filled your eyes. You could barely hold it together as you spoke.

“You’ve been hiding the mating bond” your breath hitched, because if there was something more important than your bakery, it was your bond. “They should have smelt it. But you’ve been hiding it”

“I didn’t hide it, please, don’t say it like that” his voice broke at the end, willing you to listen to him.

“Right. Because you can’t hide the bond from them unless you don’t accept it” you saw the moment your words hit him, the guilt in the way his shadows almost clouded your vision and his wings flared. “You didn’t accept the bond”

Azriel didn’t answer and, worse than any other betrayal or pain, it broke your heart. You remembered offering him the lemon pie, him tearing up and eating. Accepting the bond was an individual decision, one he should have made years ago – just like you did.

You still shared it; you still were mates. The only difference was that, while you proudly loved him and adored each part of his body and soul, he had rejected your smell on him, your imprint on his own.

An invisible hand cut off your air supply and your breath hitched. You covered your mouth with your hand and muffled the sob, but he felt the exact moment your heart broke. Even if he didn’t show it to the world, he could still feel you. Your feelings, your essence. His own eyes teared up and now he extended his hand forward.

A silent invitation, the same you had given him so many times when he was in need of comfort, of love.

But that time, you didn’t reach forward nor acknowledge the shadows that tried to pull you closer to him.

“Get out”

“Darling”

“Get out” you pointed a shaky finger towards the door.

“Y/N, please. It’s not what you’re thinking” he tried to explain, his voice broken by his sorrow. “I accepted the bond. I just – “

“Get the fuck out now!”

The bowl that you had been filling with lettuce, salmon and other vegetables flew from the desk to where he was standing. His shadows, by their own consciousness or his master’s, didn’t stop it as it crashed against his chest. It spilled all over his naked chest, and before he could clean it, there was another tray with grilled pork on your hand.

Azriel’s last look to you was of pure despair and sorrow. He winnowed away before the second tray could hit him, leaving you with his shadows already cleaning up the mess.

As soon as he was out of sight, you fell down to your knees and sobbed.

He didn’t have a plan, and when he winnowed away, the last thing on his mind was the sound of your heart breaking. There was no way he would go to his house and face his family, not when he wasn’t even sure what had happened in your apartment. Couldn’t start to comprehend the pain he had caused you and how much he hated himself for it.

So, without planning to, he ended up in the cabin.

The old wooden walls and ceiling greeted him, different from the ones he remembered from his past. Feyre had added drawings everywhere, there were clothes scattered around, and food that was still edible.

No matter how familiar the sight was, it offered him no comfort.

Azriel dragged his wings through the floor and sat on the couch. Propping his elbows on his knees, he hid his face as the first tear rolled down. Followed by many more.

He replayed your hurt voice once more, your face. It hadn’t been his intention to reject the bond, not really. But he hadn’t run away from it.

It took him two weeks of uncertainty to know that he hadn’t taken it the way you had. While you radiated with his scent, people didn’t ask him. He walked past Cassian during training and his friend just teased him for being disappeared for a month. Rhysand commented about having to report to him every now and then, and Amren didn’t even acknowledge his presence.

That was how he discovered that he had to accept his part of the mating process. He had to be proud, to want it, in order to complete it.

But you had been so happy, so full of joy and love, that Azriel had feared that telling you about it would make you sad. Eventually, he had learned how he should have done it – but at that moment, he didn’t know. Besides, he could still sneak whenever he wanted to without explanations. So he hadn’t said anything.

The first year rolled by, and he spent a good amount of days panicking about how to deal with the situation. The second year passed and you didn’t ask about it, neither did his family. By the fourth year, he had almost forgotten about it.

Azriel’s loud sob broke the silence of the cabin. His chest contracted and his body shock. It was different from any type of suffering, of pain, he had ever felt. He could still feel the echo of your own through the bond, could hear your cries in the distance.

In the lonely cabin, under the moon light, the shadowsinger sobbed and cried until his voice was raw. He was angry at himself, at his past and his traumas, even angry at you. Because now that he knew what it felt to be complete, to be happy and safe in someone’s love, he couldn’t bear the thought of not having it.

His body gravitated to the side and he curled himself in a ball, still in his underwear. It reminded him of when he was a kid and would try to hide himself in the dark cell, cowering in his fear and desperation.

As if he was a kid all over again, Azriel let his wings cover his body and cried. Cried until he couldn’t remember his name, until he was begging the Cauldron to turn back time and let him accept the bond. Carry you on his arm around Velaris and don’t let the fear take control of his life.

He felt like punching a hole through the wall. Like flying thousand feet up and letting go in free fall. Maybe get into a bar fight and let everything out. But his body was anchored to that couch, to that pain. Azriel pressed his closed fists into his chest, trying to relief some of the pressure.

While he wondered if that was what having his heart ripped from his chest fell, he forgot to keep his mental shields up.

Letting Rhysand in.

The house of wind had been chaos for a few hours.

Rhysand had tried to manage the situation by himself, wide awake in bed while processing Feyre’s words. He willed himself to sleep, to rest and leave the pondering for the morning. But when he tried to close his eyes, he could see Azriel covered in blood and killing an entire camp because an illegal wing clipping. He could notice the faint, new smell in the house that he hadn’t noticed.

If he had his eyes open, he couldn’t help but look at Nyx’s new toy.

So, Rhysand had woken up Cassian, after Azriel hadn’t answered his notes. And Cassian had been mad. Angry, furious, raging. The general had talked nonsense about berries for a while and then he begged Rhysand to wake up Feyre and find Azriel to interrogate them.

And, who was the high lord to deny a late-night gossiping session?

Feyre had been mad but she had told them that Azriel had a mate that worked in front of her art studio, in a bakery. That you were nice and cheerful, that you had been mated for six years.

That was when Cassian lost it and woke up the whole house.

Now, all the members of the inner circle had gathered in the council room with their pajamas on.

“Maybe it’s not true. Feyre, you might have had imagined it”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Feyre raised her eyebrows at Cassian.

“I’m just saying he would have told me! We’re brothers. And we don’t keep secrets in this house. Never.”

“You don’t keep secrets” Amren cut him off, not looking at him. “Your bean brain is too simple to keep any type of secrets from us, but that doesn’t mean all of us are exhibitionist”

“I’m not – “

“You are an exhibitionist. You announce everything, Cas. Even a fart” Mor corrected him before he could defend himself.

“Sorry for being kind enough to not keep secrets from my family” he frowned, turning to look at Rhys. “You keep secrets from me?”

“I don’t keep secrets from you” Rhys assured him, half a smile.

“He threw the sword you gifted Nyx for his birth and told you Bryaxis took it so you wouldn’t look for it”

Feyre looked at her mate with a raised eyebrow, daring him to say anything else. With a wide-awake Nyx in her arms, she looked at threatening as the Hybern army. She had yet to talk to him privately, but Rhysand knew he was up for a long talk. So he bit his lip and turned to Cassian. Who, of course, looked completely broken and defeated.

The rest of the group was silent, barely keeping their smiles to themselves. Even Nesta, who had a hand on his shoulder, was looking at Feyre with approval. Cassian stared at Rhysand for a long second before he talked.

“It was a nice sword”

“For a teenager, maybe. For a baby, not” Feyre answered again. “Weren’t you just talking about Azriel’s betrayal and secrets?”

“I, for one, knew he was hiding something” Amren commented for the third time. “Just saying I noticed. And you didn’t”

“Not all of us are creeps that stare and don’t talk. We have social lives to take care of” Mor said.

“Some of you do talk. Maybe too much”

Rhysand tuned out Amren and Mor argument when he felt a crack through Azriel’s mental barriers. He had been tugging at them softly to know where his brother was. Feyre had talked him out of the idea of barging in uninvited and demanding answers – at least, he had talked Amren and Mor out of it. Rhysand and Cassian were still unconvinced.

That was why he had kept a talon poking at his mental barriers since the argument started, thinking it wouldn’t be successful.

But then, Azriel opened it unconsciously and Rhysand brought a hand up to his chest.

Everyone fell quiet as the high lord scrunched his eyebrows and pressed his lips together, not ready for the wave of emotions and pain Azriel was feeling at the moment.

Feyre’s hand was instantly on him, Nyx looking up to his father with a pout that would surely turn into a crying session soon. Before the baby could start crying or any of his friends could ask him about it, Rhysand accepted Feyre’s help and got up from his chair.

“He’s at the cabin” he announced, already summoning his darkness to swallow Cassian and him there. “We’ll keep you updated”

Nyx’s loud cry was the last thing they heard as they winnowed away. And the first one they heard from the cabin, was Azriel’s broken one.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Right around the corner taglist:

@lesliemurillo @impossibelle @polli05927 @florencemtrash @going-through-shit @minakay @setayeshmohseni @torchbearerkyle @esposadomd @amysangel @kennedy-brooke @originalcrusadetrash @luvmoo @historygeekqueen @marriedtolike18fictionalmen @wallacewillow0773638 @tothestarsandwhateverend @kristalhi @knmendiola @nikt-wazny-y

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alizalayne · 3 months

Note

Whats the ventilation and heat like in the suit head? I can't tell if it would be warmer or more cool to wear in compaison to a faux fur fursuit head. The only thing I worry abt is how durable needlefelting is and if it can be cleaned like a traditional fursuit head. That being said I really hope you continue making these, they're cool as hell 👍🔥👍

Okay first of all I'm super jazzed to be able to talk about this with people, and I kind of went overboard answering this, but thanks for asking! Putting this up in case anyone else is curious.

The main answers to your questions are 1: wool is cooler than acrylic fur and less stinky

2: A fursuit head is a swamp and i am snorkling in it.

I mentioned this in my behind the scenes post and there are pictures there but I literally just made a snorkel out of a snorkel mouthpiece and two collapsible automotive funnels, the kind that you can bend into a shape so that you can get goo into a weird part of your car.

that snorkel piece goes straight out of a vent hole in the inside of the ear and I felted a pink skin flap in front of it and then felted white fiber into that so it just looked like a tuft. it worked perfectly, it's just that I couldn't talk in it that well. But I'm definitely going to keep using it if I can't think of a better mouthpiece for it because as SOON as I breathed inside the head instead of through the snorkel I was like oh my god everyone is living in hell.

You can see it in this picture a little bit. nobody noticed it at all!

My friend had made a much more traditional head with a bigass electric fan in it and he was having more heat issues than I was, because I cannot stress enough that acrylic fur is like, one of the most horrifically hot fabrics you can wear. I don't know how everybody is even alive!! and there's a layer of ACRYLIC BACKING on it! Also check out how "short-pile" my fur is, most of the head is only an inch thick, it's a half-inch bucket head made out of foam covered in maybe 1/3 of an inch of wool? the less space you have between the fibers the less heat gets trapped. I was shocked by how comfortable I was, and I was having migraine symptoms that day and was extra sensitive to heat. The con where we were had the air turned down and it was chilly outside, but I was shocked when I took the head off and shook my hair out and I wasn't even sweating. I had long hair in a wig cap under that thing and I wasn't sweating. It was crazy.

As for cleaning the wool, I cannot find anyone else who has done this who has cleaning tips for me, but the foam is what I'm worried about. After a few hours of wear there's nothing wrong with the wool at all, but i can TELL the foam is ever so slightly nasty, because the foam is polyurethane and wool is what you make hiking socks out of. I have some wool cleaner coming in the mail that's made for delicate needlefelted items like scarves and deposits lanolin, which is what keeps wool "alive" kind of like how you have to care for leather. It's definitely an experiment! Nothing ventured nothing gained!

I don't have an idea in mind for a second head right now and the next thing I want to make is a cowl so I can wear lower-cut tops with this head, but I might try something else if I think of an idea! I'm probably never gonna sell these because I'm weird about selling sculptures for whatever reason. They're like my living beasts.

But I definitely hope this encourages other people who might be interested in bringing needlefelt or other fiber art sensibilities to this space, that would be a massive complement and a high honor to give people a new way to enjoy a hobby that I know means a ton to a lot of people.

#fursuit

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multifandomfanatic02 · 3 months

Text

"You didn't know, pt.1"

Pairing: Alastor x fem!OC?? (pulled the name out of a hat honestly)

Warning: mentions of r*pe, detailed murder,

Summary: it was never mentioned as to why Alastor turned to murder. Maybe it could have been because he lost someone important to him? Who knows really?

a/n: I tried my best to stick to Alastor's character and respect his sexuality. If you think this needs any improvement or if you have some kind criticism, please let know! And if this liked enough I'll make a part two! (itsbeentwelveyearssinceihavewrittenanythingpleasebenice)

Spring of 1915

Alastor had been a victim of his mother's matchmaking since he was seventeen. Seven dates have been attempted in 5 years total.

No, he was more focused on his occupation as a writer. What Alastor was truly in love with, the smooth jazz that blessed his ears, to the dancing, the books. He was clearly an art enthusiast. And there was one artist's work he admired more than anything. Lillian Fletcher. She was a high position in a very popular magazine and newspaper. Decided what was trendy and what wasn't. While her job is more in the line of sales, Lillian's colleagues agree to let her put her own articles in them. They get hella cash flow.

Crazy as it is, no one has seen what she looked like. When conferences with celebrities happen, it's like she's there in spirit and the articles just show up in the papers one day. I guess you could say it's what Alastor admired about Lillian, she was obviously a humble woman. Someone who cared about her work as much as he did his. Even more so loved the same things he did.

A special night was approaching, Alastor was going to join the press as a journalist for a conference. Even get to do an interview with the famous guest. It was such a grand occasion, he wore his best suit. A black suit rimmed with red buttons and red seams around the collar and of course a red dress shirt underneath. Took the breath away from most of the women that glanced at him during the little shindig.

"Look at my handsome little man, I'm so proud of you, mon cœur." Alastor's mother beams at him with pride, rubbing her fingers against his cheek. He grabs her hand and guides her to the bar.

"Thanks mama, I'm really glad you get to be here with me tonight. Can't imagine anyone else to spend this night with, I mean that." Her eyes start to swell as tears spill out of them. He chuckles wiping them away with the back of his hand. The lights finally begin to dim and the guest comes out on stage. "It's time mama, I need to join the crowd." Alastor unpockets his pen and pad and walks to the chaos of the press unfolding before him.

2 hours gone by and he gets maybe 3 questions out of him. This guest isn't particularly nice. He's obviously rushing the journalist and being very um.. kind of an asshole with his replies. Then again it was to be expected from this one. It's why he's Alastor first real job after all.

"Can you please answer respectfully for once? Stop being an ass to the people who will write your story one day." Everything goes quiet and all heads turn to the back of the crowd. A woman.

"Who are you to speak to me that way, slut." He says giving her a disdainful expression.

"I apologize sir, I just want to know as to why you treat everyone like garbage."

"Miss.. does your husband know you are here." He scoffs, taken aback by the woman's comment.

"I am not married, sir." Her eyes are stoic, there's no signs of kidding on her face.

"That explains a lot. No one wants a woman with a mouth like that.. anyhow, ma'am I think you are done here. Guards! See to it that this.. woman.. leaves the building." He snaps his fingers calling the guards over.

Everyone in the crowd obviously disgusted by attitude. Who gave her the right to talk to HIM that way. Only one pair of eyes saw her differently than anyone else. Alastor. She was glorious. He has never seen someone so beautiful in AND out like this before. The woman wore a royal blue drop-waist dress made of silk and velvet with beads and tiers. Thick mid length hair pinned up in a bob, in attempt to keep it all in place. Pearls adorned her neck beautifully.

He walked out the building following loosely behind, his hand rubbing the back of his neck briefly.

"Are you alright, miss?" He speaks softly to her, trying to not speak the woman.

"Ah yes, thank you, I apologize for my behavior back there. You didn't have to come after me." She hugs her arms and paces back and forth, irritation clearly visible on her face.

"I believe it was very much needed. He certainly needed to be put in his place. Who better than you." Alastor's lips grew into a soft grin. She stopped pacing finally taking a really good look at him. Handsome, is all she thought. "May I ask for your name?" He bent down grabbing her hand kissing the back of it.

A blush flooded her face from her cheeks to the tips of the ears. "L-Lillian Fletcher... and you are?" He looked up in shock to her response, clearing his throat.

"My name is Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure indeed!" His smile turned into a starstruck expression. "So you are the Lillian Fletcher that works for the magazine?!" She nodded nervously as Alastor struggled to keep his cool. "I love your articles and sales pitches! It's what inspired me to shoot my shot with an actual job in journalism. I've been writing for as long as I can remember."

"I'm so glad to hear that, my job is my everything. I'm very passionate about it." Her hand hovers over her mouth to hide her giggle.

"Say, Ms. Fletcher, would you like to have dinner with me?" He holds out his arm for her to take as she gladly accepts, wrapping her hand around it with a smile.

"Call me Lili."

Summer of 1917

"How do I look, mama?" Lillian looked at her future mother in law, holding back her tears. Her knuckle grazed under her eyes to keep from ruining the makeup. The dress she wore was an ivory colored low v-neck dress full of lace and the sleeves were nothing but loose tassels. The most gorgeous wedding dress you'd have ever seen. Her hair was neatly curled and pinned up, feathered boa wrapped around her back and arms, elbow length silk gloves, a string of pearls around the neck, and finally a flower crown. Never has someone looked so elegant.

Alastors hands ran through his hair pacing around in the dressing room. No way was this perfect day about to happen for him. He never thought that one day he'd be married. Alastor has always kept to himself, never found anyone attractive enough. He believed the romance life wasn't for him. While it's partly true, he surely was in love deeply. However both agreed that they never wanted children. Never thought they needed to have intimacy to have love. It would be the perfect life with their work, passions and each other of course.

"Ooo honey, you are looking handsome. Can't wait for you to see Lillian. She's glowing." She says letting herself into his room. She walks towards and pulls him down by the collar to fix his bow tie. "My baby boy, finally getting married."

"Thank you mama, for everything. I'll be sure to pass on your jambalaya recipe to her." He snickers, getting a whack in the arm from her.

"Don't start with me now, boy, you're never to old for a whoopin. You hear me?"

-----

The wedding has started in the chapel and everyone takes their seats. Alastor already tearing up from the band playing music. His fingers fidgeting with eachother in front of him. His bride in all her glory walking down the aisle as if she was a star in the sky.

They took each other's hands holding their breaths as the priest gets through his speech. The wedding was very simple and short event. Due to both groom and bride's status, it was best to keep it a secret and only allow close family. Meaning Alastor's mom and their pet black cat.. Lucifer.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride." That moment lasted for what felt like forever.

Winter of 1928.

Eleven years have passed, both are 34 years of age and their relationship has nothing but flourished since they were married.

Lillian has retired from her life of writing for the public to devote herself to her husband. It's been peaceful and life has never felt better. Alastor on the other hand was promoted to radio host as soon as they were being sold to consumers. It's one thing to write it all out on paper but another to broadcast his interviews and music live to listeners with similar interests. It was... a thrill to him. He and his wife have became quite the team on radio. She often helps him figure out pitches to his audience to boost it.

"Al dear, don't you think it's time for bed?" Lillian's hands wrapped around his neck and ran down his chest, leaning down enough to place a kiss on his head. "You've been working on next week's interview all day. Time to rest, darling."

He sighs and squeezes her hand before nodding. "Alright mon amour." He stands up dragging his feet to their shared bed, tucking each other in. Lillian stroked his hair in hopes to bring him some comfort. He pulls her into his chest. "I will never love anyone other than you. You are mine for eternity."

-------

"Why haven't you told me about this before?!"

"I just didn't want you to worry about it.. you've got a big show coming up soon."

"Hate to break it to you, darling, but someone stalking you is a lot more important to me than a damn show!" Lillian silenced herself, looking away from Alastor's gaze. "I'm staying home."

"No! You can't! That show is a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

"YOU are my one opportunity! If something happened to you.. I would go Insane." He gripped her shoulders tightly.

"Fine.. Let's make a deal, Al dear. You stay at home all week, but on the day of your show, we take extra precautions to the house and you go. After that you can stay home as much as you want." Lillian says in a serious tone and holds out her hand.

"Deal."

⛧ ⛧ ⛧

The day had finally come and both were feeling nervous. In truth, neither of them wanted Alastor to leave. But with the extra precautions in the house, there was no point in staying home. She was right, this chance will never come again.

The stalker in question had done this sort of thing to several women in the past, many of which had simply gone missing. The ones that were found had been abused and stabbed in the spine causing paralysis, and yes, dead. What a horrific way to die, they both thought. So far there have been 6 victims.

"Are you ready, dear?" Lillian asks helping his coat on. Alastor's expression looking out of place. He was scared and couldn't look her in the eyes, fearing it could be the last time he sees them.

"Are you sure you can't come with me?" He grabs her hand and holds it to his chest. His heart beat a mile a minute.

"You know I'm not allowed there anymore. Or have you forgotten?" She chuckles in attempt to comfort her husband. Obviously not working. Alastor was heartbroken, the only thing he could think of now was to hurry up and get his show done and over with so he can come home. Almost like it wasn't important anymore.

"I've got you a gift." He pulled out a velvet box from his pocket. Lillian took the box and opened it, revealing a locket. 'Mon amour'. She opened it up to see a picture of them on their wedding day. Happy as can be. "No matter what happens know that you are the most important thing in my life." She smiled up at him and gave him a big hug before thanking him. It's beautiful.

"Time to go, my darling." She gives him one last passionate kiss before pushing his butt out the door and locking it. It was cruel to do that however, if it dwelled on it any longer he'd surely break his promise. In reality, she was panicking about being left alone. For good reason...

Alastor's body finally relaxed after 4 hours of his show, it was the most enjoyable one so far. Interviewing the mayor, he was a lot nicer than expected and obviously cared for his people. It wasn't until one of the new journalists came barging in that everything changed.

"Uh oh we've got some breaking news! A new victim of the killer. Our seventh victim is the magazine writer and trend-setter, Lillian Lili?!..." He held his breath as a lump formed in his throat. Immediately getting up, turning on his heels, and hurrying out of the building. His hands were shaking in hopes that she was at the very least still alive. Maybe this was a different situation.

Police and the press had already arrived hours before. Pushing through the crowd, a policeman placed a hand on his chest to keep him at bay.

"Are you Mrs. Lillian's husband?" The policeman asked. Alastor's glared down at the man keeping him away from his wife. "I'm afraid I have to tell you that she was killed. I cannot let you go on further for your own good."

"H-How did this happen.. the house was covered in as many locks as we could find! Wood bolted to the windows and-"

"It was not a break in, sir. He had been living in your cellar for what may have been... a week?." Alastor's color drained from his face. In the cellar? He had locked his wife in there with that criminal?

He pushed past the policeman and ducked under the police tape. No one stopped him in time before he saw the scene unfold in front of him. Just like the other women. She had been assaulted and puddles of blood ran from her back. Alastor drops to his knees and grips his hair, crying hysterically. Something snapped within him. His cries suddenly turned into insane laughter. It appalled everyone. He goes over and picks her up and cradles her lifeless body in his own. The blood staining his clothes.

"You can't do that! This is a crime scene! You can't mess with evidence. It belongs to the police department!" The police officer yelled at him. Alastor said nothing continuing to hold her. He knew what to do..

Winter of 1933

̷̍̇̄̐̂̏͊̒̈́ "Breaking News! We have an update on Paul Benjamin. You know the one serial killer who has had an open case for 20 years. Well.. HE'S DEAD HAHAHAHA!" Alastor beat on his desk laughing before clearing his throat. "I apologize for my outburst, it just about time it happened don't y'all agree?" He said calming down and wiping the tears from his eyes. "I wonder who's next on this antihero's list."

It had been 5 years since Lillian's death. While he is working through the pain, his methods to cope is questionable. Four years ago Alastor had decided he wanted to deal with his wife's murderer himself. A year of following his movements and actions eventually paid off. A new addiction emerged to the surface. How easy it was to pierce human skin, to the screams of misery and pain. It was such an amazing feeling. Why stop there? There are people who deserve the same. Nine monsters.. nine people killed by Alastor's hand. Each deeply researched and carefully chosen.

The walk back home from the studio was peaceful. Nothing could make this night better. Many horrors have been removed from the streets of New Orleans thanks to him. Thankfully he was never suspected in any of them. Alastor was very particularly careful how he handled them. Every single seeming to be an accident or su**ide. To the public, it was almost like a miracle. But to the criminals themselves, they knew. Who was next on this mastermind's list? Paranoia set in to them all.

"Ahh what a day my dear, wish you could be here to see what I've accomplished." His laugh was maniacal. He removed his jacket and put it on the hanger on the door. "You are safe now, my darling. We're getting closer to having a free city of monsters."

"I knew it was you.." a voice whispered to Alastor from behind him, holding a knife to his neck. "The only monster left in this town is you, Al." Alastor stayed quiet and slowly reached for the knife in his vest pocket. "I d-don't want to kill you. I understand why you did it but your wife would not like this. Just submit yourself to the police and I will let you go."

He belted the insane laughter, making the man steadily walk backwards in fear. "Understand? You could never understand." Alastor swiped his finger across the cut on his neck left by the knife, and licking it. "I just enjoy doing it." He swiftly shoved the knife into the man's chest.

"Hmmm.. where to put this one. Ah I got it." Unlike all the others, this one was a surprise bonus to the collection. The only possible place to deal with this one was the forest a few acres behind his home. No one went in due to the stories of crytids and it being haunted. It was perfect.

He grabs the shovel sitting against the treeafter placing the corpse in the hole, filling it up with dirt. Upon hearing voices creeping upon him, he looked over his shoulder briefly just for everything to go dark.

"Uh.. I don't think that was a deer, Bill."

"What?"

Present day in Hell

"Congratulations, your highness. Never doubted you for a second. The hotel is starting to gain attraction. " Alastor bowed to Charlie with his hand on his chest.

"You know damn well you're only here for the entertainment. You even said it was a ridiculous idea." Vaggie tapped her feet and crossing her arms.

"Ah yes well... I apologize. Regardless I'm glad everything worked out this way." He gripped his cane, his static-y voice glitching out a bit.

"Speaking of attraction, don't you think it'd be a good idea to put out more commercials and articles about the hotel. Maybe the sinners will take it seriously this time." Charlie paced back and forth before looking to Alastor.

"Good idea! And I know just the person." The one he referred was a commonly feared overlord. One that could potentially out matched Alastor himself. Maere. The dream demon. His shtick was that he can sneak into nightmares and manipulate humans and sinners to sign away their souls for something as simple as a piece of clothing. A soul for an easily attainable item. Despicable.

All the souls he owns have been known to be abused within his possession. On top of it, he rents them out to customers for whatever they need. Because of his collection of talented souls, he has earned his spot in several companies from technology and fashion to restaurants and sinful services.

Now Alastor does not like dealing with demons like him. He was a murderer but only to those who deserve it or push his buttons. Being acquaintances with Maere was useful at times. In the past he has secretly helped free some of them from the contracts with him. This was not one of those times.

The square of pentagram city, where you will find all the fashion stores and new technology. Anything you may need really, including Maere's headquarters.

"Alastor! Our beloved radio demon. I figured your ass would show up around here at what point, old friend." He rubbed his cigarette between his fingers putting it in the ash tray before standing up to greet him.

"Ah ha ha.. don't call me that. I'm just here to do business." He swiped his dhoulder pad before putting both hands atop his cane. "I'm sure you've heard about princess Charlotte's hotel kicking up attention. I'm here to see if you have any souls that would be perfect in advertising the hotel. Someone who is persuasive and talented with writing."

"Hmmm I may have someone like that. Only if you promise to STOP RELEASING THEM FROM MY CONTRACTS!" He held out his hand in hopes of agreeing on a deal.

"I guess I could.. fine, you've got a deal." He grapped Maere's hand, shaking it. Maere grips his hand and leans closer to Alastor.

"I mean it. You're dead if you do." Alastor's expression stayed composed.

. . . . .

"Let me introduce you to my star saleswoman. She does a lot of the Vees advertisements in tv, newspaper, and magazine. Quite the talented one if I do say so myself. She's good for other things as well if you kbow what I mean." He was quite a cruel 'master'. Every single soul he owned was only allowed to do anything unless they are rented or if he decides to use them. And the way he made sure were restraints on both the face and arms. A metal mask was bolted to behind there heads covering their whole face with matching metal restraints that kept their forearms tight against their backs.

This woman was no different. On the other hand, her clothing was rather elegant. A beautiful evening gown that looked like it'd have been popular in the 1920s. It was a loose-fitting floor length dress that flared at the knees; low v-neck, flowy mesh sleeves. The base of it was red silk while the outside was full of fringe and black lace details. Her hair was black with curls that reached her shoulders, with long ears sticking out the top of her head. Little fluffy tail sticking out the back of her dress, and to top it off were her very long paws. I guess her feet were to big to find shoes for her. A rabbit demon?

"Does this one at the very least have a name?" Alastor questioned Maere. He thought about it before snapping his fingers.

"Ah yes! She is soul 19,281!" He pushed her into Alastor's chest, making her stumble and drop something off around her neck. Maere released her from the restraints letting her scramble for the necklace on the ground. He disappeared letting Alastor do his thing.

"I despise having to do dealings with that demon. Are you alright little lady." Alastor leaned down to grab the necklace for her. A locket? He opened it seeing the inside, having it suddenly be ripped from his hand. It was him and his wife. The two finally gazed up at each other in awe.

"...Lili?"

#alastor hazbin hotel #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin x reader #alastor imagine #hazbin #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin #hazbin hotel alastor #the radio demon #alastor fluff #alastor angst

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

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Aita for not making any of my characters, that I have to crank out daily, pansexual/polysexual/omnisexual specifically and only making them bi?

🏳️‍🌈👶🏼 so i can recognize this later lmao also I'm not panphobic or anything, this isn't about the validity of the label, pan is fine.

So i (20snb bi) have a project I'm working on where I take all the characters from a specifc media I'm into and pair them up with each other to make every possible ship kid from every possible ship(excluding characters who are kids themselves or are related or something, that shit is gross). Basically taking every character and pairing them up with another and creating a kid I think they'd have. Its a big project with lots of characters and I'm easily over 400 at this point. I really enjoy this, even if I'm not even 25% complete.

However I set a schedule for myself that at least one ship kid needs to come out each day which, considering I draw them, color them and give them some development and some even have siblings, (The refs themselves easily take me an hour to an hour and a half) I have to make lots of them quickly to keep up with my daily grind. I've been doing this project for over a year and although it's stressful, I can get them out quickly with breaks for myself.

Their character sheets all have some pretty basic info like their name, gender, pronouns, personality and more but it also includes their sexuality/orientation. I have a pretty basic list of options for what their sexuality will be: straight, lesbian, gay, Enbian, bi, Aro, ace and aroace with a few random things like polyam, WLW and a good amount of the something-loving-something/juvelic terms. I did this because, well, there's not many entirely unique orientations outside of them and although I love mogai/xenogenders and complex identities, I dont want to potentially drag up discourse or bring problems to my budding art blog over it. Its just not worth it to me to turn something I really care about on its head, even if I like microlabels.

In this case, I'm using bi as an umbrella term as most of the other terms share the same definition with slight variations in wording or action but not much difference in practice. We all like everyone, it's basic stuff. However, apparently this is a problem.

I've gotten one or two anons asking me questions about my guides asking some kind stuff like is this lesbian ship kid a butch or femme or Is this picture of them now or just at the age you put on the ref and other harmless stuff. Then things got rude with some Nbphobia but thrice now I've gotten asks:

1. Asking snarkily if im a panphobe

2. insulting me for not specifically writing pan or Omni and just writing bi.

3. Saying that I "clearly dont care about pansexual representation." Then brought up how my primary oc is native american so i clearly care about representation but that oc used to be a sona and I'm native?? Its confusing. (And Lowkey racist shit to just assume any native character is a "diversity quota" character instead of just a person existing but I digress-)

Im not pan, im bi so ig these people assume I'm not cool with pan people which isnt true? I have nothing aginest them, they are just pretty similar and I dont feel like it matters if they are specfically bi or pan or poly or any other label. I don't go into details like that for any other sub-group, not even pronouns and I included combinations and some common Neopronouns. I understand the importance of representation but my project has less than 50 people looking at it every day, Im not netflix or something. I'm one guy on the most LGBT blogging site with a big project and very little audience, I'm not showing people who wouldn't already know what pan is that pansexuality exists.

This project isn't that deep considering the characters in question aren't human/dont have human characteristics.(no it's not hazbin/helluva) Also ive never spoken about lgbt discourse or stated anything remotely close to it beyond the guides just passively having characters who are an LGBT identity. I've not even mentioned all the potentional orientations they could have so I'm not sure where/why this came up in the first place. The most politcial things ive said are calling out a creator in my fandom who outed themselves as a transphobe and mentioning im pro-palestine. That's it.

I mean this is pretty low stakes, I can just block these people and be done with it and this some seriously online shit but I just wanna check.

Am I being an asshole for just writing bi instead of specifying their mspec label because I have to produce characters quickly and I don't see enough of a difference to warrant a change/specification that would ultimately slow and clog an already stressful and complex project?

I dont think I am but idk lol

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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riality-check · 1 year

Text

daisy jones-adjacent au. part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. tw substance abuse, ptsd, references to past torture (canon, the russians.) part 7.

ao3

Writing the album is, somehow, the easy part, even after Steve put his foot in his mouth.

He had his suspicions, but he shouldn't have asked that. It was a dick move, and he's been trying not to be a dick for the past few years. So, he apologized and didn't bring it up again.

Eddie softened after that. Like he wasn't expecting Steve to apologize. He accepted it, and things have been good since.

Well, more than good, if Steve's being honest. Things have gotten a lot better since.

He's noticed a few things, even after their permanently discontinued game of "truth or truth." Mostly, the things Steve has noticed have been about Eddie, like:

He laughs at the dumbest things.

He quotes books and movies constantly.

He has an accent that he masks unless he's tired.

He hates strong smells.

He deflects by becoming bigger.

There's more. A lot more that Steve has noticed, but listing everything about Eddie's brilliance and stubbornness, his courage and obnoxiousness, his gorgeous face and sharp tongue would take all day. Steve has noticed a lot over these few weeks spent hunched over instruments and notebooks at his house, and he thinks Eddie has noticed him in return.

He hopes so.

It's been a long time since Steve has wanted to be noticed beyond the superficial adoration of fans. It's been a long time since Steve has wanted to be known.

There are a plethora of reasons for why that's a bad idea. Steve is able to forget them momentarily when he sees Eddie smile.

All too soon, after far too long, they're done writing. They start recording, and that is the hard part.

It always is. There's always something wrong with the levels or slightly out of tune, or someone sneezes right into the mic on the first good take. There's things that work and things that don't, and, always, songs on paper that have to get fixed before they can be songs on the radio.

The album has good bones, though. It's angry and hopeful and scared and sad and triumphant. It's music, it's art, it's life.

And once they can make it work, it's going to be great.

That's what Steve is doing now. Making it work. He's awake at 4 AM on a Tuesday, sitting at a piano and trying to rework the bass line to stop it from clashing so much with the melody.

The only good thing about this situation is that he's made it to seventy three hours awake for the first time, courtesy of a well-timed line right before he got to work.

If it keeps working, he might trash the pills entirely.

He plays the introduction to the song again on his right hand and starts adding low notes on his left. As it is, it sounds empty. To much distance. But if he raises it a fourth-

"Steve?"

He freezes, fighting back against the instinct to jump away from the piano like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. He forgot that the band has been crashing at his house - it's close to the studio and he has the rooms to spare - and because he forgot that he wasn't alone, he failed to remember that most people aren't awake at this hour, nevermind working.

So, he calmly turns around to see Eddie, in pajamas, standing in the doorway, blinking sleep out of his tired eyes.

Steve swallows and hopes that Eddie is too tired to catch him openly staring.

"What are you doing?" Eddie whispers.

"Reworking something," Steve says. "Trying out something different for the bass line in Envy, the one that's giving us trouble."

Eddie covers his mouth to yawn. "Couldn't sleep?"

Steve wonders when the last time he thought that was a bad thing was.

"I can be quieter," he says. "I was just trying to fix this. But that can wait until morning."

"Steve," Eddie says, and he's got that look on his face.

Steve hates that look.

Eddie looks at him like he can see inside his skull, inside his heart, and read his DNA letter by letter. He looks at him like he can see everything about Steve: past, present, and future.

And there's pity in every second of it.

Steve can't stand pity.

"I just- I gotta see the whole picture, you know?" he continues so Eddie doesn't get to voice that pity. "And you guys all have your instruments, but piano gives me everything. I can play the bass and the guitar and sing and- I'm just able to get it better that way. Where are you going?"

Eddie is almost out the door again. "I- I can't be here, Steve."

"Why? Are you tired? You can go-"

"You're high, and I know that if you offer me something, I won't say no."

Oh.

"Eddie, I wouldn't-"

"And even if you don't, if you take something in front of me, I know I'll ask for some," he says, like it's a fact, the same way the sky is blue.

"I'm not- I wouldn't do that to you," Steve says. No point in denying that he's high, not when they both know it. "I wasn't- I'll get off the piano. I'll read, or, well, reread something instead."

He gestures aimlessly at the bookshelf on the wall near the door. It's crammed full of recommendations from Dustin and Robin and Erica and Nancy. All of them have been read at least once, most of them twice.

"You like to read?" Eddie asks.

"No, I hate it," Steve says, completely genuinely.

Eddie huffs out a quiet laugh. "I will never understand you."

"I know."

Because that's the thing. No one can understand it, can understand him, unless they were in Hawkins, Indiana, too. Unless they saw what he did. Unless they signed the same NDAs. Unless they fought the same monsters and went to the same other world and endured the same things.

Eddie, like most other people, will never be able to understand.

So, his smile fades as he stands there in the doorway, confused.

"I like stories, but I hate reading," Steve explains. "I just do it to fill-"

"I can read to you."

Steve stops mid-word. "What?"

"If you want to hear the story without reading," Eddie says. "I like reading. I can read to you."

Steve has spent seventy four hours, at this point, awake. He is sitting at a piano bench at 4 AM on a Tuesday, high on cocaine, and is staring at a hot guy his age who, over the past few weeks, has alternated between seemingly hating him and smiling that smile.

Forgive him for making the stupid decision to say-

"Okay."

Eddie smiles, though it's tired. He takes a book from the shelf at random and walks out the door. Steve has no choice but to follow, back to the guest room Eddie has taken as his own.

Eddie turns on the bedside lamp and lays down underneath the rumpled sheets.

"Come on," he says, patting the space next to him. "I don't bite."

"You sure?" Steve jokes, but he climbs on alongside him, careful not to touch.

He really wants to touch.

He's not thinking straight.

Eddie cracks the book open and starts reading in a low whisper.

Steve can barely understand what he's saying, but that doesn't matter. What matters is Eddie's voice, quiet and rough and breathy. What matters is Eddie's voice, steady and soothing.

It's nice. It's really nice.

Steve finds himself curling up, closer and closer, until his head is on Eddie's chest.

His eyes slip closed at hour seventy-five.

And the next thing he knows, he's standing with his back to a corner, holding a metal, foldable music stand in front of him, with a voice hoarse from screaming.

Clearly, he fell asleep.

Fantastic.

Sometimes, he's able to tell what the nightmare was before he actually remembers it. It's all in the little habits he's developed.

When he finds himself checking to see if all his fingernails are still attached to his hands, blinking nonexistent blood out of his left eye, and still murmuring Robin's name, he knows that this one had to be about the Russians.

And then the memory of the bone saw, of the screaming, of taking hit after hit after hit crashes into him so hard he almost doubles over.

He reminds himself he's safe. That he's unharmed. That Robin is safe in her dorm at UCLA. That they never got Dustin or Erica.

That all of this is fucking useless.

He's gotten it all out. He's written song after song about all of it, all of the monsters and the fighting and the fear and the good in spite of it all. He writes and plays and sings close enough to all of it to almost break the NDAs.

And none of it is of any use at all because, years later, Steve still can't fucking sleep.

He swallows. Swallows again. Tries to breathe, even if it's in the form of great, heaving gasps.

And that's when he realizes that Eddie is standing right in front of him. Clearly confused, clearly terrified.

This is why, though he can never understand Steve, he shouldn't know him, either. This is why Steve can't reach out and touch.

Because even if he could explain it to Eddie, even if he would lie and say he believed him and understood, no one wants someone who can't make it through a night without waking up at least three times. No one wants to have to calm someone down from weekly screaming fits brought on by the back of their eyelids.

"Get out," he says.

"Steve," Eddie says, and there's that pity again.

Steve can't stand pity.

"Get out!" he shouts, heedless of the fact that he's probably waking everyone else up, that this is the room Eddie is staying in.

He can go to Steve's room. Everything in there is hidden, so he can't break his sobriety unless he snoops.

Steve hopes he doesn't snoop. He doesn't want to drag Eddie down to where he's at.

Eddie nods and makes his way to the door. Before he leaves, he stops and looks back.

"I don't know what you're running from," he whispers. "But when it catches you-"

"What?" Steve snaps.

"Let someone know."

If Steve were in a better state of mind, he'd ask what the hell that meant. But he's shaking and tired, so goddamn tired, that he watches Eddie go.

He sits on the floor, in the corner, still holding the music stand. The sun is up. It streams through the windows along with the sounds of birds chirping.

And Steve wonders how he's supposed to live the rest of his life like this.

He makes it an hour before he falls asleep sitting up on the floor. He makes it two more before he wakes himself up again, checking his fingernails.

#ria writes #dja au #this part is long and also a doozy #apologies #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #st #st ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #tw drugs #tw substance abuse #tw torture #rockstar eddie munson

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danieyells · 4 days

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hi there,

thank you so much for all the voicelines you post !! if it’s okay, can i request subaru’s ?

thank you again !

You're welcome! At some point I might go back and put in the ones I leave out because they don't appeal to me as much lol but since i always end up posting 99% of them anyway I think it's enough for most people hahaha.

I WAS GONNA OMIT ONE OR TWO BECAUSE OF SPOILERS but eh i'll just warm for like. extra spoilers. since after doing more code peeking it wasn't the spoiler i thought it was. SUBARU IS A SWEETIE THOUGH. I also read Subaru's chats which were put in the code recently and. Man this guy needs anxiety meds. I have a small guess as to what his stigma is, but we'll learn in a few days anyway.

You've Got Mail:

"It looks like there's a notice for you. I'd be happy to go pick it up for you if you've got your hands full. Oh, forgive me if I'm overstepping."

oh no he's anxious about helping--

Default(no affinity):

"I really am so lucky to be surrounded by so many kind people like you."

"I never thought I'd get the chance to enjoy the lifestyle of a student until I came to Darkwick. Every day truly is fulfilling here."

it feels like subaru is like. . .the only one who actually enjoys school life here. . .or who really enjoys being here period lmao. . . .

"You think I'm always smiling? Ha ha, I hear that a lot. It just happens when I'm around all of you."

"I may be the captain, but it's just in name. I think Haku is much better suited for the job than me."

"I've been working since I was four, so people often said I was mature for my age. But the truth is, I've still got a lot to learn."

that makes two characters whose parents have essentially been keeping them from normal life and normal childhood for work reasons since they were four year olds. . . .

Affinity 1:

"I tend to just have hot water for breakfast. I know it would be better for me to eat a proper meal, but it's just so much effort."

DO WE REALLY HAVE TO START WITH "I NEED THE GHOULS TO EAT PROPER FUCKIN MEALS". . . .

Affinity 2:

"I'm sorry I'm so late. The campus is so crowded I can never manage to walk in a straight line, so it always takes me longer than I think. Silly, isn't it?"

baby you're hardly the first person i've met with anxiety about crowds. you're fine.

Affinity 3:

"What would I do without Haku's help? Hotarubi would be a mess without him."

Affinity 6:

"Ever since I was a child, the performing arts were my only focus. Maybe that's why people always say my mannerisms are so peculiar. It bothers you too, doesn't it?"

poor boy doesn't know how to act if he isn't acting. . .he doesn't know how to exist off-script. . .no wonder he made a deal with a demon. it's probably the first thing he's ever done for himself.

Affinity 7:

"I'd like to go to the cafeteria, but the line is always so long. I feel bad taking time to choose while people are waiting behind me. The bar of entry feels a little high."

i am once again suggesting subaru get anxiety meds. hell go to sinnostra and get some weed, i bet they sell that. i hear it can help.

Affinity 8:

"I'm just about to go and meet a friend. I hate to inconvenience you like this, but if it's something urgent, could you speak to Haku about it instead?"

Affinity 9:

"What am I going to do? We're supposed to be meeting up in an hour... If I cancel now, they'll hate me..."

Affinity 10:

"Whew... I'll walk you back to your house, FirstName. Oh, it's no problem at all, I assure you! I wanted some fresh air anyway."

Affinity 11:

"I have an Anomalous Ecology test coming up. It's such a fascinating subject, I couldn't help but stay up all night studying. Now I'm a little sleep-deprived."

Affinity 12:

"I'm going to stretch my legs a little. I might not have a show to practice for right now, but I need to keep putting myself through my paces. I'll get rusty otherwise."

Affinity 13:

"I'm sorry my phone's been making so much noise. I recently downloaded an app by mistake, and it won't stop sending me notifications..."

awww he's also technologically incompetent. . .poor guy was probably raised with such a heavy focus on his career he just. never needed a smartphone. anyone he needed to contact or who needed to contact him was probably always very close by. it sounds like he didn't even properly go to school before going to Darkwick. Somebody please take this boy on a walk. like anywhere. take him to a library. buy him a churro. can sho make churros? this is somebody who's never had any sort of normal social experience and sees how different he is and wishes it weren't the case, unlike Ritsu who assumes everyone else is like him, i think he'd like to have some more Experiences.

Affinity 14:

"... ...Oh! Hello, FirstName—I didn't even notice you there. My mind was somewhere else."

Affinity 15:

"Good morning! Sorry? My hair's messy? You're right, it's sticking right up at the front... That's embarrassing. I'll fix it right away."

Affinity 16:

"I usually have lunch in the dormitory. I do eat on the terrace with Lyca every now and then, but he seems so busy these days..."

Lyca is one of the members of Obscuary, btw! Seems like he and Subaru are friends.

Affinity 17:

"I didn't take you for a night owl, FirstName. Since you're here, I suppose I'll stay up a little longer. You're sure you're okay? You're not sleepy?"

Affinity 18:

"Do you visit Sinostra very often, {PC}? I see... Oh, no reason. I was just making conversation. Ha ha."

why do you ask that. . .a certain mafioso captain wouldn't happen to be suspicious of you would he. . .or maybe you owe them money. . .or maybe you used to be part of Sinostra and moved to Hotarubi. . . .

Affinity 20:

"Oh, I couldn't ask you to come all the way to my room to wake me up—I'd feel terrible. I do very much appreciate the thought, though."

it's okay buddy jin already makes them do it, one more pit stop won't hurt.

Affinity 22:

"Lyca has seen my message, so why hasn't he responded to it? I hope nothing bad has happened to him..."

Affinity 23:

"Lyca will adapt well to human society, I'm sure of it. I'm so relieved that Darkwick chose to trust him. I can't thank you enough for your help."

he really likes Lyca huh? that is his dog.

Affinity 24:

"You can't sleep? Then let me tell you some stories. Legend has it that evil spirits appear once you've told a hundred. Now, what number was I up to..."

BOY IS TRYNA GET YOUR ASS HAUNTED.

Affinity 25(max):

"I don't want to seem like I'm testing you, I just... I get really anxious sometimes... I'm sorry. I'm being weird, aren't I?"

he's the type to ask 'are you sure you love me? are you sure you wanna be with me?' after you get married and move in together and own a house and have two kids with another on the way. he's the hyper anxious 'i'm sorry we disagreed about our favorite colors do you hate me?' friend(affectionate)

Spring:

"There is no time like spring. Everyone seems more relaxed this time of year. It's reassuring to see."

"They have no control over whether they bloom, and yet they get made a spectacle of nonetheless... Oh, sorry—I was talking about the cherry blossoms."

"There are many different flowers growing in Hotarubi, but I think the wisteria are my favorites. This is the best time to see them, so you should take a walk around."

Summer:

"Hot today, isn't it? It's always raining in Hotarubi, so it does provide a little escape from the blazing summer sun, but... Ha ha. It is very humid, isn't it?"

"Summer makes me think of the ghost story Yotsuya Kaidan. The scene where Oiwa becomes hysterical, having realized her her face has been disfigured— incredible."

Yotsuya Kaidan is one of the best known japanese ghost stories! It's extremely violent, so read the summary at your discretion. The scene in question has Oiwa shown her reflection by her sister's boss to see that the cream she was given by a woman who was in love with her husband was actually some sort of poison that instantly scarred her face. She grabs a sword and goes to kill her, only for her to accidentally slit her own throat.

"Hotarubi House holds regular festivals during the summer months. If you need a yukata to wear, I'd be happy to pick one out for you."

"I don't mind scary stories, but when that biwa in the tea room started playing by itself, it did make me jump a little..."

slight spoiler, although you can probably figure it out from this but. . .Zenji is a ghost. Subaru currently can't actually see him or hear his voice. . .only Haku, the pc, and, perhaps not so oddly, Towa can afair. All of his youtube content doesn't have him or his voice in it because he can't be recorded by cameras. So Subaru doesn't realize that the biwa playing on its own is actually Zenji playing the biwa.

Autumn:

"The air has gotten crisper, and the leaves are changing color. I know it's only natural for the seasons to shift, so why does it make my heart ache so much?"

"Oh, these? They're some chestnuts I found. I know—I should give them to Sho. I'm sure he'll be able to make something delicious with them."

"That's another kuchikiri tea ceremony under my belt. It's an annual tradition where one cuts open a tea jar to reveal the tea that was preserved from the first harvest."

Winter:

"...Oh, FirstName. Good morning... I had a hard time getting up today. It must be the cold... Ha ha. Not very captain-like, is it?"

"Today, I'm going to order ingredients from one of my favorite stores so we can all make negima—tuna and scallion—hot pot together. Please, do join us."

"People say winter makes you want to snuggle up with someone, but I find that a good blanket does a much better job."

i agree that blankets are much easier to manage than people lol. probably warmer too.

His birthday:

"A present? For me? Thank you... I didn't expect you to do anything for my birthday, so I'm a little caught off guard. I really appreciate it."

New Years:

"Happy New Year. I hope I can depend on your guidance and support again this year."

Valentine's Day:

"Chocolate? Oh, It's Valentine's Day, isn't it? Does that mean these are for me...?"

nah i just wanted you to look at them. YES THEY ARE FOR YOU BBY. why would you be showing him chocolate if it wasn't for him! On any day, not just valentine's day!!

White Day:

"These are for you, FirstName. I put in a special order for monaka from my favorite confectioner in Ginza. They're wafers filled with bean jam—I hope you like them."

April Fool's Day:

"Earlier, Haku told me he was switching houses. It gave me a real shock— I'm very relieved that it wasn't true..."

i bet subaru made the most scared kicked puppy face and started apologizing for being such an awful captain and blamed himself for that haku would go to a different house and haku had to quickly explain it was just a prank for fear that subaru might burst into tears.

Halloween:

"Happy Halloween. I know it's nothing special, but I've prepared some treats for the occasion. Oh... But you're more than welcome to play a trick instead."

please don't trick him. april fool's day was hard enough for him.

Christmas:

"Merry Christmas. We already have our New Year decorations up in Hotarubi, so it has a real east-meets-west atmosphere now. I hope everyone is okay with it..."

Idle:

"Everyone seems busy at the moment. Maybe I should use this opportunity to tidy the garden..."

"{PC}? Oh... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just worried because you were so quiet..."

Absent:

"You're back... I'm so relieved. I was worried I'd done something to make you feel uncomfortable..."

this man shakes like a chihuahua 24/7. like you can taste the anxiety coming off of him. i love him. he's so pathetic(affectionate). i wanna squeeze his hand reassuringly and tell him everything's gonna be okay. i wanna hug him and pat his head. i wanna take him places so he learns more about the world outside of working. i wanna watch him do schoolwork excitedly because he's never really gone to school before and it's a new and exciting experience. i want him to experience the most mundane aspects of life with wonder.

good boy. yeah. get him anxiety meds /nodnod

#subaru kagami #tokyo debunker #danie yells at tokyo debunker #danie yells answers #danie yells with anons #tokyo debunker spoilers #datamining cw #OKAY TIME FOR BED WHEW

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abiiors · 11 months

Text

haunt // bed - pt. 1

a/n: a while ago, i wrote do me a favour after which i said, i would write a matty hate sex fic. well this is it (and perhaps a bit more than anyone asked for), read dmaf again if you want to refresh your memory, or don't. there are 3 parts to this + an epilogue. i also know very little about western weddings, so ignore the inconsistencies lol.

a note about the banner: the photo in it is only meant to describe the dress, not the race, body type, hair colour, etc of the reader <3

minors dni! part 2, part 3

wc: 2.7k

see u in an hour xx

charli’s text flashes on your screen, illuminating a small corner of the dimly lit room. it’s not that late in the day, in fact, it’s quite early—only about 10 am. you’re supposed to be hurrying around the room, checking for any last minutes things you might have forgotten. you won’t be back home until tomorrow after all. yet here you are, surrounded by the things that should have been packed in your bag last night.

the dress, laid out on your bed, feels like a weapon; red silk slippery enough to slide between your fingers effortlessly. “a wily vixen”, that’s what charli had called you when she'd seen you in it for the first. the thought of that day—bridesmaids dress shopping with four other excited girls—brings a small smile to your face.

everything laid out here is a weapon really; your four-inch, sharp heels, the delicate and dainty diamond jewellery, the makeup you plan on wearing—blood red lipstick, a perfect shade match for the dress. an expensive crystal bottle of the same perfume you have used for the past six years.

familiarity breeds contempt. familiarity is also an excellent knife to twist in someone’s gut. because everything here, today, is meant to maul and wound him.

see you in an hour babe, love you. you write back and chuck your phone onto the pillow where it bounces a little before nestling between its creases. you stare at it, maybe your body still yearns for a call that will never come? no more can’t wait to see you up there. no more cheeky selfies in a state of half-undress. just a smooth, black screen.

right then…time to get going.

charli has been flittering around the room for the last twenty minutes. her white dress fits her like a dream, her makeup is a work of art and her excitement about marrying george is so palpable in the room that at least one person squeals or sighs every five minutes.

most importantly, the smile on her face is a permanent fixture. and every time you look at it, a warmth spreads through your body. she deserves this—the happiness, the celebration. the happily ever after. no matter how your marriage ended, you won’t stop believing in it for her.

“so!” charli walks over to you and takes your hand, “how do i look?” she twirls and the dress swirls around her, the tiny crystals catching light and making her shimmer like starlight.

you laugh in response, “like george is about to go into cardiac arrest the minute he sees you!”

the pair of you giggles like teenagers. you can so clearly picture it before it has even happened. the joy and love that will shine on george’s face; his excitement, quiet yet infectious and for a brief moment you’re transported back to your own walk down the aisle.

small, unsure steps, worried about falling flat on your face in those tall heels, but all of that had evaporated the second you had seen his tear-stained face. and the bright smile that had bloomed a split second later.

but that’s how long the ache lasts; a brief moment. it’s bad enough that you’re going to have to be civil to him, there’s no need to make it worse with unnecessary nostalgia.

besides, there’s her to think about.

she in question is a beautiful, leggy blonde who is at least seven years younger than him. not that you’ve seen either of them today…yet. it’s only because you and charli got drunk one night, four weeks before the wedding, and she felt bad about keeping it from you that matty had a plus one. and that’s how you fell into the rabbit hole of scrolling through this girl’s Instagram profile at two in the morning.

if you thought you knew his type, you would be dead wrong. physically speaking, she is the exact opposite of you—someone who looks like they belong on a giant billboard in times square, perfect and stunning. then there’s the more questionable aspects of her feed. the flat tummy tea adverts and the paid partnerships with various brands that are always under fire for being unethical.

but that’s the ugly green monster rearing its head. it’s not like you aren’t known for indulging in vanity every once in a while.

she will be here today, no doubt, clinging onto his arm like a decorative little thing—woah, where did that snide thought come from?! you shake your head to yourself, at least a little embarrassed. he’s not even here yet and he’s already screwing with your head; pushing you back into old jealous and insecure habits. someone clears their throat.

nora, one of charli’s longtime friends, has her champagne glass raised. a toast. she takes a deep, shaky breath and smiles tearily at the room, about to give her sentimental speech when a resounding knock echoes and cuts her off before she has even begun.

five heads turn to the locked door and you happen to be standing closest to it.

‘i’ll get it,’ you tell no one in particular, hand already on the doorknob. the possibility of it hits you way too late.

it hits you right as his clean-shaven face comes into view.

it has been ten months. ten months since you gave up the last name healy and changed it back to your maiden name on all your official documents. it had felt like a form of catharsis, getting it done with such urgency back then. but you also remember the days when you would be asked to state your full name and stagger a little at how odd it sounded to no longer have healy in it. to not have a ring around your finger to fidget with. no one to hold you at night.

but back to now. back to here.

it’s not hard to see that he has changed a lot in the last ten months. he looks serious; not necessarily sombre—it’s his best friend’s wedding, after all—but mature, more grown up. the grey in his hair, in his beautiful curls, is now much more prominent. the crow's feet around his eyes are more or less the same (and it sends a small pang through you; has he not laughed recently?). his mouth holds—held—a faint smile that’s already slipping, already morphing into a thin line. the exact same face that you woke up to for years now turning into a mask of carefully arranged neutrality.

“charli,” he whispers roughly and then clears his throat, “here to check on charli.” and just like that, he steps past you and into the room where he’s engulfed into a hug by the bride (and slapped on the bum by another bridesmaid but you ignore that for now).

pointedly, you also ignore the sting that comes with being sidestepped so easily.

you stand by the door, back still to the room, for a second longer than necessary. it doesn’t even register that you’re letting the warm spring air in. is this really how little seeing you impacts him? it must have. because if he’s here then she is also here.

“tell him i’m fine!” charli’s voice brings you out of your thoughts, making you shut the door softly. “and tell him not to meddle, i’ve got my girls.” she looks at you over his shoulder and throws a wink. your gut tells you it’s nothing but a charity gesture, just trying to gauge the tension between you two. guilt gnaws at you—she shouldn’t have to play peacemaker, she shouldn’t have to worry about two adults behaving themselves.

“only doing my duty here,” matty raises his hands defensively, “keeping the groom happy.”

the rest of them tease and taunt him playfully while you take the time to admire—no, simply look at—his suit. it’s nowhere near as nice as the one he wore at your wedding, of course not. but it’s beautifully made, tailored to fit and accentuate his muscles. and there are a lot of those now, that much is evident from the way his sleeves stretch over his biceps. he fills it out nicely, not that he didn’t before, but something about the fabric straining across his arms does funny things to your stomach. funny, you thought that feeling was a thing of the past. then there’s the navy trousers that compliment his backside rather nicely.

there’s a part of you that is appalled at all these observations you have been making but there’s another part—bored and much more matter-of-fact—that reminds you that there’s nothing under those clothes that you haven’t seen, touched, licked or sucked before. there’s nothing new. he is still the same as he was before, just now with a few extra muscles.

“go away,” charli’s nudges him gently toward the door. “we’ll be out in fifteen.”

he hugs her just before he leaves, dropping a friendly kiss on her head. after everything you’re glad no one had to pick sides in the divorce. you’ve at least managed to hold the friend group together, even though the same can’t be said about your marriage.

matty leaves just like he came in, sidestepping you and making sure he’s looking straight ahead. there’s a brief second however—a fraction of one really—when he slows down and breathes in. his adam’s apple bobs roughly and his face struggles to hold the blank expression.

but it must have just been you projecting right? no one can go through that much in half a second.

“there you are, darling,” denise walks in on you mid-smoke. “i was looking for you.”

she’s in a beautiful pink dress that brushes her knees and makes her look ten years younger than she is. you blush slightly at having been caught smoking; it’s a recent habit, not one she would be aware of, and you don’t want her to judge you for it.

“denise,” you try to hide the half-smoked cigarette, “you look beautiful.”

she pointedly looks at your hand and laughs. “my son does enough of that.” then she straightens up, as if bringing matty so casually into this conversation was a mistake. you suppose it was—it does make your heart skip a beat.

“i just wanted to say hi, darling,” she adds hastily, “and look at you…” her eyes scan you from head to toe, linger on your face for just a second before she smiles again. “simply stunning.”

“thank you.” your voice comes out in a whisper, fighting to get past the lump in your throat. you didn’t think there would ever come a day when she would have to so formally stop by to ‘say hi’. yet here you are, almost a pair of estranged mother and daughter.

“i don’t…” she starts but shakes her head minutely, “i don’t want to condescend you. but are you okay? with matty bringing that girl, i mean.”

that piques your interest. “that girl?” you stifle a little giggle. “sounds like you don’t like her…”

denise shrugs, leaning against the wall and looking at the bushes in front of her. “she’s okay, i guess.” then she takes a bit to smooth out her dress. “but she’s not you.”

“dearly beloved…” the officiant, charli’s godfather, begins, which you tune out instantly. weddings are lovely and romantic, wedding speeches are dull and boring. besides, like it or not, something else has captured your attention.

you stand behind the bride, holding the ring she’s supposed to put on george later. and right in front of you stands matty, holding the matching platinum band in his hands. adam and ross stand behind him, smiling and occasionally laughing along with the rest of the guests. you tried it at first too, to only keep your attention on george—who looks very handsome and beams wide the whole time—but it’s impossible when you feel your ex’s piercing stare right on you.

you would have thought he would stick to the little ignoring act from before. instead, his eyes have lingered on you from the second you walked down the aisle as a part of the processional. tracking your every move, every small step. frankly, it’s insulting. does he think you would ruin the wedding as some sort of diabolical revenge against him? you scoff internally; of course, he would think such self-centred thoughts, it’s just all about him, after all.

you raise an eyebrow at him. what’s your fucking problem?

he smiles back; an arrogant curl of his mouth that turns his face from sweet to insufferable within a matter of seconds. you, his eyes seem to say, you’re my problem.

well too fucking bad then…

you huff and look away to the side at the guests. it’s only about fifty people from both sides. just family and friends—a lovely kind of intimacy the couple had asked for. you smile at george’s parents who sit in the first row. his mum dabs at her eyes, clearly overwhelmed with emotion. and behind them sit denise and tim. right next to her.

she’s exactly what she looks like on her instagram page. dainty and beautiful, picture-perfect elegant. her whole face looks like it could be hand-crafted by the gods (or very expensive surgeons according to the snide little voice in your brain) but her eyes are bone dry.

that’s because she doesn’t belong here, your brain chimes in. not among your friends and your family.

well, ex-family…

her name doesn’t immediately come to the forefront of your mind. all you know from that drunken night is how charli made you block all her socials at the end of it. as if you were going to go back to them again and again. as if you have no purpose in life other than obsessing over your ex’s new girl.

she sighs, then looks out the window with a bored expression on her face and you have to focus your attention back to the bride and groom before you do something drastic. not before you catch matty looking at you from the corner of your eye, however.

not just at you…he’s staring at the plunging neckline of your dress that shows off your cleavage wonderfully. with the big window to your side, it’s so clear to see every little detail of his face—his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip (he’s unaware that he’s doing it. you know that for a fact). his pupils that are blown out wide, making almost the entirety of his eyes look black; dark and hungry.

your mouth curls into a smirk, arrogant enough to mirror his own. well, this is interesting.

matty’s mouth presses into a thin line. even now, after you caught him so red-handed, he’s trying to deny it. but you don’t miss his ears turning the telltale shade of pink.

“...and i promise to love you for the rest of my life.” george’s voice breaks on the last word, the tears flowing freely but he smiles through all of it. in front of you, charli’s shoulders shake. they haven’t even put the rings on each other yet and they’re already emotional. it makes you laugh, and surprising, you feel the tears escaping your eyes.

i promise to love you for the rest of my life. that’s what matty had said too. i promise to dance in the kitchen with you and do all my silly little romantic gestures. i promise to never let you fall. i promise, i promise, i promise…

so many of them unkept, so many of them just pretty words spoken on a perfect day in front of a tearful audience.

“i do!” charli squeals before the question is even finished, making everyone laugh. a wet chuckle escapes you at her infectious joy.

“do you, george, take charli to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the officiant asks.

“i do,” he says patiently and charli sticks her tongue out at him.

you sincerely hope they stay like this for the rest of their lives—polar opposites who complete each other. not people who are so similar, they don’t know how to exist in the same space anymore.

matty smiles, first at the couple and then, shockingly, at you. husband and wife he mouths.

jarringly still, you smile back.

i would love to hear what you think 🤭

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mx-julien · 1 month

Text

each ninja was a different kind of teacher (except Lloyd who basically went on a year long press tour) and it also explains why Rebooted and after they seem a bit more responsible than in season 1 and the pilot

Cole has my favorite teacher characterization because he's objectively an interesting person with cool hobbies but when he is responsible for a group of children he just becomes Dad Who Is Helping Out At The Summer Camp. we never see his classroom, but given his proficiency in the arts we can assume he's the English teacher

since he went to art schools, he's probably not used to kids who aren't actually interested in what's being taught. the louder kids seem to dislike him (ref: running gag of "Mr Cole is the worst"), but that doesn't mean he's necessarily a bad teacher- just not one to humor pranks

also his and Kai's teacher outfits belong in the 1970s. I like the touch of making their ties the same color as their gis

little bit of meta: most of the people who worked on this show went to school in the 80s/90s so to them "older/boring" teacher outfits would look like this. also, as someone who was in the intended age range and saw it at the time of release, this sort of clothing conveyed that the ninja were doing a stuffy adult job- juxtaposed with their colorful gis

Kai appears to be the history teacher? his teaching style is likely structured and straightforward. given his nontraditional childhood, his frustration with the kids likely comes from both his jealousy that they aren't aware of how valuable schooling is and that Nya was much easier to work with when she was their age. at the end of the day he's an older brother who's now in charge of a bunch of kids

he's using an old-fashioned projector with film, which I assume (1) shows how low-budget they are, (2) emphasizes that Kai is out of his element (pun not intended), and (3) juxtaposes them with New Ninjago City

Zane is the one who doesn't know what a vape pen looks like but will listen to you infodump for an hour after class, then drive/walk you home because you missed the bus. he probably doesn't get any of the classroom humor or notice if the kids make fun of him. I can't imagine him ever getting angry at the kids, and he probably is very good at keeping them to a routine and a schedule

in rebooted episode 1 he seems to be teaching science? and the use of catapults is actually quite endearing- he's probably explaining tension and going to get his kids to make little models, which shows that he both is a pretty good teacher and hasn't realized that giving elementary/middle/primary schoolers their own catapults will only lead to chaos

he and Jay have personality-based outfits, with the snowflakes being an obvious allusion to Zane's element and the zig zags on Jay's emulating lightning

the little bowtie on Zane reminds me of Bill Nye the Science Guy (program with a a host of the same name who taught kids about science in a fun and accessibly way- very nostalgic for kids who went to american public school)

Jay is the exhausted teacher who's more interested in his hobbies than class material, and if you get him talking about that hobby, he won't stop until the bell. as a jokester, I think he'd get along well with the kids and definitely encourage them to annoy the other ninja

we don't see his classroom, but given Jay's skills he's probably the math teacher. he'd have a difficult time explaining things in different ways- very gifted people who learn well on their own often find it hard to teach things to others, though he would make sure he doesn't leave anyone behind

Nya definitely teaches math classes, but she probably handles tutoring as well since she's well-balanced in most subjects. it would also give her an intelligence network- kids come to her room after class/during lunch to complain and gossip. she uses it in the noble pursuit to antagonize the others

i'm used this video and the ninjago wikia because I'm on mobile and finding other sources would've taken too long

extra group photo I found! love the detail that Zane blinked (Dr Julien probably took the photo)

#wu does all the admin i'm sure #ninjago #lego ninjago #zane julien #cole brookstone #nya smith #kai smith #jay walker #ninjago rebooted #ninjago darkleys #darkleys kids #ids in alt #image ids #ninjago headcanons

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art · 2 years

Photo

Creator Spotlight: @k-eke

My name is Kévin, but everybody calls me Kéké! I’m a 2D animator and illustrator, mostly drawing little bouncy animals and sharing them on the internet. I like cartoons and storytelling, trying to create stories where people can find themselves in, also trying to go further and develop stories that are rare in media, such as LGBTQ+ content, for example. I try to keep up with my 3DS to create my work and see how far I can go with it!

Below is our full interview with Kévin!

How did you get your start in animation?

I started animation back on September 4th, 2009, this is when I discovered Flipnote Studio on the DSi for the first time. I did try to animate before but solely on paper, and I had no knowledge about the medium at all, so it was an amazing discovery. I later became self-taught and could keep going by myself.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as a creator?

I feel the habit that talks the most to me as a creator is communication. I feel it’s important to communicate with your public and fans to keep them updated and knowing how things are moving. It’s getting overwhelming to me the more I grow because the community is massive. Still, I keep up, and I thank many people for always updating me when something wrong happens (thieves, plagiarism, etc., etc.).

From idea to final piece, how long does it take for you to create something?

It all depends on the idea and process of the creation. For example, if my idea is just to animate a cat bouncing, this might take me a few minutes. Otherwise, if I want to animate 50 pigeons bouncing, this will take me around 5 hours or more! In general, an animation takes me less than a day or more if I’m busy on the side and can’t advance as much as I wish I could.

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

Art blocks often happen. I take them as good to rest and do something else. It’s not a must to draw/animate all the time or too often, and when it happens, I take it easy and try to entertain myself and see when it will be back. Also, I scribble sometimes just to feel like I’m still drawing but not with a point to reach a certain idea, just to let my hand go and make something silly. The mood can come back faster this way!

How do you use Tumblr to further your creativity?

I love Tumblr for the fact you can post 10 illustrations/GIFs as one whole post. This is not possible on other websites I know, so that was great for me to be able to make a compilation of GIFs and post it all there in one shot. It was really helpful and also allowed me to make a few little stories with this opportunity.

What is the hardest part of your process?

The hardest part is drawing on a DSi, 3DS literally! It’s so limited, with few colors (4 or 6 depending on the version), 2 or 3 layers, no zoom, and no options to make camera moves …… but I still love it haha. I’m so used to it that those don’t annoy me anymore, I accepted them, and people admire my art for it (I think!)

Have you ever wanted to dive into another medium before?

I did. Now I use TVPaint and Flash, toon boom more often, but in the end, I still come back to Flipnote Studio because it’s my favorite tool and program.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

So many inspire me it would be hard to choose! But I did love Sarah Andersen, Owlturd comics a lot, visually and the humor. Also, the use of Tumblr to post multiple pages at once: it inspired me to try it as well!

Thank you for stopping by, Kévin! Check out more of Kévin’s work over at @k-eke!

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #gif maker #k-eke

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sakasakiii · 2 months

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hi!!! how long does an average panel of one of your comics take??

i love your work so much!! it got me into silmblr hehe

HI NONNIE!!! thank u sooooso much for checking in and for ur lovely ask! it means a lot to hear that my silly ol scribbles were what introduced u to the glorious landscape that is the tolkien fandom! on tumblr no less!! i hope you stay a real long time, and have a blast while you're at it 💖💖

now onto your question! that's some good food for thought uhhhh i can try to estimate?? its been a while but i shld have some rough ideas abt each that i can share! the time frame each comic/panel takes is highly dependent on WHAT kind of comic it is. i hv two kinds of comics I usually do: 1) full-length, and 2) goofy/4koma.

i have a few full-length comics laying about in my archive, but my most recent one/best example is Ghosts which was around uh.... 7 pages excluding the bonus panels! in terms of the process, i usually divide it into 5 stages:

Drafting: this is either the fastest stage OR the slowest depending entirely whether i know what im doing LMAO,, if i have a set idea for what i want to happen, i might get drafts done in a few hours, but if i flounder, it can take a few days 🤔

Lineart: relatively simple enough once i hv the draft down, so id say anything ranging from an hour to half a day if theres nothing else going on irl

Block colouring (main actors): there are DEFINITELY easier and more professional ways to do this with mass-selection and the lasso fill/bucket tool, but idk how to do that on SAI (my art program) so i colour everything by hand HAHA which makes the process longer.... half a day to a day?

Shading: THE WORST!!! definintely my least favourite bc i find it tedious due to all the details/prettification of elves that i am legally obliged to pour into this stage 😭😭 as a result, it can take days!!!

Background + Lighting + Final Rendering: similar to the previous stage haha it just depends on how much effort i wanna put into the final product looking nice. roughly a few days? it kind of meshes with stage 4 anyways haha

just for fun, i hope this process gif for page 6 can illustrate that 👇

these are just rough estimates, bc all in all, the time it takes so finish a page is really dependent on how free I am hahaha. Also, I usually work on full-length comics like Ghost which have more than one page all at once, which means I drafted all 7 pages at once, then did the lineart for all 7 pages at once, coloured at once, shaded rendered bla bla bla 😚 iirc, i think it took me 11 days in total to finish Ghosts before the end of June last year!

For goofy/4-koma, its usually just one page with less detailed/more cartoonish/chibi character styles so it takes a day or two days at most! again, it all boils down to how free i am hehe

YEAH SORRY THIS ENDED UP BEING AN INFO DUMP but thank you so much again for asking and letting me ramble! <3 i ended up having a lot of fun looking back on my drafts n thinking back on my processes.... theres defininitely room for improvement, but thats another worry for another day heheh 😎

#rin replies #anon asks #silmarillion #yeah sorry again this turned into a yap fest 💃💃#i never knew all those wips wld come in handy but maybe its a good thing i like sending myself things hehe #cannot reiterate enough how much i HATE colouring :((((#thank you again for ur kind message nonnie <33 #silm #silm comic #wip #behind the scenes stuff

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runa-falls · 1 year

Text

cat and mouse - 2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Supervillain(?)!Reader

Warnings: kissy kissy :3, mention of alcohol, you're broke. sorry.

a/n: i wrote this out today (what is now a few days ago) because i couldn't work on the other fic until i got this out of my system :) if there are plot holes its because i vomited out this chapter and threw it out like a dumbass. idk what Black-Cat's personality is like so i made it kinda mirror cat woman from the harley quinn show.

Summary: Every time you try to convince people it was an accident, you immediately get ratted out to the Spider. But really, it was! You don't know why you're being hunted, you didn't even do anything wrong. Yet.

w/c: 2.6k

part 1 part 3 part 4

masterlist

----

Nueva York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, as he, and the world, likes to call him, is your official nemesis, or at least that’s what the city thinks.

You crumple up the half-soaked People magazine, filled with ‘juicy gossip about our favorite Spider and the new villain-of-the-week: Blaze’. Seriously, you might just become a villain if they keep calling you that.

You briefly forgot you swiped the news story off of a nearby food and entertainment stand (that’s barely holding up in the downpour) until you hear:

“Hey! You gotta pay for that!”

You don’t.

In your defense, it was only a dollar-fifty. And either way, it’s technically the Spider’s fault that you didn’t have a penny on you!

Honestly, if it were your choice, you’d never see his stupidly broad shoulders again. He truly is the bane of your existence and a major pain in your ass. You genuinely don’t understand why he even pays you any mind, it’s not like you are plotting to take over the city. You just want enough money to get some fries and a Koka Soda, and maybe a couple more black articles of clothing that aren’t covered in clawed-out stripes.

Spider-Man? More like Cat-Man.

You would say you’ve been “fighting” this man for weeks like the magazines insinuate, but it’s less violence than it is just you squirming out of his clutches and running away. You swear the Spider is a bloodhound. No matter where you are, or what you’re wearing, he always finds you. And you always get away. It’s actually quite pathetic.

He goes: “It’s you again.”

You say: “No it’s not.”

Then he has to say: “Blaze.” Like you’re some ultra-nemesis that has ruined his life.

And you can’t help but: “Stop fucking calling me that, dude.” Before you make a run for it.

He catches up, obviously, either has you on the ground, against the wall, or holds you up so you can’t escape, but then you do. Every time. And he lets you.

So really, it’s just fucking annoying. What a waste of a great plan and an excellently executed silent break-in!

You never asked for any of this. The fact you don’t have a flashy-ass elastic suit should be proof enough: You’re not a supervillain.

But, when the opportunity to make a little more cash comes around, you can’t just say no. In your mind, the bigger the heist, the longer you can stay out of the public and away from him.

And if the one girl on the team wants to make you a suit, how can you resist? The Spider has ruined all the other clothes you’ve worn (and not in a good way).

You saw your new suit a few hours before you needed to meet up with the team. Felicia, or Black Cat as the rest of the group refers to her, is probably the most elegant and badass woman you’ve ever met.

She has voluminous silver-blonde curls and sharp green eyes that match the deadliness of her talon-like retractable claws (which actually kinda remind you of someone…). Though she doesn’t have explosive energy inside of her as you do, her cat-like senses and martial art skills are almost as deadly.

Felicia was happy to invite you over to her multi-million dollar penthouse to get ready and hang out a little before you needed to leave.

She’s filing her nails into perfectly deadly points as you sit on her plush ultra-white couch next to the new suit, hands fiddling nervously together as you watch her pamper herself with extreme precision. There are two glasses of high-grade champagne in front of you on the glass coffee table. Yours is barely touched. Hers has been drained and refilled a couple of times throughout the hour.

“You know, usually I’d work this job alone, but it’s a lot easier to get away when you leave a few maggots to distract the Spider. That’s what men are for. Us girls need to stick together, right?”

Even her voice is elegant.

“Yeah.” You croak out. You prefer to listen to her talk than say something dumb and non-villain-like. And yeah, you’ll admit you’re a tiny bit scared of her, but sometimes that’s something you have to go through when making friends. Right?

“Alright, we’ve got like 20 minutes. Go on, babe, try it on.” She loosely gestures to the suit, “Bathroom is in the hallway, first door to the left.” You stand promptly and shuffle over to her bathroom, taking a second to look back to send a grateful smile at her before you close the door.

It almost resembles the one you saw on her the first day you met. The only difference is that yours is completely black and has a high collar neckline in contrast to her more provocative V-shaped suit.

There’s no fur-lining or silver details, just an invisible zipper that creates the illusion that this suit is painted onto your body. Felicia also provided a simple mask that you can pull over your head when you tie back your hair and some silver hair spray so you’re less recognizable to the general public.

You stare in the mirror and smooth out any wrinkles down your torso with your gloved fingers. Alright. Now you look like a supervillain.

Or at least a super-something.

She makes you do a little spin. “You look lovely, darling.” A smirk pulled at her charming lips. “Absolutely, perfect.”

—

Fuck.

So here you are, trying to break out of a bank that shut down around you as soon as you walked in. The two guys, who you never took the time to learn the names of, are freaking out, banging harshly against the metal doors that slammed shut in front of the exits.

Felicia, on the other hand, is as cool as a cucumber, checking her nails like there isn’t a blaring siren and pulsing lights around her.

So what now? You could probably blast the doors open with whatever comes out of your hands (you’re still not sure as you try to use your powers as a last resort). But that would leave a bunch of evidence that you were there and you didn’t come to knock down a whole building.

You walk over to her, trying to hide the anxiety that’s starting to bubble up inside of you. “What should we do?” She looks up from her manicured nails and looks at you. Then at the guys.

“Well, the boys seem a bit preoccupied,” As if to prove her point, one of them starts kicking the door, as if it would magically open up for him if he were to hit it harder and make more noise. She sighs, “I guess we could use the air duct that leads to the roof.”

“Ok.”

So you follow her to one of the main offices in the building, watching as she easily rips off the cover of the vent and uses the desk for leverage to hoist her into the surprisingly spacious air duct.

The chill evening breeze of Nueva York has never felt so good. Well, it has smelt better, but if garbage and crime-filled air meant you’re not going back to jail, you’ll take it.

“Well, that could’ve gone better.” The Black Cat runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it back and out of her face. Of course, it falls perfectly over her shoulders. “So…I’ll see you later, yeah?” She’s leaving?

“Uh, yeah, sure. I’d love to!”

“Great.” She walks to the edge of the roof and scales down the back of the building like it’s nothing. Look, it’s not that tall of a building, but still, you weren’t about to follow her down. You watch as her black-suited figure lands on the concrete ground, barely making a sound, before she sashays into the shadows of the city, disappearing into the night. God, she’s so cool.

And then it’s just you.

You sit yourself down and finally take a breath. Your first job as a villain and you didn’t even get to see the money. What are you getting yourself into?

You pull slightly at the elastic holding your hair together, regretting the tight pony that’s now giving you a major headache. Maybe this life isn’t for you. With, probably an overdramatic, sigh you push yourself up. Now to figure out how you��re getting out of here.

–

Turns out you didn’t have too many options. As soon as you were about to take a serious ‘leap of faith’ and try to scale down the building, you were ambushed by a series of fwp, fwp, fwp’s and lifted from the ground. That probably saved your life now that you’re thinking back on it.

So, he found you. Big surprise. He’s practically stalking you at this point.

He takes you for a ride, holding you close as he swings from building to building, barely breaking a sweat. You’re actually surprised that you didn’t hurl all over his stupidly firm shoulder. You should have.

You don’t know why he brought you to the top of a half-constructed building, but you’re assuming he’s just trying to be dramatic again. Superheroes, right?

You struggle against restraints when you’re finally set down, at least trying to lay in a more comfortable position as Spider-man stands over you. Not only are you fully wrapped in red webs, but your arms are also tied behind your back.

The Spider kneels down, watching you continue to struggle, “Alright, Hardy, give it up.” Hardy? Shit, he must think you’re Felicia. The black suit, the silver hair. Dammit.

He takes off your mask before you can say anything, pulling out your loose hair tie with it, and boy, is he surprised to see it’s you.

“Wh–Blaze?” He takes off his mask like he can’t believe his fabric-covered eyes. His scarlet gaze not so subtly takes in your new look. A big change from the usual getup you wear. “What, uh,” When he finally meets your eyes, one of his gloved hands raises to rub at the back of his neck. Is he nervous? He briefly looks away from you, “What did you do to your hair?”

“Who cares! Let me out of these!” You glower at him, arms tugging at the luminous webs, “And you know I hate that stupid-ass name.”

“What the hell were you doing here? Why are you suddenly hanging out with a bunch of criminals?”

You give him a deadpan expression, “I’m a villain, remember.”

“Ah,” He slices through a couple of the overlapping webs that fit snugly over your stomach. “Finally giving into the narrative, hm?” Then the ones around your arms.

“S’not like I have much of a choice.” The red webs start to loosen until they unravel completely and pool on the floor. “So, you’re…letting me go?” You rub at your sore wrists, feeling the ache dissipate almost immediately. He shrugs like it’s no big deal for him.

“It’s expected, isn't it?” He’s at the edge of the roof staring at the buildings around him, a soft breeze sweeps through his hair, and the lights of ‘the city that never sleeps’ soak over his suited figure from below.

“Just like that?”

“...Just like that.” He says. But he says it more to himself than you. With that, he swiftly puts his mask back on, hiding the wonderfully serene expression he once held, but you never got to see in full.

Spider-man is confusing. He treats you like you’re some sort of catch-and-release criminal. Acting like a push-over parent that reprimands their child even when they know they’ll do it again. You don’t get it.

And the way he looks at you sometimes. Like he’s having fun. You see it when he’s chasing you, webbing you to the wall, or holding you under his claws. There’s a glowing heat that pulses in his eyes and you can almost see the barest gleam of his fangs. You can’t even wrap your head around how he can both infuriate and draw you in at the same time. And then he lets you go.

And now he’s leaving you.

So you take your chance.

“Wait.” He stills but doesn’t turn back to look at you. He just stays there, merely stopping to listen to whatever you have to say. But you want him to look at you. You need to see those simmering red eyes that are hidden behind the mask. “I-” You stop yourself. You’re not actually sure what you were going to say. All you know is you just weren’t ready for him to leave yet. “I, um, never caught your name!” It blurts out of your lips before you realize what you’re saying.

Then silence.

How awkward.

You were sure he was going to leave you there. No sane superhero would reveal his secret identity, dumbass! Especially to a girl like you.

But then his hand comes up, slips off his mask again, hair slightly ruffled from the action, and he finally turns. Before you know it he’s approaching you, fast. And you can’t do anything but stand there, watching as his looming form starts to take up more and more of your vision until he’s standing right in front of you, head tilted downwards and red eyes low.

Two warm palms cradle your jaw and you lean into the touch, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. Just as your eyes start to open again, his head is dipping toward yours. Then his lips meet yours.

And it’s perfect. His soft plush lips move against yours, occasionally nipping and sucking on your bottom lip until it was satisfyingly plump. The warm, masculine smell surrounding you makes your knees weak as his hands drop from your face to your waist in an effort to pull you toward him.

Your body melts against him as he starts to softly lick into your mouth, thoroughly seeking out the taste of you. He pushes you gently against the unfinished concrete wall behind you, eliminating any space that was left between your thinly suited bodies. You swear you’re about to melt when you feel his broken groan against your lightly suited-chest.

And then you separate, heavy breaths and intense gazes floating between you. “Miguel.” He looks down at the way he’s holding you, the size of his palm against your smaller body. And then the ridiculous suit that was tailored specifically for the heist, but looks more like something you’d wear for a BDSM session. He clears his throat and looks back up, “Miguel O’Hara.”

“Miguel…” His hand on your waist clenches at the sound of your hoarse voice and you can tell he’s tempted to pull you back in.

“You’re one of the few who know.”

Now, you’re curious. You hum, “Who else knows?” His eyes glance at your hair and his hand drops. Suddenly, you feel cold. He steps away from you, not unkindly, but it’s clear he’s trying to create space.

He brushes it off, “No one important.” And then he’s walking away. Back to the same spot he was going to leave you from. Cool.

“Well,” You take a few steps closer, eyes roaming over his muscled back, “I promise not to tell anyone.”

“I know.” His mask is back on, and this time you know there’s no stopping him this time. “Catch you later, Little Red.” He jumps.

Little Red?

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #spider man 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #cat and mouse

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plasticfangtastic · 9 months

Text

american royalty. ch. 2

A Homelander x F!reader fanfic.

a/n: will post ch. 3 this week but sadly my other fic will be posted next week, enjoy this slow burn dadlander fic, and thx u to all the readers. prev. chapter:

Sypnosis: Homelander never wanted to remember you, but after welcoming Ryan into his life, he thought of you & the lie that tore you two apart. Now... thinking back, thinking of your betrayal-- was he perhaps wrong about who the father of your unborn child was? Did you perhaps told the truth all those years ago?

Tags: mild gore, angst, lots of angst, slow burn, fluff, OC characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance.

Chapter Two

Red

It had been a very long day, business was booming nowadays and since that influencer had made a couple videos on your pizzeria, you had been more than just busy, you began to run out of ingredients.

In the last four years, the restaurant had grown, it had been there since 2002 ran by your boss’s father and his brother, who had ran their own pizza shop since the 80’s but as the economy and other events hit, they had decided to relocate and re-brand, now managed by their son– a man you owed so much, had his heart not been filled with kindness you would most likely be in the streets. So you made sure his restaurant was the best, you had accolades, you’ve worked in some of the best restaurants, you were once a very prominent fast rising figure of the New York culinary scene– until Homelander came along.

Your talent revamped the restaurant and now your food was once again on the spotlight, for the first time since you left Vought, you were happy with yourself, even if it was pizza. Cooking made you happy, and this job needed you, you didn’t live in fear of sleeping in your car anymore, you didn’t need to worry that your daughter would sleep on somebody’s couch again, you were able to quit your third job and go casual on your second thanks to this place, right now you didn’t live in the best of places but you were saving up and in a couple months you’d have enough money saved up to move, and send your daughter to a better school, somewhere were her talents wouldn’t be wasted.

So here you were ten minutes before closing, another extra couple hours of overtime for your dream two bedroom apartment, where it would be safe for her, where you could finally feel like your life had moved on from him, that the door opened up and your cashier squealed.

It was a quaint looking restaurant, the wood seating was new and the wall decor had been changed trying to look less cluttered, with Art Deco lighting fixtures as the stand out feature. The place had been remodeled recently it seems, the kitchen and its big brick oven looked clean but ancient to Homelander, he stared at the menu board and metal boxes of accouterments by the counters, taking in that this was in fact a pizza place, that you of all people did in fact work at a pizza place. You who could whip up amazing fare, now made greasy cheap slices, but he had seen people come in and leave endlessly these past few days, people taking selfies, and recording themselves with your food, nothing he understood.

He looked back at the teenager on the counter offering his signature smile as she blubbered her script, then as you took a step closer knowing you couldn’t hide in this open kitchen you finally looked at each other for the first time in seven years.

Your throat collapsed and your whole body became prickly and tight, your heart was beating so fast you thought you might be having a heart attack, you looked at the clock cursing that it wasn’t over, you were almost done packing the kitchen and readying for tomorrow, having a customer at this hour was awful but having him here was about to take you to an early grave.

“What’s your best seller?” Homelander muttered looking straight at you with an aloof stare, then back at the cashier– is pizza night at my house, sorry for coming so late hope that’s not a problem?” he said exceedingly politely.

The teenager blushed and looked back at you as if asking you to pinch her.

“That would be our pepperoni queen– is two types of cheese, extra pepperoni, with our signature house made marinara, with a dash of vodka sauce in our sourdough thin crust… chili oil is optional” You had managed to say trying to ignore those piercing blue eyes, you moved back to your place staring at the few remaining trays of dough balls left– our second best seller is our chicken florentine pie.”

Homelander admittedly detested pizza, it was greasy, gooey and heavy, it was fattening and gross, but there was a familiar aroma in the room, something that was making his mouth water lightly. Looking back at the girl, he ordered both in their smallest size offered, he sat by one of the wooden booths for the ten minutes he was told to wait, and not once did he made a comment, maybe that’s why your heart stung so much, why it felt as if you were about to collapse– that after seven years, he had completely forgotten about you, while only now did you began to feel as if you could heal from all the suffering he’d cause you, how insignificant had you been all along, how you love never registered.

You both had talked of moving in together and buying a home, he wanted to buy you a restaurant, and you wanted to give him your life, you had never loved somebody as much as he made you love him, and now you were just some bum wearing a graphic t-shirt making him dinner.

You packed his food, your boss Kaleem had given him extras on the house, practically begging for Homelander to give them a photo for their socials and you simply stare as he did his superhero thing, you took one of the delivery bags knowing he would lose the food if he flew with them in hand.

After the photoshoot, Kaleem and your cashier had run to the back to show the picture to the only other staffer left at this hour.

You both looked at each other as he took the bag off your hands, you wanted to cry, your eyes welling up but you looked down afraid of him, no doubt he could hear your heartbeat tickling his ear.

“It's been a while hasn’t it?”

You could’ve collapsed into tears right then and there, it was worse to be remembered.

Growing angry at the sound of his soft voice, and that concerned expression in his face.

“Yes…”

“How you been? Didn’t think I'd ever see you again.”

“Should’ve killed me back then… got fucking close to it tho.” You dropped all pleasantries, hearing him talk and not hearing the word sorry 5 seconds in, had infuriated you. His stupid face, those stupid eyes, and that clown suit was too much for you, maybe it was the poor diet and lack of sleep but right now you wanted to ban him from Lucci’s– hope you enjoy the food.”

You pushed the bag jumping from the kitchen to the front as you headed for the door, holding it open for him.

“I’m doing alright. Now leave!”

“You don’t even want to know why I'm here?” he was taken aback by your brashness, you had always been sweet to him, tender, barely ever angry before, so why now?

“You got a little kid now, I gather like any other kid, he likes pizza… and good for him because mine is the best!”

“Not really… I actually wanted to see you. I… I just wanted to ask you something–

“Mother!!”

Your daughter emerged from the depths of the kitchen, she carried a kindle in one hand and a giftcard in the other.

“Is it okay if I use my present now? They got some books on sale and you said not to buy more books until I finished… oh…”

In the light and in front of him, your daughter truly looked like your mirror image, copy and pasted into a miniature. Her hair just past her chin, and her bangs indeed covered her eyes, peeking behind those curtains were the prettiest blue eyes he’d ever seen, there was no unnatural shine to them– just blue. Her lips so thin and her complexion just a tad paler than your own now that he gave it a proper look, she was so small-- too small for her age.

“Is okay honey, is your birthday you can get any books you want” Your tone shifted entirely lowering yourself to take her face and plant a quick peck on her cheek– now go back with uncle Kaleem and let mommy close shop, okay? We’ll go home in a minute.”

“Is it your birthday young lady? Congratulations.”

Homelander threw his best smile, giving the kid a cautious pet, catching the rage in your eyes as his gloved fingers touched your daughter.

“Thanks. Is not a milestone birthday so it is not worthy of congratulations… seems inane to celebrate it” she looked at her mother with a jaded expression– " I'll go get my bag, have a good night, sir.”

Homelander pressed his lip as the most deadpan voice came out of this little girl. Her oversized black sweater and the black tights made her look oddly unhappy, but the kid just stared at him with boredom, no surprise or interest when she stood next to America's favorite son.

He wondered if that was an adult or a seven year old for a second.

He worried if the kid had told his mother about that other night, but looking back at you he went with 'maybe'.

“What’s your name?” he asked, still forcing a smile– "my… you seem like a smart girl getting books for your birthday.”

“Helena.”

The kid couldn’t muster the energy to give him anything but her dead ass voice, she began to walk away not caring for manners, nor Homelander.

“She’s… cute.” he said watching that tiny figure walk away and surviving after her second nsult– great pronunciation for her age, does she even know what she’s saying?”

“Helena is not like other kids.”

“How so?”

You looked at him more tired than anything, rubbing your temples as you made yourself waste spit to talk to him.

“She’s a Supe… by the time she was two she could speak in full sentences, by three she could read at a first and second grade level, and by five she was teaching herself calculus and piano… she’s a genius; I thought she was a normal genius until… her other powers manifested– none of this matters! Just go!” You shook your head in frustration.

“You gave her V?” He said while staring at Helena.

“... I didn’t know what V was until the news broke out, I thought Helena was chosen by God! That the world blessed her with those powers, but when that story came out I’ve been wanting to ask you– did you give her V? but… if you didn’t… who… are you lying to me, John?”

Homelander looked past the concrete walls looking back at that little girl, he didn’t know what to say or do, before you could utter another word he left.

Ryan nose picked the meal quickly, glad that it was friday and his dad would let him stay up ‘til late, Homelander just dropped the meal on their new table and the kid was quick on his feet, the food was still warm, only now did Homelander noticed the extras, couple of small containers holding chili oil and freshly made ranch, garlic knots and a lemon meringue pie, it was too much but Ryan hadn’t hesitated to dig in, before Homelander could ask him to wash his hands he had ripped a slice of pepperoni.

“This is so good!” He said so cheerfully– gosh I was starving, dad.”

“I sure hope so, bud… let’s leave the pie for tomorrow…” he looked grossed out, Ryan sat opening up the garlic knot’s containers– not gonna eat?”

Homelander sat down to join him, the thought of touching all those greasy surfaces was making his stomach hurl, but he relented, taking a slice.

He was young again, and you were there coming back with some drinks as he ate your chicken florentine, this was the same recipe, the chicken was so juicy and the cheese wasn’t greasy. Ryan was shocked to see his father sound so happy as he took another bite.

It was the first time they both ate together where they felt completely comfortable with each other, maybe it was seeing Ryan not pick at his food that made Homelander able to just talk, Ryan told him all about his homework, and the videogame he was playing, he really liked Fifa at the moment even if he himself cared not for the sport.

Helena watched as her mother stood silently hovering above the sink, you hadn’t moved much for a couple of minutes, your daughter more annoyed than anything else regarding this display.

“How do you know Homelander?” she asked with a yawn.

“Huh?” you woke up from your trance– you should be in bed, darling.”

“You too. So… How do you know the clown?”

“Honey, don't say that!”

“He walks around wearing a onesie all day… like a clown… like the rest of those super clowns”

Your daughter always spoke with a creepy maturity, her voice didn’t belong to a kid.

“... He used to be my boss… he was a really bad boss…”

“You used to work for Vought?” She softened her stand.

“Honey… I don’t really want to talk about this… it's late and we are going to the museum tomorrow so you should get some sleep, mommy is just tired… hope you had a good birthday.”

“You should rest too, mother.”

Your daughter's eyes glowed momentarily turning th blinkers off before she made her way to bed, you stared at her door, thinking if she could see you.

No mother should think their child was creepy, Helena was just difficult and abrasive, to be a small kid with her brain must be unbearable. You could recall the moment she asked you about V so vividly, she looked angry, but you had no honest answer to give her, you had to lie, god knows if you got the details right about how these people committed these crimes. Helena simply had no ability to relate to people, and without the funds you couldn’t help her meet her potential, not while you were both stuck living in public housing, not while scraping every penny.

Her few friends forced her to dumb down and even they found her uneasy, only the old people seemed to handle her best, she loved to listen, and her teachers always thought of her as a delight, yet she knew no other Supe beside herself, those pageants were expensive, and networking meetings were hard to get in, talent agencies were costly– having a super-abled kid and trying to make them into a Supe was locked behind a massive paywall, all you could hope was that her genius would let her enter a university early on scholarships.

There was always Godolkin, but god knows if they would let her enter at a young age.

It would be easy if her father was involved, if John was there in her life, she would have the world but he didn’t want her, he had made that clear years ago.

So why did he lie about the V?

It had been two weeks since you seen Homelander, but he saw you a lot, he'd come back and forth-- watching you and the child with ardent curiosity, seeing you made him reminisce, of those many nights and afternoons, of the way no matter how tired you were, you always made sure to look happy when he showed up, the way you looked so at peace while cooking, of the feel of your skin against his and the taste of your precious lips as you kissed him good morning.

He followed you, on your only day off as you took Helena around the city, watching you share a slice of overprice cake while taking notes, and ate cheap chinese for lunch, you waited for two hours as Helena played chess and checkers with some oldies at a chess shop, some russian man gave her lessons-- some of these people dressed nicely perhaps pros. Some won over her and some lost but the games were quick, your daughter seemed happier when she loss than when winning.

Something about that didn’t sit well with Homelander.

Somehow he found himself in your apartment, cracking open the window to sneak in while you headed back home– the tiny apartment felt more like a closet than a habitable space, the ceilign was run down, and the appliances ancient but well kept, your bedroom was simple, cooking books and boxes sat on top of your dressers, a single’s bed with plush comforters and pillows stuck against the wall, with a wardrobe in front of it, and a cheap fan tucked in the corner. He left for your daughter’s room just a few feet away divided by the bathroom were most of the clutter and laundry lived, her bedroom was just as plain, but the books didn’t seem fit for a small child, her desk tidy and organized, he picked up a notebook from the pile, seeing math equations that hurt his eyes within seconds. All her stuff were nice and new, she had a decent computer on top of her bed, an old dresser, but there was an absence of toys– compared to Ryan’s bedroom that was filled with anything he wanted and decorated expertly. A clock adorned her walls but not much else, the few things that looked messy was a tiny plastic chess set, the kind with magnets on the bottom, and some DIY stem kits.

He took to the bathroom, it was old and falling apart, mold was growing in the corner much to Homelander’s disgust, trolley held dozens of beauty stuff and shampoos and detergents, a shelf on the wall held towels and toilet rolls. Homelander looked at a sparkly hairbrush, picking a couple strands of lost hair knowing by their lengths and color that they weren’t yours, and cursing himself for doing this as he place them on small plastic bag he had hid in his glove.

#homelander #homelander fanfiction #homelander x you #homelander x reader #the boys fanfiction #personal #my fic tag #not proofread sorry #american royalty #already got 2 more chapters done for this hope yall like it #I really like slow burn stories #my natural enemy is the short story it seems #homelader x f!reader #dadlander #the boys oc

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