#misadventures of a rogue | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zepskies · 25 days ago

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UNRAVEL ME - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Afro-Latina!Reader

Summary: In the wake of Vought Tower finally falling, you find yourself crossing paths with Soldier Boy. Rogue, weakened, dangerous, and hunted, he needs a place to hide. You’re not about to offer up your own home to shelter a supe wanted by Homelander and the CIA…but he’s also not going to let you refuse.

AN: Finallyyyyy lol. I know I've been talking about this series for months now, but it was genuinely challenging for me to write this prequel for Lost in Translation (which was requested by various Tumblr friends and anons who wanted to see Soldier Boy matched with a woman of color). I think maybe it's because this is now my third Soldier Boy series, and getting this guy to show character growth is hard to do three different times. 🤣 But let's see how it goes with another post-season 3 misadventure! 💜💙 This series also fulfills a hilarious prompt for @jacklesversebingo!

Song Inspo: “Unravel Me” by Sabrina Claudio

JVB Prompt: Accidental Old Person Acquisition

Word Count: 6K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, threats, SB being his typical asshole self, obnoxious flirting, racial elements, Ben drinks Cuban coffee, among other ethnic mini adventures in the future. The reader is a mixed-race Afro-Latina with textured hair.

💜 Series Masterlist

💙 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 1: Hot Tamale

Vought Tower is falling.

Or at least, that’s what it feels like: the ground trembling like a Magnitude 7 earthquake, overhead lights flickering, a line of rubble falling on your head as you finally manage to squeeze out of the stairwell and into the main floor's reception area. You take in a large gulp of air, breathing past the oppressive clog of warm bodies, sweat, fear, and a hint of piss.

The walls quake along with the tile floor; you spill onto it hard, hitting your knees, though you curl your fingers fast when a woman from Legal almost steps on them in her dagger heels. Fuck!

Fear and adrenaline compel you to scramble onto your feet and claw your way through the gift shop. Maybe you'll be able to cut through the aisles of overpriced Starlight plushies and Special Edition Black Noir Funko Pops to get to one of the east exits.

It's Vought’s very own 9/11. You were told to evacuate over the intercom, and now you're about to find out why.

It’s taken over an hour to try and escape. You’re still trapped in the building, obviously, caught up in the lobby. It's backed up by the clusterfuck of people squeezing themselves through the narrow exit doorways to the garage, like rats clamoring over one another to avoid extermination. Somehow they've broken through the glass to override the security protocols that had first tried to lock you all in.

Just when you make it past the display of red, white, and blue Homelander mugs, a blinding light catches your eye through the tall windows and the growing darkness of the evening. The light falls and falls, what looks like a tangled ball of red and orange and green.

It explodes into the ground, shaking the very foundations of New York City. You cling to the display table and manage to dive underneath it.

You hide there until the shaking stops.

Tears sting in your eyes as the unsteady screams of your coworkers ring out in the lobby, even though you don’t recognize most of them. You suddenly remember your boss; you lost sight of him on the way down the first five flights of stairs. You morbidly wonder if he was one of the ones who got trampled along the way, or blown off the side of the building in the crash.

When the outside world is quiet again, you crawl out from underneath the table. Everyone who still can is slowly getting to their feet, picking themselves up, some of them helping the people closest to them. You don’t know what the hell is happening, but you have a strong feeling Homelander is involved. He’s been playing at CEO for weeks, now that Stan Edgar has been deposed.

Instead of leaving out the front, you continue your plan of going through one of the east side exits. There’s a narrow alley that leads to the garage farther down. You step out into the evening light, made darker in the alley behind what’s left of the Tower. You know the metal door to the garage isn’t too far away, but before you can get to it, you see a man stumbling right toward you.

It's too dark to see him clearly, and even though you back up a couple of steps, the green of his uniform captures your attention.

“Oh my God,” you breathe. “Soldier Boy?”

He glances up at you through furrowed brows. The state of him, ragged and soot-stained, his labored breaths, and the way he’s leaning against the wall—it all tells you that he’s been through some major shit.

“Uh, a-are you okay?” you ask shakily, clutching your messenger bag.

“I’m fine,” he says, though his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that makes your spine prickle with unease.

In record time, your brain collects what little you know about the ancient relic of a supe that’s mere steps away from invading your personal space. Homelander has been calling him a rogue in the press, but even though your role at Vought barely makes you a blip on anyone’s radar, you know enough about what really holds the company together…which means you know better than to believe even one iota of what that star-spangled prick told the public.

Your gaze flits over Soldier Boy, now with some concern despite your wariness.

“Are you hurt?” you ask.

“I said I’m fucking fine. Do I look fucking hurt?” he growls tiredly. When he tries to stand a bit straighter, he almost stumbles against the wall.

Part of you twinges with sympathy, but still, your lips purse at his attitude.

“Dude, you don’t want me to tell you what you look like,” you say.

His eyebrow twitches. He opens his mouth to retort, but that’s when a man’s voice can be heard nearby. You turn your head at the sound.

While you’re distracted, Soldier Boy grabs you with more strength than you anticipated and drags you along with him against the wall. You gasp, but he holds a dirty half-gloved hand over your mouth.

Voices begin to echo from down the other end of the alley, closer to the main road. The supe has already turned his head in that direction, but your gaze flicks there next, your eyes wide and fearful.

“I don’t need a fuckin’ doctor,” says a man. His accent is thick as hell, like a Mary Poppins chimney sweep. Cockney? He’s tall, wearing a long black coat to match his black hair. He’s also arguing with a black man and a skinny white guy. A couple of ambulances zoom by, for a moment overtaking their voices and casting their bodies in the red glow of the siren alarms.

“Considering you coughed up blood on my fucking shoes, I’m dumping you off at the nearest hospital within a mile, and then you lose my number for good. Got that, motherfucker?” says the black man. He’s just as intimidating as the other guy, if not more so, considering the way the Brit's leaning against the wall like he might keel over right there.

The skinny guy breaks the tension between them. “Look, we should go. Annie’s got Maeve, and Homelander could be circling the sky looking for us right now.”

Queen Maeve? What happened to her? She was supposed to be in rehab. Who's Annie? Oh shit. Annie January. Starlight broke Maeve out? No. I should've known that rehab story was bullshit too. Who fucking knows what actually happened there. More importantly, what's happening here?!

Your thoughts tumble into one another while your heartbeat pounds in your ears. Your breathing comes out shallower through your nose, considering the big meaty hand covering your mouth.

If Homelander's looking for these guys, then none of this little scene is good. It makes you a fucking witness. Shit...

Soldier Boy tightens his hold on your arm. Slow and quiet, he opens the door to the parking garage with his elbow, since his other hand is still locked over your mouth. He guides you in.

“Don’t scream, or I’ll start squeezing,” he warns. At least he releases his hand from your mouth, instead, grabbing the back of your neck. “Where’s your car?”

“Wait, come on,” you plead, your voice shaking. “Whatever you did, I don’t want to know, but I didn’t sign up to be your getaway driver.”

Ben’s grip tightens a fraction. “All I need is a fucking ride. That isn’t too much to ask, now is it, sweetheart?”

“Depends on where you’re trying to go,” you say. But you decide that not getting snapped in half is good enough reason to lead him to your car. You rarely have cause to drive it, so it mostly just stays parked here in the garage. For once, you’re grateful that you shell out a portion of your monthly paycheck to reserve this space.

You fish your keys out of your car and unlock the door with shaky hands. Soldier Boy watches you press the button on the small key remote with furrowed brows, but he takes it from you after forcing you in the driver’s seat, so he can enter the car on the passenger side.

The second your tiny blue Kia rumbles pitifully to life, your music blares loud enough to feel the bass in the floor. Soldier Boy smacks the radio buttons roughly until it stops.

You give him a thin smile.

“Not a fan of Bad Bunny?” you ask.

Irritated, he grabs a hold of the small plushie swinging from your rearview mirror. He yanks it off despite your protest, nearly breaking the mirror, and stares in gruff bewilderment at the white fluffy heart. It has a Dominican flag embroidered on the front and a Cuban flag on the back—custom made on Etsy.

The supe raises a brow, but he dismissively tosses it somewhere in the back seat. When you look at his grumpy face, he just reminds you of Oscar the Grouch. He reaches down and shifts the seat back, but he barely has any leg room for those thunder thighs and combat boots.

“Just fucking drive,” he says, his voice like sharp gravel.

Again, your annoyance sparks at his rudeness. Are all supes assholes, or is it just the ones you’re forced to interact with?

“Okay, but where the hell do you want me to take you?” you ask. “The subway? The airport? The Hudson River? What?”

He thinks about it, drumming his fingers against his leg. His uniform is a bit poppier than military green, yet more classic than Homelander’s with the stretch of that silver-plated eagle across the chest.

“Too many eyes at the airport. I need to lie low for a while before I get outta dodge,” Soldier Boy admits. Then he sits back in your passenger seat, adjusting the recline until his broad frame is below the view of the window. You think it’s both for his own comfort and so he’s less likely to be seen.

“Your place should be all right,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your mouth falls open in shock. “Are you for real?”

He just gives you a stern look. He’s not fucking kidding.

“Look, you may be a superhero and all, but I don’t fucking know you! And…” Just then, clarity strikes you as you remember what’s been going on in the news for the past week. “Didn’t, uh, didn’t you…blow up a building in Midtown?”

He doesn’t seem to want to answer at first, leveling you with that stoic, bearded face. His gaze eventually drifts away from yours.

“That was an accident.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. “That’s a pretty big accident.”

Again, Soldier Boy doesn’t answer you. You try to focus on the road, but it’s pretty impossible when you have a supe that’s supposedly risen from the dead in your passenger seat, who also exploded 19 people on accident, who tried and failed to kill Homelander.

Speaking of, Homelander himself is looking for this guy…which means you’re helping a fugitive escape. What’s worse, he wants to crash on your goddamn couch.

One of your hands leaves the steering wheel to cover your mouth. You press your hand there until the mix-match of gold and silver rings start to bite into the sensitive flesh of your lower lip.

“Coño su madre,” you mutter the curse under your breath. I’m so fucking screwed.

You unlock the door to your third-floor apartment with a heavy sigh. As usual, it gets stuck the first time you try to swing it open. You throw a little more strength in your arm the second time, and the door finally budges.

You flick the lights on inside and unveil the shoebox that is your home. It’s barely a one-bedroom. The open kitchen lies to the right with a small two-seater table nestled against the wall, while the “living room” lies to the left. There you managed to fit a faded violet loveseat couch from your college days, a bookshelf from Goodwill, and your TV perched on what’s supposed to be a coffee table.

Straight ahead is a narrow hall that leads to your bedroom door on the right side and the one and only bathroom on the other.

Well, this is gonna be fun. Slumber party with America’s Most Wanted, you think, with no small amount of Jesus fucking Christ weighing your steps.

Soldier Boy’s broad shoulders barely clear the open doorway. He shuts and locks the door behind him and takes stock of your apartment with a slow turn of his head. He doesn’t seem impressed, except for the paintings, funky ‘60s style shelves, and other canvases decorating the walls.

“You some kind of artist?” he asks, giving a cursory glance to each one.

“Uh, yeah, kinda,” you nod. “But most of these aren’t mine.”

On every wall, there’s a cluster of art, from canvases to pottery, glass, burnished clay, and brass. There are replicas of paintings by Salvador Dalí and Frida Kahlo, Picasso and Basquiat, Monet and Amelia Peláez, even a sculpture of a woman that you tried to replicate from Ana Mendieta. It’s meant to represent the suffering of women. Hell if today doesn’t qualify.

You toss your messenger bag onto the couch and throw up your arms at your sides.

“Well, since the police, Homelander, and probably the rest of the government are looking for you, you should do the whole ‘get outta dodge’ thing in the morning,” you say. You clasp your hands together in the facsimile of a prayer and politeness all in one. “But if you really wanna spend a night on my couch, then that’s okay.”

We’ll get through this. Just one night of insanity and then this’ll all be over.

“That bed looks big enough for two,” the supe says. He nods at your open bedroom door and smiles suggestively, his gaze roaming over your form.

You get that shiver down your spine again, even as you blush. You take a pointed step away from him.

“Uh, how about fucking no,” you snap. “That door will be locked, and I have a taser that I’m not afraid to use on any tender bits.”

He raises a brow at you, but he snorts. He steps toward you, his gait slow and arrogant. You cross your arms while he closes the distance, his hair falling forward across his forehead as he stares down at you with a hint of a sneer. His chin and forehead are still stained with grime, just as his red gloves are scuffed and half burnt from whatever happened in that blast.

Your heart trips up faster. A tremble of fear runs through you, but you refuse to move.

“You do realize that that’s tantamount to flicking me with a rubber band,” he says. His half-lidded gaze runs over you with a note of interest. The corner of his mouth raises in a smirk. “Besides, whatever we might get up to, I can guarantee you’ll enjoy it. Just ask Loni Anderson. Farrah Fawcett. Hell, Molly Ringwald. Love me a fuckin’ redhead once in a while.”

You give him a look that could (proverbially) crumble Empire State.

“Don’t fucking bet on it,” you say.

Yes, your voice is quiet. Yes, you have to work past a swallow. But you don’t ever drop your gaze. You meet him head-on with every bit of stubborn fire you have left inside you.

“If you touch me, I’ll scream," you say, a wary trembling in your chest. "Even if you kill me, they’ll find you that much quicker.”

His smirk falls away. His gaze roams over you again, this time in a different way. Maybe he sees the way your entire body is tense, locked up tight, prepared to recoil and scream if he tries to grab at you. He relents.

“Christ, relax. It’s your fucking loss anyway, sweetheart.” His eyes roll dismissively as he turns away from you. “I need a shower.”

He strides down the hall in search of it. You move quickly to get ahead of him. The last thing you need is him rifling through your bedroom drawers.

“Ah, wait! I’ll get you a towel,” you say. It irritates you to have to treat him like a “guest,” but you don’t know what else to do. The man can literally snap your neck. Even for that big ass bluff you just pulled, you really, really don’t want to die.

You could try calling the police while he’s in the shower, but you don’t know what he’ll do if he finds out. And who’s gonna be quicker on the draw—the human police force, or the literal super soldier?

No, it’ll be more painless to just wait this guy out and see him off in the morning. For now, he doesn’t seem inclined to hurt you. He even took a rejection of you “sleeping” with him pretty well, for a supe. They tend to think they're God’s gifts to humanity. Working at Vought, you’ve been propositioned more than enough times. Though God forbid you say no for a ride on their magical dick. You’d rather not jump on that potential steel trap. You know a guy in Marketing who had his happy place literally frozen and chipped off.

After finding a fresh towel for Soldier Boy, he shuts himself in the lone bathroom across from your room. Soon, the old pipes roar to life. You retreat into your room for a long, slow breath. It’s less steadying than you’d hoped.

You also shut and lock the bedroom door behind you, for whatever good that might do you.

Not much, you realize warily.

You sink your fingers into your hair and blow out a sigh of frustration. What even is my fucking life right now?

Tugging on the knotted curls, you loosen them from the bun you wrapped tightly this morning. For all Vought claimed to care about diversity, your boss once commented on your “wild” hair shedding on the tile floor.

Taking in a few deep, yoga-style breaths before you lose your shit, you dig into the recesses of your closet and dresser drawers. Your most recent ex had left at least one shirt, maybe a pair of boxers. Soldier Boy will have to make do with your favorite sweatpants. They’re stretched out enough from years of wear and washes that they’ll probably fit him.

Juuuuust great. You're really contemplating this asshole wearing your clothes.

By the time you gather your bearings, shove your soul back into your body and leave your room, Soldier Boy is exiting the bathroom, the fluffy purple towel slung low around his hips.

“Jesus!” You jolt and instinctively step back. There’s nowhere far to go in the hallway, so your ass ends up bumping against the hollow wall.

Once again, he wears a smug sort of smile as he stares down at you in amusement.

“Like what you see, huh, baby doll?”

“Put your tits away, please,” you snap, handing him the bundle of clothing while trying not to look at him directly. You can’t help glancing at his muscular frame out of the corner of your eye.

Good lord, it’s like he was chiseled from marble. Make that marble with a golden tan, and a patch of hair across his chest that you could run your nails through.

His lips curve with a cockier smile. You quickly look away.

Great. He caught you ogling for one tiny second. And with that moment of human weakness, all that strong talk you accomplished earlier had probably just withered away into nothing. Is he going to take that as an invitation to slide into bed with you tonight while you’re trying to sleep?

Yeeeah. Who the hell are you kidding? You’re going to tape your own eyes open if you have to, but you’re not dropping your guard around this guy. He doesn’t seem to actually want to hurt you. He wants to use you for convenience’s sake. But it doesn’t change the fact that he’s dangerous, hunted, arrogant as fuck, and weirdly horny for a guy who just threw himself off a building.

Subtly clearing your throat, you move past him to the living room. There you set up the couch for him to sleep on. He ventures back into the bathroom to get dressed, which gives you a small break. You’re mentally counting the seconds.

He comes back somewhat fully dressed. The shirt is a bit small for him, as are the boxer shorts.

“Christ, who did this belong to, a fucking eunuch?” Soldier Boy asks. “Tell me you’ve got a brother. Because if this was your boyfriend’s, then he wasn’t doing shit for you, sweetheart.”

You begin to blush on reflex, shooting him a steely glare. Those clothes did belong to your ex, but that’s none of his damn business.

“As promised, here’s the couch,” you gesture to the neatly fitted sheets, blankets, and even a fluffy(ish) pillow you so generously laid out for him. “Again, I will be locking my bedroom door, and if you make even a step in that direction, prepare to get tased in the dick. It’s already set on the max setting.”

Soldier Boy smirks. You fail to see how what you’ve said is in any way funny. You’re definitely not laughing, but you do blink in surprise when he takes your hand and brings the back of it to his lips for a kiss. His beard briefly rasps against your skin. He looks down at you, meeting your eyes with his own. The green in them makes you falter.

“Believe it or not, I appreciate the help,” he says, turning on the charm. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Your lips purse. Does he really think hitting you with that Brad Pitt tone of voice is going to work on you? He fucking kidnapped you, and not to mention, is currently holding you on house arrest.

“Oh, now you want to know my name? After conning me into being your Uber driver and your Airbnb in one?” You try to slip your hand out of his, but his grip tightens. He’s still smiling, amused by your struggle.

“Come on, what’s your name?” he cajoles.

You sigh. Despite your better judgment, you give it to him begrudgingly.

"What's yours?" you ask, mostly drenched in sarcasm. Though a small part of you is...curious.

He stares back at you for a moment, something almost like surprise flicking through his gaze. His lips twitch at the corners, wry and humorless.

"Ben," he says, finally letting go of your hand.

“Okay, cool. So nice to meet you, uh, Ben," you reply, gesturing at his overall form. You still can't believe he's standing here like an iron lamppost in your living room. Are you about to step into the portal to Narnia now and continue this fever dream, or fall straight down to hell?

"All right, mind if I go now?" you say, crossing your arms as the snark escapes its cage. "I’ve had a bitch of a day and I need my beauty sleep."

Ben raises a brow.

Shit. You bite your lip.

Okay, you know you’re being a bit too hostile to a man who can all too easily snap you in half, but he’s got this way of pushing every single one of your buttons at once. Not in a good way. In the wish I could fucking scratch your eyes out kind of a way.

You're frankly lucky that Soldier Boy just seems amused by your attitude. Silly woman with her silly fits of belligerence.

His green-eyed gaze slides from the curve of your jean-clad thighs to your hips, over your breasts concealed by a red blouse, and finally up to your chin, your lips, your eyes. You can’t help the way your skin tingles at his scrutiny, even as you frown.

“From where I’m standing, sleep isn’t what you need,” he says. He somehow manages to sound both flattering and suggestive.

Your face flares hotter, and your lips press tightly together.

“Sweet dreams, Soldier Boy,” you say, somewhat sarcastically as you head back to your room. You intend to grab your pajamas and take them with you into the bathroom. You’re going to have to bring your taser and lock yourself in there for a shower, even with the obvious safety hazard. What-fucking-ever at this point, as long as it keeps out Hungry Like the Wolf out there. But his reply makes you pause.

He snorts. “Good night, sweetheart.”

You turn to look at him over your shoulder. He spares you one final look, less arrogant and more taciturn, before he turns away and lowers himself down onto the couch.

You sigh, but you can’t help peeking around the corner at the supe sitting in your living room. His broad frame takes up the entire center of the little couch. You’re not all that sure he’s going to be comfortable there, since his long legs are definitely not going to fit across the loveseat, but he’s going to have to deal with it until tomorrow.

You watch him rest his elbows above his knees and blow out a long, tired breath. He raises a hand to rub between his furrowed brows. For a long beat, he just stares vacantly at the floor between his knees.

Then he leans back against the couch, crosses his arms, and closes his eyes. He seems…lost. Exhausted.

You wonder if he has anyone in his life worth getting back to. Anyone at all.

Shaking your head, you quietly make your way back to your room.

Ben finds himself watching you the next morning. He sits at the two-seater table while you putter about in the kitchen.

You’re cute, he has to admit, all sleepy and barely awake as you slide around in your fuzzy red slippers. A large Knicks shirt hangs off your body, exposing one smooth shoulder. Your sweatpants are overlarge as well, which only makes him think about the generous curves you’ve got hiding underneath. He took notice yesterday. You had a lot to work with under that little blouse, jeans, and chunky heels.

Yesterday you were put together, even though you’d clearly had a rough time escaping the Tower. Today you've slunk out of your room with baggy pajamas, your hair a mess of curls running down your back.

“Want a cafecito?” you ask.

Ben raises a brow. “If you mean coffee, then that’d be good. Something hot to eat would be even better.”

“First of all, this isn’t a bed and breakfast,” you say, turning to him with an edge to your voice. “Look, I’m exhausted. There’s a bakery down the street. I can pick something up.”

As a matter of fact, your favorite Colombian bakery is right around the corner. You start thinking about all the pastries you’re going to treat yourself with, even though it does make you miss the Cuban bakeries back home. You would absolutely kill for an empanada with guava and cheese right now.

Instead of cold-blooded murder, you set the tiny espresso cup of coffee in front of Ben. His face shifts to confusion and bewilderment.

“I asked for a cup of coffee, black, not this baby doll tea set cup of coffee,” he says.

“It’s a Cuban espresso,” you inform him. “And believe me, you don’t want it any bigger than that.”

Unless he just wants to spend the rest of the day on the toilet. Maybe he needs to clean out his system.

“Just try it,” you encourage. “I think you’ll like it.”

He eyes you with skepticism, but he takes a sip.

It’s sweet, but the rich, robust taste hits him between the eyes. His brows raise high.

“Okay,” he says with a growing smile. “I see what you mean.”

“See? Now you don’t gotta doubt me again,” you nod. He watches you pour one for yourself, stirring in a frankly alarming spoonful of sugar.

“Where are you from, exactly?” he asks.

You glance over at him, taking issue with the way he asks the question.

“New York,” you respond tartly. You're really from Miami, but he doesn't need to know that.

He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. What are you, Mexican or something?”

You raise a brow, your lips pursing when he begins to smirk.

“I do like me a juicy taco,” he says.

His slutty grin is too much for you. Your hand tightens around your coffee cup.

“Okay, a lot to unpack there, Romeo, but no. Not all of us are Mexican!”

“All right. Calm down, Chiquita. You should take it as a fucking compliment,” he says. He raises a brow at you. “You’re a real spicy one, aren’t you?”

You gape incredulously. “Excuse me?”

Chiquita?! What the hell is that? Is he saying you look like a goddamn banana, or does he actually know a few words in Spanish? Is he actually calling you a little girl? And for the cherry on top, did he really just call you spicy?!

Either way, he’s about to get slapped across his pig-man mouth.

“I’ve gotten with a few Latinas in my time,” he says as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as his thighs splay out a little wider in the sweatpants you let him borrow. “Always with that fuckin’ feisty little temper. But you know what, I got no problem with a hot tamale.”

“Oooh.” The sound is pure and unadulterated FED UP. You down your espresso like a shot. You’re already contemplating another dose, because you don’t have the energy for this.

But you’re also reminded then, that this man came to fame in the 1940s. He was born, what, before the damn Dust Bowl and the Great Depression? He’s literally an ancient relic, a walking black and white billboard of tóxico, and he acts like one too.

You fairly slam your ceramic cup on the dining table as you slide into the seat across from him.

“Just so we don’t have any more conversations like this in the future, here it goes,” you say with a sharp sigh. “My mom is Cuban. My dad is black and Dominican. I’m as mixed as it gets, but I’m in no way spicy. If you’ve got me mad fucking tight right now, it’s because you clearly have no idea what decade you’re in.”

Your insult strikes a nerve, making his eyebrow twitch. Soon, however, his lips curve.

“I’ve got you tight, huh?” he says, cocking his head. A lock of his hair falls roguishly across his brow. “Gotta say, wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had that effect on a woman.”

You freeze, another hot blush burning in your cheeks. You can feel it making its way down your neck. “That’s…that’s not what you think it means.”

His lazy, arrogant, salacious smirk really makes you want to slap him, but you have a feeling that it’ll hurt you way more than it would hurt him. You get up from the table and ignore the loud scrape of the chair on tile.

“You know what? Forget it! I’m hungry. Don’t follow me.”

You go back to your room and lock the door behind you. You come back out a few minutes later dressed in what he thinks is your way of teasing him—in some ass-hugging jeans and a shirt that clings to your form. Ben watches you cross the room, smiling at the way you give him some narrowed side-eye while twisting your hair up into a wild ponytail. It’s a simple thing women do that’s always attracted him for some reason.

He also likes the shade of red you painted on your lips.

“You are a feisty little thing,” he remarks, sipping his espresso. “Can’t say I mind.”

“Good. Stay here,” you hotly retort. Or better yet, get the FUCK out of my apartment.

You don’t say that last bit out loud, but he can read it loud and clear in your eyes, filled with that Latina fire. He remembers it all too well.

He grabs your wrist before you slip by him though. He hears the way your breath hitches, your gaze snapping down to meet his. You manage to hide most of your fear.

Maybe it makes some part of him twinge, deep down. You don’t know that he mostly finds you amusing. That he’d rather not hurt you, considering you don’t pose even one fraction of a threat to him. That like it or not, he needs to stay in your rathole apartment until he can figure out how to get out of the city unseen, let alone out of the country.

“You think I’m fucking stupid?” he asks.

You say nothing, but the look on your face tells him what you want to say. His eyes narrow.

“You’re not leaving,” he says.

“Well, I’m not cooking,” you counter. “There’s nothing to cook—”

“Order a damn delivery.”

“You know how expensive that is? Between delivery fee and tipping nowadays, Doordash charges a whole other meal on top of the meal! UberEats isn’t much better. Plus, none of the good places around here deliver like that. Not for breakfast at least. And anyway, I really need to go grocery shopping. What do you expect me to do, open a can of tuna and a jar of olives for breakfast?”

Ben’s not going to pretend he knows what the fuck you’re talking about, but his patience is running out.

“All right, enough. Give me your uh, your phone,” he demands. His tone gains an edge, a warning.

You expel an irritated huff, but you reach into your purse and all but slam it on the kitchen table. He takes it and examines it with some curiosity, but mostly, he retains his stoicism.

“I know for a fact you can get basically whatever you want on this fucking thing within half an hour,” he says. “Do what you need to do to get some grub over here, but you’re not leaving this fucking apartment until I say so."

He raises his brows and meets your eyes in a not so subtle warning.

"Just so you know, I've got a sharper ear than you think," he adds. "If you get stupid and try making a call for help, it's gonna be the last thing you fucking do. You understand me?”

Your teeth grind together, but ultimately, your sense of self-preservation reminds you not to poke the bear anymore. You force your anger and fear to dim to embers beneath your skin, and you nod in agreement. You then lower your gaze, waiting for him to let you go.

When he does, you slip away from him as soon as possible, taking your phone as you go.

For what it’s worth, you lock the bedroom door behind you.

AN: Aaaand we're off! lol Did you expect him to basically force her into house arrest? 😅 We're gonna have some fun on this one, but there's also going to be a fair bit of action and slow-burn moments.~

Next Time:

You suddenly stand from the table, your chair scraping across the floor. You can tell the sound irritates his sharp ear as he glances up at you with a frown.

“You are a goddamn fugitive. You get that right?” you say, regarding him with an incredulous tilt of your head. “Now you’ve hooked me into this. I could get into serious shit because of you, and you don’t even seem to care! What…what kind of fucking superhero are you supposed to be?”

At the same time, you don’t know why this surprises you. Most of the supes you’ve met couldn't care less about the average person. The entire purpose of Vought’s Legal Department springs to mind.

Still, you thought America’s first supe ever—the one who supposedly fought in WWII, pounded Nazis up the ass, and represented the ideals this country was supposed to be founded on—might actually give a shit. Yet again, it stings to be proven wrong.

Ben’s expression had been verging on apathy, but now, he’s irritated and angry. He pushes back from the table and stands up to his full height. Even wearing your ex’s plain gray crew shirt and some threadbare sweatpants, the man’s frame is intimidating. He makes slow steps closer until he’s looming over you.

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vultursvolans · 7 months ago

Text

— ☆ 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: alhaitham wants to cheer you up by giving you a cake but, much to his dismay, he discovers he’s not very good at baking

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: alhaitham x gn!reader, modern au, established relationship, fluff, slice of life, comfort, baking, you call him baby, he might be a lil ooc 1.2k wc. | masterlist

a/n: important!! this piece is for the @pixelcafe-network’s secret santa exchange and it is my gift to @ariiadnes <3 surprise little elf, i am your santa >:) hehe that was me on anon. i welcome anybody to enjoy it but i’m just prefacing that i wrote this with my little elf in mind so this is personalised and will include some details specific to our kay ^_^ thank you to the pixel cafe for organising something so sweet <3 happy holidays!

p.s there is an extra surprise at the end 🤭

The sudden clang of the rolling pin meeting the floor made Alhaitham pause mid-motion. He regarded the rogue tool with a glare as though it had a personal vendetta against him. If baking was a dance of trial and error, it appeared Alhaitham was hopelessly out of step.

This shouldn’t be so difficult, he thought, bending down to retrieve it with a sigh.

What had started as a bold plan to cheer you up was devolving into a textbook case of kitchen disaster. His countertops bore signs of his struggle: a battlefield of flour, sticky smears of frosting, and a timer that had long since been silenced, marking the hours he had spent here. A slightly concerning scent wafted from the oven, where a deflated Snoopy cake mocked his attempts, its ears drooping in defeat.

All his brilliance yet his intellect failed him in the kitchen. The art of baking required nuances he hadn’t yet mastered—the understanding of texture, temperature, and timing. These were variables that no theorem or formula could solve. He glanced at the instructional video on his phone, the cheerful baker’s voice grating against his fraying patience.

‘Step one: don’t overfill the pan,’ he recited in his head, lips thinning as he stared at the mess in the oven. “A bit late for that.”

His phone buzzed, pulling him from his brooding. It was a message from you:

“Done for the day! Heading home soon. Love you <3.”

Alhaitham paused, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. He could easily picture the exhaustion in your face as you typed the message. You’d been weathering the storm of clinical rotations, coursework, and sleepless nights to reach the summit of your master’s program. He’d witness you lose sleep over exams, spend weekends buried in textbooks, and wake before dawn to attend hospital shifts.

He’d also notice the fatigue in your voice, how you napped more often to catch up on rest, and the stress you tried to hide when things got overwhelming.

Even in your exhaustion, you still managed to grace him with a smile. There was something admirable about how your heart endured, how you found space for joy despite the weight you carried. He knew he couldn’t ease your responsibilities, but he could remind you that you weren't facing it all alone.

His gaze shifted to the Snoopy figurine he’d bought for inspiration, perched on the counter like a silent overseer of this culinary misadventure. No turning back now.

Alhaitham began to roll up his sleeves and pick up the piping bag.

For you, he was willing to stumble through every misstep.

Drawing Snoopy’s outline with frosting proved no easier than taming the batter. Alhaitham leaned in close, expression sharpening, and the tip of his tongue peeked out in concentration (a face no one but you might ever see from him). As he worked, his mind whispered doubts, yet his hands persisted.

Steadfast, if imperfect.

———

By the time you stepped through the front door, the scent of burnt sugar lingered in the air. The apartment, to your surprise, looked untouched—eerily pristine, even. Nothing seemed to have moved ever since you left the house this morning.

No hint of chaos. Yet.

“Haitham~?” you called out, kicking off your shoes. “What’s that smell? Did you… light a candle or something?”

“In the kitchen,” came his reply, his voice betraying none of his current predicament.

You rounded the corner, and the first thing you noticed upon entering was the stillness. Alhaitham stood near the counter, as composed as always, except for the flour dusting his hair and a smear of frosting on his cheek.

The second thing you noticed was the cake. Or what you assumed was meant to be a cake. Snoopy, your beloved Snoopy, lay immortalised in wobbly frosting on an uneven base. His ears drooped, and his face was just crooked enough to be endearing.

“Haitham?” you asked, placing your bag down carefully. “What… What happened here? Did Snoopy get caught in a blizzard?”

Alhaitham’s neutral expression didn’t falter, though his ears turned a light shade of pink. “It’s a cake,” he deadpanned. “Not a sculpture. Artistic liberties were necessary.”

That was all it took. You doubled over, laughter spilling from your lips like a bubbling brook. “You made this? For me?”

“Yes,” he said simply, the word softened by his sincerity. “You’ve been overworking yourself. I thought you might enjoy this.”

Your laughter melted into something warmer, and you stepped closer with a glow in your chest, inspecting the cake with a fond smile. “I didn’t know you could bake.”

“I can’t,” he admitted flatly. “And I don’t plan to pursue it further. The kitchen may never recover.”

"But you look so handsome covered in frosting." You reached up, gently touching the mess on his cheek. “You’ve got a little something here.”

Not wasting another second, you pressed a kiss to the smudge, tasting a bit of sugar on your tongue. His breath caught, just barely, and you pulled back with a grin.

“There,” you said playfully. “All cleaned up.”

His lips parted slightly as if to retort, but you didn’t give him the chance. You cupped his face, your thumbs tracing circles of flour on his skin. “Did my baby work hard on this cake?”

Alhaitham blinked, caught entirely off-guard by your tone. “I wouldn’t use the term hard,” he huffed slightly, a crack in his usual demeanor under your doting affection.

“Oh, but you did,” you teased, brushing your nose against his. “Worked so hard, just for me. My thoughtful, talented boyfriend.”

He sighed, a long exhale that felt more like surrender than irritation. “If you keep that up, you might convince me it was worth the mess.”

You beamed, leaning up to kiss him properly this time, imprinting your gratitude on his lips. “I already know it was. You’re the sweetest, you know that?”

His ears darkened further, and he turned his attention to the counter as if it had become the most fascinating object in the room. “The cake might taste otherwise.”

“Stop being modest,” you said, grabbing the knife. “Come on. Let’s taste your masterpiece.”

His hand covered yours before you could cut into it. “Be gentle with it. It’s barely holding together.”

You chuckled, nudging him. “Sounds a bit like me during finals actually.” Alhaitham was clearly amused by your comparison, lips quirking as you looked at him.

When you cut into the cake, the sound of the knife meeting its layers fills the space. You served a piece, taking a bite before offering your verdict. “Hmm.” You hummed thoughtfully, watching his expression tighten.

“Well?” he asked, the question almost reluctant.

You grinned and reached for his hand, squeezing it. “It’s perfect. Just like you.”

He raised his brow at the sentiment but you caught the way his grip mirrored your squeezing. “I think your standards are too forgiving,” he replied.

“Not at all,” you said earnestly, setting your fork down and stepping closer. “It means everything to me, Alhaitham. Thank you.”

For once, words faltered and fell away, replaced by the gentle press of his forehead against yours. At that moment, the world seemed to pause, and the chaos of frosting, cake, and his flour-coated hands faded into nothingness. In their place was something simpler, something truer—his love for you that spoke volumes without a single syllable.

bonus gift: some silly visuals 🫶

a/n: i was a little nervous about this because kay, you already write so beautifully. i truly hope this was to your liking 🥺💖 congrats again on completing your masters program. i hope your certification exam goes/went well 💖

divider: @/adornedwithlight

#✧ vultursvolans #alhaitham x reader #al-haitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #al-haitham fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader

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holy-puckslibrary · 1 year ago

Text

─ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜.

pairing(s) — fwb!MATTHEW TKACHUK x reader wc — 3.2k synopsis — best not-boyfriend boyfriend ever! (read the request here) note — bestie, your brain? marvelous! this was an absolute joy to write, and i hope this captures your vision!!! thank you for the request <3

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content warnings under the cut.

cw — hints of a debut-inspired ensemble; complicated, grossly intimate situationship + emotional constipation; angst (not really) to fluffy fluffy; tswizzle references; suggestive section: "heavy petting" but nothing explicit / fade to black; brief alcohol mention + consumption; brief mention of food (no specifics); and ~emotions~

I. it’s getting so much clearer…

Matthew regrets making you a key.

Majorly.

If he’d known the can of worms he was opening when he unceremoniously dropped them in your lap one night, he would’ve listened to his brother; you don’t give girlfriend privileges to women who aren’t your girlfriend. It only leads to hurt feelings, broken console controllers, and unnecessary trouble.

However, it’s highly unlikely this is the “trouble” to which Brady was referring.

Rooted in the entryway, he surveys the damage.

Beads of all shapes, sizes, and colors sit in a sea of jars. Some have spilled out under the coffee table and couch, others have made it all the way into the kitchen. Knotted balls of elastic are sprinkled throughout the chaos, as are multiple pairs of scissors, skeins of embroidery floss, and shards of construction paper. There are markers everywhere, but for some unknown reason, the crayons and sticker sheets are in nice, neat piles. A white feather boa is draped over the entertainment center and there’s a pink one curled by his feet. And, in the eye of the storm, is an anxious lump frantically stringing together DIY jewelry and muttering along to the megamix blaring through the room; he doubts you even heard him come home.

“Sweetheart, is there a reason it looks like a craft store threw up everywhere?” Matthew shouts as he gingerly braves the hurricane.

Something crunches under his shoe, and from the sound alone, he knows it would’ve been worse than stepping on a Lego if his feet were bare.

He also knows that if the music were even a decibel lower, you would be pissed beyond belief. How dare he move freely through his own home without first checking for rogue pieces of plastic? His ears are ringing, but he’s grateful for it. From many years of mistakes and misadventures, he's learned you won’t get on top if you’re mad, regardless of how much groveling he does. And he's got one foot in the doghouse after last weekend as it is.

“T-minus two days ’til Taylor, Matthew,” you grumble from the floor. “What do you think?”

You’ve been at this for weeks. It gets worse the closer the concert gets. The mess and your mood.

Matthew isn’t stupid, and he knows you better than he lets on. You panic under the weight of your own (often unrealistic) expectations. You need everything to be perfect, or the entire world crumbles. This, Night One of the Florida dates of the Eras Tour, is, understandably, no exception. If anything, the pressure’s dialed up to eleven.

In stressing over every little detail, you’ve made yourself miserable. Watching you unravel makes his chest feel strange.

You won’t ask for help. You don’t want it, either.

But, he can’t let you flounder. For his own sanity, he can’t do it. And he does care about you. Maybe not in the way everyone assumes or hopes, but he does. He’d do almost anything to lighten your load.

Yet, Matthew treads lightly. If he’s too forthcoming, you could get the wrong idea. He doesn’t want to spook you, and he can’t have any wires getting crossed. What’s so good about your situation is how markedly uncomplicated it’s been. He refuses to be the one who fucks it up for everyone.

So, he does what he can, and he does it without making a big deal about it.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, he sinks down onto the floor beside you. You’re perched on one of the obnoxious throw pillows you insisted he order to “spruce up” the space and make it look less “bachelor pad-y." As if that’s not exactly what it is. He takes this as rare permission to do the same, placing one under his hips and cuddling another to his chest as he stretches out on his stomach, phone in hand.

Well, as stretched as a person can be in the middle of an obstacle course.

Between the second play of “cowboy like me” and the third of “Tim McGraw,” his various feeds dry up, and he’s spammed his contacts into oblivion. You're still chugging along, like a Sad Girl automaton locked in an endless glittery assembly line.

At one point, you murmur, “Give me your wrist."

And he does.

Matthew’s taken aback when you loop elastic around it to get a measurement.

He’s confused, but not for the reason one might assume. He’s painfully familiar with the friendship bracelet phenomenon and the giddy exchanges, having been force-fed hours' worth of tour content over the past year, but he never thought you’d rope him into it.

The buzz under his skin is oddly auspicious, watching you clip the appropriate length before reaching for the pile laid out near his head.

It’s not long before you make the same request again. However, this time, you slide on a custom creation. You fiddle with it for a moment, then turn back to your station to begin the next one on the list.

“And in which era does she cosplay as a camp counselor?” Matthew teases as he thumbs the letter beads.

They spell out a moniker he’d honestly find offensive if you hadn’t looped the song one too many times. He wonders if you’ve made yourself the matching one.

You emit a sound that haunts his nightmares and side-eye him in a way that would’ve made a lesser man disintegrate.

“If you don’t want it, give it back so I can give it to someone who will appreciate my time and effort,” you bite with your hand outstretched, palm up and open expectantly.

Matthew shoves it away, suddenly defensive. “I never said that.”

The sun slips behind the fence an hour later, and the sky bathes the house in purple-pink hues. As he gathers ingredients in the kitchen, Matthew watches the slow-moving clouds absentmindedly. He hasn't felt this content in a while.

Arms full, he wades through the arts and crafts on the way to the backyard.

You’re still in the den, still hunched over in the same place he found you in. He shakes his head when he passes you, knowing he’s got an hour (at least) moonlighting as a masseuse in his future.

You don’t startle or acknowledge him until the grill set you bought for his birthday clatters to the floor.

“Why’re there two cowboy hats getting glitter all over my patio?” he asks, despite knowing the answer. And hating it. Vehemently.

You fix him with an unamused glare. Your brow quirks, and your hands still. Then, you blink at him very slowly. Like he’s an idiot. Like he just asked a stupid question—because he did.

Matthew’s head wags so intensely that his neck cracks.

“Oh, hell no.”

II. it’s coming undone…

Matthew scowls at his reflection.

“—looks so fucking stupid.”

He can’t tell if he looks worse with or without the fur-trimmed, shimmery cowboy hat. And, honestly, it's a little distressing. After temporarily ditching it, he tugs at his curls. Then, the hem of the jersey.

Resigned, he reaches across the bed for the homemade accessory. Wearing it will make you smile—and it gives his dignity something to hide behind.

Twitter’s going to have a fucking field day.

Your panicked voice spills out from the hotel bathroom, “Really?”

“Of course, it fucking do—”

His tirade of vanity grinds to a screeching halt at the sight of you, backlit and wilting.

“That’s not—ah, fuck.” Matthew digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “What I meant was—me, it looks stupid on me. Not you. On you, it looks… It looks…”

“It looks, what?”

It looks like he’s glad none of your friends were available because he won’t have to pretend you’re less than you are.

No lectures, no goading, no scrutiny. Just you.

“Right.” That’s the word he settles for. “It looks right.”

The emphasis chips away at what little believability the underwhelming affirmation had. That much is evident from the insecurity bleeding through your makeup.

“Right,” you parrot. Skeptically, you drag out the vowel long enough that it disappears into the bathroom with you.

Before the door clicks shut, Matthew’s already berating himself for whatever just happened. For acting like a complete doofus with a foot shoved down his throat.

His mind is as quick as his tongue is sharp. He’s got confidence for days and a cocky demeanor primed and on-call, one that most women find endearing. Yourself included. He’s never had an issue dishing out pretty words or flirting before, especially not with you.

With you, banter came easy. Sweet or salacious, it didn’t matter. The bob and weave, from platonic chatter to something charged and suggestive, is effortless. And it’s been that way for as long as he can remember. It's innate. He should be able to uphold his reputation in his sleep.

What’s gotten into him?

(You’d say the power of Taylor Swift, or some shit. Which is why he doesn’t open the floor for discussion. Among other reasons.)

Matthew makes the executive decision to put things right. To redeem himself, to feel more like himself.

His palms are hot and tingling as he sets off to do what he does best. Something fool-proof. Something that’ll erase the past ten minutes from the collective consciousness. Something to scratch an itch...

He won't make it through three and a half hours without catching a public indecency charge.

Not with you looking like that.

“I was thinking,” Matthew trails off as he comes up behind you in the en suite bathroom. His hands land on the counter, one on either side of you. “We should fool around a little bit before we leave.”

With his chest flush to your back and his chin propped on your shoulder, he blatantly checks you out.

You, albeit begrudgingly, find it flattering. On principle, you roll your eyes.

You snort. “Funny."

Sarcasm pinches his face as he unintelligibly mocks you.

Whatever witty retort he had died on his tongue when you lean forward to put some eyeliner in your waterline, inadvertently pushing the curve of your backside right into his growing bulge.

Matthew turns you to face him without warning.

The kohl pencil goes flying, dotting the pristine space as it tumbles to the floor. Its final resting place is unknown; you’ll follow the smudge-crumbs later.

Later, when he doesn’t have you pressed tight between the harsh edge of the counter and his chest.

Later, when the dull ache in your arched back dissipates.

Later, when his attraction isn’t so painfully tangible.

Later, when he isn’t looking at you the way he is now.

You’re sinking in a shade of blue you don’t recognize. It’s stormy, vast and disquieting. Like any collision, you’re unable to tear your eyes away even though you know you should. It betrays an aura of foreboding, yet somehow, Matthew’s charged gaze carries a soothing effect. It's hypnotic in an stomach-twisting way.

“I’m not laughing, sweetheart.” He breathes the words through the slight part in your lips, his voice rich and thick like honey.

“W-We need to be quick—”

Matthew buries his face in the sweet-smelling crook of your neck. Intent on shutting you up, he succeeds with infuriating ease once he’s latched onto your throat. He nips and sucks whenever you protest, and soon, you don’t even bother trying anymore.

Why lie and deny when what you want feels this fucking good?

When your nails dig impatient little half-moons into his forearms, Matthew bares his teeth with a triumphant hiss.

He grins against your skin, humming atop your erratic pulse.

“Better hurry up and spread ‘em, then.”

Matthew’s between your dangling boots as soon as you’ve hoisted yourself onto the counter. Kneading the soft skin of your thighs, inching up and in with eager hands, he doesn’t slow or stop until the white Self-Titled sundress is bunched up in the hinge of your hips.

“That’s my girl.”

III. it’s delicate…

“All Tequila, No Crime” isn’t as diabolical of a cocktail as it sounds.

Spending $100+ to taste test it and three other signature mixed drinks is.

A robbery, if you ask him.

What's downright criminal, though, is your inability to finish a single one. A “Last Great American G&T” with a few sips missing, a half-finished “Midnight Mule,” and a watered-down “Blue Debut” sit abandoned amongst an assortment of sweet treats and small bites.

As he waits for what he ordered, Matthew picks at the vibrant fruit salad. He’s about to pluck a honeydew star from the pile stacked high in a bowl fashioned from a watermelon rind when the back of his neck prickles.

“Knock it off.”

You blink, bemused.

Matthew, having watched your reaction in a reflection, rolls his eyes.

Back still to you, he clarifies. “You promised you wouldn’t make this a whole thing.”

“I'm not.”

“You've never been a good liar.”

“Isn't that a good thing?” you deflect.

You turn your attention back to the lively stadium, watching as it fills with laughter and anticipation. You're hoping he'll take the hint and drop it, that he won't pull the night apart at the seams.

He abandons the sprawling buffet table in favor of the plush recliner beside yours. Once settled, Matthew slides a plate of your favorites across the small table between you.

“Don't change the subject.”

The cement under your boots makes for a captive audience as you sail into dicey weather. “I know—I know what I said, and I'm really trying my best, but can you blame me? I mean, c’mon, Matty. Look where we are.”

“A Taylor Swift concert?” Matthew does what he does best.

You know his tells and his tricks. You indulge neither.

“My first Taylor Swift concert. Ever. I came out of The Queue From Hell empty-handed and shit out of luck, yet here we are. The Eras Tour. And not way up the nosebleeds or side-stage with an obstructed view. A suite. A private, fifteen-person suite—for just us. You did that.”

Matthew shifts uncomfortably. He scratches the shadow clinging to his jaw. He looks everywhere, at everything. Everything except you.

“So?”

The probe is firm yet reluctant but not inherently dismissive.

“So,” you heave a labored sigh of unease. “—so, how could I not? This ‘whole thing’ is the kindest, most thoughtful gesture anyone’s ever done for me. It means the absolute world, and I know you know that.”

A thick, paralyzing quiet descends on the balcony.

He does know that, which is what makes it so terrible. He knows, he knows, he knows. Matthew knows; he wishes he didn’t. For years, he successfully kept it at bay because… because you can’t just un-know something like that. Even entertaining the thought felt too big a risk. It jeopardizes the delicate peace only willful ignorance can safeguard.

“Alright, alright. Jesus, sweetheart. Can't have you emptying the tank before the show even starts,” Matthew teases as he thumbs the tears away. “How d’ya know I didn’t pull some strings just to put an end to your perpetual pity party?”

He’s trying to lighten the mood. Hoping to inch away from the emotionally dense zone of uncharted territory, hoping you’ll have mercy—or take pity—on him and his plight of avoidance.

And you do.

Ever the benevolent people-pleaser.

You take your foot off the gas. You retreat to the status quo. You yield, but for a good cause.

Good and right aren’t synonymous. And we can’t will them to be. So, instead, we choose our battles and bide our time.

There’s no reason to rain on tonight’s parade.

“Thank you,” you acquiesce.

Mathew smiles.

This ceasefire, this tacit truce, is as fragile as rice paper. It feels as though, if someone pushed too hard from either side, they'd go right through it unchallenged. But, for now, it's enough.

He takes your hand and squeezes. “And for the hundredth time, you’re welcome.”

IV. it’s been a long time coming…

He gets it now.

Truthfully, he understood after the very first bridge of the night. There’s just something about the intimacy of the spectacle; it's… indescribable. With thousands from all walks of life gathered in a single stadium to celebrate nearly two decades of singing, crying, and growing up together, it wasn't difficult to get swept up in the magic.

For someone who’d consider themselves fan-adjacent at best, he wasn’t expecting to feel much of anything, let alone goosebumps, misty-eyed.

He can’t even imagine how extraordinarily special it must’ve been for you, a lifelong fan, to partake in the world’s most cinematic sing-along. To luck out with your opener of choice, to be surprised with your favorite song during the acoustic set—you could probably die happy. Matthew can still feel your tear-streaked cheek against his shoulder and your shakey hand clasped in his. And he’ll remember the warmth of your joy for the rest of his life.

He, however, doesn't have to imagine how much the experience took out of you.

“Hey, hey. Don’t pass out on me yet, sweetheart.”

You’re one minute into a five-minute Uber ride, and he’s already had to nudge you twice.

Curled against the cool window like a cat, you groggily protest, “I’m not. My mind is alive, promise.”

He snorts. “Then why’re your eyes shut?”

“They aren’t!”

They absolutely are.

Matthew tugs you across his lap with a smile pulling at his cheeks.

“Sounds like you need to get yours checked, Matthew Brendan,” you quip into his chest before drowning the backseat in delirious giggles.

In the golden glow of the streetlamps, his smirk rests against your temple.

Here is the moment. There have been hundreds like it in the years since you met. Lighthearted banter and late night laughter spill over into the early morning hours, all of it utter nonsense he wouldn’t trade for anything. It should be perfectly ordinary, but it's music to his ears.

The cowboy boots he swore he wouldn’t carry home rest against his similarly sore calves. The ziplock bag, once bursting at the seams with bracelets, is empty and folded in his back pocket, and his arm is full from elbow to wrist. The glitter he contested clings to him like a second skin, there to stay.

And he doesn’t hate it.

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

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All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2024 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

patrons gained access to this piece on MAY 15, 2024 as part of their early bird perks. learn more HERE!

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tenebraevesper · 3 months ago

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Sonic the Hedgehog Analyzer, Issue #66: Misadventures (Part 5)

This is Part 2 of the Knuckles and Chaotix VS Babylon Rogues, as well as Cream, the Chao and Gemerl protecting their dinner party from Rough and Tumble stories. In comparison to any of the previous stories, it does feel more low-stakes, but that doesn't mean that it is less important. In fact, this Issue has one of my favorite panels, and I'm sure some of you know what it is.

We kick off the story with Knuckles and the Chaotix charging at the panicked Babylon Rogues. The brawl is on!

Jet orders his team to split up, him and Wave grabbing the relics while Storm holds them off. While Storm gets into a fight with Knuckles, Charmy managed to snatch the relic Jet was holding.

Things go well, until Jet accuses Charmy of stealing, with the bee realizing that is something only bad guys do, so he apologizes and returns the relic to Jet. Gotta say, I love Charmy's childish nature, since it serves as a good punchline in certain scenarios. Fortunately, Jet doesn't get far as Espio sticks to his Extreme Gear.

Jet gets annoyed, with Espio knocking them down into the water after spinning them around, while Wave gets ambushed by Vector.

Vector clamps onto Wave's Extreme Gear, flying up high, with the next panel following up on the fight between Storm and Knuckles, the former seemingly stronger, at least until Knuckles destroys the pier.

This appears to be enough, with Storm getting knocked out, Wave surrendering to after Vector threatens to throw her off balance and a soaked Jet responding in defeat that they can take the relics back. All in all, the job is done.

Wave is pissed off about the bite marks on her board, while Storm apologizes to Jet, who isn't in mood for any of this nonsense. Vector questions him about their client, but Jet tries to avoid answering by suggesting they stole it because they wanted to. Vector then decides to take away Jet's Extreme Gear as ''evidence'' (which he may or may not intend to break), forcing Jet to comply.

His answer is simple - they have no clue what their client's name is, since he calls them, he pays them, end of story.

Props to Espio's smug look, that one cracked me up.

Knuckles doesn't really care about client, being happy that he got his relics back. Storm, being the idiot he is, decides to mock Knuckles and challenge him again. Are you sure you want this, buddy? Because I feel that Knuckles would win this one.

Fortunately for Storm, Jet and Wave have enough common sense to drag him away, leaving Knuckles stunned. Vector then asks him for their pay, with Knuckles responding he'll pay them in fruit and mushrooms. Vector is left in tears, but Espio points out how they get free groceries this way, which suddenly reminds Vector of their dinner party at Vanilla's.

He quickly shoves the relics into Knuckles' arms and the three scramble to get to Vanilla's in time... with Vector being stunned that Espio and Charmy were invited. Wait, did he really think this was going to be a date with Vanilla?

Eh, I like Vectilla, so I feel some pity for Vector, but let's be real, all of the Chaotix would be invited to dinner.

Meanwhile, Knuckles has realized that he has no clue how to get home. Oh, well, maybe he could go find Tails and ask him to fly him in the Tornado over to Angel Island?

...

Wait a minute, how did Knuckles even get from Angel Island to the mainland?!

Back with the Babylon Rogues, we learn that Jet was lying (I'm not surprised) and contacts their client. He tells this mysterious client that they got caught by the Chaotix and lost the relics, promising they'll get them back, only for the client to tell him that all of this was orchestrated to ensure that certain parties would be preoccupied while he conducted his business.

In other words, the Babylon Rouges have never met this person, as far as their client is concerned.

Speaking of the client, we learn that the one who hired the Babylon Rogues is Clutch, which isn't that surprising. After all, he is being given the spotlight in this Arc, so it would be kinda obvious. That doesn't make Jet feel less shocked, mainly because Clutch discards them like they're nothing. Well, at least he payed them for their work.

No, what's actually shocking here is that Clutch is at the Restoration, meeting up with Jewel, who innocently believes that Clutch's Clean Sweep Inc. will help them in restoring Earth back to a state before Eggman and Infinite destroyed it.

Honestly, this one shot was one of the most intriguing panels I've seen in this comic series, but we'll have to wait a little longer to see how it turns out.

We go back to Cream and the fire that has ensued in the kitchen, the little rabbit being on the brink of tears, while Gemerl is holding back Rough and Tumble.

Uh, Rough, why are you still trying to grab Cream? Don't you see the raging fire in front of you?

*cough*stupid*cough*

Cream is determined to save the dinner, or whatever is left of it, slamming the lid on the pot while Cheese turns the stove off. Then, she gets finally overwhelmed by the stress of the situation, tears welling up in her eyes.

As for Rough and Tumble, they make things worse by throwing the prepared food at Gemerl.

Cream is pissed off, attacking Tumble for ruining the dinner, only for the latter to grab her. Fortunately for her, Cheese and Chocola deal with him, while Gemerl finishes off Rough and helps Cream up.

Rough and Tumble are not done yet, wanting to continue the fight, only for the alarm reminding Cream that the roast is done. Tumble pauses, wondering if they're still fighting and once Rough confirms it, Tumble immediately steps on the roast.

Not cool, dude!

Cream tears up, staring in disbelief at the ruined remains of their dinner, and then starts bawling, leaving Rough and Tumble flustered. It seems that it finally dawned on the two how much they messed up, but we're not done yet, because Vanilla is back!

And this is where we get my favorite panel of this Issue, because once Vanilla realizes what's going on, she gives Rough and Tumble a look that I interpreted as ''I'm going to kill you and use your ashes as a fertilizer for my garden.''

Yeah, I think this is the day we all realized how scary Vanilla can be. This woman has murdered before and she's about to do it again, with Rough and Tumble cowering before her, begging her to spare their lives.

I'm loving every part of this! X3

She's still pissed off even when the Chaotix arrive, only for her expression to change to a smug smile when she assures Vector that Rough and Tumble wouldn't be causing any trouble, who agree in panic.

She then switches to Mum Mode, comforting Cream and coming up with a way to salvage the dinner party.

The solution? Takeout! And Rough and Tumble also join in on the dinner, with everyone having fun and Vector getting a cute moment with Vanilla.

All is well in the world... right?

Well, considering what the last panel says about the next story, things are about to get really interesting.

Links:

#Previous Issue

#Next Issue

#Sonic the Hedgehog Analyzer (Masterlist)

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newx-menfan · 3 months ago

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To all the Hellion haters and people whining about NYX #8, LKW #7, and the possible rekindling of Julian and Laura…

I’m just going to say this, because frankly, I’m just sick of it-

Everyone has fictional relationships they don’t like. GET OVER IT.

Truthfully- I don’t like Rogue and Magneto. Not because of the age gap discourse or any “moral” issue; I just don’t care for it.

But if I see fans excited about “X-Men ‘97” on tumblr or the “Savage Land” series and posting about it…you know what I do?

I ignore it. I ignore it, because I realize people can like what they like and it has NOTHING to do with me.

When Rogue and Magneto popped up in “Age of Apocalypse” or Carey’s “X-Men Legacy”… you know what I did?

I sucked it up and read the book anyway.

And if I can’t do that? I just don’t read it.

Here’s the thing, to all the X-23 fans that hate Hellion - I don’t really care. None of the people who like this character… actually care that you hate this character.

You’re not going to convince fans by posting the same old screenshot of “the Babysitter’s Arc” or screaming again and again on Hellion posts that we’re all somehow awful people for enjoying this comic book pairing.

We don’t care.

I frankly DON’T even GET what you guys EXPECT or think you are going to get out of arguing with fans about this relationship anymore…

Liu’s story was DROPPED in 2011… we already heard this argument a million times over on tumblr and pretty much everywhere else…

We’ve already heard “Liu’s story was a masterpiece and you guys are just grasping at straws ”, “Hellion is toxic and abusive”, “Hellion is a useless fuckboy that doesn’t deserve Laura”, and “Laura’s history as an abuse victim makes this relationship very problematic”…

We’ve heard it…and we still don’t agree or care.

Frankly… we don’t EVEN ACTUALLY know how this issue will likely even GO…

Quite possibly… the cover is a lie, or LKW#7 ends with Laura and Hellion deciding to move on from their past completely because they realize they can’t make it work…

Most Hellion fans are honestly going into this issue assuming it could sink the possibility of Julian and Laura rather than rekindle it…

Remember HOW excited most fans got for the “Misadventures in Babysitting” preview and how everyone talked about how excited they were to see Hellion fighting a dragon…

And we ALL KNOW how that WENT.

So I am just going to be brutally honest to Laura fans that hate Hellion- I have no problem telling you how much I do not care.

If you’re reblogging mine or people’s posts that are genuinely excited about issue #7 and screaming about how we’re all “abuse apologists” for liking a fictional character who was represented that way by ONE WRITER- someone’s probably going to comment on that.

If you’re posting with “Hellion” tagged- someone is probably going to comment on that too.

That’s kind of the reality of the internet and if you don’t want that… there are options to avoid that…like turning off the “reblog” button on a post… or not commenting on certain people’s posts…

If you guys want to scream into the void about how much you hate Hellion… go do that on the “X-23” tag… I don’t care and won’t even acknowledge it…

But the harsh truth is- people sometimes like things you don’t like or enjoy. OH WELL.

There’s tons of Magneto and Rogue fan art when I search for Rogue and threads all over the internet after “X-Men ‘97” was released… and you know what?… Good for them.

I’m glad people have things they enjoy, even though it’s not my thing… I just let people live.

If I can put up with “Rogue and Magneto” even though Rogue is one of my all time favorite X-Men… or deal with “Warren” or “Synch” in X-23 comic books…

You guys can suck up writers revisiting Hellion and Laura in NYX #8 and LKW #7… 🙄

#Over it #over it all #Hellion #Julian Keller #The Krakoan #X23 #x 23 #Laura Kinney #laura x23 #Wolverine #NYX #marvel #x men #new xmen #new x men #academy x #new x men academy x #bring back the new x men

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paranormal-taters · 3 months ago

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So what is Murderbot?

I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED

I'm probably gonna butcher it but basically, The Murderbot Diaries follows the misadventures of a character known as Murderbot/SecUnit (it refers to itself as Murderbot and its human companions call it SecUnit). Murderbot (the character) is what's known as a bot-human construct (basically an android with biological components, in slightly simpler terms). "SecUnit" is short for Security Unit. Security Units are created to provide security/protection for the humans who employ them, and are considered by most to not be persons in their own right.

(From the Wiki) SecUnits are fitted with a governor module, which punishes them if their behavior deviates from a given set of programming and instructions. For example, if a SecUnit tries to sit down on human furniture, it's punished. If it hacks systems or searches for hacks without human direction, it's punished.

(Back to me) So at the start of the first book in The Murderbot Diaries, we're told that Murderbot has hacked its governor module and is no longer under its control. But it's pretending to be, to avoid the Consequences™ of being a rogue SecUnit.

The books are all narrated by Murderbot and we follow along as it navigates its path of self-discovery (along which it drags its feet constantly because it does not want to be considered human and is quite proud to be a SecUnit) surrounded by human companions who are mostly very supportive of Murderbot being its own person. Murderbot, while unerringly devoted to the protection of its humans, mostly wishes to be left alone so it can watch media (most especially its favorite show, The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon)

I don't want to spoil too much so I'll stop my rambling here. All that to say, I can't recommend this series highly enough. I really really loved listening to the audiobook versions in particular, because Kevin R. Free is an amazing narrator.

#thank you for giving me the opportunity to ramble #i love this series SO MUCH #hopefully i didn't misrepresent anything #the murderbot diaries

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some-small-mercy · 4 months ago

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Whalefall: Esoterica

Or, a series of little vignettes to get a sense of the voices of different characters and figure out how exactly they ended up on a survey mission to the ass-end of nowhere that double as ways to explore basically meaningless corners of the All Systems Commonwealth.

Interstellar Grunt Work - Zhou Lei was the security officer on duty for the not-really-a-passenger-vessel Cobalt Dawn during an interstellar voyage. It is not a good job even before you start talking about the fun of keeping passengers from different species and cultures living in cramped, stressful conditions for weeks at a time from tearing each other to pieces (potentially literally). He’s conscientious enough to leave a detailed report with the authorities when they arrive before walking off the job.

Centinati Local Politics - Ven Yekeoul is a xeropol (a minor species with even less institutional heft in the Commonwealth than humanity) aspiring xenobiologist. The brownnosing and flattery to get past the ‘asiring’ bit is probably worse than any of the actual work he’s done. In this case it means digging up the most cringeworthy thing he wrote for the student paper about local politics as an undergrad and pretending to be deeply invested in it.

Corporate Espionage - Renata Kende is a talented engineer who has, by complete coincidence, been hired on to a rival syndicate of her previous employer more or less simultaneously with that rival announcing exciting new technology identical to what she had been involved in developing. Unsurprisingly, some politely pointed questions are asked.

And a variety of popular outreach articles blog posts by Verit Lavoie, graduate student in xenoanthropology, serial procrastinator and actual protagonist, about various weird things that have occurred in the history and periphery of the All-Systems Commonwealth.

The Slave Lords of Rekath - The Star Empire of Rekath is a rogue state on the fringes of the Commonwealth, a xenophobic state entirely controlled by the native Rekath - walking tanks of a species with a lifespan that approaches four digits. This leaves them with a fear of death that borders on culturally approved paranoia. Thus, all the demeaning, dangerous, or just tedious labor that could not be easily automated is handled by a slave caste descended from Commonwealth colonists abducted centuries ago. They’re very popular.

First Contact Misadventures - The tlilf were one of the first intelligent species encountered by Commonwealth explorers after its founding - and the first that weren’t advanced enough to be considered prospective members. Which meant the regulations on how to approach it were…vague. Which meant the corporation sponsoring the expedition saw a huge potential for profit. The Commonwealth now has a much harsher stance on arms-dealing to rival nation-states.

The Republic of Eden - Humanity’s flourishing and restive extrasolar colonies were pried away from Earth’s control by a Commonwealth ‘peacekeeping intervention’. A century later, the solar system was annexed by the Hykaeri Imperial Republic. In between, the bitter and increasingly desperate human rump states tried a lot of variably wise things - like sending a fleet of heavily armed prospectors to a newly charted expanse of space hoping to find a viable new colony. It didn’t go quite as badly as it could have.

The Kirik Empire - The Krin-Tcho Compact was the first other interstellar society encountered by the then-young Commonwealth - an empire ruling over half a dozen species and more than twice as many worlds with an iron fist, endless streams of tribute turning their homeworld into a beautifully parasitic paradise. First Contact went badly, and the war that followed shortly after started off even worse - but soon enough the downsides of most of your population kind of hating you began to show themselves.

#whalefall #worldbuildidng #science fiction #meta

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aesfocus · 7 months ago

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turned off all DOF for veilguard(after the first patch its a bit off sometimes) AND turned on fade-touched textures. mmmmm so fucking good. SO GOOD. I can cut my grass with it now.

Also decided I want to play a mage bad enough that I turned the difficulty to story mode and whoa. very.... face rolly. will be interesting to do some end game content that way, if I don't slowly bump up the difficulty -_-

#misadventures with aes #aes plays vg #I'm ALMOST ready for nightmare with rogue but I need to figure out some solid builds first #I haven't looked at any online and I am trying to avoid it but some bosses seem like they gonna be a PITA without a solid build #meanwhile this mage is just like *rolls face across keyboard* oh look I won #warrior.... I don't know her

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gay-for-the-snz · 7 months ago

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Loversbane (F, allergies) [NSFW!]

Brief diversion from Sicktember that I was so on fire for I started it last night and finished it tonight before I could sleep. Not beta'd literally at all, genuinely just porn without plot because I was thinking violently about sex pollen and allergies, with a smidge of worldbuilding thrown in there because that's simply who I am

NSFW, four people suckin n fuckin (two pairs), some snzfucking voyeurism, vaguely dubcon because of the nature of sex pollen in general? 2.1k

⁂

The tent, once they've pitched it, is minuscule in its dimensions. How he ever allowed them to strong-arm him into this decision to share one is beyond him, but after the misadventure that saw the last camp destroyed by bandits, their options were slim. This was the best the last town had for sale, and if it came down to this or sleeping on the ground in a bedroll as his only protection from the elements, this is the marginally better option.

The close quarters are claustrophobic to say the least, especially to one so accustomed to his own space. He's wedged between Damian and Corva, with Laïla on the opposite side of her wife, at the bard's insistence. It's cramped. It's uncomfortable. But it is his only option, short of crawling out and sleeping in the lush grass of the clearing, no doubt infested with all manner of insect and snake and gods-know-what-else.

He's got his eyes closed, hands clasped on his chest as he tries to ignore the sounds of shifting and breathing, the feeling of body heat right up against him. He's surprised to realize that this isn't quite as uncomfortable as he'd have expected it to be. The evening is warm enough as to not be unpleasant, but not so hot as to be intolerable, and the scent of the forest is pleasantly soft but present in a way that soothes the rawness of these sleeping arrangements.

A hand touches his hip, and he looks over with irritation. He's surprised to meet the rogue's half-lidded gaze, his dark eyes looking intently at him from beneath his lashes. This is an invitation, not an accident.

He's more surprised than anything to realize that he isn't revolted like he ought to be. He's never noticed before how his hair is a deeply rich shade of copper, how his black eyes are so keen and lustful, how his skin is a warm bronze that calls to mind the sun even under the light of the moon. He nudges slightly into his touch, letting the hand on his hip find purchase over the fabric of his nightgown.

It's obscene to even consider doing anything with the rogue of all people, especially when they couldn't have any less privacy short of being in a town square, but he can't find it in himself to care. He brings a hand up to touch Damian's chest, the warm metal of his rings pressed against his skin.

Beside him, he's aware of the sound of blankets shifting, of the women moving to one another, but he doesn't pay them any heed. He's got something more important to focus on. Damian is hiking up the hem of his nightgown, grabbing at his ass and pulling him closer to straddle him. With no need to keep from waking the others, they're more careless in keeping quiet about it. He lets Damian's tongue into his mouth, letting it run along the pointed canines.

This is rancid. This is something he should be far from enjoying. But he can't deny the absolute electric feeling from every touch, the red-hot lust sparking beneath his skin. He's pulling down Damian's pants, now, letting the situation escalate as rapidly as they want it to--it's impossible to slow it all down, to let himself take any time. Every second they aren't getting closer to one another is unbearable.

Behind him, he's dimly aware of the sound of Corva and Laïla getting closer as well, of their kissing and soft moans. Someone sniffles, but he's too focused on the feeling of Damian's mouth on one nipple to pay attention to anything else. It's almost overwhelming. There's no doubt in his mind that the rogue is good at what he does--he's a man with a wealth of experience, experience he's had a century to hone, and he makes it well known in every touch he visits upon him.

He's lost in the feeling of his tongue on his skin, of Damian's hands sliding his legs apart and teasing at his folds--good gods, how long has it been since someone's touched him like this? He's hopeful that his patron is paying no heed right now, because this is a conversation he isn't going to want to have when whatever this is has worn off and he comes back to his senses.

He jumps when a hand is placed on his shoulder, and his startling is enough to startle Damian into pausing. Beside him, Corva's head is thrown back with a whimper, her wife's tongue buried inside of her as she takes the opportunity to please her. She's braced against him, now, grabbing his nightgown in a tight fist, just for purchase and to be grabbing something. He doesn't really want to try and displace her--he's busy, and so is she, and he doubts she would take well to being interrupted just to remove her hand when it's not doing anything but holding onto his clothes.

Besides...

He's never noticed how beautiful she is, either. Her skin is a deep, rich shade of brown, the long, thick braids of her hair the color of the night sky, the metallic freckles on her cheeks like stars beneath them. A halo crowns her, dim but readily noticeable in the low light of the tent, and he thinks he truly sees for the first time that the angelic qualities she has aren't just from her bloodline. Her lashes are thick and soft, fluttering against her cheeks with each little whimper and squirm, her full lips alternating between parted with each noise and pressed into a tight line at the pleasure. And her nose...

It's wide and flat, expressive and squishy; a delicate sheen of moisture clings to her nostrils, which quiver slightly with each breath. She's given up on sniffling, letting it start to run free, and he's entranced by it. He watches it scrunch, wriggling it side to side against the feeling.

Damian, clearly irritated with being ignored, decides to get his attention. He gasps sharply when he feels him slide into him, and he's more than ready to receive the rogue. The waiting has felt like an eternity, even if he knows they've only stopped touching eachother for what might be a matter of a minute or so.

The rogue's fingers brush lightly over his clit, and he grits his teeth against the feeling to keep from cursing. "Damian--"

"Call me by my name."

"Aldamianor--"

"Huh'urRSCHieww!"

Corva sneezes, startles all three of them. She reaches up a trembling hand to rub at her nose, leaking nostrils twitching in irritation at the act. She sniffles, congestion already starting to seep into the sound of it, and Laïla reaches up to tug her hand away, to kiss her deeply and passionately.

She breaks away with a shaking gasp, nostrils blown out into perfect O's of itchy desperation, but the act goes nowhere when her wife's fingers are pressed firmly beneath them, covering them completely. "No, no, my love, my muse, my heart--none of that, now. No sneezing, heart, none of that."

"Laïla..."

Damian eases a finger into him, and Despair's attention is torn away by the feeling. He doesn't know whether to tell him to stop playing and get to business, or to stop entirely so he can focus on what Corva's doing. He's never held a fascination for this before, but neither has he for the rogue, so perhaps this is a night of discovery all around. He tenses when he looks back towards her, sees those beautiful nostrils flare wider than the fingers blocking them in a manner so deeply and unequivocally needy.

The instant her nostrils are flared past the fingers trying to stop them, she's given no choice but to give in. "HuUH-! huURSHieww! 'RSCHieww! huH-!"

Laïla has reached up, pinched her nose shut since the previous method was ineffective. "What did I tell you, hm? You look so beautiful like this, so perfect for me." She watches that nose scrunching hard against the hand keeping it at bay, still clearly deeply irritated and desperate for relief it's being denied.

"L-love, why w--hh-! won't you--huH-!?"

"I want to see you like this. I want to watch you."

And so does he. He rolls his hips to try and achieve a bit of friction, to convince Damian to actually reach in to start stroking him instead of just toying with him to build anticipation that isn't paying off. He sucks in a sharp breath when he returns his attention to his clit, letting the heel of his palm grind against it while he drags a finger along his insides. Oh, gods.

He whimpers something that even he isn't entirely sure what it is--perhaps Damian's name, his true one instead of the drivel the humans gave him because it was easier--perhaps it was a command not to stop, or perhaps it was nothing but a sound of desperation that clawed its way up from his throat as he writhes in agonizing pleasure against the rogue. He understands, intimately, how the man made a living as a pickpocket for many years--he is excellent with his hands.

He clenches involuntarily when he watches Corva's gasp be met with the release of her wife's hand, her nail dragging up her septum and teasing one desperately quivering nostril, and--

"hrRESSHh'uh! 'RSCHieww! huURRSCHhieww!"

A trio of them, uncovered and spraying all three of them with the contents of that nose, just as needy and dripping as he's sure they both are by now. She looks torn between another sneeze and something else--her wife's returned her attention to her lap, eating her like a starved animal.

He never thought he could be so enamored by someone's allergies...allergies?

Something in his mind crackles like wildfire, a burst of divine inspiration--oh, wonderful. His patron IS watching in on this, then--that cuts through the haze of desperation like a knife.

Allergies. Fey plants. In his mind's eye, he can see petals unfurling, a pleasant scent filling the air, thousands and thousands of little grains of pollen being released.

Oh. Gods. He knows what this is.

"It's--mmh!--it's Loversbane--" He struggles to force himself to speak, overwhelmed by the intensity of the entire situation. Of his own approaching orgasm, of Corva's desperate allergies, of the lust that is overpowering his faculties.

It's a potent aphrodisiac, that much he knew, but the stuff you can get from a sleazy alchemist doesn't hold a candle to the power of the fresh stuff, and he can't imagine that they're far from a patch of it, if it's driven them all to such a frenzy. They're notoriously difficult to keep alive, and even more notoriously difficult to find a fresh clump like this. Alchemists and students would kill to know where this is, to be able to experience the effects firsthand and know what they're studying.

If any of the others have grasped the meaning of his warning, they don't show it. He's trembling, now, knows he's on the brink of it, and Corva must be too, because she's stopped trying to even talk to her wife, now just desperately hitching and whimpering thinly. He can't tear his eyes off of her nose, watching, enraptured, by the way it seems to quiver and twitch just like they both are.

Her chest heaves with a harsh, ragged gasp as she throws her head back in pleasure. "huH-! huURRSSHHIeww!" The spray coats all of them, the cool mist electrifying over his burning hot skin.

He clenches when she releases, grinds his throbbing clit hard against Damian and lets the finger inside him find that sweet spot, and feels it wash over him as well. He's gasping and panting, sweaty as he pushes Damian away from him. He's halfway curled in on himself, dropping the hem of his nightgown and brushing the hair back from his face with a shaky hand.

Beside him, Corva is still feeling the effects of the Loversbane--Laïla's tongue is still stroking along her folds, easing her through the orgasm while her nose still protests the allergen it's being assaulted by.

"huH'sshiew! 'schieww! Huh-uH-! usschuue! huh'schieww!" They're weak, tired things now, too spent to put any real power behind them. She paws at her nose, the sound of wet clicking audible as she tries to massage the tickle away. She takes the handkerchief her wife offers, blows her nose thoroughly. The sound of it is devastatingly wet--a fact that he can attest to, feeling the ghost of where the spray settled across his skin during this little adventure--and she muffles a final, exhausted, "husshiew!" into it before collapsing against the bedroll.

This will be a regrettable conversation to have in the morning, but for now, all he can think about is the split desire between moving their tent as far from here as possible, and hoping to any god who may be listening that the wind shifts their way again, brings a fresh wave of that pollen into everyone's respiratory system.

In the end, he pins his hopes on the latter.

#sickfic #snzfic #snz #sex pollen #sorry if this is not what you came here for but uhhhh I simply love it when women are sneezing and also when there's sex happening sometime #and both these things 🤝together #anyway I was going a lil insane and had to drop everything I was doing so I could write this #sex pollen likers and allergy likers and woman likers. this one's for you (and me)

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snarryauctoberfest · 8 months ago

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2024 Snarry AUctoberfest Anon Masterlist 💚❤️

Below is the complete AUctoberfest 2024 list of Anon Works. Reveals will happen on the 9th November.

Thank you to all the wonderful participants who made this year so special, and to all the Snarry fans who have helped celebrate and enjoy the works created for this fest.

Our Guess the Creator Game will be coming soon, for anyone who wants to try figuring out who some of our talented participants were before reveals happen.

View the collection on AO3.

Podfic

Title: Lively Days at Potter House by khaleesisophie - a Podfic Creator: ??? Prompt: N/a Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Length: 2:12:47 Summary: Podfic of Lively Days at Potter House by khaleesisophie Harry, who has a misplaced understanding of his own skill in matchmaking, attempts to strike a match for his dear friend, Draco Malfoy. A tale of misunderstanding and romantic misadventures. Or, the Emma Snarry AU we always needed. 💚❤️ Listen on AO3 💚❤️

Art

Title: A Dragon's Treasure Creator: ??? Prompt: 2023-171 Snarry as Dragons! Maledictus for drama? Animagus for fluff? Them just being dragons as very AU (without any ‘they-were-human-at-one-point’)? Httyd crossover? Obscure battle magic to fight Voldemort? Rating: General Audiences Word Count: ART and 278 words Summary: It is only in the world of legends and myths that dragons live today. They are matters of stories and tales told to children at night, fantasy so wondrous only the bravest of us dare to let our minds wander. 💚❤️ View on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Fanart: You Are... Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-199 - Snarry, but with dinosaurs Rating: General Audiences Word Count: Art Summary: What does Harry have to do to get Severus' attention? 💚❤️ View on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Illicit Goods Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-231: That trope where a character is told to disarm themselves of all their weapons but they keep pulling more and more out, but it's Snape. Harry is unbearably turned on the more weapons show up. Rating: Mature Word Count: Summary: Harry is very interested in what is in Snape's pants… and his bag, and his coat, and… 💚❤️ View on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Muggle Adventures (Alligators Edition) Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-82: An alligator features prominently in the fan work Rating: General Audiences Word Count: Artwork Summary: You want alligators? I'll give you alligators. 💚❤️ View on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: positions of love Creator: ??? Prompt: 2020-32 - Someone of your choice is producing a gay wizarding version of the kama sutra and needs to hire two wizards to model each position for the illustrations. Harry and Severus are the ones who get the job. Rating: Explicit Word Count: Summary: A few pages of a gay wizarding version of the kama sutra, starring Severus and Harry 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

Fanfic - In alphabetical order

Title: A Prize Worth Any Price Creator: ??? Prompt: N/a Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7.7k Summary: Defeated by the Rogue King and his army, the remaining nobles of Voldania sacrifice omega Severus Snape as a war prize. They know the propaganda about the Rogue King's marauding ways and discarded lovers. The nobles laugh about sending an old, 'ugly' omega and taunt Severus with predictions that he'll be hate-ravished or killed outright for the insult. Meanwhile Harry thinks he's agreed to an arranged marriage for the peace contracts. He knows about the spy who worked for the resistance during Voldemort's reign. He's excited to have such a dashing spouse. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: After Spinner's End Creator: ??? Prompt: N/a Rating: Mature Word Count: 4.2k Summary: When Harry left his aunt and uncle's he hadn't meant to end up in Cokeworth. But he'd fallen asleep on the bus; it was late, and now he needed somewhere to stay until morning. While the crooked, empty house on the corner looked like it would do just fine in a pinch, had Harry bothered to ask, the locals would have told him the house at Spinner's End might look empty, but it wasn't. Something lived there; whatever it was, it was best left alone. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: After the Orchard Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-110: Newly widowed Harry has trouble getting his son to sleep. One night Hermione sends him a podcast of Severus Snape talking about his time during the war, and it puts his son directly to sleep. Even though the man had never answered any of Harry’s letters through the year, he decides to reach out and tell him about this new development. Rating: Mature Word Count: 20.8k Summary: Same as prompt. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Bad Ideas Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-82: An alligator features prominently in the fan work Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 684 Summary: A romantic weekend gets run aground when a hunt for mythological creatures finds “something.” 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: baring my arse (baring my heart) Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024 09 - Naked wedding. That's it, that's the prompt. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5k Summary: "Why do we have to be naked again?" 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Beginnings Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-154 - Harry is the God of Earth and Severus the God of the Nightsky Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 3k Summary: In the beginning there was nothing… A retelling of the beginnings of time and the world as we know it. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Blonde Tresses Creator: ??? Prompt: Prompt: 2024-115 - Severus had sworn never to kneel before another wizard again. But he had to try proposing one last time. Rating: Mature Word Count: 1.2k Summary: Same as prompt. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Chance Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-66 Harry sends a dick pic to the wrong number. Oops. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 27.8k + art Summary: Severus did not receive a lot of text messages. Especially not to his work phone. Especially not from unknown numbers. Especially not dick pics. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Chords of Affection Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-130 - When the bartender says 'Someone bought you a drink' both Severus & Lucius assume it's for Lucius. Both are surprised when they're told it's for Severus. Lucius pushes Sev to talk to the gorgeous green-eyed man staring at him with a glass raised. (Lucius ships snarry). Rating: Explicit Word Count: 18k Summary: Severus is distracted by his newest admirer. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Conditions To Bloom Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-11: Severus is a plant doctor who takes in people’s sick plants and nurses them back to health. Harry is a well-meaning plant dad whose poor plants are constantly on death’s door. Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Word Count: 9.8k Summary: Severus lets his gaze fall to the sagging aloe plant in front of him, and it hardly takes a cursory glance before he has his diagnosis. “Root rot,” he says. The man’s eyebrows shoot up on his forehead. “But how do you–I’ve hardly been watering it at all!” Supporting a drooping leaf with the tip of his pen, Severus eyes the unnatural lean of the stem and gives the customer a disbelieving raise of one eyebrow. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Deceit and Debauchery Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-37 Regency AU, would love if it's Bridgerton inspired. Maybe Kanthony? (unfortunately I don’t know Bridgerton that well but I hope this regency smut fest will suffice). Rating: Explicit Word Count: 13.8k Summary: Severus' curiosity as to who Tracey Davis is going to try to entrap into marriage pays off when he see's that it is none other than Harry Potter. He knows he has the chance to save his friends son from what will certainly be a disastrous marriage but what will be Severus' rewards for his efforts? 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Don't You Wanna Mess With Me? Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-106 - Harry runs his own successful bakery after the second wizarding war. His treacle tart is famous throughout the wizarding world, but the recipe remains a closely guarded secret. Severus runs a rival bakery, and tries to sneak into Harry's kitchen after hours to steal the recipe for himself. Harry is startled and manages to tip an entire batch worth of batter over Severus in his shock, triggering an epic food fight that rapidly devolves into a filthy fuck. Bonus points for a sickly sweet ending. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3.3k Summary: Things get messy when rival bakery owner, Severus Snape, pays Harry a visit in his kitchen. 😘 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Fate's Blind Date Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-58 - Harry gets stood up but sees Severus walking along the street and invites him out instead. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 29.8k Summary: When Severus indulges himself with a walk along the West End after work, the last thing he imagines is that he will get invited to a show by a gorgeous young man. Things only get more astounding after that when their casual meeting evolves into something more and Severus finds himself pulled into a family feud that threatens to bring his dark past to light. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: First Impressions Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-216: Trope reversal: Snape was forced into multiple arranged marriages by his grandparents. The spouses kept dying. Very mysterious. But Harry isn't worried when he winds up the latest candidate. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 24.6k Summary: When Harry is forced to marry a complete stranger, he tries to make the best of things. After all, he's a Healer, he can take care of himself. And his new husband seems nice enough… But why, exactly, has Severus already been married three times before? And why have all three of those previous spouses died unexpectedly? Is Harry next? Or will he fall in love with his new husband after all? 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Flutter Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-76 Apartment Life Harry's been warned to steer clear of the 24th floor. Curiosity got the better of him and Harry checks it out. Its deserted except for apartment 2444. Harry notices signs of life—a faint light under the door, soft sounds of movement. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 30.2k Summary: He said uselessly, "Sev, don't go." "I'm s-sorry-" Harry cupped Severus' face and gazed into his eyes. His eyes were dark brown, almost black, sad, raven, mine. "These stay the same," Severus said. "Remember that when you look at me. Remember, it's me.” Flutter does my heart, When you ask me to stay. I want to live in the moment But the past keeps me a prey. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Gwindr Creator: ??? Prompt: N/a Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11.9k Summary: After a couple of bad relationships, one abusive the other unsatisfying, Harry is desperate to find himself the perfect Dom. His friends are trying to help but their lack of understanding makes them more of a hindrance. Turning to the new wizarding dating app for men, Gwindr, he hopes to be able to find a diamond in the rough. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Help Stepdad, I'm Stuck! Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-67 - Help Stepdad, I'm stuck! Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6k Summary: After years of marriage, Severus can feel his relationship with Lily waning. He had already been contemplating ending things when his stepson, Harry, proposes something that he struggles to refuse, although will he ultimately come to regret it? 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Leak Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-165 - Harry is a plumber (hot daddy type with hairy chest - I beg for it). He was called to Spinner's End. The door was answered by a pissed off, soaked wet bloke in a silk robe and lace stockings. Harry had never been turned on by the sight of another man in his entire life. Well, until now. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.3k Summary: Same as prompt. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Mating for Life - Breeding Season in the Highlands of Scotland Creator: ??? Prompt: N/a Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3.3k Summary: “Among the ruins of an ancient castle in the Highlands of Scotland lives a human species like no other.“ Dudley watches a very educational documentary out of boredom. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: (Not Quite) As You Wish Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-124: After Nagini's bite, due to some unresolved life debt stuff, Severus becomes Harry's Genie in a Bottle… And he desperately wants to make Potter's life as difficult as he can - until he hears what Harry actually wishes for. Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Word Count: 6.5k Summary: It’s post-war, and Harry is still hearing voices. A voice. One, very specific voice. A voice that wants something of him. And it’s the one thing he doesn’t do. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: On thin ice Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-14 Avatar the Last Airbender crossover fic. Is Harry the Avatar? Is Severus the cabbage man? Up to you! Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6.2k Summary: During a ritual at the South Pole to reconnect with her Avatar spirit, Harriet runs into trouble. Snape is hunting her, tasked with bringing her back to Fire Lord Voldemort. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Raven King Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-78 - James warned Harry not to go. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5.4k Summary: Against his father's wishes, Harry and his friends, freshly graduated from Hogwarts High, visit the elusive Euphemia Club. Where for the right price, dreams come true. “The head is too wise. The heart is all fire.” ― Maggie Stiefvater, The Raven King 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Reckoning Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-51: Corporate Snarry! CEOs, IT guys, or just regular employees finding love. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 31.2k Summary: Harry discovers that there is something wrong at his company and sets out to visit it undercover, pretending to be the new Happiness Manager. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Rock Bottom Creator: ??? Prompt: Prompt #1: Wildcard Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Word Count: 10.1k Summary: Just when you think you've hit rock bottom, you want to fuck a student. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: sanguis nocte Creator: ??? Prompt: N/a Rating: Explicit Word Count: 17.7k Summary: When Harry is forcefully turned into a vampire, he turns to the only person he knows will be able to fix him. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Saving Magic Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-170 Time travel (how is up to you). Harry and Severus are now in the same year in Hogwarts. What year? What happens? Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Word Count: 6.5k Summary: "What do you want now, Zir?" Harry asked cautiously. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Second Chance Inheritance Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-232 - The Prince family has a different sort of inheritance, the secret to their success: When they come of age, members are taught the Second Chance spell. One chance to go back in time and fix things. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 32k Summary: Following a tragedy, Severus Snape is determined to tap into his estranged family's greatest legacy. He finds himself with more chances to woo the love of his life than he ever thought possible. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not Creator: ??? Prompt: N/a Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11.8k Summary: There's an outbreak of Hanahaki, and Curse Breaker Hyacinth Potter is brought onto the case, to work closely with the Aurors and Unspeakable Sulpicia Snape. Snape doesn't have a romantic bone in her body, and Hyacinth is happily in love with Ginny Weasley. They have nothing to worry about...right? 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Something Wounded Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-132 - cyborg AU Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8.1k Summary: After surviving the galactic wars, Severus just wants to run his cyborg shop in peace. He lives on Ceplor, a distant, lonely planet. Then, one day, Harry fucking Potter walks into his shop. The infuriating young man traveled across the universe to find him. Why? Because Potter is a cyborg, too. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Synthesis Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-21 - Non-magical AU: “You’re a wizard, Harry.” Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11.2k Summary: Severus is a brilliant but hard-to-work-with chemistry professor, who only teaches because he has to but would much rather spend all his time doing research. Harry is the grad student that either Albus or Minerva - the head of the chemistry department on paper, even though everyone knows Severus always gets what he wants - has assigned to essentially follow Severus around and tell him “no” when he’s being unreasonable. Harry is tasked with keeping Severus on budget and preventing all his students from quitting his class. Severus takes this as a personal affront. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: The Tenth Rule Creator: ??? Prompt: N/a Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11k Summary: Harry’s new master is strange. He dresses Harry in clothes. He cooks Harry food and tells him to bathe when he is dirty. He lets Harry sleep in the bed. He has not touched Harry since he got here. Harry keeps waiting and waiting. Or: Harry is a slave. Severus is his new owner. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Too Hot To Handle: Wizarding Edition Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-102: wizards discover reality TV. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 92.7k Summary: In a world where Voldemort died during the blitz and the Wizarding War, led by Bellatrix Lestrange, ended for good in 1981 when the attack on the Potters led to the Death Eaters being captured without incident, the Ministry is at a loss. The younger generation are not showing any inclination to settle down and have children, as their parents did before them. They considered a number of ideas but the development of the two-way mirror allowed for reality television to become a viable option. Welcome to Too Hot To Handle: Wizarding Edition, a show designed to encourage contestants to form deep and meaningful connections, punishing anyone who breaks the rules. Making more meaningful connections often has unforeseen consequences and what people intend to happen isn't necessarily what actually happens. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

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Title: Wasting Away Again in Margaritaville Creator: ??? Prompt: 2024-80 - A fanwork inspired in some way by the works of the late, great Jimmy Buffett. Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Word Count: 2.1k Summary: Severus Snape hanging out in a resort, life in shambles, enjoys a frozen margarita or three and eyes the bartender. 💚❤️ Read on AO3 💚❤️

🧡 2024 Snarry AUctoberfest Entries || HOS Tumblr || Discord 🧡

#2024 snarry auctoberfest #house of snarry #snarry fanfic #snarry #pro snape #snarry fanart #snarry podfic #Auctoberfest 2024 roundup #anon creator Auctoberfest 2024 roundup

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corrupted-inkwell · 3 months ago

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DP OC PARADE: Worst Fear

Suuper duper late prompt, it took me a while to come up with a concept that I didn't find too "cringey" I guess.

So here's the concept in short: if Dia were to get split by the Ghost Catcher like Danny did in the Identity Crisis episode, what would be the two characteristics that stand out the most for her? Considering Dia's pre-existing battle-ready demeanor I think her duality would be about how it's too much to prove herself as a successful force of nature capable of handling all responsibilities but also just to be a teen allowed to rest and not carry all these burdens.

The exhausted ghost side is too fed up and no longer reluctant to express how she feels, so ultimately she exposes the fears the human half was trying to hide.

Honestly it was just a chance for me to draw her in the kickboxing training outfit and also make a first attempt at how I want the accident scars to look.

More context: Dia was fighting along Danny's side in the basement against one of the rogues trying to gain access to some of the Fenton equipment. Towards the end of the fight, right before Danny finally reached for the thermos and entrapped the enemy, they had a chanse to throw Dia across the room and coincidentally through the Ghost Catcher, separating her ghost half from the human half.

Danny cursed the moment he forgot to dismantle that thing for safety after his own misadventure with getting split. Now he's left to deal with Dia's identity crisis and the mess in the lab. Now he knows what Tucker and Sam must've felt back then.

Before him stands her human side representing the headstrong, overambitious, perfectionist daughter she always tried to be and then her ghost half, a meek exhausted almost scaredycat teen spirit.

Dia's ghost half seems to be a manifestation of all the repressed stress, fatigue and insecurities she carries and now they're a spectral sentient being acting on it's own. Taking the liberty of answering too truthfully to any question Danny shoots her way.

I imagine if this was an episode it would be a whole arc of: the ghost getting scared off by the intense human and the group trying to find her so they can put Dia back together. The whole time the poor thing was just taking a nap in the closet.

So ta-da! there you have it! Unfortunately I think this is going to be my last prompt for the event, I also really wanted to do the "cafe or bar?" one but neither time nor energy are on my side these days. Again very enjoyable event I'm so glad it happened <3

#danny phantom #dp oc parade event #dp oc parade 2025 #danny phantom oc #dionysia dp oc #dp oc: dia #dp oc #squared disaster dp au #corrupted inkwell art

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zeivivii · 2 months ago

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Vice-Captain Babysitting: High School Hell

Sequel to: A Vice-Captains' Misadventure

Fandom: Kaiju No. 8

Genre: Humor, Disguise Mission, Slice-of-Life Chaos

Characters: Soshiro Hoshina, Kiyohime Akane, Kafka Hibino, Reno Ichikawa, Gen Narumi (cameo), Kikoru Shinomiya (cameo)

Setting: Undercover mission at Shibasaki High School

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MISSION BRIEFING – 3RD & 2ND DIVISION JOINT TASK

Objective: Protect Kafka Hibino and Reno Ichikawa during a Kaiju surveillance sting posing as “exchange students” at Shibasaki High School. Maintain cover at all costs. Try not to traumatize the student body.

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DAY ONE – SHIBASAKI HIGH SCHOOL

Vice-Captain Kiyohime Akane stood in the teacher’s lounge, arms crossed, fake glasses perched on her nose, absolutely seething. “I was promised a high-stakes Kaiju sting. Not a math class full of hormonal teenagers and suspicious cafeteria curry.”

“Hey now,” Hoshina said cheerfully, now sporting a high school uniform two sizes too small and a band-aid on his cheek for aesthetic. “Look at me. I blend in perfectly.”

“You are thirty,” Akane deadpanned.

“And still pass for a delinqu—er, youthful rogue.” He winked at a passing student, who immediately fainted.

Kafka and Reno entered, both in full student disguise. Kafka grinned sheepishly. “Hey, uh, we might’ve already made things complicated.”

Akane turned slowly. “How?”

Reno pointed to the school bulletin board.

NEW STUDENT POLL: HOTTEST TRANSFER STUDENT – HOSHINA-SENPAI #1 WITH 98% VOTES

RUNNER-UP: "THE COOL GLASSES LADY WHO THREW A DESK AT A PERVERT"

“...That’s you,” Reno added helpfully.

Akane cracked her knuckles. “I’m burning this school down.”

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LUNCHTIME – CHAOS MODE ACTIVATED

Kafka had accidentally signed them up for the “Talent Show Club” while trying to dodge a nosy student council president. Now Hoshina was doing a sword kata on stage with wooden brooms, Reno was beatboxing behind him, and Akane was judging the event with all the enthusiasm of a tired demon.

“Kafka’s next,” Reno whispered.

Kafka tripped, fell, and knocked over the entire stage curtain.

“Perfect,” Akane muttered. “Maybe we’ll get expelled and end this nightmare early.”

But instead, the students roared in applause.

“SLAPSTICK KING!” someone shouted.

Kafka grinned through the pain. “I think I just became prom king.”

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LATER THAT NIGHT – REAL KAJU THREAT APPEARS

While sneaking out to investigate Kaiju signals in the school’s basement, the team found a mutant crawling out of a forgotten underground facility—a weird spider-like thing fused with...a vending machine?

Hoshina drew his blade. “You ever fought a Kaiju that spits cola?”

“No,” Akane replied. “But if it explodes sugar all over my coat, I swear I’m quitting.”

Kafka, mid-transformation, muttered, “Just don't destroy the vending machine with grape soda. Reno likes that one.”

“Senpai, please,” Reno whispered. “This is serious.”

Hoshina and Akane tag-teamed the Kaiju, bouncing off lockers and desks like acrobats.

“Sword Style: Lunch Detention Slash!”

“Double Period Punisher!”

When Kafka finally got a hit in, the Kaiju burst in a flood of soda, chips, and smoke.

“...It’s dead,” Kafka panted.

“Good,” Akane huffed. “Now we can go back to class and pretend none of this ever happened.”

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EPILOGUE – MISSION SUCCESS?

They returned to HQ. Mission technically accomplished.

Kafka: Promoted for "exemplary cover maintenance."

Reno: Awarded “Most Valuable Beatboxer.”

Hoshina: Got fan mail from fifteen teenage girls.

Akane: Still trying to erase her photo from the talent show flyer that says “Hot Sensei, Cool Blades.”

Narumi passed them in the hallway and smirked.

“So… babysitting went well?”

Akane: “I will stab you.”

Hoshina: “Depends. What’s your prom king count?”

#kaiju no. 8 #hoshina x reader #oc #hoshina soshiro x reader #kn8 soshiro #fanfic #one shot

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beecreeper · 2 months ago

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Poppy Masterpost

Lore and art: #tav poppy

Main ref:

Poppy is a rogue (ideally a scout rogue but swashbuckler in bg3 with like. A level or two of ranger for flavor) and she's pure chaos energy.

Poppy was raised by a group of mercenaries called the Riders of the Whistling Skull. Her mother, Orlaith, was a founding member of the group and decided to raise her child on the road with everyone else in the group serving as communal parents. Poppy is defined by an inescapable wanderlust and can't stand to stay in one place for long but she'll treat you like family within an hour of meeting you. Once she reached adulthood, she began to itch for travel and adventure even further than her already and has been traveling Faerun in search of misadventures ever since.

When Poppy was a kid, a druid member of the Riders turned out to be off his rocker and thought he was chosen by Bhaal. He wild shaped into a jackal and dragged Poppy off with murderous intent, giving her those scars on her face. Luckily her family was able to chase him off and she's fine now. Doesn't affect her at all. 🙃

#making stuff #bg3 #tav poppy #not 100% sold on the tattoo designs #or the chicken name #but I wanted to get something down

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tenebraevesper · 3 months ago

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Sonic the Hedgehog Analyzer, Issue #64: Misadventures (Part 3)

So, I was in a bit of a dilemma in regards to which Issue I should cover next - Issue #64 or Sonic the Hedgehog: Endless Summer, since it was published before Issue #64. In the end, I decided that I would cover Issue #64, since continuity-wise, it wouldn't make sense to suddenly jump to Sonic having fun on the beach with Jewel, Tangle and Whisper, as well as having a competition with the Babylon Rogues when he was supposed to be on a journey with Blaze.

As a side note, I absolutely adore this cover with Silver bring out the conspiracy theorist board! X3

Therefore, we continue where we left off. Silver told Whisper about Duo's weird behavior, with Whisper immediately believing him to be Mimic. Now, she and Silver are on the hunt.

They have been following Duo the whole day, trying to catch him off guard, but so far no dice. Silver figures that, since his eyes changed colour when he was in danger, he could speed up the process by lifting him over the guardrail.

Lanolin catches Duo before he could fall, having noticed Silver sneaking around the whole day and wondering what he's up to. Whisper answers that they're trying to stop a monster, much to Lanolin's shock.

Lanolin demands an explanation, with Whisper (rightly) accusing Duo of being Mimic. Lanolin protests, believing that Whisper was harassing their new teammate, and when Whisper tries to get past her to prove that Duo is Mimic, she knocks her down.

Lanolin then scolds Whisper, giving a pass to Silver since he's not a soldier like them (Lanolin, you have absolutely no clue through what Silver has been to even stand here... and I think that's probably one of the reasons why you're treating him like that).

Whisper refuses to stand down, desperate to save her new team from Mimic, but Lanolin keeps fighting back in order to defend Duo. Speaking of the Devil, he attempts to slip away, only to get spotted by Silver.

Duo pretends that he has no clue what's going on, only to be surrounded by tables and chairs, with Silver refusing to let him go. Once again, I love Duo's, or rather, Mimic's expression here, because he knows he bit off more than he could chew by messing with Silver.

Unfortunately for Silver, Mimic is crafty enough, pretending to fall off the chair Silver put him on and acting as if he got hurt. I will give him credit for his acting, but unfortunately for Silver and Whisper, this is going to have consequences.

Jewel appears, calling for a medic, while everyone else can only stare in horror, believing Silver really hurt an innocent bystander. Even Whisper is freaked out, having been convinced that it was Mimic and needing some emotional support from her girlfriend Tangle. It's really depressing to see her like that.

As for Silver, he is completely devastated. Jewel questions him about what happened, and all Silver could stammer out is his belief that Duo was Mimic, only to get basically gaslit into thinking that he was wrong and that Duo is just some normal guy. Oof, he really doesn't have the best day today, does he?

Lanolin immediately gets into the conversation, saying how Silver should stay away from the Diamond Cutters, with Whisper sadly agreeing, as she believed that she was the one misguiding Silver. Tangle, on the other hand, is completely caught off guard when asked about her opinion.

Tangle agrees to it, much to Silver's disappointment. He doesn't even try to defend himself, walking away instead, while Duo just smirks, having managed to get rid off the biggest threat on the team.

Now, I will pause the story to offer my opinion on this matter. Back when this Issue came out, I remember people being pissed off at Lanolin for attacking Silver like this, and I understand why - the reader knows Silver is right and considering how he also has much more fans, there would also be bias towards him in comparison to Lanolin. Hell, even I am in support of Silver in this Issue. However, that doesn't mean that I support people attacking Lanolin.

Here's the deal - Silver and Whisper were right in spying on Duo in order to catch him off guard or see him shape-shift back into Mimic. They had a hunch, they were witnesses to Duo's strange behavior, they were free to act on this. However, where they messed up was to try and put Duo in danger when there were other people around. Mimic is paranoid enough to not shape-shift back into his real form when he assumes that someone might see him. If this happened in an isolated area, when Mimic believed he was all alone or could take the chance to attack Whisper on his own, yes, I believe he would've shape-shifted back. I'm sure that, deep down, Whisper knows this, but she is too desperate to end this nightmare.

So, yeah, stupid plan.

As for Lanolin, I will defend her in this, since she is also right. Silver and Whisper have no hard evidence of Duo being Mimic, and while it is frustrating that Lanolin stopped them from uncovering him, it is natural that she would do it. From her perspective, Silver and Whisper seemingly attacked some random newbie for foolish reasons. Hell, kicking Silver out of the Diamond Cutters is also a natural reaction, since he, from everyone's perspective, endangered an ''innocent'' person.

To keep it short, yes, Lanolin was justified in her reaction and Whisper and Silver should've come up with a better plan. However, am I allowed to feel frustrated at Lanolin for that? Yeah, I am, since I already know the truth and it does annoy me that Lanolin acts like she knows better, and it did tick me off how she told Silver how he has no control of his powers. Does this make Lanolin a bad character? Absolutely not! It shows that she is flawed and that she still has room to grow.

I rest my case.

Duo is later visited by Jewel, apologizing to him for the accident and even offering him to work with her... which is a bad idea in the long run, knowing what we know, but again, Jewel has no clue who Duo really is.

Seriously, if there's one person you should get pissed off, it's Mimic.

Fortunately, Silver gets a respite in the form of Sonic and Blaze returning from their journey, with Blaze immediately going to check on him, while also shoving all of her stuff into Sonic's arms.

Silvaze fans, this is for you! X3

Silver is just depressed, having tried to be proactive and protect the present for a safer future, but nothing works in his favour. Sure, he helped save everyone during Urban Warfare, but he wants to do more. He knows he can do better, and it frustrates him endlessly. Luckily, Blaze is here to give him some direction, reminding him of his garden and how it was grown - not by a bold proactive action, but with small dedicated efforts over time.

Silver realizes that she's right, recalling their earlier conversations, with Blaze being happy to help. After all, she also wanted to be proactive, only to get constantly reminded that she's on vacation, so this is the best she can do in her circumstances - give out advice to Silver.

Their little conversation gets then interrupted by very loud slurping... and yeah, Sonic ships them.

Sonic's expression here is so frigging hilarious, and I'm glad that he jumped on the Silvaze bandwagon. I know that I'm getting off-topic here for a moment, but people have also been (as a joke) keeping track of in-universe Sonadow shippers - those being Infinite, Tails, Rouge and Maria - so I think it's fair to do this for other ships. X3

In any case, Sonic points out how well they work together and how they complement each other, even tho he uses Tails as an example for his case. He bids them goodbye, with Blaze amused, while Silver debates throwing a car at him. If it was Shadow, he would've thrown a whole truck at Sonic after scolding him for his nonsense.

Nevertheless, you can't say that Sonic didn't help break the tension, with Blaze even comparing the two... so, does this mean that Blaze now ships Sonilver? Maybe, maybe not. I think she's just trying to cheer Silver up, but hey, shippers gotta ship and it's not our fault that writers keep giving us material.

Also, I know this sounds contradictory, but I'm glad none of the ships are canon and that SEGA stands firm in their decision to not address any of that, meaning people are free to pair up the characters however they want. I know it hasn't stopped people from fighting over ships, but I heard that it used to be much worse during the Archie Sonic era and that back then, people were out for blood just because one ship was more final than the other.

Back to Silver and Blaze, Silver comments on how Blaze is not different from either him or Sonic, since even if she's the princess of an empire, she still does things because she wants to. It's a really sweet speech, that also leaves them a little flustered.

So cute. X3

The two collect themselves, with Blaze being happy that this world and time brings the best out in them, wanting to see more of it.

Silver agrees to come along, wishing to get inspired just as Blaze did... and we get a mention of Soleanna.

Yeah, I'm not surprised there they decide to drop a Sonic 06 reference considering how prominent Silver and Blaze's friendship in that game was. Even if they don't remember what happened, that doesn't mean that they can't make new memories.

Somewhere in the void, Mephiles is screaming...

Until next time, see ya!

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#Sonic the Hedgehog Analyzer #sonic the hedgehog #silver the hedgehog #blaze the cat #whisper the wolf #tangle the lemur #lanolin the sheep #jewel the beetle #duo the cat #mimic the octopus #idw sonic #silvaze #sonilver #sonic 06 #And here's the Silvaze story.

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