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sodaneko · 4 months ago

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EXOPLANETS ; Iwaizumi x gn!reader

five times Iwaizumi almost kisses you and one time he does

contains: gn!reader (no pronouns or gendered terms), strangers to lovers, 5+1 things, fluff, mutual pining, diy tattoos, alcohol mention, weed mention, Oikawa mention, shotgunning, five slightly suggestive lines if you squint, a lot of easter eggs and cross-references. written as a gift for @eggyrocks ♡

word count: 4.5k

✧. ┊⁭ ONE

It’s Kyotani’s birthday party and you’re sitting outside on the fire escape, covered in five buckets of fake blood and rolling yourself a cigarette. The wind is icy on your face and the air would smell like early snow if it wasn’t for the dubious popcorn experiments happening in the kitchen right now. You weren’t allowed to smoke inside anymore after someone set one of the dried up houseplants a little bit on fire when stubbing out a cigarette on it (it was just once but the pot was fuming for two days and a half).

Kyotani always brings a mix of the strangest people together. There’s you and your other fellow students from your gender studies class, then guys from his former highschool volleyball team. There is also a bunch of men with face tattoos and a criminal record from his underground fight club (who are currently nailing the choreo to Rihanna in Just Dance), some nerds he met at a Pokémon TCG tournament (you and him once bought a hundred booster packs together while high and he thought he could recover from the financial ruin by winning one of these things) and the small group of housewives from his DND group who he meets once a month.

It’s unclear why Kyotani asked everyone to dress up for this but you’re not mad about having an occasion to drench yourself in fake blood and call it a night. In true Patrick Bateman fashion you also spent hours with excessive skin care prior to the party while you watched your best friend and roommate Atsumu zip himself up in the skimpiest maid outfit you’ve ever seen. It may be early December but that wouldn’t hold him back from showing off his thighs and a bit of his ass cheeks–maybe at heart he was just a 2000s British party girl trapped in the body of a 6’3 athlete. You shared the same cheap cherry lip gloss before heading out in the cold.

A few drinks into the night and your head starts to hurt, which is when you retreat outside through the kitchen window to your usual spot on the fire escape. With the rolled cigarette dangling from your lips, you pat down the pockets of your suit in search of a lighter. You let out a frustrated groan when you realize you lent it to two guys dressed as Melody and Kuromi and that you’ll probably never get it back, which sucked because it had a kitty cat leaning on an eight-ball while smoking on it and you got it for free from your local conbini girl in exchange for a hand-crocheted triangle bikini top.

Someone taps your shoulder and you almost drop your cigarette if it wasn’t for the stranger’s quick reflexes, catching it for you before it would be gone with the wind. His fingers tilt your chin up a little and he puts the cigarette back between your lips. You look up and meet the gaze of Inuyasha.

Or well, a guy dressed as Inuyasha, but it might as well be your childhood crush come to life. Tan skin, sharp snaggleteeth that weren’t part of the costume but still fitting, and a pair of eyes that feel like they’re piercing straight through you. Your stomach does the little flip thing and you briefly wonder what was in the drinks you let Atsumu mix for you, but that was something to ponder on later. For now you only stare back at him, nodding when he asks if the seat next to you is free.

He sits down close to you and then reaches for something hidden in his sleeve and pulls out–your lighter.

“Sorry about my friends. They have a knack for never returning things,” he huffs and you snatch the lighter from him, your face cracking into a smile.

“Very noble of you,” you say, then hold up the light for him when he reaches for the cigarette behind his ear and puts it between his lips as well. His hand comes to cup yours to shield the flame from the wind and for a second your faces are close, so close, before you lean back again, taking a deep inhale of your cig.

“Cool costume. You watch a lot of movies? Me too,” he says and rests his chin on one palm, looking at you. There’s something about his gaze that makes you feel drawn to him and you briefly wonder what he’d look like without the cheap white wig and also if he’d keep the costume on if you were to hook up with him and ask him nicely about it.

“Is that so? Name every movie then,” you retort and it makes him laugh. Fuck. He has a really nice laugh.

You lean over and brush a few strands of the plastic hair behind his ears because the combination of the wind and the lit cigarette seems like a potential fire hazard (you learned a lot about fire hazards this year) and you’d kinda hate to see him combust too soon.

What you don’t expect is him leaning in, almost nuzzling his face into your palm when you do, and looking back at you with a flicker that can only be described as drunk and lovesick. It makes your heart stumble in your ribcage a little.

“Or you can just tell me your name. Unless you want me to save your contact as ‘Inuyasha’ in my phone. I can do that too,” you add when you pull your hand away, as if you’ve burned yourself by getting a bit too close to the sun. You put your cigarette between your lips and pull out your phone, tapping the screen a few times before glancing up at him again.

“It’s Iwaizumi. Hajime Iwaizumi.”

You think a lot about kissing Hajime Iwaizumi for the rest of the night.

✧. ┊⁭ TWO

Osamu and Suna share the apartment directly below yours and when they text you that they made weed brownies, you didn’t really think about just how many of them they made. Together with Atsumu you shuffle downstairs, not expecting a bunch of other people to be there. Maybe then you would’ve worn something that wasn’t Atsumu’s old highschool club shirt and a pair of velour track pants you bedazzled yourself so it would read “soup” across your butt, but here you are.

“Is this some kind of side business now?”, you ask Suna when you pull him aside. He has the biggest, shit-eating grin known to man plastered across his face and shakes his head.

“A bunch of guys from his culinary school said they didn’t know how to bake weed brownies and Osamu offered to teach them, and somehow it turned into a ‘bring your own weed, get a tray of brownies’ party,” he replies and leans a little closer to you, which you know means he has a piece of juicy gossip to share. “One guy here totally got scammed, too. Spent ¥24,000 on some, can you believe?”

You almost choke on the piece of brownie in your hand. Osamu pressed it faithfully into your palm the moment you entered the kitchen, knowing he could trust you with it. Both of you had a very loose definition of trust–to Osamu it meant believing you won’t be dumb enough to eat more than one piece of the brownies, to you it meant you won’t change the contact names in his phones to soup ingredients again, no matter how high, and you both respected that.

“What, was it gold-dusted or something?” You cough and laugh, tears pricking in the corners of your eyes while Suna pats your back with empathy. “What a guy. Introduce us, I need to add him to my dream blunt rotation.”

Your eyes follow the direction Suna is nodding at, somewhere in the living room, and you meet the gaze of Iwaizumi Hajime slash Inuyasha from the fire escape. You start laughing again and head over to him, the sulk written all over his face.

“Not a word. I know, I know,” he groans when he makes space for you next to him on the couch. You squeeze in beside him and hug your knees to your chest, then catch the pillow he’s throwing at you when you can’t stop laughing the second you look at him.

“It’s okay. Actually, it’s kinda cute.” “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” “So what if I do?”

Iwaizumi huffs again and his arm just happens to be behind you on the couch, his fingertips ghosting over your shoulder. Appreciate it, he grumbles, and eventually his face softens when you start telling him some anecdotes of your high life that definitely make the ¥24,000 weed purchase seem a little less dramatic.

It’s loud in the apartment, with music blasting and people chattering, but you barely register any of it; too absorbed by his eyes that dart to your lips every now and then, and his tongue poking out from between his lips when he does, and the rattling desire in your chest that he could kiss you right here, right now.

His fingers grab your chin and tilt your face up again, just like they did last time on the fire escape, except now he’s brushing over the corners of your mouth, collecting a few crumbs that were still there. He brings them to his lips, licking them off in one clean swipe of his tongue, and you’re pretty sure you’d let him devour you.

✧. ┊⁭ THREE

Mattsun–the Kuromi from Kyotani’s party–and his friends from the forensics science department are hosting an Addams Family themed christmas party on their floor of the dorm and this time you don’t make the mistake of giving your lighter away. Atsumu is on a noble mission to “get laid by one of the goths” and you’re on your own, but not for long.

“Oh, it’s you! Almost didn’t recognize you without all the fake blood,” Makki–the Melody from Kyotani’s party–shouts across the room when he spots you in the crowd and squeezes past all the people to clink his drink against yours. “You left quite the impression.”

“That so?”, you ask with a raised eyebrow and Makki gives you a boyish grin. You already have a feeling where this conversation is heading.

“Hajime won’t shut up about you. Like, ever,” he says and links his arm with yours, dragging you to the other end of the hallway. “He’s here too, by the way. Last time I saw him he was winning some kind of arm wrestling contest, but if you ask me people just wanted to ogle at his biceps. Can you blame them?”

Speaking of the devil, you find Iwaizumi stumbling out of the bathroom, stilling when he sees you. His hoodie is tied around his waist and he’s wearing some baggy jeans and a tight, sleeveless compression shirt that does show off his arms nicely. Very nicely. So nicely you forget what to say for a brief second.

Makki shoves you into Iwaizumi’s arms before heading off somewhere else, probably asking Mattsun to push him against the nearest wall, and you’re alone with the boy again. He caught you by your shoulders, his hands now resting on top of them while he looks you up and down. You wonder if he’ll do the chin thing again, and maybe if third time’s a charm and he’s gonna kiss you tonight for real.

Instead he asks, “do you want to check out the tattoo station they set up in the other room?” and because your impulse control has vanished the moment you entered his orbit, you agree without a second thought. Maybe not even a first thought. Ten minutes later you’re wearing a pair of black latex gloves and hover over Iwaizumi who is lying shirtless on his back in front of you.

“Kinda sad you don’t want a tramp stamp. It’d look good on you,” you sigh with feigned annoyance while rubbing an alcohol soaked pad over his hip bones to disinfect that part, trying hard to keep your eyes pinned on there, but it’s kind of an impossible thing to ask of you. It would be a shame if you didn’t appreciate the canvas in front of you.

“Maybe next time,” Iwaizumi exclaims with the confidence of a man who simply doesn’t do the whole ordeal of regretting. It’s admirable, really. “And I let you pick the design of this one, didn’t I?”

That he did. You drew a wonky oval shape on the stencil paper which was kind of impressive as it was, given the drinks you had prior to that. Iwaizumi took the pencil from you and added a similar one, overlapping with yours.

“That’s two eggs,” you muttered, tilting your head to the side and trying hard to focus–which again, was a hard task at hand, given that Iwaizumi leaned over your shoulder shirtless. He smelled nice. You noticed that the first time you met already. Something between fresh laundry, a spritzer of YSL Y on the side of his nape and a hint of sweat, but not unpleasant. It made you want to dig your teeth into the curve of his neck and shoulder.

“It’s a heart, dumbass,” Iwaizumi huffed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, second to how much both of you were thinking about kissing the other.

✧. ┊⁭ FOUR

When Kenma invited you over to his place for the Bouncing Ball winter party, you were promised free unlimited food and a goodie bag, but all you got was ancient rage and a badly rolled cigarette passed back and forth between Iwaizumi and you.

“I will fucking kill Oikawa with my bare hands,” you mutter under your breath and squeeze the can of lychee soda (branded with the Bouncing Ball logo) that you’re holding a little tighter.

“Believe me, I’ve tried many times in the past but this bastard always comes back. Like some demon lord or something.” Iwaizumi takes an angry drag of the cigarette before holding it between your lips again. His fingers brush lightly against your skin when he does and it’s the only thing that calms you down a little.

“Like. The blue shell right before the finish line felt so personal, right?”

Kenma had sent both of you into timeout outside when you almost flung the unstrapped Wii remote towards the flatscreen and Iwaizumi might or might have not punched a hole into the shoji door after Oikawa won the third round of Mario Kart in a row and was being awfully smug about it.

You’re sitting on the backstairs together, huddled close to each other from the cold and the unspoken desire to kiss the other one stupid. With every minute you spend like this your anger vaporizes little by little, until all you can feel is the body heat radiating off Iwaizumi’s body and how calloused his hand is when he takes yours into his.

He’s wearing the hat you crocheted for him, an apology for the crooked hand poked tattoo you gave him a few days prior to today which now adorned his hip bone. At least it wasn’t infected which was a tiny miracle given the circumstances. His face lit up when you handed the hat to him, wrapped in some tin foil because neither you nor Atsumu own gift paper and that’s the most festive you could do with the utensils you had at hand. At least you threw in a little bit of confetti which was now stuck in his dark hair.

You pick some of it off his strands and Iwaizumi leans a little closer. It reminds you a lot of a big cat asking for head scratches.

“‘s nice, with you,” he mumbles without looking at you and gives your hand a small squeeze. His thumb rubs over your knuckles with unexpected gentleness and your head sinks against his shoulder.

“Really nice,” you agree quietly, allowing yourself to close your eyes.

The moment could have been perfect. Just the two of you, the stubbed out cigarette at your feet and the sweet taste of artificial lychee on your lips, the slowly falling snow. If only it wasn’t for the backdoor being flung open again, carrying the chatter and the music from inside towards you and a too familiar voice that will surely haunt your nightmares chirping “yahoo~”, making Iwaizumi next to you groan in agony.

You spend the rest of the night losing another ten rounds of Mario Kart and Oikawa manifests as your sleep paralysis demon from now on, but at least you got to hold Iwaizumi’s hand under the table a little longer.

✧. ┊⁭ FIVE

Hinata is back home from his semester abroad in Brazil. He texted the groupchat a photo of him (wow, he got really tan and buff, you think) and the three giant boxes of oranges that he brought with him and invited everyone over for an impromptu reunion party at his place.

It’s not as excessive as other parties of your friends, more of a get together that lasts an entire weekend with everyone dropping by and going as they please, as long as they take a few oranges with them.

You quite literally ran into Iwaizumi on your way there, your hands full with a bunch of books you borrowed from the library prior to that and him almost crashing into you when he skated around the corner on his longboard. He wore the hat you crocheted him again (with less confetti this time) and offered you his scarf and a ride. You almost wish Hinata would live at the other end of the world just so you’d have an excuse to sit cross-legged on his board in front of him while he pushes it slowly for a little longer.

Maybe he’ll give you a ride home if you ask him nicely. Maybe the right words would fall out of your mouth this time. Maybe he’ll kiss you on the threshold, with his fingers tracing your jaw and your lips parting for him so willingly.

At Hinata’s place you find your way underneath the kotatsu with Iwaizumi by your side. The air smells like hot punch and christmas cookies and you listen for hours to Hinata talking about the things he experienced while abroad. You swipe through photos on his tablet while around you people come and go, and the entire time Iwaizumi sits so close to you that your knees keep touching underneath the table. Occasionally his hand brushes over the small of your back or pulls you a little closer towards him when someone else squeezes beside you, his touch lingering but never overbearing.

It’s getting late and you should probably go home soon, considering the last looming deadline you still had to tackle before your winter break, but it’s not easy to peel yourself away from Iwaizumi. Not when he draped his jacket over your shoulders and his fingers brushed the nape of your neck, and especially not when he starts peeling oranges for you and starts pushing the slices directly between your lips when you’re too lazy to lift your head.

You watch him quietly as he does, his fingers that are usually a little bruised and roughed up now impossibly gentle as he digs through the citrus skin, peeling away layer after layer. It’s beautiful, you think. He’s beautiful. You wonder if he could do the same to you, tearing through every bit of resistance you put up to protect your heart, or maybe if it was already bare in front of him the entire time, ready for him to sink his teeth into your flesh.

You hope he’ll peel a thousand more oranges for you in this lifetime.

✧. ┊⁭ ONE, AGAIN

It’s winter solstice and Atsumu and you decide to host one last party at your home before the year ends. Together you go out to buy liquor and one mistletoe (for the festive spark of it all) but the lady from the flower store insists you take all of them for free since they’re closing soon and she would throw them out anyway. So now there’s around fifty mistletoes hanging from every ceiling of your apartment and the entire hallway of your floor, and you briefly wonder just how many mistletoes it would take for Iwaizumi to kiss you tonight.

Osamu begrudgingly agrees to prepare some food since you’d end up raiding their fridge around 2AM anyway if he doesn’t, meanwhile Suna shows you some paparazzi-esque photos on his phone that he took of Iwaizumi and you over the span of this month. For once you’re grateful that he snaps a photo of everything and everyone, because swiping through these makes your heart do a little flip in your chest.

There’s one with both of you smoking on the fire escape, leaning in close to catch the flame of the lighter. You with your legs thrown over his lap on their couch while waiting for the weed brownies, his arm resting behind you on the couch. The moment when Iwaizumi takes his tight compression shirt off in front of you (it’s slightly blurry and Suna blames it on the goths and their shitty lighting). Iwaizumi and you pinning Oikawa to the floor and a Wii controller on the verge of becoming a murder weapon. You napping with your head on top of your folded arms, a plate with some orange peel in front of you, Iwaizumi’s hand in the back of your neck while looking down at you fondly.

To be adored by Iwaizumi Hajime feels tender and mellow. There’s something magical about it; never loud or overwhelming, and yet never leaving room for doubt how he does love you with his entire being. It comes to him as natural as breathing. A love as toasty warm like a black cat basking in the sun, storing sunshine in every fibre of your soul.

When you open the door for him later that night, he hugs you longer than usual, his arms caging you in his embrace. He murmurs something about all these mistletoes against the shell of your ear and you laugh.

“I think it’s a dumb tradition, but they’re quite beautiful, aren't they?”, you ask and Iwaizumi pulls back slightly to look at you, his hand cupping one side of your face now.

“More than just beautiful,” he mumbles, not talking about the mistletoes.

You learn that night that Iwaizumi doesn’t dance (other than Oikawa and Atsumu who are currently destroying the Dance Dance Revolution dance pads in the living room), but he’ll happily spend hours watching you do your DJ thing. Anything as long as he can be in your proximity. He’s leaning back in the chair in the corner behind your pult, a cold Tiger beer in one hand, his chin resting on the other and his gaze never leaving you. It’s like he’s your personal bouncer for the night. You quite like that. It’s an oddly protective gesture but it makes you feel warm and giddy.

“Someone just asked me if they can snort protein powder off my biceps,” he tells you when you return from the bathroom back to his side. He holds up a cigarette he rolled for you meanwhile. You lean down and let him put it between your lips before he reaches for your lighter stored in his pocket.

“And did you let them?”, you ask, your face illuminated for the flick of a second when he lights up the cigarette for you. You’re standing between his spread legs and Iwaizumi reaches for your hips, making you stumble a little closer to where he was sitting. His chest is heaving now, his pupils dilating when he lets his eyes wander over you. You’ve seen this expression before, you think. It’s been the same from when you touched him for the first time, back then on the fire escape.

“Told them I was already taken,” he murmurs, almost not audible, and even in the dim light you can see the tip of his ears dusted in a dark pink color. His eyes flick up to yours and his expression is something between pleading and demanding. Oh.

How brazen.

He lets out a labored breath when you push him back in his chair, making room for you to straddle his hips. His hands find your thighs, fingers digging into your supple flesh and it’s clear that he doesn’t plan on letting you go for the rest of the night. Or, forever maybe.

You take a long drag of your cigarette and this time it’s you cupping his chin, tilting it up and hovering above him. Iwaizumi doesn’t need to be told what to do, his head falling back, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly before he parts his lips and lets you blow a mouthful of smoke into his lungs. It’s greedy, how he swallows it so willingly, watching you through half-lidded eyes. Hungry. Begging. Adoring.

He’s in love with you like no one else ever was.

“I need to kiss you or else I’m going insane.”

His voice is hoarse, strained. As if he is clinging to the last bit of his resistance and sanity. In one swift movement he snatches the cigarette from your lips with one hand and carelessly drowns it in his half-empty beer bottle, his other hand wraps around the back of your neck and pulls you closer to him again.

“Please,” he huffs and it sounds like he’s pierced with ten swords, in agony over not feeling your lips against his. “Pretty please.”

Your arms wrap around him and you kiss him. During the longest night of the year it’s like the sun is rising just for you. You don’t think, just let the feeling wash over you as your body melts against his. Iwaizumi lets out a quiet growl and kisses you back, gently at first, until your tongue slides against his and his calloused hands against your bare skin start trembling slightly. He’s using every ounce of self-restraint so he wouldn’t devour you on the spot. He knows you’d let him and that is a problem.

“Took you long enough,” you mumble against his lips once you pull apart to breathe, which could have been an hour later or a lifetime. Time becomes a blur under the soft caress of Iwaizumi. He mirrors your smug smile, stealing another kiss from your lips.

“I’ll make up for it,” he rasps, closing his eyes when you rest your forehead against his. His hands on your waist pull you impossibly closer again, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, caressing the sliver of skin there. He lets out a quiet hum, a sound very close to purring. “Gonna kiss you stupid till you forget your own name and can only remember mine.”

“Silly,” you huff back and kiss him again. “Is this a threat or a promise?”

“Both. With you, it’s both.”

a/n: hi eggy ily!! your wishlist was spectacular and i had a lot of fun writing this for you (at some point it got a little out of hand i'll admit lmao). hope you enjoyed your gift and that the rest of your 2024 will be warm and tender. trying not to get sappy here, just know you always leave such a mark with anything you write, it's something i deeply admire. happy holidays & all the love for you <3

#hq x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x you #iwaizumi hajime #haikyu x reader #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu imagines #hq reader insert #hq fluff #hq imagines #iwaizumi fluff #hq x reader secret santa 24 #-`♡´- .txt

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mouthsfullofsharpteeth · 4 months ago

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so, ive been rewatching season two of arcane, and noticed a few things

in viktor's commune, this is the kid that leads jayce to viktor. i always thought it was like... an odd amount of focus to be put on this character. tho i wasnt really thinking too much of it, because arcane loves to zero in on background characters in a sort 'mulan and the others find a doll in the wreckage of a village' kind of way, you know? look small for big impacts.

putting the rest under a read more because this gets long

now, in ekko's alternate reality in episode seven. i always like watching the crowds of zaunites, mainly searching for easter eggs and any possible connections that i can draw back to our main universe. and i may have found one

here's the crowd watching heimer's little street performance

...........

this is, obviously, the same fucking kid.

what i think is most interesting about this, though, is that in the 'good ending' universe that ekko ended up in, zaun was a community where physical differences and disabilities, like needing a wheel chair as mobility aid, were not seen as something needing to be fixed. it can be implied that there are probably a lot more ways of making things accessible in that version of zaun, and that disabilities dont prohibit zaunites from being with others and doing what they want.

unlike in our universe, where this was clearly not the case. i think that that crowd shot is, in a way, a direct parallel to viktors backstory opening shots.

the group of children playing together as a group, and viktor, another child with a physical disability, is forced to be off by himself. isolated either because of his peers not wanting to be around him, or because the environment around him is just not accessible (most likely both)

they basically hand it to us. singed asks why viktor isn't playing with the other children, and all viktor has to do is show the fact that he is disabled for singed to understand. the inaccessibility and exclusion and ableism is just a fact of life.

so, it makes sense that when viktor gets the ability to heal others, he makes this child able bodied, just like he did for himself. viktor can't even conceive of a society like the zaun and piltover that ekko ended up in, because his whole life he has been cast aside due to his disability.

its just interesting to me that they made the child who brings jayce to viktor at the commune be another young zaunite with a mobility aid, just like viktor was. especially how later, jayce is the one to tell viktor the monologue about how he was never broken, and his disability wasnt something he needed to completely remove, because it was a part of him, and who he was already was enough.

just some cool food for thought!

#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane background characters #viktor's commune members #arcane season 2 episode 7 #viktor arcane #jayce talis #arcane details #long post #arcane analysis

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specialagentartemis · 17 days ago

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#hey does anyone know what the deal was with the claims that Friday the 13th and Easter are actually pagan feminist fertility holidays #that were appropriated by the patriarchy/Catholic church? #because I feel like I'm going crazy seeing cnn quote that tumblr post from years ago #like which one came first (bc I can't find that post) and how true are those claims

@assclarinet Wh... what do you mean CNN is quoting tumblr posts. What.

Anyway. These claims go around constantly and they are just as sourceless as anything else in that post.

And as it is Easter Season, let's address them:

Was Easter actually a pagan feminist fertility holiday appropriated by the Catholic Church?

Short answer: No.

Long answer:

Easter is the theological core of Christianity. There is no Christianity without Easter. Easter is the holiest day of the Christian calendar, because it is the theological crux of the entire religion: that Jesus died, and then three days later he rose from the dead, his sacrifice having redeemed the world of sin and his resurrection ushering in a new age. Easter is a very Christian thing.

That's not typically what people who say this mean, though. They don't mean the Christian holy day of Jesus's resurrection Easter Sunday, they mean the hegemonic spring holiday in the culturally-Christian world that is pseudo-secularized Easter.

Was placing the central element of Christianity in the spring a way of co-opting pagan spring fertility festivals? No. It's fairly central to the Last Supper-crucifixion-resurrection narrative that it happened at Passover. The Gospels pretty well agree on this part, though there's conflict in the scholarship of whether the Last Supper was a Passover meal proper or happened a day before. (The seder as it is understood today wasn’t performed the same way back then, so it wasn’t properly a seder, either.) In early Christianity, the association of Easter with Passover was theologically significant--Jesus was (and is) called the Paschal lamb, equating Jesus's sacrifice with the sacrifice/slaughter of a lamb for the deliverance of the people from death. The timing of Easter is one of the few Christian holy days calculated based on the logic of the Jewish luni-solar calendar. It's not the same exact calendar, and they don't always directly coincide, but it's the same basis.

Early Christianity grew out of Judaism, and its relationship to Judaism, its self-view as the culmination of Judaism, remained significant to figures like Paul who have defined Christian thought and Church organization ever since. (Here’s a standard view on this presented from a Jewish perspective.) (This is a super interesting perspective from a Congregationalist Christian theologian with a keen interest on the Jewish roots of early Christianity.) (Here’s also a really interesting interview with provocative Jewish philosopher Daniel Boyarin about it.) Christianity and Judaism probably started really developing in different directions sometime after the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE, with the next few centuries seeing the rise of Rabbinic Judaism as well as the influx of pagan gentiles adopting Christianity and bringing their theological and philosophical backgrounds into it.

The upshot is: Easter is in the spring because Passover is in the spring.

Does the name "Easter" come from Ostara or Ishtar? No. These are the etymologies I see proposed to say, see! "Easter" steals the name of a pagan fertility goddess! And that's a super English-centric way of looking at the world. In most European languages (and let's be real, when people talk about Christianity stealing pagan holidays, they usually are thinking about, like, Celts), the name of Easter comes from the Latin "Pascha" which was adopted from the Greek "Pascha" which, wow, sounds an awful lot like Pesach, the Hebrew name of Passover. Because Easter was associated with Passover. Even in English, the formal, liturgical word for "pertaining to Easter" is "Paschal". So only in Germanic languages like German and English does the name of Easter come from non-Paschal origins.

Also there is no connection to Ishtar.

The etymology of "Easter" is super obscure, though.

Well, there was an Eostre, right? And the Easter bunny tradition was stolen from the pre-Christian Germanic pagan festivals for Eostre or Ostara? Ehhhhh. Dubious. This Library of Congress folklore blog post by a folklorist who has studied Middle English has a lot of well-cited information suggesting that most "received wisdom" about the pagan festivals or Eostre/Ostara that featured a hare derive from the Brothers Grimm in the 1800s. Jakob Grimm cites a single source for the evidence of a goddess Eostre, an 8th century Christian monk's writing.

Eosturmonath has a name which is now translated "Paschal month", and which was once called after a goddess of theirs named Eostre, in whose honour feasts were celebrated in that month. Now they designate that Paschal season by her/its name, calling the joys of the new rite by the time-honoured name of the old observance.

Definitely possible, even likely, there was some syncretism in the celebration activities there, but it's hard to prove what, and to what extent.

Grimm is the one who postulates the existence of Ostara based on this, using the methods of historical linguistics to derive a cognate with the old German oster-month. Note that the Grimms were 1) linguists as well as folklorists, and the idea of Ostara appears to come from linguistic hypothesis moreso than actual gathered folklore, and 2) very invested in nation-building through their folklore project. No other sources for Eostre or Ostara exist, though modern linguists have hypothesized a connection to the Vedic Ushas and Greek Eos as Indo-European dawn-goddesses. (Also hence the word "east.") So Eostre and Ostara may certainly have existed as Germanic goddesses/personifications of the dawn, but probably not fertility. And the month around April, as the return of spring, was associated with the dawn goddess. If so, Eostre gave her name to Eosturmonath ("Eostre-month"), which is when Easter fell (see above re: the timing of Passover), and so Eoastremonath became Easter-month became Easter. "Easter" then likely derives from the name of the month, not the goddess directly.

The story of Ostara and a hare was, as best I can tell, invented in the 1800s during a time of renewed interest in European paganism as, again, nation-building projects.

Hares, eggs/chicks, and flowers are all perennial symbols of spring and new life in Europe, so it wouldn't be surprising if older celebrations in springtime used them, and those got transferred onto Easter celebrations because, hey, spring, dawn, sunrise out of the night, new birth, resurrection, new life, it all kinda goes together. But it wasn't a holiday that was "appropriated by the patriarchy/Catholic Church,"; at most it was traditional spring festivities transferred onto the new spring festivity. This happened a lot.

As for the second question...

Was Friday the 13th a pagan fertility holiday and that's why it's been made unlucky now?

Short answer: No.

Long answer:

No one really agrees on why Friday the 13th is unlucky, but it probably also comes from Christianity. Friday is the unlucky day because it's the day that Jesus was crucified. 13 is the unlucky number because that's the number of people at the Last Supper. I've also seen several people online reference that Loki was the 13th guest at the feast where he caused the death of Baldr, but I can't find an actual source for that, and it feels very Christianity-influenced. The most influential records of old Norse/Icelandic mythology were written down in the 1200s, well after Christianity was the primary religion of the region, and Christian influences on Norse mythology as we know it now cannot be wholly discounted. So I'm somewhat skeptical Loki is the origin, either.

But also, and this is where I get more into personal hypothesizing, 12 is a very strong and auspicious number in a lot of cultures. There are (typically, approximately) 12 full moons in a year, so lots and lots of calendars split the year into 12 months. 12 is a good number for timekeeping and subdividing: Ancient Egyptians were the ones to develop 12-hour days/nights, and Mesopotamians the ones to split time into units of 60. There were twelve tribes of Israel, twelve disciples, twelve Olympians, twelve labors of Hercules, twelve constellations in the Greek zodiac and twelve years in the Chinese zodiac cycle. English has unique number-names up to twelve before we start going three-ten, four-ten, etc. We like twelves! Particularly in cultures influenced by the Mediterranean sphere. So I can imagine prime thirteen is ungainly, awkward... unlucky.

(Also, the idea of splitting the week into a cycle of 7 days originates from Judaism in the Biblical book of Genesis, continuing into Christianity and Islam from the same origin. The whole concept of "Friday" is inextricable from Abrahamic religions.)

There's no evidence it was ever a sacred pagan day for sex or anything like that. It just wasn't.

#misinformation #Christianity #Easter #Friday the 13th #history and the world #religion

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rs-hawk · 14 days ago

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BEING BRED BY THE EASTER BUNNY

Lmao this is so outta pocket but the Easter Bunny lays eggs in your womb in this so

Growing up, you had always been very interested in folklore and mythology, and how older cultures influenced Christianity. That made Easter one of your favorite holidays because it’s just so heavily inspired by multiple pagan cultures.

However, it bothered your family that you liked Easter from an academic standpoint verses a religious one, so this year, you decided to spend it by yourself. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to not do some of the traditions you grew up with- namely, leaving a plate of hay and clovers with a glass of carrot juice. Your family left this out for the Easter Bunny the way other families left milk and cookies out for Santa.

You set out the plate and glass, smiling slightly to yourself despite being sad about being alone. As you crawl into bed, you think you hear something in your backyard. Twigs snapping, a soft thumping sound that repeats. When you push yourself up to look through your window, you don’t see anything. Just darkness and a little bit of light filtering in from the moon.

After a moment, you settle yourself back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Eventually you doze off. When you wake up, there’s the smell of chocolate and something warm and fuzzy surrounding you. You wriggle slightly, and the warm, fuzzy thing wraps tighter around you.

“So sweet, putting out that plate for me still. Thought you had stopped believing in me,” a warm, thick voice mumbles against your neck. Long, blunt teeth scrape your neck, making you jolt. “Don’t be scared. I’d never hurt you.”

In the darkness, your eyes slowly adjust. After a few moments, you see the thing laying on top of you. A giant, larger than a man, sized rabbit. He’s rutting a large, dripping cock against your bed between your thighs. His ears are pricked straight up, twitching softly as his face is buried in your neck. His paw like hands grip your hips, holding you still as he ruts the bed between your legs, as if he wants you to ask for him before he puts it in.

“What the fuck?” you mumble as you gaze down at him.

He looks up at you with his large, dark eyes, his nose twitching just like his ears. The rutting stops. “My little human. You’re going to properly be mine.”

Something about how innocent but needy this creature looks makes your legs fall slightly more open. “Are you…?”

“The Easter Bunny?” he chuckles, caging you in with his arms as he lifts himself up, settling his arms on either side of your head, his cock now pressed against your shorts. “Yeah, I am.”

You find yourself running your fingers through his white fur, wondering why he’s here. How he’s here. He’s not supposed to be real, but the aching cock grinding against your core certainly is real. He seems to notice the way that your legs fall more open, how you mewl softly because of his touch. Deciding to take advantage of this, he hooks his furry fingers into the waistband of your sleep shorts. In a way that’s almost agonizingly show, he pulls your shorts down, exposing your slit.

The leaking head slides in before he can even fully pull your shorts off. Moaning softly, you curl your legs around his waist. The fur is warm and soft under your hands. His nose is buried against your skin as he slowly rolls his hips into you.

“So warm,” he mutters as he rolls his hips over and over, driving his cock deeper into your now aching cunt. “So kind. Leaving out snacks for me after all these years.”

You let out a whine, biting your lower lip as the head of his cock taps your cervix. A soft whimper escapes your lips as you try grip his furry shoulders. Before you know it, he’s slamming in and out of you, properly fucking you like a rabbit does his mate.

You moan and tighten your leg lock around his waist, not that it mattered. He had no intention of pulling out. In a matter of minutes, you feel a few hard ball like objects being forced into your womb. It’s slightly uncomfortable at first, but soon becomes outright painful. Six of these things are stuffed into your womb, making your body ache.

He quickly pulls out, burying his furry face between your legs. His soft, smooth tongue runs over your cunt, soothing your puffy lips as his nose is pressed against your clit, twitching this way and that while his whispers tickle your inner thighs. The hard objects in your stomach soon fall forgotten as pleasure mounts in your lower belly, and before long, you’re drenching his white fur face with your juices.

He’s gone the next morning, leaving your stomach already slightly distended with what you presume to be eggs. You wonder how long you’ll incubate them, and if they’ll be a live birth or if you’ll be laying eggs. Too bad Easter is just once a year.

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breelandwalker · 26 days ago

Text

Pink Moon - April 12 2025

Prepare for the blooming season and make sure you take those allergy meds - it’s time for the Pink Moon!

Pink Moon 🌸

Named for the appearance of spring flowers, in particular the early springtide ground phlox (also known as moss pinks), the Pink Moon often coincides with the first bloom of the season, with trees and fields in flower and a profusion of color returning to the world after the long bleak greyness of winter. Despite the name, the moon itself does not turn pink to match.

This year, the Pink Moon is a micromoon, occurring when the moon is approaching it's apogee, the farthest point in its' orbit from the Earth. The moon may appear slightly smaller or dimmer because of this when it reaches peak illumination at 8:22pm EST this Saturday.

North American indigenous names for this moon include Breaking Ice Moon (Algonquin), Budding Moon of Plants and Shrubs (Tlingit), Moon When The Ducks Come Back (Lakota), Planting Moon (Tunica), and Frog Moon (Cree). Alternate European names for the Pink Moon include Egg Moon and Budding Moon, and some modern pagan traditions call it the Awakening Moon.

The April full moon is also sometimes known as the Paschal Full Moon, being the first full moon after the spring equinox. The Christian Easter holiday, which has a floating date, occurs on the first Sunday after the Paschal Moon.

Farmer’s Proverb: A full Moon in April brings frost. If the full Moon rises pale, expect rain.

What Does It Mean For Witches? 🌸

The Pink Moon is a time for reconnecting with yourself and the world around you. The world is giving a good yawn and stretch after a long winter’s sleep and so can we! Get outside if you can and get some fresh air. Explore your area, especially if there’s something or someplace new you’ve been meaning to try. Revisit old haunts and discover what’s changed since the last time you were out and about.

Take a moment to assess your current goals and mark your progress. Celebrate your growth and learn from your setbacks. Assess your boundaries as well. Are you making enough time for yourself? Are you letting things or tasks or people intrude where they shouldn’t? Is there anywhere that you should be standing firm but aren’t?

Balance dedication to your work with playtime and relaxation. Remember that you are not required to set yourself on fire to keep others warm. Take time to care for your own needs and address those “I’m Sure It’s Nothing” health concerns you’ve been putting off.

What Witchy Things Can We Do? 🌸

By the time the Pink Moon comes around, there’s either one more cold spell working its’ way through or the first true warmth of spring beginning to appear. If the temperatures are rising to sunny pleasantry in your area, it’s the perfect time to start planting your garden.

Whether you have a few pots on a patio or a fully-planned plot or just some well-beloved houseplants, get your fingers into the dirt and transfer those seeds and sprouts to a nice fertile home. You can work various kinds of magic as you do, for growth, fertility, prosperity, tenacity, resilience, protection, whatever seems needful. (This can also be done separate from planting if you're not growing a garden.) If you grow your own plants for your magical practice, you can also bless them for their intended purposes.

If you don’t garden (and not all of us do) but still want to work some plant magic, you can grab your field guide and pruning scissors and go foraging. You can pair last month's Dig Through The Ditches exercise with some foraging and harvesting of the wild weeds growing in your area.

(This month's episode of Hex Positive addresses this exact topic!)

For a fun and easy full-moon spell, set out some gallon jugs of potable water to make Pink Moon Water. This will be excellent for watering your garden…and yourself! (Rainwater isn’t safe to drink these days, and water collected from wild sources is dicey even if you boil it, but drinking water works just fine.) You can also cast spells for creativity, change, fertility, happiness, adaptability, and growth. Use whatever methods resonate with you and remember that the most important component of any spell is the witch who casts it.

The earth is blooming, so let’s bloom with it!

Happy Pink Moon, witches! 🌕🌸

2025 Witches Calendar

Bree’s Lunar Calendar Series

Bree’s Secular Celebrations Series

Pink Moon Magic: The Thrilling Full Moon of April 2025, The Peculiar Brunette.

Pink Moon: Full Micromoon of April 2025, The Old Farmers Almanac.

Witchcraft Exercise - Dig Through The Ditches, Bree NicGarran.

Wild Weed Harvests, Bree NicGarran.

Easter and the Paschal Full Moon: Determining the Date of Easter, The Old Farmer’s Almanac.

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison, Llewellyn Publications, 2004.

Image Source: NY Post, April 2024.

(If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

#witchcraft #witchblr #witchy things #pagan #moon magic #full moon #pink moon #lunar calendar #secular witchcraft #green witchcraft #plant magic

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jolyfics · 1 year ago

Note

This is my first time requesting something uggghh I'm nervous.

Anyways, I think it would be so cute if your wrote how the jojos would confess to their crushes!

i love the way you write so ik you'll do them justice

𝙞 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪

𝘫𝘰𝘫𝘰𝘴 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

summary: how the jojos confess

notes: THIS TOOK SO LONG MY HAND FELL ASLEEP 😭😭 but really i hope you enjoy it!! i swear i wasn’t being that lazy over easter break

jonathan joestar

i feel like jonathan is the most romantic out of all the jojos

he’d definitely bring you some place nice

like a tree on a hill during sunset

he’d also make it a picnic

after you two talk for a good bit is when he’d speak up

if you agree to his confession he’d let out a sigh of relief, as well as a big grin

6pm, he told you to meet you by the tree where you usually hang out, you adored that tree, it was rural. once you arrived you noticed he was there before you, sitting underneath the tree with a cute little picnic basket beside him. you sat down to his left, he took out some sandwiches you assumed he made and the two of you began eating, quickly falling into your usual banter.

after awhile, he cleared his throat, causing you to look up at him with confusion. “i.. have something i wish to tell you.” he spoke up, he sounded nervous, you had never heard him sound like that before. you perked up, signalling for him to continue. “i have feelings for you, (name). and i hope you’d accept them” you could feel your cheeks heat up, which caused his to do the same.

you nodded, “i do, jojo!” he grinned, a sigh escaping him as relief washed over his entire body. he placed his hand atop of yours, as you both gave eachother an adoring look

joseph joestar

joseph’s a smartass

it definitely starts with him teasing you

then when you ask him why he likes teasing you specifically is when he shuts up

he admits it quite casually

like its nothing

leaving you quite flustered

“c’mon, cutie! give me a smile!” he smirked, he adored the way your eyebrows looked as they furrowed when he spoke. he loved the way your face turned the slightest shade of red and how you tried to hide how he actually got a reaction out of you. he loved it all. “shut up, jojo!” you scoffed, trying to hide the blush that crept up onto your face

“why do you always tease me? why not suzie q?!” you spoke up, you weren’t angry, just genuinely confused. did he like seeing you so angry? he then playfully rolled his eyes. “because i love seeing that look on your face! i mean, who wouldn’t? you’re gorgeous yknow?” you scoffed once more before crossing your arms

“it’s because i love you, (name)! and i know you can’t resist me” he grinned, his usual stupid grin. you looked back over at him. it seemed he was waiting for you to say something to him, instead you placed a small kiss on his cheek. that seemed to finally shut him up

jotaro kujo

it honestly depends on which jotaro

part 3 jotaro isn’t the kinda guy to confess his feelings to you

he’d just hope and pray you had that confidence to speak up first

if you don’t though, and the feeling is getting too much for him to handle he’d trap you in a hotel room and force you to listen to him

very rare to hear more than a few words with him, let alone hear what he FEELS

you sat on the hotel bed, reading a cheap magazine you found in one of the drawers in the bedside table. you were sharing a room with jotaro, you only really shared with him or kakyoin, since you three were the only teenagers with the group. jotaro had just gotten back from being in the bathroom, he sat on the bed to your right.

“(name).” he spoke, his voice soft, yet still with the usual firmness that usually has a grasp over him. you looked over to him, closing the magazine over and placing it beside you on the bed. “yes, jotaro?” he paused, the air seemed different. not the usual feeling you had while rooming with him.

“you’re.. not awful.” his voice was now that of a mumble, as he used the brim of his hat to cover his face. at first you were confused, until it hit you, he was trying to tell you how he felt about you. he just couldn’t get the right words out of his mouth

josuke higashikata (4)

josukes confession is probably the most fun out of them all.

i feel like he’d take you somewhere fun like bowling

you’d be kicking his ass at it

and once you finished up your game and we’re walking home

thats when he’d tell you

and if its cold he might even lend you his coat

you shivered as the two of you walked home after a long day of bowling. you two played about 4 rounds, you won 3/4 of those games, which you were quite proud of. you felt something heavy land across your shoulders, you looked down. josukes coat? you then turned your gaze to him, he seemed to be looking in the opposite direction of you

“thanks, josuke” you spoke up, getting rid of the silence between you too. he hummed, kicking a rock as he walked. “hey, uhh” he paused before speaking up once more. “i gotta tell you something, and don’t get angry at me for saying this!” you chuckled at that, you couldn’t get angry at him

“i.. think i might like you. thats a lie. i know i like you” you pulled his coat closer around you as you grinned, this day seemed to be getting better and better..

giorno giovanna

giorno definitely took you to a fancy restaurant

he is the don, he has that kind of money

he’d probably buy you something fancy too.

he’d just say it outright, like it was something he said everyday

you two sat across from eachother at the fancy restaurant, both of you in your fanciest attire. you two stared at a menu, deciding what to get before the waiter arrived, notebook and pen in hand. once you ordered, and the waiter was gone, giorno looked over at you. he pulled out a tiny box placing it on the table and sliding it over to you

“giorno, no” “i insist, (name)” he interrupted. you sighed, picking up the box and opening it. a necklace lay inside, laced with what you could only assume were real diamonds. you looked up to him in shock. “giorno, i can’t take this..” he shook his head

“you must, you’re the only person i’d want to spend this kind of money on, so please. let me buy you things from now on” he gave a small, meaningful smile towards you, which only made you smile. you took the necklace out of the box, placing it around your neck. “you look stunning, mí amore”

jolyne cujoh

okay. we all know how lesbians are

she’d definitely confess buy playing a song for you, then saying that it reminds her of you

you two would just be in her bedroom

and she’d suggest listening to music

then she’d play the song and say it reminds her of you two

you two sat on jolynes bed, you’d been friends for years, so long in fact, you two had began to develop feelings for eachother. even though everyone around the two of you knew, you two didn’t. “hey.. let’s listen to some music!” jolyne suggested, you nodded. that could be fun, you always enjoyed her music

she grinned, standing up from the bed and heading towards her cd collection. she picked one up, then placed it into the cd player. it took a few seconds for the song to boot up but once it began she then hurried back over to sit beside you in her bed. “what song is it?” you asked, she only grinned at you. “you’ll see”

as the song began to play, it seemed like something jolyne never would’ve usually listened to. you began to recognise the song as time went on, ‘this kiss, by faith hill’ as you began to wonder why she picked this song, she spoke up. “this song, reminds me of us..” her face was slightly red as she spoke

Johnny Joestar

johnny and you were put on a ranch

yous were just together tending to your horses

it was silent, peaceful

that’s when johnny would admit to having feelings for you

it definitely took him awhile to do that

he’s not the most open when it comes to how he feels

you fed your horse, johnny stood beside you, doing the exact same to slow dancer, his horse. it was comfortable, you two enjoyed eachothers company and the silence between you wasn’t awkward in the slightest, at least for you anyways.

johnny was busy thinking about you, he wanted to tell you how he felt, he knew he owed it to you to be honest, but it was just scary. he was afraid of rejection from you. even though he knew deep, deep down that you most likely liked him too

“hey.. (name)?” he finally spoke up, he felt as if his heart was in his throat. you turned to look at him, giving him a hum to continue. “i just wanted to say that i.. like ya, i have for awhile now. i just.. wanted ya to know” he looked away, embarrassed

josuke higashikata (8)

josuke just blurts it out

like its NOTHING

he doesn’t get social cues tbh

it leaves you shocked

like really shocked

you two were probably just sitting in a part when he just says it

you sat on the park bench with josuke, you both had gotten an ice cream, it was a very warm day in morioh, so ice cream was the only solution the two of you had. as you both sat, enjoying your ice cream, you looked over to josuke, who seemed to be enjoying his delicious sweet treat

“isn’t this nice, josuke?” you spoke up, he only nodded enthusiastically, continuing to lick the cone. you chuckled at him, giving him a smile. which seemed to make him stop eating? he stared at you, in an almost creepy way. you’d be creeped out if you didn’t know him

“i’m in love with you” he says, before going back to his ice cream. you stared at him, in shock. “what?” you gave him a confused look, where you dreaming? hallucinating even? did he really just say that to you?

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arlana-likes-to-write · 5 months ago

Text

First Christmas

Summary: Your new relationship with the Black Widow has you questioning if you should decorate for Christmas because of the red head's complicated past with the holiday.

Warnings: angst with fluff, mention of past trauma

Word Count: 2.4

As they said, you felt a little stuck between a rock and a hard place. Christmas was important to you. It was filled with fond memories of you and your cousins playing in the snow, opening presents early in the morning, and singing Christmas songs around a fire. Christmas meant family. It meant bright lights, white snow, and the smell of cookies. Christmas was your favorite holiday.

Now, you would be spending your holidays with someone else with a more complicated outlook on the holidays. Your relationship with the Black Widow was only a couple of months old. But you’ve known the Avenger for longer as your path crossed the team of heroes daily since you were Helen’s assistant.

At first, the redhead stayed far away from you and the medical team. It seemed common that she wouldn’t be part of the group to get her injuries checked out after a mission. You accepted that was how it was going to be. Until a solo mission left Natasha more injured than she could handle alone, you found her in the kitchen, barely able to stand due to blood loss. You brought her to her room instead of bringing her to the medical unit. You restitched her wounds, cleaned them, and were about to leave, but Natasha asked you to say. A friendship formed under vulnerability, and then a relationship bloomed.

So you sat in your apartment debating whether to decorate for Christmas. Thanksgiving was two days that you spent with your family. Unfortunately, Natasha was on a mission and was due back tomorrow. Some part of you wondered if she took that mission to avoid the holiday. After a rough mission, Natasha told you about her life in Ohio while you cleaned the superficial cuts she got. That mission was created by the Red Room to act like an American family. They filled out a photo album on one day of Christmas, Easter, and summer break to play the part. She told you that she would stare at the empty boxes under the tree and want to rip them open.

Was it a good idea to decorate for Christmas? Would it hurt her? Would it cause a fight, and you would never see her again? Sighing, you stood up from the couch. Fuck it. It was time to decorate for Christmas.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Her whole body hurt as she climbed the stairs to your apartment, but knowing you were on the other side made it worth it. If you had told the Black Widow that when she defected to SHIELD, she would have someone to welcome her back after a mission, she would have laughed in your face. But you managed to worm your way into her heart. You broke down her walls. It made life less lonely.

Natasha used her key to open the door. It was warm compared to the weather outside. She hated the winter. Tugging off her boots and jacket, a sigh escaped her lips. She heard the sound of the shower and walked into your living room. The record player Helen gifted you was playing, and the Black Widow came face to face with the newest addition to your apartment.

A Christmas tree. The lights were bright and warm. The branches were decorated with red, green, and silver circular ornaments. There were some glass ornaments mixed within that Natasha was afraid to touch. When she took a deep breath in, the smell of pine filled your lungs. “You’re home,” your voice pulled her out of your thoughts and turned around to see you. Your hair was damp from the shower, and you were wearing a sweater that went to the middle of your thighs. “How was the mission?” You asked and closed the distance between you and her. Natasha saw your eyes scan over her possible injuries.

“I’m fine detka,” Natasha whispered. “Just the normal bumps and bruises.” It was a simple recon mission. “What is this?” She pointed to the tree over her shoulder but kept her eyes on you.

You glanced at the tree, then back to the Black Widow, and then to the tree. “It’s a Christmas tree,” you said. The redhead rolled her eyes and turned to face the tree. Tentatively, she felt you press your front to her back, and your arms went around her waist, your chin resting on her shoulder when she didn’t pull away from you. She hated how much she felt at ease in your arms. “It’s tradition,” you continued. “In my family to decorate for Christmas after Thanksgiving.” You spoke slowly. “I debated back and forth if I should put it up. I can take it down if it’s too much.”

“It’s your apartment,” Natasha said. “Do whatever you want.” It was easier for Natasha to deflect than acknowledge how you cared about her emotions.

“It’s your home, too,” you kissed the side of her head. “So I can take it down. No harm. No foul.”

“It’s,” Beautiful. Overwhelming. Terrifying. All these words bounced around in her head, but they weren’t enough to describe all these feelings. “It’s real.” She finally spoke. She hoped you understood the meaning behind her words. This was real. Your relationship with her was real. Not fabricated by the Red Room. If she chooses, she could celebrate Christmas with you.

“Come on,” you squeezed her waist, then dropped your arms. Natasha pouted at the loss of contact. “You are home early. Dinner isn’t ready yet.”

You were incredible. Your heart was so good. Natasha worried she didn’t deserve it.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Natasha was in trouble. You had been a thought in her mind that wouldn’t leave since the Christmas tree incident two weeks ago. Now, Christmas was next week, and Natasha was stuck on what to do. A mission request was in her hand, which would take her away for the holiday. The deputy director gave her the mission without a second thought because Maria knew Natasha wanted to be busy during the holidays. However, Natasha hesitated.

She had someone to spend the holidays with, and Christmas was so important to you. “You are thinking too hard,” Wanda appeared next to her and opened the fridge to take a protein shake out. I can see the smoke coming out of your ears,” she teased. Natasha huffed.

“I am just thinking about-”

“Christmas. That mission. Your girl,” Wand leaned against the counter across from Natasha. “Like I said you are thinking to hard.” The Black Widow rolled her eyes and stood from the chair with the file in her hand. “Wait, Nat. I just want to help.” Natasha stopped at Wanda’s voice but didn’t turn around.

“I don’t think I can be who she wants me to be,” Natasha admitted. Wanda sighed and walked over to her.

“She just wants you, Nat,” Wanda spoke softly. “She doesn’t want you to change.” The redhead walked over to the couch and slumped down. Her arm went up to cover her eyes, but she knew Wanda followed her and sat down. “Tell me what’s going on, Nat.”

“Why don’t you help yourself and look? You’ve done it before without asking.” The Black Widow snapped. She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. “Sorry,” she winched and removed her arm. “That was uncalled for.”

“It was,” Wanda deadpanned. “But as your friend, I’m still going to help.” Natasha hesitated. Yes, they worked through what happened when the young girl worked with Ultron, but Natasha was still guarded. There was no one else she could talk to about this, and you and Wanda were friends.

“I think I want to spend Christmas with her, but I don’t know how,” Natasha leaned forward and folded her hands. I have never celebrated Christmas before. I never had a reason. I never had anything real like this.” She felt her emotions get the better of her, but she swallowed it down. She remembered having to lie to her classmates about what she got for Christmas. She deserves a perfect Christmas, and I can’t give that to her.”

“Nat,” Wanda sighed again. “She doesn’t want perfect. She just wants you in any capacity. If you aren’t ready for that, then she will understand. Honestly, she would want to cuddle and watch movies with you.”

“And what do I get her?” Natasha questioned.

“I have some ideas,” the Black Widow looked at Wanda, who had a smile on her face. “What are you going to do about that?” She asked and pointed to the mission request. This was her out, her safe guard but deep down Natasha wanted a life outside of constant missions.

“I think Hill can find someone else to take my spot.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

“You know,” you smiled at your girlfriend’s voice but remained in your current position. “Your back will kill you for how long you’ve been standing there.”

“That’s why I have a wonderful girlfriend who will give me a massage if I ask,” you said, hearing her scuff and closing the distance between you and her. Her warm hands went to the middle of your back and shoulder. She forced you to stand up straight away from the microscope. You moaned in relief, not realizing how sore you were. Her hands dug into the knots in your back.

“Maria gave me a mission,” you nodded and tried to hide your disappointment. Christmas was next week, and you wanted to spend it with her, but you knew better not to push.

“When are you leaving?” You asked as you closed your eyes and lost yourself in the feeling of Natasha’s hands.

“I declined the mission.” Your eyes shot open at her confession. Your brain scrambled over her last check-up. She wasn’t injured, even though you gave her an earful about not wrapping her hands properly before she boxed. Why would she refuse to go? All the time you’ve known the Black Widow, not even an injury would keep her benched. Slowly, you turned around in your girlfriend’s arms.

“Why did you decline the mission?” You asked. Natasha let out a shaky breath, but her green eyes looked at everything beside you.

“Because,” she finally spoke. Finally, her green eyes landed on you. “I want to spend Christmas with you.” It was impossible to stop the surprise noise that escaped from the back of your throat. Embarrassment washed over you, but Natasha ignored it. “Is that okay?” She asked instead.

“Yeah,” you whispered. That is amazing—incredible—everything you’ve wanted. But those declarations would scare her away. “That is okay.” Natasha managed a small smile, kissed you softly, and pulled you into a hug. You felt her heart beating rapidly against her ribs, and you knew your heartbeat matched.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You were excited. This moment was everything you wanted, but as the clock counted down to Natasha’s arrival, you started to spiral. Talking with Wanda on the phone helped, but your anxiety was going to make you sick. You decided that a glass of wine was needed to help calm your nerves. There will be no cooking tonight, as you ordered Natasha’s favorite takeout. That was in the oven, staying warm. If Natasha was okay with that, you had everything in the fridge for a Christmas dinner. Everything was about making Natasha comfortable.

As you brought the wine glass to your lips, there was a knock on your door. You quickly ran to the door and looked through the peephole to see your girlfriend. She was shifting awkwardly with a Christmas sweater on and a few gift bags in her hand. “Hi,” you opened the door. “I like the sweater.” Natasha rolled her eyes and stepped into the apartment. You took the bags from her so she could take off her boots.

“A gift from Wanda” was a military green sweater with four black cats embroidered and various Christmas items they were playing with. You hummed.

“So I bet I can expect a matching one in my present,” you giggled and looked at the four bags in your hands. “Speaking of presents, who may I ask are these for?” You teased lightly.

“There are for my other girlfriend,” she deadpanned before snatching the bags out of your hands and headed for the Christmas tree.

You made your way back to the wine and waited. One second passed, followed by another. You watched Natasha stand up tall with a perfectly wrapped present in her hand. Your mother had you wrapping presents before you could talk. “Are these,” she paused. “For me?” You decided to tease her, closing the distance with your wine in your hand.

“No,” you smiled. “These are for my other girlfriend.” You used her words against her, but you saw the switch in her eyes from teasing to vulnerability. You put your glass down and covered her hands with yours. “Yes, these are for you. You can open them now or tomorrow, or you can throw them into the fire because it’s too much,” you managed to make her smile. “But these are real. This is real, just like how we will celebrate this very real holiday and how my-,” your eyes went wide from your almost confession. Natasha gave you a questionable look and gave you space to gather your thoughts. You sighed. “How my love for you is real.”

Natasha dropped the present, and it fell to the ground with a thud. A part of you cringed, but you knew it wasn’t fragile. It was worth it when Natasha pulled you closer, connecting your lips with yours. It took you by surprise, but you melted against her and matched the intensity of the kiss. She pulled away, keeping her lips close to breathe in the same air as you. “I-” the Black Widow closed her eyes. “I-” she couldn’t say it.

The Red Room taught her that love was a weakness, an emotion reserved for children. She couldn’t say a simple three-word sentence, but you knew her true feelings. Like everything with Natasha, she used her actions instead of her words. She said, ‘I love you,’ when she made sure you had lunch on a busy day, took care of her injuries, or massaged the knots in your shoulders. At night, her lips traveled across your skin. She let you in.

“I know, baby,” you whispered and kissed her again. Her hands moved underneath your Christmas sweater and traced the skin of your back. It was all too much and not enough. Natasha consumed all of your senses.

“Merry Christmas, dorogoy.”

“Merry Christmas.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff #black widow imagine #black widow x reader #black widow one shot

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donovankinard · 14 days ago

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there'll be happiness after you a post-8x15 firefam ficlet

i wrote this in a fit of easter inspiration after our family egg hunt. this was a hard year, and a rough holiday, and i really needed to find some joy in it, so that's what i did. it started as a drabble, but now it is... not that. the title comes from happiness by taylor swift.

“Thank you, for this, by the way,” Maddie murmurs. She’s clutching a glass of non-alcoholic white wine, sitting on the edge of Tommy’s back deck, with a soft blue cable-knit sweater sitting loosely on her frame. “Jee’s so young, she just…”

“Doesn’t understand.” Tommy finishes, and she nods. He takes a sip of his beer, setting it back down, and shakes his head gently. “It was the least I could do, Maddie, for you guys and for Bobby.”

Bobby; he’s, honestly, one of the biggest motivations behind this. His impact on Tommy’s life, despite so many years of estrangement and such a seemingly shallow relationship, altered him entirely. Bobby was the one who initiated Tommy’s transfer to Harbor, who helped him find a fresh start and never once judged him for needing it. Tommy thought Bobby’s family deserved some good, after everything that’s happened this last week.

And then…there’s Evan.

The younger man is standing in the middle of the backyard, with Jee-Yun sitting up onto his shoulders as he darts around, her tiny hands clinging to his forehead. Their team is racing against Denny and Mara to find the eggs scattered throughout the garden beds, although it mostly looks like Buck is trying to make his niece laugh – and succeeding.

It’s been a hard few days.

Christopher and Eddie came down to Los Angeles for the funeral next week, but the teenager doesn’t have any interest in the egg hunt, so he’s sitting in a desolate quiet. Tommy doesn’t know what the kid’s relationship with Bobby was like, but it’s obvious there was one, and he feels for Chris.

May is prancing across the yard, sneaking a few late-found eggs into Mara’s bucket and poking her tongue out at Harry, who’s helping Denny. She tosses a purple-foiled egg toward Ravi, and it hits him in the shoulder as he fumbles before dropping it. The flush clinging to his face makes Tommy want to laugh, just a little, but he doesn’t dare bring it up; the look he trades with Hen, though, tells him he isn’t the only one who sees it.

“How, uh, how’s Chimney doing?” Karen laces her hand in Hen’s, leaning to look past Tommy as she asks Maddie. “He wasn’t feeling up to this?”

Maddie shakes her head sadly, glancing out at the yard. “He… He’s not coping, with any of it. He’s angry about what Bobby did, putting him first that way. I don’t think he’s ready to deal with it yet.”

“I know what Bobby meant to me, and he was only my captain for a few months. I can’t imagine how it feels for you guys, and with the position Howie was in…” Tommy shakes his head.

Hen sighs. “Well, Buck seems to be holding up just fine. I– I don’t know how he pretends like it’s all okay, I’m on the verge of crying most of the time. Even the kids are worried.”

“I don’t think he’s just pretending,” Tommy replies softly. The women turn to him with inquisitive looks, eyes sad, and he elaborates. “I think he’s hoping that if he acts like what happened wasn’t so awful, he won’t have to feel it. He hasn’t even cried since he’s been here, but he was a wreck back at the lab.”

Tommy can’t imagine how Evan’s feeling, but he can see the shields being pulled up on all sides; it’s like Buck lost his father, but he doesn’t want to admit that because he doesn’t want to hurt the way he knows it will.

“Hang on, Buck has been staying with you the whole time?” Karen interrupts with a coy smile – it’s an obvious bid toward happier topics, but a welcome one. “Tommy, when were you guys planning on telling us you’re back together?”

“We’re, uh, we’re not,” Tommy laughs, trying to ignore the skeptical looks from all sides.

Karen scoffs. “Come on.”

“Seriously,” Hen adds.

“My brother has been making heart eyes at you all day,” Maddie rounds it up. “You haven’t put a label back on it, but you guys are all in. Pretty sure I saw him kiss you on the cheek when you gave him the salad at lunch.”

Tommy looks back up at Evan; he’s now got Jee slung over one shoulder, as the girl clutches her basket of chocolates and Harry tries to get to them laughingly. It almost, really, looks like before; except for the crack in May’s expression, and the way Denny keeps glancing back over to check on his Mom.

This isn’t quite the picture Tommy had imagined for their life together. There’s so much grief accenting every movement, every minute; this was supposed to be a happy Easter, a chocolate egg hunt and a nice lunch as a break from the mourning and the desolation.

But the absence of Bobby, beside Athena and Chim’s unwillingness to be here, is felt so sorely that none of it’s quite right.

“It’s not the right time, not with everything going on,” Tommy settles on, tone decided. “But we’ll get there. He’s worth waiting for.”

Karen and Hen both coo at that, and Tommy feels his skin flush, but they’re all interrupted by an adorable three-year-old being set safely on the floor and running up toward the deck. “Uncle Tommy! Denny and Harry are tyna take my choc-ate!”

There are a few gaps in her developing speech, but Tommy thinks that Jee speaks quite well for her age; all of that thought, though, is erased when Maddie clears her throat softly. “Jee, honey, what’d you call him?” She nods lightly toward Tommy.

“Uncle Tommy!” Jee-Yun announces proudly, before turning back to him and stamping a foot demandingly. “Let’s go, you gotta help!”

“Okay, okay!” Tommy stands up, crouching again so the little girl can clamber onto his back before darting out into the yard. He swings her around loosely, careful to keep his grip tight, and ignores the protestations of his ankles when he dodges Ravi lunging toward them.

Eddie clears his throat, watching it all with a stunned sort of quiet, his hand resting on Christopher’s shoulder as he turns to Karen. “It’s never going to be the same, is it?”

“No,” She concedes. The sun is starting to hang a little lower in the sky, casting shadows over their faces from the shutter-roof of the deck. “But it can still be happy.”

“He would’ve loved that,” Hen adds, wincing at the ache of her injury; but she ignores it, glancing back to Eddie before out at the yard, at the way everyone is somehow finding smiles to wear among the chocolate eggs. “Happy.”

thank you for reading! x

#911 #911 abc #911 on abc #bucktommy #bobby nash #118 firefam #911verse #my fics #my drabbles

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bixels · 1 year ago

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Portal 2 is still the perfect game to me. I hyperfixated on it like crazy in middle school. Would sing Want You Gone out loud cuz I had ADHD and no social awareness. Would make fan animations and pixel art. Would explain the ending spoilers and fan theories to anyone who'd listen. Would keep up with DeviantArt posts of the cores as humans. Would find and play community-made maps (Gelocity is insanely fun).

I still can't believe this game came out 12 years ago and it looks like THIS.

Like Mirror's Edge, the timeless art style and economic yet atmospheric lighting means this game will never age. The decision not to include any visible humans (ideas of Doug Rattmann showing up or a human co-op partner were cut) is doing so much legroom too. And the idea to use geometric tileset-like level designs is so smart! I sincerely believe that, by design, no game with a "realistic art style" has looked better than Portal 2.

Do you guys remember when Nvidia released Portal with RTX at it looked like dogshit? Just the most airbrushed crap I've ever seen; completely erased the cold, dry, clinical feel of Aperture.

So many breathtakingly pit-in-your-stomach moments I still think about too. And it's such a unique feeling; I'd describe at as... architectural existentialism? Experiencing the sublime under the shadow of manmade structures (Look up Giovanni Battista Piranesi's art if you're curious)? That scene where you're running from GLaDOS with Wheatley on a catwalk over a bottomless pit and––out of rage and desperation––GLaDOS silently begins tearing her facility apart and Wheatley cries 'She's bringing the whole place down!' and ENORMOUS apartment building-sized blocks begin groaning towards you on suspended rails and cement pillars crumble and sparks fly and the metal catwalk strains and bends and snaps under your feet. And when you finally make it to the safety of a work lift, you look back and watch the facility close its jaws behind you as it screams.

Or the horror of knowing you're already miles underground, and then Wheatley smashes you down an elevator shaft and you realize it goes deeper. That there's a hell under hell, and it's much, much older.

Or how about the moment when you finally claw your way out of Old Aperture, reaching the peak of this underground mountain, only to look up and discover an endless stone ceiling built above you. There's a service door connected to some stairs ahead, but surrounding you is this array of giant, building-sized springs that hold the entire facility up. They stretch on into the fog. You keep climbing.

I love that the facility itself is treated like an android zooid too, a colony of nano-machines and service cores and sentient panel arms and security cameras and more. And now, after thousands of years of neglect, the facility is festering with decomposition and microbes; deer, raccoons, birds. There are ghosts too. You're never alone, even when it's quiet. I wonder what you'd hear if you put your ear up against a test chamber's walls and listened. (I say that all contemplatively, but that's literally an easter egg in the game. You hear a voice.)

Also, a reminder that GLaDOS and Chell are not related and their relationship is meant to be psychosexual. There was a cut bit where GLaDOS would role-play as Chell's jealous housewife and accuse her of seeing other cores in between chambers. And their shared struggle for freedom and control? GLaDOS realizing, after remembering her past life, that she's become the abuser and deciding that she has the power to stop? That even if she can't be free, she can let Chell go because she hates her. And she loves her. Most people interpret GLaDOS "deleting Caroline in her brain" as an ominous sign, that she's forgetting her human roots and becoming "fully robot." But to me, it's a sign of hope for GLaDOS. She's relieving herself of the baggage that has defined her very existence, she's letting Caroline finally rest, and she's allowing herself to grow beyond what Cave and Aperture and the scientists defined her to be. The fact that GLaDOS still lets you go after deleting Caroline proves this. She doesn't double-back or change her mind like Wheatley did, she sticks to her word because she knows who she is. No one and nothing can influence her because she's in control. GLaDOS proves she's capable of empathy and mercy and change, human or not.

That's my retrospective, I love this game to bits. I wish I could experience it for the first time again.

#ramblings #long post #not art #personal #also i know “did glados actually delete caroline” is debated cuz the credits song disputes this #but i like to think she did #it's not sad. caroline died a long time ago #it's a goodbye

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mcrdvcks · 14 days ago

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i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ girl i've always been

chapter summary: While having a relaxing, lazy morning, there is an attack on New York City being broadcast, with some familiar and unfamiliar faces.

word count: 8.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: as i said before with peter, i'm a mcu fan at heart, and i wanted to try and bring in the avengers into the x-men (plus i have an idea for a little side storyline. it'll make sense once you read!)

also, thank you for 1,500 followers! and happy easter (if you celebrate)!

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, snow fight, slight angst, the battle of new york, the avengers, protective!logan

series masterlist - chapter 11 → chapter 13

“Please?” Theresa drawled, her tiny hands clasped together, the mittens looking particularly oversized on her.

“It’s freezing, Tess.” You replied, looking out the window to the snow covered grounds.

“But Scott and Jean are coming outside too!” Theresa added.

Jones nodded, “yeah, and so is Ororo, and Rogue, Bobby, Jub—”

“Summers, huh?” Logan questioned, his arms over his chest. He turned to look at you, “whaddya say sweetheart?”

You crossed your arms, a smirk tugging at your lips. “You only want to do this because Scott is going outside to have a snowball fight with the kids, and you don’t want to look like a wimp.”

Logan scoffed, his mouth pulling into a half-grin. “Sweetheart, I ain’t worried about Summers. Kid’s got an arm like a wet noodle.”

Theresa gasped dramatically, her mittens flying to her face. “Mr. Logan, that’s not nice! Mr. Summers is teaching me how to pitch!”

“Yeah?” Logan raised an eyebrow. “How’s that workin’ out for ya?”

Theresa frowned, scrunching her nose. “I hit Bobby in the face once.”

Jones laughed. “You hit Bobby like, three times.”

“That’s ‘cause Bobby’s head’s too big to miss.” Logan quipped, earning giggles from the kids. He turned back to you, his expression softening. “What do you think? Wanna show these kids how it’s done?”

You sighed, glancing back at the window. Snow swirled outside, the grounds blanketed in white. The wind rattled the glass, making you instinctively pull your cardigan tighter. “It’s freezing out there, Logan. I’m not built for this kind of weather.”

“You sure about that? Thought you were tough,” Logan teased, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “What’s a little snow gonna do to you, darlin’?”

You narrowed your eyes, feeling the familiar rush of playful irritation. “Fine. But if I get frostbite, you’re the one explaining it to Jean.”

Logan grinned, looking far too smug for your liking. “Deal.”

---

Outside, the cold hit immediately. You tugged your scarf up over your nose, trying not to shiver as you followed Logan toward the group of students. Snow crunched underfoot, the air filled with excited chatter as Scott and Jean stood off to the side, orchestrating teams.

“Alright, everyone!” Scott called out, clapping his hands. “We’re splitting into two teams. Jean and I will be captains—”

“Hold up,” Logan interrupted, his voice cutting through the noise. “What about me?”

Scott turned, his expression equal parts surprised and amused. “You? You’re joining?”

Logan shrugged, slipping off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby bench. “Someone’s gotta show these kids how to win.”

Jean rolled her eyes with a good-natured smile. “Logan, this is supposed to be fun, not a war.”

“Fun’s overrated,” Logan replied, cracking his knuckles.

You groaned, adjusting your glasses. “He’s going to take this way too seriously.”

Jean leaned closer to you, her breath visible in the freezing air. “He’s just trying to impress you.”

“By pelting kids with snowballs?”

“Exactly.”

Before you could respond, Logan’s voice boomed again. “Alright, Y/N’s on my team.”

“What?” you sputtered, looking at him incredulously. “I didn’t agree to this!”

“Too late,” Logan said, already rounding up a small group of eager-looking students. “You’re with me, sweetheart.”

Scott smirked, leaning toward Jean. “This should be good.”

---

The game quickly devolved into chaos. Logan, true to form, treated the snowball fight like a military operation. He barked orders to the kids on his team, pointing out strategic positions and even building a makeshift snow fort. You hung back, dodging the occasional snowball and trying not to laugh at how seriously he was taking it.

“Y/N, cover the flank!” Logan shouted, ducking behind a tree as a snowball whizzed past his head.

“You know this isn’t an actual battle, right?” you called back, crouching behind the fort.

“Tell that to Summers!” Logan growled, launching a perfectly aimed snowball that hit Scott square in the chest.

Scott stumbled back, brushing snow off his jacket. “Really, Logan? You’re aiming for me now?”

“Always, bub.”

Jean sighed dramatically. “Men.”

The kids, meanwhile, were having the time of their lives. Theresa and Jones worked together to build an impressive stockpile of snowballs, while Bobby used his powers to create perfectly round projectiles. Rogue ducked and weaved through the chaos, laughing as she nailed Logan in the shoulder with a particularly icy snowball.

“You’re lucky I like you, kid,” Logan muttered, brushing snow off his flannel.

Meanwhile, you stayed hidden behind the fort, because a few years ago when a snowball fight happened, someone—Scott—accidentally hit you in the face. But the worst part wasn’t that, it was the fact that your glasses broke and you couldn’t see for the rest of the day.

You huddled behind the makeshift fort with Jubilee, pulling your scarf tighter as the wind bit at your cheeks. Jubilee rubbed her arms through her thick jacket, shivering beside you. “Why is this my life? I could be inside right now, drinking cocoa.”

You adjusted your glasses, peeking over the snow wall just as a snowball zipped past, missing you by inches. “I’m wondering the same thing. I didn’t sign up for this level of chaos.”

Jubilee groaned dramatically, flopping backward into the snow. “Who even decided this was a good idea? Oh wait, it was Scott. Of course.”

You smirked. “Blame Logan. He turned this into a military operation.”

“Speaking of...” Jubilee pointed to Logan, who was standing a few feet away, rallying your team of students like they were about to storm Normandy. His flannel was dusted with snow, and his eyes were locked on Scott like he was calculating his next move.

“Alright, kids!” Logan barked. “Jones, cover the left. Theresa, keep Bobby busy. Y/N, stop hiding and provide backup.”

You threw up your hands. “I am backup! From back here!”

Logan turned and gave you a look—a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Sweetheart, what happened to teamwork?”

“Teamwork doesn’t involve me losing my glasses again,” you shot back. “I still have PTSD from last time.”

“I told you,” Logan replied, his smirk growing, “I’ll keep your glasses safe. Just stick with me.”

Jubilee snorted. “Oh sure, because he’s never broken anything in his life.”

“Hey,” Logan growled, pointing a finger at Jubilee, “don’t push it, kid.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips. Logan’s unwavering confidence in this absurd snowball fight—and in dragging you into it—was annoyingly endearing. Before you could retort, a snowball hit the fort’s edge, sending bits of snow scattering onto your face.

“Y/N!” Theresa called, her red hair peeking over the fort as she ducked another projectile. “Bobby just took Rogue out! We have the advantage!”

You sighed, pushing yourself to your feet. “Alright, fine. But if anyone breaks my glasses, there’s going to be trouble.”

Logan’s grin widened as he lobbed another snowball, hitting Scott in the shoulder. “There’s my girl. Come on, darlin’, time to show Summers how it’s done.”

You stepped around the fort cautiously, scooping up some snow and packing it into a firm ball. Jubilee muttered behind you, “This is going to end in tears.”

“Probably mine,” you replied dryly.

Across the snowy battlefield, Scott and Jean were crouched behind a smaller fort. Scott’s tactical stance and determined expression were straight out of a playbook, while Jean looked like she was trying not to laugh.

“Jean, cover me!” Scott shouted, throwing a snowball that missed Logan by several feet.

Jean shook her head, smiling. “Cover you from what? You’re not even aiming.”

“Hey!” Scott protested. “I hit Logan earlier!”

“Barely,” Logan said, his tone smug. “Summers, you couldn’t hit me if you were standing two feet away.”

Scott scowled. “Alright, that’s it—”

Before he could finish, you lobbed a snowball that smacked him square in the chest. The kids on your team erupted into cheers. Scott looked down at the snowy mark on his jacket, then up at you with mock betrayal.

“What—Y/N?” he called, shaking his head.

“Sorry, Scott,” you replied, biting back a grin. “Logan made me do it.”

Logan barked a laugh, tossing an arm around your shoulder briefly before returning to the battle. “She’s finally coming around to the winning side.”

Jean leaned out from her fort, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Don’t encourage him, Y/N.”

Logan called back, “Too late! She’s all mine now.”

You rolled your eyes but felt a warmth spreading through you despite the cold. For all his bravado and bluster, there was something undeniably comforting about Logan’s presence, even in the midst of a ridiculous snowball war.

“Don’t get cocky,” you muttered, brushing snow off your sleeves.

“I’m not cocky,” Logan said, throwing another perfectly aimed snowball that hit Scott in the arm. “I’m just good.”

Jubilee groaned loudly from behind you. “Can we end this already? My fingers are icicles!”

“Not until Summers surrenders!” Logan declared, ducking another snowball and tossing one back with perfect precision.

Jean laughed, raising her hands. “Okay, truce! Before someone loses a limb or, worse, their dignity.”

Scott lowered his arm reluctantly. “Fine. Truce.”

Logan smirked, straightening up and brushing snow off his hands. “Guess we know who the real champ is.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Scott muttered.

As the snowball fight dissolved, you found yourself walking back toward the mansion with Logan at your side. He glanced down at you, his expression softer now. “Not bad out there, darlin’. You might just be my secret weapon.”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “Next time, I’m staying inside.”

“Sure you are,” Logan replied, his grin warm. “You can’t resist me.”

“You’re impossible,” you said, nudging him lightly.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice low and amused. “But you love me anyway.”

---

You hummed along to the catchy pop tune playing softly on the kitchen radio as you stirred the stir-fry. The savory aroma of chicken, steak, and colorful veggies filled the air, the sizzling sound adding a cozy rhythm to your evening.

Footsteps approached, deliberate and heavy, and a moment later, Logan appeared beside you. He held out a glass of red wine with a casual smirk, keeping the other for himself. “Figured you could use this.”

“Thanks,” you said, pausing long enough to take it from him. You raised an eyebrow as Logan leaned slightly over your shoulder, inspecting the pan. His face was far too serious for something as mundane as dinner.

“Yes,” you deadpanned, taking a sip of the wine, “I added steak. Just for you.”

The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Smart choice, sweetheart. Can’t go wrong with steak.”

You rolled your eyes and returned your focus to the pan, the warmth from the stove a welcome contrast to the winter air outside. As you adjusted the heat, Logan stepped closer, his hands resting lightly on your hips. His chest was warm against your back, and the soft pressure of his touch made you pause.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, your voice colored with amusement.

Logan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist and started to sway, his movements slow and unhurried. You blinked, trying to stifle a laugh. “Seriously?”

“You were hummin’, so I thought I’d join in,” he said, his deep voice low near your ear.

“I was humming to a pop song, not a ballad,” you replied, though you couldn’t quite bring yourself to pull away. His embrace was too warm, too grounding.

Logan tugged you gently, nudging you away from the stove. “C’mere.”

“Logan, the food—”

“It’ll be fine. Just a minute.”

The look in his eyes left little room for argument, so you allowed him to guide you a few steps away. The music from the radio filled the quiet as Logan pulled you close. His movements were uncharacteristically tender, his calloused hands resting lightly on your lower back as he led you in what could only loosely be described as a slow dance.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “You know this is a pop song, right? This doesn’t really... fit.”

“I don’t care.” Logan’s lips twitched into a faint grin, but his eyes softened. “Music’s just noise. It’s the person you’re dancin’ with that matters.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, though you hid your face by tucking your head against his shoulder. His flannel smelled faintly of pine and something uniquely him, grounding you in a way few things could. The two of you swayed in place, ignoring the incongruous beat of the music and the simmering stir-fry just a few feet away.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you murmured, “You’re in a rare mood.”

“Yeah, maybe I am,” Logan said, his tone softer than usual. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “’S nice, just... bein’ here with you.”

You didn’t respond right away, letting his words settle in your chest. For all of Logan’s gruffness and his habit of turning everything into a challenge, these rare, quiet moments reminded you of how fiercely he loved. How fiercely he loved you.

Nice didn’t seem like the right word for it. It was everything.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you teased, your voice quieter now.

Logan chuckled, his breath warm against your temple. “Nah. I’m lucky you love me.”

The crackling sound of the stir-fry snapped you back to reality, and you gave him a gentle nudge. “Okay, dinner’s about to burn. Let me go.”

Logan tightened his arms briefly, a teasing glint in his eye. “One more second.”

“Logan.”

With an exaggerated sigh, he loosened his hold, letting you step back toward the stove. You stirred the pan quickly, relieved that nothing had scorched. Logan leaned against the counter, watching you with a lazy grin, his wineglass dangling from his fingers.

“You’re impossible,” you said, glancing over at him.

“Yeah,” Logan agreed easily. “But you love me anyway.”

You shot him a look but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. In the background, the radio shifted to another upbeat track, the music filling the small kitchen like a promise of more moments like this. Moments where time felt like it belonged solely to the two of you.

---

Sleeping in was rare, even on the weekends. But today, as the noon sun poured through the curtains, bathing the room in soft light, you both indulged in the rare luxury. The warmth of Logan’s body beside you and the quiet of the mansion made the bed feel like the only place that mattered.

You stretched lazily, your hand brushing Logan’s chest as he gave a low, contented grunt. “Finally awake?” he murmured, his voice rough from sleep.

“Mm, not yet,” you replied, burying your face against his shoulder. His scent—pine, leather, and something faintly metallic—wrapped around you, grounding you in the moment.

Logan chuckled softly, his hand slipping to the small of your back. “Y’know, most people are already up by now.”

“Most people don’t get woken up at 5 a.m. by the sound of kids trying to build a trampoline out of their powers,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt.

He smirked. “Fair enough.”

The room stayed quiet for a while, the two of you enjoying the stillness. Logan’s hand moved in slow circles along your back, a soothing motion that almost lulled you back to sleep.

“You’re a lot clingier today,” you teased, looking up at him.

“Guess I am,” Logan said with a shrug, his expression unreadable. “Don’t hear you complainin’, though.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away. “No. I’m not.”

A sharp knock at the door made you groan, breaking the moment. “It’s Jean!” came the muffled voice from the other side. “You two need to get to the common room right now.”

Logan frowned. “What’s the rush?”

“Just hurry! You’re going to want to see this,” Jean called back before her footsteps faded down the hall.

You sighed, reluctantly pushing yourself up. “Guess our lazy morning is over.”

“Always somethin’,” Logan muttered, rubbing a hand over his face before climbing out of bed.

You slid out as well, slipping on your glasses and grabbing your robe from the chair. Logan was already pulling on his flannel shirt and jeans, moving with his usual efficiency. Within minutes, the two of you were heading down the hall toward the common room.

The mansion was unusually quiet for midday, the muffled sound of a news broadcast growing louder as you approached the common room.

When you walked in, the screen immediately caught your attention. Footage of New York City filled the TV, with buildings crumbling and smoke rising into the sky. The words “Breaking News: Alien Invasion in Manhattan” scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

"What the hell?" Logan muttered, crossing his arms as he stared at the footage.

Jean turned to you both, her expression grim. "It started an hour ago. There’s some kind of portal above the city. They’re calling it an alien invasion."

Your heart sank as you watched the chaos unfold on the screen. Cars were overturned, people running for their lives as enormous, alien-looking creatures wreaked havoc.

The kids spoke quietly amongst themselves.

“Who’s that guy with the hammer?” Peter asked.

Jubilee leaned in, “I saw a Reddit thread sayin’ he was an alien.”

Logan let out a groan, rubbing a hand down his face as he stared at the chaotic footage on the television. "Now there are damn aliens? What’s next, giant lizards takin’ over the city?"

"Don’t jinx it," Jean muttered, arms crossed as she stood beside the couch, her gaze glued to the screen. "This is already bad enough."

Scott stood nearby, frowning deeply. "They’ve got a lot of tech. Look at the size of that portal. That’s not something we can just ignore."

"We’re not getting involved, Scott," Jean cut in sharply. Her tone was firm but calm, the way it always was when she knew she needed to be the voice of reason. "This isn’t our fight. We don’t even know what we’d be walking into."

"She’s right," Logan added, his voice gruff. He leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossed. "Let the army or whoever deal with it. We’ve got enough on our plate without runnin’ into some other mess."

Bobby raised an eyebrow as he watched the screen. "That guy in the suit... isn’t that Tony Stark? The billionaire who’s always in the news?"

"Yeah," Peter said, squinting. "And isn’t that Captain America? Wait, I thought he was dead—or, like, frozen or something?"

"You mean that propaganda poster boy?" Logan’s voice had an edge, but there was something unspoken beneath it. His eyes lingered on the screen, his jaw tightening as the camera panned to a blond man throwing a shield with almost impossible precision.

Jean glanced over at Logan, her brow furrowed. "You know him?"

Logan gave a noncommittal shrug, his expression carefully neutral. "We fought together a long time ago. Doesn’t matter now."

You shifted your weight beside him, catching the way his knuckles whitened against his biceps. Gently, you placed a hand on his arm. "Are you okay?"

He looked down at you, his expression softening in that way only you seemed to bring out. "I’m fine. Just didn’t expect to see his face today, is all."

Scott cleared his throat, his arms crossed. "We still need to figure out what our stance is on this. If those things—whatever they are—start spreading beyond Manhattan, we’ll have to act."

Jean shook her head. "For now, we wait. The situation’s still unfolding, and we don’t even know what’s going on up there. Jumping in blind could make things worse."

Logan smirked faintly. "For once, I agree with Red."

Jean rolled her eyes at the nickname but didn’t argue.

The footage shifted to show the so called ‘alien’—a large man with a hammer, lightning crackling around him as he brought it down on a group of the alien creatures. Peter practically jumped up from his seat. "Okay, who is that guy? Thor? Like, the Norse god?"

Jubilee leaned forward, a grin spreading across her face. "Maybe he is! Did you see the lightning? That’s insane."

"Focus, guys," you said gently, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Their excitement was contagious, even if the situation was grim.

Logan’s hand found its way to your back, a subtle, grounding gesture. "Kids can get excited all they want, but we’re stayin’ out of it," he said firmly. "End of story."

Jean nodded in agreement. "Logan’s right. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves."

The room quieted, the group’s attention returning to the screen. Despite the chaos unfolding in New York, the decision had been made—for now, the X-Men would stand back. It wasn’t their fight, not yet. But the tension lingered, unspoken questions hanging in the air.

You leaned into Logan’s side, your hand brushing his as you watched the screen. His thumb grazed the back of your hand, a small gesture of reassurance. Whatever was happening out there, at least for now, you were together—and for Logan, that was enough.

---

The new book you got had you in a hold. You and Jean were reading the same book, which was a rarity since you both had different tastes. But Gone Girl was intriguing and had a way of pulling you in.

And since it was a Saturday, it was the perfect day to relax and read… and possibly finish the book in one day.

You sat down at the island as Logan made breakfast for the two of you. He placed your cup of tea in front of you, the steam curling upward like a warm invitation. “It’s hot. Don’t burn yourself,” he warned with a pointed look, then turned back to the stove where a skillet sizzled with eggs and bacon.

“Thanks,” you murmured distractedly, already nose-deep in the novel you’d cracked open just moments before. You adjusted your glasses, the light from the nearby window perfectly illuminating the pages.

Logan glanced over his shoulder as he flipped the bacon, catching sight of you. “That book got somethin’ I don’t? You didn’t even notice me makin’ you tea, sweetheart.”

“Hmm?” you mumbled, vaguely aware he was talking but too caught up in the tangled mess of secrets the characters in Gone Girl were unraveling.

Logan huffed softly, half amused and half annoyed. “Never thought I’d lose to a damn book,” he muttered under his breath. His tone was light, but he watched you carefully as he slid the food onto plates.

“Eggs okay? Or do ya want somethin’ fancier, like toast?” He set your plate in front of you.

“Mmhmm,” you replied absently, still buried in the text.

Logan’s brows shot up. He leaned forward slightly, his hands braced on the counter as he smirked. “Right. Guess ‘mmhmm’ means ‘chef’s choice,’ huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you said without looking up.

Logan straightened with an exaggerated sigh and dug into his own breakfast, watching as you ate your eggs without once lifting your eyes from the book. He shook his head, almost impressed by how oblivious you were to his efforts.

---

By mid-afternoon, Logan’s patience was wearing thin. After breakfast, you’d curled up on the couch, the book balanced on your knees as you fell even deeper into its story. He’d tried everything—talking about the updates he was making to his motorcycle, asking you random questions, even joking about how the least you could do was come hold a wrench for him. Your responses were minimal at best, a distracted hum or soft “uh-huh” here and there.

Logan stood in the doorway of the living room now, hands on his hips. “So, is this what it feels like?”

“Hm?” you replied without looking up.

“When I’m tuned out ‘cause you’re ramblin’ about Schrödinger’s whatever or that theory… the one with all the dimensions.”

“String theory,” you corrected automatically, flipping a page.

He snorted. “Yeah, that one. Pretty much what I sound like when you’re talkin’, huh?”

“Mm,” you replied, not even registering the teasing lilt in his tone.

Logan turned and trudged into the hallway, muttering under his breath. “Unbelievable. Even Scott’d get more of a reaction.”

As if on cue, Scott appeared at the other end of the hall, looking just as annoyed as Logan felt. “You too?” he asked.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

Scott gestured vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. “Jean. She’s been stuck in that book all day. I asked her about a briefing—nothing. Asked if she’d seen Rogue—‘hmm.’ She’s completely tuned me out.”

Logan barked a laugh. “Let me guess. Gone Girl?”

Scott stared at him for a beat. “Yeah.”

Logan shook his head knowingly. “Figures. Guess that makes me one of the gone guys.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Glad someone’s having fun.”

---

Evening rolled around, and you were finally nearing the end of the book. The story’s climax was in sight, and you barely noticed the room dimming with the setting sun. You were perched on the bed now, your back propped up against a mountain of pillows.

Logan stood in the doorway, arms folded, watching you. He had to admit, it was kind of cute how engrossed you were. But after being ignored all day? Cute wasn’t enough to save you.

With a smirk tugging at his lips, Logan walked over, reached out, and plucked the book straight out of your hands.

“Hey!” you yelped, sitting up and reaching for it. “What are you doing?!”

He stepped back, holding the book up over his head. “You were ignorin’ me,” he said simply.

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” you argued, scooting to the edge of the bed as if you could reach it.

“Yeah, you were,” Logan replied, his tone teasing. “All damn day, sweetheart. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Your eyes narrowed as you pushed your glasses higher on your nose. “Logan, give it back.”

“Not until you gimme a kiss,” he countered with a grin.

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, holding the book out of your reach. “One kiss, and you get your book back.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” His smirk widened.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “This is ridiculous.”

“Then I guess you don’t need the book back.” Logan made a show of flipping through the pages as if he was about to start reading it himself.

“Alright, alright!” You got up on your knees, leaning toward him. “But just one.”

Logan lowered the book slightly, clearly pleased with himself. “One’s all I need, darlin’.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned forward, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips. Logan’s grin widened against your mouth, and before you could pull away, his hand came up to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss just enough to make you forget your irritation.

When he finally let you go, his eyes were full of mischief. “There. Was that so hard?”

You snatched the book from his hand, your cheeks warm. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” Logan agreed with a smirk. “But you love me anyway.”

---

After an exhausting day of classes and too much loud chattering from the students, all you wanted was to curl up next to Logan and watch whatever would make him happy. Even if it was one of those old westerns again.

You got to the bedroom and dropped your satchel onto the floor. Logan was already in the room, his hair partly wet from his shower and a towel over his bare shoulder.

“Rough day?” He asked.

“Would’ve been easier if I didn’t wear these shoes,” you grumbled.

Logan sighed and kneeled down in front of you, holding one leg with one hand and easily slipping off your heel before doing the same with the other. His rough hands brushed lightly against your ankle, sending a small shiver up your spine.

"You’re gonna end up with blisters wearin’ shoes like that all day," he muttered, glancing up at you with a mix of annoyance and concern.

“I didn’t think I was gonna be on my feet that much. I had to teach Scott’s class because he was busy doing something with the Professor.”

Logan ran a hand through his damp hair, tossing the towel onto a nearby chair. “Scott owes you big for takin’ his class,” he muttered, his gaze softening as he kneeled and pressed his thumb gently along the curve of your arch.

You sighed, melting a bit under his careful touch. “I didn’t mind. It just wasn’t exactly in my plans today.”

“Bet he didn’t even tell ya why, did he?” Logan asked, his lips curving into a knowing smirk.

You shook your head, leaning back slightly as he switched to your other foot. “Nope. Just said he and the Professor were busy. Typical Scott.”

“Figures,” Logan muttered, standing up and reaching for his beater. He slipped it on, the fabric clinging to him in a way that always distracted you for a moment longer than it should have. “How’s that feel now?”

“Better,” you admitted with a small smile. “Thanks.”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Least I can do.”

You were about to flop onto the bed to finally relax, maybe even convince Logan to watch something other than The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, when a sharp knock sounded at the door. Before either of you could respond, Jean’s voice came through.

“Logan? Y/N? Charles needs us in the briefing room. Now.”

Logan groaned, his head falling back. “Of course. Can’t get a damn minute of peace around here.”

You pushed yourself off the bed, but the moment your bare feet hit the floor, a sharp sting shot up your heels. You winced, grabbing onto the edge of the bed for balance.

Logan noticed immediately. “What’d I just say about those shoes, sweetheart?” he asked, his tone part exasperation, part concern. Without waiting for a response, he stepped closer, his hands already reaching for you.

“I can walk,” you protested as he scooped you up effortlessly, arms cradling you against his chest. “And what if we get there and I need shoes?” you added, trying to inject some logic into the situation.

Logan huffed a laugh, glancing down at you as he carried you toward the door. “Guess you’ll just have to sit pretty and let me handle it.”

Jean was waiting in the hallway, a knowing smirk on her face as she saw Logan carrying you. “You’re really leaning into the knight-in-shining-armor thing, huh?”

“Don’t start, Jeannie,” Logan shot back, his tone light but his grip on you firm.

Ororo and Hank joined the group as you made your way down the hall, both raising eyebrows at the sight of Logan carrying you.

“Rough day, Y/N?” Ororo teased gently.

“You could say that,” you replied with a sheepish smile.

When you finally reached the briefing room, Logan set you down gently in a chair, crouching briefly to make sure you were comfortable. His large hand lingered on your knee as if to reassure himself you were okay.

You barely noticed because the moment your gaze lifted, your breath caught. Standing near Charles and Scott was a group of people you immediately recognized from news reports and scientific journals. One in particular had your jaw dropping.

“It’s Bruce Banner,” you whispered, eyes wide as you leaned closer to Logan. “Logan. That’s Bruce Banner.”

Logan glanced at you, his brow furrowing. “The science guy?”

“Yes, the science guy,” you whispered back, trying not to stare too obviously. “This is incredible.”

Logan’s lips twitched, but his response was cut off by Charles clearing his throat. “Thank you all for coming. As you may have noticed, we have some new faces here today.”

Scott, standing rigid at Charles’s side, didn’t look thrilled, but his posture screamed professionalism. Beside him, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Thor, and Steve Rogers stood with varying degrees of curiosity and skepticism.

But it was Steve who caught your attention next. His gaze swept the room until it landed on Logan—and then, surprisingly, on you. His expression flickered, something like recognition flashing across his face before it was gone. You frowned, unsure of what you’d just seen, but the moment passed as Charles continued.

“Allow me to introduce the Avengers.”

You reached for Logan’s hand under the table, your thumb gently tracing patterns over his knuckles and palm. His hand tightened slightly around yours, a subtle reassurance as you sat in the presence of these strangers.

“The Avengers? Whatta stupid name,” Logan muttered, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You shot him a look, lips twitching despite yourself. “Logan.”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “I’m just sayin’.”

Charles continued speaking, his calm, authoritative voice attempting to bridge the gap between the X-Men and their unexpected visitors. “Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. reached out to us following the incident in New York City. He felt it prudent that we meet, given the shared nature of our goals.”

Scott, standing near the Professor, looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. His arms were crossed tightly, and his jaw was set in a way that screamed I don’t trust this.

Thor, meanwhile, was visibly intrigued, his gaze sweeping across the room with curiosity. “So these are the famed X-Men,” he remarked, his deep voice filling the space. “It is a pleasure to meet warriors of such renown.”

Logan’s grip on your hand tightened, and you glanced at him. He wasn’t looking at Thor; his eyes were locked on Steve Rogers, who was staring back at him with a mix of recognition and surprise.

“Logan,” Steve said, stepping forward slightly. His voice was steady, but there was a faint undercurrent of disbelief. “It’s been… a long time.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “It has.”

The tension was thick, but you couldn’t help noticing the flicker of something else in Steve’s face—something that shifted when his gaze slid to you. His expression softened, and for the briefest moment, he looked like he was about to say something. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual calm demeanor.

Tony Stark, leaning casually against the wall, jumped in. “Wait, wait. You’re telling me you two go way back to World War II? How old are you people?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Older than you, bub. That’s all you need to know.”

Tony raised his hands in mock surrender. “Noted.”

Jean, seated beside you, leaned in closer. “You okay?” she whispered, sensing the tension in the room.

You nodded, though your mind was racing. You weren’t entirely sure what was happening between Logan and Steve, but it wasn’t just the history between them that had you unsettled.

Charles, ever the mediator, broke through the undercurrent of tension. “I believe it would be beneficial for all of us to share information and find common ground. We face threats that may one day require collaboration.”

“Agreed,” Natasha said, her voice calm but firm. “If we’re going to work together, we need to understand each other’s capabilities.”

Logan scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Capabilities, huh? You wanna see what we can do?”

“Logan,” you murmured again, placing a hand on his arm. He glanced at you, the edges of his frustration softening slightly.

Bruce, who had been quiet until now, cleared his throat. “I think what Natasha means is that if we’re going to trust each other, we need transparency. We’re not here to fight anyone.”

“Yet,” Logan muttered under his breath.

You sighed, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Honey.”

Thor chuckled, clearly amused by the dynamic between you and Logan. “Your companion has spirit,” he said, addressing Logan directly.

“She’s got more than spirit,” Logan replied, his tone softer now as he glanced at you.

The meeting continued, with Charles and Nick Fury leading the discussion while the rest of you listened. You couldn’t shake the feeling that Steve’s gaze kept drifting toward you, but you didn’t dare look back.

When the meeting finally adjourned, the room began to clear. Steve lingered, his eyes finding Logan once again.

“Logan,” he said quietly, his tone deliberate.

“Cap.” Logan’s response was curt, but his grip on your hand tightened.

Steve hesitated, his gaze flickering to you. “It’s… good to see you again.”

You blinked, startled. “Me?”

Logan’s jaw clenched, and he stood abruptly, pulling you gently to your feet. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

You barely had time to process what had just happened as Logan led you out of the room, his pace brisk, your feet slightly stinging. It wasn’t until you were back in the privacy of your shared room that you managed to catch your breath.

“Logan, what was that about?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing you need to worry about, darlin’.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “Logan—”

“Not now,” he said, his tone soft but firm. He pulled you into his arms, his grip almost possessive. “I just… needed to get you outta there.”

You rested your head against his chest, your mind still spinning. You knew that whatever it was, Logan didn’t want to talk about it, but there were too many questions now rattling inside your head.

“What did he mean again?” You said, your voice muffled against his chest, “do you think he meant… one of my past lives?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. His arms around you were solid, grounding, but his grip tightened just enough for you to notice. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” he said finally, his voice low and gravelly. “Could be. Could just be Cap bein’ Cap. He’s always got that boy scout thing goin’ on.”

You tilted your head back to look at him, your brow furrowed. “Logan, don’t brush this off. He looked like he knew me. Not just ‘oh, you remind me of someone’—he knew me.”

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he stared down at you. “I told you about 1943,” he said after a moment. “You were a nurse. I met you right before I shipped out for Operation Husky. We didn’t get much time together—just a week—but maybe he remembers you from back then. I don’t know how else he’d know you.”

You bit your lip, trying to piece it together. “He said ‘it’s good to see you again.’ Not ‘it’s good to meet you’ or even ‘you look familiar.’ That’s… specific, Logan.”

“I know,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just—I don’t like it. Him lookin’ at you like that. Like he’s got some kind of claim or somethin’.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Logan, are you jealous?”

His lips twitched in what might’ve been a smirk if he weren’t so serious. “No,” he said, but his tone betrayed him. “I just don’t trust him. Or any of ‘em, really.”

You sighed, resting your hands on his chest. “You know, you can admit it’s weird without growling at everyone in the room.”

“I wasn’t growling.”

“Logan.”

“…Fine. Maybe I was growling a little.” He finally cracked a small grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Look, darlin’, I don’t have all the answers. But I know this—whatever Cap thinks he knows about you, he doesn’t know you like I do.”

Your heart softened at that, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I know.”

He wrapped his arms tighter around you, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I told you everything I remember about the other lives. There ain’t much left to figure out, but… if Cap knows somethin’ we don’t, we’ll get to the bottom of it. Together.”

You nodded against his chest, but the unease lingering in your stomach didn’t go away. “Okay.”

For now, you let the subject drop, content to stay wrapped in Logan’s arms. But you couldn’t help wondering—what exactly did Steve Rogers know about you? And why did it feel like the past was about to catch up to you in a way you weren’t prepared for?

---

The next day you walked into your lab, ready to decompress a little even if it meant doing some complex calculus. You opened the doors to your lab and saw Scott and Hank leading Tony and Bruce Banner around your lab.

Bruce Banner—scientific icon, world-renowned mind.

You hesitated, gripping the strap of your bag tighter, already feeling your cheeks flush. Anxiety stirred low in your chest, as though stepping closer would somehow make you too exposed, too scrutinized by these larger-than-life personalities.

Scott noticed you first, turning toward the door. “Y/N,” he said, his voice even but softer than usual. He must’ve picked up on your hesitation because his gaze softened just slightly.

Hank glanced over as well, waving you forward like this was no big deal. “Good timing,” he said warmly. “Come meet our guests.”

Oh, no. No, no, no.

You swallowed hard and stepped forward, managing to avoid tripping over your feet—a miracle, really. Tony had already launched into a monologue about something, but as the new arrival caught his attention, his eyes landed on you.

“Well, what do we have here?” Tony said, cocking an eyebrow. “Another genius in the house? Don’t tell me Stark Industries has competition hiding out in a mansion.”

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but the words tangled up and didn’t come.

Scott, likely sensing the rise of your internal panic, stepped closer, standing at your side. His hand brushed your shoulder, solid and reassuring, before it returned to his crossed-arm stance. “This is Dr. Y/N,” Scott said, his tone brisk but protective in that understated way of his. “She’s part of the team and handles all our physics work. You’ll want her opinion on anything advanced.”

You winced a little, feeling like Scott had just put a spotlight on you. “I, uh… Hi,” you managed, adjusting your glasses as you glanced at Bruce, trying not to think too much about how much smarter than you he probably was. “It’s nice to meet you.”

To your surprise, Bruce smiled—not in that awkward, condescending way you sometimes got, but a genuine, warm smile. “Nice to meet you, too, Doctor,” he said, his tone polite. “Hank mentioned your work. I’d love to see what you’re working on sometime.”

Your cheeks flamed. “Oh—um—yeah, sure. I mean, it’s not that interesting. Just… you know… physics.”

Tony snorted. “Oh, ‘just physics,’ she says. Humble, too. Let me guess: some casual light reading on quantum dynamics?”

You felt rooted to the spot, unsure of how to respond. Hank cleared his throat, stepping in smoothly. “Actually,” he said with an amused tone, “Y/N specializes in quantum field theory, but she’s been working on some breakthroughs in spatial-temporal fluctuations.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Spatial-temporal fluctuations? No kidding.”

Bruce adjusted his glasses. “That’s fascinating. I was actually reading a paper recently on the potential overlaps of that field with time-reversal symmetry.”

You blinked, your mind simultaneously thrilled and spinning. “That’s—well, that’s exactly what I’m looking into,” you said quickly before you could lose your nerve. “Though it’s still in early stages. Nothing like what you’ve done.”

Bruce tilted his head, interest flickering in his eyes. “Don’t sell yourself short. Maybe we can exchange notes later?”

“Oh,” you said, startled. “Yes. Absolutely.”

Tony gave a dramatic sigh, clapping his hands together. “Brilliant minds, bonding over impossible science. Warms my heart.” He glanced around the lab. “So, Specks, you’re not gonna, you know, shoot lasers outta your eyes, right? Or turn into… that.” Tony lazily gestured at Hank. “No offense.”

Hank let out a sigh, “none taken.”

You froze, unsure how to respond. The sudden shift in attention felt like a spotlight bearing down on you, and your cheeks warmed. Before you could stammer out an answer, Hank stepped in, his tone calm but firm.

“Y/N’s abilities are unique,” Hank said, resting a steady hand on your shoulder. It was a quiet gesture, but it helped ground you. “She can manipulate time. It’s not something she uses lightly.”

Bruce Banner tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “Time manipulation?” he asked, his voice gentle, more intrigued than intrusive. “That’s… incredible. I can only imagine the complexities.”

You adjusted your glasses, your hand fidgeting with the strap of your bag. “It’s, um… not as impressive as it sounds,” you said quietly, the words tumbling out before you could think them through. “It’s not like I can just—just rewind things or stop time completely. It’s more… nuanced. And honestly, I try not to use it if I don’t have to.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Not as impressive as it sounds? Manipulating time doesn’t exactly scream ‘humdrum.’ What, are you worried about messing up the space-time continuum or something?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your feet. “Something like that.”

Scott, who’d been quietly observing the exchange, stepped closer, his stance subtly protective. “Y/N’s powers are powerful, but she’s not reckless with them. It’s not exactly dinner table conversation.”

Bruce nodded in understanding. “I can appreciate that,” he said, his voice kind. “With abilities like that, caution is probably the smartest approach.”

Tony, however, wasn’t quite ready to drop it. “Still, that’s gotta be a lot of pressure,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “Knowing you’ve got all this power but not wanting to use it. I mean, if I could bend time, you’d better believe I’d—”

“That’s enough, Stark,” Scott cut in, his tone sharp enough to silence Tony. He shot you a quick glance, his expression softening. “You don’t have to explain anything you don’t want to.”

You offered Scott a small, grateful smile, but the unease lingering in your chest didn’t fully dissipate. Bruce, perhaps sensing your discomfort, shifted the focus of the conversation.

“Regardless,” Bruce said, his tone thoughtful, “it sounds like you have a deep understanding of your abilities. And paired with your work in physics… well, it’s clear you’re contributing something remarkable here.”

You felt your shoulders relax just a little at his words. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice still shy but sincere.

Tony clapped his hands together, clearly ready to move on. “Alright, enough about bending the fabric of reality. Let’s get back to the fun stuff—labs, gadgets, all that good stuff. Specks, you’re the quantum genius here. What’s the coolest thing you’ve built?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, um… I don’t really build things. I mostly focus on theoretical models and equations.”

Tony feigned a look of disappointment. “No gadgets? No flashy inventions? What do you even do in here?”

Hank cleared his throat, fixing Tony with a look. “Y/N’s work is critical. Without her models, most of what we develop wouldn’t be possible. She’s the foundation.”

Bruce nodded in agreement. “Theory drives application,” he said. “And if you’re working on spatial-temporal fluctuations, you’re tackling some of the most challenging questions in physics. That’s impressive, no matter how you slice it.”

You bit your lip, feeling a small swell of pride despite your lingering nervousness. “Thanks,” you said quietly, your gaze flickering between Bruce and Hank.

Scott, always attuned to your emotions, gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You’re doing great,” he said under his breath, his voice so low only you could hear.

You shot him a grateful look, the tension in your chest easing just a little. As the conversation shifted back to lab equipment and theoretical possibilities, you let yourself take a small step back, content to observe for now.

---

You looked in the cupboard for your mug only to find nothing. You had even checked the dishwasher and sink, and it wasn’t in any of those spots.

Jean walked into the kitchen with a dramatic sigh, “I’m pretty sure that… guy—who I still can’t believe is actually Thor—crushed my thermos.”

You closed the cupboard door, “I think one of ‘em took my mug.”

The two of you heard footsteps outside the kitchen, watching Clint and Natasha walking with Ororo down the hall. Clint had your mug.

“Why are they still here?” You grumbled.

Jean let out a chuckle, “now your startin’ to sound like Logan.”

You scoffed lightly, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the counter. “I’m not that grumpy. Yet.”

Jean grinned and opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of orange juice. “Give it time. You keep hanging out with him, and you’ll start growling at people too.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, adjusting your glasses. “Yeah, well, if Clint doesn’t give me back my mug, I might start sooner than expected.”

Jean poured herself a glass of juice, shaking her head in amusement. “You and that mug.”

“It’s my favorite mug!” you argued, throwing your hands up. “It’s the perfect size, the handle doesn’t get too hot, and it has the constellations on it. I’ve had it for years.”

“And now it’s Clint’s favorite mug,” Jean teased, sipping her juice.

Before you could retort, Logan walked into the kitchen. His boots thudded against the floor, and he gave a short nod to you and Jean. “Mornin’.”

Jean raised her glass in greeting, but you turned to Logan, still fuming. “Clint took my mug.”

Logan quirked an eyebrow, leaning against the doorway. “Want me to get it back?”

Jean snorted, clearly entertained. “What are you gonna do, Logan? Growl at him until he gives it up?”

Logan shot her a dry look. “Worked last time, didn’t it?”

You shook your head, biting back a smile. “It’s fine. I’ll get it later. Maybe.”

Logan’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his gruffness easing slightly. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you said, brushing it off, though the thought of Clint sipping coffee from your mug still irked you. “Not worth starting a whole thing over.”

“Could be fun, though,” Logan muttered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Jean laughed and set her glass in the sink. “Well, this has been delightful, but I’ve got a Danger Room session to run. Try not to maim Clint over the mug, okay?”

“Can’t make any promises,” Logan said, earning a laugh from Jean as she left the kitchen.

Once it was just the two of you, Logan moved closer, grabbing a coffee mug from the cupboard—one of the generic ones everyone used. He glanced over at you as he poured his coffee. “You okay?”

You sighed, leaning back against the counter. “Yeah, just… tired, I guess. And maybe a little annoyed. It’s been a long week.”

Logan nodded, his expression thoughtful as he sipped his coffee. “Anything I can do?”

You smiled softly at the offer. Logan always had a knack for cutting through the noise and centering you without effort. “No, it’s fine. Thanks, though.”

Logan’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, that familiar softness appearing in the crinkle at the corners of his eyes. “Alright,” he said, his voice low. “But if Clint doesn’t give that mug back, you just say the word.”

You let out a small laugh, feeling the tension ease ever so slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two of you shared a brief moment of quiet, and then Logan took a step closer, his coffee steaming in his hands. “How’s the lab stuff goin’? That Banner guy giving you a hard time?”

You shook your head quickly, pushing your glasses further up your nose. “No, actually. He’s… nice. Really nice, actually.” You paused, then let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “It’s just overwhelming, you know? People like him—and Stark—they’re so brilliant, and I can’t help but feel like I don’t measure up.”

Logan grunted, taking a sip of his coffee before leaning one hip against the counter. “You’re worried about not measurin’ up to Stark?” He arched a brow. “That guy’s got enough ego to make up for every flaw he’s got. Don’t let him get in your head.”

You smiled faintly at Logan’s bluntness. “It’s not him. It’s… me. My own head is the problem.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp but kind. “Y/N, you’re probably the smartest person I’ve met—and I’ve met Banner and Stark. You need me to remind you again of the times you’ve bailed Hank out with your brain?”

The warmth in his tone brought a deeper flush to your cheeks, and you averted your gaze, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “That’s sweet of you to say, but—”

“But nothin’.” Logan’s voice was firm, though not unkind. “You know how many times you’ve pulled the X-Men out of a mess just by bein’ you? Hell, if it weren’t for you, none of us would even have the equipment that makes half the missions possible. You’re not just smart, darlin’; you’re vital.”

You blinked at him, warmth blooming in your chest at the way he looked at you—earnest, unwavering. “Thanks, Logan,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He tipped his head, his smirk more subdued now. “Anytime.”

this was 2012 (or the rest of it) and 2013!

and btw, 'girl i've always been' is underrated, it's one of my favorite's from guts spilled

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #the avengers #i love you in every time #i love you always and forever

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aevellewritessometimes · 14 days ago

Text

Touchstarved NSFW Headcanons

Just some general NSFW HCs for the main cast (because Elyon and Sen are both enigmas to me)

I'm just going to preface this by saying that @/creepsterdreams just happened to hit the nail right on the head with what I was thinking. Unrealated note, y'all should check out their work if you ever get the chance :)

Content Warnings: Mildly unconventional kinks? (we don' kinkshame here though), blatant Vere favoritism, may or may not be OOC, this whole thing was written by an aspec person, most of this was written at 12 am while sleepy

Edit: I took the opportunity to try and fix some previously missed typos, and after I finished I found out that the Pope fucking died. Happy Easter!

Word Count: 2,010

MINORS DNI

KURAS

Alignment: Vers + Switch

Kinks: Body worship (giving), cockwarming, lingerie, soft sex, masochism

Due to his height, he's more used to domming and/or topping by default, but he doesn't really have anything against being the submissive one

That being said, I get masochist vibes from him. He's usually good at not showing that side of him, but it's also not all that hard to get him to show it

Not too apposed to being on the receiving end of body worship, but just feels weirdly guilty about it

^ Combining body worship with his masochistic tendencies could potentially get him to cry, which is otherwise difficult because I feel like he has really high endurance

Soft dom/service top vibes

Has a much larger lingerie collection than one would expect

^ It's not crazy large or anything, it's just that most people wouldn't expect him to have one to begin with

I don't know if he needs to sleep at all, but in a situation where both he and his partner are in the mood but his partner is too tired to actually have sex with him, he'd be very open to just cockwarming either until they fall asleep or they get riled up

Due to him disliking "difficult patients," I feel like an excessive amount of bratiness would be a bit of a turnoff for him

Would absolutely be the type to light candles to set the mood

(^ Don't ask me about what types/scents; I don't use candles often enough to give you a good answer)

Corruption kink is also a turnoff for him as of "present day." However, I do see a chance of this changing depending on how his endings alter his character by the end of the game

Knows how to make his own lube and protection/contraceptives and is a God at aftercare

LEANDER

Alignment: Switch + Vers

Kinks: Bondage (domming + subbing), praise (giving + receiving), degradation (mostly receiving), temperature play, semi-public sex, aphrodisiacs, corruption kink

Generally prefers subbing, but there are a few scenarios where he'd rather dom

^ Those scenarios can range from anywhere between specific kinks to who he's sleeping with

Would be the type to swap roles mid-sex if that's what he and his partner both want

Is very good at tying and untying knots

^ Has once tried to use his magic for bondage purposes, but it turned out to be much more flammable than anticipated. Kuras still gives him shit for that time he and his friend had to rush to the clinic at one in the morning due to third degree burns

Make him do some honor bondage if you really wanna torture him

Has tried cockwarming on multiple occasions; never has the patience to stay still for very long

Would generally be willing to degrade his partner if that's what they're into, but his overall comfort with doing so entirely depends on his relationship with them outside of sex

Would be the type to mix praise and degradation in the same sentence

Also gives me masochist vibes, but is much more willing to admit it than Kuras

^ Doesn't really outright say it, but also doesn't put too much effort into hiding it

Probably has a lower back tattoo

The pierced nipples are canon in my mind, fight me

If his partner is someone he's trying to keep close (*cough* MC *cough*) then he's definitely going to bring out the subtle corruption kink

^ Doesn't matter if he's the dom or sub, one way or another he's going to figure out how to corrupt them

Knows how to make his own aphrodisiacs. Shockingly enough, he doesn't do anything crazy with them, but nobody really trusts him enough to test that out (except for Ais that one time)

^ Also knows how to make his own contraceptives. They're effective but they taste weird. Has tried and frequently failed to make his own lube; it always turns out concerningly chunky

Has a very expensive toy collection

VERE

Alignment: Circumstantial

Kinks: Predator/prey roleplay (theoretically), corruption kink, hypnosis (domming), pet play (domming), degredation (mostly giving), praise (mostly recieving), vocalness, bloodplay, lingerie, orgasm control (domming + subbing), dacryphilia, sensory deprivation, biting, sadomasochism, breeding (occasional)

His alignment is fully dependent of his relationship with his partner outside of sex

^ Casual fling? Definitely a dom, most likely a top. Close friend/romantic partner? Vers switch who prefers to dom

Enjoys the idea of predator/prey roleplay, but Eridia is just too crowded with people and Soulless for him to indulge in it as much as he'd like

^ Sure, both situations would be easy for him to handle, but having to suddenly halt everything to disembowel something/someone just ruins the mood, especially if it ends up putting his partner in danger

Very prevalent corruption kink. Something something false idol stuff

^ He doesn't care much about the concept of virginity, but if his partner is 1) someone he actually gives a fuck about and 2) a virgin, then he's definitely going to make something out of it for the sake of said corruption kink

Hypnosis and pet play are the two scenarios that he is strictly the dom for when they come up; both kinks spawning from the fact that he, who was once revered as a god, has been brought down to be something lesser than what he probably once considered as pawns means that he takes great pleasure in seeing someone being so willing to allow themself to become something lesser just for the sake of worshiping him, even if it's only temporary

^ Also, I feel like Vere being able to hypnotize people is just canon. Not to start theory posting, but given that the eyes for his monster silhouette look almost like spirals if you squint, his voice was described as "so supple I could slip into it" (or something along those lines), and there's two scenes where he seems to mess with the shadows to keep MC from looking anywhere except directly into his eyes… yeah this guy has to at least know how to hypnotize people, if he doesn't have some kind of hypnosis-based powers

Not necessarily apposed to dishing out praise, he's just more of an "actions over words" type and generally prefers to be on the receiving end

^ If the praise feels condescending and/or overly sappy it will just end up being a turnoff

^^ Despises the phrase "good boy" being used on him

Is willing to be degraded, but saying the wrong thing on the wrong day is a very easy way to damage your relationship with him

^ It is also possible for him to say the wrong thing on the wrong day as well. Honestly, I think it could be a very likely scenario

Knows he looks good in blood, but also likes seeing his partner in blood when given the option

Is the one with the truly impressive lingerie collection, although he doesn't actually have many toys

^ Does own some absurdly expensive lube though

Two quick facts about foxes: they're very vocal when having sex and they're the most active during winter

I imagine that Vere, no matter his role or position, is vocal in some way, shape, or form; whether it be crying or moaning or talking or even screaming

The little winter tidbit makes me think that Vere becomes a bit more sadistic and significantly hornier during the winter months; sees it as a great way to keep warm blow off some steam while waiting for the horrid season to come to an end

^ Temporarily develops a breeding kink during this time, but it goes away as the snow starts melting

^^ If he's closer with his partner in this circumstance, he would absolutely steal some contraceptives from Kuras for his partner if they were to be needed. Yes, he knows they could just ask and get it for free, but why skip out on the opportunity to be a thorn in the doctor's side?

Loves making his partner scream

Always leaves at least one bite mark for his partners to remember him by

^ The amount left and the placement depends on his level of closeness outside of sex

Overall enjoys most forms of power play, but he needs to be in a specific mindset to willingly be the submissive one'

^ Doesn't see the appeal in age play, though. Like, at all. Hard no for him

AIS

Alignment: Vers + Switch

Kinks: Brat taming (domming + subbing), sadomasochism, voyeurism (?), intox kink, bloodplay, choking (domming), shibari (domming + subbing), biting (giving + receiving), dacryphilia, orgasm control (domming + subbing), size kink

First thing's first; the groupmind may or may not be a potential factor for his sex life, depending on how exactly it works

^ For instance, if Ocudeus or the other groupmind members are able to. Like. Perceive things from Ais's perspective, then voyeurism is going to be an aspect of his sex life and there's little he can do about it

Moving on: also generally doms by default; partially due to his size, but also because he's the type to test if whoever's trying to dom him is actually assertive enough to do so

^ Hence why he's such a (literally) massive brat

Judging by how he feels about MC's and Vere's shitty personalities, him being into brats is just a given

There's also some subtle corruption kink going on, but unlike in Vere and Leander's case, it's not intentional on his end

Slightly prefers being bitten over biting his partner

Strongly prefers drug intox over alcohol intox when it comes to intox play

Prefers shibari over regular bondage because he's a fan of the patterns

^ Oddly enough, he isn't that big of a lingerie fan; he doesn't have anything against it, he just prefers full nudity

Impact play is a strong turnoff for him, though most other forms of pain play are generally on the table for him

Choking isn't something he indulges in often, partially because he doesn't like being choked and partially because he is very aware of his own strength; won't even make an attempt if he's having angry sex

Better at aftercare than most people tend to expect

MHIN

Alignment: Circumstantial

Kinks: Size kink (domming), predator/prey play (domming; deeply internalized), knife play (domming), bondage (domming + subbing), honor bondage (subbing), hypnosis (subbing), brat taming (domming), overstim (subbing), soft sex

Wouldn't sub for a fling. They also wouldn't want to bottom for a fling, either; nor would they want to bring any strong kinks into bed for them

If their partner is someone they trust, then they would honestly much rather be the submissive one

They've stumbled across topics such as hypnosis or predator/prey kinks in books, but they've never actually tried them in real life, despite both topics peaking their interest

^ Due to recent circumstances, they actually feel quite guilty about having a predator/prey kink these days, rather than just feeling a bit embarrassed

Enjoys domming a partner who is shorter than them, really enjoys domming a partner who is taller than them

Finds the presence of ropes oddly comforting, but also enjoys testing their own patience with honor bondage

As much as they like control, allowing someone else to take the reins so that they can take a break is just as pleasurable for them

^ Sometimes a bitch just needs to shut down their brain for a bit

Isn't really a fan of knife play in the leaving marks/drawing blood way, but they do like just lightly dragging a knife across their partner's body

Another one who knows how to make protection/contraceptives, but doesn't know how to make effective lube

#touchstarved game #touchstarved x reader #touchstarved x mc #kuras x reader #leander x reader #vere x reader #ais x reader #mhin x reader #touchstarved fanfic #touchstarved fanfiction #no this is not what I needed that Leander poll for

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