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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FIVE

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, harassment/cat calling, minors dni

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 6.1k+

→ a/n: shout out to @abibliophobiaa for helping me figure this chapter out lol.

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5:00 ───ㅇ─────────────── 24:00

HOUR FIVE - 8:00 PM

Civility. What a fragile construct.

You and Eddie are hyper aware of its presence as the minutes pass. It’s a glass wall between the two of you, offering false security and fragile mediation. When he brings up dinner, and there’s no sign of agreement any time soon as he wants the opposite of every suggestion you make, you catch your reflection in it, reminding yourself to carefully think over your words. Every insult manages to catch in your throat, to simmer until softened to something appropriate. And you know he’s doing exactly the same thing as his pauses begin to drag out between replies, as you lose count of the number of times he’s opened his mouth only to immediately snap it shut.

It works, though. Even with the weight of the agreement in the room, the wall takes the pressure in stride. There’s not a single crack emerging.

Eddie still sits on the couch with you, this time the TV is turned on to some cable show rerun that has turned into background noise for the two of you.

He never moved back to the opposite end of the couch. One wrong move, and your thigh could easily press into his, sink into the warmth that radiates from him. It’s all you can think about as he is trying to convince you that the Lord of the Rings books are worth reading, especially if you enjoy the movies.

If it were any other day, you wouldn’t have noticed when he cuts off suddenly. You would have stopped listening long ago. Which is a shame, not that you’d admit it, because he actually had interesting points to make.

“What?” you scrunch your nose as his stare hardens across the room, at something by the TV. Suddenly, the almost-glare blooms into delight, and you can’t breathe.

“We’ve managed to be civil for a whole forty-five minutes.”

You finally follow his gaze and realize he had been looking at the small cable box, blinking blue numbers on the front screen reading the time.

“Oh,” you say softly, fighting a grin to match his current one, “Yeah, we have been. That’s gotta be a new record.”

It hadn’t been easy, but it had been doable. Maybe the hours could continue to be less doable.

“You know, I thought you would have told me to shut up about my nerd shit by now,” he muses, bringing a hand up to carefully rub at his stubbled chin, legs spreading a bit further as he remains reclined into the cushions beside you.

His knee brushes yours. You still haven’t found your breath that had escaped you from watching his eyes light up in realization.

“I came pretty close,” you tease and nearly lean in, nearly pressing your knee harder into his.

It was becoming too easy to act this way with him. You try to think of a time you’d ever given this such room to breathe. But you draw nothing but blanks, save for the first night you’d met Eddie. A night that had been blossoming with buds of hopefulness and blind optimism that had been cursed to die on the vine.

Although, maybe not all of them had died. There might have been a few dwindlers, and they might have found themselves finally watered after such a harsh winter between the two of you in the revelation of fragile civility these last forty-five minutes.

“Was it when I went on my ten minute rant about how cool it would have been to bring up werewolves in the movies? Or was it my passion for Samwise being a singer?” your head falls back in gentle laughter, closing your eyes for a second. He goes as far as to nudge your shoulder with his own, “Come on, I’m serious! I do hear myself sometimes, you know. I know when I’m being Lord of the Dorks over here.”

Your shoulder burns where he had bumped it. Not from pain.

Your eyes are still closed as you shake your head, “No, no. I think I actually agree with the werewolves, but I’m still on the fence about turning the movies into musicals.”

When you finally do open your eyes, head rolling to face him and press your cheek atop your burning shoulder, you find him staring at you. Which would have been fine, no big deal, if he was still grinning vibrantly.

He’s looking at you with an unfamiliar emotion, an emotion you’d not only never seen him look at you with, but any of your shared friends. It’s almost as if he’s no longer in the room with you.

You’re immediately worried you’ve offended him, “Oh, shit. Are you into musicals? I’m sorry, I tried to get into them, but I just-”

“I am,” the emotion drains from his eyes as he snaps back to reality, “I… But I mean, I get it. Not everyone is into musicals, I was just a theater kid.”

“A theater kid?” your worry is long gone as you sit up, looking at him excitedly, “No way. I would have never guessed that you, Eddie Munson, the most dramatic person I know, were a theater kid.”

He looks down bashfully, and his curls form a curtain around his face. His dimples are effectively hidden as he shyly smiles, and you’re kind of glad for it. “Shut up. Buckley’s more dramatic than I am. Have you ever heard her go off on one of her rabies rambles?”

“Of course. She was also a theater kid.”

“Oh, trust me - I know. We’ve bonded.”

The conversation dwindles, but the ghost of the dimples don’t. He tucks some of the stray strands of the curtain behind his ear, and you start to regret ever noticing the damn things.

“We never decided on dinner, you know,” you blurt out and change the topic, because you desperately need something to distract you right now. You’re starting to believe you might prefer arguing with him to whatever storm was building beneath the surface of civility.

“Oh, shit,” he gasps, turning to look at the clock again, “You’re right.”

Never thought I’d hear you saying that to me of all people, you bite back from saying.

“Most places are closing soon,” he murmurs, more to himself than you, surely thinking back on the way you couldn’t come to an agreement earlier. If you dived back into that, you’d probably spend the rest of the night bickering. But then he lights up again, just as he had when he’d realized your record-breaking streak of civility, “Say, you like bar food?”

—

“Eddie, I really can’t afford overpriced bar food!”

“And I already said I’d pay for you.”

“What about our photo proof? We were supposed to send it ten minutes ago.”

“You texted them mentioning we’ll be a little late with it, right?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Then it’s fine.”

The entire ten minute walk from Eddie’s apartment to what he claims is his favorite bar in town had been filled with the endless bickering, still managing to be lighthearted enough to not cause any cracks in the civility.

He’d chastised you about making excuses, and you hated him, because he was right. Every issue you’d brought up about going to the bar with him had been easily solved with one of his solutions. You were grasping for straws at this point.

Because you were nervous. Nervous that civility wouldn’t hold up in public, nervous that if alcohol was added to the equation that tongues would get too loose.

But none of it mattered. When Eddie initially suggested going to the bar, he’d caught your smile at the idea and realized you two had finally found common ground. He was now a man on a mission.

“I really don’t want you paying for me,” you huff as he holds the door to the bar open for you, motioning for you to enter before him.

“It’s really not that expensive, you can pay me back later if you really want,” he waves off, “Buy me a drink or something while we’re here, even.”

You’d always witnessed Eddie being generous with your friends, always known that he was altruistic as he’d offer to pay for people. Half the time, he never made them pay him back. All he cared about when with friends was everyone having fun. And you’d never been on the receiving end of that — not until tonight.

He bumps into you when you stop just a few steps into the bar’s entry, glancing around the small room. It wasn’t much, two pool tables set up on the far end of the building, a full bar taking up most of the space inside. You could see some sort of jukebox sitting unplugged in the corner and several booths were occupied with patrons already.

It was cozy. It wasn’t going out of its way to impress anyone, and it’s probably why you’d never come inside before. From the outside, you hardly were able to decipher it was a bar, especially in the darkness of the night.

“Sorry,” you turn to apologize, his hands feather light on your biceps to make sure you didn’t stumble from the force of his impact.

He waves it off just as he had waved off your concerns of him picking up the bill for the night, focusing instead on your reaction, “You like it?”

“It’s… nice,” you offer with a shrug as he guides you to the bar. There definitely weren’t any open tables; it was a Saturday night, and even if the place was capable of giving off quaint vibes, there was an abundance of college students who had the same idea as you and him had.

None of them were locked into the same agreement as you two, though. You were sure of it.

The bartender greets Eddie by name, beaming as he promises he’ll come over with his usual soon.

“Wow,” you laugh, lifting yourself onto a stool beside him, “You weren’t kidding about it being your usual hangout.”

“I swear I’m not an alcoholic or anything,” he rushes out, “I just… I dunno. Like you said, it’s nice here.”

You couldn’t believe it. If you dared to look into his words further, you’d swear that Eddie was trying to avoid tarnishing your view of him. He’d never cared about that before.

“I wouldn’t judge you,” you say once the two of you have settled into your seats. Stools were never going to be more comfortable than a booth, but it would do for the next hour. “If you were an alcoholic. I mean, we’re college students. Kind of part of the whole gig,” He looks at you and quirks an eyebrow as he grabs one of the menus from the sticky wood surface in front of you two, “Every college student can be promised three things: unimaginable debt for a stupid piece of paper, the ability to run off of far less sleep than anyone ever should, and a terrible reliance on alcohol.”

He rolls his eyes and mumbles, “You’re funny.”

The surviving buds on the vine nearly prepare to bloom, just about ready to untuck themselves from your chest and press against the glass wall of civility.

“Say it again.”

“What?”

“That I’m funny,” your biting grin is infectious, “Tell me again and stroke my ego, big boy.”

He flushes pink on the apples of his cheeks, bright and furious even under the dim lighting of the bar, “Oh, fuck off. I’m never complimenting you again.”

Your newest enemies, those fucking dimples, and the way the blush spreads as he glances down at the menu suddenly become too much. The combination has the ability to choke you, to possibly make your heart stop, if it isn’t for the bartender finally interrupting the moment.

“Hey there, Eds,” the man not much older than the two of you greets, looking at you with unbridled curiosity, “And… lady friend of Eds.”

You don’t know why, but you tell the stranger your name. Sweet and low, soft spoken compared to the way you had just been blatantly teasing the boy at your side.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he chimes with the type of charisma you’re familiar with when it comes to the food industry. You didn’t make tips if you weren’t kind, if you weren’t borderline flirting with nearly every customer by overflowing with friendliness and compliments, “So, I’ve got your regular here,” he places a glass in front of Eddie, something dark with a few sparse bubbles, “What can I get for you, though?” he turns to you.

You glance over at the menu Eddie holds, and he shifts it so you can see it better. But as your eyes glance over the drink options, nothing grabs your attention.

“Full bar, right?” you feel a bit foolish as the man waves behind at the large wall filled with bottles of a variety of alcohol. Duh. “You know how to make an amaretto sour?”

The man grins widely, nodding enthusiastically before turning to Eddie, “She’s got good taste. I’ll be right back with it for you, hun.”

The moment the bartender leaves, Eddie is leaning in closer to you, mimicking you in a falsetto, “Full bar, right?”

His cologne is nice. Something spicy, almost musky. Fitting for him.

You don’t hesitate to shove his shoulder, “Shut up. We’re supposed to be civil, remember?”

“Ah, I see,” his eyes mischievously glint, enjoying this bout of satirizing far too much, “You can tease me, but I can’t tease you. That sound about right?”

“Exactly,” you sigh jokingly, unable to look at him, already knowing the smile he’s wearing, “Sorry you didn’t get the first memo.”

He finally, finally, stops leaning in towards you, and carries the scent of his cologne with him. You decide to lock away that detail of him into the same eternal prison of your brain with the dimples. Another thing about him you need to forget after the twenty fours end.

“My bad, sweetheart. At least I’m up to date now.”

You ignore the vine as it tightens at the casual use of the nickname again. There’s no need to dive deeper into that reaction.

“What’s his name?” you finally look at him, eyes catching on the slope of his nose and sharp jaw in the smoky atmosphere.

“Who? The bartender?” you nod, and he takes a sip of his drink, “Frank. He’s really nice, looks a lot younger than he is, lucky bastard.”

“What, you don’t think you’ll age so gracefully?” you’re back to teasing Eddie, because God, is it easy. It’s a perfect medium between the two of you. Still biting, still a little mean, but not harmful. It’s innocent and refreshing, breathing a new wave of novelty into your relationship, wherever it may currently stand.

“Who’s not aging gracefully?” The bartender, Frank, questions as he places your amaretto sour in front of you. You mutter your thanks, “Because if you’re talking about Eds here, you’re right. Think this guy has aged ten years in the six months I’ve known him.”

Six months? You don’t know why you’re so shocked, but part of you had just figured he’d been coming to this bar for as long as he’d lived in his apartment. Which, to be fair, you didn’t know how long he’d occupied that space, either. It had to have been at least a year. There’s been no mention of him moving the entire time you’ve known him.

“I have not,” Eddie defends himself, hand gripping his drink.

“Have too,” Frank ends the argument there, not giving Eddie a chance for rebuttal before he lets his gaze go back and forth between the two of you, “So, any food tonight, or just drinks?”

“Could we actually get an order of garlic parmesan fries?” Eddie is surprisingly polite, and looks at you after he’s placed the order, “If that’s okay with you?”

You blink, taken back by his consideration, “Um, yeah. That sounds good.”

Frank nods, “Fries. Got it. Anything else?”

Eddie is still looking at you, subtly moving the menu closer to you, as if urging you to help yourself. You pick up the laminated paper, and your knuckles brush against his before you’re glancing over your options.

You curse yourself as your hands shake. You’re not nervous – why are they shaking?

“Are your mozzarella sticks any good?” you finally ask, peering up at Frank.

“They’re excellent. Also, not to brag, but our marinara is the best in town. I swear it.”

You look to Eddie, as if seeking out permission, and he nods ever so slightly, “I’ll take your word for it. One order of those, please.”

“Of course. One order of fries and one order of mozzarella sticks coming right up.”

With that, Frank leaves you and Eddie on your own again, somehow feeling secluded and alone even on the edges of the bustling room. It’s as if there’s a bubble around the two of you, unbreachable by the strangers that surround you.

Your phone buzzing in your pocket catches your attention, just as it had done numerous times thus far this night, and you pull it out to see two new notifications from Steve.

STEVE-O: photo.

STEVE-O: now.

You don’t realize Eddie was reading the messages over your shoulder until he suddenly chuckles, “Jesus, when did Harrington become so demanding?”

“He’s always been this way,” you mutter as you quickly open your phone, the camera app already being opened from your previously provided evidence, “Consider yourself lucky to not be in the groupchat. His attitude grows tenfold through texts.”

“Clearly.”

You turn the phone awkwardly in one hand, choosing to go for a wider shot that captures the bar setting behind you and Eddie. He grabs his glass, holding up his drink as if he’s cheersing the camera.

You’re about to take the photo, when Eddie suddenly sighs, “Oh, come on. Don’t leave me hanging.”

His free hand nudges your own drink into your hand, and you take it without complaint.

You both hold up your glasses, forcing mimicry of annoyed expressions directed at the camera and not each other.

The moment the click of the photo being taken is lost into the atmosphere of the bar, chatter of nearby strangers and clinking of beer bottles together, Eddie’s attention is fully on you.

“To civility,” he says, moving his glass in a grandiose gesture towards yours.

You take a second before you register it. You’re too busy mapping out his face beyond the dimples, beyond the wild curls that catch the bar lighting just right, all the way up to the hiding freckle beneath his right eye and the cotton candy shade of pink of his pursed lips. It’s as if you’re pressing your cheeks into the wall of civility between you and letting the glass fog over with your breath. As if you’re just now seeing Eddie for the first time, no cloak of hatred or distortion of annoyance to keep you from his memorizing features.

You shake your head, try to physically rid your head of the uncharted thoughts before you clink your glass to his, “To civility.”

—

Maybe civility isn’t such a fragile concept. Maybe, just maybe, it’s a reasonable foundation for yours and Eddie’s night.

Over garlic parmesan fries and mozzarella sticks, and several refills of your amaretto sour and his Jack & Coke (you’d found that out when you’d ask to try his drink, and had grimaced at the harsh whiskey), you two practice the act of it almost flawlessly.

Eddie tells you a bit more about the first time he’d wandered across this bar, how he’d been kicked out of a different one earlier that night and simply wasn’t ready to go home yet. Somehow, after the story, once he’s shed his leather jacket to drape over the back of his seat and you find yourself angling your body towards him more fully, the attention focuses more on you meeting the group.

You both have to lean in closer to each other, what at the beginning of the night should have been too close for comfort, as the bar grows busier. You tell him about freshman year of college, that wretched 8 AM math class that’s only redeeming quality was bringing you and Steve together. He was better at math than you, or at least taking notes on the subject. Somehow, the two of you had ended up in an agreement of being ‘study buddies’, as Steve had nicknamed it. Two years later, after several more deliberately shared classes, Steve had finally decided to introduce the girl he’d been ditching their Thursday movie nights for to the gang. It had started with Robin – she’d been in a Psychology class with you and Steve – and all the pieces fell together from there.

“I still can’t believe you and Harrington never… you know….” Eddie trails off and downs the last of his third Jack & Coke. When Frank motions from across the bar if he’d like a refill, Eddie shakes his head and covers the top of his glass with his wide palm.

His rings glinted in the low lights, and your stomach did flips. You blame it on the fourth amaretto sour you were nursing.

“Oh, trust me,” the alcohol has your lips moving more loosely, giggling between your words, “We definitely thought about it. Even got wine drunk one night our sophomore year and tried it.”

“What?” Eddie exclaims, leaning so far into your space now that his curls brush your bare shoulders, “No way. No fucking way.”

“Yes way!” your face grows pink, more from laughter than embarrassment, “It was awful! I mean, in our defense we were both drunk, but still. I just…” you sigh out, and lean back in your stool without even noticing that Eddie has his arm draped over the back of it, “We both realized we were way better off friends. I’m a better wing-woman for him now than some fling.”

“Don’t let Robin hear you,” Eddie chuckles, popping a fry in his mouth before he relaxes back as well. His arm is still on the back of your chair. “You know, he did talk you up a lot before he introduced you to everyone.”

“Yeah?” you raise an eyebrow.

Eddie’s brows furrow as he nods viciously, “Oh, God, yeah. Had us all thinking he was just in denial about having a thing for you.”

“Well, that’s embarrassing.”

“Nah. Only good things. Besides, once Robin met you? It was game over,” if you had been watching Eddie more carefully, you would have seen that unrecognizable emotion crossing his face once more, glazing over his eyes rather than the alcohol he’d consumed, “They really do love you, y’know?”

You don’t know. Which is a shame. Because on your good days, you’d usually tell yourself that they do enjoy your company, that you do fit into the group. But doubt had an easy job of having its way with you when Eddie existed, when Eddie seemingly loathes you.

Your silence answers his rhetorical-turned-serious question, and he’s suddenly leaning forward to catch your gaze, “You do know that… right?”

Your shrug makes his arm fall off of your chair, not intentionally so. It had simply gotten closer to your shoulders with the time passing, and the movement makes it fall limply to his side.

“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eddie groans in what you’re realizing is his usual, playful demeanor, “The entire group loves you so much, it’s irritating. Never shut up about you, inviting you to plans, all that shit.”

“You don’t,” your voice is a whisper.

It’s the first time that either of you had so much as knocked on the glass wall of civility. A gentle tap of your knuckles against an easily forgotten barrier, but a knock nonetheless.

“What?” Eddie squints, and he’s leaning in closer, and you suddenly feel suffocated again. His cologne is in your nose, his faded dimples are in your vision. You could count his eyelashes if you spared him a quick glance.

But you don’t. You can’t bear to look at him, because the entire moment is becoming far too vulnerable.

You clear your throat, “The entire group, except you, loves me. Which, I mean, I get. Not everyone is going to like me, and I’ve sort of been a bitch to you-”

“You haven’t-”

“-and honestly, I’ve really played into the fact that I annoy you so much this entire time. You hate me, I hate you-”

“I don’t-”

“-it’s fine.”

Despite Eddie’s attempted interruptions, you manage to finish your speech, chest heaving by the end of it. He’s stunned, mouth opening and closing multiple times before he finally seemingly collects his thoughts.

“Look, I know I’ve been an asshole, but I don’t really-” he starts, but you’re quick to cut him off. Unlike when he’d interjected and you’d ignored him, he lets you speak.

“Eddie, you said you’d celebrate my death,” you smile sheepishly at him, and you can feel that glass barrier shaking. Bringing up something awful, something terribly mean from mere hours ago isn’t a gentle knock on glass. It’s a slapping of a palm, a dare for cracks to start appearing.

His entire expression falls, “I… That was stupid of me to say.”

“It was,” you agree, because you’re not sure what else you could say, “It was, but I get it. The feeling’s mutual and all, right?”

Eddie is quiet. You almost miss his voice, even with all the other tones of strangers bouncing around you.

“Can I ask why you hate me, though?” you try to keep your tone as light as possible, to not let this moment get any worse. You try to keep your fists from pounding on the glass of civility, “We’ve never really talked about it before. I know you have your reasons – I’ve got mine.”

His jaw clenches. You can physically see his thought process. He’s probably got a million reasons, and right now, he’s just thumbing through them, trying to find the one that won’t break your agreement of being kinder to each other.

“You…” he starts, and the wheels are still turning in his head, eyes looking everywhere but you now, “I don’t know, you just seemed… s-selfish.”

You almost don’t see it – the first crack in the glass, the first sign of civility crumbling.

“Selfish?” you echo back, crestfallen, nearly wounded. You attempt to hide it, to not show him that his words affect you, because you’d asked for this. You’d asked the damn question, fueled by liquid confidence, and he was giving it to you.

“Yeah, just… Full of yourself?” his voice jumps up an octave at the end of his sentence, as if he’s unsure, as if he’s asking you if that’s the right answer. The crack spreads, and begins to distort your vision of him, “I knew you had been sort of popular in high school, and you carried yourself like those popular kids I knew. And… and…”

His eyes finally stop fleeting from yours. He meets your gaze, and you know you weren’t equipped with strong enough armor to hide the wounds he was inflicting. He could see the bruises as his hits landed, accidental or not.

“I just thought you were everything I’d always hated. So I hated you.”

The crack splinters, and hairline fractures split the image of Eddie into unrecognizable pieces. The boy you’d grown accustomed to thus far tonight, the boy you’d grown comfortable with, is gone in your eyes.

“So,” your voice is tight, and you know you won’t be able to keep up with eye contact, not when it all starts to sting so ardently, “You judged a book by its cover, and decided I’m a royal, spoiled bitch. Isn’t that exactly what everyone in high school did to you?”

“How did you-”

“Steve told me. He told me about your reputation, about being a freak, everything.”

The splintering has spread to his side of the glass, clearly, as you say the word freak.

“Is that why you hate me?” his tone hardens, gaze no longer sympathetic. Not that you see the change. “You decided I’m a freak, too?”

“I never said that-”

“No? Sorry, I thought we were just putting words into each other’s mouths.”

The bar is busy, and you wonder if the bystanders can hear the wall of civility finally shattering. You have no idea if any of the shards hit Eddie, but you can feel them dig into your chest, your arms, your stomach. Shards that remind you of what could have been.

Shards that remind you of what was lost because Eddie Munson had decided he hated you long before he met you.

“You’re the one who hated me before you even met me,” you scoff cruelly.

“I never fucking said that-”

“You did, though,” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest protectively, “You said so yourself. Steve mentioned I was sort of popular in high school, and you just- you just decided to shove me into a box of what I would be. Some girl you didn’t even know.”

“Well, pardon me,” he snaps, “I didn’t exactly have the best experience with the popular kids, but you should know that since Stevie told you everything, right? Hell, he probably mentioned it over pillowtalk for your one night together, right?”

You were an idiot. You had let yourself forget that Eddie is not normally kind, that Eddie is not normally so trustworthy as he’s been the last hour. You’d let your guard down, and now, the ramifications were staring you down right between the eyes.

“Fuck you,” you angrily spit, moving to stand up, “I told you that in fucking confidence, because I thought… I thought…”

“You thought..?” he presses as you turn to face him, shorter than him now that you weren’t both sitting in the stools, “What? That we were friends?”

Yes. Because for a moment, I thought we were becoming friends, like a fucking idiot.

His chest is heaving now. Just as yours had during your rant to him, your attempt to soothe over the fact that he hated you. You regret it. You regret ever agreeing on civility.

“My mistake,” you choke out, “It won’t happen again.”

You’ve caught him off guard. Maybe he had been prepared for you to deny it, maybe he had thought you’d laugh in his face at the idea of you considering him a friend.

But you hadn’t. You’d just confirmed to him that you did have that moment of weakness. You’d admitted that yes, for a vulnerable moment, you’d considered him a friend. A confidant over sweetened alcohol, cheap bar food, and trust.

He’d had your trust, and he’d now lost it.

You don’t wait around to see how he takes the revelation. You’re already storming out the front door of the bar, grateful you can still remember which direction his apartment is in. You don’t care if he’s following you – part of you hopes he isn’t.

Until part of you is. Because as you step out into the night, a few shadows against the brickwall are brought to life by your appearance.

“Hey there,” one of the men call out, “What’s a girl like you doing all alone?”

You don’t process that the man is talking to you at first, head down and anger flaming.

“Hey, you!” There’s a sudden hand on your shoulder, making you jolt your head up, “Yeah, you. What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here alone?”

His grin is sinister. Sickly sweet in faux honey, blonde hair swept back and breath reeking of rum.

“M-Me?” you stutter, trying to take a careful step back, to get his hand off your shoulder.

Your heart is no longer racing with fury. It’s pounding with fear.

“Does it look like there’s any other pretty girls out here?” he slurs with a chuckle, glancing around to his friends.

You look around as well, and realize with sinking trepidation that there’s no one else out here, “No. But, uh, I’m good. I.. I’m not… interest-”

“What’s your name, honey?” he leans in closer, and you can’t help but lean back. It makes his grip on you tighten. “I’m Jason. Are you all alone? Because, I’ll be honest, I’ve been striking out all night and would love to take a pretty thing like you home with me.”

“I’m g-good,” you start again, “Please, uh, please let go-” you're shaking your head, trying harder to pull off his hand.

“Oh, come on. It’d be fu-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. One second, he’s pressing too close to you, holding you tight enough to leave bruises as you’re cringing and suddenly squirming to get out of his grasp, and the next – he’s gone.

“Get the fuck off her.”

You’re still too shocked to move, glancing down at your shoulder that’s now red and sore. But you know that voice.

It’s the voice that had just told you he’d hated you before he ever met you.

“Hey, man!” The intruder, Jason, protests as he’s shoved harshly against the wall. “What the fuck?”

You finally look to see what’s happening properly. Eddie isn’t facing you, his broad back and shoulders appearing menacing in the shadows as Jason sinks further back against the wall.

“She’s not going home with you.”

His tone doesn’t waver, even as you catch the clench of his shaking fist.

Jason catches sight of you, still standing where he left you, and the nauseating smirk returns, “I think we should let her decide, shouldn’t we?”

You see Eddie move to raise his fist, and your body finally unfreezes. In an instant, you’re at his side, and your hand wraps around his bicep to prevent the punch he was surely pretending to send Jason’s way.

“Eddie,” you plead, tugging him backwards, anger momentarily forgotten. He doesn’t look at you, but he immediately takes the arm in your hold and wraps it around you in order to tuck you further behind his body, away from the wide, drunken stares of these men. You hate it, but it makes you feel safer, even as you grip the leather of his jacket’s sleeve tighter, “Eddie, please, let’s go.”

“So she’s spoken for?” Jason pushes his luck, still slurring his words.

Eddie’s fist clenches again. Without thinking, your hand not on his arm reaches down to grasp his fist.

Your heart's still pounding. You’re still trembling, shaken up terribly – he can feel it.

“Please,” you beg one last time.

This time, he listens. The fist unravels, and in an instant, he has your hand locked in his, palm against sweaty palm.

He’s not as rough as you expect him to be as he’s dragging you away from the scene. You can still hear the cat-calls, the taunts, of the drunken men, but it only spurs Eddie to walk faster. You struggle to keep up, his long legs carrying him more easily through the long strides, but you don’t protest, eager to get away from whatever the fuck just happens.

Neither of you say another word during the walk to his apartment. Your shoulder continues to ache, your hand stays tangled in his, and you can still feel the prick of civility’s shards in your chest, lodged dangerously close to your vines and closing buds of hopefulness.

Civility. What a broken construct.

–

BIRDIE: they are literally on a date right now.

JOHNNY: I’m not doing this right now.

DINGUS: god, i hate to admit it, but rob’s right. are they at a bar right now? am i seeing that right?

BIRDIE: yes!! i called it!! i fucking called it!!! god, only five hours in and they’re already on their first date.

ARGYLE 😎: love is in the air my dudes

JOHNNY: @ARGYLE 😎Don’t encourage them.

NANCE: It is NOT their first date. Eddie wouldn’t take her to a bar for their first date.

BIRDIE: hold on, how would you know what eddie would do for their first date?

NANCE: He’d probably take her somewhere nice, like whatever this town’s equivalent of Enzo’s.

DINGUS: when the fuck has eddie talked about where he’d take her for the first date?

BIRDIE: nancy what the fuck do you know?

JOHNNY: Lol

NANCE: Forget I said anything.

BIRDIE: nancy, please explain yourself immediately.

DINGUS: nance? when? the? fuck?

NANCE: He was drunk, he probably didn’t mean it.

BIRDIE: NANCY.

JOHNNY: Now you’ve done it.

DINGUS: NANCY.

ARGYLE 😎: does this mean what i think it means?

BIRDIE: NANCE.

JOHNNY: Just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?

NANCE has left the groupchat.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #twenty four hours

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cellythefloshie · 1 year

Text

;; Daddy Dunn

Summary: You, Dunn's fiance, travel with Vince to Lindsay, Ontario to celebrate the St Louis' 2019 Stanley Cup victory. It is in his hometown, after seeing Dunn's sweet interaction with children that - after years of thinking you would never have kids - you decide you want to have a baby. After telling Dunn, he assures that the two of you take a night to sleep on it, but not without a little practice.

Set in the summer of 2019.

Kinks & TW: Breeding/Desire to Become Pregnant, Oral Contraceptives, Unprotected Sex, Vince likes to Moan, Have to Stay Quiet, Hand Around Throat - Not Quite Choking, Hand Over Mouth, Woman on Top, Sundress Sex.

Notes: Apparently Vince had 4-5 surgeries during this off-season after sustaining a broken jaw in the series against SJS. This is touched on very briefly but nothing in detail.

Inspired By: This video and this anon.

Word Count: 2448

Taglist: @mp0625 @starshine-hockey-girl

For as long as you could remember you hadn’t wanted kids. Whether it be the responsibility that came with having a child or the pregnancy itself that scared you away from the idea of being a mother, it was something you have been comfortable with accepting. You would be the cool, wealthy, aunt that spoiled your nieces and nephews but that all changed in a single moment and it was all thanks to Vince.

It was summertime, which often meant a relaxing postseason, but this off-season was different since St Louis had won the cup. Since Sanford scored the 4th goal in game seven, your life had been a whirlwind of festivities but it was all meant to wind down after Vince’s day with the cup. You had travelled with him all the way to Lindsay, Ontario, his hometown, and quickly faded into the background of the festivities. You followed him in his parade in the quaint community.

With the population less than a tenth of St Louis, it almost left you feeling lost, but the crowds that flocked to Lindsay were far from underwhelming. Blues fans travelled from all across the Province - and even the country - for their opportunity to see Vince and Cup. You watched them all, the young and the old flock to him. Their hockey hero, the pride and joy of an entire community, had brought Lord Stanley home to them.

He was met with smiles, with fondness, and some were even brought to tears. They had known him since he was a boy, and now he was a man. A humble man who had not forgotten his roots, and who spent his time with every single one of them who had come to celebrate his success with him.

While it all had warmed your heart, there was one moment that left your heart fluttering and seemed to alter your brain chemistry in all of a single second. A woman that you hadn’t had the opportunity to meet yourself since you were watching the day unfold from the sidelines had brought her 8-month-old to meet with Vince and the cup. And while you would have admitted that the baby was cute, you didn’t fully appreciate the sight in front of you until Vince had taken the baby in his arms. He was kind, and sweet with zero hesitation or fear when it came to cradling such a young, sweet child. It was that moment that changed it all.

Seeing him with the child in his arms. Hearing the soft voice he used and the ease at which he handled the child as they grew finicky as they sat in the Stanley Cup had ignited something deep inside you. You wanted a baby.

It was something that weighed heavily over you the rest of the day. It left you fidgeting at the dinner table, your fingers twisting the delicate engagement ring on your finger. Vince had only proposed over the holiday season and you weren’t set to wed until the next summer, which should have been enough to have you biting your tongue - but the moment you had him alone in his childhood bedroom that had been given a bit of a facelift to be more suited for guests, you couldn’t hold yourself back from him.

The moment the bedroom door had been shut behind you, your hands had found Vince’s chest. He was still wearing the same polo shirt, black with a thin white detail along his collar and sleeves, and you wanted it off of him. Fingers dragged down the buttons of his polo drawing his gaze down, and soon you were subject to a slack-jawed breath and his bedroom eyes. Your name left his lips in a slow hum. A hum that was laced with the little restraint he could muster. Before your trip, the two of you had agreed to not have sex if there was a chance his parents could overhear. Yet, you were undressing him with the very risk of his parents hearing everything from the next room.

“I’ll be quiet, promise,” you whispered up at him, your lips curling into a faint smile that coaxed one up onto his own lips.

“But I don’t have anything-”

You almost laughed as you pulled his shirt up and over his head and tossed it aside. You watched as your gleeful expression perplexed him. You had always insisted on using a condom, until now. “I don’t want to use one,” you told him in a soft whisper, your hands finding your bare chest to push him back towards the bed.

Once you had him seated, the skirts of your sundress pulled up just enough for you to straddle his lap, you spoke again, “and, with your permission, I want to stop taking the pill.”

His face softened at your words, his full lips parting with a heavy breath. His hands quickly settled on your hips, caressing over your soft silhouette slowly as he spoke your name, “Are you sure? I mean, I’m not saying no - I just - you’ve - this is a big surprise.”

“I know, I know,” you sighed, your hands coming to rest on the strength of his shoulders, “but seeing you with all the kids today,” you looked away as you felt your heart begin to race in your chest, “and seeing how you were with the baby…”

Vince wore a cocky smile as he lay back against the bed, his arms reaching up to stretch out and flex the toned muscles of his body before they came to rest behind his head. “Oh, you liked that, huh?” he raised a brow, his words coy before he let his tongue run over his bottom lip slowly, “Daddy Dunn,” he said the words as if to taste how they would feel in his mouth, and they left him grinning ever wider when he saw the reaction it got out of you.

Your skin had flushed with color, your jaw slacking for a moment before you found your composure and gave him a playful shove. “Stunner, don’t,” You had tried to be firm, but your words were laced with a nervous laugh, “don’t tease me like that and make me regret telling you.”

“Hey, hey,” Vince hummed and reached out a single hand to stroke over your cheek slowly. He used the touch to draw you in. He greeted your lips with a soft and gentle kiss before he eased back just enough to mutter out to you; “no teasing,” his hand reached up to brush your hair back gently, “but I do want you to sleep on it. You took your pill this morning, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out gently before biting down on your lower lip.

“Good girl,” he hummed, his head shaking slightly as his thumb dragged down over your jaw to coax your lip from the bite of your teeth. He stroked it carefully with the pad of his thumb when he spoke again, “In the morning, if you feel the same way we’ll throw them away, but until then I don’t see there being anything wrong with a little practice.”

Your head cocked to the side, your lips speaking into the touch of his thumb, “Practice?”

Vince let out a hum of confirmation as he leaned in, cast his thumb aside and placed a lingering kiss against your lips. It was slow and careful, a little cautious even as both were mindful of the tenderness that still lingered after his jaw had been broken during the playoff run. If anything, it forced the two of you to slow things down. Desperate hungry fucks, became tender, deliberate touches - and that didn’t change with the proposition of starting a family.

His touch was gentle as a single hand brushed down the length of your body. It caressed over every curve as it sought out the bottom hem of your sundress. He pushed up the skirt of your dress slowly, his hand coasting over the flesh of your thigh as he let out a groan, “I’ve been wanting to fuck you in this dress all day.”

“Oh, have you?” you raised a brow at him, your breath heavy as you pressed back into his touch.

“All fucking day,” he reiterated with a groan as his hand found the waist of your panties and hooked onto them with a single finger before drawing them down the length of your legs. With every inch it travelled, you could feel your own arousal as it became a cool trail down the inside of your leg. When he pulled the panties from your legs, Vince balled them up in his hand, feeling the arousal that had pooled there, “you thinking about me too, Princess?”

You nodded slowly, your hands dragging down the length of his chest only to come to rest at the waist of his dark denim jeans. Fingers toyed with the thin hair of his treasure trail as you smiled down at Vince, who smiled in return, as he waited for you to indulge him in the fantasies in your mind.

“Thinking about you,” you spoke slowly, your hands pulling the button free before toying with the zipper of his fly, “your cock…” you trailed off slowly, hesitant on letting the next words fall from your lips, “and your cum.”

His eyes ignited as he lifted his hips for you to rid him of his pants and his boxers with ease before returning to your lace in his lap. “Tell me about it, Princess.”

You spoke slowly as you took his cock in your hand. You stroked him slowly as you spoke, your words soft and just above a whisper, “I was thinking about your cock,” you licked your lips slowly as he twitched his cock in the hold of your hands, “and how it would spread my desperate cunt, and fuck me. You always fuck me so good baby, but to feel you, to really feel you,” you let out an exasperated breath, “and how you would fill me up. Leave me dripping-”

“You want a baby, Princess. All you’ll be feeling inside you until your round with my baby is my cum,” Vince grinned up at you, his cock hard in your hand, “and we can start right now. You nice and wet for me, Princess?”

And you were. You had been all day.

Lifting up the skirt of your dress, you guided him to your slick core. You dragged the head of his cock along your entrance, your stomach jumping up into your throat as you felt him. You could feel every bit of him. From the head of his cock leading away to the thick vein along the underside of his cock. You quivered at the feeling, and at the realization that you were working him so deep inside you with nothing but the oral contraceptive you had taken that morning to keep him from getting you pregnant.

You weren’t the only one who relished in it as you began to ride him, the pleasure coaxing a satisfied hum from his lips, “Ah fuck.”

There was nothing more you liked than Vince getting vocal with you, but with his parents sleeping down the hall, it was the last thing you needed them overhearing.

“Vinny,” you sighed to him in a low whisper as your cunt flexed around his cock, “you’ve gotta be quiet-” Your cautions were lost on him as his head lulled back into the bed with his lips parted. He was on the verge of ecstasy, and there would be no holding him back from letting the entire household know how good you rode his cock - that was unless you intervened.

Your hands left the strength of his chest and slid up over his shoulders until one hand settled carefully around his throat. You gasped at it, anchoring yourself to him before your left hand came to rest over his mouth so that he could feel the warmth of your engagement ring against his flesh and every single attempt at a moan would be muffled by your palm.

It was enough to silence him, but his pleasure wasn’t lost on you. You could feel it in the throbbing of his cock inside your walls, and it could be seen in the emotion in his eyes. They had always betrayed him, even now as they threatened to roll back in ecstasy but instead, he held your gaze as you continued to ride him. With each role of your hips, you took him into your cunt, feeling all of him from the tip of his cock buried deep inside you to his balls as they smacked up against your flesh and you didn’t stop - not until Vince had let his hands slide free from where they rest behind his head to grip at your hips. With his heels pressed down firmly into the mattress and your hand still firm over his mouth Vince plowed into you in a series of forceful thrusts that left your cunt and legs weak.

Then, on the final thrust, you felt him. All of him. Every inch of his cock, and every drop of his cum as it consumed your core. It heated the blossomed through you, rendering your body still with the very exception of your walls that vice gripped him with your own pleasure. Your hands eased from his mouth and his neck, easing down onto a mattress as your lips parted in a ghost of a moan.

“You like that, Princess?” Vince whispered against the shell of your ear as your body collapsed down on top of the strength of his body. You could only manage a feeble nod in return, “Good, you’ll be feeling me well into the morning after that one.”

The thought painted a soft smile across your features, one that was met with the exhaustion of the day and the fall of your pleasure. It left your eyes heavy, and your body calm as Vince eased out of you and moved your carefully to rest against the pillows. It was there, still in your sundress and with his cum coating the inside of your thighs, that sleep took you quickly, quicker than it had ever before.

Come morning you moved straight for your bag and took your pills into your hand. You held them in against your palm for a moment, hearing their soft rattle in the packaging before you gripped them firmly in your hand. Taking a steady, confident breath, you walked across the room and straight to the trash bin. You showed no hesitation as you opened your hand and let them fall.

#vince dunn #nhl rpf #nhl imagine #hockey rpf #hockey smut #nhl smut #rpf #hockey imagines #vince dunn fanfic

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scenezfreak · 10 months

Note

Give me Metalhead Jeff headcannons right neeowwww feed my brain worms pretty please

- XAFF

BARKBARKBARKBARKBARK *transforms*

Metalhead Jeff Headcannons CONTAINS NSFW.

Warnings: public sex, knife, rough

NOT PROOF READ, MINORS DNI

SFW:

• Wears ALL black, has chains and spiky bracelets, rings

• Loves to play his music loudly, even if it’s night time, you have to tell him to turn it down MULTIPLE times (he doesn’t 💀)

• Would try to get you to dress like him and if you already do then he steals stuff for you

• Would go to concerts with you and make sure you guys are in the front (and he keeps you close, he’s possessive of you 💀🙏)

• Sings along with the music without even knowing, and purposely sings the nsfw lyrics in your ear OH LORD THIS MANNN

NSFW:

• Fucks you while music plays in the background and will thrust to the beat of the music ( and Yk metal music is crazy)

• He chains you up <3

• If you dress like him or try on his clothes he’ll fuck you on the spot, doing his best to ruin you.

• He’s so rough with you, marking you, making you cry, making you bleed

• Has cool knifes that he likes to use on you, and he has a knife with your name engraved on it that he ONLY uses on you

• Probably uses his belt to whip you if you’ve disobeyed him

• LOVES to pull your hair and doesn’t care if it hurts you

• Bites you to mark you, makes you bleed from his bites too

• Would take you out killing with him just so he can fuck you while you’re bloody

• Would fuck you at a concert not caring if people see you guys or not

• If he wasn’t a wanted serial killer and he did concerts then he’d definitely fuck you in his dressing room

• He’d get you VIP tickets to his concert and fucks you in the VIP room

• FUCKS YOU IN THE BATHROOM OF HIS TOUR BUS WHILE HIS BAND MEMBERS ARE RIGHT OUTSIDE OF IT ‼️

• Would yell at his band members to fuck off if they questioned him about the noises they heard coming from the bathroom

• If he ever gets mad because one of his concerts went bad he’d take it out on fucking you roughly

#OH MY GODDD #IM OBSESSED WITH THIS MAN #*goes insane*#creepypasta #jeff the killer #jeff the killer smut #smut #creepypasta smut #headcannons

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judgementdaysunshine · 10 months

Note

damian x reader where he’s all soft for her but acts tough and scary with other people?

Ofc yesss

Gentle giant

Pairing: Damian Priest x Fem reader

Description: Despite how intimidating and terrifying he looks and acts, he is so gentle and sweet with you

You stand in the front of the crowd as you watch your friends, family, and boyfriend do their matches always cheering for the four especially Damian who winked, blew kisses, and even did a salsa for you which made you smile as you caught the last kiss he blew for you. You smile as they walk to you, hugging each of them turning to a blushing giggly mess when you hug damian, yelping when damian lifts you as you hug each other as the others laughs and the crowd is a mix of cheers and boos which both confused you, feeling hurt by the boos as you play it off and hide in his chest until you were all backstage in their locker room, you laugh at dom as he jokes with rhea while damian went to change and shower and finn was getting food from catering, you ended up falling asleep on the couch as the other three talk until they notice you being quiet, smiling when they see you curled up on the couch under a blanket as they quietly talk and walk in anf out of the room, damian walks out and takes a sip of water, stopping with a smile on his face as he gently caresses your face noticing that you were asleep, taking a picture before putting his bag in his car and coming back not to wake you but carrying and placing you in the passenger seat. You wake up the last few minutes before pulling in the driveway, smiling when you feel his big cool hand completely cover your warm one as he parks, you both get up and he lifts you up in his arms before you walk through the door after you yawn and rub your eyes for a second "Sorry baby, the long day and tiredness caught up to me" he shakes his head after he lays you down and turns the tv on, grabbing and handing you clothes while he strips down and lays next to you "You don't need to apologize, we all have days where we just need to rest" you lay your head on his chest after he pulls you to him and wraps his arms around you as the tv plays Lord of the rings in the background, slowly soothing you to sleep along with damian's warmth and heartbeat "I love you amor" you share a kiss as you fall asleep to him massaging your scalp with his fingers "I love you too" he kisses your forehead as he watches the movie until he falls asleep as a different movie starts.

#wwe x reader #damian priest #wwe #damian priest x reader

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lesbiansforboromir · 2 years

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ONCE AGAIN!! Lord of the Rings Online is essentially giving away it’s ENTIRE 13 years of content for free when redeeming the coupon FREEQUESTS2022 and so here I am again to PLEAD with you, if you are looking for extremely book-lore accurate narratives created within and around Tolkien canon, if you want to try what I genuinely call THE BEST Tolkien adaptation ever made, then make an account and redeem the code and give it a try!

This offer extends until OCTOBER 31st Boston time so it’s best to hop on it early because all the three current expansions (excluding Gundabad and the new before the shadow expansion coming out in november) are also reduced in the ingame store from 2995 points to 99 points, which are literally earnable within a few hours of normal ingame play. I cannot emphasise enough how easy 297 points is to get in this game in comparison to most other MMO currency systems.

Massive Dunlending cultural expansions! Orc narratives that question their portrayals as inherently evil! Elves being self absorbed! Easterling characters with fascinating and deep characters and cultural backgrounds! Complex political positions held by many characters including breelanders who hate the Dunadain for fully understandable reasons! Literally the first canonically queer couple ever shown in any Tolkien adaptation (lesbian dwarves)! This game takes you from one side of the map all the way too the other and out the other side of Sauron’s defeat and beyond! I could say so much about it and how much I love it but! Yes well anyway, if you do give it a try, you might want to start on Laurelin and send a mail to Hravanis so I can make you cool armours and such!

#lotro #lord of the rings online #lotr #tolkien #lord of the rings #the lord of the rings #text post

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cilil · 3 months

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AN: Alright, my dear @fraeuleinfriedhof, I am a woman of my word. I decided to choose one of the dark romance prompts to create this little gift for you and hope it is to your liking!

dark romance prompts

♡ prompt: marked ~ Melkor x Mairon ♡ synopsis: While the Ainur of Utumno feast, Melkor makes sure everyone knows that Mairon is his and his alone. ♡ warnings: Smut(ty), not-too-explicit public sex, possessiveness, a hedonistic hell party going on in the background ♡ short oneshot (~600 words)

A snowstorm raged outside, pelting the frozen north of Arda with a furious flurry of hail and ice.

The halls of Utumno, however, were filled with warmth, laughter and music, and the Maiar of Melkor celebrated their lord's glory and generosity. Fires burned freely between mighty pillars of obsidian, wine, blood and meat were served in abundance and all indulged in whichever pleasures of the flesh they craved. It was a wild and frightening spectacle to behold, like a dance of maddened, frenzied beings that had once been holy and pure, and the scent of ash filled the air.

Amidst the chaos stood the throne of Melkor where he lounged, watching his people with idle amusement. On his lap, seated proudly and clinging to his form like a precious piece of jewellery, was a Maia unlike any other, one bright and beautiful among creatures of darkness, with hair of copper, eyes of gold and lips like liquid rubies.

One of Melkor's hands held onto his slender waist possessively, and the other was interlaced with his, each adorned with a black and golden ring, as if he needed to stake his claim on the wondrous creature he had chosen as his consort – though all Ainur who had ever come across He who arises in Might knew better than to covet what was his.

Mairon had long since learned to ignore the stares. He had learned to smile and giggle and bat his eyelashes whenever Melkor's hands began to wander. His entire being lit up with perverse, triumphant euphoria as he felt cool fingers slip underneath his luxurious robes and search for bare skin; on Almaren, he had been a mere apprentice of a smith, and now he was the consort of a king. His best, his brightest, his favourite, his *precious*.

Melkor's grip on his hand tightened just as his wandering hand cupped his ass. "I want you."

A clear, brilliant laugh filled the air, teasing to the point of mockery, and Mairon threw his head back to cheekily evade a greedy kiss – only to bare his neck, deliberately.

"Right here? Right now?" he asked, pretending to swoon at the mere idea.

"Yes." Melkor pushed him down harder onto his lap and pulled him in at the same time. "You may keep your robes, as the sight of your true beauty is mine alone as well, but I *will* have you."

Impatient, impulsive, insolent. Any other Ainu would have felt Mairon's wrath for such audacity, Vala or not; but his beloved he would indulge. Letting himself fall so he could lie on Melkor's chest, he looked up at him through long eyelashes.

"Take me then," he challenged, "show them that I am yours and you are mine."

"Be careful what you wish for. You might yet sing louder than they do."

"Make me."

And so it came to pass that even though the two lovers fell silent for a while as their lips met in a heated kiss, Mairon's song would eventually echo through the hall with such exuberance and ferocity that many turned their heads to behold the spectacle on their lord's throne and watched their feverish coupling. Blood-red robes pooled around his hips, concealing where their fánar met, but the force of Melkor's thrusts and his own frantic movements left little to the imagination. The fingers of their ringed hands remained intertwined as if to repeat the vows they had exchanged and sharp teeth and claw-like nails left marks on unblemished skin, like quiet, breathless whispers saying mine.

Thanks for reading!

taglist: @angbangbaby @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-big-tits @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot

#mairon #sauron #melkor #morgoth #angbang #melkor x mairon #ainur #silm fanfic #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion #cílil writes #my writing #dark romance prompts #gift fic #happy birthday again and i hope your day was and is lovely

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talaok · 1 year

Text

I've dreamed of this | Pt. IX

Summary: You are a part of the BAU, and for the longest time you and Dr. Spencer Reid had been best of friends, even when it was clear to everyone else, and at times to you, that you should be more than that, and when something almost happens on a night out with the team, everything is destined to change.

This is a double pov story (each chapter will be alternated between y/n's and spencer's pov)

Chapter summary: Penelope calls you, and causes a chain reaction

warnings: angst (please don’t be mad at me)

previous part | next part

*I'm really sorry for the long wait*

y/n

even his couch felt more comfortable than your own.

It was like you were meant to be here, it felt, like you were meant to be here.

The moment you woke up this morning, your head against his chest, and his sweet amber eyes looking down at you, the only question scratching your mind was why? Why have I waited this long for something I now see, was everything I've always wanted, if not needed?

It didn't make sense,

but then again, it did.

He had told you not to move, begged you even, to promise you wouldn't leave, and you didn't know how to tell him that that wasn't even a possibility you had weighed.

He had, unwillingly, left for work, and left you in his sunny apartment, feeling at home in one that was not your own.

You had been here before, dinners with the team, crashing at his place, movie nights where he either spent the whole time translating the film, or complaining about the improbability portrayed in the ones you chose.

You had been here, sure, but never like this,

now, it was as if you were looking at a whole new flat, a whole new world, one where things did, work out, and where his dark green walls maybe weren't so bad after all.

You had this feeling in your chest you couldn't describe as you smiled brainlessly at the off tv, relieving every second of the past 12 hours.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't want this- a lot, for a very long time"

"I don't think I've ever meant anything more"

"would you just please let me kiss you?"

" I could too"

"I like you y/n, I've liked you for a very long time, In a way, I had never had before, and I know this isn't ideal, that there are a lot of things we should consider and talk about, and I'm willing to do that, but I just thought you should know"

"I like you, and I'm serious about this"

All of it in your brain, a constant background above the silence around you.

it felt like a dream,

this couldn't be real,

right?

You had spent so much time fighting it, rationalizing all of it, your feelings for him, the way your heart would melt every time he blushed or smiled, and now there you were.

It all felt surreal.

This wasn't supposed to happen,

This was the forbidden fruit in the garden of Eden,

and still,

you had taken a bite of the apple,

and nothing had happened,

not yet anyway.

Ring Ring

Your phone was ringing.

"Hello?" you hadn't even looked at the caller ID

"hi gorgeous, how's it going?" You recognized Penelope's voice.

You smiled at that "great" you said "it's going great"

"Really? Emily said she talked to you yesterday and you seemed down"

"Oh yes" you recalled "well, everything is better now"

"Really?"

"yes, really Pen" you smiled at her thoughtfulness,

"So did you find some things to do?"

You had to hide a laugh "Yes-yes I definitely did"

"Cool like what?"

fuck

it wasn't like you could tell her the truth.

oh yeah, so I basically got into a relationship that I'd been avoiding for years with Spencer, our coworker.

That didn't seem like it would work out

"I- I started watching- " you looked around frantically, and your eyes spotted a book "I started watching the lord of the rings"

"the whole saga?" she asked, shocked

"yes, it's been keeping me occupied"

"Spencer's gonna be happy about that" she scoffed amusedly.

Your cheeks flushed just at the mention of his name "Speaking of which" she said, and you could hear the smirk on her lips "Wonderboy arrived late today" she snickered "word on the street is he's got a girlfriend"

"What?" the words fled your mouth before you could stop them

How was it possible they already knew?

Yes, they were profilers, but no profiler was that good.

"Yes, let's just say he must have forgotten about some marks the lucky lady left on his neck"

Shit

Shit shit shit

"oh" you could only breathe

"not to mention how distracted he is " she chuckled softly "he hasn't even done his crossword this morning" she whispered as if it was some sort of profanity,

which, of course, it kind of was,

Spencer never missed a day, the whole team knew it.

You didn't know what to say, and so you stayed silent.

You could feel Penelope's attitude shift "Shoot- listen I know you two were kind of... I don't know- something-" she trailed off "but maybe this is better you know, with the whole Hotch thing and you being friends"

"I mean it's not like a woman like you doesn't have a line of men waiting for her"

"We weren't- anything" you clarified

"Sorry, I probably shouldn't have told you" you could hear the sadness creeping up her voice.

"It's fine, Pen, I'm-I'm happy for him"

"alright," she said, even though both of you knew she was still mortified "well anyway I and the gals thought we could come by this afternoon to keep you company"

Oh fuck

they couldn't come by, you weren't even there.

"oh no don't do that"

really y/n? that's the best you could come up with?

"why?" Penelope asked

C'mon think of something

"I just- I'm feeling a bit sick"

"oh" she hummed "I'm sorry," she said, " why didn't you say anything before?"

"I just didn't want you to worry"

"I'm- I'm not " she lied plainly "I could make you some soup you know? I could bring it to you. Yes, you know what, I'm gonna get off work earlier and get started on it-"

"Wait Pen"

"yes?" she stopped her rambling, and it surprised you she still had air left in her lungs.

"I think it's best if I just rest a bit y'know?"

"Sure" she smiled, but you could tell she was disappointed and worried altogether "I understand"

"thank Pen, say hi to the team for me"

"of course" she nodded "take care of yourself"

"will do" you joked "bye now"

"bye"

You stared at the colorless reflection looking back at you from the black screen,

Your smile had faded,

The feeling in your belly had mutated,

more bitter now, the warmth slowly dissipating against the cold breeze.

You should have been happy right?

You had gotten away with it,

both of you had,

Yes, the team thought Spencer had a girlfriend, but they had no idea it was you.

And you were able to convince Penelope not to come by your house.

Everything went perfectly,

so why did you feel like this?

like a puff had just caused the unsteady house of cards to fall to the ground.

You had everything you wanted,

you had him,

you had you, together.

this wasn't how it was supposed to be,

you should be feeling ecstatic,

happy,

on fucking cloud nine,

but it was as if you had to woken up from the dream, from the fable, and reality was starting to hit.

You had lied to her,

to Penelope,

one of your best friends, a person who knew everything about you, a person who'd seen you cry and laugh and puke more times than you'd like to admit.

You had to lie

Make up a bunch of things and lie to her face like it was normal, like nothing was wrong with that.

But so much was wrong with it,

And not only because it made you feel dirty, and shitty, no, but because she didn't deserve it.

She would never do it to you, you knew.

And still, you hadn't even hesitated before doing it to her.

And as much as you liked to think that it was necessary, and that it wasn't gonna be forever, you had no real guarantee that that was the truth

You had never really thought about it,

and apparently, all it took was a phone call for the pandora's box lid to fly off, and your mind was now flooding with doubts and fear, and second thoughts.

When were you gonna be able to tell people?

never, was the only answer you could think of,

You weren't allowed to date,

because of Hotch's rule,

And it's not like you could have told everyone but him, that seemed practically impossible.

So that was it, either one of you left the BAU or you would have to keep it a secret forever, continuing to lie every single day.

The thought of it terrified you,

And with it, millions more started clouding your mind.

__ __ __

"hello"

you had been crying

"hi" you smiled weakly from the couch

He threw his sachel on a chair and walked up to you immediately, bending to meet his lips with yours.

It felt good, too good.

"I've missed you" he sat next to you, a big smile on his face "I couldn't wait to get home" he confessed shily "I don't think anybody suspects anything though, so we're in the clear" he moved a lock of hair behind your ear, and his brows furrowed "what's wrong?"

You didn't know where to begin,

a tsunami of emotions was going off inside of you, and you had no idea how to get them out.

"Penelope called" you finally said

"ok" you could tell he was confused "that's good right?"

yes, Spencer, that's supposed to be good.

God, you felt like you were going crazy.

"I lied to her"

"what do you mean?"

"she said she wanted to come to my house, and I said I was sick"

"Oh" he breathed "that's-that's ok, I mean that's like a - white lie"

You could only look at him, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

"And you know, you could have gone back home, that would have b-"

"that's not the point Spencer" your voice broke " I lied to her, and- and I'm gonna have to keep doing it"

"what? no that's not true" he placed a hand on your thigh, trying to reassure you.

"We can't tell anyone Spence you know it"

"Well I mean we could tell her, just not Hotch"

"and how that gonna work?" you asked way too harshly.

"I'm sorry I just- there's a lot of things we haven't thought of"

"I know y/n I know" he stoaked your cheek "but we can work it out"

Oh, you so wanted to give in, to tell him that yes, maybe you could and that he was right, but you knew that wasn't the truth, as much as it pained you to say it, he was wrong.

"How?" you said "We're gonna get fired if Hotch finds out, and unless one of us wants to leave the team we're gonna have to keep it a secret," you explained with a weak voice "and I don't know-" you couldn't believe you were about to say it "I don't know if I can do it, Spencer"

It was like you had just punched him in the face,

his eyes went blank, as his smile disappeared.

"I'm sorry" you cried "I'm so sorry Spence this is all my fault I should have never come here, please- i'm so sorry" you reached for his hand.

"y/n-" he tried to talk but you interrupted him

"no, please don't try to change my mind" you begged "It's- It's not only Hotch, Spence" you confessed

"You're my friend," you said "before this, before everything you're my friend Spence, and- and you mean everything to me, y'know" you sighed "and if- if this doesn't work out I don't wanna lose you, I can't, I can't lose you, I don't think I could do it without you"

"And I know this is gonna mess things up for a bit but I hope we could still be friends because I need that Spence, I need you as I friend, and I'm scared that if we do this, like really do this, and learn we've made a mistake, then I'm gonna lose you forever, and I can't let that happen"

You hadn't noticed the tears fleeing your eyes, because your sight was fixated on him, his mouth slightly parted, his eyes still in shock.

"I-" he swallowed thickly, his eyes scanning your face "You're never gonna lose me y/n" he said "we can work this out"

"This can't be how this ends"

"I'm sorry" was all you could say

"Y/n the moment I met you, the moment you smiled and introduced yourself, I knew I wanted this, the first time I saw you laugh I thought I was gonna have a heart attack y/n, I-I- I spent the last four years of my life stealing glances at you, and planning things to do or say to make you happy." he breathed "you can't do this y/n, not now"

"I'm sorry" your lip was trembling

"please forgive me Spence but I think it's best if I go" you got up and quickly grabbed your purse just to dash to the door,

but he followed

"y/n" you turned, and he was just there, inches from you, just like that night at the bar "y/n, I lov-"

"no, don't" you covered his mouth, a sob creeping up your throat "please don't"

You let your hand fall, taking a step to be flush against him, your mouth ghosting his "this is for the best" you breathed, hopeless "I can't lose you Spence" you kissed him, fully, desperately, like it was the last time you were ever gonna do it, because, of course, it was "please understand"

you whispered,

and without looking back,

you were out of his apartment.

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felassan · 11 months

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its that time again! 🍵

Thoughts/wonderings on Dragon Age: The Missing #4, under a cut due to spoilers for The Missing -

I'm probably becoming a lil unhealthily obsessed with this building. what do we think it is? the Archon's Palace is the highest building in Minrathous (tho I guess not, as it has sewers and this is floating). A Circle? it has a similar shape to the logo for the Circle of Magi. the meeting place for the Magisterium senate, lording over everyone below from high above? whatever it is it looks cool and it must be important to be featured on the map. I wanna go there (๑*ᗜ*)

I love Neve Gallus' design. it's fresh and cool, and she just looks so cute and neat okay. also full of detail - the snake pattern on the headpiece, shoulder 'scales' and scales elsewhere, collar & jacket like one of those hooded snakes, snake-'tailcapped' footwear (rather than steel toe-capped), the serpent belt and of course most of all the beautiful snake design of her prosthetic limb. 10/10 character/costume design

this page had me on my knees basically. my heart.

surely this panel is a new meme format hh? same goes for the one where Varric is saying "Then perhaps all this is linked" and Harding says "And we've led them here"

you walked into the wrong neighborhood bro

I also liked this pair of illustrations, they had a nice 'bookend' feel and reminded me a lot of Lord of the Rings.

Other thoughts:

Minrathous looks kinda cyberpunk and (despite what Harding says in the opening panels) feels quite clean in this comic

Is that the person tailing them lurking in the doorway that Harding is catching sight of here?

These holes in Varric's ear seem to be new. What happened? Injury from the leopard attack?

confused a bit by the perspective flip in this issue. In issue 1, Varric was more like 'stop', and Harding was more like 'talk to him'. it's flipped around a bit here.

Varric smiled when he thought about Neve and then lit up when he saw her. she calls him an "old friend". I wonder how they met and how long they've known each other. something to do with varric's spy network?

This panel felt a bit meta hh.

When Neve says "Your friend is quite intense" is she referring to Solas or Harding?

Then we come to the two main things we learn in this issue:

We learn that Solas has been in Minrathous causing trouble. He's been attacking Venatori locations in the city, stealing artifacts from them and freeing elven slaves in the process, which has greatly angered the Venatori. The Venatori now want revenge and a "bunch of rebellious elves" are "causing trouble throughout the city, presumably in the name of the one who freed them". I wonder if the artifacts weaken the Veil, are connected to the idol somehow, or are simply sources of great power that Solas either needs for himself/his plans or that he simply thinks should be taken away from the Venatori so that they don't cause harm using them? Tevinter Nights showed agents of Fen'Harel seeking artifacts and referenced rumors of elven artifacts that strengthen the Veil, like the ones from DA:I. freeing folks also makes sense, "I am not a monster" and it's something he has a history of doing

In this issue we also learn that Neve works with a group called the Shadow Dragons, who have been trying to help the former slaves. indeed they're trying to help anyone who is held as slaves in Minrathous. this is our first time hearing about this new group. they make it their business to help those in need and Neve makes it her business to help them. I'm a bit ¿ about their name, just due to how it sounds, but it's exciting to learn about a new group/faction. Each issue of this DA:D prequel comic has shone a spotlight on a faction - Grey Wardens, Antivan Crows, the Veil Jumpers and the Shadow Dragons. two new, two old. it's a nice balance. and it brings to mind the common fan theory/speculation about the PC of DA:D having a different faction background depending on the player's choice. at the very least it feels like a way of saying 'these four groups [or characters from them] will feature in a significant way/be 'players on the board' in DA:D".

thinking about the Shadow Dragons' name in an in-world context, like thinking about why they may have chosen their name: dragons are emblematic of Tevinter. dragon imagery is everywhere there, dragons are a symbol of power and Tevinter heraldry shows a dragon. the Tevinter Imperium is a 'dragon', or several (metaphorically) - Magisters, ruling over the classes below. the "shadow dragons" feel like "the other side" of Tevinter, the side in shadow, the underside, the 'anti-Tevinter'. I'd guess that they are the "Tevinter you forgot", i.e. the Viper's faction. (and if you look at Tevinter heraldry, there is also a snake 'in opposition' to the dragon.) before Missing #4 I wondered if “the Tevinter you forgot” "means they are a group of folks who have fallen through the cracks in Tevinter society or who are the downtrodden in Tevinter society. is it some sort of uprising or anti-Magisterium movement?" - here we learn they're trying to help people Tevinter 'forgot' like slaves and former slaves. I also commented "from the story it sounds like the dark-clad card dealer is the Viper. the magister in the story is afraid of him and tries to claim that the Viper is just a tale, implying that the Viper’s name has become known as a sort of shadowy, stealthy urban legend in Minrathous and that it has a sort of bogeyman effect on magisters." Shadow indeed. Neve later comments that the Shadow Dragons are trying to "help anyone held as slaves in Minrathous". I think it was in the Dorian short story in Tevinter Nights that there's a reference to how there's now an anti-slavery movement in Tevinter. Is that the Shadow Dragons? you can see possible echoes of "the Tevinter you forgot" in later comic dialogue "The Shadow Dragons have vowed to help us restore our dignity. To get back the lives that were stolen from us by the Venatori. To make sure we don't have to scrabble in the dirt for food and warm", imo.

I wonder if Dorian, Mae and the Lucerni know anything about the Shadow Dragons? maybe they've done some work together?

and while the Viper/Viper's faction/the Shadow Dragons themselves didn't appear in issue 4, issue 4 still highlighted them, continuing the pattern I speculated about, of the DA Day short stories (Evka/Antoine/Wardens, Teia/Viago/Crows, Strife/Irelin/Veil Jumpers and Viper's faction/Shadow Dragons), one from each of those short stories per issue.

Varric is still having a bad time. also he was born in 9:1, and so if DA:D is set in 9:52, he's now over 50. from these comics, he's feeling old and tired. I don't expect that he'll be a companion in DA:D. more like an advisor (off-field), a contact or quest-giver, or the person that recruits us.

"But why? What did he get out of it? Surely, he wanted something in return" was an interesting line. because like on one hand "I am not a monster", he has a history of freeing people who were enslaved and he's shown as valuing freedom and not enjoying needless suffering. setting people free definitely is the only decent thing. but he's also smart and does things with purpose, always playing 4-D chess, and has been outwitting Varric and Harding at every turn throughout these comic issues, always one step ahead. it seems like a 'it's both' situation. like two birds, one stone. he would free people and it's the right thing to do, and he also gains from it strategically. Varric lampshades this in the final page: and it's three stones, actually. Solas freed people, dealt with the Venatori on his tail and slowed Varric/Harding down long enough to escape all in one move.

Also, at first I wondered if the brown-haired elf was sort've projecting his own perceptions on Solas (with the "his kin" lines). but look here. the leader of these Venatori has a pouch round their neck. the others don't, it's prominently placed and it's consistent on this Venatori in every panel they're in here. and where have we seen that before? around the neck of the Venatori stalker that saved Varric from the leopard in Issue 3. I think we're supposed to conclude that the ringleader of the Venatori that attack the elves in this issue is the Venatori person that's been tailing Varric and Harding all throughout these comic issues. the Venatori ringleader seems to recognize Varric in a later panel, with the "You!". They fight and Varric starts demanding answers from the Venatori leader. but then, just as he's about to get answers, the brown-haired elf intervenes and kills them at that very moment. they won't hurt their people anymore, and conveniently also (more than one purpose to things again..), now Varric and Harding won't get any answers. and also this:

another - not two, but - three stones. when the brown-haired elf kills the Venatori ringleader, A) preventing them from further harming his people and B) preventing them from giving any answers to Varric and Harding, C) the killing blow also cuts that pouch from their neck. a very specific thing to depict. presumably in the chaos of the Venatori leader's death (you can't see the elf's hands in the very next panel) the brown-haired elf has grabbed the pouch, and part of his goal all along was to take it. I think we're supposed to conclude that the pouch contained the crucious stone and that the brown-haired elf works for Solas. so the "You're too late, I already have the crucious stone" letter from issue 3 was a Solas fakeout, the Venatori at that point in time did in fact have the stone (having beaten Solas to the vault, and as-shown by the Venatori who saved Varric from the leopard having the pouch around their neck), and the events of issue 4 were part of Solas' plan to steal it/steal it back from them (and going by Neve's earlier dialogue, it's not the first artifact he's stolen from them). so two things here: one, Solas' 'three stones' are actually-actually four (free the slaves, deal with the Venatori on his tail, delay Varric/Harding long enough to escape, and steal the crucious stone artifact from the Venatori [my head hurts]). and two, the brown-haired elf was working for Solas after all. he'll give the pouch (and the contents, the stone) to Solas, "he set us, his kin, free" wasn't projection considering that he does work for him, and him being there in the alleyway when he was, with the information that he had, was part of Solas' plan to escape and get the stone. otherwise, it's pretty convenient that one of the former slaves at the place Neve's aware of where former slaves have been eating scraps, at the time when she takes Varric/Harding there, just happened to have helpful info about the meeting that Varric/Harding needed and also happened to kill the Venatori leader and in the process cut the pouch from their neck. idk if it means all the elves here were working for Solas or just the brownhaired one or the brownhaired one & the blond one, but yea. definitely the brownhaired elf is I think.

Neve fighting was cool: staff-less magic and then as a mage using a dagger or shortsword.

party combo-kill! ice spell + finishing blow - a comic depiction of Shattering :)

Brown-haired elf missing his elven ear here.

A cool panel. Also, you can't see his other hand..

just really liked these two panels :) also, they missed their chance, they missed this chance, in this, a comic called The Missing... is that why it's called that?

[clenches fist] vowing to protect Neve and her good heart at all costs

and he stole the crucious stone artifact from the Venatori.

I am not sure that I agree with the premise of this article that BioWare retweeted, that The Missing is required reading before DA:D. I enjoyed issues 2 & 3 a lot! I was hoping for a bit more from the end of issue 4, perhaps a small Solas appearance like at the end of Dark Fortress or just a bit more insight into his plans or things in/the setup for DA:D. finishing on the Dread Wolf mural from the DA:D TGA 2020 trailer as a reminder was neat but the highlight reveal from these comics as a whole was definitely the new mural depicted in issue 3.

"He knows us too well, we need to find/use people he doesn't know" is the same conclusion that was reached at the end of Trespasser (and Harding was present for that conversation). I guess the meta irl reasons for The Missing are: A] since it'll be almost 10 years irl between games, to refresh folks about that conclusion and the fact that it will be a new PC and why it has to be 'someone he doesn't know', since most new players to the franchise at DA:D aren't going to buy years old DA:I and DLC and play til it the end of Trespasser B] fill some irl time C] do some marketing/advertizing and D] highlight these four groups/factions and introduce the two new ones (Veil Jumpers and Shadow Dragons) in advance of DA:D, and possibly highlight these specific characters (Strife, Teia, Evka etc) the same way (though I speculate those characters are more like DA:D 'contact' cameos rather than that they will be companions themselves). Certainly if I was Varric at the moment when Harding asks "So who are you thinking?" at the end here, after the events I had experienced and people & groups I had met in recent weeks, with those being fresh in my mind, I would be thinking about the Grey Wardens, the Antivan Crows, the Veil Jumpers and the Shadow Dragons, both as groups and terms of the mental list of people that I had recently met who Solas doesn't know. again it makes you think about the popular speculation that the DA:D PC will have the background of being from one of these groups. also, those 4 groups aren't ones which were referenced in Tevinter Nights as keeping an eye on Solas/as Solas having some info on them in turn (unlike some other groups like the Mortalitasi, the Executors, the Ben-Hassrath etc).

#dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #dragon age: the missing #dragon age: the missing spoilers #bioware #video games #solas #late bc ive been working on other posts #long post #longpost #tevinter nights #strife

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mishkakagehishka · 9 months

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Honestly the joke with the new Barbie movie is the fact that its core message is just such a lukewarm take. It could be boiled down to "Women sometimes face hardships because they are women and men hold power over them. Sad emoji." and yet this was enough to majorly piss people (men) off. Which would be absolutely hilarious if it weren't just so sad.

Like, we have two problems here. One is that man = default. Men are so used to everything catering to them, that they honestly saw a movie titled BARBIE directed by a woman, starring a woman as the titular character, a movie adaptation based around dolls famous for marketing to women, a doll line whose pathetic male-bodied doll was always treated as an accessory sold separately to the female-bodied Barbies, who was always "the boyfriend of Barbie". But because it's a movie, movies are expected to cater to men, right? Because it's cinematography, because it's for adult, mature, refined (male) audiences, it should cater to them, right? And all the pink and all the "he's just Ken" and all the most girliest marketing this movie sent out did not manage to make them think "Hey, I think this movie is for women". No, instead, they said, "Why didn't this movie about a doll line for girls cater to me, an adult man, enough?" You saw it with movies like Star Wars (the one that introduced Rey idk i don't follow sw) and Captain Marvel, but I could even excuse it there. Because it's cool space samurais and it's comic book superheroes - media traditionally marketed to men. Sure, I could see them getting all hormonal and hysterical about a girl?!?!?!?!?@?@?!??@ in THEIR manly men doing manly men things movie?!?!?!?!?!?! and she's NOT just a love interest or damsel in distress or someone's tragic backstory?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!? whadda hell. But Barbie... Barbie? Are girls not even allowed Barbie anymore? What I'm saying is, the first problem is that men are so used to being catered to, that a movie that doesn't even act like it's catering to them got them so upset, because how dare everything not keep them in mind? Right.

As I very cleverly inserted the topic above, female characters in cinema are so often shown as one of three things: a love interest, a damsel in distress, someone's tragic backstory. That's all you got. Oftentimes, movies will critically miss female characters At All (lord of the rings lol), and this is something normal and realistic. In Barbie, first thing you notice is that every major character is a woman. Barbie, Sasha, Sasha's mom (forgot her name, but she IS named, this is important), the many other Barbies who carry the plot in the climax, and so on. Background characters in Barbie Land (why didn't they name is Barbie World...)? Also women. There is a lack of men in this movie, and it hurts their egos soooo bad it's honestly beyond pathetic. Who are your male characters? A handful of Kens. The main Ken is the only one who has some sort of impact on the plot. Allen is comedic relief. The Mattel board guys are comedic relief. Sasha's dad (who i'm pretty sure is unnamed) shows up for two scenes. As comedic relief. They're all irrelevant save for beach Ken.

The second problem is just how absolutely lukewarm the feminism in the Barbie movie is, and despite that, men are treating it like it said women should start castrating men for looking at them wrong. I've seen posts on here talk about it - Barbie also says "the patriarchy hurts men, too" unironically. Could you hold men's hands any more? (In this way, even Barbie is a movie that actually did cater to men. That actually did try to speak to them, too. Because Ken's growth is almost given a bigger spotlight than Barbie's, but whatevs). Barbie's take was that men still oppress women, but just hide it better. That's it. That's enough to anger men worldwide, apparently.

It was just so simple and so stupid in its simplicity. Barbie World is ruled by the Barbies (women). Every night is girls' night. Ken's feelings are hurt because the girl he likes doesn't like him back (a male character whose entire character revolves around the female character he likes - how bout that!). Barbie gets all fucky-wucky and has to go to the real world. She feels objectified and unsafe because men keep leering at her (omg guys did you know... women........ get harassed sometimes😱). Ken feels respected for the first time in his life. Shenanigans happen, Ken goes back, Barbie stays and then goes back. Ken invented the patriarchy in Barbie World. Everything sucks !!! The Barbies take advantage of the fact that men get jealous and possessive over women to distract them so they can reinstate the matriarchy. Barbie goes "um but wait, we were mean... let's be equal :)" etc etc. Tongue in cheek "Kens will have as much power as women in the real world do :)" line. The end.

Sasha? Let's talk about Sasha. Sasha is the Gen Z. You know this because she uses buzzwords. She is, like, the opposite end of the feminism. Or something, she's a bit more radical. She hates Barbie bc of the body image problems, she calls her a fascist and a bimbo, she tells her dad he's doing cultural appropriation by learning Spanish, and she's also shown as a hypocrite because she calls Barbie a nutjob before very quickly correcting herself to say something that sounds more, quotation marks, politically correct. (I think it was "reality-challenged", i wanna emphasise that this really is buzzwords). What I'm saying is, a character that has more radical views than "we should all just get along" is shown as bad for having such views. Its core message is not just lukewarm, it is actively saying, "Don't be radical like lil ol' Sasha, bc that's her character flaw! Let's all get along!".

And this, one movie that flipped the script on them while still keeping up a semblance of catering to men and going "oh, but we're not like those fun-hating women who actually want to be free from the patriarchy, we just want equality", hurt them bad enough that they're writing think pieces about how Barbie is killing traditional values and making women stray. You show men the most castrated and marketable form of quasi-feminism, and they still fight it kicking and screaming.

I don't know where I was going with this. I have no conclusion. Barbie made me laugh a lot, I enjoyed it. The feminism message was somehow both hamfisted and very much limited to "let's acknowledge the daily lives of women". Ken had an entire growth arc about learning to be his own person instead of only Barbie's pursedog (when do you see a female character get that growth...). And it still made men angry. There have been breakups over this movie. You know what I mean? It's all just so meaningless to try and get them to understand.

#shoutout to the men who liked it and understood the message obligatory not all men or whatever

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1000punks · 2 months

Text

bonding. //studying

bonding. //masterlist

pairing: spawn!Astarion x named!Tav (non-binary OC)

warnings: 18+. nsft. mdni. PWP (plot without porn).

word count: 3,953

summary: two gays remodel a house domestic fluff and some character background building, set in post-game baldur's gate. two people who are weird and traumatized work on their relationship and reclaim their sexuality through a shared kink. lots of gooey romantic smut while these two slowly figure out their future together.

named!Tav is my non-binary tiefling ranger, Festé. i was seeing far too few fics with tiefling!Tav and i thought it was crucial, nay, critical to include them in the headcanons. i hope you all enjoy! ♡

header credit: @astarionposting / MANTIS.

Festé sighed harshly, flicking through Gale's journal for what seemed like the hundredth time since he had left it in their possession. The stress was beginning to settle in their shoulders, and they rolled them back carefully. Jaheira's note was balled up in their hand. The tiefling looked out into the garden, worrying their lip with their teeth and watching the sunlight slip back further over what remained of the snow. They couldn't help but be suspicious of the content of Jaheira's letter; and they smoothed it out on the table to read once again.

She has given permission for the replacement. Will be there in a week to discuss details. The wizard has sent the material -- should be with you shortly. If the job isn't done, expect consequences.

They sighed again. The druid had to be purposefully vague, in case there were eyes on the townhouse, or their letters were being intercepted. The "material" had indeed arrived, and Festé thought Gale had done a wonderful job, having seen the real ring in passing at the meeting two weeks prior. It lay before them on the table, unassuming until touched. The tiefling fingered it, feeling the thrum of magic contained within. They slipped their fingertip through it, watching the flames lick their way up their wrist before pulling away. To anyone besides a hellspawn, it would have a much less pleasurable effect.

They squinted at the last line of the note once again, though they had memorized it. The words clearly came from Nine-Fingers, not Jaheira. Their fingers deftly found the pertinent page in the journal, tracing over the name of their prime suspect written in Gale's elegant script.

"What in the Hells did she promise you, you thieving wretch?" they hissed. The question had burned them for weeks on end, but Nine-Fingers had not been forthcoming. Regardless, at the last moment, she must have decided that the price was too steep for her blood. It had something to do with the name, to be sure. Was she willing to let the tiefling and the elf pay if they failed the objective? Perhaps, even given everything, she would be able to walk away unscathed, and pretend that nothing had ever transpired between them. Festé groaned, massaging their temples. They didn't yet know enough about vampiric clans to handle this, but at least they had the experience of killing a vampire lord under their belt. They shrugged, waving their hands. "We probably won't die," they muttered, and startled when they felt cool, pale fingers crawl over the tops of their shoulders.

"We won't die, darling. Have a little more faith than that." Astarion's voice was silky against the top of their head, and he kissed it. "Well, we won't die if you learn to listen for spawn sneaking up behind you, I should say." His fingertips found their chin, and he tilted their head back. The tiefling let out a small whimper of relief as they made eye contact. The dream that had shaken them from sleep that afternoon came back to them in full force.

An innumerable amount of pale fingers closed around their limbs; and gaping, blood-stained mouths overwhelmed their field of vision. They struggled against the writhing bodies, pressing close and pulling them in every direction simultaneously. One elegant figure stood a great distance from the crowd Festé was trapped in, and with only the greatest effort, the tiefling could glimpse one foot grinding into the throat of the only familiar spawn in the vicinity. It gave a slow, threatening smile from the shadows as a sickening crunch rang through the dead, putrid air.

"Come back to me, my dear. I know that distant look." Astarion's fingers traced their cheeks, and his mouth twisted in concern. "I promise, we'll both be okay. Hmm?" He leaned down, kissing their forehead before sitting down next to them, pulling his imp close against his side.

Festé slumped against him. "I'm just worried, love," they sighed. "We don't know what horse Nine-Fingers has in this race. What if she sells the both of us out? It just seems fishy that she would intend to sell such a powerful ring to a vampire lord, then turn her back on the deal." Astarion nodded, tilting his head to the side as the imp spoke. "Something had to have scared her about the deal she made, or she wouldn't be so quick to drop it."

"She may just be a bit of a rat, darling. My theory is that she didn't fully research just who she was dealing with. You've been over the notes as many times as I have -- This one is serious business." The elf's fingers found the name in Gale's journal just as easily as Festé's had. "Perhaps as serious as…" he trailed off, shooting them a sidelong glance. "As serious as the one before. But, she doesn't have a hold on you, nor me, nor a clear foothold in the city." Suddenly he turned away, distracted. "That must be Jaheira," he murmured, getting up and disappearing into the bedroom. To make himself presentable, Festé presumed silently, starting towards the front door at the first knock. They took a deep breath, opening it and looking both ways up the street before beckoning the druid inside. She chuckled, pushing the door closed behind her.

"No witty remarks for me today? I must say, I'm crushed." She flashed a wide grin, furrowing her eyebrows when the tiefling merely shrugged. "Come on now, child. You look like the world is falling down around you. We'll talk over everything in detail. Will that make you less tense?" They considered it for a moment before nodding, and Jaheira slung an arm around their shoulders. "Good, now go make this old woman a cup of tea."

"I'll get it, you both sit." Astarion called from the kitchen, already lighting the stove. He set the kettle on top and turned, raising an eyebrow when he lay eyes on his imp. They sat with a huff. "Festé is under the impression that Nine-Fingers will turn tail on us whether or not we do what she's 'given permission' to do." The elf's fingers framed his words in midair, and he turned his gaze to Jaheira. "Can you give us a more… positive view of the situation at hand?"

"You're both well aware that I've been around the block before this, aren't you?" The druid crossed her arms, sitting next to Festé. "I wouldn't put you in harm's way if I didn't think you could pull through unscathed. Besides -" she paused, slipping one hand into her bag, "You know my methods." She waved a small phial of liquid in the air before setting it on the table.

"You spiked Nine-Fingers?" Festé murmured, incredulous.

"I gave it an honest try, and she sniffed it out immediately, actually." Jaheira cackled, looking between the two of them. "What? We have a relationship that you two don't understand - well, maybe you would understand it. I don't know." She shrugged. "The point is, we had a long, honest conversation about it all, and she confessed that she had not been contacted by our mark, but from someone operating out of Amn, as I'm sure Gale told you. More than likely, it's a colleague of hers, or someone in her court, but of a lower rank. You know, so it wouldn't arouse too much suspicion. They either weren't important enough to send up a red flag, or they were operating under an alias." She turned to Festé, "You see, Nine-Fingers' downfall is that she is opportunistic, and she wanted to make a choice that benefitted the collective of the Guild. As your denmother, I can relate to that." The tiefling nodded and shrugged a bit. "Anyway, once I passed Gale's research on to her and the rest of the Guild, they were in adamant disapproval of the sale."

"And, speaking of Gale's research, darling…" Astarion removed the now-hissing kettle from the stove, pouring water into the three mugs he had set out. "Daressin, even to the common layperson, is a very, well… important name to throw around." He gathered the mugs and made his way to the table. "Are we positive that's our mark? If so, I can see why Nine-Fingers changed her -"

"Changed her tune, yes. It seems like she realized that potentially handing over a source of power to a well-established clan of vampires would, indeed, put our city at risk." Jaheira nodded with a derisive snort, taking up her mug and inhaling deeply. "Thank you, son-in-law." She winked at the elf, who smirked.

"So when she said 'expect consequences,' she didn't mean from the Guild, but this clan of vampires?" Festé asked, pinching the bridge of their nose.

"Of course, child. If we piss off the vampires, they'll more than likely pay us back for it in full," she chuckled into her mug.

"We both read that as a threat," Astarion admitted quietly, sipping his tea. Festé shot him a look. He had gone on a rant, promising to raze the Guild's headquarters himself if Nine-Fingers so much as breathed wrong in his direction.

"We did, but I think one of us overreacted just a tad," they said matter-of-factly. "The important thing is that we have the Guild's support." They turned to Jaheira, eyeing her carefully. "What do you know of this character, old lady?"

"Everything I know is hearsay. The woman and her clan have kept to themselves in Snowdown. For the past twenty-odd years, at least; which is just enough to fade from the spotlight, if you ask me. None of my contacts have crossed paths with her or her cronies until very recently. Why do you think that is, hmm?" The druid steepled her fingers, looking over them at Astarion. His eyes were wide, but the rest of his face seemed blank. Festé leaned in, studying him as he blinked slowly.

"Because… this territory is unclaimed as of now." The pale elf looked up, and Festé thought they saw regret cross his features, but they held their silence. "Without Cazador," he breathed; and pursed his lips when he spoke his former tormentor's name. "Without him, the seedy underbelly of this city is missing a kingpin, as it were. I've heard stories of Lady Erliza myself, and while she doesn't seem as…" he hummed, "Deranged, as he was, there's still a reason she has an iron-grip on the Moonshae Isles."

"Gale was unclear on the motive," Festé spoke softly, "But it makes sense, doesn't it? If she's already well-established, and close by, then perhaps she thinks it's the perfect time to pursue the city. Especially, well…"

"While everyone, the city officials, the Fist and the criminals alike, are looking the other way." Jaheira nodded and pressed her hands together. "Good job, kids. Now that we're all on the same page, I need to share the plan." Festé and Astarion exchanged a sly look, and the elf rolled his eyes with a barely-restrained smirk.

"Go ahead, Jaheira," the tiefling said as the elf opened his mouth to make a biting comment. "Tell us what miracle we need to execute."

"What you two are going to do is go to Candlekeep. Nine-Fingers has arranged a rendezvous on the summer solstice, and you're going to get in there, plant the fake," the druid paused, pointing at the ring that Gale had sent, "And then meet up with myself and Minsc, We'll set out back north to the Lower City after we cross into the Cloakwood, where Gale and Shadowheart will be waiting as backup."

Astarion leaned in while Jaheira spoke, resting his elbow on the table, and his chin on his palm. His eyes narrowed at the mention of the wizard and the cleric's names. As such, his gaze flicked to Festé's and back to the druid. "Why will you and Minsc be there?" he asked, his tone underlined with a hint of aversion.

Jaheira scowled, chuckling after a moment. "We'll be there because Nine-Fingers asked us to be in the honour guard. Keep up appearances and such. And," she reached forward, grinding the heel of her palm into the top of the pale elf's head, "To support our pale friend and his lover." Astarion scoffed, slapping her hand away and quickly hiding the smile that curled his lips. "You're both my unruly children now, like it or not, and we'll be there in case something goes wrong. Gale and Shadowheart agreed to join us on the push north in case of an ambush." She tutted and crossed her arms.

"Are we going in alone because we're meant to case the joint, then?" Festé asked, and Jaheira nodded. "Going in as a group would arouse too much suspicion, I guess." They pursed their lips, sighing through their nose. What was the absolute worst scenario that could happen during a stakeout, where there would almost certainly be a camp crawling with vampire spawn? Spawn that would absolutely report a potential rival to their master, if they didn't kill him. Festé didn't need to think about it for very long. "We're going to have to come up with a disguise for Star," they mused aloud, gazing in his direction. He visibly stiffened as they looked him over, chewing at their lip. They smirked at him, raising an eyebrow before turning back to Jaheira. "I am going to assume that if any of Daressin's spawn catch wind of a vampire, they'll hunt him. And I do not intend for my husband to be hunted."

Astarion seemed to regain himself, speaking up. "That should be easy enough, besides the lack of a heartbeat." He waved a dismissive hand. "You're all lucky that you have me on your side; at the very least, I can provide some insight into our enemy."

"He's right, Festé," Jaheira nodded. "And what, pray tell, can you offer in terms of insight, Astarion?"

"Well, if we're going to assume that Daressin's spawn are allowed out of her sight, for one, we can assume they're better-treated and more well-fed than I ever was. That probably means they have a whole host of abilities that I myself have not had the opportunity to discover fully. They'll be stronger." His brow furrowed as he hummed. "At any rate, if Daressin trusts her spawn to take care of this very important exchange, they'll certainly be of sound mind. We can't kill any of them, I would say." His eyes met Festé's. "Not that I think we're not well-equipped to, darling. We can't, because it would almost guarantee a strategic and unified assault against the two of us. We would be dead before we left Candlekeep." Astarion leaned back, shrugging and laughing airily. "As well, and this should be obvious; the deal is going to have to take place at night. Unless, of course, there's an underground hideout we aren't aware of." He squinted at Jaheira. "Is there an underground hideout that we aren't aware of?"

"No. Nine-Fingers was explicit with her terms. The meeting place is to be at the inn, outdoors, at night. All of the appropriate people have been paid off in advance. And besides that, the city guard are a lot more strict there than here in the city, Astarion. Any wrong moves will have half the warden's steel up your ass in a matter of seconds."

"Forgive my lack of culture, darling. It's hard to travel when you're locked in a palace for two-thirds of your life," the elf quipped nonchalantly, checking over his fingernails. "I've never been to Candlekeep."

Festé squinted, tilting their head to the side, finally nodding firmly to themself. It had been a long time, but… "I have, that won't be an issue, my love," their tone was warm, and they reached out to squeeze their elf's hand. "We have a locale, we have the equipment we'll need, and we have backup. All we need to figure out is how to disguise you… or hide you; and how we'll infiltrate the deal without causing a disturbance. Or killing anyone." They laughed.

"Another caveat will be that someone will want to test the ring, love. I wouldn't purchase a ring that allowed me to walk in the sun without trying it out first. That would be unbelievably stupid." Astarion softened, holding Festé's hand tightly. "We have to disguise ourselves, let one of them test the real ring, then swap it with the fake." He rolled his eyes. "Without causing a disturbance, or killing anyone. Gods below," he sighed dramatically.

"I have confidence that the two of you will figure that out." Jaheira rested her hands on the table, rising from her seat. "However, I think it will be best if Minsc and I know as little as possible. If it comes down to it, he and I will have to act appropriately surprised." The couple nodded, standing as well to see the druid back to the front door. "I have a lot more meetings with the Guild ahead; so if I hear any new information, I'll pay another visit. Nine-Fingers has been very good about having scouts give her regular reports." She opened her arms to Festé, and squeezed them tightly. "In the meantime, both of you, stay sharp. Astarion." Jaheira nodded politely to him once she released the tiefling, and he nodded in return.

"Thank you for coming, old lady." Festé smiled, and Astarion chuckled softly, reaching for the door.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It was just before dawn, but Astarion was still pushing. "Up, try again," he hissed, exasperated. Festé stood, pausing to wipe the blood from their lip with the back of their hand, sighing harshly in frustration. They couldn't blame him for working them so hard -- they had asked him to, after all. "Wipe your blood later, darling." A ghostly chuckle came from behind their left shoulder, and the tiefling closed their eyes. They began to track his near-silent movements, counting the footfalls carefully. Without opening their eyes, they struck out with the shortsword in their right hand, grinning when they heard it connect with chain links. Astarion drew breath from the impact. "Very good, dear. Again, move this time. Follow." Festé listened, their feet sure in the snow and mud as they followed the elf's movements to their left once more, blocking the thrust of his rapier deftly with a sharp clang of the twin shortsword in their left hand. "Good!" he huffed, and the tiefling dodged his blow to their shoulder, turning their head when they felt the rush of air caress their cheek. A thrust, they thought, their brows furrowing in concentration. Next would be… they sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the strike of the pommel when he moved again. They lashed out with their right hand, connecting with Astarion's gauntlet and nodding to themself as they heard the dull thud of the rapier falling to the snow. Slowly, they pressed the tip of their sword to the elf's chest, and he chuckled at them. "Okay, darling. You've got me." Festé blinked their eyes open, finding Astarion staring lustily at their bloodied lip.

"Now that won't do, love," they chided, smirking up at him as they lowered their weapons, sheathing them after a moment. He came close, running his thumb over the corner of their mouth and slowly bringing it up to his lips. "I can't have you getting distracted," they continued, stretching up to kiss him.

"Don't tease, darling," he murmured, "Or I'll rip that armour off of you right here." His hands found their waist, then the straps under their armpits; and he hooked his fingers underneath them. The elf leaned back with a doting smile. "Your form is perfect, even with your eyes closed. Colour me… impressed. As for your hearing, it's improving, but you won't be getting away with just a bloody lip if you find yourself surrounded in the darkness."

Festé sighed. "My hearing won't ever be as good as yours, Star. No matter how much we train." They knelt to pick up the fallen rapier, taking his hand when they straightened up. The two walked back to the house together, and the tiefling's mind began to wander. They didn't speak again until they had removed their armour and set it back on its mannequin. It was just too much of a marked change not to miss.

"You're different now, Star," they mused, watching Astarion shed the intricate chain. He turned halfway to look at them, confusion and panic marring his features.

"No, I'm not, am I?" he whispered. "What do you mean, have I done something…?"

"No, I mean, before now, you never planned things too far in advance." Festé held up their palms, a gesture of peace, and slowly crossed the room. "You've nested, you have goals. You're as involved in planning this mission as everyone else. Key word being planning, love." They lay their palms on his shoulders, and he stood, frozen, his head tilted slightly as he looked down at them. Apparently, he hadn't even realized it, and the tiefling smiled at the thought.

"Planning?" he looked around and shrugged. "I did that before, didn't I? I mean with…" Festé watched the apple of his throat bob as he swallowed. "With… him. I had a plan; we had a plan. Didn't we?"

"The plan wasn't more intricate than to kill him, to be sure… The point is, my love: you're involved in something that has a lifespan of several months, yet. I thought it would be nice to point that out, and to congratulate you." They brushed their fingers over his bicep. "It's a part of healing. I do have a question, though." Astarion nodded in encouragement. "Do you think it's because you're getting more comfortable, or because you're not in direct danger this time?" The elf shifted his weight, letting out a huff through his nose as he turned away to store his own armour on one of the other mannequins.

"I d… I haven't really thought about… I wouldn't say that we're not in danger, darling. It isn't as direct as it had been before." He turned back to them, gesturing with one hand, but his words dried up for several moments. Festé let him search, nodding once and giving him a half-smile. "Maybe it's because both of us are walking into the proverbial dragon's den, and we're making a choice to get involved? Does that constitute as 'more comfortable'?"

"Maybe," the tiefling chuckled.

"Well, I don't know, darling. We're standing in the same place, aren't we? We both want to protect each other. I want to make sure you don't get killed, or bitten. I know you don't want that." They chewed their lip, narrowing their eyes at the note of acid in his tone. What on earth was he leaving unsaid this time?

"You don't want me to be bitten either, Star. Right?" Their voice was quiet as they reached out for his hand. He had been known to change his mind like a tempest, and they surveyed him closely as he opened his mouth to answer.

"It doesn't matter, does it? What matters in this situation is what you want, my dear." He squeezed their hand reassuringly, but his smile didn't reach his eyes.

"If you thought differently, Star… I hope that you would feel comfortable enough to say so." They knew it already; they knew that his disgust and fear with the prospect of them being turned had given way to a different feeling. But, the question was, would he admit it? They looked into his eyes, raising an eyebrow; and Astarion bit his lip.

"I would, darling."

Would he?

a/n: i know this one is really short and sweet compared to what y'all are used to, but walk with me... it's gonna get really robust from here on out if you're still supporting this fic, thank you so much! i'm clapping from behind my laptop screen!!

#.fic #fic: bonding.#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion acunin #astarion x tav #spawn!astarion x named!tav #bg3 astarion #astarion #i'm all pointy ears #oc: festé

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the-stove-is-on-fire · 2 years

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sorry if this is random but have you ever drawn anything hobbit or lord of the rings related?

No, never really got into Tolkien's works. But I can imagine a scene from Hobbiton would look very cool in my style if I went all out on the background.

#stove replies

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satrryeys4eva · 1 year

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hii I really love how you write for hunter and like incorporate other fandoms and stuff hehe it’s really cool 🙃💕 so I was just wondering like if you’re up to it, if you could write something about hunter with an avenger!reader maybe :P please and thank you and lots of love to you hehe

I am so sorry for being a year late to this, but I hope you like it

Hunter Sylvester and Harry Osborn's younger sister headcannons

- a/n

So some background info, Y/n Osborne is Harry's sister whose younger than him by a few years (harry was 20, and this takes place in the middle of TASM 2, AU where harry never got sent away he and peter are still best friends) he is super overprotective of her

Also for the sake of this, 'Metal Lords' takes in NYC

now on to the headcanons!

Let me just say this right off the bat, you both have mommy and daddy issues

clashing but similar aesthetics

Hunter with his heavy metal rockstar aesthetic

you with your more toned down but just as fun chaotic grunge aesthetic

Both of you kept your relationship a secret from your brother

after Norman died and Harry found out that he had the same illness and that it runs in the bloodline, Hunter was terrified that you might have it as well

you on the other hand were in a horrible mental state, Norman had been cold and distant but he was still your Dad

you were just recovering from his death and now you might lose your older brother too

While Harry was trying to find a cure you were mentally preparing yourself to say goodbye to him for the last time

the night after his diagnosis Harry came into your room to talk to you

He wanted there to be no more secrets between you two

You guys spent all night sharing secrets, he told you some embarrassing stories from college, and you finally told him about Hunter

he reacts a lot better than you expected, he asks you to bring Hunter around the next day so that he can meet him

Now Hunter has never really cared about the impression he left on most people (aside from you, Kevin, and his idols)

But he really tries because he knows how important Harry's approval is to you and he wants to make a good first impression

he subconsciously ends up emulating your style because he is so confused about what to wear, he doesn't think his usual band T-shirts and black cargo pants are not super appropriate for meeting your girlfriend's multi-billionaire brother

he settles on a pair of nice black pants, a slightly baggy band sweatshirt with a white collared shirt underneath

he also goes a little overbroad by wearing the two necklaces you gave him and only wearing your matching rings and the ones you gave him along with the earrings you gave him

Hunter was definitely not what Harry was expecting, he thought your boyfriend would be more like him or hell even Peter

but he eventually warms up to him when he sees just how happy he makes you, not before politely but not so subtlety threatening him

He even convinces Peter to play along and threaten Hunter

At the end of the whole ordeal, he approves

Now, saying that you spend time together would imply that you spend any time apart

You are each other's biggest supporters, always there at every event and function

most of the time is in little cafes, hidden record stores and tiny vintage bookstores are your everyday hangouts

you both go to midtown high, but only have 2 classes together

You guys are That Couple

you know, the couple that's always together

Kevin and Emily tease you all the time (like their any better)

If there was ever a villain attack, Hunter would throw himself in front of you like a human shield.

god forbid any paparazzi even try to harass you

Hunter would get into a fistfight right then and there

you guys are THE It couple of New York

but if Harry ever passed due to his illness, Hunter would constantly spend time (even more than he already does)

always comforting you 24/7

this always freaks him out even more as he thinks there a bigger chance that you also might have the same condition

and he really can't lose you

ever

he doesn't really bring it up the, because god knows that you need recovery time

he's at the funeral, holding you as you cry

you spend the next weeks staying with him

you don't think you can face that empty house now

not anymore

taging you just in case

@ii-larb-you

#hunter sylvester x reader #hunter sylvester #metal lords #metal lords x reader #hunter sylvester x you #hunter sylvester headcannons #harry osborn x reader #tasm harry osborn my beloved #harry osborn #platonic harry osborn

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riddlerosehearts · 1 month

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Okay now EYE must ask you - how are you liking BG3??? How far are you?? Tell me about your Tav!!!! (Please and thank you <3)

hi!! 💖 i only started the game a few days ago and it was an impulse decision i made after having previously told a friend of mine that i definitely wanted to play it but that it'd probably take me a while to get around to it (and, because i thought i wouldn't play anytime soon i hadn't really been trying to avoid spoilers). but, i have the PC version and while it generally runs just fine, my computer is kind of slow and the game is so big that it took hours to download and install. so i kind of went ahead and started to come up with a whole character idea during that time LOL. sorry if my explanations of things get a bit too rambly/disorganized. i'm actually not very far in the game at all yet, i've been spending a ton of time doing stuff in the druids grove and i'm supposed to go find halsin but i haven't even gotten karlach in my party yet! i've recruited all the main companions except for her but i am excited to meet her. gonna put the rest of this under a cut for length.

my only background with DND is that i listened to the first campaign of the adventure zone and i've watched the legends of vox machina show. i also have a friend who's super into her own DND campaign and another friend who's told me a lot about dimension 20, specifically fantasy high--and i've considered trying it out for her but haven't gotten around to it yet! i think she actually told me the same thing about the episode lengths making it easier to get into than critical role, because i had tried critical role and it was just so long that i couldn't stick with it. but, yeah, i've also looked at the forgotten realms wiki a bit but i've never actually played DND. i have played skyrim and final fantasy 14 and some other similar RPGs with customizable blank-slate protagonists, and in those types of games i always have to make OCs to roleplay as--usually i'll think up a basic idea to start with and then flesh the character out as i get into the game. they're never really self-inserts but i do often project onto them a little.

so, in games like these my first character is usually an elf that specializes in elemental/destructive magic. idk why, that's just what i've always liked. in ff14 i started out as a black mage without knowing it was the hardest class to play LMAO. soooo i went into this planning to create a high elf sorcerer, but as i started writing out ideas and thinking about what to do, i ended up creating a half-high elf bard. they're transmasc/nonbinary and in my head they use he/they pronouns, but i picked the nb option in the character creator and that causes npcs to actually use they/them in dialogue which i think is so cool. i love that the character creator is so inclusive in regards to gender.

anyway, i named them elenion, which is something i took from the lord of the rings universe because i'm a huge nerd. in LOTR it's an elvish word that basically means "of the stars". here's a couple screenshots i took when i first started. let's just ignore the fact that this hairstyle clips into elf ears (and also that the face preset is from a mod i downloaded).

i didn't really give him a tragic backstory or even the most interesting story haha--i'm wanting to do something bigger and angstier with another character on a second playthrough when i'm more familiar with the lore and world of the game. and i'll probably also end up changing or expanding on some things about this character later, but for now i just kind of made a normal guy with normal problems. i had this idea that his father, a human who attracted the attention of a beautiful elf woman, was also a bard and was a very successful musician in his youth. so elenion has always shared his father's passion and dreamed of being like him, being able to effortlessly tell incredible tales and inspire crowds of people through song, but no matter how much he studies and practices he never feels good enough. if he seems confident it's usually just because he's gotten really good at faking it. he's also pretty reserved and often avoids having to talk about himself by asking a lot of questions. see, i kind of wanted to specifically find a way to not roleplay the usual sort of loud, flirty, goofy bard, lol. not that i dislike those kinds of characters or anything though!

however, bards are meant to be super charismatic, witty, and persuasive and of course the game strongly encourages that with the dialogue options and skill bonuses you get. so my way of explaining this is to have elenion be a bit like raine from the owl house, in that they may be shy, but they're very firm in their ideals and are no pushover when it comes to protecting themself or their allies. they're clever and have a snarky side to them, and they're genuinely friendly and caring in a way that gives them a sense of quiet charisma. which reminds me that one of the spells i gave them at the start was sleep, and it's made me imagine that when they were a kid they tried calming a crying baby by playing a lullaby on their lute and accidentally ended up casting their first spell.

oh, and, i also wasn't really sure at first where in the world i wanted elenion to come from but i decided on something pretty quickly after getting multiple of those dialogue options suggesting that the protagonist is baldurian! i pictured them growing up in a somewhat small town with their family but moving to baldur's gate as an adult, hoping that if they left the comfort of their home and started to journey out into the world a little they'd eventually find their spark and become the bard they wanted to be. unfortunately they've had little luck so far because even after all this time they can't see that maybe their whole fixation on trying to be just like their father and achieve the exact same kind of success that he had is holding them back. the fact that their father died the year after they moved away hasn't helped either. and now, in the middle of traveling to a historical site that they'd wanted to see in person and use as inspiration for a song, they've been abducted by mindflayers and are struggling with the massive upheaval that this has brought into their relatively mundane life.

so. yeah. my tav for this first playthrough may not be the most unique or exciting character but i like him! i like figuring out what kind of choices he'll make and thinking up new ideas for what he likes and how he sees the world. also, i find it funny how in your reply to my ask you said you thought you'd be into gale but then you fell for astarion--because i thought that i'd be all over the edgy, brooding, snarky vampire man, but it turns out gale is so charming and funny that i'm probably going to romance him first. i'm also pretty intrigued by shadowheart and wyll but i'm so early in the game that i can't even say who i think my overall favorite companion will be because they all seem so interesting!! even karlach despite the fact that i haven't actually met her yet, i've seen a bunch of cool gifsets of her and my brother told me he's been romancing her on his playthrough. i really need to go find her soon.

i'm sure you can tell from everything i wrote here that i am definitely enjoying the game LOL. i can already tell that there's just so many different things to do and see, that i will both need and want to do a lot of different playthroughs and that it's going to be something that sticks with me. nothing wrong with using guides and walkthroughs btw! i do it too because i'm worried about missing too many things and have the world's worst sense of direction even with a minimap. honestly i probably need to look up some guides for certain mechanics that i don't feel like i've really figured out yet. there's a sarcophagus trap in the ruins early in the game that got me SO stuck and got my whole party wiped and then i looked up a video and found out you could turn off the whole trap system by pushing a switch... i felt so stupid askjdfgf.

anyway, i think this got to be way too long of a reply so i will stop here! but if you ever wanna tell me more about your tav or anything definitely feel free to and i hope you're having an awesome day!

#asks #nerdalmighty #i hope all of this actually makes some kind of sense lol #i'm really not a great writer but i just think coming up with OCs with fleshed out personalities #and trying to get into their heads makes games like this more fun #and also ty for the ask!! 💖#baldur's gate 3

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