#so it's not like I will be bold enough to make a legal name change tbh

[queer-n-here]

UHM-UHM-

Yeah I have no shame to just not ask anonymously- anyways!

May I please request a 6'1 reader who is stoic, bold, also handsome as Dazai but ain't a womaniser, and is VERY quiet. With Dazai. He works at the ADA with him. He follows Dazai around like literally, he acts and opens up more to Dazai than he does with others, he literally doesn't care if Dazai was In the pm (they met at 14) or abt his crimes, he can read Dazai's emotions And can see through him, they R lovers, he is loyal asf to Dazai. He Also is rich asf and has better fashion tastes! Pls make both a oneshot or hc or ANYTHING ABT THEMMMMM

(I'm very desperate BC of a certain fantasy of mine)

Ah, I gotchu you bruv.

[ Also, let's do a little quiz. What country do y'all think I originate from? Like, based on my language and writing and just... Yeah.]

And yep, I'm double posting today!

Canonically, there are no mentions of Dazai's past before the Port Mafia, so I made stuff up. Hope you like it!

Contents: Uhh...a lot. I got... *winces* I got carried away.

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, suicide and violence, Dazai's life is sad and so are these hcs.

You and Dazai met when you two were 14 each. It was a chance encounter, really. Both of you were orphans, and both of you were ability users, even though Dazai knew more about his ability than you did yours.

Both of you currently had no one in the world. That was the key factor that brought you two together. Struggling to get by and find a place of your own in the world, you met.

Neither of you opened up at first, cautious and calloused as you both were. It just happened; it didn't happen one particular day, and before you two had realized, you'd become each other's sole support.

You turned fifteen, and three months later Dazai met Mori.

He told you about it later, describing in the sort of detail no one else would get to hear how he'd rescued the Port Mafia leader from an enemy gang, unintentionally impressing him and securing Dazai a place in the Mafia.

You didn't like it. The job was dangerous, and you didn't want Dazai's hands to get stained with blood. When you told him this, he laughed it off, and said that he could handle it. You dropped the matter.

He was wrong.

You watched as Dazai changed, despite his promises and assurances. He grew ruthless, cruel in a way that made you ache as you watched him, silent. He started hating everything, even himself, and sometimes you thought he hated you, too.

He had a beautiful heart, you knew. But Mori was destroying it.

You talked to Mori about it, too. You might not have anything on him, yes, he was richer and way more powerful, but you had your ability, and you were ready to fight to death. Before you could, however, Dazai intervened.

That was the first time you two fought. After that, you went to him and told him you wouldn't care if he didn't want you to. If he wanted to keep going down the path that he'd chosen, you wouldn't stop him.

Sometimes, you look back and wonder if there was something you could have done for him other than what you did. You still can't think of anything.

You opened up a small business after that, and it slowly grew to a scale larger than you had expected.

Then you two turned eighteen. Finally, you were able to register your enterprises under your own name, being a legal adult. You and Dazai got wasted that night, and you watched fondly as he tried and failed to put his coat on so you two could go and meet Ango and Odasaku.

They had probably begun then, your feelings for Dazai. You were only comfortable enough with him to actually talk, and not just say what was absolutely required and then shut up.

He knew you in a way no else did. No one else knew what it looked like when you smiled, or threw your head back and laughed freely. No one else knew what it was like when you cared, when you brought over Dazai's favorite refreshing drink every time you visited him in summer. Or when you helped him change his bandages, touch gentle and careful against his soft skin.

And you knew him the way no else did. No one else knew what it was like when he was genuine, when he'd look up at you with earnest eyes. No one else knew what it was like when he flushed slightly, the red of his skin always starting from the tips of his ears and descending to his cheeks. No one else knew what it was like when Dazai protected, when he offered to use his contacts in the Mafia to get rid of your competitors, even though you declined every time. He had enough blood on his hands without you pitching in.

Eight months after that, he left the Port Mafia. He came to your apartment crying that day. His face was ashen, his shirt was covered in blood and his lips were trembling. The tears that had been collecting in his eyes for who knows how long finally spilled when he saw you, and the only thing you could do for him in that situation was open your arms and let him cling onto you. He kept saying 'Oda's dead... He's dead...'

That night, Dazai changed. Thankfully for the better. That flame in his eyes was gone now, the one that made you worry if he would burn himself and the world.

Dazai slowly stopped hating after that. You and Ango were the only two he trusted, the only two he would be genuine with. He didn't close up in a way that hid his smile, or in a way that made him withdraw from people. Quiet the opposite. He pushed himself outward, adopting a cheery persona that joked around and bewitched everyone.

The only smiles that weren't created but slid across his face on their own were ones that he smiled with you, and Ango.

You couldn't help but feel slightly bittersweet. Dazai was out of that hellhole, that cursed gang that was making his heart black. But Odasaku was dead.

After that, as your twenties arrived, Dazai joined the Armed Detective Agency. You were happy, then.

You two celebrated at a lavish restaurant. Your business had grown to be Japan's No. 1, and the money that spilled in with it was something neither Dazai nor you had expected.

But your hopes for the ADA were too high. Sometimes, Dazai still wanted to leave. He said he wanted to kill himself, and even though he would always laugh it off, you couldn't help but notice that his eyes would always grow hollow when he spoke of it.

And so the only thing you could do was love him. You loved him and tried your best to let him know, buying him unnecessary gifts and putting him on top of your mental priority list. Even your staff knew you loved him; it was apparent and obvious.

Dazai was probably the only one that didn't notice it, that genius dumbass.

And so you tried harder. You had never been good with words, but you tried to be vocal about your feelings, telling him he was cute when you thought so, and saying that he looked good when he did.

Dazai still didn't notice. The day he found out was when you got drunk and blurted it out.

You still don't have a lot of memories from that night, and Dazai says that you passed out soon after confessing. He finds it funny now, even though he didn't back then.

Your confession made Dazai pull up a wall against you. This surprised you, hurt you, and you tried apologizing, tried to get him to just talk to you. You told him that it didn't matter if he didn't return your feelings.

Something was hurting Dazai, you could tell. But he just wouldn't talk to you, going so far as to changing his phone number without telling you.

So you showed up at his workplace. Kunukida knew you by sight; you often came to pick Dazai up from work. You two had a big fight, shouting in one hallway of the agency building, making such a ruckus that Ranpo and the others came over to watch.

It ended with Dazai turning around to leave, and you were planning to let him go. But then you saw a tear glisten at his cheek last moment, and hence gave chase.

You chased him down all the way from Yokohoma to Kawasaki, only stopping when Dazai collapsed in the middle of a street, his frame shaking with sobs as he started hyperventilating. You crouched down beside him and pulled him to your chest, rubbing his back and conducting his breathing, your voice soft as it told him to inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale....

He fell asleep on your shoulder, in the middle of nowhere. You carried him back to your house, and tucked him into a warm bed. The next morning, he wouldn't meet your eye.

Usually, you would have let him; there was hardly anything that Dazai would do that you would disapprove of. But lately, you had been going against his wishes a lot, so you decided to do that one more time.

When he tried to leave, you pinned him to a wall and forced him to look at you. It wasn't difficult, Dazai had never really worked out, even as a part of the Port Mafia. His fighting style was more quick and clean moves than brute strength.

It worked well in your advantage as he tried to struggle against your hold and failed miserably, tears collecting in his eyes and threatening to fall.

It was alright after that. You asked Dazai why he tried to run away, and the only thing he said was that he got scared. He chose not to explain, and you chose not to push him.

"Dazai," You said. "If you want me to disappear from your life, I can do that." He looked up at you, eyes wide and blurred. "But there's one catch. You have to say it. Say it to my face, tell me to leave, and I swear on my own life, I'll vanish. You won't ever see me again." And then the tear that had been collecting in his eye all this time fell, sliding down his cheek and onto the collar of his shirt. His arms went limp in your hold, and he wobbled forwards. You caught him as he fell, and he sobbed into your shoulder again. His hands were clutching at your shirt as if for dear life, and even as you rubbed his back, more tears fell from his eyes. You held Dazai through his breakdown. The next time he spoke to you, he said the words, "I like you too much." It was a silent confession, almost muffled into your shoulder as the post-crying exhaustion overtook. You pulled him closer and pressed a kiss into his temple.

Now, everything is good. Dazai's job at the ADA does worry you sometimes, even if it's for the good, it's dangerous, but you know he loves his job, no matter how many jokes he makes about Fukuzawa's violation of the Labor Laws. And he loves you, that's all you've ever needed.

Being in a relationship with him is not always easy. He still speaks of dying, and the thought of him leaving you makes you panic. Sometimes, you still don't know what to do to make him feel better. But you manage to work through it.

You love Dazai, after all. You have ever since you two were kids.

#dom male reader #top male reader #dom reader #bungou stray dogs #sub bsd x you #sub bsd #bsd x you #sub bungou stray dog x you #sub bungou stray dogs #sub character #sub character x you #sub dazai #sub dazai x you #sub osamu dazai x you #sub osamu dazai

[jakegooglyeyes]

Hey, the thing about the ao3 "censorship" it's not actually censorship. She's trying to remove the p*do stuff. That's not censorship.

Okay, I'll try to explain this as clearly as I can. But this is the only time I'm going to explain this. Other people have said enough about why this person's platform is alarming. This is really long, and I hope you'll care enough to read it.

tldr: I and many other Chinese, SEAsian, or anyone who live under heavy-censorship laws recognize her rhetoric and dog whistles, please do not dismiss our fear as overreacting when we say she is pro-censorship.

Also please forgive any mistakes I made, English is not my first language.

Firstly, let's take a look at what Tiffany G said in her chat:

Well, I think a lot of external people are very concerned about the fact that some works contain child pornography, pedophilic content, and other illegal content. If possible (this is not entirely possible after I chatted with people from PAC though), I am interested in providing extra help to the PAC team and Legal team to update the ToS and policies on those.

OK this is a follow-up to the last question – people think we host child porn content and such things. This issue is actually closely related to the incident when our service is banned in my home country. It might also be helpful to clarify that to the public. I am not an expert but look forward to discussing it more with respective committees.

She never clarified what other "illegal" content is. If you're familiar with China's censorship laws, illegal content includes anything from NSFW (depicting intimacy below the neck), LGBT in all rating, things that lower morales and promote nihilism (violence, tragedy, horror, talking about corruption of authority, painting law inforcement in bad light, you name it). So aside from underage content, what else does she consider "illegal"?

In her follow-up answer, she twisted the fact, claiming that it was banned for cp and such things (once again, never clarify what "such things" was). Except it wasn't, it was banned for hosting sexual content, and, you guessed it, lgbt content.

About the incident that got AO3 banned in China: This user summed it up quite well

As I have mentioned before, AO3 is no longer accessible in my home country due to some incident related to a piece of pedophilic work that is posted at AO3. This makes users very difficult to read and write with AO3. When I was reading the comments about the incident, a lot of people seemed to have a negative opinion about us. So, I think there is at least something we can do to help build a better image for us in my home country.

This is naive as best, China is very clear on what they deem unacceptable, and unless somehow all nsfw, lgbt content is removed, the "image" WILL NOT get better. If she genuinely wants to build a better image of AO3 in her home country, getting rid of underage content is like scooping water out of the sea with a spoon.

One more extra point, let's take a look at her language:

I support 100% “maximum inclusiveness of content”, yet there is always a boundary to everything. Since OTW is already an influential org, we need to protect our image and hold a better image to the public. I want the public to think of us as an inclusive and socially responsible community.

For someone who is familiar with Chinese fandoms, or know how China's censorship laws work (or any retrictive censorship laws in general), all the phrases in bold are familiar dog whistles used by the govt when they enact these types of laws.

The nuances might be lost to you if you aren't used to these types of pro-censorship language, but if you do, this is how they target lgbt content and sexual content. Starting with something everyone agrees is bad, then linking that too queer/sex positive people.

While we’re on the topic of sex-positivity, there is the question about misconception people have of AO3 and how to change that misconception, this is what she chose:

I have been a user of AO3 for a long time. And as a person who reads and writes stuff from Asia, I noticed a lot of people including myself (before) only used it to post stuff with adult content. It is still only used as a substitute for many people. I think we should change this. Fan fiction has all kinds not only just the adult content. And also yes people think AO3 is the only thing we have. We should definitely let them know about our other projects.

It's factually wrong to say users only use AO3 to post NSFW content. However, even if it was. What is she planning to do to CHANGE what content is put on the site? And also why is it a problem if people think AO3 is for porn unless porn is a bad thing?

Even if I were to agree with you that we should remove underage content, I simply couldn't help but see she meant more than just pedo stuff. That comes from my experience with pro-censorship language and how censhorship NEVER STOPS at what they start with.

Secondly, just like many others, I strongly believe in 2 things: 1. There is a difference between real life and fiction, 2. Fiction censorship destroys creative spaces.

If you argue that fictions involving minor is equal to actual cp, then where do you draw the line when fictional things = real life crime? Are horror movies equals to superstition practices? Will violence games and movies be banned because it contains murder? Is BDSM the same as torturing people (sure they both consent but the act caused real pain)? I understand you find certain things appalling, but that's what tags are for. You can block what you find unacceptable.

Censorship has never been a good thing. It's too much of a slippery slope. Let say you ban underage tag, and the rape tag for good measure. Done! The next person comes and says there shouldn't be NSFW content because children might be using the site too, it can be used for grooming children. Well, it makes sense, let's ban that too. Then the next person comes along, they say they find LGBT content unacceptable and you need to accomodate their freedom of religion, it makes them uncomfortable so it needs to go so they can browse the site. Then, another one comes and said violence in writing leads to violence behaviors (because remember, we've already established that fiction = reality). When is this going to end? The site can be free from censorship and everyone chooses what they want to see and not see, or it starts censoring things and has to keep up with anyone who wants to stop certain content.

So, are some content bad? Yes. But my stand is to let people have that creative space, that you can always filter things you consume, and that fiction is not the same as reality. I don't think banning underage content is her only goal (or her entire belief) and this person raised too many red flag for someone who live under extreme censorship laws and is familiar with Chinese fandoms scene.

Edit to add one final point: censorship does not always guarantee to remove the things you want to remove, take a look at Tumblr, visual porn is still everywhere; in fact, once authors choose to not tag things anymore fearing their work will get removed, the censorship system fails, the filtering system fails. And you’re left with one option, nuking an archive whose sole purpose is to just be a library of things people write.

#tiffany g #ao3 #otw #archive of our own #otw elections

[genericpuff]

Genuinely curious as to if you asked permission to use Rachel’s characters and she said yes or if you just decided Lore Olympus is popular enough to make a fan comic of and are hoping you don’t receive a cease and desist? Can anyone create a remake comic of original content and just change what you don’t like about it and it’s considered legal if you say the characters belong to the original creator? There is plenty of disappointing media out there that could be remade. I understand you cannot use their characters for profit so is just posting it ok?

Yes, anyone can, because it's called fanfiction lmao Obviously in my case the term "fan" is being used loosely here as at this point it's more like "foe"fiction LMAO but the same principles apply. Unless I try to claim LO is my own creation or make a profit off Rekindled, I should be in the clear. If legal action was taken against me then it would set a precedent against all forms of fanfiction, rewrite, redraw, etc. content around LO which are all essentially doing the same thing Rekindled is doing. I think people tend to view Rekindled as somewhat of an "exception" that's vulnerable to legal action because it's an actual weekly comic put into practice in the same playing field as LO (though they're on massively different bases obviously LOL), but there's not much more separating it from the LO redraw accounts or even the genuine fan accounts that have learned how to draw in Rachel's style (and use it to make their own LO self-inserts and whatnot). I had the time and resources and experience to do what I do through Rekindled, but every redraw, rewrite, fanfiction, etc. account are making the exact same statement I am, whether intentionally or not - "I do/don't like the canon, but/so here's what I think it would be like if it went like this".

There is definitely plenty of media out there that could be remade, and a lot of them are by the fanfiction writers out there who are filling that niche within their respective fandoms. LO is the one I want to do because it's the one that interests me and compels me the most to rewrite.

Not to mention, it's already a bold statement in and of itself to say that I'm "using Rachel's characters", a statement that likely wouldn't hold up in court LMAO Her "characters" are literally just stylized self-insert versions of public domain figures. She did not write The Hymn to Demeter. She did not create Hades, or Persephone, or Hecate, or any of the other characters she writes about. She does not own an entire religion or its deities. The only thing that she really "owns" is the licensing rights to the name "Lore Olympus", and while the style of LO is very unique and identifiable, you can't trademark/copyright a style because that uproots the entire foundation of what art is (ironically no one has had an original idea SINCE the Greeks, we all just learn and adapt our styles based on other artists that we get inspired by and learn from).

Shit, there are series completely unrelated to LO that get harassed or otherwise warned that they could cross into "legal territory" with LO just because they're Greek myth comics. Punderworld, Theia Mania, H x P Ficlets, all of these are comics that also tackle the H x P myth, and while they aren't attempting to do the same thing as Rekindled (as they exist on their own terms) it's really disappointing when I see people talk about these comics purely through the scope of Lore Olympus as if LO invented Greek myth. If WT/Rachel tried to pull rank over the story's "characters", they'd be picking a fight with every other Greek myth comic, book, movie, etc. and they oughta know that's not a fight they're gonna win lol

So everything beyond LO's branding is, in and of itself, fanfiction. Rekindled is just another level deeper by being fanfiction of a fanfiction. As long as I'm not profiting off Lore Olympus' namesake or distributing my work with the misconception that I created LO, it's legally fine. Morally, I'm sure it doesn't exactly make me a saint to do it, it definitely took a lot of hubris for me to say "yeah I don't like how you wrote your story enough that I felt the need to rewrite it completely" and I wouldn't blame anyone for thinking doing so is icky. There are certain lines I won't cross - I don't use the general LO hashtags because my content is very critical and my work isn't really for the fans, I don't encourage anyone to "show Rachel" what I do here because none of what I do here is obligated to be seen by her (and I know it wouldn't be in her best interest to see it anyways, she's literally said that she doesn't like criticism so why tf would I wanna show her a comic that exists to criticize her work lol), and I'm not planning on posting it to Webtoons because that's Rachel's territory. I don't want to overstep both in the legal sense and in the moral one. I think it's more than enough for me to just post my stuff here for the people who are seeking it, and not profit off it or directly affiliate it with LO/Rachel beyond crediting.

All that said, in a moral and legal sense, what I'm doing is literally the basis of fanfiction, and I wouldn't be going to such lengths and spending this much time every week putting out episodes every week if I never cared about LO and how it made us all feel, even if some of us don't love it as much as we used to.

#also just as some food for thought and because i couldn't find a place to fit it in the post #sonic mania ended up being one of the best games in the sonic franchise in over a decade and it was made by a sonic fangame dev #a lot of shakespeare's most beloved plays were also 'stolen' from other works #and don't get me started on the screenwriting industry #many of the books they adapt into film are completely rewritten from weaker source material or material that just won't work in movie form #obviously sometimes it's for worse and not better #but rewriting works you're dissatisfied with is an age old tradition IMO #fifty shades of grey exists and it was literally twilight fanfiction when it started LMAO #innovation is found in fandoms #i could just be haphazardly defending myself tho LOL maybe i'm just an asshole #lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus #antiloreolympus #ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #lore rekindled #lore rekindled comic #lore rekindled ama

[trivialovehandles]

Omg Pls can you do an either taekook/ jikook squashing

Where Jungkook is gaining weight fast after eating something and suddenly he’s squashing his bf

ngl squashing is a lower-tier kink for me so this is maybe more focused on the rapid wg aspect but? so fun to write (ao3 link! i will be putting all request fics here as well)

Jimin’s learned throughout the years that Jungkook coming home looking sheepish and excited is either a very good thing (see: the day he came home with a puppy who is now no longer a puppy and is currently napping next to the refrigerator) or a very bad thing (see: the day he came home with a bunch of stuff to do stick-and-poke tattoos and now they each have the Hangul for each other’s names on their left ass cheeks forever).

When he breezes through their apartment door today, he’s clearly trying to hide it, but Jimin’s known him long enough to see the telltale signs: his teeth clamped on his lower lip, the excited way he covers his ears with his hands, and the way he keeps spacing out, like he’s thinking of something else.

Jimin doesn’t push for now, too busy finishing their dinner, but he’s sure by the time they’re done eating that Jungkook won’t be able to keep holding it back anyway. Instead, he accepts the kiss Jungkook gives him on his way to change out of his work clothes and pinches his hip affectionately as he leaves.

And he’s right: Jungkook’s only halfway through his first serving of bibimbap when he can’t take it anymore.

“So I found something today,” he says with a mouthful of meat and rice, like the thought couldn’t wait until he swallowed.

Jimin places his chopsticks gently back down so he can give his clearly excited boyfriend his undivided attention. “Oh?”

Jungkook doesn’t stop eating as he talks. “At the pharmacy, when I was getting those blister pads for you—”

Not a very appetizing moment to be reminded of the blisters from his new pointe shoes, but Jimin nods anyway.

“I saw”—Jungkook starts to dig through the oversized pockets of his cargo pants, rattling beneath the table—“these supplements.”

What he pulls out is a small bottle that can’t be holding more than four or five pills. The label has bold writing, terrible graphic design honestly, but Jimin squints across the table and sees GAIN WEIGHT FASTER written beneath the brand name and raises a curious brow.

For the couple of months they’ve been experimenting with Jungkook’s burgeoning weight gain kink and Jimin’s growing love for seeing, well… his love growing, progress has been slow-going. Jungkook laments his current skinny-fat phase near-daily; he wants to be big already, not having to settle for taking it one measly kilo at a time, and there’s only so much Jimin can do to help his boyfriend get extra calories, short of inedibly drowning their food in oil.

Truthfully, Jimin thinks Jungkook looks cute at his current weight, soft and pudgy and barely erring on the side of plump, just bigger enough for it to be a bit noticeable when he’s fully clothed, but he’s also a firm supporter of his boyfriend’s happiness and would never begrudge having more Jungkook, so he plays along. He’s heard of these dubiously legal supplements that claim to make your appetite grow, your metabolism slow down, and the resulting weight flow to more desirable places. He’s fallen down that particular Instagram rabbit hole before—he doesn’t blame Jungkook for wanting to give it a try at least. And hey, good on him for grabbing what seems to be a trial size first. Sound financial decisions look good on a boyfriend.

Jimin leans back in his seat, picking up his chopsticks again. “So it’s like an appetite stimulant? A ‘take it and hope it makes you hungrier and fatter’ kind of thing?”

Jungkook twists the bottle between his fingers, squinting at the small label. “Not exactly. I grabbed it because… well, it made the results seem kind of… instant? Quicker, at the very least?”

He slides the bottle across the table so Jimin can read the label in full. No real drug facts, no specified ingredients, just the promise of quick weight gain, some brief directions, and a generic warning about abusing medication. Rattling in his hands, there really are only a handful of pills inside the glass, which is more like the size of a bottle of facial serum than any supplement Jimin’s ever seen before.

Jungkook fidgets in his seat, radiating nervous excitement. “They only sold them in these tiny bottles, and… I don’t know, I probably just got scammed, but that made it seem more legitimate to me, you know? Like I wouldn’t need to keep taking them all the time?”

Sliding the bottle back, Jimin asks, “Did you ask the pharmacist about them?”

Jungkook shakes his head with a laugh. “I did self-checkout. I wasn’t about to ask someone with a PhD if a sketchy pill was gonna make me fat.”

Jimin can’t help the small snort he lets out as he finishes the end of his dinner. That’s just like Jungkook: impulsive, determined, almost single-minded in his dedication to gain.

 --

 After dinner finds them in a familiar position: Jimin comfortable on the couch, Jungkook planted over his lap, the two of them kissing feverishly. Jungkook’s foregone his flannel shirt, shrugging it off before he sat down and now in just his cargos and the t-shirt he’d had beneath that’s well on its way to too small. Meaning that it is too small, but Jungkook insists it still works as an undershirt. Where the t-shirt had been form-fitting before, it now clings to the round distension that is Jungkook’s stomach, sliding up to offer glimpses of his pudgier hips and belly whenever he so much as slightly lifts his arms. He’s not as small as he complains he is, but Jimin’s not about to stop him from letting himself get bigger.

Which must be on Jungkook’s mind too, because as he pulls back from a kiss, the bottle he’d put back into one of his pants’ many, many pockets rattles. He grabs it with one hand, the other keeping Jimin’s in place beneath the stretched hem of his t-shirt, fingers dug into pudge.

“Do you think I should?” Jungkook asks, eyes wide. “It says to take one tablet within an hour of a meal. It’s been… what, 45 minutes?”

Jimin tilts his head, mostly listening while also appreciating the spillage of flesh between his fingers when he squeezes Jungkook’s hips in reply. “Wouldn’t hurt,” he says, pauses, and amends, “Well, might hurt, but we’ll see.”

Jungkook uncaps the bottle, and nothing happens: no hiss of smoke, no immediate waft of poison. He upends a single pill into his hand and looks long and hard at it. It’s just a plain white tablet, indistinguishable from the various painkillers and supplements in their medicine cabinet. He stares at it for a long moment, shrugs, and pops it into his mouth, washing it down with the last sips of his can of Coke from dinner.

And nothing happens. Jimin would know if it did, hands planted firmly on the belly that would be stretching further outward if these pills worked as instantly as Jungkook had hoped, but there’s no budge except for the contraction of muscles when Jungkook swallows his soda. He stares downward, poking himself in the stomach so his fingertip sinks into soft fat, and his shoulders slump.

“I don’t know why I thought it would be instant,” Jungkook grumbles.

Jimin shrugs, moving one hand from his boyfriend’s still-just-pudgy body to card through his curls. “It’s the ‘go big or go home’ in you,” he says, letting his fingers cup a chubby cheek, guiding their faces back together. “Come on, relax. We’ll wait it out, see if anything happens.”

They kiss again, slower. Jimin lets his fingertips keep mapping out the cushioned planes of Jungkook’s body, slipping under his t-shirt and lightly beneath his snug waistband. Jungkook’s skin feels warm to the touch, more than usual, and he keeps squirming, differently to the way he usually does when he’s getting worked up.

“You okay, Jungkookie?” Jimin asks against his heated cheek.

“M’just—ngh—really warm,” Jungkook grumbles, stretching his back this way and that so his belly bucks Jimin’s chest. “Feel kinda bloated.”

Jimin doesn’t notice at first that when Jungkook tugs his t-shirt back down, it doesn’t quite go all the way—he just slides his perpetually cold hands up the back of it, letting them chill the overwarm skin across Jungkook’s spine, pulling him in closer and closer. He doesn’t really notice, either, that the pressure on his thighs is growing stronger, just blindly assuming that Jungkook’s finally relaxed so more of his weight rests on Jimin than on his own legs.

Jimin doesn’t notice anything until Jungkook makes a small grunt above him at the same time his hands start struggling to meet around his middle.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, awed, a little pained. “Hyung, I think it’s—”

He doesn’t finish his thought, interrupted by a low whine that escapes his lips seemingly of its own volition. His belly juts forward, crowding his lap, pushing into Jimin’s torso, thick and heavy and so warm, so unnaturally warm that this can’t be anything but—

“It’s working,” Jimin finishes for him. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit is right,” Jungkook gasps as his already too-small shirt continues to slide up his expanding gut, seams straining as his body starts spilling—really spilling, his once-perkily taut stomach now beginning to sag onto his thighs with doughy fat—out of it. He squirms as if pinned down by the constant motion of his body growing outward, trying to scoot his hips backward but instead accidentally grinding down where Jimin’s dick is taking clear interest. “Hyung, hyung, help me get off you, you’re gonna get crushed.”

Jimin does no such thing. He stays put, hands on Jungkook’s ballooning waistline now that it’s all he can really reach without his arms being forced apart by the growth, and moves his hands in slow, deep ministrations. It seems to make Jungkook relax, panic easing as it really hits him what’s happening.

“Hyung, I’m… I’m getting so fucking fat. Look how I keep growing, keep swelling, keep getting fatter. Am I heavy? I bet I’m so fucking heavy on you.”

It’s punctuated with a low creak, the elastic waist of Jungkook’s cargo pants stretched to its limits until finally, the plastic button just barely holding them shut breaks free, careening across the room to clatter against the wood floor somewhere between the living area and the kitchen. Unbidden, the mass of his gut flows through the open V left in the button’s wake, no longer held back by rigid fabric, free to rest on his legs that have blown up to the point of his pants—baggy before—fitting like sausage casings.

And he is heavy—is, quote, so fucking heavy. By the time the stretch and swell of him slows to a halt, Jungkook has to be twice the size he was when he sat down. His shirt that hugged his chubby stomach now barely passes beneath his chest, filled out like a crop top, the seams at the sleeves strained and splitting from Jungkook’s arms that had previously still held some tone and definition now gone flabby. Between his thick arms and his chest grown into plump, protruding tits, his arms don’t lower the way they used to—not like it matters with how Jungkook’s hands map his own body, picking up the upper roll his now double belly and sliding his fat, dimpled hands into the crevice it makes between itself and his lower belly. A lower belly that hangs so far out of his pants that it’s flowing between stocky thighs and pinning Jimin right to the back of the couch.

Not that Jimin’s complaining. He was the one who didn’t budge when Jungkook tried to climb off of him a couple of minutes probably 45 kilograms ago. The weight of him is heavy and grounding and, shit, arousing. He’s been mostly into Jungkook’s weight gain kink in that he probably has a Jungkook kink, attracted to him at all times and all sizes, but a double-sized Jungkook pinning him to the couch… it’s doing a lot for him. He wonders if Jungkook can even feel how Jimin’s rock-hard against his blubbery overhang or if there’s just too much padding in the way.

“Jungkook-ah.” Jimin tugs at one of the many rolls of Jungkook’s stomach—because there are rolls big enough to tug with his whole hand now, to pull him closer. “Baby, lean forward.”

Jungkook, hazy-eyed, seemingly entranced into a fog by his body grown so fat so quickly, blinks heavily a few times. “What do you mean?”

“Lean forward,” Jimin repeats, pulling him in closer. The heavy thighs caging him in and the massive gut pinning his lower half to the back of the couch don’t feel like enough. He needs Jungkook all over him.

Jungkook gets it this time. Hesitantly, checking Jimin’s face beforehand and going gloriously red when Jimin nods and keeps guiding him forward, he leans his upper half against Jimin’s, holding him down further into the couch cushions. In his lap like this, Jimin’s face-height with Jungkook’s chest, his rucked-up t-shirt that pushes up even further with his movements, revealing his chest, fat tits that Jimin buries his face between, biting at the skin, swirling his tongue around a hardened nipple just to hear Jungkook groan in that pained ecstasy that means he’s really into it.

It’s not the easiest to breathe with what’s probably nearly three times his own weight pushing his body down, but it’s easy enough for Jimin to still get worked up, grinding up as much as he can despite the pressure, despite the mass that is now Jungkook jiggling and quivering on top of him. He didn’t start putting in more weightlifting and core-building time when Jungkook decided to get fat for nothing.

By the time Jimin’s seeing white, Jungkook’s emerging from his horny haze too, eyes clearer and more mischievous as he leans back, letting Jimin breathe again. Very deliberately, he’s lifting his gut, dropping it back down—massaging his chest—grabbing the hem of his t-shirt so that it rips straight down the middle with how strained the cotton has become.

Quickly, they catch each other in another kiss. It’s like before, but it’s not—still Jimin and Jungkook, still hot and heavy, but Jungkook keeps having to take breathers, unused to the new weight on his body, and so does Jimin, unused to the new weight on top of his body.

Pulling away, puffing and panting, Jungkook laughs, low and rumbling in a way that makes his whole belly undulate. “Do you think this effect is permanent?” he asks, curious, maybe a little hopeful.

“I don’t know,” Jimin gasps in reply, heart thrumming. “If it’s not, you have a few more pills left.”

A nod. “And if it is?”

Jimin blinks at him through heavy eyes. “Then you still have a few more pills left.”

#bts feederism #chubby bts #fat bts #chubby jungkook #fat bt5 #chubby bt5 #requests #i said i was going to write short request fics and then wrote over 2k... but hey it's still shorter than the 21 days fics

[author-a-holmes]

Obviously ignore this if you want but I saw you mention that you recently got published (congrats!!!) and I had a question. I'm still far out from that, but I know how to write and can research how to publish but I don't know how to market. Not only am I autistic and not charismatic, I want to solely use my pen name and distance my writing from my face because of my professional life. Do you know how to actually get people who might like your book to notice that it exists as an indie author with no previous following? Thank you if you have any advice!

Hello Moshke!

Thank you so much for the congratulations! It's taken longer than I expected but the realisation that I'm published is finally beginning to sink in! It's very surreal ^_^

I honestly don't know if I'm the right person to give advice on marketing as, at the moment, my book's been out just over a month and I feel like I'm stumbling around in the dark, but I wanted to give your ask due consideration and, despite my hesitation, I think I still have some tips that could hopefully help.

The reason I think I might have at least some relevant tidbits is that I'm also writing under a penname and most people don't seem to realise that.

Now, in my case, it's not about privacy it's just that don't like my given name enough to see it on book covers :D So I don't mind talking about it, but marketing your book under a penname isn't that much different to how you would market the book under your legal name.

Tip No. 1

Establish your pen name as a functional pseudonym now. Don't wait until you're ready to publish.

So, this stage was a little backwards for me. I come from the age of internet use where you did not give your real name online, under any circumstances, so I've always used various "online names".

By the time I decided that I was going to use "Arista Holmes" to publish under, anyone who knew me online already knew me as Ari. Even my best friend offline will sometimes call me Ari when we're chatting, so it had become as much an actual nickname as an online pseudonym.

But that's exactly what I'm getting at. I'm not pretending to be "Arista Holmes", I am Ari. A writer in her 30's based in the south east of England. The same way I'm Josie to my mum, or Jo-jo to my Godmother.

Tip No. 2

Don't think about it as marketing your book, but as creating an author "brand".

I'm using "Brand" here in the absence of a better term, because I absolutely hate thinking about this as a "brand", but what I mean is think of your Penname as something people will google search.

In fact, Google search your pen name.

As I mentioned, I'd been using "Arista Holmes" online for a while, and I had accounts all over the place that I didn't necessarily want coming up when people looked up my books.

(I will deny spending my youth on Neopets, it's just TOO embarrassing!) 

But jokes aside; Google your pen name. See what comes up. Scroll through all 20, 30, 50 pages of google. Some asshole looking for some embarrassing post from your teen years won't stop at page five, and neither should you.

Shut down any accounts you find, or if you want to keep them, change the username to something else. The only non-publishing related account linked to Arista Holmes now is my AO3. I figure it's still writing, so no harm in leaving that one up.

Tip No. 3

Set up social media accounts now; Be as consistent as possible across all platforms.

Now, and I want to put this in big bold letters:

Having accounts on all the socials does not mean you will be active on all of them.

Or use them at all, in fact.

Having accounts on Facebook, Tumblr, Instagram, Twitter, Tiktok, Youtube, etc etc etc, just means that if, by some miracle, you make it big and draw in fans you'll also inevitably draw trolls and by making the account with your pen name; it stops them claiming that username and pretending to be you.

It's a form of pre-emptive protection.

On that note; Be consistent across your accounts. Use the same profile picture, use the same header or banner, use the same colour scheme, use the same "About Me/About Author" description, and (as much as possible) use the same username format.

That last one won't be possible on all platforms. Some of them don't like periods/full stops. Some don't like underscores, but try to be as consistent as possible.

For example my account on here is author.a.holmes, most other places I'm aristaholmes. I'd change it, but at this point, I don't want to break all my links.

Tip No. 4

Author Pictures Are Not Required.

I'm adding this point here because I mentioned profile pictures in the previous tip. Author Pictures Are Not Required.

Don't get me wrong, they're often highly encouraged, and I can't deny that they give a humanising effect to the author, but that doesn't mean you actually have to show your face.

I've chosen to put my face on my "About The Author" page in the back of my book, but that's a personal choice. You don't have to add one at all! It's only more recently that I've seen fiction author photos in the back of books.

Until about... 15 years ago? Ish? I wouldn't have expected to see an author photo unless the book was non-fiction.

If you want to add a picture of you, but don't feel comfortable or can't because of real world problems, consider an artist's caricature instead. Go one step further than a pen-name and give yourself a pen-picture! Jenna Moreci uses an artist's interpretation as her profile picture/logo, and Lemony Snicket only had pictures of the back of his head for ages.

If you do decide to commission an artist though, do explain to them that it will be included in your books, that you'll be selling, as they will probably want to add a commercial licence price to the artwork; But if you explain why you're having the caricature done I imagine most artists would be very reasonable about it.

***

That's all my tips for setting up and marketing yourself, as the author, under a pen name... but I can already hear the voices in my head muttering that I've not really touched on how to get people to find you once you've set up the pen name, and the socials, and your website etc.

And it's because I personally think that if you're writing under a pen name you need to establish it as an entity in its own right before beginning to try marketing it.

So, moving on…

Tip No. 5

Find your place on the great, wide, interwebs...

I mentioned I'd been online as Arista Holmes for about 8-10 years prior to deciding to publish under this name, but once I did decide to publish I went and made all my author socials (just like I mentioned in Tip No. 3)

That was in 2020 and it was part experimentation, and part letting people find me. I knew I wasn't going to be able to keep up with multiple social media's, and I also knew I didn't WANT to, so I made the socials and I started posting on each platform and figuring out which platforms I liked. Which ones were easy to use, and which ones got me the most engagement with other people.

For me, this turned out to be Tumblr and Instagram. Twitter and Facebook are like graveyards for me, and Tiktok is only a little better, but your mileage may vary.

I cross post consistently with Tumblr, Instagram, because those are the places I get the most engagement... but I also maintain a blog on my website and any big pieces of news (such as asking for ARC readers, or publishing my book) gets posted across ALL platforms because, well, I live in hope that one day my tiktok will go viral lol.

But honestly, the multiple socials literally eat up so much of the time I could spend writing; I highly recommend picking two, three at most, and focusing on them.

But what do you post? I can almost hear you yelling <3

Tip No. 6

How to market when you're shy/introverted/not-charismatic/or any other thing you feel is holding you back.

You're going to want to throw something at me but lean on your strengths. It sounds so simple, and I know it's not, I'm sorry, but here's what I mean by that.

When I was still experimenting with all the socials to find the ones I liked, I stumbled across an image. I want to say it was here on tumblr but, honestly, I don't remember and at the time I was neck deep in every marketing and promotional blog or article I could find trying to figure this shit out.

It was called "The Periodic Table of Content Marketing".

I don't know why this helped me wrap my head around marketing, but it did.

I read over each of the types of marketing and I started getting idea's.

Ebooks... I'd heard about people doing reader magnets for newsletter lists.

Interviews... I've seen authors on podcasts. I'd seen people on tumblr interviewing their characters. I could do that.

Trends... What are popular tropes if not trends of the moment?

And I suddenly realised that this silly little graph was all the different types of marketing I could do, broken down simply, and laid out neatly, and I could pick and choose not only the bits I was comfortable doing, but the bits that I was confident with.

I'm never going to put my face on a tiktok video and lipsync to popular songs, but I could write a 12,000 words short story prequel to my series and make it exclusive to newsletter subscribers.

That was something I could do, because it leaned on my strengths; My writing.

Because I haven't said it yet, but two years ago I'd have described myself very similarly to you.

I'm not charismatic. While I'm not autistic, I am painfully introverted. I have severe social anxiety. I'm not funny, I can't talk with strangers casually or easily. Talking about my book more than once a week feels like I'm bragging or being pushy... But I can write.

So I started looking for opportunities to share my writing, and let it... not speak for itself, but let my words draw in the audience. It still took a bit of pushing on my part, I would look for tag games where the user had left an "Open Tag" and I'd hop on those and share some words.

This is part of the reason Tumblr is one of my favourite places to network with writers and readers, because the tag games let me share and tease content without having to push through my social anxiety all that hard.

It's a slower, organic, audience growth but it's definitely my preference.

The content I shared on here, produced to play tag games, I quickly realised that I could copy it onto a pretty image in canva, and share it on instagram easier than I could condense a paragraph into the twitter character limit, or make it look appealing on Facebook's janky system.

And the more writing I shared, the more people commented and followed. And the more they commented and followed, the easier it was to talk to them. And then I started getting asks. That was nerve wracking and sometimes they'll still sit there a couple of months before I can make myself answer them.

(Sorry Sleepy and Avra, if you're reading this! I'll reply soon, I promise!)

Have I gone off topic here? I kind of feel like I have but also... not really.

If you feel like your writing is your strength, lean on it. Let it do the heavy lifting for you. Show your hand with your words.

By the time I set up my mailing list and offered 'Whatever Happened To Madeline Hail?' for free, I got 12 people to sign up straight away. I don't know if that's a lot, but it was at least eight more than I was expecting.

When my book launched, I received 14 reviews, and sold 20 copies the first month. Again, I don't know if this is a lot, but it was a whole hecking lot more than I'd hoped for.

I don't know if I'm good at marketing, and maybe someone will reblog and reply to this with better advice, or tear apart what I've said, and if they do great! I really hope it helps you or someone else down the reblog chain because, as I said at the start, I'm really just stumbling around in the dark and hoping I somehow get it all to work out lol

But I do just have one more piece of advice, that isn't really my advice...

Tip No. 7

Fake it until you make it.

You're a writer. The beauty of the internet is that we have time to stop, and think about the words we're writing in response to someone.

I'm a shy, introvert, who doesn't know when to shut up when she gets started talking about writing (Or at least that's what it looks like based on the length of this post...)

But 99% of people I speak to online don't know I'm an introvert. They don't know that after sending an email I have to go back to bed for a few hours to recover my energy, or that I can't answer a phone without feeling nauseous for the rest of the day and it's because when I'm online I'm Arista Holmes, and I can write my responses in the same way I write my characters.

I'm not saying I'm not being me, I am, but I'm also being given the time and space to be the confident me I want to be, rather than the nervous wreck I actually am.

Write your socials, and market your book, as the you that you’d write if you were dropped into one of your own books.

Fake it until you make it.

Handy Resource List For Marketing:

Periodic Table of Content Marketing

Jenna Moreci's Youtube - I take her writing advice with a huge chunk of salt, but her marketing advice is top notch.

Bethany Atazedah Youtube - Co-wrote a Marketing For Authors Non-fiction series, but a lot of her youtube videos contain good, free, advice too.

Self-Publishing With Dale - If you want to market effectively, keeping on top of the current trends and changes in the market is important. Self Publishing with Dale is the best way I've found to do that; He really has his fingers on the pulse of the Self Publishing Market, and even if you're not publishing yet, checking out some of his videos can teach you loads about what to do, but more importantly, what NOT to do.

Michael Anderle's 20Bookto50k system - I didn't mention it as a tip but the BEST form of marketing a book is to write the next book. Michael Anderle talks about his theory that is you have 20 books published, your backlist of royalty income should net you around $50k a year. The hour and a half talk changed my whole marketing outlook and is why I'm focussed on a slow grown, more organically sourced, audience rather thank paid advertising.

Abbie Emmons Youtube - I'm not sure I should include Abbie in a list of marketing resources as she's often more about the writing side of the craft, but her videos have been invaluable to me, so she's just worth checking out in general.

#Ari Speaks #Arista Speaks #Ari Gives Advice #Ari is unqualified to give advice #Marketing #Marketing under a penname #Penname #Pen Name #Pseudonym #Content Marketing #Publishing #Self Publishing #Building An Audience #Growing An Audience #Writeblr #Writeblr Community #Writing #Writing Community #CW: Mental Health #CW: Social Anxiety #CW: Anxiety #TW: Mental Health #TW: Anxiety #TW: Social Anxiety #Ask #Ask Answered

[bizarrequazar]

the "zzh" IG account has gotten so bold, i feel, with the multiple cycling posts. how do they keep doing this, in your opinion? i would like to hear your take on it, like the purpose, the end goal, the people they got posing in the pics, etc.

Well the how is body doubles, deepfakes, and likely VPNs. It’s the same song and dance we’ve been seeing since the golf videos in June.

The people on the bike trip are "Zhang Zhehan" (obviously), "Xiaoyu" (Zhang Zhehan’s childhood friend and former assistant, almost definitely deepfaked as well), and Teng Ziyue (an old classmate of Zhang Zhehan's who privated all his posts mentioning him after 813, then unprivated them at the end of July). I’m honestly not sure who the 4th person is, sorry.

The bike trip photos aren't actually as much of a sudden change as my posts have probably made it seem. Since mid-July there's been photos and videos of "Zhang Zhehan" almost daily from the group who have been unofficially dubbed the gym bros: Danny (former pro-basketball player who was in the fake girlfriend yacht photo), Mark (gym owner), Billy (basketball club owner), Vince (golf coach), Zhao Rui, our old frenemy the fake boyfriend Lexus, and a couple others. I’ve only been including the most significant events from this in my own posts; Flora has been doing a much better job including it in her timelines: [from the start of the gym bros saga] [from the start of the bike trip]

There seems to be two aims to the gym footage: 

First is to promote the businesses of the gym bros (many of which have ties to Songcheng) as well as the gym bros themselves by attaching Zhang Zhehan's name to them. The footage has been posted on all of their social media accounts for exactly that purpose: some of them have been using their newfound traffic to try to steer attention towards themselves rather than their inclusion of “Zhang Zhehan”, for example Danny (iirc, might have been Lexus) got mad at a fan who left a comment on one of his posts asking about Zhang Zhehan’s wellbeing. They were using him as a mascot. It’s worth noting that all of their traffic has gone down since the bike trip started lol.

The second aim—which is an aim of the Instagram broadly as well as likely at least part of the purpose for these bike photos—is to paint Zhang Zhehan as being unconcerned with his legal case and his public status, instead galivanting around having fun with all of these sports. The aim is to take the pressure off CAPA by making it seem like he’s living a completely happy and comfortable life with no need to get justice or clear his name. 

Some have commented, though, that this whole saga of the gym footage and now the bike trip has been a huge misstep: Zhang Sanjian's ever-changing physique, hair-length, and height have made it more obvious than ever that there are multiple people masquerading as him. Couple that with the fact that they've been releasing so MUCH footage like this and suddenly things like the fanmeet video fall apart—this gives more than enough evidence that they CAN and HAVE used deepfakes on videos that are more complex than simply a man sitting straight on towards the camera. When the fanmeet video came out there were defenses that it was “too complicated” to have been a deepfake, yet here they’re now throwing around obvious deepfakes of “him” boxing and playing team sports.

I don't personally have any other theories about the bike trip specifically, nor do I think there's really a specific end goal other than continuing to smear him / continuing to try to dwindle his fan base. At this point I've largely stopped giving the Instagram and Zhang Sanjian any attention and I would advise others to do the same, with the exception of still sharing clarifications with newcomers / passersby who aren't aware it's a scam.

#Zhang Zhehan #my zzh posts #asks #zzh info

[redxluna]

30, 36 and 35 for the fic asks?

Name five writers whose fic you adore.

Ooh, I always panic about leaving someone out with these but

I’d probably be remiss at this point not to include ReganX, partly because I’ve been reading their Tudors fics since back in high school, but, nowadays, those same fics also double as the few that I can safely have up on my computer at work.

MoMoMomma, who has made quite a few of my favorite fics/drabbles that I can’t have safely up at work, but that I love nonetheless.

So, back at the height of my love of Essek/Caleb, I went searching for recommendations for what to read. Which is how I found kmackatie. (Look, if I got embarrassingly teary while reading your fic, I figure you have to make this list. Only fair.)

You know what, I’m going to include sempereadem for making me fall in love with a pairing I’d never entirely given way towards previously (Elizabeth I/Robert Dudley) and, in turn, just turning out what’s better than some historical fiction books I’ve read just out on the internet for free.

I’ll round things out with callmearcturus, in part because reading through their body of work again always makes me feel like I’m settling in with a good cup of warm tea.

Talk about a favorite trope of yours and link to a good fic dealing with said trope.

So, in what’s a bold move to admit as a writer myself, I’m straight up horrible at remembering tropes. Like, so much of this is going to be me off to the side going, “Okay, but is this a trope or…?”

In turning this over, though, I discovered a fic that combines an interest with d/s with soulmates and just…I could read a whole series focused in the world that my kind's your kind creates, I really could.

Talk about a favorite AU of yours and link to a good fic dealing with said AU.

I’ve been creating for fandoms long enough to recognize a certain trend with myself—if I really love a certain fandom then, at some point, I’ll wind up creating either a Bakery AU or Phantom of the Opera AU for it. It probably goes without saying then that I also will eagerly consume any such AU that features something akin to either of those.

Which is a big part of why I’m probably never going to stop shining a spotlight on King of the Night. Because, as a dork, I always let my attempts at a Phantom of the Opera AU follow along the same trend as the musical. Except, while this fic maintains all the recognizable elements, there’s also a complete, beautiful reworking of them. It changed how I considered the AU and also happens to be gorgeous, I’m almost legally required to love it.

#answered #mihrsuri #okay i won't lie #i became a total excited dork when i saw who'd sent this

[thankyouforurstay]

#TransgenderFirst

Being trans can be so isolating. First you spend childhood pretending to be someone else or confused as to why you don’t fit in with the other kids. Then you come out and there are three options: out right rejection, quiet rejection, or acceptance. Out right reject hurts and is violent: either physically or in terms of housing or financial support loss. Quiet rejection hurts for another reason: it’s psychological. It has many faces. Whether it’s gradually talking less and less. Ignoring you came out in the first place. Telling you to hide it from others. Acting like you’re the burden and being irrational for kindly reminding them your pronouns or name. 

On top of all this you’re supposed to go to school and pretend everything is normal. People talk about their childhoods, their parents, and you have to pick and choose stories that make you seem “normal”. College has one benefit but only if you manage to gather enough courage: being a new you. If you go into college with a new name and confident in your pronouns you’re set. That is if you pass or anyone cares enough to make an effort. The first college I went to I was not bold enough and no one seemed to care. The second one (I transferred from a two year to a four) cared a little more but I wasn’t confident enough until my second semester. It took a whole other semester and couple months on testosterone before anyone would constantly gender me correctly.

I took a speech and debate class and had to argue that transgender people were real and that there wasn’t only two genders. It was a surreal moment where I felt like one wrong step and my entire class would turn against me. No one ever acknowledge whether supported me or recognized how demeaning it was to be in that situation. I learned two things from that experience 1) trans people are valid and we always have been and 2) trying to scientifically explain why we exist is slippery slope into giving eugenicists what they want.

The balance of legal documents that have my dead name plastered on them versus things they say can have my correct name on it is always a surprise to me. On one list its one thing and then the next day it’s changed. I can never prepare for when it’s going to happen. I’m either sitting in my seat filled with dread that I’m going to have to out myself when they call the wrong name or I confidently state my name only to have to back pedal. Housing struggles of gendered dorm placement is the bane of my existence. I don’t feel safe with cis men but it is so dysphoric to chose female dorms. One challenge that is surprisingly (or unsurprisingly) heighten when considering studying abroad is the lack of trans-related healthcare. What’s a guy gotta do to get testosterone in Ireland?

Thank you TransgenderFirst for the prompt and for support trans college kids:

https://www.onlinedegree.com/transgender-first-scholarship/#apply

#transgenderfirst

[nonokoko13]

Child!reader being adopted by spy x family characters Pt. 2

As I said in the previous part, these adoption headcanons are really specific, including your hypothetical pronouns and name; these two are extra so you can imagine yourself with your name and desired gender. You can ask for less specific headcanons if you want too. Part 1 here

Enjoy!

Sylvia Sherwood

How you met

She carries the responsibility of WISE, she needs to be committed to it. More than ever now that the peace was threatened every day by those who wanted war to arise again

She missed her family, but she overcame it. Just like the HQ she had to be impenetrable

At least, that's what she thought

Because right in front of her there was the question which answers she wanted to hear. A kid.

It would be normal to see one if she wasn't at the HQ

It didn't help no one knew there was a kid there until you spoke up

The camera system didn't record you and there wasn't any entrance to the agency that had been forced. You weren't any employee's kid either

After scolding them and order to search your parents she met you again

"Hello little one. May I ask you how did you get in here?"

You smiled, seeming to have been waiting her to ask

"Because I like to play and explore! And I'm really good at hide and seek"

Sylvia raised an eyebrow. No matter how well someone was good at hiding there was no way you could break into the HQ; it sounded surrealistic

"But how did you find this place?"

"Because it was easy to find"

"Don't you think you could end bad breaking into unknown places?"

"If I don't know what isthis place how I'd know that?"

Fair enough

That conversation wasn't going anywhere, yet she was angrier with the security staff than you. You didn't look worried though

You gave her an idea

"Do you want to play with me?"

Both entered in the nearest police station, she talked with the officers before telling you to count until 1000 while she was going to hide. You started the count facing a wall

She felt bad, but there were some traffickers she had to catch before they made the exchange

She was following their car; everything fine until she believed to see a small hand greeting her from the car's trunk

She returned to the police station to find out that moments later of her departure you disappeared without anyone realizing. She went to the point where the delivery would be made

Outside the abandoned warehouse there was no signal that you were there until she saw you getting out from under the car on the other side

Something caused a shooting that would make the police come and caught her at any moment. The bands kept shooting at each other while you were behind a transport container

"What were you thinking?! I told you to stay with the police!"

"I'm sorry, I counted until I know, then I saw you following the car, so I followed too. But before they caught me I hid in there...I'm sorry..." You pulled out a walkie-talkie

"I got two from the police station. I left one in there so the others thought the guys of that car were betraying them, it should have worked to scape with no bad guys seeing us"

She was impressed. However, there was no time to ask where you learn that from

Analyzing the situation the principal scape was blocked, fortunately they hadn't noticed you yet so–

You pulled her shirt, pointing somewhere else

"Let's get out"

General headcanons

Sylvia was still surprised that your plan of exiting through a rear window she hadn't seen and walk away without hurry could work

She stopped walking to watch you smash the walkie-talkie and take out some matches to burn it

"Now they can't find footprints!"

The police may not get answers about it but she had many questions for you

She lied to you about the HQ, after the shooting her lie was on the floor. Thenceforth Sylvia's not able to tell if you were playing along and keeping her secret or you have no idea what's all about

You thought her name was Handler. When you knew she was called Sylvia Sherwood you pointed your hoody logo and say "S of Super, you're superman–Superwoman!"

That's how she begun to be mistaken with an endearing mother and her son. She was superwoman and you "kid", because you said that's how you were called, along with child, shrimp, demon...

"That's unacceptable". She handed you lists of names to choose, unfortunately no one convinced you

It wasn't until you two went to a jewelry store that you found the name

The casual way you break in HQ when you want still frustrates her, how do you do it?? You don't see big deal though

Fullmetal lady didn't remember how tough was motherhood

Anyone would freak out if they found out about spies. Yet there you are, admiring flying guys in underpants

Sylvia asked you about your family, but you always tell the same: you lived with dad until he left you with a woman that he said was your mom

The Handler found out your father is a repeat offender, currently on a maximum security prison in another country. Both him and the woman without offspring legally

"Please, don't tell me one of his criminal records is jailbreaking"

The informant doubted "Actually, that's the main one"

"..."

The Forgers

Scenario where it's up to both of them to adopt you. To keep Loid's mental sanity safe it will be independent of the timeline where Yor has a kid on her own, feel free to imagine both kids being Anya's siblings at the same time. You can ask me to include that idea if I write more about this

How you met

As I said before Twilight wouldn't adopt anyone due his job, only one kid for Operation Strix and that was Anya. For now Yor didn't want more kids, she loves Anya and that's enough for them

Not for Anya. She wanted a little sibling

All started talking with Becky when Damian mentioned his brother. Back at home she brought the topic and neither Pa or Ma were giving her an answer of where babies come from

That's when she begun to feel like being a sister. Any plan helped her to convince her parents though

Anya remembered something Mr Henderson told them. "If you want something, take it into your own hands"

And she took it too seriously

Next day Anya and Bond disappeared, she was in the dogs park with Yor

While Mrs Forger panicked Anya had returned to the place she met Twilight

As the time passed the Forgers worried more. When they found Anya and Bond at their building's door they felt relieved

Your presence didn't make things better

They asked Anya where she had been and where did you come from. She said she adopted you

Of course Anya wasn't going to say she broke into an orphanage and took you

Loid's scolding made you cry

"Anya, we aren't adopting–"

"If she's not my sister I won't go to school ever again!!"

"Just for a trial period" that's what Loid hoped

General headcanons

Loid thought babies were easy because it's unnecessary (more impossible) communication with a living being that can't talk; after all babies only have basic needs. He was wrong

It would be easier if you could talk. Why are you crying? You have eaten! Are you sad? Cold? You dislike him?

Yor is not better either. Because her parents died when Yuri was a kid Yor didn't have experience with changing diapers, or anything related with babies

She was more scared than Loid to the point she didn't want to hold you. She broke Yuri's ribs with a hug when he was a toddler, what if she kills you with few contact?

In less than 24 hours you already had a crib and all kinds of things a baby would need. However, having three bedrooms and parents sleeping in separate rooms meant all your things ended in Anya's room

You cried at night until they discovered you calmed down when Anya let you a plushie to hug

She can't wait for the day pa and ma share bed to take back her bedroom

The second night Anya had an idea

Ma is scared of being your mom, solution? Leave you in her bed while Yor is asleep imagining that would work

Thanks God Yor doesn't move much when sleeping. On the other hand Yor is a light sleeper due not being used to sleep with someone so she woke up minutes later

She almost jump out of the bed, realizing that would make you cry made her contain. You groaned, did she wake you up? Yor wasn't sure of holding you, instead she laid down again and approached you to her chest

Seeing you so peaceful by her side melted her, thinking about it you looked a bit like her and Loid.. She blushed at the embarrassing thought

Bold of them to not imagine that's why Anya chose you

In the morning Loid discovered what happened and had a little words with Anya during breakfast before she went to school

Yor went to work and he decided to take a day off from his work to spend the morning with you. The Handler said the first days you should see them to recognize faces

Walks with Bond, buying toys, trying to teach you sign language...Normal stuff

Loid is glad you don't do anything but sleep and eat, except your obsession with munching. When you first kissed Yor he found it normal until you munched her cheek and now you do that to everyone; probably you're teething

Yor found it really cute, but you shouldn't go kissing and chewing cheeks. Anya thinks is funny just don't try to chew her hair again please

Another problem came with names. Loid was going through a list of 850 names in alphabetical order, meanings included; Yor didn't take it to the extreme

"Hum, what about Rose? I think it's a cute name, I mean it's both decision and I'm not good with names Loid–"

Welcome to the family Rose

A spy, an assassin, a telepath and... Well, a baby. Seems like a good mix

Yor Briar

As we know Twilight only would adopt for Operation Strix's sake. Yor became mother by marrying Loid, but what if she had already a kid before being Mrs Forger?

Inspired by this post of @say-seira

How you met

Long ago before Twilight adopted the identity of Loid Forger, the Briars moved to a flat in Berlint

While the eldest sibling had recently become an adult Yuri was only a kid, Yor decided to move to the city so he had nearer his school. It was possible due her proper salary as Thorn Princess

This change would make her job easier too. She had a new client which death could pay Yuri's entrance to a good university

There was a politician who negotiated with terrorists, helping them to get into Ostania and providing them with weapons in exchange to gain good propaganda abroad and getting rid of competition

Knowing this was enough to make Yor's blood boil. He deserved to die, she was sure of it

Struggling with the security around him, Yor finally killed the target without leaving trace

The only inconvenience was a bad injury made by a bullet that she received. After removing the bullet the wound got worse

She went to the hospital to avoid an infection. In the waiting room she met a kind lady, Yor swore that she had seen her before

The woman was scared, but Yor reassured her she will wait her

While Yor was attended the girl was taken to another room. As she promised, Yor waited in the hall after her wound was treated; with a buttoned medical gown on because she didn't want to attract more attention due the bandaged wound in sight

Time passed and many people enter and exit from the room, but she didn't. A nurse carrying something mistook her for one of the staff and scolded her for standing there

"Here, take the baby to the nursery"

"Me? But— wait! What about the woman? Is she okay?"

From afar she heard the answer, but before Yor could explain the error the woman had left. She was shocked, how? She seemed fine

Against her will the dark-haired looked at the lump she was holding: rosy cheeks babbling in dreams, you were in peace

Her shock grew when she saw you shared the username that the man she killed had. That's why the woman was familiar: she was the politician's daughter

Yor searched someone who hand the baby when she recognized the doctor that guided the woman to the room, he was talking with a masked nurse

The fact they went to a private place and maintained their voices low made her suspect

"Did you take care of the mother?" the nurse asked

"Yes, they got ahead of us with her father but I think they will pay us anyway. When they found it was a medical negligence we'll be far from here"

Yor understood they were assassins as well, probably paid by a rival. Luckily they hadn't seen her yet

"Heh, do you they will pay more if we got rid of the baby?"

Yor left the hospital with you, unsure of what to do. Did you have more relatives? The widowed politician didn't have more kids, and your mother came alone. What if they wanted to kill the rest of the family?

A small hand grabbed hers, and every fear disappeared. Looking at each other, she knew you were safer with her. Perhaps it was only guilt or sympathy, but she would try

General headcanons

The moment Yuri saw Yor holding you was in disbelief. Yor said she found you in the streets and he believed it

At first he tried to convince her sister to leave you in a orphanage but once scolding was enough to cease

Still disliking you for the first months. It took some time until he saw you like one of his family

Yuri helped, although they had a rough time because you refused to eat Yor's purees. Your endurance might grew up to make you the only person who can eat her food without bleeding but it doesn't mean you like its flavor

She viewed you as a sibling until you were two, being called mom made Yor too happy to correct you. Yuri was just Yuri, you never feel like using formalities with him or addressing "Uncle" everytime you talked

Yor decided to let your belongings, it was better that way. When you were older, and only if you wanted, she would tell you the truth

She's bad with names, Rose was the only name she could think of but you're a boy. Yor's parents loved that Yuri and her had matching names, therefore you would be the sweet addition to it

The only name I could think of is Yuu because it's gender neutral and means "you" sorry

During the first year of your life she didn't try to hide the blood of her clothes from you. Yuri never suspected either and you wouldn't remember it when you grow up

Your lack of childhood amnesia was something she didn't have in count. Not that she knows you know anyway

Yor has been training you since you were able to walk, if she wasn't there when you needed at least you would be ready to defend yourself. Proud to say you're her strong boy

That said, if the assassins that tried to killed you found were you lived it's something you ignore. Being the protective mother Yor is they could be dead by now

Six years later, it was still Yor and you against the world, with Yuri being the only paternal figure you had. Before one day she met a man and everything changed

She said he will help her by accompanying her to a party so Yuri stopped worrying about her. She said it would be one night, and the next morning you woke up with Yor waiting to talk with you

In part she accepted because of you; you passed the Eden exam before knowing you needed a dad for it. That requisite seemed stupid for you, as you reassured her you could go to any other school; now you would be accepted into the best school!

You agreed and started packing. What else you could do? The decision was made before you were asked anyway, and you didn't want to argue with your mom because she was doing it for your future too

Of course it affected you. No matter how nice they were it was a huge change; in one day you had to move to a new place which didn't feel like home and live with strangers who you'll have to share mom with isn't easy

Anya was nervous too, but for different reasons. She was so excited to meet her soon-to-be sibling! For her, who was an orphan last week, having a pa, a ma and a friend to play with was great

Her expectations went down when she read your mind. You didn't think bad of them, but excited wasn't the word to describe your emotional state either

Loid may not be good at understanding children, but it was clear for him you wasn't comfortable. For him would be weirder if you didn't seem affected at all

On the contrary, Yor seemed cool with all of this to you. Even without any idea of how to be a wife or mother for Anya she enjoyed her time as Forger, which confused you a bit

Yor is happier, not only because she didn't have to worry about the SSS or Yuri anymore. They make her happier, it's just matter of time she could fall for Loid and have a baby that was her own, real kid

Being sure Yor loves you and your new family want you to feel welcomed doesn't make disappear the feelings you carry with. Still, if mom is happy you prefer to keep it to yourself and try to maker her smile too

If it wasn't because Yuri hates the idea of her sister hiding her marriage for a year and sympathized your situation he would have laughed at the irony when you told him during your uncle-nephew walk the next day of his meeting with "Loiloi"

He doesn't know they got married before you attended school so he assumed you had been holding it for a long time. He passed his fingers through your hair

"I understand it's difficult, but I'll be for you whenever you need me"

+ Honorable mention to compensate you for the mild ansgt without warning

Daybreak

We don't know much about him but I included this dork for fun

Thinking about "Daybreak" and "parenthood" makes anyone's mind stopped working

Mainly because it's difficult to say which one would be the child

Not "How you met headcanons" because he wouldn't be able to adopt to begin with

From what we saw in chapter 27 he seems to live alone, depending on his amazing spy career to afford pork steak for dinner. So he must not live too good given that after his first mission he was fired

If he had a child, it would be likely because of a previous relationship he had and didn't end well

He didn't adopt you. You're his biological kid, the only not adopted of this gang

Sorry we can't choose our family good luck ig

Not necessarily ended bad, even remaining as friends, your mother took a different path and is happily married with another man

If she knew he wanted to be a spy either thought "it's a joke" or *sigh*

She was who brought money in the relationship, now you live with her and your step-dad but at the beginning you didn't want to

Daybreak talked with you and promised you could visit each other and even live with him when he could afford it

They don't get it

Who would take care of him? The idea of living on his own was frightening to you

Imagine being father and is your kid who worries about whether pops know how to pay taxes without mom

You took after him in terms of appearance. Any signal of intelligence was from your mother

Average smart but surely smarter than him

Probably he thanked God that you were a boy. He will love whatever you are but he was relieved of saving himself of buying female products when you were on that time of the month and guide you through puberty

As much as he says to be a charming man he's not good with women either so

Your name is Sunny. Guess who chose it

Probably you see him more on weekends than during the week

Until you showed him Spy Wars he didn't have no idea that existed such good series

Of course not cooler than the legend he is but Daybreak jokes about how reading that and seeing your cool pops in action would make you half as good spy as he is someday

Quite sad is that your common sense along with the things you see on TV are enough to be better spy material

You try to watch it with him to see if he learns something

Unsure of what you'll be in the future but in the mean time you had fun watching cartoons and liking kids stuff like dinosaurs and skateboard

Current status: Busy with your first year at school and getting him out of trouble

#spy x family #sxf headcanons #sylvia sherwood #the handler #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #yor briar #thorn princess #daybreak #child!reader

[waitimcomingtoo]

The Hint

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Synopsis submitted by @jasmine11685: Peter gets jealous when you have to flirt with someone on a mission

Masterlist

“Wow.”

That was the only word Peter could say as you descended the staircase in a form fitting black dress. The slit up the side added an elegant touch, something needed for the ball you were going to.

“You look pretty “wow” yourself.” You smiled shyly as you lifted the hem of your dress to walk towards him. “The suit is a nice change from the flannels, though I do love those.”

Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no words formed in his brain. As soon as you put your hands on his collar to tuck it under his suit jacket, his name was lost on his and all he knew was yours.

“So this is what it’s like to be speechless.” He chuckled nervously as you straightened his jacket.

“Shut up.” You giggled as your face flushed. “Your ties a little crooked.”

“Thanks.” Peter whispered as you adjusted his tie. “You look beautiful. Like, the kind of beautiful that makes you want to cry when you look at it.”

“Thank you.” You laughed again, out of habit. You looked at Peter through your eyelashes as your shaking hands slid down his jacket.

“Nervous?” He asked softly when he noticed your unsteady demeanor.

“A little.” You smiled weakly. “It’s uh, it’s a shame I’m gonna have to waste all this beautiful on some douche who won’t appreciate it.”

“Well I appreciate it.” Peter assured you. “All of it. What is your mission exactly?”

“I just have to get some information out of Harry Osborn. Apparently he’s the only one who knows what’s his father has been doing up at Oscorp. We have to find out his plans before he does something dangerous. Could you help me with this?” You asked as you handed him a diamond necklace. You turned around and Peter carefully moved your hair off of your back.

“Oh.” He said in surprise as he clasped the necklace around your neck. “And how are you planing on getting that information?”

“I’m gonna flirt with him like my life depends on it.” You said confidently as you turned back around. “Because who knows? It might.”

Peters face twitched in confusion as his eyebrows knit together. He felt a white hot jealousy run all the way to his scalp when he learned about the plan.

“You have to flirt with that asshole?” Peter laughed nervously and cleared his throat. “He’s a total playboy. He’s probably never done his own laundry a day in his life.”

“I think I can handle him.” You winked at him as you touched your your lipstick. “And his laundry.”

“I have no doubt in your abilities. I just wish you didn’t have to use them on him.” Peter said, mostly to himself.

“It’s fine, Pete.” You assured him. “I’m actually excited to do it.”

“Excited?” Peter began to sweat.

“Yeah.” You grinned in excitement. “This is the biggest role I’ve ever had in a mission. I really want to do a good job so I can impress my dad. That means I’m gonna have to pull out my best flirting.”

“Your best flirting?” Peter was really beginning to panic now.

“Yup. I need this boy to fall in love with me.” You told him. “Watch, by the end of the night, he’ll be putty in my hands.”

“I don’t think you should do this, Y/n.” Peter blurted. “I think we should get Natasha or someone else to do it. You shouldn’t have to be the shiny object we use to distract the enemy.”

“I’m fine with it, Pete. My dad didn’t give me this role because I’m pretty. He gave me this role because I have good communication and manipulation skills. Plus, I’m closest to Harry’s age. It all works out.”

“He could be really dangerous.” Peter protested. “You could get hurt.”

“I’m really dangerous.” You stated. “And he’s definitely gonna get hurt.”

“Just be careful, okay?” Peter sighed, making you look at him. You walked over to him and cupped his face in your hands, making his breath hitch in his throat.

“I got this, Petey.” You said gently. “I know you’re worried about me, but you have no reason to be. I can do this. And you, Sam, and my dad are gonna be listening the whole time. We’re gonna catch this guy. I know it.”

“I just don’t want you getting hurt. If things go wrong-“

“They won’t.” You cut him off. “Go ask my dad. He drew up every possible outcome of this plan and they all end with Harry getting his ass kicked.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded and gave you a smile. “I’ll go talk to Mr. Stark.”

~

“You just had to believe in her.” Peter grouched as he barged into Tony’s office. “You just had to recognize her talent and trust her enough to carry the mission.”

“I’m sorry. Is that anger directed towards moi?” Tony touched a hand to his chest. “Are you mad at me?”

“Yeah, I am.” Peter said. “You know I like Y/n and sent her off to flirt with the richest playboy in New York City?”

“Hey.” Tony said sternly. “Playboy is my thing.”

“Why did you have to make her do this job?” Peter whined. “She’s gonna fall in love with him and forget all about me.”

“He’s a criminal, Peter.” Tony reminded him.

“So? Girls love that!” He protested. “You remember how she acted around Loki.”

“Don’t remind me.” Tony rolled his eyes. Peters face shifted back to his forlorn expression and Tony saw how much this was hurting him.

“Look, kid, don’t sweat this mission.” He said as he put a hand on Peters shoulder. “She’s just gonna get the information she needs from Harry and you’ll never have to worry about him again. You can go right back to your little will-they-won’t-they bullshit or whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I have a plan.” Peter insisted. “And Harry is going to put a serious wrench in my plan, thanks to you.”

“You have a plan?” Tony doubted. “Ive been watching you pine after my daughter for years. When is this plan going into action exactly?”

“I’m just going to think really hard about how I’m in love with her and wait until she realizes.” Peter mumbled as he adverted his eyes.

“Yeah?” Tony cocked his head. “And how’s that going for you?”

“I think she’s just about to get the hint.” Peter said and Tony let out a groan.

“Kid, just ask her out.” He reasoned. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could hear me.” Peter stated. “And then say no.”

“She’s never gonna take the hint unless you actually give her the hint.” Tony reasoned. “Why don’t you try tonight? She’ll be all giddy from successfully completing the mission. Perfect time to confess those bottled up feelings.”

“I don’t know.” Peter sighed. “Maybe.”

~

An hour later, you were making eyes at Harry from the bar. After locking eyes a few times, you signaled for him to come over.

“Hey.” Harry knocked on the bar twice and looked down at you. He sized you up before smiling in approval and sending you a nod.

“Hey.” You gave him a sultry smile as he sat down.

“You all by yourself?” He asked as he drummed his fingers on the bar.

“I was.” You took a sip and looked at him through your lashes. “Until you came along.”

“Mind if I stay?” He raised an eyebrow as he flagged down the bartender. You made a face as he ordered a drink before smiling at him.

“I prefer it.” You flirted.

“Good.” He accepted his drink and took a long sip. “I don’t like being told no.”

“Then you better give me something to say yes to.” You leaned on your hand and leaned towards him. Inside, you were gagging at his arrogance. On the outside, you were eating it up.

And that made two of you.

“Oh God.” Peter gagged as he listened to the banter through his ear piece. “This is torture.”

Sam, who was standing next to him as they both kept an eye on you, gave Peter a look.

“Relax, kid.” He sighed. “She’s just doing her job.”

“You’re a pretty bold girl. I like that.” Harry cupped your chin before releasing it. “Just not as bold as me.”

“Oh yeah?” You raised an eyebrow, grabbed his drink, and downed the rest before slamming the glass down. “How about now?”

“Oh, you are going to get me into trouble.” Harry chuckled and he scooted closer to you. Peter watched in disdain as the jealousy coursed through his veins again.

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” You crawled. “Don’t you like trouble?”

“I love it.” He insisted as he held out his hand. “My names Harry Osborn. You’ve probably heard of me.”

“I have.” You smirked as you shook his hand. “I’m Y/n.”

“Why is she talking like that?” Peter whined upon hearing your flirty tone. “She never talks like that.”

“Because she’s not trying to sleep with you, dummy. Thats why.” Sam snorted as he continued to watch.

“What?” Peter snapped his head towards Sam. “She’s not trying to sleep with that guy. She’s just getting information out of him.”

“Yeah well, guys tend to talk a lot more once you’ve tired them out.” Sam shrugged as he sipped his own drink. Pete’s face fell as he stared Harry down with daggers in his eyes.

“She wouldn’t do that.” Peter mumbled.

“Shhh.” Sam waved his hand. “I’m trying to listen.”

“So,” you took another sip from your drink, “Whats it like being the son of one of the most powerful men in the city? Wasn’t your dad like, 25 when he founded Oscorp.”

“23, but who’s keeping score.” Harry shrugged as he looked around the room. “I’ll probably do something like that soon. Maybe something even bigger. I already have a lot of ideas. Pretty impressive, huh?”

“Totally.” You egged him on but rolled your eyes when he looked away. “Do you ever get to watch his experiments?”

“Baby, I’ve seen just about all of them.” Harry bragged as he played with your dangling earrings. “He’s done things you wouldn’t believe. Things that aren’t even legal.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes widened in excitement and you leaned in closer. “Like what?”

“I can’t tell you here.” Harry pulled away suddenly and sighed. “I don’t want anyone hearing.”

“Alright.” You purposefully took the bait. “Then let’s talk somewhere else.”

“Do you know a place?” He played nonchalant as he put a hand on your knee. Peter watched the scene in front of him and looked away.

“Yeah. My bedroom.” You smirked and stood up. “Let’s go there.”

“Bold.” Harry rubbed his hands together and stood up as well. “You’re dangerous.”

You took his hand and lead him towards the elevator, feeling the gun that was strapped to your thigh brush against your leg as you walked.

“You have no idea.” You mumbled. You passed Sam and Peter and gave them a nod as you lead Harry towards his interrogation. Peter looked like he was ready to fight someone and Sam looked entirely amused. You gave them a thumbs up before leading Harry upstairs.

~

“What’s the craziest thing your dad has done?” You asked as you sat down on the bed. You flicked your leg out and pretended to examine your heels to draw his attention. Harry took the bait and held your ankle in his hands, admiring the fancy shoes Mr. Stark had given you for the mission.

“Why do you want to know?” He asked coyly as he looked up at you.

“Because I like to get a little crazy myself and I want to know how much you can handle.” You shrugged as you shook your hair out. Peter gulped as he listened, feeling his jaw tighten in anger. Tony joined him and Sam at their post and looked around for you and Harry.

“How’s the mission going?” He asked when he didn’t see you anywhere.

“Horrible.” Peter grumbled.

“She didn’t get him to the secondary location?” Tony worried.

“She did.” Sam cut in. “Peters just mad that his girlfriend just found herself a boyfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter snapped. “Maybe she would have been if Mr. Stark wasn’t a destroyer of young love.”

“Parker, quiet.” Sam commanded. “I’m trying to listen.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Harry folded his arms as he looked down on you.

“You can trust me.” You told him as you reached up to grab his tie. You used it to pull yourself up and off the bed before planting a kiss right on his mouth.

“What was that?” Peter touched his fingertips to his ear piece when he heard silence from your end.” Why did she pause?”

“She didn’t pause.” Sam shook his head as he checked his watch.

“Then what-“

“She kissed him.” Tony cut in while giving Peter an apologetic look.

“She kissed him?” All the color drained from Peters face and Tony felt he was to blame.

“You know the Green Goblin?” Harry asked once you pulled away.

“Yeah.”

“That’s my dad.” Harry admitted, and Tony and Sam quickly wrote it down.

“No way.” You pretended to be impressed. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. He was dying so he invented this serum to keep himself alive. It ended up giving him all these crazy abilities.” Harry boasted, incriminating himself further. “And he’s got this glider that he can fly around on. You’d love it. It’s very shiny.”

“Wow. I love shiny.” You gushed, fighting the urge to punch him in the throat then and there. “How much serum did he make?”

“He has one more vile that he said he’d give to me when I’m older.” Harry tweaked his eyebrow as he smirked.

“So you’re gonna be the next Green Goblin? Isnt he a bit of a bad guy?” You continued to draw information out of him as your fingers danced around his collar.

“Maybe I am bad guy.” Harry shrugged. “Like father, like son.”

Harry leaned in to kiss you again but you dodged it and laughed as you moved away.

“Bad, huh?” You composed yourself so you wouldn’t be suspicious. “What else has he done?”

“He gave one of our scientists these metal arms. They can rip a person in half. Ive seen it happen.” Harry continued to brag and you recorded every word of it.

“Dr. Occtavius.” Tony realized. “That’s how he got his weapons.”

“Thats crazy.” You gasped and played with his hair. “What’s your dad gonna do?”

“He’s basically forming a league of bad guys.” Harry shrugged like it was no big deal. “Guys way worse than the Avengers.”

“Does he have a problem with the Avengers?” You wondered.

“My dad hates them. I hate them too.” Harry scoffed and you held back a laugh. “That’s why we’re gonna wipe them out. New York can’t rely on a bunch of guys in dress up, and we’re gonna show them that.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“With an attack on New York City on the 8th.” Harry told you, and Tony immediately wrote it down. “The Avengers won’t know what hit them.”

“That sounds pretty scary. Will you keep me safe?” You batted your eyelashes at him and he ate it up.

“I can’t listen to this.” Peter took out his earpiece and slammed it on the counter. “I’m going in there.”

“Parker! Stay where you are and - you know what? I don’t care.” Sam shrugged it off and continued to listen to your conversation.

“Of course baby.” He cupped your face in his hands. “It’s gonna be a direct hit on the Avengers tower. A pretty thing like you won’t be anywhere near there.”

“Actually”, you took his hands off your face and dropped your smile, “I will.”

“What?” Harry’s face faltered at your sudden mood change.

“Did you get that guys?” You touched your fingers to your ear piece and waited for the confirmation. “Copy that, dad.”

“What?” Harry’s face twisted in anger. “You’re an Avenger?”

“Look at you! So smart. You figured it out.” You said sarcastically.

“No.” Harry shook his head. “I don’t believe you. There’s no way you’re an Avenger. You’re my age and a chick.”

“Not just an Avenger. I’m a Stark too. Want me to prove it to you?” You asked casually.

“How?” Harry raised an eyebrow. You gave him a swift punch to the throat that knocked him on his back.

“Like that.” You blew your hair off your forehead as you checked your nails.

“You bitch.” Harry wheezed from the floor.

“You see, I can’t have you and your father attacking my friends.” You crouched down beside him and shrugged. “I’m gonna have to take you in.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Harry swiped at you but you dodged it.

“I know. But this cute little microphone recorded everything you said and sent it to the police.” You pouted and pointed to your mic. “They should be here soon. You might want to wipe the lipstick off your face before the get here.”

“I’m not going to prison.” Harry grumbled as he sat up.

“Aw, but you are.” You said as you pulled him off the floor and put his hands behind his back. “Daddy can’t bail you out of this one, like how he bailed you out of your 17 parking tickets.”

“How do you know about that?” Harry asked as he looked over his shoulder at you.

“I know everything, bitch.” You leaned into his ear to growl.

“No. I’m not going down for this.” Harry broke out of your hold and swung at you. You dodged the first one, but he got you right in the jaw with the second one. You stood up and got ready to fight him as he put his fists up.

“You’re not even that pretty.” He exclaimed as he swung at you again. Right as his fist collided with your face, Peter burst in the door.

“Yes she is!” Peter shouted as he jumped on Harry’s back. Harry threw Peter onto the bed and lunged for you again. You close-lined him with your arm and dug your heel into his back once he was on the ground.

“Peter? What are you doing here?” You asked as you stepped on Harry’s back harder with your heel. “I got this.”

“There’s something I have to tell you.” Peter panted as he got off the bed.

“You won’t get away with this. I will sue!” Harry writhed around beneath your heel.

“Can it wait?” You asked as you pulled Harry off the ground. “I’m a little busy.”

“It can’t wait.” Peter shook his head as you shoved Harry against the wall. “There’s something I’ve been holding in for a long time and I need to tell you.”

“I wouldn’t even bother dude.” Harry said with his face squished against the wall. “She’s a total bitch.”

“Was I talking to you?” Peter growled before shooting a web at Harry’s wrists to handcuff him.

“Ohhh I see.” Harry laughed humorlessly. “Spiderman is mad that I stole his girlfriend.”

“Can you shut up? I’m trying to have a conversation here.” You barked at Harry. “I’m sorry, Peter. Please continue.”

“I didn’t want you to flirt with Harry tonight because you can do a lot more than just sit still and look pretty.” Peter began.

“I know that, Peter.” You nodded.

“I also didn’t want you to flirt with him because I was jealous.” He confessed.

“Jealous?” You asked as you put Harry in the hotel chair and began to tie him up.

“He likes you, stupid.” Harry grumbled. You shot Harry and angry look, but when you looked back at Peter, he was nodded.

“He’s right.” Peter admitted , taking you by surprise.

“You like me?” You lips twitched into a smile as you tightened Harry’s rope. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was scared you wouldn’t like me back. You’re my best friend, Y/n.” Peter said softly. “If you didn’t like me back, everything would change. We’d still be friends but it wouldn’t be the same. I didn’t want to risk that.”

“I’m sorry.” You frowned. “I should’ve been more clear then.”

“Do you seriously have to do this here?” Harry whined and you smacked him on the back of the head.

“Clear about what?” Peter wondered.

“That I like you too.” You smiled sheepishly at him. Tony listened to the confession over the ear pierce and smiled to himself.

“There you go kid.” He mumbled to himself. “She got the hint.”

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[twistedmusings]

Doing Anything for Heat

“Do you always refer to yourself in third person when writing these up?” 

“Legalities, Prefect, although I do not expect you to know anything about that.” 

Guess who can’t write as much anymore because she got a nasty bite at work! So yes, I was working on requests so diligently and then bam--this happens. 

As an apology for my late ass writings, please take this mini scenario for the Octavinelle Trio! Azul’s SSR card got translated and I just...god I love these boys so much q wq  Reader: [G/N]  Warnings: Casual flirting, possessive thoughts from all the boys and just MC striking up a contract with Azul and taking a very creative approach towards it~ 

“[Y/N]!!!!” Grimm pulls at your arm as you sit down across from Azul, the man holding out a contract to you as he tilts his head with a smile. “What will it be, Prefect?” 

Your hands sweat as you rub them on your legs. “Hehe~ Little Shrimp looks so scared~” 

The contract is placed in front of you slowly, Azul taking care of minding his manners as you lean back and go over the simple specifications. Made simpler, of course, since Azul had ‘such’ a kind heart. 

What a con artist. 

Winter was hitting Night Raven College hard but was hitting Ramshackle even harder. 

How many blankets had you bought from Sam’s shop? Ten? Twenty? You honestly didn’t know but you and Grimm were close to freezing some night and you had just about enough of living in an ice cube for a dorm. 

You were acting out of desperation. 

And, ever the businessman, Azul had stretched out his hand for your unfortunate soul. 

“Bring sixty customers during our lunch rush tomorrow and Azul Ashengrotto will personally see that a heater is installed in Ramshackle the same day.” 

You put the contract down and look him in the eye. “Do you always refer to yourself in third person when writing these up?” 

“Legalities, Prefect, although I do not expect you to know anything about that.” 

Great, more insults towards your intelligence. 

Sixty customers. If you were to break that down it would be ten from each dorm not counting Octavinelle. You could rope Ace and Deuce to come, guilt trip Jack for not helping you with that assignment due last night, kindly ask Epel to make his way over here and maybe if you promised Sebek that you would listen to him rant about his dorm leader he would reluctantly agree. 

But that wouldn’t be near enough. 

Azul clicks his tongue while Jade speaks up, “We will have to take that answer today, [Y/N]-san. If not, I guess maybe we could let you take some blankets from Octavinelle--” 

“Fine! Fine.” you sign your name on the dotted line and hand the contract back to Azul, the other grinning as he handed it towards his right-hand man. “How wonderful! I’ll be waiting with baited breath to see what you bring us tomorrow~” 

You give Azul the fakest smile you can muster, waving goodbye to the twins as you make your way out of the lounge with Grimm by your side. “Fgnaaa~! We are screwed! [Y/N] how could you! We are going to be stuck waiting tables for ETERNITY now!” 

“Not if we bring them what they asked for.” you bite your bottom lip as you look at the Monstro Lounge, your eyes falling on the small stage. 

Oh right. Some students played here. Well, students deemed worthy enough to play. You remember the Music Club trying to do a gig here but failing miserably the moment Lilia opened his mouth. Despite the failure, it did bring some people in to get Azul over the red. 

A floorshow. 

That’s right! A floorshow! 

“Grimm!” you grab the cat and bring him close as he freaks out. 

“What--what!” 

“I got it!” you hold him out in front of you, “We are going to have to let go of our pride a bit and this experience might humble us but...we will have heat!’ 

“[Y/N] you are scaring me--” 

Grimm barely gets to say what he wants as he is dragged back into your arms, your feet running as fast as you can into Mr.S’s shop for the stuff that you will need.

--------

“Ah! Little Shrimp!” 

Jade looks up from the numbers he was crunching, smiling as he sees you approaching the table. You wave at Floyd and nod politely towards Jade, sitting down and tapping your fingers against the bar. 

“You are here rather late, [Y/N]-san. We have two hours until closing time.” 

“I’m just…putting my plan into action. Azul said he wanted sixty by tomorrow, after all.” Floyd grins as he finishes cleaning up the remaining glasses. 

“Eh? You are doing something tonight, little Shrimp?” 

“...yes.” 

He leans close, smiling wider as he sees a certain change in your appearance. The Monstro Lounge was always dark in order to provide a more atmospheric mood at night but with the little light he had to work with he could clearly see traces of makeup all over your face. “Little Shrimp looks so shiny...just like a pearl.” You pull away as he tries to get closer, putting your hand out to stop him and turn your attention towards Jade. “Right. Do you have a backroom next to the stage? I just need to get some things ready--” 

“Go into the kitchen, farthest door to the back. There should be a door that leads you towards the back of the stage.” “Do you guys have a light booth--” “Next to the stage.” Jade’s eyes shine, interested in what you are about to pull off, “Do you need our help--” 

“Nope that is alright I can take care of this myself thank you.” 

Both twins watch you trot towards the kitchen, Grimm following close behind and about three ghosts ‘matching’ his step. 

“...Floyd.” 

“Yes?” 

“Call Azul. I think he’ll be interested to see what is going on.”

--------

“For heat. For heat. For heat!” 

You were doing this because of your situation. The situation was desperate so you had to take desperate measures. 

Grimm clears his throat as you finish fixing his bowtie, the transparent fabric looking beautiful with the stitched shells all over it. 

“Are the ghosts ready?” you ask. 

“Just waiting for the curtains to close.” 

The crowd goes quiet as you press a few buttons and close them, hushing the late night crowd as you step onto the stage. You try to step softly so that the click of your heels won’t be heard while Grimm opens up the rather large shell in the middle of the stage. This was usually used as a promotional device, customers taking pictures inside it to promote their visits to the lounge. It had a soft cushiony seat inside and could fit a whole student. 

You give a thumbs up to your other roommates, the ghosts smiling as their instruments manifested in front of them. 

Spectral instruments really came in handy in these situations. “Breathe...Breathe…” you sit down inside the shell and pull your legs up with you, fixing the train of your dress and touching the small shell tiara on your head. It was fashioned after King Triton after all, maybe Azul would get the reference?

Or rather, you hoped Azul wasn’t watching at all. “Okay...close it, Grimm.” He nods and brings the top of the shell down slowly, trapping you both inside as he gave the cue to start up the lights. This was all for a heater...and maybe some tuna. 

-----

-At first he wanted to laugh as he saw the curtain slowly being drawn back, when was the last time they used this stage? Student players just weren’t ‘in’ as much anymore and he had to keep up with the trends. What were you planning to do with this? 

-Yet his mouth clicked shut as the lights landed right on the shell, the music starting as your voice rang out softly from inside. 

-He barely paid attention to the band as the shell slowly opened, Grimm flying out elegantly as he opened it while your frame was slowly being revealed to him as every student’s jaw almost hit the floor. 

-Azul clutched his cane as he watched you cradle your legs close to yourself, the lyrics completely blowing past him as you stretch yourself out to show off the outfit you had on. It seemed to shine like a pearl under the lights, your chest being accentuated by how snug it fit against your frame. 

-He licked his lips when his eyes landed on your undecorated neck. It was as if you were begging for it to be decorated with bites. Surely he could make a nice necklace for you. 

-Dammit he should have sat closer, students were actually getting up from their booths and moving to any tables that were closer to the stage as you start getting up, the train of fabric in your outfit resembling the top of a shell as it brushes across the ground as you make your way to the floor. 

-He bites his bottom lip as he sees you making your way around the tables, your voice soft and melodic as the students watch the performance flabbergasted. You are letting your fingers glide against the tables, winking at some of the more bold students who put out their hands so they could touch yours.

-If you were to look at his face you would see no trace of emotion but inside his head he was screaming at you to pass by his table already don’t you know anything about customer service? 

-You finally make eye contact with the table he was sitting at, Azul feeling a shiver go up his spine at how your flirtatious eyes suddenly turned nervous. Nobody else had gotten that look.

-Again, he needed to see you looking at him like that again. 

 -So this is what you were planning. How interesting~ 

-He watched from behind Azul, taking off his coat and laying it on the back of the plush booth as he took in your form. Where had you gotten such a cute outfit, he wondered. The color made you shine like the rarest pearl and every time the light hit you just right he could see the glitter in your eyelids as you started to approach their table. 

-You made eye contact with him, clearly trying to keep up the act of ‘mysterious’ floor show guest but failing as his eyes took you in the closer you got. 

-The students groan when they see you sit right next to Azul, pressing close to him as he dares to put an arm around your waist and squeeze. Oh he could bet Azul was happy with how jealous all the students looked. 

-Jade couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him when you took Azul’s hat and shoved it in his face before pulling away as quickly as possible. 

-He follows your movements as you walk behind him, the sudden hand on his back making him hum in thought as the idea of pinning you right to the back of the booth so you would sing only to him suddenly seeming like the only thing to do in this situation. 

-You really had no idea what you could awaken in him if you kept playing around. 

-His eyes meet yours as you start walking away but his hand catches your wrist as he tugs you back to him--!

-But Jade, ever the unpredictable man, only presses his lips to your hand before letting you go.

-You were doing a floor show for the customers after all. Didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be talking to you later~ 

-Floyd had moved himself to the table closest to the stage, tie undone and smile wider than anyone had ever seen as he watched you pay attention to almost every table. The table he was sitting at had been filled with students who deemed themselves rather lucky to get so close only for them to scram when they saw who was approaching it.  

-He waves at you when you finally make eye contact with him, licking his lips and smiling as he sees your reluctance to get near him. 

-Which he didn’t mind, the fact that you were so wary of him made you all the more adorable. 

-You try your best to be as flirty as you had before, merely touching his hand as he holds it out to you but for Floyd that is not enough. The moment your fingers pressed against his palm, he snatched your wrist and brought you to his lap, students gasping as his hands landed on your sides. 

-Oh the material was so soft! He ran his fingers up and down as you press hand to his chest while you sang the last few notes of the song. 

-Floyd couldn’t help the little giggle as he saw the embarrassment on your face, your hand clearly pushing on his chest but his hands clearly weren’t letting you go. What were you going to do, little Shrimp? 

-His eyes widen at your sudden improvisation, your hands taking his and pressing them to your face so he could cup your cheeks. Instinctively he pulled you closer as the song suddenly stopped---

”Floyd-senpai, I have to go.” 

-The whisper is only for him to hear as you catch him off guard with that soft look and pull away, you holding out the last note of the song as if you had planned to be caught by him all along. 

-He clicks his tongue and leans back, eyes watching you go back up the stage and sitting inside the shell as you pull your legs closer to you before blowing a kiss to the now applauding crowd as Grimm closed the shell. 

-Surely the kiss had been for him, right? If it had been for any of these other bottom feeders...well no matter. Even if it hadn’t been for him, Floyd would make sure to squeeze you real tight the moment you got off stage. 

-----

You lay down on the cushion as you put your arms over your eyes, groaning as you tried to get your thoughts together. 

If this worked out the way you thought it would, word of mouth would get around and you would bring around sixty customers so that they could partake in what they had missed tonight. 

Has it cost you your dignity? Yes. 

Was the outfit embarrassing? Yes. 

Did you have to flirt with all three Octavinelle members so they would see that you were serious about finally going to sleep without shivering? Yes and yes. 

At least it was over. 

“Yo Grimm. Can you open this? I want to change!” 

Your hands tap the top of the shell, sighing in relief as it slowly opened. 

Only for you to yelp as hands pin you down to the cushion, a very familiar face grinning down at you as Floyd laughs merrily. 

“Ahaha~! Nee, that kiss was for me, right Little Shrimpy? You blew that my way, right?” 

Jade sighs and steps behind his brother, pulling him up by the collar so that you could get your bearings. 

“It was at the customers, Floyd. I believe [Y/N]-san wanted this to be spoken about tomorrow, correct?” 

You nod as he lets go of Floyd and holds out his hand for you to take. 

“What an interesting plan...right Azul?” 

The Octavinelle dorm leader isn’t really looking at you, he is still staring at everything that you had on taking it as much as he could before your voice brought him back. “So...how did I do?” 

Azul blinks before smiling as he steps close and holds out his arm for you to take. 

“I have yet to see the terms of the contract be met but...we can discuss how you did in my office. Mind telling me how you came up with this plan? ” 

“Y--Yeah! Sure!” 

You take Azul’s arm and speak about your thought process, not noticing the grins on the eel’s faces as they hold themselves back until they reach Azul’s office. 

How nice, it would be the first time you would be staying over at Octavinelle, even if you didn’t know it yet.  

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #octavinelle #octavinelle trio #azul x reader #jade x reader #floyd x reader #Azul Ashengrotto #Floyd Leech #Jade Leech #twst mc #G/N reader #available books #//im...im a simp

[babybluebex]

good doctor kreizler ch.3: o come, all ye faithful

summary ↠ part 3 of good doctor kreizler // on christmas eve, as you and your new husband prepare to host your friends, there's a drastic change in plans, and the sudden need for an extra place setting. pairing ↠ laszlo kreizler x fem!reader (y/n) word count ↠ 5.6k warnings ↠ explicit language, smut, oral (f!receiving), sexual content involving a pregnant woman, explicit descriptions of childbirth (and everything that goes along with that), mentions of medical procedures, abduction a/n ↠ finally here it is! masterlist/taglist in bio!

The rustling of the bedsheets was a comfort to hear. Laszlo often woke up earlier than you did in order to prepare for his day at the Institute, and he tried his best not to wake you up. Your doctor had advised that you rest as much as possible, especially in the coming few weeks; as you learned, you seemed to have inherited your mother’s “weak womanly constitution”, as the doctor called it. You had to scale back your help during the investigation because of your weak stomach and over-eager emotions. It broke your heart into pieces when Laszlo finally told you that you were off the case entirely, but you understood his hesitations. At least, you considered, your husband knew better than you.

Not a day went by that you didn’t revel in your new title. The ceremony was a quiet affair, hardly even reported in the society papers, and you had just the most important family there. Sara served as your maid of honor, John as Laszlo’s best man, Marcus and Lucius as the legal witnesses. Laszlo had managed to secure a ring for you, and it glittered on your left hand every single day. The wedding, if you could call it that, had happened on a Saturday morning, and, when you went into work on Monday and had to alert Commissioner Roosevelt to your name change, Teddy had given you a warm smile that secured in you the thought that you would never truly be alone ever again. And you liked it.

You gave a soft moan and threw your arm behind you to capture your husband before he rose from bed. “Las,” you mumbled. In an instant, your hand was filled by his, and Laszlo was pressing his mouth to your cheek. “It’s still dark out.”

“Yes, my beloved, I know,” Laszlo said softly. “But I need to get an early start today.”

“Do you need to?” you groaned. “It’s awfully cold, sweetheart, I’ll freeze up if you leave.”

Laszlo gave a soft coo and kissed your cheek again, and he whispered, “I must get the house ready for dinner tonight.”

“For… What?” you mumbled.

“We’re hosting dinner tonight,” Laszlo explained slowly. The old wife’s tale of pregnancy brain seemed to be a certifiable malady in your case; you were constantly forgetting dates and appointments and misplacing things that you had in your hand. There had been more than one occasion where you had torn apart a room looking for the eyeglasses that you had perched on your nose. Laszlo, in his never-ending loveliness, was patient with you, and he would repeat things as many times as needed for them to stick. “Sara, John, Marcus, and Lucius are joining us.”

“Oh, God,” you huffed. “What’s the occasion?”

“Christmas dinner,” Laszlo said. His hand rested gently on your hip, his thumb making soft circles on your skin, and he nuzzled his beard into your neck. “I suppose, for Marcus and Lucius, it’s just dinner.”

“Oh, damn!” you murmured. “I forgot! How could I forget about Christmas?”

“You’ve had quite a lot on your mind lately,” Laszlo chuckled. “Please, my love, go back to sleep. You can’t help me with this anyway.”

“Why not?” you asked. You struggled to sit up, and Laszlo put his hand on your back and aided you upright. By you and your husband’s calculations, you were about eight months along, and you could feel every moment of it. Your back was constantly aching, and you had headaches that were so awful that you could feel your brain pulsing inside your skull (migraines, Laszlo called them, but you didn’t give a damn what they were called). All of the aches and pains meant nothing, though, when you felt your son kick up into you. Yes, Baby Kreizler was an active one, and, more often than not, you found yourself being woken up in the morning by his movements and kicks.

Laszlo placed his hand gently on your swollen belly, and his palm was met with a nudge. “It involves your Christmas present,” Laszlo told you. “And I can’t very well have you spoil your own present.”

“You—!” you began. “I thought we said we weren’t doing presents! Oh, Las, I have nothing to give you!”

“You must be joking,” Laszlo said. The room was dim, only the dull flame of a gas lamp lighting the bedroom, but you could see your husband’s glittering dark eyes as easily as if it were in the daytime. “You are giving me the best present that I could ever ask for. I could never ask you for anything more.”

You pouted, but drew Laszlo into a kiss. You often forget about your husband’s stubbornness, and, while it had made him the successful man he was, it was rather difficult to try to surprise him with anything. You had told a little fib when you said that you hadn’t gotten him a Christmas gift. The small leather-bound book was stashed in a drawer under your stockings, a neat ribbon around it, the front page reading a personal inscription from the author itself. Laszlo had a habit of reading literature that made you sick to even think about, and he had grown fond of an author that was published in a Boston newspaper, a man named Poe. You had acquired a collection of Poe’s stories and sent him a letter, explaining your situation, and he had sent it back with haste. You had peeked at the inscription, and you smiled just a bit at the words “you and your work are an inspiration, Doctor Kreizler”. Laszlo would like that, you were sure of it.

Laszlo moved his hand from your belly to your cheek, and he held your face as he deepened the kiss. You gave a soft laugh at his boldness (you supposed, though, that a husband’s need for his wife was hardly bold), and you lifted your arms to wrap around his neck. In an instant, Laszlo abandoned his need for being early, and he pressed a line of fluttering kisses down your jaw and neck. You let your fingers run through his hair, still mussed from sleep, and Laszlo pressed a sweet, open-mouthed kiss to your breast. That was another surprise of pregnancy; not that your breasts would grow as your milk came in, but that Laszlo would form an odd attachment to them. If it were anybody else, Laszlo would have looked at the behavior as codependent and perhaps leaning towards neglect from one’s mother, but, since it was him, you knew that he didn’t think about it. The moment your beautiful and eloquent doctor had one of your breasts in his mouth, he turned simple-minded.

So simple-minded, in fact, that he hardly seemed to notice the way his hand slid and crept up your thigh. Or perhaps he was aware of it, and was being coy for your sake. Either way, you keened up into his hand, whimpering just a bit, silently pleading for him. You two had become experts at reading each other, and Laszlo knew what you wanted without you having to utter a word. You didn’t want his hand, he knew that. He gave one last kiss to your hard nipple, then continued to trail feather-light kisses down your body. His hand tangled in your nightgown and rucked it up past your hips, and he gave an open-mouthed kiss to your hip. Your hands clawed at your nightgown, pulling it up and over your head to free your body completely, and Laszlo took a departure from your hip to lavish your belly in kisses. The skin had been permeated with light marks where your skin had stretched to accommodate the baby, and, while you didn’t quite care for the look of them and worried if they would persist, Laszlo never stopped for one second to consider them anything but beautiful.

“Laszlo,” you whimpered out. “Please, my love.”

Laszlo kissed down your hips to your thighs, and he pressed your legs open and pulled them over his shoulders. Then, finally, mercifully, he pressed his mouth to your cunt. He wasted no time, placing open-mouth kisses all over your sensitive skin, and your fingers closed in his hair. You tugged a bit, telling him to go further, and Laszlo licked a stripe up your waiting cunt. You gave him a satisfied little moan and your hips jerked a bit when he gave a harsh suck to your clit. “Las!” you squealed, and you felt him smile against you. “Fuck, more.”

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Laszlo mumbled, looking up at you through his eyelashes as he pressed his mouth against you again. The sight of it had you whimpering, and you felt your release close at hand. That was how it seemed to go, as of late; Laszlo hardly had to stimulate you, and you were a wet, spent mess within minutes. He said it was the baby, and you didn’t know enough to dispute him. Laszlo detached his mouth from your cunt and lifted his hand to stroke your throbbing clit with the rough pad of his thumb. “Taste so good… How could I ever have lived before you?”

You hardly had the brain to wax lyrical at the moment, but, if you did, you would have said that perhaps he wasn’t truly living before you, just as you hadn’t before him. The world had changed with him, and you could never want anything else except him for the rest of time. “Las,” you gasped, the pleasure he gave you making your legs shake. While his hand worked, his mouth went to your thigh, and he placed wet kisses all over the skin. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you writhed under him, and you moaned and keened at him. “Las—” you gasped. “I-I’m gonna—”

The wonderful and heady relief washed over you before you could even finish your sentence, and you basked in it for a long while. Your chest heaved as you smoothed down Laszlo’s hair, and he stood up with a soft grunt. “Gosh, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” you mumbled, sitting up on your elbows; you hadn't meant for him to kneel down on the hard floor, but he didn't seem to mind it much. His robe had come undone during the act to show his chest and stomach, and you worked yourself fully upright so that you could wrap your arms around him. Your head landed on his chest and you kissed over his heart, and Laszlo gave a quiet little sigh. “You grow lovelier every day,” he whispered, and he landed a kiss in your hair.

You smiled into his chest. But you felt as if something was off. Yes, your muscles and fibers had relaxed with the orgasm, but there was still an odd tightness in your core. It felt almost like the cramps you had to endure monthly, or, at least, the onset of one. “Oh, no,” you mumbled. You knew what that feeling was.

“What is it?” Laszlo asked.

The contraction finally landed and settled fully in your core, and it nearly knocked the breath out of you. “God!” you yelped, drawing your husband closer to you. “Las— I’m in labor.”

Laszlo didn’t seem to fully process your words, because he looked down at you with a sort of bleary-eyed confusion. “Labor?” he repeated. “As in…?”

“As in labor, Laszlo!” you cried. “As in I will give birth sometime in the next few days and it’ll be your head on a pike if you don’t get the doctor here now.”

Laszlo stepped away from you and looked around the bedroom, a little frantic. Finally, he clenched his jaw and tied up his robe, and he went to the door of the bedroom and threw it open. “Cyrus!” he yelled. “Cyrus! Ring the doctor! Y/N’s gone into labor!”

You heard Cyrus respond to Laszlo, and suddenly his hands were on you again. The pain, while not awful, was certainly unpleasant, and you moved slowly as Laszlo helped you back into your nightgown. His hand was shaking almost as badly as yours were, and you grabbed his hand and drew it to your mouth for a firm kiss. “I love you,” you whispered. Your eyes watered, and you tried to pretend that you didn’t see Laszlo’s eyes wetting as well.

“I love you too, my beloved,” Laszlo said softly, laying you back amongst the pillows. “The doctor will be here soon. Can I get you anything in the meantime?”

You bit your lip at an onslaught of pain that rocketed down your spine. “Get me Sara,” you said.

“S-Sara Howard?” Laszlo asked.

“She’s practically my sister,” you said. “Please, Las, I need her.”

“Of course, of course,” Laszlo said quickly. “Can I get you anything else?”

You gave a shuddering sigh as the pain died down, and you mumbled, “A glass of water?”

John took the steps into the house two at a time. He had just been sitting down for breakfast with his grandmother when their telephone had sounded. While his grandmother raged at the thing, he answered it and had the briefest of conversations with Laszlo that went something like this: “She’s in labor. Come quick.” “... Now?” “Childbirth waits for no man, John, and I intend for my child to meet his uncle as soon as possible.”

The energy inside the house was an odd one. The place was done up with garlands of holly, obviously having been prepared by the little motley family of Laszlo, Y/N, Cyrus, and Stevie, to stand as a lovely locale for Christmas dinner. It should have been so cheerful— chattering and laughing— but there was just silence. “Laszlo?” John called, looking upwards from the base of the stairs.

“Top floor!” He heard Laszlo call back after a moment. Usually, the doctor would have greeted him at the door, and now he wasn’t even coming down to debrief the situation. John steeled himself and prepared for the worst.

Thankfully, the top floor wasn’t a tragedy zone. Laszlo stood in the hallway, pacing restlessly, mumbling to himself in every language he spoke. “John, Mein Gott,” he sighed. “Thank you for coming quickly.”

“Is she really in labor?” John asked.

“Yes,” Laszlo replied. “We woke up only a few hours ago and… Her water broke. The contractions have been ebbing and flowing ever since, but she is insistent that a doctor get here.” After a moment, and noticing John’s trepidation, added, “A real doctor, she said. Someone who has experience with delivering children.”

“That’s probably a good call,” John said. “Is she in there?” He gestured at the closed door that he could only assume was Laszlo and Y/N’s bedroom, and Laszlo nodded.

“Sara’s in there as well,” Laszlo said. “Comforting her.”

“Why are you not in there?” John asked quickly. “I mean, my God, Laszlo, this is your wife and son!”

“I know,” Laszlo snapped. “I wish I could be, but… I can’t bring myself to. The numbers of women who die in childbirth… And most of the time, there’s nothing to be done to stop it… I-I would only blame myself. If I were in that room, with my knowledge, and she died, and I couldn’t help, I would blame myself.”

There was a sharp yelp from inside the room, like a hurt animal, followed by muffled shushing; the mother and Sara, John supposed. “Where’s the doctor?” John asked.

“The one we chose to schedule when we would go to wellness checks was booked until this afternoon,” Laszlo said. “He’ll get here when he can. Until then, we… Wait. I will allow myself to go in every so often and check dilation, but it’s getting to the point where… The sight of it makes me ill.”

John didn’t know much about childbirth, but the word dilation helped him figure up enough of an image to make him a little ill as well. “Can I get her anything?” John asked. “Something from the shop on the corner?”

“She says no,” Laszlo said. “She’s only asked for water. A kiss, every so often, but I feel that’s less vital and more encouragement.”

John nodded in agreement, and he pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his pants. “How long do we wait?” he asked.

“However long it takes,” Laszlo said with a shrug. “For some women, it’s mere hours; others, days.”

John sighed and took up a place leaning against the wall, and he mumbled, “I guess dinner’s off, isn’t it?”

Laszlo finally cracked a gentle smile, and he leaned next to John. He wore the beginnings of an acceptable outfit, pants and a buttoned shirt with his suspenders, but no vest, no cravat, no jacket. This was a worried man, an expectant father, a ready doctor. “I’m sure we can find a way to have dinner,” he said. “Perhaps, if the timing’s right, we’ll have to put out an extra place-setting.”

John still could hardly believe that, out of their entire group, Laszlo was the first to have a baby. Just meters away, behind the door, Laszlo’s wife was in the beginning stages of bringing new life. On Christmas Eve, no less. “Did you ever think you’d have this?” John whispered.

“No,” Laszlo replied after a moment. He looked down at his boots and wrapped his arm around himself, and he chewed on his thoughts for a moment. “Even just last night, as we were going to bed… I watched her enter the room, and the lamp lit her up… Her body was silhouetted against the lamp through her nightgown. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I’ll never forget the sight. If I had any artistic inclination, I would have captured it. The memory might be greater than any piece of art, though.” He took a moment to savor the image, and he gave a short sigh. “But I have done my share of worrying. Every day, every moment, I was terrified. I have never known greater fear, truly. When she was at work and the Institute would get a phone call, I felt physically ill until I could answer it. Every day, I woke up and asked myself… ‘Is this the day where we lose him?’. It’s not a good way to live, John. But every night, after another successful day, when I would get her in my arms, it was the most perfect thing. It is unbelievable. Me, a father?” He scoffed. “I just hope he looks like her.”

“Why?” John asked.

“I don’t want him to be plagued with my visage,” Laszlo said. “If he resembles me, people will know he’s mine, and he won’t ever escape my reputation. I know the name Kreizler is an unusual one, but he can deny relation. If he has my name and face… There’s no denying it.”

“And you’re ashamed of that?” John asked. “Laszlo, there is nothing but pride to be had in your name. Kreizler is… You’re a man of science, a world-renowned alienist. You are intelligent, smart as a whip! You are dedicated to your work and your family, and you treat people with the utmost respect… Well, you treat your patients with the utmost respect.” John paused to dig his elbow playfully into Laszlo’s ribs, and Laszlo gave a little huffing laugh that held no true humor in it. “And you’re kind. You’d give your life for the people you love. A man can only ask for a friend as loyal as you. And you’re quite handsome, Laszlo. A child with any resemblance to you is a blessed one.”

“Alright—” Laszlo started plaintively.

“No, truly,” John said. He cast a glance at the door, then added, “May I confess something?”

Laszlo gave John a sideways glance, then nodded, and John took a deep breath. “I promised the good Mrs. Kreizler to keep this secret, but I feel it’s past time to tell you. The day you two met, when Sara brought her from the police station to the Institute, I heard her and Sara speaking as they left. I heard her say ‘That Kreizler fellow is quite handsome’. I confronted her on the basis of light teasing a few days later, and she implored me to not tell you. Got quite emotional about it, in fact. She said that she… She wanted to prove her place in the job. She said she didn’t want to be one of those women who joined a man’s work and fell in love and become some subservient housewife. She wanted to be a detective. But, before your wedding, she admitted to me that she was glad that what had happened had happened. She told me she couldn’t see any other life that didn’t have you in it. She told me that she had even considered naming your son after you, but she knew that you would fight her tooth and nail about that. She loves you, Laszlo, and she’ll make sure that your son does too. Hell, he’ll be proud to carry the name Kreizler. All the more so if he looks like you. Don’t be ashamed of who you are or your past. The future has yet to come and, from what I can tell, it’ll be a good future. Don’t waste it by worrying about if your son is proud of you or himself, because, frankly, that’s a fucking ridiculous thing to worry abut. He’s your son, Laszlo; the part you should worry about is how to shrink that ego that he’ll have.”

Laszlo smiled once more, and he drew John into a tight hug. The men were quiet, and John gave Laszlo a few firm pats on his back. “Thank you, John,” Laszlo said softly. “Those are kind words.”

John shrugged. “It’s the least I can do,” he said. “I suspect that you’ll wear divots on the floor if you keep pacing, though.”

“Can you blame me?” Laszlo asked. “Just beyond that door… It kills me.”

Just then, there was another cry of pain, and John heard you cry out: “Laszlo! I need you!”

Laszlo couldn’t have moved faster if he were shocked by electricity. He flew from his place on the wall and opened the door, and he was instantly by your side. John hesitated for a moment, seeing your nakedness and open legs, but Laslzo beckoned him in. John entered slowly, taking in the smell of sweat and blood, and then he really examined you. The bedsheets around you were dark with birthing fluid, your nightgown discarded on the floor. Sara sat next to you, undressed down to her underskirt, with her sleeves rolled to her elbow, holding your hand and giving you soft encouragement. Your skin was shining with strained perspiration, your hair matted to your forehead. Your bottom lip was nearly bitten raw, and your hand clambered out for Laszlo’s. Your chest heaved as you tried to breathe slowly, and Laszlo pushed your damp hair from your face. “You’re doing great,” he whispered and planted a kiss on your temple. “John, come here. Hold her hand while I check her dilation.”

The two men switched places, and you gave John Schuyler Moore a smile. “Glad you could make it, John,” you said, reaching for his face and drawing him in to put a kiss on his cheek. “Oh, Christ, it hurts.”

“I know it does,” John said gently. “But you’re being so strong. I’m proud of you.”

John looked expectantly down to Laszlo, examining you, and, when he looked at you, his eyes were tearing up. “It’s time, my beloved,” he said, and you gasped. “You need to push.”

“What? No!” you cried. Fear radiated through your body, and you sobbed. “No, it’s too early! The doctor isn’t here yet!”

“There’s no choice,” Laszlo said. He was firm, his jaw set, but you could see the emotions welling behind his eyes. He was scared too. He was as unprepared as you were. Sure, he was a doctor, but he hardly knew how to deliver a baby. “He’s coming now. Sara, run to the kitchen and get water, a clean rag, a large empty bowl, and a pair of scissors; a sharp knife would be sufficient.”

Sara nodded and, before she left, she gave you a quick kiss on your forehead. “You can do this,” she said. “I believe in you.”

You could hardly focus on your husband’s words, telling you to relax as much as possible and push when he said. The sensation of pushing was an odd one, your middle cramping with the force of it, and a whimper fell from you. You held John’s hand tightly, so tightly that your brief moments of levity from pushing had you apologizing for it, but the contraction would return, and you had to push again. Sara returned after the second bout of pushing, bearing all the tools required, and Laszlo quickly dipped his hands in the water to cleanse them. For the moment, he was bearing the dual responsibility of father and doctor, and he wore both roles on opposite sides of his face. His eyes were steadied and focused, using his Harvard-granted education, but his mouth was screwed up in concern. His forehead shined with sweat, and he paused in-between the fifth and sixth round to roll up his sleeves. Sara and John picked up the familial slack, encouraging you and helping you where they could.

Your vision grew spotty after ten rounds of intense and strenuous pushing, and you gasped out, “Las, I-I can’t do it anymore, I can’t—”

You wished that you hadn’t looked down. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have seen Laszlo’s white shirt spotted with blood, the stuff caked under his fingernails. The sight of it made you sniffle and hold back a gag. The wrinkles in your husband’s forehead were deep, but they dissipated when he looked at you. “Yes, you can,” Laszlo said firmly. “You’re too far along, there’s no stopping now, my love.”

“Laszlo, I can’t,” you croaked. “I can’t, I— I can hardly breathe or see, I-I cannot do it anymore!”

Laszlo paused, studying your face for a moment, and he stood up from the floor in front of bed and leaned forward to capture your chin in his hand. “You have to,” he said firmly, pressing his forehead against yours. “He’s nearly halfway out, coming feet-first. You need to finish what you’ve started, my dear. Goddamn it, finish this, for me, for you, and for him. Do you hear me? Fucking finish this.”

You nodded, gritting your teeth. Under any other circumstances, you would have slapped him outright for being so harsh with you, but you needed to hear it. You had no idea that you were that far along, and the thought that perhaps you were a few minutes away from holding your son gave you the strength you needed. You took a deep breath and readjusted your grips on Sara and John’s hands, and you waited for Laszlo to tell you to push. And you did. You felt a popping in your ears and a fierce snap in your hips, and the culmination of what felt like eons of work made you give one, hoarse, exhausted, gut-wrenching scream.

And then… There was another. But not your screams. They weren’t coming from your mouth, tearing up your throat what felt like beyond repair. No, no, they were coming from—

The soft snip of scissors interrupted the air of high shrieks, and then the weight of an even six pounds was settled on your chest. You looked down through spotted and tearful eyes, and you found a small being laying on your chest, wailing his little lungs out. All pink and wrinkled, still covered in little flecks of blood and other such stuff. He had a small swirl of dark hair atop his little head, and his mouth was like a rosebud. He had a tiny nose and, when you looked at Laszlo, you saw the same one. “Oh my God,” you gasped, instantly putting your hands on your baby’s back. “Oh my God! Hello there, baby. Oh my God, Laszlo—”

Laszlo took up John’s place at your head, and you looked to see his shirt splotched with your blood, tear tracks shining bright on his face. You had never seen him smile so big. He placed a gentle hand on his son’s back, touching him as if he would disappear the moment contact was made, and he swallowed thickly. “Welcome to the world,” he said softly, and he leaned down and settled a kiss on his son’s head. Almost instantly, he stopped his crying, devolving into quiet coos and whimpers, and you laughed.

“God, of course he loves you more,” you laughed. “Oh, Las… Oh, he’s here.”

“What’s his name?” Laszlo asked.

You didn’t have to think. You had been pondering ever since you found out you were pregnant, and you had come up with the perfect name. “Friedrich Wolfgang Kreizler,” you said.

“Nietzche, Mozart…” Laszlo mumbled, stroking his beard in wonderment. “Yes, that’ll do quite nicely, I think.”

Laszlo settled down on the bed next to you, and you carefully passed Friedrich to him. He held him in the crook of his left arm, and his heart nearly stopped when his son looked at him. Dark brown eyes, with a small dark birthmark just at the top of his left cheek. Just like Papa. “A spitting image, eh?” Laszlo chuckled lightly.

“Chip off the old block,” John chuckled. Sara moved to pull the blankets up over your body, and you captured her and pulled her into a tight hug. You whispered a “Thank you” to her, and she smiled. Sara was always so supportive in her own way, and the smile meant the world to you. “Congratulations are in order, Kreizlers.”

Kreizlers. Plural. There were three of you now, a full family. Mama, Papa, and baby. “Thank you for your help,” you told John. “I truly couldn’t have managed it without you.”

You let your head fall back on your pillow, and you glanced at the window. The sky outside was painted with ink, the smallest pinpricks of silver coming through; it had taken all day and into the night. “Is it past midnight?” you asked, and John quickly looked at his watch.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s Christmas Day.”

You laughed, and looked at Laszlo. “You did say he was the best present you’d ever gotten,” you told him.

“I did say that,” Laszlo agreed. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of Friedrich since you had given him to him. You could hardly place the emotion he had in his eyes, but you knew that it was some form of love. “I meant it then, and I mean it now.”

“I love you,” you told him.

Laszlo finally looked at you, and he saw an entirely new woman. He thought that the whole spiel about a “mother’s glow” was a myth, a way to make women feel beautiful after the strain of giving birth, but he saw it more clearly than anything. You were radiant. Your skin was sparkling and your eyes were bright, and your smile could have lit up a thousand street lamps. Motherhood suited you. “I love you too,” he said. He leaned over to kiss you, and even that felt new.

Finally, Laszlo broke the kiss, and he said, “Let me take him to get clean. You rest up, my beloved; I’ll have Cyrus bring you something to eat.”

You nodded. You had no qualms about Laszlo taking Friedrich. He was his father, after all, and you knew that Laszlo would sooner burn his library than hurt his son. “Can I have a moment alone?” you asked.

“Of course,” Sara offered. “I’m proud of you.”

“You should go hold your nephew,” you said. “That is, if Papa Bear will release him for long enough.”

The four of you laughed, and Laszlo stood up from the bed. “Get some sleep,” he said. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Laszlo could only gaze down at Friedrich as he carried him into his nursery. The place was decorated with images of animals, per your request, and John had managed to paint a collection of birds that lined the top of the walls. He took special care to wipe Friedrich clean, tilting his head as he listened to his little man’s curious vocalizations, and he chose a blanket that Lucius Isaacson had knitted to swaddle him in. Laszlo had done the stereotypical practice, tormenting the small bags of flour that sat in the kitchen, and he had gotten quite good at doing it with his one arm. He slowed to a stop, though, and he looked at his right arm for a moment. He looked back at Friedrich, seemingly asleep in his warm wool swaddle, and he took his arm by the wrist and guided it to his son. Carefully, he pressed his cheek into his palm, and his heart swooned at the feeling of his warm, soft skin against his fingers. He nearly felt like he would pass out. He loved you, yes, but he could never love anything more than the boy in front of him.

The moment was shattered, though, when, down the hall, Laszlo heard you give a clipped shout of his name. “Las—!”

“John!” Laszlo called, and John took his place with Friedrich as he raced to the bedroom. When he opened the door, he expected the worst. He expected pools of blood, perhaps a corpse, his wife and the mother of his son to have succumbed to an unknown complication in the time it took him to clean Friedrich.

He didn’t expect an empty bed and an open window, the thin curtain rustling with the breeze. He didn’t expect a small slip of paper amongst the stained sheets. He didn’t expect to read the page and grow so angry that he let out a howl of anguish: Mother Mary has delivered. She must repent. Happy Christmas, Doctor.

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[lazypeachsoul]

I wouldn't want to spend a minute lovin' anybody else.

Warnings: this fic has some sad moments and mentions of the blip. also kind of AU because I'm completely ignoring Natasha's canon end.

Word count: 4,2k (i got very carried away with this fic)

Summary: · Meeting the right person at the wrong time can be life changing when it doesn’t work out the way we desire. But if it's meant to be it will always happen, right?

A/N: This is my fic for the "Women of Marvel xReader Exchange" created by @marvelxreaderfanfictionfest . It was created for @im-holding-ontoyou and I hope you like it! gif by @natasharomanovgifs 🌼 ALSO; i haven't watched Black Widow yet so I'm sorry if something in this fic doesn't fit the new info we got about natasha.

Masterlist.

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New York, 2015.

When you received the call from one of your bosses that you had a new case you would have never imagined how big that case would turn out to be.

You had been working for one of the most important law firms in New York for a year now, and you were getting kind of used to reading cases that would be narrated in the papers for months. Rich and entitled men, big divorces were they fight over who gets the yacht, one or two murder cases... if it revolved around the powerful people of New York city, your firm would get it.

When you got to the debriefing and were told that Tony Stark, one of the firm's most important clients, asked your team for assistance in the creation of some legislation with the newly created “Advanced Threat Containment Unit” you were more than surprised.

The events that the Avengers had caused (or saved us from, there were different opinions going around) in the small country of Sokovia were known all around the and it was only time before the most powerful officials asked for the regulation of ‘superhero activity’.

You weren’t important enough to actually attend the meetings that took place with the government, seeing as you had only passed your bar exam a little over a year prior, but you were deemed cheerful and nice enough to act as a nexus between the firm and the client.

For months you spent your days talking to Tony Stark and other members of The Avengers trying to explain what was being talked about. The first few meetings were a disaster, seeing as the mood was somber for the lives lost and nobody really understood your legal jargon. But slowly you started to transform your language and really tried to make the meetings as easy as possible for everyone present.

But who were you kidding, they really didn’t care about the meetings or the silly attorney being sent to explain something that was way above their paycheck. Well, at least Stark was gracious enough to set a coffee station with some pastries for the meeting. You were pouring the hot liquid into your to-go cup when your hand jerked and the hot liquid splashed your hand.

You could feel the sting of the burn but avoided further sudden movements trying not to make it worse. Before you could reach for a napkin to clean up the mess you made, a more dexterous and manicured hand reached for them and exchanged the hot cup in your hand for the bunch of papers.

“Careful, Stark always serves boiling coffee. I think it’s to mask that it’s not the best quality.”

You lifted your gaze from your hand and found a pair of deep green eyes gazing back. You would have thought that spending numerous meetings in the company of superheroes would make you less susceptible to their powerful auras, but being this close to Natasha Romanoff made your heart beat a bit faster.

“Yeah, I found out the hard way.” You joked, lifting your hand a bit. “You would guess one of the richest people in the world would actually serve good coffee...”

Seeing her crack a smile made you feel less tense. Sometimes you forget they are still normal people. Normal people who could kill you with their bare hands and had superhuman powers. She placed your cup on the food table, apparently not bothered by how hot it must have been, and pushed her hand in your direction.

“I’m Natasha Romanoff.” You wrapped your hand around hers and shook it, biting your tongue trying not to tell her of course you knew her name. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself in earlier meetings, we were all trying to come to terms with what had happened.”

“No worries, I can only imagine how hard it must have been for all of you.” You nodded and tried to show her sympathy, trying to avoid thinking about all the lives affected by the fight. “Oh sorry, I’m-”

Natasha quickly cut you off, speaking your name before you could even say it. You could feel your cheeks get warmer at the idea that they actually knew who you were, and she probably could sense your mood change because she quickly explained.

“I know who you are, you send us at least two emails a week about these meetings and FRIDAY always announces you before you arrive.”

“Who announces me?” You asked curiously at the mention of a name you recognized.

“FRIDAY. It’s the name of Stark’s AI technology. It works all around the tower and it’s there to make life easier for everyone.” She explained pointing around at the speakers strategically placed around the room.

“Oh, I get emails from Friday sometimes. Most of them are asking me to translate or explain something about the debriefing because Mr.Stark is not interested in legal terms.” Both you and Natasha laughed at the thought.

But she quickly recomposed and tried to look serious again when she heard her teammates coming in to get ready for the meeting.

“I wanted to ask you about that. Do you think we could schedule a meeting so that you could explain some things about the legislation of the A.T.C.U.?” She spoke lower than she had when the two of you were alone and you wondered why she didn’t want her colleagues to know about the meeting.

“Ye-Yeah, of course I can.” You were confused but thought it would be in your best interest, and the firm’s, to say yes to the proposal. And a meeting with a very attractive and definitely interesting woman was not something that happened constantly for you.

“Great, thank you.” She smiled warmly and squeezed your hand that you hadn’t even realized was still wrapped around hers from the introduction. “I can promise you better coffee.”

You could only hum in response, still trying to piece together what she might want from the meeting. But your thoughts were quickly cut off when Stark entered the room and you moved to start the reunion.

During the entire meeting you could feel the dull pain in your hand from the scorching coffee and the feeling of a pair of green eyes watching your every move.

Vienna, 2016.

The situation had only gone downhill from the Battle of Sokovia. The public’s opinion on the Avengers was at an all-time-low and that made terrorist groups bold. They knew that if they struck and caused enough chaos, the blame would fall on the good guys that tried to stop them.

The only thing that seemed to be a stable thing in your life was Natasha. Well, as stable as dating a superhero might be. She was busy a lot, but you understood the importance of her job and you were quite busy too gaining importance within the law firm.

And even if sometimes terrorists and criminals got in the way you still found a moment to spend together, wrapped around each other without having to think about how messed up life was.

You thought Lagos was the blow that would make everything tumble, the Sokovia accords were unveiled and it broke the Avengers, and your girlfriend. You could feel how torn she was at her decision of some of her friends to oppose the signing and go on the run, and her own decision to subordinate to the United Nations mandate. But you realized how small that had been when king T’Chaka was killed at the UN.

You had been at the UN as part of the USA legal team that participated in the writing and monitoring of the accords. Your participation in the negotiations almost broke your relationship but you were able to recover once you explained your position and Natasha actually came to an understanding of it.

Natasha was also in Vienna when everything went down, you hadn’t managed to properly see her because she was one of the signers and they sat at the assembly while other guests sat at the amphitheater watching the retransmission.

You hadn’t been able to properly see her all day, seeing as she took a detour before flying to Austria. You were only able to communicate through texts where you tried to make the situation more comfortable for her and she promised a peaceful european trip to celebrate the signing.

When the bomb went off and all hell broke loose the first thing you tried to do was look for her, she was at the epicenter of the explosion and you just wanted to see if she was okay. You saw her from afar when you were being pushed to the outside of the building while they swiped the perimeter.

She sat with T’Challa before he jumped from the bench and stomped away. Natasha looked around and your gazes crossed, immediately melting away some of the worry. You tried to push your way through the crowd to get to her, but police and security didn’t budge.

You never took your eyes off of her, scared that if you did she would disappear. But she did move her gaze to her phone and the look that crossed her face when she heard the voice at the other side told you it was a very important call.

Once the call was over and she looked at you again you knew that would probably be the last time you would see her in some time. You hadn’t known Natasha as long as some of her colleagues had, but you could proudly say you could understand what she wanted to say with just a look. And the look on her face in that moment read close to a goodbye.

New York, 2018.

It had been two years since the fall of Helmut Zemo and part of the Avengers was still on the run. And it maybe wouldn’t have had that big of an impact on you if it wasn’t because Natasha had also been on the run for that long.

You had heard about what happened at the Leipzig airport and how Natasha had changed alliances to join Captain America’s fight. You had been heartbroken at the news knowing that any resemblance of normality that you still hope for was destroyed.

You had spent months wondering what had made her change her mind. Had she thought about your conversations about the accords? Had she even remembered you, waiting for her back in New York, when she decided to go on the run?

A part of you tried to convince you of how selfish thinking about that was, why would she think about you when the future of her team and friends was at stake? But also you were her girlfriend, she should have thought about the implications that might have had for you.

In those years you had mourned your relationship and after the grieving period you tried to rebuild your life. New friends, a new position and new chances to take. And it went okay...at least until someone opened their mouth to talk about superheroes or The Avengers. Years down the line and it was still on people’s minds.

On special occasions you would receive anonymous gifts at your office or your apartment. The first birthday after the war you sobbed for fifteen minutes when you saw the bunch of flowers. There was no name or indicative of who might have sent them, that was until you looked better at the card and saw the small red hourglass painted in the corner.

The gifts continued. Every case you won, promotion, birthday or holiday a bunch of flowers would be delivered to you with the same note.

In a way it gave you a sense of peace knowing she was okay and still thought of you. But the more you thought about it the angrier you got at how she had left you.

You didn’t expect a message from your boss to run to the Avengers compound and assess some situation between Coronel Rhodes and Thaddeus Ross. Although the team had crumbled, your company was still hired to legally represent the remaining members and moderate situations that might arise with the government.

You entered the compound expecting another bureaucratic complaint about their activity but you found a trickier situation. The meeting room was filled with people you thought you would never see again.

Captain Rogers was sitting on one of the chairs sporting a new look that made you almost not recognize him and a tense demeanor. Next to him was Sam Wilson, looking around at the smallest of movements and trying to assess the situation. Wanda Maximoff was standing on the furthest corner of the room playing with her rings, meanwhile Vision was apparently being checked out for a wound. What kind of wounds a synthezoid could get was beyond your understanding.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, I might have angered Secretary Ross during a meeting.” Rhodey came up to you with a nervous smile.

You had gotten closer to him thanks to your job seeing as he was the one doing the dirty superhero work.

“Yeah, I got that much from the text. Nothing new then.” You tried to joke to diffuse the tension in the room. “It would have been nice to know you had guests though.”

“We are not guests. Last time I checked this was our home too.”

That voice made your blood freeze. You should have expected her there, all her friends had returned and the chance of her being back too was almost 100%. But hearing her voice again after two years was not something you expected.

You bit your tongue before you could talk about how it’s not a home if you abandon it, but decided against it. This was a fight between them, not Natasha and you.

“I need you to work with the government to avoid this situation becoming a disaster.” Rhodey explained and you scoffed.

“Rhodey, I’m a lawyer not a politician. I have as much power in this as you might have.” You tried to lay your point across but it was difficult with all eyes on the interaction. “Hell, I have even less power than you do.”

“Then I need you to distract them enough to get them off our shoulders.” He pressed. “Something big is coming and we need all the strength we can get.”

You thought about it for a moment. If it was true that something big was coming, the Avengers were the best option to fight it.

“I’m in.” You scoffed at his smile and sat down in one of the chairs of the meeting room. “I’m not ready for the world to end yet.”

The meeting went on for a while. You called bosses, government officials and everyone that would listen to your distractions. You sent emails that would flood their inboxes for days so that they couldn’t read any news that might reach them about what the superheroes had in mind.

It was late at night when a cup of steaming liquid was placed next to you. You looked at it and saw that it was some kind of herbal tea, probably made to relax the drinker. You followed the hand that was still holding the mug until you reached Natasha’s face.

You had done your best to ignore her looming presence in the room but now there was no distraction. Looking at her you could see tiredness in her face. She was platinum blonde now, a look that weirdly suited her, but her face still looked as welcoming to you as it always did.

You tried to stop the flashbacks to the last time you saw it in person in Vienna, but they kept replaying in your head until her voice broke you out of the loop.

“I thought you might need it, I remember how nervous calls used to make you.”

She was smiling but you could tell it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Yeah, I guess I got over it since I got my promotion. Now I spend a long portion of my day making calls.”

She hummed and sat down next two you, but leaving a chair in between you as a safe space.

“I read about it in an article, I sent you flowers to celebrate.”

“I got them. And the Christmas ones. On my birthday too.” You enumerated the times you had gotten the plants in the past two years. “You must have spent an awful amount of money buying me so many flowers.”

“You deserved it, you still do.” She shrugged and that’s when you noticed she had her own mug of warm tea in her other hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to celebrate with you.”

You laughed into your mug sarcastically. Out of everything you expected her to say this wasn’t one of them.

“Did you really? Because you didn’t seem to consider me much when you went on the run for two years.”

Natasha paled when she heard your tone. She probably wasn’t used to situations like these but you weren’t going to let her go without an apology at least.

“I was trying to do the best for-”

“-for the world. I get it, Natasha, I do.” You tried to contain your emotions but it was getting harder with every word. “Relationships are supposed to be teamwork. I know you are always too busy playing heroes and I never judged you for that, I just wish you would have trusted me enough to tell me before you disappeared.”

She was silent and knowing Natasha it’s because she was probably overwhelmed with the display of feelings. But she needed to hear how bad you had felt.

After minutes of waiting for an answer from her and getting nothing but sighs you shook your head and looked back at the computer screen.

“I guess it was a case of the right person, wrong time.” You shrugged trying to find distraction in the flurry of letters in your email inbox. “Or at least it was for me.”

She got up from her seat without a word and you grew exasperated. Why had she even approached you if then she wasn’t willing to have an adult, two sided conversation? She was almost at the door when you heard her voice again.

“Please never doubt how much I love you. I made some bad choices but dating you was not one of them.”

New York, 2024.

Time apparently flies by when you are erased from the face of the earth. One day you are in your office working late and the next you appear five years in the future with no recollection of what might have happened.

You were taken by authorities to impromptu camps and one by one examined to check your identities. The entire thing seemed to be something out of one of the dystopian novels you used to read as a teenager.

When it was your turn you gave them all the information you had on what had happened. You had given them your name and personal information and apparently had been a very searched person because the computer started beeping as soon as your name was introduced in the database.

You were moved to a secluded part of the camp and kept in an isolated room for god knows how long. Your stomach was in knots during the entire situation and you could feel the cold sweat on you. That mixed with the metallic taste on your tongue you knew this time your anxiety was justified. You were almost dizzy because of how hard you were thinking about the entire situation and trying to make sense of it.

When you heard the door of the room open you jumped up, discarding on the floor a makeshift blanket that had been placed on your shoulders when you got there. Your legs almost gave out at the movement and your heart felt like it was going to burst out.

The door opened enough for you to see who had been searching for you. Natasha stepped through the door still dressed in her tactic gear and with tiredness written all over her face. But that feeling seemed to almost disappear when she finally saw you.

With quick movements she stepped into the room and wrapped her arms around you tightly. For some reason that action was the trigger that you needed to let all your emotions consume you.

You started sobbing uncontrollably at the unknown. You didn’t understand what happened or how you are here, but feeling her embrace helped you feel safe in a way. It had been years since you last hugged her but it still felt as good as back in 2015.

You could hear Natasha’s soothing shushes in between your sobs and you moved to hold her tighter.

“You are here. I can’t believe I found you again.” She spoke softly and you didn’t know if she was speaking to you or herself. “It’s okay darling. I’m here and I’m not letting you go again. I promise.”

And with that promise a ray of hope made way between all the fear you felt.

Missouri, 2025.

Soft music could be heard all around the ground floor of the house. The soft beat was upbeat enough to get the morning started but not enough to be overwhelming if you had just woken up. You were sitting on the kitchen island looking at the news on your phone and having breakfast.

Mornings were usually very calm around the homestead and you couldn’ be more thankful for that. It allowed you to silently prepare your breakfast and coffee and get a headstart on Natasha’s breakfast too.

Since she had retired, Natasha had discovered a newfound love for sleeping in and you didn’t dare to take that away from her. She deserved it from all the work she had done in her life.

You, meanwhile, tried to get up early to scroll through the cases that you got in your new and smaller job and schedule meetings or emails.

It was a Saturday so work wasn’t a thing and you could actually enjoy your toast and coffee in peace. Or at least until a pair of arms wrapped themselves around your middle and pulled you back against Natasha.

“Good morning baby, how did you sleep?”

“Like a baby.” You could feel her smile when she kissed your cheek from behind. “You weren’t there when I woke up though.”

You shrugged before moving to get a bite out of your toast. Natasha tried to do the same but you quickly moved it away from her with a smile. She tried again and you moved as fast as your reflexes allowed you.

“C’mon baby, give me a bite” “No, it’s my toast. You can make your own.” “But it tastes better when you make it.” “No it doesn’t, don’t be lazy.”

The playful fight continued for a few moments until she got close enough to get a small bit but you moved it again.

“Don’t make me bite you, darling.”

You chuckled at her threat and plopped the remaining toast on the plate in front of you. Breakfast didn’t matter much anymore. You threw yourself into her arms and pressed your lips against hers. It wasn’t a slow and sensual kiss, it was closer to how small kids smooch their parents. But you knew it would convey your love more deeply.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Nat.” You spoke against her lips and squaked when you felt her playfully nip at your bottom lip.

“Is now a good time?”

That question had become recurring in your household, a nod to the phrase you said when you found eachother again after being separated the first time.

“I couldn’t think of a more perfect time.”

And you couldn’t. The rest of your life spent in a homestead with your girlfriend and whatever life might bring? It sounded absolutely delightful.

Taglist: @tagehaya @flyforeverfree @rooskaya-yelena @evalynanne @insanitybyanothername @princessayveke @yelenabelovasgf @kyli314

#natasha romanov x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow imagine #marvel imagine #marvel fic #marvel x reader

[redpandaramblings]

The Art of Blind Dates. Deku x GN! Reader

This piece was written for @rat-zuki 's the deku agenda escapes no one collab. Happy Birthday to our favorite broccoli.

Content warning- This fic rated PG-13. Aged up characters, Allusions to sexual activity, swearing, gender neutral reader.

“You know, we really have to stop meeting like this.”

You jumped, the spray can you had been using left an unsightly streak of bright red across your masterpiece. You scowled behind your mask as you turned to face the man who had spoken.

“We do. You keep making me mess up my hard work!”

You smirked, pleased with yourself as you saw Deku, the number one pro hero, recoil at the sight of your mask. It had taken a few weeks to convert the All Might mask into an ahegao face, but it was worth it if it horrified your number one pain in the ass. Izuku blinked a few times, sighing and bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was clearly choosing to ignore your choice of disguise.

“I wouldn’t have to mess with your work if you chose to do things that were, you know, actually legal? You’re talented, Brushstroke. You could get paid to do murals or something instead of…” Deku gestured towards your latest creation. You were rather proud of it. It had taken a good amount of planning to manage to paint a fifty foot tall mural of pro hero Dynamight mooning the city with the bold caption ‘The Hero Commision can kiss my ass.’ It would be perfect if not for the red streak from where Deku had startled you. With a contemplative hum you shook your spray can and quickly turned the offending mark into a cartoonish lipstick print. Midoriya sighed heavily. “I’m standing right here, you know.”

“I know.” You grinned behind your mask. The voice distorter you used did nothing to hide your chipper tone. “I also know you like it. And you can’t tell me Dynamight wouldn’t love it. He literally said that on live interview!”

“Yes, but not with his pants down to his knees.”

You bent over, throwing your cans of spray paint and climbing gear into your duffle bag. It wouldn’t do for your nemesis to get his hands on some of the tools you used. Mei’s stamp was all over it.

“Which is such a shame. The man’s got cake for days.” You chuckled as Deku pulled a face.

He observed you, hands on his hips. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Away, obviously.” You said as you threw the strap of your dufflebag across you.

“And I’m just going to let you go?”

“Oh no. You’re going to chase me like you always do. And I’m going to escape like I always do. And it’s going to drive you crazy because you can’t figure out how I keep doing it.” You began stretching, exaggerating each movement.

“A teleportation quirk isn’t that hard to figure out.” Izuku began stretching as well, rolling his shoulders and popping joints.

“Guess again.” You sing songed, bouncing on your toes.

“Wouldn’t have to guess if you just told me.”

“But that’s no fun. Unfortunately, I do have to be going. Catch you later, hot stuff!” And with a sprint, you raced to the side of the building and jumped off before activating your quirk.

Time slowed around you. It was like you were hovering in the air instead of falling. Freeze Frame was a quirk you had learned to perfect over the years. Between the quirk and the assorted gadgets in your bag and on your person, it was definitely enough to baffle the number one pro hero. Speaking of, you better work quickly before your quirk wore off and splatted you across the sidewalk.

Freeze Frame was named after what your quirk looked like from the outside. It was as if you teleported, or you had frozen time around you for everyone except yourself. In reality, you were a speedster. When your quirk was active, you were able to move at speeds so fast you were undetectable to others, and to you it seemed like everything was paused in time. You probably could have been a phenomenal hero or villain if you wanted. But currently, it was much more fun to thwart a certain green haired man.

With a press of a button, you deployed a grappling hook, snagging it on the building across the alley. You swung over, keeping a countdown in your head. Would you be lucky enough and have time to…? Yes. There! A balcony door was cracked open slightly. You gracefully landed on the balcony and used the door to slip into what appeared to be someone’s bedroom, thankfully unoccupied at the moment. Taking no chances though, you slip into the closet just as the effects of your quirk wear off. The other reason you had never turned to heroism or villainy- no matter how much you trained, you could only keep your quirk activated for ten seconds at a time. It wasn’t a lot. Plus you could only activate your quirk a couple dozen times a day without getting seriously ill. But it still was usually more than enough to be able to give any law enforcement the slip. Just like now.

Deku curses as he runs to the edge of the roof. You’re nowhere to be seen. “Brushstroke! Get back here, you damn brat!” He shouted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. One of these days he was going to figure out your quirk and how to counteract it. And when that day comes he was going to take you over his knee and… No. He shook his head, blushing to clear his thoughts. What to do with you. Well, he wasn’t sure yet. You weren’t a villain, really. More of a public nuisance. The murals you did showed a lot of talent and a good chunk of the population agreed with the social commentary behind them. But that didn’t change that you had painted ten foot tall asscheeks on a building without permission. And, technically, it was within his job description to apprehend you. “Brushstroke!” Deku called again as he made his way down to the ground. There was no sign of you anywhere. Invisibility quirk maybe? Though it would be unusual if you could turn all the stuff you had been wearing and carrying invisible as well.

Meanwhile, as Izuku was getting lost in thought, you were getting naked. You stripped out of your gear and paint covered smock, moving as quickly as you dared while still remaining quiet in your hidden location. Just because the bedroom had been empty doesn’t mean the rest of the place was, after all. You shoved everything into your dufflebag, pulling out a clean set of clothing from a zippered pocket. Getting changed was a simple affair, as was ruffling your hair, messily getting it to look like a different style. One of your favorite tricks happened when you pushed a hidden button on the edge of your duffle bag. The previously dull gray bag quickly morphed into a loud riot of tye dyed color. Chameleon bags, Hatsume called them. Still in a prototype stage, your friend and employer would probably make a mint on them if you put them on the market. After a final brush off and deciding you looked acceptably civilian, you peeked out the closet door. The bedroom was still empty. You crept out slowly. The balcony wasn’t a feasible exit anymore. Not without the gear you had had to store away. You were going to have to sneak out the front door. You activated your quirk, feeling a little queasy at having to use it again so quickly in succession. It was simple to race through the apartment and out into the hall within your short time limit. In fact, with your speed, you were easily able to exit the entire apartment complex. You still had a few seconds to spare when you shot out the door. You grinned at seeing the number one pro hero standing in the middle of the street. You knew you shouldn’t do what you were thinking. Instead you should use your last few spare seconds to put some distance between yourself and the large, green haired man. Instead, you quickly dug around in your bag and found your tube of lipstick. You applied a nice thick coat as you waltzed up to him. With a giggle, you planted a firm smacking kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a clear and perfect lip print. With a grin, you hurried back to the apartment complex. It was easy to make it seem like you were just coming out of the door as time snapped back to its proper speed. You watched, hiding your smirk as you observed the clearly frustrated hero scanning the crowds for any sign of you. His eyes passed right over you, barely giving you a glance. You almost felt hurt that he thought your normal look was that unremarkable. But that was the point, after all. As Deku continued to call out for your pseudonym, you turned and walked away, blending into the crowd. You were almost out of earshot when you heard a loud cursing exclamation that would have been more in character for a certain blond hero. You bite your knuckle to muffle your laughter. Someone had informed Deku of the lipstick mark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sipped from a bottle of water as you watched Mei work her magic. It was strangely relaxing to watch her in her element. Though it seemed chaotic the first few times you had witnessed your friend work, there was a clear method to the madness if you just knew where to look. And you knew exactly where to look now that you had been working with her for the past three years. You were simply listed as one of her assistants. Most days that involved a random jumble of cleaning, paperwork, schedule management, and coffee making. The real reason Hatsume loved having you around however, was days like this.

“Okay! Set!” She chirped happily. “You good to go now?”

You nodded as you slid down, and walked into the testing area. “Remind me what I’m looking for again?”

“Well, obviously the usual. Make sure it’s not lethal, of course. And then I want to make sure the grid is deploying at the right time. Should be about a quarter second after detonation.”

“As long as everything looks good, want me to be full blown dummy this time?”

Hatsume tilted her head, and considered a moment before nodding. “Yeah, should be fine. Have the explosive levels where they should be. If anything messes up it’s going to be the grid deploying too soon or too late and not restraining you right.”

You gave her a thumbs up as you got into position. She counted down, though that didn’t matter much to you, honestly. One of the best perks of your quirk was that it gave you insane reflexes. You waited until the moment you saw the detonation begin to happen and activated your quirk.

As usual, it felt like time slowed to a crawl around you. Hollywood directors would give a kidney to have access to the detailed slow motion you could experience every day for free. You walked around the device, looking it over. It was meant to be a capture aid for pro hero Cellophane, a small explosive that would shoot nets of tape in all directions. It had to be safe and effective. Better to have a few civilians stuck to the walls than to risk letting a villain escape, after all. You peered into the explosion that was slowly rippling outward. Everything looked good so far… Yep, there were the grids starting to deploy. Sure that everything was safe, you deactivated your quirk and instantly were thrown backward and stuck to a padded wall of the testing room.

“Looked great!” You called as Hatsume entered the room. “I think you’ve finally got it!”

While she cheered and began praising her baby for performing so well, you tried wiggling. No luck. You were stuck rather firmly. Apparently she had upped the strength of the adhesive. After a minute, Hatsume finally noticed your struggles.

“Oh good!” She chirped. “Looks like the new formula is holding up nicely. I mean, I still need to test it out against, like strength and fire quirks, but looking good so far.”

“Little help, please?” You ask, giving her a look.

“Maybe in a bit.” She said, turning her back and leaving you there, pinned. “Want to test how long it holds. Besides, I have some questions about your last escapade and how my babies held up.”

You let out a resigned sigh. Of course. Your friend had found out about your after hours hobby about a year and a half ago. Instead of discouraging you, it hadn’t surprised you that much when she blackmailed you. She wouldn’t tell the police or heroes…. If you used some of her experimental babies on your future excursions. You had been dubious. Hatsume’s babies could be a little dangerous in the prototype stage. But it ended up working great! Your pieces went from small tagging jobs to huge fifty foot murals. Though that had caught the attention of a few public figures, including a certain green haired pain in your ass.

“I didn’t use anything directly against Deku this time.” You sighed, going limp to test if the tape would hold your weight. It did. “Grappling hook works great. The painter drones are okay for filling in large areas, but aren’t able to do clean lines well. The gecko boots continue to be amazing, but the gloves need a lot of work. The control for when they release still isn’t great.”

Hatsume nodded, quickly making notes about everything you said. There was a bit of a quick back and forth where she asked questions and you answered. Though ten minutes passed and you were still stuck to the wall. She eventually sets her notes aside and turns to face you fully. “So,” she drawls. “You saw Deku again.”

“I always see Deku nowadays!” You groan. “I swear Mei, if I find out you’re tipping him off or something...”

“Aww, come on! He’s nice! Would you rather be dealing with Dynamight?”

You frowned, not meeting her gaze. “I mean, the variety might be nice?”

“You like that with the help of my babies you’re able to out fox the number one pro hero, admit it!”

“It might be a little satisfying,” you mutter.

“And it doesn’t hurt that he’s hot either! Heard you two get all flirty during chases. The tabloids loved the kiss mark, by the way. Enjoy finally kissing him?”

“Hatsume!” you groan. “Subject change, please! Anything else!”

“Anything?” she grins at you.

“Oh god, I’m going to regret this.”

“It’s not that bad, I promise! Just, would you be interested in a blind date?”

You blink. “A date?”

“Yeah! One of my friends from school has a lot of trouble meeting people organically. You know how the industry is. Ridiculous schedules, maintaining reputation, trying to make sure they like you for you and aren’t just a fan.”

“Yeah… I guess I can understand that.”

“Well, I just think you and him would be a great fit! He’s a huge nerd in a lot of the same ways you are, but a real good guy once you get past the awkward. Plus,” Hatsume dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper “I happen to know for a fact that he’s a fan of Brushstroke’s work.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “You know it’s extortion to try to get me to agree when you have me literally taped to a wall.”

“I know!” Hatsume chirped happily. “So are you going to agree? I made the adhesive pretty strong this time. Who knows how long it would take to wear off on it’s own?”

“Bitch!” You can’t help laughing. “Alright, alright, I’ll go. Just get me down from here!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You fidgeted with the ring you were wearing as you stared at the building in front of you. Maybe it wasn’t too late to bail? You don’t know exactly what you had been expecting when Hatsume had told you about the somewhat shy, nerdy man she had set you up with, but you hadn’t expected him to choose the fanciest restaurant in town as your date location. You were wearing your best and still felt underdressed. Well, if the date was a disaster, at least you knew what building you were going to spray paint next. The glistening white exterior would make for a great canvas. You chuckled quietly at your own thoughts.

Squaring your shoulders, you took a deep breath and marched in. You could do this. You were an infamous tagger. You faced off against the number one pro hero regularly. Your day job was working with Hatsume. You’ve got this. With an air of newfound confidence, you gave your name to the maitre d. It was a surprise when you were led through the restaurant to one of their private curtained rooms. This guy you’d been set up with was apparently going all out. Maybe you were going to like him after all, you thought as you were ushered in. Then you looked up.

Fuck.

Standing to greet you with a stupidly flustered look on his damn stupid handsome face was your nemisis. The number one thorn in your proverbial side. The giant broccoli himself.

That BITCH had set you up with Izuku Midoriya!

You froze. In the back of your mind you were aware that your mouth was hanging open. The green haired man shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Hi,” he said quietly, scratching the back of his head.

You continued to stare.

He cleared his throat, glancing to the side. “Sorry about the secrecy, but I think it’s understandable.”

You nodded weakly.

Izuku bit his lip. You realized with a start that he might be even more nervous than you are. As much as you planned to murder Hatsume later, this wasn’t Midoriya’s fault. You could get through this date at least. Eat some expensive food, drink the best wines, make some meaningless conversation, say your goodbyes, and then go home to plot the demise of your former best friend. Long, slow painful demise. Good thing about being an artist, you had lots of traps, so clean up should be easy. Looking at the worried expression on Izuku’s face, you realize with a start that you still haven’t actually said anything to him. You open your mouth to offer some sort of generic greeting. But what comes out is-

“I’m going to fucking murder Mei!”

Izuku blinks. Blinks again. Then he starts laughing loudly. He leans one hand on the table as he cackles. You stare before starting to chuckle yourself. Soon you’re both wheezing with laughter. You both slump into your seats, trying to collect yourselves. Midoriya speaks first.

“Yeah, I… I get that. I’d think that’s a common emotion when hanging around Hatsume.”

You can’t help your smile. “Only at least half of the time. But that’s what makes it fun. No one else like her.”

“That’s for sure.” Izuku leaned back in his seat, looking you over like he’s studying you. “So, I suppose we should actually introduce ourselves. I’m Izuku Midoriya. I do hero work.”

You laugh. “Y/N Y/L/N. I work for Mei and freelance art when I can.”

“Art, huh? What kind of stuff do you do?”

You’re briefly interrupted by the arrival of the first course. After the waiter leaves, Deku apologies. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to order for you, but this is one of those places where you pay them and they tell you what you’re going to eat.”

“It’s fine.” You say as you stare at the delicate wisp of some sort of thinly shaved vegetable with a dollop of strangely colored foam on top.

“You were saying what kind of art you do?” Deku cautiously was poking at the tiny fancy appetizer.

“A few different things really, but my passion is mural work. Latest job was in a maid cafe. They wanted something cute and floral, but they let me do what I wanted within that theme.”

The night continued on and was surprisingly easy. The food was delicious, the wine was better, and you were pleasantly surprised by the company. Maybe it was the wine softening you up, but as you looked across the table where Izuku was animatedly talking about how influential All Might’s example had been for him, you admitted to yourself that the green haired man was very handsome. And funny. And interesting. And you were trying very hard not to think about the way Midoriya’s large scarred hand wrapped around the delicate wine glass. It was a surprise when the final course was finished and Izuku was quietly taking care of the bill. He escorted you out of the building and you both stood awkwardly outside. Deku cleared his throat.

“If it’s not presuming too much, I’m not quite ready for tonight to end. Is it alright if I walk you home?”

“I’d like that. Like that a lot, actually.”

He smiled at you, and it was like the sun. You walked and talked animatedly. The conversation was so easy and fun, and a little flirty. Somewhere along the way your hands brushed together and holding hands became the most natural thing in the world. Time flew by as you walked together, your true destination long forgotten. You were only brought back to reality when out of the corner of your eye you saw a massive mural of pro hero asscheeks. When Izuku saw what you were looking at, he groaned.

“Could you please not check out my friend’s ass while we’re on a date?” He joked, gently elbowing your ribs. You laughed.

“I mean, you can’t blame me. It’s hard to miss.” You made a mental note to tell Mei that her paint formula was holding up beautifully.

“It’s a little embarrassing. Brushstroke is talented and all, but every mural is a time I couldn’t catch them.”

Maybe it was the wine still buzzing through your system. Maybe it was the thrill of it. Maybe you just wanted to see those beautiful green eyes widen. But you couldn’t help the next words out of your mouth.

“Well you might have an easier time if you ever actually figured my quirk out.”

“Yeah I…” He stopped. Stared. “You…” He stared harder, pulling away slightly as he looked your figure up and down. “You!!!”

“Surprise?” You laughed, and grinned at him. He was always so handsome when he was angry. You weren’t scared at all as he hauled you close.

“Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?”

“Pretty good idea, actually.”

“You’ve been leading me on goose chases for months!”

You grinned “Yes, will be our anniversary soon.”

Izuku groaned as he wrapped his arms around your waste. “You irredeemable brat!”

You would have replied, but in the next second he was fiercely smashing his mouth against yours. The kiss started harsh and desperate. The results of months of teasing and flirting. It gentled as the two of you stood there in the night, soft and sweet and full of affection the two of you had yet to put into words. The thought occurred to you that you’d have to thank Mei later. Your eyes opened as the two of you pulled away for breath. You started giggling almost immediately. Izuku pressed his forehead against yours.

“What’s so funny, darling?”

You smirked. “I never thought we’d have our first kiss while being mooned by Dynamight.”

Izuku groaned loudly before sweeping you up into his arms. You squawked and clung to him.

“That’s it.” He rumbled. “I’m going to spank you when I get you home, you fucking brat.”

“Promise?” you giggled.

You didn’t mind in the least when he shut you up with another kiss.

#the deku agenda escapes no one collab #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x reader #deku x y/n #deku x you #gender neutral reader #izuku midoria x reader #aged up characters #bnha reader insert

[gaitwae]

Hello!! Mob!thor au please. You’re a successful and rising businesswoman and it’s your first time going to those rich people galas, there you catch thor’s eye and you spend the whole evening with him. Thank yew, stay safe😽😽

A/N: You have no idea how much I've been wanting to write this!! This is a Thor x F!Reader (anon requested businesswoman uwu)

Warnings: Slight harassment from Thor, implied only. Also a slight kidnapping. Non-threatening

Summary: Above!

Tags: @make-me-imagine @thorfanficwriter @bwemph @myraiswack @rorybutnotgilmore @loki-snape-our-hero @wolfish-trickster @lucywrites02 @mostly-marvel-musings @winterfrostsarmy @superheroesandstardust @castiels-majestic-wings @geekns @natandersonnla @cozy-the-overlord @megthemewlingquim @frostedgiant @whatafuckingdumbass @thebookbakery @delightfulheartdream @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @the-emo-asgardian @amwolowicz @itscomplicatedx @sophlubbwriting @darkacademicfrom2021 @lilyofthesword 

You had picked the perfect evening gown. It billowed behind you, and you received many compliments from it. It was your favorite color, and it matched your complexion. You had done up your hair. You carried your clutch tightly to your side. Although you were sure the rumors were only rumors, if there was any place they’d be disproved, it was at the Marvel Gala.

It was hosted every year by Tony Stark. He took business seriously. On top of the Asgardian mob rumors, you had heard he had some deals with the Odinson family. Whether or not the Odinson family ran a mob, they were still dangerous in court. Their lawsuit could mean the loss of your entire company. You shivered to yourself, glad that you had yet to make any sort of dealings with Valaskjalf Enterprises. 

You grabbed a flute of champagne off of a tray. You tried not to down the whole thing at once, but this was a nerve-wracking experience. You could make acquaintances that could — no, would — change your entire career. You smoothed your dress out in hopes of wiping your clammy hands away.

“Miss? Would you like to dance?” a deep voice asked behind you. You froze, slowly turning around.

Before you was a tall, broad, blond hunk of handsome with a thundering presence. He wore a crisp suit, and his face and hair were kept in an almost pretty manner. He was elegant, yet bold. He was massive, but perfect. You tried not to stare, but you found you couldn’t blink. The man smirked, extending his hand.

“Miss?” he laughed.

You shook yourself out of your daze, remembering why you were at the gala in the first place. “I apologize; who are you?” you asked, smiling awkwardly. “I don’t like to dance without knowing someone’s name.”

“My name is Thor,” he said. You set your flute down on an empty tray passing by, taking his hand. He tugged you to the dancefloor. “What is your name?”

“I’m Y/N L/N,” you say. “I’m the CEO of—”

“I know what company,” he cut you off, his eyes lighting up. “I was rather impressed when Father told us how far your little company had been progressing. Had I known the simple surname I’d been hearing was yours, why, I don’t even think we would be standing here.” He chuckled darkly. He began swaying with you as the music swelled. You shook at his tone. What could that mean? Who was Thor? “The other family business would have contacted you. You have a lot of potential at L/N Advancements.”

Oh.

Of course.

“You’re... Forgive me, I should have remembered. Thor Odinson,” you said nervously. You shook your head, unable to meet his eyes. Of course, the mobster would find you. Of course, the mobster would find you! Of course!

“Yes. I’ll assure you, no rumors you’ve heard are quite like the real deal.” He snaked his hand to the small of your back. “My brother often likes to... exaggerate our side company’s deals. I should really get you back to the business talk, but I want to keep you to myself a little longer.” Thor grinned a model’s grin. “Unless you’re scared of me, that is.”

“Oh, I’m not scared of you,” you said. You realized you still had your clutch in your grasp. That alone disproved your point. Thor took it from you, setting it on an empty table.

“You aren’t?”

“Maybe I was scared of getting mugged,” you admitted. “It’s silly.”

“I think the only thing you should be scared of is how you’re getting home tomorrow,” he flirted, pulling you closer. Much, much closer.

You put distance between yourself and the heir of Valaskjalf. “I don’t do that. I won’t. Sorry. I barely know you, and I’ve worked too hard to slip up or give in. I hope you can understand.”

Thor, who was taking the rejection as if it never happened, only smiled brighter. “You’re scared that I’ll take L/N Advancements away from you with just a night together?”

“I’m scared your father might decide I’m not worth trading with once he finds out I’ve done a little more than speak with his son,” you said in your firmest tone. Thor laced your fingers. You didn’t pull away from that.

“But he might decide you’re worth keeping around.” He stroked your cheek, moving to his own beat now. The music didn’t match your rhythm, but it was still as intoxicating. “I could get rid of all your enemies, you know. I could make you untouchable.”

“I’m not interested,” you said. You shook your head. “I need a drink.”

“You just downed a whole flute of champagne!” he tsked. 

“I still need one.” You lingered in Thor’s presence. He smelled of petrichor and fine cologne and a tiny bit of sulfur and something else that you couldn’t pick out. He hummed happily, as if he were drunk. He didn’t smell of alcohol, but his behavior could fool you in a second. 

“You’re quite the prey,” he murmured. “I’ll get you a drink. I’ll get you multiple.”

“I can get my own drink,” you insisted. “Please, Mr. Odinson, I’m happy to be by myself.”

“You should relax,” he, too, insisted. He gripped your upper arms, taking you in once again. “Really. Don’t let your fear stop you from having fun.”

“I’ll do what I like.” You tore away from Thor. “Thank you fror the dance, but I have to go talk to Tony Stark and Steve Rogers.”

“Have fun mingling!” He caught your hand and kissed it. You felt your belly set itself on fire. Did Thor want one night? Clearly. But what did he want from a night? Did he want information about your business? Or did he want to take advantage? Did he want to use you, and let you use him in the same manner? “I’ll see you some other time, darling.”

“Don’t clear your schedule,” you warned. 

Thor chuckled, “I’ll remember that.”

That didn’t stop him from following you around all night. He was by your side as if he was your partner. Whatever he had decided, it wasn’t going to change without a piece of paper signed by a judge...

Given that he was admittedly not only part of the city’s biggest mob, but a higher member, you couldn’t obtain that.

+-+-- 

Months later, and after many calls from Thor Odinson (who you did not offer your personal number), you finally started to cave. You let him have dinner with you. You took walks in the city during the daytime. You found he was a sensitive person, and almost three years of talking and dancing and Marvel Galas came and went before your first kiss.

Thor took a small sip of white wine, staring at you with electric blue eyes that you always got lost in. “Did I ever apologize for our first meeting?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so,” you answered. “I didn’t think you cared enough to remember it...”

“If I wasn’t in love with you,” Thor began, “I wouldn’t have stayed for as long as I intend to.”

“It’s been three years,” you whispered. “How long do you intend to stay?”

Thor wet his lips. “As long as you let me.” He reached over, cupped your face, and brought your mouth to his.

That was when the first kidnapping happened.

The room was dark. Your hair was being pulled back by meaty hands behind you. Your clothes were torn, and your eyes wouldn’t stop shedding tears. 

“Ms. L/N,” a deep voice mused. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’m glad my brother has someone to entertain him that doesn’t include a mortal injury... Since that nurse hit him with her car, he hasn’t quite been the same.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked the voice, wheezing and stifling a sob. You sniffled. “I don’t know why I’m here...”

“You’re here so we can talk.” A small light switched on. You saw a raven-haired man sitting in a small chair, one leg crossed over the other like the Joker. “Do you intend on strengthening your company with my family’s conglomerate?”

“No,” you said. You were shaking. You tried to look back at the meaty hands that held your head, but whoever it was made sure you watched the man. “No, I want to make it with my own merit. I don’t want to be absorbed...”

“Do you plan on staying away from legal trouble by making my brother dearest your... intended?” he continued, pulling a gun from behind him. He cocked it, keeping his cool eyes on you. He aimed. “If I think you’re lying, I’ll shoot. And trust me... I know a liar when I see one.”

“No!” you said again. “No, I don’t!” 

His expression never changed. He rolled his neck, then studied you some more. “Name your favorite thing about Thor.”

“His laugh.” You gulped. “I love when he laughs... really laughs. When he doubles over, cries, and then giggles about it hours later.”

The man sat back, turning off the safety. “Name his favorite drink.”

“Locally brewed beer.”

“What’s my name?” His forefinger slipped in front of the trigger.

“Loki!” Thor’s voice came from outside the room. You sobbed again. The door swung open, and the man stood from his chair. Thor gripped his brother’s lapel, throwing him on the wall. “What do you think you’re doing?!” 

Loki growled, dropping the gun on its side. “It wasn’t loaded! Calm down! Jane only wanted to stay for the secrets, I was simply—”

“I don’t care!” he snapped. “You have no right to kidnap her!” He was nose-to-nose with Loki, shaking him as he spoke. 

“Thor!” you cried. He swerved his head, letting go of his brother to come and rescue you. He shoved the meaty hands off, throwing a solid punch.

“Come with me,” he said, lifting you into his arms. You wrapped your arms around him, shaking and trying not to cry too much. He held you tightly. He took Loki’s gun off the ground. “Don’t touch her. She’s nothing like Jane, and if you’d listen to me when I talk to you, Father wouldn’t have put you on lackey duty!”

“Take me out of here,” you whispered.

“I can’t,” Thor said. He kissed your head. “This is my life... I love you, but if you can’t handle this...”

You held him tightly. “We should talk about this later...”

#thor x reader #thor x y/n #gaitwae writes #thor #mcu thor #thor odinson #prince thor #thor of asgard #thor god of thunder #mob!thor #mob!avengers #mob!au #mob au #mob avengers #mob thor #mob boss thor #mob boss au #no smut #requests #asks #anon #thor prince of asgard

[hqcult]

PERFECT ## oikawa tooru

the air of perfection surrounding you makes him sick. you're worse than the geniuses he hates

. tw misogny, predatory behavior, smut, noncon/dubcon, slight dacryphilia, corruption kink, fingering . wc 1.2k

before his flight to argentina in a few months, oikawa made it a hobby to swing by his alma mater. 

iwa's too busy and he can't possibly bother his best friend when he's working so hard in college. so oikawa tooru goes alone. sometimes, he comes in early while the team's still there. maybe he'll even join matches for fun — coach irihata still has a soft spot for him, apparently. 

but most of the time he comes when the gym is empty; when there's an absence of the squeaking shoes and the ricocheting balls. it never fails to make his heart swell in nostalgia. ah, how he’ll miss this place terribly once he moves to argentina. 

something did change, though. 

oikawa wouldn't call it drastic but the first time he crashed their practice, he was all but pleasantly surprised to see the new aoba johsai manager. 

you were a pretty thing and the boys adore you a lot. you didn't look the type to apply as manager just to score an athlete boyfriend nor did you seem to have any other objective other than taking care of the team. oikawa can say as much because he could see how the new captain looks at you and the way you purposely try to keep things platonic. friendly. you don't let yahaba, or anyone in the team, go the extra mile for you.

and the fact that you can miraculously keep kyoutani in check is the cherry on top. while the said player is still rough around the edges, he learned how to listen to you and the last time kyoutani ever listened to anyone was months ago, when iwaizumi was still in the team. 

team morale is high when you're there to support them on the sidelines. in your white and turquoise tracksuit yet still managing to look attractive. yahaba's got quite the patience, if oikawa do say so himself. 

you were like some sort of goddess to them. it's sickening how dewy-eyed his ex-teammates would get whenever you smile and hand them their water bottles. it was too good to be true. you were too good to be true. there has got to be some sort of conspiracy behind this whole ordeal. 

"oikawa-san, i didn't think you'd be here at this hour."

he turns around at the sound of your voice. there you stood in casual clothes, hair tied up and face bare. with the harsh angles the moonlight created together with the poor lighting of the gym, you look normal. not an air of that perfection he’s always seen circulating around you. 

"how did you get in? only yahaba and i have the keys."

you saunter closer and it wasn't a wise move on your part. while you have aoba johsai as the same denominator, the alumnus was still practically a stranger. quick exchanges of acknowledgments aren't exactly sufficient to get to know someone. let alone be friends with. but you never once thought any of that. how naive.

he smiles as you finally stood next to him. you can't help the slight dread pool in your stomach at the sight of it. with his tall lean frame that can easily overpower you, the smile looked more ominous than friendly. 

"bold of you to assume i gave the keys back. why do you think shigeru had to duplicate them again for you?"

you didn't see it coming, the arm oikawa slings around your shoulders before pulling you flush against him. you would've lost your balance if you hadn't clutched the lapels of his coat. 

"can it be…" his plush lips graze the shell of your ear as he whispers. "our little secret, cutie?"

warning bells are going off in your head. it tells you to run and stay the fuck away from him but you did nothing of the sort, had only forced a polite smile and swiftly ducked around to get his arm off you. 

this is oikawa tooru we're talking about. 

yeah, you know he's quite the ladies man but you doubt he'd go... that far, especially if he knows the person's uncomfortable. not to mention, you're part of the volleyball team! you're managing his past team. surely, maybe, the familial bond extended to you too despite only joining their little family this year. you were just being paranoid. you were reading into it too much. 

"uhm, yes. of-of course."

oikawa does have to admit, seeing little miss perfect stutter and avert her eyes from him did wonders to his ego. well, now you don't look anything like the goddess his ex-team worships. you're not exuding the same level of confidence or reliability that you always carry yourself with. you look unsure of yourself. powerless in the face of real dominance. 

"why are you here?"

"i…" is it really wise for you to say why? "i forgot the team's record notebook in the girl's locker room. i need to pass a summary of it to coach tomorrow.”

oikawa smiles, eyes comically lighting up in excitement before slinging a heavy, oppressive arm around you again. "ooh, i'll come with!"

you walk with shoulders slightly folded in and the ex-captain likes you like this. all meek and submissive. he daresay you look prettier compliant and not like a self-entitled princess who thinks she shouldn't bother being romantically involved with an athlete. he still thinks you were bitchy and idiotic for friend zoning yahaba of all people. he thought you should be very thankful for getting noticed by his junior. 

but oh well, at least oikawa gets to have a go. 

to witness firsthand what the fuss about you is all about.

you wanted to shrug his arm away and he knows that but he won't do it. the fact that you're struggling to even speak up about it makes him smirk. see, now you know your place. as you should. sometimes, girls like you who get silly little ideas in their head should be reminded of where they truly stand in the food chain. oikawa is more than glad to be the one reminding you. 

you told him to wait outside while you sauntered into the girls' locker room and oikawa smiles that innocent smile before nodding. 

a prey really shouldn't have turned her back on a predator.

just as you picked up your blue notebook on the bench, the resounding lock of the door clicking shut sounded too loud in a closed-off space. "oikawa—'

"you know, i'd really appreciate if we drop formalities. i think screaming tooru while i fuck you sound way better. makes things more intimate, dontcha think?"

he was onto you before you even got the chance to turn around. the notebook you were holding drops to the ground as he grabs hold of your wrists, his leg swiping at your ankles to tackle you to the ground. he's quick. the floor is hard and cold when your back crashes into it. you wince, the shock of what's happening yet to register in your system. never before thinking that this sort of thing will happen to you.

oikawa isn't as cruel or disgusting as you think. you were both legal adults. he knows. after all, he was there when the team decided to throw you a surprise birthday party on your 18th. he was also there from around the corner, eavesdropping when yahaba pulled you aside and confessed his feelings to you and you had the fucking audacity to turn him down. 

he doesn't want to call this revenge, not when he'd still do it whether or not shigeru had confessed. 

you were from a different breed of people. worse than geniuses. you are so disgustingly perfect in every sense of the word that it's so fucking unfair. it fueled jealousy more severe than he ever felt from tobio or ushiwaka. 

because people aren't perfect. people aren't meant to be perfect. even oikawa himself is far from it so why should you be any different from him? you're nothing special. you're ordinary just like him. you don't deserve it. you're not even working hard enough like oikawa to fucking deserve it!

you were red in the face when he took a good look at your pinned form underneath him. your eyes are glossy but held fierce contempt as you meet his gaze, your lips sealed shut in a straight line. you were trying to hold yourself back from crying and it only fuels the fire of his anger. 

"what, think i'm not worth your tears?" he growls, a hand coming up to pull your hair. he sits atop you, his legs pinning yours down as he straddles your hips. "think you're so high and mighty that you won't cry for your oh so dependable oikawa-san?" he purposely makes his voice high-pitched like a girl, copying you spitefully. 

"that’s fine, i can give you a real reason to cry."

he rips your flimsy shorts off and ogles at your cute panties. pink with little bows? how innocent. 

his large hand covers your mouth, the heavy pressure keeping your head in place as his other hand cups your sex. the heat of his palms makes you squirm. already simulating the sensitive nerves and you poorly try shaking your head in denial. because no no no your body shouldn't be enjoying it!

"ou're a real piece of work, (name)-chan," he starts, voice conversation as he nudges your underwear aside, the flat of his thumb drawing lazy circles against your bare clit. "why pretend you don't like it? it's okay to accept pleasure from ordinary people like me. you're plain and average at best too, you know."

with both his hands occupied, you can freely try pushing him away but it's futile. he's too strong and your head is starting to ache with how hard he's pressing it against the floor. 

his blissful expression peeves you out entirely. he doesn't look regretful in the slightest. "you should really get off of that high horse, cutie. stop pushing me away. silly little girls like you belong like this, underneath a capable and powerful man to protect you."

you pant, the ministrations on your clit too good but you don't let it blind you. 

"fuck yo—"

but oikawa doesn't let you finish. he swoops in for a kiss, a hand holding your jaw firmly in place so you can't bite him. a particular hard nudge on your clit makes you gasp instinctively and his tongue invades your mouth. he's a good kisser. so damn skilled from all the girls he's kissed before you. maybe if circumstances had been different, you'd have butterflies in your stomach. 

"aw," he coos against your lips. "i see. little miss perfect wants me to fuck her? how cute."

you thrash and squirm, a pathetic sneer on your face as he holds you down with ease. all it takes is one firm hold against your shoulder as he nibbles on your neck, kissing and suckling at your skin until they turn purple and red. he placed them in positions he knows you can never cover even with the official aoba johsai uniform. why would you cover them anyway? you should wear his hickeys with confidence! it's the one evidence to show he even bothered himself with you so you should be grateful to him!

"let go of me, you jer—!"

"i don't think i'll suck on your tits today, cutie. no time. let's get to the fucking already then, yeah?" 

you absolutely hate his voice. it's the signature high-pitched and childlike tone partnered with that goofy smile of his. a facade he always wears when dealing with other people. a show he's mastered to an artform. he looks awfully unbothered by how wrong this is and it chills you to the bone. 

"oikawa-san—please—"

"i told you it's tooru!" he whines, pouting. "how many times do i have to tell you?"

panic seizes you when his ankles hook around your legs to force them open. he hears none of your pleas and shoves two long fingers up your pussy. there's a slight stinging feeling as he looks for that one spot that'll make you succumb, make you admit defeat. 

"if you want my dick inside this pussy you better call me by my given name or you won't cum, baby girl~" he says in a sing-song tone.

"who the fuck told you i wanted your—shit."

your toes curl and your back arches when his fingers grazed around a certain area. you didn't have time to feel betrayed by your body's reaction as the man on top of you chuckles condescendingly, angling his fingers so he hits the spot in every single thrust. "you like that, don't you? you like what my fingers are doing."

"no!"

"no?" oikawa repeats, measured. with a flick of his wrist, he has his thumb pressing firmly against the sensitive nerves of your puffy clit again and he watches you writhe, lose yourself to pleasure, moaning and whining so wantonly under him. "but cutie, i don't think that's what your body is telling me."

you cringe in disgust when his hot tongue laps at the falling tears in your eyes before whispering against your ear. breathy, and desperate, and ever so patronizing. you don't hear the zipper of his pants going down, nor did you realize he wasn't even bothering to hold you down anymore. good. that's a good start. baby steps, oikawa thinks. for someone who sat in a make-shift throne worshipped by hormonal teen athletes for so long, serving the one great king will be a huge reset for you. 

when he enters, it's a tight fit. of-fucking-course you're a virgin. always staying true to that little miss perfect reputation, huh? sweet and gorgeous but humble and demure. you probably had the same shitty old school belief of staying pure 'till marriage. it makes him harder, makes his length throb and ache with the desire to taint, to soil, to fuck you until that good girl image is stripped away and all you can think about in every waking moment of your useless life is your tooru's big fat cock. your pure lips only producing the most sinful of words to satiate his deepest desires—"fuck me hard, tooru!" "make me your whore, tooru!" "i want to feel all of you, tooru!" "i want your cock so bad, tooru! please please please!"

your longing cries of defeat, the lewd sound of skin slapping, oikawa's pornographic moans—it's a wicked symphony crafted by prodigies. "go on, cutie. cry for me. cry, and cry, and cry, 'til you don't have anything left inside you but your sorry tears and my cum!"

little miss perfect? no. you're his little cockwhore.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere hq #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa x reader #toxichours #(❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) mine ༉‧ #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x tooru #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw predator #tw corruption #tw dacryphilia #tw misogyny