#girl sure does know how to make a spectacle

[pacifymebby]

Maybe an imagine for the Peaky Blinders where at some point they got intimate with their girlfriend in the boys’ office and while they were distracted she put her underwear in his gun cabinet. Would love to know how they react when they’re just sitting at their desk and they go to reach for it one day and just find a really sexy pair of undies in there as well😂

I have been writing this for so so so so so so so so so long I think it was one of the first requests I got back in November and I'm so sorry it's taken me this long. It's been sitting in my drafts for months. But here it is, this was actually so much fun to write and I really enjoyed it. I just needed to be in a specific mood to write it i think? I really hope you're still here on my blog anon and that u finally get to enjoy the request :'(

Tommy

🌿 Tommy is only mildly surprised to find your underwear in the draw of his desk. You're always getting up to no good, trying to push his buttons... You're a little minx really, always trying to get his attention... So this is exactly the kind of thing you might do...

🌿He knows exactly why you did it too... Since getting into politics he's had to spend more and more time away from home, always on trips to London, never at home, with you... He knows he's been neglecting you

🌿So, he sends for you, calls you into his office quite calmly. "Sit down y/n..." he says nodding to the chair opposite him.

🌿You're a little uncertain, he looks so stern and serious that you're getting more and more nervous the longer he makes you sit in silence. You're definitely in trouble, that much you can tell...

🌿But you don't know for certain that he's found your underwear until he takes them out of the drawer and drops them in front of you on the desk.

🌿"Y/N, what are these?" the way hes looking at you through his spectacles, so calm and yet stern... You squirm and stutter your response suddenly nowhere near as confident as you had felt when you left them there...

🌿"Um... Well, uh... My um... My underwear i guess?" "You guess?" "No uh... I know Tommy..."

🌿"Right, alright..." he nods and for a moment when he flashes you half a smile and lets out a little breathy laugh you think thats all the torment he's going to put you through... But of course not. This is Tommy we're talking about.

🌿"Alright y/n, and what is your underwear doing in my desk among my tax documents and memos?" "I uh..." "Come on love speak up we haven't got all day..." "Because I put them there Tommy..." You're already blushing deep red, you're embarassed and he's really enjoying making you squirm.

🌿If he's telling the truth he loves that you did it, gives him an excuse to torture you now, force you to admit how much you want him... Something which he obviously loves to hear. Watching you squirm really tuns him on...

🌿"Oh okay, alright, alright... And y/n,why did you do that?"

🌿 You're speechless now, so embarrassed, you can't believe he's really forcing you to admit it but you know he won't let you go or give you what you really want until you do as he's asking and spell it out for him.

🌿You're just not really the kind of girl that does things like this and though it might have been thrilling to do something bad and out of character, you're remembering who you really are - a good, sweet girl - and suddenly you're regretting your little trick.

🌿 "I.. I guess well, you've been so busy lately Tommy I just... I didn't want you to forget about me you know..." you trail off offering him a shy but seductive little smirk. You really want to keep playing coquette but he's really put you in your place and you're not sure now whether he's going to give you what you want or just keep torturing you.

🌿"Right..." he nods before telling you to get up, "Alright y/n now answer me this eh? Come here and answer me this..." he says quiet and intense, running his hands down your arms, taking your hands in his and pulling you down to meet his gaze. He has you bent right over his desk in the most submissive position... You can hardly breath.

🌿"Do you really think you're so easy to forget?" you can hardly speak, just shaking your head slightly, your breath caught in your throat as he tugs you down to kiss you.

🌿 He stands up, letting you go, leaving you feeling let down and if you're being honest, a little confused. You thought he wanted you? For a moment it really looked like you'd played into his lustful side...

🌿 He warns you not to play childish games with him, that in future if you want something you behave like an adult and you come and ask him for it. "Sometimes angel, when you want somet from me, you say please eh? Remember that word sweetheart..."

🌿Fucks you on his desk anyway... "Thoight you might like playing the bad girl eh angel? You want me to show you how I treat those girls?" his low murmur sends a shiver down your spine and when he sinks his teeth teasingly into your neck you can't breath.

🌿Tommy was always going to fuck you on his desk. From the second he'd felt the soft lace in his hands he'd known what he wanted to do to you.

🌿He just wanted to make you squirm first.

Alfie

🐻 He's surprised by you, other young ladies he might expect this from but not you, not his sweet little zieskiet who has the heart mind and soul of an angel. Who is usually always so well behaved...

🐻 It doesn't help that when he discovers your little memento he's in the middle of an intense meeting with Tommy Shelby.

🐻 Tommy thinks he has the upper hand, thinks he's charmed his way into Alfie's trust once again but Alfie's hand has slipped to the drawer in his desk where his fingers skim the surface of the gun he keeps concealed there...

🐻 But where he expects to find cool metal he finds soft silk and lace instead and his heart begins to race as memories of the afternoon before when he'd called you into his office flicker through his mind like a naughty film...

🐻 For the first time ever Tommy witnesses Alfie Solomons speechless. Sure the moment doesn't last long, but for a second there Tommy catches a strange look in Alfie's eyes, like he's genuinely stunned... He's probably lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he's the reason Alfie's quietly struggling to swallow a lump in his throat.

🐻 But Alfie just sweeps the underwear to one side for later, tskes the gun out and rushes Tommy through the deal, hurrying him out the door, grumpy and impatient so that he can go home to you.

🐻 When Alfie comes home that night he's playing the "everythings as it always is" act, grumbling to you about the lads in the bakery, grumbling to you about something clumsy Ollie did earlier thst day... You're listening but only a little as you shape the bread you're baking. You're don't look at him until he says something that surprises you...

🐻 "Oh, oh yeah right, right i almost forgot, yeah, silly me eh, almost forgot these..." he says producing your lacy underwear and dangling them from the tip of his finger.

🐻 When you turn around to see what he's holding you're shocked. You drop the knife thats in your hand and it clatters on the floor. You shouldn't bd surprised, you only left them there the day before, but somehow your strange out of character whim had completely left your mind.

🐻 "Oh..." you say your hand raised to your mouth... Alfie's still just holding them out, the scandalous garment just dangling between you, you blushing at the memory of your time together. Him waiting, stern expression, for you to take them from him.

🐻 "Oh..." he says watching you, wondering if you know you're in trouble or not... You've turned the most adorable shade of red and he's already struggling to hold his grumbling resolve. "Yeah," he says, "oh..." "Thats what I thought an all when I found em earlier right, I though 'oh" he holds his hand to his mouth mocking your earlier gesture... Making thst blush of yours all the worse because you can't tell if you're being teased or if he's really quite cross with you..

🐻 "An you know what yeah poppet? I showed em to Tommy fuckin Shelby yeah and you know he said 'oh' too, just like that yeah 'oh'..." now you know he's trying to make you squirm, trying to tease you. Because you know theres no way your Alfie would ever show another man something as private as your underwear.

🐻 You smile nervously, your blush and your shy giggle as you bite down to try and stifle it too much for Alfie to maintain any temper he might have been trying to build up.

🐻 Instead he steps up to you, traps you between the cupboards and his body, holding your underwear right up to your face, the lacy garment dangling right by your cheek, silk brushing your skin.

🐻 "These my little zieskiet, these yeah are a very dangerous object, and you right, you're a very good girl yeah, so you my dear, you should not be leaving these, dangerous things yeah, you should not be leaving dangerous things like this lying around right, cause you never know who's gonna find em..."

🐻 "Well that's why i left them in your drawer..." you say quietly, your biting on the tip of your thumb, looking at him so sweetly that its hard to imagine you could have done something as tempting as this.

🐻 "Yeah," he says, "yeah you did didn't you... Tell me poppet, cause theres somethin I'd quite like to know right, somethin thst interests me a great ammount... Why yeah, why would a sweet little girl like you do somethin like that?"

🐻 You would be so shy and blushy, you absolutely wouldn't know what to tell him, your voice abandoning you as you look back at him with doe eyes, biting on the tip of your thumb. When you try to look away he takes your chin in his hand and steers your view back to him.

🐻"Remember my dear little zieskiet, we don't keep secrets me an you? Nah, we don't have no secrets..."

🐻 He knows what you want and he's definitely just teasing you because his favourite thing in the whole world is to watch how you melt like butter for him. How you'll tell him anything he asks, do anything he asks, all he has to do is stroke your cheek and look you in the eyes.

🐻 Honestly he thought he was cross with you for distracting him at a crucial moment but now he's face to face with you, now he's got one hand on your waist the other holding your neck delicately, all he wants to do is reward you for your bad behaviour...

🐻 "Think you'd better pop yourself down over papa's lap..." you think he's going to spank you but when your eyes go wide he just chuckles, tells you not to look so worried...

🐻 Fingers you within an inch of your life whilst you're laid across his lap and then makes you promise him that next time you want his attention you'll just ask.

🐻 "Oh an poppet, promise me yeah, promise me you'll give me a little warning next time you try to play a trick like that... Don't like surprises me..." He's practically telling you to do it again.

🐻 when hes finished with you he'll give you your underwear back and then watch you put it back on in front of him. You want to hate his triumphant little smirk but you're still shaking from your high and when you've done as he asked he welcomes you back into his arms for a cuddle and tells you (almost) all about how your little trick nearly interrupted a crucial business meeting.

Arthur

🍂 He had been about to kill a man. That he was sure of. Seething with rage, red in the face with a hatred burning in him, that infamous formidable temper hazing his mind, taking over so that in 30 seconds time he wouldn't be Arthur Shelby anymore. He'd be the animal he fought with every day.

🍂 He'd stormed through the house on Watery Lane to the cabinet he kept his guns but when he'd thrown the doors open, practically frothing at the mouth, eyes narrowed and searching only for a weapon with which to destroy the man in question... When he threw open those doors he found a pair of your silky panties artfully wrapped around the barrel of his firearm.

🍂 Suddenly the man in question was the last thing on his mind. His temper wasn't quelled, all that anger and adrenaline was still buzzing around inside his body... He needed an outlet, something or someone to take it out on, lay into... But he couldn't think of anyone else in that moment. Not now he'd seen your underwear. Not now he'd been graced by a flash of memory, your naked body spread beneath him, your eyes rolled back in ecstacy as he'd fucked you the night before...

🍂 So his attention was diverted and a man's life has inadvertantly been saved because now rather than vengeance Arthur is only hungry for you...

🍂 He spends a little time hunting you down, searching around the house and then around the town looking in all your usual haunts. However he finds you exactly where he wants you. Sitting in his chair at his desk in the office down the factory.

🍂 "You," he says when he sees you, his eyes narrowed on you as he takes in the sight of you. How pretty you are, how innocent you're trying to look. It drives him wild and he can barely control his breathing as he locks the door shut behind him and pulls down the blind, "fuckin stand up when I'm talkin to you sweetheart..." He growls snatching at your wrist, pulling you to your feet.

🍂 he's rough with you but honestly that's what you wanted... Arthur's always trying to be on his best behaviour around you and the idea of sparking his temper, of having him be a little rougher with you.. it excites you more than you want to admit.

🍂 he pushed you back against his desk until you're perched just on the edge and when he steps between your legs, your feet hovering just above his shoes, he takes his revolver out and points it at you. You're nervous, your breath catching in your throat as you look up at him with wide, not quite timid eyes. You're starting to wonder if you've bitten off more than you can chew.

🍂 he uses his gun to push your dress slowly up your thigh, you can't take your eyes off it, the cool metal on your skin shivering you, causing goosebumps to ripple over your arms.

🍂 "You are in so much trouble..." He growls, "you don't wanna know how much fuckin trouble you're in y/n... No you don't..."

🍂 "Fuckin look at me eh love, when I'm talkin to you you fuckin look at me..." You're so nervous and the way his voice comes out gravelly and thick with adrenaline, the way you can hear his rage in every word makes you scared you might have gone too far, that you really are in as much trouble as he says you are...

🍂 he uses the barrel of his gun to push your chin up holding it there digging into you to force you to look him in the eyes when he's talking to you. You're trembling with nerves and sexual desire and he can see both your fear and your lust right there on your face. "Not so innocent now are you darlin..." He growls as he rubs his rough hands up over your thighs pushing your dress right up to reveal you...underwearless, legs spread, the sheen of your arousal catching his eye.

🍂 he can't get his belt undone quick enough but when he's dropped his trousers around his ankles he grabs you almost violently pulling you towards the edge of the desk, entering you suddenly, the shock displaced with pleasure almost immediately as he growls into your ear and starts thrusting in and out of you quickly.

🍂 his movements are sharp and desperate and he's fucking you in a way he's never fucked you before. It's divine, exactly what you'd hoped for.

🍂 "y'see sunshine a man was gonna die tonight right, I was on my way to fuckin kill him when I found your little fuckin surprise..." He growls as he's fucking you, you're so dizzy with pleasure that all you can do is moan in response clutching at his hair for your dear life. Your legs squeezing his waist so tightly as you shake and he manoeuvres you on his cock.

🍂 "Fuck," he groans, "I was gonna fuckin kill him and these fuckin things were the only thing that stopped him yeah so I reckon that must make you some kind of fuckin angel... Doin god's work eh? What kind of angel goes round saving lives with her cunt eh?"

John

🌼 Would be absolutely delighted. All his Christmases have come at once and he can't keep the grin off his face... can't and doesn't want to be subtle even if there's someone else in the office with him.

🌼 In fact if there is someone else in the office with them he'll definitely flaunt the fact that his girlfriend's 'forgotten' her underwear. He's so childish'y smug about it and he can't wait to get home to you.

🌼 He'd have them hung from his finger, slung over his shoulder as he leaves the office early, waving them in explanation when Isaiah shouts after him asking where he's going. Then as the office door swings shut behind him he'd tuck them into his pocket for safekeeping, whistling as he walks home.

🌼 You have put him in such a good mood, theres a real spring in his step and his mind is buzzing with all the thoughts of what he'll do when he gets home to you.

🌼 he'll come in having decided he's going to tease you, play a little trick on you. He'll call through the house for you with a real urgent tone to his voice as if something is seriously the matter...

🌼 and when he finds you sitting in the nursery with one of your friends and the children he'll put on this grave expression, apologise to your friend and send them away.

🌼 "I'm really sorry sweetheart but this can't wait and I need y/n," "God what's the matter John, the family? Is everything okay?" You'd be so worried asking him all sorts of questions but he wouldn't give you an answer until your friend has hurried out the door and you've put the little one in their crib.

🌼 then he'd turn to you, still with those serious, worrisome eyes, he'd place both hands on your cheeks and hold you carefully, looking as if he were about to break the worst news... "I'm sorry for ruining your day flower, if it could have waited you know I would have waited..."

🌼 you're almost panicking now getting more and more anxious by the second, "John what is it just tell me what's happened!" You beg and just like that he relaxes, grin spread across his face as he shrugs.

🌼 "Oh nothing major, don't fret flower... You just forgot these is all..." He says with a cheeky grin as he takes the underwear from his pocket and dangles them in front of your face by the tip of his fingers. He looks so unbelievably proud of himself you could honestly slap him.

🌼 if he wasn't so attractive you would definitely slap him... Instead you just stare back at him in disbelief, you try to get annoyed with him, "For fuck sake John you scared me!" You exclaim but you can't finish the sentence without letting out a little giggle.

🌼 "So..." He says lowering his voice, getting closer to you, his hand on your hip pulling your body in close to his, "if you left your underwear in my office this morning..." He starts, his breath warm on your cheek as he leans in to whisper in your ear, "what're you wearin under this dress?" "Why don't you take it off me and find out..."

🌼 So then he realises you definitely didn't just forget your underwear. The naive 'ad had kind of thought it a mistake, hadn't really thought you capable of playing such a wicked little trick but now he's realised your games, how you're more trickst than he'd first imagined he's actually very proud of the fact.

🌼 he'd pick you up, your legs wrapping around his waist and carry you to the bedroom, throwing you down on the bed where he'd crawl above you, looking down at you full of pride and mischief.

🌼 "So you were playin tricks with me were you flower?" He'd ask, his tone making you squirm and giggle, making you feel teenage and playful and like you might be in the best kind of trouble. You'd try to wriggle away from him, he's got that look in his eyes like he's about to either tickle you to death or fuck you hard and you can't tell which...

🌼 "hang on a minute flower where dya think you're going?" He chuckles stopping you going anywhere with just his hand on your shoulder pushing you into the mattress.

🌼 uses your underwear to tie your hands behind your back so you can't escape him. Then fucks you until you're exhausted, your hips aching from having your legs spread for so long... But you've come so many times you have that warm, all over tingle and when you finally collapse into eachothers arms you can't wipe the smiles off your faces.

🌼 it's going to start some kind of game between you, the two of you trying to outdo one another with mischievous little acts. But John always loves it whenever you leave something intimate of yours in his office and now you know you'll be rewarded for it you do it more often.

Bonnie

🍀 You'd been in his dressing room with him before his big fight, wishing him good luck. You always worry about him before he goes into the ring but you're also really proud of him, and there's something about being alone with him in the changing rooms before he goes out that really turns you on.

🍀 You run your hands over his chest, taking in the sight of him unscathed for the last time, and try to contain your desire. You find him so attractive when he's in the ring and you always let him know. It boost his ego and makes him walk out there twice as cocky.

🍀When you kiss him goodbye you give him a real, deep snog, one hand in his hair, the other hanging your lace black underwear from the gym peg behind your boys head. You want him to have a surprise for when he returns later triumphant.

🍀 He doesnt notice them when he's leaving for the ring, too in the zone, focussing and firing himself up - and your kiss certainly helped fire him up.

🍀All through the fight you're cheering him on just as you always would and Bonnie feels absolutely champion even when he's on the recieving end of a few nasty blows. He knows his little dove is in the crowd watching him and that makes him fight twice as hard because he loves showing off to you.

🍀 When Bonnie wins the fight you're delighted, you jump out of your seat and scream triumphantly for him. Blowing him a kiss when he looks over to you, his bloody grin far more attractive than it should be.

🍀 When he returns to the changing room victorious he's greeted by the Peaky Blinders and his dad, all of them congratulating him. Tommy is very impressed with his work and wants to discuss the next match with him but when something catches Bonnie's eye he follows the younger lads gaze and smirks, rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

🍀Because Bonnie is blushing a deep shade of red. The poor boy is so surprised he's speechless and Tommy can tell Bonnie hasn't heard a word of what's been said since he clocked your underwear hanging from that peg by the benches.

🍀"Alright lads c'mon lets leave our champion to cool off eh, looks to me like he's expecting company..." Tommy is still smirking and his overly casual tone as he draws everyone's attention to the underwear in question makes poor Bonnie even more embarrassed and awkward.

🍀There's a lump in his throat he's struggling to swallow down and all he can think about is you. He manages to stammer out a goodbye, promises to meet them in an hour down the garrison but Arthur laughs and shakes his head, "Nah you won't," he grins, "nah you fucking won't!"

🍀And Arthur's right, the only thing Bonnie will be doing in an hour's time is well, you.

🍀He is so turned on by your little trick that when he sees you he can barely contain his desire for you. He's usually pretty bad after a fight, all that adrenaline coursing through his veins but today he's even more fired up than usual and when you slip into his changing rooms and find him alone, he's got his hands on you in seconds.

🍀he does not want to wait for you to clean him up like you usually do and when you take a warm cloth and begin dabbing at his bloody lip and the cut on his brow he wraps his arms around you and pulls you down into his lap, grinning and teasing you, kissing your cheek and nuzzling into you, making it very difficult for you to do your job.

🍀You giggle trying to brush him off, though secretly really enjoying seeing how desperate for you he is.

🍀"Bonnie sit still, you're making this really difficult," you smile trying to dab at his brow, missing because he's ducked his head to kiss your neck and has already begun to undo the laces that hold your dress together at the back. His nimble fingers are making quick work of loosening them and you know you need to clean him up quickly because the second he's slipped your sleeves from your shoulders you're doomed.

🍀And in the end Bonnie wins and you're forced to accept that you'll just have to wait to clean him up later. He's got other plans for you just now.

🍀Will hold you down in his lap, a really energetic needy fuck before lifting you up and fucking your roughly against the wall. Even though he's going hard he still manages to be careful with you, making sure to hold your head in his hand to stop you bashing it against the wall etc...

🍀He doesn't tire quickly and honestly, your little surprise has given him more of a rush than winning that fight.

🍀Neither of you make it to the Garrison for those drinks and poor bonnie winds up on the recieving end of a lot of ribbing from the other lads. Whenever they bring it up he blushes and gets embarrassed but no matter how many times they ask he never shares the details of what happened after they left.

Isaiah

🐀 Is quietly impressed by your devious little game. He sees them in the drawer strewn artfully over his revolver and he smirks, closing the drawer shut again as if he hasn't even seen them.

🐀 He's biding his time see, playing the long game, dragging the desire out for as long as he can. He wants to wait long enough that you will have forgotten all about it. Or at least until you've come to the disappointing conclusion that he found your little surprise and didn't care about it, wasn't even remotely bothered by it...

🐀 And when weeks go by without him so much as mentioning them, without him even hinting at having found the little gift you left for him that's the conclusion that you come to. That he wasn't bothered, that he thought it was embarrassing and childish, that he doesn't even want to mention it because he thought it was classless and foolish and he'd rather forget all about it.

🐀 Meanwhile Isaiah is enjoying having your underwear in his drawer at work, whenever he has to reach in his drawer for his revolver he feels the black lacy pants there too and smirks. He can't wait to remind you about your naughty little trick... When he's bored at work he opens the drawer to look at them and imagine what he's going to do with you when he finally makes his move.

🐀 And then just as you've vowed you'll never make a stupid mistake like that again, just when you've decided never to behave so foolishly again... He'll have a surprise for you all of his own...

🐀 One night when it's just the two of you, in his room, fucking he catches you out.

🐀 He's on top, his cock deep inside you and your eyes are closed, your lips parted as he fucks you hard, you're right on the edge, your body shivering beneath him, your hands clutching at the sheets as you roll over into an orgasm.

🐀 And then when you moan he shoves your underwear into your open mouth and shocks you with them.

🐀 Your eyes open wide in shock uncertain what he's just put in your mouth and when he leans down, his nose brushing yours, his eyes lit up with mischief, clearly very pleased with himself, and grins down at you, "you lose these?" You feel your cheeks flush crimson. But you can't hide or look away because he's got you pinned down and he's still fucking you, his hands either side of your head, arms rippling.

🐀 All you can do is look up at him, and because you can't shy away, because you're forced to face up to the moment you're forced to acknowledge how much it turns you on... So your only response when he talks to you is your needy moans.

🐀 "Whats the matter mousy, did you think I'd just thrown them out?"

🐀 he will tease you about it relentlessly, loves trying to embarrass you, likes watching you go bright red. But in reality he loves this naughty side of you and he wants to encourage it, so when you threaten him one day, "if you keep teasing me I shan't do it again," he backtracks very fast.

Michael

☘️ In New York, you're his other woman and you're jealous. Hes been spending far too much time with Gina lately, sure you know they're the real deal, you're just his honey on the side but still... You should still get a taste of your man every once in awhile.

☘️ So you slip them between a stack of invoices and stock reports and send them up to his office. You may or may not be aware that his Gina is up there with him. That he's all snowed up, and she's going to be the one who takes the invoices and starts to filter through them...

☘️She's probably the one who phones up for you... Michael doesn't even realise whats going on until Gina has welcomed you into the office, studying you, asessing how much of a threat to her relationship you really are...

☘️ But when Michael sees you he panics, swallows a lump in his throat and scrambles to sit up and start paying attention..

☘️ "Whats this about love?" he says to Gina, "whats y/n doing here?" "Oh so you do know her name... Congratulations honey I guess you're more than just one of his whores huh?"

☘️ you feel a little bit like you've walked into a trap, like you've made a bed you're not actually capable of lying in, you're hardly even paying Michael any attention now, it's Gina who's your main concern. She invited you up here... What does she want with you? She certainly isn't looking at you like she's looking for a fight...

☘️ She's watching you expectantly, waiting for either you or Michael to speak up. Then she takes your underwear and tosses them to Michael who is so surprised by them that he drops them.

☘️ "What do you think honey, you think he remembers who they belong to? Tell us Michael baby, are they mine or are they hers..."

☘️ Michael would he totally speechless, he's looking between the two of you, thinking that this is some conspiracy against him but you're just as stunned as he is and you kind of feel like turning and running out of the door.

☘️ but when you make your excuses to leave and try to back out of the door, thinking it best to leave them to their inevitable fight Michael calls after you... "Y/N wait..." which makes Gina laugh.

☘️ "Yeah honey don't go," she says licking her lips wickedly, "the funs only just getting started..." She says teasingly, her eyes glowing with lust... But who for you can't tell anymore?

☘️ When she catches your hand in hers and tugs you back into the office your breath catches in your throat. But what she whispers in your ear leaves you speechless, your heart racing.

☘️ "C'mon y/n kiss me, let's see what he does next hmm?"

☘️ It would be an evening you will never forget.. Gina was only really dragging you into it so that she could get your measure, wanting to work out exactly how much of a threat you were... Wanting to use you to torment Michael. If he's fucking you then she wants to he too, he can't possibly be allowed to have something she hasn't got.

☘️And although Michael is quietly livid with you in the moment he can't control his own lust, his anger taken out on you when he lies you down on his desk and fucks you hard, your head between Gina's legs whilst she rides your mouth and smokes a cigarette casual as you like.

☘️ after that whenever you or Gina feel like a bit of fun you send your underwear up and down to one another slipped between memos. The three of you spend a lot of time in that office snowed up and fucking.

☘️ and although Michaels more than happy with the new arrangement he still makes sure to get you alone so that he can punish you for being so reckless.

☘️ he will bend you over his lap and spank you making you apologise with tears in your eyes as you promise never to be so careless again.

☘️ You will however be that careless again and he'll be more than happy with the consequences.

#peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagines #bonnie gold x reader #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby x reader #arthur shelby x reader #john shelby x reader #peaky blinders headcanon #alfie solomons x reader

[steppin-on-the-last-train]

As it Comes Back to Me

Natasha Romanoff x WinterSoldier!Reader

Summary: Your whole life you'd been living for a mission, whether it be protecting your family or fighting just to see the next sunrise. If you didn’t slow down though, you stood to lose someone you couldn’t live without.

Takes place during the events of Captain America: Civil War.

Word Count: 8,000

A/N: I spent way too much time writing this instead of studying for class.

“Hey kids,” you said, walking up to wrap your arms around Steve and Bucky. You’d just  been promoted to Major and had been sent back to the states to escort a fresh round of recruits to the front. There was a big event tonight though which begged for your attention. Howard Stark was showing some new invention or other of his. You’d never been too interested in what the scientists had to say, but there would be plenty of girls out looking to be asked to a dance.

Steve, your little brother–both in age and stature–looked less than thrilled at your return. “What’s wrong, buddy?” You asked, shaking his shoulder.

“It’s not fair,” he protested, shrugging out of your embrace. “I should be heading out with you and Buck tomorrow. I want to fight. I know I can help.” You felt for Steve. If it was him and Bucky standing in uniform and not you, you’re sure you’d be missing out on a whole lot.

“I know, I know. I’m sure you’d give them Nazis real cause to turn and run,” you said, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold a rifle properly.

“Yeah,” Bucky added. “Ya know you should’ve seen him earlier today. Fought off some punk in an alleyway with a trash can lid. Kicked his ass real good if you ask me.” 

“Bucky,” Steve said. “Ya said you wouldn’t tell.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, what I meant to say was that Steve got beat up and I had to come rescue him.” The soon to be sergeant ruffled your brother’s hair.

“No, I know what you’re really upset about is that I’m stealing your boy here,” you said, nodding at Bucky.

“Yeah, yeah, enough. Now come on, I wanna get a good look at the car. All the posters were sayin’ Stark could make it fly.” Steve began to weave his way through the crowd, giving you no choice but to follow. 

“I’m worried about leaving him here all alone, ya know?” Bucky said, a crease forming between his brow. 

“He’s tough, and he’s smart. Always has been, you know that. Honestly, if they should be sendin’ anyone to fight they should be sendin’ him instead of us. But spirit’s not gonna win a fight, ya gotta back it up with somethin’. Point is, he’ll be fine on his own. Maybe if we’re lucky when we get back he’ll have found himself a nice girl to care for.” You smirked at Bucky. 

He ignored the jab as he waved at a group of nice looking girls. You waved too, flashing a smile and admiring the way their skirts fit. “Hey girls!” He shouted. As they made their way through the bustling crowd, he turned to you again. “I just worry about him. I care about him a lot and I can see how torn up he is about us gettin’ to go when he can’t.” A frown appeared to dim the light on his face. “What if he does something stupid while we’re off?” 

You clapped him on the shoulder and said, “You worry too much Barnes. You ought to save some of that for the war.” 

Giggling, the girls–the names of which Bucky had supplied earlier and which you had promptly forgotten–siddled up. The one nearest to you was a brunette with a yellow skirt and a white flower in her hair. She took your hand and pulled you right up to the front row. “Come on soldier, the show is startin’.” 

You smiled and let yourself get lost among the din and the spectacle. 

From beside you, Steve waved at you and said your name.

He said your name again, and again. You finally tore your gaze away from the TV monitor mounted in the corner of the room. Steve was much, much bigger now; even taller than you. You were still adjusting to the change. Although he still had the same kind gaze that came with naturally always wanting to do what was right, and believing others wanted the same. You wondered if you had been like that once too. 

“We need to get him out of there,” he said. Your gaze flicked back over to the security footage that showed Bucky restrained in a mobile holding unit reinforced with metal supports and bullet proof glass. You had thought he was dead, and turns out Steve had thought the both of you were long gone. And apparently, fate wasn’t done with any of you yet. Bucky looked drastically different. His hair had grown out to his chin and he had lost the boyish swagger and proud glimmer in his eyes. But beneath the bulk and hardened exterior you still saw your friend.

“I know. Something doesn’t feel right about this,” you said. A year ago you had been similarly detained. But you were held in the Avengers Compound and were surrounded by friendly faces. The people here were not so sympathetic. You could feel the passing judgment not just on the Winter Soldier, but on you as well. 

“Maybe we could talk to Tony again,” Steve said. 

From his seat across the table Sam shook his head. “Did you not just hear him tell us he was fully committed to kissing the government’s ass? Steve, I understand this whole ‘peace at all costs’ approach, but I have a feeling we’re not going to get our way by talking this time.” 

“Sam’s right,” you said, mouth twisting into a defeated frown. Through the glass wall of the office you were sitting in you watched a certain Avenger weave her way through the crowded room. You were torn, but Natasha had made her choice. “We’re going to have to consider punching our way out of this one. I got off lucky, but things are different now. The whole world is watching what will happen to him. Compromise isn’t an option anymore.” 

Hands on his hips, Steve sighed. “Well, we aren’t going to be able to grab him and get out of here. And we need our gear back if we have any hopes of not getting locked up in a real cell.”

As if sensing your staring, Natasha looked over. Quickly you averted your eyes and suddenly found the tabletop very interesting. But you knew she had caught you. Just a couple of weeks ago you had been spending your mornings going out on runs with her and your evenings watching her try and fail to play chef. She could go on for hours talking about the world and bringing you up to speed. You didn’t know what was more interesting; that the world had turned upside down or the way her voice sounded as she helped you make sense of it all.

And you both enjoyed the newfound freedom neither of you believed you’d ever see nor deserved. You had thought you knew her well enough to predict which side of the so-called Sokovia Accords she would be on. Turned out maybe you didn’t.

Sharon Carter walked into the sound proofed room, hopefully bringing more news. She seemed to have a soft spot for Steve, and you and Sam by extension. She was also the only person here that seemed to want to communicate with the three of you.

On the screen a man sat down at a table across from Bucky. He shuffled some papers around and faced your friend as if in conversation. You stood with your hands braced on the table and watched intently. A glove covered the shiny metal of your right hand. Under your sleeve, the flexible steel plating melded with flesh just below your elbow.

You knew visual without audio would only get you so far, but you’d be damned if you could figure out how to turn it on. 

“The receipt for your gear,” Sharon said, handing a slip of paper to Sam. 

He took one look at it and scoffed. “Bird costume? Come on.”

“I didn’t write it,” she said, trying to hide a faint smile. Now was not the time for jokes. Noticing the attention on the TV screen she pushed some buttons on a control panel and the audio switched on.

The camera showed a modestly dressed middle-aged man. “I’m not here to judge you,” he told Bucky. “I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?.” He glanced down at his notes and removed his glasses amicably. From another angle, part of the screen detailed an uncomfortably close profile of Bucky’s face. After a moment of silence, he went on. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.” 

“My name is Bucky,” he answered, still not making eye contact with the man.

“Who is that man?” You asked, wary of the stranger who was supposedly the only person authorized to make contact with the Winter Soldier.

“He’s a psychologist sent by the United Nations just to conduct a primary evaluation. I’m not familiar with him personally,” Sharon said.

Steve studied the blurry photograph of Bucky that had been taken after he set the bomb off in Vienna. “Why would the Task Force release this photo to begin with?”

“Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?” Sharon supplied.

“Right. It’s a good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.” You could see the gears in his brain turning. Steve had always been the intuitive one.

“You’re saying someone framed him to find him,” Sharon said, catching on.

Sam spoke up, unsure of where your brother was going. “Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.” 

“Sam has a point,” you said. You were all too familiar with the Winter Soldier program. If you didn’t want to be found, you had the ability to make yourself dead to the world. “We were trained to blend in, to hide in plain sight. Even if he had to run, no one man would ever be able to find him.”

“We didn’t bomb the UN. That turns a lot of heads,” Steve asserted.

“Yeah, but to your point,” Sharon said, nodding at you. “That doesn’t guarantee that whoever framed him would get him. It guarantees that we would.” 

“Yeah,” Steve breathed.

So there was a mole in the government, and he was probably in the building. Your gaze narrowed and you watched the people milling about outside your little bubble with a new suspicion. Whoever it was was obviously already ten steps ahead, you would have to wait until he made his next move. Beside you Sam stood from his seat, eyes similarly flicking from the screen to the windows and back. Steve looked like a racehorse ready to spring from its stall. 

From the corner of the room, the conversation continued on through the speakers, even if no one was paying much attention any longer. “Tell me, Bucky. You’ve seen a great deal, haven’t you?” The man asked. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You fear that…if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry.” 

The CIA agent, Captain America, the Falcon, and the Wolf Spider were too busy looking for a threat aimed at themselves to notice what was going on before them.

In the secured, private room five levels below the surface, Helmut Zemo received a message on his phone. A package of his had been delivered. Looking up, he wiped the false pretenses of innocence from his face. “We only have to talk about one.”

For a moment the room was plunged in darkness before emergency lights bathed the building in a red glow. The monitor with the video footage remained black. You looked at Sam. Now was your chance.

Steve looked to Sharon and she spoke without hesitation. “Sub-level five, east wing.”

No sooner than she had finished were the three of you bolting from the office and back the way you had been escorted in. You flew down the stairwell, concerned only for Bucky and getting to him before it was too late. But even super soldiers could only descend a dozen floors so fast. Heart racing, you jumped down the last flight, only to be met with a sign on the wall that read ‘Sub-Level 5; West.’ 

Without pause you pushed through the nearest doorway and wound your way through the maze of hallways. “This way!” Sam shouted. You and Steve rounded on your heels and went sprinting after him down a narrow corridor that served as a connection between the two wings of the building. The soft glow of emergency lighting lit the way, but between flashes the basement levels were pitch black. In the final stretch you overtook him and spilled out into another landing.  

The doors to the room on your right were destroyed. A dozen guards lay spread out on the floor unconscious. The chamber was completely silent, but you doubted the chase truly ended here. You knelt and checked the pulse of the agent at your feet. He was alive. 

“Help me. Help,” a voice cried out from further in the room. You picked up a discarded pistol and tucked it into the back of your waistband.

Steve was closer to the man than you and wasted no time picking him up and pinning him against the wall by his jacket collar. “Get up.” You’d never heard him sound so furious. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“To see an empire fall,” the man replied vaguely. After staring down Steve he turned to face you with the gleam of a predator in his eyes.Your heart pounded in your chest. 

“Steve, we need to find Bucky,” you said.

The echo of footsteps rang down the hall as Sam caught up. Right as he stepped through the door Bucky came lunging out of the shadows, metal fist swinging for Sam’s face. Sam ducked just in time to avoid getting his teeth knocked out. Instead, a fist-sized chunk of the concrete wall blew away into pulverized chunks. But by the time he righted himself Bucky had already launched another attack. This time he grabbed him by the jaw and threw him all the way across the room to crash into the holding unit. The impact was enough to knock him out cold.

Steve looked torn between chasing after Bucky, checking on Sam, and further interrogating the psychologist. 

“Go,” you said, nodding toward Bucky. “I got him.”

Steve launched himself at Bucky and pushed him back out into the hall. 

You pulled the gun and trained it on the guilty party. Outside the exaggerated sound of two super soldiers fighting reverberated back to you. The shuffle of quick footwork followed by the concerning crash of a metal fist colliding with a wall at inhuman speed. 

“Your name. Now,” you demanded.

“My full title is Baron Helmut Zemo. But I think the more important question is, who are you?”

The brawl in the hallway had stopped, and the renewed silence made you uneasy. “Enough with the games.” You flicked the pistol toward the exit. “Move. I’m taking you upstairs.”

He began to pick his way slowly across the room. “Okay, you’ve got me beat. But I just need to know one thing. Steve seems to think you’ve miraculously been returned to him the same as before he became Captain America.” It bothered you, how Zemo felt he had the right to use your brother’s name. “Show me what you hide from them, Wolf Spider. Show me who you really are.”

“Shut up,” you said, annoyed with his riddled speech. But before you could make another move, Bucky came ramming back into the holding room, kicking right at your stomach. The impact forced you to take a knee and as you scrambled to stand up, Zemo pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and began to speak. “Мрамор.” 

Even over the rushes of blood pumping through your veins and the stomp of Bucky’s boots on the ground, you still heard it. Like a heat-seeking missile the word wormed its way into your brain and you faltered.

Panic seized you. You needed to get to Zemo. “Bucky, stop!” You yelled, desperate for any way to get around him for even a second. As you tried to stand he planted a foot and your chest and pushed you to the floor. The air left your lungs in a gust as your back slammed into the cement. The gun went flying from your grip and skittering across the floor. “Dick move, Barnes,” you said in a strained whisper.

“Восемь,” Zemo said, sounding closer now even though you couldn’t see him. You clamped your hands over your ears and screamed. Taking a chance you bashed your metal fist into Bucky’s knee and charged for Zemo. “Жжение.” His voice sent you careening off course as if repelled by his words. Fighting for any last scrap of control you punched the wall until your knuckles left bloody streaks. You counted back from ten in your head, jaw clenched so tight it was close to shattering.

Your defenses broken, Bucky reengaged the fight. You scrambled, narrowly blocking his punches from beating your face in and counting you out. You reassessed and went on the offensive. You’d have to take him out before going for his handler.

Easier said than done.

“Рекрут.” You fought even harder, even as a fog crept up the back of your mind. Where was Steve?

“Снегопад.” Another nail in the coffin. He landed a punch to your face and a deep split opened on your cheek. You barely felt the blood run down to your chin.

“Пять.” You managed to land a right hook on Bucky’s weak side. You capitalized on the small victory. Seizing him by the shoulders you grappled with him for a moment before sweeping his leg from under him. He fell with a thud and you lined up a kick to the side of his head. You’d apologize later.

“Увядший.” The Wolf Spider crawled up the back of your spine, jaws gnashing at your brain for control. Your attention slipped for a fraction of a second. But that was all the time the Winter Soldier needed. He seized your ankle and pulled you to the ground. Before you could get your bearings he clamped his fist around your neck and threw you against the wall.

“послушный.” The Soldier rammed his knee into your stomach and you doubled over in an attempt to suck air back into your lungs. The room spun and the lights blurred together. A male Sokovian accented voice was all you could hear above the ringing in your ears.

An arm snaked around your throat from behind and forced you to stand. 

“An impressive attempt to be sure. But I’ve found that dogs can always be tamed.”

A fading voice in the back of your mind yelled at you to fight. Halfheartedly you tried to twist out of the Soldier’s hold.

“Одиннадцать.” A dam had cemented itself and separated you from your body.

“Пекин.” Your breathing became even and you looked to the man before you for instruction.

“Солдат?” He asked.

“Я готов отвечать.”

—

Natasha Romanoff walked through the chaos-ridden office, catching up to Tony Stark. Your swift absence hadn’t escaped her notice. She had almost chased after you herself. She’d desperately been wanting to talk to you since the Accords had been dropped in the team’s lap, but you had made yourself scarce since. She could tell that her decision had upset you, even if you were as unlikely to tell her so as you were to turn your back on Steve and Bucky. 

“Please tell me you brought a suit,” she said. Because a fight against three super soldiers would be much easier won with a trick of their own.

“Sure did,” the Iron Man replied. “It’s a lovely Tom Ford, three-piece, two-button.” He stopped his nervous rant. “I’m an active-duty non-combatant.” Fancy speak for the government not being comfortable with his access to the greatest weapon’s system on the planet.

Sharon Carter ran up to them, an earpiece providing information Natasha nor Tony were privy to. “Follow me,” she told them. 

They made their way downstairs onto the ground level. “The Winter Soldier has been unleashed,” Agent Carter said. “He’s on this floor in the lobby, probably trying to escape.”

“That’s a no-can-do from Agent Ross. We need a plan. Nat?” Tony looked expectantly toward the Black Widow.

“Why is it always up to me?” She asked, even as a plan formed in her mind.

“Because everyone knows my job is to look good and provide charity for you free loaders.”

Natasha narrowed her gaze at Tony’s watch. “Which outfit is that a part of?”

“It is as practical as it is fashionable. Glasses too,” he said.

“Tony, you’ll come up on him from behind. Get his attention, and try to disarm him if you can. Carter and I will be right behind.”

“I don’t remember volunteering to be the bait, Romanoff.” 

Natasha motioned for Sharon and they picked their way around the edge of the sun-lit lobby. Civilian workers fleeing for their lives rushed around them in a current, but the women stood as solid as stone. The sound of combat reached her ears before she was able to see into the main lobby. A metal fist pounded against flesh and man after man crumpled to the floor. The snap of a bone being broken and the subsequent screams. 

Natasha rounded the corner into the foyer just as a terrible supersonic blast flooded the area. Tony had stunned the attacker if only for a moment. To her horror it wasn’t Barnes standing there, but you. She couldn’t see your face as you moved to pummel Tony, but she knew what she’d see. A figure of a ghost from the Red Room flashed before her eyes.

A gunshot shook her out of her stupor and she ran after Sharon into the fray. You elbowed Tony in the face before punching him in the gut hard enough to send him flying into a table several feet away. 

Before you could finish the job Sharon ran at you, forcing you to block a kick and a jab. You wound up an answering punch that would’ve cracked her sternum but she ducked away and you missed. As you recovered, Natasha lodged a knee into your stomach before crouching down to jab you in the groin. She didn’t want to fight you, but she would. All it took was one look into your eyes to separate the Wolf Spider from the person she knew you were.

Sharon landed a roundhouse kick to the head but as she wound up for a second assault you caught her leg and hurled her down onto a table. The legs broke underneath with a clatter. 

As you were turned around, Natasha took the opportunity to seize you from behind and flip herself up onto your shoulders. With anyone else she would’ve been able to floor them from this position. But the Wolf Spider intimately knew all of the Black Widow’s moves. All those years ago, you had taught her much of the combat she still used today. 

She rained down blows on your head as you crossed the lobby. She grunted as she threw her fists down over and over in a vain attempt to get you to drop her. Instead you carried her to a table and slammed her down. Before she could recover, you clamped your hand around her neck and choked her out. 

Scrabbling at your metal forearm, Natasha’s face burned red. She felt her windpipe being crushed under your grip. But even under the eclipse of death’s shadow, the scariest thing was what they’d done to you. She knew you’d tear yourself up about it later, and worse she knew no one here would understand.

On the verge of passing out, she managed one last choked whisper. “You could at least recognize me.” Maybe, as Natasha’s heart was shattered in two, she could pass some of that anguish onto you.

If anything you only squeezed harder and she felt the strength waste away from her muscles. 

Seemingly out of nowhere you were shoved off of her. She gasped and pulled as much air in as she could through her bruised throat. All she could manage was to stare up at the ceiling and blink away the spots from her vision.

Rallying, Natasha pushed herself up and saw Tony standing over you with his mechanical gloved hand extended. She coughed and asked, “How?” 

You were on your knees, hands clamped tightly over your ears and fingers digging into the back of your head.

  “Lucky guess,” Tony said. “Think of it like a dog whistle, but for super soldiers. And also like blow your head off levels of loud. Had to estimate the frequency after getting beaten half to death. But it looks like I’ve outwitted the killing machine.”

Natasha was frozen. You’d just about suffocated her, but a large part of her still wanted to yell at Tony and tell him to cut it out. “Does it hurt?” 

“Well, it’s no symphony, I can tell you that.” 

She threw a glare in his direction.

“I don’t know. Ballpark? Somewhere between a migraine and an ice pick through the ear.”

A dozen more security personnel came flooding in. They rounded in a circle around you and half of them readied their guns. The rest assaulted you with tasers. You fell to the floor in a series of violent spasms and Natasha looked away. 

“Let’s get this one ready for transport,” one barked.

“Natasha, are you okay?” Tony asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, voice still raw.

“That psycho almost killed you.” He always got assertive when he was worried. “You see, this is why we need the Accords. To keep chaos from breaking out in refuges of peace for godsake.”

Natasha looked back at where your limp body was being dragged away. She wished she could go back to before any of this started. She was terrified that she had missed her chance to tell you how she felt. “He’s not a psycho.”

“Then you and I have very different definitions of the word.” 

“Stark.” The disappointed voice of Secretary Ross called.

“We have the Wolf Spider in custody sir.” Tony adjusted his tie.

“And Barnes, Wilson, and the other Rogers are all in the wind. One out of four is three less than I expected of you.”

But Natasha had had enough of Thadeus Ross for a lifetime. She walked away wishing that you were by her side instead. Isolated from the beaurucrats and politicians and the bridge with Steve having been thoroughly burned, she felt lost. All around her the pieces of the life she had worked so hard to build lay scattered. The overwhelming urge to hit something surged. How did she get here?

—

You sat by Natasha under a tree in the forest behind the Avengers’ Compound. The chirping birds and the rustle of wind through the leaves were the only sounds that broke the silence out here. Everything at the compound was a blur of light and rush of movement all the time. You couldn’t get two seconds without someone needing something from you. So you had developed the habit of sneaking out and picking a random direction to pass an afternoon. 

Natasha had a book in her hands. Today her hair was pulled back in a braid and thrown over her shoulder. You liked when she put it up because you could see her face more clearly. 

“He talked a lot about the past, and I gathered that he wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving Daisy,” she read. You ran your hand through the grass and dirt absentmindedly. “Are you listening?”

“Yeah, of course.” You had been listening, but not to what she said, but how she spoke it. “It’s just I’ve read Gatsby before. Jay is a dreamer, but he still loses everything. It’s not fair. He didn’t know any better but to follow his heart.”

“That’s not how I see it,” she replied. “Listen. ‘His life had been confused and disordered since then, but if he could once return to a certain starting place and go over it all slowly, he could find out what that thing was’.” She shifted closer, leg almost bumping your own. Uncomfortable with the proximity bordering on affection you subtly moved away. “Jay is chasing a life that he can no longer have. And in the process he ruins himself, and the woman he loves. He should’ve known better.��

Overhead the branches had become indistinguishable from one another and instead blended together as one entrapment. The fading orange glow cast by the setting sun reminded you to start heading back. The woods would be near impossible to navigate without the light. You stood and reached a hand out to help Natasha up. She grasped it tightly and instead pulled you down to her.

“You should’ve known better.” A haunted despair paled her features.

“What?”

The crack of fracturing bones echoed throughout the lonely clearing and Natasha cried out. Your hand had begun to squeeze hers tight enough to crush it. You willed yourself to let go but your stubborn metal fist refused to obey. 

“You destroy everything you love, even if you never say the words out loud.”

A bullet hole slowly materialized in the middle of her forehead. Blood seeped down her face and she smiled a bloody smile. 

“You should’ve stayed dead.”

You jerked yourself awake with a gasp. The dream faded from your mind almost immediately, as had the once before where you’d been stuck in a cave, and the one before that where you’d slaughtered an entire family.

You took a second to examine the unfamiliar environment. The cell you were in was bright and clean, and the camera assured there was no privacy. Across from you was an identical unit. In fact, the entire room was just an octagon of prison cells. 

You rubbed at your face, only for the movement to be followed by a metallic clanking. Both of your wrists were manacled with thick iron cuffs which were anchored to the wall with a chain. Your left wrist was chaffed and dried blood coated your hand. Alarm surged through you. 

No, you would rather die than play prisoner and puppet for anyone else again. 

You stood up, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. But when you tried to step away from the wall you were yanked back, not by your wrists, but by a chain around your neck. Coughing, you fell back against the wall and pulled at the tight restraint. All you succeeded in doing was irritating the inflamed skin underneath. 

“Hey buddy, are you okay?”

You snapped your attention to the voice. You didn’t recognize the guy who had spoken, but the man in the cell next to him looked familiar. Your head throbbed as you tried to remember. He had short brown hair and sat hunched over on a bench, just watching. 

“Fine,” you said. Your voice sounded about as shitty as the rest of your body felt. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Scott. You actually don’t know me cause we haven’t met, but I fought with your brother. He’s a really nice guy. Of course you know that.” You shot him a glare. “You know what, I’m just going to shut up now.”

Confusion spun your battered brain around even further. Your brother. You had a brother named Steve. Steve was small so you had to–wait, that wasn’t quite right. Steve’s strength had caught up to the size of his will. He was a soldier. The Soldier. Солдат. A fresh pang wracked your head. No. A captain. Captain America. 

The room felt cold but your hand was clammy. Sweat dampened your hair as if you had caught a fever. You squeezed your eyes shut. Why were these lights so damn bright? Where were you? 

“Hey, what’s going on? I can’t see into the cell. Is he back?”

You knew that voice. You trusted it as well as you may trust anyone. If only you could think harder. You opened your eyes and again saw the familiar-looking man. The name came to you this time. “Clint,” you said.

Hope cleared some of the melancholic fog that had marred his features.

“Where are we? What happened? Where’s Steve?”

When he spoke, it was reserved, but you could tell he was holding back. “Steve called me. The Avengers fought. Some of them are picking up the mess. The rest of us landed our asses in here. You though…you were already here when they brought us in. I wish I could tell you why.”

“It’s Sam,” the man in the unit directly to the right of yours said. He banged on the wall for effect. “You were with me and Steve back in Berlin. Bucky was controlled and he went after us. He knocked me out and by the time I woke everyone was gone. I met up with Steve and Bucky outside, but you were gone. I’m sorry. If we would have known…”

“It’ll come back eventually.” Even if you could barely remember your own name now, somehow you knew this. The memories always came back, especially the bad ones. 

“I should tell you, this isn’t the first time you’ve woken up,” Clint said. Scott looked away. “The first two times you didn’t say anything or acknowledge us. You just pulled away as hard as you could until you made yourself pass out.”

“Great,” you muttered under your breath. So they had all received a front row view of the mindless monster you were. “What is this place, anyway?”

“They call it the Raft. It’s an American prison unit that they dropped into the middle of the Atlantic.” Barton’s voice had taken on an undercurrent of anger. “It’s where they stick the worst of the worst.”

“Is anyone else here?” You asked.

“Wanda. Probably. I don’t know, they put her in a separate transport.” Your heart dropped. Why would they bring her into this? She was just a kid. And with her powers, you could only imagine what they were doing to keep her locked up. 

You didn’t ask if there was a plan. The atmosphere here wasn’t exactly revolutionary. You drew your knees up to your chest and rested as best as you could.

Sometime later–you were sure the room had been built to be purposefully disorienting–the door slid open with a whir. In walked Tony Stark, his left arm in a sling and sporting a terrible black eye.

Clint stood up and began to slowclap, finally finding a target to take his anger out on. “The Futurist, gentlemen! The Futurist is here! He sees all! He sknows what’s best for you, whether you like it or not.”

The goading worked, drawing Tony’s attention away from you. “Give me a break, Barton. I had no idea they would put you here. Come on.”

He spit on the ground in defiance. “Yeah, well, you knew they’d put us somewhere, Tony.”

“Yeah, but not some super-max floating ocean pokey.” Stark gestured at the barred cells, gaze catching on you for a moment. “You know, this place is for maniacs. This is a place for…”

“Criminals?” Clint walked closer to the glass of his cage. “Criminals, Tony. Think that’s the word you’re looking for. Right?” The two estranged teammates stood eye to eye.  “That didn’t used to mean me. Or Sam, or Wanda. But here we are.” A long time ago that didn’t used to mean you either. 

“Because you broke the law.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t make you.”

Clint turned his back on Tony. “La, la, la, la, la…”

“Alright, you’re all grown up, you got a wife and kids. I don’t understand, why didn’t you think about them before you chose the wrong side?” Realizing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Clint he walked away. 

Barton rounded on him. “You gotta watch your back with this guy. There’s a chance he’s gonna break it,” he said, slamming on the glass.

“Hank Pym always said, you never can trust a Stark,” Scott said with as much menace in his voice as he could conjure. You wondered how a civilian like him had gotten wrapped up in this fight.

“Who are you?” Stark walked right past him and onto Sam’s unit.

“Come on, man.”

“How’s Rhodes?” Wilson asked, not as willing to bite as Clint had been.

“They’re flying him to Columbia Medical tomrrow. So…fingers crossed. What do you need? They feed you yet?”

You couldn’t see Sam from your cell, but you hoped that he’d tell Stark off too.

“You’re the good cop now?” He asked sarcastically.

“I’m just the guy who needs to know where Steve went.”

“Well, you better go get a bad cop, because you’re gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information out of me.”

Stark messed with his watch. “Oh, I just knocked the ‘A’ out of their ‘AV’. We got about thirty seconds before they realize it’s not their equipment.” You looked up at the security camera in the corner of your cell. Could he really do that? “Just look,” he went on. “Because that is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes.” A little picture of a clearly dead man appeared out of thin air. “Clealy, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong.”

“That’s a first.”

“Cap is definitely off the reservation but he’s about to need all the help he can get. We don’t know each other very well. You don’t have to…”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Sam interrupted. You wished you were in his eyeline so you could shake your head no in silent protest. But you didn’t have the energy or mental capacity to pick a verbal fight right now so you stayed quiet. “Look, I’ll tell you…but you have to go alone and as a friend.”

“Easy.”

Sam spoke so quietly you were sure without super hearing you wouldn’t have heard. “They went to an old Soviet-HYDRA bunker in Siberia. The fake doctor is going to unleash five more Winter Soldiers.”

“Okay. Wilson, I won’t forget this,” he said with fake malice in his voice to impress the cameras. 

He turned to you next. “Rogers.” He saluted. Shame burned your face. You felt like a wild animal on display. And Tony Stark’s presence wasn’t exactly a comforting one since you presumed he was largely at fault for the team’s current predicament. “You’re not going to go all Terminator on me again, are you?”

You stared at him blankly, not moving from your place on the floor in the middle of the cell. 

“Really? Nothing. I just came up with that one. Any messages from you to your brother I can deliver when I find him?” 

“Tell him after all this he needs to get his ass as far from trouble as possible. Tell him I’m right where I should be.”

“How about I just say you’ll send him a postcard?” He quipped, walking away.

“Stark,” you called. “Lay a hand on Steve and I will find you.” 

He didn’t turn back, but he gave a thumbs up on his way out.

—

You don’t think you could ever tire of the view before you. For most of your life you never believed you’d travel outside New York City, but here you were on the other side of the world. The waters below the ship were as blue and clean as great artists imagined in their scenes. The current lapped gently at the hull and you let the sound wash through you. Ahead, snow-capped mountains rose into the cloudy sky. The buildings and streets you were so used to being surrounded by in the city were replaced by miles of undisturbed woodland. The sky was overcast, but calm for now. Mist hung in the air and clung to your jacket. Maybe it would storm later, maybe it wouldn’t. You found peace in the apprehension. 

“Hey,” Natasha said. You hadn’t heard her come up. She joined you at the railing and pushed a phone into the water.

“How’s the Good Secretary?”

“I’ve got him chasing his tail in D.C. We are officially in the wind.”

Steve and Natasha had broken you out of the Raft three days ago. Since then you’d decided to split up while the heat died down. He had wanted you to go with him, but you couldn’t look at your brother without feeling crushed by six decades worth of guilt. You still thought he would be safer without you, but you couldn’t escape the disappointed look on his face. Hurting him was like kicking a little puppy.

“Steve would love this place,” you said. Natasha took in the view while you admired her. Her hair was down and flowed past her shoulders. The wind blew strands of it about in a way that told you God indeed played favorites. “He loved to draw. And he was damn good at it too. Kid used to draw everything. Our old apartment, back alleys, the sky. He wouldn’t know what to do if he saw all of this.” 

“You’re worried about him.” 

“Really? Was I being that obvious?” You were tired, but you smiled anyway.

“The first time I met Steve he couldn’t make heads or tails of the shirt on his back, much less anything else humanity had changed. Yesterday, he was piloting the most advanced jet on the planet. Sounds like he’s the same resilient kid you grew up with. Except now he can throw a man a couple dozen yards.”

“I think he could literally be invincible and I’d still worry,” you admitted.

“I think that’s how family is supposed to work. And if it helps, he’s got Sam to watch his back.”

“Why did you volunteer to come with me?” You asked. You bit your lip nervously and scanned the grayish-blue horizon. “I almost killed you. I mean I would have killed you if Stark hadn’t…” You’d opened Pandora’s Box and couldn’t stop all of the guilt from pouring out. “And all those years ago in the Red Room, what I did to you. Why don’t you hate me?”

“Because I know who you really are. And that wasn’t you. Never was.” She said it so fervently that you almost believed her.

“But that’s just the thing. It was me. All of that blood is on my hands. If something happened to you, that would be on me.” And I don’t think I would survive without you. You left the rest unsaid, but it hung in the air just out of reach. “All he had to do was say the goddamn words and I lost it.”

“And you came back.” You found your mind wandering off into the mountains afar. “Hey look at me.” She laid a hand on your shoulder and brought you back from your reverie. Her warm breath fanned across your cheek. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”

“I can’t shake this feeling, Nat.” You heaved a shuddering breath. “That horrible voice is always in the back of my head. I’m so scared that one day it’ll drown me out.” Your eyes hurt from the force of holding back tears. “Please don’t let it drown me.”

Natasha wrapped her arms around you in a supportive hug. “I’ll never give up on you,” she said. “You can always come back to me.” You cautiously hugged her back and draped yourself over her. You concentrated on what was around you. The smell of the sea-salted air, the warmth of her body, the churn of the boat's engine.

You let her go and cleared your throat, rubbing harshly at your eyes. “Me too,” you said. “I mean, I’m here for you. ‘Til kingdom come.” You’d always fight for her. Truth is you had been for a long time now, you just didn’t realize it. 

“You’re not the only one who’s done unspeakable things,” she whispered, as if preoccupied with reliving some awful memory. You weren’t the only one with demons intent on ruining any scrap of peace.

“Aren’t we quite the pair?” You inspected her hoodie and all of its familiarity. “Is that my sweatshirt?”

“No,” she lied, even as she messed with the ends of the sleeves that went well past her hands.

“Mhm. So did you bring any of my clothes for me or…?”

“I didn’t know if I was ever going to see you again,” Natasha said. Her voice was shaky with frustration and pent-up anxiety. “I was so worried. I thought that this would be all I had left to remember you by. I kept thinking that we would get into the Raft and you wouldn’t be there.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said. The week and a half you were locked up for you hadn’t thought about where she might be. You told yourself you were too preoccupied with Steve and Bucky to otherwise focus. But you knew to think about Natasha was to admit you cared deeply for her. That was a battle you weren’t ready to surrender. “I didn’t know.” But maybe now was the time to lay down arms.

“That’s right you didn’t know. You didn’t think. That’s the problem you think you’re invincible and you run headfirst into danger time and time again.”

“I can take care of myself.” 

“Except it’s not just you anymore, Rogers. There are people that care about you and how you act affects them. When you make a stupid move it’s not just you who suffers the consequences.” Her voice cracked under the weight of the words.

“I can’t just sit around when something goes bad. You can’t ask me to do that.” You had so much time, so many lives to make up for. And that came about by means of action.

“I thought that you were dead. Don’t you understand that?” Natasha’s eyes were full of sorrow and accusation. Your cheeks flushed and you stared into the icy waters. She had every right to be mad. “When they dragged you away I was sure they were going to execute you. Again.” 

The reference stung. When the Red Room found out you’d broken your programming they’d practically beaten you to death in front of Natasha before shipping you back to HYDRA. The scars still burned in your dreams.

An apology formed on your lips. “I know,” she said. The bitterness had burned itself out of her tone. What was left you couldn’t describe. A profound understanding, edges brightened by the hope of a fresh start.

An unspoken something lingered in the cool morning air. 

Natasha grabbed your gloved hand and intertwined her fingers with yours. She leaned over and rested her head on your shoulder. A warmth bloomed in your chest. 

You thought that, just maybe, you’d found where you were supposed to be.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader

[cosmal]

𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐬 — 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

summary — you go to james' footy match, despite hating crowds and it being cold.

warnings/tags — fem!reader, she/her pronouns, professionalrugbyplayer!james, shy!reader, something short!

note — okay this is solely based on how australian rugby works! I'm assuming it's not that different to uk rugby tbh. also very much professional player james! not small town team.

word count — 1.2k

You’re not sure how long it’s been since you went to one of James’s matches. Maybe a few weeks. You remember how cold the last one was - the mud, your wind-whipped cheeks, the massive crowd.

You remember getting stuck in a group of rowdy, 20-something-year-old men. They seemed to be big fans of your boyfriend, cheering and jumping for each try he scored and conversion he kicked. They spilt beer on you and trod all over your feet. You also remember what James had said, Sweetheart, next time tell me you’re coming and I’ll organise you to sit up in a box. You’re freezing.

The thing you remember most was James’s face when he saw you in the sheds. He looked so goddamn happy it wasn’t even funny. You never really come to his games, you hate the crowds so much, and the fact that rugby season is in winter. You’d much rather to watch it live on your TV, in the comfort of your own home.

James knows this, he’s completely fine with it. Well, that’s what he says. It’s okay, Y/N. This match is supposed to be really big and I’d much rather you stay home than get caught up in all the commotion. That was what he had said to you once. He knows you get nervous, no matter whether you’re in the middle of the grandstands or tucked away upstairs with his coach, watching in a spectator’s box. It’s too much for you.

Still, you want to support him. This is his job, his life. And the spectacle of a large crowd is something you can put aside for a moment if it means you get to see your boyfriend tackle some men to the ground, get all muddy and sweaty, and then his eyes light up when he sees you afterwards. It’s completely worth it.

It wasn’t cold when you left, you swear of it. Now, you’re sat up in the middle of the front grandstand, in a much quieter section. But still, the wind has picked up and the sun doesn’t look as if it’ll come out again. The outfit you decided to wear isn’t a bad one, but you still wished you’d worn a warmer coat. Maybe a scarf.

You have the perfect view of James as he runs the field. Passing off the ball to assist with try’s, scoring his own, kicking and tackling as hard as he can. You can tell he’s a star player with how hard he pushes himself, instructing which plays to run and calling out all the important things you should on the field. He’s a born leader.

He’s sweaty and stuck with mud and grass. Muscles straining through the jersey that’s the tiniest bit too small. He’s a total turn-on on the field and you’re excited to find him afterwards. Especially because you’re entirely frozen, and it's loud and overwhelming. Still, you watch him win the match with the biggest grin. 

You climb the endless stairs up to the top of the stadium, past security guards that know you from the few times you’ve been back here, through corridors and hallways until you make it to the home-team sheds.

You can hear their cheering and rowdiness before you open the door and momentarily almost decide on waiting until later. That is until the doors are opening before you can even push your palm flat against the metal frame.

It’s much warmer inside - much stuffier. You push past other family members, girlfriends and friends, and spot him before he does you. The back of his head, the mess of unruly curls that you probably should’ve offered to braid back this morning before he left.

“Potter, your girl's here!’’ You hear one of his teammates call before he turns around, confused.

He’s squinting at first, obviously without the contacts he wears for his games. Then lighting up like an excited puppy the moment he clocks you amidst the chaos that is his buzzing, win-high, team. 

He closes the gap between you and picks you up in a messy, sweaty hug. You’re all giddy when you push your face into his sticky neck. Breathing in his scent. Sweat, dwindling, boyish deodorant and grass. Something that follows him home even after a post-game shower.

“Which girl were you expecting, Potter?” you tease, speaking into his skin. He chuckles when he settles you back down, the feel of it reverberating through your chest.

“One of the many I have on call,” he entertains, arms still wrapped around your lower back. This close you can feel his pecs pressed into you after spending the entire match discretely drooling over them. He’s firm and broad. One of the many benefits of having a rugby player boyfriend.

“You played really well,” you tell him, tucking ink black locks behind his ears. He turns into your hand.

“Thanks, lovely. You’re my good luck charm.”

He’s too kind.

“Where are your glasses?” you ask, bunching the hem of his jersey in your hands, exposing the slip of flesh that covers his hip bones, glistening with perspiration. 

“In my bag,” he answers, “What are you doing here?”

You press a kiss to the skin of the bottom of his jaw, “To see my boyfriend tackle some strong men.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod gleefully.

“Does that require dressing like it’s not 7 degrees outside?” he scolds, albeit with zero heat. Less heat than his body is creating this close against yours. Where his big hands traverse a path up the length of your back.

“It’s not that cold,” you defend. Still, you melt under his touch. “I’m wearing more clothes than you!” You say it like it makes any sense.

“You didn’t just run a hundred laps of a football field.” He frowns.

“M’sorry,” you pout. James melts. Completely crumbles under your soft gaze.

“Don’t be.” He shakes his head, squeezing you close before letting you go again, “Just let me know next time, I’ll put you somewhere warm.”

“I know, you tell me every time.”

“Then listen to me,” James laughs as he moves to the other side of the shed. You follow him like a lost puppy, weaving through players.

“I wanted to surprise you.” You tell him like arguing matters. He’ll be hating himself the entire night for not knowing you were out in the cold. It obviously wasn’t your plan but it’ll still happen.

“Well consider me surprised, babe. Your arms are like popsicles.” James rummages through his bag until he finds his jumper. Turning back around to pull it over your head. You fit your arms through it and brush the ruffled hairs from your face. Brandished in his team colours, you beam in his clothes. 

“Cute,” James murmurs.

Your face warms, “Stop.” You cover your cheeks with your sleeved hands.

“You’re never taking that off.”

“James.”

“I’m serious, you’re fucking adorable,.” he groans like it’s actually painful. You can tell he’s trying to make you comfortable in an environment you have trouble with. You despise his flirty methods. Or love them, you’re not sure.

“Okay, c’mon. Go get you’re stuff, we’re going home.”

“I need to shower.”

“We have a shower at home, if I remember correctly,” you quirk with a tilt of your lips. James’s eyes glint knowingly.

“Oh really?” 

“Yeah.”

“Shit, okay. Let me grab my shit, I’ll be five minutes.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x female reader #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter x yn #james potter x you #marauder x reader #marauders x reader #marauders fanfic #jarry potter fanfic

[grayintogreen]

OKAY HERE WE GO LET’S TALK.

- there was nothing I disliked?? Like sure it had its flaws as all big budget spectacles do but the only glaringly obvious flaw would be if you liked Adam Warlock, which I do not. That fucking gold himbo twink was fucking hilarious.

- ROCKET’S BACKSTORY WAS SOMEHOW WORSE THAN I IMAGINED??? I played him for like six years on DWRP and had tons of headcanons, do you know how HARD it is for canon to be more heartbreaking than my brain??

- I’m so glad my animal abuse squick does not apply to CGI animals. If your animal abuse squick does apply to CGI, you will have a BAD TIME.

- The Rocket content in this movie was off the chain considering he spent half of it in a coma.

- I am always a slut for “your favorite character is the most important thing in the world to a villain and he’ll stop at nothing to get him.” So, uh, good job Gunn!!! You read me for filth pal.

- Love how “I’m lobotomizing my blorbo because no one else is doing it” in LitMoR reflected real life. Let’s lobotomize all my favorite characters.

- BABY ROCKET WAS SO FUCKING CUTE. MUMBLING HIS WAY THROUGH TECHNOBABBLE. I ALMOST DIED. Just all the baby Rocket. He is a sweet little angel.

- how the fuck did you give that raccoon a Philly accent my dude.

- High Evolutionary going down as one of my favorite marvel bad guys because of being OTT and so unhinged his own people were like dude chill.

- “you’re unreasonably obsessed with that animal.” BITCH ME TOO.

- I assume Rocket’s crying fit after Lylla got shot was Bradley Cooper and if so he and Spike Spencer need to go sit in a room and think about what they’ve done to my heart. People doing gut wrenching sobs with only their voice gut me.

- A member of the audience SCREAMED when Lylla got shot. That sums it up.

- love that Rocket ripped that guy’s face off. Love that he didn’t blow his head off. You left him to die!! You could’ve finished him off!!

-PHYLLA-VEL????

- COSMO WAS BEST GIRL. Her being so mad and distressed that Kraglin called her a bad dog was the best running gag.

- we got the first onscreen appearance of Rocket introducing himself as “Rocket Raccoon.” Bless his heart.

- When Rocket almost died and Lylla sent him back, my sister turned to me sobbing and said she hated me for making her like these movies and me through tears said “yeah I know.”

-We have not ruled out Asexual Rocket which was the only headcanon I wanted to keep and Lylla was RIGHT THERE. So I was concerned.

- I love how mean 2014 Gamora is. She’s the best.

- I don’t have a lot of thoughts that aren’t about Rocket, guys. If you want more thoughts, go to the person who isn’t obsessed with a raccoon.

#guardians of the galaxy #guardians of the galaxy vol 3 #GotG vol 3 spoilers

[dekustowel]

[chapter 18: the one where they face the music]

summary: in which izuku midoriya, class 2A’s resident sweetheart, agrees to help you catch the eye of your crush, the infamously stoic, shoto todoroki. it should be easy enough, right? izuku is todoroki’s best friend and feelings aren’t that hard to catch. that might just be the problem.

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masterlist | previous | next

[taglist: closed] @cozy-dolly @apple9i3 @escadolle @moonshineandclearskies @awizuku @local-space-quexn @rainypeachbakerygoth @moonlightbaby10 @dreamland03 @hiqhkey @kisakitwister @flamingi @tansyfleurwhisper @h0n3ysgh0st @keigopika @hazelnutdreaming @whatamidoing89

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YOU ARE COMPLETELY HELPLESS.

And boy, oh boy, do you know it.

because only you could watch a boy walk into such a romantically decorated room, hand in hand with another girl, and still have your heart beat to the rhythm of every step he takes. only you could watch him tuck a stray hair behind her ear and still have your heart hammer against your chest at the idea of him doing that to you. and only you could watch as his emerald eyes scan the room subtly and delusionally think that he's looking for you.

there was probably a gaping hole on the side of your head, with the way your once boisterous friends stood quietly to your left, looking at you to gauge any negative reaction.

you weakly shoot a smile their way before gazing at the spectacle in front of you once more.

it doesn't take much for midoriya and camie to capture the attention of the whole room - izuku midoriya is gorgeous in his own right, he always has been - but tonight he is resplendent. black tuxes have always been known to make a man more attractive. sure, that was true. but as midoriya moves further into the room it became strikingly obvious not only to you, but to everyone else in the room, that the black tuxedo might've been made for him and him alone.

you slam your eyes shut tightly, knowing that if you stare at him any longer a pool of drool will drown you and everyone else in this auditorium. and your insurance definitely doesn't cover that.

you focus your attention on your friends and their dates standing next to you, turning your back to your crush and his date, ignoring the sinking feeling pooling in the pit of your stomach.

"now i feel insecure. babe, we should leave early and change into our jammies." kirishima mumbled, pulling at the points of his hair, and avoiding eye-contact.

"babe, you look great, stop it." she assures him, stopping his nervous tick it's tracks, and soothingly rubbing his back.

"i will admit he's better looking than anyone gives him credit for - dare i say, he's underrated." kaminari pipes up, earning a nod in agreeance from his girlfriend.

"babbeeee, you weren't supposed to agree." kaminari whines, earning and eyeroll from jirou.

"you feeling okay, y/n?" your best friend asks, causing your laughter at your electric friend to die in your throat, a look of concern pressed against his features. sero's date, a nice guy from general studies you'd met previously, shares the same look. clearly, sero has clued him in.

"mhm. i'm doing swell." you hum, as an itch crawls up the side of your arms.

was the room always this loud?

"are you even listening to me?"

no.

no you weren't.

that was a hard thing to do when the mumblings and giggles of the nearby groups of girls were reverberating in your ears at unsafe decibels.

it's not easy to ignore the sound of his laugh or see his perfect smile and look away, but you do it. you do it because you have to.

but for whatever reason it's damn near impossible to tune out the strangers who would've never given him the time of day otherwise talking about him.

"damn, i should've dm-ed him when i had the chance. he's hot."

"is the girl he came with his girlfriend? fuck, does she even know how lucky she is?"

"the things i would do to see that tux on the floor of my r-"

tune it out. tune it out. tune it out.

the longer you listen, the more enraged you'll become, and you have absolutely no right to be enraged. you're not his girlfriend. you're not anyone. you're not camie. you're not camie.

a calloused hand places itself on your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts. your date stands next to you, a blank expression on his features, as he stares past you and over at the dazzling couple behind you.

you glance over your shoulder, watching as camie places a shy hand on midoriya's bicep, leaning into him as they greet his friends. she looks absolutely stunning, a little uncomfortable, but beautiful all the same. then again, you can't name a time she didn't.

why couldn't you have driven a less attractive woman into the arms of the man you love? it would have at least made you feel a little better about yourself.

"you need a drink," katsuki mumbles beside you, slicing your intense thoughts in half. he'd always been good at that, snapping you back into reality. you'd almost forgotten he was there because of how quiet he's been since you arrived. despite claiming that you would immediately part ways upon arrival, he hadn't left your side once since the night began.

you turned your attention to the typically-aggravated blonde standing closely beside you, as the light hand on your shoulder begins to steer you away from your anxieties in human form and to something less daunting: the snack bar.

"have you ever liked someone so much that you didn't care if they liked you back? you just cared if they were happy?" you asked a few minutes later, after tucking into one of the mini cupcakes they had on display.

"no, but it seems to be a common thing that you idiots feel," he responds honestly, handing you a cup of fruit punch.

"is this spiked?"

"drink it."

you do. it's fucking horrible.

"do you think it's a bad thing to feel?" you ask.

"i think it's neither here or nor there, it seems to be something you people with overly big hearts feel," your date responds, "i cannot imagine telling the person i like to be with someone else just because i want them to be happy. be happy with me or be single - that's how i feel about the whole thing."

"that's awful, kats."

"no, that's fighting for what you want. something you haven't even tried to do. you heard there was competition and gave up before you even tried. you don't even really know how deku feels." he retorted.

"of course, i do! i mean look at who he came with." you shift your head slightly in the direction you knew camie and midoriya were standing, still unable to look at them.

bakugou shakes his head, convinced that you have got to be the most daft person in this auditorium right now, "you are helpless."

you laugh at that.

"listen, you could stand here sulking all night, and fuck, i'd let you, i don't give that much of a shit," he continues, "but this stupid dance has been at the forefront of everyone's mind, and it would be great if i didn't have to hear you bitching and moaning about how you didn't have a good time tomorrow morning."

a mischievous, yet genuine smile creeps up your face as you extend your hand out to the blonde in front of you, "that was a roundabout way of asking me to dance, katsu."

"shut up."

-

IZUKU MIDORIYA IS THE DUMBEST MAN ALIVE. yes, that may sound like a bold claim coming from a place of regret and self-pity, and lord knows that may be true - but what if i told you it was the full unadulterated truth? that he truly was the most incompetent person in the room he was in? 

would you believe me? 

honestly, it wouldn't matter if you didn't.

because he believes it.

he believes it for me, you, and everyone else within a thousand-mile radius. he believes it from the top of his head all the way down to the tips of his toes. he believes it so much you can visibly see him shaking with anger at his position at the snack bar.

he doesn't even really remember how he got here. from the moment he stepped out of the 4-kilometer limo, his entire night so far has been blurring together.

he remembers helping camie out of the limo, he remembers entering the auditorium, and he remembers the whispers. but he does not remember seeing you.

for a moment he believes that you've decided to stay home. for a moment he is convinced he can leave this dance early and go and talk to you at your dorm a day early.

but that's not the case.

god, he wishes that were the case because now he has to stand here, against the back wall of the dancefloor, and watch you dazzle the room as you switch between dance partners captivating every person who your hands meet.

izuku midoriya is the dumbest man in the world today because he hurt you yesterday, and there is nothing he can do about it until tomorrow.

so he has to fill his night with playing the wallflower role, watching you from a safe distance. not that he could get any closer if he wanted to. sero's been watching him since the night began and there was almost no way in hell that midoriya was getting to you without going through him first.

he watched wordlessly as bakugou, his nemesis, best friend, and the other things in between, entered the rotation. he twirled you up in the air, the most angelic giggles escaping from your lips, cries of laughter between pleas of mercy.

izuku wonders about the last time that smile was directed at him. he also wonders how discreetly he can activate one-for-all before bakugou notices and attacks him first.

it's been a long time since midoriya felt an ounce of jealousy toward his childhood friend. i mean, you live 14 years in a man's shadow and you think that's the most resentment you can feel towards him.

how shocking it must be to realize that years of childhood trauma don't even hold a candle to what he's feeling right now?

midoriya threw his head back downing the last of his overly sweet, potentially-spiked punch. 

"drowning yourself in gross drinks doesn't help by the way," an unexpected voice called from beside him. izuku glanced over only to be met with the side profile of his good friend, ochaco.

she leaned against the wall cooly, bopping her head to the pop music playing, "have you spoken to her yet?"

"i haven't. sero's been playing guard dog all night," the freckled teen commented, reaching to pour himself another drink before his hand was swatted away by his friend.

"you gonna confess?"

"i mean in a normal circumstance you would. but i don't even have real confirmation that she likes me. i only have context clues, and todoroki's cryptic ass texts."

"you need more than that?"

"hearing her say it would be nice because the googly eyes she's making at kacchan right now aren't helping my confidence much." midoriya laughed drily, resting his face in his palms, "it also doesn't help that she thinks I have feelings for someone else."

"you've both really made a mess of things." she comments bluntly.

"thank you, that's helpful."

it's silent for a few moments after that, causing midoriya to turn his head and look at his friend. she appears contemplative with her furrowed eyebrows and the chewing of her bottom lip.

"you want help, deku? fine, i'll give you help. you're gonna have a window of 17 seconds to get to her without anyone intervening." she states, out of practically nowhere.

"i beg your pardon?"

"i'm going to distract sero and his date, it's going to take roughly 17 seconds before he realizes what's going on and turns around to get to y/n, by then, i expect you to already be there confessing your undying love or whatever," she explains as she stands up.

"i can't-"

"can't or won't?" she shuts him down immediately, already walking away before midoriya was able to get a word in at all.

instantaneously, uraraka is at work, she is delighting sero and his boyfriend, and they're laughing as midoriya is cutting through the crowd as inconspicuously as possible.

he finally reaches bakugou, who is no longer dancing with you and instead recording videos for kirishima and mina.

"where is y/n?" midoriya hurriedly asks.

"what took you so fucking long, idiot?" the irritated blonde inquired.

"doctor's orders: stay away from y/n."

"and you actually listened to that crap? psh, now i really know you're an idiot," bakugou rolls his eyes, "she's dancing with that metal fucker from 2b."

it doesn't take much effort to find tetsutetsu. the strobe lights on the dancefloor reflects off him making him an equal parts blinding disco ball and a beautiful one.

"tetsu, do you mind if i cut in?"

-

his voice immediately sends shivers up your spine, causing each individual hair on your body to stand on end.

please tetsu. please tetsu. please tetsu.

the downside to tetsu being metal is that he cannot feel the change in pressure applied to his body. because there's no way in hell he would've felt the vice grip you had on his shoulders and still assuredly and happily say, "go for it, bro! don't let me stop you!" and immediately step back into the crowd. that would've never happened.

unfortunately it did.

"don't run away. i need to talk to you." he exhaled, reading your thoughts in an instant, and practically cementing your feet in place.

you rolled you eyes sublty, crossing your arms over you chest hoping that this action will protect your heart from the incoming stabbing pain it will face.

i mean isn't it obvious why he wants to talk to you?

he saw you here with bakugou at some point during the night and he probably asked todoroki what was going on, and the jig was finally up. odd are he told him everything. and it's most likely he's flattered but uninterested.

this was izuku midoriya trying to let you down gently and god, did you feel pretty fucking pathetic.

you inhaled deepy as midoriya took your hand in his and pulled you close to him, making it impossible for him to not feel the rapid way in which your heart was beating. your face heated at the thought of him knowing just how nervous he made you.

you'd love to bathe in the warmth of his body and breathe in his pine scent, but you couldn't help but wonder where camie was. imagine how she'd feel if she saw you pressed up against her date like this.

before you could make a move to put distance between you and midoriya, he began speaking.

"are you thinking about, camie?" midoriya asked quietly, clearly able to read the expression on your face.

"yeah." you replied timidly.

"she's gone." he responded, emphasizing that last word.

you slowly raised your head, to meet his eyes for the first time since he arrived in the auditorium, "what?"

"she went to go see her boyfriend."

"i don't understand," you respond, a fog you didn't even realize was there to start with began to clear.

"i've been trying to tell you that camie and i were never together."

"but her twitter-"

"she was trying to make her ex-boyfriend jealous, which obviously it worked because she left within the first 20 minutes of us being here to be with him, which you would've noticed if you weren't avoiding me," he explained, taking your hand in his, "camie and i were never together. she and i were just using each other as a distraction from our problems. we are friends. nothing more nothing less,"

you stared at him in disbelief, the fog quickly turning into a red haze of anger, "why wouldn't you just tell me that from the beginning? and why did you even need to use camie? i mean, we'd gotten pretty close by that point, i don't understand why you couldn't confide in me, izuku," you say half to him, and half to yourself, ripping your hand out of his grasp in the process.

he loved hearing you say his first name, but not like this. not when you're angry with him.

"it is complicated," he frowned, defeat playing on his soft features.

"bullshit. you didn't trust me enough to talk to me about your problems. midoriya, i told you everything." you whisper-shouted, your heart jumping into your throat.

you'd quickly become very conscious of the fact that you were having this heated discussion in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by your peers. and it sure as hell didn't help that uraraka, sero, and, bakugou were all staring at you two from a distant spot on the wall of the dancefloor.

exasperated and mildly embarrassed, you unhook yourself from midoriya's steady grasp on your waist and storm your way out onto the balcony. he followed closely behind.

you thought the cold air would give you some clarity or maybe some kind of idea on how to navigate this conversation, but all it really did was anger you further, "why don't you trust me?" you choked out, tears brimming in your eyes.

"i- i do." midoriya pleaded.

"you don't!" you spat, turning your back to him and looking out to the musutafu skyline, finally allowing the tears to kiss your cheeks.

"you don't," you whispered, hanging your head, "you opted to rent a girlfriend and confuse the masses rather than just talk to me about your problems."

"how do you expect me to talk about my problems to the problem, y/n?" he finally snapped, turning you whole body to face him with one swift movement.

you pause, mulling over the weight of his words for a second.

"you're the problem, y/n." he starts, running an exasperated fist through his hair, "you've been the problem since the first time you messaged me. honestly, you've been the problem since we met!" he's pacing now, "seriously what did you want me to do? come to you and tell you how you're all i can think about and that all i wanna do is punch my best friend in the face because the girl i am hopelessly in love with loves him instead?"

he's in love with you?

izuku midoriya is in love with you?

your body is like a magnet, it moves all on it's own.

"you know, i had this whole speech i was gonna give you about how i was sorry for letting you think that even for an instant, there was another girl in my life that meant as much to me as you did-"

"oh, were you?" you cut in, stepping closer to him.

"-and i was going to tell you how sorry i am that i made you sad and that if you allowed me to do right by you, i would do everything in my power to make sure that you never felt sad again." he declares, breathless by the time he's finished his monologue.

"you have feelings for me?" you ask, inching closer to him.

"it's relatively impossible not to, y/n, have you met yourself?" he responds with a sigh, bringing his hand up to rub his forehead.

"poor taste." you quip, getting a rare eye roll from the boy in front of you.

"so, you started talking to camie to distract yourself from your feelings for me because you wanted me to be happy?" you question slowly, wanting to catch every change in reaction his face makes. you get a little closer.

"and you dropped todoroki without telling me because you thought i was into camie, and you wanted me to be happy?" he retorted. he's moving a little too.

a small laugh can't help but play in your throat before you deeply exhale, and bring your palm up to cup his freckled cheek. as if it were the most natural thing, he begins nuzzling into the warmth of your hand.

"i hate when he's right," you hum, thinking of your best friend and the first words he ever said to you when you mentioned involving midoriya in this whole mess, "he's never gonna let me live this down." you murmur, caressing the freckles under your thumb.

"when who is ri-" midoriya tries to inquire, but the words die in his throat, as you move towards him suddenly, lifting your head, and pressing your lips against his. after a few moments, you make a move to pull away, but the hand that wraps around your neck, and the other that holds your cheek holds you stationary, and simultaneously causes the kiss to deepen significantly. it does take much longer to confirm your suspicion that there is probably nothing else in the world you enjoy more than kissing izuku midoriya.

"wait, wait, wait," the greenette pulls away, earning a whiny groan from you, "as much i love that, i need to know what this means. i need to hear you say it."

"it means that i am hopelessly in love with you too. and that i'm sorry for putting you through that emotional rollercoaster. it means i am yours for as long as you'll have me." you sigh, resting your head on his shoulder.

"hm." midoriya hummed in satisfaction, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead, "can we agree on something?"

"sure."

"when it comes to one another, let's vow to be eternally selfish."

"pft, vowing to have you all to myself forever?" you laugh, "consider it done."

——————————————

FUN FACT: i am a sucker for a happy ending.

——————————————

[taglist contd.] @adoringizu @charmingizu @killerqueen84 @imjustasimpxd @mehhhhhd @l0svers @charliepoopyfart @cocoa-bitter @itgetzweird08 @todomaniac​ @drugs-for-memes @3mcmarvelisruthless​ @mrsgrantspector @pastel-prynce @leathernourishingshoepolish @bruh-tato-chip @izukuisbaby @motzgurke @randombabywitch @xiaos-wif3 @deanstolemydragon @naladarkclouds @madebytinypals @beingbrokenfitsus @simplysaiyan @yes-imma-simppppppp @deitysnips @deeplightgarden @thesheepwithclaws @madamslayyy

#bnha #boku no hero academia #deku x reader #mha #midoriya x reader #my hero academia #midoriya x y/n #midoriya x you #bakugou katsuki #mha smau #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #mha bakugou #mha textfic #midoriya mha #bnha textfic #bnha social media ua #midoriya smau #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki #izuku midoriya fanfic #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #mha fanfic #midorya x self insert #shinsou x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #mina ashido

[kitkat238984]

Goddess Of Your Dreams (soulmate au)

Summary: In an alternate universe where soulmates are determined by unique marks, you do everything you can to hide your matching soul mark from the cold-hearted handsome devil, Hook.

But when a match with "Timeless" Toni Storm causes your secret to be revealed to the whole world, you have many awkward encounters that leave you both mesmerised and breathless.

TW: Mentions of sexual themes, normal wrestling violence.

The crowd roared as The Chairman’s Intent played through the speakers and Hook entered through the tunnel and made his way down the ramp towards his hungry-for-violence opponent, Wheeler Yuta. Excalibur’s voice fed through the TV screens in the homes of thousands. 

“And we see the cold-hearted handsome devil walk down the ramp, so confident and expressionless, a complete contrast to that sunflower soulmark he’s sporting there, wouldn’t you say Taz?” 

The father of the heart-throb in the wrestling world had to stay neutral in his job as a commentator, but never hid how proud he was of his son and his achievements. “Of course. But if there’s one thing I’m sure about is that he will make some lucky girl very happy”. 

“Hook, doing his ritual of circling around the ring. And I think the soul marks make you realise just how human we all are, showing almost the vulnerability in people as stone cold as Hook”. 

The match between Hook and Wheeler wasn’t for any title, only to settle a score when Yuta began cussing out Hook’s arrogance and the friends he “strings along”, and - as he usually does - Hook shoved those words where the sun don’t shine and had him caught in a redrum within minutes. After all, cursing is Danhausen’s thing. 

— 

A couple of weeks later, you were backstage, preparing for your upcoming fight against ‘Timeless’ Toni Storm for the Women’s World Championship. This was quite frankly the biggest match of your life, and against a wrestler who was far more experienced than yourself, even though you had been in AEW for a year now and had made quite the spectacle of yourself with your alluring character. You couldn’t count the number of times male fans of AEW had approached you with their clever but awkward pick-up lines. 

“You’re ready for this” , the voice of your ringside and friend, Kris Statlander, told you whilst patting your shoulder. “You’ve studied every one of her moves and trained for weeks on end. How are you nervous about this?” 

You ignored her question with no real answer to give her. You were ready, more than you had ever been for a match, let alone already being a decent wrestler. 

You continued to watch yourself in the mirror. You really did look like a goddess. And that wasn’t you trying to be conceited because your whole gimmick was that you were Venus, the Roman goddess of love and beauty and sex and more. You wore waist high blue shorts with decorative white buttons and drawstring with a matching plaid sporting bra which cupped your breasts and made your cleavage visible for all to see. 

You didn’t mind being used as sex appeal to be honest as it made you feel a lot more confident in your self. You’d hardly had any confidence before AEW until one day you decided to be brave, wearing very little sportswear at the gym which happened to be the day you were recognised as a potential for professional wrestling. Coincidence? Who knows, but you didn’t care. Everyone appreciated you as a good sportswoman. You were here and you were proud your dream came true whilst also being one of the best female wrestlers in the company. 

“You know why I’m nervous”, you said, timidly, glancing to the right of the mirror to meet the gaze of Kris. 

“We go through this every time, no one’s going to see it. They never do! That choker is very secure. You might as well be strangling yourself”. 

You hummed, instinctively slipping your hand under the large braid that snaked down the right side of your neck and swept your fingers under the choker, touching where you knew your soul mark to be. 

“I don’t even know why you bother hiding it. It’ll come out eventually. One of your hookups are going to piece it together”. 

You smiled and chuckled lightly at her comment and turned around, tiptoeing to lean closer to her ear. 

You whispered, “Daniel Garcia didn’t say anything when he had his hands wrapped round my throat”. 

With a hearty laugh, you went to leave the room you used as a dressing room hearing her dramatically gasp, saying “Y/N, you’re such a slut!” 

The door was half open with you facing inside. “I may be a slut but I still have morals. My soulmate is more important than any of those floozies”, you laughed again and opened the door fully, but almost crashed into a figure who was walking past and most likely heard the last of your conversation. 

You looked up at the tall man wearing a white hoodie and black sweatpants and immediately cleared your throat and glanced back down when you made quick eye contact when he glanced at you with a raised eyebrow and continued on his way, not stopping once to question what he just heard. 

“Awkward”. You turned your head to glare before nodding your head towards the hallway so you can get ready to go on, not before taking one last look at the cold-hearted Hook who had his hood covering that damned mark that matched yours. 

Why, of all people, him? 

You’d never even spoken to each other and you always thought that your personalities would clash. That is, if you even knew his personality. His cool exterior was only an act after all - or at least most of it. You had no clue where to even start with him. 

Your ‘quick look back’ must have lasted a little longer than you anticipated because you found yourself being pushed through the dimly lit hallway towards the stage. 

Toni Storm was already out there making her extravagant entrance as usual and the nerves suddenly hit you again like a continuous stabbing to the gut. 

Kris must have read you like a book because she began roughly massaging your shoulders and shaking you, waking you out of the depths of your own mind. 

“You got this", she told you. “Rip out the feathers of her boa and you’ll have her crumbling on the spot”. 

“Or that would just make her even more angry?" 

“Just beat her senseless and bring back that belt. Come on, we’re on”. 

You heard the guitar riff you’d heard so many times which was your entrance song, 'Venus' by Shocking Blue - ironically not such a shocking song for your character. 

Holding your best flirty face, you walked through the tunnel and stood centre stage, eyeing the crowd and blowing kisses at certain men on the front row, contributing to your act. You made eye contact with Toni Storm and gracefully travelled down the ramp with Kris tailing behind you, riling up the crowd a bit before walking around ringside. 

Entering the ring you saw she had a mic in her hand and so you thought you’d wait to attack and have a little fun first. 

“Any words before I banish you off the screen?” 

You motioned for the mic and she willingly let you have it. “First off, that belt clashes with your outfit. And secondly… I’m about to knock you into the 1800s, showgirl”. 

You throw the mic to the side and headed straight for the attack which Storm skilfully dodges but you bounce back on the ropes and high kick her in the face which makes her stumble back. 

You go back and forth with the attacks and a few minutes in it’s still difficult to predict a winner as you both fight through the pain, eager to get your hands on that belt. 

You let her swing you around the ring before stranding you in the middle where she kicked your back and you fell forward, face first into the canvas. Blood was most likely pouring from your nose at this point and you felt pretty helpless but, your arms the only thing keeping you up, even when she had your legs bent and leaning on your back you still wouldn’t budge so the referee never started counting. 

Everything from that point felt like slow-motion. Storm yanked up your hair and grabbed a hold of the precious choker that you felt the need to guard with your life. However, you couldn’t stop her as your arms were still in use to hold you up. 

You thought you could hear the voices of Excalibur, Tony, and Taz commenting on this scene when your oxygen privileges were taken away from you for a brief couple of seconds. 

“Dramatic as ever! Toni Storm ripping that choker from Venus, breaks the chain, and still has her-” 

“Wait a minute there, Tony”, Excalibur interrupts. “What’s that? On her neck?” 

“Why, it’s a sunflower!” He was quick to reply. “Oh, my god! Now, for anyone who doesn’t remember, that’s the exact same soul mark as our very own Hook! Taz, how are you feeling about this?” 

A few seconds passed before Taz responded to that question, bewildered by this realisation that millions of people in the fanbase had just come to terms with. “For the first time ever, I-I have no words. I’m utterly speechless”. 

You couldn’t believe what had just happened. You were in such shock that the one thing you were trying to hide was revealed that you lost control of your arms and they gave in to both the weight of yourself and Toni - who was still laying over your back - and the recoil of your head after the breakage of your choker. 

You acted fast when the referee began smacking his hand on the canvas and you swung your elbow back into Storm’s side, rolling her onto her front in place of you, pulling her legs back and holding down her upper back with your knees so she couldn’t escape. 

Within three seconds, you heard the ring of the bell indicating your victory and had secured yourself the WWC. You carefully got off your opponent and used your large braid which was still somehow intact to cover the sunflower mark. You knew it was all too late but perhaps you could save yourself at least a little dignity for now. 

You allowed your hand to be raised in the air and for the Women’s World Championship belt to be slung over your shoulder. You decided to not let your revealed secret take away your triumph and you gladly stood on the ropes of the ring and held up the belt for the world to see. Most of the crowd were cheering which you were relieved at. 

Jumping out of the ring you picked up a mic and yelled out, “Checkmate, bitch!” before Kris attacked you with a hug which you happily embraced, knocking the microphone out of your hand. 

With smiles strewn across your faces, you limped up the ramp and gave the camera a wink and blew a kiss before heading through the tunnel. 

You were greeted with “well done”s and “congratulations”’s, and you didn’t fail to notice every one of them look at where your soul mark was. 

“I can’t believe I just did that”, you said to them all, still breathless. 

“We thought you were a goner when she had you pinned like that. Such a turn around”. 

“Saw it in the viewing room. Could’ve gone either way”. 

“Y/N…” a stern voice called to you. You turned to see who it was and came face-to-face with the one and only Tony Khan. 

Ah shit. 

“I hate to cut this celebration short but could I speak with you for a moment?” 

You stared in shock. “Uh yeah of course”. 

He couldn’t fire you, could he? It was just a soul mark. Even though the scenario that he would get rid of you was unlikely, the fear plagued your mind. 

— 

“I first want to say well done for securing the Women’s World Championship. You deserve it after all the effort you’ve put in this year”. 

“Thank you”, is all you managed to say. 

“I’m going to be straight with you. It was very irresponsible to keep something like a soul mark matched with another wrestler away from myself and the team. We would have understood if you wanted to keep that a secret from the public but not us. We could have helped you and prevented a situation like this from happening". 

You sighed, knowing he was completely right and you should have at least told someone about it so you could get help to cover it rather than taking it upon yourself to hide it from everyone. 

“We can’t do much about it now. The public already knows and we’ll just have to go with it”. 

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, sir?” 

“If what you’re thinking is incorporating it into a story line, then yes”. 

You had such mixed emotions coursing through your veins at this moment. You were relieved that you weren’t in trouble, excited you were part of a new story line, thrilled that you’d just won your match against Toni Storm, and scared as to what your soulmate would say to you after this. 

He continued. “But I have to ask. Did Hook know?” 

You shook your head lightly in shame and looked down at the hands that sat fidgety on your lap. 

“Well I’ll give you time to sort out a few personal things, and I’ll make sure promos are recorded regarding your new on-screen romance first before there’s any action in the ring. Thank you”. 

You nodded in appreciation and left his makeshift office, now bubbling in anticipation at this new opportunity. You practically ran to your dressing room where Kris said she’d meet you and you’d get changed and party until dawn, drinking to celebrate your success and to also forget about the future encounter with Hook, well… Tyler is what you’d found out his name was, but you weren’t ready to be so casual with someone you'd never spoken to before. 

— 

When you were back at work, you expected Hook to approach you straight away, however, the most you got out of him was a mere glance your way or sometimes you’d catch him staring at your back, not that he seemed even the slightest bit embarrassed to turn away. 

You couldn’t possibly start any conversation with him. In fact, when you were told what was happening for one of the promos, introducing your on-screen romance, you never spoke to him about it and had to improvise when the cameras were placed on you both. 

“Danhausen, tell us how you’re feeling about the upcoming trios match?” The interviewer asked him. Danhausen being himself, he had this scary yet amusing pose with clawed fingers in front of him. 

“Very good. I have cursed all three of them so they may die before then”, he said in his freaky accent. 

“And of course you’re teaming with Hook and Orange Cassidy - a pretty strong team formed there if you ask me - how do you think they’re coping with the pressure of this match?” 

“I fear they are frozen”. 

“Uh frozen? What do you mean by that?” 

“Some powerful sorcery has frozen them in time. Look!”. 

The camera first focused on Orange Cassidy who was leaning up against a wall, both arms and legs crossed and slowly chewing on a piece of gum. 

The camera then turned to you and Hook who were told to stand opposite one another, simply staring into the other’s eyes, your soul mark being the one to show the camera. 

Although it was only acting, you still felt butterflies floating around your stomach since this was technically the most you’ve ever interacted with him, your soulmate. No one else’s soulmate. None of his adoring female fans had the same mark as him on their necks. The thought of you being the special one almost brought a smile to your face, but you had to stop yourself when you remembered the cameras. 

You used this time to really appreciate his facial features. How had you not realised how attractive he was sooner? His jawline was well-defined yet looked so soft to touch. And his eyes… so dark but so… intriguing… and… and… what were you saying? 

You’d got so lost in the moment that you hadn’t even realised that the cameras were no longer on your faces. It was only when the clicking of Danhausen’s fingers in between you both that you were brought out of your trance. 

“I fixed them! I didn’t know I could uncurse someone…” 

You saw Orange Cassidy on the other side of the room, peeking over the top of his sunglasses with his suggestive look at you. Hook hadn’t once flinched or maybe even blinked and still continued staring your way. The fear and self-consciousness struck you like it had done a thousand times before and you awkwardly walked past him towards catering where you were to meet Kris and Willow. 

You were smitten alright. Unmistakably. And you did not want to make yourself feel even more flustered than that situation had already made you. 

— 

The plan was simple. "Timeless" Toni Storm and her husband and AEW wrestler, Juice Robinson, would talk shit about you in the ring, daring you to come out with the belt. You’d go out, say something snarky, they’d beat the crap out of you, and Hook comes out to save you. Easy. Simple. 

Except it really wasn’t that simple. Not when Hook was involved. You couldn’t bring yourself to confront him again. Danhausen’s promo was only the beginning and you only just managed to hold yourself together then. 

It took you a few laps around your hotel room that morning to clear your mind of the worries. Once all of this was over and everything made sense in the world, there would be nothing left to worry about and you would actually be able to get on with your life and career in peace. 

You were backstage, ready for your entrance. Hook stood only a couple metres away, eating a bag of chips. If there was one thing you definitely knew about Hook as Tyler, it was that he loved chips. Even when the cameras were nowhere in sight you always saw him with chips to hand. 

“...so what I want to say to Venus is that if you want to disrespect my beautiful wife, then you can come out here and say it to me as well. Come on! What are you afraid of? Everyone knows your dirty little secret now so you might as well show it to the world!” 

You took that as your cue and motioned for the sound and visuals manager to play your into. When it began, you wasted no time strutting out on stage, with no bother sending kisses to the crowd. After all, you were meant to be angry at them. 

You were given a mic at the end of the ramp and when you entered the ring, the power couple before you stood tall and confident, looking down at you who stood alone with your newly won belt you felt the need to protect. 

“Let us not dither with such a minor dispute. I don’t want to waste my time with an extra”, Storm laughed, and you heard a few boos in the crowd. Thank you. “You have stolen what is mine and I want it back. Now”. 

You smirked to the crowd and back at her who had her hand out expectedly. 

“It’s actually my belt now. My belt, my championship, my title. If you want it, you’ll have to come and take it from me. Mr. Loverboy over here don’t scare me”. 

An impulsive thought suddenly came to you whilst saying that. Where were their soul marks? Were they matching? People get into relationships, but normally they wait for their soulmates for marriage. Perhaps you just couldn’t see their marks, you thought, but then inwardly grimaced at where it might be as Robinson wasn’t exactly hiding much of himself with the amount of clothing he was wearing. 

“And where’s yours?” she asked. “Are you done staring at each other or are you still both lost little puppies, looking for their owners?” The teasing began to infuriate you. She must have been told to make the most of how she was the one to shed the light on your soul mark. 

“It’s… none of your business…” you awkwardly stated, glancing off to the side. 

“I’ll tell you what is my business. That championship. Darling?” 

Within seconds, the mic flung out of your hands for goddess knows how many times now and before you knew it, your hands were pinned behind your back and you had fallen to your knees, hair pulled to look up the 1920s star, officially at the mercy of the couple. 

As always, Storm dramatised the entire scenario, acting as if the belt was an Oscar she’d won for a picture show, and suddenly flung it to the side of the ring before striking your face with her forearm several times and you could do nothing but endure it. 

At one point you decided to test the waters and spat at her, who gasped disgustingly and kicked you to the side and you dropped on the floor. 

As if on cue, the arena darkened and Action Bronson played through the speakers, notifying you that Hook had entered the scene, and the butterflies yet again fluttered in your chest. 

Don’t get nervous now with millions of people watching you, Y/N. 

At the sight of Hook striding down the ramp with his cold-hearted yet handsome, sort of devilish expression - oh you got why they called him that now - Robinson and Storm ran past him towards the tunnel, Hook intimidatingly puffing out his chest through his hoodie as they crossed. 

The crowd went absolutely wild when they saw that Hook hadn’t stopped there and fought, but climbed through the ring and stood over your feeble state. As expected and without any exchange of words, he offered you a hand which you looked to the audience for approval before accepting gratefully. 

Ahhh it hurts so much. I didn’t realise the soulmate bond was this powerful. Was he feeling the same as me? How was he so cool about this all? 

You smiled as you both walked up the ramp in style, a couple that were quite frankly unstoppable to AEW. 

You didn’t bother lingering backstage, hoping that maybe Hook would finally approach you since you still couldn’t gather the courage to do it yourself. It was rather hypocritical of you seeing as you had an entire year to say something, but you just wanted to know if he was interested in you or not before making a fool out of yourself. 

A small gasp escaped your lips when a strong hand gripped your arm and spun you around where you faced the devil himself. He stared at you like he had all those other times, although you noticed the subtle desperation in his expression as his nose twitched and eyebrows furrowed, adjusting his jaw. 

His eyes shifted and you followed his gaze to where your mark was and self-consciously reached up to touch it but his hand gently took hold of your wrist, stopping you, and his head leaned closer toward your neck. 

Was this a chapter out of Fifty Shades of Grey or something? 

You couldn’t tell if your heart had stopped or if it was beating so furiously that it would burst out of your chest. A shiver sent down your spine and a shaky breath left your lips when you felt his own brush over the mark you shared, giving you the perfect angle to see his own soul mark. 

It really was a replica of the one you had which was a given. 

His head lifted out of your neck and he met your eyes again, this time exhibiting a sly smirk telling you that he knew exactly what he was doing to you. 

How devious… but you couldn’t deny that you were loving every second of it. 

“Why were you ignoring me?” you finally managed to ask after weeks since your mark was first shown in the ring. His obvious attraction and reveal of his need for you as well fuelled confidence within you, and you were glad that this encounter had turned out the way it had. 

“Why did you hide this from me?” He placed a hand on the side of your neck which now filled you with warmth and comfort. 

You kept quiet and bit your bottom lip as you didn’t really have a good explanation for why you did what you did. 

He chuckled lightly and quickly looked over your body, licking his lips - a small detail that only someone as close to him as you were in that moment would have noticed. 

“Well now I know we’re soulbound, it’d be rude not to ask the lady for a drink after the show. So how about it?” 

A large, mischievous grin swept across your face. “I’d love to. But you should know that I don’t commit on the first date. Not to anyone”. 

“Not even to your soulmate? Aren’t you meant to be the goddess of love?” 

“Are you saying you’re already in love with me?” 

You had both found yourselves gradually getting closer and closer. You didn’t even realise when your chests had come into contact, breath tickling each other’s faces. 

“Can’t argue with the soulmate bond”. 

Almost in desperation, your lips crashed into Hook’s who’s hands travelled to your waist to somehow pull you even closer than you already were, your arms snaking around his neck, fingers sliding through the hair at the top of the nape of his neck. 

“...I thought these videos were meant to be about me…” a voice broke you out of your kiss and you felt Hook huff and pout like he usually does, making you giggle at his childishness. 

You turned and saw Danhausen standing, watching you both in confusion with the camera crew situated behind him, pointing towards you. 

This was undoubtedly going to be aired in a promo but you couldn’t care less in that special moment of yours. The crew left once they realised that you both weren’t going to budge from where you were. You’d just been thrown in the arms of your soulmate after a year of knowing the truth and over a month of incredible attraction. 

Your attention was very quickly back on the man securely holding you in place, and you decided to tease him a little if that was the game you were going to be playing. “I’m not just the goddess of love. I’m the goddess of beauty… desire… sex…” 

Knowing exactly where you were going with this, his smirk returned, bigger than before. “Well let’s see. Beauty? Check. Desire?” He told a hold of your hand before guiding it towards the bulge that stuck out of his sweatpants. You squeezed his length gently, earning a soft groan before pulling your hand away again. “Check. Sex? Well I guess I’ll be the judge of that”. 

His hands slid down, cupping your ass and lifting you up with ease as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. You felt yourself being carried through the halls backstage and you used this time to entangle your hands back through his hair which caused him to squeeze where his hands were placed on your backside. 

You lightly nibbled on his neck where the mark was and breathed in all of him. 

Ugh. Did he always smell this fucking good? 

You didn’t care if the people you passed were judging you or not; you only cared that all this tension was finally about to be released. 

“You’ll be turning full heel after the night is over, baby. I’m about the fuck all that gracefulness out of you”. 

You giggled and leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “You just try me”. 

THE END. 

#hook aew #hook x reader #aew #danhausen #aew fanfiction #hook x you #hook x y/n #hook fanfiction

[not-goldy]

But why Jimin is feeling some type about turning 30 🤔 He doesn't have a biological clock ticking to get pregnant, he's a man who according according society doesn't reach their 'expiry date any time soon, he got everything settled financially and family wise, he got supportive parents but he lived majority of his life away from them... now even if he wants to have them here he's perfectly capable to do so. He still looks dropdead gorgeous... actually older he becomes prettier and graceful he turns. His body is still young and beautiful, He already got a partner who is so understanding and makes him feel the best no matter how he looks or his age.

I don't see Tae, who's same age as him focusing on turning 30 much.. he's still having fun, dating best girls out there, all set to enjoy after he retun from MS too. Like he should..because 30 is still very young in my book lol

Biological clock to get pregnant....

Ha🤣

A. He's human

B. Different backgrounds Different directions in life

Tae doesn't have chronic backpain does he??

Tae's career is not woven around his ability to dance his ass off and contour his body into impossible shapes does he? He dances sure and he's good sure but he's not Jimin 🥴

Watch BTS Island or whatever that show was I think they talked about these things- vmin I mean.

Remember he said he hated working out but then had to learn to love it because he needed to work on his form. He said he was becoming weak- he is not just a pretty face. He is not the type of idol you'd give a mic and a seat center stage to perform.

He is Beyonce. He is a spectacle

He will always be a spectacle unfortunately

Losing weight, dieting, fixing his teeth tweaking that- can't do that all his life that's just sad if he has to😢

So he is gonna reminisce and wonder if he should keep doing this or choose a different part- as he said he did before in the past when BTS was going through stuff.

He's gonna reinvent himself take stock reevaluate and shit. 30 is a milestone I suppose most idols do that before they decide to go all in for the long ride- you wouldn't want to look back at 40 and regret certain things you know?

This is where I start ranting bout the impossible beauty standards and performance expectations yall have of him- HE IS SOMEONE'S SON NOT AN OBJECT FOR YOUR ADMIRATION

And before you tell me this idol don't do that that person don't do that- THAT PERSON IS NOT JIMIN AND YOU KNOW DEAD WELL YOU HOLD JIMIN TO A MUCH HIGHER STANDARD THAN TEHM DONT LIE

And let's not forget 30 is primarily when an Idols career is assumed to have come to an end in kpop- sure there are new trends of older idols breaking the stereotypes but let's not act like age isn't a huge part of Kpop and that newer younger, much much younger idols are popping up on the scene- they may not be as seasoned or as talented but that will not stop toxic stans perpetuating ageism against BTS.

Its very normal for an idol of JMs caliber to put some thoughts into what he wants to do with his life at this point- if the company isn't going to be any helpful to his career and he doesn't have his age playing in his favor then boy or girl he very much has a right to ponder over his age. He's human.

If he's queer and wants a family then he very much has to worry about that too. And don't be fooled, men do experience low sperm count as they age and other erectile disfunction as they age too it's not just women like they try to portray.

They grow grey hairs and they go bald 🙄

Their bodies change dramatically with age too🥲

I can go on and on but he's just human doing what normal humans do.

[eldritch-spouse]

[Part 3 of Gifted. Fem reader.]

Previous poll winner: Obediently take a seat next to Vesper (85.4%)

TW: Exhibitionism; Altered states of mind; Dubious consent; Hyper cum (sort of? Maybe??)

New choice! [VOTE]

Although you reflexively glance at the now empty elevator, a wave of dread snuffs out your impulsive thought.

No, who knows where you'd end up if you just darted inside and started poking around? The few floors you've been to so far are so... Different from each other. This place is unpredictable, you can't take wild chances like that. Furthermore, with this degree of madness having taken over the literally hellish crowd, there's a pretty good chance you'll be swiped up before you get anywhere significant.

Just like Santi said you would, if he let you outside earlier. Hm, no. Not a good idea at all.

This doesn't exactly mean you're thrilled about the alternative.

Vesper, this massive demon, is unlike anything you've ever seen before. It's hard to take your eyes off him, and for so many reasons. As if the fact that he's a huge, pink and purple, slightly furred form wasn't bizarre enough- There's so much to pick at here! You could start with his head, why is it that he doesn't have horns, and sports this odd tendril instead, like a second tail? His eyes are so bright... Santi's are already intense, his are like the headlights of a truck in a pitch black road. Hypnotic is an understatement, you can almost feel a phantom force keeping your head veered his way, nudging you back every time something else tries to beckon your attention.

There's a foreign sort of plumage- No, it's almost like a puffed scarf, around his neck. You're not sure why, but it looks soft. From what you can see, he sports similar tufts of fur around his elbows. Putting aside large hands are bracelet-clad wrists, you're amused by the form of his chest. Large as he is, you aren't exactly surprised by the magnitude of his upper body, it's moreso the unique form of his nipples that has you blinking vapidly.

He... His nipples are heart-shaped. Huh. Is that natural? Did he get those? Better not ask. The shine of golden chains connecting them distracts you momentarily. Although, it appears all sides and angles of this demon are determined to be scandalous. Because, as your gaze flutters further downward, you catch sight of what you can only call a maw. This comparatively enormous mouth with full dark lips and pearly teeth just like the ones on his face. It moves and parts occasionally, a fat tongue peeking out from time to time. You've never seen a monster with that type of anatomy.

Something tickles the small of your back.

Oh. Right.

Looking down, you force yourself to take a seat right next to Vesper. The booth is circular, so you put a little bit of distance between yourself and the large figure. Santi follows suit, sitting opposite of the powerful concubus. Little does it matter, as you’re soon forced flush to Vesper by a large paw.

“ How obedient of you! “ The demonlord coos. “ Had I known you’d be this much of a good girl, I wouldn’t even have ordered my imps to tie you! “

You realize now, definitely belatedly, that this monster isn’t dressed either. Maybe all concubi are just always naked like that? You have no idea. Instead of listening to his words, you’re busy examining that bizarre wonder of a mouth. Observing, flabbergasted, as it parts and allows a grotesque tongue to slither out, only for it to lap at the flushed slit located directly beneath it. O-Oh? Okay. That’s happening. Is he doing this on purpose? Does that count as masturbation? Is this King actually casually getting himself off- Why wouldn’t he be. Isn’t that his whole reason to exist?

Still, the fact doesn’t make it any easier to ignore.

You sense your cheeks steadily heating up, watching this debased spectacle that no one acknowledges. Almost as if miraculously picking up it's being stared at, the maw smiles, its great muscle darting to take a long, gross lap of your side. It's intense. You're quickly figuring out there's something very wrong with these monsters and their saliva, because the way you shudder is violent, a moan dying silently in your throat.

You... You kind of wish it would do that again.

A fleeting moment of lucidity tells you to distance yourself, but Vesper's arm is like marble around your shoulder. Oh, you're not going anywhere at all. F-Fuck.

" Your majesty- " Santi starts, looking vaguely uncomfortable. Vesper shoots him a disapproving glance and he's quick to correct himself, coughing. " Vesper... Are all Icons here? "

" Indeed we are! " The demonlord jovially exclaims. " Your boss has a lot he'd like to discuss with us. " You get to see Santi look to the side, lost in thought, like he wants to say something more but isn't sure if he should. Vesper flicks his claws. " It's a bit early for that, so we're enjoying the establishment as is for now... "

Although it sounds like something obscure and sinister is being discussed, you could frankly care less, finding this Icon's oddly behaved stomach mouth a lot more intriguing. While the two resume their conversation, so too does it continue its antics, returning to a teasing wet drag over Vesper's slit. Some tiny part of you is almost jealous you can't do that to yourself, though fact of the matter is you're still watching, as obscene as it is. It drools copiously, Vesper's slit becomes even more flushed and puffed than it already was. Having decided licking was getting dull, the muscle dips into that pouch. Blinking, your attention is on the way it undulates slightly, having found something in there already to stimulate.

Vesper's legs twitch apart further slightly, and you think you hear him sigh- But it could just be because of their talk. The motions, albeit filthy, are also undeniably sensual. With such practice, you wonder how it'd feel to be the target of those attentions.

" Well, it's always a treat to have you here, but we're all very confused. "

" Oh, so you're in the dark... " Vesper's grin stretches, an air of mischief about it. " Then, here's my little hunch- I think you're all taking a vacation to Hell pretty soon. "

You cast the smaller incubus a side-glance, finding his expression to be carefully conservative.

" ... Are we? "

The larger one shrugs theatrically. " Your lord works in mysterious ways. "

Lord? Huh?? Neither Santi nor Vesper react to your scandalized glances. If Vesper's not this "lord", then who the Hell could it possibly be? Even aware religious imagery doesn't often coincide with reality, you can't help but think of a larger than life depiction of all evil. Something unfathomable. The silence is cut through abruptly.

" But please, let us talk about more engaging topics. Tell me about this sweet minx, I picked her well, didn't I? "

It seems you're still a hot conversation topic, because your chin is suddenly grasped between two thick lavender digits, angled up so deep magenta eyes can study you thoroughly, from top to bottom, invasive and lecherous. With enough strength, you're sure he could crush your jaw, though he's only stroking along it for now.

" Did you! " The incubus you've met, maybe even think ever so slightly fondly of, agrees. The way he licks his lips heats your cheeks. He had you beneath him only a while earlier, is his appetite that big? " Such a taste, such a scent... "

Vesper laughs heartily, nodding hard, stroking up and down your side. " Yes. You get me old friend, you do... "

The pink demon looks at you as if you're a rare specimen, holding some type of mystery, some form of supernatural splendor -How ironic- Human weakness has you focusing on those large, almost bug-like eyes, his irises appear to swirl hypnotically, and you wonder why they're getting bigger, until you feel his breath on your face.

" Don't tell me you didn't try her. " Santi's voice interrupts the trance the two of you had entered. He's watching, brow lifted, a smirk on his pallid features as his arms cross.

This time, the Icon barks out in delight, shaking you unintentionally. " What rude etiquette! And you'd enjoy that? A sloppy, dripping second of mine on your garden? "

The other doesn't miss a beat. " You know the answer. " You try to scrub the mental image off your mind, but it's persistent, titillating. Why? You've never been this perverted before. " I can't speak for my coworkers though. "

Vesper's gaze sharpens ominously. " Mm, indeed you can't. "

A short pause unfolds, though far from a calm one. When the Icon turns to be facing you better, you can only cower slightly, more in fear of your own enjoyment for what's to come than genuine terror of him. His hands are fast, a clear goal in mind as he lifts your tattered, borrowed shirt out of the way and starts tugging insistently at your shorts.

" H-Hey! What the fuck- " It's a weak protest, so pointless and tame that both monsters just chuckle to each other. A rougher shove, one you'll never admit was kind of exhilarating, manages to peel the fabric down to your knees. Vesper's hand traps you in place by the hip before you can sit properly again.

Silence.

You're inwardly questioning his inaction, wondering what could have put him off when he merely stares at your pubis.

" ... You didn't mark her. " He makes a pensive noise. " Could it be that she's not to your liking after all? "

It's a joke, even you can tell that was meant to be a joke. Santi snorts, shaking his head. " I don't know what'll happen after tonight. I need to be ready for everything. "

You recall what the monster in a cloak said to you at the very start of this.

-We have no time to sort you out properly. You will pick one of us to stay with for the day-

Sure enough, you have no idea what will happen to you afterwards. The fact that neither does the demon is worrying. Mark you... A concubus mark. Control, a leash tattooed into your skin. You'd be helplessly his in mind and body, you recognize this much about his kind of demon because it's something young adults are warned of. Santi could have marked you already, how did that not even cross your mind? How were you so oblivious to the danger you were in? It's impossible to tell if you've been inordinately lucky so far, or if the worst is yet to come.

The demonlord huffs. " What of finders keepers then? "

Santi pauses. " ... I didn't quite find her, per say. "

" Oh? " The other clicks his tongue. " Tsk tsk... "

" The mimic did. " Green eyes roll.

" Ah yes, I've seen the stud. How come you're with her then? Ooh, did you fight him for her? " Vesper's excitement has him mushing your face to his abdomen, looking down at you. " Such a romantic fool, isn't he? "

The conversation is taking turns the King of Lust appears to enjoy, something slithering around steals your shorts and you're easily lifted onto his lap like a living doll. Given your size compared to him, you might as well be one. " Wait- Wait, Vesper! "

Whatever you say holds no meaning to the larger monster, he only shushes your outburst and angles you so that his second maw is directly beneath you. The thing rumbles out, ceasing its masturbatory motions to instead slap onto your bare cunt, instantly rubbing back and forth, ever greedy, ever persistent. The molten heat that spreads over you is indescribable, your whole body arching and your head tipping back so you can release a full-throated beast of a moan. It has you hooked, salivating. You didn't know it was possible to feel this good from something so mundane, tears prick at your vision and you couldn't give less of a shit about what happens so long as he keeps licking you.

" First timers are so cute, look at her face. " Vesper coos.

You don't know when Santi started moving, but you feel him against your back, the King's legs having shifted enough to allow you both to pose above his lap. His dick grinds lazily at your fluttering hole, and you can feel Vesper's tongue delight itself with the two of you, switching between your soaked folds to the other's length, spreading fire wherever it touches. The monster behind you is a lot more composed than you, and though your frying brain doesn't grasp why, it'll make sense eventually.

" Adorable. " Santi agrees, kissing at your neck, sucking a claim there. The one type of mark, aside from his cum, the monster can keep on you. There's a pressure you recognize all too well, but before even a word makes it past your lips, a broken moan does, and Santi sinks half-way into you. Both of them make patronizing vocalizations at the way you restlessly squirm, getting assaulted by pheromones from both sides, so horny you feel as if seconds from exploding.

You're going to die here, you're going to die- And you'll be damned if it won't be the best way you could possibly go out.

" No such thing. I didn't have to. " Santi eventually resumes, drool-slicked cock slowly thrusting into you, at a snail's torturous pace, the two of you being worshipped. Your cunt is so flushed and teased it almost hurts. " That little minx picked me herself. "

The Icon is thrilled to hear this. " OH? " You only nod soundlessly when he searches your face for a confirmation, grin turning deadly. " Yes, yes I picked very well... "

Slow seconds of this torture pass, you can neither bring yourself to beg them for more or to stop, stuck in a loop of shame, frustration and wanting to draw this divine pleasure out. It's incredible how these beings read a body, as soon as you feel the crests of orgasm, their attentions recede, leaving you a clenching, teary-eyed mess before they restart the climb. You're drooling on yourself and Vesper's chest, not that he seems to care.

Something's poking at your thighs, and it doesn't quite feel like anyone's tail. Your curiosity eventually takes over for a split second, and upon glancing down, you nearly choke on your own spit. You can't even comprehend it at first.

Two massive, pierced cocks bob aimlessly, featuring odd rings in two sections. A strange fat tendril you don't quite understand the purpose of twists and turns between both members. What is... What kind of madness is this? One of those fucking tree trunks isn't enough, he's got a second one, plus a tentacle? How does... Where does he keep all that? You sure hope he's not planning to put any of them inside you, it's absolutely impossible, ludicrous!

But then again... You said that about Santi's cock, and he's snug inside you right now, plus he feels so good. Maybe Vesper can do the same, can make your body take him. You can't even begin to imagine the unreal stretch, the fullness. So much, and all for you. All of it.

A snicker snaps you out of your shameless gawking. " You can touch, honey. "

No, you absolutely cannot. If you touch those, you know you'll lose yourself. In fact, you don't even consider it for too long, shaking your head and looking away, ignoring it as best as possible. Santi's arms sneak to your head, forcing you to face Vesper when he speaks to you. " Come on, just get acquainted. Not everyone has the privilege to, you know? "

Those hues blaze into yours and you shut your head, wrenching it out of the incubus' grasp to rest it on Vesper's front. A soft, pained cry leaves you when your clit is lapped at insistently. Thankfully, after a couple of very pressuring seconds, both monsters relent.

" Mm, so, she picked you, right? What then? " He says, with this "regale me" tone.

" I made sure she didn't regret her choice. " The darker incubus shrugs, playing with your hair idly, stilling your hips so you can't thrust against him. " And now we're here to get something in that belly. " Santi clicks his tongue. " Or, well, that was our initial plan. "

" No no, do order! " Vesper leans back to look around. " Where's that waiter boy... "

While the demonlord is busy looking for said waiter, you nearly sob in Santi's hold, wanting only to come. The other shushes you calmly, ever unbothered it appears, but you can feel him twitch inside you.

" Santi... " You huff, sweaty and gross and wet.

" Yeah? "

" Why is he here if this isn't how your kind eats? " It's been bothering you. Why be at a restaurant, when your food is attained through sex? Doesn't that seem counter-productive?

The monster laughs, like you should know better already, as if it were a top-tier joke. It's confusing and you grunt vapidly. " People will gather where there's food, love. You blend in, you offer them a treat, and you get one in return- Oldest trick in the book. " He sighs.

It takes a moment or two before you grasp it, but it does make sense. It's a trade, in layman's terms, something primitive yet effective.

Vesper makes a sharp waving gesture above you two, and far too soon, a new figure zooms into view. Ah, you've seen this one before, it's that bat monster, he was part of the group -The staff team- That argued over you in that little room. You can't believe he's seeing you like this right now, sandwiched between two other monsters like a mere toy, an appetizer at a crowded party.

" Y-Yessir! " The little monster cowers in Vesper's presence, though takes in the scene before him pretty quickly, making a disgruntled sort of face. A lot of emotions flash through that complexion. Shock, sadness, anger, disgust. And then, finally, he schools his features into a painfully fake fanged smile. Odd.

" Hi dearie, bring us something for the little minx here, yes? " Vesper strokes your hair, keeping you always in the moment through constant stimulus. " Oh, and a strawberry smoothie. " He adds.

The bat nods, apparently eager to leave, not that you blame him. " Right away- "

" Grimbly. " Santi calls, getting his attention, a wary squint even. The incubus quickly points at you, then the table, and wags his finger. Both workers exchange an understanding nod, and he sprints off.

What the fuck did that mean? It's your turn to look warily at the incubus, though he looks unpreoccupied, smiling and pecking your cheek. It's not as comforting as you'd like it to be.

The next couple of moments -Minutes, perhaps hours, as if you could tell in such a stupor- Are spent in the very same trance of carnality. The demons around you rumble meaningless words to each other, making casual use of your trembling body, but never offering relief to each other. It's a game of tease, it must be, but it feels far too good, even the times where they slow down to wave away your orgasm begin feeling oddly satisfying. You don't know what you want anymore, but you think you'll cry if they let go of you.

Nothing lasts forever, thankfully, so your mindless state is eventually broken by the annoying and sharp tip tip tip tiptiptiptip of the waiter's footfalls- If you can even call those appendages feet. His nature is greatly confusing to you, but you could say just about the same for the two demons who've got you wrapped around their fingers. He doesn't stop to say anything to you three, expression somber, creases of carefully contained rage ruining his youthful charm while he places the ordered items on the table and dashes away. What was his name again... Grimbly?

Santi fully pulls out of you, with a solemn grunt, leaving you needy and slightly panicked, even more so when Vesper sits you back down beside him. Why? What did you do wrong?! Soaked as you are in all manner of fluids, when you sit, you're very aware the cushions are getting ruined. A distant pang of shame voices itself.

When great irritation and befuddlement subside, the plate in front of you gets your attention. It's... You didn't really order anything specific, nor did you care to, but you have to admit it looks delicious. The steak on your plate is grilled to perfection, juicy-looking, the potatoes next to it appear entirely homemade, and the greens are so fresh you're enticed. It's not a fancy dish, but it's beautifully arranged, and the serving size is extremely generous. Even knowing you'd kill to have something this nice any other day, your appetite isn't very strong right now- Possibly because of your never-ending, throbbing arousal. It's hard to think about feeding yourself when your body screams for attention.

" It looks great. " You settle for saying, saddened by your own lack of appetite.

The smaller one nods. " The chef here is very talented, you've met him before. "

Have you...? Oh. Oh, right. The big blue one. Scary and loud, wore a white sort of smock. You remember the outline of a large knife on his pocket. That must be him.

During this exchange, Vesper uses a single claw to edge the large smoothie his way. The delicious-looking drink sits in an appropriately large -Ridiculous, to be honest- Fountain glass, curved elegantly. You wonder, for a blissfully innocent moment, if he's actually going to drink it. Just to taste it. A dark and tired expression spreads on your gradually paling face when the demonlord, with neither shame nor hesitation, tilts the container, and the majority of it spills down his lap. It lands everywhere on him, down to that huge mouth lapping itself clean, to both his cocks, tendril and thighs, dripping obscenely down his body while the King shudders and hums in filthy delight.

You stare blankly. What a waste! It looked so good! Why is he smirking?!

" Tsk, what a mess I've made...! Hah. " He waves, offering you, specifically you, a facetious pitiful glance.

" And there's no napkins here too, hm. " Santi adds, also staring at you, clawtips drumming on the wooden surface of the table.

Oh come the fuck on. This is another level of raunchy. There's napkins on other spare tables, all either of them would have to do is get up and go fetch them, but you're not an idiot, you know damn right what Vesper wants. Still, you have to push for something.

" Just- Just call the waiter- "

" But honey, don't you see how busy the poor man is? " The Icon laments. " Our little minx will just have to help me, it seems. "

" But... " You glance at his strawberry smoothie covered package, gulping. " The... The food- "

Interrupted again, some of the larger monster's playfulness fades into mild disappointment, a deadpan on that pink face. " I'm sure it can wait just a tiny bit, can't it? "

It was foolish of you to expect a King to be patient, or merciful for that matter. Naturally, cornered and still roused, you cave to their pressure. " Uh- Okay. "

You don't know what to do, where to start, there's just so much of him, you've never been in a situation like this before, it's intimidating and vaguely humiliating. Perhaps sensing the discomfort, Santi takes initiative, edging the table itself away from the seats, and gently nudging you into a kneel between Vesper's legs, which part for you to get a greedy look at him. The Icon of Lust studies so intensely it makes you burn in place, breath shortening.

" He doesn't bite, love. " Santi jokes, squatting behind you. He tucks your hair on your ears and away from your front, rubbing soothing circles on your shoulders.

" I- I can't- " You can't fit either one of those beasts in your mouth. It's just not happening, not like this.

Vesper appears to get the gist of what you're hinting at, grinning, arms crossing behind his head. " Fit me? Baby don't stress, I just need you to clean me up. "

You sigh, happy to know he at least won't kill you trying to get a blowjob.

Too timid to go straight for the gold, you start by lapping a stripe up Vesper's inner thigh, hearing him rumble in victory. You were right, the smoothie itself tastes fantastic, and that distraction is what makes you power through it, not wanting to acknowledge how the nature of this act might be adding to your secret enjoyment. Well, there's nothing secret about it in truth, these two know when someone's into it.

Still, trapped between the massive monster's legs, knowing at least a good portion of the restaurant's clients are aware of what's going down, it sends something of a lecherous thrill dancing down your spine. From both thighs, you have no choice but to go upwards, grabbing that strange cock-tendril separating both his members and holding it up as it squirms so you can dip to clean around his slit. Vesper sighs, purring.

" Good job. " Santi assures, wrapping his hand around yours and encouraging you to pump the same tendril you hold until you start doing it on your own. The other rolls his hips slightly.

The mix of sweetness with Vesper's own addictive slick has you losing most inhibitions, finding the courage to trail your tongue up that flushed tendril and sucking around the tip, the only part thin enough to safely welcome. It must be sensitive, because he makes a surprised, pleased moan, large tail thumping. If anyone was oblivious to what was going down at your table, they sure aren't now.

The one behind you takes the opportunity to claim your mouth as soon as you pop the tendril off, a ravenous kiss, uncaring that your lips were wrapped around Vesper mere seconds prior- Perhaps aroused by the notion. Santi eagerly pulls one of the King's dicks closer to your face, and you respond by placing a kiss on its tip, swirling your tongue automatically and busying yourself with sucking the smoothie off his sticky girth. You feel like you're in heat, like you can't get enough of this. When Santi's knuckles brush against your back repeatedly, you don't need to think to know he's jerking off.

The hand that isn't holding the cock you're making a lollipop out of wraps feverishly around the spare. Well, as much as your short human fingers can reach, sloppily stroking him off. You moan around him without even realizing, saliva, precum and strawberry sweetness coating your chin. Although you could never see it yourself, your pupils are creepily wide. Vesper was right, this is a privilege, this is an honor, you've been picked personally, you must be so special!

" Ohhn- Fuck yes, I knew those pretty lips were good for something, that's why I didn't gag you. " He groans when you pull both lengths together, switching from one to the other quickly. Vesper's thighs tense beneath you and he subtly lifts his pelvis off the cushions.

" She got lucky none of the garden crowd fucked her face. I would have. " Santi huffs, causing the former to chuckle.

" Oh yes, what do you think would have happened to you if Sybastian didn't find you there, sweetie? "

Having spent all this time focused on trying to fit Vesper's cockhead in your mouth, a herculean and fruitless effort, you stop squeezing and pumping at him, blinking. " ... Huh? " What are they on about?

Both demons cackle, your head is pat in reward, you have no idea why, but it makes you happy. Santi kisses you again, and you don't think you could get any higher, swaying slightly, smiling against him. You're so fucking wet, you could cum if either one of them so much as blew air on your pussy. Part of you wants to reach for your privates, but then, you'd have to stop touching Vesper, making him feel good, and you don't want that. Not when he tastes so good and makes those low noises that flatter you so much.

You actually giggle when he starts thrusting rhythmically, open-mouthed, lidded eyes begging wordlessly, as if he's burning this into his mind.

" Work hard now, love. " The one behind you whispers into your ear. " We want to make sure the King has a good time here, don't we? " You nod frantically. " Of course we do, what a sweet girl you are, making sure to thank Vesper for the free meal. "

Your melting mind gets to see Santi swiftly pumping the ruler's left member while you busy yourself with the right one and that twisting appendage. Every time he pistons in pleasure, abdomen flexing, he brushes against your face, your skin becoming gross. It's nasty, it's perfect.

When Vesper comes, it's explosive.

He's loud, so embarrassingly loud, neck craned back and cries lashing out of him. Your cheeks are so hot they should be glowing by now. Nothing could prepare you for the volume of his cumshots, load after load far too thick for you to catch, so you purely resign yourself to getting soaked, face and chest pelted, globs of it cascading down your figure to pool at your oversensitive cunt and drip to the floor.

You don't know what's happening, but the sensation is so foreign and powerful that the mere contact with his seed has your entire body pulsing, vision fading.

And you come.

Hard. So hard, so intense, you can't even cry out, gripping onto pink legs for dear life as the most powerful orgasm of your entire existence breaks you from top to bottom. You don't know what noises you're making or what face you have on, but you can hear giddy laughter and feel Santi hugging you to him, trying to ground you- Lest you fly off to only god knows where. You tremble like a leaf, dots swimming around your sight, letting yourself be plopped onto the cushions and sink into them, a dead weight, melting like butter in the aftershocks of whatever paradise that was.

Holy shit.

When you're minimally composed, slightly lucid, the ambiguous hum of conversation between those two becomes actual words, with meaning. You shiver at the sensation of cooling cum on your body and eye both of them. Vesper paws at himself idly, milking the rest of his climax while his stomach maw cleans most of the mess that didn't fall on you, Santi, or the floor. Speaking of, Santi's beside you, still hard but stained by his own seed- He must have come too at some point there, you can't tell.

" Good eye there, dearest. Want to clean Santi up too? " The King murmurs, calm.

" The poor thing, Vesper, you'll break her. " He tuts playfully, but definitely hums in appreciation when you bend to do as told, a relatively chaste tongue collecting the wet string taunting you before you rise back up. The incubus groans.

" Nonsense, see? She can take it. "

You stare at the plate in front of you. Now that you've had more to eat, however obscene that might sound, you have even less of an appetite. But... This is the only meal you'll get to have, for all you know. And, let's face it, you can't subsist on body fluids. So, forcing yourself to pick up the fork, unwilling to look at the surroundings in fear that people are watching you try to eat while soaked, you try to take in as much as you can.

Santi disappears from your side for a short while, and comes back with a kitchen towel. He hums happily while cleaning you as best as he can, and Vesper strokes idly at your back. It's comforting, especially after what you've just done, and you relax further, eating slowly. It's ridiculously good, you wish you had the stomach to down it all.

" Oh, I so wish I was a fly in the wall for that moment where you all had her pick one of you. It must have been priceless. " Vesper drawls.

" It was. Today just keeps getting more and more interesting. "

Interesting is a way to put it, sure... You sincerely just hope you make it through today, make it out of here. Perhaps it's not death that'll take you, what if it's pleasure? What if you get hooked on this? On being tossed around? No. No, it's just their pheromones, it's just their influence on you. You're going to be fine, everything will work out, you'll survive. The chanting repeats itself ad nauseam.

" Speaking of, you can't let the fun end now, Santi! "

" Hm? " Where are you going with his, the incubus' look reads.

The King makes a face, as if Santi missed an obvious point. " Well, she's yet to meet the rest of your wonderful team, isn't that right? "

Santi's eyes widen, he makes an amused little "hah" and places his elbows on the table, done trying to fix your image. " That she does. Do you have anything in mind? "

No. No no, don't let him pick! You'll go insane if you have to spend much longer around both of them.

Vesper lets out a sinister chuckle, bending to hold his head and on his palms over the table. " Me? Oh no, not as such, wasn't it this beauty who got to choose her escort today? "

Both you and Santi hang off his every word, you stop chewing.

" Let her pick again, since she has such good taste in company... " A wink is tossed at you.

Actually, this is a good idea. You like getting to pick what to do, your gut instinct has been mildly helpful so far.

" Yes! " You almost shout, piping down as soon as both raise their brows at you.

" Why not then? " Santi says, shrugging at you mischievously.

" Perfect! " The demonlord claps. " What do you say dear? Would you like to maybe, oh I don't know... Give your regards to the chef? "

Both Santi and Vesper grin wolfishly at you, waiting.

#Vesper oc #Santi oc #Grimbly oc #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #terato #terat0philliac #monsterfucker #not sfw #minors dni

[howtofightwrite]

Hello there! What are the pros and cons of using naginatas as a weapon specifically? Is it fairly similar to the ones for lots of other polearms? Or is it it's own unique thing? (Trying to get an accurate idea of how it would feel to use one in combat for some writing I want to do.)

Thanks!

Pros:

Firmly encourage people to maintain social distancing.

Slice people you haven't even met yet.

Slice people riding horses or standing on low roofs.

Add ribbons and streamers as fashion accessories.

Easy to carry.

Can always find one at the right length for you.

Better leverage for your blade than if it had been mounted of a katana.

Never need to explain that you're overcompensating for something.

Amazing looking duels with fellow naginata users.

You can use it on horseback.

Try to impress the Onna-musha.

Cons:

A little bit claustrophobic.

Not great in a mosh pit.

Doesn't like going indoors.

Not good against people who refuse to social distance.

No one will respect you for being a samurai, and may still make fun of you.

Still a delicate razor blade.

Fail to impress the Onna-musha, they know all your moves, are probably better at them than you, and are more interested in making jokes about the length of your shaft.

So, the naginata is basically the blade of a katana mounted on the end of a long shaft. This doesn't make it inherently bad. But it does inherit some of the weakness of a sword, combined with the range of a polearm. That said, keeping them intact is quite doable, you just need to be careful about how you strike.

As mentioned above, and as with almost all polearms, it shines in situations where you can keep enemies at range, and becomes a lot less appealing if you can't keep them off of you. This means it works really well in phalanx-style applications. As with all (or, almost all polearms), it has serious value as an anti-cavalry weapon, letting you dispatch riders.

As for it being its own unique thing, yes and no. It is a different kind of polearm, and you can probably some surviving manuals on exactly how to use them. And there is a modern martial art based on the original form. However, I don't know how much of the original Naginatajitsu martial art has been lost. As far as I know, there were at least a few decades between the, “death,” of the martial art in 1868, and it's revival sometime after 1889. Also, when it was revived, it was as a physical fitness regimen, and not as a martial art. That's enough time, to lose a lot of the technical detail, and meant that if it was preserved, it was done so quietly, which increases the risk of elements being lost.

As polearms go, the naginata is pretty light, ranging from about 3 to 8lbs. (Specifically 1.5 – 3.5kg.) Which does make it a bit more agile than you'd expect from a polearm. It's not clear how much of the flourishes you'll see from modern martial artists were actually part of the original martial art or just spectacle, but you can get some solid movement out of them. And even in its day it the weapon's agility was noteworthy. (Though, to be fully honest, I'm not sure how much of that was in the contemporary literature, and how much is from modern analysis. I do suffer from not being able to read the primary sources in this case.)

Naginatas were a very egalitarian weapon, used by the samurai, monks, peasant footsoldiers, and the Onna-musha (women warriors.) That last category has become one of its more enduring cultural associations. In fact the physical fitness revival was specifically targeted as exercise for young girls. (This is part of why the weight range is so wide, as there's a massive variance in shaft length. Anywhere from 4 to 8 feet in length. (Specifically 120-240cm.)) As a polearm, that's kinda short, but the blade itself adds another 85-100cm. This puts the total length at between 6'8” and 11'2”. And, yeah, a three meter polearm is not a joke. Even if there is an unusual amount of blade on the end of that shaft. It's part of why the naginata is immediately distinguishable from other polearms of similar sizes.

The short answer would be that it is a specific weapon, with its own identity. Some of that is a function of physics and some is cultural.

-Starke

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#howtofightwrite #writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #Starke answers

[scoops-aboy86]

Obsessed with the idea of working at scoops ahoy causing Steve’s weight gain. Maybe Eddie comes into the store at some point

Oh hell yeah, it’s such a goldmine of opportunities. 

Does Steve start snacking on purpose or does it creep up on him over time, during the slow hours when the only so-called customers are Erica Sinclair and her sampling horde? Is it the cold, thick ice cream that calls to him? Nibbles of toppings? The crunch of an empty cone that broke in the bag and it’s just going to go to waste otherwise? I think we all know he’d eat the bananas, they’re fruit and therefore healthy and therefore he can have as many as he wants. 

Or… (Brace yourself for 4067 words, 1k for every day this sat in my inbox. 😅)

Eddie has resorted to entering the mall for its air conditioning, and stays for the music selection in the Sam Goody. He’s about to leave when he passes Scoops Ahoy, and—is that King Steve? Oh, he has to go in. 

The store is otherwise quiet, and Steve’s coworker that Eddie vaguely recognizes from school is hanging out the window behind the counter, accepting a free employee’s cone that Steve has just scooped for her. “I can’t believe you eat so much of this stuff,” Steve is saying, and Eddie is surprised to hear a lot more genuine confusion than derision in his tone. 

“It’s ice cream, Steven,” the girl retorts, rolling her eyes. “Pretty sure it’s universally beloved by anyone who can stomach dairy or has ever experienced a heat wave.”

“It’s pure sugar,” Steve protests. “You’re going to get hyper and crash in an hour or two, and then you’ll be cranky while we’re closing up again.”

“That’s the plan, dingus,” she says with bright sarcasm, and takes an exaggerated lick of her cone before rocking backwards and snapping the window shut. 

And well. What is Eddie to do with King Steve’s apparent disdain for ice cream but dare him to eat some? He’ll let Steve pick his own favorite flavor, he’s not an animal, but— “Well well, I see how it is, Harrington. You’ll sell it but you won’t eat it? I’m pretty sure that’s negative advertising. Should I maybe… tell the manager?”

Steve whips around, and puts his hands on his hips that reminds Eddie terrifyingly of his gym teacher… who, now that he thinks about it, also coaches the basketball team, he’s pretty sure. Hilarious. 

“The manager isn’t even here today,” Steve snaps. 

“Oh, I could come back,” Eddie says with a smirk, and leans against the glass case to look him dead in the eye. “Whatcha got against the ice cream here, huh? Is it not very good?”

The jock pinches the bridge of his nose, another look he swears he’s seen in response to his forced attempts at sportsball over the past five years. “Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters, and pulls his ice cream scoop from his side holster with a little spin to get it in the ready position—what the hell, people can actually do shit like that in real life? “Please tell me you’ll go away if I give you a free cone.”

“I’ll go away if you eat a free cone,” Eddie shoots back. 

“Fine. Whatever.” Steve slides one of the back panels on the display case open and digs a scoop out of the tub of chocolate ice cream, grabbing a cone to plop it into. 

“Two scoops,” Eddie prods, amazed that it’s turning out this easy and amazed again when Steve just rolls his eyes and does it. “And I’ll hang around for a bit to make sure you don’t cheat.”

“Munson, I swear to god—”

Eddie flutters his eyelashes and slaps a hand to his own cheek. “Oh heavens,” he exclaims in a bad falsetto, “King Steve remembers my name, I might faint!”

Watching Steve bite and try to swallow as much of his reluctant treat as possible to get it done and Eddie gone faster is a spectacle only made better by the brain freeze visibly hitting Steve a second later. 

The next day Eddie goes back and half annoys, half challenges Steve into eating another ice cream treat. Robin, the coworker, thinks it’s hysterical and even helps him badger Steve into doing it. She gives Eddie a high five and, the following day when he comes back and does it again, introduces him to the You Rule You Suck board. She marks another two ticks in the latter column, one for each scoop. 

It’s six days of this in a row before Steve seems to realize how committed Eddie is to the bit. As soon as Eddie comes into the ice cream parlor on the seventh day, Steve just starts automatically preparing himself a two scoop cone of chocolate ice cream while scowling at him. 

So, on that seventh day, Eddie gives it a rest and actually orders something for once: a scoop of orange berry sherbet in a cup. Robin gets it for him and he accepts it with a bow, letting his change slide into the tip jar for the entertainment. “Thanks,” he says with a grin. “Don’t like ice cream much myself, but sherbet always hits the spot.”

Steve crunches loudly on the last of his cone and pushes his way into the back room to sulk his way through his fifteen minute break. 

And Eddie keeps coming back, because he’s grown to appreciate Steve and Robin’s idle banter in between customers—though his official reason is to mooch off the mall’s AC. Steve treats him more like a pest than a freak, which is. Refreshing? It’s something, anyway, Eddie thinks. Can’t quite decide if it’s amusing or annoying, so he sticks around to find out. And to check out the royal ass in those little shorts, thank you corporate America. 

Within a few weeks, Eddie has gotten used to planning his campaigns in a cool and only slightly sticky environment on a daily basis and also witnessed Steve interacting with his brood of young teens. (The hands on hips comes out again. Pinching the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh keeps making repeat appearances. Threats with no actual weight behind them are made. Eddie isn’t quite sure how he feels about Steve reacting to him the same way he does a bratty gaggle of incoming freshmen, but it is also so funny to watch and then needle him about with Robin.) And Steve has started eating ice cream of his own accord. 

“Whatever,” Steve grumbles when rudely confronted by this fact, which happens every other day or so; Eddie and Robin take turns. He adds a third scoop to his cone without even seeming to think about it. “Everybody loves ice cream.”

Gradually, Eddie’s interest in Steve has shifted. He still gives the guy a hard time, all grins and theatrics and toeing the line, but the King—former King, really, since high school, for Steve, is over and Eddie and Robin have both personally witnessed some of his spectacular flops in the flirting department that really drive that fact home—is actually not that bad. A lot of the popular jock swagger is gone, replaced by tolerant exasperation and a sarcastic, delightfully bitchy streak that Eddie just loves to poke at. 

But more than just that, there’s… more of Steve. The ice cream floodgates have opened, and Eddie has definitely noticed the way Steve’s little sailor shorts showcase his imminently grabbable ass better by the day. Every part of Steve is looking a little softer, Eddie can tell through his shirt that he’s getting a little belly, and there is nothing the metalhead wants more than to touch. 

It’s becoming a problem, actually. He watches Steve lick at an ice cream cone every day and, increasingly, the image is burning itself into his brain. Eddie didn’t ask for this, doesn’t necessarily think getting so attached is a good development, for his reputation or his sanity, but that doesn’t stop him from picturing it at night. 

So sue him, Steve is pretty and Eddie is a young gay man with a healthy sex drive and a strong right hand. And it gets a workout aaaaaall summer.

By the end of August, they’re actually kind of friends. Steve is locking up Scoops after a long, grueling solo shift because Robin had called out with a summer cold. Eddie helps, because yeah he’s not an employee but he’s been hanging around long enough to know how to do it all, and Steve… Steve gets a bit winded these days, if he has to do it all by himself. 

It had taken him a while to size up from his first uniform, belly and more than a few stretch marks peeking a little out the bottom before finally giving in and putting in the request. By the time the replacement finally arrived the blue sailor shirt kept riding up by a good fraction of an inch, and Eddie’s cue to realize he was staring again had come every time Steve tried to pull it back down, or hike up his straining shorts in an unsuccessful attempt to split the difference… So, basically, any time Steve wasn’t behind the counter, because it happened constantly. And then he’d be staring again by the time it happened again a few minutes later. Probably would have been less stressful to just keep looking. 

Even with the resized uniform, and the next, Steve kept eating ice cream without any sign of regrets or second thoughts. He was up to three or four cones a shift now, one right after clocking in and the rest timed to just before predictable busy hours so he could ride the sugar high through the turbulent waters of food court customer service. Three scoop minimum, with a constantly revolving selection of toppings and more often than not in one of the big cones that came pre-dipped in chocolate and rainbow sprinkles. 

But always chocolate ice cream, though, same as Eddie always getting his scoop of sherbet in a cup. 

“No accounting for taste,” Eddie sighs as Steve hands him his usual as a thank you for helping and starts scooping himself an all chocolate ice cream banana split. 

“Excuse you, Munson, chocolate is a classic,” Steve retorts, barely glancing up. “It’s chocolate. Everybody’s heard of it. Who’s heard of orange berry sherbet?”

“You literally sell it for a living.”

“Mostly only to you.” Ice cream acquired, Steve turns to the side counter and starts adding whipped cream and various toppings. “I mean, regular orange sherbet was my grandad’s favorite. You, Eddie Munson, have grandpa taste.”

Eddie slaps one hand over his heart, while the other (the one with more rings) clacks dramatically against the display glass. “Excuse you, what about me says grandpa to you? Is it the long, dark hair? My dexterous and nimble musician’s fingers? The very youthful twinkle in my eye?!”

“I literally just told you it’s your taste in ice cream,” Steve replies, with maraschino cherries rounding out his already round cheek and a bitchy roll of his eyes. 

Despite being annoyed, the sight swamps Eddie with a now familiar feeling of wanting to grab Steve by the face and, just. Aggressively make out with him. Taste that sticky red fruit on his tongue. Feel how soft he is, all that extra padding around his middle, how increasingly heavy that belly rests on his thighs throughout the journey from empty to full. 

All of which is crazy, because it’s Steve Harrington, Hawkin High’s golden boy athlete. And yet. 

Since the tables have all been wiped down already, Steve waves for Eddie to follow him into the employees only area. He’s been back there before but tonight he’s surprised to see several tubs of ice cream crowding the break table. “Oh. I thought you tossed the empty tubs out earlier…”

“They’re not empty,” Steve says simply, settling into the nearest chair with a huff like it’s a relief to sit down. Which Eddie can believe, from the way he’s a little bit flushed. And then, then, Steve hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and tugs them down to let his belly out over the top of them, digs a hand in to dig the bottom of it out. Breathing room. And it’s necessary, is the thing, because there are indented red lines on his skin from where the seams have been pressing. Eddie is staring, and he knows that Steve knows—is pretty sure, suddenly, that Steve wants him to. When his eyes flick up to the other boy’s soft face and the smug little smile there, Steve winks and gives his belly a pat. “I'm empty, though. These should be melted enough for you to pour for me by now. You want to, don’t you?”

“Uh,” Eddie says. Simultaneously, his throat has gone desert-dry and his mouth fills with spit. He has never wanted to bite someone more than he does right now. “Yeah?”

The grin widens cockily, and Steve slouches in his chair a bit, spreading his legs and letting his belly drop between them to put himself even more on display. “I knew it,” he crows, digging a spoon into his banana split to load up the opening salvo. “I knew you were watching me. It’s the shorts, right? They make my ass look great.”

And wow, the sheer amount of ice cream and banana he crams in his mouth belies his own words, hazel eyes flashing as if challenging Eddie not to look at his lips with their sheen of lip gloss and melted ice cream, the way he licks the spoon to make sure he’s gotten every last trace of chocolate and whipped cream. Telegraphing, I know it’s not just the shorts.

Eddie swallows hard and tries not to grind his teeth because, yeah. Urge to bite. “I’m, uh, not going to tell you. Wouldn’t want to inflate your big head any more… Not when your eyes are already that much bigger than your stomach.” He waves vaguely at the tubs on the table. “These are three gallon tubs, man. Even mostly empty, there must be at least a gallon of melted ice cream here, on top of everything you’ve put away today.” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Steve scoffs. The second spoonful is already passing his plush lips before Eddie can reply, eyes glued to the way they pucker around the metal as he draws it out slowly, once again clean. There’s a single dribble of chocolate running down his chin, though, reaching and dripping from the suggestion of a second one onto the front of his sailor shirt… the shirt that will have to be sized up again soon, a testament to just how big Steve’s stomach really is.

“Wait,” he sputters, brain catching up to Steve’s words, “wouldn’t be… What?”

So Steve explains that, after Eddie had first goaded him into eating ice cream at work, it had truly hit him for the first time how much ice cream Scoops Ahoy’s company policy had them throwing out at the end of each day. He’d started with just finishing off the scraps of chocolate left at the bottom of a mostly empty tub on one of the maybe once a month occasions he got stuck closing up alone. The next time there hadn’t been any almost-done chocolate slated for the dumpster out back, so instead he’d stirred chocolate sauce into the softening Cookies N Cream until it better suited his taste buds. 

And he’d liked it. The ice cream itself, of course, but also the tight, intense feeling in his stomach that came with being overly full. 

So, since he didn’t close up solo very often, he’d started sneaking a tub or two out to his car when he could get away with it. The contents would always melt before he got home, and since he didn’t have unlimited chocolate sauce on hand there…

“...I’ve ended up expanding my horizons.” Steve winks. “Among other things. There’s something really freeing about getting all sticky on your own kitchen floor, you know?”

Eddie is still standing, holding his cup of sherbet and mouth dropped open while he processes this. Of course he’d known that Steve had to be aware, on some level, of what he was doing to himself… but this is so closely aligned with his own secret fantasies that he can’t help but suspect it’s some sort of trick. An elaborate trap designed to definitively out him as a freak. He narrows his eyes, then stalks forward to further investigate the tubs, trying to ignore the hard-on forming in his jeans. There’s Vanilla Chip, USS Butterscotch, Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, Cinnabon Swirl, and something he thinks might be Cherries Jubilee with most of the cherry parts already scooped out. 

“You don’t like any of these flavors,” he accuses, crossing his arms and leveling a stare at Steve, trying really hard to convey more skepticism than lust. “You hate anything but chocolate, even if it’s something else and chocolate. I actively judge you for it on a daily basis.”

Steve shrugs. “Drinking it is different from eating it.”

Which, okay, makes some sense, Eddie supposes, but that makes no sense. Neither does the concept of Steve Harrington chugging ice cream straight from the tub on the floor of his fancy rich boy kitchen, smeared in chocolate like a pig rolled in mud, maybe with his uniform stripped off the second he got home because it was getting too tight, or because he wanted to watch himself expand with each greedy gulp—

Eddie takes a deep breath and gets ahold of himself before he resorts to jamming his hand down his pants and… getting ahold of himself. He just has one more question, and if that checks out then he’s going for it. “How much weight have you gained since you took this job, Steve?”

Steve gives him an exact answer, down to one decimal point and Eddie is already stalking forward, putting his forgotten, melting cup of sherbet down and grabbing the nearest tub.

It pours nice and smooth over Steve’s lips, down his throat, and into a bottomless pit apparently from the way he never signals to pause or slow down. He just keeps gulping it down, moaning when the chocolate from the Vanilla Chip avalanche down from where it was all piled at the bottom into his mouth. When it’s cookie dough pieces that takes him a little longer to get through, and he returns to bites of his banana split between mouthfuls. Streaks of pale cream line his neck, beading in the chest hair just barely peeking out the top of his shirt like he’s begun sweating cream, and while chugging he increasingly often has a free hand rubbing tight circles over his stomach. 

He breaks away from the rim of the last tub with a gasp. The last thick dribbles of USS Butterscotch splatters on his cheek from Eddie’s attempt to shake whatever’s left out. “So full,” he slurs, looking up at Eddie from beneath heavy eyelids. 

And then he pushes past it, ignores whatever signals his stuffed gut is trying to send him, all his attention rerouted into sluggishly cramming the last of the banana split in his mouth. 

Eddie drops the empty tub to the floor and lurches forward to lick sloppily at the other boy's cheek, at his chin, at his neck. A ringed hand brushes over the swollen belly between them, only for Steve to grab on and guide him to press harder, explore his waist and love handles. Then they’re kissing, both of their faces sticky with sugar and dairy, and Steve tastes like the inside of a honey pot, he’s so sweet. 

It’s not just the way he tastes. Steve’s pupils are blown, reactions slow as he kisses back lazily but with a happy hum. Eddie wonders if he would even be able to get up right now, with so much inside him. 

“Can’t believe you,” Eddie marvels, nipping at slick lips. “Can’t believe you like this—” he gets his fingers up Steve’s shirt and drags it up to knead at the padded suggestion of ribs, at softened, hairy pecs that are just as sensitive as Eddie had dreamed, from the whine he gets from just a testing squeeze “—so fucking much, but you do, don’t you sweetheart?” 

He drops his touch down to the straining arch of Steve’s belly and feels the underside of it, lifting a little, testing; even being careful, he jars a string of breathy hiccups loose. “Edd—hic—ieee,” Steve whines, trying to squirm, trying to press into his touch, but can barely manage anything before he has to stop and catch his breath. “‘M so…”

“Is that why you’re such a brat all the time, Steve, because you’re hungry?” Eddie coos. He leans in to kiss him again, then drops to his knees. “All I have to do to make you docile is fill you up. Takes a while, but.” He slaps the plump roll spilling over the side of Steve’s shorts, surprising a burp followed by a groan out of him this time. “Well worth the wait, big boy.”

At which Steve giggles, and mumbles something that sounds like an echo of ‘wait,’ but Eddie’s not sure of the spelling. 

“If you’ll pardon the pun,” he adds dryly, and grins when that gets him another giggle. “Well spotted, Stevie.”

And then, because Eddie figures that he has been admirably patient up to this point, wriggles his way into the blue sailor shorts straining before him for his treat. With Steve’s ragged moans of yes and fuck and Eds ringing in his ears right up until Steve’s thick thighs clamp around his head in the ecstasy of orgasm, and it’s worth it. 

The wet stain seeping through the front of Eddie’s jeans proves it. 

He helps a very dazed, very sated Steve clean up after—though, honestly, Eddie does almost all the work. (Steve slurps down his little cup of melted sherbet no problem though, smiling serenely as Eddie gives his still exposed belly an approving slap.)

“You okay to drive home, man?”

Steve hums, then yawns—giving himself a third chin for a second there. “‘M not sure if I’m good to stand up,” he admits. “‘Sfine, I can sleep here…”

Eddie rolls his eyes and grabs both the other boy’s hands. “Oh no you don’t. If you stay, some security guard is going to find you here looking like a stowaway on the Good Ship Lollipop, and we can’t have that. I’ll give you a ride, come on—up on three. One, two… two and a half…”

Fifteen minutes later he hustles a slow-moving Steve into the back of his van, where the guy can at least lay down and stretch out while his body attempts to digest. And Eddie wonders—is this what he’s become? Spending his entire summer at the mall palling around with the former King of Hawkins High, filling said dude full as a tick exactly once and getting them both off in the process, and then driving him home like a nice boy at the end of a respectable date? 

No one has called Eddie a nice boy since approximately kindergarten, and respectable probably never. But he glances over his shoulder to see his stuffed and sleepy sailor boy cuddled up under the blanket he keeps back there in case of emergencies, knows that beneath it Steve is still spilling out of his shorts because once undone they’d been impossible to zip and button up again, and feels… something at the look of utter contentment on his face. Something that’s been growing in him for a while, if he’s being honest with himself, intertwined with every sardonic comment and light ribbing at Steve’s expense. And Steve always gives as good as he gets—except tonight, when he’d just let Eddie take and take, letting go completely. They could be good together, Eddie thinks; especially since what they each want seems to mesh so well.

Steve has already been wearing the results of this particular brand of hedonism for months now, so maybe he won’t even regret it come morning. 

Maybe if Eddie leaves his number after getting Steve home (probably only as far as the couch, for simplicity’s sake), Steve will call. 

They can hang out somewhere outside of Scoops Ahoy, maybe even call it a date. Maybe Steve will let Eddie feed him sweet nothings under the stars and smile that sweet little smile at him again when he gets full, all happiness and trust. It’s a heady prospect, one that knocks Eddie’s dumb heart for a loop just considering it. 

He ends up parking in the woods just a short walk from Steve’s house and crawling in the back of the van with him. One quick change into an emergency pair of clean boxers (he keeps a lot of stuff back there in case of emergencies, okay?) and he makes himself comfortable as the big spoon to Steve’s invitingly cuddly form. 

And wonders, as he dozes off, what they’ll do for breakfast. 

Permanent tag list: @hotluncheddie

#wg steddie #chubby steve harrington #feedee steve harrington #feeder eddie munson #scoops steve #scoops words #ask #bratty steve harrington is bratty… right up until he’s full and ready to pop

[urfavnegronerd]

boxer boy pt.2

warnings: swearing, use of the n word, grammarly edited, proofread, nun too serious

a/n: giggled while writing this

w/c: 2.1k ish

published: august 7, 2023

That Saturday, the air was brisk and slightly windy from the fire escape outside Kori’s bedroom where she and Lilac were doing homework

“So you met that guy right?” 

“Which guy? Can I use your sleeve, my uniform doesn’t clean my glasses right” 

“Blind-ass. Sure,” Lilac sighs,  rolling her eyes “That guy I was telling you about?” 

“Thanks,” Kori mumbles, pulling the spectacles off their nose “I mean, I met a guy, he’s cool I guess,”

“Yeah? What’s his name?” 

“Miles,” 

“What’s he look like?” 

“Don’t you have English homework to do?” 

“It’s just some stupid notes on some random-ass personal narrative we read in class.” she sighs “Tell me about this boy,” 

“Ion know shit about this boy, Lilac, all I know is he likes my shoes and knows Kendrick Lamar,”  they reply “Why does it matter?” 

“Because it’s a boyyyyyyy, you been all busy in them lil classrooms in shit,” 

“I ain't busy I’m focused, there's a difference” 

“Yeah whatever, do you think he’s cute?” 

“I dunno, I barely spoke to him,” 

“What? I bust my ass trying to find you a friend and you barely spoke to him,” 

“You literally just texted someone, calm down,” 

“Same thing, come on K dot, you know what I mean,” 

A sigh, then an eye roll. 

“Do your homework, Lilac,”

“You’re no fun,” 

Did Kori think Miles was attractive? It’s hard to tell, they just met for heaven's sake, what was it supposed to be a love-at-first-sight thing? He’s literally just a guy, Kori knows plenty of guys. 

“So, what about that girl, Kori?” 

“What about her?” 

Jakobi pointedly glares at Miles, popping his head out from behind the bag. 

“What?” 

“Miles, nigga, can you not be so hard-headed for once?”  

“What?” 

“Would you take a hint?” 

“I already told you, ain’t lookin for a girl,” 

“She doesn’t have to be your girl man, I’m just tryna get you out there,” 

Miles pauses and steps back from the bag swiveling his head to look at Jakobi. 

“Fuck’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You been different since your dad man, I’m just trying to get you more Miles, bruh, that’s all. Nun too serious,” 

“Nigga–” 

“I get that the process is different for everybody, but come on your dad wouldn’t want you to be this fucked up about it for this long,” 

“Yeah, whatever,” 

“So? What’s Kori like?” 

“They’re aight I guess, cool shoes,” 

“Other than they shoes, bruh” 

“Nice hair I guess, you want the bag?” 

“Stop changing the subject, and yes I do,” 

The two briefly switch spots. 

“So?” 

“What?” 

“You want to get to know her at all or?” 

“I guess,” 

“That’s enough for me,” 

“Can you actually jab?” 

“Shut the fuck up,”  

The following Monday, the air was light and chilly while a snake of less than enthusiastic students make their way up to Visions Academy. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” 

“Hi, Miles.” Kori turns, pulling out their earbuds, “How was your weekend?” 

Falling into step beside her, Miles shrugs. 

“Aight I guess, training, and then homework, you?” 

“Training?” 

“Boxing,” 

“Oh tight, my grandfather used to watch old matches when I was little,” 

“You box?” 

They snort. Miles pauses, examining the air around the two of them, Kori’s face more specifically. How her nose turns up and how their mouth stubbornly contorts and twists up into a smile, how there's just barely a gap between her two front teeth. Not too serious for braces.

“Fuck no, ‘m not coordinated enough for that,” 

“Yeah? Doubt it,” 

“Fuck you mean ‘doubt it’?” 

“All I’m saying is I see what you be painting in AP art, that's not uncoordinated,” 

“Keeping tabs on me, Morales?” 

“You wish,” 

“Whatever,” 

Oh shit.  

“I’m just saying, what you be doing has to have some sort of coordination,” 

“Not really,” 

Miles raises his brow. 

“Girl, be for real wimme right now,” 

“I am being for real,” 

“So them lil characters you be painting, no coordination?” 

Was Miles looking at her paintings? 

“Nah,” 

“Girl that's bullshit if I’ve ever heard it,” 

“I guess there's some coordination behind it, Ion think so though,” 

“So, who’s your favorite boxer?” 

“Adonis Creed?” 

It’s Miles’ turn to snort and Kori’s turn to observe. Miles had slight dimples on both sides of his face, and his braids traveled with him. Bright white teeth hidden behind a full pair of lips, but his bottom lip was bigger than the top lip. His nose crinkled slightly, but mostly from the side.  

Oh fuck.

“Are you for real?” 

“Partially,” 

“For real, though” 

“Tyson prolly, I’d say Ali, but that's cliché” 

“Them cats is intense,” 

Oh shit. 

“I guess, they’re good though,” 

“Yeah, they are,” 

“Where you transfer from?” 

“What?” 

“I mean, Ian seen you around here since last month,” 

“Maybe you jus aint look in the right places,” 

“I got eyes everywhere,” 

“Oscasio Charter in Brooklyn Heights,” 

“Oh no shit, my boy goes there,” 

“Small world,” 

“Hey, so–” 

The two get cut off by the warning bell. 

“See you in art,” 

“Uh, yeah, see you,” 

What the fuck just happened? 

Six hours later, Miles bounds down the stairs to the unusually full gym, meaning there were only two extra heads in the gym. But shit adds up. And, Kori was there? Alongside an unfamiliar face and Jakobi. The air in the gym was unusually stuffy and hung heavily in the air. 

“Aye, Ma–” 

“Jakobi, nigga get the fuck off Kori,” 

“Ain’t nobody say I was talking to her,” 

“Ion want your raggedy ass neither,” 

“Yeah, alright,” 

“Kori?” 

“Oh, hi,” 

“I thought you ain’t box,” 

“Lilac wanted to try it,” 

She waves from behind Kori. 

“Oh,” 

“Yeah,” 

“Miles!”  

“That’s Alexei, I’ll see you, Kori,” 

“Yeah, see you,” 

They turn around to a seemingly bursting Lilac. 

“Girl what was that?: 

“What was what?” 

“You’re so ridiculous,”  

“What?” 

“Nevermind,” 

“Okay, you tying your gloves wrong,” 

“Smartass,” 

Lilac was off, somewhere learning the ropes from that Jakobi guy and so Kori was off and alone. Too nervous to leave Lilac alone, because this was an all-guy gym, they decide to look around. With wide eyes, they ogle at everything within a two-foot radius. The gym smelled pungent, but what else was she to expect from a boxing gym damn near next to the sewers in Brooklyn? Lightly running her hand on the wall, she walked the perimeter observing, the wall was a mixture of cool and damp. She gently began to weave in between the rows and rows of bags, eyeing anything and anyone in sight. Anyone including Miles. He was good, with clean technique, power exuding from each and every jab he threw, gentle muscles jumping out from under his muscle tee, sweat dotting his forehead and collecting on his brow. Eyes level and focused, slightly narrowed. Focused and… a little beautiful, not that Kori would ever admit it. 

“You wanna try?” 

Kori snaps out of their trance. 

“Hm?” 

“Wanna try?” 

“Oh, uh, I probably shouldn’t” 

“Oh right,” He breathes “Uncoordinated,” 

“You have an excellent memory,” 

“Just one punch?” 

Kori rolls her eyes and laughs, slowly trekking over to the bag Miles was stationed at. 

“Ion even know how to throw one,” 

“It’s easy, come here,” He gently tugs at their wrist, “It’ll be fine.” 

Sidling up behind her, his breath tickles at her neck, hands resting on their waist.

“This okay?” He whispers in their ear, breath hot on their neck. 

“I’m not sure this is a good idea, Miles,” 

“I know what I’m doing, now, put your legs shoulder width apart,” 

“Like this?” 

“Yeah, now bring your hand up and keep your elbows in,” His hands move to guide their arms, adjusting his head to rest on her shoulders. “And then extend your arm, but not all the way through, leave a little bend in your elbow,” He mumbles, guiding her arm forward so their knuckles lightly brush the leather of the bag

“Why aren’t I fully extending?” She whispers, breath lightly hitching in their throat.  

“So you don’t waste time trying to bring the fist back,” Miles tugs their arm back, gently leading her arm to their side again. 

“Oh,” 

“It’s about mostly about power, speed comes second,” He steps back, “Throw one again,” 

Throwing a gentle punch again, she complies and turns to look at him again, a smile dancing on their lips as she shoves their glasses up her nose. 

“Like that?” 

“Kinda, your recovery is a little on the slower side, but for a beginner, that was good,” 

“Told you,” she giggles stepping away from the bag. “Uncoordinated.”  

“Nah, you just need practice,” 

“Yeah, whatever, boxer boy,” 

“You’re a trip, Kori,” 

“I know.” They shrug “I got Astronomy homework, see you tomorrow Miles,” 

“Yeah, K dot, see you,” Miles replies, jogging backward and waving lightly.

“Lilac?” 

“GIRL–” 

“Tone it all the way down,” Kori yawns, rubbing their eyes, leaning back in her chair. 

“Whatever, what was that?” 

“My calculus homework, you interrupted it,” 

“Not that you nerd, at the gym earlier,” 

“What was what?” 

“Ugh, how thick skulled are you?” 

“Judging on your tone, very,” 

“Kori he likes you,” 

“Who?” 

“Oh my god, Miles,” 

“No, he doesn’t,” 

“I don’t think he teaches just anyone how to throw a punch, much less like that,” 

“Like what?” 

“All up behind you,” 

“Oh my god, it was nothing,” She knew full and well it wasn’t nothing. But Miles was just a boy. 

“Whatever, what’d your mom make tonight,” 

“I’m in the Visions dorms during the week,” 

“Ugh right.” She scoffs, “You think you can sneak out?” 

“Lilac,” 

“What?!?” 

Kori laughs, rolling her eyes. 

“I’ll see you later K dot,” 

“Bye Lilac, love you,” 

“Love you too, bye” 

And then Kori was alone, silence flooding the dorm as a gentle October breeze wheezes through the dorm. Again, she didn’t necessarily hate Visions, they just hated how it made her feel. Small, like, playground small. Sighing, they warily look out the window at the last sliver of sunset dancing over the buildings and streetlamps. Huffing and returning back to the last of her homework, they rest her head on her hand, back to solving calculus problems. 

Hours later, tying her braids into a scarf and lazily stuffing them into a bonnet, they lazily make their way to bed, rubbing their face and yawning. Flopping down onto the stiff Visions Academy mattress, she sighs and yawns staring at the ceiling, when there's an abrupt scream and a flash of purple outside her window. Stumbling across her dorm, tripping over stray textbooks, and sloppily driving her glasses up their nose, she presses against the window. 

“What?”   

Almost as if on cue, the flash of purple appears again dragging a semi-lifeless body behind it, tying it to a streetlight down the block from her dorm. The Prowler. Brooklyn’s finest vigilante, what seems like the only person looking out for the city, making it a little safer for everyone. Older women stayed out a little later, laughing on city buses, young children skipped rope on their stoops a little later each night, and Kori felt a little better, walking home from the bus stop.  

Adjusting herself to see a bit better, leaning up on her tiptoes and craning her neck she fuses her face to the window, what was going on? Quickly and quietly sliding the window open, they lean out and bracing their arms on the windowsill, craning her head as far as humanly possible. The Prowler’s claws are extracted from his metal gauntlet in one quick motion, as he stands menacingly over the seemingly lifeless body, waiting for it to make a move. 

From down the street, another figure jogs up and joins him. The second figure is clad in a black zip-up hoodie and a ratty pair of sweatpants, face covered by a surgical mask. But those eyes, Kori has to have seen them before, intense and focused, narrowed in concentration. Where had she seen them? As the almost-familiar figure bounds up to the Prowler's side, Prowler speaks in a deep, almost demonic, warbled voice.

“Clean it up,” 

Instantaneously, Prowler's gone, speeding down the street on a purple motorbike. The hooded figure sizes up the body slumped in front of a streetlight, throws its head back, and sighs. Frantically looking both ways down the street to find not a soul lurking, the silhouette pushes back their hood. Those braids. She had to have seen them somewhere, two cornrows, tightly woven onto their scalp with a slight taper fade sharply dividing the skull from the nape of their neck. 

“Miles?” Kori whispers, pulling herself back into her dorm and shutting the window in haste.

Oh shit. 

taglist: @lunarfleur @mayeluvsu @kombuuuuuuu @nagi3seastorm @n1cole-ghost @milesmolasses @hearts4hobie @hummusxx

a/n: bounce concepts off me in asks/ leave reqs

🩷 reblogs are always appreciated for reach <3

xoxo,

rae <3

#black people #spider man: across the spider verse #into the spiderverse #fanfiction #across the spiderverse #urfavnegronerd #prowler miles #miles morales prowler #atsv prowler #prowler x reader #prowlerbyte #uncle aaron #the prowler #miles g morales #aaron davis #billie morales #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales #black writers #black writblr #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #black coded #black coded reader #viral #trending #tiktokviral #shorts #shortvideo #earth 1610 miles morales x reader

[swimmingwithfish]

XO, Kitty and the start of the queer character evolution.

(Spoilers for XO Kitty Below!)

I’m always one for teen dramas. It’s a guilty pleasure that I take much delight in. Classic rom-coms like 10 Things I Hate About You and Clueless have always been my favourites. But to me, they always felt too straight. Too much heteronormative things and none of the queer rep I always wanted, even in more modern films and TV Shows in the genre. 

To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before has always been one of my favourtie movies, so, when I found out about the spin off series XO, Kitty, I was ecstatic. Kitty had always been a character I resonated with and I loved all of Jenny Han’s other work. 

Going into it, I expected the classic two boys fighting over one girl love triangle, a gay best friend and the girl best friend that I always seem to ship the main character with. I had predicted most of the story from the start. Until.

XO, Kitty is far from the ‘girl meets boy’ I was familiar with. It’s a queer love story and a coming out story and a self-discovery story. Definitely not the black and white romance i thought it would follow. 

We have Q, the GBF, who is far from the feminine male sterotype you see in teen TV. He doesn’t give Kitty fashion advice and makeovers (which isn’t a bad thing btw), but a jock, the atheltic scholarship kid, who sure, does know a good dress when he sees one, but takes on a character that’s still such a worthy queer person without having to fall into the feminine sterotype. 

Then we have Yuri, the Korean ‘it’ girl, also the girl best friend. She’s not the bimbo pick me girl you think she might me. She’s complex and interesting and she’s gay. Her storyline is something you don’t see often, and they really delve into the struggles of what it’s like being queer in a place and family where you’re not allowed to. Her journey is beautiful and powerful and reflects the coming out struggle in such an honest way, without making her story as a queer person just about coming out. She says the line ‘I have to live a fake life just so you’ll keep loving me’, when coming out to her mum and that encompassed so much of my current queer experience, especially as a person of colour. I think that it was for me, a sort of ‘Hey! we’re in the same boat’ thing and really made me feel so much more seen. She’s a well developed queer character that isn’t reduced to a ‘placed there just for representation’ character.

And we have Kitty herself. The main character. I honestly did not expect Netflix and the producers to go in this direction, but Kitty is queer. At first, I didn’t know if they were just sorta doing it for the sake of it. It didn’t feel like a deliberate decision. Maybe more of a thought that crosses her mind during the show. But Kitty has a crush on Yuri, and the way they address it is so different. They don’t exactly show that coming out to yourself thought process (which I kind of wish they did), rather, Kitty likes Yuri and she just accepts that, which I think is cool. I like now we don’t always need this big revelation moments (although, they’re still cool), but I think it shows the progression of how we treat queer characters as not spectacles for the audience, but just, people. Kitty’s crush on Yuri also felt very resemblant to my own crush on my friend which was probably why I related to her so much but just in general, it felt so natural to just have a queer main character in a non-queer focused show. Like, this wasn’t Hearstopper. No one expected it to be, yet, here we are, and I’m so happy about that.

This evolution into organically created queer characters is something we defnintely need more of and I’m so glad that Netflix is taking the step to do so. ALTHOUGH I REALLY HOPE THIS IS NOT BECAUSE THEY’RE TRYING TO GET REDEMPTION FOR CANCELLING ALL THE OTHER SAPPHIC SHOWS. 

I also feel like though, that Jenny Han is just like a great person because whenever it’s her books being adapted, there’s always this like ‘organic queerness’. Like, in The Summer I Turned Pretty, there’s this guy Jeremiah, who in her book is presented as this straight guy, but in the show he just like kisses some guy and it was a dileberate from of causal representation (if that’s even a thing). Like kissing that guy didn’t add to the plot, but it wasn’t queerbaiting either because (well for me personally) I felt like the directors were like ‘This is Jeremiah. He’s queer, and he’s a main love interest’ and being queer didn’t like shatter the earth around him, it was just a part of him, as it is for all queer people.

But XO, Kitty itself aside from Kitty and Yuri is so good (maybe because I’m a sucker for these things), but everything about it just makes me squeal. I feel like teen TV is taking a turn in terms of creating realistic characters. And while we still have a long way to go (GENDER DIVERSE AND CULTURALLY DIVERSE PEOPLE!!!! CMON NETFLIX), XO, Kitty feels like a really big win for queer (and especially QPOC) people. 

#xo kitty #kitty song covey #queer #lgbtq #representation #@netflix #watch xo kitty #its so good #im obsessed #rant

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

Chapter 12

UH OH

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

trying to move away from writing toko like chunsoft and adding more to her character (she's traumatized she wants to be loved but she's going about it in the worst way) but in the end none of her actions are condoned. she's fucked up still sorry but written in a more sympathetic light i hope?

syo WILL be in this fic but i do my best to make her hand-wavy explanation ambiguous (fuck whatever canon says about 'textbook split personality' btw)

@moonlighttogami and @tokiwigiwi :)

Content warning tags: implication of stalking/blackmail, Toko-expected creepiness, use of violence, character death

< previous - from start - next >

He’s not sure how much time passes when the door opens again.

“Finally,” He huffs, not bothering to turn. “Took you long enough. Honestly, how long does it take-”

He halts, as the intruder steps into the room, and quickly clicks his handbook shut. These weren’t Makoto’s footsteps. And - he surreptitiously covers his nose - that wasn’t Makoto’s smell. But he knows whose it was.

“...Toko. What do you want.” He turns and glares at the girl who has intruded on his space. She fidgets where she stands, a thin shadow of dark purple. The smell of her has grown stronger over the past few weeks, and hangs around her like a miasma.

“M-master Byakuya…”

He feels a full-bodied shiver of disgust run over his skin. “Don’t call me that.”

She ignores him, and carries on. “A-about last night…”

Right. To be completely honest, he was hoping that he had scared her enough the night before to make her leave him alone entirely. But he’s not surprised either; if she had the nerve to blatantly try and look at his secret, it wasn’t surprising that she had the boldness to try and confront him like this.

“What about last night.” He says stiffly, and she jumps as if shocked.

“I-I know about your eyes!” She blurts at last. “A-and, I know Ch-Chihiro knows it too…I, I heard you t-talking about it i-in the b-bathhouse last night…”

He feels his lip curling, revolted. Of course she had eavesdropped; she was quickly proving to be one of the more annoying stalkers he’d ever had the displeasure of dealing with. The number of people who were aware of his condition was also rapidly increasing against his will. At this point he might as well do the same as Fujisaki and announce it out loud.

Fukawa continues in her irritating stutter. “A-and…y-your envelope…” He freezes immediately, suddenly latching on to her every word.

“What did it say?” He demands, and she flinches - shivers? - arms crossing over her torso.

“I-if I t-tell you, y-you won’t w-want anything to d-do with m-me anymore…” She mutters, seemingly to herself, and he feels another wave of revulsion roll over him.

“Out with it. I already want nothing to do with you, but if you don’t speak up now-” 

What will he do? He tries to come up with a threat that can hold actual weight, but they all sound pathetic, even to himself. If only Makoto were here, he could at least get him to chase her away…how long does it take to talk to three people, anyways?

Ironically, it’s Fukawa who saves him from having to think of something. “I-I know you’re r-really mad at m-me for r-reading your secret last night,” She continues, and she’s swaying slightly, as if drunk. “U-um, I-I promise n-not to t-tell anyone! About your eyes, o-or your envelope…a-and, I’ll t-tell you mine, t-too.”

“I’m not interested.” He says flatly. “Tell me what was written in my envelope. Now.”

She shakes her head instead. “I-I know th-there’s no way for you t-to have r-read yours yet, right? S-so only I know!” The light catches on her spectacles, and it gives the illusion of two, illuminated orbs on her face. “W-which makes me m-more special than M-Makoto, or Chihiro, right?”

She sounds deranged. Her voice is pitched with desperation, and she’s breathing heavily. She takes a step closer. “I-I know all your s-secrets, and once y-you know mine…s-so you can r-rely on me, m-more than Makoto, o-or Chihiro?” Another step, and the floorboard creaks. “I-I’ll do better than th-them! And, and I can accept you f-for all your secrets, s-so, you don’t n-need them, I promise!”

“Stay back.” He snaps, shifting backwards. The revulsion was curdling, mixing with fear, and crawling down his back like something physical, like the vile, unwanted sensation of fingernails, tickling over his skin. He hates this irrational panic - she was just a girl, and a pathetic one at that - but here he was, shying away anyways, unable to discern her next move, her intentions. “I’m warning you-”

She lurches forward, and he takes an inadvertent step back. His back meets the bookshelf; he was trapped. “S-so don’t get scared,” She says, though these words really only have the opposite effect on him. “D-do you remember the news, a few y-years back? A-about Genocider S-Syo?”

Genocider Syo? The name sounds familiar, but it takes him a moment to place where he’s heard it before. It was a few years before he enrolled at Hope’s Peak, while in transit to some social gathering or another; Pennyworth had left the car radio tuned to the local news. 

“The serial killer?” He asks aloud, as he subtly searches the shelves behind him, trying to find something to use as a weapon. The tip of his index finger catches on the spine of a large, plastic-bound copy of some textbook or another, and he leverages it slowly out of the shelf, feeling sweat beginning to slicken its cover.

She nods eagerly, her braids bouncing. “I-I knew you’d kn-know about it,” She sounds relieved, somehow, voice breathless. “Y-you know, th-the first place Syo turned up was the town w-where I was b-born…i-it was my f-first crush that was the f-first victim, y’know?”

It clicks together quickly for him. The radio announcer had described bloody and ugly scenes of murder, the displayed corpses of young men and boys, all attributed to a mysterious killer with a penchant for stabbing their victims. And now standing before him was a clearly-deranged, unwell girl, well-known for her romance novels, and apparently obsessed with him.

“I-it’s okay!” She says hurriedly, as he presses himself closer to the shelf. “Sh-she only c-comes out when I-I’m really t-tired, o-or if I see b-blood…b-but, I c-can control her! I am controlling her, I promise!” She steps forward again, and this close, he can see the sickly flush on her face, the shine of sweat - tears? - down her cheeks. “I’ve b-been working s-so hard, s-so she won’t h-hurt anyone again…so it’s o-okay! I c-can be good! See?” She hiccups slightly, she must be crying. He can’t imagine why. “S-so now we can be equal, r-right?!”

She staggers towards him again, and he reacts before he can even think twice about it, yanking the book from its shelf and swinging blindly. The edge catches her across the face, whipping it sharply to the side with a sickly crack and a squeal - there’s a crest of blood, splattering up the length of the book, he can feel a few warm drops splash his hand, the skin crawling where it landed - and she crashes against the shelves with a shriek, stumbling.

“Why?!” She wails, hands shooting to her face. She sounds genuinely distraught, and she shakes as she scrubs at her nose with her palms. “I-I told you m-my biggest secret, a-and I kn-know yours…w-why won’t you tr-trust me?!”

“Trust you?!” He laughs, mirthless and a little frenzied, pitched wildly with his thudding heart. “You repulse me.” He steps forward now, book still clutched in his shaking hand. “Why would I ever trust a murderer in a killing game?”

She flinches as if his words were more physical blows, stumbling away from him and knocking against the shelf. A few books rain down, thudding open on the floor. “I-It’s not me,” She babbles, clutching at her head. “S-Syo - she’s j-just s-someone else, she’s in m-me, b-but I can c-control her, I p-promise - sh-she’s not me, she’s not me, she’s not!”

It sounds vaguely like some dramatized description of a split personality, though Byakuya had never heard of any such disorder that matched Fukawa’s apparently extreme case. Whatever the girl had going on would probably warrant its own DSM volume, but he wasn’t particularly interested in that. “I don’t care if she’s a ghost that’s possessing you or a secret twin taking your place. I want nothing to do with either of you.”

“B-but-”

“Get out.” He snarls, chest heaving. “If I hear anything - anything - on my condition, I will make you wish you were dead.” She doesn’t move, and he feels his teeth clench enough to creak. “I said, OUT.”

She darts, stumbling and stepping through one of the piles of boxes on the floor, completely breaking through the lid. Whatever was inside it stays looped around her ankle as she kicks the lid off, and clicks against the floor as she sprints away, her sobs fading as she goes.

___

For safety, he blocks off the door to the library with the chair, jamming it beneath the handles.

Then, he waits for Makoto, pacing, agitated. Really, how long could it take to accompany one person to talk to three people? His clock in his handbook stated that hardly an hour had passed since Makoto first left, and ten minutes since he sent Fukawa away. Surely, he had to be coming back eventually?

Not that there was anything keeping Byakuya in the library, other than his own uncertainty regarding his safety. Considering that he knew Fukawa’s alternate identity, and her apparent infatuation with him, it would be foolish to make the trek back to his room alone.

He stops pacing, frustration and restlessness boiling over. And returns to the files, shuffling through them, handbook held aloft to read the names printed on the edge of each folder, ignoring the ones that clatter to the ground after he shoves them haphazardly back. Finally, he comes across the one he's looking for, and slides it out of the shelf.

The front of it is stamped with the title in silver: ‘The Murder Cases of Genocider Syo: Top Secret’. He flips it open.

The text is interspersed with images of the victims before and after their unfortunate encounters with Fukawa. He can’t make much out about them, other than the fact that all the murder scenes seemed similar enough; photos of pale bodies, stretched out as if crucified, splattered with blood. Their faces, which must have been twisted with agony, are merely dark smudges.

“...As with the other cases, at the scene of the crime the word ‘BLOODLUST’ was written with the victim’s blood,” Alter Ego reads aloud. “The scissors used in the murder were apparently custom-made, with every pair left at each murder scene seeming to be of the same material and construction…”

How vile. He flips through the pages (one of which is annoyingly wrinkled, and furthermore, smudged with dirt), reading through the victim's descriptions. There was a sort of morbid curiosity that drew him to read further, even as his stomach turned with the knowledge that he could end up like one of these men; pinned like a butterfly for the killer to admire and laud over.

He snaps the file shut at last, feeling nauseous, and sinks down with his back against the shelf, suddenly exhausted - the adrenaline from Fukawa’s confrontation is gone, leaving behind a bone-deep fatigue. Sluggishly, he categorizes what he knows:

One: Fukawa was also Genocider Syo, a notorious serial killer who targeted young men.

Two: Fukawa both knew he was blind, and the contents of his envelope. He reaches into his pocket and feels for it, the paper now crinkled and warped. He still can’t bring himself to try and use Alter Ego to read its contents, but so long as Fukawa knew…there was little he could do about it.

That brought him to three: Fukawa was apparently obsessed with him. That was clear from the start, but he underestimated how dangerous her infatuation was. What she wanted from him was, apparently, some kind of romanticized relationship, if her mutterings about mutually sharing secrets and calling him ‘master’ was anything to go by, but nothing that could possibly be built on equal footing. Not if she was trying to leverage the envelope’s contents and his blindness against him.

He pauses at that. Did Fukawa know he was capable of using Alter Ego through his handbook to read? If she did, then there was no point in her trying to hold it over him. But then that meant she might try to manipulate him in other ways, the most simplest being blackmail. For that, he’d need to silence her…

And to do that, I would need to kill.

He drums his fingers against the hardwood floor. It’d be hard, but he could do it. She was already fixated on him, it should be easy enough to lure her somewhere and take care of her, either with a blunt-force weapon or strangulation - stabbing was too messy with the blood splatter - but the real difficulty then was how to conceal his tracks. 

He thinks for a moment of Maizono, and how she had swapped rooms with Makoto solely for this intention. He thought her foolish then, but in hindsight, it really was an impressive display of quick thinking…though, it wasn’t one that he could copy.

What if he did it in a shared space? In one of the empty classrooms? People hardly went into these rooms, and it’d be harder to pin down the culprit. But he’d have to be fast about it, and careful; anyone who sees him or Fukawa entering that space, or leaving it, could easily identify him as the suspect. It’d have to happen at night.

But, she’s also smarter than she looks… He rubs at his temples now, frowning. She might see the similarities between this and Maizono’s attempt, and realize it’s a trap. I can’t risk that. It’d be easier if I could easily pin it on someone, but the amount of people who might be stupid or willing enough to let themselves be used…

The list was very short. Makoto, who was already a non-option. Yamada, who was too closely allied with Celeste to be trusted. Hagakure, who was too paranoid to be easily led into anything anyways...

And Chihiro.

He’s suddenly struck with the realization that if he succeeds, the others die. It would not be just one person’s blood on his hands, it would be multiple, including those he chooses not to directly involve. He hesitates, for an instant - and then lowers his hands slowly, a sense of defeat settling over him.

He’s already failed before he even started. This game could only have one winner, and if he could not fully commit himself to that role and accept the consequences of it, then he was never a real competitor to begin with. Circles within circles. He was back to the start.

Frustration isn’t something he’s unfamiliar with, but it’s been a long time since he’s felt so overwhelmed with it, as he tilts his head back, knocking it against the shelf as he stares blankly at the brown fog of the ceiling. And then slams a fist against the floor, hissing venomous, ugly curses under his breath. If only he had his eyes, again - he wouldn’t need to be so concerned with such things, wouldn’t need to waver - and yet.

Where the hell is Makoto? He thinks numbly, exhausted with it all. He was sick of being left with nothing but his nerves, and how long did it take to talk to just three people anyways?

Thump, thump, thump.

A rhythmic banging snaps him out of his thoughts. For a moment, he thinks it’s coming from the door, and clumsily pushes himself up, while fumbling for something, anything, to use as a weapon - his hands find the hard, stiff cover of a case file, still on the floor - and stares down the door, waiting for someone to break through it-

But nothing. The chair that’s stuck under the doorknob hasn’t even budged, from what he can tell. The banging continues, and he realizes it sounds more like hammering than knocking. It wasn’t even against the library door.

Construction? Hagakure did mention hearing construction sounds earlier. Was Monokuma building something again?

The sound ends, replaced by footsteps approaching his door. He tenses, taking a step back, but a moment later, the footsteps patter down the hall and away, fading out of earshot. 

He stays where he is for a long moment, caught between terror and curiosity. Curiosity wins out, and he steps slowly to the door, hesitating once more with one hand on the chair.

But before he can even do anything, the air is pierced by a blood-curdling scream, and he throws the chair away, yanking the door open-

Only to be met with the sight of Chihiro Fujisaki’s corpse.

< previous - from start - next >

#thpff chapters #thpff #danganronpa fanfiction #byakuya togami #hi....sorry for the delay... #in my defense i was waffling a while about posting this bc once i do it means im locked into my trial 2 case and scene etc #and im still writing the trial 2 scene WHOOPS.... #also was feeling very bleh this past week. whatever im fine now #byakuya full on plotting a murder before realizing. wait a minute. i care about people now. #and then having a mild crisis about it. prince zuko style except instead of getting a fever he starts swearing in french #hitting a girl? not cool byakuya #im so sorry chihiro i love you tho #the scene were toko gets makoto to go with her to talk to byakuya doesnt happen here #and also toko has been watching byakuya hang out exclusively with makoto #and hearing the rumors that they were having a scandalous drauma-fraught romance #so she ended figuring that the best thing she could do was corner him herself. hence the gathering of blackmail material etc etc #not necessarily the most romantic thing but she sees it as creating a level playing field where he's forced to acknowledge her at all

[prolix-yuy]

Writers' Iron Chef #3: Stop That, Right Now

[PROMPT] "Stop that, right now."

[ADDITIONAL PROMPT] An argument breaks out. It doesn't look like it's going to end well.

[TIME LIMIT] Optional 10 minutes prep time, 30 minutes writing time, optional 10 minutes editing time.

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Rating: T, old timey sexism, Pero being an ass. 

Notes: Written for Writers' Iron Chef Prompt 3.

Lissie (@littleferal) ran into my DMs telling me “let’s get mean on this next one” and I am HERE for it. I love some soft love and yearning as much as the next gal, but there’s something oh so fun about getting a prompt that is encouraging some pain. And who better to be an ass for my amusement? Our resident grump-in-chief Pero!

LJ’s Writers’ Iron Chef Masterlist

Rules and Prompts

“What do you think you are doing?”

You look up from the plate of bread and soup you’re eagerly devouring, chewing with a furrowed brow.

“Eating?” you mumble around your mouthful, swallowing before continuing. “Why aren’t you? I normally have to race you.” A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as Pero Tovar crashes to a seat across from you, his wide palms and thick fingers making his dinner look smaller than yours by comparison. The scowl on his face is deeper than usual, a nuance only one such as yourself who’d traveled with him for most of the summer could tell.

“Is that what you call this spectacle?” he growls, hunching over his bowl and commencing shoveling it down his greedy gullet. At least he’d started using a napkin in your company.

“I haven’t the faintest what you’re on about, Tovar,” you sigh back, lifting your bowl to your lips to slurp the last few drops. “If anything, people barely notice me standing beside you. Do you bring storms wherever you go, or is that just a side effect of your cheerful demeanor?” You’re full on smirking at him now, waiting for him to take the bait and have a little evening battle of wills, but his scowl only deepens.

“I mean all of this,” he rasps out in a throatier register, your conversation now shrouded from curious ears. He waves his hand in your direction, eyes firmly fixed on a spot to the right of you. 

“Ah, so you did notice,” you purr, pushing your bowl away to rest your elbows on the table. Pero’s head snaps further away at your display and it makes your heart thrum with anticipation.

Maybe you were playing a little dirty. But after the reluctant trust you pulled out of Pero, weeks of whittling away at his dour exterior to the point where you could even make him laugh on occasion, you were at an impasse. Touches had started to slide across skin, hands becoming more daring. Reluctant partings when you slept back to back and a gentleness in his eyes made you wonder if Pero Tovar felt more than companionship for you. 

You wanted to ask, boldness a bosom friend, but any acknowledgment of growing fondness was met with bristle. If Pero wouldn’t let you ask, then you had to nudge him to your own desires first.

Because you could feel desire for him. His solid body against your back could easily be carnal, hands possibly adept at more than just swordplay. His lips were decadently plush for a man who was always pressing them tight together. But every step forward was met with teeth, and not in the way you hoped.

So you resorted to the oldest trick in the book. Leather replaced with cotton. Armor left aside in favor of the soft expanse of skin around your throat. The shapelessness of protection foregone for your true shape, one you knew could entice a lover or two. 

But he refuses to look at you.

“Pero…” you tease, reaching out to glance your fingertips across his wrist, but he jerks away from you like a man from the hot end of a poker.

“Of course I noticed, the whole tavern did. Putting your tits out like that, stupid girl.” A laugh bubbles up in your throat, laced with venom. He sure does know how to push every button, not just the pleasurable ones.

“What? Don’t you like them?” you whisper, leaning forward so your breasts pillow and plush up over your arms. A stolen glance - gotcha - has Pero standing up with a snort akin to an angry bull.

“Stop that, right now,” he growls, and now he’s caught your gaze and it’s blazing with anger. It stokes the fire in your own chest. “Any man will think you’re looking for coin with your cunt, the way you’re showing yourself. Makes me embarrassed to be seen with you.” Your mouth drops open, upper lip curling over your teeth in a snarl.

“You insult the whores you’ve actually bedded, Tovar, though I think you prefer your hand by now. Maybe you should reacquaint yourself with it.” You stand smoothly, letting the drape of your nicest outfit, the one you wore for him, the ungrateful ass, fall into place.

“And maybe if you want to pretend to be one, you should just stay here and learn the trade,” he spits out, grabbing up his dinner and stalking away to the stables. Waves of heat roll off your skin, boiling in your belly and threatening your composure with stinging tears. You take off to your purchased room to undress, to pretend you are not upset at being denied by that monstrous man, and to level your head before morning.

In the stables, Pero Tovar can barely stomach his dinner at the thought of you sitting across from him. That every man could see your beauty, your spark and fire, when he only wanted it to be him.

END

Next: Coming Due

#lissie's iron chef #writers’ iron chef #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x reader #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall fic #pero tovar and his guerrera #prolix fics

[faintingheroine]

Sorry if this is a dumb question, but do you think Emily Brontë intended to call out the racism that was shown towards Heathcliff?

No, it isn’t a dumb question.

Yes, I think she does intend that. I mostly think that because of the scene in Chapter 6 with the Lintons’ mistreatment of Heathcliff. Lintons are so comically pathetic and bad in this particular scene that I have no doubt we are meant to view their views on Heathcliff critically:

““What prey, Robert?” hallooed Linton from the entrance. “Skulker has caught a little girl, sir,” he replied; “and there’s a lad here,” he added, making a clutch at me, “who looks an out-and-outer! Very like the robbers were for putting them through the window to open the doors to the gang after all were asleep, that they might murder us at their ease. Hold your tongue, you foul-mouthed thief, you! you shall go to the gallows for this. Mr. Linton, sir, don’t lay by your gun.” “No, no, Robert,” said the old fool. “The rascals knew that yesterday was my rent-day: they thought to have me cleverly. Come in; I’ll furnish them a reception. There, John, fasten the chain. Give Skulker some water, Jenny. To beard a magistrate in his stronghold, and on the Sabbath, too! Where will their insolence stop? Oh, my dear Mary, look here! Don’t be afraid, it is but a boy—yet the villain scowls so plainly in his face; would it not be a kindness to the country to hang him at once, before he shows his nature in acts as well as features?” He pulled me under the chandelier, and Mrs. Linton placed her spectacles on her nose and raised her hands in horror. The cowardly children crept nearer also, Isabella lisping “Frightful thing! Put him in the cellar, papa. He’s exactly like the son of the fortune-teller that stole my tame pheasant. Isn’t he, Edgar?”

‘While they examined me, Cathy came round; she heard the last speech, and laughed. Edgar Linton, after an inquisitive stare, collected sufficient wit to recognise her. They see us at church, you know, though we seldom meet them elsewhere. “That’s Miss Earnshaw?” he whispered to his mother, “and look how Skulker has bitten her—how her foot bleeds!”

“Miss Earnshaw? Nonsense!” cried the dame; “Miss Earnshaw scouring the country with a gipsy! And yet, my dear, the child is in mourning—surely it is—and she may be lamed for life!”

“What culpable carelessness in her brother!” exclaimed Mr. Linton, turning from me to Catherine. “I’ve understood from Shielders”’ (that was the curate, sir) “that he lets her grow up in absolute heathenism. But who is this? Where did she pick up this companion? Oho! I declare he is that strange acquisition my late neighbour made, in his journey to Liverpool—a little Lascar, or an American or Spanish castaway.”

“A wicked boy, at all events,” remarked the old lady, “and quite unfit for a decent house! Did you notice his language, Linton? I’m shocked that my children should have heard it.””

(Chapter 6) (bolded part mine)

Cathy even laughs at their racism!

As Susan Meyer says in Imperialism at Home:

It is so not subtle that if this novel were written today I would have been kind of annoyed at how not subtle it is.

Now, we can discuss how much of a commitment Brontë makes to criticizing racism in the book as a whole. But in this fragment the criticism is blatant, which makes me believe that she was criticizing racism and knew what she was doing.

Also keep in mind that despite his evil actions Heathcliff is the character of the book. The most intelligent, the strongest, the most charismatic. He is a villain but he is also kind of a “super” one. On what to make of him fathering an exceptionally sickly and puny child, the opinions may vary. Some said Linton’s sickliness might be due to the belief at the time that the mixed race children would be sickly. But then Linton’s sickliness seems more a product of his Linton background. It is a difficult topic to parse, I have pondered on it here, though it is an old post.

All in all, could I confidently say that Wuthering Heights is a thoroughly anti-racist novel from start to finish in all of its implications? No. Do I think that Emily Brontë intended to criticize racism in parts of the book? Yes.

#wuthering heights #asks #anonymous

[softer-ua]

I will never ever ever ever get over how All Might was immediately on board to follow Izuku to different school, like didn’t say a damn thing either. Even tho like 30 minutes prior

Like I know Dekus his successor and he has a responsibility to stay by him but between

his role as a teacher

condoning restraining Katsuki(a child in crisis!!) by placing that medal on him on the international broadcasting of a spectacle that has replaced the Olympics and is stated to influence these kids while careers

and then thrusting him farther into negative lime light(even though it wasn’t anyone but the villains fault) by losing his powers while rescuing him

You’d think he’d recognize that he has some serious responsibility to Katsuki too, like separate from Deku & OFA All Might has unintentionally caught Katsuki into his orbit & as an adult he should be able to not only recognize that but step up to that

I refuse to believe that All Might actually cares about Katsuki as an individual at all, frankly I think he low key seriously dislikes him and originally had no intention of ever seeing him succeed and would have loved an excuse to separate Izuku from him

Don’t agree?

Let me ask you this, do you honestly believe that if it had been Inko hitting Izuku All Might would have looked the other way?

I don’t, I guarantee that All Might would have called in on every favor he could think of and Inko would have been losing custody before the sunset

I think Deku told All Might one too many of Bakugo’s character flaws during their pre UA training sessions and All Might decided he hated him and would never let it go

Izuku venting should have been fine but All Might struggles with maturity and emotional intelligence, he never unpacked his trauma around losing Nana & put her on a pedestal

It left him with a mindset that let him blindly supporting Izukus reckless tendencies for far too long and it was only corrected by the intervention of others like recovery girl

while also had him under the impression that Izuku would just magically understand OFA because obviously it was his closeness to his mentor that made him such a great hero

He never took into consideration that OFA was much stronger now or that not only is Izuku just of a smaller build to begin with but he had less time to train, like we see All Might was already pretty solidly built and involved with Nana in middle school.

Izuku only had time to build up enough strength and stamina so that OFA didn’t immediately kill him and it’s treated like he’s just not as much of a natural as AM when that’s only such a small part of the problem 😩

After the home visits All Might definitely does try harder for Izuku, to be more available to him and after DvsK2 All Mights consideration of Katsuki is slightly more sensitive and nuanced but tbh it’s all still through a lense of ‘remember he’s important to Izuku, if he improves so does Izuku’

What really confirms that for me is that there was zero reason All Might couldn’t have told the class to make an exception and let Katsuki into Izukus hospital room if he woke up

The class has known since before the training camp that they mean a lot to each other & have know each other for like forever(even if it is messy), but everything during and after camp surely renforced it

They know that Bakugo went off alone with Deku at the beginning of the war and stayed with him throughout it until he got stabbed, it’d make sense that upon waking up not dead he’d wanna see the person he sacrificed himself for

Most importantly absolutely everyone knows what a dramatic hassle Bakugo can be, they could have just written it off as a precaution to keep the hospital quiet 💀

There was zero reason that in however long existed between them waiting for Izuku to wake up and All Might delivering the letters All Might couldn’t have filled Bakugo in or at least offered him some kind of personal communication and comfort

He should have felt some obligation to do so after everything, he should have known better.

Yes it was Izukus decision to leave & knowing Izuku it was a safer bet to go along with that plan so that he didn’t do it 100% alone but All Might should have known that cutting Katsuki out completely wasn’t just a tactically bad idea it was a cold and callous one too

Also All Might just generally enjoyed beating the shit out of Bakugo just a wee bit too much, imo, man looks like it was his birthday and Christmas all in one

All Might, the number one hero for decades, repeatedly introducing the back of Bakugo’s skull to the pavement was a conscious choice that he made with joy in his heart, Idc how much you don’t like that take, because there were a dozen other choices he could have made

And that’s how you know Deku is bilnded by his admiration of All Might. Otherwise he may have noticed that All Might, for all his support of Bakugo helping Izuku become a stronger hero doesn’t support Bakugo being in his personal life, or Bakugo being alive in general 💀

Honestly I can see why Katsuki procrastinated ever getting All Might to sign his card, between fanboying, personal guilt, pride, and the fact that he probably has a sneaking suspicion that AM doesn’t like him it makes sense that he never once brought it up over the course of an entire year 🥺💔

#bnha #boku no hero #my hero academia #mha #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #kacchan #deku #izuku midoriya #dekubaku #dkbk #deku x kacchan #Best of luck getting All Mights blessing on the marriage you 2 #it’ll be a toss up between All Might want Deku to have all the happiness in the world & him not wanting Bakugo in that world Lmaoo #bnha spoilers #I just can not vibe with or abide people who don’t put child welfare above all else #like I genuinely don’t care about the reasons #I dont care what kinda un healed trauma the adults struggling with or what other moving parts they’re contending with #suck it the fuck up and do right by the child #contrary to popular belief you actually don’t have to know better to do better #you just have to be resolutely committed to not causing more harm #like even within their universes context of child soldiers being the social norm #I mean I love All Might and think he’s a great character with a lot of depth and nuances just like Katsukis #I think how much he cares about Izuku and wants to be there for him is beautiful #I just also think he’s a toxic presence of a mentor #toxic people aren’t exclusively malicious #it can also be good people who haven’t confronted enough of their own demons and done enough self work #sadly that’s no excuse for his behavior