#like i just thought. people used it/its pronouns for reasons totally different than they/them pronouns | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spencerspecifics · 4 years ago

Note

HI HI HI PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE MOREID AT PRIDE AND SOME PINING AND SPENCER THINKS DEREK IS STRAIGHT BUT HE ISN'T AND THEY KIIIITTTTTHHHHH

I absolutely love your energy fuck yes!! I’m so sorry this took forever, ive got school, work and some other personal things happening so I appreciate your patience!

No TW, B u t, a creep hits on Spencer at pride, so if that is upsetting please note that! Thanks :)

———————————————————————

Pride

———————————————————————

Garcia had been pestering Spencer about going to pride for the past week now, and it was slowly driving him insane.

He used almost every excuse he could think of. When he first turned her down, he had simply said, “Sorry, I’m going to be busy that week.” And of course, Garcia being Garcia, she stole his calendar to see what he was busy with (spoiler alert: he had nothing. Except a reminder to go grocery shopping, and email some professors and research scientists back).

So, she persisted, and he came up with a dozen more excuses; “I was considering flying out to see my mom”, “The local museum has a new interactive archeology exhibit for adults, and I want to learn more about ancient structures”, “I have to do a presentation on thermodynamics”.

None of those excuses work, as she sniffed out every lie, “Spencer, you hate flying to Vegas last minute, that archaeology exhibit has been open for months, and your calendar is empty!”

So with her persistence, and legitimate bullying, Spencer found himself finally agreeing. “Fine, but come over to my apartment before we leave so you can help me.” After all, he wasn’t really familiar with pride parades, and what the scene was like there. He was going to be a fish out of water, he already knew that for certain.

True to her word, Garcia showed up an hour before the pride parade was set to start, carrying a coffee in each hand- how she possibly knocked on his apartment door, Spencer didn’t know.

“I brought you a pick me up, that way you have no excuse to be in a bad mood!” She spoke in her signature sing song voice as Spencer let her inside, she barreled in like a hurricane. God, Spencer wasn’t ready for this.

“Thanks..” Spencer decided to reply with that lame response, and not with what he was actually thinking. He took the coffee from her wordlessly as she stepped in further, going to sit down on his couch.

“You excited?” Garcia asked as she set her cup down on his cluttered coffee table. Reid just shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t do great with crowds.”

“But you do great with disarming murderers?” “You know that’s different-” Spencer said, doing his best to argue, “Reid it is literally not. Both are anxiety inducing, but one is life or death, and it’s not pride. So you can do this.”

Spencer sighed, resigning himself to not arguing with Garcia. Because she was right, though at times her arguments sounded wild. He just had to get over this anxiety and show up at pride, he could do this, right?

Wrong. So, very, wrong. They had left his apartment with thirty minutes to spare, deciding to walk over to where pride was being held- as it was only a few blocks away in a public park.

And as soon as they got there, Spencer wanted out. There were so many people, more than he estimated (and his estimations were usually spot on.), and there was just chaos everywhere. Music, dancing, shouting, singing, drag queens running around happily. Spencer wasn’t sure what to do. He was out of his element.

Garcia seemed to sense that, though, as she dragged Spencer over to some stalls that sold pride flags, pins, and other miscellaneous pride related things.

“C’mon Reid, why don’t you look around and find something you like?” She offered up, something for him to do- something for him to stay busy with. He could do that. Spencer nodded simply, Garcia stayed by his side- looking at pride related wear for herself.

Spencer ended up deciding on a small pin that simply said; “love all”, planning to stick it on his messenger bag strap. Garcia bought a pin as well, but hers just had her pronouns on them; “she/her/hers”.

Looking at all the pride apparel was a good distraction for Spencer, he felt a lot more calmer now- though that didn’t stop him from feeling like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He’s just not familiar with this world, and it’s awkward to suddenly be in the middle of it.

Spencer was in the middle of looking at another booth that sold flags, possibly considering buying himself a small one to stick in his pencil cup at work, because Garcia left him to go compliment a drag queen- when a voice broke through.

“Hey, pretty boy!”

That was a voice all too familiar, what on earth was Morgan doing here? Spencer looked up at him as he made his way towards him. “Hey,” Spencer spoke awkwardly. Not sure what to say.

Spencer was gay. He was fine with admitting he was gay, but he hadn’t really told the team. He thought they figured it out on their own. And they probably had, but still, having his coworker see him at a pride event- it was anxiety inducing.

“What’re- what’re you doing here?” Spencer asked, stumbling over his words as he dropped the small flag he was holding back onto the vendors table.

“Oh, well I’m on the local PFLAG committee. I’m just here to hand out flyers and stuff. But I’m glad to see you’re here, I’m guessing Garcia’s here too?” He asked Spencer casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Spencer.

He was on the PFLAG committee? Why? To help queer people, obviously, but that had to mean he was gay or something- Spencer couldn’t stop his mind from coming up with every possible answer to why Derek was on the committee.

Spencer just nodded in response, he moved himself back from the vendors table to get out of the way, so other customers could look at the flags being sold.

“Yeah, she’s- there.” Reid pointed her out, as if on cue she came out of the thick crowd that had started to gather back up, the parade portion of pride had concluded by now, and people were coming over to the vendors section.

“Hey, Babygirl!” Derek called over to her, and Garcia somehow lit up with a smile brighter than the one she was wearing before, “Well, hey!” She responded enthusiastically, walking up swiftly to give Derek a quick embrace, which he happily returned.

“I wasn’t sure how long you were staying for, but I’m glad I caught you!” Garcia started rambling to Derek, about how the drag queen she met was so nice; “Her name was Mysteria Hysteria. Isn’t that genius?”.

Spencer just stepped back from them both, not sure what to do, not sure if he fully belonged. Pride was a nice event, it was. But the longer he stood around, the more he felt like he should be leaving. Everyone was laughing and smiling, everyone was just happy. And Spencer couldn’t stop racking his brain. In the beginning, he couldn’t stop thinking because of his anxiety, but now he was searching his brain for a reason why Derek was here and what it meant.

Of course, a stupid large portion of Spencer’s mind went to “maybe Morgan likes men”, and then an even larger and stupider portion of his mind had the absurdity to think; “maybe he’s interested in me”. Which Spencer did not even want to remotely entertain, because if he fell down that rabbit hole, he’d never climb back out.

Because yes, he did like Derek. He liked him a lot, the start for his liking towards the man was innocuous enough- which is why it was a problem for Spencer. He didn’t realized he liked Morgan until it was too late. And now he had been battling these feelings for years. Spencer wasn’t ever going to act on them, he just had to live with them- which he had been doing, which he has been content with. But this new information, about Morgan being here, being part of PFLAG- it was going to make Reid’s mind implode in on itself.

Reid decided the best thing was to say; “I’m gonna get some water, I’ll be back.” To which Derek and Garcia both nodded to, and Spencer was off, away from the vendors stand and the only two people he knew at pride.

And while that was a good thing, it was simultaneously not so good. Because now he was alone, overwhelmed, and thinking too much. And now he had a task to do, find himself some water.

That task seemed to be more difficult than anticipated, as the prides layout was a confusing maze, spencer had to pass in front of a group of drag queens in order to get to the food trucks that were on site- but he eventually got there.

He walked up to the first food truck he saw, it didn’t matter what they sold, he wasn’t getting it.

“What can I get for you?” The cashier asked him, “Just a water, please.” He ordered, the cashier nodded and pulled a bottle out from a cooler that was nearby within the truck, handing it over to spencer as they told him his total, a dollar twenty five. Spencer paid quickly, stepping back and away from the food truck, as he wasn’t sure where else to go now. He didn’t want to go back towards Derek or Garcia, he honestly wanted to go home.

He just needed a minute, some space and time to breathe and relax. He was stressing himself out. And about what? Nothing of goddamn importance, just a stupid crush he had been living with for a while now.

Spencer had been leaning against the back the food truck for not long, only a couple of minutes as he was absorbed in thought as he fiddled with the cap on the water bottle.

He was doing his best to follow the grounding techniques he had learned, something to help him calm down, when suddenly- a stranger emerged out of the crowd.

“Hey there, handsome.” The man said confidently as he strode up to introduce himself Spencer. Spencer looked up to meet his eyes, the man in question was a fine looking guy, chiseled jawline, long shoulder length hair, a bit of facial stubble. He was handsome. “Hello,” Spencer answered hollowly in response. In an ordinary situation, he would try and seem more lively- but he wasn’t in a normal situation, not at all.

The anxiety of attending pride was stress enough on its own, but now knowing the guy he had been drooling over for years was here- and worked as a PFLAG volunteer? It was enough to make him lose his mind.

The man didn’t seem to notice Spencer’s empty response, however, as he answered suavely in response; “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the way. I’m Fabian,” Thankfully, the man- Fabian, didn’t stick his hand out for a handshake, instead casually pushing his hair back a bit.

“I’m Spencer,” Reid replied simply, knowing it was best to ride this odd social interaction out, rather than try and fight it. “That’s a lovely name,” Fabian complimented, “Is this your first time at pride, Spencer?” He asked him casually, taking a step forward, closer to Spencer. He was all too confident for Spencer, he too comfortable with invading Spencer’s space. If Spencer could’ve, he would’ve stepped back.

“Uh, yeah. My friend dragged me along.” Reid explained, twisting the bottle cap back onto his half empty water bottle. Fabian nodded, “Your boyfriend didn’t take you?” Fabian asked him. That was a leading question, Spencer had alarm bells ringing in his head the second he heard it. “No. He- um- he met up with us here.” Spencer replied unconvincingly, Fabian obviously did not believe a word he said.

“Well,” Fabian took another step forward, practically blocking Reid in against the back of the food truck, leaning in farther to whisper in Spencer’s ear; “I don’t see him around. So, why don’t you and I get out of here? Hm?”

Spencer wasn’t sure of what to do. He wanted to kick this guy in the crotch and just book it, but he wasn’t sure if his FBI status would protect him in this scenario. He wasn’t sure what could protect him in this scenario.

“Pretty boy! There you are!” A saving grace broke through, and suddenly Fabian was stepping back, and Morgan was walking up.

Thank god, thank fucking god, that’s all Spencer could manage to think as Derek came to stand beside him. “Hey, babe.” Spencer said, cringing at his voice, at what he just said. But that feeling only lasted for a moment as Fabian was still standing right there, staring them both down now.

Spencer could only throw his wish in the sky and hope Derek caught it coming down, ‘please catch along to why I’m calling you babe’ Reid was trying to say.

And Derek caught it, “Hey, baby, was worried about you. Who’s your friend?” He said in his smooth voice, a voice Spencer couldn’t forget. He especially couldn’t forget now, being called ‘baby’ was something Spencer especially could not forget.

“I’m Fabian, you’re Spencer’s boyfriend?” Fabian asked, as if them both calling each other ‘babe’ counted for nothing. “Yeah, I’m Derek.” Morgan responded simply, sliding his hand around Spencer’s waist as if to prove a point. Fabian just nodded, looking between Spencer and Derek one last time before talking; “Well, it was nice to meet you, I’ve gotta get going. See you.”

And then, he was off, fast walking away from Derek and Reid, escaping the terrible situation he had created. Fabian quickly disappeared into the thick crowd, and by then Spencer had his hand squeezing his water bottle all too tightly- as evident by the terrible crunch sound it made. He was too anxious to let go.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asked him softly, pulling his hand away from Spencer’s waist. “Can we find somewhere else- can we go sit down?” Spencer asked him quickly. Reid didn’t want to talk about it right this second, right where it had happened. He wanted to leave, he wanted to leave pride and never come back.

Derek didn’t ask a single follow up question as he led Reid away from the food trucks, taking him back towards the vendors stands, and then a bit further back, into the normal-not-so-pride-parade-filled park area. Somewhere less stressful, less scary.

“What did that guy want?” Derek asked Spencer casually as they made their way towards a bench that was sat under a large oak tree. Spencer didn’t speak right away, instead he waited until they were seated to start talking.

“He was trying to flirt, but then he wanted me to leave with him.” Spencer explained as he took a deep breath in, just being away from all the loud sounds and sights was helping him calm down. Derek rubbed Spencer’s back in slow, circular motions as Spencer kept talking.

“He was a classic example of a narcissistic personality, it just made me so uncomfortable- he invaded my space.”

“He was a creep, Reid. Simple as that,” Derek kept rubbing Spencer’s back slowly, Spencer nodded. “I know. Sorry, it shook me up.” Spencer attempted to apologized, and Derek was immediately having none of that.

“Reid, no. Don’t apologize for that, don’t you dare. He was a creep, I’m sorry you got caught up with him. It’s okay if you’re shaken up. We can stay here until you feel up to going back, or we can leave. But I’m not leaving you.”

And so they sat for a good amount of time on that park bench, at one point Derek stopped rubbing Spencer’s back, instead just keeping his arm stretched out against the back of the bench and against Spencer’s back. Spencer loved it, but he knew if he thought about it for too long he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking. That was his biggest problem, he couldn’t stop thinking.

He had to know, he decided, he couldn’t just wonder why Derek was on the committee for PFLAG. He wanted to know, he had to.

“Derek?” He spoke up softly, sounds of laughing and shouting and music were still heard in the distance, but they were safe from the sounds under the tree. “Mhm?” Derek hummed in response, looking up at the aforementioned tree that was providing shade for them.

His eyes were tracing the way the branches curved and bent around each other, it was something he did to pass the time. Spencer thought he was extraordinary for it, Derek loved to see where things went; he was curious- after all these years, and all the bad they had seen together, Derek still loved to search and find the beauty.

“Why are you on the PFLAG committee ?” Spencer asked him, it was thankfully an innocuous enough ask to not draw too much of Derek profilings side out to pry apart his question. Derek shrugged, and was quiet for a second before responding, “I know what it’s like to be a scared kid, unsure of his identity. If I can help someone through that, that’s all that matters. Same reason I’m in the BAU, to help people.”

Spencer stayed quiet, Derek’s reason was so sincere and so sweet and kind- and only driving him to think further. Was Derek still unsure of his identity? Was he an ally? Why did he have to make Spencer swoon so hard without even trying?

“So, you’re just an ally?” Spencer approached Derek carefully with that question, not wanting to impose or be rude- but just feign simple curiosity, praying Derek wasn’t using his profiling skills right now to decode Spencer’s fake motive.

Derek didn’t notice, thankfully, as he chuckled lowly in response; “No, pretty boy, I’m bisexual. I don’t really tell the team, but it’s not confidential information. Plus, Garcia found Grindr on my phone. Can’t hide anything from that girl.”

Spencer nodded, mumbling something in response about how Garcia had hacked his email to make sure he was free for pride. And then, the two fell into silence again. But it didn’t last for long, because Derek wanted to know just as much, why was Spencer here?

“What about you, Reid?” Derek asked him cautiously, the way you approach a puppy you find on the side of the road. Calm and slow, trying to get him to trust him bit by bit. “What about me?” Spencer asked, not wanting to answer anything about himself unless Derek was specific.

“Are you an ally?” Morgan asked him, leaving the question open ended. Spencer could say as little or as much as he wanted. This is how you get him to open up, Derek knew that for a fact. “Um.. yeah, I mean- who isn’t? I just- I have to be. I’m.. gay.” Spencer admitted all too awkwardly, not at all in a normal fashion. But nothing about Spencer was in normal fashion.

Derek nodded slowly, not responding as he stared back up, tracing his eyes over the tree branches yet again.

A few hours had passed, Spencer and Derek eventually left their peaceful bench under the large oak tree, and instead moved back towards the parking lot.

“Garcia’s got a ride home already- I think she got that drag queen to get her home.” Derek explained as they approached his truck, Spencer nodded as he followed Derek. “Anyways,” Derek continued speaking, “I can give you a ride home. Let’s get going.”

“You don’t have to-“ Spencer started, Derek immediately shut him down. “I want to, c’mon. It’s late, you’re tired. I know you are. Let me take you home.” Spencer just nodded in agreement, he couldn’t argue with Derek, even if he did try. Morgan was a stubborn man.

So, Spencer followed Derek into his truck, and they sat in comfortable silence as they started on their journey back to Spencer’s safe space, his apartment.

By the time Derek pulled his truck into the apartments parking lot, Spencer knew something was just the slightest bit wrong. Derek had barely spoken for the entire ride, and usually he loves to say something, to make Spencer smile or laugh, or even just nod and mumble in agreement. But he had done none of that on the way to Spencers.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, turning to face Derek as he put the vehicle in park. Derek didn’t meet his eyes, staring at the steering wheel instead as he spoke; “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” Spencer pried, absentmindedly unbuckling his seatbelt as he spoke, “About today.” Derek said, not explaining further. “Was today bad?”

Derek shook his head, “No. It started weird, it’s ending pretty good, though. But I’m gonna regret today forever if I don’t do something right now.”

Now, Spencer was confused. Not sure at all what Derek could be talking about, “What do you mean?” He asked, voice quieter than before.

Derek said nothing as he unbuckled his own seatbelt, turning to face Spencer as well, and then he leaned in- closer than they had ever been before. Their noses were almost touching, and Spencer didn’t move. Instead, he watched Derek’s eyes expectantly.

Then, Derek broke through, they were no longer intersecting each other’s personal space- now they were fully destroying each other’s atmospheres. Derek’s lips were on Spencer’s, a chaste, soft, quick kiss- something Spencer would have wanted to go for a lot longer. But then, he pulled away just as fast.

“...That’s what I meant..” He mumbled after a second, looking back towards the steering wheel, looking away from Spencer- and more importantly, not seeing the smile on Spencer’s face.

Spencer couldn’t help it. He knew it was terrible to be smiling right now- he should jump and say something to fix what was happening. But he had to smile, he couldn’t believe that had actually just happened, his brain was still computing and re-circuiting, trying to savor the memory and not forget how Derek’s lips felt against his.

Spencer dragged himself out of his own head quickly, though. He did all he could think of to do in the moment, get Derek back. “Morgan.” Spencer said, tugging on Derek’s sleeve as he did so, forcing him to look back at Spencer and meet his eyes again.

But Spencer didn’t say anything, and he didn’t give Derek the chance to speak, either. Instead, he leant forward, pressing his lips against Derek’s. This is all he had wanted to know for the longest time, and now he had it.

Maybe pride wasn’t so bad after all, you just have to be with the right people for it to work out.

———————————————————————

197 notes · View notes

boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

Text

BUTT-DIAL? NO, BOOTY CALL | tony stark

explicit, 5,4k words. wrong number text, family shame & wedding drama that isn't even his and a ruined first date. despite the implications of the situation, both reader and tony are very entertained. meet-ugly series, part three.

[no y/n, no "you", no name, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns]

💚 masterlist ☀️ taglist & faq 💚

Another sunny day spent wasted in a conference room full of boring, old, conceited chairmen. Tony Stark vehemently refused to commiserate with them, their boring speeches and blunt, straightforward thinking. Sitting through a meeting was like walking on nails barefoot: painful, pointless. Mind-numbing.

His phone beeped loudly and he reached into his pocket, pretending to not see Pepper's disapproving look. Both of them knew he was hoping for a sudden Assemble call - that would surely get him out of the meeting - but as much as he hoped, they never struck at the right time.

Except, this time it wasn't a call for assistance, and neither it was an automated spam message with Pizza Hut promo codes. Tony's eyebrows drew close and his lips upturned as he read and re-read the obvious rant written on his screen, typing up his answer before he managed to resist the morbid curiosity that was fueled by his boredom.

Whoever it was, they were justifiably angry and the whole situation was almost too comical to be true, except he'd known people exactly like the runaway bride, selfish, greedy and stupid. He totally understood the woman's desire to just go and load up on tequila shots somewhere - so he bid her a haste farewell, all the while snickering to himself.

"It's Rogers," Tony offered in the way of explanation to a glaring Pepper, locking his phone away and settling in to continue pretending he was listening as another old, crusty white man offered his input on topics he was too much of a dinosaur to even really know about.

He couldn't stop thinking about the incident over the days, the story making him snort more times than he could count as the memory randomly crossed his mind in the lab, at the coffee pot or during dinner. So when a message came through from that very same number, the smirk snuck up onto his face before he even read its contents.

A brief crash course in memes from Parker had turned out to be more useful than ever. Irritating Rogers with pictures got old very fast, however, in moments Tony got rendered speechless they proved to be the perfect substitute for trying to articulate all his thoughts on the matter.

Celebrity appearance, she said? More likely than one would think. The engineer had nearly doubled over in a fit of laughter when she'd texted him that; obviously, the woman had no clue who she was texting with and he decided to further indulge in his curiosity by asking for her name: Friday did the rest.

A phone number and a name, ten minutes, and all her social media were free for him to stalk. Investigate- uh, observe. With little effort, Tony found both her and her brother, the unlucky groom, and the runaway bride and even her step-dad. On paper, they all looked like average middle-class families. Nothing seemed amiss.

It didn't mean anything, but Tony caught himself thinking about the woman. Perhaps it might have been the mischievous gleem in her eyes that was easily spotted in every picture or perhaps the raunchy sense of humour not much different from his own. Pretty, witty and smart - what's there not to like?

"So that's why you've been going around, smiling like a middle-schooler with a crush," Natasha's voice whisper-shouted in Tony's ear as the spy discreetly peered over his shoulder into his phone. He had the chat pulled up, debating on starting a casual conversation-

"Jesus Christ, Romanoff, somebody needs to put a bell on you," Tony snapped, startled, pressing the button to lock his phone immediately.

"Uhuh," The redhead replied, side-eyeing a snickering Barnes. "Who is she?"

Tony rubbed his face, feeling the beginnings of a blush starting to creep in. He felt like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to and the rest of the team acting like children wasn't helping the matter. "I got a butt-dial text about some wedding drama. Some chick's brother's fiance was fucking her own stepdad and ditched the wedding for her old man."

Stunned silence settled briefly into the room as Romanoff's eyes widened and Barnes choked on his orange juice. Serves him right, Tony thought, and continued his coffee-making process in quiet irritation.

"Wait, wait, hold on," Wilson half-laughed half-yelled. "You gotta spill the tea, man, this sounds too good to be true. Stories like that just don't fall into your hands."

With a sigh, he recounted the woman's story and read the texts aloud, silencing his snickering enough to be able to keep a straight face - but not for long, Rogers decided it was the time for another one of his Captain America Is Disappointed In You speeches and Tony himself couldn't even disagree.

Now that he thought about it, he came off as a kind of asshole. She and her family was going through something traumatic and he went and treated it like free entertainment. Which, to be fair, it was, but she didn't deserve to be treated like a circus clown. She actually seemed like a good sister and friend.

"Just text her," Natasha rolled her eyes at him, grabbing the coffee pot out of his frozen hand. "You're not Steve, you can keep a decent conversation via text."

Being compared to Steve and his pre-historic messaging habits really did a number on Tony's ego; the eyeroll he gave Romanoff was truly out of this world, all but teleporting him to his lab where he tried to find a way to approach the woman without coming off as incredibly creepy, as if the fact that he'd stalked her on social media didn't already put him firmly into the weirdo category.

Most likely, Tony would have spent many many days on overthinking before just grabbing one of his suits to make a truly impressive landing on her small balcony downtown; thankfully, fate had intervened and saved him from making another epic mistake. He'd made a note to ask Thor about it sometime, settling down with his tablet and popcorn bowl to watch TV on the team's movie night.

Or, more precisely, Tony settled in to watch the drama unfold as the various members of the team fought tooth and nail for the film that they wanted to watch. He never cared about it much, dozing off halfway through most of them - his teammates had the worst taste in movies - so he didn't bother joining the scuffle except when it was Peter's turn to pick. For obvious reasons.

"If you can't decide I'm gonna have someone else pick a movie," Natasha rolled her eyes, equally fed up with fully grown adults acting like spoiled toddlers.

With a stutter of his breath, Tony's hand reached for his phone as he had an Idea.

Seconds tickled as the "typing..." bubble appeared and disappeared multiple times. She must think he's just a thirsty frat boy; Tony's brow furrowed, but the curiosity was far too strong in him. Something about her vibe, her feisty nature captivated him and kept him thinking about her.

The agreement came as a surprise. In the two minutes the woman had spent thinking up her answer, Tony prepared himself to be rebuffed gently, or, worst case, be called a creep. But no - she agreed, but not before vehemently insisting that if he would end up being a creepy serial killer, she would haunt his ass for the remainder of his life.

Friday couldn't come soon enough. Tony spent most of the day loitering between his lab and the penthouse, glancing at his phone every now and then to make sure she wouldn't cancel on him last minute. The engineer wanted to see the witty, no-filter-having woman in the flesh.

And see her, he did. He'd pulled up in front of the hole-in-the wall Ramen&Bar place Clint had been raving about weeks prior - contrary to popular belief, Tony was perfectly fine with going to places that didn't have Michelin stars - and leaned against the door of his Audi R8, eyes immediately taking note of the figure calmly walking down the street, head tilted down where she was typing up a reply to him.

Tony smirked as she lifted her face up to see him, mouth immediately falling open. The shock was obvious; it lasted mere seconds until her shoulders dropped and she sighed almost... In disappointment. He frowned.

"I jinxed it, didn't I? Here's my celebrity appearance," The laugh was a little nervous and quite sardonic. "Hi, Tony, nice to finally see you."

He smiled, unsure, quipping back easily. "Let's face it, I'm not the worst famous Tony out there." Opening the door of the building for the woman, she stepped in eagerly enough, eyes immediately falling on the bartender and the few dimly lit tables in the back.

"Not by any means," She turned towards him, walking backwards. Tony met her stare; it was just like he'd imagined it to be, curious, mischievous and a little daring. She didn't even attempt to play subtle, raking over him from head to toe. "Not at all, I think," She gave another teasing smile, finally turning around, addressing the bartender and rattling off her order without as much as looking at the menu.

Tony couldn't stop staring. He was aware it was creepy, she was aware of his clever brown eyes barely paying attention to their surroundings or the beer or the food. The woman just quirked an eyebrow every time she caught him. His curiosity couldn't wait any more. "Why aren't you freaking out?" He blurted out, cursing himself out almost immediately after the words left his mouth.

"My almost-sister-in-law was fucking her own stepdad," The woman deadpanned. "I ran out of fucks to give, sorry." She thoughtfully chewed her food, briefly looking to the side. "Not to sound like an asshole, but don't you have enough people fawning over you? Doesn't it get old?"

Tony nodded, choosing to stay silent on the matter besides offering an amicable, "That's valid."

The mischief lit up again in her eyes. "You look taller on TV," She snorted, immediately falling into a fit of laughter at his face full of outrage. He sputtered, muttering something about audacity of some people, which made her only laugh harder. "Here's a pro tip from my 4'11 bestie: when someone calls you short, you snarl at them and say you're fun-sized. She swears by it," The woman remarked conversationally, grinning a two hundred watt smile.

Tony was glad at least someone was enjoying their little... Date. "And you know all about fun, don't you?" He aimed for grumpy; it came out as teasing. His famous smirk made a return appearance as he watched her throat bob.

The atmosphere between them had changed at some point; the same old routine of teasing and dancing around each other, but this time, Tony all but purred in satisfaction, finally meeting someone who was an even match to his wit and charm.

"I do," She replied with that cocky confidence, her devil eyes lighting up, lingering on his face. "Got a problem with that?"

The plate was pushed away, napkin falling into the food carelessly as he gestured for the waiter to bring the check. "As a scientist, I cannot confirm whether a theory is true until I have direct evidence," The bullshit flowed easily from his mouth, but the woman appeared to be amused by it - for a change. "M'fraid I'm gonna need that evidence," His fingers drummed on the table, impatiently, inches away from her hand.

"Of course, Mr. Stark," Her voice dropped, she was fully aware of what she was doing by calling him that. That, and those deep, magnetic eyes made Tony's trousers feel a little too tight for comfort.

His phone rang loudly, dissipating the atmosphere they had created with a shrill noise. Captain Cockblock struck again.

Fumbling fingers, Tony tapped the green icon, shooting an apologetic look to the woman. "Rogers, there better be another alien invasion or I'm revoking your phone privileges," The woman chortled, taking a sip of her beer, trying hard not to seem like she was listening in and failing spectacularly at it. "Today, out of all days? Can't Strange fill in for me?" The engineer palmed his face, running a hand through his neatly done-up hair. It would be covered in soot and sweat in an hour anyways. "Fine, I'll be there in twenty minutes. Romanoff better be hauling Barton's lazy ass out of Bed-Stuy." With a frown, Tony poked the red icon and stuffed the phone back in his pocket, looking for all and all, like an angry adolescent.

The woman, however, didn't indicate any signs of displeasure. Her hand timidly reached out for his, giving it a brief squeeze. "Go, save the world, Mr. Stark," Her smile was sympathetic. They both stood up at the same time, Tony watching her incredulously as the woman untied a scrap of red fabric from around her neck and placed it around his wrist, tying the fabric with a loose but, frankly, pretty knot. "I like that bandanna, would be a shame if you didn't return it," She explained, shrugging her shoulders.

Tony snorted, fondly rolling his eyes, before beelining for the door, activating his Iron Man suit on the way out. Turning around before take off, he noticed her throw a couple of crumpled bills to the server who was too busy ogling him.

He forgot to pay for dinner, Tony realized as he made his way to the other part of the city. Well, fuck, he would definitely have to see her again.

---

An alien invasion during her first good date in ages - scribble, scribble, sigh. She couldn't do much more than that - just as she thought her string of bad luck had ended, the world turned around and flipped her a juicy bird, all but laughing straight in her face. Like that already wasn't enough, oh no, she groused as she spied the debris and random abandoned cars on her way home - it looked like some portion of the battle had been close to her home and only the sheer mental exhaustion that resulted from her life being turned upside down during the last month prevented her from having a full-on freak-out in the middle of the eerily quiet street.

Truly, the fucks she had to give had been expired.

The gloomy mood was interrupted by a cry - for help or of outrage, she didn't know, but the kindness in her, the very values she'd been raised with didn't allow her just to walk by, and with another resigned sigh, she tucked the nice blouse she'd put on for the date under her warm sweater and set off in the direction of the sound, finding the culprit in little under a couple of minutes.

Freeing the trapped civilian wasn't easy but, thankfully, neither it required super-strength or any kind of heavy machinery. The man thanked her and with him in tow, both of them set off to inspect nearby nooks and crannies. Logic won that day - if there's was one person, there could be more.

Hours later, sweaty, sore and bruised, the woman greedily chugged the water bottle someone had passed onto her as the amount of medics and firefighters had finally reached the threshold of when her help wasn't needed anymore. While her date and his colleagues fought whatever nasty that thought NYC was a sandbox battleground for their amusement, the woman found herself helping out with retrieval & evacuation of the civilians that didn't make it out of the neighborhood before the heat of the fight reached it. There were no deaths registered as of then and deep inside, she felt proud, knowing that she had contributed to the statistic at least a little.

Her phone was dying, her body was covered in dirt and scratches from head to toe and the bruises were beginning to ache. Tony's worry-worting was cute but the tiredness overcame her, making her brain sluggish and her demeanor short, so she hastily pocketed the phone, trailing over to the closest man in uniform she could spot.

"Sir?" She addressed him, eyeing the unfamiliar logo on his jacket. "Can I go, please?" She pointed to the yellow tape surrounding the makeshift medical station.

"I'm going to have to see your ID first," He replied apologetically, tapping away on his tablet.

With a sigh, she dug through her purse, giving it to him and using the brief moment of respite to smooth back her hair and dust off her clothing. There was a cloud of concrete and dirt surrounding her.

"I'm afraid I can't let you go just yet, Mr. Stark left strict instructions for you to be picked up by him personally," The agent gave the ID back with a suspicious glint in his eye.

"Oh c'mon," The annoyed whine escaped her lips before she registered it. "It was our first date," She offered to the puzzled agent, only succeeding in making him lean back and inspect her with a raised eyebrow. "Bye," She replied none too kindly, walking off to find a place to sit down.

The time passed in a strange way. The aches and pains and exhaustion made it stop, and if someone would have asked her, she wouldn't know how much of it has passed until her eyes reluctantly cracked open at the sound of a familiar voice, coming to see a pair of expensive shoes covered in dust. At least she wasn't the only one that looked like she'd taken a roll through someone's gritty attic.

"Morning, you Tasmanian Devil," Tony sounded jovial, all things considered.

"Hello to you too, Tin Can," The woman greeted him on par, without missing a beat.

"Now, now," He offered her his hand, which she took gratefully, before pulling her to her feet. "I come with peace offerings. Your building is under quarantine and I've got a perfectly good bed and a shower with thirty settings on it at my place. Whatcha say?"

She only pretended to think about it. Her reply was haste. "I don't make a habit of going into strange dudes' towers but I'll make an exception this once." A shower and a bed sounded heavenly.

Finally getting the chance to look at him, Tony appeared to be unhurt but equally exhausted and dirty. A few scrapes on his face and arms, he was missing his blazer, and had a weary tone to his face. Some parts of his Iron Suit were still on him - like the chest plate - but besides that, he was whole. The red of the bandanna she gave him was equally dirty but still neatly tied around his wrist, just like she left it.

"How's your relationship with heights?" He asked her and all she could do was blink, watching curiously as his body was enveloped by the red and gold, crawling over his skin like a swarm of shiny termites. That was all the warning she got before the metal arms - quite literally - sweeped her off her feet. "Faster this way," She could hear the nonchalant shrug in the metallic voice coming from the helmet. "Now hold on."

Awe and fear culminated inside the woman but the weariness had long since surpassed comfortable levels and all she did was give a weak nod and close her eyes as Tony lifted off, gusts of wind making her skin break out in goosebumps and her hair stand up wildly on her head. During the short trip her eyes fluttered open only once just to close back up immediately - all she saw were clouds, white and fluffy, like marshmallows, and the shining beacons of NYC skyscrapers somewhere far away.

The paralyzing anxiety fully dissipated only when her feet found purchase on the tiled floors, Tony's arms never ceasing to support her swaying frame until the breaths she took were her own and not the result of her fluttering heart and muted panic. "You with me, Wonder Woman?"

"Yes, Weird Science," She mumbled. "Thanks for the heads up," The annoyance had to find a way out and that it did.

"You're welcome," The cocky smirk returned to Tony's face as his suit receded, leaving him barefoot, dirty jeans and a torn tee. He stretched with a sweet groan, gesturing towards the door. "Friday will direct you towards the showers. Feel free to grab a t-shirt from the closet."

The woman nodded, too awestruck by the man and his hospitality, eyes darting all over the tastefully decorated room, the expensive knick-knacks scattered everywhere, the absolutely enormous sloppily made bed. Tony Stark liked to live luxuriously - even the shower was a state of the art technological wonder.

Dirty pants and dusty blouse went flying somewhere in the back of the bathroom as the woman stood up on her tippy toes, reaching for the sky, stretching her sore muscles. The glass wall of the shower had began to fog up from the hot water. The knock went barely noticed by the woman who jumped as Tony's voice startled her out of her daydream.

"Forgot I ran out of towels here..." He trailed off, voice dropping as he spotted her only in her underwear. She turned, responding with a lopsided grin, spying the stack of fluffy grey in his arms, the arc reactor in the middle of his bare chest. He smirked, "Damn. Can I join you?" Giving her what only could be described as a respectful once-over.

Tired as she was, her sense of humour and wit didn't go down for a much needed nap just yet. "I don't know, you tell me. Can you?" Turning back around, the woman made a short show of unclasping her bra and tossing it in the general vicinity of her dirty clothing pile. She'd worn a cute matching set of undies that day and the fact didn't go over Tony's head, she was sure.

The door clicked shut just as she raised her face to the stream of water, feeling calmer with each second, muscles relaxing themselves as the hot stream washed away the dirt and the dust off her body.

"And I thought this evening was ruined," Tony's voice insinuated from behind her. A hand reached for the soap, his body heat scorching compared to the steaming water. He stayed just a few inches away, enough to feel him, enough for her body to respond and crave more. "It's nice to be wrong for a change. Refreshing."

The woman hummed, reaching up to run her fingers through her wet, knotted hair. "First decent evening in ages. I wasn't gonna let some uninvited Predator knock-offs ruin it for me," She was more than a little peeved at the space invaders interrupting her nice date. Tony was a great conversationalist, it was easy to talk to him and he had a brilliant sense of humour. Not to mention the obvious, he was easy on the eyes.

"That's the spirit," The voice was closer now, almost in her ear. Even though her eyes were closed, the woman was aware he was reaching for something, letting him butt her hands out of the way to lather her hair, scrubbing at her scalp meticulously, until the sounds that left her mouth bordered on embarrassing. Once that was done, Tony moved onto her body, running his hands over her back, the outside of her hips. "M'not stepping over, am I?" He asked quietly, touch faltering every time he brushed over a scrape or a bruise.

"No, you're doing great, Tony," It wasn't exactly conventional - sharing a very intimate shower after an interrupted first date, but then again, nothing about this man was conventional and her life had already been turned upside down no less than twice recently. The woman didn't lie, the gentle, caring touch felt soothing.

Arching her back, she lifted her arms to repay him with the same, raking her fingers through his hair, leaning into the shudder that ran throughout his body. It was nice to bask in whatever they had going on, so the motion to face him was almost reluctant. Water droplets stuck to his eyelashes and his eyes were tired but not in a way that suggested he'd kick her out first chance.

Their kiss was sweet, slow, like they already were familiar with each other in a special way. The woman tugged on his lip with her teeth - such was her character - and he pressed closer to her, raising a hand to hold the side of her face. In muted curiosity, she couldn't help but wonder if there ever had been someone that waited for him once his battles were over.

Tony's eyelashes, the very same that had no business being this long on a man, fluttered against her cheek as they stood under the shower, letting water wash away the day.

"I've always wanted to kiss in the rain, like they do in the movies. This is the closest I've gotten," She whispered, gently kneading the arch of his shoulders. "Feels better than it looks, to be honest."

Tony snorted, reaching for the knob to turn it off. "Cheesy," He teased her, wrapping a warm, fluffy towel around her body. Both people made quick work of drying themselves, exiting the fogged up bathroom, making way into the bedroom, padding soft on the carpet and falling down on the bed carelessly.

"I'm the queen of cheesy one-liners," The woman raised her eyebrows, scooting under the sheets next to Tony who opened his arms wide, a smirk on his face. She didn't give him the chance to reply, slotting her lips over his instead and groaning as their heated bodies once again rested against each other.

She ran her hands over Tony's defined pecs, glossing over the arc reactor, raked nails over his tummy, eating up the sighs leaving his mouth at the gesture. He was a beautiful man, she wasn't going to lie to herself. The warmth that settled low in her belly grew, spreading throughout her limbs and temporarily overshadowing the exhaustion.

The engineer, too, was quite excited - his erection poked her hip - and content to be steered to her wishes by the hand in his hair. Groans and sighs left his moist, parted lips as his eagerness bled into his hands, grip firm and steady on the panting woman's hips.

Adrenaline did something to her body, caused it to ache sweetly, a hunger to be satisfied only by a lover's touch. And touch she did; her mouth tasted him, alternating sucking gentle marks onto his throat and nibbling on the skin stretched thinly over his collarbones. Tony's sighs grew in depth and volume with every silent action of worship.

No inch of his body was left untouched, the woman was an all-hands-on-deck kind of lover, happily making her way down until soft lips wrapped around the crown of his cock, making his hips arch into it, hands fisted in the soft white sheets. "You devil," Tony gasped out, limbs turning to jelly, watching the woman all but devour his cock.

She popped off minutely, a trail of sticky saliva running down her chin, sticking to his glistening cock. "The power of Christ compels me?" With a smirk, her tongue trailed from his balls to the very tip, paying extra attention to the frenulum, making Tony shudder and gasp out an embarrassed laugh.

"Uh-uh," Stripped of his usual snark, he was but a man at her mercy.

"It's not very compelling," The predatory stretch of her lips widened as she took mercy on him, giving his cock a few slow tugs with her hand. Her mouth, her hand and his cock were dripping. "Gonna let me do all the legwork, Mr. Stark?" She sat up straighter, inadvertently drawing his eyes to the apex of her thighs where the woman's sex glistened in the dim light, lips swollen and inviting.

It sounded like she was mocking him, teasing him, egging him into a lustful frenzy none of them had the energy for but craved anyway. Tony Stark wasn't the one to back down from a fair challenge so he relented, flipping them over with ease, landing between her spread legs, eyes drawn to the momentary bounce of her breasts. Tony wasted no time in suckling a hard nipple into his mouth, humming in response to her choked-off moan of surprise.

"Tony," Her body arched into his touch, tender skin hot under the callouses on his fingertips.

"Yes, demon, dear?" A lopsided grin and laughter in his eyes preceded the wet stripe Tony licked down to her navel. "Wasn't there something about not telling demons your name? Guess you have power over me now," He trailed off cheekily, soft breaths puffing over her mound.

The woman bit her lip, peering down to rake a hand through Tony's hair, snagging a fistful to gently steer him towards her pussy. Tony's smile was one of satisfaction as he obediently followed her silent order, nosing along the line of her cunt, dipping his tongue to run slow, sloppy lines through the soaked folds.

"Fuck," She mumbled, spreading her legs without shame. "Yeah, right there," Her fingers turned white at the agility of Tony's tongue on her clit. He was swift and relentless in pursuit of the spots that made her moan and clench around nothing. The moisture of her sex soaked his goatee but he couldn't care less.

He growled when she attempted to withdraw, wrapping his muscular arms around her thighs to keep her still for his pleasure, wringing noises that increased in volume with every stroke of his tongue on her sex.

"Tony- please, Tony, I'm gonna-" The warning was brief; her back arched as a broken moan found its way past her moist, parted lips, her pussy spasmed, dripping all over his face and the sheets.

The engineer hid his smile against her thigh, discreetly wiping the obscene amounts of moisture she produced. It wasn't very long until her hands, slightly shaky, were tugging him upwards to meet his face in a rushed, graceless kiss. There was an equal lack of finesse in the glide of his erection along her sex.

"Okay?" He mumbled into her ear, lining himself up with her fluttering cunt.

"Please," She gasped, her hands pushing his hips onto her, eagerly lifting up to accept the sweet intrusion.

There was a quiet stutter in both of their breathing, hearts thudding against their ribs as he finally bottomed out, the thickness of him nestled snugly inside the rippling muscle. The pace he started out was agonizingly slow and inexplicably sweet, neither of them wanting to end their coupling prematurely but not being able to hold back the need that consumed them both.

"Fuck, you're so good to me," Tony's mumbling was overshadowed by the slick sounds coming from the place they were joined. "Gonna fill up this pretty pussy."

The woman keened at the idea, digging her nails into his ass, pulling him further into her.

"You'd like that?" He picked up the pace, blunt tip of his cock catching up with the tail end of her previous orgasm and re-lighting the fire in her belly anew.

"Yeah, Tony, please," No trace of the previous coyness in her voice, the woman was more than ready to beg, murder and steal to feel the man come undone in her arms.

It didn't take long, not with the adrenaline making their blood sing and the chemistry they shared. The brutal pace of Tony's hips quickly grew sloppy and erratic, the tightening of her inner muscles egging him on. He chased his release with deep, powerful thrusts that had the bedsheets rustle pitifully and beads of clear swear drip down his forehead.

As soon as her body arched once more, Tony let go of his control, slotting himself deeply into her spasming heat, cock throbbing as he painted her insides white with his seed, groaning incomprehensible compliments and profanities through his teeth. Chest heaving, the engineer couldn't do much more but let himself carefully fall onto her chest, aftershocks making him twitch when the woman began running a gentle hand through his hair.

"We're doing this again," He decided, still breathless but already a step ahead. She laughed.

Tony Stark taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @downeyreads @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @slothspaghettiwrites @bluecrazedandbeautiful

#bun writes #tony stark smut #tony stark fluff #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n

284 notes · View notes

mizunetzu · 4 years ago

Note

Plz make a prat 2 to its your fault!!! It was SO GOOD!!

LMAO I WASNT GONNA BUT I BROKE 100 FOLLOWERS PURELY BC THAT FIC SO-

——————

Kuroo x reader - it’s your fault (pt. 2)

⚠️warnings - none

Pronouns - male, he/him

part one can be found here! , and if the link is broken, check my pinned masterlist!

——————

Sports sucks. That’s the mindset (y/n) carried over to Karasuno, in his second year of high school.

He was doing great. He joined the writing club, he did extra well in his English classes, and even made acquaintances who didn’t force them to learn a sport for the rest of their life’s.

He doesn’t think he’d call them “friends” though. They weren’t as close as he was to his ‘teammates’. Or Kenma. Or Kuroo.

But then again, his relationship with Kuroo wasn’t real. And (y/n) will forever hate him for that. He’ll hate his guts for as long as he lives, for wasting his time and giving up his passion just because he couldn’t suck it up to tell him he didn’t want to be friends anymore.

“(L/n)-San, you’re late.”

A cold sweat broke out on (y/n). He looked up at his history teacher, with a nervous smile. He didn’t care for that class as much as the others, so it’s hard to keep up when you aren’t interested.

“(L/n), this is your third offense. I’m going to have to send you to detention. Take your seat and see me after class.”

“Yes sensei...”

He tiptoed to his seat and slid into his chair, with his head down. It was his first detention. He wasn’t going to lie when he said he was nervous.

————-

The detention wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. When he walked in, the teacher supervising was asleep on his desk, and there were only about 4-5 second years in there.

None really stood out, minus the one sitting in the corner, with his feet up, spinning a volleyball in between his hands. He had hair that reminded him of that bitch Kuroo, except it was styled like that on purpose, and there was a streak of blond straight in the middle.

The stranger seemed to catch his disgusted face, and said “Oi-you got a problem, pretty boy?”

(Y/n) wiped the look off his face and leaned a against the wall, not wanting to sit down. He stood there for about 5 minutes, before he heard the ever so familiar sound of a volleyball being smacked. Absentmindedly, he turned towards the sound, and brought his hands up to receive the ball. It’s the first thing they drill into your mind in that prison called Nekoma, so could you really blame him?

The thing he didn’t expect, was the ball to actually hit his hands. He thought the sound was in his head, or the boy just smacked the ball in his hands, but he didn’t think that he threw the damn ball at him. The ball effortlessly bounced off his arms and flew back into the hands of the boy, who had a shocked, excited, expression.

“You play volleyball?!” The boy jumped out of his seat and ran up to him. He was short, but then again, (y/n) wasn’t that tall to begin with.

“I...don’t...I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit! That was a perfect receive! I’ve seen guys on my team who don’t have a receive as good as that!”

Team? He thought there would be no ‘team’. This is the one school with that ‘fallen crows’ thing, right?

The boy was jumping up and down, praising his receive and making weird sound effects. He’s never really been praised on his receive before. It was heartwarming.

“-and you gotta join my team!”

“Hell no. I don’t play volleyball anymore. I’m done with it.” The words came out like an automated response. The boy tilted his head to the side.

“Why not? Your one of those new kids right? I don’t think I’ve seen you last year.”

“I don’t care much to talk about it” (y/n) chuckled and sat down. The boy sat down next to him, to his disappointment.

“I’m Nishinoya Yuu. What’s your name?”

“(Y/n).” (Y/n) said nothing more, mainly because he was used to going by his first name at Nekoma.

“(Y/n)? Just (y/n)? Is that your first name or your last orrrr-“

“First,” (y/n) drummed his fingers on the desk. “I don’t like formalities when it comes to spor-“

That response came out automatically aswell. It’s something Kenma said so much, that he started doing it aswell. They weren’t even doing sports. They’re in detention for gods sake.

“Nice to meet you man!” Nishinoya gave him a pat on the back. (Y/n) flinched a bit. Kenma wasn’t touchy at all, and Kuroo avoided as much contact with him as possible. Yet this...stranger was talking to him like he was the last person on earth. He was the center of attention right now. And he loved that feeling.

Are all countryside people this nice? Back in Tokyo, or at least with Kenma and Kuroo, they weren’t so...touchy. And the team wasn’t touchy as well. But maybe this is different. Maybe...

“You have to at least VISIT the practice! I won’t force you to join! But this is my last day of detention before I finally return and it would be cool if I got another player in! Not that I’m assuming you’ll want to play instantly but-“

“I’ll do it.”

“Really!?”

He was just going to watch. He wanted to see how different the Miyagi players were compared to Tokyo. That’s all. After that he’s going to leave. No more volleyball.

————

Nishinoya and (y/n) became good friends during the remainder of the detention. He told (y/n) he was a libero, and asked what his old position was. He lied and said he was a libero too. There was really no reason to lie, but he didn’t want to say he was a setter either.

On their way to the gym, (y/n) could practically feel how excited Nishinoya was. It was something (y/n) could never understand. They neared the entrance to the gym, when Nishinoya suddenly sprinted inside. A ball hurdled towards him, and he returned in the direction it came from, with little to no effort.

(Y/n) jogged in after him. “Noya! Warn me when you start sprinting damnit! you scared me!” A boy with bright orange hair, also pretty short, stared at Nishinoya with wide eyes.

“He’s...he’s shorter than me!”

“Huh? Hey, what did you just say?!” The libero got ready to pounce on the other short boy when he choked out a panicked “s-sorry!”

They started going back and forth on stuff

(y/n) wasn’t paying attention to, when 3 other people walked into the gym.

“Oi! Noya-San!”

“Ryu!”

The unknown people started greeting Nishinoya, while (y/n) stood awkwardly to the side.

“Oh! Let me introduce you.” Noya gestured towards (y/n), who stiffened once all eyes landed on him. My name is (y/n), uh-just (y/n). I don’t like formalities when it comes to sports.”

“Yeah! He said he wanted to watch-“

“Actually I want to join.”

It was something (y/n) said on impulse, after looking at everyone’s friendly attitude. They looked at (y/n), even though he was a total stranger, like he was a part of the family. He couldn’t help the words spilling out of his mouth. Nishinoya went silent, along with everyone in the room. A smile grew on Noyas face as he shook (y/n’s) shoulders giddily.

“That’s great! What position are you going to play?” The black haired dude with tan skin said, walking up to (y/n) and patting him on the back. Again, with everyone’s kindness. It’s so weird.

“Set-“

His throat closed in as if it told him he wasn’t supposed to say that. He felt the piercing stare of a boy with black hair and blue eyes. He was most likely a setter. He also looked at the kind smile of the man with silver hair, but how his eyes betrayed his kind look. They looked sad, and droplet of sweat rolled down his cheek. He was probably a setter, too. (Y/n) closed his mouth, then opened it again.

“...Libero. I want to play libero with Noya, if that’s alright.”

(Y/n) hoped he wouldn’t regret his decision. Not of signing up as a libero, his defense was pretty strong and on par with Noyas. He just hoped he wouldn’t regret joining the volleyball team he sought to never set foot on.

But everyone’s warm, friendly smiles made him forget about his inner turmoil, even temporarily.

He’d guess he’d have to quit the writing club, then.

————

“Rolllllling thunnnnnder!”

Noya dove for the ball and tumbled away, before standing up, looking proud of himself.

Tanaka and (y/n) started laughing hysterically, while Suga awkwardly mused out a “N-nice receive..”

“Why did he yell that out?” Kageyama looked just as dumbfounded as Sugawara, while Tsukishima and Yamaguchi stifled their laughter. “Pfft-what was that?”

“Kageyama! Tsukishima! Yamaguchi! I’m going to lecture you all! Crouch down! I mean-sit down!”

That just made (y/n) laugh even harder. He forgot why he hated volleyball so much, his stamina built to the point he wasn’t dying when he ran laps, and moments like these made him feel like he was on top of the world. He had a family. A new start. Things were going great. Nothing could ever-

“Everyone! I want you to gather around!” Takeda-Sensei burst through the gym doors, making everyone turn their heads. He started talking about some “golden week training camp” and how they needed to practice. (Y/n) wasn’t really paying attention, choosing to jokingly poke Tanakas waist with a “rollingu tsandaa~!!” Until-

“-and for the last day of golden week, I’ve arranged a practice match!”

Tanaka shooed away (y/n’s) hands and cheered. “Whooah! Who’s our opponent?”

“A venerated school in Tokyo, Nekoma high school.”

(Y/n’s) heart stopped. Every moment of his childhood he wasted cane flooding back just as he started to feel content with his new high school life. His eyes widened dramatically and his mouth hung open a tad. Sugawara seemed to notice, and gave him a concerned look as everyone was buzzing about the practice match.

“You okay?” No response.

“(Y/n?)” no response.

(Y/n) felt the ground swirling under his feet. It suddenly felt like there wasn’t enough air in the gym and the knee pads squeezed the everliving hell out of his legs.

“(Y/n)!” All eyes were on him. He was on the ground, sitting down and starring blankly at Takeda-sensei, while everyone silently stared back at (y/n).

This situation felt familiar.

————

The training camp flew by in a flash. It was one or two day before the dreaded match with Nekoma, and they were sprinting around the street to warmup. However Hinata, being Hinata, ran too far and unknowningly, to a place he didn’t recognize.

“Did I get lost?” His thoughts were intruded when he saw a boy, with bleach blond hair, sitting on the curb playing on his phone.

‘A bright red jersey. You don’t see much of those around here.’ Hinata thought.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Hinata ran up to the boy, who was obviously startled by Hinatas sudden exclamation. He looked from his phone, to Hinata, then to the ground.

“Um...I’m lost...”

“Eh? You’re from out of town?” Hinata cocked his head to the side, as the boy with the blond hair turned back to his phone.

“Yeah.”

They stood in silence, with Hinata admiring the game the boy was playing on his phone, when he suddenly jumped up, squealing.

“Are you a volleyball player?! Those are volleyball shoes!”

“Oh...yeah...”

The boy put his phone down and looked at him though his mop of hair. Hinata jumped up and down excitedly.

“I’m in a volleyball club too. I’m Hinata Shoyo!”

Another silence engulfed them, before the boy spoke up. “Kozume...”

“Kozume? That’s you name?”

The boy, ‘Kozume’, looked down at his bag. He then drew his gaze back up, mumbling out a “Kenma” before he looked back down.

“So your Kenma, Huh? Are you in high school?”

“Yeah...I’m a second year.”

Hinata stiffened and straighted his posture rigidly. “Crap! Your older than me! P-pardon me!”

“Don’t worry, I don’t really like formalities when it comes to sports.”

That statement made Hinatas shoulders relax, now sporting an odd look on his face. Kenma noticed his gaze, but said nothing. The thing he said now, was exactly what (Y/n) always said. When he introduced himself when he joined, when he introduced himself to Asahi who joined soon after, and to everyone whom he didn’t know beforehand when in the gym. It was like his catch phase.

“You...remind me of one of my teammates. Uh-! Not exactly! He’s more um...rowdy? B-But you said something he always says and-“

Kenma perked up, whipping his head to Hinata with questioning eyes. He, however, noticed his abrupt nature, and looked back down, trying to focus on his phone.

“Um...what position do you play?”

“Setter.”

“Ehhh?! Really? Your waaay different than our setter! our setter is a litt-“

“Does your setter have (H/c) hair? Or is he kind of clingy who likes video games?”

Hinata looked at him with a confused expression. Kenma looked at Hinata with prying eyes that almost seemed desperate. He was clutching his phone in his hands a little too tightly, to the point his knuckles turned white.

After taking Hinatas silence for a ‘no’ he turned his attention back to his phone, with pursed lips and a “...nevermind...”

The conversation they had was pretty tame afterwards, Hinata complaining about how scary his setter is or how it’s odd that he’s short for a middle blocker.

(Y/n) came jogging down the street Hinata took, along with Sugawara trailing behind him. Once (y/n) took sight of the familiar orange tuft of hair, he smiled. However, once he was about to call out his name, he heard a voice and a name he hasn’t heard in forever.

“Kenma!”

(Y/n) looked past Hinata to see a boy with blond hair. It wasn’t the Kenma he knew, his Kenma has black hair, but it could’ve easily been bleached. He looked a little further and locked eyes with someone he sought to destroy from his mind.

Kuroo.

(Y/n) stood there, frozen to his core, before a harsh glare graced the cheery persona he sought to uphold. Kenma stood up and waved a goodbye to his new friend, before jogging up to Kuroo. Kuroo broke into a cold sweat, shoving his hands in his pockets and averting his eyes guiltily.

Sugawara rounded the corner, before his eyes landed on Hinata and (y/n).

“Ah! Hinata!”

Hinata flinched and turned around to see Sugawara, and (y/n), who was clenching his fists with a disgusted look on his face.

“Man, we were looking all over-“

“Who were you talking you, Hinata?”

(Y/n’s) words dripped with venom. He wasn’t one to get angry, but he grew to resent Nekoma as a whole. Not just Kuroo. He hated Nekoma almost as much as he used to hate sports.

“Uh-I made a friend-he says he plays volleyball too-“

“No shit.”

(Y/n) scoffed and walked away, presumably to go back to where everyone was. Suga and Hinata stood there awkwardly.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know...we should go back, though.”

The two boys trailed behind (y/n), deciding that he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

——————

Pt 3??? Anyone??? Lmaooo

#hq x male reader #hq fics #haikyuu kuroo tetsuro #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo x male reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x male reader #hq kuroo #kuroo x you #kuroo x y/n #kuroo angst

751 notes · View notes

gendercensus · 4 years ago

Text

Gender Census 2020: The Pronoun Question

This report is the fourth in a series, analysing the >24,000 responses from the 2020 Gender Census question-by-question.

[ Report #1: On “enby” and age // Report #2: The Identity Question // Report #3: The Title Question ]

This year’s Gender Census, aimed at everyone whose gender(s) or lack thereof are not adequately described by the gender binary of “always, solely and completely male OR always, solely and completely female”, was open from 12th February until 7th April 2020. There were 24,576 usable responses. (Unfortunately the spreadsheet of responses won’t be available until I’ve written up the report for every question, sorry about that!)

This report will summarise the responses for the third question, regarding pronouns.

As in previous years, I asked about pronouns in two sections.

The first section is very straightforward, just one question:

Supposing all pronouns were accepted by everyone without question and were easy to learn, which pronouns are you happy for people to use for you in English?

Participants were presented with a selection of check-all-that-apply checkboxes, and if they selected “a pronoun set not listed here” they were taken to a second section where they were invited to enter all five forms of up to five sets of neopronouns, with associated verbs (singular vs. plural) and whether the set is gender-inclusive or -exclusive.

THE CHECKBOX LIST

This year, the top five pronouns (or lack thereof) were:

Singular they - they/them/their/theirs/themself - 77.5% (down 2%)

He - he/him/his/his/himself - 30.5% (down 0.3%)

She - she/her/her/hers/herself - 29% (no change)

None/avoid pronouns - 13.7% (up 3.4%)

Xe - xe/xem/xyr/xyrs/xemself - 7.4% (up 0.2%)

14.3% of participants wanted people to mix it up a bit, and 9.1% of participants were okay with any pronoun set.

In previous years I hadn’t specified verbs for singular they, only to have people assume that the “singular” in singular they refers to the verbs (i.e. “they is a nonbinary person”). This year I tried to counter that by changing the wording of the singular they checkbox option to clarify: Singular they - they/them/their/theirs/themself (plural verbs, i.e. "they are a writer"). It doesn’t seem to have made any difference.

The most striking differences are that under-30s are more likely to go for singular they and he/him, whereas over-30s are more likely to go for she/her or no pronouns at all. Overall pronoun preferences are well-matched between age groups.

Here’s how this year’s pronoun responses fit into the bigger picture:

[Note that there is no data for 2014.]

That’s singular they in blue at the top, holding steady at just over 75% even when the number of participants more than doubled this year, and she/her and he/him are also stable at about 30% each.

All of those other pronouns get a bit lost, so here’s the same chart with singular they, he/him and she/her removed, to give the rest a bit of room to breathe:

[Note that there is no data for 2014.]

Most pronouns are well within a 5% margin of wobble, with the exception of ze/hir, which has been steadily declining since the Gender Census began and has dipped from 13% to 4%. I had privately wondered whether ze/hir might be more popular among the over-30s, because I remember it being the go-to neopronoun in my social circle around 10 years ago, and it is a little more popular with over-30s compared to under-30s (6% and 4% respectively).

9.1% of participants didn’t want to be referred to by he/him, she/her, or they/them. 6.3% of participants didn’t select or enter any specific pronoun set at all.

Every pronoun in the checkbox list was selected by over 4% of participants in at least one of the two broad age groups, so nothing will be removed from the pronoun list next year.

NEOPRONOUNS

The most popular neopronoun is in the checkbox list: xe/xem/xyr/xyrs/xemself, at 7.4% of participants.

For the top five typed-in pronoun sets, I’ve taken into account only the subject and object:

ey/em - 0.6% (142 participants)

ae/aer - 0.3%

they/them - 0.3%

ve/ver - 0.2%

ze/zir - 0.2%

The reason I don’t take into account more forms of the pronoun or whether it uses singular or plural verbs is because there is so much variation that each pronoun gets split into several sets, such that it becomes impractical to work out whether any pronoun is entered often enough that it should be added to the checkbox list. I’ve noticed a lot more variation in the possessives (possessive determiner and possessive pronoun, eg: his, hers, their, etc.) and reflexives (”[pronoun]self”), which is why I tend to leave them out when counting to find broad patterns.

As an example, let’s take a look at ey/em, the most popular neopronoun entered into the textboxes. When you include singular/plural verbs in counting, it goes from 142 to 68. If you take into account every variation in all five forms and verbs for every set beginning with ey/em, you get 18 unique sets:

ey/em/eir/eirs/emself (singular verbs) - 63

ey/em/eir/eirs/emself (plural verbs) - 35

ey/em/eir/eirs/eirself (plural verbs) - 14

ey/em/eir/eirs/eirself (singular verbs) - 11

ey/em/eir/eirs/emselves (plural verbs) - 3

ey/em/eir/eir's/eirself (plural verbs) - 2

ey/em/eir/eir's/emself (singular verbs) - 2

ey/em/eir/eirs/emself (any verbs) - 2

ey/em/eir/[blank]/[blank] (any verbs) - 1

ey/em/eir/eir/emself (singular verbs) - 1

ey/em/eir/eirs/emself / emselves (singular verbs) - 1

ey/em/eir/eirs/erself (plural verbs) - 1

ey/em/eir/eis/emself (singular verbs) - 1

ey/em/eirs/eirs/eirself (plural verbs) - 1

ey/em/er/eirs/emself (singular verbs) - 1

ey/em/er/ers/emself (plural verbs) - 1

ey/em/es/ers/eirself (plural verbs) - 1

ey/em/eyr/eyrs/eyrself (plural verbs) - 1

Part of why I love running this survey year on year is I get to explore which neopronoun sets have an approximate consensus on how exactly to use them. This one would be:

I’m in a coffee shop with my friend Sam. Ey is buying emself a coffee in eir reusable takeaway cup. “Is this your coffee?” the barista asks me, holding up Sam’s coffee. “No,” I reply, pointing to Sam, “it’s eirs.”

I have collected data on whether the sets are considered gender-inclusive (can be used by anyone of any gender) or gender-exclusive (can only be used by people of a particular gender), because I thought that I or someone else might be curious to find out whether there was a neopronoun rising in popularity that would be considered a truly “nonbinary pronoun”, in the way that singular they can’t due to its use as a pronoun for people whose genders are not specified. I haven’t done any statistical calculations or analysis on this, because none of the neopronouns (checkbox or textbox) are clearly climbing in popularity. When the spreadsheet of responses is published anyone who is curious can investigate.

Even when you combine every set that begins with the most popular first two forms (ey/em) it only totals 142, which is under 1% of participants, so there will be no neopronouns added to the checkbox list next year.

Fun trivia: counting by subject/object/reflexive, there were 768 different pronoun sets entered, of which 165 were entered more than once (about one neopronoun in five). That’s one neopronoun set for every 32 participants.

OVERALL

Of all specific pronoun sets in the checkbox list and typed in, most people (43%) went by only one set, and 33% were happy with two sets. Some examples of people going by two sets of pronouns might be:

A nonbinary man whose favourite pronoun set is he/him, but they/them is also correct.

Someone whose favourite pronouns are ze/hir, but because that set isn’t well-known ze’ll accept they/them from people who don’t know hir well.

A nonbinary person who was assigned female at birth and who presents in a feminine way, who hasn’t found a pronoun set she likes yet, so she’s happy to go with the pronouns that were assigned to her at birth until she finds something that feels right.

CONCLUSION

Singular they continues to be the most popular pronoun among survey participants, greater than the two runners up (he/him and she/her) combined. At over three quarters of participants, if you’re not sure of a nonbinary person’s pronouns, this is a good fallback.

However, since 9.1% (almost 1 in 10) aren’t into he/him, she/her, or singular they, it’s always good to ask if you can. (Don’t call them preferred pronouns, they’re just pronouns!)

The most popular neopronoun is xe/xem, at 7.4%.

SEE ALSO

A list of links to all results, including UK and worldwide, and including previous years - summary page / results tag

The mailing list for being notified of the final report and next year’s survey

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it and would like to give something back, you could increase your chances of taking part in future surveys by following on Tumblr, Twitter or the Fediverse, or subscribing to the mailing list. Alternatively, you could take a look at my Amazon wishlist.

If you’re in the UK and open to supporting a very topical cause, please do consider signing this petition calling for the UK government to add a nonbinary option to their coronavirus test order form. At the moment nonbinary people must lie to order a coronavirus test online or over the phone, which is illegal in two ways! You can also reblog this blog post by @mxactivist.

#results #2020 #pronouns #neopronouns #nonbinary

289 notes · View notes

phoebe-delia · 3 years ago

Note

Song number 79, please and thank you!

I'm really looking forward to reading all your stories because Taylor Swift is the best, as are song prompts!

Hey nonnie!! Thanks so much. Your song is "New Romantics" by Taylor Swift, of course. For this fic I have chosen to continue my little series called Androgynous, which features Draco, who generally uses he/him pronouns but has a nonbinary drag persona, named Tarasque, who uses they/them pronouns. Draco has a found family consisting of Pansy, Blaise, and a few drag queens (Claire, Cori and Silver), and they're all very close. Of course, he also has Harry, who is supportive and wonderful.

This will be a prequel, so Harry and Draco aren't together yet. This story--this series--is a love letter to the people who love us, support us and help us become who we are: our family. No matter where your family comes from or what it looks like, it isn't defined by blood, but by the ties you knot between you.

This series is, as always, dedicated to my own found family @moonstruckwytch @starlitsilvereyes and @apr1cots. Love you guys. <3

CW: homophobia

Generations ago, in ancient Galatia, there was born a dragon. Bred from Onachus and Leviathan, the creature lurked in treacherous waters, waiting for the right moment to leap out and strike, claiming men to feed its insatiable stomach. With sword-sharp teeth, poisonous breath, and a constellation of spikes across its back, this fearsome beast was the fright of man and the envy of demons.

They call it Tarasque.

Draco wiped the tears that spilled down his cheeks, his suitcase levitating behind him. The angry snarls from his father still rang in his ears, cruel and sharp.

"I'll not have a disgraceful poof for a son." Lucius hadn't looked at Draco when he spoke, the distinguished, aristocratic features facing the ancient walls of the Manor. "You have five minutes to collect your possessions and then you will leave this house."

So there Draco was, trudging through Knockturn Alley and avoiding the curious stares of those passing by him. It was getting dark, the western sun setting in the distance. He shivered against the biting, frigid air. He felt a rush of gratitude toward Pansy for letting him stay in her flat while he got back on his feet. He knew his mother, who'd come to her senses and left his father for a townhouse in France, would gladly take him in, but he knew if he left London he'd never gather the strength to return.

As he walked, he saw a neon sign out of the corner of his eye. "Deliquesce" shone in bright letters like a beacon in the darkening alleyway, beckoning Draco inside.

He sighed. He deserved a firewhiskey to calm his nerves.

He ended the levitation charm on his trunk and then shrunk it to fit into his pocket. He then walked along the cobblestone street and entered the bar.

A man wearing a tight red t-shirt and leather trousers looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"ID?"

Draco sputtered, searching his pockets until he found his identification card and handed it to the man for his scrutiny. The man pursed his lips as he looked over the card and then handed it to Draco with a grunt and a nod. Draco took that as permission and walked the rest of the way in.

The bar was dimly lit. A few tables surrounded a small dance floor and a stage. It was relatively quiet since the night was still young, but a few people were sitting and talking in hushed conversations. One person danced by himself to the upbeat song, uncaring of the world around him as he undulated his hips to the music.

Draco stood, stunned, until he felt someone bump his shoulder.

"Hey! Watch it--wait, you okay, hon?" Someone with long purple hair and a kind, open face looked at Draco in concern.

"I'm fine," Draco's voice was rough from crying, and he was sure his tear-stained cheeks and red eyes undermined his attempt at nonchalance.

The person's worried frown deepened. "Aren't you that Draco Malfoy kid?"

Draco flushed and turned away. "Not anymore," he croaked.

The person shook their head. "You're not who they wanted you to be, are you?"

Draco let out a shuddering breath. "No," he said, his voice tight. "I'm not who he wants me to be. I'm not his son."

Suddenly, he felt a warm hand gently take his own. "Come with me, kid, I think I can help."

They lead Draco into a back room. A row of mirrors and chairs lined the wall, as people chattered and sipped cocktails and ran around with wigs, half-done makeup, clothes, and heels. Draco blinked, stunned.

"What is this place?"

His guide smiled. "This is the dressing room. Not many people get a backstage pass like this but--well--you seem like you need some help."

Draco nodded dumbly and let himself be led to the person's station as a thought struck him.

"What's your name? Er, what do I call you?" He flushed at his own lack of manners.

The person smiled as they sat in their chair, patting the one next to them for Draco to sit. "My drag name is Nex Doughty, but my friends call me Cori."

Sitting down slowly, Draco nodded. "And um, I don't mean to be rude, but are you a man or a woman?"

The person chuckled a little. "Neither. I'm nonbinary. I use they/them pronouns."

"What does that mean?"

Cori shook their head with a small, amused smile. "I'll send you a few websites. For now, just use my pronouns right and we'll be fine."

Draco nodded dumbly. "O-okay."

"Don't be nervous, kid, you'll be fine. We're a family," they gestured to the other people in the room.

Draco's eyes widened. "This--this is your family?"

Cori laughed. "We're not related, but yes, they're all my family."

"But--aren't they your friends then?"

"Don't you have friends you'd consider to be your family? That you might even like better than your blood relatives?"

Draco let the thought linger for a moment. He considered Pansy and Blaise the siblings he never had, and it wasn't as if his Father had really raised him.

After a moment, he nodded. "Yeah, I do."

Cori smiled. "Then there you are." They leaned back in their chair and looked past Draco. "Silver! Claire! C'mere, I wanna introduce you to someone."

Two people came up to them, both with friendly smiles and expectant looks at Cori.

"Draco, this is Silver and Claire. Guys, this is Draco."

"Hi Draco, I'm Silver." said someone with red lipstick and short black hair cut in a bob that reminded him of Pansy.

The other person, who had short blonde hair and blue eyes smiled at him. "Good to meet you, I'm Claire."

Draco nodded. "Likewise. And are you no--nonbinary too?"

Silver smiled. "Cori's been a good teacher, I see. And I use any pronouns. Claire uses she/her."

"So--are you...what is this place?"

Cori smiled. "This is a drag bar. We're drag queens."

Draco's eyes widened in understanding. He'd only heard his father grumble about drag queens when he'd had to go to Knockturn on business ventures, and he'd been taught that they were "freaks."

With a pang, he remembered that, to his father, he was a freak too.

"Draco? Everything alright?"

He shook himself and looked back at Cori, whose face was set in concern again.

"I'm fine. Just..." he trailed off, taking in the sight of the three queens in front of him with more clarity. "Gods, you three are gorgeous," he breathed.

They all chucked. "Thank you, dear," Cori gave him a knowing look before tilting their head in thought. "You know," they said with pursed lips. "You'd look just darling in drag."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

Silver nodded. "Totally. You have the bone structure for it."

"I can definitely see it," Claire added with a smile.

Excitement bubbled up in Draco's chest. "Er, do you think you could help me?"

Cori looked at the other two queens, who grinned and nodded in agreement. Then they turned to Draco and gave him a soft smile. "Sure thing kid. Stick around after the show and we'll try it out."

Draco watched as the queens performed one by one over the course of the night, his leg bouncing in anticipation. He was mesmerized as they captured the crowd's attention, dancing and lipsynching to the songs with practiced ease.

When the show ended, Draco and Cori sat at their mirror while Cori applied powders and liquids he'd looked at with curiosity on his mother's vanity. While Cori didn't let him look in the mirror until they were finished, he loved the sensation of the brush against his skin and felt himself transform into something new, yet familiar. As if something had been living dormant in his skin, just waiting to be revealed.

Finally, Cori looked at him with a satisfied smile. "There. Are you ready?"

Draco nodded, no trusting himself to speak.

Cori nodded and turned him around in the chair toward the mirror. Draco gasped.

He hardly recognized himself. His gray eyes were enhanced by thick eyelashes and his face looked thinner, more feminine. A dark wig framed his face and brushed his shoulders. The red lipstick was bright and striking with his features. It felt like meeting a different part of himself he'd never known could exist.

Draco started to understand what Cori meant, earlier. The connection to masculinity had faded with the makeup and wig, and yet he didn't quite feel female, either.

Draco felt fierce, strong. They felt invincible.

Draco recalled Narcissa reading him bedtime stories of dashing knights and magical creatures, but his favorite had been of a powerful dragon that had defended against attackers with sharp teeth and poisonous breath. Saint Martha calmed the beast into submission, and then villagers had stoned the dragon to death.

He'd lie in bed after she'd gone, wondering if perhaps the dragon had reasons to attack. Maybe the villagers meant to kill it. Maybe it wanted to be left alone. Or maybe that's all it knew.

When Lucius had kicked Draco out, he'd felt helpless and terrified of his own shadow, much like he had during the war. Now, the fear still lingered in the back of his mind, but Draco knew there was more to the world than he'd once known.

And maybe Draco could learn to be fierce, too.

Suddenly, Cori put calming hands on Draco's shoulders. "So, what do you think?"

"I love it," Draco said breathily. "Thank you."

"Anytime," Cori said with a smile. "I can teach you how to do this yourself if you want."

Draco nodded quickly. "I'd like that, please, thank you."

"Well, you'll have to think of a name for your drag persona. Of course, you can use your real name if you want, some people do that."

"I've got a name."

"Oh? What is it?"

Draco looked in the mirror, gray eyes sharp with a newly ignited fire.

"Tarasque," Draco said, not glancing away. "Call me Tarasque."

Send me an ask about Harry Potter, broadway/musicals, The West Wing, and/or Taylor Swift! Or just about life in general :).

Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

#draco malfoy #harry potter #nonbinary draco malfoy #prequel #drag #draco in drag #lgbtq #lgbtqia #dedicated to my friends #song prompt #songfic #new romantics #taylor swift #harry potter x taylor swift #phoebedelia

33 notes · View notes

elareine · 4 years ago

Note

JayTim + 42 from the Dialogue Prompts + SPACE AU, pretty please?

I… hope this counts? Technically, it’s not IN space. Though Tim would like to be.

“You’re mad, Tim,” they said. “Stop trying to speak to aliens,” they said. “You’re wasting your life.”

Hah.

Tim has a… set-up.

What’s the point, he figures, in sending waves out to space where they might be heard in a hundred years, when you could just try to contact the aliens already on Earth? After all, if intelligent life is out there and capable of interstellar travel, and if humans haven’t noticed them yet, then said life must be hiding itself.

It stands to reason that these aliens must then be communicating among themselves in a form that’s inaccessible to humans. So Tim sat down and build every stupid crazy thing he could think off—unusual wave frequencies, smell transmitters (bad idea), hormone secretors… anything. There are forty devices stashed in his room, and he’s not crazy.

Because one day, space talks back.

“Koriand’r, what’s the name again for the thing—the strip around our waists that helps people not be naked? And why do I need it?”

Tim whirls around. It’s one of his Hail Mary machine—a radio frequency so fucking impractical, no one would ever use it.

Apart from an alien, apparently. Cause that question cannot have come from a human. Right?

“I’m not Kori-whatstheirname,” Tim says, trying to sound chill. “But it’s called a belt. We need it because our clothing is factory-made and not tailored to fit; and also because it’s not acceptable to be naked anywhere but some beaches in Germany.”

A long pause, then the voice replies: “You’re human.”

“Yes. Please don’t hang up. My name’s Tim Drake. Are you an alien?”

“Uh.” There’s another pause. “I… guess? I’m not from Earth.”

“Oh, awesome!” Tim is out of his seat and leaning forward, he’s that excited. “Wait, you speak English?”

“I have a—a device that can mimic your languages.”

Tim nods. “So like what Google Translate wants to be in another five years.”

“…I suppose.” A pause. “Actually… can you tell me—who or what is a ‘google,’ exactly? I figured out it’s one of your gods, but what do they do, exactly?”

“Oh boy, you just opened a whole new avenue of philosophy. I guess it could count as a god? Not in the religious sense, though.”

“I’m not a boy,” he’s immediately corrected. “I’m a Hzewf.”

“Okay. Okay.” Tim bounces back on his heels. “How about this? I explain Google to you—I’ll even throw in social media, if you want, but please don’t ask about Reddit, nothing can explain Reddit—and you tell me about the Hsev.”

“Hzewf. Okay.”

They talk. When the alien has to leave, Tim’s reluctant to agree—but the next day, the line crackles to life again.

“You’re a good source,” the alien says. “We… can keep talking. If you don’t mind.”

The alien’s name is something like j—more guttural sounding than Tim is used to, and with a long pause after—ay—or rather a pause i/j. Tim looks up various phonetic alphabets and dubs him J-a’i.

The Hzewf have a different variety of gender expression, so the two debate pronouns, and J-a’i decides that ‘he’ will do just fine. He’s addressed as that on a daily basis, anyway, and has never minded. He draws the line at being called a man, though.

What he is, though, is a total anthropology nerd. He wants to know everything about humans—that’s why he’s here, after all. Koriand’r, it turns out, is another alien from another planet he just met by accident. Apparently, she’s settled down and found love, so J-a’i tries not to bother her too much. The belt thing was a total emergency question.

And now, he has Tim.

It’s fun. Tim likes having a secret, a good one, for once. Every night, they talk. No matter how shitty his day is—and most of them are—at the end of it, he can speak with J-a’i and feel like somewhere out there, someone understands.

And then, one day, there’s a knock on the door. Tim briefly entertains fantasies about the men in black before checking the surveillance camera and seeing an alien instead.

Oh well. Alright then.

He opens the door and ushers the visitor in. “J-a’i, I presume?”

The other being looks relieved when he hears his voice. “Tim.”

“The very one.”

Okay. Tim kinda thought J-a’i would be smaller. Tim’s used to short jokes, but having to crane his head back like this feels ridiculous.

“I need to hide,” J-a’i says, looking very serious. Tim would like to return the expression in kind—this is probably a very stressful and dangerous situation for an alien in hiding, and he should give it the proper gravitas—but he’s so happy.

“So you came here?”

“My masking device broke,” J-a’i explains. Ah. That’s why he’s so… uh… colorful. Tim’s really digging the red stripes, though. “I… I had nowhere else to go.”

“Come with me.” Tim leads them to a cupboard, and then opens the secret door leading down. “You never know when you need a bunker.”

“You—“

“Well, do you need to use it or or don’t you?”

“I have finally found a being whose paranoia matches my own,” J-a’i says. He does get into the bunker, though.

“So what now?” Tim asks when they’ve settled down.

J-a’i shrugs. “I’ll probably have to leave.”

“Go to another country?” Tim asks, already mentally mapping out his visa applications.

“Another planet. Home, I think, at least for a while.”

Oh. Right. What do Hzewf visa applications look like? “So we need to get to your ship.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. You left it in Lake Michigan, right? That’s about twelve hours by car. Oh, but,” Tim looks at J-a’i and his very much not human appearance, “should probably only travel in the dark. Luckily, there’s a lot of that in winter. We’ll give your pursuers a few hours, and then I’ll go pack. If the coast is clear, we can leave tomorrow night. What’s the weather like on your planet? Should I bring shorts?”

Instead of an answer, though, he gets a surprised stare. “You’ll come with me?”

“Well, duh.” Tim snorts.

…wait. Uh. Maybe this is too much? J-a’i is self-admittedly desperate to show up here. Just because he didn’t have an alternative, doesn’t mean he wants Tim to invite himself along. None of this stuff is as exciting for him as it is for Tim, and with the bad experience the other creature has recently made with humans—

There’s an expression happening on J-a’i’s face that stops his panic attack in its tracks. Hope. Hope that’s painful because you’re sure that whatever it is you’re being offered will get snatched away from you.

Tim recognizes the emotion for what it is, because he knows it so well.

“Are you sure?” J-a’i asks. “We’d be going to space—“

“J-a’i,” Tim interrupts, “I’ve been waiting to hear these words all my life. Literally. All that’s missing is a kiss and we’d be in the final scene of the Hollywood movie of my dreams.”

“Kissing is that thing you humans do, right? To express affection and/or lust?”

“Yes.” And because Tim’s a fucking sap who has spent too many hours listening to the voice on the other end of a radio: “When we love each other, too.”

J’a-i considers that. “Well. I… wouldn’t be opposed, either. Though I don’t understand how it relates to space travel.”

Tim nudges his shoulder and grins. “Hey, we can work up to that. Tell me some more about your spaceship?”

J’a-i’s whole face lights up when he talks about his ship. Tim’s heard it in his voice before, but it’s pretty awesome to see it in person. Also? He’s sitting next to an alien, talking about spaceships.

Hell yeah. Space, here Tim comes.

(I’m taking prompts until the end of the year.)

#jaytim #elareine writes

127 notes · View notes

tl-notes · 3 years ago

Text

Kobayashi’s Maid Dragon S2 Episode 10 Notes

I’m extremely not an expert in birds, but I tried to look these up to see if they were a species native to New York (since they’re similar to the sparrows we usually see around Kobayashi’s place). Apparently there are few similar-looking species in New York? My totally uninformed guess is that they may be house sparrows.

The sun sets in Japan relatively early (probably around 6:30pm when this episode takes place), which would make it entirely plausible that if she just flew east (with a slight northward angle) she’d find herself over New York in the early morning while most of the rest of the country is still dark.

These bumpy grey pads at the pedestrian part of the intersection here are known as (among other things) tactile paving; they’re to assist people who can’t fully rely on eyesight to get around.

Interestingly (imo), they were actually invented in Japan in the 60s (by a Miyake Seiichi), where today they’re extremely ubiquitous. They even show up later this episode!

They’re often referred to in Japan as 点字ブロック, tenji (Braille) blocks, and they tend to come in two types: the “dot” design, which indicates a place to stop (or an angle change, or more generally “caution”), and the “line” design which indicates you can safely keep going. They’re generally colored yellow in Japan, ideally making them stand out more to help people with impaired vision find them, and are mandated by law in most places public transport can be found (among others).

Not really a translation note, but “deer cola” felt especially funny in the context of all the horse medicine stuff.

I guess “[animal] [drink]” is a common branding device in-universe, given the crab beer Kobayashi’s always drinking.

Also not really a translation note, but the difference between how “hard” Kanna and Chloe are running to be at the same speed was a nice animation touch.

遊んだ遊んだ！ asonda asonda!

One feature of the Japanese language is a very heavy use of repetition. This includes “reduplication,” a linguistic term for creating words by repeating a root (e.g. a “boo-boo” in English or the dara-dara example below in Japanese), but also just like… saying the same word multiple times, as Chloe does here.

Typically this is done for emphasis or to help increase clarity: if you’ve worked in a Japanese office, you’ve likely heard someone in a phone conversation say desu desu in response to someone asking for confirmation.

This acceptance of repetition sort of extends beyond the obvious uses like this as well: for example, personal pronouns are much less common; instead (if the subject isn’t dropped) you’ll often just use the person’s name again. You’ll notice similar trends with other types of words as well.

Not to mention the ubiquity of things like otsukare.

This often ends up being a challenge for translators, because reusing words in English (when it’s not for an obvious reason) tends to stick out rather unflatteringly, even if they aren’t that close together.

(Like when I overuse “hence” in these notes.)

This “Christ” in the Japanese was “ったく” (short for 全く mattaku, but just used as a semi-generic exclamation). I mostly bring this up because it’s a good example of a word that doesn’t work out of its cultural context; e.g. it wouldn’t make any sense for a fantasy character to say “Christ,” but since this is an American speaker it works just fine (and helps distinguish that fact, even).

I think I’ve mentioned this before, but English uses a lot of “explicit reference” words like this, that can break immersion if put in the mouths of characters who wouldn’t have exposure to said reference—which can be annoyingly limiting when trying to write dialogue sometimes.

As a bit of a culture shock for a lot of Americans I’ve met, most Japanese homes tend to have wall mounted air conditioning units, like this one, that are only for heating/cooling the one room they’re in. (Many also have a “Dry” setting that makes them act kind of like a dehumidifier as well.) It’s common to not have them in every room, like bedrooms, however.

This is in contrast to the central air conditioning system used by a majority of homes in the US (though type/use of AC in the US varies a lot by region; less common in the north for example)—and places like the UK where apparently residential AC units of any kind are quite rare.

You may have noticed that the doors between rooms always seem closed in Kobayashi’s apartment. That’s not just to make the backgrounds simpler, it’s also a good habit to keep if you’re going to be running the AC!

“Kobayashi, are you お休み today?”

“Yeah, お休み.”

お休み o-yasumi, is a noun form of the 休む yasumu, to rest. The word has a variety of applications, as we see here. A day off work/school, i.e. a rest day? お休み. Want to say “good night” to someone before bed? Also お休み.

In this case, it’s not even necessarily clear it’s being said as a pun; as mentioned earlier, repetition is a common feature of the language, so despite the yawn there wouldn’t really be any reason for Kanna to think Kobayashi was about to go to nap or anything.

“Laze about” here is だらだら dara-dara, another phenomime (擬態語 gitaigo in Japanese)—one of those words that mimics the “sound” of an idea/concept/state, which don’t actually make a sound per se.

These phrases aren’t necessarily childish or anything (overuse of them can be, but you can find them even in news articles and political speeches for example). They are, however, used frequently by children, and by adults talking to children, as they’re very “easy” words: they’re expressive, they capture useful daily-life concepts, and they usually roll off the tongue. You’ll notice, for example, that Kanna uses them a lot.

Kanna has a very interesting way of talking actually, which I’ll touch on a bit more later.

Kobayashi’s “bean jam” here is あんみつ anmitsu, a traditional Japanese dessert (technically a spinoff of mitsumame). It typically is a mix of red beans (and/or red peas), agar (an algae-based gelatin equivalent), some fruit, some variety of rice flour product (shiratama in this case, similar to mochi), and a syrup (often black sugar based).

You can find it year-round, but it has a strong summer association and is even used as a summer season word. (It’s typically chilled and you can often get it with ice cream as an ingredient.)

It’s also sometimes paired with a green-tea flavored something as well (e.g. ice cream, agar, or syrup). The trinity of green tea, red beans (aka azuki), and shiratama makes what I like to think of as the “Japanese S’mores Flavor (for Adults)”. No I will not elaborate on this.

I will though point out the shaved ice flavor Kobayashi ordered later in the episode:

え？今スイカ様子あった？

A word of note here for language learners is 様子 yousu, which has a lot of definitions, but in cases like this where it’s attached to a noun or phrase means roughly “the appearance of __” or “an indication of ___” etc. In actual use, it typically means something that makes you think of whatever ___ is—or the lack of something that would make you think ___.

For example here, it’s like “Watermelon? Where’d that come from?” (since the TV was talking about a different dessert-y food entirely).

Or an unrelated example: “I think that guy is hiding something” → “Really? I haven’t seen any yousu of that.” In other words, it can be a lot like “sign,” as in “I’ve seen no sign of ___.”

These color-bordered envelopes (originally colored based on the flag of the country of origin) used to be the standard for air mail, domestic or international, though they haven’t been required for several decades.

That said, they’re still popular for that “ooh, international mail!” feel (at least in Japan) and you can buy them at most places that sell stuff like envelopes. As here, they’re often used in media to immediately convey that a letter came from outside Japan.

Kanna (and Kobayashi) says エアメール, lit. “air mail” in English, which is used colloquially for international mail specifically, rather than “mail sent by plane.”

They’re having what’s called 冷やしそうめん hiyashi soumen, chilled/cold soumen for lunch here. (Soumen being a thin wheat noodle; udon but thinner.) As Kanna says, it’s very easy to make!

Basically you just boil it, wash it in cold water, add ice, get some sort of sauce to dip it in, and you’re done! It’s a popular quick meal in summer, and much easier than the more involved nagashi soumen setups you may have seen elsewhere, where they slide the noodles down a chute for you to try to grab and eat. (It’s basically the same meal aside from that though.)

(You can of course add more to it, but as we see here, you don’t really have to.)

The type of tea here, for the curious, is 麦茶 mugicha, barley tea. Mugi is the general name for cereals/grains including wheat (komugi), barley (oomugi), rye (kuromugi or rye mugi), and oats (enbaku or oat mugi). It’s incredibly common in Japan (and much of East Asia), where it's the household summer drink.

It has no caffeine like many other teas, and has a bunch of various nutritional benefits, so it’s considered a good way to stay hydrated as you’re sweating buckets in the muggy Japanese summer weather.

帽子した？ boushi shita? した！ shita!

I thought this was a cute way of phrasing this question/answer, and a good example of the “parent and their young child” way these two talk.

The suru (past tense shita) verb used here is the ultimate in “generic verb,” and it basically doesn’t get any simpler grammar-wise to phrase something as “noun+suru” like Kobayashi does here (even the particles are dropped).

Kanna, for her part, doesn’t respond with a “yes” or etc, but instead just repeats back the verb itself in confirmation.

Just to note another one of those words like dara-dara: bura-bura, used for things like wandering around, doing something (or nothing) casually/aimlessly, or (with one bura) for something dangling/swinging in a more literal sense, like a spider, slack yo-yo, or wind chime.

These booklets are a common homework assignment for practicing kanji; you can see along the left side there it shows the stroke order, with the first block giving an example to trace over & showing where to start each stroke.

Each character is made up of radicals (e.g. “hot” above: 日 and 耂), which each have a standard way to write them. There’s 214 such radicals (though many are pretty niche; only about ~50 of them are needed to make most characters), and once you get a hang of them it makes learning new characters much easier (not too different from learning word spellings in English imo).

Kanna is repeating out loud the reading for the “hot” character as she writes it.

In addition to the above workbooks (which usually involve both kanji and math problems at Kanna’s grade), elementary school summer homework in Japan typically involves doing an illustrated diary (not a daily one necessarily) and some sort of research project about a subject of your choice. (Think kind of like a small science fair project).

The “research” project part is pretty expansive, and you can typically even do something more arts & craftsy for it.

Manhole covers in a lot of Japanese municipalities feature art representative of the area. For example, the city of Chofu, where the author of GeGeGe no Kitaro lived most of his life, has several with art of that series.

(Photo from https://www.gotokyo.org/jp/spot/1734/index.html)

I mentioned earlier that Kanna has an interesting way of speaking. Probably a better way to put it is that she has a pretty convincingly childish way of speaking (despite the monotone). That is, she uses simple grammar and “easy” words most of the time, but then throws out random big words and fancy idioms from time to time that make you go “...where did you learn that?”

In this case, the phrase she uses is 巷で人気 chimata de ninki. Chimata originally means like a fork (in the road), and since those are often places with lots of people passing through, it expanded to mean “the undefined place where people talk about ~stuff~.” So it’s used for “many people are saying~” or “word on the street is~” types of situations (or “talk of the town,” as here).

It’s kind of an “adult” word though; for example the character for it isn’t included in the jouyou kanji (the 2000+ that are taught in elementary through high school). Hence Kobayashi’s reaction here.

The word she uses for “protected” here is 死守 shishu. The word is the combination of the characters for “death” and “protect,” ~meaning to protect something even at risk to one’s life (to the death, as it were).

It's a word that you learn in third grade in the Japanese education system—the same grade Kanna is in!

Both of these types of signs are common sights in residential areas like this: depending on where you live, it can feel like there’s always some sort of construction project going on, and Japan’s many family/individually-owned businesses like this tend to be closed on various extra days during the summer (and certain other times) to allow for time off.

In this case, them being closed August 12th~16th implies they’re taking off for Obon (and probably leaving town to visit family).

The word Kobayashi uses here is 風物詩 fuubutsu-shi. Fuubutsu refers to something that makes up part of the “scenery” of a place or season, in a pretty broad sense. This shi typically means “poem.”

So fuubutsu-shi is originally a type of poem celebrating a season or a scene of natural beauty, that sort of thing. From that, it’s also now (more popularly) used to describe things that are representative of a season; the kind of stuff you say “it’s not winter until…” about, or “you know it’s summer when…” (It can also be used for places + seasons, like the ice sculptures of Hokkaido winters, or even summer Comiket in Tokyo.)

They’re very similar to the season words I’ve mentioned previously, though they’re far less strict about what counts as one. Here, Kobayashi’s could be referring to the whole package experience of “having to take cover and wait out a sudden heavy rain, despite it being mostly clear skies a few minutes ago,” which you could call fuubutsu-shi (summed up probably as like 夏の雨宿り etc.)

In contrast the relevant season word here would probably be yuudachi (or niwaka-ame), a word referring to the short, sudden bouts of rain that tend to fall (from cumulonimbus clouds, the makings of which are noticeable in the backgrounds before this) on summer evenings.

Feels like in season one she woulda eaten it. Three cheers for character growth!

The parentheticals there are just the “English” in hiragana/katakana.

Kobayashi’s comment (nihongo de ok, roughly “you can just use Japanese”) is an internet-born term people originally would use to reply to someone who said something that didn’t make any sense, had terrible grammar, or was so full of katakana loanwords it was hard to read etc.

Kanna says this line in English, and while I have no proof at all, my guess is that the specific choice of “wicked” was taken from the translation of “maji yabakune?” used in season one.

#maidragon #Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid #kobayashi-san chi no maid dragon #translation notes #anime

13 notes · View notes

alexlabhont · 4 years ago

Text

I didn’t mean to fall in love with you

Chapter eleven

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe)

Pairing: Poppy Min-Sinclair x Trans!Male MC (Beck Hughes)

Genre: Canon re-write (Because I can)

Rating: Anyone can read it, really

Tags: @dopeyouth @theymakemegayer @save-me-the-last-dance @poppysmc (If anyone want to be tagged in or removed, just tell me)

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes)

If you have any comment, PLEASE BE RESPECTFULL and patient with me. This is also my first english fanfic and english is not my mother language, so… i’m sorry fo the grammar errors. I also installed recently Grammary, so… hope its worth it.

This chapter contains some sensitive topics about tragedies and sex insinuations, I really didn't want to write it down with details both out of respect. I mean, personally, I didn't want to explain what's "under" in a fanfic, but if you do have doubts or curiosity, ask away in chat, especially if you are starting hormones, there is a lot for you to know about down there because it definitely changes something. Also, this other topic might touch a nerve and I really didn't do it without respect to the victims, so I'm sorry if it feels like that.

Previously

----

Staten Island it’s the third-largest borough in New York, but it is the least populated. The northern part of the island is the most urbanized, with some areas of somewhat decayed housing blocks that didn’t attract attention at all. It was… ok? quiet? She wasn’t sure exactly what to say about that place, but what was another thing she wasn’t sure about? Well...

“Are you not going to tell me what are we doing?” Poppy asked once again, feeling irritated as they both walked through the breeze but warm streets. At first, she thought they were taking the bus but Beck asked something to a random guy and started walking for a really, really long time, what was all this about? Beck looked tense, kind of nervous, and that alone made her feel strange, unnerved. "Are you alright?" Poppy asked again, but this time she sounded worried.

"Yeah, I'm just…" They exhaled in an attempt to draw their nerves away from themself. "I'm pretty nervous. I've never done this before." Beck chuckled.

"Do what?" Poppy frowned, curiosity floating in her mind strongly, to be honest, she had never seen them so tense before, even though they were trying to look calm. Beck smirked and took her by the hand.

"Come on, I have to show you something."

"Is it too far?"

"Are you already tired?" Beck replied, mocking her with that sassy smile of theirs.

"Me? Absolutely no." She said, raising an eyebrow. "I could literally go for miles."

"I'll have to prove that myself." Beck winked and she couldn't help but laugh.

"You're a dimwit."

"Yeah" they shrugged. "I'm cute, though.”

“Barely.” She rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a smile but failing in the process so Beck laughed at it. Suddenly an unexpected drop felt swiftly in her nose, making her look up to the sky where a big, grey cloud was still above their heads. Soon, she felt raindrops in her hair, her clothes, her shoes!

“Oh, shoot. This is not good…” Beck said while they both walked faster, reaching out for cover in a shop awning.

“You think? These Jimmy choo are not even in the market yet!”

“Well, we don’t want them to be ruined, don’t we?."

"Of course not! What kind of dumb ques—"

Poppy didn't get to end the sentence, Beck took her by the wrist and started running full speed and nonstop. "Beck!" She screamed, the rain pouring down her body while that asshole laughed like a devilish kid. "Beck Hughes, let go of me this instant!!"

"We're almost there!" She heard them saying without turning to see her.

"Where are you taking me?!"

Beck slowed down little by little until they both stopped in front of a tiny, old, yellow house with barely two floors. Beck took the keys out of their pockets and opened the door, allowing Poppy to get inside the dark and quiet place.

“So… here we are.” Beck spoked turning on the lights.

The place that received them was the living room, but it was not an ordinary living room, it had neon lights currently exposing a purple color, a keyboard piano, a couple of guitars, and an old-fashioned mended couch with a lot of patches over black leather that actually looked really well together. The walls were exhibiting posters, framed cool landscape black and white photographs, and a Youtube silver plaque. She recognized the place right away.

“Wait… this is the place where you record your music.” She asked. Poppy watched Beck’s videos a lot recently at first the blonde was searching for information, then, to find a flaw to criticize with Chloe, but sooner rather than later Poppy found out… Beck was actually a really good musician, so sometimes when she was completely sure she was alone she’d listen to their songs while doing cardio or homework or whatever she was doing. “I was wondering where you found the location.”

“Yes… but also no. I mean, I do the videos here, but I have an audio booth upstairs. It’s actually a quiet neighborhood so it came in handy.” Beck took off their jacket, reaching out their hand to ask for Poppy’s. They both were wet, but not a lot, her shoes survived perfectly because they entered the house before a loud thunder sounded, followed by a deluge. “Damn, we do really dodge a bullet out there.”

“Yeah.” Poppy said, hugging herself. Without her coat, she felt a little cold. “Do you own this place?”

"No, this is my uncle’s." Beck whispered with reverence and a sad smile on their face. "My dad's little brother. He passed away."

"I— I'm sorry, Beck…" she managed to say, clueless about what exactly would someone do in this kind of situation.

"I didn't remember much about him, but my mom says he used to make these guitars out of plastic bottles as gifts for me to play them. She said I would go to the kitchen and play one for her to hear. She also said the sound was awful and she begged him to stop making them." Beck's smile was soft, turning on the heating, proud even though they were chuckling a little, spreading the same smile to Poppy. " 'I'm telling you, this little pal has talent.' he would say."

"Sounds to me like he made it to annoy your mom instead." Poppy said jokingly.

"Totally, he was a prankster." Beck replied, the emotions coming out from their eyes were difficult to tell. "And was one of the few dudes back at Farmsville that didn't want to settle down. The black sheep in every family… and the reason why my parents didn't want me to be here." Beck clutched their jaw, walking away from there to the kitchen. Poppy followed them in silence, feeling like it was something very private for Beck, seeing that vulnerable side of them again, but not hiding this time. "He was murdered years ago here in New York in a shooting. In Farmsville shootings don’t happen, so… They said it was dangerous going out of the farm to the big cities. That he brought this on himself... Took this out of the wrong way." The anger in Beck's voice was palpable in the air.

"Seriously? How can they be so selfish?" Poppy asked, how can someone be so fucking self-centered and dumbass to take a tragedy and blame it on one family member? She thought these things happened exclusively around that bunch of tight-ass people inside her parents’ social circle, but not inside a family farm.

"Back at home is different from here. Is a small town where everyone knows each other. They love routine and hard work and the good customs and shit… So when anyone goes against it… well— it's not funny."

Something clicked inside Poppy's mind.

"But then… How are you here?" Beck smiled but it didn't reach out to their sad eyes.

"Because I almost got killed."

Shock. Poppy couldn't help but feel agitated, her heart pounding loud against her chest and that same protective feeling that almost made her stab Bennett crawled its way towards her own core.

"What?" Poppy babbled, froze. Beck shrugged, with a weird grin as if they didn't know where to start, they caressed their neck, searching for the better way to put the puzzle together. They reach out for Poppy's hand, and she took it right away intertwining her fingers with Beck's.

"Coffee?" They asked. "It seems we will be stuck in here for a while.”

"It sounds nice." The words abandoned her mouth so fast that she even surprised herself, another red alarm ringed inside her mind, but now was not the time, so she ignored it again. Beck smiled and turned on a little coffee maker, bringing two mugs in silence. They both sat down on the surprisingly comfortable couch, Beck’s eyes were attentive at the black drink and the tension was still over their shoulders, she could see it so easily that Poppy wished for someone to take that weight out of Beck, so she took both cups and put them aside, sitting over Beck’s lap and intertwining her fingers with theirs, playing with them. Beck smiled a little and took a deep breath.

"I started to realize something was off inside of me when I was in high school. I mean, ‘till that day I was considered normal. I was the kind of child that played sports, climbed trees, and did hard work gladly. You know, average farm kid." Beck said, but even as they seemed to be calm, Poppy could feel the sweat in their palm, and a little shivering all over their body. "But I grow older and changes came, and puberty and—"

"Hey" Poppy stopped them from talking faster and faster. "You don't have to"

"I want to. " Beck interrupted, begging Poppy with their eyes. "I want you to know my past. I mean… if you want me to tell you, that is."

Poppy could have thought anything at that moment. She could have thought that she made it, that she had accomplished her very goal and knew she was about to have first-hand information to use against Farmsville, that she was spectacular for making it this far. She could have thought that now nobody would take her number one spot from her, or that she loved to have a new puppy to use in any way she wanted. But no.

All in what she could think about was Beck's heart opening up to her, trusting her for real this time. The connection intertwining both of them in a way that made her skin chill. Third alarm, but she muted it again.

"So? What are you waiting for? Go on." Poppy rolled her eyes, Beck had a goofy expression for a couple of seconds until Poppy smiled, squishing slightly their hands for reassurance. Beck's eyes glowed happily in which was the cutest gesture Poppy saw from someone that wasn't a dog in her entire life.

"I managed to handle myself a little for a while, but it definitely didn't last long. I was so afraid, I felt lost, and insecure. I didn’t know what was happening to me, why did I feel that way, trapped in my own skin... I stopped having friends because everyone could see how weird I was and nobody wanted to talk to me, except for this one girl: Bree Matthews."

Beck’s jaw tightened, their eyes wandering all over the place because of the nervousness.

“So, Bree and I started to hang out. Chill some time round. We were close, I mean, really, really close. She was the one who I told about my dysphoria first, and she was totally supportive. She helped me understand what I was going through, sometimes she would borrow her brother’s old clothes to give them to me and helped me pick my very first short haircut. Bree was my safe space in a town where I’d be mistreated just to use a bathroom. I kinda felt for her… so one night into the forest I kissed her. And~ it wasn’t a good idea.”

“What happened?”

“Well~ Daniel and his gang came into the picture and intimidated her, so she sold me as a pervert, a weirdo, among other… awful things. Can’t blame her, Daniel was a wrecked truck whenever he wanted so… yeah. My family found me eight hours after, all beat up from head to toes. I was unconscious and with an actually broken rib.” Beck tried to joke, but it was so bad at timing it actually made it worse for Poppy to hear. “I~ I almost die.” Beck sighed, as if with that they could put all that behind. “Anyway so she apologized to me through a phone call because she wanted to kiss me too but, you know, shit happens; I got better and now I’m in New York doing what I love so… Happy ending, right? It was funny, they didn’t let me use the bathroom but they all thought I was “male enough” to beat the crap out of me ever since.”

Poppy stopped playing with Beck’s hands, making them do the same. They told the end of the story so lightly as if they were talking about a T.V. show they just watched and not some really cruel harassment they went through for a long time. The strawberry blonde was a lot of things, bad things, but the things that beast did to Beck just because of their dysphoria? That was a whole new level that Poppy would never stoop into.

“How can you joke about things like that?”

“Well, I figured I had two ways to address the problem: Being insecure or making the most out of this. That’s why I do music. Yeah, my songs don’t talk about the transgender community directly, but I make sure everybody knows who am I. What I am. I write songs for people out there that feel just the same as I do. Not only transgender people, but the whole LGBTQ+ also needs representation! Folks having their back! And if I can reach at least one soul and show them that no matter how they were born, they can make it… Hell, I could die happily.”

The fire in their eyes, the passion radiating strongly from their body, from their words. It was impossible for Poppy to look away from Beck. Of course, Beck didn’t care about a spot in the T list, or and stupid award. Beck was more into their music, making their voice be heard. That was why they did claim to care less about competition, Beck was climbing their way to the top because of their conviction and resilience. It was curious how the more she learned about Beck, the more she felt drawn to them.

“You are so brave, do you know that?”

“And it only took me a delicate rib and trust issues.” Beck claimed proudly as if it was a bargain.

“Trust issues? Beck, you’re one of the most confident people l know!” They began to laugh, the blonde could feel their laughter below her because of the slight belly-shaking. “It’s irritating.”

“I am really amazing myself.” Poppy rolled her eyes at the flirty smirk Beck flashed towards her. “But I’m not insecure about myself… most of the time. I do have a hard time trusting in people. I mean, Daniel didn’t have a hold on me… Bree, on the other hand…” Beck shrugged. “But I do trust you, Poppy.”

Something inside the blonde felt off, those words accompanied by that good-natured smile made Poppy feel a bit guilty. Like, yeah, she was just trying to archive exactly that for her own benefit, it should feel like a win, right? But no.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, yet.” She said to herself. “For all we know, this is just some casual date.”

Maybe… give up? Maybe actually try and date Beck?

What could possibly go wrong?

“I trust you too, Beck.” She replied without a doubt. So she tossed her golden locks over one shoulder, leaning down to kiss Beck’s lips. She soon felt them kissing her back, sweetly, calmly at first but then it was obvious they both needed more than that. Poppy let go of Beck’s hands to place hers in their Beck, while they grabbed her by the waist. The heat soon took over her body, especially after they responded to it by biting Poppy’s bottom lip, making her moan. Poppy knew right away there was a change in Beck’s behavior, they were more confident, more secure, they actually felt ready and she had to say, that was a very welcome and pleasing development. But they were shaking still.

“What 's wrong? You don’t want to—?”

“No. No, it 's not it. It 's just…” Beck took a deep breath avoiding Poppy's gaze for a second before looking at her pleading while keeping hold on her. “I don’t want you to see me differently when you look at what I have beneath the clothes.” They confessed.

“I won’t. I promise.” She said, caressing the hair in the back of their nape. “This is just you, with all letters.” She smirked, trying to lighten the mood and she succeeded. Beck grinned from ear to ear, relieved, kissing her passionately, hungry and the Poppy did the same, tasting their tongue with hers. The caresses between the two became more intense and she couldn’t stand the fever growing anymore, so she took the edges of their favorite black t-shirt and pulled up, revealing Beck torso for the very first time.

She understood right away what Beck meant. Cutting through their chest there it was a thin, darker line, a scar that was slowly healing, but nevertheless it was there easy to pinpoint. It was strange, she had seen a lot of those mastectomy scars on google but Beck chest looked different somehow, strong, gym crafted, and the scar actually was interesting, sexy even.

“I don’t know what you were so scared of, Hughes. Hell, you’re hot as fuck, I hate you.”

Beck chukled, their confidence coming back.

“Yeah, well… There is not an ugly part on this body afterall.” They grinned.

“I’m going to erase that obnoxious smirk of yours.”

“You will?” Beck grabbed a hold on Poppy’s hair and pulled slightly but demanding backwards, exposing her neck to them to kiss and lick, causing a shaking sigh that turned the heat even higher for both. “Show me then.” They whispered over her skin, their breath brushing bristling her body.

Poppy pushed them down on the couch, kissing them hardly. This was war now, and she would definitely win.

----

#my writing #poppy min sinclair #queen b choices #poppy x mc #choices stories you play #choices #choices poppy #bea hughes #mc x poppy #beck hughes #choices queen b mc #trans #ftm

46 notes · View notes

transmascjfk · 4 years ago

Note

i'm,, trans and hc chihiro to be a male..

i'm sorry, but i don't quite understand how that's transphobic. could you please explain how chihiro is transmisogynistic? (sorry if i come off as rude - that's not my intention and i genuinely just don't understand, though i would like to!!)

What is transmisoginy?

"Transmisogyny is a distinct category of transphobia in that transmisogyny mainly focuses on trans women and other transgender individuals who demonstrate femininity, whereas transphobia is a more general term, covering a broader spectrum of prejudice and discrimination towards transsexual and transgender individuals. Julia Serano states in Whipping Girl that "when the majority of jokes made at the expense of trans people center on 'men wearing dresses' or 'men who want their penises cut off' that is not transphobia – it is transmisogyny. When the majority of violence and sexual assaults committed against trans people is directed at trans women, that is not transphobia – it is transmisogyny." "

Chihiro is written to mock trans women, to say that in reality trans women are secretly men, she is a man who is weak and uses being trans as a way to escape her problems, this is a thing that is also said to trans men a lot, that theyre just trying to avoid the hard parts of being a woman by becoming a man. Even if the writters intended it to be like that or not (which they probably did because transphobia is a big thing that happens a lot, obviously) it's still transmisogynistic. Thats that on that

This is a pretty common transphobic trope actually, the "Turns out this one character was actually from the opposite sex??!!", theres more examples of this in other games outside Danganronpa.

But also her experience is pretty different from other examples, her experiences are way too similar with trans womens experiences.

This is mostly for the cis people who call her a crossdresser and refuse to change their mind, on it, sit down.

Written by a trans man.

Don't tell me whats transphobic and what it's not transphobic if you're cis. Just sit down and read.

Tw: transphobia, transmisoginy, death mentions and blood in the pictures.

The game implies a lot of stuff with her dialogue, it doesn't straight up says "I don't want to be a woman anymore, I'm a man" like everyone claims it does.

[ Alt text 1:

Chihiro Fujisaki: I'm going to get stronger...and accept who I am... ]

[ Alt text 2:

Chihiro Fujisaki: Strong enough so that when someone says "even thought you're a boy" I'll be okay. I'll get better! ]

[ Alt text 3:

Chihiro Fujisaki: I wrapped myself in lies. I'm weak. I want to destroy that version of me forever! ]

[ Alt text 4:

Chihiro Fujisaki: ... I want to change. ]

[ Alt text 5:

Chihiro Fujisaki: I have to change. I don't want to be weak anymore ]

She goes to Mondo not because hes masculine, but because she admires him and his strength. She never once says it's because shes a man or because Mondo is a man.

[ Alt text 1:

Chihiro Fujisaki: Maybe talking to Mondo about it will help give me some courage... ]

[ Alt text 2:

Chihiro Fujisaki: I admire... your strength... ]

These dialogues can be read in two ways, the first one being the one the game tries the hardest to put in your head thats shes a man, all of this guessed by other people btw not what she herself says. Which is really transphobic, because she was written as a trans woman and then theyre like "uh no actually hes a man, because he was born as one but hes a coward so he started to dress as a woman to hide from his problems. Because thats what people do right? People who dress as their oppossite gender are so pathetic, specially men amiright? Ahaha"

Reading it in this way really weird, you're doing a lot of mental gymnastics because you would literally call her a trans woman with all of this if the rest of the trial, that consists of cis people assuming shes a man, didn't happen. And sadly you're following transphobic ideas by this. Because the canon is transphobic and transmysoginistic.

And the other way is just read what she says, that she just wants to be stronger and stop lying to everyone, basically about being cis, because shes not, shes amab (assigned male at birth) and thats probably what she said to Mondo, but most people when a trans person who already passes or is in their transition comes out many people tend to think "oh so youre your gender assigned at birth and not the one you claim to be?", because they don't get what being trans is and they think only "biological gender" is a thing. Basically, misgendering and invalidating the trans person.

I can guess all of this just because of how vague they decided to make her dialogue, not even showing how she tells Mondo about being amab.

What did she said to Mondo? "I'm trans"? "I'm a man"? "I was born a man"? We dont know, because they didn't show it and she died right afterwards and then everyone was like "Chihiro was secretly a man" to solve the case and thats it. A lot of people in the discourse get their information from Monokuma who isn't either Chihiro or even Mondo. Monokuma knows many things but he can't read minds to know if she was really trans or not, only she could say it but she died so she couldn't explain if shes trans or not.

[ Alt text:

A youtube comment by Gail Frisbee, posted 4 days ago, this comment was edited by the autor. The comment says:

"It's honestly increible to me when people try to argue that a scene in which a female-presenting character gets their genitals groped and then is posthumously referred to as a male from that point on can't be transphobic just because that character calls themselves a boy in some other side content later. It's on about the same level of intellectual honesty as claiming that Quiet from MGS5 isn't really fanservice because she totally breaths throught her skin you guys.

As it turns out, if you really dig down deep into the lore, Chihiro is a fictional character and the same people who wrote the genital investigation scene also wrote the lines that character says in the game as well. It's a shocking twist, I know." ]

Her fears of being outed and people founding out her secret (being trans) or being transphobic is used as a gross big twist. A trans woman being used as a mockery of trans people? Great totally normal (/sarcasm)

Read this post made by a trans woman. I'll be using this only part but it's still a great read.

[ Alt text:

So. There is a lot to unpack here, but I want to start with something that specifically hurts me as a trans woman, and that's how the game flippantly uses real world horrors trans people face as shocking reveals and twists. You can go down the list for "worst nightmares" of trans people incluiding:

Threatening to be outed against your wishes

Outing yourself to a trusted friend and being met with rejection, or worse, violence

Having your body and privacy examined and invaded

Having your deadname used and being misgendered after death, when you can't correct them ]

Now, let's go to her backstory for a bit. I will be using the wiki for this. (Which sadly uses he/him for her 💔)

" When Chihiro was a child, he became the subject of harassment and bullying. He was always told to "be a man" and that he was "so weak despite being a boy", and because of that, Chihiro slowly but surely began to develop a "weakness complex". In order to escape the bullying, Chihiro began to dress as a girl so that people wouldn't bully him as a weak boy. "

This doesn't sound like a normal crossdresser, this sounds like a trans woman who was bullied for being different when she was younger, like many trans people, and then she decided to transition because she's a woman, she wanted to be more feminine and stop being seen as a person shes not. Specially after so many people tell her to basically man up when she doesn't want that, because shes not a man.

Have you ever heard of the classic stories of "since I was little i knew i was different, i was a boy who liked playing with dolls and was more feminine than the rest" or "i used to be a tomboy when i was little, i had mostly male friends, i liked playing with car toys and was more masculine than other kids" coming from trans people? This just sounds as these types of stories to me.

People also like to say that alter ego uses he/him pronouns and says shes a boy. Many trans people can misgender themselves for personal reasons too guys, she could've been trying to misgender herself because she didn't felt like she wasn't enough to be a real woman, this happens a lot to trans people. If people constantly tell you that you're not actually transgender or you just feel like you're faking it then you might actually believe it, thats were most "detransitioners" come from. And thats basically what they made her, a detransitioner.

Some of you might also don't get how shes trans because you think she doesn't perfect or exact trans stereotypes. Trans experiences can be similar on the feeling of not fitting in, dysphoria, etc. But trans experiences, stories, transitions and complete lifes can be very different, because we all (including cis people) live different lifes, experience, process and cope with things differently. So i can understand why you might not get her being trans coded at first, don't worry. But try instead of just not caring because you don't get it at the first try, to see what trans people say.

This whole discourse its mostly cis people talking over trans people about their own experiences (incluiding the dead trans coded characters experience) saying if theyre valid or not and denying stuff not wanting to learn anything, completely refusing to it because "In canon hes a boy" ok then in canon shes written in a transphobic way too but most of you don't care about that. You would rather call her a crossdresser than try to acknowledge how obviously trans coded she is and how thats used as transphobia.

The way most cis people act in this discourse is very transphobic to me to be honest, if you think you're a good ally but act like this then you should get more educated on the topic as a whole and about trans people too.

-the trans Chihiro flag to finish this up, she has a bit boobie! good for her! good for her.

#chihiro discourse #discourse #transphobia #transphobia cw #transphobia tw #chihiro fujisaki #if i forgot about something please tell me!!#trigger happy havoc

24 notes · View notes

plush-rabbit · 4 years ago

Note

What headcanons you have in request box actually? I'm really curious lol. Have nice day btw, I love your work!!!!!

Okay, so usually I put some in a doc and then like figure it out from there so if you've sent one in and haven't seen it, don't worry, it'll be done and added once I make a dent lmao. These are also a mix of hc and fics. Some I'm like part way through so ye

There also might be some that I might not do because its vague, like I'm given just the prompt and I don't know what to do with it or there's just no ideas that come to mind so I really am sorry.

Upcoming ones:

Met with Dia and he said “how else will you please me?” And I think it awoke something in me?? Can I request Diavolo with a bashful innocent MC and him just laying back and letting her have his way with him? But of course he’s a total dom so he’s gonna take control but just has a little fun letting her take the reins to start with? Hi. I just found your stuff and you write so well for Obey Me. Could I request a fic with Barbatos and a female MC? Maybe she's staying at the palace for whatever reason and when he goes to his room he hears her moaning his name so he checks on her but she's sleeping. The next day he hints that she must've had a good dream much to her dismay. That night he goes to her room and she's awake and they end up sleeping together. With some praise and maybe even some tail action. Thank you! Can I please get a uuuhhh possessive/borderline yandere Leon please :3c maybe it’s after a big match for her and everyone’s fawning over her and he steals her away and reminds her that she’s his? 💕✨ I saw those headcanons where Jin and Shigaraki became parental or sibling figures to the reader sooooooo how about headcanons of a fem!reader being a mother figure to the league? Just an ordinary citizen in her late twenties until she met the LOV unexpectedly, during the time where the league had to hide and the reader's place is conveniently open (then again I'm sure they'd bust in if it wasn't) and she didn't rat them out. This happened quite a lot of times to the point where the reader is used to it by now and just lets them in, even if they weren't hiding from anyone and just wants to stay for the night. When she got closer to the league, she starts to show care and love for them in a way a mother would the reader isn't a member of the league, but they already consider her as family :'D I just really want them to get care and love since they've been through so much Last week I literally sat down and read your writing for like an hour and a half LOL It’s just really good and I love your characterization! I was wondering if I could request Twice and Shigaraki with an s/o who tries to be cute and surprise them by wearing their clothes when they return from a mission but maybe the clothes are a bit too snug cuz they’re a little pudgy :( could also be nsfw if you’re ok with that!! Thank you so much 💜💜 I like the Lucky!Cat!reader hc. Could you do some for the LOV, with a Male Cat s/o? Thank you! You're the best!! I've been obsessing about flowers and their meanings or what they symbolize soooooo. How would the LOV react to their s/o giving them a certain flower and then finding out what the flower means/symbolizes? Hope this passes! It's a request for OM. Can I have headcanons of the brothers + Diavolo (if you don't mind) of their s/o dancing "Paradise Lost" by GAIN? Provided you a link to the video for reference 😁: https://youtu.be/4i32ANEa5mk Headcanons where the LOV has an s/o whose like a literal ball of sunshine. Always happy and bubbly, smiling and laughing, they just seem to epitome of joy. Until one day, they just break down, being so emotionally drained from different factors that they can keep up the act of being happy anymore Last week I literally sat down and read your writing for like an hour and a half LOL It’s just really good and I love your characterization! I was wondering if I could request Twice and Shigaraki with an s/o who tries to be cute and surprise them by wearing their clothes when they return from a mission but maybe the clothes are a bit too snug cuz they’re a little pudgy :( could also be nsfw if you’re ok with that!! Thank you so much 💜💜 hey!! hru? i have a question do you think shigaraki would like a threesome? what if his s/o didn’t want one bc she’s like possessive of him (in a non toxic way) hey plush, can you do a reader x Shiggy and Dabi whos crying to them/grabbing their shirts and burring themselves into shiggy and dabi/ about their verbally abusive ex, how theyre so different from them, so much nicer and softer, how they(the reader) never thought they could be loved or deserved kindness? its been one of those days, i just need some comfort. thank you♡ heyy!! ^^ can i request some headcanons for hawks reacting to his female s/o belly dancing for him? :3 Heyo this is beetle juice anon idk if u remember me I’m the person who said shiggy sounds like beetle juice, I swear I couldn’t get that thought out of my head so can I request shiggy and reader getting hit by a quirk that forces them to do a musically ( idk I just want shiggy to sing honestly lmaoooo) idk maybe both of them being shocked that both of them can sing hey, i absolutely adore your writing! i love going through all your work, they’re my comfort fics! 💞 i was wondering if you would mind writing something for tomura with an s/o who is insecure about her body and how skinny she is? she feels too flat, like she doesn’t have enough curves or that she’s grown into her body enough and it makes her feel less of a woman, that tomura could do better. and it makes her anxious when it comes to initimacy and being exposed to him because in her eyes he’s so perfectly handsome and she just feels inadequate... it’s something i’ve had to deal with pretty much my entire life, getting called names like stick insect and coat hanger, but lately it’s been eating away at me more and more. you can totally ignore this if you feel uncomfortable writing about this stuff, though! 💕 So, like. Hear me out. What if, with Bakugou and Dabi (separate) : MC is super innocent and cute, blushes at the slightest flirt, and “doesn’t get” dirty jokes, but as soon as they’re alone with their s/o? They are the kinkiest most vulgar bottom they’ve ever seen. Nipples pierced, collar under the turtleneck, chain strung between the piercings and the collar, all out kinda slut. The duality of man. (Gender neutral) Hello so may i request shigaraki with a s.o whos warm loving and protective and very innocent basically a s.o whos like mitsuri kanroji both personality and look wise Female pronouns,maybe they are out on a date getting ice cream and the s.o is so happy shiggy came, they hold hands and people start giving him odd looks only for her to stand up to the bullies who are saying things about shigaraki, it ends with her kissing him infront of everyone to prove a point,and when the get home she tells him she doesnt care what people think and makes love to him topping hin while telling him all the reasons she fell inlove with him,(omg im so sorrry its so long if you have tpo many requests or dont like the idea please tell me) hey, i absolutely adore your writing! i love going through all your work, they’re my comfort fics! 💞 i was wondering if you would mind writing something for tomura with an s/o who is insecure about her body and how skinny she is? she feels too flat, like she doesn’t have enough curves or that she’s grown into her body enough and it makes her feel less of a woman, that tomura could do better. and it makes her anxious when it comes to initimacy and being exposed to him because in her eyes he’s so perfectly handsome and she just feels inadequate... it’s something i’ve had to deal with pretty much my entire life, getting called names like stick insect and coat hanger, but lately it’s been eating away at me more and more. you can totally ignore this if you feel uncomfortable writing about this stuff, though! 💕 could we get a fem reader cock warming Dabi throughout the night and get morning sex >//< // ik youre a busy bee so dont feel obligated to rush or anything, take ur time plushie!♡ can we please get a shiggy x reader and the reader asks him to teach her how to game and she ends up being better than him and whatnot (inspired by that “a simple wager”) fic (if you ever decide to make a sequel to that i will ve DECEASED Can I request a sub shigaraki with a mommy kink getting pegged by the reader ( I just want to make him beg and cry honestly) reader is a female Omh give us noncon/somno w scary eraserhead plsss / aizawa and aphrodisiac smut pwease ( ；∀；) Overhaul and Chrono punishing quirkless reader for being an undercover reporter/agent but like orgasm denial... (Idk if you write this stuff but anyways do it if you want have a nice night) Can I request something like “Peaches and Cream” but with Piers instead? I know you’re busy with other requests, so don’t worry if you don’t have time for this one! I love love your writing!!! Hello beautiful can I just say how amazing ur writing is loll, can I request shigaraki having a crush on the reader and she knows about it, like one day shiggy just goes to her room when there on a mission and just steals her stuff and humps her pillows, but she has cameras in her room so she saw everything, long story short she shows him the videos and humiliates him (shiggy of course a mess and is close to crying from how embarrassing that is, lowkey turned on ) the reader takes care of him ( sorry I’m really bad at endings 🙏🏻😅) the reader pegs him until he’s a crying mess. By the way the reader is a female and shigaraki is a sub has a mommy kink and the reader is dom of that’s ok of course I love your writing!! May I ask for Diavolo x F!Reader with borderline disorder? 👉👈.. Lately it has been very difficult for me to deal with this alone and Diavolo is mine comfort character.. (NSFW Talk, If your a minor..then why are you even reading this?? Get off this 18+ page?? Anyways-). I am a huge sucker for overstimulation, biting and crying, (many of my past partners have called me a sadist-) and I just 𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑒 the idea of Tamaki’s cute face streaming with tears and drool as Male Reader vigorously overstims the fuck out of him. And he would look so 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 with his mouth gaping open in a silent scream of overwhelming pleasure because M!Reader gave his sensitive dick a handjob while he roughly railed Tamaki’s pretty little ass. (While abusing the fuck out of his G Spot, of course). I can just imagine him squirming and begging for mercy while M!Reader lovingly wrecks his body, taking him hard & fast in multiple different positions with each one making Tamaki wail with pleasure. He’s just so adorable, I just wanna see him get 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝~ Lusty ❤︎ -Anon. Bonus Points if you could have M!Reader be super fuckin tall, muscular, strong and also be absolutely PACKING. (This man has a godly dick, and it’s honestly a surprise Tamaki can take it so well without literally breaking in half) ahhhh hewwo could you maybe write something with dbd ghostface going full apotheosis for his crush? as in,, he starts to elevate her to a status of divinity and even when she's just cowering in fear in front of him or conversely stabbing him and causing him lots of pain he just keeps viewing her as some sort of deity and can't stop obsessing over her and wanting more from her

Again. I deeply apologize for not doing some. I wish I could, but (and this is not to guilt trip any of yall or anything, I understand that it'll sound like that it but it ain't it) sometimes the work I put into something and the feedback I get is sometimes not it. Like I'll work hard and get nothing and listen, I get it, its fanfic, there's a bit more stigma to it rather than art but yeah. Its a ramble, and basically, I don't wanna put work into something that I'll only get a few likes on. So yeah. Agains this isn't guilt tripping, I get it. I'm a consumer of it and I get the gist of it but yeah. More thoughts later, when I can properly sit and write as I am currently in a home depot

21 notes · View notes