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amethystarachnid · 1 month ago

Note

Hello, I’d love to request something for you

It’s for Tony and female reader, they are friends with benefits and she ends up getting pregnant, she’s afraid to tell Tony and afraid of his reaction because their arrangement doesn’t involve feelings (but they are so deeply in love with each other already) so she starts getting a little cold with him and Tony gets sad, until one day they decide to talk and reader tells him that she’s pregnant and that she understands if he doesn’t want the baby but Tony is so happy to be a father and to be a father of a baby with the woman he loves 🤍 after the news they will turn into a real couple and be so happy together. Thank you! 🤍

ACCIDENTS HAPPEN - part I

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: spicy, some mixed angst and fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 9k

ᯓ★ Summary: Accidents happen, right? That's what you keep telling yourself the days after the condom broke while you and Tony were...together. Your period doesn't come but you lie to Tony and tell him it as, because he surely doesn't want a kid, right?

ᯓ★ TW(s): a small spicy scene, condom breaks

ᯓ★ Part II

ᯓ★ I love family man Tony so much, matter of fact, I love every character seen as a family man I don't know why lol.

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The fluorescent lights of the Stark Tower kitchen are glaring, but not as much as Tony Stark’s smirk. He’s leaning against the counter, casually sipping coffee like he doesn’t have a single care in the world. But you know better. You see the faint twitch of his lips, the amused glint in his eyes that’s practically begging you to break the silence.

“You’re being weird,” you say, crossing your arms as you lean against the fridge.

“Weird?” he repeats, mock-offended. “I’m drinking coffee in my own kitchen. What’s weird about that?”

You raise an eyebrow. “The way you’re looking at me. Like... like you’re picturing something.”

Tony doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, I’m definitely picturing something.” He tilts his head, eyes roaming over you in a way that’s anything but subtle. “Something that happened roughly seven hours ago, give or take.”

Heat rushes to your face, and you quickly avert your gaze. Seven hours ago, you’d been in Tony’s bed—or rather, sprawled across it while his hands did things you’re not entirely sure you’ll ever recover from. It’s supposed to be casual, the thing you have with him. No feelings, no strings. Just… stress relief, as Tony had so eloquently put it when this arrangement started.

But Tony Stark has a way of making casual feel like a loaded gun, just waiting to go off.

“Keep it down,” you hiss, glancing toward the door. “Do you want the others to hear?”

Tony raises his eyebrows in mock innocence. “What others? I’m pretty sure we’re alone.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, you grab an apple from the counter, pretending to be far more interested in it than the infuriating man in front of you. Tony doesn’t move. He just keeps looking at you with that stupid smirk that makes your stomach flip in a way that’s both exhilarating and dangerous.

“You know,” he says after a beat, “if you keep trying to play the ‘nothing to see here’ card, it’s going to make things more obvious.”

“Obvious?” You scoff. “There’s nothing to make obvious.”

Tony sets his mug down and closes the distance between you in two easy steps. You barely have time to react before he’s towering over you, his arms boxing you in against the fridge. His cologne—some kind of absurdly expensive blend that probably costs more than your rent—wraps around you like a second skin.

“Sweetheart,” he says, voice low enough to send shivers down your spine. “I’m a genius. You think I don’t notice the way you look at me when you think no one’s watching?”

“I don’t—”

“Oh, you do.” His lips curve into a smug grin, and damn it, why does he have to look so good doing it? “And let’s not forget how you can’t seem to keep your hands to yourself when we’re alone.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off, his voice dropping another octave. “Don’t worry. I like it. But you might want to work on your poker face, darling, because if I can tell, you can bet your ass the others will.”

The implication makes your stomach twist. “They don’t know.”

“Not yet,” Tony agrees. “But I wouldn’t underestimate Romanoff. Or Rogers, for that matter. The guy might be old-fashioned, but he’s not blind.”

You groan, pushing against his chest to create some distance. “This is exactly why we need to keep things… professional in public.”

Tony chuckles, stepping back just enough to let you breathe. “Sure. Professional. That’s exactly the vibe we give off.”

You glare at him. “I’m serious, Tony. If this gets out—”

He interrupts you with a finger pressed to your lips. “Relax. I’m not exactly running my mouth about it. What we do—” He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “—or don’t do—is nobody’s business.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you hate how easily he gets to you. You know you should say something, maybe call him out for being so infuriatingly cocky, but the words catch in your throat when his hand brushes against your hip, his touch just light enough to make you ache for more.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter.

“And yet, here you are,” he quips, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

Before you can respond—or do something stupid, like kiss him—the sound of footsteps echoes down the hallway. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you shove Tony away, nearly knocking the apple off the counter in your haste to look casual.

The door swings open, and Steve Rogers walks in, his expression as neutral as ever.

“Morning,” he says, nodding at the two of you.

“Morning,” you reply, your voice a little too high-pitched for comfort.

Tony, of course, is the picture of nonchalance. “Cap,” he says, raising his mug in a mock salute. “How’s it going?”

Steve gives him a once-over, his gaze lingering just long enough to make you sweat. But if he notices anything unusual, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and heads for the door.

“Training in ten,” he says over his shoulder. “Don’t be late.”

As soon as he’s gone, you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “See? This is why we need to be more careful.”

Tony shrugs, unbothered. “Relax. If anyone could smell trouble, it’d be Rogers. And he didn’t say a word.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t suspect something.”

Tony smirks, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe. But then again, maybe he just thinks you can’t resist my charm.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet…” He steps closer, his voice dropping to that dangerously seductive tone that makes your knees weak. “You keep coming back.”

Before you can respond, he’s gone, sauntering out of the kitchen like he doesn’t have a care in the world. You, on the other hand, are left standing there, your heart racing and your head spinning.

This is going to be harder than you thought.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Tony’s fingers tangle in your hair, his lips trailing hot, demanding kisses down your neck as your back hits the soft sheets of his bed. The city lights outside cast long, flickering shadows across the room, but you barely notice. You’re far too focused on the way Tony’s hands roam your body like he’s memorizing every inch of you, the rough pads of his fingers igniting fire wherever they touch.

"You're incredible," he mutters, his voice thick with reverence and hunger as he leans back to look at you. His gaze rakes over you like you're the most exquisite thing he's ever laid eyes on, and for a moment, you're lost in the intensity of his expression. It's almost too much. Almost.

"You're not so bad yourself," you tease, though your voice comes out breathier than you'd like. It doesn’t matter. Tony doesn’t need words to know what he does to you.

He smirks at your reply, his trademark arrogance mingling with a rawness he rarely lets anyone see. He dives back in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that leaves you dizzy and aching. Everything about him is overwhelming in the best possible way—the taste of his mouth, the scrape of his stubble against your skin, the way his hands grip your hips like he can’t bear the thought of letting you go.

The night is a blur of heated whispers, tangled sheets, and the sound of your name falling from his lips like a prayer. By the time you both collapse back onto the bed, spent and panting, the world feels a little hazier, a little quieter. His arm is draped lazily over your waist, his body warm against yours as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“You’re something else,” he murmurs, his voice soft but edged with that familiar playful lilt.

“So I’ve been told,” you reply, your heart still racing as you close your eyes, letting the moment wash over you.

But then, his hand stills on your hip. There’s a beat of silence, followed by a quiet curse under his breath.

“What?” you ask, your voice sharp with alarm as you sit up slightly to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

Tony doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulls back just enough to inspect the condom in his hand—what’s left of it, anyway. The air between you shifts instantly, the charged intimacy replaced by something colder. His jaw tightens, his gaze flickering to yours, and you don’t need him to say anything to understand.

It broke.

Your stomach twists, panic creeping in around the edges of your mind. You know what this means. You know the risks, the possibilities. And judging by the way Tony is staring at you, his usual confidence momentarily stripped away, he knows too.

“Okay,” you say quickly, sitting up fully and reaching for his hand. “It’s fine. We’ll handle this.”

“Handle it?” he echoes, his tone sharp. His fingers curl into a fist around the useless piece of latex, his frustration evident. “Do you have any idea—”

“Yes,” you interrupt firmly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I know. But freaking out isn’t going to help.”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

You place your hand over his, squeezing gently. “I know. But it did, and we’ll deal with it.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his dark eyes searching your face like he’s trying to find something—reassurance, maybe, or some kind of solution to a problem neither of you can undo. Finally, he nods, though his jaw is still tight.

“I’ll take care of it,” you say, trying to keep your voice calm and steady. “I’ll get the pill tomorrow morning. It’s not a big deal.”

His eyebrows shoot up, his expression a mixture of skepticism and concern. “Not a big deal? Y/N—”

“Tony,” you cut him off, your tone firmer now. “I’m serious. It’s fine. These things happen. That’s why emergency contraception exists.”

He doesn’t look convinced. If anything, he looks more agitated, his mind no doubt racing through every worst-case scenario. You can practically see the calculations happening behind his eyes, his genius brain working overtime to solve a problem that can’t be solved with tech or money or wit.

“Hey,” you say softly, reaching up to cup his face. His stubble is rough against your palm, but his skin is warm, grounding. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, he does, his eyes locking with yours. There’s a vulnerability there, buried beneath the layers of charm and bravado he wears like armor. It’s a side of him he rarely lets anyone see, and it makes your chest ache.

“It’s going to be okay,” you say, your voice steady. “I promise.”

He exhales slowly, some of the tension in his shoulders easing at your words. He places his hand over yours, holding it against his cheek like he’s drawing strength from your touch.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he murmurs, his tone softer now. “This is my fault.”

“It’s not anyone’s fault,” you say firmly. “It just happened. And it’s not the end of the world.”

He studies you for a moment, his gaze searching yours like he’s trying to gauge whether you really believe what you’re saying. You hold his gaze, willing him to see that you’re not afraid—that you’re in control, even if the situation feels precarious.

Finally, he nods again, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Alright,” he says quietly. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” you reply, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Now, stop overthinking it and come back to bed.”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re bossy, you know that?”

“Someone has to be,” you tease, lying back down and pulling him with you. He goes willingly, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid to let go.

As you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you feel the tension slowly drain from his body. He still holds you a little tighter than usual, and you know the worry is still there, lurking beneath the surface. But for now, you’re both safe in the quiet cocoon of his bed, and that’s enough.

The morning sunlight spills into the bedroom, cutting through the blinds in thin golden slats. You wake up before Tony, which isn’t unusual. His arm is slung lazily over your waist, and his face is relaxed in a way that makes him look younger, softer—like he’s let go of the weight of the world, if only for a few precious hours.

You slip out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him. Your feet hit the cold hardwood floor, and you grab one of his shirts from the edge of the bed, slipping it over your bare skin before padding out of the room. The small box you picked up from the pharmacy the night before sits on the kitchen counter, unopened. Your stomach twists as you pick it up, the weight of it heavier than it should be.

It’s not the first time you’ve taken the pill, and logically, you know what to expect. It’s supposed to be a fail-safe, a last resort. But something about the circumstances makes your chest tighten as you swallow the pill with a sip of water. The air feels thicker this morning, heavy with an unspoken tension that you can’t quite shake.

By the time Tony joins you, freshly showered and looking far too put-together for someone who stayed up so late, you’ve shoved the box deep into the trash and plastered on your best neutral expression. He doesn’t mention the pill. He doesn’t ask if you took it, though you know he’s probably been thinking about it. Instead, he leans casually against the counter and makes a joke about the kitchen being out of coffee, his easy demeanor doing little to mask the faint tension in his voice.

You don’t call him out on it. The last thing you want is to drag the conversation back into that same spiral of worry. Instead, you focus on normalcy—breakfast, half-hearted banter, the comforting rhythm of your strange, secret dynamic.

Days pass. A week. Maybe more. At first, you’re fine, brushing off the gnawing anxiety at the back of your mind. But when the calendar flips over to a new month and your period is nowhere to be found, the panic starts to creep in.

You check your phone obsessively, googling every possible explanation that isn’t what you’re afraid of. Stress, you tell yourself. Hormonal shifts. The pill can do this, right? Throw off your cycle? It’s not like your body works on a perfect schedule anyway.

And yet, as the days continue to pass, your chest tightens a little more every morning. The thought of telling Tony lingers at the edge of your mind, a shadow that grows darker every time you push it away. You think back to the night it happened, to the way he looked at you when the condom broke. The frustration, the fear—it’s all burned into your memory, and you’re not sure you can bear to see that look again.

So you don’t tell him.

When he asks casually a week later if “everything’s sorted,” you force yourself to smile and nod. “Yeah,” you say, your voice far steadier than you feel. “It was just a big scare. Everything’s fine now.”

The relief that washes over his face makes your heart sink. He leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as his lips curve into an easy grin. “Good. That’s good.”

He doesn’t realize the way your stomach twists when he says it. He doesn’t notice the faint tremor in your hands as you reach for your coffee cup, your fingers brushing against the ceramic edge like it’s the only thing grounding you.

Tony doesn’t dwell on it after that. He’s good at compartmentalizing—too good, sometimes. Once he’s reassured, the topic is filed away in whatever mental vault he keeps for things he doesn’t want to think about.

But for you, it lingers.

You try to push it down, to bury it beneath layers of distraction. Missions, training, pretending that the world hasn’t shifted beneath your feet. But every time you’re alone, the weight of the lie presses against your chest, making it harder to breathe.

You catch yourself staring at him sometimes, wondering what he would say if you told him the truth. Would he panic? Shut down? Or would he surprise you, the way he sometimes does, with a level of vulnerability that makes your heart ache? You don’t know, and the uncertainty is almost worse than the fear itself.

One night, as the two of you sit curled up on the couch watching some old black-and-white movie he insisted you’d love, you feel the words bubbling up in your throat. The urge to tell him is almost overwhelming, the silence between you stretching thin and taut like a thread about to snap.

“Tony��” you start, but he cuts you off with a lazy smirk, his hand brushing against your thigh.

“You’re not actually paying attention, are you?” he teases, nodding toward the screen.

The moment slips through your fingers like water, and you force a laugh, shaking your head. “Not really,” you admit, though the words feel hollow in your mouth.

He grins, leaning in to kiss your temple. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

The warmth of his touch should be comforting, but all you feel is the gnawing guilt in the pit of your stomach.

Days turn into weeks. You’ve never been particularly religious, but you find yourself silently praying every night, begging for some kind of resolution that doesn’t involve your entire world unraveling. You know you can’t keep this up forever. Sooner or later, the truth will come out, whether you want it to or not.

But for now, you cling to the fragile illusion of normalcy, pretending that everything is fine, that the ache in your chest isn’t growing louder with every passing day.

It’s late one evening when the weight of it all finally becomes too much. You’re standing in the bathroom, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your skin looks paler than usual, your eyes shadowed with exhaustion. You press a hand to your stomach, your fingers trembling as you let out a shaky breath.

You can’t do this. You can’t keep pretending.

But when you step out of the bathroom and find Tony sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through something on his tablet with an easy smile on his face, the words die in your throat. He looks so… unburdened, so relieved.

You sit down beside him, your movements stiff and robotic. He glances at you, his expression softening as he sets the tablet aside. “Hey,” he says, his voice low and warm. “You okay?”

You nod, forcing a small smile. “Yeah,” you lie. “I’m fine.”

It’s not fine. None of this is fine. But as Tony wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, you let yourself fall into the comfort of his embrace, even if it feels like it’s built on a crumbling foundation.

Because right now, it’s easier to let him believe the lie than to face the truth.

And for better or worse, you’re not ready to let go of the fragile peace that lie has created. Not yet.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The bathroom feels colder than usual, the air thick with a kind of tension you can almost taste. You’re sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, staring at the small white stick on the sink like it’s a bomb waiting to go off. Your heart pounds so loudly in your chest that it drowns out everything else—the hum of the air conditioning, the distant city sounds drifting through the window, even your own breath.

You’ve been here for what feels like an eternity, though it’s probably only been a few minutes. The instructions on the box said three minutes, but you’re too scared to look. Too scared to confirm what your body has already been hinting at for days.

Your period is ten days late. Ten.

You’ve always been irregular—stress, missions, even the pill you took that morning can throw your cycle off—but ten days? That’s more than a delay. That’s a sign.

You’re holding your breath, your hands clenched tightly around the fabric of your pajama pants. You want to stand up, to take that final step and see the result, but your legs won’t move. You’re frozen, caught between the urge to know and the overwhelming fear of what you might find.

When you finally gather the courage to stand, your knees feel shaky, like they might buckle under you. You lean over the sink, your trembling hand reaching for the pregnancy test. It takes everything in you to flip it over, to look at the little window that holds the answer to the question you’ve been too terrified to ask.

Two lines.

Positive.

You blink, your breath catching in your throat as the reality of it sinks in. For a moment, you feel like the ground beneath you has shifted, like the whole world has tilted on its axis. This can’t be real. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

And yet, as you stare at those two little lines, a strange, unexpected feeling blooms in your chest. It’s faint, fragile, but it’s there—happiness.

Your hand flies to your mouth as tears spill down your cheeks. You don’t even know why you’re crying. Is it shock? Fear? Joy? Maybe it’s all of it, a tangled knot of emotions you can’t begin to unravel.

You sink to the floor, your back against the cold bathroom tile, clutching the test in your hands like it’s a lifeline. Tears blur your vision, but you don’t wipe them away. You just sit there, letting the wave of emotions crash over you.

You love him. That’s the thought that breaks through the chaos in your mind, clear and undeniable. You love Tony Stark. Of course, you do. You’ve loved him for longer than you care to admit, longer than this arrangement of yours has been going on. And now, you’re carrying a piece of him inside you—a tiny, fragile piece that terrifies you and fills you with a strange, aching kind of hope all at once.

But then the fear creeps back in, sharp and insistent.

You think about the way he reacted that morning after the condom broke, the tension in his shoulders, the way he’d paced like he was trying to solve an unsolvable equation. You think about the relief that washed over his face when you lied and told him your period had come.

He doesn’t want this.

The thought makes your chest ache, the tears coming faster now. You know Tony. You know the walls he’s built around himself, the way he keeps people at arm’s length, even when he’s letting them into his bed. You know how hard he fights to keep control over his life, his world, his emotions.

A baby? That’s not part of his plan. Hell, you’re not even part of his plan. You’re supposed to be casual, no strings, no complications. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

And yet, here you are, clutching a pregnancy test and crying alone in the bathroom, trying to figure out how you’re supposed to navigate this new reality.

You can’t tell him. The thought hits you like a punch to the gut, but you know it’s true. You can’t tell Tony. Not now. Not when you can still see the relief in his eyes from the last time you reassured him that everything was fine.

He’ll leave. The thought makes your stomach twist painfully, but you can’t shake it. If you tell him, he’ll panic. He’ll shut down, pull away, and you’ll lose him completely. And as much as the idea of raising a child on your own terrifies you, the thought of losing Tony is worse.

So you don’t tell him.

You wipe your tears, setting the test on the counter with shaking hands. Your reflection in the mirror looks haunted, your eyes red and puffy, your cheeks streaked with tears. You take a deep breath, splashing cold water on your face in a futile attempt to calm yourself. You need to pull it together. You need to figure out what comes next.

But for now, all you can do is stand there, staring at your reflection, trying to reconcile the life you thought you had with the one that’s suddenly, irrevocably changed.

The door to the bedroom creaks open, and your heart leaps into your throat. You scramble to compose yourself, swiping at your eyes and plastering on a shaky smile just as Tony’s voice drifts into the bathroom.

“Hey, you alright in there?” he asks, his tone casual but laced with concern.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to sound normal. “Yeah,” you call back, your voice only wavering slightly. “Just… needed a minute.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then he hums softly, like he’s satisfied with your answer. “Well, don’t take too long. I ordered breakfast, and you know how I feel about eating alone.”

You let out a weak laugh, your chest tightening at the sound of his voice. “Be right there.”

When you step out of the bathroom a few minutes later, your face freshly washed and your expression carefully neutral, Tony’s already sprawled on the bed with a plate of food balanced precariously on his lap. He grins when he sees you, patting the spot beside him like nothing’s changed.

And for now, you let yourself fall into the illusion of normalcy, even as the weight of your secret presses heavily against your chest.

The air between you and Tony shifts subtly at first—so small, so gradual, that neither of you comments on it. Nights that once burned hot now fizzle out before they even begin. The once-electric tension, the playful banter that led to tangled sheets and breathless laughter, is replaced by something colder. It’s you who pulls away first. At first, it’s subtle—an excuse here, a brush-off there. “I’m not in the mood tonight,” you say, avoiding his eyes as you sit on the edge of the bed, a little too far from him.

Tony lets it go. He always does.

He’s not the type to push, and you know he’s trying to respect your space. But as the days stretch into weeks, your distance becomes harder to ignore. Every time he reaches for you, his touch hesitant but hopeful, you step just a little further out of his reach. It’s not that you don’t want him—god, you want him more than ever. But every time he’s close, every time his lips brush against your skin or his voice drops into that low, teasing tone that always used to make you weak, you feel the weight of your secret pressing down on you like a stone.

You don’t know how to face him, how to look him in the eye without feeling like a liar. So you pull away.

Tony notices. Of course he notices.

At first, he thinks it’s stress. You’ve been juggling missions, the chaos of your lives, the constant push and pull of being in the public eye while trying to keep your relationship—whatever it is—a secret. Stress makes sense. It’s logical, explainable. But as time goes on, and your coldness toward him hardens into something sharper, something unrelenting, the doubts creep in.

It’s late one night, and Tony’s lying in bed alone, staring up at the ceiling as the soft glow of the arc reactor casts faint, shifting patterns on the walls. You’re not there. You’d excused yourself earlier, claiming you were tired, but instead of lying down beside him like you used to, you’d retreated to the living room.

He wants to follow you, to ask what’s wrong, to tell you he misses you even though he knows it’s not the kind of thing you say to someone who’s supposed to be a casual fling. But he doesn’t. He stays in bed, his chest tight, his mind spinning with every possible explanation for your sudden distance.

Maybe you’re over him. The thought sends a sharp pang through his chest, but he doesn’t let himself dwell on it. People lose interest all the time. It’s normal. Expected.

But then there’s another thought, one that he tries to push down but can’t quite ignore: Maybe there’s someone else.

He hates the idea of it. Hates the way his stomach twists every time it crosses his mind. But the way you’ve been avoiding him, the way you’ve stopped laughing at his jokes, stopped touching him, stopped letting him touch you—it all feels like proof that he’s losing you.

The thing is, Tony Stark isn’t good at feelings. He’s spent his whole life hiding behind sarcasm, distractions, and whatever shiny piece of tech he can throw together to keep people from seeing the cracks beneath the surface. But you? You’ve always been different. You’re the one person who makes him feel like he doesn’t have to pretend, like he doesn’t have to be “Iron Man” all the time.

And that scares him. Because if he loses you, he doesn’t know how to go back to the person he was before.

He tries to bridge the gap one night. It’s been weeks since you let him touch you the way he used to, weeks since the warmth of your body pressed against his in the dark. So he decides to take a chance.

“Y/N,” he says softly, his voice tentative as he steps into the living room where you’re curled up on the couch, your knees drawn to your chest.

You glance up at him, your expression guarded, and his chest tightens.

“Hey,” he continues, trying to keep his tone light, casual, like he’s not unraveling inside. “I was thinking we could—” He hesitates, the words catching in his throat. “You know. Watch a movie or something.”

You smile faintly, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m not really in the mood, Tony.”

It’s the same excuse you’ve been giving him for weeks now, and it stings just as much as it did the first time. He nods, stepping back like he’s been burned.

“Right,” he says, his voice clipped. “Of course. You’re… busy.”

You feel the weight of his disappointment, and it makes your stomach twist with guilt. You want to reach out, to tell him the truth, but the words won’t come. You’re too scared—scared of what he’ll say, scared of what he won’t say.

Tony doesn’t press the issue. He never does. Instead, he retreats back to the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. But you know him well enough to know he’s hurting. You’ve seen the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes anymore, the way he avoids looking at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

You hate it. You hate yourself for causing it.

But every time you think about telling him the truth, about letting him into the tangled mess of emotions you’re drowning in, the memory of his relief when he thought everything was fine stops you. You can’t bear the thought of seeing that same relief again, of watching him pull away from you because this—whatever this is—was never supposed to be more than just sex.

The problem is, it’s so much more for you. It always has been. And the thought of him not feeling the same way, of him walking away when he finds out about the baby, is enough to keep you silent.

So you stay distant, building walls around yourself even as your heart breaks every time you see him. And Tony, for all his brilliance, doesn’t know how to break through them.

It’s late when Tony finally breaks. The night air is cool, flowing in through the windows of the lab as he works, tinkering with something that doesn’t need fixing but still allows him to focus on something other than the gnawing feeling that’s been growing in his gut for the past few weeks.

He can’t ignore it any longer.

You’ve been so distant, so closed off. Every time he reaches for you, you pull away, your smile strained, your touch hesitant. He knows something’s wrong. You’ve been avoiding him—more than usual—and it’s like the light that once sparked in your eyes when you were around him has dimmed. You’re still there, physically, but emotionally? Mentally? He’s losing you, and he doesn’t know why.

At first, he thought it was just stress. You’ve both been running at full speed with everything going on in your lives—missions, the Avengers, the constant media circus that surrounds everything you do. But as the weeks have stretched on, and you’ve pulled further into yourself, Tony’s mind starts to wonder. He tries to brush it off, tries to tell himself that maybe you’re just going through something, or maybe you’ve just gotten tired of the arrangement you two have been navigating.

But that would mean he’s losing you, and the thought of that makes his chest ache.

He’s pacing now, a strange sense of urgency growing inside him. He can’t keep pretending everything’s fine. He can’t pretend he hasn’t noticed the way you flinch when he touches you, how you go out of your way to make excuses not to be close, to keep that emotional distance between you. It hurts. It cuts deeper than any physical wound he’s had, and if he doesn’t get to the bottom of it, he feels like he might lose himself entirely.

Without thinking, Tony heads toward the living room, his footsteps heavy as he approaches the place you’ve been hiding out in for the past hour. He’s not sure what he expects when he opens the door, but he knows he needs answers.

When you look up at him from the couch, curled up with a book in your hands, he sees it again—the sadness behind your eyes, the coldness in the way you hold yourself. It’s been so long since you’ve looked at him like that, and it hurts more than he’s willing to admit.

“Y/N,” he starts, his voice more strained than he meant it to be, “We need to talk.”

You blink at him, like you were expecting him to say something else, something easier to hear. But instead, you set the book down, letting out a long breath. “What about?”

Tony steps closer, his brow furrowed in frustration, eyes searching yours for any sign of the woman he once knew. “You’re not fine. I know you’re not. And I can’t keep pretending that everything’s okay between us when it’s not.”

You open your mouth as if you’re about to say something, but the words die on your tongue. You’re not ready to tell him, not yet, but Tony’s insistent stare makes you feel like you don’t have a choice.

“Please, just tell me what’s going on. I—” He cuts himself off, not sure if he’s about to confess something he isn’t ready for. “I hate this distance between us. I hate how you’ve been avoiding me, and I’m not going to let you shut me out. Not when I know something’s wrong. So please, just tell me.”

You stand slowly, turning away from him, eyes cast down to the floor as you try to steady your breathing. You know you can’t keep this secret any longer. He deserves to know, but you’re terrified of his reaction. Terrified that he’ll leave, or worse, that he’ll shut you out just like you’ve been doing to him.

“I—” you start, your voice cracking slightly as you turn back to face him, your words hanging in the air like a fragile glass balloon ready to pop. “Tony, I’m… I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, the room feels impossibly still. The sound of your heart pounding in your chest is louder than anything else. Tony’s face doesn’t change immediately, and for a second, you wonder if he’s even heard you. Maybe he didn’t catch it, didn’t really understand what you just said.

But then his eyes meet yours, and you can see the shock flicker across his face, his mouth opening as if he’s about to speak but nothing comes out.

The silence between you both stretches, and you hate it. You hate the tension that fills the space where once there was laughter, banter, comfort. You take a deep breath, the weight of your confession settling on your shoulders like an anchor, and you brace yourself for his response.

“I know you don’t want this,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I saw the way you reacted when I told you my period had come. You were relieved, and I know that means you don’t want a kid. And I—”

But Tony doesn’t let you finish. He’s already moved toward you, his expression softening, and before you even realize it, his hand is gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear you didn’t know had fallen.

“Y/N,” he interrupts, his voice quieter now, but his words are firm, like he’s trying to make you understand something important. “I wasn’t relieved because I didn’t want the baby. I was relieved because I remember you saying you didn’t want kids right now.” He lets out a shaky laugh, almost embarrassed by the way his own words feel in his mouth. “I guess I got scared for a second, thinking this was all happening too fast, but it wasn’t about not wanting a kid. It was about… us. About where we are in life. I wasn’t sure if you were ready for this, for everything that comes with it.”

You stare at him, blinking as the shock of his words sinks in. For a moment, all you can do is stand there, trying to process what he’s saying. He’s not angry. He’s not freaking out. He’s—he’s relieved? And then the smile that spreads across his face is one you’ve never seen before. It’s so full of hope, of joy, that it almost knocks the wind out of you.

“You’re happy?” you whisper, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound steady.

Tony’s grin widens, and his eyes are shining with something so genuine, so raw, that it’s impossible for you to look away. “You have no idea,” he says, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “I’ve wanted this. I’ve wanted to be a dad for a while now. I’m happy, Y/N. I’m so happy.”

The air between you both changes instantly. The heavy weight that’s been pressing down on your chest—your fear, your anxiety—lifts just a little. You feel like you can breathe again, the walls you’d built around yourself crumbling with every word he speaks.

You look up at him, your own smile breaking through the uncertainty, and before you can stop it, the words spill out. “I think I’m happy too, Tony.”

Tony’s expression softens, his eyes softening as he reaches for you, pulling you into an embrace so tight it almost feels like he’s never letting you go. You bury your face in his chest, your heart racing with a mix of emotions—relief, happiness, fear, but most of all, love.

“You’re not alone in this,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “We’re doing this together. Okay?”

You nod against him, your arms wrapping around his waist as if you never want to let go. “Okay,” you whisper, a quiet laugh escaping you as the weight of the moment finally settles in. “Together.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself believe it. You let yourself believe that no matter what comes next, you won’t be facing it alone.

Later that night, after the quiet joy of shared smiles and whispered promises had filled the room, the weight of the moment seemed to settle in more than ever. The excitement, the relief, the joy of the baby—all of that felt real now. But there was still one thing neither of you had addressed. The question that hung in the air just as heavily as it always had: What are we?

You weren’t sure when it started. When the blurred lines between “friends with benefits” and something more had begun to form, but you knew it was there now. It had always been there, from the moment his lips had first brushed against yours, from the first time you’d shared something deeper than just casual touch. The emotional attachment had crept in slowly, quietly, and for a long time, you had tried to ignore it.

But now, with a baby on the way and the delicate balance of your secret relationship on the verge of shifting, there was no denying it any longer.

Tony had been unusually quiet after the rush of emotions had faded, after you both had settled into your shared space on the couch, your legs tangled beneath a blanket. You’d both exchanged small touches, playful nudges, and soft words of reassurance, but as the night wore on, the air between you thickened again, and you both knew what was coming.

Tony wasn’t the type to shy away from hard conversations, especially not when it came to the things that mattered most to him. And now, with the future of your relationship hanging in the balance, he had to know: where do you two stand?

“Y/N,” he starts, breaking the comfortable silence that had wrapped itself around the two of you, his voice low, hesitant. “We need to talk about… us.”

You glance up at him, your heart picking up speed at the seriousness in his tone. He’s not looking at you now, not like before, when his eyes had been filled with a bright, carefree joy. No, now his gaze is intense, studying you in a way that makes you feel exposed. Vulnerable.

“I know,” you reply softly, the words almost a whisper, your fingers absently tracing the edge of the blanket. You’re nervous now, your chest tight, unsure of how to navigate this conversation. After everything that’s happened, after the whirlwind of emotions surrounding the pregnancy, now comes the quiet storm that you’ve been avoiding. The talk about what your relationship is—what it could be.

Tony shifts, his body language tense. “We’ve been doing this for a while now—casual, no strings, no commitment. But now… this changes everything.” He lets out a breath, rubbing his hands over his face as if trying to wipe away the uncertainty. “I can’t help but wonder if we’ve been fooling ourselves, pretending we’re just two people with a little arrangement. I need to know if you feel the same way I do.”

Your stomach flips at the sincerity in his voice. The seriousness of it all hits you in a way you weren’t expecting. You’ve always been good at keeping things light, at pretending that this thing between you both was just about fun, just about the thrill of being together without the complications of a real relationship. But now, with the baby coming, everything has changed.

Tony continues, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t know about you, but… I’m not just some guy you hook up with and then move on from. That’s not what I want anymore. I never thought I’d say this, but I—I want more than that with you. I think I’ve wanted more for a long time, even before we got here, and now… with the baby, I don’t know how to act like we’re just two friends. I can’t.”

You swallow, the knot in your throat tightening, making it harder to speak. You want to say the right thing, but you don’t even know what that is anymore. For so long, you’ve kept the walls up, kept yourself detached from him, from the idea of ever needing more than just him in your bed, in your life.

But now, after everything that’s happened—the broken condom, the shock of the pregnancy test, the tenderness of his touch, the way he looks at you now—you can’t pretend anymore. You know what you feel. You’ve known for a while.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice trembling. You can’t stop the truth from slipping out, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself be honest with him. “I’ve been so scared, Tony. I was scared to let myself feel more than just… this. I didn’t want to be vulnerable. I didn’t want to fall for you, but I did. And now, with this… I don’t know what that means for us.”

He leans in, his hand coming to rest gently on your knee, grounding you with the warmth of his touch. “It means we figure it out. Together.”

You meet his gaze then, really look at him, and for the first time since all of this started, you feel the fear melt away, replaced by something that feels like hope, like relief. Maybe it’s too soon to figure everything out—maybe the fear will still be there tomorrow, when you wake up and face the reality of being parents together. But right now, in this moment, you realize that whatever comes next, you’re not alone.

“I’ve never wanted anything more than this,” Tony murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want us, Y/N. I want this—whatever it is—if it’s with you.”

Tears well in your eyes, the weight of his words sinking in. “Are you sure? Because, Tony, this is… a lot. We’re talking about everything changing. Our whole lives—”

“I know,” he interrupts, cutting you off softly. “But that’s the thing, Y/N. It’s supposed to change. It’s supposed to be big. And it’s gonna be scary. But I’d rather be scared with you than pretend we’re okay with something less.”

You smile, the tears now flowing freely down your cheeks, but they’re not tears of fear anymore. They’re tears of relief, of joy. “I feel the same,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want anything else either. I want us.”

The air shifts around you both. The weight of everything that’s been left unsaid, the uncertainty, the fear, all of it starts to dissipate in the wake of your words. In the silence that follows, there’s a quiet understanding that passes between you, something unspoken but deep. You’re not just two friends anymore. You’re something more. Something real. Something that might still be terrifying, but you’re willing to take that step together.

Tony leans in, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “We’re gonna figure this out, Y/N. We’ll do it together, okay? All of it. No more running from it. No more pretending.”

You nod, closing your eyes for a brief moment, savoring the peace of knowing that he feels the same way. For the first time, you don’t feel the need to guard yourself, to hold back. Whatever happens next, you know you’ll face it with him by your side.

And for the first time in months, you allow yourself to feel the hope that the future might not be so terrifying after all.

“Together,” you whisper back, your voice full of resolve.

“Together,” Tony agrees, his smile softening as he leans back into the couch beside you. You both sit there for a long moment, the world outside forgotten, the future uncertain but no longer so intimidating. With each other, you feel ready for whatever comes next.

The decision to tell the Avengers comes surprisingly easy, though Tony initially overcomplicates it—as is his style. He drafts no fewer than six different ways to break the news, each one more elaborate than the last, from a staged press conference to a spontaneous "Oops, did we drop a clue?" moment during dinner. Ultimately, it’s you who insists on something simple: just sitting everyone down and saying it outright.

The team gathers in the common area after a particularly grueling mission briefing. Steve sits on one side, arms crossed in casual curiosity, while Natasha and Clint exchange knowing looks, as if they’ve already pieced together whatever you’re about to say. Thor leans back with an air of amused disinterest, and Bruce glances between you and Tony with a subtle frown, clearly trying to deduce what’s happening.

Tony clears his throat, standing with his hands shoved into his pockets—a nervous habit you’ve grown to recognize. You sit beside him, trying not to laugh at the way he fidgets like a kid preparing to confess he’s broken something.

“So,” Tony begins, his voice smooth but a little too loud, “we’ve got some news. Something big, something life-altering. Not world-ending, don’t worry—though it is arguably more exciting than an alien invasion or a helicarrier falling out of the sky.”

“Get to the point,” Natasha cuts in, raising an eyebrow, though her smirk betrays her amusement.

Tony glances at you, and you take his hand, offering him a reassuring squeeze. You look at the group, your heart racing but a soft smile playing on your lips. “We’re together,” you say simply, “and… we’re having a baby.”

The room falls silent for a beat, and then chaos ensues.

Clint immediately lets out a loud, theatrical “Called it!” while Thor booms a congratulatory cheer, clapping Tony on the back so hard he almost topples forward. Natasha simply smirks, her sharp eyes flickering with something close to approval. Steve blinks once, then twice, before nodding with a small smile. “Well,” he says, “it’s about time.”

Bruce, for his part, is the most measured. “Congratulations,” he says warmly, his expression soft as he looks between the two of you. “That’s… big news. You’ll both be great parents.”

Tony, who thrives on reactions, looks around at the mix of responses, a crooked grin spreading across his face. “Wait, that’s it? No one’s shocked? No dramatic gasps? No ‘Tony Stark, settling down, what has the world come to?’”

Natasha tilts her head. “We’re not blind, Tony.”

“And you’re not exactly subtle,” Clint adds with a laugh. “The sneaking around was cute at first, but come on. The looks? The way you guys act around each other? It was only a matter of time.”

You laugh, leaning into Tony’s side as he rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t care if they saw it coming—he only cares that you’re here, by his side, sharing this moment with him.

As the weeks pass and your belly starts to grow, Tony’s excitement becomes something of a full-time personality trait. He’s protective in a way that sometimes makes you laugh and sometimes makes you roll your eyes—like when he insists on scanning the ingredients of every snack you eat or hovering too closely while you climb the stairs.

“Tony, I’m pregnant, not fragile,” you remind him one evening when he’s fussing over your attempt to carry a laundry basket up from the bedroom.

“Yeah, well, you’re carrying my kid,” he retorts, taking the basket from your hands with a flourish. “And I’m not taking any chances.”

But it’s not just the protectiveness. There’s something else, something deeper. Every day, he seems more in love—not just with you, but with the idea of the life you’re building together. He tells you often how beautiful you are, how the so-called “pregnancy glow” makes you shine brighter than any reactor core he’s ever built. And when he’s not busy marveling at you, he’s completely, utterly enchanted by the baby growing inside you.

Tony spends hours talking to your belly, as if the baby can already hear and understand him. He lays his head against your stomach whenever he can, his voice soft and full of wonder as he murmurs stories about the world, about your life together, about the adventures waiting for the little one.

“You know,” he says one evening, his hand resting gently on your belly as he leans in close, “you’ve got it pretty good in there, kid. Mom’s amazing. She’s brilliant, and funny, and stubborn as hell—you’ll learn that soon enough. And me? Well, I’m not so bad either. We’re gonna be a great team, the three of us.”

You watch him, your heart swelling at the sight of the man who, not so long ago, had been the epitome of carefree, refusing to be tied down. Now, he’s the man who can’t wait to be a dad, who looks at you like you’re his entire world.

“I think they’ll be lucky to have you,” you say softly, running your fingers through his hair as he continues to talk to your belly.

Tony looks up at you, his expression tender. “Nah,” he replies, his voice teasing but warm. “They’ll be lucky to have you. I’m just along for the ride.”

You laugh, leaning down to kiss him, and he smiles against your lips, his hand never leaving your belly. Moments like this are becoming your new normal—quiet, intimate, filled with the kind of love that feels like it’s been there all along, waiting for the right time to bloom.

As the baby kicks for the first time a few weeks later, Tony’s excitement is nothing short of infectious. He whoops loudly, startling you for a moment before his hand immediately presses against your stomach again, his grin wide and boyish.

“Did you feel that?” he exclaims, his eyes lighting up as he looks at you.

You nod, tears springing to your eyes as you smile. “Yeah,” you whisper, your hand covering his. “I felt it.”

“That’s my kid,” he says proudly, leaning down to kiss your belly. “Already making an entrance.”

You can’t help but laugh, your heart full to bursting. In moments like this, it’s hard to remember why you ever doubted this—why you ever doubted him. Tony Stark, for all his flaws, is everything you never knew you needed. And now, as you prepare to welcome the biggest adventure of your lives together, you know one thing for sure: you’re in this together, every step of the way.

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callahanisms · 2 years ago

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a fair trade

pairing: miguel o’hara x gender neutral! reader

word count: 1,010 words

ao3 link: 🕷️🕷️🕷️

summary: your help is needed to defeat a multiversal entity, one that you’ve defeated before. but what can miguel offer in return for your service?

notes: kind of mishmashing the movies and comics together. do not fret if you haven’t read any of them! it’s mostly just referenced (much like how it was referenced in the last post). the fic on ao3 is also locked to registered ao3 users only. it’s a precaution i’m taking in response to ai using ao3 fics to be trained.

“(Y/N), we need your help.”

“Miguel, I’m in the middle of eating lunch. Because, you know, I didn’t have breakfast.”

“That’s on you.”

“Some of us don’t like breakfast.”

“Okay that’s not the point! The point is that we need your help!”

You were just sitting at your table, peacefully. After a mission earlier today, you thought you enjoyed a nice break. All you’ve been doing is going on missions across the multiverse, at the expense of your personal life back home. Your friends missed you and were constantly wondering why you would dip all of a sudden. After all, it wasn’t like you to just...cancel last minute. You loved your friends. You always made sure to be there. What you didn’t expect when accepting Miguel’s invitation was to be worked constantly. There was always a multiversal threat at stake, even for something small.

You were literally the local expert on the multiverse. Small things wouldn’t cause catastrophe. But Miguel believed they would. He believed in a domino effect. You believed that it was necessary to stay vigilant but not every small thing required attention. Sometimes the multiverse acted weird. It was a multiverse. It acted on its own accords.

“Miguel, is it actually something to worry about? Or is it something like the Vulture ended up in the wrong reality which can be cleaned up without my help?” You took a sip of your drink.

“It’s someone by the name of Verna. And she’s brought with her an army.”

“Verna? Never heard of her.” You shake your head.

“Really? She claims she’s fought you before.”

“If I saw a picture, then maybe I would recognize her.”

Miguel doesn’t hesitate. “Lyla.”

Part of you wondered what it would be like if your name was always on the tip of his tongue, ready to speak on a moment’s notice. You always wanted someone who could say your name with such ease, who thought of you constantly.

“Already on it.” Lyla pulls up a video. “This is live footage of the whole thing. We’re lucky she hasn’t spread her destruction further.”

As you were taking a sip of your drink, you choked on the liquid. Thankfully, you did not die. “We need you alive (Y/N).” Miguel says.

“I thought I banished her to the ends of the Multiverse!” You exclaimed.

“So you have fought her?” Lyla questions. “Was this the multiversal being you battled before?”

“She’s the reason I have no magic!” You crush the metal cup in your hand. “It took everything for me to banish her! And she just comes...comes back like nothing happened?” You squint a little. “She also looks a lot different than I remember. You said her name was Verna?” Lyla and Miguel look at each other before nodding. “She went by a different name. Called herself the Matriarch of...something. I don’t remember.”

“All the more reason for you to finish up and join us.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I lost my appetite.” You picked up the dishes and cleaned out the plates, dropping them off with the conveyor belt of dirty dishes. “You owe me Miguel.”

“Owe you what?”

“A break. Like a real break. My body needs to properly recuperate, you know.”

He inputs the numbers and opens the portal. “I can do that. You’ve done good work so far.”

“Exactly. Not getting paid here.”

“None of us get paid.”

“It was a joke. You know, Peter was right. You’re like the only one of us that isn’t funny.”

“That’s hilarious.” His voice did not change in tone and his facial expressions did not give away that he was humored.

“Lighten up a little. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re extra stoic because you want to kiss me.”

“I do not want to kiss you.”

“Everyone wants to kiss me.”

He looks at you, eyebrow slightly raised. “You should pay me in kisses actually. Think that’d be a fair deal. I help you guys stop Verna, again, and I get a kiss. It’d be the perfect reward.”

You feel his gaze on you. “It’s a joke, I promise. You don’t have to actually.” Even if you did want to kiss him.

He takes a step towards you, much to your surprise. His hand reaches up, fingers curled slightly, and his knuckles graze the skin of your cheeks. It’s reassuring in a way and his touch is gentle. It reminds you of when you first joined, how his fingers gently wiped away the crumbs at your face. His hand uncurls and cups your face. “How badly do you want a kiss?” He asks.

His voice made your legs shake. “If I answered that I think you’d make fun of me.”

“I mean...it’s a simple yes or no question.”

“Yes?”

You weren’t expecting his lips to crash against yours. The sheer force almost causes you to fall over and your hands fumble to grip onto his body. You could feel his muscles flex beneath his suit. You kiss him back, but most certainly not with the same amount of force he does. Miguel even goes as far to nip your bottom lip, causing a small gasp to emerge from your throat. It was a little embarrassing and your cheeks grew warm. He pulls away, satisfied and with that cocky smirk on his face.

“Make it back alive and I’ll give you another.” He puts his mask on. “Maybe even more.”

“You...have a lot of confidence that I will.” You were out of breath. Very much out of breath.

“You’ve beaten the odds before. It’s part of who we are.”

Miguel walks through the portal and you clench your hands for a few seconds. You were nervous. It wasn’t just the kiss that made you nervous (though your heart certainly was pumping for that reason primarily). Lyla looked at you with a smile. “You better come back. Or else I’ll lose the primary thing I make fun of him for.”

“I’ll try Lyla. For you.”

“Sure, sure. Now get going before people die.”

#to make up for the bad list of hcs #i might just be pumping out spiderverse content soon #spider-man: across the spider-verse #across the spiderverse #spider-man 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #x reader

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sinsolstice · 2 months ago

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★ 彡 MEETING MIGUEL'S VARIANT. ✧ MIGUEL O'HARA

⋆𐙚₊˚ premise: meeting miguel's variant of earth 2401. ⋆𐙚₊˚ tags: within the spiderverse universe. afab reader + variant miguel. ⋆𐙚₊˚ wc: 424

this miguel variant is from peachy's drawing of her miguel spidersona (definitely one of the artists that i admire a lot).

It happened so fast. One moment, you’re fighting off an anomaly in your assigned universe for a mission. And the next, you’re thrown across the fabric of time into a different world again.

Your back hits the bricked wall and you fall onto the ground with a thud. It hurts and you groan but still have the energy to get up and fight. Your body aches and your head is spinning, but you have a job to do. To protect the multiverse.

That is, until you hear the anomaly that you’re fighting, let out a cry of pain. You merely stand up on your two feet when you feel your spidey senses tingle. It’s not from danger but something else entirely. When you run towards the noise source where you think your enemy is, you find the anomaly tied in webs and hanging in the middle of the warehouse.

The anomaly is tied in a spider’s webs and it makes sense of your intuition earlier. There’s another spider-hero variant other than you in this universe.

“You need to be careful in the future if your enemy discovers that you can travel through time-space easily.” A voice says. “It would cause more problems in the future, no?”

“I– thank you,” you say breathily. “He came out of nowhere. I didn’t mean for the anomaly to escape.”

“It’s not a problem. Mistakes happened.” The man says. The moment he turns around to face you—to reveal himself—your eyes widen in disbelief. Other than the fact that you’re gawking because of his shirtless state, this man in front of you looks familiar. But it’s not the man you know.

The full body muscular, eight-pack abs and huge biceps. The tattoos on his body; one on his left arm, right shoulder and the side back of his neck. A full Spider tattoo on the left, a covered shoulder tattoo on the right, and a large cross on his neck. He still has the same dark brown hair, but it’s a little messy and you spot a silver streak on the front. There’s a slit on his left brow, giving him that devilish look, with two silver hoop earrings.

The red eyes of the man staring at you are exactly the same eyes of a man you know. But he’s not completely the man you know. And you didn’t think you find a version of him from this universe. “Miguel?”

“You know me? Well, that makes it easier for me to skip the introductions then,” he smirks. “I am this dimension’s Spider-Man. What are you doing here, nena?”

more links to my works and posts.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #the miguel effect #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o'hara blurb #miguel o'hara imagine

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yeloenk · 2 months ago

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I WANNA KNOW MORE ABT UR CROSS CCINO I AM INVESTED PLZ

GRABS YOU AND SHAKES YOU AROUND

where do i even.. start.... oh my goodness

OKAY so,, cross and ccino. first i'll go over how i think they would meet, then i'll go over how their relationship would be like.

i think cross, after the whole x-event is resolved, is now left without purpose. he doesn't know what to do; he tries to fit in with the other omega timeline residents, but he feels wrong and out of place after everything that he did. he feels undeserving of a "real home"—plus, the omega timeline feels too restrictive to him. since he was a multiversal threat not too long ago, he was put under rules & observation. it reminded him way too much of being controlled by X-Gaster, so he takes off to figure out things on his own.

he drifts from au to au for a while, trying to find one that sticks. when he stumbles across fluffytale, the weird friendliness/calmness of it draws him in.

i won't delve into the story i have for them too much after this point (i'm currently writing a fic about it!!!) but long story short, cross begins working with ccino at the cafe.

FROM THERE !!! from there, their relationship is verryyy slow. cross is super hesitant about opening up about anything; at first, he dodges any personal questions from ccino. but over time, he grows more and more comfortable with him and sharing bits about himself. he slowly learns what it's like to be safe and happy again.

now, ccino. since ccino and nightmare are or were canon at some point in fluffytale, i believe ccino would be left with.. quite a bit of trauma from the relationship. he struggles a LOT with his self worth and motivation; he puts on a nonchalant, "happy" front to his customers. i think he would struggle taking care of himself, and would make self deprecating jokes to cope. he often misses meal times, making up excuses for himself. but, cross kinda sees right through his act, and can tell something's up.

cross would get ccino to let his walls down; it takes a while, because ccino is terrified of being vulnerable to another person again. he's afraid he'll be hurt again, he's afraid he isn't and never will be enough for cross. since cross was under nightmare's influence at one point, he has that to emphasize with ccino & make him feel better about himself.

they are a SLOWburn friends to lovers with miscommunication and mutual pining,,, they both think they aren't good enough for the other before one confesses giggle!!!!!

they both help each other see the best in themselves, and learn what it means to have safe love again. AND YEEWAHAHGGSHSGHS THEY MAKE ME SICKKKKKK SOBBING ON THE FLOOR I LOVE THEMEEMMM!!!!! i wanna share more of my thoughts about their story but again i dont wanna spoil the fic im cooking up

ALSO. I HAVE A SPOTIFY PLAYLIST FOR THEM. yoooouu should totes check it out if u wanna,,, hehe

link

im a freak about them. can you tell

#yelorambles #utmv #undertale #undertale au #sans undertale #underverse #xpresso #cross sans #ccino sans #fluffytale #cross x ccino #ccino x cross #asks

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osleeplessflowero · 8 months ago

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Oneshot Masterpost

A collection of my oneshots! Series gradually being updated. These links are specific to Tumblr, BUT I have also posted quite a few of these on my Ao3! I also have fics on there, which I will also be making a masterpost for + uploading the chapters to tumblr.

🏡Neighborhood Series🏡

A series of randomized oneshots that take place in the same universe, a timeline where the skeleton duos all live in their own houses in a singular neighborhood.

In order(with links attached):

{Lore Related v}

🌠Stargazing (Classic Sans! First oneshot I wrote.)🔭

✨Back To You (Also Classic Sans, takes place a little bit after the former.)💤

🎸Concert Night (Fell!Sans)🎵

🌨️Sans and Red have a talk.❄️

{Out Of Order/Bonus Content v}

🏍Stress Relief (Fell/Red! I need to write him again..)💢

📻Close (Blue/Reader) [I don't really like this one that much anymore but I'll keep it up for any that do]🎵

🏖Beach Day (Swap Bros!)🌊

☕️Relax. (Fell Papyrus/Edge!)❄️

🌃Late Night Walk (Rus/Reader)🛹

🪓Scare Actor!Horror🎃

A series mainly themed for Halloween where Reader has a chance encounter with Horror while going to a Haunted House with their partner. Takes place in a Post-Pacifist Horrortale timeline, so Horror goes by Sans.

Part 1: Scares and a Sudden Friendship🎃🪓

Part 2: Coffee Hangout☕

Part 3: New Experiences // Meeting Papyrus!🥄

📖Fairytale Series🪄

A series of miscellaneous fairytale-based scenarios featuring your favorite skeletons. Some may have connections to others!

🗡️Assassin!Red/Mage!Reader🪄

⚔️Knight!Blue/Reader🎶

👑King!Nightmare/Ruler!Reader(Start of a Bad Sanses series)💢

🌹King!Dream/Ruler!Reader (An alternate timeline to the former concept)🪄

🤠Cowboy!Stretch🐎

An AU where Stretch and Blue live on a ranch and work as cowboys. The other skeletons ARE present in other areas, but this mainly just focuses on Stretch and his growing relationship with Reader. Could be considered Farmtale inspired.

🥃Part 1: howdy.🍯

🐴Part 2: Going for a ride🏇

💚Nightmare/Multiverse Traveler!Reader✨

An endless(?) game of Cat and Mouse, where Nightmare chases Reader across the Multiverse in order to finally be with them. Mutual pining, we love to see it!!

🎭Part 1: Chasing🌌

🌺Part 2: Blooms. (Angst)🥀

🖤Bad Sanses Shenanigans🔪

A collection of scenarios with everybody's favorite villains.

🎃Pumpkin Carving! (was originally a part of a now cancelled Halloween writing challenge series.)🔪

☃️Snow Day! (Christmas Special)🌨

🛌Sleepover!💕

🛝i'm here. (Dust Comfort)💜

🔪"Knife" To Meet'cha (Killer/Reader #1)🍻

🌹Falling For Ya (Killer/Reader #2(?) ) 🌃

🔒Cornered (Dust/Reader) (Kinda steamy)💜

🌌Alone With You (Dust/Reader)💕

AmalgaMATE

A scenario where Reader is an amalgamate of several different Reader souls, and is hopelessly in love with Science/Classic? Sans.

🧪Part 1: me and the amalgamate i pulled by being a punny guy 🔒

🤍Part 2: Soulmates?!🤍

Standalone Oneshots

Oneshots that haven't been made into series yet/are intended to be by themselves.

☔️Chance Encounter (Dream/Reader)🚍

🎶Dream/Fem Reader (Requested)🌳

💌Messages + Confessions (Error/Reader)📄

🛍First Meeting (Fell Papyrus/Edge!/Fem Reader)🐾 (Requested)

🫧Into The Sea (Merman!Blue/Reader)🌊

☕Home (Cross/Reader)🏠 (Requested)

Star Sanses HQ Shenanigans(Star Sanses & Reader [Platonic]) (Requested)

Flirting With Death (Reaper/Immune!Reader) (Requested)

🎡Carnival Date (Classic!Papyrus/Reader) (Requested)🧣

😱Frightening New Friend (Horror!Papyrus & Reader)🎃 [Halloween Special]

🌊A Light In The Depths (Mer!Nightmare/Reader)🤿

😳Crushing (Cross x Swap Universe!Reader) (Requested)💜

🛞Immune (Siren!Nightmare/Reader)⛵

🩹(Platonic)Fell Sans & Reader Hurt/Comfort (Requested)❤️‍🩹

🌑Bittersweet (Flirty Vampire!Nightmare x Vampire Hunter!Reader)🗡️

My oneshot requests ARE OPEN if you would like to submit one, you can check out my rules post here! (You can send requests via Ask(Preferred) or here in the comments if you'd like.) Happy reading!

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iprobablyshipit91 · 2 years ago

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iprobablyshipit91 Fic Recs

So this started as me keeping links of all my favourite Dean Winchester fics that I finally decided to share so others could hopefully find some great stories and the authors would know how much I love their work. It’s kind of grown to a very, very huge list, but I love everyone of these works, they’re amazing and deserve so much love. I hope you find something you love on here 💕

There’s a mix of fluff, angst, smut, au etc. Please make sure you read the warnings for each story on it’s own page.

Beautiful Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Dean Winchester x Reader

Should I Stay or Should I Go by @daisythekitty

Sweet Dreams by @deanssweetheart23

Slip Up by @deanwritings

Bad Moon Rising by @hintsofhoney

Not the Planned Delivery by @lazydoodlesandfanfic

Unnamed by @lostdreamr-blog1

I’ve Got You by @spnexploration

Broken Ribs Against Fingertips by @the--blackdahlia

Motel Diablo by @waynes-multiverse

Sharing is Caring by @zepskies

Mini Date by @avanatural

The Talk by @avanatural

And Baby Makes Four by @carryonmywaywardone-shots

Nows the Time by @crashdevlin

Down on Dean by @deanwanddamons

The Prettiest One by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

Always You and Me by @deanwinchesterswitch

Bullets and Bands by @deanwinchesterswitch

Capeesh? By @deanwritings

I Ship It by @deanwritings

It’s Okay by @deanwritings

Safe Now by @deanwritings

What We Lost by @deanwritings

Tell Me About… by @impala-dreamer

Glances by @kasimagines

It’s Okay, I Love You by @kasimagines

Poison by @kasimagines

Obeying Temptation by @kittenofdoomage

Sweet Satisfaction by @kittenofdoomage

Nannas Love Sammy by @littlegreenplasticsoldier

Something New by @princessmisery666

Date Night by @princessmisery666

I Would Never Hurt You by @procrastinatorimagines

Frayed Ends by @scuttling

Must be Love on the Brain by @sleepywinchester

Below Freezing by @soaringeag1e

Promises by @supersleepygoat

Friendzoned by @talesmaniac89

Stupid Cupid by @talesmaniac89

Crazy on You by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Different by @watermelonlipstick

Labyrinth by @waynes-multiverse

Love on the Brain by @waynes-multiverse

Gesundheit by @waynes-multiverse

Dark Waters by @wearywinchester

Above Ground by @wearywinchester

I Won’t Say (I’m in Love) by @zepppie

The Wrong Winchester by @cherry3point14

Good Things by @crashdevlin

Baby Spoon by @deanwanddamons

Rumours by @deanwinchesterswitch

Blind Love by @jawritter

Faded by @kasimagines

Sacrifice by @kasimagines

The Last Call by @kasimagines

To Know You by @littlegreenplasticsoldier

Watch and Learn by @littlegreenplasticsoldier

Can’t Fight This Feeling by @pink-sparkly-witch

Mischief Managed (2) by @sinfulsoulx

A Few Moments of Madness | Last Time? by @smellingofpoetry

Familiar by @spnhunter4life

Dream On by @talesmaniac89

Well, Hello There Stranger by @talesmaniac89

If You Want it to Be by @zepskies

Midnight Espresso | Devour Me by @zepskies

Clear the Area by Alisha Ashton

Many of Horror by Alisha Ashton

Closing Walls and Ticking Clocks by Alisha Ashton

In the Dark by Alisha Ashton

Comfort by @fangirlingfromdownunder

Baby, We’ve got a Problem by @deanwritings

Night Falls by @deanwritings

Captives of the Court by @impala-dreamer

Carry On by @jawritter

My Saviour by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

Heart of a Hunter by @muchamusedaboutnothing

The Widow by @pink-sparkly-witch

The One That Got Away by @pink-sparkly-witch

Hold On I’m Coming by @ravengirl94

The Arrangement by @ravengirl94

Long Way Home by @supersleepygoat

Cross my Heart by @smol-and-grumpy

Home to You by @smol-and-grumpy

Collared by @spnexploration

Pack by @spnexploration

Limelight by @talesmaniac89

Charity Heist by @talesmaniac89

The Man in Apartment 43 by @talesmaniac89

Practically Magic by @thelibrarylesstrektraveled

Supernatural Series Rewrite: Season 1 by @waywardaardvark79

Supernatural Series Rewrite: Season 2 by @waywardaardvark79

Miscommunication by @winchest09

Don’t Say a Word by @winchester-girl67

Never Say Goodbye by @zepskies

#fic recs #Iprobablyshipit91 fic recs #Dean Winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean x you #dean winchester #please read these fics #you wont be disappointed #protective!dean winchester #alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader #dean winchester saves you #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn

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hard-core-super-star · 1 year ago

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searching for redemption [K.Bishop]

pairing: switch!kate bishop x bottom!reader x top!kate bishop

summary: a multiversal anomaly grants you and your girlfriend the opportunity to explore some of your more...intense desires.

warnings: pure smut -> minors, don't you dare interact with this [selfcest + threesome; kinda dubcon at the beginning 'cause R doesn't know it's another version of kate; slight degradation/humiliation [other kate is mean but in a good way]; strap-on sex [kate receiving]; cunnilingus [R receiving]; both kates are technically service tops but shhh; there's an element of tease and denial but it's sort of a background thing]

wordcount: 3.4k

a/n: this is quite literally the filthiest thing i've ever written so proceed with caution. this is a request/lowkey commission from a very lovely anonymous person so shoutout to them for all their ideas. i'm definitely not going to drop a link to my buy me a coffee for anyone else who might be interested. anyways, thank you for your support, i'll go back to writing pure fluff soon...maybe, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

You should've known something was different about your girlfriend the second she stepped foot in your shared apartment.

She had left early in the morning, mumbling something about Yelena and how the blonde was insistent on forcing her to have an actual training routine. Your complaints about it had been swallowed up by your exhaustion so the brunette was forced to leave since she couldn't come up with any excuses not to.

Needless to say, your day had been boring so, the second you heard the front door open, your mind was filled with the excitement of your girlfriend being back home. Excitement that didn't let you focus on the way Kate slammed the door shut behind her or the mumbled string of curses that followed.

“Well, what do we have here?”

The sound of her voice makes you smile and you turn to look at her over your shoulder. “Thought I would surprise my girlfriend with her favorite food. I would’ve gotten pizza but you always end up giving all your slices to Lucky.”

You catch the small roll of her eyes before you turn your attention back to the stove, turning off the flame before Kate distracts you and you burn the boxed macaroni…again.

She doesn’t reply immediately but you write it off as her being tired and nothing else. Until she speaks up again in a tone you’re not used to hearing from her.

“Fuck. You're perfect.”

“Is that you or your stomach talking?”

“Neither.”

You're about to ask her what she means when she crosses the space between you. Her hands grip your waist, pulling you backward until you collide with her body. The food you had been preparing gets forgotten the second you feel a certain hardness rubbing against your ass.

“You missed me that much?” You tease.

You’re expecting one of her usual responses. Maybe a whine or a witty comment or a barrage of kisses across your shoulders.

You don’t get any of that, though.

Instead, you get her calloused hands groping at your chest through the fabric of the worn-out band tee you stole from her closet. “Don’t be a brat, baby.”

The words are something you've only ever heard as a joke, a playful jab that never lands since you both know Kate’s the real brat. But today, they slip out of her mouth without a second thought as if she’s said them, and meant them, a thousand times before.

“Says the one ignoring my fantastic cooking skills.” You push back against her hips, expertly grinding against the strap-on hidden inside her pants and earning yourself a groan from her parted lips.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be complaining,” she mumbles.

Her hands leave your waist and all at once, she’s turning you around and pushing you up against the kitchen counter. You attempt to tease her again but she’s far quicker than you are.

She instantly leans in to capture your lips in a borderline desperate kiss as her hands explore your waist. You're no stranger to Kate's arousal-filled desperation, and you can't judge her since you're the same way sometimes, but there's something different about it.

Some underlying darkness that you can't quite place.

“Kate-” You attempt to pull away but she doesn't let you get far.

She ignores your half-formed moan, choosing instead to deepen the kiss while she hooks one of your legs over her hip to erase the already non-existent space left between your bodies. Her actions are unexpected but they only serve to fuel the gathering arousal in your underwear.

You’re too caught up in the feelings she creates inside you to hear the sound of the door opening again…until you hear a very familiar voice.

“What the fuck?”

You jump away from the archer only to find yourself staring at Kate.

Well, two Kates.

You briefly wonder if you’re dreaming but the remnants of Kate’s hands on your body feel far too real for any of this to be a dream. Which means you’re staring at not one but two versions of your girlfriend.

Versions that seem to be engaged in a very serious staring contest.

“Is this another one of Wanda’s little tricks?” The difference in her tone of voice is suddenly obvious. “‘Cause it wasn’t funny the first time.”

“What? No. I’m me…and you’re me…and you’re hot?” The way the brunette stumbles over her words confirms your suspicions.

You’ve been making out with another version of your girlfriend.

And you can’t find it in yourself to be too upset about it.

Clearly, this other version Kate doesn’t mind either. She steps away from you, her arms crossed and a single eyebrow raised. “Why do you sound so surprised? Have you never looked at yourself in the mirror?”

Kate’s eyes widen and you can make out the soft pink hue that spreads across her face. Her hands are balled into fists at her side, almost as if she’s ready to defend you from this other version of herself. “y/n?”

You know what she’s actually asking of you but you can’t stop yourself from adding fuel to the fire. “Well, you are hot.”

Your girlfriend stares at you like a fish out of water while her other self bursts out laughing. It should be weird and yet you find yourself smiling as if the fabric of the universe didn’t somehow rip to create this moment.

“See? This is why I love her.”

Kate’s flustered and slightly nonchalant attitude disappears instantly. “Hey, she’s my girlfriend.”

Her possessive nature can’t be stopped, not even when her only competition is literally herself.

“Excuse me, your girlfriend was enjoying everything I was doing.”

Her comment leaves you breathless and, unfortunately for all of you, your girlfriend knows exactly what that reaction means. It means the other Kate isn’t wrong. And the knowledge instantly sparks a reaction in your archer.

“Shut the fuck up.” She shoves the other version of herself and while the act isn’t technically aggressive, it prompts the other archer to respond the same way.

Their shoves turn into a, somewhat pathetic, attempt at fighting with each other. They’re somehow the exact same person which means every punch is anticipated and blocked accordingly, leaving them both to stumble toward the nearest wall while they try to outwit each other with increasingly illogical insults.

The sight is more entertaining than strange and your next words fly out of you far too fast to be stopped. “You guys should just kiss and make up, it’ll be faster.”

The smirk you receive in response gives you a clear idea of which Kate is currently being held against the wall. “I told you she was into it.”

Your archer reluctantly lets go of the other one, turning around to look at you, a weird mix of surprise and longing in her eyes. “You think we should…what?”

“I’m just saying,” you reply with a shrug. “What’s the use of fighting with yourself anyway?”

Kate stares at you, mouth agape, while her variant shoots you a wink over your girlfriend’s shoulder. It shouldn’t be hot but you learned a long time ago not to question the things you find attractive about the archer.

“Come on, you can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

“Thought about what?” Those eyes you love so much leave you as she waits for a response from her double.

“Kissing yourself.”

You have to fight against yourself not to laugh at the look that crosses your girlfriend’s face. “Excuse me?”

“Is she always this stubborn?” Kate rolls her eyes before pushing herself off the wall and approaching you again. The way she moves tells you there's a plan hiding inside her mind and you already know you’ll go along with whatever she wants.

“Don’t you already know the answer?” You reply, accepting the hand she holds out for you and jumping down from the counter. “You’re the same person.”

“Right again, darling.”

Your girlfriend’s intake of breath reaches your ears right as her variant pulls you in close. What you’re doing borders on insanity but you don’t care. Some experiences are worth losing your mind over.

She wordlessly checks in with you and the second you nod, her hands tangle in your hair and pull you into until there’s no space left between your lips. You know you should feel weird about what you're doing, maybe even a little guilty, but it’s impossible to deny the connection that runs between you, even if you’re different versions of the person the other one loves.

You almost expect your Kate to voice her displeasure and kick her variant out. But of course, that doesn’t happen. Because no one in this room can’t say they’re not more than a little curious to see where things go. To see how far they can go.

Kate pulls away from you, her lips pulled together somewhere between a giddy grin and a knowing smirk. It’s striking how different she seems to be despite being the archer you know and love. “Glad to see we’re on the same page, baby.”

“y/n?” The archer’s voice is barely audible over the pounding in your chest. “I…do you…is this what you want?”

You meet her eyes, both of you searching the other for any signs of discomfort. The only thing you find though are the very obvious signs of your girlfriend’s growing arousal. So, you nod. “Yeah. If you’re okay with it.”

“I…I mean, yeah. I think I am.”

“That was fast,” Kate’s variant teases. “Did watching me make out with your girlfriend turn you on that much?”

The answer is more than clear but the slight catch of her breath gives her away far too quickly. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

A few seconds of tense silence go by before you all collectively spring into action. It’s, admittedly, a mess of hands and lips but the three of you make it into the bedroom together. You lose track of who’s who until a pair of rough hands push you down onto the mattress.

Kate attempts to follow after you but her double stops her before she can get too far. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I, uh-” You watch as your girlfriend does her best to pull herself together. “Where do you think?”

“Nice try.” She pulls Kate against her body and you’re given a front row seat to the subtle expressions of pleasure your archer tries to hide. “You’re not going anywhere yet though. We have to give your girlfriend a good show.”

You have a pretty good idea of what she means and yet nothing could have prepared you for the real thing.

Your thighs instantly clench together while you watch the other Kate’s hands trail underneath your girlfriend’s shirt. The fabric in the way stops you from seeing much but your girlfriend’s body and the feeling of her skin in your hands is forever ingrained into your brain.

“What-” Her words get caught in her throat and all that comes out instead is a breathy moan.

“Do you ever stop talking?” The variant’s words slip out in between groans, her hips sliding back and forth against Kate’s ass. “Just let yourself feel good, I know what you want.”

You watch, entranced, as Kate’s lips trail a path down your archer’s neck, slowly coaxing her tense shoulders into relaxing as her head tilts back. “You…are way too sure of yourself.”

It’s impossible not to laugh at her words, mainly because you’ve said them at least a hundred times and she never believes you. Your amusement is shared by the other archer and she shoots you a small smile. “Maybe…but I’ll bet anything you’re already dripping for me.”

The words aren’t technically meant for you but your moan tangles with Kate’s. In all honesty, you’ve been dripping since your little makeout session in the kitchen and your clit throbs so hard, you’re sure a mere gust of wind would be enough to make you cum. It really would be so easy to slip your hand-

“No touching, sweetheart. Be a good girl and wait for us.”

The thought of having to wait more than a few seconds is unbearable but there’s no way you’ll disobey this dominant version of your girlfriend. You’ve always had your suspicions that Kate holds back her rougher side around you and this, strange and unexpected, meeting merely confirms your thoughts.

You’re tempted to beg just to see what reaction you’ll get out of both of them.

Instead, you groan and position your hands above your head, gripping the pillow hard enough to leave nail marks in the fabric.

Your own struggle leaves you unaware of the storm brewing inside your girlfriend. A storm full of unspoken desires and a need to get her hands on something.

The position she’s in makes it hard for her to even attempt to fight for control but she tries anyway. Hesitant hands reach out behind her to blindly run her fingers across whatever skin she can find.

“I told you it would feel good.” Her other self murmurs against the flushed skin of her neck. “I know everything you like. I know all the spots that drive you wild.”

“Please.”

Your girlfriend’s slightly whiny voice forces you to focus again. Unfortunately, the sight you focus on merely serves to drive you further toward the edge of desperation. “God, will you just hurry up and fuck each other already?”

Your words make both versions of the archer halt their movements.

Two pairs of wide eyes stare you down but while one looks flustered enough to turn into a puddle on the floor, the other one regards you as if you're her next meal. It's dizzying and pleasurable all at the same time and you know the squirming of your legs gives you away instantly.

“I see you still haven't tamed your brat.” Kate rolls her eyes but there's far too much excitement on her face for the action to be believable. “Too bad I can't deny her anything.”

Time somehow slows down and speeds up at the same time.

You're still left neglected on the bed but the two brunettes finally start removing the many obstacles in the way. Your girlfriend gets turned around easily and you're barely able to keep yourself together when she works up enough courage to kiss the other version of herself.

Surprisingly steady hands reach out to tear away at shirts and clumsily pull at pants.

It feels like both an eternity and a second until they're both standing naked in front of you and you're panting just from the sight of them. Your patience is finally rewarded when your girlfriend climbs on top of you, hushed murmurs of how perfect you are getting lost as her hands explore your desperate skin.

“Kate,” you moan, your hands reaching out for her.

“I know, baby, I'm getting there.” There's the slightest hint of a tease in her tone but it comes more serious than you've ever heard it from her. You don't know what being physical with a variant of herself has done to your girlfriend but you don't really care as long as she’ll finally give you what you want.

What you want comes in the form of four hands pushing and pulling at your clothes until you're left vulnerable under both of them.

The sight of your drenched folds makes them both groan but it's your archer who moves first. “Fuck, y/n, you look so good like this. All mine to play with.”

The more dominant of the two merely smirks, content to watch while Kate trails a path of kisses down your body.

“Please.” This time, you're the one who begs and your hands instinctively wrap around the archer’s as she holds your legs open.

She doesn't say anything in response, she merely leans in and lets her mouth explore your wetness. There's nothing new about her motions but there's a certain confidence behind them that you've never seen before.

Your girlfriend, usually slow and gentle, instantly attaches herself to your swollen clit, her tongue flicking relentlessly against your sensitive bud.

You're too lost in your own pleasure to notice the movements of her variant…until you literally feel Kate moan into your cunt.

It's hard for your eyes to focus but once they do, you're left bucking your hips up and clenching around nothing. You watch through wide eyes as Kate’s variant thrusts into her soaked pussy, strong hands gripping her hips while she fucks her at an equally relentless pace.

Holding your head up is a challenge but you manage, unwilling to look away from such a tantalizing sight.

You whine when Kate’s lips detach from your clit and it takes no time for her other self to grip onto her hair and push her face down into your cunt. “Fuck her like you mean it, Katie.”

Whatever response your girlfriend had fades away as you messily grind against her face. She wastes no time in giving you what you need, her grip tightening in an attempt to keep you still.

There's no way for any of you to stop yourself from squirming and grinding into each other in some way and the room quickly falls into a continued chorus of grunts and moans.

You can hear the sound of the other archer’s voice but you're too far gone to make out the words she says.

Kate isn't though and the mix between being praised and degraded makes her clench around the strap buried deep inside of herself. Which only prompts more humiliatingly pleasurable words from lips that are basically identical to her own.

“Fuck, this is what you needed, isn't it? To be fucked so good you're forced to give in to all those nasty thoughts in your head? It feels so good, doesn't it, Kate?”

Hearing her own name in her own voice while she's being pounded into by herself feels far too good not to admit it. And the sounds of pleasure that escape her lips push you right over the edge almost instantly.

“Kate!” The archer’s name is the only warning you can give before you slam head-first into an earth-shattering orgasm.

“Fuck-” Both Kates respond at the same time as they're both pushed over the edge by different things.

Your girlfriend falls apart the second she feels your release soak her chin and the sight of both of you completely fucked out beneath her causes her variant to crash into her own orgasm.

You're sure you blackout for a few bliss-filled moments and when you open your eyes again, you're greeted with the sight of your girlfriend sprawled out on top of you, her heavy pants lightly tickling your skin.

You turn your head to the side and find her variant, panting just as heavily beside you, her hand clutching yours, the toy covered in your girlfriend’s release still attached to her hips.

You're in the middle of forming a plan to get your hands on her when she speaks up. “That was…wow.”

The sound of her voice makes your archer lift her face from your chest, a wide grin on her face. “You can say that again.”

You hate how well you know her because her features give away the words she’s not willing to say. “You want to leave, don't you?”

Your voice is a hoarse whisper after all the loud moaning you've done but they both hear you. There's a beat of silence, two sets of eyebrows furrowing, and then your answer.

“Yeah…I just…I don't know how I got here but I need to get back home. To you…my version of you.”

She looks genuinely apologetic and you would laugh if you weren't so tired. “I get it. As amazing as this was, this isn't your home.”

“But feel free to come back anytime,” Kate says, completing the other half of your thoughts. “You, uh, taught us a lot.”

“Mmm, did she? I think we already knew you were full of yourself.”

“Yeah, but she made it literal.”

Your girlfriend gets a chuckle out of both you and her variant but it's not enough of a reward for her.

It happens in the blink of an eye but suddenly Kate is sitting up and pulling her other self into a rough kiss, her hands tangled in her hair and her teeth nipping at her bottom lip.

The sight is somehow more attractive than the first time and all three of you are left breathless once they pull away. Giving Kate the satisfaction she was looking for.

Her variant leaves, once she manages to pull herself together again, and you and Kate, your Kate, stay in bed for a while. There's an unspoken understanding about what she's discovered about herself but she finally speaks up after a while.

“So…do you think we can try bondage next?”

“Yeah. I honestly always thought you were a little vanilla in bed.”

Your response earns you a glare…and an overachieving archer who goes above and beyond to show you how wrong you truly are.

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links-crosses-multiverse · 6 months ago

Text

I finally Made my decision about making a Comic...

This Comic will be called:

"Link's Crosses Multiverse"

There will be a Light Chain and a Dark Chain.

I already Made a Cover for it...

It will Take a while for the First Part to come Out...

I got Inspired to make my own Comic by

@linkeduniverse

@linked-maze

@zelda-the-sacred-realm

@recalled11

@limited-hero

@bonus-links

Please leave them a follow they deserve it...

Here is Proof That I did the Cover!

Time: 5h 26min

App: ibispaint X

Light Chain

Wind

Time

Twilight

Tracks

Minish

Four

Mask

Worlds

Sky

Hyrule

Legend

Wild

Warriors

Void

Dark Chain

Sora

(There will come more of the dark Chain)

#new comic series #cover art #link's Crosses Multiverse #the legend of zelda #light concepts #dark concepts

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huh-1260 · 23 days ago

Text

This @links-crosses-multiverse Gremlin Sky!

I kinda simplified the design, and I did choose make fanart of their Sky non gremlin'd but I wasn't satisfied with it, so I'm going to digitize the one I finally liked when I drew him, I hope I it done

#lcm sky #Links crosses multiverse #gremlin sky #Another variant of the gremlin #:D #Sorry this took so long I wasn't sure where to start #I hope you love your gremlin!

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moog-rt · 6 months ago

Text

ɪɴ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ [ch.2]

[Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader]

Beginning: Prologue

Previous: Chapter One

➨ Chapter Two

Next: Chapter Three

Premise:

The multiverse theory is the idea that there is not only one universe but, instead, an infinite number of universes, parallel to one another.

You and Tenko were heroes in your universe. The war came and went, and that left only you. When you are thrown into a universe parallel to yours, you find out the hard way just how similar and different it is from your own.

♡

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

CHAPTER TWO

The stranger’s striking red eyes narrowed as he hesitantly took the bag from you. It was hard to see behind the hair covering his face, but you noticed the skin around his eyes seemed dry and irritated. It was obvious he had been scratching at it, as well.

You were looking at him for too long, and once you realized it, you shuffled backward. A glance at the person to his side revealed a middle-aged woman slightly taller than you with straight black hair and bangs cut across her forehead. Her outfit led you to believe she worked some sort of office job, very put together in contrast to the man’s grungy, all-black look.

The two of them were an odd duo but pretty ordinary otherwise.

So why did it feel like you had a pit in your stomach when you looked at them?

It took you a moment to notice the expression on the woman’s face, wide-eyed like she’d seen a ghost. She could only take a single shaky step towards you before the man moved in front of her, forcing your focus to return to him. You had to admit, he had a bit of an unsettling energy around him, characteristic of a villain. But you had picked up his receipt, and the list appeared long enough to cover everything he was carrying.

“Thanks,” he mumbled in such a gravelly tone that you could barely recognize it as a word. He turned and walked away, but the woman stayed frozen for a moment until her eyes flickered over to her companion. Her eyebrows pressed together, and she reluctantly followed.

You couldn’t pull your eyes away as you watched them make their way down the block and around the corner. Something was urging you to go after them, like a tether wrapped around your torso, tugging you forward. Intuition was such a fickle thing, and, after leading you astray enough times, you found it hard to trust.

You were about to turn on your heel and walk back to the station when you noticed a couple of bottles of water and a bag of chips still scattered on the ground. Picking them up, you trotted after the duo in hopes of catching them in time to return the forgotten items, but, when you peered around the corner, they were gone. The sidewalk was almost entirely empty, save for an older man who seemed to be fiddling with his smart phone.

With a heavy sigh, you walked back to the convenience store and left the belongings with the cashier in case the two came back for them. As you began your trek back to the station, you were going to send another report through your communicator before noticing the screen’s display. You frowned.

‘Server Error’

Quickly, you made a call to your agency using your cellphone, feeling you may have better luck that way. Your fingers were crossed as you waited to be directed to the automated message that would filter calls to their appropriate responders. There was a moment of silence and then a flat hum was all you could hear.

Your eyebrows pinched together.

Something was wrong.

Assuming the worst, you cancelled your plans to check in with the officers at the station and instead made a b-line for the agency. The only reason the phone line wouldn’t work would be due to outside interference. You could remember it happening once before when there was a group of villains attacking the building. It wasn’t outrageous to suspect that Dai Uchuu could have headed in that direction and initiated an assault on your colleagues.

Your legs were starting to ache from all the running you were doing, and you were sure they were relieved when you finally skidded to a halt in front of your agency—

Well, what should have been your agency.

Instead, you found yourself looking up at an old warehouse that seemed like it could collapse any second. You were certain you were at the right address. You knew this part of the city like the back of your hand.

So what the fuck was going on?

What do you do in this situation? Who do you call?

The cops were already busy handling that goon who was on the loose, so you figured they were out of the question. He couldn’t have teleported your entire building and swapped it with another one, could he? Everybody’s quirks had their limits.

Maybe…

Maybe you were just tired. Maybe you got the addresses mixed up after all, took a turn one block too early.

Maybe you just needed to go home and go to sleep. Too many nights of sleep deprivation can fog the brain, and you wouldn’t be surprised if that was the cause of your confusion.

Yeah…it was probably best if you just went home. You reported what you could, the police were on the case, and if they needed backup, there were countless other agencies for them to reach out to.

You were calling it a night.

As you slowly made your way back home, you were pretty sure you passed the same old man you’d seen by the convenience store earlier. Your eyes met, so you gave him a courteous smile. He grinned impossibly wide in response, causing your expression to falter. You walked past each other without further exchange.

Just when you thought the night couldn’t get any stranger, you found that your apartment building had vanished, as well. An empty gravel lot filled the space where it should have been, accessorized by two small signs. One announcing that the land was recently sold, and the other advertised the planned construction of a new apartment building.

Your apartment building. As if it hadn’t yet been built…

You were so tired, so tired and so confused and so frustrated you felt like you were going to break down into tears. Your heart was pounding. Your hands were trembling. And you could feel a tension headache pressing harshly against your temples.

You had no clue what you were supposed to do in this sort of scenario. It had gotten fairly late, and you needed someplace to stay. You knew she would be busy, but calling Toga was the best idea you could come up with at that moment.

You clicked on her contact and held your phone to your ear. Just as it began ringing through, the ringtone of someone else’s phone sounded off not twenty feet away from you. Having not noticed anyone around, you were mildly startled and glanced over at the source.

Your body stiffened when you saw the same old man you’d passed earlier, the same one that was nearby the convenience store. He fumbled with his phone for a moment and studied the screen. His eyes widened when he noticed your gaze honed on him. He slowly turned his phone off and slipped it back in his pocket before beginning to walk towards you.

To hell with it all.

You barely registered you were sent to voicemail as you whipped around to start hauling ass down the street. You were going to find whatever hotel or motel or bed and breakfast was closest and hunker down there for the night. Everything else could be sorted out in the morning.

If you remembered correctly, there should be a pretty nice hotel only a few streets down. You felt like kissing the ground when, finally , there was a building exactly where it should be. You’d never been actually been inside, but the familiar entrance was a sight for sore eyes. As you walked inside, the warm glow of countless lamps and chandeliers worked to soothe and dispel all the stress that had been building up within you.

Your shoulders went slack, and you dragged a hand across your face while making your way up to the front desk. Both receptionists were busy with customers, and there was one other person still waiting to be helped, so you took your place behind them.

It was a pretty stereotypical hotel. There was a small gift shop that doubled as a convenience store for the sorry souls who forgot a toiletry or two at home. There was also a common area with a large TV for folks to lounge and keep up with the news.

At the moment, they were reporting on the Overhaul raid that you helped with a few years back. It was pretty old news, so you weren’t sure why it was being brought up again unless there was new information pertaining to the incident. Perhaps it was due to the villain you were after since he was an asset to the gang during that fight. Your eyes squinted as you read the headline crossing the screen.

‘One week since Overhaul’s arrest’

You had barely any time to process what all that statement entailed before one of the receptionists called you forward. You booked your room and handed over your ID and credit card while throwing occasional glances back at the flatscreen. You thanked the receptionist after he handed you the keycard to your room and turned your back on the TV.

Overhaul was in detainment. If he’d gotten out, you certainly would have heard about it. Especially if a whole week had passed. They were likely replaying an old broadcast at the request of a customer, and if that wasn’t the case, it was a problem for tomorrow.

As soon as you’d gotten to your room and your head hit the pillow, you were out.

♡

You’d think after getting a full night’s rest you’d be able to get a good grasp on what was going on. However, the scowl on your face grew more and more prominent with each t-shirt you flipped through. Frankly, you were offended that the hotel you lived so close to for the past year sold clothing that donned some of the most notorious villains you knew.

The owners themselves must have rooted for them during the war. That was the only thing that made sense. It was either that or they had a really sick sense of humor.

Who in their right mind would sell merchandise for villains? Especially out in the open?

Seeing as you didn’t want to be walking around town in your soaked hero suit all day, you would have to make a decision sooner or later. Pick the lesser of…way more than two evils. You didn’t bother sparing a glance at one you recognized immediately as All Might.

That guy could pound sand. He was certainly one of the worst villains you had to face. He and his little protege were the whole reason there was a war in the first place. They were the reason your life was as fucked up as it was.

Maybe you’d buy it just to desecrate it in whatever way you could. It could serve as therapy!

You pulled a shirt and a pair of inoffensive shorts from the rack and checked out at the counter. The cashier gave you a weird glance, avoiding direct eye contact with you much like many of the other hotel-goers. You weren’t sure if it was because you were in full hero garb or because your clothing was soaked to the bone.

Either way, you couldn’t wait to get into something dry. Wiggling into your tight, wet suit this morning was one of the most skin crawling sensations you’ve experienced. You did, however, blow dry the shit out of your bra and underwear. It was less tedious than doing your entire suit, and you weren’t about to go commando top and bottom for the whole day.

After changing, you officially started your day with the complimentary breakfast buffet the hotel offered. As you ate, you had only that massive flatscreen to entertain you, so you followed along to whatever the news was reporting on. A half an hour of that left you recognizing an odd pattern.

Every ‘hero’ you’d see was supposed to be a villain, and for some godforsaken reason, they were working towards the arrests of people you knew to be true heroes. How they managed to brainwash all of society—or at least that particular news station—you had no clue. Maybe you really were just staying in some pro-villain hotel that played propaganda to please their pro-villain occupants.

That was what you wanted to believe.

However, that wouldn’t explain why your agency and apartment building were AWOL. A single, pro-villain hotel wouldn’t cause all of the police at the station to reappear out of nowhere—which you were embarrassed to admit you hadn’t even noticed at first—or the sudden change in weather. There was no way to explain why there wasn’t even a hint of rainwater left on the sidewalk last night even though there had been a downpour not five minutes earlier.

It was as if you were on another planet. It was similar enough for you the recognize, but everything was so wrong.

Oh—

And the icing on the cake?

Apparently, you went back in time roughly three years. At least that’s what the dates on the news suggested. They also implied that you were nearing the end of summer when you knew for a fact that spring had only just sprung.

So, again, you wanted to believe that the hotel you were staying at was the cause for all of your confusion. However, you knew damn well that wasn’t the reason why everything was screwed up and backwards.

It wasn’t like you could just turn around and ignore the situation that had unfolded all around you, so you opted into delving deeper into the chaos. If you wanted to understand what was going on, you’d have to do some digging into what the new ‘status quo’ was.

How many villains were now considered heroes and vice versa?

You began by searching for the first thing that caught your eye since arriving at the hotel, Chisaki Kai’s arrest. One of the first articles you selected saved you some time by answering a few of your burning questions. You didn’t have to read very far before you were introduced to a prominent villain organization. It was like the universe wanted to rub it in your face that nearly all the people who had worked alongside you for years were no longer considered the heroes.

Skimming over the rest of the article confirmed more of what you suspected. The villains you remembered fighting when infiltrating the yakuza’s hideout played the roles of heroes instead.

Your next search was ‘the League of Villains.’

There were several public databases that listed all of the members’ names, quirks, photos, and any other information gathered on them. Your frown deepened as you scrolled through one of them. You recognized your old friends immediately. Toga looked like she was back in high school, but the uniform she was wearing didn’t belong to UA. Spinner’s outfit was also the only thing really different about him.

Touya, though…

Touya looked so different, you couldn’t tell it was him at first. His hair was no longer white and fluffy, and the horrifically burned skin that hung onto his face by a handful of staples was a new addition. At least his eyes were the same. The only reason you didn’t scroll past him was because his quirk was listed beneath his name—a name which did nothing to help you identify him.

Dabi.

Not once had you ever heard him be referred to as that.

You paused once got to Magne. Within the extra information on her profile was a statement proclaiming her deceased. You shouldn’t have been terribly surprised to read that. You knew Magne was killed in an altercation with Chisaki. Though her role in society was different, it seemed her fate remained the same.

However, your heart grew light as you read the information under Jin. He was alive. It made sense considering the war was still on the horizon at this point, so you shouldn’t have gotten as excited as you did. But it was years since you last saw him. You scrolled back up to revisit Touya’s profile to see he hadn’t died yet either.

If they were both still alive and well, that would mean that Tenko…

You flew down the rest of the list to find him. You completely scrolled past Astuhiro and Muscular and that mustard gas kid that ended up flunking out of his internship. You didn’t even spare a glance at profiles containing people you didn’t recognize. You reached the end of the page, but there was nothing on Shimura Tenko.

But just below some guy with a mop of light blue hair was a profile that you were certain belonged to you . You were listed under your hero name instead of your real one, and your quirk was also described to a T. Your age was estimated, but it was pretty close, and, in the photo they had of you, your face was almost entirely obscured by a mask.

Out of pure curiosity, you looked up your name next. The very first result made your hair stand on end. It wasn’t a link to another article, but a picture. In this one, your face was clear as day, but what caused you concern were the bold red letters above your head, spelling out ‘MISSING.’

A frenzied few minutes of scanning article after article on your apparent disappearance gained you only a minimal amount of information. The most notable was that the last time you were seen was just before Chisaki’s hideout was infiltrated. You could recall you were pretty messed up from that fight after one of the yakuza members nearly killed you with a moving pillar.

This time around, however, no hospitals reported taking you in as a patient. It was entirely possible that—if you were a ‘villain’—you were taken to one of the underground medical facilities instead. Hospitals that helped criminals and kept it confidential were far and few between, but it was no secret that they existed.

That was your best guess as to where this version of you could be. That fight had rendered you bedridden for weeks, so the timing added up.

With that somewhat squared away, the last thing you looked up was Tenko. According to everything else you’d seen, he should still be alive, but the results of your search proved you to be quite wrong in that assessment.

They all dated back 18 years—well 15 years if you were going off the date circled on the receptionist’s calendar—and reported on a ‘terrible accident’ that resulted in the death of the entire Shimura household. Officials believed it to be due to a villain attack, but there was no hard proof of anything due to the nature of the incident.

Everything you read made your blood run cold and your heart felt as though it was being constricted. They had invited you to countless family dinners and holidays. Their house was still standing, you knew that for a fact. There was no way they could all be dead.

That never happened. Those articles were bullshit. Everything you’ve seen in the last 24 hours was bullshit .

You didn’t know why everything was so backwards and messed up, but you knew that none of it was real. You were experiencing some sort of delusion, likely caused by that villain you got caught up with last night. Having more than one quirk was rare, but everything started going wrong after your brief altercation.

You had no clue how long your situation would last, but your best bet was to find him and make him put an end to it. You figured it could be a while until everything went back to normal considering you had no idea as to where he could be. When pursuing a villain with a quirk like his, you needed to be prepared to play the long game.

Your dishes nearly clattered to the ground as you haphazardly bussed your table.

It was time for a day out on the town. The last time you went on a shopping spree had to be when you were moving into your apartment a year ago, and that was only because you had to get the ‘necessities’ for basic living. Silverware, shower curtains, and what have you. It was mostly due to lack of energy and motivation that you shut yourself away with the same pair of sweats until you wore holes in the thighs.

With confusion and panic rattling around your head, the adrenaline was fueling you into productivity. Even if it didn’t last the whole day, it could at least get you to the shopping district. You needed an outfit or two that didn’t have you repping a guy who felt no remorse for blowing out people’s eardrums.

A toothbrush and toothpaste would also be nice.

The commute was shorter than you expected, but you weren’t complaining. After you got everything you needed, you planned on connecting with any hero agencies that weren’t villains in disguise. Your fingers were crossed at least one or two of those still existed. If all else failed, you’d call the cops or something.

As you walked out of the train station, you checked your bank app to see what kind of price limit you’d need to put on yourself for the day. You were a successful hero, but your industry didn’t have the funding like it used to. Even though your pay wasn’t bad, you still needed to be on top of budgeting.

You felt your stomach twist from the surprisingly small number looking back at you. Your checking account was at a fraction of what it should be. There was no way you spent that much since your last paycheck. Sure, you ordered a lot of delivery, but that could hardly break the bank. You checked your transactions to find your hotel room deposit had already processed along with several other purchases you couldn’t recall making.

On top of everything else that was happening, of course your bank account would get hacked. You probably swiped your card through one of those tapped readers, and now some basement dweller was going to town with your money.

You suppressed a heaving groan as you put away your phone and changed your first stop to the ATM machine that was conveniently down the block. Whoever was using your money should only have access to your checking account. However, when you went to transfer money over to withdraw as cash, you noticed your savings was also significantly depleted. You groaned and took out as much money as you could, leaving nothing left for the freeloader.

The shopping district was bustling with people, some shoving past each other around to get where they needed to go while others wandered aimlessly as they window shopped. The thought of fighting your way through a crowd was enough to sap away a good bit of your energy. Yet you still had enough to dive your way into the pool of people.

Instant regret.

You were jostled around like pinball as you pushed forward, cursing at every elbow and shoulder that jabbed into you. As long as you could make it to even one clothing store, you would be satisfied. Once you bought what you needed, you’d run for the hills.

A rough hand wrapped around your neck just when you thought you’d found a way through. It held you in place, frozen as people swarmed around you. Instinctually, your hands flew up to grasp at it and pull yourself free, but it only tightened as a result. You winced as you attempted to look over your shoulder to see who your assailant was with no success.

“Stay quiet or I won’t think twice about killing you,” the person growled, his words hot against your ear. His thumb dragged up your throat until it met the edge of your jaw. “I suggest the next time you steal someone’s identity you should at least have a basic understanding of their ideals.”

Your stomach lurched at the sound of the man’s voice. It was both familiar and foreign.

“What are you talking about?” you asked in a harsh breath. Again, you tried to look back at the man, but his hand tightened around your throat to hold your head in place.

“Don’t be stupid. She wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a garbage t-shirt like that,” he hissed. His face was so close you could feel your hair shift as he spoke.

You looked around, trying to catch the eye of any passerby, but no one spared a glance at you. They just shifted around you and went on with their business.

For a hero, you weren’t a big fighter. Your quirk had more strategic uses, none of which helped much with physical altercations. If anything, it was best used for defense. In the scenario you were currently stuck in, it would be minimal help. Freezing the clothing of the man behind you would further trap you in his grasp.

“I mean, it wasn’t my first choice, but I didn’t have many options,” you strained out. If you couldn’t wiggle your way out of this ordeal, you’d have to rely on whatever charisma you had left in you. “It beats me why a place would sell clothes that rep some of the worst people in today’s society.”

“Are you trying to be convincing?” He put pressure on the back of your neck, forcing you to start moving forward. “You didn’t even recognize me last night. It only takes the bare minimum amount of research to at least get that right.”

Last night?

You ran into a bunch of people. You couldn’t be certain which one he was.

“I was a bit preoccupied last night. Maybe if you actually let me see you, I’d know who you were—”

He twisted your head around to face him.

You weren’t expecting him to be the young man from the convenience store. The woman he was with had behaved strangely, but he didn’t seem to think twice about you from what you could recall.

You scoured your brain for any hint of where you would know him from. Once again, he was wearing a mask to obscure his face. His complexion was unfamiliar, but…

His voice.

You knew his voice from somewhere. You knew it right away, but you couldn’t put your finger on where it was from. Your eyes bore into his as if they would tell you.

The corner of your lips fell along with your heart. You wished you could say you found your answer, but that would contradict all the articles you read.

His voice was raspier than you remember, as if he was sick, and the skin condition around his eyes took over a larger portion of his face. Despite that, it was undeniably him.

“Tenko?” you whispered, leaning closer to him as his grip around your neck became noticeably weaker.

His eyes went wide as his head jerked back slightly. “How—”

“Oh my god.” Your throat grew tight of your own accord. You swiped at your eyes as your vision began to blur.

Were you really seeing clearly?

Was any of this even real?

You didn’t care. If all of this was a build up to a dream, you hoped it would last forever.

“Oh my god,” you cried. He stumbled back as you threw yourself against him. You wrapped your arms around his torso and pressed your face into his neck. You clung to him like your life depended on it. It felt too real to be a dream.

His body was stiff as he looked down at you, alarmed. “What are you—”

“How are you here?” you choked out before leaning back to look at him. “How are you here ?!”

He glanced around at the people who had begun staring at the two of you. Grabbing a fistful of your shirt, he hauled you out of the crowd.

You pushed away from him, taking several steps back. Your hands dragged up your face and through your hair as your eyes darted around your surroundings. Hot tears were streaking down your cheeks.

“What is happening ?” you sobbed.

♡ ♡ ♡

➨ Chapter Three

taglist: @boogiemansbitch @multisstuff

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askchilchuck · 5 months ago

Text

Hey, how can I help you?

(Please read below before interacting)

Hi! My name is Sophie! This blog has gotten enough traction that I feel the need to lay some ground rules for it.

1) This blog is intended to be PG13 so I don’t have to exclude younger fans from participating. I will not be answering anything that wouldn’t fly in canon, or is adjacent to it. Anything explicitly sexual, or can be construed that way will not be answered. This decision was made a couple months in, so do be advised there is some more suggestive content on the earlier posts on this blog. If you don't want to see that kind of content, stick to the newer posts.

2) Nothing related to suicide please. I tried playing it off the first time but between myself and some people around me, even the “KYS 🥰🥰🥰” jokes really aren’t funny, especially recently. Asks including it will not be answered.

3) No firearms. Related to rule 2.

4) Please no spammy asks. I’m honestly not sure how to answer them, and they clog up both the blog itself and the main tags.

5) No political asks. I understand how terrifying the results of the US election are, but I really need this place to be a break from all that. For my sake and yours. We both need spaces where we can recharge from this. Chilchuck doesn’t know what’s going on anyway, he deserves to live in ignorance from it. I love you.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun to bully him, but these things cross a line for me. Thank you for understanding.

If you’re an RP blog, you’re more than welcome to interact! Even if you’re not a Dunmeshi blog! I don’t always have the time to do reblog chains, though, so please don’t feel bad if I miss you there. It’s easiest for me if you submit RP as an ask when the box is open. Sorry for any inconvenience this may cause. If you’re 18+ and interested, I also do private RP on my Discord, linked on my Dunmeshi side blog.

IN LIGHT OF DUPLICATE CHARACTERS:

I think that’s awesome and also really funny. I encourage it. We’ve already got a loose MCU/multiverse plot line going on so we can totally make it work, too. Hell yeah. Hilarious. Love that. /gen

Blog lore:

This blog takes place loosely post canon. I try to avoid spoilers, but little things here and there are inevitable. Chilchuck has made up with his wife and they’re currently working on their relationship. Chilchuck is also in therapy. This is for a few reasons.

1) I don’t think he’d actually answer any of these if he wasn’t.

2) He doesn’t talk about it a lot, but it was one of his wife’s conditions before giving the relationship another go.

3) He just. Should be in general and I have control of it so it’s happening lol

My Chil is bi, but in the middle-aged “everyone’s had gay thoughts before” kinda way, cause I think it’s funnier that way. He also gets high from time-to-time now that he’s not dungeneering anymore.

Folks kept turning him into different things/animals, so goldstar/⭐️ anon gave him an amulet to put a stop to that. "Marcus" also altered the spell on the amulet to encompass all transformations, since inanimate objects weren't initially included.

Squeaker also used a device to prevent any crab transformations specifically from occurring, as well as ejecting all crabs within a 20 mile radius.

There’s also a cult stalking him for some reason. (This is an ongoing problem. They haven't hurt anyone, and they seem to only be targeting Chilchuck.)

The TVA (Marvel) is loosely involved as well as previously mentioned. Squeak fixed it (or so she thought. There's now a DMCU situation going on.)

Also, Chil’s knowledge of the blog/Tumblr varies depending on what would be funnier, but generally he’s aware of the internet. He only uses his phone to answer your asks, though. He has no idea how to do anything else and has no desire to. This means he doesn’t fact check people or knows anything about the greater internet experience. No one knows how he got the phone, or how it’s holding a charge. Don’t worry about it.

ADDENDUM:

Chilchuck has recently started googling slang, and anything else that might be confusing or annoying to him. However, he hates the search feature and trying to find answers on individual websites, and will take the AI generated answers without question.

I myself don’t talk in the main posts, unless it’s tagged #ooc. Otherwise, I’ll always talk in the tags if I’ve got something to say. Or replies. Or DMs. Main post is the only place I’m in character unless specified otherwise.

Emoji anons:

•⭐️/goldstar anon

•🦉/owl anon

•👻/ghost anon

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•🐻🏀/bear basket ball anon

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•🪻

•🐦‍⬛

No other heart variants have been claimed. Also, heads up to all emoji anons, I’m going to start using just one tag for your asks going forward to make tagging easier! So I’ll just be using the emoji variant from here 💖

If you want to hang out with me in a less censored environment, I also run @chilfucked and @askchilchucknsfw which are 18+ only. I will ban all minors who so much as breathe on those blogs. I’m not joking.

I also reserve the right to update these rules as time goes on, so please check them again before submitting when the ask box is open again. Thank you!

#ooc #blog rules

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amethystarachnid · 2 months ago

Text

POTIONS

⤷ BILLY KAPLAN / MAXIMOFF

ᯓ★ Pairing: Billy Kaplan / Maximoff x male!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.6k

ᯓ★ Summary: Billy Maximoff is probably the most feared Slytherin in all Hogwarts because of his mother, the Scarlet Witch, but no one knows that deep down Billy is just an awkward boy with a big crush on an Hufflepuff boy. Billy isn't sure on how he should act so he keeps teasing y/n, hoping to get his attention that way...But what will happen when they're paired for a project together?

ᯓ★ TW(s): reader understand that he's gay (which isn't really a tw but anyway), kinda mean!Billy but it's really just a few comments

ᯓ★ AU: Harry Potter / Hogwarts

ᯓ★ Request: Harry Potter AU for Billy Kaplan / Maximoff x male!reader? Pretty please :3 ( @blazeymc)

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

You’re not sure when it started, Billy Maximoff teasing you during Potions, making snide comments during Charms, or sneering at your House every time your paths crossed in the corridors. But it’s clear that he’s got something against Hufflepuffs, or at least, something against you.

You glance across the classroom at him now, trying to focus on Professor Slughorn’s lecture about the properties of Wiggentree bark, but your attention keeps drifting. Billy sits there in his Slytherin robes, lounging in his seat with that signature air of superiority, dark hair tousled just enough to look effortlessly cool. His eyes flick over to you, and you immediately look away, feeling your face heat up. You’re used to it by now, the way he looks at you. Always with that little smirk like he knows something you don’t. You figure he’s sizing up another opportunity to take a jab at you, like he always does.

“Hufflepuff and Potions… a tragic combination,” you hear him mutter under his breath, just loud enough for you to catch.

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore him. But of course, he doesn’t stop there. He never does.

“I’m surprised you even know which cauldron to stir,” Billy continues, voice dripping with mockery as he leans slightly toward you from across the aisle. “Guess Hufflepuff does teach something useful after all. Like how to follow instructions. Riveting.”

You clench your jaw, willing yourself not to rise to his bait. This is how it always goes—Billy picking at you, trying to get under your skin. The fact that he’s Slytherin, with his mother’s terrifying reputation hanging over him like a dark cloud, makes it worse. No one in their right mind would stand up to Billy Maximoff, son of the Scarlet Witch. Not when rumors swirl around the school about the things Wanda Maximoff is capable of, and by extension, what her son might be able to do.

Still, you’ve never really understood why he singles you out like this. You’re not the only Hufflepuff in this class. But it’s always you.

“What’s the matter?” he says, tone oozing with faux innocence. “Didn’t they teach you how to talk back in Hufflepuff?”

You grit your teeth. “I’m just trying to focus on the lesson, Maximoff. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Billy's smirk falters for a second, like he wasn’t expecting you to respond. He narrows his eyes at you, and you feel a strange flicker of satisfaction. You’ve never really talked back to him before.

“Touchy, aren’t we?” he mutters, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze lingers on you, as though he’s studying you for some reaction, something deeper.

There’s a beat of silence, and you glance over at him again, catching the faintest hint of something in his expression—nervousness? Uncertainty? For a split second, Billy almost looks… awkward? But then he catches you looking and snaps back into his usual cocky posture.

“You know,” he says, smirking again, “it’s cute that you’re trying. Really. Keep it up, maybe one day you’ll even make it to competent.”

You don’t know why it stings so much this time. You’ve been dealing with his taunts for weeks, but this one feels sharper. You glare at him, more frustrated with yourself for letting it get to you than anything else. Billy’s always like this—mean, biting, trying to rile you up for whatever reason. But for some reason, today, it hits different.

Billy, meanwhile, glances away quickly, clearing his throat as though regretting the comment. You think you see a flicker of guilt in his eyes, but it’s gone before you can be sure.

“Whatever,” you mutter, turning back to your notes, trying to ignore the strange tension that seems to settle between you two.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Billy sneaking another glance at you. His lips part like he wants to say something else, but then he hesitates. Instead, he lets out a low sigh and looks away, sinking into his chair, unusually quiet for the rest of class.

You tell yourself you’re imagining things, that there’s nothing going on behind those sharp words and smug smirks. But there’s a small part of you—one you’ve tried to ignore—that wonders if Billy Maximoff's teasing is less about your House… and more about you.

When Professor Slughorn announces the paired assignment, you don’t think much of it at first. You’re too busy making sure your Potions notes are organized, and trying to shake off the feeling of Billy staring at you from across the aisle like he’s been doing all class. It’s nothing new, really. He’s always watching you out of the corner of his eye, ready to throw another sarcastic remark your way.

“As for partners,” Slughorn says cheerfully, pulling out a long parchment. You’re barely listening, your mind drifting to what this project might be. Something tedious, probably. “I’ll be pairing you up myself, so listen carefully!”

The room buzzes with soft murmurs as everyone starts whispering, wondering who they’ll be stuck with for the next few weeks. You half-heartedly scan the list, hoping to get someone who’ll actually do their share of the work, maybe one of your friends from Hufflepuff—

“Maximoff and…”

You freeze, heart sinking in that split second before Slughorn says it.

“…Y/N.”

You blink, sure you’ve misheard. But no, Professor Slughorn’s eyes are on you, and Maximoff turns his head sharply in your direction, his usual smirk replaced by something that looks more like… disbelief. You hear him mutter something under his breath that you can’t quite make out, and suddenly you’re very aware of the weight of the situation. Maximoff. As your partner.

This can’t be happening.

“Looks like you two will be working together on our Draught of Living Death project,” Slughorn says, sounding pleased with himself. “Should be a fascinating exercise, and I trust you’ll both rise to the occasion!”

You resist the urge to groan out loud. Of all the people in this class, him? It’s not that Maximoff isn’t smart—he’s one of the top students, of course. It’s just… well, you’ve been trying to avoid him for weeks. The idea of being stuck in close proximity to him, having to collaborate, deal with his constant teasing… It makes your stomach churn.

Maximoff leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as if he’s processing this too. For a moment, you wonder if he’s just as horrified by the idea. But then that familiar smirk starts to tug at his lips again.

“Well,” he drawls, not even looking at you, “this should be interesting.”

You glance at him, trying to read his expression, but it’s the same as always—arrogant, amused. Like the thought of working with you is just another opportunity to toy with you. Of course it is. That’s what he does.

You keep your face neutral as you start packing up your things, determined not to show any sign of how much this bothers you. You’ll deal with this. You have to.

Maximoff, of course, doesn’t give you the chance to slip away quietly. As you both stand up at the end of class, he falls into step beside you, just a little too close, his presence impossible to ignore.

“Hufflepuff and Slytherin, working together on a potion,” he muses, his voice low and teasing. “I wonder how that’s going to go. Think you can keep up?”

You grit your teeth, gripping your bag a little tighter as you glance at him. “I’m not the one who’s going to be struggling here, Maximoff.”

His smirk widens, but there’s something off about it today—something you can’t quite place. Like maybe he’s putting on an act.

“Sure, sure,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “Just don’t spill anything. I hear Hufflepuffs can be a little… clumsy.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll let you know if I need help handling a spoon.”

Maximoff’s laugh catches you off guard. It’s not cruel or mocking, but something softer, almost genuine. For a moment, he seems less like the arrogant Slytherin who’s been making your life miserable and more… human.

But then he glances at you again, and his expression shifts back to that familiar teasing look. “Well, let’s hope this little partnership doesn’t blow up in our faces. Literally.”

You sigh. “I’m sure we’ll survive. As long as you don’t screw it up.”

Maximoff raises an eyebrow at that, his smirk faltering for just a second. Then he recovers, leaning in slightly as if to make his next comment more personal. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

There’s something in the way he says it that makes your pulse quicken, but you shake it off, refusing to let him get to you. This is just a project. Just a few weeks of working together. You can handle that.

As you walk away, you can still feel his eyes on you, like he’s trying to figure you out.

The first few days of working on the project with Maximoff are exactly as awkward as you expected. He still throws in the occasional sarcastic comment about Hufflepuff, and you still resist the urge to snap back every time. There’s a lot of uncomfortable silence too, where you’re both too busy focusing on the Draught of Living Death to fill the space with words.

But the weird thing is, Billy doesn’t seem quite as relentless as before. In fact, he’s been quieter, more thoughtful. It’s almost like he’s holding himself back.

One afternoon, you’re both sitting in the library, poring over old potions textbooks, when Billy clears his throat. You glance up at him, expecting another jab or snide remark, but his expression is… different. Less smug, more hesitant.

“So,” he says, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his dark hair. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Sounds dangerous,” you mutter, more out of habit than actual malice.

To your surprise, Billy laughs. It’s a low, genuine sound, and it catches you off guard.

“Okay, I walked into that one,” he admits, shaking his head slightly. “But seriously. About this… partnership. I’ve realized something.”

You look at him, curious but cautious. This is the longest he’s gone without teasing you since you started working together.

“I’ve been kind of… a jerk,” he says, his voice quieter than usual. His eyes flick away from yours, like he’s uncomfortable admitting it. “You know, with the comments and the attitude. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. That maybe giving you a hard time would make things easier between us or something.” He shrugs, looking almost embarrassed now.

You blink, not sure how to respond. Is Billy Maximoff — Billy Maximoff — actually apologizing to you? For the first time since you’ve met him, he seems almost vulnerable. Not the cocky, arrogant Slytherin who’s been making your life difficult for weeks, but someone real, someone unsure of himself.

“I get it if you don’t believe me,” he continues when you stay quiet. “But I just… I don’t want things to be like that anymore. I mean, we’re stuck working together, right? We might as well make it less miserable.”

You stare at him for a moment, trying to gauge whether he’s serious. He’s watching you closely, like he’s waiting for your reaction.

And the thing is, despite everything, you don’t actually hate him. Annoyed, sure. But hate? No. And now, with him sitting across from you, admitting he’s been kind of awful, it’s hard to hold onto the frustration you’ve been feeling.

“I… appreciate that,” you finally say, your voice a little softer than before. “I mean, yeah, you’ve been kind of a jerk. But it’s not like I’m perfect either.”

Billy seems surprised by your response, his eyebrows raising slightly. Then he smiles—really smiles, not the usual smirk or sarcastic grin. And for the first time, you see a different side of him. A side that isn’t hiding behind layers of arrogance or teasing.

“Okay, good. So… truce?” he offers, holding out his hand in a gesture that’s more sincere than you ever thought he was capable of.

You glance at his hand, then back at his face, and after a moment’s hesitation, you take it. His grip is firm, warm, and something in that simple contact sends a strange flutter through your chest that you quickly ignore.

“Truce,” you agree, letting go of his hand and trying to focus back on the potion ingredients in front of you.

The next few days are… different. Billy, true to his word, tones down the teasing, and in its place, something else starts to grow between you two. He’s still sarcastic sometimes, still has that sharp edge to him, but it’s more playful now. Less biting, more… friendly.

One evening, as you’re both huddled over a bubbling cauldron in the Potions classroom, trying to perfect the next step in your Draught of Living Death, you find yourselves actually talking. Not about school, or the project, but other things: Quidditch, your favorite classes, even a little about your families.

“So, Hufflepuff,” Billy says, glancing over at you while stirring the cauldron. “Why’d you end up in that house, anyway? Always thought you’d make a pretty decent Ravenclaw, with the way you obsess over details.”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden interest. “Well, not every Hufflepuff is just ‘nice and loyal,’ you know. We’ve got more going on than that.”

Billy chuckles, clearly amused. “Yeah, I’m starting to see that. But still, I didn’t picture you there at first. You’re… different than the other Hufflepuffs I know.”

You can’t help but smirk a little at that. “Is that a compliment?”

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug, his eyes flicking to yours again, and this time there’s no teasing behind it. Just something… softer.

For a while, the two of you fall into an easy rhythm. You notice little things, like the way Maximoff’s confidence seems less about bravado and more about hiding some deeper insecurity. And Billy, for his part, starts asking about you: your hobbies, your thoughts on things, like he’s genuinely curious.

One night, while working late in the library, you’re both sitting closer than usual, poring over some notes about the final step of the potion. Billy is quieter than normal, his focus drifting from the pages to you, though you try not to notice.

“You know,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. “I never thought I’d actually like working with you.”

You look up, confused. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair in that way he always does when he’s nervous. “I dunno. I just… you’re not what I expected. I thought this would suck, but it’s actually been… nice.”

There’s a strange, warm feeling in your chest at his words. It’s the first time he’s been this open with you, and for some reason, it makes you smile.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, meeting his eyes. “It’s been nice.”

For a moment, the two of you just sit there, the air between you thick with something unspoken. Billy's gaze lingers on you a little longer than usual, and you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing you are—that maybe, just maybe, this project was the best thing that could’ve happened to the both of you.

It hits you all at once, like a flash of lightning on a clear day, completely unexpected.

You and Billy are sitting in the Potions classroom again, working on the final steps of the Draught of Living Death. It’s late, well past dinner, but the two of you have fallen into this strange, comfortable routine—staying behind, just the two of you, focused on the bubbling cauldron. You’ve grown used to it now, the sound of his voice, the way he leans over the table to make a point, his dark hair falling into his eyes, that little smirk that’s become softer around the edges.

And that’s when it happens. He laughs—really laughs—at something you say, his whole face lighting up in a way you’ve never seen before. His eyes crinkle at the edges, and the sound of it, the sight of it, warms something deep inside you. It’s not like the usual snark or teasing. It’s real. Genuine.

You freeze, the stirring rod slipping from your fingers and clattering against the table, but you barely register it because your heart suddenly feels like it’s doing somersaults in your chest. Something tightens in your throat, a rush of heat flooding your face.

Oh no.

You stare at him, your mind reeling. This can’t be happening. You can’t feel like this about him. He’s Billy Maximoff. The guy who used to make fun of you. The guy you’ve spent weeks bickering with. The guy you’ve—somehow—grown closer to.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? You’ve grown close. Too close. And now, as you sit here in the dimly lit classroom, watching the way the light from the cauldron flickers across his face, the truth slams into you so hard you can’t ignore it.

You’re in love with him.

The realization shocks you to your core. Your mind races, scrambling to make sense of it, but you can’t. You never thought… you’ve never even considered that you might feel this way about another guy. About Billy of all people. And yet, here you are, staring at him like he’s the only thing in the room that matters. Your heart pounds in your chest, and suddenly you’re hyperaware of everything—how close he is, the way his hand brushes against yours when he reaches for a quill, the subtle curve of his lips when he smiles.

Billy glances up at you, oblivious to the storm that’s raging inside your head. “You good? You’ve been staring at the cauldron like it’s about to explode.”

You snap back to reality, blinking quickly, trying to act normal even though your thoughts are anything but. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking amused. “About what? Whether Hufflepuffs can handle a potion this complex?”

You force a laugh, but it’s shaky, and you hope he doesn’t notice. “Something like that.”

He rolls his eyes playfully and turns his attention back to the potion, stirring it carefully. You watch him, heart still racing, trying to process what just happened.

You never thought you’d feel this way—about a guy, about Billy. But there’s no denying it anymore. It’s not just the fact that he’s good-looking, though he is in that infuriating, effortless way. It’s more than that. It’s the way he’s started letting down his guard around you, the way he teases you now with a smile instead of a smirk. The way he talks to you, like he’s actually interested in what you have to say. The way he makes you feel seen in a way no one else ever has.

And that’s terrifying.

You can’t be in love with him. You don’t even like boys—or at least, you didn’t think you did. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But now that it has, you can’t unfeel it. You can’t undo the way your chest tightens when he looks at you, or the way his laugh sends butterflies into a frenzy in your stomach. You can’t stop your heart from racing every time he’s near, or the way your thoughts keep circling back to him, even when you try to push them away.

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breathing, but the truth is, you’re completely overwhelmed. You glance over at Billy again, your gaze lingering on him a little too long, and you catch yourself wondering—what would he think? If he knew. If he could see into your head right now, could he feel the same way?

But that’s impossible. Billy’s never shown any sign that he’s interested in anyone, much less you. And besides, you’ve been nothing but rivals for so long. He’s only just started being nice to you, and here you are, falling for him like some lovesick fool.

You pull yourself together, forcing your focus back to the potion in front of you. This isn’t the time to think about it. You’ll deal with it later, figure out what to do with these feelings—if you can. For now, you just need to survive this project without giving anything away.

But as Billy leans closer, his arm brushing against yours again, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll be able to.

A few days pass, but your mind is still tangled in the realization you’ve been fighting against—you’re in love with Billy Maximoff. And it’s more than just a passing crush, more than something you can shove into the back of your mind and pretend doesn’t exist. It’s real, undeniable, and every time you see him, every time you talk to him, it gets harder to ignore.

At first, you keep trying to convince yourself that it’s not possible. You’ve never been interested in guys before, right? So how could this happen? But the more you think about it, the more it makes sense. The way you felt around other boys, the awkwardness that you brushed off as nothing—maybe it wasn’t nothing. Maybe you were just afraid to look at it too closely. And now, sitting here with the reality of your feelings for Billy, you know you can’t hide from it anymore.

You’re gay.

The thought should scare you, and maybe it does, a little. But it also feels like a weight lifting off your chest. You’ve spent so much time trying to be someone you thought you were supposed to be, and now, for the first time, you feel like you’re starting to understand who you actually are. You don’t have all the answers yet, and you’re not even sure what comes next, but this truth—this part of you—isn’t something to be afraid of.

But then there’s Billy. And the idea of telling him—of confessing to him—is something else entirely. You’ve been working with him every day, getting closer, sharing inside jokes and moments that make your heart race, but does he feel the same way? Or is this all just in your head?

It’s not until the day the potion is finally complete that you make up your mind. The two of you are standing side by side, admiring the shimmering, perfect Draught of Living Death. Professor Slughorn had praised your work, saying it was one of the best potions he’d ever seen from students, and now it’s just the two of you in the empty classroom, a sense of accomplishment hanging in the air.

Billy grins, leaning on the table, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. “Well, we didn’t blow anything up. I’d call that a success.”

You laugh, but your mind is already elsewhere, racing with what you’ve been meaning to say for days now. If you don’t say it now, you might never have the courage to do it. And as much as the thought terrifies you, the idea of keeping this secret locked away forever scares you even more.

“Billy…” you begin, your voice a little shaky. He glances at you, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

He straightens up, his playful smirk fading as he notices the seriousness in your tone. “What is it?” he asks, his voice softer, more cautious.

You take a deep breath, your heart pounding so loudly you can barely hear yourself think. This is it. No turning back. “I… I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about, well… everything. And I realized something.” Your stomach twists into knots, but you force yourself to keep going. “I think… I think I’m gay.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy and terrifying, but also freeing. For the first time, you’ve said it out loud. And for the first time, you don’t feel like you’re suffocating under the weight of pretending to be someone else.

Billy doesn’t say anything right away, and your heart sinks, fear creeping in. Maybe you misread everything. Maybe he’s about to make some sarcastic joke or brush it off.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he just looks at you, his expression softening, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. “Y/N,” he says quietly, stepping a little closer, “thank you for telling me.”

There’s something about the way he says it, the gentleness in his voice, that makes the tightness in your chest loosen. But you’re not done yet. You swallow hard, feeling the words rise in your throat, the confession you’ve been holding onto for what feels like forever.

“And… it’s not just that I’m gay,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper now. “I… I think I’m in love with you.”

You finally meet his gaze, your heart hammering as you wait for his reaction. The silence stretches out between you, and every second feels like an eternity. You half expect him to laugh it off, to make some snarky comment about how you’re just imagining things. But instead, something shifts in his eyes—surprise, yes, but something else too. Something warmer.

Billy takes a step closer, so close now that you can feel the warmth of him, smell the faint scent of whatever cologne he wears. His expression is unreadable for a moment, but then—finally—he speaks.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that,” he murmurs, his voice low, his gaze locked onto yours.

You blink, stunned, the meaning of his words hitting you like a tidal wave. “Wait, what?”

Billy laughs softly, shaking his head. “You’re not the only one who’s been keeping secrets, Y/N.” He reaches up, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, and his touch sends sparks skittering across your skin. “I’ve liked you for… well, way longer than I want to admit. But I didn’t know how to act around you, so I did the only thing I knew, I teased you. A lot. Which, in hindsight, was probably not the best move.”

You stare at him, completely floored. “So… you like me too?”

Billy’s lips curve into a smile, the kind that’s more genuine than any smirk you’ve ever seen from him. “Yeah, I do. A lot.”

Relief and disbelief crash over you in equal measure, and you feel like you can finally breathe again. You laugh, a little breathless, shaking your head. “I can’t believe it. I thought—”

“Thought what?” Billy interrupts, stepping even closer now, his voice soft. “That I’d push you away?”

You nod, your pulse racing.

“Well,” Billy says, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “I’m not pushing you away.” He hesitates for a second, like he’s making sure this is what you want, and when you don’t pull back, he closes the distance between you completely.

His lips meet yours in a gentle, tentative kiss, and it’s like the world falls away. Everything you’ve been worrying about, all the fear and confusion—it fades into the background, replaced by the warmth of his touch, the softness of his kiss. It feels right, like this was always supposed to happen, like the two of you were meant to find your way to this moment.

When you finally pull back, both of you are smiling—really smiling—and the weight that’s been pressing down on you for weeks, maybe longer, is completely gone.

Billy grins, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “So, what do you say we celebrate making the best potion in class and you finally coming clean about your feelings?”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in ages. “Yeah. I think that sounds like a great idea.”

And as you leave the classroom together, you realize that this is just the beginning. You’ve finally accepted who you are, and somehow, against all odds, the person you’ve fallen for feels the same way. Everything feels possible now.

First time writing male!character x male!reader so I hope I did good but I'm open to criticism as long as it's kind lol.

If you like the story like reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more. <3

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