#these assholes need to learn that countries are different !!

[ujunxverse]

.

[midniiights-garden]

Modern!Mizu General Headcanons!!

I have so many many ideas for Modern!Mizu omg you don't understand (I wish she was real...)

Ok, so first of all I wanna start out with some HCs about her past and her mother.

I think she probably grew up in rural Japan, her relationship with her mother basically still the same as in the show.

Due to not being exposed to very many foreigners her relationship with her peers was strained because of her blue eyes (ofc. hate discrimination smHHH)

Anyways, although Mizu doesn't have to hide her gender, and I personally headcanon that Modern!Mizu wouldn't hide it, she still has some internalized mysogyny.

This is namely due to the huge issue with sexisim in Japan, sexual harassment and sexualisation of women and so on. Mizu grew up wishing she was a boy because she didn't want to feel like a piece of meat to be eyed up and down and sold.

I HC that she meets the Swordfather when she attempted to run away from home. Probably due to another bullying incident or something.

In my head she actually moves to America or Europe to study something related to craftsmanship or to become a professional martial artist. It makes the most sense in my head at least.

She got into Uni on a scholarship lol. I mean, translated into a modern setting I do think her skill would be enough to warrant a large scholarship.

University was a rough time in the beginning for her due to the many changes that come with moving to a new country, as myself and most other third country kids will know.

Mizu had to juggle learning English, beating racist asshole and school all at the same time.

Due to her reluctance to socialize she also struggles to learn English in the verbal sense. She learned how to read and write in English much faster than to speak it because she had no one practice with. That, and she refused to talk to anyone.

As for how she met Mikio...

Modern!Mizu probably met him because he was a teacher at her Uni.

Long story short when he finds out how she was concieved and how strong he is, well, big strong man gets emasculated and throws a fit and Mizu leaves him (as she should)

And then she realises she's gay lol

I think it'd happen in a pretty similar fashion as to Canon!Mizu but you can look at my headcanons for those if you need them.

I think the main differences between Modern!Mizu and Canon!Mizu would primarily be in how she deals with her rage. Of course, Modern!Mizu isn't allowed the luxury of just stabbing people to get revenge so I believe she may resort to a lot of physical exertion in the gym or just a lot of lashing out towards people in general.

(A/N: Yayayayayya second post for the day!!! As usual, if anyone has any requests or anything feel free to ask!! Happy holidays everyone!!! <3)

[hellishjoel]

blue collar man

4.1k /  joel miller x f!reader

← masterlist

Summary: Your boyfriend Joel is up to his ears busy with his contracting business. Tired and sore, he comes home to learn you’ve made the rest of the night all about him. 

Warnings/Information/Heads-Up: Fluff, mentions of sex (but no actual sex), mentioned age difference, fluffy fluff fluff because blue collar man Joel Miller deserves it! He’s running a biz-ness! 

A/N: based on this lovely request! I hope I could bring your request to life, I breezed through it so fast because I love him, he’s baby. 

“Thank you for today.” He murmured into the pillow. You barely hear it, but even if you didn’t, you feel it in the way he holds your hand and keeps your arm settled around him.  “Thank you for everything you do, Joel.” You whispered back, your forehead on the top slope of his back as you take in the smell of his body wash combined with the lotion, his body falling slumped in your protective hold. 

Joel had found a lot of success with Miller Contracting over the summer months. Business was booming and his early mornings until late nights were dedicated to working on multiple projects to get things done on time for his clients. Joel worked on referrals mostly, so when he finished a client’s remodeled hill country home in late winter, the client had raved over Joel’s professionalism and hard work to their friends and now he had a list of upcoming projects. 

Truthfully, you didn’t know much about contractors until you started dating Joel. You quickly began to understand the vastness of his duties. One day he could be working on home renovation projects where he was doing demolition like removing the walls or floors, electrical and plumbing work, flooring installation, even down to the last coat of paint. 

Other opportunities were commercial like on a small office building downtown where he did site preparation, set the foundation, worked on the beams and columns, all the way up to finishing the roof. Whatever he couldn’t do himself that was a bit more specialized, he hired subcontractors to work on like heating, ventilation, and air conditioning. 

What he hated the most was landscaping projects. He’d have to do the design layout of a large backyard garden and plant trees and flowers or work on seeding grass if it was a particularly hot Texas summer. Then he would add irrigation systems like sprinklers, pathways for people to walk on, pergolas for outdoor hosting, finishing it off with pretty and unique outdoor light fixtures. God forbid the client wanted a pond. 

“Do you know how annoying koi fish are? They just… stare at ya while you’re tryin’ to work.”

You had grown to love the handy man that Joel was. Before you were moved in to his place, your shitty little apartment needed so much love that your asshole landlord never took the time to come and fix. But Joel would. That was his form of romance. He didn’t bring you flowers or chocolates on the first dates. Joel was replacing your leaky shower head and tightening your jiggly door knobs. He also managed to match the paint color on your walls so he could cover up the scrapes he made after he railed you into your mattress so hard that the frame made a few chips. 

You were so happy to see his business getting the high recognition it deserved, however, Joel was taking quite the beating from it. You could tell by the way he slinked back into the house at the end of the night, his frame hunched over and walking with a slight limp. 

He was sore, muscles aching and knees screaming at him. His joints were swollen by the end of the day and his sweaty, sticky skin ached for a refreshing shower. 

The hardest part was always trying to shut off his mind when he got home. He was already thinking about the next day. What didn’t get done on time, what shipments of supplies were expected, how the delays would set the project back. He needed a break. 

“Can’t take time off right now, baby. I’ve got deadlines to meet.”

There was this one specific project that was giving him hell. He called it the Astor because it was on Astor street. Every night this week he had come home beyond late because of the problems with the Astor. First it was that the project was exceeding the client’s budget, so they were giving him grief about that. Then it was labor shortage stuff, not being able to get people out there which then in turn caused timeline delays. With the client out of the country most of the time, Joel was receiving little to no communication from the owner. He was fighting permit and regulatory issues with the city, every day it was something new that caused a headache behind his eyes. 

His dedication was admirable, but you knew that him being so physically and mentally clouded wasn’t good for him or for Miller Contracting. 

You didn’t know shit about contracting, but you did know Joel. 

You had texted him earlier in the day to drop whatever he was working on no later than 5 o’clock in the evening. You never did that, never told him to leave work early. But the last thing he wanted was for him to come home and have you upset with him. That was worse than any project issue. 

Tonight would be about Joel. Anything you could do to make the stress melt away, you would try. 

Joel pushed open the front door once home, a heavy sigh leaving him as he closed the door back in place and set his lunch box and keys down on the entry table. 

“Joel?” Your voice echoed from the kitchen. 

“Hi, baby.” His voice was low from the lack of energy.

Joel slowly moved down on one knee, a heavy breath exiting through clench teeth as his kneecaps throbbed while he untied one boot, then the other. They were covered in dust even down to the creases, steel toe covers making his feet sore. 

“Hey, how was your day?” You asked as you grabbed a dish towel to wipe your hands with before tossing it on the counter, greeting him halfway as he made his way through the living room. 

You were up on your tippy toes for a kiss, not wanting him to have to bend over and exert himself. He hated when you treated him like an old man, but with this job, you always teased him that it was coming sooner rather than later. 

He kept his hands to himself, knowing they were a bit greasy and sweaty. His overgrown beard hairs tickled your face as you peppered him with a few extra kisses, one of his eyebrows playfully raising. 

“Was fine. Did you see what I texted you?” He asked as he looked down at you, watching as your fingers grabbed the hem of his shirt, helping lift it off his head. 

“Mhm. The HVAC guys didn’t show up until noon even though you scheduled them for nine in the morning. Did you see I texted you back? Five hours ago.” Your teasing tone made him crack a smile. 

Joel was bad at texting. Typical guy thing, typical older guy thing. He said he wouldn’t even have a phone if it wasn’t for work and if Sarah didn’t insist on how texting was the new way of communication. Even though you texted him ten minutes after his initial one, his phone was already back in his pocket and he had long forgotten about your conversation as he returned to his work day. 

His response came out in a chortle, a heavy breath through his nose since he was too tired to chuckle. 

“Sorry, baby. Just wanted to complain, I guess.” He said as he watched you fiddle with his Miller Contracting shirt that had a worn in hole by the neckline. He went to reach for it, wanting to toss it into the dirty clothes bin, but you were quick to hold it to your chest. 

“I’ve got it.” You said as you went to give him a soft kiss to the open plane of his chest, smiling at the salt and pepper chest hair he was sporting. It looked so good on him. You walked off to the bedroom and did it yourself, grabbing him a fresh shirt for the rest of the evening, a pair of boxers, and his worn dark plaid pajama pants he liked. 

Joel’s curiosity had gotten the better of him. A heavenly smell was drawing him into the kitchen, his eyes lighting up at the sight before him. You had green beans in a frying pan and a gravy softly bubbling in a sauce pan. Then in a skillet was the most perfect looking chicken fried steak, the coating coming to the perfect crisp. He pulled the oven handle open just an inch to see golden biscuits rising. 

“I put clean clothes on the counter in the bathroom, go shower, handsome.” You said before returning to the kitchen, frowning as he found his dinner before you had a chance to plate it. 

“Joel.” You playfully scolded, pinching at his hip. “You’re ruining your own surprise.” You teased as you shooed him out of the kitchen, hearing an audible grumble in his stomach. It made you sport a proud grin. It was his favorite meal, said it reminded him of his mom’s cooking growing up with Tommy. 

“I’m making mashed potatoes, too.” You said as you drained the water the potatoes were soaking in, putting them in a new bowl and getting out some milk and butter. 

“You’re makin’ me hungry.” He hummed with a small, tired smile as his hands came up loosely on your hips. 

His hands on you instantly made you grin, gently shaking your head at him as his head came to rest by your own. 

“You’re distractin’ me.” His low voice carrying the weight of his day. 

“No, you’re distracting me.” You made clear as your elbow playfully dug into the core of his stomach. 

“Go shower, please. You smell like drywall dust… and paint.” 

He rolled his eyes with his smile still lingering. 

“Yeah, okay. Thank you.” He said as his lips dropped down to place a sweet kiss of sincerity at the base of your neck, a shiver rolling up you as you let out a huff and returned your focus to your five-star meal. 

You heard the water hit against the shower wall and his small radio crackled to life, finalizing the last touches to Joel’s favorite dinner. 

Joel came back to the living room in the clothes you had set out for him, his hair slicked back wet from his shower. God, he looked so good. 

“Here.” You handed him his plate, seeing his lips part in excitement. His stomach let out an audible rumble. He probably didn’t have a spare minute to eat his lunch today, poor thing. 

The two of you settled on the couch, Joel expecting you to turn on one of your shows since a new episode came out today. 

“Do you uhm.. Maybe wanna watch one of those movies where they’re flying the jet planes? You said you wanted to show me it a while ago.” You offered, glancing over to see him already inhaling his food with the fork scraping across the plate to not let a single bit of gravy escape him. But your offer made him pause. 

“You wanna watch Top Gun? You hate Tom Cruise.”

“Well, yeah, he seems kind of like a douchebag, but it’s okay.” His eyes narrowed on you as he thought about your offer but ultimately shook his head, shrugged, and kept eating. 

“‘t’s fine, you can put somethin’ on.” He said as he stabbed a green bean, smeared some mashed potatoes on it before putting it past his lips. 

You took a deep breath and issued him the remote control. 

“You pick something tonight, honey. It’s your night.” 

That caught Joel’s attention. His head whipped a little to fast towards you, his thick eyebrows furling at the concept. 

“‘t’s not my night. It’s a Thursday.” 

The look you gave him set him straight. 

“Okay, okay.. It’s my night.” He declared in playful defense, taking in a deep breath through his nose and opted for some old Western show he liked. You didn’t care much for it, but Joel did. 

Once you two finished dinner, plates stacked on the coffee table and discarded, your head was on his shoudler and your hand ran slow, soothing circles over his chest. You could feel him breathing deeply, relaxing with you. 

You asked him questions about the main characters, showing genuine interest. Even going as far as to add a dramatic gasp when a shot was fired from a cowboy’s revolver which made him let out a hearty laugh. 

“You’re so full of it.” 

He was talking with a huge grin, you could hear it in how he spoke, and it warmed your heart. 

Towards the end of your night, your hands were in yellow dish gloves as you washed your plates from dinner, sliding the clean ones between the dividers of your drying rack. 

Joel slipped his strong arms low around your waist, his burly shoulders pressing into your own as you nearly toppled over with his presence

“Thanks for dinner tonight. Hit the spot.” He said as he kissed your cheek then on a spot where your jawline met your neck, right by your ear. His beard hairs tickled. You could feel that they were freshly trimmed now, he probably felt a lot better.  

“Night’s not over yet.” You hummed, a playful smile on your lips that he was quick to take notice of. 

“Oh?” His voice dropped an octave, rolling your eyes a bit as you dug your elbow into his stomach for the second time tonight to put some space between you. 

“Okay, cowboy. Relax. How about you go to the bedroom and take your shirt off. I’ll be there in a sec.” Your choice of words were still leading him in a different direction, you almost felt bad. But it was funny watching him get worked up. 

After finishing the dishes and blowing out the eucalyptus scented candles, you peaked into your bedroom. Joel was still cautiously removing his shirt, moving slow as to not disturb his aching muscles. You hated seeing him come home every night like this, as if his body had just been in a fight and taken a brutal beating.

Joel undid the clasp of his watch, the band and watch face dirty and making digging a  bruise into his wrist, but it told the time. He felt better after his shower, having made it a steamy one to relax the stinging in his upper neck and shoulders as well as his lower back. 

His belly was good and full, happy to have something homemade rather than a quick pizza in the oven or just a cold bottle of beer before bed.  

You were taking care of him tonight. Not that you didn’t every other night. He was actually giving you the time to take proper care of him. It felt off at first, taking on all the attention he usually reserved for you after long days. But maybe it’s what he needed. 

His head turned as he felt a warm pair of arms circle just above his plaid pajama pants, your soft fingers undoing the knot he had tied in the front of them. 

“I would’a taken my pants off for ya if you’d just ask.” His tone taunting, stepping out of the soft material before spinning in your arms and attempting to scoop you into him. 

“Lay back, goofball.” You said with that gleaming smile of yours. Made his stomach twist. Whatever you had planned, you obviously wanted the lead on. 

He did as instructed, happily falling into the comfort of the mattress with ease. 

“Close your eyes, please.” Your voice was sweet like honey. He’d follow it into the shadows, into hell, more likely into heaven since it’s where Joel thought you belonged. 

He could already fall asleep, though it was no later than eight. He felt the bed dip first at his legs, your body shifting up to sit by his hip. His hand naturally felt out for you, his warm palm holding you at the curve of your lower back. 

When Joel was given the okay to open his eyes again, he was surprised to see a few candles lit around the room, the golden glow adding a bit of ambiance. 

He watched as you squirted a few pumps of a lotion in your hands, circling it up in your palms to make it a little warm before you started to lather it into his calves. 

The sensation made his breath hitch. You were giving him a massage? He sat up on his elbows and watched the white-ish cream get all wrapped up in his dark leg hair. 

“Darlin’-”

“Shh.”

He tightened his lips, feeling a bit futile all of a sudden. There was a pause before he spoke again. 

“Don’t have to do this for me.” He insisted, his eyes on yours, but you were focused on adding subtle pressure to his calf muscles. 

“Know I don’t have to. I want to. Lay back down.” 

You wanted to. You wanted to take time out of your evening and bathe him in attention. You had cooked one of his favorite meals, and to perfection he might add. You also let him watch a show he wanted to watch, something he knew you didn’t have a taste for. But you were intrigued anyway, to show you cared. 

He was so comfortable and at ease, the problems of today didn’t seem to matter much anymore when you were here to greet him so lovingly. 

Your fingers kneaded gently into his skin, Joel’s eyes dipping closed as he began to sink deeper into the mattress. Of course he couldn’t just do nothing. He had his warm palm splayed on your back where the shirt you were wearing was riding up a little bit. You smiled at the gesture. No matter how much effort you tried to dedicate to Joel, he was still showing his care even when he was dead exhausted. 

You worked the lotion up into his thighs, the slight tug on his hairs making his face crinkle a little. You dared not to get too high, again, not to give him the wrong idea of where the massage was heading. It was okay to be just attentive to his needs for tonight. You could relax him in other more sensual ways another time. He needed something a little deeper.

You leaned down and peppered sweet kisses up his torso and over those salt and pepper chest hairs you admire so much, stopping just at his lips with a small smile. 

“So handsome.” You praised in a whisper, kissing him with a grin on your lips.

He hummed softly and moved his hand to gently cup the back of your head, keeping your kind presence in his proximity just a moment longer. 

“I’m getting too old for you.” He whispered back in a teasing tone, making you bubble up a laugh in your shared space. 

“You’ve always been too old for me.” Your thumb gently glided over his chin and admired a small white patch just at the base where his neck sloped down. “But I’ve never minded. Because you’re a good man. A hard working, blue collar man. It’s very sexy.” You teased with a smile, happy to see one blossom on his lips as well. 

“Thanks for treatin’ me so good tonight. This week’s been…” he let the sentence die before shaking his head. 

“I know, Joel.” You said with a small nod before pressing a gentle kiss on his lips again before sitting up straight. 

“Wanna roll over and I’ll do your shoulders?” 

He let out a breathless laugh as he looked up at you. “Please.” Like you had to ask. 

He wasn’t used to this sort of treatment, but boy, maybe he should start asking for it. 

Joel moved to lay on his belly, letting out a short groan in the process that made your chest flutter. 

You let out a short huff before you straddled his back, topping yourself right on his butt after getting a short groan from Joel for being on his tailbone. 

More lotion was squirted into your hands before you started to apply it across the landscape of his back. 

“We should do a skincare night.” You said, feeling his body shudder at the cold lotion. 

“Uh what?” Joel’s voice muffled against the comforter, his head to one side so he could see you just out of his peripheral.

“You know what skincare is, you see me do it every night.” 

“I don’t know what the he-ll you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” He said, his words stuttering as you pushed particularly harder in his lower back. Jeez, it was knot after knot under your fingertips. 

“Ugh, Joel!” You whined as your motions paused. 

Joel had a habit of doing this. Declaring he had no idea what it was that you were talking about, making you tirelessly explain for several minutes, before he goes ‘Oh, why didn’t you just say that? I know what that is.” It made you roll your eyes each and every time. 

“You’re handsome, but you don’t listen.” You hummed out before cupping your hands at his shoulders and doing circles with good pressure, your upper body weight being put into his stern muscles. 

“All I heard you say is that I’m handsome.” He moaned into the sheets, a blush creeping on your cheeks at his comment, but also his heavenly moan. 

“It’s.. where you apply skincare to your face. You know, using a cleanser, applying an exfoliator, moisturizer..”

This was when Joel started muffling random nonsense into the sheets and you playfully pushed into his crying shoulders harder until he let out another long groan of discomfort. 

“Okay, okay, I know what you’re talkin’ about. Skincare. I don’t need it.” 

You tutted, shaking your head as you held in a laugh. 

“Everyone needs it. Every. One.” You said as you leaned down and kissed the back of his head where his curls were starting to form. 

“Especially you, Joel! Your pores are so big, you’ve got dust and dirt getting all in there. And it’s been so hot outside, your skin’s drying up. Gotta take care of your skin baby.”

“Why? So I’ll look young agian?” He teased as he reached a hand back and squeezed your hip as well as he could from his position. 

“Because it’s good for you. Makes me feel good after a really long day.”

You could feel his eyes on you, a throat hum leaving his lips. “Thought I made you feel good after a really long day.” 

A huff left your lips as you were back to doing circles into his shoulder with your thumbs. “Shut up.”

The last of the lotion had sunk into his skin, the massage hopefully healing more than just his dry skin. 

Night’s like this with Joel were rare, but exceptionally special. He had energy to talk to you about everything under the sun, something you didn’t expect to transpire with your age difference at first. You discussed your mutual plans for the weekend, a barbeque at Tommy’s house. Joel was insisting on you wearing your new bikini, green to match his beautiful eyes. He could be such a horn dog. 

He wanted to stay up as long as he could, but the long day he endured couldn’t help but put weight on his eyelids. His words turned to mumbles, his arms snaking around your waist in his silent gesture to fall asleep with you. 

You shook your head with a small, tired smile, your hands planting themselves on his forearms to put a stop to his motions.

“Turn around.” You whispered, the notion making his tired eyes pop open with a “huh?” leaving his parted lips. 

“You heard me, old man. Turn around.” You said as your hand roamed over his warm hip. 

Joel assumed you didn’t want to cuddle tonight, maybe he was too warm for your taste despite the fan running above the both of you. 

Joel’s chest tightened as he felt your warm body return right behind him, a bashful grin on his face. 

“Are you tryna big spoon me?” His southern accent was dripping heavier than usual with the tiredness stringed in it. 

The question erupted a giggle from you, Joel feeling you kiss over his taut shoulder blade. 

“I don’t know how well I can big spoon you.. You’re so long.” Your arm tightened around Joel’s waist anway, his big hand finding yours as your fingers interlocked. He felt grateful in this moment, albeit a bit shy about the position. He was used to being the big spoon, it was different for him to be on the receiving end. But it was warm and settling, he couldn’t deny that. 

“So I’m uh.. I’m like the ladle to your big spoon?” Joel asked. He could feel your grin on his back, your legs tangling with his own. 

“Yes… you’re the ladle, but even the ladle needs a big spoon.” Joel’s blinks slowed until his eyes were closed, heavy with sleep. 

“Thank you for today.” He murmured into the pillow. You barely hear it, but even if you didn’t, you feel it in the way he holds your hand and keeps your arm settled around him. 

“Thank you for everything you do, Joel.” You whispered back, your forehead on the top slope of his back as you take in the smell of his body wash combined with the lotion, his body falling slumped in your protective hold.

[yanchive]

Alright, since the isekai blurb was well received, I feel a bit more comfortable sharing one of my favorite tropes that I come back to a lot.

I've seen a few of yan!Pop Idol fics before, usually with a reader that's either a fan, a regular person, their manager, or a fellow idol, but I've enjoyed the concept of a reader that's also an artist, but of an entirely different music genre.

Yandere!Pop Idol x Rockstar!Reader

The Yan has been in the public eye since they were a child. They started off as a child model for clothing brands and/or other products targeted towards kids. Had been in commercials, too. They grew a following of being just an adorable sweetheart of their country, and was scouted by an idol agency that took them under their wing, and trained them throughout their childhood, into a world renowned Idol, loved by many.

You started off with more humble beginnings. A delinquent of sorts that spent more time putting effort into learning guitar n drums than your math homework. Filling your notebooks with song lyrics instead of notes. Your weekends and breaks from school were you spending hours in the garage with a couple of friends practicing music until the sun went down.

You dropped out of high school just before graduating to travel with your bandmates to get your name out there. You eventually were picked up by a record label and officially began your career. You were known for your "Don't give a fuck" personality.

Idol Yan was well put together with a perfect image and a fanbase of parasocial fanatics. You were wild with an image of rebellion and a fanbase of edgelord delinquents.

One sung of romance and sensual experiences and another sung of heartbreak and fake friends. You two could not be anymore different. You might as well be on two separate planets.

Now, how would two polarizing artists end up in each others world? I feel like a few scenarios could work. But I've been focusing on the concept of another artist being the middle ground between these two worlds. Its not uncommon for artists of different genres to collab. I can see another artist befriending both Yan Idol and Rockstar reader and separate points in their life that led to you and Yans meeting. You and this unnamed artist met first. You were already in the game by the time you two met and helped them with their career. Eventually due to busy schedules you two don't talk often, and later down the road this artist met Yan Idol and collabed with them.

I see this 3rd artist getting ready to go on tour, and Yan Idol was going to go along due to their collab, but they were in need of opening bands, and you just so happened to have a rare moment of a clear schedule when this tour was to begin. Due to your previous connection, you and the 3rd artist already had a pretty big overlap in fans, so you were a perfect choice as an opener.

To build more on Rockstar and Idol's first impressions, I see Rockstar not being a huge fan of pop. In fact, you'd be pretty critical of it. Your view is that it's not real music that's made with passion and care. it's just cashgrab sound to you. So you're not quite thrilled to be touring with someone you think is only in the music industry for fame and wealth.

While Idol Yan finds you crass and arrogant. You're style is dark and messy, you swear way too much, and your music is so loud and sounds like garbled mess of ear shattering drum beats, screeching guitars and vocals that they cannot possibly classify as "singing". So, the first section of the tour was pretty tense and awkward.

Both of you were mature enough not to be assholes to each other publicly, you usually just avoided each other for the first few shows.

I see Yan Idol's impression of you changing over time. The more they got to see you work both on and off stage, they ended up seeing more sides of you that weren't in tune with your "rockstar" persona. They got to hear some of your more somber songs, the ones that spoke of your personal struggles, and the damage your mental health had actually taken since becoming famous. They got to see how much effort you put into writing your lyrics. How passiomate you were for music. They had a few opportunities to hold conversations with you that were filled with in-depth discussions that showed just how thoughtful and observant you were to the world around you. You were still a bit of a cynical dickwad sometimes, but you were definitely more than just a high school dropout with a bad attitude.

This caused them to drop their negative assumption with you, opening a bit more as they began to develop an interest and fondness for you.

You'd lighten up a bit with them, too, but you never get too close. Your first and only love is music, and you also know your fanbase would definitely make fun of you for getting close to a popstar when you've always been vocal about your dislike of them. You're not as harsh about their taste in music nor their choice of being a pop idol. You learn they also enjoy making their music(and not for fame and wealth reasons. Well, maybe a little bit for fame... They're a bit of an attention whore), even if they don't have nearly as much say in it as you do with your music. But despite this, you choose to keep your relationship strictly cordial.

But that won't stop Yan Idol. They'll find themselves staying up at night watching your live performances, interviews, funny moment compilations, and eventually even fancams. It'll become an addiction. Even after the tour ends, they'll have a routine of constantly checking for updates with your band and music. They'll send you compliments and congratulations on your achievements. They'll find time to hunt you down at award shows for even just a sliver of your time. Even if your interaction was just a passing "hello."

It'll invade their music. You were always making fun of artists making love songs when they've clearly never experienced love, so if they were to ever one day have the courage to confess, surely you'd be impressed that they've now made love songs that were from a genuine place of love, no? God their so pathetic now, trying so hard to impress someone like you.

You're a strange, unhinged bastard with astounding musical talent, and it fascinates them. They envy your freedom and lack of social restraints. They envy how music seems to come so easy to you and the full control you have of it. They envy your ability to be absolutely gorgeous even while screaming obscene, raged-filled lyrics into a microphone 30 minutes into a live set, doused in sweat and water. Fucked up hair and smudged eyeshadow and liner. Your a fucking mess. A fucking, perfect mess. They want you, they want to be you, they want to read articles about you two being seen together, doing anything that'll arouse rumors of a blooming relationship. They want to see fans write fanfics and make fanart of you two. They want to be the music industry's newest, hottest couple with you. Wouldn't that be nice?

[Proofreading, and I realize that I think I went way too harsh on the bashing of pop music, so I want to say that I do not hate pop music for any pop fans out there lmao. I got my fair share of pop music that I enjoy. I'm simply more of a rock genre enjoyer myself. I wrote this shit off the top of my head, recalling old fucken... daydream plots, so if it reads like shit we'll blame it on that lmao. Bon appetite, my dudes.]

[romanoffsbish]

Through the Eras

Natasha Romanoff x Fem(Stylist)!Reader

Natasha was a master of disguise, she didn’t need any help in that department, but Fury had a different plan, and she didn’t feel a need to push back when she saw it unfolding. Aka, Natasha is a simp for R, and this is them falling in love over a decades time.

2011-IM2, 2012-OG Avengers, 2014-Winter Soldier, 2016-Civil War, 2018-IW, 2023-EG

All Canon besides EG.

Warnings: Violence, Death, Grief, but like mostly happy/fluffy.

Smut: Bottom!Nat, Oral/Strap(N), Praising.

2002

Natasha was hesitant about being in America, the land where a donut could be bigger than the size of someone's head, and where majority of experiences were rooted in fake niceties. Nothing about the foreign country felt like home to her, not that she knew much about such a feeling, but she knew it was best to get acclimated seeing as how she hadn't been given much of a choice. Either she give her life away to this organization, or she die at their hands.

Upon entering the SHIELD base her green eyes were tracking any and all movements as she trailed behind Agent Barton, the man she swears fealty to for sparing a wretch such as herself from a perceivably deserved death.

The agency is like nothing Natasha had ever seen before, majority of the agents here wore basic black suits with ties like you'd see on an individual working a 9-5, not so much at a government agency full of professional spies and assassins as she knew it to be.

Back in the Red Room the men employed by General Dreykov were almost always sporting full tactical suits like the cowards that they were to keep the little girls in line, and to surround the man for safety purposes. Here though, as Clint escorts her to the man in charge she doesn't see him with a team, no, it's simply a man in a trench coat, wearing an eye patch with a raven haired woman to his right.

"Romanoff.," the odd man with the eye patch nods at her stoically., "Barton here has decided to take a chance on you, don't make us here at Shield regret honoring that choice.," his hand reached for hers, she observed the gesture with hesitation, but eventually she met his attempt.

"Welcome to Shield Agent Romanoff, Hill here will escort you to your quarters, good luck."

—

2011

After nine years Natasha had yet to find the people of New York bearable, but she's learned to make due, and has acclimated very well as a good spy is trained to do, but moreover she had found she began to crave the perceived American dream. Over time she proved her expressed loyalty to the Director, as well as her mission partner turned family, and successfully crawled up ranks until she reached a Level 6.

With climbing ranks came more respect and then with that came new responsibilities. For years now she'd listened to Nick drone on about his determination to build a group of remarkable people to fight the battles that the bulk of your everyday people never could.

"Seriously Fury?," she scoffed while looking over the many files., "This guy is remarkable?"

"Stark is many things: a billionaire, arrogant, even a pompous asshole, but if you can look beyond the overly jelled back hair, and childish antics you'll see he's untouchably intelligent."

"Is that why he's letting himself die then?"

"Listen, Romanoff, I did not assign you this case for you to question my judgment.," he groaned, and ran his hand over his face., "You're here because I need eyes on the inside, and someone who can break him down until he accepts our help, and joins the good fight."

"So I'm your eye candy?," she scoffs, arms now folded across her chest as she glares at him., "Look, it's not ideal, but in part, yes you are."

"I don't appreciate such a deduction, I'm a skilled agent.," he nods., "Yeah, which is why you'll be gathering me intel, and helping the pitiful man who's too weak to help himself."

Natasha continued to glare, but Nick just moved passed it as he's grown used to her pushback over the years., "You're on your own in the field, but Coulson's on standby, and I've assigned Y/L/N to assist you when need be."

"The agency's hairdresser?"

"Now who's deducing?," you snarked from the door as you strolled into the room., "I also do your makeup, pick out your clothing, and keep your mind stimulated when you're bored."

Natasha glared at you for your interruption, but it was in vain, she always found your presence rather pleasant, even if she's only ever been able to experience you in passing thus far.

"I take it the two of you got it from here then?"

After you both nodded at the director he left the room smiling, and Maria smiled back., "Playing matchmaker now, are we Nick?"

—

Natasha's face never wavered when you made decisions for her, she was not one to push back outwardly if she didn't know you well, but you could detect the faux indifference in her eyes.

"Well, you seem to not be down for the bob, or the fringe look.," you called her bluff., "What about if I were to make you bald, super sexy.," she unexpectedly smirked at your teasing.

"Not sure Stark's into the bald type, have you even thought about that?," you grimaced., "Now Natasha, why would I ever care about a mans opinion? I don't usually think of men, let alone their opinions on a clients appearance."

Natasha's stoic expression returned as you spoke of her so professionally, she wanted to frown, but she knew it wasn't right since you were also here for a job. Now she's starting to understand the whole eye candy trope, as she's essentially procured you here as her very own.

"How about we darken your natural shade a little bit, and add extensions?" you held up the desired shade, and the glint in her eyes had you sold, even if all she did was shrug indifferently.

—

Natasha's body stiffened when your hands fell on her hips to turn her., "Something is off.," she frowned., "Gee, thanks Y/L/N.," you smirked, then made a 'aha' noise, spinning her back around before dropping your hold on her.

"Well?"

"Oh, sorry.," you smiled sheepishly., "Tuck the shirt into the pants, it'll be more form fitting."

"That was your big save?," she chuckled while doing exactly what you said, a smile on her face as she silently agreed with your judgment call.

"Don't mock me Romanoff, or I'll make sure to give your nose extra attention with my blush."

Natasha smirked cockily, a snide joke on the tip of her tongue, but instead of speaking, her breath was hitching when you straddled her lap, and nonchalantly began her makeup.

"Uh, Y/L/N.," you hummed, makeup sponge in hand as you prepared to apply her concealer., "Is there a reason you're sat in my lap?"

"There are no other places to sit in this tiny bathroom work space Romanoff, and there's no way I'm standing on my feet for over an hour.," your answer was playfully spoken, but serious.

"An hour?," you stifled a laugh at the sight of her scrunched features., "It's just make up."

"Do I question your fighting process?"

"I guess not.," she softly replied, her mind was a bit too focused on how you were so close she could feel your breaths to really push back, plus, she didn't really mind the proximity.

She became so distracted by you that she failed to hear the way your breath hitched after her arms unconsciously moved from dangling by her uncomfortably to wrapped around you.

"Done.," you swiped the stick over her lips, and stood up, much to Natasha's disappointment.

"How do I look?," she asked, and you turned to her with a playful smile., "Like a million bucks, you can say thank you now like a civilized person, or later after you wow the billionaire."

Natasha smirked, it excited her a bit to hear a tinge of jealousy in your tone, it told her this whole connection wasn't exactly one sided.

"Thank you krasivaya.," she left a soft kiss to your cheek, your knees nearly buckled, and you were praying for your sake she didn't see that., "Natasha, your lips weren't dry yet.," you chose to scold her to take the heat off of your bodies previous betrayal just before catching her off guard as you gripped her chin, and reapplied.

"Good luck."

"Why would I need luck when I apparently look like a million bucks?" she mused., "The money hungry fool will be under my spell in seconds." a playful wink was thrown your way as she left, but you were smart enough to know she was telling the truth, she had the kind of effortless beauty that could be used to topple regimes, and to your misfortune, your sensitive heart.

—

"What's your name lady?," Tony Stark, her op, immediately shouted at her as she entered, and she turned to him with a neutral expression., "Rushman. Natalie Rushman."

You giggled., "James Bond, really? You're such a cliche Romanoff," you could just feel the eye roll she was likely being forced to internalize all the while wondering why she agreed to your unhelpful proposal of wearing ear pieces.

Natasha wanted to smirk at your comment, because she was very much a cliche in this moment, but she had to remain in character as the "hot woman" from legal, and to get in Tony's good graces she agreed to a sparring match with his security guard, Happy Gilmore.

"You ever boxed before?"

"I have, yes."

"Oh boy, is he in for a treat.," you giggle, and Natasha smiled at the sound, and fortunately for her it seemed to fit in the moment anyways.

"What, like the Tae Bo? Booty Boot Camp? Crunch? Something like that?"

"Oh, no the fuck he didn't.," you verbalized aloud what her very expression did, you heard her clear her throat, and frowned, the woman you knew would've given him what for, but you knew she was forced to remain cordial here.

Tony called out to her, causing her to deviate her attention momentarily, and for Happy to believe that this was a teaching moment.

"Rule number one, never take your eye off your opponent."

"Rule number one, don't be a misogynistic douche.," you grumbled, and to your extreme delight you could hear Natasha grunt, and all other parties either shrieking or groaning.

"Atta girl."

Natasha rushed out shortly after the incident, and after dropping off the paperwork in her hand she made her way back to your hotel.

"I took the liberty of ordering room service.," you said as soon as she plopped beside you on the bed in her casual clothes., "I also used the company card to rent Moonraker for you."

Natasha slapped your arm lightly., "You're going to hold this against me for life, huh?"

"Ooh, I'm a for lifer?," she smiled softly at your tease, it was too soon to know really, but her heart fluttered at the idea of a forever with you.

"Who else will do my hair and makeup? Me?" she scoffs playfully. "I'm too high ranked to be expected to do such mundane, easy things."

"For that cruel dig I am eating the bonus chocolate covered strawberry!" you grumbled, she cackled as she swiped it from the tray and was met with your glare. "No, I don't think so."

Instead of chasing her down you laid out like a starfish on the mattress. "I heard the couch is comfortable, I hope you find that true," she gasped at your insinuation, then if only to show off she lifted you effortlessly, laid down beside you, and pressed play. "I'm sorry Y/L/N."

"I won't hold it against you Rushman," you rolled to your side, then faced the screen just the same. "Good, I kinda need you on my side."

——

The following day you were expected to make her look fancy, so you set her up in a red dress, and did a simple makeup look. "Have fun."

"Oh my, did I forget to tell you that you're coming with me," she looked at you innocently, but the glint in her eye screamed of mischief.

Your voice expectedly cracked, "What?"

"Pepper said I could bring a plus one, and Fury said I could bring you, so go get ready toots."

Natasha waited patiently on the edge of your shared bed on her phone, hardly listening as you grumbled from behind the closed bathroom door. "This is so uncool, I didn't bring anything fancy to wear," you peaked your sopping wet head out to pout at her in the hopes that you'd be spared going, but she held up a garment bag while smirking tauntingly, "Hurry up now malysh, we can't be late."

—

Natasha's hand settled over your hip as the two of you entered the venue together, you were in a black suit with a red dress shirt to match her dress, you looked like a couple, and the thought of the possibility made your skin burn, and it had your heart skipping with a doomed hope.

"Oh, who's this beauty?" Tony grasped your hand without asking, pulling it to his lips, and you grimaced as he pressed them to your hand. Natasha saw the disgusted look on your face, and instantly spoke. "This is Zoe Rushman."

"So beauty runs in the family then?" she shook her head, and pulled you even closer to her side. "No, it's a bit premature on the name, but she's my fiancé, and if the laws pass in our favor we'll be tying the knot next Spring."

Tony nodded, then took his leave to God knows where, and to be clear you surely didn't care.

"We're engaged?" Natasha spun you in front of her and leaned into your ear. "Yes, I will not subject you to Tony's flirting if I can avoid it."

"I thought you were meant to entice him."

"Not anymore, I already secured my spot, so really this is mutually beneficial." she mused, and you chuckled. "So I'm your arm candy?"

"Precisely," she kissed the corner of your lips, it felt real, but you reasoned it was for the sake of your story, so you shoved the feelings down.

"Natalie?!" you both turned to see a distraught blonde, you peered up at the small screen she was gawking at, you saw Tony racing in a car, then you saw a man with electricity tentacles also on the track. "Well that can't be good."

Natasha tended to a frantic Pepper, then she escorted you out of the venue. "Take her to the hotel," she instructed a shield agent, and you realized he must've already been on standby.

"Be careful Nat." She smirked. "I always am."

—

After working tirelessly to save Tony's image, she returned to the hotel at ten at night in desperate need of a shower, and some sleep. When she entered your shared space it was dark, and she made quiet work of tending to her needs before slipping in bed besides you.

"You're back.," you slurred, one eye flying open to confirm it was indeed the redhead., "I am."

"Did you get your dinner?"

Natasha smiled appreciatively, "I ate already, Pepper ordered us takeout, but thank you honey, I put it in the fridge for tomorrow."

You hummed, too tired to really respond, and Natasha watched you slowly fall back to sleep with a smile of pure adoration. A gasp left her lips only moments later though, her smile never dissipated, it morphed into a shocked one as you'd unconsciously scooted across the mattress and threw an arm around her waist.

"Good grief, you're going to kill me," she slid her arm underneath your neck, and allowed her other to lay over your body protectively., "And I'd die happy if you did," she whispered before allowing the unfamiliar comfort you brought her to help her fall asleep with ease.

A full nights rest was something incredibly foreign to her, but it consumed her tonight.

——

Natasha just left you downstairs, even with the last event ending in chaos she wanted you at this party with her, but first she had to assist Stark as was her job, "Do you know which watch you'd like to wear tonight Mr. Stark?"

"I'll give them a look," he sighed while fixing his shirt. "I should cancel the party, huh?"

"Probably," she turned to look at him, and brought him over a martini she'd prepared.

"Yeah, because it's uh—," he paused, and she promptly finished his thought, "Ill timed."

"Sends the wrong message."

"Inappropriate," Nat confirms with a sly smirk., "Is that dirty enough for you?"

He sipped it, then immediately deflected back to the watches, and you grimaced at the way she flirted so easily, a little reminder that this was all a ruse, and she wasn't yours to have.

Natasha sat besides him, not because she was interested in the man, but because she wanted to have a closer look at his declining state as collecting intel was part of her overall mission.

"It's hard to get a read on you, where are you from?" Tony asked while she applied some concealer to his marred up face. "Legal."

You snorted, and the redhead heard it, and could picture your eyes rolling right now.

"Can I ask you a question, hypothetically?" Natasha only stared at him, but he went for it anyways. "It's a bit odd, but if this was your last birthday party you were ever gonna have, how would you celebrate it?"

"I'd do whatever I wanted to do, with whoever I wanted to do it with," she followed her answer up with the clicking of her heels, but stopped as he asked a follow up question. "Like Zoe?"

"Precisely," she hoped you could hear the truth in her tone, but if you didn't she'd find a way to make it clear to you after this whole mission.

Before you could wipe away the hopeful smile Natasha was at your side, slipping your near empty glass from your hand to down it all. "Drinking on the job Natalie?" she smirked over your glass, "Have you met my boss?"

Natasha beamed as you giggled, because not only does the sound illicit a warmth within her, but she knew you understood that she meant Director Fury just as much as she did Tony.

With an elegance in her movements the redhead settled your glass down, and brought you onto the dance floor as a slow song played. There was a comfortability that you were shocked to find yourself feeling with her in such a short time frame. Natasha was always an enigma back at Shield headquarters, but now, out in the field she was easier to read.

Just like you she craved exhilaration, you found it out in the wilderness on off days, and in the salon mixing up products to transform people into whatever they wanted to become. Natasha found it on stealthy missions, where she was able to kick peoples asses, and make the world a safer place for all that inhabit it.

There was still an air of mystery to her, which you expect being so new to this undefined dynamic with her. You didn't expect all her walls to drop at once, but the fact that any have dropped tells you that she trusts you enough.

Before you could make an honest move, like kissing her as you dreamed, an actual wall fell.

Natasha quickly pulled your face to her chest, shielding you from the glass, and as soon as Rhodey said to get out, she was pulling you both to another room, and softly cupping your cheeks, "We need to get you out of here."

"I don't break that easily Nata-."

"Natalie!" you grimaced at the shrill voice of the angry blonde, and Nat softly groaned before turning to her cordially, "Miss Potts."

Before she could say much to Nat about her speculations, she was dragged away by Happy, and you were much the same by Natasha.

"I think I'm your bad luck charm," you mused from the passenger seat, and Natasha softly sighed as she parked the car, "No, I actually think you're much to the opposite Y/N."

The both of you entered the hotel, taking turns slipping out of your dresses, and when you sat down on the bed Natasha's eyes widened., "You're hurt?" you shrugged. "Occupational hazard," you turned to face her, heart melting at the show of genuine concern on her face, but the happy faded fast when her eyes hardened.

"No, you're the all around stylist, not an agent."

"I'm more than that," your voice was small, and she immediately regretted her choice of words. "I-I know, but you still had no business being out in the field, and it's my fault you were."

"I'm okay Nat, it's only a scratch, and if it were to have been more I have combat training."

The redhead left the room, and your shoulders deflated, but then she came back with a couple wine coolers, a soft smile and a first aid kit.

"Let's get you all patched up soldier."

—

Natasha frowned as you entered the Stark expo hand in hand, "I don't have a good feeling about this," she groaned, and you squeezed her hand. "Nat, we already committed to this whole fiancés facade, so until we're through with the mission here I'm coming along."

"I could've told Pepper you're sick."

"Who's sick?"

"I thought I had a cold, but turns out it's just allergies," you answered, and held your hand out for her to shake as you'd yet to introduce yourself yet even after seeing each other.

"Zoe right?," you nodded convincingly, "It's lovely to finally meet you, Natalie here speaks of you so fondly, I'm almost kinda jealous."

"Aww, baby, you talk to your boss about me?" Natasha's face tinted a light shade of pink at the painful, exposing moment, and you did all that you could to stifle your teasing laughter. "You're just a total sweetheart," you mused and followed your teasing words with a gentle kiss to the already blushing woman's cheek.

"Well, shall we get seated?" Natasha managed to pull it together enough to brush right passed the moment, and escort Pepper to her seat.

It doesn't take long after the exchange for shit to hit the fan, and after Natasha roughed up Tony's business rival the two of you were in a car with Happy on the way to save the day.

"When we arrive I need you to watch the perimeter, I'm gonna enter the facility and take down the target," Natasha instructs, and you go to glare at her but are shockingly met with her undressing, and then you felt the car swerving.

"Watch the road," you growled at the man in the drivers seat, then you lifted your suit jacket up to shield Natasha as she changed out of the black dress and into her body defining catsuit.

Natasha softly smiled, an intense wave of emotion filled her as you remained respectful, and didn't intentionally ogle her like she's used to, but a secret part of her wished for you to. However, she has no time to dwell on it as the car comes to a stop outside Hammer's base.

"Stay in the car," Nat barked at both of you.

"I'm not staying in the car."

"Dude. You should really listen to her," you mused, but in direct contrast you followed her into the building, and Happy trailed behind.

"Y/N what are you doing?" she asks in a huff while knocking two guys out at once. "You can't be in here, I don't want you getting hurt."

You rush passed her with an eye roll, taking out a man who was fast approaching with a punch to his throat, then another with your lipstick that she now knows is a high voltage taser.

"I was going to retouch my lips with that," she gasps with a lopsided smile directed at you.

"Good thing you didn't you little thief.," you tease back as you both pass the last remaining guy, and she just uses her pepper spray on him.

Natasha is quick to help Tony with the drones, then while they fight she shifts her attention over to you, "You trained with who exactly?"

"Hill."

Natasha nodded, "Makes sense then."

Her arms that were folded over her chest move to around your waist., "Thanks for the help," you hug her back, and she basically melts into you., "Anytime Nat, I'll do your hair, makeup, I'll dress you up, whatever you want, really."

"How about you undress me?” she teased, using a deep sultry tone on you, you shoved her away playfully, and she cackled while following you out of the room. "Y/L/N, come back!"

"Thank God you girls are okay," Happy shouts as the both of you approach unscathed, he himself in a state of disarray, and you scoff. “It's not us you should be worried about."

He glares at you, then shifts his attention to the redhead approaching from behind you. "Hey, Natalie, what you did here was impressive,” he gestures to the pile of bodies with a shy smile.

"Would you be interested in getting dinner?"

Natasha watched as your jaw and fists clenched in unison, and it inspired her to make a move. Her callous hand was gentle as it found yours, she unfurled your fingers, then slipped hers between yours. "No thanks, I'm spoken for."

A wide smile befell your face as she spoke, and in a swift switch of events it was you making a move, your hand dropped hers to grab her by the waist, and as you spun her to face you the other slid behind her neck. "Yeah, she is."

Happy cleared his throat before scurrying off, the tension in the room thick at the glare you sent his way right before you pulled Natasha into you for a heady kiss. A soft hmph left you when she spun you around and into a wall.

Natasha pulled away from you at the sound of another's pained groan, she smirked at the sight of you so flustered; blissfully unaware, and as beautiful as the first time she saw you.

"We should get out of here krasivaya," Nat grabbed your hand again, squeezing it softly to better get your attention. "Lead the way Nat.," you smiled dreamily, she pulled you along, and guided you into the back of an awaiting car.

—

Fury shook your hand, then sent you off with a wink that you failed to understand as you were finally moving to leave Shields headquarters.

"Wait!” Natasha took off after you, and her hand settled on your shoulder. "Would you like to get coffee with me sometime?” you smiled at the redhead as you turned to face her properly, she was uncharacteristically nervous, and that made you feel extra confident. "I just made out with you over many unconscious men, and now you're nervous to talk to me—how adorable."

Natasha's mouth opened, but then it closed as she tried to remember how to formulate actual words. "I-I'm not adorable Y/N/N, you are."

"You're even more adorable now that you've said that," you snickered, then reached out to softly move a stray hair behind her ear. "I'd love to get coffee with you Natasha, feel free to pick me up tomorrow morning before work."

"I don't have your address.," she called out as you already started walking off again, and you didn't even turn around as you shouted., "We both know that's not true Agent Romanoff."

2012

You weren't a super spy yourself, but you didn't need to be to know the loud ding of your locked doors opening was because of a certain beauty.

"Natasha, I can get my own breakfast you know," you set the broom stick against the counter, and met her at the desk in your office. "Yeah, you can, but you shouldn't have to."

You shook your head with a fond smile, then accepted the warm beverage and croissant. "Thank you baby," you murmured over a bite of the buttery goodness, then you approached the pouting redhead as she reached for you.

"Are you excited to open the shop tomorrow detka?" she quickly pulled you into her warm embrace, and you nuzzled into her, knowing that she craved these reassuring affections. "Mostly," you admitted. "I'm kinda nervous."

"Why would you be nervous?"

"What if I open my doors and the sky falls?"

"Y/N, what's really going on, hm?" she softly swayed you, and placed a kiss to your forehead.

"What if I am not good enough to succeed?"

"Detka, now that's just ridiculous," your lover sighs softly as she works to pull you closer.

"You're plenty good enough, there's nobody else I'd ever let touch my hair," she confessed, "Nick knew that by the way, when he played matchmaker, and I went along of course because you were the woman of my dreams, and how else would I have gotten that close."

"Nat," she cut you off with a dizzying kiss, it was so intense that she was able to walk you back into your chair. "I'm dead serious detka."

"You're being honest?" she nodded, and you smiled widely. "I can't believe I was your first."

Natasha smirked, her dimple prominent as she absorbed your words, there were areas of truth to them, yes, you were her first hair stylist, but moreover, you were her first, and only love.

"Up until that mission I'd handled all of my own disguises, and yes, even as a level 6 agent I was able to work my own makeup brushes."

Your belly laughter filled the room, and your lover smiled as soon as it left you, if she were to only be made to hear your joy for the rest of her life she knows she'd die a happy woman.

"Hey, I have an idea," Natasha nudged your shoulder, then her hand gripped yours to pull you up to your feet without any explanation. Natasha settled herself down in one of your leather chairs with a lopsided grin as she met your gaze through the mirror and ran a hand through her unruly maine, "Have a ball."

It honestly surprised you how willing she was to be your guinea pig, her appearance really did mean a lot to her, but she seemingly trusted you enough to give you free reign with it.

Her current hair was a little passed shoulder length, and quite frankly overdue for a trim, but what you had in mind went beyond that.

Natasha followed your every instruction, and she did so happily, her sighs of gratitude proof that the way you scratched at her scalp as you washed and conditioned her hair was pleasing.

After you settled her down in the salon chair you practiced your customer service on her, "Ma'am, would you," she cut you off with a hand to the face. "Ma'am? Detka please..."

"Oh, my apologies, Miss picture perfect image of youth, would you care for a refreshment?"

Natasha smirked, "Much better, yes please."

Natasha graciously accepted the can of soda by pulling you in for an appreciative kiss, "Now don't you be letting the customers do that too."

You gasped, "Shit baby, do you think I should take off my 'Please kiss your stylist' apron?" She looked up at you unamused, her eyes were briefly casted down at your apron to ensure you were joking, and when she discovered you were she settled into the chair. "Chop, chop."

A roll of your eyes followed her play on words, you complied of course, but to make it more fun you spun her to face away from the mirror.

After you did the sizable chop you began to add layers to give it more volume, then you used your specialty scissors to give the ends texture. It took you about an hour to get her hair where you wanted, and from the back it looked great.

A long breath still left you when your hands no longer had something to manipulate, you were honestly nervous because it was far shorter than when she had walked in. Natasha had the fortune of being so beautiful that nothing could change that, but an outward opinion on her appearance didn't matter here, only hers did.

"Detka, you're making me nervous," she joked, and after a tense moment of silence she sighed, "I'm going to love it, I already feel tons lighter."

When you still refrained from spinning her around she stood from her seat, leaving you unable to face her reaction as she turned around. You still managed to do it though as you shut your eyes tightly to avoid the potential of a disappointed, and likely frowning Nat.

"It's perfect," she gasped, her hands were gentle as they moved you over a smidge so that she could see better. "Honey, open your eyes, and look at the smoke show that is on display," she shook your body like it was a limp noodle by her grip on your shoulders to emphasize the joy you should feel, and it actually paid off.

"Wow," you were genuinely elated as you opened your eyes, what you envisioned was so beautifully brought to life right before you. You didn't hesitate to run your hand through the much shorter red locks, appreciating the way that her natural wave showed through more prominently at this length. "You're beautiful."

Natasha surged forward, capturing your lips with hers, something she always did when she felt overwhelmed by you complimenting her. There was just something different about the way you said beautiful, your tone was always soft, and your eyes were even softer, as if you were seeing her for more than her physicality.

Which you were...

Just as you moved to deepen the affection, your tongue slowly sliding over hers, you were rudely interrupted by Natasha's obnoxious pager, and corresponding ringing of her cell. When combined that always meant she had to go, because Fury needed her for a mission.

"Absolutely not," she groaned, "What is it?"

"Agent Romanoff, always such a pleasure."

"Nick, I am unavailable, Y/N's opening day is tomorrow, can't you send someone else?"

"Unfortunately not Romanoff, it's connected to your mission in limbo, and if you don't seize the moment now you'll likely miss it entirely."

Natasha hung up on the director, it was her angered way of relenting on her stance, even if it was actually breaking her heart to say it.

"It's okay Natasha, it's just a salon opening."

"No, don't do that," she turned to face you, cupping your cheeks in her calloused hands. "You're so special Y/N/N, and the way you transform looks is amazing, it's life changing."

"Yeah, and the way you save the world is too," you leaned in to kiss her again, and the both of you made sure to savor the fleeting moment.

"I'll be back in time for a celebratory dinner."

"I'll be looking forward to it," you pressed your lips to hers for a chaste kiss. "Give them hell."

Natasha smirked against you, "I always do."

——

The world was a crazy place really, the general populous moves around in a state of blissful ignorance while atrocities happen under their noses. Rumors fly, but without any evidence they act as if the evil only exists in the stories. It's only in moments like now that they are able to get a glimpse through the cracks, and see that fables of other worlds are based in reality. 

Natasha stared up at the gigantic black hole in the sky in a disgusted sort of awe, it was a sight to marvel at—sure, but she wonders more how she got here in a matter of twenty four hours.

Yesterday morning she was being pampered by you, and by that evening she was tied to a chair with men who actually thought they had the upper hand on her, the notorious Black Widow.

Then after a panicked call from Coulson over Clint's well being she was exchanging her idiot Russian henchmen out for a ship full of equally as idiotic American men, with an aloof God in tow who couldn't set their egos aside long enough to see the bigger picture until it had to be blown up in front of their once smug faces.

After fighting her best friend, being chased by the monstrosity that is The Hulk, and losing Coulson, a dear friend of the redheads, she was already beyond exhausted, but rest was nary an option with aliens flying through a portal.

If they didn't pull it together soon the entire state of New York would likely meet the same fate as many other peculiar cities in the past.

Natasha wouldn't be letting that happen though, no matter what she would never let anything happen to you. Which is why she was first to offer finding out how to close the portal, effectively neutralizing the core threat here.

"Natasha, you seem distracted," the captain observed, and Natasha sighed in frustration. "My girlfriend," she paused as the man out of time dropped his shield out of shock. "Go on."

"Today was the day her shop was supposed to open, and I'm fucking terrified that she was in it as the fight broke out," she struggled to hold back her tears, "She didn't answer her phone, and I had no time to check on her." At the odd show of emotions from the reclusive spy Steve realized he needed to offer his support here.

"Listen, you make it to the top as planned, and I promise to go collect," he paused, and she smiled at just the thought of you. "Y/N."

"Please, don't let anything happen to her." he nodded, and with that she was off in the sky, chasing down the alien scum while the super soldier sprinted towards your quaint shop.

The bell rung out, and you jumped onto the intruder's back in an instant, ready to fight, but then you saw the patriotic get up, and knew he was not the enemy in this current predicament.

"Y/N?"

You slowly fell from his back, then rounded the man to face him. "Depends, what's it to you?"

"Natasha sent me after you," he relayed, and you rolled your eyes. "That woman, I swear, it's like she forgets I'm trained for this shit."

"You're an agent?" you shrugged. "Something more in between trained agent and stylist."

"I saw her tough resolve crumbling only a few minutes ago," he admits. "I honestly haven't known her more than a few hours, but she doesn't strike me as the type to break easily."

"She isn't," you whisper, then meet the man with a frown. "Take me to safety I guess."

He escorts you out, and it's when an alien runs by with its razor sharp talons ready to strike that he realizes you were safer indoors. "Uh," he turns you back around, then puts you in your office, using your bookshelf he blocks the window, then from outside your door he moves another shelf full of products in front of it.

"We'll come collect you shortly, Natasha is currently working on closing the blackhole."

"Okay!" you shout back amusedly, then you pull up Scandal on your laptop, and hope Nat forgives you for watching the next episode without her on account of emotional distress.

——

Natasha took the elevator down Stark's ginormous tower, then she ran to your shop without taking a moment to catch her breath after she had successfully closed the portal. Once she arrived she barged through the doors only to groan at her newfound obstacle.

"Are you watching Scandal without me?" she grunted through the blocked door as she heard the familiar start up tune while she was trying to use her remaining strength to move the hefty, fully stocked set of shelves. Once she's successful she barges in with a deep scowl.

"The sky was falling..." you shut your laptop guiltily, then slowly made your away around your desk to pull the dirtied woman into you.

"Yeah, it certainly was," she melted into you, honestly she was too tired to further scold you over something so mundane, especially after she already spent the entire day bickering with egotistical men, then as if it was a cherry atop of a shit sundae, she had to fight ugly aliens.

"Sit down love, I'm gonna clean you up."

"Detka," you hummed while maneuvering around the shop to collect your hair products and first aid kit. "Would you like to meet the team today? We're going to get Shawarma."

"Who's really left to meet?" you teased, and she lowered her voice to imitate the men, "Bruce, the Hulk, and Thor, the God of Thunder."

"I'd love to go with you Nat, thank you," you lightly kissed her split lips. "Just maybe after I rinse your hair and disinfect these cuts."

"Fair enough."

—

Natasha was fatigued beyond recognition, so you had her hop onto your back, she protested softly, but the second her feet left the ground you felt her sigh against your back. "Comfy?"

The redhead nodded, then to further prove your suspicions she yawned, "It's just up the street detka, they're probably already eating."

Natasha rested as best she could on your trek to the family owned restaurant that managed to remain unscathed unlike the neighboring stores surrounding it that laid in ruins. Once you got to the door though she dropped from your back, then like the gentlewoman she was she opened the door for you, and escorted you to the table where she took her rightful seat.

There wasn't another open for you since they weren't expecting a plus one, but that didn't matter much, because to make the message clear to the unknowing men gawking at the both of you, Nat pulled you into her lap and kissed you oh so tenderly. Steve blushed at the unfamiliar sight, Tony smirked, and Clint was expectedly unbothered as he stuffed his face.

Thor too seemed unbothered as he asked for someone to pass him the 'sauce that burns his tongue in ways he enjoys.' Bruce, the reserved one looked a bit taken aback, and almost hurt if you cared to look at him, but he shook off his unfair jealousy, then politely shook your hand.

"Lovely to see you again Zoe."

"Zoe?" Steve looked between the three of you, and you and your lover knowingly chuckled. "Tony, and everyone else I guess, this is Y/N, my girlfriend of a years time, and that's all I will be disclosing, so avert your eyes and eat."

Tony didn't care about her disinterest, he was too busy having an epiphany, and so he gasped obnoxiously loudly, "You two got together because of me? Wow! You're both welcome."

—

"Your little team of superheroes seemed," you paused to mull it over while ripping the sheet back, slipping under the cool fabric, and opening your arms wide for the cuddle fiend that was your girlfriend to crawl right on into.

"Insufferable? Pig headed? Inept besides Clint, and even then I might be being too nice?"

Natasha smiled against your neck as you tried to temper your exhausted cackle. "I was going to say potentially incorrigible, but for the sake of mankind's survival I hope they're not."

"Yeah, me too, because as of right now it's an overload on testosterone, and I think if history has taught us anything, it's that that's usually the greatest indicator for eventual disaster"

You snorted at your lovers tired grumbling, "Yeah, but with you there to lead, it'll be fine."

"I sure hope so," she yawned, "Goodnight Y/N, I love you." Your body tensed, but when you looked into her murky eyes you could see that the exhaustion brought it on, but it was the truth nonetheless. "I love you too Natasha."

A smile wider than the state of Texas spread against your skin, followed by a smattering of tired, soft kisses as she nuzzled further into you., "YA sobirayus' khranit' tebya vechno."

(I'm going to keep you forever.)

"What was that?"

"You're a dead woman walking for watching Scandal without me, you better sleep with one eye open," she nipped your skin teasingly and you slapped her butt warningly. "Mhm, sure..."

As you both slipped away into a state of bliss Natasha couldn't fathom how she got so lucky to have found you, and you pondered learning Russian, because you loved her enough to.

2014

"Natasha, sit still," you commanded, the ability to straighten her hair as she asked of you was almost nonexistent with the way she moved.

"I'm sorry detka, I-I," she paused, her thoughts were jumbled with all the anxiety she's been feeling since her mission with Steve yesterday.

"What is it?" you settled the straightener down, then spun her around to face you, and in the cutest way possible she reached for you then pulled you into her lap so she could bury her face in your chest. "My favorite stress balls."

"Natasha," you warned, but the bite in your tone was nonexistent, and you found yourself laughing lightly along with her. "What? The world is an absolute garbage fire, but when I'm here, with my face in your breasts it's alright."

"I can't stand you," you groaned, and she shifted to look at you with a quirked brow., "Good thing you're sitting down then, huh?"

"Natasha, I swear to God!" her face smushed back into your breasts, but this time she was blowing raspberries, and you were aghast, “You’re a fucking pervert,” she laughed wildly as the words left you in a near shriek.

“I’m a pervert for only you,“ she pecked your lips, a sigh of relief brushing across your face as she feels her anxieties melting away so easily when she’s touching you—you’re her peace.

The sound of her pager going off like crazy ruined the whole vibe, “What now? Was me commandeering an entire ship not enough?”

Natasha’s face fell though as she read the tiny script: ‘Fury’s been compromised—hurry.’

—

The drive to the hospital was fast, you held on to the handle tightly as she swerved between lanes. Even in her frenzied state she settled a hand over your thigh to offer comfort, and in the moment when she had nothing but time to think she curses herself for letting you come.

If someone is after Fury, and they see her in the hospital she’s going to be a follow up target, and by bringing you she’s made you one too.

With your hand in hers you both entered the hospital, Maria and Steve were there to greet you both, and as they brought you to a window you saw the elder man in a state of disarray. Then before any words could be muttered his heart monitor went haywire, then he flatlined.

Natasha cried into your shoulder for all of two seconds before she was pulling it together. Her jaw clenched at the thought of leaving you, but she had no choice, so she kissed the corner of your lips, “I have to go,” Natasha held her hand up when you tried to follow her, “I’m okay,” she tossed Maria the keys, then soon disappeared.

You went to chase your girlfriend down but Maria stopped you, “Come with me, Nat’s not going to stop until she has answers, and you’re not safe if you go home since you came here.”

“Oh,” you nodded, then followed her instead.

—

Natasha entered the facility you were being held at with a deep scowl on her face, it didn’t exactly melt away at the sight of you, but it definitely lessened when you embraced her. Maria’s hold on her was nonexistent now as you took over escorting her to a chair for the doctor. Her subtle wince caused you to let go, and you made quick work of her jacket so you could see what happened, and you gasped.

The doctors rushed you aside, then fixed her up remarkably fast, and once they moved you tried to lean in for a kiss, but Natasha evaded your affection with ease, it was so subtle the way she leaned her forehead to yours, but you still felt the sting of her rejecting affection. It terrified you to think that after everything you have overcome together that she’d retreat now.

“I’m okay detka, I’ve experienced worse,” she tried to play down the wound, her voice wasn’t much above a whisper as she tried to keep the moment specifically between the two of you, but she didn’t succeed because you were on your feet, and slamming a fist into Steve.

“How could you let this happen to her?” You glared at the man, but you could see the guilt on his face ran deeper than her being wounded, “Why do you look so guilty Steve? What is it?”

Natasha glared at the super soldier, she told him that what happened on the escalator was self preservation, and that she’d tell you, but he was about to blurt it out, and humiliate you.

“Natasha kissed me,” he squeaked, blue eyes widening as he saw the murderous redhead jump to her feet, “I-It was only—,” you shook your head, a sign that the man took as your disinterest in his blubbering explanations.

Instead you turned to look at Natasha, who was quick to soften her gaze as your eyes locked, a tense silence befell the room because no one knew what was about to happen. Natasha did though, she knew you were silently assessing, and when you smiled softly at her she relaxed.

“I’m sorry you had to do that my beloved,” you coo, then entered into her good arms embrace, “It must’ve been a hardship for you to kiss a man seeing as how you’re not into them.”

Maria smirked, but then upon seeing Fury’s expression she cleared her throat, and began to debrief the room about Hydra’s infiltration. You sat in Nat’s lap while they discussed the miracle of Fury’s survival, and you hardly paid attention, your eyes transfixed on Nat instead.

Which is why when Fury muttered, “Can't kill you if you're already dead. Besides, I wasn't sure who to trust.” You watched as Natasha’s eyes glazed over, and that had you seeing red.

“She took a bullet trying to avenge you, and you don’t know who you can trust?” You made your way over to the man, and slapped him across the face, and Nat tried to pull you away, “Detka, calm down.” But it was of no use.

“No? Absolutely not,” you brushed her off, then turned to point a finger at everyone present, “You all disgust me with how you treat her. Like Natasha is just an expendable asset, but she isn’t, she has a family to come home to and I’d appreciate it if she came back to us alive.”

The room was silent besides everyone’s varying breaths, yours being the loudest as you were feeling rather irate by the audacity in the room. Natasha took tentative steps, her hand turning you by your shoulder so she could look at you.

“I promise I’ll return to you tonight, and I’ll have Maria here take you back home so you’re comfy. She’ll stay with you until I get there,” you pouted, and she desperately wanted to kiss it away, but she simply refused to until her mouth was cleaned of Steve’s existence.

“What do you want for dinner?” Natasha laughed at your sweet question, “You pick.”

You nodded, then placed a kiss to her cheek before shifting to face the others, “Keep her safe, or I swear to God you will all regret it.”

—

Natasha entered your house in a stagger, her heart was nervous for a whole great deal of things, most importantly being you leaving.

“Welcome home Romanoff, I’ll be going.”

“Thanks Maria,” she squeezed the redhead’s shoulder, then yelled her goodbye to you.

This prompted you to race into the living room to see Natasha stood there in one piece, but her eyes spoke of a separate form of shattering. When she fell to her knees a second later you were right by her with no regard to your knees.

“Natasha, what is it?”

“Please don’t leave me,” she sobbed, “I can’t do this without you, I won’t survive—I won’t!”

“Hey, hey,” you settled on your butt then yanked her trembling form into you, “I’m not going anywhere, where is this coming from?”

“I had to air out all of Shield’s dirty laundry,” she started, her hand shaking as you clasped yours over it and you sent her a reassuring smile, “That included all the darkest parts about my past, once you see it you’ll leave.”

“Natasha, your past doesn’t define you, no one is free of skeletons in their closet, and yours were never yours to bare the reprimand for,” you cupped her cheek, and brought her gaze back to yours, “I know your heart Natasha, and whatever those files say doesn’t change that.”

“Matter of fact, they don’t matter, and I won’t even be reading them,” you announced, and her tears finally spilled over, “Thank you…”

“Don’t thank me Nat, you deserve to tell me whatever you want, when you’re ready, not when the world forces you to.”

“I love you Y/N,” she jolted up and caught your lips in a kiss, her mouth tasted of mint, and you smiled at the thought of her probably having brushed her teeth in some drug store just so she could kiss you when she got home.

“I love you too Natasha, you’re stuck with me.”

She smiled against your lips, “Really?” and when you nodded she smiled even wider.

“Marry me then,” she blurted the hopeful words against your lips, then she pulled back with pinched brows as she awaited an answer.

“Seriously?” she nodded, and watched how your eyes now filed with tears, “Of course.”

Natasha kissed you even harder this time, a symbolic sealing of the deal she reasoned.

“Is that borscht I smell?” you nodded with a breathless sigh to follow, and she smiled in pure adoration, “Might as well marry you now, my pretty little housewife in the making.”

“Do it,” you challenged, and she met that with a bruising kiss to which she instantly deepened, her silent promise that she’d be keeping you here until the ready borscht likely went cold.

2016

Natasha woke up next to you this morning, and for a few moments everything just felt right. Then she was called into work only to be met with a scraggly old man in a suit, who laid out a packet thicker than her arms all in the name of containing the Avengers. Tony's argument felt right, it seemed the only option that kept the team safe, but more importantly all together.

Steve didn't agree though, and in a few short hours he became a wanted man, alongside his old pal Bucky, his new pal Sam, her best friend Clint, a shrinking man she'd never met named Scott, and the rightfully terrified witch, Wanda.

Nothing felt right anymore, and as the lot of them fought against one another she knew it wasn't going to end well. Her plans to marry you this Fall would have to wait as she attacked TChalla, and allowed Steve and Bucky to flee.

In less than an hour she was back at the compound collecting her arsenal of weapons, and ignoring Tony's venomous words only spat to hurt her as she rushed off to be on the run.

This life wasn't new to her, being on the run was second nature for the reformed assassin, but now, at this stage of her life it was cruel. There was no easy way to tell you, the love of her life, that she had to leave, but as she raced up the stairs to your shared bedroom she found you sat on the edge of the bed in a fit of tears.

You knew...

"Malysh." you lunged into her open arms, sending the both of you tumbling into the carpeted floor where she held you very tightly. "It'll be okay, I promise, I'll find my way back."

"Back?," you croaked, head shaking rapidly as you refused to accept this., "I'm coming with."

"Not this time Agent.," you sobbed even harder as she cupped the back of your head while sitting you both back up so she could look into your eyes, even if the sight broke her in two., "Liho, and Tabby need you moya lyubov'."

"I need you," your voice cracked, and the tears she managed to keep at bay began to stain her cheeks at the dire situation at hand., "I know detka, I need you just as much as I do oxygen."

"Please, let me come with," you pleaded, hands clinging to her jacket in desperation, and you pulled her in for an equally as desperate kiss.

"This is going to test us," she panted after she managed to pull away from the liplock, her usual sparkling green eyes were dull as she looked into yours now. "But please, don't tell me that if I leave that you won't be here when I get back, because I promise you I'll be back."

"Be careful," you relent, and lean in to kiss her far more gently now, her hands that were sat on your hips gripped you tighter, she needed to feel you, because there was no telling when she would have an opportunity to do so again.

"I always am," she whispered, a soft smile pulling her at lips as she looked into your eyes. "My love for you is all the inspiration I need to make it back to you in one piece," she pecked your lips, then lifted both of you to stand.

"I love you Natasha Romanoff," she brought your entwined hands up to her lips where she pecked each knuckle until she reached your pitifully bare ring finger, where her soft lips lingered., "And I you, Y/N Romanoff."

The sound of sirens in the distance put a rush on your goodbye. "Until we meet again," you smiled sadly as she hopped onto her bike with two ill prepared duffles. "Until then my love."

2018

"Natasha, where are you going?" she peered over to Steve with a sad smile. "I'll be back, I just need to see someone first," and before anyone could protest she was leaving the room.

She was still on the run, so she had to be cautious about how she went about her route. Ross wouldn't have trouble getting her if she walked right into your establishment, and she would never put you in such a position. So she texted you from a burner phone instead, and that's how you found yourself in a quaint diner.

"Natasha, please tell me you didn't," your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as the now blonde approached you with a mischievous grin. "What, you don't like the new hair?"

"I-I," you were thrown, because of course you did, she could pull anything off, but you also knew her resources were limited, so this was likely a very cheap dye job and it made you sad for all the progress you made keeping her hair healthy over the years. "You're beautiful Nat."

"It'll grow back out my love, and then I'll leave it for only you to handle, I promise."

"So I can go with you on the run this time?"

Natasha shook her head, and pulled you in for a hug that nearly crippled her after so long without your body flush to hers. "I'd never let you do that, you're undeserving of such a life."

"All I want is you Natasha, I don't care." she smiled sadly, "I know, but it doesn't matter, because there's no more being on the run."

"Really?" she nodded with a bright smile. "After we win, I'll be back for good malysh."

"Good, I can't stand another two years Nat."

"You won't have to," she smiled as you leaned into her, and she unexpectedly sobbed as you pressed your lips to hers, "I missed you Y/N."

"I missed you too Natty.," you reached up to wipe away her tears, then pecked her lips once more knowing she had to go, "I'll be waiting."

—

They lost, half of everyone turned to dust, and you weren't answering your fucking phone.

You always answered your phone.

No matter what.

Natasha felt waves of pure panic, the contents of her stomach were emptied on the jet, and even though her limbs ached she ran to you.

She had to get to you, there was nothing else she needed more right now than your love.

The doors of your shop flew open, causing her to cough as clouds of dust swirled at the action.

"No...," She fell to her knees besides the chair, your phone laid shattered on the floor in a pile of dust and various hair clippings with an unsent message: "I don't feel good Natasha."

Natasha didn't feel good either, and she would never again if she had to live without you..

2023

“Hey Nat,” Steve greeted as he stepped into the meeting room to find her quietly sulking over a halved peanut butter sandwich. “You okay?”

“Your friend is fine,” she answered almost too quickly for the words to be true, and the older man sighed with the truth weighing on his mind. “Don’t you think it’s time to move on?”

“If I move on, who does this?”

“Maybe nobody, threats have been almost nonexistent Natasha, the oceans are more clear, the grass is real, and the sky is bluer.”

“If you think there’s a bright side to half of the population being dusted you’re honestly not the righteous man I thought you to be Steve.”

“I’ve become a realist in my old age Nat, you deserve to be happy, Y/N wouldn’t want this.”

“Don’t you ever bring her up to push your agenda Rogers,” she growls through gritted teeth, and the man yields upon seeing her eyes of fury paired with a clenched jaw and fists.

“There’s no moving on without her Steve. I’ll search until I’m old and grey for a way to get her back because she’s worth fighting for.”

Steve sighs, “I understand, I was just trying to help is all, I hate seeing you so down.”

“You can’t help me Steve, it seems no one can.”

Natasha slumped back in her chair, and just as her eyes went to close she got a notification from Friday that someone was at the gate.

“Hello?”

Natasha immediately turned to see that the man she knows as ‘Antman’ was stood outside, which made her jolt up because he was presumed dusted, and upon letting him in she realizes that she was l wrong, someone can help her, she just has to l pay the arrogant billionaire a visit and hope he’s down to help.

—

Tony was reluctant to help, but at the thought of Peter, his prodigy, he was in, and Natasha was elated at the promise of undoing the mess. Having you back in her arms was all she needs, and after a few days it’s looking promising.

Clint returned with a baseball glove, showing the mission would succeed as long as all parties did their part. For the most part that was true, but someone had to pay the ultimate price, and then some cosmic fluke, one that Tony himself predicted, occurred as a past Thanos emerged.

It was a gruesome battle, it seemed like the loss of Steve on Vormir was all for not, but then the fruits of their labors came to light as loads of portals opened and all those dusted emerged.

“Avengers Assemble!” Natasha aired out the war cry, a new wave of adrenaline fueling her aching body as she charged at the enemies with the knowledge that you were back to fight for.

—

Natasha sprinted from the battle field as soon as Thanos's army became nothing but dust, her legs were nearly out of commission, weighing as heavy as her heart did with the losses of the unforeseen battle, but she refused to stop until she had you, this time she knew she would.

All her friends were back, so you would be too.

Five years she'd been deprived of you, and she refused to go another minute, she promised you it wouldn't be two like before, but she never realized in doing so she sealed herself to a far more daunting, and lengthier fate.

Much like before the doors to your shop fly open, but this time you're there to look up at the sound of the familiar ding, and you don't have time to ask questions before the love of your life is sobbing loudly against your chest.

"You're here," you hear the pain in her words, to you it had only been an hour since you last felt her touch, but the sight of her changed look told you that it had to have been longer for her.

"I'm here," she gripped your shirt as you went to move, her inability to let you go actually broke your heart in two. "I'm not going anywhere love, just going to sit us down."

Natasha let you go rather briefly, allowing you to settle into the reclining lounge chair in your office, and she straddled you just as soon as your butt made contact with the plush fabric.

"You weren't waiting," she sobbed, fists now clutching your shirts collar while her hazy eyes met your soft pair. "We lost, so you were gone."

The words were enough for you to understand something magically mysterious took place, and that was good because the redhead wasn't able to elaborate, her body racking with more sobs as she reflects on her forced solitude.

With a gentle hand on the back of her head you guided her face into the crook of you neck, you felt as she took in a sharp, deep breath, and how her lip subsequently quivered right after. Her arms then forced their way between your back and the soft material of the recliner so that she could hold you impossibly closer, in direct response you copied her embracement.

After a half hour her sobs faded into hiccups, but your hand rubbing random shapes over her suit continued, even if she could barely feel it. The motion still brought her comfort, and that's all you could try to do here, there was no relating to her pain, you understood the forced solitude, but you can tell hers was far crueler.

"How long?" You started simple, but she still struggled to answer you, it hurt too much to verbalize her former reality. "F-five years."

"Oh my love," you brought her face out to look in her eyes, hands cupping her cheeks so softly as if she were made of glass. The red rimming of her eyes, and tinting of her nose broke your heart, knowing that she was likely in a state of perpetual disarray while you were gone hurt. "I'm so sorry I wasn't waiting," you kissed away the new tears as they fell. "I'm here now baby."

"I need to feel you, please, show me it's real," she pleaded, her hands already tugging at the hem of your shirt, so you sat forward to help her remove it, then you moved a hand to the front zipper of her suit, "Take it off, please!"

It'd been seven years since Natasha felt you like this, with your skin on hers it felt like a dream, like one she frequently had while on the run, but couldn’t bring herself to with you gone.

Natasha whimpered when she felt you shifting so you could set her on the chair, but she was quick to settle when she realized you were going to undress completely for her, her eyes were trained on you without ever wavering. When you slid your pants off, along with your underwear she was gasping in pure shock.

“Fuck, detka,” you smirked in amusement when catching her eyes curiously staring at the strap, “I told you baby, I’d be waiting for you.”

It clicked, and as it did she was pleading with you to give her all of you with lust burning behind her eyes, pupils darkened to the point that they seemed like a black hole ready to consume you whole, and that had you on her in no time at all, soft lips exploring her bareness.

"My sweet Natasha, you've been through so much," you acknowledge, lips pressing to scars you'd never seen before, and your heart ached. "I'm sorry you were alone for so long, but I'm here, and I'm going to take good care of you."

Natasha's entire body shivered as you ran the hard silicone through her folds, collecting her arousal so that you could enter her with ease.

“I know you want my cock baby, but please, can I taste you first?” she nodded vigorously, her hands quick to push you lower, and you snorted, “Thank you angel,” you took a deep breath in, feeling yourself salivating as you smelled her arousal, “Oh fuck, you smell heavenly, you’re still my sweet girl, right?”

“Mhm,” Natasha hummed softly, need too heavily clouding her mind to answer properly. Then she was too busy moaning as your tongue expertly swirled around her clit before it was prodding at her entrance in a teasing manner.

Mewls of pornographic proportions tumbled passed her lips as you worked her up to the edge, she hadn’t been turned on in actual years, so this was not going to be a long fuck.

You were just too good with that tongue of yours for her to hold back much of anything; her hips were frantic as they fucked her cunt into your mouth to help her get off faster; her walls fluttering around your thick pink muscle, leaving it without much wiggle room but you sure made it move; and those screams of hers were uncontainable as you sent her crashing head first into the most intense orgasm ever.

“Fuck, oh my god, please don’t ever stop!”

“I never plan to,” you murmured against her bundle of nerves causing her body to writhe as the pleasure only further coursed through her.

Natasha was panting like she’d just run a marathon, and quite honestly she’d done just about that to get to you from the intense battle. Regardless of her inability to breathe though she yanked you up and into her for a kiss that was nothing short of messy, and thrilling.

While your tongue explored her pliant mouth you reached down to line yourself up with her needy entrance, “Going to fuck you so good,” you pulled away from her lips to catch sight of her face as you thrusted completely into her.

Natasha didn’t disappoint you either, her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she was so overwhelmed by your intrusion that she was choking on the air she’s gasped in, her mouth was agape but she was too dumbed to breathe.

“Breath for me baby,” you pulled out, just to shallowly thrust back in, teasing her back down to earth, “Please, I-I need you inside so bad.”

“I know you do baby,” you smiled down at her, then watched as she involuntarily bit back a moan when you refilled her to the brim, “None of that now, I want to hear how good you feel.”

With your arms now hooked underneath her thighs as your hands reached up to fondle her breasts your thrusts were hitting even deeper. Natasha was cursing lowly in Russian, a sure way to let you know she was going to cum any second now, and you knew just what to do.

Natasha loved the idea of being yours, and she loved it even more when it came with marks.

It was an earth shattering occurrence really, you kept your pace pleasurably slow, as you began to nibble over the skin of her jaw, one of your hands continued tweaking her nipples in dizzying oscillations, as the other ventured down to rub tentative circles against her enlarged clit, “You’re close, aren’t you baby?”

Natasha whimpered with her head thrown back into the pillow, her ability to answer was lost on her as your mouth suctioned against the sensitive expanse of her throat, leaving behind marks she would never dream of covering up.

“Let go baby, drench my cock,” you bit into her pulse point, and Natasha couldn’t refrain from screaming your name in a sequence of praises.

Everything about you made her lose every ounce of composure she’s ever been trained to keep. Your smiles melt her stoney heart, and yours giggles basically annihilated her chance at ever wanting to be an Avenger ever again.

All she wants now is to retire with you, and start a family, because you’re her endgame. Nothing else will ever matter more than you.

While buried deep inside her, here you hover over her with a warm smile, you just recked her but still you manage to lean down to whisper sweet nothings in her ear as she comes down.

“How are you feeling my love?”

Natasha smiled up at you with glistening eyes, “Like I can finally breathe again, I missed you tremendously detka,” her lip wobbled slightly as you whispered against her, “Let’s go home.”

—

Natasha happily took you home on her bike as soon as she calmed down from her high, the trek was short, but meaningful as she felt you clinging to her the entire way home, the tight embrace was healing her tattered soul with every second she was able to experience it.

The two of you shared a sweet kiss as soon as you got off the bike, your lover was reluctant to let up, but she had no choice as you swept her off her feet. Natasha squealed with laughter as she settled into your arms, she admired you fondly, heart fluttering with hope as you carry her over the threshold as if you’d finally wed.

“Welcome home my beloved,” you kissed her lovingly, then let her legs drop softly, while swiftly wrapping your arms around her waist.

“I should be saying that to you,” she whispers, and you can hear the sadness in her tone, so you just pull her even closer, and kiss her deeper. “We both deserved to say it Natty.”

“I love the hair Natty,” you twirled the end of her braid in your hand, admiring the growth and dual tone, while your other ran up and down her back in soothing strokes. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you continued to play with her hair, slowly but surely you unraveled the braid, and admired the way her hair fell around her face, framing it beautifully and making you smile.

“You’re very beautiful,” you smiled wider as she blushed deeply, even in the darkness of your house you could see the red tinge of her cheeks, and how it steadily rose from her neck.

More than a decade of loving one another, and she still felt nervous whenever you spoke so tenderly to her. Treating her like a dainty flower instead of the venomous spider that hides in the petals, the one she herself feels a kinship with. You saw her for more than the world ever would. To you, she was just Natty.

“I was thinking of cutting it, but I made a promise to my favorite person, so I didn’t.”

“Oh Natty, my precious angel,” you pulled her face to yours, nuzzling your noses before you closed the minuscule gap, “You waited for me?”

The truth was right there for you to see, her eyes having returned to their natural green shone through with so much love, it was the purist kind, and you knew she meant it wholly. Nobody else would ever interest the redhead again, not when she has you as the blueprint.

“Of course I did, I’d have waited a lifetime.”

You smirked, “Yeah? I can just picture it now, grey roots, with a rich red that ombre’s to the blonde tips,” she slapped your arm, then played with you, “I’ll never go grey detka.”

“Maybe not with me here to dye your hair,” you teased while escorting your fiancée up to your bedroom so the both of you could shower.

Loud meows reverberated off the walls, and your heart cracked when you saw your not so little babies stretching on the mattress, “Oh my have you two grown,” you dropped to your knees and nuzzled your face with theirs.

Natasha stood in the bathroom doorway with a sad smile, she’d started the water already, and now she’s taken to watching you reacquainting with your felines. “They missed you just as much as I did detka, they meowed at the front door for a whole year before they gave up.”

“You never gave up,” you whispered, overcome with so many emotions as you stroke over a new to you patch of grey fur on Liho’s back.

“I never would’ve detka, you’re my world.”

“Time is so precious,” you choked out before rising to your feet, and meeting Natasha with a wobbling lip and tight embrace, “I don’t want to wait anymore Nat, I want to be your wife, move to Norway and start the rest of our lives.”

“Can Norway become Ohio?”

You quirked a brow, but nodded without any hesitation, “Wherever with you works for me.”

Natasha beamed at your words, “Perfect, we’ll leave tomorrow then, I have a house in our name, and someone special I want you to meet, and after you meet Yelena we’ll get married at the local courthouse with her as our witness.”

“Yelena?!”

“Yeah, I found her when I was on the run,” she smiled while pulling you under the hot stream, “But enough about all that, how about you give me a sneak preview of our wedding night?”

Natasha moaned when you pushed her against the marbled wall, “You’re going to regret that.”

——

13,049 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 🥰

[punkeropercyjackson]

@cassieopeiia said yes when i offered to repost my afro-dominican Jason Todd headcanons so they could finally have some accurate latino Jason content so here!!

Both sets of his grandparents were inmigrants who made sure to teach their kids their culture and Bruce,Talia and Alfred did research so he could still grow up in it after he was adopted so he's not disconnected from his culture like you'd expect

Is darkskinned with a big nose,full lips,green eyes and shoulder length black dreads with one of them being white from The Lazarus Pit.As Robin,he wore his hair short and natural(as in,his classic curls but even thicker)

Speaks spanish often enough that it's a consistent part of his speech patterns but dosen't have an accent since he's so good at both it and english

90s/2000s anime kid but specifically watched the episodes and read the mangas in latino spanish whenever he could(Definitely a merch collector too!!!Nothing weird though,i feel the need to say that,he just loves buying volumes and figures and replicas of weapons and plushies-The last one is a secret though)

Has his pre-reboot Robin characterization but got victim blamed and a bad rep anyway because of antiblackness and xenophobia

Bullying Tim for being a gringo is one of his favorote hobby's

Duke and him compare their similar yet different experiences with blackness and got along even quicker than canon thanks to it

Mentors Damian's team The All New Teen Titans and next to Damian,the member he's closest to is Nell

Takes great care of his hair and will sometimes wear red beads-He actually has a couple sets in different shades!!!

Says his favorite color is red because it represents blood on his country's flag and nobody can tell wether he's joking or not

Sometimes feels guilty for 'being a stereotype' due to the whole being born to poor parents who were also addicts and growing up to be a huge asshole with anger issues and a thirst for violence but rarely lets it get to him because he thinks he's the coolest mf to ever exist(but we all know he's actually a boyloser)

Aave user,with his favorite word from it being 'deadass'

And he makes the obvious 'Concha' jokes too for irony because he's demisexual and aceflux

Loves his country's cuisine-especially flan,it's tied with neapolitan as his favorite dessert!-but his favorite type of latino food is mexican!Tres leches cake and tacos and burritos and mexican hot chocolate and all that make his mouth water like Atlantis

Wears traditional festive clothes for special occasions and if he can't,he'll just refuse to go("I'm not going out in public in that!" "It's literally a tux???" "You call that a tux?It dosen't even have shoulder pads!Don't patronize me,Dickardo.")

Listens to bachata for nostalgia reasons and has some songs memorized but generally a female rappers/death metal bands/punk rock kinda guy

Black and latino memes connoiseur,both the classics and newer ones

Adores dominican folklore and uses it's horror mythos as inspo as Red Hood

Thinks 'showing affection means you aren't tough!' is gringo nonsense so he's pretty open about if he likes someone,be it platonic or romantic

Poc4Poc strictly and has a thing for black women

The only thing him and Kyle can agree on is that latinos are superior

Very autistic,with no masking game now or ever due to the norms he was raised in never giving him the chance to learn to.It got him bullied at school and things didn't get better into adulthood until we got to my Rhato rewrite and he got to make REAL friends i.e Reconnecting with Eddie and my self-insert Summer Kent(i got into DC through watching Utrh and starting to selfship with him),Robin-ing up Duke and vice versa and meeting Rose,Artemis,Kyle,Thad and a bunch of ocs by @moonage-gaydream @theautisticcentre @refrigeratedboombursts @mayameanderings and @insomniac-jay

Punkero Gótico(Goth Punk)who's a straightedge as trauma coping,seeks out latino/black run thrift stores,goes to basement shows and charity events and protests when he has free time and usually just asks around for them so he can know,wears dominican themed corpse makeup and is an agender transmasc who describes his gender as 'Mostly nonbinary but being a guy makes things funny as hell and Not That Kinda Girl by Mcr describes me pretty well')

His love for classical literatiure ofc includes latino authors and he played JuegosJuegos.com tons as a kid

Calls Talia Mamí,Damian 'Duende',Duke 'El Real'(Real=Spanish for Royal but also means the same thing it does in english so it's basically him saying 'You're so fucking real' like the slang)and Summer 'Strawberry Pop'(Jason has a thing for pink-coded black women specifically m'kay?)

His favorite Marvel character and lucky for him his Marvel Variant too is Miles Morales.He thinks it's Hobie Browm though(PLEASE He's so obsessed with his non-existent coolness and relatedly Duke's actual DC Variant is Duke 'El Real' Thomas)

And his books Variant is Percy Jackson.The only real differences are 1.Percy is transfem instead of transmasc and 2.Jason's arc is about him being a self-made tragedy and highkey bad person who works his ass off to redeem himself and only works when he's not getting coddling and Percy's is about how she's never done anything wrong in her entire life yet gets treated like shit anyway and deserves to be treated kindly for once no matter how strong she is

My fancast for him is Aubrey Joseph.Everything i've watched of him-Acting AND as himself-is literally just irl Jason Todd.There's no better fancast for him out there,we've found Red Hood y'all

If you call him any version of 'Papí' and you're not Talia or one of his kids:'Lights Out Bitch!!!!'

Canon bonus':His birthday is on Dominican Restoration day,at my villa we sell mini packets of neapolitan cream with little spoons at our schools,his Lego movie is called 'Family Matters' which is the name of an iconic black sitcom and Leon from Pokemon's VA voiced him in the Wfa dub!!!

[ellebakers]

☆ Dangerous

Ethan landry x reader (volturi)

a request from @scream-girl-imagines

Summary : your group of friends thinks you are ghostface since you always go out at night. if only they knew how much darker your secret is.

Warning(s) : blood + mention of death + vampires.

your life was just a race for centuries. literally. your friend samantha was complaining about having a serial killer as a father. your father is an original vampire, who turned billions of people into monsters, including your mother, whom he bit when she was pregnant with you. after your birth, your difference was very quickly noticed. your thirst for blood and your ability to make things move without even touching them immediately interested your father who understood how much you could serve him during battles. you've been running from your father and his group of dictators all your life. there is not a country, not a city that you have not known.

despite having seen the most beautiful wonders of this world, you have never been very happy until this day. the day you met him. ethan landry, your boyfriend. he was sitting at a table in the library where you worked. at night of course.

after weeks of flirting, you went on a date, then two and finally you got together. he then introduced you to his group of friends, who very quickly became your family, but everything was turned upside down the day some asshole decided to brandish the mask of ghostface and began to target your group of friends.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

"i'm fed up y/n." samantha yelled at you.

"why do you disappear every night ?" tara asked.

"admit it's fishy." mindy commented.

you felt the migraine coming. it was certain that they were going to accuse you. but you needed to go out at night to hunt. not with a mask. nor a knife. only with your fangs. thieves, rapists. you were killing bastards. no one would regret them. you understood the apprehension of your friends, but damn it pissed you off.

"are you ghostface ?"

a silence fell over sam and tara's apartment. you turned to the person who had asked the question. grief swept over you when you realized it was ethan.

you took deep breaths to calm yourself down, then you finally spoke. "I understand your doubts but I am in no way guilty of these attacks."

"so where are you disappearing to all these nights ?" asked your boyfriend. you leaned your head against the wall you were leaning against.

"i can not say it."

sam groaned hiding her face in her hands. "damn, why ?"

you were slowly losing patience. you wanted to tell them the truth, but they weren't going to believe you, and even if you didn't, they would be in danger if they ever learned of the existence of vampires.

"i have no right to tell you."

mindy chuckled. "because you are ghostface."

"NO." you screamed, and the glass that was on the table flew across the room and shattered against the wall above the television.

tara gasped then turned her head slightly towards you, terrified. then it was around others doing the same thing.

"how. how did you do that." ethan asked you.

your chest rose and fell rapidly. you were trying to calm yourself down by closing your eyes and taking deep breaths.

"y/n." sam started but you stopped her. "shut up. I'm fed up with your bullshit. I'm not ghostface so get the hell out of me." with these last words you took your jacket and went hunting.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

you spent most of the night hunting. even if you wanted to escape the confrontation with your friends, you had to go back to get your things back.

when you entered the apartment, they were all sitting on the couch. a feeling of fear floated. ethan cleared his throat. "y/n" you cut it off by raising your hand. "stop. i just came to pick up my things."

suddenly, an icy laugh was heard, then a voice. a voice you unfortunately knew too well.

"oh my dear y/n, don't be in such a hurry and stay with us."

you froze in place. unable to believe for a second that he was there. despite your desire to flee, you turned to face this person you knew too well.

once in front of him, you took a deep breath.

"good evening caius."

the blond smiled at you. but not with a warm smile. rather like a maniac ready to attack.

"good evening y/n. it's a delight to see you."

the man walked over to you and took your face in his hands. "you are even more beautiful than when we last met."

you shuddered under his hands. how the hell did he manage to find you.

"what do you want."

he looked from your eyes to your lips. this proximity did not please ethan. caius then ran his hand through your hair. then he pulled violently on it, which made you cry out in pain.

your friends were rushing to help you. "get your hands of her, asshole." ethan exclaimed.

caius raised his eyebrows amusedly. he then turned his gaze to ethan, addressing you.

"the lover, isn't it." he was devouring your boyfriend with his eyes. literally. "he looks delicious."

"do not even think about it."

you threatened him. he turns to you again. "or what."

"you know what I'm capable of. don't test me."

he released you and slowly walked towards your group of friends while informing you of the reason for his visit. "your father requests your presence."

"no. you and the others, including my father. you can fuck off."

caius froze, then slowly he turned to face you. "are you sure of yourself ?"

you were terrified inside, but it was out of the question for you to show. then you nod.

"fine." he suddenly grabbed tara by the neck and pressed her to him.

chad and sam came forward protectively but you blocked their way. "let her go."

the man nuzzled your friend's hair. "she smells so good. do you know how long it's been since i've tasted blood this fresh."

"i'm repeating myself one last time. let her go."

"i'm willing to bet she's even tastier than she looks."

it was the word too much. you threw caius against the wall. obviously without touching him. sam and chad rushed at tara to pull her towards them. the blonde got up with a grunt. "you're going to regret it, you little slut."

you let your true nature shine through and your eyes turned red. he approached you and grabbed you but suddenly you threw him back into the air.

when he was about to attack you again. a voice was heard. "caius. stop." the voice startled you. you then turned and saw marcus.

the man smiled tenderly at you. "good evening my dear." he approached you and placed a kiss on your forehead. you let him. of all your father's accomplices, marcus was by far the one you hated the least. you loved him even more than your own father.

"tell your dog to go." you told him.

"what did you say." a very angry caius asked.

"do i need to remind you who you are talking to ?" marcus asked him.

the blonde growled. "being aro's daughter doesn't make her untouchable."

"wait for me outside." the older of the two men was beginning to lose patience.

caius. furious, went away.

marcus turned to you again. "he's always had a thing for you. that's why he acts like that." you roll your eyes. "i'd rather get burned on a log than be with him." your comment made him laugh, then he turned to your friends.

"good evening. it's a pleasure to meet you despite the circumstances." your friends shared a horrified and terrified look.

their gaze hurt your heart. but you put aside this feeling. "marcus, i don't want to see my dad and you know it."

"i know, but he really needs you to come."

you shrug your shoulders. "why ?"

he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "he wants to kill the cullens."

you widened your eyes. the cullens are a family of vampires. they have helped you more than once.

"why does he want to kill them."

"it seems that renesme, the daughter of bella and edward, has put herself in a bad position. he wants to fight and he needs you on his team."

"it is out of the question."

marcus looked toward the door to make sure caius wasn't there, then he leaned toward you. "i know it. he knows it too, that's why he's going to try to kill you."

you froze when you heard that. "i insisted on coming. i had to warn you."

"does he know the real reason for your coming ?"

he shook his head. "you know what you have to do, don't you."

you nodded. "i'll set off tonight."

marcus nodded and walked away. once sure they were gone, samantha locked the door and turned to you. "what the fuck was that."

"I am a vampire."

some of your friends were nervously giggling, while others were shaking.

"y/n it's not really the time to joke." sam got angry.

you crossed your arms over your chest. "do i look like I'm kidding."

"vampires don't exist." ethan exclaimed.

you turned to him and sighed. "listen. believe me or not, i don't care. i have to leave for italy, so please go back to your business and leave me alone."

your friends were about to retaliate but with a quick step you took your things and left.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

two days had passed since your argument with your friends. you quickly packed your bags and took a direct flight to italy. none of them had tried to reach you. not even ethan, and that hurt you. but you didn't have time to think about it. you were waiting in front of the door of the great hall of the castle where the volturis met.

a man you assumed was a newborn, walked up to you and looked down on you.

"they are ready to receive you."

you rolled your eyes at his condescending tone and followed him. the great hall had not changed. always those idious paintings that sent shivers down your spine. the volturis rose to receive you. all except marcus. strange, he was always present during these kind of meetings.

"my dear child." exclaimed your father, who of course was in the center of the assembly.

he approached to hug you, but you backed away. your gaze cold and expressionless. "i heard you wanted to see me."

he nodded smiling. arg, that psycho smile still scared you so much.

"yes. i guess marcus explained my situation to you."

you sneered. "did he explain to me that you want to kill the cullen family. yes."

aro turned his back on you and walked over to his chair. "well, their child has become reckless. She lives with werewolves and we can't accept that much mixing."

you blinked, trying to figure out the logic. "you want to declare a war for this ?"

he sat down and nodded. "exactly. and i want you to help me."

"why ?"

he clapped his hands like an overexcited child. "because my child. your abilities are necessary for us. you also know where each of them live. you could bring them to me."

you approached him smiling. "my dear father, i'm going to save you a waste of time, here is my answer. no. will not help you kill my friends."

"i knew you would answer this."

he tilted his head to the side and addressed the man who had taken you to the great hall. "let them in."

you frowned and watched the man walk out. then he came back with men who were all pulling people by the hair. your heart almost stopped when you recognized your boyfriend's voice. "let go of me you asshole."

then they brought in the rest of your friends. you advanced towards them but the voice of your father stopped you. "i wouldn't do that if i were you."

you turned to him, frowning. "why ?"

he tapped on the arm of his chair while smiling. "marcus wanted to help them. now he's burning in hell."

you felt your body being invaded by a wave of hatred.

"don't look at me like that. it's all your fault, if your bitch mother killed you when i ordered her to, then marcus would still be alive and your friends would be happy and safe far away."

the tears welled up in you. "oh look at you. you don't deserve my blood running through your veins. by the way." he snapped his fingers and a man grabbed you. ethan and your friends started fidgeting and screaming. "i think it's time to get my blood back."

the man grabs your face and brings a knife to your throat. a voice in your head kept screaming at you. "Do it. DO IT."

you let go then and the man flew in the air and went to impale himself on a point which served as decoration.

aro stood up clapping. "here is my child."

you got up and several men threw at you but you killed them without even touching them. breaking their necks, or gouging out their eyes. while advancing towards your father. his allies stood up but he motioned for them not to move.

"what are you going to do now ?"

you bent down and whispered to him. "burn you in hell."

without even touching him, he burst into flames. the pain made him stand up and scream but you watched him slowly die.

he was pushing his last when you advanced towards your friends to release them. ethan threw himself against you and hugged you. "i was so worried."

you pulled back and ran a hand over his face. "i know. but it's over now."

caius walked towards you quickly. "you think you can come here and kill aro without suffering the consequences, you little bitch."

your friends stood in front of you to protect you. the blonde stopped and laughed. "do you really think you can protect her from us ?"

your friends exchanged a look then in chorus said. "yes."

as the blonde smoked in anger, you pulled your friends by the hand out of the building. once outside, they took turns hugging you. ethan did the last and he couldn't take his lips off you.

you laughed and pushed him gently. tara cleared her throat and tugged your arm lightly. "um, there are strong arms coming towards us."

you looked in the direction she pointed and smiled. "I’ll be right back."

you advanced towards the "big arms" and greeted them.

"is he dead ?." one of them asked you.

"yes. the others are all yours. but I'm counting on you to be discreet."

the man laughed. "y/n you know that discression is not our thing."

you laughed in turn. "i know. Jacob."

he nodded then he and his pack changed into wolves before entering the castle to finish the job.

your friends were watching the scene, speechless.

chad started to stammer. "did they just turn into wolves ?"

you laughed and nodded. "it's best that you don't know about all the dangerous creatures that actually exist."

[nordschleifes]

chapter one — malamente

➝ charlie is uneasy about the start of her second year with aston martin, as she has to deal with her new colleague, who is still the same asshole he's always been.

➝ word count: 5,2k

➝ warnings: fighting, mentions of sexism, fernando being a cunt (derrogatory)

➝ author's note: i've been working on this story since april and was a hell of a ride. hope you enjoy it!

Zipping her thick winter coat up to her neck, Charlie took one last look to make sure everything she needed for the day was in her backpack. After checking if the parking brake was on, she grabbed the black handle and got out of the car, taking a deep breath. The January sun shimmered shyly in the sky as she crossed the parking lot towards the factory's main building, the cold wind blowing ruffling her brown hair 

She’d been taking this same path to work for a year now, since she had left McLaren for Aston Martin. After nearly a decade in Woking, Charlie felt within herself that she needed a change of scenery. The year she had spent on Daniel Ricciardo's racing team, as well as the win at Monza, had made her realize that there was still a will to win within her, but that the place for it was no longer there.

Lawrence Stroll team's offer came as a pleasant surprise in the summer of 2021. With an eye-popping salary, good benefits and the prospect of working on a long-term project, Charlie jumped at the opportunity. However, the excitement of starting a new stage in her life didn't make saying goodbye to the team that had been her family for nine years any less melancholy.

The following year was just as Charlie imagined, full of the challenge of adapting to the new work environment and new colleagues. However, it was worth it for the opportunity to work with Sebastian Vettel, a four-time Formula 1 world champion.

There was something about their partnership that was different from her previous ones. Sebastian was kind and thoughtful. He didn’t mind spending long hours reviewing data and videos, as well as never failing to show his appreciation for her efforts. She would never forget the neatly packaged loaves of fresh bread and jars of honey from his home in Switzerland that he would give her. It was enough for Charlie to feel happy to be doing what she loved.

Well, until that fateful day in August.

She clearly recalled how her throat had started to tighten and her eyes had filled with tears when watching Sebastian’s retirement announcement. Charlie had barely had time to digest that news before she learned who would be the team's new driver the following year. And she was sure the universe was playing a silly trick on her.

Her new colleague was Fernando Alonso.

Again.

As she walked into the factory lobby, Charlie remembered how determined she'd been to quit her job and move to another city, county, or even country. She wanted to distance herself as much as possible from that man and anything that reminded her of him. However, she remembered something she had heard one Sunday in Canada, coming from someone who knew him well.

It was 2015. She was hiding between two motorhomes in the paddock at the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve, finally allowing herself to cry after fighting the urge all day. Tears streamed down her cheeks as sobs made her chest ache. That had definitely been the worst day of her career.

— Charlie? — she heard a male voice to her right — Are you all right?

Wiping her cheeks with the sleeves of her white shirt and sniffling, she looked up to find Lewis Hamilton staring down at her. He was wearing a black baseball cap over the curls he'd been growing for a while, as well as a black team shirt and gray jeans, styled to look destroyed, both wet in spots where his Mercedes colleagues had probably sprayed him with champagne. However, his expression was far from being that of a happy person with the result of that day.

— It's okay, I'm fine, Lewis — Charlie replied, voice cracking — It's just been a… Rough day.

She hadn't lied. That Sunday had been one of the more complicated days she had had that year. The team had arrived confidently in Canada, especially due to the upgrade package brought by Honda for the MP4-30, that season’s car. Although it had raised some hope, it had been the main culprit for Charlie considering leaving her job as performance engineer

Already on Saturday, one of the cars had problems during the last practice session, diagnosed with a failure in the power unit. That meant it couldn't take part in qualifying, while the other car dragged itself down to 14th place, the average speed difference for the fastest cars being around 20 kilometers per hour on the straights.

However, Sunday was a true horror show. It took just four laps for the performance curves on Charlie’s screen to start showing a serious problem with the car's engine fuel consumption. Charlie discussed the data with Mike, the race engineer, and they both came to the conclusion that it was necessary to stop jostling for position in order to manage fuel consumption until she found a solution in engine modes.

Obviously, the suggestion was not well received by her driver.

— I saw that Fernando retired...

— Again — she murmured, wiping another tear that was on her cheek — The third race in a row, Lewis…

He frowned.

— Charlie...

— And that's not the worst of it, you know? The worst thing is hearing what I had to hear during the debrief — she said quietly, her voice cracking with the memory of the words Fernando had spat in the team’s control room.

After receiving Mike's direction, Fernando exploded on the radio. Stating that he had "bigger problems at the moment" and that he couldn't drive "looking like an amateur", he pretty much ignored their requests and continued the race at the same pace. Seeking a quick solution to the problem, Charlie soon found an engine mode that significantly reduced fuel consumption, which would allow him to at least finish the race. In theory, at least.

In practice, a problem with the car's exhaust caused him to retire from the race, but not without expressing his frustration and disappointment with both the car and the team over the radio. Taking the headphones off of her head, Charlie knew she had another difficult debrief ahead of her. She just didn't imagine it would be as difficult as it turned out to be. 

— During the debrief, Mike told Fernando that I had spotted the problem, and that slowing down the race pace was just a temporary solution until I found the ideal engine mode to get it back to a more aggressive position, but he wasn’t having it. He went on yelling about how it was a stupid suggestion, that he was fighting for positions and that "Charlie had to be an idiot to ask for something like that at that moment".

— And did you say something? — Lewis asked, crossing his arms.

— I said that, if he didn't follow Mike's directions, he would have retired on the 25th lap due to lack of fuel, according to the simulations. But he kept complaining, saying it was no use, because he ended up DNFing anyway, even though the problem they found in the car had nothing to do with the fuel — she said, taking a deep breath — So, he asked why I was "defending Charlie" and implied that "he wasn't man enough to defend himself".

The driver raised an eyebrow.

— He didn’t…

— Fernando didn't realize that I was Charlie. And his reaction — she said softly, her throat closing up again — Fuck…

Lewis took her hands as she tried to hold back her tears.

— What did he say?

— That me being Charlie “explained a lot”.

Lewis pursed his lips.

— My God…

— You know, Lewis, it's not easy being an engineer in general, but here, it’s — Charlie said, sniffling — And I don't mean the amount of work or traveling. It’s the loneliness. I'm almost always the only woman in the garage, and that comes with the need to feel like I have to prove myself every second, that I have to show everyone why I deserve my job. And then, a guy like Fernando comes along and just blames me for things that I can't control. The car is a shitbox! I didn’t design it, and there’s nothing I can do about the awful power unit!

She continued to sob as Lewis wrapped her in a hug. She felt a little awkward, being hugged by a former co-worker who also happened to be one of the sport's stars. At the same time, she felt like she needed to be able to be vulnerable for a few minutes. . Trying to be strong all the time was too exhausting.

A few seconds later, she pulled away from him, breathing deeply as she tried to calm down.

— Look, Charlie, if I can say one thing, it's that I understand you — the driver said, his brown eyes showing something of empathy for her — I also feel alone sometimes and, sometimes, that makes me want to work even harder to prove why I'm here. But, like me, you don't have to prove anything to anyone. You are a great engineer and, if I may say so, one of the people I most enjoyed working with.

— Fernando clearly doesn't think so — she replied.

— Well, you know why.

Charlie blinked.

— Why?

— Because Fernando is an asshole, Charlie.

She couldn't resist giggling.

— Didn't expect to hear you calling another driver an asshole.

— Well, Fernando is always going to be an exception, and you know why — Lewis replied, the corner of his lips curling. It was no secret that the relationship between him and Fernando was chaotic, the result of their internal disputes at McLaren in 2007 — But the secret here is to protect yourself against him.

— And how do I do that?

— Simple, just don't let him get inside your head, Charlie. Not doing what he wants you to do, which is to just throw your arms up and walk away. Only then, you will have a chance to win. And I bet you don't want to lose to him, do you?

— No, I don't — she replied, wiping her sleeves across her face again — And I won't.

The conversation with Lewis gave Charlie strength to resist Fernando’s efforts to get under her skin from then on. Contrary to what Fernando would have wanted, she did not quit or bow her head. She kept working hard, race after race, battling a stubborn car and an even more stubborn driver. She continued to hear unpleasant comments and annual requests from him for her to be replaced by another performance engineer. Thankfully or not, that request was never granted. 

The day he announced his retirement to the team, in 2018, was probably the happiest day of Charlie's life. As soon as she got home, she opened a bottle of wine, savoring it as she sat on the sofa, listening to her favorite playlist, humming along to a Joy Division song.

She would finally have peace.

And she did, until that cold January day.

“Don't let him get inside your head”, she repeated to herself as she walked up the stairs to the engineering office. Upon arriving at her cubicle, Charlie couldn't resist giving a little smile as she placed her backpack on top of her desk.

On the table, aside from the computer, was a pen holder with some pencils in it, as well as some green folders, a black leather journal and a pen on top of it, all with the famous Aston Martin wings stamped on them. On one wall of the cubicle, along with the race calendar of 2023, was a picture of her cat, an orange Maine Coon named Ron, as well as a childhood picture of her with her grandfather, Jamie, posing with a dismantled engine on the kitchen’s table.

He was responsible for her being inside that office, as he had taken her into his garage at home from an early age to assemble and disassemble engines and other components, explaining what each part did. It was her great fun during childhood and adolescence, the complexity of that world being much more attractive than the little houses and dolls. It was those afternoons with her grandfather that made her pursue a career in mechanical engineering, with his full support and encouragement. Charlie would be forever grateful to him for that.

She took off her coat and draped it over the back of her chair before sitting down, and turning on her computer. A few seconds later, the screen flashed with the image of the previous year's car, Sebastian's number 5 displayed prominently on the car’s nose. For a second, Charlie found herself wondering where Sebastian was at that moment. “He’s probably looking after his alpacas”, she thought, smiling as she picked up her mug — which had a doodle of an orange cat — and headed toward the coffee machine.

Halfway between the empty cubicles, movement coming from the hallway made her stop for a few seconds. All that commotion indicated that someone important had just arrived in the building, like a driver. But Lance, Lawrence's son, did not generate such a stir among the employees, despite having been in the sport for nearly ten years.

That could only mean that the new employee had arrived and everyone was gathering at reception to welcome him.

Pressing the ‘double Americano’ button, she chose to ignore what was happening. It didn't make any sense for her to join everyone else and participate in that sort of welcoming ceremony for someone who had already demonstrated that he didn't appreciate her work, despite the effort she'd put in over the four years he'd been at the team.

They were completely incompatible and nothing would change that. Nothing.

— Charlie? — a familiar voice asked behind her. Taking a deep breath, she turned around, finding Raúl, one of the performance engineers, smiling at her — We'll have Fernando at the front desk before our meeting. Are you coming?

She forced a smile as her stomach roiled with tension.

— Yeah, um — Charlie hesitated — No.

— Why not?

She blinked.

— I need to organize some things for our meeting. Some data from the new engine I got from Brixworth…

— It's just going to be an introductory meeting, Charlie, nothing is more...

— Look, Raúl, I really need to see this data — she interrupted him, trying not to show her annoyance with his insistence — You can go, I'll meet you in the conference room, okay?

The man just shrugged his shoulders before heading down the hall towards the stairs, following the stream of employees excited about the arrival of their new colleague. “Let's see how long this lasts”, she thought, as she returned to her own table, sipping her coffee.

After reviewing the documents sent by Mercedes HPP on the power units that would be supplied to the team that year and printing out the data obtained by the aerodynamics team during the sessions in the wind tunnel, Charlie gathered everything and headed to the meeting room, which was on the same floor.

She couldn't shake the tension in her shoulders as she entered the room. The place, which was not the most spacious due to the large table that was right in the center, was also full of people. Inside there were engineers and an aerodynamicist, as well as Tim, the chief performance engineer, and Lance, both of whom were talking to Ben, his race engineer.

Sitting down near one end of the table, Charlie set the papers with the data in front of her, trying to ignore the strange feeling building inside her chest. Then she noticed that there were two men with cameras in their hands talking to Joanne, who handled the team's marketing.

“Of course he brought the fucking Netflix crew to film this”, she thought, looking down at the pen in her hand, the silver wings glinting. If there was one thing Fernando loved more than making other people's lives hell, it was being in the spotlight. After the havoc he had caused the previous summer with his move to Aston Martin, it was clear that he would try to soak up as much attention as possible. That, in a way, made Charlie all the more uncomfortable.

All of a sudden, the conversations in the room dropped in volume, attention focused on the door. She didn't move, though, eyes fixed on the red line printed on the paper in front of her, breathing heavily. "Don't let him get inside your head", Charlie repeated mentally.

— Good morning, everyone — the familiar, heavily accented voice made her look up at him. Fernando hadn't changed much since the day he left McLaren for his sabbatical, as Charlie refused to call that period retirement. The shaggy brown hair and short beard were still there, except that there was a little gray in it. It was the clearest sign that he was no longer the same young man who had taken the Formula 1 world by storm twenty years ago.

After being greeted by those present, many of them smiling, Mike Krack, the head of the team spoke up. He had come in with Fernando, and called for everyone assembled to settle down at the table in order to start the meeting. The men with the cameras got ready to record the moment, one in each corner of the room, while Fernando made some comment to Lance as he sat down, making his new teammate chuckle. Lips pursed, Charlie looked down at the papers in front of her.

— Well, first of all, good morning everyone — Mike began. He sounded pleased. She didn't bother to look at him, the pen in her hand looking much more interesting — It's a pleasure to be reunited with you all again for another season. This time, with great news on our team.

Clicking her pen, Charlie began absentmindedly scribbling on the corner of one of the paper sheets.

— We said goodbye to Seb in Abu Dhabi, but we are very happy to welcome a new driver to our team, a true talent, Fernando — the team principal continued. Charlie continued scribbling on the paper, the lines taking shape — It's a joy to have you with us and we're sure we'll do a great job together.

— I'm absolutely sure of that, Mike — the driver replied, as the pen’s strokes on the paper grew heavier, the lines overlapping. Charlie's jaw was locked, breathing heavy.

— And, since everyone is here, I'm going to confirm the teams that will work with Fernando and Lance this year. On the pit wall there will be me, Dan, Tim and Peter, and, on Lance's side, we will keep Ben as race engineer and Luke as performance engineer.

Something churned in Charlie's stomach, the movement of her pen accelerating. If Ben was going to go with Lance, that could only mean that...

— Fernando will have Charlie as a race engineer and Raúl as a performance engineer — Mike said. Charlie’s head shot up, and her eyes met Fernando's. He was watching her with an air of curiosity and the smile of someone who had gotten what he wanted on his lips — We're also going to have a rotation of employees in the aerodynamics sector, with Mariano accompanying us in the first few sessions.

The team principal's words were lost amid Charlie's pulse as it roared in her ears. Something burned in her chest as she stared at Fernando, barely blinking, pen still against paper, words taking shape. She wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face, she wanted to get out everything she'd built up inside since that damned afternoon in Montreal.

— Any questions? — Mike asked, causing the driver to look at him. Silence reigned in the room, as apparently no one had any questions about the lineup of the race teams that season — Well, then, this meeting is done.

As soon as Mike finished speaking, Charlie's colleagues were already getting up and leaving the room, as well as Lance and Fernando, accompanied by Joanne and Mike. But Charlie sat there, frozen, trying to remember how to breathe. It was ridiculous to feel so affected by one person, but as Hannah, her therapist, had already said, this was her mind's way of responding to the trauma of those years working at McLaren.

Charlie knew it wasn’t insignificant when she looked down at the paper in front of her. In the corner, accompanied by doodles of lightning, sad faces and the number 14, was written “I didn't forget”. She knew she would never forget the stress, the tears, the futile effort she had made to save Fernando’s passage through the team, without success.

Charlie collected the paper she had brought to the meeting and resolutely left the meeting room. Walking with quick steps down the hall, she had only one goal in mind at the moment. She wouldn't suffer again, she wouldn't put up with his rude comments again. She was no longer that girl at the beginning of her career in Formula 1, scared by all the demands and problems. She had matured, grown up. She had learned to emotionally protect herself from inflated egos and frustration, she would protect herself now.

Knocking on the door with Mike Krack’s nameplate, she heard a sound that sounded like an invite to enter. When she opened the door, she found the team principal sitting in his chair, staring at his computer screen. Above him was an abstract-style painting of the team's car.

— Oh, Charlie, are you all right? — he said, with a smile on his face, while clicking on the mouse he had in his right hand — Is there a problem?

— Yes — she replied, dryly.

The man looked up at her, looking confused.

— And what would it be?

— Fernando.

He raised an eyebrow.

— What?

— Look, Mike, I'm going to be honest with you — Charlie said, placing the papers on his desk — I don't want to work with him.

— But why? You have already worked together...

— That’s precisely the reason, Mike.

Mike shifted in his chair.

— Charlie...

— Do you know how many hours of therapy I needed to recover after working at McLaren with him? I assure you, it was a lot. And it was all because of him, and I’m not going to throw the progress I’ve made in the bin.

— I can talk to him, Charlie — he said in a measured voice — We can work to understand the problem and make sure it doesn't happen again.

She snorted.

— Do you think he listens to anyone? Honestly?

— Charlie, I understand that your relationship may have been tumultuous in the past, but everyone who has worked with Fernando says that he is very relaxed and open to feedback. Even Karel, his last race engineer, said that he never worked with such a polite, detailed driver…

— And you know why he would say that, don't you?

— What? — Mike returned the question, confused.

— You know why all these guys say he's funny, polite, and helpful, don't you? — she said, placing her palms on the pale wood and leaning across the desk.

— Um… No?

— Well, I do. Want to guess why he is so nice to them? Hint, it's between my legs.

Mike blinked.

— Are you telling me he's sexist? — he asked seriously.

Charlie thought about saying yes, but something inside her stopped her. The pain of that afternoon in Montreal seemed to come crashing back inside her. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, as well as the lump tightening in her throat.

— You’ve met him, haven’t you? — she replied.

— Charlie, I'm sorry, but he seems to be very polite and respectful with all the women around him.

She huffed in frustration. She couldn't talk about what happened in Montreal. Not again. 

— Mike, please — Charlie said, trying to keep his voice steady — Can't you just take me off his team? Put me in another position, maybe with Lance?

— Unfortunately, I can't do that.

— Why?

— It’s a contract issue. 

She blinked.

— Contract? My contract? I don't remember there being any clause saying that I would have to work with an asshole.

— His contract, Charlie.

— But…

— One of the clauses he insisted on was that he would have complete freedom to choose his racing team. Lawrence accepted, after all, we have great engineers within the team and we would have no problem hiring someone from another team or category if that were the case.

Charlie sat there in silence, her eyes locked on Mike’s, breathing heavily.

— So, after everything was settled, the very next day he asked for the list of engineers to choose his team. Five minutes after I sent it, I got an email with the names he wanted, yours was the first on the list.

— You mean that…

— It was Fernando who chose to work with you, not me or Lawrence. Although I would have made the same choice, but that's not the point.

— Unbelievable — Charlie muttered.

— I actually think it makes sense since you guys know each other and, like it or not, you're one of the few people who can say you've worked with four different world champions in your career, plus… How many grand prix winners? Five, six? You know what it takes to win, Charlie, and he wants to win.

— Look, Mike, I don’t — Charlie started to say, until she was interrupted by a knock on the door, which the team principal responded with an invitation to enter. As she rose from the table, she felt a shiver run across her skin as she realized who was coming through the door. “This has to be a nightmare”, she thought, trying to focus on her breathing.

— Mike, I wanted to talk to you about — Fernando began, stopping when he met Charlie's stern gaze — Oh, I didn't know you were busy…

— No problem, we were actually just talking about you — Mike replied, causing Charlie to turn to face him, outrage written on her face.

— And what were you saying about me? — he asked, approaching the desk slowly.

— I don't want to work with you — Charlie snapped, looking up at him defiantly.

— Why not, Charlie? — Fernando said, his accent evident in the syllables of her nickname. Something about the way he said her name made her immediately angry, the urge to punch him in the face growing by the second — I thought you would be happy to work with a world champion again.

She snorted.

— Your age is really showing. 

— What do you mean by that?

— I don’t know if you remember, but I was working with Sebastian Vettel last year. You must remember him, since he made you regret going to Italy in 2010 — Charlie said, venom oozing from her words — By the way, Mike, I didn't know Aston Martin had turned into a nursing home.

— Charlie, please — Mike said, his voice soft, as if he was trying to soothe Charlie’s temper. Clearly he hadn't expected to deal with this on his new driver's first day on the job, but Charlie couldn’t help herself. She wanted to return every nasty comment he’d never made and then some.

— No, Mike, it's okay — Fernando said, placing a hand on the table, the shadow of a smile on his face — I'm used to her adorable sense of humor. And if I may say so, I can't wait to see it on race weekends.

— Only in your dreams — she answered through her teeth, before looking at Mike again — I won't work with him, I refuse to work with him.

— Charlie, you are in no position to refuse to work with Fernando...

— Then I’ll quit — she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air — I’ll get my things from my desk, go to HR, and get out of here!

— Someone's making a mountain out of a molehill, as usual — Fernando, his voice arrogant, condescending. Something about his words caused Charlie’s anger to boil over, a response leaving her mouth before her brain gave the command.

— Fuck you, you fucking asshole! — Charlie yelled — You can't follow a fucking order to keep you in a race without complaining, and you still talk to me like I don’t know anything! You don't know how to respect anyone's work! You're a fucking asshole with no sense of reality!

— Do you have any idea what it's like to be in a car? Do you know how hard it is? — he returned, raising his voice — You talk too much for someone who doesn't understand what it's like to be a racing driver, Charlotte.

Hearing him use her full name brought a painful memory to her mind. Taking two steps forward, Charlie lifted her face to his, feeling her eyes sting as something caught in her throat.

— Don't you ever dare call me Charlotte again! — she yelled, her finger in his face.

— And don't you ever lift your fucking finger at me again!

— Enough! — Mike yelled, slamming his hands on the table — You two shut up!

Charlie turned to face the team principal. She was a bit scared. She'd never seen him angry, or even yelling, in the entire time he'd been at the head of the team. Maybe that was a sign that they had gone too far.

— First, no one is going to quit. Fernando is our driver and Charlie is our race engineer, no discussion — Mike continued talking, staring at them over the dark frame of his glasses — Second, you are going to work together and not just because of the contract, but because I want you to.

— But Mike — she tried to argue.

— I don't care if Fernando was rude or if Charlie sabotaged that damn Honda engine herself, that's all in the past! You are no longer at McLaren, or in Woking. You're at Aston Martin, in Silverstone, and only adults work here, so act like it.

— Mike, I — Fernando tried to say.

— I'm still talking — he cut him off, a serious expression on his face — Lastly, I want you to have the maturity to look at each other and apologize for this ridiculous scene you've played here.

Charlie looked back at Fernando, realizing how close she was to him at that moment. She was so close that she could see details that had gone unnoticed before. From that position, she could see the green blending into the brown of his eyes as well as the fine lines that framed them, as well as a small scar in the corner of his upper lip, which was well disguised by the beard, flecked with gray.

— I’m sorry, Charlie — he finally said, making her blink back into that room. Suddenly, she felt her cheeks heat up, her heart pounding in her chest.

— It's your turn, Charlie — Mike said as she swallowed hard, trying to ignore the roaring pulse in her ears.

— I'm sorry — she managed to say in a thin voice. Fernando's expression seemed to soften at her words.

— Great — Mike said, sitting back in his chair — I hope you guys keep it that way, civil and respectful. You are both dismissed.

Taking a deep breath, she turned and walked towards the door.

— Charlie — Fernando said from behind her.

— Yes? — she asked, looking over her shoulder.

— You forgot this — he said, holding up the sheets of paper she'd brought with her.

— I printed it out for you — Charlie muttered as she opened the door. However, before leaving, she was surprised by his response.

— Oh, well, okay. Thank you.

[deepwithintheabyss]

abyss I need Slade doing the am I the asshole but with his relationship with Dick. And he’s like “his father is younger than me. And disapproves. Problematic? Also my boyfriend is 23 and pregnant. Thanks.”

Tim would obviously find the account and flip his shit

This had me cackling, very specific request. (fuck how old is Slade again?), also this would probably be something he gets advised for going to the relationships thread (okay not anymore after I edited my first idea) (I'm talking like I know and use reddit xD I just see some screenshots)

fullfilled the first part of the prompt but not the second, hope you're happy anyways

AITA threatening to whisk my partner away after his father threatened to make us break up?

I'm gonna be frank, I only am writing this because my boyfriend thinks it's a funny idea.

Aparently the fact that I was a teenager while my partners adopted father was just a child is one of the man's main concerns and he tries to bring it up ever single time we see each other. If it's not that it's about my job and what I do and the rules he tries to impose upon me for being "part of the family now" or when I'm in his home city.

I think he's being unreasonable and needlessly concerned. It's not like the he is much older than my partner, age-wise they're more like brothers than father and son (not to mention that the whole family relationships are a mess anyway, I swear they change it every few months just to fuck with me)

After he learned my partner was pregnant he threatened me with several bodily harm and a promise to ensure that I would never be able to touch my partner again or be able to come near him, much less see my child. He even tried to imply that he would try to convince my partner to abort but we are all aware that my partner wants to have children and wouldn't listen to such a request. (Also the Bastard is weak for children as well so that was most likely a bluff to begin with).

Upon this I told him that if he even tried to seperate me and my partner I would flee the country and move somewhere where even the bastard wouldn't be able to find us.

He took this very seriously and got even more problematic, instead of backing down (not that that was to be expected). His... there is no good word to describe that person, my partners adopted grandparent disapproved of my choice of words and tried to tell me I was very out of line for it.

I do not think I am in the wrong whatsoever, nor does my partner. We are both allowed to do what we want with our own lives and I think it would actually be helpful if my partner left the controlling clutches of his father, at least for long enough to raise our child.

While the rest of the family is a bit wary of me it is for very different reasons and no one else has opposed our relationship yet. (Ignoring my partners youngest brother but that's more childish jealousy from suddenly having to share my partners attention with me.)

So am I the asshole for threatening to distance myself and my partner from his adoptive father until he learns to calm down about our relationship?

-

lillypads98 WAit wait wait wait we need more information, you are how old??? and you think it's just okay to be together with your patner? and whats up with the fmaily anyway??? hello is no one questioning this??

TforTimeSpentThinkingAboutSpleens lmao if this is who i think it is and i dont think im wrong then im going to make sure all the others see this too also i would NEVER let him vanish like that nice try

neoforhero NTA for sure, sounds like your partners father has some serious control issues, while I think you might have reacted a bit extreme it seems to be something that has been building up for a while. (He tries to control your behaviour when you enter the city??? Who does he think he is? Fricking Batman?

[sideblogofasideblogforshoko]

Prompt: Sleep

Title: To Sleep, Perchance To Dream

Summary: Shoko doesn't sleep for a reason

Word Count:

Rating: T

Pair: Soft Gojo/Shoko (SaShoSu if you squint), mostly comfort with angsty tones because I can't write just fluffy to save my soul.

Shoko doesn't sleep.

Not really. She can nap. She can catch snatches of rest between breaks, between lunches and against stone walls during shady afternoons. It is mostly just her shutting her eyes, breathing slowly and pretending, but it helps. Keeps the lie up, allows her to answer anyone who asks that yes, she rested.

She did. Promise. Pinky swear.

The bruised colored circles under her eyes seem to scream otherwise, to the point she stopped trying to muffle them with make-up years ago, but hey a girl has to try right?

"You need to sleep at some point, Ieiri." Yaga gruffly recommends at the end of their meeting. She has spent that last forty-eight hours awake (not even a record by the way, hardly even a blip) elbow deep in curse guts. Then another five, writing up the a report about her findings for this stupid meeting. "People are going to assume I am running you ragged."

Shoko thinks about the six cursed bodies waiting down in the morgue and the three mangled corpses in the freezer.

"Aren't you?"

Yaga who has had years to learn how to deal with Shoko's casual, pointed words simply waves her away.

"Get some rest."

"Will do."

And she does.

Head bowed, cradled in her arms at her desk while waiting for the blood samples to finish. Solid thirty minutes at least.

Good job her, right?

+

"You look like shit."

"Fuck you too." Shoko spits back at Nanami who ignores her and pours her another drink. They are once again holed up in his apartment. It's nice, but kinda boring. Clean, but empty. He spends about as much time here as she spends at her own, which is next to never. Exception being when he manages to wrestle her out of the morgue and he doesn't have a case the next day. Then they go to his, order too much food and drink until Shoko has to help heal their livers in the morning.

Its a self inflicting exercise in flagellation but it is better than the alternative. Probably.

"You aren't sleeping again?" He notes, just as she is taking a sip because he is actually a bigger asshole than even herself. Most people get blinded by the pressed suits and air of dignified annoyance but yeah, deep down, Nanami Kento is still that emo-looking asshole who listens to My Chemical Romance and enjoys being a troll.

Shoko feels her throat tighten, a lie on the tip of her tongue that drowns in the booze and hacks out as a cough instead.

"Are you?"

Nanami shrugs, "A bit. More than you."

"You really talk to your elders like that?"

"Sorry, more than you, Senpai. Better?"

"No."

"Ah, well. I tried." He deadpans, reaching for another chip and chewing it as he watches her go through her head for an insult but fails and gives up by flopping backwards. Her body stretched out on the floor, hair fanned out like dark wave.

"I rest." She says, "I cat nap. Worst case, I do a bit foosh foosh and I'm good as new."

"That's not sleep."

"Your mom is not sleep." She mumbles out.

"He isn't in Japan, I take it?"

Nanami Kento has to lean to the side in order to miss getting hit by the sudden launch of a wadded up paper receipt.

Shoko does not reply nor does she get up to see if she has hit her target.

"If he finds out about all this, he won't be happy."

Shoko gives a sullen huff, indicating how much she cares about the opinion of the gangly white haired man with blue furby eyes who isn't currently in the country.

Nanami sighs, takes a sip of his own drink and waits for Shoko to rise back up from her drunken depths. Eventually goading her into playing super mario cart until the sun rises.

It isn't sleep, and both will suffer in the days after, but it's good in other ways. A different sort of recharge she can't get with caffeinated drinks and naps in her car.

+

There is a loud knock at her office door that brings Shoko back into reality. Hard. She doesn't remember when she left it, but she does know she jerks back into her body with enough force to jostle her third cup of coffee all down her shirt.

"Fuck." She hisses, grateful it was cold but also when did it get cold? Didn't she just make a new pot?

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you." Megumi politely apologizes. He is one of the few students who actually can remember to say and mean it. She has no idea where he learned it considering every other student is half feral and his teacher is basically five raccoons in trench coat with an addiction to sugar.

"I was zoned out," She admits, putting the cup down and searching for something to clean up with. It takes some digging but eventually she finds some napkins in her purse. "What do you need?"

Megumi, for all his blank face, seems deeply uncomfortable and that is all it takes for Shoko to figure out what is happening.

"Ugh. Dont tell me he roped you in on this too."

"He won't stop texting."

"Megumi, you are suppose to be stronger than this." Shoko sighs, deeply disappointed.

"He sent a singing telegram to me yesterday and threatened to keep doing so until I sent proof." The teen explained, frustrated and more than a little embarrassed. She can tell by the way he gets louder than normal and the way the tips of his ears flush red. "That idiot has way too much time and access to money, Shoko. So let's just get this over with before he gets any other ideas."

Megumi hands her a folded up newspaper.

Shoko unravels it. "What is this for?"

"Hold it up next to you. He said he wants proof of life."

She does as he asks, but also flips him the middle finger. Making sure to frown hard as he takes the picture and sends it off.

"This was overkill."

"I agree." He replies and takes back the newspaper, then there is a series of urgent beeps from his phone. He reads the texts aloud. "He said you look like crap. Get some sleep or else. Something something about posting that picture from first year?"

"Tell that idiot I burned all evidence of that."

Megumi does and the answer is immediate.

"He says Myspace is forever." Megumi blinks, "What is myspace?"

"An ancient wasteland." Shoko tells him blithely and snatches the phone. Sending a series of complicated, odd and distinctly menacing emojis (it involves a lot of skulls, eggplants and fire) before handing it back. "There. That should keep him from using you to bother me. At least for now."

"Thanks."

The kid pockets his phone and nods, but before he leaves, he gives her one more deep concerning look.

"He should be back soon."

"Eh. Maybe. Might also get sidetracked by a dessert food truck too."

"Maybe." Megumi says, albeit doubtfully. Shoko chooses to ignore it and waves him off.

She still has work to do after all.

+

The thing about Shoko not sleeping is that it is on purpose as just as much as it isnt.

Sure, her work hours are probably enough to be a crime against OSHA or the Geneva Convention, and yes she often works alone because there is literally no one else with her gift but what else is she going to do? Go home? Ignore her dying comrades, the piling corpses and curses?

It is a shit job, but that is just how it goes. Could be worse. Probably. Shoko dances along the line of caring too much and not at all too often, to be a good voice of reason about these things.

That is the other side of it.

The part where she has seen too much. Touched too often, the worse bits of what remains. It is all on her to see what it all boils down to in the end and as much as she would like to pretend otherwise, it leaves a stain on her mind.

On her dreams.

It was easier when she could remember less; when she could numb with cigarettes, drink and love. Pressed between the lanky body of one, the compact slender of another. It was easier when the faces she preformed on did not have names in her heart.

It was easier when she was young, dumb and believed the future could be better if they just tried.

Now she is a little smarter, older and well aware of the utter shit show they are all forced to dance in. She knows her part, her limited turns and while she might still hate it all the way down to her bones she also knows the push to break it all down won't come without consequences.

She has already spent half a life burying his after all

So no. She never sleeps well on her own because every time she does, her mind fills with old memories that haunt her to tears. Or reminds her of the friend's she lost or worse, the ones she has yet to lose and really, if she has to pick. She would never sleep again if she could. Just to save herself the pain.

She is not a warrior, she does not suffer well when it comes down to it. She has a hungry heart and it starves like a wild thing, out of wanting. It wants love and it wants safety and it wants to go back in time and hold everything tight enough to bruise.

Shoko does not sleep for fear of the dreams.

-except when Satoru makes her.

"You haven't been sleeping again." He remarks, echoing Nanami but his tone all snark. It is past midnight and for once she is home. Driven there by a storm that closed down the school. She had heard the front door open, but hadn't bothered to move from the couch where she is nestled, reading some filthy smut novel that Mei Mei sent.

There was only one man with a key.

"Oh no. Who let the secret out?" Shoko mocks back with too slow of a response. She is just getting to the good part where the overly handsome, very rich CEO fucks his newly hired help over a leather couch. "Was it Ijichi? Sucha gossip."

Satoru snorts, kicks off his shows and practically bounces from one end of the room to the other, diving towards the couch and land haphazardly in her lap. Shoko, already mentally prepared for this, merely jostles unhappily before going back to her book. Resting the edge of it atop of Satoru's head. He had rested it first on her chest so this was fair.

"As if. That man will take your secrets to the grave. His crush is out of control. I saw him buying you a novelty travel mug today. Says best boss in the world."

"Aw, don't tease him. It's just a crush."

"Gonna tease him harder." Satoru promises, snuggling in. Stupid long limbs snaking in and around her body until Shoko cannot sigh without Satoru moving too. She gives up and closes the book. Letting it fall from her fingers to the floor so she is free to let them pet his white strands back. He closes his eyes and hums.

"Take a nap with me."

"Not tired." She lies.

"Liar."

Shoko cant help but smile at him.

"Yeah. Maybe. Can you blame me?"

Satoru, whose scars mirror her own simply holds her tighter.

"I will keep your nightmares at bay if you do the same for mine." He offers, and it is nothing more than a child's offer to hold hands in the dark, neither really has the power to fight off dreams but it relaxes Shoko more than anything else in the world. She gathers a throw blanket over them and places a kiss on his forehead.

"Deal."

Shoko falls asleep with a soft smile.

[olderthannetfic]

One person I saw in the "End OTW Racism" crowd was someone who I remembered solely for their interactions in my very fandom way back in 2010. They basically have a reputation for getting angry at you for writing a character with no canonically stated ethnicity as a different race than they pictured that character. To be clear, I agree with their take that this character is probably not white, given he is described as having black, coily hair and his surname is an Arabic language one.

But if you ever wrote this guy as mixed, any ethnicity that isn't black, or being from a MENA country, this person would always lose their shit at you. It was really irritating because their logic was always that you were the racist one, the anti-black one, the one upholding white supremacy, the person who was making fandom unsafe for BIPOC, all the while they were the one tearing down anyone who wrote him as non-white who didn't do it the "right" way.

I don't hold their involvement against End OTW Racism. I think End OTW Racism is correct that harassment in fandom spaces is a problem that BIPOC face disproportionately to our white counterparts, and that OTW should recruit more volunteers to look over reports. That would undoubtedly help harassment be dealt with more efficiently. But I also think that a lot of white cishet people like this person are using supporting End OTW Racism as a shield to hide their own harassment of BIPOC in fandom spaces.

Like a lot of Amazigh people, I saw this character as possibly reading as Amazigh. That doesn't mean I hate black people. That doesn't mean he can't be both; black Amazigh people have existed for centuries due to intermarriage, after all. That also doesn't mean I have the right to harass people who write him as black as having written him incorrectly. The idea that you must hate [insert group here] if you don't write a character as part of that group is ridiculous.

And I just want to note that no black person has ever given me shit for writing him as Amazigh. Actually, several black people have told me that they relate to having to make your own representation in fiction where there isn't any. So it's messed up for a white person to step in and say they're offended on behalf of black people when no black person has stated they're offended.

The good news is that this person has switched fandoms since 2010, probably because no amount of having meltdowns made people abandon their versions of the character. And without them throwing a fit, we've been able to see a lot of variations on him - Amazigh, Arab, black, mixed, Muslim, Jewish, follower of Indigenous North African spirituality, atheist - that the fandom has had a lot of fun with.

White people, I get that there are assholes who need telling off in fandom. Believe me, I've met them. But respectfully, please learn to listen to black people before you rush in to defend them. If none of them are offended, what are the odds that you know better about racism than they do? (The same goes for other races. Don't rush in to defend people who are not under attack on a whim.)

I know a lot of people are trying to be progressive but until white people learn not to do this, they are still contributing to a climate that's hostile for BIPOC fans.

--

[mandalhoerian]

Krauser in the remake might be a completely different character and I kind of want to ramble a bit since I can’t get it out of my mind.

There’s a possibility he was an inside man all along and wasn’t the villain we thought he might be. Him playing the villain might have been on purpose. Buckle up because I am delusional and will be connecting the dots.

Where have I gotten the idea from? The intel Hunnigan says they got at the beginning of the game. What if. What if that’s Krauser’s doing?

Now stay with me for a second, I’ll explain. Because I keep thinking. Like. He was so hot and cold to Leon. He had that teacher and drill sargeant pendulum thing — he was acting like this was all to test Leon and his skills and what he has learned. One second he berates him and the other he praises, saying he expected nothing less from Leon.

And especially, he accepts his death, and you see that he respects Leon. Not at all like how he was taunting him just a few minutes ago. Leon thinks Krauser has lost it completely but, has he really?

On one hand you SEE him hanging on to the dog tags. He keeps the files. Yet he talks about power but Leon points out yes he was an asshole but he had a moral code, this is a soldier.

AND Leon is surprised to see him turn up so we also know he was on duty and hadnt disappeared or anything until the last second... I really keep thinking if Krauser was an inside man or not and sacrificed himself for Ashley’s and ultimately the country’s safety in the end. He got infected on purpose. He knew he had to die in the end. He had to make sure Leon was capable to finish the mission, and when he did, he didn’t fight his death. Maybe he sees it as he’s finally being released and set free after losing everything we just dont know.

He could have had the revenge excuse, but if he did, Leon wouldn’t have given up on him because he’d empathize and connect with Krauser in some way, and maybe Krauser needed Leon to see him as irredeemable and not someone to save. Hence the completely OOC (in Leon’s words) “I want power” speech.

I keep thinking about it, I cant help it.

If this is indeed the case and Krauser was a mole all along, it’s genius storytelling on capcom’s side because it’s all just. Right there.

[all-hail-the-witcher]

questionable government spies but better written and five years late, chapter 3: i’m not one for bullying, but i am one for bullying nepo babies!

yeah it’s been like 10 months. you win some you loose some, ok?

—-

words: didn’t count, at least a few thousand

warnings: lots of swearing, gangs mentions, davey is an asshole

edited: kinda!!!

tags: @jack-kellys @ainti-pretty @boygirlctommy (let me know if you want to be tagged)

ch1 | ch2 | read on ao3

—-

“Jesus fucking christ don’t any of you dipshits know how to fucking merge ?” 

Albert blinked his eyes open blearily and then immediately shut them again. The rising sun reflecting off of what was probably miles of cars and tractor trailers gave him an instant headache. 

“Are we there yet?” Jack asked from the back seat, voice thick with sleep. 

“No we’re not fucking there yet,” Race cursed. “If we were I’d be cursing much fucking more.” 

Albert couldn’t help but smile. It felt so good to be back with Race. “You know I could have driven,” Albert said. 

“Like fucking hell I was going to let you do that,” Race took his eyes off of the road for a brief second to glare at Albert. “First you’re injured-“

“I’ve had worse.” 

Race ignored him. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week-“

“Hitchhiking from Canada is hard work!” 

“And it was one thing on the fucking bumble fuck backroads, but this is fucking 95. People don’t fucking know how to drive here.” Race swerved into the right lane and layed on the horn and flipped off the Jeep that had just cut him off. “See?” 

Unfortunately, Race was correct. Despite the fact that Albert had raided a Walgreens in not only Chicago, but also somewhere in the maze of corn that was Ohio, his shoulder was still fucked and his nose was regrettably getting more and more stuffed. Normally he would down 9 advil with half a bottle of DayQuil and pass out for six hours, but he wanted to be at least mostly conscious when he entered Davey’s office. So he’d been alternating between taking advil and DayQuil every four hours. It was nowhere near as helpful as his usual dose and he felt like absolute shit. The one driving shift he had taken, at midnight through Pennsylvania, had been absolute hell. But Race didn’t need to know that. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?” Jack asked. “You’ve been going since two and-”

“Jack,” Race interrupted. “Can I ask you a question?” 

Albert smirked. 

“Yes?”

“Have you ever driven into Manhattan at 7:30am?” 

“No.”

“That’s what I fuckin thought.” 

Jack hesitated. “So do you not...want me to drive?” 

“I’d rather fucking retake fucking high school fucking chemistry again than fucking let you get behind the fucking wheel right now.”

Albert tried to hide his laughter unsuccessfully. 

Race took his eyes off of the road for a brief second to side eye him. “Albert Dasilva rush hour traffic is not a laughing matter.” 

“Sorry,” Albert muttered, biting his cheek to keep the rest of his laughter in. 

“But why is it different from rush hour traffic in any other state?” 

“Watch and learn,” Race said. “Albert, badge me.” 

Oh this was going to be good. Albert opened the glovebox and pulled out Race’s FBI badge. In all their years as agents they had wanted to do this but had never had a good enough reason, until now, evidently. 

“Why do we need a badge to get through the toll plaza?” Jack asked. “Are they going to give us a discount or something?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Race scoffed. “We work for the government, not the fucking mafia.” 

Albert snorted. That was one way of putting it. 

As they drove through the toll plaza Albert felt adrenaline begin to course through him, momentarily taking his mind off of his sorry state. This job was so much better with a partner. This was something that he knew, obviously, but he came face to face with it every time he was out on his own for long periods of time. Albert had hitchhiked across his fair share of the country on his own and it was always hell on earth. It made him appreciate moments like this even more, the small moments of insanity in an otherwise, generally frustrating job. He could die at any moment, but at least he had Race by his side and some kind of scheme brewing between them. 

Like right now. 

“Why are you going into the bus lane, Race. We are not on a bus.” 

“Watch and learn, Jackie,” Race smirked as he rolled down his window. The state troopers were already approaching the car.

“Sir this is a bus lane only,” one of them said. “You are going to have to exit.”

Race dramatically flipped open his badge like they do in the shitty cop movies. “Racetrack Higgins,” he said. “I’m with the FBI. Me and my partners are on a time crunch to get into the city.” 

“And what does that have to do with this here bus lane?” The trooper crossed his arms. 

“I’d tell you but you know how it is, FBI, secrets, alla that,” Race waved his hands around vaguely. “In fact, I should make you sign an NDA just for talking to me.”

The trooper was unamused. 

“Look man,” Race said. “This is a life or death situation here. You either let me through or I tell the head of the New York FBI that you, personally, are the reason why I am late, and lemme tell you, that is not going to be good for either of us.”

The trooper considered. Behind Race, buses began to honk impatiently. 

“C’mon man, I’m holding up the line of disgruntled commuters here.” 

“Fine, just this once,” The trooper said, stepping back from the car and waving Race through. 

Race rolled up the window and stepped on the gas. A small, devious smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Oh, what Albert would do to see that smile. 

“Boys,” Race said, pulling into line with the other buses. “We’ve fucking done it.”  

“ Fuck yeah man,” Albert shouted, reaching over to fist bump Race.

“What did we do, exactly?” 

“Bypassed all of the fucking tunnel traffic,” Race said, drumming on the steering wheel. “It's an absolute game changer.”

“But you said it was a life or death situation…?”

“Uhh…yeah?” Race looked at Jack through the rear view mirror. “Jacobs is going to fucking kill us if were any more late than we already are.” 

“Why are you guys so afraid of him?” Jack asked. “He’s just another guy working for the same people we do, he’s barely got more clearance than you do.” 

Albert smirked as Race made eye contact with Jack in the rear view mirror. 

“Let’s revisit that thought when we’re done with the meeting, capisce?” 

And an hour later, when they were all finally sat in Jacobs’s office, Jack really did look like he was rethinking that comment. Albert didn’t blame him. 

“You’re late,” Jacobs said, slamming the door shut behind him. 

“My apologies,” Race said. “One of us was dead less than twenty four hours ago.” 

“What, you think crime stops when people die?” Jacobs sat down behind his desk. 

Race opened his mouth to respond but Jacobs fixed him with a glare. 

“I want to keep this brief,” Jacobs said. 

Finally, something they could all agree upon. 

“I don’t want you here,” Jacobs said. 

Race snorted. Albert choked down a laugh. Jack looked confused. 

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Race muttered under his breath. 

Jacobs ignored him. 

“The only reason you are allowed back here is because we need your help.” It looked like it pained Jacobs to say that. 

“Could I get that in writing?” Race asked. 

Albert elbowed him. 

Jacobs glared harder. “I can still fire you.” 

“You just said you needed my help.” 

“Race,” Albert whispered, bumping his leg against Race’s. 

Jacobs watched the two of them with a bemused expression before continuing. 

“A man named Sean Conlon turned himself in this morning. He’s a member of The Anonymous, a gang we have been trying to take down for years.” 

“What does this have to do with us?” Albert asked. He was familiar with the name. He didn’t know much, but he knew they were dangerous. He thought that Finch might have mentioned them before. 

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you,” Jacobs said. “It has to do with him.” He pointed at Race. 

“Me?” Race raised his eyebrows. 

Albert did not like where this was going. 

“He said he will only talk to you,” Jacobs said. 

“How does he know who I am?” Race asked. 

Albert was wondering the same thing. He and Race had fucked right out of New York as soon as they could. It didn’t make sense why a gang member would be on a first name basis with him. 

“I don’t know, and I also don’t care,” Jacobs said in true Jacobs fashion. “I want to take these fuckers down. So the case is now yours. Don’t fuck it up.” He slid a fat case file across the table. 

Albert glared at it like it would bite him. 

“It’s going to be a few weeks before I’m able to do field work again,” he said, gesturing to his arm that was still in the sling. “So I am not sure when we will be able to-“

“Oh you’re not doing anything, Dasilva,” Jacobs said, his smile sickeningly sweet. “You and Kelly, was it? Are on behind the scenes work exclusively. Higgins will be in the field.” 

Albert felt his heart drop down to his feet. 

“Sir-“ he said, trying not to let his voice shake. “I don’t think that’s-“

“I don’t care what you think,” Jacobs said. “This is the first solid lead we have had on this case in years. Higgins is going to be in the field and that’s final. Now for your assignments…”

He started rattling off addresses and places and Albert tuned it out. He could blame it on the pain or the cold he was definitely catching when Race asked him about it later. Race and him were a packaged deal. Together or bust. Usually it was Albert in the field, Race on backup. Not because Race couldn’t handle himself. But because it hurt Albert too much to see Race get hurt. He had seen enough of that when they were kids. He could keep Race safe now. That was why it was always him throwing his life on the line, jumping in front of bullets and off bridges and exploding things and detonating things and doing whatever he needed to do to make sure that Race could go to bed in one piece at night. And Jacobs wanted to throw him straight into the fire now? In New York? He was worst than a jerk he was a fucking-

“Dasilva!”

Albert snapped out of his thoughts. 

“Hm?” 

“Pay some attention. I said you’re working at the Starbucks in Times Square and-“ 

“No the fuck I’m not,” Albert said, surprising himself. 

“I beg your pardon?” Jacobs looked like he was considering stabbing Albert with the pen he was holding in his hand. 

“No I’m not,” Albert repeated. “If you want me on this case, I’m working at 99c pizza. That’s my one condition.” 

Jacobs considered. He knew Race and Albert were a packaged deal. They already had been. 

“Fine.” Jacobs said. “But I’m not making any other exceptions for you two.” 

Albert nodded. His arm was hurting again. He didn’t realize how tense he was. He needed to go lay down. He needed this meeting to be over. He needed to go curl up next to Race and maybe that would wash out the numbness. 

It was far too long before Race was tapping his arm and offering him his hand. He just managed a curt nod to Jacobs as he followed Race blindly out the door. 

“He was…interesting,” Jack said as soon as the elevator doors closed. 

“Told you,” Race said, though it lacked his usual snap. 

“Still can’t believe the New York FBI headquarters are in the fucking H&M building,” Jack said, mostly to himself. 

Albert grunted in agreement. It truly was the stupidest thing about this place. Who the hell had had the bright idea to put the damn FBI headquarters in Times fucking Square of all places? 

Just thinking about the nightmare of this building and the sensory overload that was down on the street below them that he was going to have to walk through in a few minutes made his head hurt. He let his eyes fall closed. 

Race’s hand was immediately on his uninjured shoulder. 

“Do you know where you’re going, Jack?” Race asked. 

Jack must have nodded because no one said anything else. 

All too soon, the elevator dinged open and Albert was forced to open his eyes as they were deposited in the Times Square H&M stockroom. 

“Stay close,” Race whispered. 

Albert didn’t need to be told twice. 

He let Race steer him through the throngs of people, letting his guard drop for the first time in over a week. He knew he should be on alert, but it was Race. Race would never let anything happen to him. 

“We just have to head to the van real quick,” Race whispered in his ear. 

Race could have led him anywhere and he wouldn’t have cared. 

He waited, leaning against the van as Race grabbed their go bags out of the back. He heard Race say goodbye to Jack, he must be staying somewhere different than them. Albert tried to take his bag from Race, but Race just brushed his hand away. 

“Not tonight, Albie,” he laughed lightly, as if this was a normal situation. Well, Albert guessed it sort of was. How awful was that. 

Race slid his free hand back into Albert’s and suddenly they were back on the street, back in Times Square and all the lights were blinding him, making his head hurt worse. He shut his eyes. Race would lead him home. He always did. 

—-

sincerely hope it’s been worth the wait lol. let me know what you think!!!

[juno-of-wonderland]

Mc/reader is mute

Vil Schoenheit

- would be the easiest to talk to

- I feel that the sign language of the distorted country would be different from the sign language of your world

- he would be happy to teach you pounds and would probably ask to learn your language

- he is totally patient when you decide to write to answer something

- would protect you from asshole bullies

- would speak/translate whatever you wanted

- basically the best person you could have met here

Riddle Rosehearts

- also very easy series, I believe his mother forced him to learn even the basics of signs

- also a great teacher! If he sees that you are making an effort, he will certainly be very docile.

- everyone would be afraid to mess with you if they knew who you're close to, no one wants to have their head cut off

- I think that even if you caught him on a bad day, he would have the patience to wait for you to write

- would speak/translate whatever you wanted

- also someone great to be around

Lilia Vanrouge

- sure knows a lot of forms of communication

- I would doubt your teaching methods a bit but I would still be a good teacher

- don't accept your homemade treats for being a good student

- very patient

- your appearance will fool anyone who messes with you because of your muteness, they regretted it right away

- he would say something like "aw~ my little human needs my assistance" before translating something for you

- someone nice to be around

Leona Kingscholar

- I would know loose things about pounds but I would study a little more, but clearly it would not be because of you herbivore, Leona is not like that tsudere

- seriously a good teacher…if you're not too lazy on the day

- incredibly patient with you

- I don't think I would protect you but if they cross the line, be prepared to hear everyone talking about students being beaten up

- would translate in the shortest and fastest way possible

-he would be someone nice to be around if it weren't for his sarcasm, sure if you like guys like that it would be great to have him around

Malleus Draconia

- very experienced in sign languages

- would seem scary at first, but after you get to know him, you find out he's nothing but a fluffy cupcake

- I would gladly teach you

- Patience is her middle name

- I wouldn't need to protect you, he has a reputation in high school even if it's a lie that he's scary

- would speak/translate whatever you wanted

- also someone great to be around

Ortho Shroud

- knows many languages

- would try to teach you, but it would be hard to follow or understand sometimes

- very patient

- knows how to protect himself despite his size, but he would prefer a calmer approach if he needs to protect you

- Idia would say that she gained a new friend

- would speak/translate whatever you wanted

- very nice to have around

[staybabblingbaby]

SKZ x Coordi (Chan Part) a1 d4

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Reader is a successful makeup artist with a notorious and prolific career and no self awareness. Reader joins JYP as a part of Stray Kids' team and encounters their hazing ritual for new coordis: flirting.

Word Count: 640

Notes: This feels more like a drabble than a full part, but I don't really want to add much to it either lol. As everything else, could use some editing for clarity. Maybe better descriptions or transitions? Idk, We'll think abt it later :p

Warnings: None that I know of? Reader has weird self esteem but it's not bad? Reader referred to with She/Her pronouns

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The next few weeks pass by in a pattern of work and sleep with no real reprieve. It’s an excellent thing that you enjoy your work and that your coworkers are all very nice.

Ji-Won has you rotating between shadowing the various makeup artists on your team and doing little pieces of whatever look is being put together on each idol. You learn a lot about which shades match best with who’s skin tones and which sorts of styles are generally expected for which member. You don’t think you’ve ever been so thoroughly educated on a specific person’s face before. You’re usually in a whole other country by now.

You get this very thorough rotating education because the role you were hired for was to be a bit of a floater, to fill in where you’re needed. On the other makeup artist’s days off, you’ll be filling in. If someone calls off or the team needs a spare set of hands, that’s your job. You find that it suits you well.

Usually you move pretty quickly between jobs, always on the hunt for the next look, for new knowledge, for new adventures. Right now, though, you’re glad that you’ve stopped a while. Eight lovely faces to gain familiarity with, a variety of different projects to create for, and coworkers who seem very eager to teach and work with you.

You're having a great time and find yourself very glad you'd chosen this route for your career. You will admit that this little game that’s developed between you and the idols is possibly a very large factor.

It stemmed from Han’s little flirtation that first day, of course. The eonni who’d borne witness to it had congratulated you for your composure and explained that SKZ has always had a little game of flustering new coordis to break the ice. Their own form of gentle hazing, she tells you. It helps new coordis not be so nervous around them and, she tells you with a conspiratorial whisper, her personal theory is that it also tells them which coordis they have a chance with. You’re not sure how much you believe that part.

She went on to mention that she was surprised Ji-Won had allowed them to do it though, since your head stylist had been adamant that the whole team be on their best behavior with you. She hadn’t seemed to notice your confusion at her statement, so you chalked it up to Ji-Won doing her best to make the new stylist comfortable. She’d completed her explanation by telling you to expect the other seven to attempt it too before they’d stop.

When, the very next day, Chan prevents you from falling flat on your face and dropping towels everywhere and, like he couldn’t quite help himself, asks if this means you’d fallen for him, you decide that this means war. He immediately bursts into embarrassed giggles and you laugh along but internally you’re planning your retaliation.

As he releases you, still embarrassed with himself, and you steady yourself, you give the most obvious once over you can. As you meet his eyes again, taking in his already embarrassed face and reddening ears, you smile, making sure to lace it with the humor the situation deserves. And then, because you’re a bit of an asshole and you’d never denied that, you gently pat his arm, let the touch linger just a bit, and say “You’re cute. Thanks for the hand.” and walk off with a little nod in his direction before he can remember he’s older than you and technically your boss.

You hear a little pained whimper of embarrassment from behind you and mentally fist pump. Coordis - 2, SKZ - 0. And you’d gotten away with some blatant disrespect just then. It’s always a treat to let social niceties die.

[alatismeni-theitsa]

I am having the time of my LIFE seeing USians short-circuit when they see a tanned White person (in my country, Greece, this is "tanned" White) and their race theory crumbles because soooo many admitted they clocked him as White. Well done people, you are sooo close to realizing that the White/Caucasian type has diversity in it! They are so desperate to "clock" what is this "weird" type of person who looks and doesn't look White!

Actually, people who look like him you have already categorized as White, not only in your legislation but in your social life as well (we are called South Europeans!)

I have news for you! Your sense of categorizing people is fucked up and the reason you short-circuit like this is because you follow the outdated standards of pedantic, classicist, and rich assholes! And the proof is that the MOMENT you learned about some "ethnic" background you rushed to see his dark hair, tan, and features with a totally different eye.

Here's what you miss. It's oversimplified and cookie-cutter but that's apparently what you need to understand how the world works.

(pic that also someone else included in the comments):

Extremely pale USians and Europeans don't have the sole dominion over this phenotype. For some obnoxious reason half the people who look like Fabien (including Greeks) in the US socially are called White (With A Tan), but Brown when they are from the Middle East and/or North Africa. But a person from all these areas can look like all of these people! Like, I'd SAFELY call the men in the pic Greeks, in a country with 95% recorded homogeneity, because there is diversity even within our group!

People from these regions may want to self-identify as non-White and that's on them. Identifications differ depending on the country and I don't mean to imply that a dark-skinned Tamilian should be called White. (Even Greeks don't identify as White in some countries). I am just stating that the line between the US' "White" and "Brown" are rooted in xenophobia and classicism more than anything else. If Fabien was Greek (because he 100% looks Greek) people would be like "Aaa a White boy with a nice tan". Now they are like "aaaah he is Brown, thank goodness, now it all makes sense! I thought something was odd here! I couldn't categorize him in my extremely specific subcategory of person I consider White, nor the category for Brown!"

Yeah, honey, something is odd, your perception of categorizing people.

*British actor Fabien Frankel has Iraqi and Indian ancestry (Jewish too but that's not indicative of location in his case. Also a lot Jewish people self-identify as White). I learned the actor is apparently "3/4 white" and "identifies as White" from the thread comments, which makes sense but it'd be nice to have more info to back this up. Not that it matters too much in the general scope of this post, because it's not as much about him but more for the USians.

**Caucasus is a region but for now we don't have another name for a type that describes such similar people from different regions. Please excuse my use of it.