#i sketched this between OW matches why did it turn out so well??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

riku-writings · 3 years

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ADMIRATION

Pairing: Mitsuya Takashi x Fem! Reader

Summary: Reader likes to fantasize about The Home Economics Club Leader's Hands.

Warnings: Smut with a smol plot, Fingering.

A/n: I am not really sorry about this ꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡,,, inspired by that one megumi oneshot in wattpad that i read ages ago. . .((edited hundred times since i just realized now that some of the smut parts were messed up even though i checked it multiple times,,, I'm sorry for the confusion i hope i got the order right ಠ,_｣ಠ)

Wc; 2k

It started with just an innocent admiration of him being a charming dude, that's all. The guy's a good student, an overall husband material with his sewing and cooking skills. He was heaven sent with his overall visual ( dyed hair, piercings and his eyebrow slits). Everyone knows he's a delinquent because of that Pehyan dude who would fight with Yasuda-San just to excuse mitsuya out of the club. Despite his delinquent bg, Mitsuya was respectful and patient. Making every girl and boy swoon over him.

A bad boy with a soft hubby side. Best of both worlds they would say.

You were part of it. The Home Economics Club, they were lying if the whole club wasn't a simping club for the one and only Mitsuya Takashi. It was only yasuda and you who took the club for extra credits. The others well, you could say they were there to see him. Eitherway everyone was cooperative and hardworking.

Not only were you with him in that club. You were his classmate. Even better, his seatmate. You always get a view of his charming side profile.

You find yourself just staring at his features, from his long lashes to his pointed nose, down to his lips. Sometimes his tongue would dart out, out of pure concentration. (You noticed this whenever you try and get his attention to check your work in the club)

Your eyes always latching itself down to his hands. Not that you're a complete freak but you appreciate it. Like if someone asked you what body part attract you the most. You would definitely answer, hands.

His hands were the prettiest especially when its enclosed with those rings that has a cross engrave on it. It was veiny, fingers elongated and a bit bony. Nails cleanly cut. His wrist always had a silver bracelet on it. You don't know why was that attractive.

You had an unpopular opinion that it was soft to touch. You wonder if your thoughts were true. You can feel yourself blush at the thought of him just holding your hand.

You can't help it but you just stare at them with pure admiration. Due to this, you noticed how he liked twirling a pen around his middle and index finger. Fascinated, you tried it once, though you failed. You not knowing he was looking at your failed attempts. Grinning.

"y/n are you listening?" A voice called pulling you out of your own embarassing thoughts. You look up at the owner of the hands you've been staring at for a while now.

"U-uhm yes?"

"Tell me how did you end up with this then?" Mitsuya raises his brow, your messed up fabric lifted up by him. The girls around you giggled at your clumsy behaviour. You retrieved it. "Ehm, I'm sorry leader can you explain it again?"

"Alright, listen this time dummy" He says with a teasing grin, ruffling your hair gently. He sat next to you. Using the seam ripper to remove your mistakes. You just stared at his fingers pointing at where you should redo it.

You wondered how he would shove it in your mo—

You mentally slapped yourself. As you crossed your legs together at the sudden image that came over your mind. "You okay? y/n?" Mitsuya stared at you noticing how you pressed your thighs together. "Hmhm" You responded.

"Leader! can you check this?" Another called out for mitsuya. He stood up and pats your shoulder.

"alright, I'll leave it to you then" He smiled.

The next days you tried to scold your mind for having intrusive thoughts of Mitsuya and his hands. Unfortunately, your mind developed a sudden kink with it. Making every imaginary situation more. . . . lewd.

"Hey Y/n! Hold up your hand" Your classmate suddenly called you lifting his hand towards yours. You knew exactly what he was trying to do, since he's been busy tryna do that with the other girls this morning. "Eh? I don't want to." You replied.

"Bet if mitsuya did it, y/n would do it!" Another classmate of yours shouted from the back. You raised your middle finger, continuing on cramming your homework.

"Leader~ Can you do that for us~" The boys teasingly called mitsuya. Who was back from his lunch raising an eyebrow at them. Hands pocketed "Do what?"

"We're just comparing hand sizes" They shrugged lifting up their hands. "Y/n won't let us~~"

"Eh? Stop bothering y/n." Mitsuya say in his deep voice his feet landing a hit on their butts, before proceeding to you. The men in the back groaned.

Bending to meet your gaze. He grinned "Now you owe me, work on your missed templates with me later" The lilac haired boy reminded. You just rolled your eyes on him mocking a tongue out. He chuckled. "And I thought you just saved me, leader."

You stayed with him in the club room. Doing your templates beside him. Him just handstitching a bunny like doll. The room slowly darkening as the sun sets. He turned on a lamp beside his table. Slowly the other girls started to leave the club room, waving their goodbye's to Mitsuya.

"Hmmmm you've been spacing out lately, are you okay?" He coughed softly referring to your messed up works recently. Eyes going to you.

"Me? spacing out?" You acted dumb, you scoffed in a fake manner. Brushing your hair with your fingers to shake off your stiffening state.

Not meeting any of his gaze, you just continued to sketch.

Did he figure it out? Did he catch me staring at his hands? Nah I need to stop overthinking.

"Alright then." Silence invaded the whole club room again. Your eyes roamed around realizing the rest of the girls left already leaving you two alone.

"Hold your hand up." Mitsuya suddenly commanded. Eyes going to him, you raised your brow. "I wanna know— our hand difference." He explained raising his hand infront of you. Placing his doll down the table.

"You know the boys in our class are just a bunch of perverts right?" Speaking like a fucking hypocrite, your actions didn't match up with your words. Almost instinctively, you faced him holding them up. He pressed his against yours.

Your insides melt at this gesture. Your theory confirmed that he has actually, soft hands.

"You have cute small hands" His lips curled up, slowly his fingers intertwined with yours, locking it with his. "Well yours rough" You lied, cheeks burning as you looked at your connected hands. "Is that so?"

Abruptly, mitsuya pulled you close to him. Making your other hand rest on top of his shoulder. His face centimeters away yours. Lips almost brushing.

"So is this what they're trying to do with you?" He asks in a low voice his eyes piercing through you. Craning his neck, curious.

"Yeah. . . " You broke eye contact. "Good thing I stopped them." He chuckled, eyes closing. He leaned back. Patting your head.

Funnily, that interaction with him didn't stop your thoughts. Actually it made your whole dirty secret worse. Just seeing him tapping his fingers on his lips as his chin rested on his palm. Made your mind run thoughts about the things his hands would do to you.

You leaned back looking around the morning peace in the clubroom. You were always the first one to go here. Since it's more quiet that way.

You closed your eyes craning your neck side to side. Loosening up a bit.

What would his fingers feel wrapped around your neck— no. no.

You shifted on your seat, pressing your thighs together. Mentally slapping yourself.

Changing your attention, your sight caught your pen. Picking it up you tried to do that cool trick again. Trying to twirl it around in between your middle and index finger.

"Ohhh you're trying to do it again?" Mitsuya popped out of nowhere. You jolted a bit, making him laugh. You clearly didn't see him coming in.

He hovered behind you, his chest pressed on your back as he rested his hand on your desk right beside yours. He leaned in observing your half-done project. "Again?" You asked head turning towards his face.

"Well I saw you trying to do this"

He pulled his other hand up grabbing your pen, his fingers did it in ease. "no need to brag leader-san" You tell him grabbing your pen back. "Looks like you're gonna stay with me again later" Mitsuya mentioned pointing at your work.

After classes you proceeded to your clubroom already, knowing you're gonna take so long with your project. Though you were greeted by yasuda leaving you with her tasks because apparently she also had friday plans like the others. The others always had friday plans that it would leave you, yasuda and mitsuya with the work.

"It's okay yasuda-san! I promise to clean up and remind leader to lock the door!" You assured her, she then finally nodded. "Fine fine— Also don't let that slimy delinquent distract leader" She added, you nodded giving her a big thumbs up, she then waved her hands leaving you all alone with the mess of excess papers and fabric from this morning.

You tied your hair as you clean up the place before doing your own project. You actually sat on the front desk as you look around feeling satisfied. Finally continuing your hand stitch. (You gave up after breaking 3 needles into half with your machine.)

You stay seated on the front desk, comfortably doing your own project. Humming a few songs here in there. The door then slid open.

"I'm guessing yasuda san has plans?" Mitsuya came in seeing you on his desk. "yup" You nodded eyes focused on your stitch. Sudden fingers gripped your knees.

"You should stop manspreading in that skirt" He scolded you pushing your knees together. You shivered at his touch against your skin. Due to this sudden awareness of his hand still gripping your lower thighs— you accidentally pricked your finger on a needle.

"Ouch." You hissed as you saw your finger starts to ooze out blood. "You're so clumsy" Mitsuya clicked his tongue removing the cloth on your hands bringing it down to the side. He grabbed your hand and started sucking on your finger.

"U-uhm" You widened your eyes as you saw the sight of mitsuya sucking your index finger. You blushed profusely at this. "Eh? I- I — you didn't have to do that" He finally let go of your finger.

"I don't have bandages on me—plus that always does the trick" He says wiping it. You just nodded looking around. "Tsk what is it that got you distracted again hm?" He questions furrowing his brows he leaned closer to you. He layed his hands on the table, locking you in.

"Ugh you really want me to say it huh?" You groaned. He craned his neck to the side. Waiting for you to continue. "Okay— I may have a small admiration towards your hands. . ."

"Admiration?"

"Well it was honestly innocent at first until it got all dirty and as much as I wanted to get it out of my head you suddenly do things to me"

"And what was my hands doing?"

"Mitsuya . . "

"No dove tell me" He said as the choice of endearment shoot straight to your core. Making you shift on your seat.

"hm shoving it in my mou—"

Mitsuya shoved his middle and index finger inside your mouth. Your cheeks burn at the sudden action. His other hand held your waist, holding you closer. "You like this?" He asked with hooded eyes. Your tongue twirled around his finger, he slowly discarded them letting out a popping sound as it came out of your lips. Feeling your chest warmed up down to your lower belly.

"Is this why you're so distracted lately? because you're too busy thinking about my hands?" He then held your chin with his fingers as he hummed. Lips inching closer to yours. You just nodded feeling feverish. "Do you want me to kiss you?"

Once again you nodded. You can feel the growing lust underneath your skirt. Pressing your thighs together to relief the heat. Mitsuya following the movement. His eyes went back to pierce through yours.

"Say please" He smugly commanded. You pouted.

He taps your lips. Wetting it with your own spit.

"Please kiss me."

Mitsuya leaned in to claim your lips, you lightly gasped as his lips finally touch yours. Closing your eyes, you melt into his kiss. He smirked at his before his hand on your waist went up to your hair tie, pulling it to let your hair flow against your shoulders.

He then licked your lips, instinctively you opened your mouth allowing him to enter his warm wet muscle inside. You whimpered at this, feeling your feverish state get warmer. Spreading all over your body. He caressed your cheek as he kissed you deeper. His other hand caressing your side, slightly brushing up against your chest. You hummed against his lips.

Biting onto your bottom lip he licked it. Before leaning back, placing a soft kiss on yours before taking in your whole panting visual.

"Do you want me to touch you, dove?" He questions, his thumb now pressing onto your bottom lip. His left hand went down on your thighs, softly pinching them.

"Please touch me, takashi"

With that his fingers indulged inside the band of your damp underwear. "Hm you're so wet, princess" He hummed letting his finger brushed up against your folds. You squirmed under his touch, your pussy clenching around nothing.

"Is this what you're thinking about in class?" He whispered next to your ear, placing a hot kiss on your cheek. You nodded, biting onto your red lips. As his middle finger continued to slide so easily with your wet slick. Up and down teasing both of your sensitive clit and your pleading hole.

You then felt the pad of his fingers teasing circles on your entrance, you looked at him with glossed eyes. He licked his lips seeing you practically begging for it.

His other hand held the back of your knees spreading your legs to gain more access. You leaned back supporting your weight with your hands.

Letting your skirt ride up, He bit his lips as he saw your ruined flimsy panties with his hand in it. You just looked at him with a pout wanting his fingers to penetrate your hole. "Please" You plead him trying to grind into his hand. Without caution he plunged his two fingers in your heat.

You bit back a moan. "Don't hold back now, dove." He said with a smug as he felt your hole clench around his fingers. "I-I can't takashi" You say feeling little under him. He chuckled at your pouting lips before placing a kiss on them. "Acting shy now huh"

Mitsuya curled his fingers inside making you squirm. "Don't move." He warned before pounding his hand into your writhing pussy. His long fingers hitting your soft spot almost immediately. You moaned letting your forehead clash itself against his. "You're taking my fingers so well baby. So noisy" He said referring to the slick slapping sounds of your wet pussy. You blushed at this ashamed on how you were making a mess on his hands.

"Aa you're so lewd— bet you've touched yourself multiple times thinking about this" He said adding another finger in your hole easily. You sobbed at the sudden feeling of fullnes inside "Hmm too much"

"Too much? you're a good girl you can take it" He says kissing your cheek once agaib. He thrusted his three fingers into your hole curling it up to feel your spongey walls clenching into him tighter.

"Mmn t-takashi—k-kiss" You mumbled feeling yourself itching up to your own orgasm.

"You want a kiss baby hm?" He hummed as his thrusts got harder and faster. Knuckles deep, the tip of his fingers hitting your sensitive spot. You purred nodding, He kissed your lips deeply making your moans muffled. You felt hot inside you as you panted trying to comprehend everything that he was doing to you. With that you felt your orgasm continue to build up. Your head leaned back breaking off his kiss, grinding back into his hand. Mitsuya felt yourself tighten continuing to hit on your sweet spot. Your own wetness beginning to drip down.

His thumb finally taking notice of your abandoned nub. He played with it. You squirmed as you feel it burn against his thumb.

"'m close" You squeak biting onto your lips. "Go on baby cum on my fingers" He said littering kisses on your neck, hands pounding into you harshly. With those words and his thumb rubbing your sensitive clit. Your thighs started to fidget. You closing your eyes shut as you panted.

You came onto his fingers. You let out a whiny moan as His fingers slowly ride out your high.

"Good girl" He said pulling his fingers out your panties. Your eyes opened seeing him cleaning his fingers clean with his tongue. He smirked as you lolled your tongue out. He placed his fingers on your tongue, letting you lick and suck them clean.

"You look so pretty like that, dove" He say as you finished pulling his fingers out popping out of your lips. He held your waist with his arms, moving you closer again. Leaning in to kiss you softly this time on your forehead. "How was that?"

"Better than what I imagined actually"

"C'mon it looks like we have friday plans too" Mitsuya said kissing your lips. Bringing you down the table. You smiled.

#mitsuya smut #tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader #tokyo manji gang #takashi mitsuya #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya x y/n #mitsuya headcanons #tokrev mitsuya

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babybluebex · 3 years

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good doctor kreizler ch. 2: book of revelations

summary ↠ sequel to good doctor kreizler // the case of the murdered boys continues, and you're suddenly overcome with terrible emotions for seemingly no reason. but laszlo knows why. pairing ↠ laszlo kreizler x fem!reader (y/n) word count ↠ 3.3k warnings ↠ explicit language, mentions of menstruation, nausea, and pregnancy, descriptions of violence against children (yknow how the alienist works lmao) a/n ↠ enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio!

You sighed heavily and pressed your palm to your diaphragm. Your corset was causing more discomfort than usual, but you could look past it. There were deeds that needed to be done. You stood up from your chair and moved to the telephone on the wall, and you caught the side-long glance that an officer gave you. Perhaps it was some sort of confidence that being with Laszlo gave you, but you found yourself saying, “Can I help you, sir?”

“D’ya need help with that telephone?” the man asked, puffing at a cigarette. The smell of it made you feel ill, especially the way he blew it nearly directly at you. “It can be awfully difficult for a lady.”

You gave him a plantative smile, and you said, “I can manage. Thank you, though.”

“You sure?” he asked. “Because I’d be more than happy to oblige you.”

“Really,” you said, taking up the end of the telephone. “I can do it.”

The man took a step closer, and he placed a hand on your waist. “You think, because you work for the police, you can be a bitch?” he hissed. “If a gentleman offers you help, you take it.”

The door to the room swung open, and you turned to see your lover there, wearing your favorite emerald-green suit and black coat. Laszlo was a gift from the gods, for sure. He made sure you knew that you were worthy of what you were given in the world, and he strived to give you more. Every time he presented you with a new dress or necklace, you always kissed him to show your gratitude, but reminded him that such gifts were not necessary. “You’re the only thing I ask for,” you would remind him. You knew that the thought of it troubled the good doctor, that he was worried that he wasn’t enough, but, every night, you kissed his shoulder and arm and assured him that he was more than what you deserved. You trusted Laszlo with your body, soul, mind, and heart, and he did the same of you.

Which is why you were thankful for the little fibs he would tell every so often to save face. “I would greatly appreciate it if you removed your hand from my wife,” Laszlo said firmly, his accent stronger than usual; his German gravel was intimidating to those who only knew him from stories in the newspaper. “New York’s finest and all…”

The officer took a step back from you, and Laszlo moved closer to you. “What do I owe this visit, sweetheart?” you asked, pressing your hands to his chest. Laszlo bent down and swiped his lips along your cheek, and you felt yourself grow warm at his unusual display of public affection.

“You left a file at home,” Laszlo said. “I remember you talking about transcribing it.”

You cooed softly, and Laszlo reached into his coat and extracted the file folder for you. “You’re so good,” you told him. “What can I do to repay you? I’m sure I’m making you late to the Institute.”

Laszlo tilted his head as he thought, and he put his hand on your waist, right where the officer had put his. Laszlo was hardly a jealous man, but the moments where his mood matched his suit made you giggle. He was a world-renowned alienist, but he was truly just a teenage boy in mind and matter. “Let me take you to dinner tonight,” Laszlo said, and you groaned. “And the opera. Please, my beloved, just one night.”

“Las, I told you, I don’t like when you spend your money on me,” you grumbled. “Just, please. I’m perfectly happy taking dinner at home. In fact, I prefer it more!”

“More than Delmonico’s?” Laszlo asked. “What if I invited John and Sara and the Isaacsons?”

“No, Laszlo,” you giggled, and you pressed your thumb into the little dimple in his chin. “The problem certainly will not be solved by adding more people. Can we just stay home tonight and listen to an opera on the gramophone? We’ve both been working very hard lately, I’d just like a simple night with you.”

“A simple night,” Laszlo said softly, pulling the words around in his mouth. “My beloved, I am not a simple man.”

“Boy, that’s the truth,” you chuckled, and you moved from his grip to return to your desk. “Maybe next week, we can go to the opera. Alright?”

Laszlo chuckled lightly, and he tugged you close and laid a kiss on your forehead. “Whatever you’d like, my beloved,” he told you. “When can I expect you at the Institute?”

You pulled Laszlo’s left arm up to your face and looked at his watch, ticking away at half noon, and you said, “Around three or so. Would you mind having some tea ready for when I get there? I’m feeling plain awful today.”

“What’s wrong?” Laszlo asked, and you smiled at the sudden emergence of Dr. Kreizler. While his degree wasn’t exactly in physical medicine, he always liked to be the first to examine you for maladies if they arose.

“Oh, nothing,” you sighed, waving your hand dismissively. “Just a bit of a stomach ache. I assume it’s nearing that time of the month for me, Las, you know how I get.”

“Of course,” Laszlo said softly. “You know, you could have just told me that’s why you didn’t want to eat at Delmonico’s tonight.”

You looked around quickly, finding the small space empty void for you and your lover, and you carefully took the furred lapel of Laszlo’s coat between your fingers and tugged him close, close enough for you to smell the lavender pastile that he liked so much. “Truly, my reason was more than that,” you whispered. “I wanted you to ravage me tonight, for as long as we both can bear.”

You almost missed the way that Laszlo’s breath hitched in his throat, but you were glad you noticed it. “It is getting to be that time, isn’t it?” he said carefully. “Increase in libido is a common side effect of menstruation.”

You hummed softly and pressed your fingers to his cheek. “I love it when you talk like that,” you said. “You’re so wonderfully smart, Las, I wish you wouldn’t be ashamed to show it.”

“I’m not,” Laszlo said. “You just choose to ignore my intelligence.”

“Now, why in the world would I do that?” you laughed. “You ought to be getting to the Institute. I’ll see you shortly.”

Laszlo gave you a warm smile and kissed your cheek, and you felt yourself shiver at his lips. God, you could hardly believe how much you loved him. You felt your stomach flutter, and you heaved a sigh. “I love you,” Laszlo said softly, and he brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear. “I’ll see you soon, my beloved.”

You fixed your jaw and swallowed down the ungodly feeling in your throat. Something was wrong, you could tell. The usual air of the parlor was not there, the cheerful if slightly remorseful lightness. Instead, the parlor was overtaken with a heady sadness that completely outweighed the macabre curiosity.

“Laslzo,” you said quickly, dropping your briefcase by the table, and you joined your lover at the window. He was smoking his pipe, something you had only ever seen him do a handful of times before, and you immediately ran your hand soothingly down his back. “What’s happened?”

“Another body,” Laszlo mumbled. “Another child.”

You bristled. “But-But I thought we had figured it out? The murderer followed Catholic holy days?”

“That was a suitable theory at the time,” Laszlo said. His gaze was fixed to the outside world through the murky glass, and you looked around the room. John was sitting at the long table, absently sketching something, and Sara was studying the chalkboard that was covered in Laszlo’s neat script. “But he’s gone off schedule, and we might as well be back where we started.”

“Not really,” you said softly. “I mean, so he jumped ahead a few days. If the body bears the same marks, if the victim is the same as the others, I don’t see why a change in date--”

“Of course you don’t,” Laszlo scoffed, and he stepped away from you.

You were stunned silent, and you watched Laszlo move back to the table with the heaps of paperwork. “What does that mean?” you asked.

“You’re not looking at the entire picture,” Laszlo said sharply. “You’re only focused on the way he changed the date, not the why. Why did he change his schedule, why is there another body weeks ahead of the next holy day? Now we have to be concerned if it’s even the same murderer. Is it a copycat murderer that hasn’t pinned down the schedule as we have? There are many moving parts to this that you don’t seem to comprehend.”

“Las, I do see that,” you countered. The way he doubted you stung your chest, but that was Laszlo. When he was angry, he lashed out. You had come to accept him, even if the words he said truly hurt. You saw Sara turn to look at you, a hint of pity in her blue eyes, and you sighed. “Look, do we have records of the new victim’s body? Perhaps that will give us insight.”

“Yes,” John said quickly, not even giving Laslzo a chance to answer and cut your feelings even deeper. Why had his admonitions hurt so much more than usual? You were afraid that, if he spoke to you like that again, you would start crying. And then they would be right, everybody would be right: a woman was too delicate to handle crimes like this. “I visited the morgue as soon as I heard. I sketched what I could manage, and took notes of everything else.”

You moved around to join John at the other side of the table, choosing to ignore Laszlo. You could feel his eyes follow you as you bent towards John to look at his sketches, and your eyes followed the charcoal lines of a young boy. Like the others, his eyes were plucked out, his throat slit, and his hand cut off, but a few errant marks on the boy’s stomach made you tilt your head. “What’s this?” you asked, gently tracing the lines with your finger. Soot of the charcoal came off on your fingertip, but you paid little attention to it.

“Our murderer made gashes in the boy’s stomach,” John said. “This one--” he pointed to a particular line, “Was deep enough to view the intestines. Four in total, but they don’t seem to follow a pattern.”

“Everything follows a pattern, John,” Laszlo said quickly. “We just haven’t found it yet.”

“Four…” you mumbled. “And this sketch is accurate to scale?” John nodded, and your eyes studied it for a moment longer. Four of them, two of them a bit shorter than the others. Those two were situated at the bottom of the boy’s belly, right where the V of his hip bones would be, and the one of them was at the top, just under his breastbone. The fourth, the biggest, longest, deepest, was straight down the middle, bisecting the boy’s navel.

Your vision became blurred. Your breath came in gasps, and you felt dizzy. A terrible sickness crawled up your throat, and you pressed the back of your hand to your mouth to stop the flow of vomit. Vomit. You never vomited, not even when you had viewed past victims’ bodies in person. The smell of corpses wasn’t even enough to make you ill, but your heart quickened when you cast another glance to the sketch.

You fell into a chair besides John, and you gasped, “I think I’m gonna be sick--”

Sara came to clutch your hand in an instant, and John hurried to hide the sketch. “Las,” you mumbled. “Can you get me some water, sweetheart?”

“I’d rather stay here with you,” Laszlo said quickly. Your other hand was filled by his, and you cast a glance upwards at him. Now, instead of the tepid malice that he had had in his eyes, he had complete worry.

“I’ll get you some water,” John said. “Laszlo, watch over her. I’ll be back.”

“What happened?” Sara asked. “You started to sway and turned a ghostly pale. Did you see something?”

“J-Just those gashes,” you mumbled. “They-They looked like scars my mother had.”

“Scars?” Laszlo asked. “What do you mean?”

You sniffled, and took your hands from both grasps to wring in your lap. “I was born via Cesarean section,” you said. “M-My mother had been sick and fragile since before she was pregnant with me, and her doctor advised against natural childbirth. She had a scar right down the middle of her stomach in the same fashion as the body… A-And, when I was still in school, a doctor found a series of tumors in her ovaries. It had spread through the rest of her, but the doctor tried to combat it by removing the original tumors, and… The scars on his waist match the ones my mother had. I-I just-- Why would the murderer give this poor boy a woman’s scars?”

Laszlo bristled at this. You hardly ever mentioned your family, or him his, and he knelt down in front of you. “There’s something more than that,” he said softly. “My beloved, please speak to me. What’s troubling you?”

You chewed your bottom lip, and you gave a gasp as you tried to steady your breathing. “Sara,” you mumbled. “Can you give us a moment?”

Sara squeezed your hand and nodded, and she quickly excused herself. You waited until the door closed fully before sobbing and leaning forward to rest your head against your knees. “I’m sorry, Las,” you mumbled. “I-I just-- I can’t bear the sight of that today. I’ve felt ill all day, and now all of this, it’s far too much for me right now.”

You had nearly forgotten that you had requested tea earlier in the day, and you watched Laszlo rise from his knee and retrieve the tea cup. He quickly took note of your quivering hands, and he lifted the porcelain tea cup to your mouth. You sipped at it, hoping that it might soothe you, and you wiped your tears from your cheeks. “Laszlo, what’s wrong with me?” you sniffled. “I-I’ve never done this before, why now?”

“You already said that you feel ill,” Laszlo said carefully. “Maybe the sight of the body and the state of it was a shock to your system. Has the nausea passed?”

You shook your head quickly. The ugly feeling of it still sat in the very back of your throat, and you reached out for him. Laszlo set the tea cup aside and came to you, and you buried your face in his stomach from where you sat. Your arms circled his waist and you held him tightly, and you keened up into his hand as he began to stroke your hair.

Suddenly, Laszlo began to move with quickness, pulling you to your feet. You hardly had time to ask what he was doing before his fingers began to undo the back of your blouse. “Laszlo!” you cried. “What in the world are you doing?”

“Trust me, my beloved,” Laszlo said quickly. With his one arm tight to his body, he pulled your blouse off of you, then started at your corset. That sick feeling back came, and you reached forward and braced yourself against the table. Your head hung as you tried to control your nausea, and you whimpered, “Laszlo, what is this?”

Your lover gave a growl, one of deep frustration, and he grabbed your corset by the bottom hem and shoved it down your body, past your waist, to expose your breasts and stomach. You couldn’t help but sigh at the release of pressure on your middle, and Laszlo turned you around to see your bare skin. He knelt down in front of you and pressed his forehead against your stomach, and you watched him close his eyes and take a deep breath. You hardly understood what he was doing, but, if the half year courting him was any indication, he knew what was best. “When was the last time you menstruated?” Laszlo asked, next pressing his cheek to your bare stomach.

Your hand instinctively went to cradle his cheek, and you shrugged. “Several months ago,” you said. “I… They come and go, I suppose. Is that normal?”

“And your breasts?” Laszlo asked next, and you grimaced.

“What’re you getting at?” you asked.

“My beloved,” Laszlo said carefully, and he looked up at you from his place on the floor. His dark eyes were glistening with tears, and your heart sank and adrenaline rushed bitterly into your mouth.

“Stop,” you whispered. “Laszlo, no, I-I’m not-- I can’t be--”

“I think you are, beloved,” Laszlo said. He stood up and shucked off his suit jacket, and he laid it across your shoulders to hide your body from the cold room. “I think that you’re pregnant, my beloved. That would explain every malady you have: the aches, the irritability, the nausea, the delicateness, the increase in libido. Pregnancy offers an explanation for all of these.”

Your eyes filled with tears again, but a smile came with them. “You…” you started, and you sent a weak punch to Laszlo’s firm chest. “You absolute bastard!”

Laszlo laughed and tugged you into him, and you hugged him tightly. Laszlo, your wonderful Las, the father of your child. “Oh, my beloved,” he sighed, kissing the side of your head. “How did I not see it before?”

“Men can tend to be blind to such things,” you said. “But I feel as if a special blockade is up for you when it concerns me.”

“I agree,” Laszlo said. His hand came up to rest against your face, and you leaned into his touch. “My dearest girl…” he hummed, and he leaned into you and pressed his lips to yours. You pressed back, letting a smile grace your lips. “Marry me, my beloved.”

It was hardly even a question. “Of course, Las,” you said softly. “How could I say no to you? It would ruin your reputation, having a child out of wedlock.”

“Thta's true,” Laszlo shrugged. “But I think you would want to marry me regardless.”

“How dare you act as if you know what I want,” you said, but you kissed the tip of his nose anyway. “But, yes, Laszlo. I would love to marry you. Mrs. Kreizler… Is that something you ever thought you’d hear?”

“Not from you,” Laszlo chuckled. “I never thought that you would want the burdens of marriage. In fact, I distinctly remember you telling me that upon our first meeting.”

“How could you manage any thought during that interaction?” you giggled. “If what you told me was true, you were quite distracted that day.”

Laszlo gave a soft little grunt, and he snuffled his face into your neck. “Yes, well, a man has to learn to multitask,” he said. “Oh my God, I cannot begin--”

The door to the parlor banged open, and you hurried to cover yourself. “Marcus,” Laszlo said firmly. “Give us a moment, will you?”

“Doc, this is pretty important--”

“I am having a private conversation with my fiancée, Mr. Isaacson,” Laszlo said, his voice rising just a bit. “You can tell me whatever you wish as soon as I finish this conversation.”

You looked over your shoulder to the younger Isaacson twin, and your face grew hot when your shoulder slipped from the jacket. Marcus’s eyes went wide for a moment, then he put his hands up in a plantation gesture. “Right,” he said quickly. “Um, sorry, Doc. I’ll be--”

“Do hurry it up, Marcus,” you said, pulling your fiancé’s jacket tight around you. “The sooner you leave, the sooner you can return.”

You watched Marcus leave the room and shut the heavy door behind him, and you scoffed and dissolved into giggles. You buried your face into Laslzo’s warm chest and kissed just over his heart, and you sighed. “I’d love to speak more about this at home,” you said. “I love you to absolute death, Laszlo.”

“And I love you more,” Laszlo said softly.

#laszlo kreizler #the alienist #laszlo kreizler fanfiction #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler x reader angst #the alienist fanfiction #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl #daniel brühl fanfiction #daniel bruhl fanfiction #daniel brühl x reader #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel bruhl x reader angst #daniel brühl x reader angst #laszlo kreizler angst #daniel brühl angst #tfatws #zemo

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princessjaqulinechess1031 · 3 years

Text

The Suit

Description: Marinette makes Damian a suit.

Characters: Damian Wayne, Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Inspired by a request by @mickylikesstuff . It’s a little different than what you originally sent, but I hope you like it!

Marinette leaned back against Damian’s chest; her knees pulled up as a balancing board for her sketchbook. Damian was sitting peacefully, watching her design with his chin buried in the top of her hair. Marinette sent a quick line down the silhouette body to mimic the lines of a part of suit pants, and Damian hummed.

“Who are you designing a suit for?” Damian asked. “Adrien?”

“No, ma moitié.” She turned her neck to smile up at him, pencil still brought to the paper. “For you.”

“For me?” he asked incredulously. “I don’t need a suit.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and turned back to her drawing. Damian Wayne, though she loved him, had no fashion sense. Black turtlenecks and jeans could only go so far. They had their time and place, but every day? That was just too much.

“Trust me, you do.”

Damian curled his arms around her shoulders in a loose embrace and rested his head back on the top of hers.

“Pennyworth already made sure I have a substantial amount,” Damian said easily. Marinette shook her head and kept sketching.

“I know Monsieur Pennyworth already did,” Marinette said. “But wouldn’t you rather have one from your girlfriend? Who just so happens to be a world-renowned fashion designer?”

Marinette had been the chief designer for the Agreste label for nearly two years now. Adrien had been rather helpless in that regard and quickly left the responsibilities of that to her while he handled the more financial aspects of the business his father left to him. Sales had gone up by 300% in those two years, and people were always begging her on her Instagram for more information on upcoming lines.

Damian grumbled under his breath. “I guess.”

That was about as enthusiastic about this that Marinette was going to get out of her loving boyfriend, so she decided to take the win.

“But Marinette, do you really have time to add another suit?” Damian asked. “Don’t you have the Summer Line to finish first?”

“I am an expert multi-tasker,” Marinette said. “Besides, it’s one suit. It won’t be that much trouble.”

*******

“Ow! That hurt!”

Marinette rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s proclamation and kept sewing the leg of the pant. Damian stood in the center of the model stand, halfway between pouting and bored.

“It was a little poke of a needle,” Marinette said, not looking up to face him. “I’ve seen you be handed worse by much worse.”

Damian grumbled under his breath. “It’s more of the principle of the thing.”

Marinette smiled to herself but let her boyfriend’s point go. Damian had the fashion sense of an old man (black turtlenecks? Really?), and so when Marinette roped him into at least letting her make him a fashionable suit, he was none too enthusiastic. But Damian also wanted to be a supportive boyfriend, so he at least let her do it even if he complained the whole way through.

“Oh hush, ma moitié,” Marinette said. “You’re going to look fantastic.”

“A little cocky in your abilities, are we?”

Marinette raised a brow and reached the bottom hem of the pants.

“I am a professional designer,” Marinette said. “Of course, it will be fantastic. And is ‘Mr. I am the best Robin’ just get on me about being cocky?”

Damian colored crimson and turned away, caught in his own hypocrisy. Marinette laughed and finished the hem on the left side of the pants.

“You said this wouldn’t take that long,” Damian said.

“I also said that I was a normal Parisian girl for years,” Marinette countered. “I lied. Now stop, you’re not getting out of this.”

Damian groaned and threw his head back to the sky. “Why, oh, why?”

Marinette stood up and smiled at him, placing a soft kiss on his nose.

“Because you love me,” Marinette said. “Now, I just have to finish this one pant leg and then you can see how you look!” She dropped down to finish the hem of the right leg. “You’re going to love it.”

Marinette knew Damian wouldn’t do this for just anyone. Maybe Dick could convince him to stay still for a couple minutes, but only Marinette could keep him in one spot for hours. Damian was as stubborn and restless as they came, convincing him to do anything he didn’t want to do would take an act of congress.

Or a smile from Marinette.

“And finished!” Marinette said, putting the needle in the holder on her wrist. She pulled her bun out of it’s hold, and her hair cascaded down her shoulders. Damian stepped off of the model stand and reluctantly went to the mirror, where he stared at himself in surprise.

It was a soft gray suit with clean lines and a matching soft blue tie. The buttons were a dark navy blue that accented his green eyes. On the lapels were the outlines of three birds in flight, with a fourth one looking up from the opposite lapel, watching them while spreading his own wings to take off. It was a bit ostentatious, but Marinette felt that it worked with the soft gray given that all were outlined and colored in with black.

Marinette stepped up beside him, looking at him unsurely.

“Do you like it?” Marinette asked. Damian blinked and looked down at her, his shocked expression slowly working its way out into a smile.

“I love it,” Damian said softly. Marinette grinned up at him.

“I’m glad you do,” Marinette said. Marinette was happy that he did. Damian liked so few things, she was glad he liked something she had made for him.

“I love the bird details,” Damian said, and Marinette smiled to herself. The birds had been what she thought tipped it into something he liked or didn’t like. She just thought with him being Robin, it would be a nice touch referencing birds and flight. It was a simple design, but it helped make the suit stand out against others.

“Thank you,” Marinette said. “I had plans to include it on a shirt for you as well.” Marinette looked up at him with pleading eyes. “If you want the shirt.”

Damian smiled. “I’d love the shirt. And anything else.”

#damian wayne #daminette #damian x marinette #marinette dupain cheng #fanfic #batfam #batman #fluff #maribat #miraculous ladybug

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teenyweenynightghost · 3 years

Text

Dream Date

Thomas x fem reader

Thomas had been crushing on Y/n for god knows how long

They sat up all night and talked online about every little thing in the world; passions, dreams, futures, meanings…

After a bit of wine and endless encouragement from the band, he finally decided to ask her out.

“Um, y/n, I had a question…” his voice trembled slightly, watching her wash some dishes before patting her hands dry and turning to face him

“Of course, amore. What is it?”

“I was wondering If you wanted to go on a date with me tonight?” He asked, looking at her with fear and anticipation.

He only grew more worried as the girl remained silent, shock written all over her face.

“Are you kidding? I would love to!” She chuckled, approaching Thomas and hugging him tightly

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and basked in the sensation of being so close to her. Y/n’s soft, luscious hair slightly tickled his cheek and filled his nose with the pleasant scent of flowers and spring

Thomas was standing in front of the mirror, fumbling nervously with his tie. He had picked a light gray suit with a pink shirt.

“Thomas!! Aren’t you gonna come pick up your princess?” Damiano teased from downstairs, earning a frustrated groan from the blond.

He came up in a second and watched Thomas try and knot his tie, laughing to himself before helping him out.

“Are you nervous?”

“Guess, stronzo.”

Damiano snorted before patting him on the back and pushing him downstairs

“You are incredibly handsome Thomas, she’ll be more than enamored”

“Shut up.”

He got in the car and drove all the way to Y/n’s house, where he noticed she was already waiting on the porch.

She was gorgeous, to say the least. Her curly hair was pulled back with a few pins, light peach eyeshadow on her eye lids and a soft pink lipstick.

He hadn’t realizes she was in front if him, until Y/n spoke.

“Where are we going?”

“Oh um, beautiful- I mean, you, you are beautiful.”

They both blushed, Thomas more out of embarrassment, and he opened the door for her to get in the car.

“What made you decide to finally ask me on a date?” Her soft, honey-like voice broke the silence.

“I am always excited when I’m with you, or when I talk to you. It’s something I don’t really feel with other people.”

“I honestly thought you’d say that you would willingly wake up for me.”

They both started laughing, as they passed the illuminated streets of Rome.

“That’s a given.”

Eventually, the car slowed to a stop, and they both got out.

“Where are we?”

“Remember that place I told you about a few nights ago? I used to come to this meadow every day when I was younger. It was like a safe haven for me.” His voice faded out, looking around and taking in the all-too familiar plants and trees he knew so well.

“Why did you bring me here, then?”

“I wanted you to see it. Maybe it could become our haven.”

Y/n sighed, and picked up a flower from the ground, smelling it.

Meanwhile, the boy opened the trunk of the car and pulled out a blanket and a basket, laying them both down and taking a seat.

The soft glow of the moon softly illuminated the patch of grass they were sitting on, creating a surreal and whimsical feeling.

“To be fair, If you wouldn’t have asked me out one of these days, I would have.” Y/n snorted, opening the basket and gasping.

“CHOCOLATE COVERED STRAWBERRIES??” Y/n’s eyes were comically wide, as she looked between the treats and Thomas

“Well, you know, I did plan for this date to be the cheesiest thing possible.”

“They’re over used for a reason. They rock!”

“We rock.” He added smoothly, feeling himself relax more and more.

“We sure do.”

Taking out another plate out of the basket, Thomas grinned as he remembered one of his favorite childhood movies.

A big smile appeared on Y/n’s face as she saw the giant portion of pasta in front of her, and hurried to find some forks in the basket.

“I suppose we’re eating out of the same plate, correct?”

Thomas nodded and didn’t hesitate to start devouring the food.

They mainly listened to the soft tuned of the car radio while eating in silence, the occasional chirp of a bird catching their attention, until Y/n started giggling.

Thomas looked down, and saw that they both have the same noodle in their mouth, one end in her mouth, on in his.

Thomas smiled sheepishly, as he continued advancing towards Y/n, her actions replicating his.

They were mere centimeters away from each other, Y/n’s hot breath sending shivers through Thomas, her eyes lit up, as If a fire glowed with in them.

She made the final step and closed the distance between them, kissing Thomas tenderly, for so long that they both forgot what breathing felt like.

Eventually pulling apart, they kept staring into each other’s eyes, trying to calm down, despite their hearts being aflame with desire and affection.

“We should film a live-action version of Lady and the Tramp.”

Thomas chuckled and shifted so that he was closer to her, nuzzling his head into the crook of Y/n’s neck.

She picked up the box of strawberries and started shoving them down her throat, eating with a speed that got Thomas worried.

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down! I want some too!”

“You can’t bring me strawberries covered in chocolate and expect me not to eat them!!”

He snorted and leaned over to the basket, pulling out a book.

“What’s that?”

“Poems”

Y/n gasped and lowered herself so that she would align herself with his face.

“Wow! You’re gonna bring me food, read me poetry and show me your hiding spot? I feel like I’m in a romantic movie.” She joked, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Well, I am trying to romance you.”

“There are literally so many words for it and you choose romance me?”

“I knew you’d say that.” He scoffed, faking a pout and opening the book. He flipped through a few pages until he ended up at a heavily marked one, a coffee stain on the corner.

“I’m guessing this is your favorite?”

“For one specific reason. Can you guess it?”

Y/n hummed, thinking for a few moments before answering him.

“Is it about sleep?”

“Oh come on! No. It reminded me of you.” He grinned, fluttering the book under her nose.

“Oh god, it’s gonna be a prayer to the devil, won’t it?”

The blond squinted his eyes, seemingly freezing, before starting to flip hurriedly through the pages once more.

“Shit, you’re right.”

“THOMAS!” Y/n elbowed him, scoffing, bursting into laughter along with him.

“Fine, fine, alright. Here it is;

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Y/n’s eyes were brimmed with tears, slightly smudging her eye makeup, as she took a deep breath, taking in all that Thomas recited

“What’s it called?”

“When you are old, by William Butler Yeats.”

Y/n let out a silent oh, and looked closer at the sketches around the writing.

There was a small sketch of her, relaxing on the balcony under the stars, and Thomas, looking up at her as if she were his moon.

Her heart was filled with affection for the boy who held it in his hands, who unfortunately didn’t realize how much he meant to her.

“Let’s dance.” She beckoned him, walking towards the car and turning up the volume. A terrible love song erupted from the speakers, making Thomas cringe at the harmonies and lyrics, but he took Y/n’s hand regardless and pulled her closer.

They swung from side to side, looking deeply into each other’s eyes and memorizing every single aspect of the night

“This night is amazing, but this song really fucking sucks.” Thomas eventually spoke, not being able to hold in his commentary any longer.

“Well, not everyone can make music as well as you.”

“Oh you little flirt.” Thomas blushed, brushing a strand of hair out of Y/n’s face and spinning her around, over and over again.

She was giggling as she turned, her flowery dress flowing around, making her look like even more of an angle in Thomas’s eyes.

“I wanna spin you too!”

“I’m taller. You can’t!”

“Bet?”

Y/n pushed Thomas around, but he got stuck while he was with his back to her.

“Ow, Y/n, my arm can’t bend like that!”

He muttered a few curses, instinctively stapling backwards, thus making Y/n fall along with him.

A loud thud was all that he heard before an uncontrollable mess of giggles started wiggling under him.

“YOU’RE CRUSHING ME!”

“No, I’m crushing on you.” He spoke calmly, not getting off of her small body.

“Stronzo!!”

They were both laughing as Thomas got up, pulling Y/n with him, and pressing a passionate kiss to her lips.

They both sat back down on the blanket and nuzzled into each other’s embrace, their breath matching up.

“I never want this night to end.” Y/n whispered against his neck, squeezing his hand.

“It’s the only way it will remain special.”

She smiled contently, before looking up at the stars and letting the faint crickets and rustles of the forrest drive them to sleep.

A/n: I had plenty of inspiration for this🥴 @cantaraiilmionome 😉 for you, amore

Taglist: @fuckim-so-gay @ginny-lily @messyhairday-me @cheese-toastie-11 @wannabemarlenabutiscoraline @simp-per-ethan @maneskinrollercoaster @juststalking @superchrystaldrug @immrbrightsideeee @shehaddreamstoo @tiaamberxx @victoriadeangeliswifey @bidet-and-legolas @makapaka11 @electra-phoebe

#maneskin #victoria de angelis #ethan torchio #damiano david #thomas raggi #måneskin #fluffyyyyyy

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 3 years

Note

dearest comfy <3 what if Triss was a blacksmith AND Eskel was a blacksmith??? What then?? Enemies to lovers maybe? <3

Ellie. I love you. I love this prompt. And I love Trisskel. This is a triple threat of wonderfulness. Hopefully the fic delivers 💖💖

Warnings: no violence, some hostile Triss (mostly internal), lmao is this considered idiot and exasperated to lovers? idk you tell me, its pretty chill tbh, unless you don’t like daggers. there's lots of daggers.

_____________________

Triss was furious.

She had spent her whole life stoking a furnace, shadowing her father, sweating, suffering burn after burn and later cut after searing cut as she learned to forge all sorts of weaponry. Now, this teddy bear-shaped child was setting up shop in her courtyard?! Unacceptable. Unbelievable! She’d staked a claim on her territory for market day early. So early she hadn’t even made her first blade. Her father still had her hammering out decorative discs and fastenings for armor.

One of her customers had the audacity to call him ‘cute’ to her face.

He was no more than twenty-five, tall and stocky like most people expected of a blacksmith, but they claimed there was a softness about him. Triss remembered that softness well, before loss and responsibility really set in. What others saw as sweet, boyish charm she saw as a weakness.

She sent her assistant to assess his booth, maybe flirt and ask some questions, and was even more annoyed when they came back.

“He’s young but he’s not inexperienced. His blades are good. So is his uh… customer service.”

Triss rolled her eyes, “What kind of weapons was he selling? I don’t care about his looks. I have breasts.”

Her assistant shrugged and described his table.

That following week she put in double the hours at her workshop, put the extra flourish on every piece, perfected every detail until her arms ached and her head pounded. She often forgot to drink water, let alone eat, when she got worked up, so her assistant brought her meals.

When the next market day came, she proudly displayed her new wares.

And if she took her hair out of the usual braids and unbuttoned her blouse a bit lower than last week, who would be brave enough to point it out?

This time the newcomer had the gaul to visit her booth.

“Good morning, Miss Merigold,” he dipped in a bow of respect before she even turned around to greet him, straightening up and disarming her with a lopsided grin, “My apologies, I meant to introduce myself after last week’s market. But you were far more efficient at break-down than I.”

She wouldn’t have called him cute by a long shot. He was downright handsome.

Then she remembered they were rivals. There would be no fraternizing with the enemy.

It took her a moment to gather her wits before she responded, “Good morning. To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

She knew.

Of course she knew. But he was far better looking than she had assumed, his scars only adding to his alluring presence, and she needed to feel like she had the upper hand.

His smile grew a bit sheepish, “Eskel of the Blue Mountains. I’m your new neighbor… sort of,” he offered his hand over her table and she took it, hoping her hesitation wasn’t too obvious.

“Welcome. I hope the city is treating you well?”

“Well enough,” he acquiesced, letting go of her hand after a moment, “To be truthful, I haven’t left my forge much at all. I’m still getting used to her. But you know how that goes.”

Triss raised her eyebrows and plastered an over-polite smile on her face, “I must say I wouldn’t. I inherited my forge from my father. I learned with her. We get along quite well.”

Eskel was called by someone from his booth as he made to speak. He waved at them to wait a moment and turned back to Triss with a wink, “Well if you have any relationship advice, let me know.”

Before she could think of a polite but not too friendly response, he was gone.

She turned back to her assistant in a huff, “He’s infuriating.”

“He’s dreamy.”

“Hush,” she snapped, pointing to her sketch pad, “Hand me that. Call for me if there’s a large sale or a problem.”

She sketched and planned half the day away. But when she realized how much the materials for her plans would cost she adjusted her cleavage and left her tent. Someone had to drive the hard bargain around here, and she knew her assistant was too kind.

The next week she arrived with a beautiful set of delicate-looking throwing knives, a few different ornate daggers, and a sword fit for a king alongside her typical, practical items. However, she was seeing more than just her flowing hilt designs inlaid with etchings.

Eskel seemed to have had a similar idea.

She wandered past his booth, pretending to buy fabric from the stall next to him, and fumed. It seemed Eskel had a sharper eye than she’d anticipated. He very clearly mimicked her setup and emphasized the smaller wares like she did. He even had the same sign in three different languages about customizations and bulk orders.

This had become all out war.

When her sword sold that day she decided to finish off the dozen or so she had laying in wait for specific orders over the week. She even detailed a breastplate to match for three of them, guessing at the size in reference to the sword as best she could. As she worked she mulled over her new competition. His soft golden eyes that crinkled ever so slightly when he smiled were absolutely aggravating. At least that’s what she told herself. It was simply her competitive nature that had her fixating on this mountain of a man.

She returned the next week with a spread so large she could barely fit it on her table.

Eskel had come back with daggers inlaid with precious stones of dazzling pale blue and sparkling greys and whites. Blue Mountains indeed.

Polite customers started mumbling comparisons to themselves while the brash ones outwardly used the other stall to barter a better price. Every time Eskel was mentioned Triss would bristle, hold back a snarl, and turn on every bit of innocent charm she had.

She began leaving with a lighter cart and a challenging wink from her competition. Over the week she worked her fingers to the bone over fine details and getting the balance absolutely perfect.

After months of competition, months of uncomfortable eye contact, she finally broke when he sold a matching helmet, breastplate, and dagger to one of her most loyal customers.

“Eskel. We need to have a word,” she marched right up to his tent, hands tucked into her half apron at her waist.

He smirked, “That all?”

She glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest, “We can’t keep making the same things.”

“Pretty daggers and ceremonial armor? Why not?” he mimicked her, folding his massive arms over his own chest, leaning back against his table, making him just a little bit taller than Triss rather than the usual towering over her.

She rolled her eyes and stepped a little closer, “We’ve both done well, or I’m assuming you have, but eventually all the nobility this side of the canal will have been sold to. We’ll have saturated the market and be left with an armory full of ornate weaponry with no one to buy it.”

“Preserving the market means one gets to keep said market.”

Triss nodded but Eskel seemed unimpressed.

“And how would you suggest we settle who keeps it?” he raised an eyebrow at her and she just wanted to smack the smug look off his face. Or kiss it. She really wasn’t sure anymore.

She scrambled for a moment, not having entirely thought this through, “A competition.”

He stood to full height and sighed, “What are the terms?”

“One dagger. Same price. Whoever sells first gets the market. The other has to branch out or move.”

Eskel nodded and held his hand out, “Agreed.”

Triss went to take his hand but he gripped her forearm, his whole hand covering much of her elbow. She did her best not to think about how strong his arm felt in her grasp, how when she squeezed she felt a gentle give before she hit muscle.

He winked at her as he released his grasp and turned back to work, “See you next week Merigold.”

Triss worked on a single dagger all week.

She couldn’t get Eskel’s stupid cocky smile or his tanned arms out of her head. The way he looked down at her with that condescending smile enraged her. Her assistant claimed he looked more fond than condescending, but Triss only narrowed her eyes and shook her head. She’d been raised in the marketplace. She knew exactly how men viewed her.

In the end, her dagger looked very fitting for a man like him. Broad, sturdy, a bit curved at the tip, and simply yet elegantly decorated. She cooled it in a liquid mixture her father had made and kept secret, giving the blade a finish similar to copper, but with all the strength of steel.

If she noticed the coincidence she stubbornly ignored it.

Eskel was already set up and waiting when she arrived at the market. She spared him only a curt nod while she set up her booth as if preparing for battle.

He sauntered over to her before dawn had officially broken, blade in hand with what Triss might guess to be a nervous expression.

“Good morning, Merigold,” he cleared his throat and set the dagger currently wrapped in cloth on the table between them, “What have you for our little competition?”

Triss proudly pulled the dagger she had made from her case, handing it over by the hilt as she spoke, “Good morning, Eskel.”

He took the blade and hummed as he inspected it, whispering, “It’s beautiful...”

She wasn’t prepared for such a genuine compliment. Nor was she prepared for how much she loved hearing that word fall from his lips.

“Th-thank you.”

Eskel handed it back before unwrapping his.

Triss almost had to catch her breath. It was gorgeous, gracefully curved, a turquoise stone grip bordered by an ornate handguard. The part that really got her though was the engraving on the blade. She stepped out and around the table to catch more of the sunlight to see what it was and gasped. Little jasmine flowers were etched into the flat of the blade.

She looked up at him in awe, “Why jasmine?”

He gave her a crooked smile, rubbing the back of his neck, “You, ahm- your perfume. It is jasmine right?”

She tilted her head and really looked at him since the first time she met him, “You noticed my perfume?”

“It’s nice,” he shrugged, stuffing his hands in his leather apron pockets.

Triss thought about all the winks and the ‘good mornings’ and compliments. She’d thought they were just to get her buttered up, but maybe she’d been a little harsher than she needed to.

“It’s stunning,” she breathed, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, not wanting to pull away from his warmth when she had to.

They were interrupted by her assistant and set a price quickly before scurrying back to their tents.

All day they would glance toward the other’s booth, but Triss was no longer checking his table. She was looking for him. His kind smile and boisterous laugh. His easy charm and especially his humility under pressure.

All day she struggled with the realization that she was just a little bit in love with her competition.

Nearing sundown she told her assistant to begin cleaning up and grabbed her coin purse before marching over to his stand once again.

“Did you sell it?” Eskel looked disappointed and she was surprised to be glad to tell him no.

“I have two things to say and I will only say them once, so listen carefully. I realize I’ve been unduly cold to you and I want to apologize. You’ve proven that you’re not only a skilled craftsman but seem to be a good man as well and you don’t deserve it. “

“Apology accepted,” Eskel grinned, leaning back on his table as he waited for her next item.

“Thank you. Now, I’d like to buy the dagger. The one with the jasmines.”

Eskel frowned, “You- you’re forfeiting?”

Triss bit her lip and forced herself to look him in his honey gold eyes, “Yes. Though I hope we can both agree to stay where we are? I think I might miss you if you leave.”

He grinned and pushed off the table, standing just inches from Triss now that he was upright. His hand hesitantly brushed a stray curl out of her eyes as he leaned closer, hesitating to give her time to leave if she wanted, before he brushed his lips against hers. She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as they kissed. His hands covered her back, pressing her to him and nearly lifting her off her feet.

When they parted they were gasping for breath they both wished they didn't need.

“What about a trade and a truce?”

Triss nodded, standing up on her tiptoes to plant another kiss on his lips, “And dinner.”

Eskel chuckled, “I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”

82 notes · View notes

chemiste · 3 years

Text

a flower to the sun ~ h.s.

masterlist

tattoo design

You were about three shots in when Vicky decided it would be a good idea to play Bet On It with you and your friends at the bar.

The girls and you were in the rich, wealthy side of LA where all the fat lawyers and trust fund babies went to hang out. Sure, it wasn't really your scene being college students who could barely afford one drink but fortunately some of those fat lawyers thought y'all were pretty cute and would just send drinks over your way; all you had to do was smile and wave and the deed was done.

“What's Bet On It?” Eve asked as she sipped her Blue Martini.

“I’ll explain it, Bet On It is where we pose a challenge for you to go do and if you succeed we owe you a favor!” Christy exclaimed with excitement for the game, you giggled and nodded.

“Okay I'm ready let's go!” You shouted happily, slamming the bottom of your fourth shot back down onto the table as a declaration.

“Lydia, I bet my favorite cherry lipstick you won't go get the bartender's number.” You said.

Lydia blushed immensely as the girls giggled. She glanced slightly over her shoulder to see the tall blue haired bartender strut around serving drinks. Lydia's eye had been on her for a while and it was only a matter of time until one of the girls egged her on to go for it.

Lydia sighed and took another shot from the table then walked over. The girls all cheered as they watched her approach the bar nervously and immediately start hitting it off of the bartender.

“Okay, I think we can bet she won't be back for a while so let's continue.” Christy said with a chuckle. Vic glanced around at the four of you then finally settled her eyes on your form.

“I pick... Y/N!” she said.

The girls oohed as Vicky looked around the room thinking of a challenge she could use for you. She gasped as her eye caught something and looked back at you.

“I dare you to walk up to that guy over there and ask to get a tattoo with him!”

All three of you immediately snapped your heads to see who she was pointing at.

Over in the corner at a secluded table with a few other people was a tall man wearing sunglasses on his head, a white T-shirt and flared blue jeans with heeled boots peeking out from under the hem.

He looked to have a bunch of tattoos down one side of his arm and a couple on the other, hence the reason Vicki picked him. He looked pretty hot for only the side of his body... which might have been another factor.

You turned back to her eyes wide open, “Oh my gosh I could never!”

You laughed, swirling your finger on the top of the pink cocktail you had in front of you. Vicki blew raspberry at you.

“Tell you what, if you can go and at least ask him for the tattoo without falling into a fit of giggles I will let you wear-- no I will let you have the purple high heels you always steal from me whenever we go to the bar downtown”.

At that, you immediately stood from your stool, “All right I will be back ladies! Maybe with a tattoo and maybe a bruised ego, we don't know, we shall see.”

The girls giggled as you finished one of the many drinks on the table before heading over, a little liquid courage helping your nerves. You were pleasantly drunk at the moment so this might have not been your best idea but you were halfway over, no turning back now.

Just as you reach the man you realize that he looked a little familiar, his side profile looked out of this world, immortal, like Zeus had sculpted it for himself or something.

You push that thought aside, thinking that it was just the alcohol and tapped him on the shoulder. A look flashed through his eyes that seemed a little anxiety-ridden but it was soon gone when you started out your next sentence.

“Hey, I know I'm a total stranger but will you go get a matching tattoo with me?”

You swayed a little in your spot and reached out to grab his forearm to put a steady hold on yourself. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you from falling over.

“Wait what?”

He responded while sizing you up, wondering if you were insane.

You nodded eagerly, “yeah I've always wanted one but I'm kind of a pussy and so I've never been able to finally go in with a sketch I like and my friends over at that table bet for me to come ask a stranger if I would get a tattoo with them because it be the only way I could get one cause I would have someone else to decide with and they pointed you out so I'm here now.”

The man fully turned to you and damn you were so happy that Vicki had a 6th sense because this man was gorgeous. He had so many little tattoos from your glance to his arm still wrapped around you that somehow all worked together seamlessly on his skin.

His eyes were just so sparkly; the green in them made you mesmerized. He really did look familiar so you're asked.

“Hey do I know you from somewhere?”

The man in front of you seemed to straighten out a little, tensing under the scrutiny of your eyes scanning him.

He reached up to rub the back of neck, “maybe you've seen me… I don't know I could have just one of those faces.” You were still not convinced but it didn't really matter.

“All right, but you better not be a serial killer or something shady like that,” you clasped your hands together in front of you, “Tattoo with me; yes or no.” You asked again.

The man looked back to his group slightly, the eyes of a couple of his friends there subtly watching the situation play out. They all looked very amused and you couldn't blame them, you probably looked like a lunatic. But, the boy in front of you turned back with a smile and cackled.

“Why not!”

He stated and you threw your hands up and cheered, “Great! Do you by any chance know a tattoo shop anywhere?” You questioned him as he put money on the table, and started walking with you through the crowded club.

“Yeah we're really close to Sunset Boulevard, I think I know a place.” You reached for his hand as he pushed through the crowded dance floor, afraid you might lose the handsome stranger in front of you.

Right as y'all got to the door, you waved back your friends who hollered out in their excitement.

You were gobsmacked at the crazy situation.

The handsome man in front of you was going to get a matching tattoo with you.

A tattoo.

Once you made it outside, you realized that trusting the man in front of you might not be the safest idea but your brain was still a little fuzzy and he looked kind so... you just went with that.

You crossed the intersection and started walking down Sunset Boulevard, the man next to you shying away from any glazing eyes that came upon his face as you walked. Thankfully it was dark enough that no one seemed to stop and chat with either of you but you wouldn't even know why they would want to. Maybe they just thought he was hot like you did.

“Hey, so what's your name?” You asked, realizing that calling him gorgeous in your head wasn't going to solve many problems.

“Oh I'm Harry.” He answered.

“Y/N, nice to meet you!”

“You too.”

“I swear though, are you like a Walmart clothing model of sorts, I swear I feel like I've seen your face... I don't think I could forget your face, it's pretty perfect.” You stuttered once you realized what you had said. Harry just chuckled and squeezed your hand that he was still holding.

In no time, he was opening a door and leading you into a tattoo parlor that had a giant Shamrock on the door sign. The people in there seemed very important, all either drinking out of diamond encrusted glasses or smoking huge cigars, the farther back in the bar you went, the more like you felt you shouldn't have been there.

He led you through a couple doors making you realize he probably knew the place better than he led you to believe.

He knocked on a door in the back; a man opened the door a few moments later and looked up at you and Harry. His eyes lit up and he pulled Harry into a hug.

“Hey H, been a long time! How are you?”

“I'm doing well. We want to get a tattoo,” Harry said to the tattoo artist as you both walked into the room.

The artist nodded his head, “sure, sure, what's your name love?” You realized he was talking to you after a moment as you had been mesmerized with all the pretty designs on the wall.

“My name is Y/N and this will be my first tattoo so I'm very excited!”

He chuckled slightly at your enthusiasm and introduced himself, “My name’s Freddy.”

The walk sobered you up a little bit so you decided while the boys were chatting to go through a couple of the designs. There were flowers, arrows, boats, people, eyes, names; basically anything you could ask for.

As you flipped through the tattoo sheets, H set his phone down on the counter to help his friend grab something from a top shelf. You looked over to his phone case and something on the cover caught your eye. Glancing over your shoulder, the two men were engrossed in a quiet conversation. Your curiosity got the better of you and you reached out to slide the phone closer.

Upon further inspection, you could see that between the phone and the clear case was a slightly wrinkled piece of paper with a small poem scribbled out on it.

She fell so naturally into my arms

Like a flower to the sun.

~ Atticus

“Harry?”

“Hm?” He turned back to you, one eyebrow raised slightly when he noticed his phone in your hands.

“What about this?”

Harry walked over and took the phone back, looking at the small poem and then back to you.

“Are you sure?” He asked hesitantly, you nodded while you rang your hands together, teetering back and forth on the balls of your heels.

“Unless it’s too important to you, I totally respect that.”

H shook his head when you said that. “No, it’s actually kind of perfect.”

You smiled his response, both of you taking a moment to relish in the fact that you were actually doing this. Harry popped the phone case off and pulled the small note out, handing it to the tattoo artist.

Freddy looked down at it, “Do you guys want it typed out? Or written like this?”

“Maybe typed out would be nice, like a subtle cursive.” You nodded along with Harry’s comment.

Freddy walked over to the computer to type it out on the poem for the pre-ink outline.

“So how do you want this?” Harry asked you as you both sat down on the small couch in the corner of the room.

Taking a hold of his arm, you turned it, examining all his tattoos and spaces left unmarked. You looked at his right arm and pointed to the inside of his forearm.

“We could each get a line of the poem right here?”

Harry and you looked at each other with grins on your faces.

“Well you did drunkenly stumble into me at the bar so it’s only right I have the first one.” You rolled your eyes and chuckled, “Then I’ll get the second one.”

A quiet beep! alerted both of you to Freddy who held two small sheets in his hand.

“Who’d like to go first?”

You raised your hand and let out a quick breath, “I’m gonna go before I second guess myself.” Both of the men chucked at your statement while you hopped up onto the tattoo chair in the center of the room.

Freddy pulled your right arm over onto a small table he lowered to the perfect height and wiped it down with an alcohol wipe before applying the outline.

“You like it?” He asked, checking for your approval.

You gave him a thumbs up and he got the tattoo gun fired up. You tensed at the noise, becoming more aware that this would probably be pretty painful. Leaning your head back, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to breathe normally.

A gentle hand rested on your thigh, “Hey,” Harry said quietly, causing you to open your eyes and turn to him.

“I’m a little bit scared, needles aren’t my thing.”

You whispered, eyes flitting over to Freddy who now was testing the gun out before holding your arm down.

Another hand turned your chin away from the tattoo artist and your eyes rested upon a much closer Harry.

“Just look at me the whole okay? It’ll feel like a long pinch but I promise it will be over before you know it. Just squeeze my hand when it hurts okay?”

You swallowed and nodded and heard a small ‘3,2,1’ and then a weird tingling sensation on your forearm. You gasped slightly and Harry went to wrap his arm over you so you wouldn’t move. He smiled and nodded encouragingly, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time.

It was nice and… a lot more of an intimate gesture than you’d experience with someone in months.

You looked at his face, seeing the stubble that hadn’t broken through the surface of the skin, the small mole by his lip, the bit of blue at the bottom of his left iris.

He was remarkably captivating to say the least. A sweet blush appeared on his cheeks, “Thank you.”

“Oh, did I say that out-loud? Oops.”

You both giggled slightly, trying not to move too much for Freddy’s sake.

“You’re pretty captivating too.”

Now it was your turn to blush.

After what seemed like only 10 minutes, Freddy was giving you the “all done!” You finally looked over to your arm and grinned like a maniac.

“I love it!” You showed H and he nodded approvingly.

“Now, up! It’s my turn.” He whined, you laughed while Freddy wrapped your forearm and re-cleaned his tools. Harry didn’t even flinch at the needle but you still held his hand for moral support.

While his thumb rubbed your hand back and forth, you used your available hand to lightly trace his other tattoos with your finger tip.

“Do any of these have special meaning to you?” You questioned, scrunching your brow with you saw Late Late scribbled into his skin.

He shrugged, “I mean some of them do but others I just really liked.”

You sighed, “I think tattoos are really interesting but I never can pick something I really like… I’m always afraid I’d hate it later.”

“What about the one you just got then?” Harry asked, a bit of concern filling his features.

You gave him a small smile, looking down as if you’d become more bashful.

“No uh, I’m quite happy with it. I’m glad I was able to get it with someone.”

You cleared your throat and looked into his eyes more intently, “Harry-- Thank you for doing this, you didn’t have to at all but I appreciate it.”

“Honestly, I’m glad you fell into my arms, I needed some more ink and this seemed like fate.”

The buzzing suddenly stopped so you looked over to the complete tattoo.

“There you go H, another tattoo in the bag!” Harry got up from the chair and you both went to compare tattoos under the big light in the corner.

“You want a photo?” Freddy asked as he put the final piece of machinery back. Harry handed his phone over to him and you took the wrapping off for the picture.

Harry set a hand on your waist to move you in front of him and stretched your arm out with his to show off the full poem on both of your right arms.

“You ready?” He mumbled into your hair and you let out a shaky, “yea”.

I mean, who’s gonna blame you? A fine-ass man had just pressed you into his front and spoke to you like you were a diamond. Freddy snapped a few pictures and handed the phone back, note now back in its original home.

Your eyebrows shot up in realization, “Oh! Who do I pay for this?” You asked Freddy, but he just looked to Harry who stuck his hands up in surrender when you frowned a bit.

“I may or may not have already taken care of it?”

“Harry!”

“I know, I know! Don’t worry it’s not that big of an expense for me I promise.”

You lightly smacked him on the chest, eyes widening guess a bit from the feeling of a very toned pec.

“Well still, I owe you big time! I made you get a tattoo with me and now you’ve paid for it, literally. Lets go get food or something!”

You didn’t let him get a word in before you were waving by to Freddy and tugging him out of the bar and down the street to your favorite diner on the strip.

You opened the door and gallantly gestured for him to enter, “After you.”

He tipped a pretend hat to you and entered. It was nearly empty since it was around midnight but there were a few stragglers at the counter, probably nursing the pre-headache of a major night out.

Harry did the thing again of tucking his head down and led you to a booth in the corner, sitting down in the seat facing the wall. You slid in onto the worn red leather seat and turned the menu to H, pointing on one of the meal choices.

“I always get this one and a chocolate milkshake, but you can get anything.”

“Nope that sounds good, an All American Burger is always appreciated even if I’m not a big meat eater.”

You put the menu to the side and flagged the one waitress in the room, “Are you a vegetarian?”

“No I’m a pescatarian but not for allergy reasons so I can easily cheat the diet.”

You chuckled at that and turned when the waitress made it over to your table. She looked to be around your age and very tired judging by the ketchup stain on her apron and the state of her bun.

Upon her glance to Harry, her eyes lit up with recognition but she kept a professional nature and stuttered out, “W-What can I get you?”

“Two number 4’s please and two chocolate shakes.”

You answered, looking back and forth between a strangely bashful Harry and amazed waitress.

“Uh, yeah of course.” She mumbled and left, but not before taking a double look at H.

You quietly slammed your hands onto the table, “Okay, what’s up? That reaction was super bizarre.”

You leaned back against the booth and crossed your arms (being careful to not hurt your new tattoo) and raised an eyebrow, “You definitely are more important than you led me to believe. So what are you? A Tom Ford model or something?”

Harry met your eyes with a small smirk, dimples popping through.

“Well, I do use Tom Ford cologne.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh come on, so you are a model! What do you model for?”

“I--uh, have modeled for Gucci a bit but not a lot.”

“No shit that's pretty cool.” You leaned forward across the table closing the space between y’all considerably.

“Does this mean that our waitress will probably ask for your autograph before we leave?” You asked in a whisper.

He did the neck rub tick again, “Maybe a picture, I don’t know.”

“Wow so you are a hit! What else have you modeled for?”

“Um well--”

“Here’s your food,” the waitress interrupted, setting down your plates and the two shakes, you lit up like a kid at Christmas and took a big slip of your shake before giving a thumbs up to the girl in front of you who was still not-so-subtly staring at H.

You fake-coughed and that seem to snap her out of the trance she was in.

“Oh, I’m so sorry it’s just-- I wanted to say I was at the Greek Theatre last Wednesday and you were amazing!”

Harry’s posture released and he smiled, “Thank you so much darling, that’s very nice of you.”

“Would you mind signing something for me? Only if thats okay!”

Harry nodded and she quickly fumbled her phone out and--

“Harry, your face is on her phone cover?!”

You sudden exclamation of this caused the girl to go bright red but Harry just kept smiling that scribbled below himself on the pink border as if to not cover up the face.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you!” She swiftly skittered away and you looked at H with an explain right now look.

“I may or may not have undersold myself?”

“You think? What did she mean about the theatre? Are you a performer as well?”

You picked up your burger and took a bite, still watching and waiting for the answer. Harry let out a breath and took a couple fries from the plate, popping them into his mouth and chewing, giving him a couple second to figure out how to tell you.

“Did you ever listen to boy bands in high-school?”

“Uh, not necessarily, I do remember a few radio songs that the band would always play at pep rallies and football games.”

“Okay, do you think you could name those songs?”

You took a sip of your shake and nodded, “Yeah, um, there was Roar by Katy Perry, uh-- Royals by Lorde, and Oh! Best Song Ever by--”

“One Direction.” He answered for you.

“I’m still not following, are you one of the boys in the band or something?”

Harry just took a bite of his burger.

“Oh damn, are you serious?”

He nodded, you were pretty surprised and a little disappointed in yourself cause of course you knew 1D, Eve had been obsessed with them in high-school. Maybe you didn’t connect the two is because you were used to seeing the sweet 16 year old face on the Eve’s cover of J-14 instead of this fine-ass man in front of you.

You laughed as a thought hit you, “Wait, so I remember a little about the band... You guys separated right? Does this mean you were performing solo on Wednesday?!”

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

You smiled brightly and squeezed his hand resting on the table, “That must be so cool, how are you feeling about it? Everything fun? I bet being on stage is great... All your fans singing with you!”

He grinned, “Actually it’s been so different but still amazing, it was only my second show by myself but the same adrenaline rush from the first one. I miss the lads but honestly it’s great to be singing my writings now.”

“Do you think I’d know any of your music?” You asked, pulling your phone out of your back pocket and typing in his name to Spotify.

Embarrassment flooded your system when you realized you only knew his first name. Begrudging you asked, “Hey, can I get a last name for the search?”

His eyes widened a bit but not in a judging way but more of a please way.

“Styles.”

“Oh wow, you really are a rock star with that name.”

You scrolled through his page and clicked the first one in the album.

“Meet Me In The Hallway… no way, I think I’ve got this on a chill playlist.”

You both ate while listening to a couple of his songs play from your phone on the sticky table. It was nice, just enjoying each others presence. It could’ve been weird since you’d only met a few hours ago but getting a tattoo together had bonded y’all in more ways than you’d thought.

“Oh shit, is it okay that you got a new tattoo? Is twitter gonna break or something now that you have half a poem with a weird girl from a club?”

Harry let out a big laugh that had your insides feeling warm.

“It’s alright, I don’t think they’ll freak out too badly.”

You swirled your straw around, slurping up the leftovers, “You underestimate fangirls Mister Styles.”

He hummed in agreement and finished his food. Right before you went to the counter to pay, your phone buzzed a couple times.

the girls!

Vic: Y/N you didn’t die did you?

Nope! No kidnapping victim here!

I got the tattoo!

Christy: WHAT

Eve: OMG YOU DID!!!

Christy: VICKI LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE

Vic: i’m proud

Lol y’all are too much

Eve: We’re gonna leave the club and head home, did you need a ride back with us?

Nah, I’m just hanging with my tattoo buddy so I’;; text y’all when i’m heading home.

Eve: Okay we love you!

Christy: love u

Vic: are you gonna get some?!!?

Lydia: WAIT WHAT HAVE I MISSED?

You blushed at Vicky’s crude comment and stuck your phone back in your pocket. It was easy slipping out of the dinner and onto the street.

“Where’s your next show?” You asked.

“I’m off to Nashville the day after tomorrow.”

“Wow, so your tour is revving up isn’t it?”

He nodded.

“Where do you think your favorite place is scheduled on the tour?”

“I’m quite excited for the O2 Arena in England.”

“Fun, when you get back we could catch up if you wanted, I mean we are tattoo buddies now so it only seems right.”

Harry agreed happily and you put your number in and your nickname as ‘tattoo soulmate’ with a stupid profile picture taken quickly on the street.

“Do you think you could send me those picture of the tattoos? I won’t post them or anything cause I don’t really want your PR hunting me down but I’d like to have them for the memory.”

“Yeah no problem, it’s not that big of a deal if you post it, but you just need to know that you might get harassed by noisy fans and as much as I hate to say it, stalked by paparazzi just for being a new friend of mine.”

Harry’s face had shifted into something ridden with guilt so you just gave him a comforting smile and rested your hand on his shoulder, “Don’t worry, a friend of mine is studying in Public Relations and Media so I understand.”

A few seconds later, an unknown number bing!ed your phone and the pictures came rolling in.

“Say cheese!” You called out suddenly, catching Harry with a surprised expression for his profile picture.

You looked at the small clock at the top and scrunched your nose at the late time displayed on the LED screen.

You looked up at Harry, “Do you happen to know where I could get a taxi that’s not gonna murder me at this time in this section of LA?”

“I’ll take you home.”

Waving your arms in denial, you said, “No I couldn’t let you do that. I’d only be putting you out of your way.”

“Nonsense, my car is back at the club and trust me, I’m your safest driver tonight.”

Well, he did have a point.

“Ugh, I’m gonna end up owning you my first born if this keeps up like this aren’t I?”

You got back to his car in pretty good time, thanks to his long legs and your naturally fast pace.

“Oh course it’s a Range Rover.” You mumbled, earning a laugh for the rockstar getting into the driver’s seat. You gave him your address and off you both went.

You lived in a house with the girls. It was close to UCLA where you all went. The house had been this horrible tan color when you all first got there but quickly painted it a light blue that always looked so pretty against the sunset skies of Los Angeles.

Your room was the last one on the left upstairs and throughout your college years it had been re-decorated many a times. Right now there was a calm blue on the walls, queen bed in the corner by the window and various art pieces and magazine cutouts taped on the wall above your desk.

You had a dresser against the wall by the door and then pictures. Lots of pictures on the wall to the right, many of them where some you’d taken with friends and others were landscapes and stranger shots in LA. It was a fun hobby to have and it helped that you’d been able to sell a lot of them to shutter shock for some extra cash.

Harry pulled in next to the curb and you unblocked yourself, turning towards him fully.

“Thank you so much for the ride, it would have been a bitch to find transportation tonight.”

“Don’t worry darling, not a problem.”

You grinned, “Let me know when you’re back in town and we can catch up if you want.”

Harry let out a content sigh, “I’d like that.”

You hopped out of the car and ran up the steps. He waited for you to unlock the door and step through the threshold before driving off. You giggled to yourself quietly and closed the door, re-locking it.

With heels in one hand, you crept up the stairs quickly and into your room. After getting ready for bed, you heard a small bing! from your phone you had plugged in on your night stand.

You crawled under the covers before grabbing it.

tattoo buddy

H: you got inside alright? x

yup! thanks for the ride btw

H: of course x

good luck at your next show!!

H: :) x

night tattoo buddy

H: night x

And with that, you turned off the light.

masterlist

a/n : i was thinking a 2nd part but i wanted to know y’all ideas if you have somewhere you’d like the story to go. lmk in the comments if you’ve got an idea

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #one direction #styles #1d #H.S.#h.s. x reader #fineline #harry fanfic

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buckysrighthanddoll · 3 years

Text

Nyx, of the Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

The reader is called Nyx in this, however, it is a reader insert :)

Warnings: language; slight pining; mentions of PTSD, anxiety, and drugs; the reader literally murders two people (oof)

The most recent addition to the Avengers--that’s who you were. They called you Nyx, the Greek Goddess of the night. You worked tirelessly at perfecting your powers--bringing death and sleep to people with a focused glance. You could also use “force fields” to do many things, including moving objects and throwing back the enemy.

Nobody was sure how you got these powers. You didn’t have a tragic backstory (beyond childhood trauma that was experienced by far too many people), you weren’t in some freak accident; nothing indicated that you would ever turn into this.

You, being a worshipper of the Greek deities, thought that perhaps it was a divine thing. Maybe something convinced a god or a goddess to bestow you with powers. The theory was ridiculous, but it was the only thing you could even think to come up with.

Getting close to the team wasn’t as easy as you would’ve hoped. It took a while for Steve to warm up to you, and even longer for Nat to start conversing with you openly. But, now, you were at least on good terms with everybody. You, Natasha, Steve, and Bucky were a small team within the team, which made you happy.

You and Nat would go out to brunch, you and Steve would sit around and sketch, and you and Bucky did everything together. He was easily your best friend. You used to think that he was quiet and held back, but it was the exact opposite when you got to know him. He was always making comments and joking around about whatever topic you were on about. Bucky made you laugh a lot more than you cared to admit.

Which brings us to the next point--you were deeply in love with your best friend. He just had a charm about him, and he cared about people, and he was friendly and funny, and have you seen those thighs? The man was a Greek god, and you were just another hopeless devotee.

You wouldn’t say anything, though (much to Steve and Nat’s dismay). It wasn’t that you couldn’t date him, but it was that you both just worked so well as friends. You were terrified to fuck that up. So much could go wrong, and you weren’t willing to risk that unless you were certain Bucky felt the same way.

Bucky, luckily, felt the same way. Yet, he also kept his mouth sealed about it. Even when it was blatantly obvious to everybody else, he chose to see it as you two just being friends. Steve and Natasha understood why; Bucky thought that he was a monster, even after all of the therapy and constant reassurance that he wasn’t. He believed that he didn’t deserve someone like you, who made him forget the past and live in the present. You were grounding to him, like a breath of fresh air.

The four of you were making cookies in the kitchen. It was Christmas, after all, and you wanted to do something privately before Tony’s big party tonight. Were any of you shocked that Tony was hosting another party? No. Were you happy about it? Also, no, but you supposed this was a better way to spend the holiday rather than out in the field. Besides that, this was your first Stark party.

Somehow, you’d managed to get out of the other two Tony had thrown this year. The first one, you played sick and snuck out with a friend from way back in the day. The second one, you were on a mission in Bulgaria. You and Nat managed a ten-minute facetime call with Bucky and Steve, and even got a quick moment with Sam and Wanda before they had to go.

And now, even though you wanted to just curl up under the blankets and put on a movie, you forced yourself to go to Stark’s Christmas party.

You had plenty of time to prepare for it since it was currently noon, and the party was at seven. Steve had suggested doing some baking for the team and some of the higher-ups of SHIELD, which sounded great at the time--now you just wanted another hour of sleep.

For the most part, you just mixed and decorated since baking wasn’t a strong suit. You stayed in the kitchen when Nat went to do her workout (“it’s a daily requirement, Nyx”), and you started decorating when Steve responded to a text from Tony.

“Are you ready for your first Stark party?” Bucky asked, leaning on the counter beside you.

“I feel like nothing can prepare me for one of his parties,” You laughed, adding more frosting to a piping bag.

“Whatcha wearing?”

“You tryna match or something?” You joked flirtingly. He rolls his eyes with a smile. “Nat picked it out, so I have no clue if it’s up to standard.”

“If Natasha has any say in anything, you’re prepared,” Bucky laughs. Fuck, that laugh. It was music to your ears.

“Don’t forget what you promised me,” You sang out as the oven went off. Bucky groans and pulls out some pecan tarts while you cut the tip of the icing bag.

“I can’t forget when you remind me every two minutes,” He jokes, setting the tray on the counter. He spins you around and places his hands on either side of you, trapping you in a way. Both of you knew that you could give him one look and he’d be asleep, but this was a position you certainly weren’t complaining about. “I owe you one dance, doll. I know,” He says, his voice softer than usual. It took everything in you not to reach forward and kiss him. But, of course, you reminded yourself why you couldn’t. It could ruin your friendship.

Instead, you stealthily dipped your finger in the frosting and then swiped it on the tip of his nose. Bucky had a look of shock, and then a wave of expectation. You couldn’t see either of them, though, because you were laughing your ass off. He backs away and grabs a cloth to wipe his face, and then you get back to work.

It was moments like those that you loved with Bucky. Sometimes he’d back away, and other times he’d tickle you until you couldn’t breathe; either way, it gave you serotonin.

Natasha finished her workout routine right as you finished frosting the cookies, and she helped you clean up. “Hope you don’t mind, but I gotta steal her for a bit,” She smirked, looking at Bucky.

“I don’t mind at all,” He says, trying to get some flour off of his black shirt. “I’ll see you soon, ladies,” He adds, giving that signature smile.

Natasha decides to get some food from a random diner on the other side of town. It was a light lunch but definitely needed. You had managed not to eat any of the batter (which was truly surprising). And then, once you got back to the tower, it was go time.

Nat went to her room to shower, so you did the same. She met you back in your room twenty minutes later with a towel wrapped around her and a makeup bag in hand. You put your wet hair back and started on the makeup.

It was a full beat, to be honest. Your skin looked like porcelain, and your eyes and lips were snatched. Nat went all out, too, opting to use a bold red instead of your mauve lipstick. Then, you did your hair in curls. They weren’t too tight, and they weren’t too loose. Tonight, you let your hair stay down rather than pinning it up. Next came the dress. Nat picked a flowy red dress for herself. It ended a few inches above her knees and had a halter top to it. She chose an a-line forest green dress for you. It had a deep neckline, and it shimmered, but it wasn’t sequin. It was like there were diamonds sewn into the fabric--it was unlike any dress you’ve seen. Your dress, like her’s, ended quite a few inches above the knee.

After sliding on your heels (and realizing you were half an hour late), you both took the elevator down to the party deck. It only took up one floor (typically Tony’s parties took four, but he kept it light for Christmas), but it was still set up so extravagantly.

“Let’s make a straight shot for the bar and see how many shots we can take before Steve and Bucky find us,” Nat said. It was less of a suggestion and more of a command, but you did it either way.

“Nat, you know I’m a lightweight,” You warned as you stood at the bar.

“Even more fun,” She smirked, waving down the bartender. The young man poured six shots to share between the two of you, and they were gone in seconds. Your goal was to keep up with Nat. And you did, but you were also feeling it by shot number six.

Steve found you guys first, asking what was going on. Natasha gestured to the empty shot glasses and water that you were sipping on, and he nodded his head in understanding.

“Where’s Bucky?” You asked.

“He’s in his room; he had a flare with his PTSD. He just texted me and said that he’d be down soon, though,” Steve answered. He whisked Natasha away after that, taking her to the dance floor.

You were concerned about Bucky, so you downed the water and hit the elevator. Tony made these so that they were faster than any elevator in New York, but the ascent to Bucky’s floor was maddeningly slow.

Passing your living area and heading to the only other door on the floor, you knocked. Bucky answered it a few seconds later, eyes widening at you.

“Doll, you look stunning,” He said.

You stepped into his room and shut the door, turning back to him. “What’s going on, Buck?” You asked him.

He sighs, knowing that he couldn’t keep anything from you. “I missed two days of my meds, so my PTSD and anxiety are flared.”

“Okay,” You told him. “Is it okay to touch you right now?” Bucky nods his head. How could he say no? Your arms around him grounded him in ways nothing else could. As much as he hated his nightmares and restlessness, he longed to have you in his bed and helping him sleep. Half of the time, you didn’t even need your powers to accomplish it.

You wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into you, gently laying your head on his chest. Both of you let out a sigh of relief and welcomed each other’s warmth. “I’m sorry,” He muttered.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart,” You replied. Bucky furrowed his eyebrows at the pet name (you never used them on him) but felt his cheeks heat up at the sound of it. “If you don’t wanna go down there, you don’t have to.”

“But I promised you that dance.”

“I’ll take a raincheck, Buck. Your health and wellbeing are infinitely more important than a dance.” Before he could counter, you speak again. “Wanna come with me to take my makeup off?”

“I have some wipes in here,” He says, releasing you from the hug. You follow him through the hallway and to the bathroom, where he pulls out an unopened pack of makeup wipes. “I keep them in here just in case you or Nat need one.”

“You’re so sweet, Buck,” You smile, taking a wipe from the package.

“I’ll grab some sweats and a shirt for you if you’d like me to,” He adds. “We can set up a movie or something.”

“That sounds perfect,” You say. Bucky goes across the hall into his bedroom, and you take off your makeup. When you’re done, you meet him in his room, where he’s scrolling through Netflix. Changing in front of Bucky was something you had done before, but it never stopped being awkward, especially when you needed his help to unzip your dress.

Once you were both ready, you got under the sheets. At first, you were just side by side, but it quickly turned into a full cuddle session. For once, you were the first to fall asleep.

The next morning, you and Bucky were called into Tony’s office.

“You two look splendid,” Tony quipped. You didn’t think twice about being in Bucky’s sweatpants and shirt, a cup of coffee in your hand and a scowl on your face.

“It’s five in the morning, Tony,” You snapped back. You weren’t an early riser compared to the rest of the team--it was something Steve repeatedly told you to work on. “What’s this about?”

“There’s a trade deal happening on the Solviski case,” Tony started. “And you two are the only ones here that speak Polish. Therefore, I’m sending you both out for recon and hit.”

“So what you’re saying is the biggest mission we’ve seen all year, where we need to exercise every facet of my training, is my first mission?” You asked. You were in disbelief. You hadn’t been on a single mission. The only thing that came close was when you stopped a bank robbery. And that wasn’t a mission--that was just poor timing for you and the robber.

“Yep,” Tony said. “Get suited up. There’ll be a quinjet ready in an hour. The mission should be two days tops.”

You and Bucky turned and went back to your rooms to get ready. You brushed your hair and teeth, packed your bags, and met your partner at the hangar. Once he got there, you both loaded up and took flight.

It was relatively easy, considering Bucky can put in the coordinates and place the flight on auto-pilot. So, when he did that, you sat back and tried to enjoy the ride. It was ten hours from New York to Poland.

You got a hotel room first. It was a damn good thing you were both fluent in Polish because the nerves started to kick in, and Bucky had to do most of the talking to get checked in.

“Okay, so we have to go to his party tonight--”

“Another party?” You groaned. Bucky laughs softly before continuing.

“We’re going undercover as Mr. Dominik Rovlov and his loving wife, Mrs. Katina Rovlov. We’ve been married for five years, and we need to make a deal with Solviski to get drugs for our small gang in western Russia. And we have a deal that he can’t refuse.”

“Which is?”

“20 million zlotych, or the equivalent of five million dollars,” Bucky answers. “Let’s hit the town,” He added.

“For what?”

“I didn’t bring a suit, and I’m assuming you didn’t bring a formal dress. Plus, you need to work out your nerves,” Bucky answers, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Why are you nervous?”

“It’s my first mission, and it’s high-profile. Mixed with the fact that Polish isn’t my native language--it’s like my fourth or fifth.”

“Hey, listen to me,” Bucky coos. “You’re Nyx. You’re like a Greek goddess. I wouldn’t mess with you; you’re powerful beyond words, doll.” Bucky always knew what to say and do when you were nervous. He knew you like the back of his hand. “You ready?”

“Sure?” You questioned. You were as ready as you were going to be. This was the easy part. All you needed to do was get a dress and get back here to prepare.

Bucky decided to split up when you got to town. He said that it’d be quicker since we only had two more hours to be at the party.

Once you got back to the hotel, you quickly changed into your dress while Bucky changed into his suit. The man was hot beyond belief.

“You look--wow,” Bucky smiled, running a hand through his hair.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, sweetheart,” You smirked. Bucky tied his hair up, slipped on his shoes, and then you got into the rental car. It was luxurious, but you didn’t care about the vehicle. Bucky had all of your attention.

Once you showed up at the party, Bucky parked a block away. He got out and opened your door for you like a gentleman.

“Okay. If something goes wrong--anything at all--you pull the pin,” He starts, referring to the codes you had made up in the hotel wrong. If you adjusted your earrings, it meant that something was off. It could be that you suspected that he was catching on to you, or anything along those lines. But if you pulled the pin out of your hair, it meant that a fight was going to break out any second, and you needed to be prepared. You weren’t horribly concerned with hand-to-hand combat or even knife-fighting; your powers were well adjusted to that. But if bullets were going to start flying, you didn’t know if you could put up a strong enough field to keep you and Bucky safe. “Nobody gets a single scratch; you got it?”

You nod your head in agreement. “Got it.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, taking a nervous breath. “Now, kiss me.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Kiss me. I need to know what to expect, so I’m not surprised in there.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You took a second to process the situation. Bucky was right--he usually was. This would eliminate both surprise and flooding emotions if you had to kiss in front of a crowd of people. It’s just that this was not how you expected your first kiss with Bucky to go.

You place a hand behind his neck and gently start to pull him down to you. He cups your face, leaning in agonizingly slowly. His lips flicker from your eyes to your lips, his mouth slightly parted, and if you didn’t know any better, this would be a dream-come-true.

Your lips finally meet, and your eyes flutter shut. This kiss felt right, even though it was a practice for a mission. Bucky’s lips were so soft and gentle, and he moved so smoothly that it didn’t let you think. His other hand, which previously held no position in this, came to rest on your waist.

You broke the kiss first, moving only an inch away from him. Your mind wandered back into your body, and the weight of what was happening around you hit.

Bucky had a small smile on his face for a second. “Okay, I got it.” You swallowed thickly and backed away from him, and you both walked the block to the entrance of the house.

“Dzień dobry (hello),” The guard at the front said. “Dla kogo jest rezerwacja (who is the reservation for)?”

“Dominik i Katina Rovlov,” Bucky said. The guard checks his list, sees the names, and lets us into the house. The house was extravagant. There was gold framing on hand-painted walls, a giant chandelier, and all the guests looked eloquent.

“To jest piękne (it’s beautiful),” You said, taking everything in.

“Nie tak piękna jak ty (not as beautiful as you),” Bucky responded, his eyes never leaving you. You smiled and looked up at him.

“Co powiesz na ten taniec (how about that dance)?” You asked. Bucky took your arm and led you to where the other couples were dancing, and you joined in smoothly.

“Solviski knows how to find us,” Bucky whispers. “The offer was already laid out; now it’s about waiting.”

You nodded your head but didn’t say a word, focused more on the dance than the mission. It was a bad idea to go on a mission with Bucky Barnes. He would be the death of you--or perhaps he’d be the life of you.

And you could’ve sworn Bucky was an actor in his youth. The way he looked at you right now, with such tenderness and warmth, like he would do absolutely anything for you, it looked like he was falling in love with you right before your eyes. It was intoxicating. You could get drunk off of one simple look from him, and that was perfectly fine by you.

“Jesteś poszukiwany w głównym biurze (you’re wanted in the main office),” A butler said, tapping Bucky on the shoulder. “Chodź za mną (follow me),” He commanded, nudging his head toward the upstairs.

Bucky and you followed in a single file line, with you in the back. You made as many observations as you could--escape routes, the number of people that were in any given area, the location of the guards and butlers. Anything to help if the plan went wrong.

Once the butler got to the door, he knocked in a code. A female guard on the other side opened the door, giving a curt nod before looking at you and Bucky. She wore a plain black mask that covered the lower half of her face. Her dark brown hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and her eyes were a piercing grey. She was intimidating to most, but to you, she was as innocent as a child.

She opened the door and let you in, standing in front of it once it was closed. “Cieszę się, że przyszedłeś (I’m glad you came),” The man behind the desk said. From the files you’d gotten from Tony, it was easy to tell that this man was Solviski. Your nerves wanted to scream at you, and you had to keep your mind focused on anything other than kill mode, but you managed to look stoic. “Miło cię poznać (it’s a pleasure to meet you),” He added, gesturing to the chairs in front of him.

“Przyjemność po naszej stronie,” You said with a light smile.

“Moja żona i ja nie mogliśmy się tego doczekać (my wife and I have been looking forward to this),” Bucky adds.

“Otrzymałem twoją ofertę (I received your offer),” Solviski starts, tapping a file on his desk. “Po prostu nie mogę odmówić (I simply can’t refuse).”

“Świetny (excellent),” You say, clapping your hands together. “Załatwmy to (let’s arrange it).”

Bucky pulls out the briefcase he had carried in, and sets it on the desk. He opens it to reveal the money that we “owe” him. As Solviski looks through it, Bucky wraps his arm around your shoulders and gives three quick taps--the symbol to enter phase two. The hit. This, in your opinion, would be the easy part.

“Przepraszam (pardon me),” You started. “Myślę, że właśnie zacząłem okres (I believe I just started my period),” You added, faking some sense of panic. You stood up and looked to the female guard, who (although rather neutral) looked sympathetic. “Czy możesz mi pokazać łazienkę (may you please show me the bathroom)?” You asked her sweetly.

“Czy potrzebujesz czegoś ode mnie (do you need anything from me)?” Bucky asked, like a good husband should. It wasn’t a part of the plan for him to be caring, but you supposed it was just who he was.

“Nie, dziękuję, kochanie (no, thank you, my love),” You responded with a small smile. Turning back to the female guard, you nod as a signal that you’re ready. She leads you down the hallway and to the guest bathroom, where she opens the door and holds it for you.

You feel absolutely horrible for doing this to her, but it has to be done for the mission. So, you use a force field to shove her into the bathroom, and then shut the door behind you both. “I’m sorry,” You mutter as the lunges at you. You grab her arms and twist them so they’re pinned behind her, then you turn her to look into the mirror. Your gaze focuses right into her eyes and you will your brain into kill-mode. She looks stunned as she has an aneurysm, falling to the ground.

Quickly, you grab her body and place it into the bathtub, shutting the curtain. It was a good thing you wore gloves to this event because even though the Avengers would be taking care of the legal matters, you still felt horrible about the evidence you left behind.

You opened the door and locked it from the inside, shutting it behind you as you left. This would buy more time to complete the hit and make your escape. You gave the knock that the guard had given before entering, and the second you had entered, you gave a major blast to Solviski.

He flew backwards and hit the wall behind him, immediately coming back with a gun drawn. You threw up a forcefield right as Bucky stood in front of you with his metal arm as his only defense. The bullet stopped in mid-air, suspended by the field. You let Solviski empty his clip, watching as he panicked more and more. Once he ran out of bullets, he went to phone for more guards, but you gave him the same look that you gave to the guard, and he was dead in seconds. The second you felt the life leave his body, you dropped your shield, letting the bullets fall to the ground.

Bucky turns back toward you, heaving a sigh of relief as he pulled you into a kiss. You stood shocked for a second, but then your brain caught up to what was happening. Bucky pulled you tightly to him, nearly moaning when your hand went to his hair to keep him in place.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” He said against your lips.

“I had it handled,” You argued, biting down on his lips gently. He let out a breathy laugh as you pulled away.

“We have five minutes before the butler does his routine check-in; we need to leave,” Bucky said. You nodded, reluctantly processing his words.

Bucky led you out of the room calmly in an attempt to play it cool. It was a quick exit, and an even quicker walk to the car. The two of you didn’t even stop for a breath when you were at the hotel. It was two minutes of throwing everything into your bag and speeding to the quinjet.

You felt like you could finally breathe the second the jet was in auto-pilot. Leaning back in your seat, you took one grounding breath before undoing your seatbelt and standing up. Bucky followed behind you, and you quietly changed back into your civilian clothes.

“Hey, we should probably talk about that,” Bucky said as he slid his shirt on.

“Yeah, we should,” You repeated. You sit down on one of the benches, and he takes a seat next to you. “Listen, I don’t know if you kiss everybody like that on their first mission, but--”

“I should’ve done it sooner,” Bucky blurts out. He notices your shocked expression and takes that at his opportunity to continue. “I’ve liked you for months, and I should’ve said something before we went on a mission.”

“You--did--Buck--I just can’t--huh?” You stammered. You take a second, collect your thoughts, and try to speak again. “Bucky, are you sure?” You asked. Wow, that was a dumb question. “I mean, aren’t you scared that we could ruin what we already have?”

“We could, or we could have something even better,” Bucky bartered. He had a point, and you truly never thought of it quite like that. “I wanna give us a shot, as long as you’re okay with that.”

You smiled and nodded your head at Bucky, making him smile even more. He leans down, cupping your face and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. This feeling was one you could get used to. Where you felt warm and fuzzy, as though you had taken five shots and were just starting to feel it hit.

They called you Nyx. The goddess of the night. But even the goddess of the darkness deserves a little light, right?

#bucky barnes #bucky #barnes #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #nyx of the night #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fan fic #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x enhanced!reader #winter soldier x enhanced!reader

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sincerelymarinette · 4 years

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Life Swap - Adrien Agreste x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Words: 2215 Summary: Marinette Dupain-Cheng is the heiress to her father's fashion house, Dupain Designs. With her talented assistant, the baker's son, Adrien Agreste by her side, will they come up with the right ideas and be able to meet their deadline? Author's Note: ahhhh i love this so much. It was so much fun to write! I got inspiration from @chocoluckchipz on Tumblr with their beautiful life swap art for adrienette April! They are aged up a bit in this and it still has superheroes but PRE REVEAL. Gabriel or Tom is not Hawkmoth. I love life swaps/reverse crush sm. I kinda have an idea for a part 2 but idk I wanna see how this goes :) let me know if you want to see a part two!

---

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," Adrien mumbled to himself as he rushed through the busy streets of Paris, trying to contain his bag and the few coffees he was carrying. He was almost late for work, which he was unsure how he still had a job from his constant shenanigans (possibly caused by a slight crush), but he was still thankful he had his job.

"Marinette!" Adrien huffed when he reached the Dupain Designs office, more specifically, the head designer and heiress. "I'm so sorry. I got stuck at the coffee shop and-"

Marinette shook her head with a small smile. "Adrien, careful! Are you alright?"

"I'm coffee- coffee's fine," He stammered out. "I mean, I'm fine. Here's your coffee," He said and handed it to her as she set her files down on her desk. Once he smoothed out his shirt with his free hand, he took a deep break. "Sorry about that. Can I grab you anything else right now?"

"Thank you," Marinette smiled. "But yes, my scanner is still broken, and I was up all night working on these. Can you go to the copy room and scan them to my email really quickly? Once you get back, we can go look at fabrics, and I can start a mock-up for the designs," Marinette explained and handed Adrien the files.

"Right away!" He said, his face still a bit red, and practically ran out of the room with the files. Marinette only smiled as she watched him stumble away, then went to sit behind her desk.

"I'm surprised you haven't fired him yet," Plagg flew out from his hiding spot.

"Plagg!" Marinette whispered-screamed. "My office is all glass, people could see you!"

Plagg crossed his arms. "Kid, they're all too afraid of you to even look your way. You are kind of in charge around here."

She laughed. "That's my dad."

"Yeah, but you're the heiress to the company and basically the world's biggest designer in the fashion industry right now," Plagg reasoned. "Now, explain to me why you haven't fired Mr. Spill Your Late Coffee?"

"That's a long nickname," Marinette commented and typed her password into her computer. "I don't know; I like him. He makes me laugh, and I like having an assistant my age. Most times they're either older and think they know more than me, or too young and don't want to do anything. Adrien may be a bit late and clumsy, but he's talented, and I like him," She explained. "Oh! And plus, his dad owns a bakery, so he brings me cookies sometimes. That's always nice."

Plagg stared at her for a second. "Do you like him?" He asked.

Marinette shook her head. "Just as a friend. You know I'm in love with Mister Bug."

"Blah blah blah, you humans and your love," He complained. "All I love is cheese."

"I know," Marinette sighed. "If only it were that easy for me."

In the copy room, Adrien was trying to pull himself together. "Why do I have to be such a fool?" He groaned.

"You're not a fool, Adrien," Tikki reminded him as she flew out of his pocket.

"I'm sure Marinette thinks so," He said.

"If Marinette thought that, you wouldn't be working with her. You've had this job for, what, almost a year now? If she didn't like you and your clumsiness, she wouldn't keep you around," Tikki reasoned with the boy.

Adrien sighed and grabbed the papers out of the scanner, waiting for confirmation. "I guess you have a point. "Maybe if I weren't so stupid around her, things would be easier. I can barely get out two words without stuttering."

Tikki flew in front of Adrien, ensuring she had his attention. "It's just because you like her. I doubt she even notices," She said. "Now, hurry up and grab the rest of the papers and head back to her office so you can go help her with fabrics."

Adrien did what Tikki said and hurried back to Marinette's office. As soon as he set the files down, Marinette grabbed her laptop, and the two of them headed to the fabric room on the other side of the building. Lining the walls were pictures from Marinette's modeling days from her childhood all the way through high school. Modeling all ended when she expressed her interest (and talent) in design, and practically blew up overnight when she was announced as the new head designer a few years ago. But that didn't mean her father would ever let her forget how successful she was in modeling, and those pictures would be there forever.

When they got into the fabric room, Marinette hooked her laptop up to the screen on the wall so they could view the sketches to their fullest potential. "I'm thinking of light pink silk for the one on the left, but it could also work with a pattern. What do you think, Adrien?" Marinette asked as she held the two fabrics in front of her. "The silk makes it more like loungewear, but the pattern makes it more office-appropriate."

Adrien stared at her, lost in thought for a minute. "Adrien?" Marinette repeated. "What do you think?"

Since Adrien wasn't getting the message through to his head, he was brought back to reality when Tikki hit his chest from his shirt pocket. "Oh! Uh, I think you could both do- I mean do both, actually. Use the silk on the inside, and the pattern for the outside," Adrien explained. "It could be reversible if you find a matching pattern, or just use it way one- one way," Adrien continued to correct himself. He was usually nervous around Marinette, but it was even worse when she was asking his opinion. He loves fashion, and it can take his mind off most things, but when it comes to Marinette...it's all a gamble.

"Do both? As a reversible jacket?" Marinette raised her eyebrows and looked at the sketch on the wall. A few moments of silence passed before she opened her mouth again. "That is an excellent idea. This could totally work for both professional and casual, and by mixing the different types of fabric, it won't be too heavy, or too light," Marinette smiled wide and turned back to Adrien. "You always have such great ideas! Now, I know I want to use this pink, so let's find a pattern that goes well with it."

---

It was dark out; most people already in bed. Marinette let Adrien go home hours ago, and her parents ducked out for a date night. Marinette, however, was still behind her sewing machine working on perfecting her jacket design and figuring out the best way to make it reversible. It wouldn't be perfect the first time, but she was going to try her hardest.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Plagg remarked from a shelf with a piece of Camembert in his hands.

"Yes," Marinette said, leaning back in her chair to give her back a break. "This could do so well, especially with the business line I'm working on. Go from business to casual in one easy swoop, Adrien really has some good ideas," She complimented. "See, I told you there's a good reason to keep him around."

"You do know what time it is, right?" Plagg asked and pointed to the window.

Marinette shrugged as she looked out. "Yeah, but, I have deadlines."

"Don't you make the deadlines?"

"And what kind of boss would I be if I didn't meet my own deadlines? I want my designers to meet them, it will be a bad example if I don't meet them," Marinette explained, followed by a yawn.

Plagg set the piece of cheese down and flew over to Marinette, blocking her sight to the sewing machine. "Kid, you've had a long day. The machine will still be here tomorrow. You need to get something to eat; all you had for dinner was an apple. Go pick up some food and go home," Plagg tried to persuade the stubborn Marinette. "Get a good night's sleep and ask Adrien to bring some treats tomorrow so both of you can work all day to meet your deadline," Plagg said. Most times, he was sarcastic and annoying, but he really did care about Marinette. Between her crazy designer job and having to save Paris from supervillains, she needed all the rest she could get at night.

Marinette took a deep breath and stood up from behind the machine. She ripped out a piece of paper and left a note: Marinette's. DO NOT TOUCH. It was one way to get a point across in case anyone happened to make it there before her.

After she turned off all the lights and collected her things, she went out of the back exit so she could grab some quick food from a random shop open nearby, then head back to her car right afterward. She wasn't worried that it was late; she could defend herself if anything were to happen.

Once she got her food, she took a slow walk back to her car. Though it was dark, it wasn't very cold, and she was enjoying the fresh air and the quiet streets. The moon was bright and let off just enough light, but the side effect of Plagg did leave her with pretty good sight in the night.

"Miss Dupain-Cheng?" She heard a voice from behind her, then a loud thump on the ground. "What are you doing out so late? Are you okay?"

Marinette turned around, not sure who to expect. Once she saw Mister Bug, she relaxed and mentally told Plagg to stand down. "Oh, Mister Bug, to what do I owe the honor?" She asked, a slight blush appearing on her cheeks. Thank god it was dark, he wouldn't be able to see.

"I was doing a late-night survey and saw you walking. It's late and wanted you on check- I mean, wanted to check on you!" He said quickly. "Are you okay?"

Marinette shook her head with a laugh. "I'm fine, just a long day and late night in the studio. Deadlines," She shrugged,

"Oh! Well-well that's good. Can I walk your car back to you?" He asked. "Agh! Can I walk you back to your car?" Mister Bug corrected himself.

Marinette tucked the few loose strands of hair behind her ear. "I would love that, actually," She said. "No bad guys you have to take care of, right?"

"Not that I spotted. But trouble seems to lurk around you," Mister Bug said as they started walking. "I mean! Because you're such a big name, you've had a few run-ins..." He cringed.

Nodding, Marinette thought. "Yeah, a few times, I guess. Normally it's at releases, or if someone spots me at a store because either my clothes are expensive or they didn't like what I created. But I can hold my own," She smirked.

"Oh, oh, I'm sure of it! I didn't mean to-"

"I'm just messing with you," She cleared up. The walk from the store to her car wasn't very long, and Mister Bug interrupted when she was already halfway back, so the walk didn't last forever. "Thank you for checking on me; you really are a great hero of Paris," She said. "I hope I'll see you around," Marinette smiled and got in her car, waving before she drove away.

Plagg flew out from his spot in Marinette's purse. "Bleh!" He pretended to puke. "You're so gross, Marinette! Both of you are!"

"Plagg, I'm only going to do it more because it annoys you so much," She joked. "Besides, you have nothing to worry about. I don't think Mister Bug particularly cares for Lady Noire so much," She sighed. "Let's just get home and end the night."

As soon as Marinette drove away, Mister Bug flew off in the opposite direction near his apartment. As soon as he landed on his bed, he transformed. "Tikki, spots off!" He squealed. "Ahh, I walked Marinette to her car! And I think I held myself together pretty well."

"Aw, Adrien, I'm proud of you," Tikki said. "Now only if you could do it at work, too!"

Adrien glared at Tikki, jokingly. "I'm trying, it's hard. She's so sweet," He admired, putting his face into a pillow. "When we get married, do you think she'll want a hamster?"

"Adrien, I think you're thinking too far into the future," Tikki giggled.

"You're right! We should get one before we get married!" He celebrated, but was cut off by his phone going off. "Oh my gosh, it's Marinette."

Marinette Dupain-Cheng: Hey Adrien, great work today. We've got a busy day tomorrow. Any chance you can bring some pastries from your dad's bakery? (Plus the coffee I like- we'll need it) I'll pay for everything.

Adrien Agreste: Hey Marinette! Of course, I'm sure my dad would spare some. He likes you, he won't make you pay. I'll be sure to bring extra coffee for the extra-long day!

"See Plagg, another reason to keep him around," Marinette said and set her phone down to start digging into dinner.

"Tikki, tomorrow is going to be awesome," Adrien said. "I have to be on time!"

#mlb #ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug and chat noir #adrien agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #adrien x marinette #adrien agreste x marinette dupain-cheng #adrienette #adrinette #ladynoir #marichat #ladrien #life swap #au #lilly writes

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prettyinlimegreenboots · 3 years

Text

Twelve Days of Holly, Jolly Tidings - Day 10

Disclaimers: I watched “Dash & Lily” the other day on Netflix. This story is LOOSELY based on that book and Netflix series. I do not own “Dash and Lily” or Newsies or anything recognizable within the series. There are occasional curse words throughout the series, nothing too horrible but there’s some.

Catch Up Here

Sunday, December 22

As she walked out of her apartment in the early afternoon, she was met by a grinning Spot. Her eyes widened seeing him leaning against the steps of the apartment building. “Hi Spot! What do I owe the pleasure of seeing you twice in a week?”

“Thought you could join me as I walk to work.” He pushed himself into a standing position, giving her a look, adjusting his bag, becking her to join him. “Jack sent me.”

Her eyes brightened. “And Jack’s sending me to the hospital today?”

“I guess.” Spot shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. “He said that I was to deliver you to the hospital, give you the notebook, and you’d figure out the rest.”

Hitching her bag higher up on her shoulder, she matched his stride. “Okay then. How have you been, Spottie? Ready for Christmas?”

“Gotta work Christmas afternoon but that’ll be alright. Race and I will do our gift exchange on Christmas Eve and we’ll be at Medda’s Christmas morning with the crew.” He grinned. “Are you all ready? Will you and Jack be at Medda’s?”

Shrugging, she avoided the patch of slushy snow by hopping over it, causing Spot to laugh. “We’re doing Christmas Eve with his family. I’m sure we’ll be at Medda’s at some point. Have to finish wrapping a few presents but I’m ready.”

“In the Christmas spirit?” Spot looked over at her, watching her face for any signs she would be lying to him.

Smiling softly, she quickly nodded. “I am. Jack’s helped with pulling all of this together.”

“Good. Then his hairbrain plan actually worked.”

Laughing, she shook her head. “Glad you approve.”

“It keeps him busy and from moping away the days in my apartment.” Spot grinned. “It’s a good project for him . . .”

Stopping at the light, waiting to cross the street, Kat gave him a look. “So you know what he’s doing?”

“I know more than Race knows because Race can’t keep his mouth shut.” Spot smirked. “But you’re not going to get anything out of me. Jack won’t hesitate to kill me if I tell you anything.”

She grinned, looking at the ground. “He loves you too much to kill you.”

“Oh, he may be my husband’s best friend and by extension, mine too but he won’t hesitate to kill me.” Spot’s eyes were wide with fear, though Katherine couldn’t tell if it was real or not.

As they neared the hospital, Spot pulled her to the side, reaching into his bag. “This is for you. You’ll need to go to the fifth floor after you read today’s entry.”

“Am I looking for something in particular?” Kat accepted the notebook, looking up at Spot.

He shook his head. “It’s all explained in there. I have to go or I’ll be late. I might see you later.”

“Thank you Spot.” She grinned, giving him a hug. “Have a great day.”

He chuckled. “You as well, Kat.”

She watched him jog into the hospital, leaving her in his haste. She followed him into the hospital, seeing the coffee shop to the right of her. She found a bench, opening the notebook to the correct entry.

Hi Kat,

Happy 10th day of Christmas, love. I know the hospital is the last place you’d think you’d go for your holiday adventures but there’s two reasons I had you go there. For the first, you’ll need to go up to the fifth floor and find Maggie. She’ll be your guide for the first part.

She’s waiting for you - so get going!

Closing the book, she tucked away in her bag, she headed to the elevator, punching the up button. She tapped her toes, waiting for the doors to open, following several other people onto the elevator, pushing herself against the back of the box. She watched the number rise, before they stopped at floor 5. Excusing herself, she found herself outside of the elevator in a seemingly empty hallway.

Hearing commotion, she headed in that direction. She saw two nurses standing in the middle of the hallway talking to one another. The one pointed at her, as the other looked over her shoulder, grinning. She quickly said goodbye to the other nurse before making her way to where she stood. “Hi Kat.”

Margaret Anne Kelly, also known as Maggie, was Jack’s younger sister by 18 months. They were thick as thieves and on most days, best friends. Over the years Jack and Kat had been dating, she had grown really close to the younger girl. “Hi Maggie. So you’re in on this too, huh?”

“Can’t say no to my older brother is more like it.” She grinned. “So how much do you know?”

Kat shrugged. “All I know is that you’re supposed to be my guide for this first part. Jack didn’t give me anymore than that.”

“Come on then.” She grinned, twirling on her toes, heading down the hallway. Kat walked quickly, trying to match her stride. “So Jack told me a little bit about what’s going on.”

Kat grinned. “It’s amazing that none of this got back to me with all the people he’s told.”

“Because he threatened to hurt us all if we spoke a lick of it to you.” Maggie grinned. “There’s a lot of elements that you probably don’t even realize in play right now. Jack is pretty lucky that all the pieces fell into place.”

Kat tilted her head. “Just how many people are involved with this?”

“Too many to name, besides, we have places to go and people to see.” She said, turning down another hallway. “Do you have all your Christmas shopping done?”

Nodding, she looked at her. “I do, actually. Just have to finish wrapping it. You?”

“Brendan and I are all done and it’s all wrapped and put under the tree.” She grinned, speaking of her husband. Brendan and Maggie had been married for six months. Jack at first didn’t like Brendan, as he was a male that was interested in his sister but soon relaxed and is really good friends with Maggie’s husband. “Jack mentioned that you’ll be with us for Christmas Eve.”

“Yea, your mom and Jack invited me over due to my family being scattered for the holidays.” Kat grinned as Maggie gently rolled her eyes.

“It should be a good time. Brenden and I have to go to his parents house on Christmas morning but we’ll be at mom and dad’s Christmas Eve.” Maggie grinned while Kat laughed.

Maggie came to a sudden stop, pulling Kat to her side. “So this is what Jack wants me to show you.”

In front of her was a bright and color mural, a hot air balloon on it’s journey upward with lots of children standing below it. There were various shapes as balloons, in bright colors, pulling the basket upward. The sky was a bright blue and the grass was a bright green. Her eyes were drawn to a red head amongst all the children.

Kat tore her eyes from the stunning art to look at Maggie. “I don’t understand.”

Maggie grinned. “Jack was commissioned to paint this. He worked with a lot of kids to get their input. It's to show the hope of children getting better, and as a reminder, on those tough days, that while we may lose some, we help a lot more.”

Her eyes drifted to the painting once more. “When was this done?”

“He’s been working on it for the last three months or so.” Maggie smiled softly. “We just had a ribbon cutting for it last week - I was surprised that you didn’t attend.”

Kat shook her head, frowning. “I didn’t know. He never told me.”

“I’m sorry Kat.” Maggie bit her lip, much like her older brother did when he didn’t know what to say. “I’m sure there’s a reason Jack didn’t tell you.”

She pushed a smile to her face. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“I’ve got something for you. Should we head back to the nurse’s desk?” Maggie suggested, giving the older girl a look.

Kat followed behind Maggie as they made their way back to the elevators and the nurse’s desk. Kat’s mind was elsewhere, as many questions swirled around her brain that when Maggie came to a sudden stop, she had to stop herself from plowing into the nurse.

She watched as Maggie leaned over the desk, grabbing something before looking at Kat. “Don’t be too hard on my brother. I’m sure he’s got his reasoning for what he did. But this is for you.”

Handing Kat the box, Maggie smiled. “He mentioned that he wants you to read the notebook before opening that.”

Giving Maggie a hug, Kat promised she wouldn’t be too hard on Jack. Waving goodbye to her, she made a quick escape to the elevator, heading back down to the main lobby. She took a seat at the same bench as before. Grabbing the notebook, she cracked it back open, her eyes scanning the paper.

So you know about the mural and me not telling you about the ribbon cutting. I’m sorry for not telling you but I actually had it planned for you to see it on this adventure and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise. I’m sorry if you think I didn’t want you there . . .and that’s further from the truth. It took everything in me not to tell you about the mural and what I was doing.

So, there’s a backstory about the mural that no one but me and now you, knows. I used friends and family as the beginning sketches of the mural. But as I got painting, I wanted to represent all of the kids that step foot onto the fifth floor, the cancer wing. If you look close, you are in amongst the children as the redhead - had to put in the middle of it somehow. So you, Katherine Plumber are enshrined in the Children’s Hospital forever and ever.

She paused in her reading, wiping the tears away that had gathered at her eyes. She took a deep breath, calming her heart before continuing to read.

So the second reason I brought you to the hospital is a story I think you know. I spent a Christmas up on the fifth floor, before it became the cancer wing. I had a really bad case of pneumonia when I was 7 and ended up spending 11 days in the hospital, all of which fell between Christmas and New Years. It sucked, to be honest. But I had a nurse that was really sweet and tried to spend a lot of time with me when I was in there - part of the reason Maggie became a nurse. Which is also why I spend a lot of time volunteering at the hospital, especially around the holidays. It sucks to be away from your family, no matter the time of the year, but especially at the holidays. I wanted to show you a little piece of me and why I’m there so often. Maybe next time you can join me?

Picking up her pen, she wrote a quick note in the book before flipping the page and continuing to read Jack’s scrawl.

Maggie was supposed to give you a box . . . please tell me she remembered?

If she didn’t, go get it from her . . . I’ll wait.

Okay, so we’ve been down this path a few times now so you know that it’s your surprise. But the meaning behind it is special - go ahead and open it.

Tearing off the paper, she tucked it away in her bag before opening up the box. Inside, nestled in the cotton was a silver star with a green emerald in the middle of it.

So it’s a star - I could be really cheesy and say that you’re the star of my universe. But I won’t go down that path.

Stars often mean divine guidance and protection. You’ve been a great protector to me - you’ve protected my heart for the last 5 years. You’ve helped guide me and shape me into, hopefully, a man that’s worthy of standing by your side. So this star is symbolizing all of that and you’re the star of my universe.

I love you, Katherine Plumber.

Jack

She giggled, shaking her head at her boyfriend. He was more than worthy to stand by her side, as he had proven time and time again over the last 5 years. She just hoped she was just as worthy to stand by his side.

Closing the notebook, she looked up, scanning the lobby. Her eyes narrowed, watching a figure slowly sipping his coffee as he looked at her. Catching his eye, she watched him as he came closer to her. “Told ya I would see you later on.”

“You said you might see me.” She stood, looking over at Spot with a smirk on her face. “Hanging out in the lobby waiting for me?”

“Well you need to give the notebook to someone.” He said, shrugging his shoulders, taking another sip of his drink. “Hand it over pretty girl.”

Digging the notebook out of her bag, she gave it to him. “Jack’s definitely keeping me on my toes. Usually I have to hide it somewhere or he’s here to grab it.”

Spot shrugged. “He’s tied up at the moment or else he would be here.”

“Is that a hint or something?” Her eyes went wide as Spot quickly shook his head.

“No, nope, nopety no hint from me.” He continued to shake his head, looking at Kat with wide eyes.

A grin stretched across her face. “Uh huh . . . like I’m supposed to believe that. So if he’s not here, where is he?”

“He’s indisposed and unable to make it here.” Spot shrugged, nonchalantly taking another sip of his drink.

Putting her finger in her nose, she looked at one of her best friends. “Something fishy is going on here and I intend to find out what it is.”

“Nothing fishy at all.” Spot looked her dead in the eyes. “Turn off your reporter feelers and just go enjoy your afternoon.”

Kat nodded, giving him one last look. “Alright, since you’ve been so kind and great in this whole thing. I won’t push it . . . yet.”

He quickly gave her a hug, kissing the side of her head. “Have a good afternoon Kat. I’ll see you when I see you.”

She laughed, shaking her head before walking out of the hospital, into the cold. Spot watched her leave, before pulling out his cell phone, sending off a text. She’s starting to put on her reporter hat

All will be revealed in two days. What did you tell her?

Spot shook his head, sighing. Told her you were tied up today and couldn’t be here.

Thanks Spot! And thanks for the heads up!

Spot shook his head, hoping Jack could pull everything together in the upcoming days and she would soon figure it all out.

#Newsies #Newsies Fan Fiction #Newsies Holiday Fic #writing #jack x katherine #Twelve Days of Holly Jolly Tidings

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capsicle13 · 4 years

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Bad Hair Day (Stony/Superfamily)

Hey, guys! I posted this on my AO3 page, but decided to post it here on my tumblr as well. This is my attempt at writing more fluffy Stony stories since a lot of mine are full of angst. I tagged it, but just to warn you, mpreg is implied here. Just briefly mentioned. Anyway, hope you all enjoy it!

*******

Having a child was a life-changing experience, but having a daughter was another experience all on its own. They had no clue how to be parents, especially when starting a family was something they never considered. They were Avengers and in their job, a baby just didn’t fit in the equation.

That all changed and they welcomed their baby girl, Morgan. She was everything they could have hoped for and more; she was their pride and joy; their entire world.

But nothing could have prepared them for raising a daughter. Before Morgan was born and before they learned they were expecting a baby girl, Tony had been hoping for a boy. He knew how boys worked, having been one himself at one point in his life. Boys could be difficult but their actions made sense. Steve on some level agreed, but if he was being honest, he didn’t care as long as their baby was healthy.

Then Morgan was born and everything changed. There was no disappointment or regrets; she was perfect in every way. She mostly resembled Tony with her dark hair and dark eyes to match, but there were bits of Steve in her as well. Where else did her stubborn attitude come from?

Like all new parents they struggled. The early morning feedings and lack of sleep were the hardest, but it had all been worth it. Morgan was the most important thing in their lives.

It got easier as she grew up. Whatever fears and doubts they had about raising a daughter began to diminish. They knew how to comfort her when she was scared or angry; they knew what made her laugh and smile. It became second nature.

But despite all of the things they got right, there was always going to be something to screw up on. They had just anticipated it would be later in Morgan’s life.

It’s a quiet afternoon in the Stark-Rogers residence, something that rarely takes place. Usually their private quarters were filled with some type of noise, whether that be from the sounds of Morgan playing or Tony working on a new project.

The silence is nice and for a change, Steve and Tony are able to enjoy their afternoon. For once they’re not needed to save the world. Morgan is quietly playing in her room, while Tony works on his Starkpad and Steve sketches.

“You know what tomorrow is, don’t you?” Steve asks, not even looking up from his sketchbook. Tony hums in response. One look his way has Steve rolling his eyes. “Tony, did you hear me?”

“Hmm?” Tony gives up on the schematics he’s working on, head snapping up at the sound of his husband’s annoyed tone. “Wait, did you ask about dinner because you know I can’t cook.”

Steve sighs in annoyance. “Tomorrow? Ring any bells?”

“Oh picture day! Yeah of course I remember. How could I forget?”

“Just checking. You almost missed her birth.”

“I said I was sorry!” Tony cries out. Steve can’t help but chuckle at the outburst. Although it had been five years since that day and all has been forgiven, Steve still liked to give his husband a hard time.

“I know,” Steve smiles and he leans over to press a kiss to Tony’s cheek. “I still love you.”

“I won’t screw up again,” Tony promises. They both know it’s a promise that can’t be kept. Screwing up was going to happen sooner or later.

“Daddy? Papa?” Comes the soft voice of their daughter. Morgan pokes her head out from the hall, almost as if she’s afraid to approach. Tony and Steve share a look.

“Come here, Maguna.” Tony waves Morgan over, smiling when she runs into the room and plops into Tony’s lap. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Tony asks, gently pushing back a strand of dark hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear.

“I want to look good for school tomorrow,” Morgan says, her words only confusing her parents even more. They had spent a majority of the weekend getting everything prepared for her first picture day. Now they’re starting to wonder what they did wrong.

“What do you mean?” Steve is frowning now. He remembers Morgan already picking out her outfit for tomorrow. “Honey, didn’t you pick out something?”

“You picked the suit I made you, right?” Tony asks, getting a glare from his husband. “What?”

“She is not wearing the suit,” Steve warns, then his voice is taking on a much softer tone when he speaks to his daughter. “Morgan, what’s going on?”

“I just want to look good. I really liked the way Auntie Nat did my hair and I want…” Morgan pauses, glancing down at her lap and wringing her small fingers together in a nervous fashion. She mutters something both Steve and Tony don’t understand.

“What? Little Miss, say that again,” Tony tells her and Morgan lets out a small sigh.

“I want you to...do my hair…” Morgan glances up, brown eyes darting back and forth between her parents, nervously waiting for their response.

Steve clears his throat and speaks first, “Oh...um yeah. Yeah, honey we can...do that. Tony?” Steve turns to his husband for back up, nudging him in the knee with his own when Tony refuses to catch on.

“Yeah! But if Auntie Nat did such a good job on it last time maybe she can-” Tony is cut off when Steve shakes his head, clearly not impressed with the answer. “I mean, yeah we can do that.”

“Really!” Morgan’s face lights up and she wraps her arms around Tony’s neck. “Thank you, Daddy!” She pulls away to press a big kiss to Tony’s cheek.

Tony smiles. “No problem. I think Papa needs some love too.”

Morgan agrees and she jumps out of Tony’s lap, rushing into Steve’s open arms and planting a kiss similar to the one Tony received on his cheek. “Thank you, Papa!”

She runs back to her room with a huge smile on her face. Steve cranes his neck, watching as she disappears down the hall, and when he hears her bedroom door close, he turns toward his husband, a small frown showing up in his features.

“What?” Tony questions. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“We can’t do her hair!” Steve hisses.

“Why not? We just told her we would.”

“Do you know how to do hair? Because I don’t!”

“I think you’re overreacting. It’s just hair. We’ve done it before.” Tony shrugs casually and leans back in his seat.

“Yeah once! Tony, there’s a reason Nat does the hair thing,” Steve reminds him.

“Okay well maybe it’s time we do it. I mean, we’re Morgan’s parents. How hard can it be?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “Maybe you’re right.”

Turns out, doing their daughter’s hair is much harder than they anticipated.

With picture day literally hours away, there is no time to be wasted, and the once peaceful afternoon shifts into one of utter chaos. Maybe that was too dramatic, but that calmness that was once surrounding their home disappeared the moment they sat Morgan down in the bathroom and attempted to do her hair.

She had been so excited to have her daddies do her hair. Ever since Steve failed miserably when Morgan was two, it was always Natasha doing the styling. That was going to change, though. At least, that’s what everyone thought.

“Ow, Papa that hurts!” Morgan cries, squirming in the chair that had been set up for her to sit in. Steve sighs harshly, cursing under his breath when the brush he was using refuses to untangle from his daughter’s hair.

“Sorry, sweetie. It’s..a..little...stuck…” Steve says while trying to pull the brush free. He tugs a little too hard and Morgan cries out again.

A chuckle on his left reaches Steve’s ears and he turns toward the bathroom entrance, finding a very amused Tony lingering in the doorway. “Need help?” Tony asks, another chuckle escaping him when Steve glares.

“No,” Steve replies firmly, and he turns back to the task at hand. “It’s fine. Her hair is just super thick. Dammit, Tony this is your fault!”

“Are you referring to the idea or the hair? I did have thick hair as a kid.”

Steve sends another glare his husband’s way. “Shut up. Can you…” He gestures at the mess he’s made of their daughter’s hair, a sigh of frustration escaping him.

Not needing to be asked twice, Tony steps into the bathroom and comes closer to inspect the damage. “Yikes,” he winces at the mess Steve had managed to make in less than five minutes. “How the hell did you get it stuck?”

“It’s stuck!” Morgan cries, turning her head to try and see for herself.

“No, no!” Steve assures. “It’s just a little...Tony, do something,” he hisses.

Tony smirks. He goes in as gently as he can; his goal is to get the brush untangled from Morgan’s hair without hurting her or ripping any out in the process. “Damn,” he says through gritted teeth. “I did not know your hair was this thick.”

Morgan emits a whimper when her head is repeatedly tugged in every direction. “Ow, Daddy!”

“Sorry,” Tony apologizes. “Blame your Papa.”

Steve rolls his eyes. It’s tempting to fire back with a snarky reply, but Steve bites his tongue. He’s too focused on his daughter and the guilt of putting her in this situation.

“Almost got it,” Tony announces after a few more minutes of fighting with the brush. There’s a loud rip when Tony pulls a little too hard, and Steve’s eyes are widening at the sound. Tony, too absorbed in his victory, fails to notice that he had taken some of Morgan’s hair out along with the brush. “Aha! Got you!” Tony holds the brush up proudly, then he’s noticing the dark wad of hair attached to the brush. “Shit!”

“What!” Morgan’s eyes go wide and she scrambles to turn in her seat. Steve quickly steps in, rushing toward her and spinning her back around.

“It’s nothing, sweetie. Daddy is just...that’s just his favorite word,” Steve tries to assure, knowing that he’s failing miserably. Their daughter was no idiot.

“Is it gone?” Morgan asks, using one hand to reach behind her to feel for the brush. A small smile forms over her face in relief when she realizes it’s no longer stuck to her head. “Thank you, Daddy! You fixed Papa’s mess!”

“Sure did, Maguna,” Tony tells her, shrugging when Steve narrows his eyes at him and gestures angrily at the brush. “Let me try and comb it now okay? I’ll be gentle.”

And by gentle, Tony means cautious as hell. He goes as slow as he possibly can, praying each time he brushes through the dark strands that there’s not another repeat. It goes well, and soon Morgan’s hair is no longer resembling a rat’s nest.

“There! All done!” Tony leans down and rests his chin on his daughter’s shoulders, watching her reflection in the mirror. “Looks good right?”

Morgan frowns and their eyes meet in the mirror. “You didn’t do anything. It looks the same.”

“Actually, it looks better. You should have seen what your Papa-”

“Okay,” Steve intervenes, growing tired of the constant reminder of his screw up. “But Tony, she wanted it…” Steve pauses, turning toward his daughter. “Morgan, what did you want?”

“A French braid. Like Auntie Nat does sometimes.”

“What the fu-I mean what is French braid?” Tony asks, the question more so directed at his husband.

“It’s a really pretty braid. Auntie Nat did it for me one time,” Morgan smiles. She reaches up to play with her hair, oblivious to the confused looks her parents are sharing behind her.

“I think we better get Nat-” Steve begins to suggest, but Tony is quickly shutting that idea down.

“No way. We can do this French braid thing. Now hand me the brush.”

Steve sighs and grabs the brush, placing it in Tony’s hand. “Please don’t mess up,” he mutters to himself.

Tony of course messes up in the first couple of minutes. Luckily the brush didn’t get stuck again, but the hair ties were becoming an issue. Morgan cries out whenever Tony ties it too tight or when it gets tangled in a few strands of her hair. With a huff, Tony steps back.

“You give up?” Steve asks from his spot on the edge of the tub.

“Nope! I just need something,” Tony explains, then he’s rushing out of the room.

“Don’t get the suit!” Steve calls out, then he’s groaning and burying his face in his hands.

“Papa?” Morgan’s scared voice captures Steve’s attention and he’s snapping his head up in her direction. “Daddy isn’t going to be Iron Man when he does my hair, right?”

“God I hope not.”

Tony returns a few minutes later, thankfully not dressed in the familiar red and gold suit. “Needed my tablet.” He holds it up for a second before propping it up on the sink and typing something on the screen.

“What are you doing?” Steve grows curious when another voice fills the room and he comes over to investigate. The video Tony has playing shows a girl with a bubbly personality demonstrating how a French braid is done. “Does this work?” Steve asks, gesturing toward the screen.

“It’s supposed to. People watch tutorials all the time,” Tony answers, then he’s turning his attention back to the video. He watches the full thing, then he’s shutting it off, feeling confident that he can pull off the same look the woman demonstrated.

“That’s it?” Steve asks when Tony immediately jumps back in at styling Morgan’s hair. “You’re not going to watch it again or keep it playing and following the steps?”

“Honey, I got it. I’m a genius, remember? I only need to watch it once.”

Tony could not have been more wrong. He had felt his confidence surging within when he first started working on Morgan’s hair, but little by little it was starting to diminish, leaving him feeling that he was doing a worse job than Steve.

Separating the strands had been the easy part, but when it came to twisting and forming those strands into the pretty braid shown on the video, that’s when Tony lost it.

“What the hell?” He grumbles to himself, gritting his teeth in frustration when he fails to get Morgan’s hair just the way she wants. Morgan whimpers when he tugs too hard and he quickly apologizes.

“Daddy, maybe we can call Auntie Nat,” Morgan is starting to sound like Steve. Tony doesn’t know how many times Steve had suggested the same idea during the past ten minutes.

“Nope. Daddy’s got this, sweetheart,” Tony assures. “Give me another thing,” he gestures toward the sink.

“Another thing?” Steve questions, brows drawing together in confusion. “What thing?” he asks, when he fails to understand what his husband is referring to.

“The thing! The-the little tie things!”

“A hair tie!”

“Yes!”

“Daddy…”

“I got it,” Tony promises. He takes the little pink hair tie Steve offers and carefully ties together the strands of hair. “I think it’s working.”

“You think?” Steve is skeptical, craning his neck to get a better view of what his husband has been doing for the past thirty minutes. He frowns at the results. He doesn’t remember that from the video. “Tony, are you sure that’s right?”

“Yeah,” Tony sounds so sure of himself. He takes a step back to examine his work, humming as he takes in the final result. “Looks good to me.”

Steve frowns. “I thought she wanted a long braid. You have…” Steve counts silently to himself. “Three...four braids? And this one isn’t even. It’s-”

“Do you want to try?” Tony snaps. “Go ahead, Steve try! See how difficult it really is!”

“Maybe Auntie Nat-”

“No!” Steve and Tony both say simultaneously.

“Move,” Steve growls, nudging Tony out of the way. “I’ll do it.”

*************

The last thing Natasha expected was to hear her doorbell ring. It wasn’t terribly late, but no one rarely came to her door in the middle of the night, unless it was of course an emergency. She frowns as she makes her way toward the door, the confused expression only growing when she opens the door and reveals her two best friends and niece.

“What is going on?” Natasha asks, then she notices the state her niece is in. “Oh my God what did you do to her hair!”

Morgan whimpers, bottom lip jutting out and trembling and tears in her dark eyes. The hair atop her head is a complete disaster, twisted in some areas and tangled in others, colorful plastic ties decorating each strand of the dark locks.

“We tried,” Steve is the first to explain. Tony holds up the brush that they had been using, and Natasha’s eyes widen at the large hairball the brush had collected.

“Tried what exactly? What is this!” Natasha reaches outs and examines one of the failed braids. “Do you hate your child?”

“What? No! Of course not!” Tony exclaims. “Can you just help us out? We obviously suck at this hair thing.”

“Obviously,” Natasha says, then she’s directing her attention to Morgan. “Hey, sweetie, I’ll fix it okay? Go into the bathroom and I’ll be right there.”

Morgan sniffs and nods her head, then she’s disappearing down the hall toward the familiar bathroom.

“I swear we tried,” Steve tries to explain when Natasha is sending them another disapproving look. “It’s just...we’re…” He looks at his husband for help.

“We’re guys and we’re stupid. Please help us before our daughter really does hate us and wants to move in with you,” Tony says.

A smile breaks across Natasha’s face. “She doesn’t hate you. Though after tonight, she might want to live with me. I’ll convince her that she’s better off with you two morons.”

They’re invited in and they make themselves comfortable on the sofa while Natasha attends to Morgan’s hair down the hall.

“I think we think we’re horrible parents,” Steve says.

Tony hums in agreement. “I know we’re not perfect, but damn I thought we would get this right. This can’t be the worst thing we’ve ever done, has it?”

“I don’t know.” Steve tries to think back to anything they’ve ever done that could top this. “I don’t think so. Just wait, though. Something worse will come along.”

“Jesus,” Tony groans and he leans forward, burying his face in his hands. “Wait till she’s a teenager.”

Just that thought alone makes Steve sick to his stomach. “Oh God and boys. And other things I really don’t understand.”

“You’re dealing with that one!” Tony points a finger in Steve’s direction.

“I don’t want to think about it. She’s still our baby.”

“She’ll always be our baby.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees.

A few minutes pass before Natasha and Morgan are entering the room. Both Steve and Tony jump to their feet when their daughter approaches them. She no longer has tears running down her face, and instead she’s wearing a bright smile.

“Look! Auntie Nat fixed your mess!” Morgan spins around to show off her perfect braid.

“How the hell did you do that?” Steve asks and Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Seriously, it’s not rocket science.”

“You’re right,” Tony says. “Rocket science is much easier to understand.”

“You look beautiful,” Steve smiles down at his daughter. Morgan throws her arms around his waist in a tight hug.

“I know you tried,” Morgan stares up at him. “I still love you.”

“Hey. What about me?” Tony fakes being hurt and Morgan giggles, rushing toward him to give him a hug. Tony picks her up and she hugs him tightly.

“I love you 3000!”

“Hear that?” Tony says. “She loves me more than all of you.”

“Go home,” Natasha teases and she walks them toward the door. “You know you can always ask me for help, right? I don’t mind doing her hair. It’s fun.”

“We know,” Steve says. “We just wanted to give it a try.”

“Well, come by tomorrow and I can show you boys how it’s done.”

Natasha opens the door and Steve steps out first, but Tony lingers in the doorway. “Oh! Since we’re on the topic of help, can you help us with another issue?” He asks.

“What is it?” Natasha raises a questioning brow.

“We’ll let you know in seven years.”

#stony #stony fic #morgan stark #stevetony #implied mpreg #not canon #wish it was #posted on AO3 #AO3 fanfic #ao3 #fluff #stony parents #superfamily

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thetriggeredhappy · 4 years

Note

if ur still taking them... 28 pyroscout 🥺

pyro tf2 said trans rights and scout tf2 said disaster bi rights and the team said queer rights and that’s what’s up, sis. (warning for discussion of past transphobia and other queer issues)

#28: First kiss.

It wasn’t that Scout was all that surprised to have Pyro end up as basically his best friend. He’d secretly been hoping that he’d get to be friends with a few of his coworkers when he’d taken the job, and Pyro was pretty close to him in age and shared a few of the same interests as him so it wasn’t unreasonable to expect to get along. It was just…

Maybe it would be more accurate to say that it was a little bit of an honor.

They hung out in plenty of places—watching TV or playing card games in the common room, hopping into a car and heading into town to watch the latest movie once or twice (or like eight times if they both really liked it), sometimes out back to start a bonfire or something for the hell of it.

But Pyro’s room tended to be his favorite hangout location of theirs, because that was the only place where they were okay with taking off their mask and suit.

Pyro had tried very hard not to make a big deal out of it the first time they’d unmasked in front of Scout. He’d been confused about what they were doing unclasping the bottom of it, since they didn’t have any food with them or anything and that was the only reason they usually did that—to sneak bites of food beneath. But then they shucked the whole thing up and over their head, shaking their head to re-orient themselves, sending their hair—he’d never thought about what Pyro’s hair had to be like before, how had he never thought of that?—bouncing around their face loosely, half-flattened but clearly very naturally curly. Pyro had to take a moment to fish something else out of their mask, a cap of some kind, probably to hold their hair down, and they clearly were trying very hard to avoid eye contact, nervous.

Scout, for once, was at a loss for words, mouth flapping in a way that was probably pretty similar to a fish for something like thirty seconds straight.

“Hey,” he finally managed, pointing at his own face where assorted freckles dotted his cheeks. “We match.”

Pyro glanced up at him, a little startled, then barked a laugh, and it sounded so much better when it wasn’t muffled. They hesitated a few more moments before they pulled off their gloves as well and set all of the newly-shed pieces of uniform down on their cluttered desk, fidgeting severely. “I guess so,” Pyro confirmed, and Scout had never noticed before that they had a very slight accent, too light for him to pick out what it had to be. “I’d never, I couldn’t tell before. With the…”

They pantomimed something up near their eyes, words stalling on them. It took Scout a few seconds to get what they meant. “With the mask?” he asked for confirmation. They nodded. “Oh. Huh. So it’s kinda like your first time seeing me too, huh?”

Pyro laughed. “I guess so,” they repeated, scratching at their stubble self-consciously, or maybe just because they finally could, and then Scout made an effort to both just move on with the rest of what all they were planning on doing when they hung out and also with not staring too much.

The jump to stripping off their suit as far as the tank top and thick-but-tight sweatpants they wore underneath was done a few weeks later when Scout had demonstrated that he wasn’t planning on saying anything, and he was only a little surprised by the plethora of burn marks and scars dotting their skin. He’d noticed an awful lot of scars all over Pyro, and he figured it was probably from when Pyro had been working as a mercenary before Mann Co., something he was aware had happened but hadn’t been able to coax Pyro into talking about. But it was nothing heinous, nothing that he figured warranted a full-body suit to hide it.

He tried to work out how exactly to ask Pyro why they wore the suit without being weird or rude. Luckily, he didn’t have to.

“I appreciate it, you know,” Pyro said one day unprompted, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. They were sat a foot or so apart on Pyro’s bed and drawing, Scout sketching out a dramatic rendition of a particularly funny pose he’d seen the enemy Sniper land in when he died and Pyro apparently drawing yet another unrealistically bright technicolor landscape.

“What?” Scout asked, glancing over at them, more obviously than he’d been occasionally doing the whole time they’d been drawing together. They tended to do this really adorable thing where they stuck their tongue out a little bit when they were concentrating, and Scout had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from smiling every time he saw it.

“That you don’t…” They hesitated. “…I dunno. That you don’t try and guess, now that you’ve seen me.”

Scout tilted his head. “Huh?”

Pyro’s gaze flickered to him and back down again almost too quickly to see. “You keep… not calling me anything,” they said. “Except for dude sometimes, but, you call everyone that anyways. That you still try and use “pal” or “buddy” instead of “man” or “lady” or whatever.”

Scout blinked.

Admittedly, there had been a good month or two right after he joined the team where he didn’t know how to refer to Pyro, and had just gone with using “he”, figuring it would be the less offensive assumption for someone in a mercenary career. Then at some point Engie finally sat him down and explained things to him, and after about a week of stumbling he finally got in the practice of using “they” and other words that weren’t particularly for a guy or girl. He couldn’t say that he really got it in a lot of ways, but he’d worked hard to learn the rules on how to be polite, because he figured he owed them that at the very minimum, if nothing else.

“What do you mean?” he asked after a second.

Pyro turned the marker in their hand over and over again. “Back before I started wearing the suit,” they started to explain, gesturing loosely at the suit in question, laid down on the chair at their desk like a deflated second Pyro (and admittedly sometimes scaring the shit out of Scout when he forgot it was there and noticed it in his periphery). “I would try and tell people I worked with that I wasn’t a guy or a girl, and they’d say sure, whatever, who cares, as long as you can kill people. But they’d look at me and start referring to me as a guy anyways. Sometimes a girl, but not usually. And only as… as neither, or both, or whatever, when I corrected them and maybe for a little while after.” They scratched at their stubble again. It was getting longer, and they’d probably shave pretty soon, if Scout knew them. “And it’s just… I always wondered what it was. I’d try and go clean-shaven all the time, wax, I wore makeup once or twice even to try and balance it out, but all that did was make them refer to me as a girl more, or look at me weird. I couldn’t seem to find the middle. So eventually I just put on the suit so nobody would… get hints anymore.”

Scout frowned, but didn’t know exactly what to say. “That’s the fuckin’ worst,” he decided on.

“I know, right?!” Pyro gushed, as if the dam had broken and they were finally allowed to feel mad about it. They sighed hard, pushing their hair out of their eyes, even if they just bounced right back into place a moment later. “They always respected me professionally, but what’s it take for a person to get called the right name, y’know!? Did they want me to wear a stupid t-shirt with instructions on it!?” Another sigh, then they looked up at Scout with those deep brown eyes of theirs, the ones that flooded Scout with an inexplicable sense of comfort. “And I guess I just wanted to say thanks. For not… I dunno. Being weird.”

Scout nodded, hesitated. “So I’ve been doin’ that right?” he asked suddenly, unable to stop himself.

Pyro smiled at him warmly. “You’ve been doing great, probably the best job anyone’s ever done,” they assured, and Scout knew his own smile was probably goofy and stupid looking, but he couldn’t bite it back.

“Thanks,” he said, having to look away, and Pyro laughed.

“And, I dunno. There was also this weird thing where I tried to date for a while and people kept not taking me seriously, then one day someone finally gave me a shot but got all weird and just straight up asked me what equipment I had on the second date and it was the worst.”

“I mean, none’a their fuckin’ business is what unless they’re asking if they should pack a condom,” Scout scoffed.

“Right!? It just sucked because most people would say “oh, I’m just into girls” or try and like, swing it as if I’m a guy and therefore it was totally cool, and only twice did I find someone who would go for whoever and one got weird about it and the other one is the person I took on two dates. Only person who ever gave me any real respect about it could only go on one date with me, and she was only cool because she kind of had some special circumstances going on too, then she had a contract abroad and we had to cut things off. And I just—I dunno. I wish people who went either way would… I dunno.”

“Hey, I fit that bill, and I’d totally date you,” Scout said, and then realized what he’d just said out loud.

Pyro was staring at him openly, mouth a little agape. They tried to start talking twice without success before finally managing it on the third attempt. “You’re bisexual?” they asked, a little surprised.

Scout immediately began backtracking. “I mean, I, I dunno,” he said quickly, looking away, face on fire, “I, it isn’t like I’ve ever really even gotten to date any, anyone but a couple girls and stuff, and, I, thinking and doing are kinda two different things, and y’know, labels and, and…”

They raised an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, yeah, I think I’m bi,” he finally admitted. “But you can’t fuckin’ tell anyone, got it? The guys already get all up in my grill about callin’ me gay all the time and, and Medic asking when the coming out party is and, and Sniper going all “what’s with the pride meeting?” and shit like that, I just, I don’t need any more of that fuckin’ nonsense, okay?”

“You know half of them do those jokes because they’re not straight either, right?” Pyro asked flatly.

Scout blinked. “The Doc and Snipes are gay?” he asked, surprised.

Pyro gave him a look.

“…Okay, I guess that’s, that tracks,” he admitted. “But—how many, who all’s…?”

“Far as I know, just Medic, Sniper, Heavy, and Spy, and those last two are also bi or something like that, and I think Demo doesn’t really swing any way,” Pyro said. “You really didn’t know? I thought they were pretty out about it.”

“Nobody tells me anything!” Scout said defensively.

“That’s fair. But… I dunno, I’m obviously not gonna go out and break out the news with confetti and streamers for you, but… I think they wouldn’t really care,” Pyro shrugged. “If anything they’d just try and wingman for you more.”

Scout thought about that for a while. “Man, what are the odds that we’d get a goddamn queer collective out in the middle of a fuckin’ desert?” he asked suddenly.

“Have you maybe considered that the people who’d go out into a desert away from civilization might be queer people trying to be more themselves where they can’t get as much backlash?” Pyro suggested.

“…Shit. That makes a lot of sense actually,” he admitted.

Quiet for a few seconds. “Let’s circle back around to that part where you said you’d totally go for someone like me,” Pyro said suddenly.

Scout pulled his hat down over his face, feeling it go red again. “Shut the fuck up, dude,” he protested, annoyed at how whiny it came out. “I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”

“Do you think about making out with me a lot?” Pyro asked, tone clearly teasing now, and Scout groaned.

“Oh my god, shut up,” he muttered. “I come out to you and you just start fuckin’ bullying me? That’s the play?”

“Duh,” Pyro laughed, and pinched his cheek, making him flush further as he batted their hand away.

“I’m just sayin’ that you’re good-looking and funny and anyone would be lucky to date you, okay?” Scout finally said, trying not to let more embarrassment flood through his voice.

That got Pyro to grin sheepishly, picking up their drawing again. “You’re sweet,” was all they managed to reply with, quieter now.

“The sweetest guy on the planet,” Scout agreed, picking up his own drawing as well, and Pyro elbowed him in the ribs, making him squawk.

He ended up coming out to Engie offhandedly during their lunch break about a week later, and he only even managed it because Pyro was sitting and eating next to him, their knee pressing into his own and bringing him enough comfort to broach the topic. Engie was immediately supportive, and ended the conversation with a pat on his shoulder and by saying he was proud of him for having to courage to say something.

That gave Scout a burst of confidence, and he ended up dragging Pyro around for the rest of the day as he came out to other teammates as well, first Demo and Soldier right after battle (Soldier needed an additional few moments of explanation but overall they were both glad to hear the news), then Medic and Heavy where they were sitting playing chess in the common room (once Heavy got past the language barrier, he offered Scout a solemn high-five in solidarity, which he accepted gratefully). Sniper was reserved for the next day, outside where he was setting up the grill to take his turn making the team dinner (he was a little awkward for a moment, clearly a bit confused and not having expected anyone to come talk to him, but once he caught on to what Scout was saying he offered one of his rare smiles and a few supportive words).

Oddly enough, Spy was the one that made him the most nervous for reasons he couldn’t pin down, maybe partially because he didn’t bring Pyro along, but he probably handled it the most easily, treating it as no big deal at all, simply pausing for a moment before giving a flippant “Alright. Was that all, mon ami?” and shooing him back out of his smoking room shortly after.

“Look at you,” Pyro said appraisingly when he showed up to hang out in their room, clapping him on the shoulder, clearly noticing the fact that he was practically glowing.

“Didn’t even get beat up or shoved in a locker,” he said cheerfully.

Pyro looked at him for another second or two before they finally just swept him up in a hug, squeezing him almost too-tight in their excitement. “I’m so proud of you!” they exclaimed softly, and he returned the hug, burying his face in their hair when he became sure that he wouldn’t get in trouble for it, surprised and delighted by how very nice it smelled. Vanilla-y and a little coconut-y, warm like everything else about them.

It was only through the combination of circumstances—riding the nervous high from being newly-out for the first time in his life, and being all wrapped up in a hug with his best friend, and his nose being greeted by the smell of the very appealing shampoo they apparently used—that he got the exact level of confidence to do what he did next. They pulled away from the hug finally to look up at him with that same proud smile, and he leaned down and kissed them square on the mouth.

It was three or four seconds before he pulled away again with a tiny, almost-inaudible little smeck. He smiled down at them, feeling the wildly spinning combination of euphoria and fear and excitement and apprehension and thrill and terror swirling around in his chest. Their lips were slightly parted, and they stared up at him with wonder. If he ever drew the moment, he would probably draw Pyro’s pupils in the shape of little hearts, the way they were looking at him just then.

“Oh,” they said breathlessly, and laughed a little. “So you were serious when you said you’d go for someone like me, then?”

Scout laughed, couldn’t stifle it, rising up through his chest alongside his heart. “Yeah, duh,” he said, voice tinted a little higher than usual.

“Well shit, then get back down here,” Pyro said, and tugged on his shirt, and he readily obliged.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #pyroscout #flashfire #shut up me #my fanfiction #everybody talks #that's the last request in my inbox lads!! we've done it!!

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hedwigstalons · 4 years

Text

High Expectations - Ch13

Ok, art challenge officially flunked. I managed 12 chapters though and as someone who did not art I think I’ve spent more time being creative over the course of this fic than I have in the last 20 years cumulatively. I’m still going to keep drawing (I’m actually quite enjoying it) but the writing and sketching schedules are not aligning.

@willow-salix has been incredibly patient with me, it would probably be a very different (and much shorter) story without her.

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Thirteen

Jeff had been surprised to get out of his meeting and find the memo on his desk. He hadn’t known his eldest son was coming home so the request that he make it back in time for dinner was pleasant if unexpected. It would be nice to have another adult in the house. Maybe having Scott around for a few days would set a good example to Gordon and get him to buck his ideas up; his fourth son was still being a distinct trial on his patience.

He entered the apartment to snippets of conversation and laughter that drifted down from the kitchen. Scott’s clear voice carried strongly down the hallway and the sound of his eldest brought a smile to his face and he hurried through to see the son he now saw the least of.

“Evening Gordon” a quick, curt greeting to one son before turning to the other, “Scott, this is a pleasant surprise, how come you’re here?”

“Hi Dad. I just had some leave owing, I thought I’d come back and see you folks. It is ok for me to stay isn’t it?”

“Course it is, Son, this is your home after all.”

“Thanks. Dinner’s nearly ready, it needs another, what, ten minutes?” Scott looked across at Gordon for confirmation and got a nod in return.

“Great, I’ll just go get washed up. Where’s Alan?” he asked, noting that the table had only been set for three.

“Senior science club. You’d know that if you paid any attention to his schedule.”

The animosity radiated off of Gordon and Jeff noted the warning hand Scott placed on his younger brother’s arm, urging him to keep his cool.

“Fine. Well, I’ll be back in a few minutes boys.”

As Jeff exited the kitchen Scott turned to Gordon, still keeping hold of his arm.

“Look, I know things aren’t great between the pair of you…”

“Understatement” he was interrupted with a snort and an eye roll.

“...but please don’t make things any harder than they have to be.”

“Fine, I’ll be a good boy.”

“Gordon…!”

“Ok. No arguing with the old man, I get it. Now, can you let go of me please, I need to turn the stove off.”

Scott released his brother who turned back to the bubbling pans on the stove and put the finishing touches to the meal he was preparing. They carried the plates and dishes over to the table between them and waited for their father to join them before starting. The smells coming out of the pots were really quite tempting, it looked like Virgil was right when he said their brother had hidden talents. The meat was grilled to perfection and the sauce was full of flavour.

“This is delicious Scott.” Jeff commented after spearing a piece of broccoli.

“Actually, Gordon cooked, I just did what I was told.”

“Hmpf, at least one of you can follow instructions then. Did you finish your personal statement Gordon? I want to see it after dinner.”

Scott realised that the arguments clearly flowed both ways. No wonder Gordon had been so miserable if every achievement was overlooked and every opportunity to take a dig at his failings was fully exploited. With every passing minute they were in close proximity, and each sniping comment from their father, that fragile confidence he had bolstered was visibly leaching out of Gordon. He noticed with concern that Gordon’s plate was still worryingly full. How could a man that was meant to love his children equally be so complimentary to him in one breath and scathing to Gordon in the next? He had always been prepared to excuse their father’s faults, the long hours of work and pushing responsibility onto himself and Virgil was an unfortunate consequence of a man trying to do his best for his family, but he couldn’t stay quiet over tonights’ injustice. Placing down his fork he took a deep breath and prepared to enter the fray.

“Actually Dad, Gordon and I have been busy this afternoon. It’s my fault he hasn’t done it.”

“Well he can work on it after dinner then, the next college application cycle will be closing soon. Perhaps you can give him some pointers.”

“I’ll help Gordon with his application but it won’t be for college.”

Jeff, sensing insubordination, narrowed his eyes. He had come to expect it from Gordon but Scott had always followed his lead. This new development was surprising.

“Well what else would he be applying for?”

“WASP.” It came out slightly louder than Scott intended causing the surrounding silence to deepen ominously. He held his father’s gaze and set his jaw in determination. He had committed to supporting Gordon and was prepared to make a stand.

“Not that nonsense again” The rebuttal was swift and accompanied by the clatter of steel against crockery as the remains of the meal were abandoned. Jeff’s anger rose swiftly at the mention of the aquanaut patrol. “He’s too young and hardly has the right temperament to follow orders. Even if they would accept him he would probably be court marshalled out within a month and I will not have that sort of shame brought on the family”

“He won’t be too young in February and he has exactly the right temperament to join as an officer.”

Now it was Gordon’s turn to be surprised. He was grateful to Scott for his support in joining WASP but to hear his brother thought he should be an officer was a step further than he had ever considered. He had been staying silent during the verbal tennis match between Scott and his father, trying his hardest not to inflame the situation. Tensions around the table were escalating. Scott had always deferred to their father previously but his time in the Air Force had him used to being in command and now it was like watching the alpha male and the young contender circling for dominance in the pack. He wondered if the comment was deliberately designed to challenge their father or if Scott really meant it.

“Gordon? An officer? You cannot be serious about that.” There was derision at the mere thought of Gordon taking a role of responsibility.

“I’m perfectly serious. You never saw him at Marineville. You never heard what his assessors said about him. If he hadn’t had to withdraw from selection they were going to offer him a commission, they could see he was wasted in junior ranks and I have to say I agree with them. WASP selection makes the Air Force tests look like a cake walk but Gordon was good out there. If he wants to go into WASP then I for one will support him, it would be nice if you could support him too.”

“I think I know how best to support Gordon and that is in continuing his education, that’s if Gordon is even still eligible for college.” Jeff reached into his jacket and drew out an envelope, it was addressed to Gordon and bore the marks of the California Department of Education. He slid it across the table. “This was in the mailbox downstairs. I was hoping to talk to you about it privately, Gordon, and save you any embarrassment, but seeing as your brother is determined to play a part in your future we may as well discuss this now. I can only assume there has been some error in the awarding of your high school diploma.”

Scott looked at the envelope with some concern. If Gordon really had flunked his diploma then becoming an officer was off the cards and even junior ranks looked doubtful. WASP really could afford to take only the best and this could be a major stumbling block. His younger sibling paused for a moment, trepidation etched across his features, before reaching out and picking up the letter.

“Took them long enough, I’ve been waiting for this.” There was something in his tone that Scott couldn’t quite place; more nervous anticipation than worry.

Gordon slit open the envelope slowly, as if not wanting to see what it contained despite having been expecting it. A single sheet was carefully extracted and it only took Gordon a moment to read the short correspondence.

“Bastards.” The exclamation was spat out as the page was thrown down in disgust.

Whatever reaction Scott and Jeff had been expecting it wasn’t this.

“Gordon, what’s going on?” Scott butted in, cutting off their father from issuing a rebuke for foul language.

“They won’t change the topic.”

“Topic?” Scott looked at his brother in confusion.

“Yeah” Gordon sighed heavily, too exhausted to maintain the mask he normally wore around his father. The anger in his features mixed with pain as the memories resurfaced. “You wouldn’t have had to do this one back in Kansas but California have a unit on Modern American History and Dad here is a compulsory assignment. I wrote and asked them to take it off the curriculum.”

“Why would you try and do that? I know things aren’t great between you two at the moment but surely you don’t want to wipe Dad out the history books.” He tried to place a reassuring hand on Gordon’s forearm but the limb was yanked out of his reach.

“This isn’t about Dad, it’s about ALAN!” Gordon dropped his head into his hands, his elbows slamming painfully against the tabletop. Grief and a sense of failure bubbled up inside him as he hid his face from twin questioning gazes. He hated showing weakness, hated giving his father yet more ammunition to throw back against him, but the memories were too strong to repress.

“What the hell has Alan got to do with this. Seriously Gordo, you aren’t making any sense.” First it was about school, now it was about Alan. Scott felt like he was trying to read a book with half the pages missing. He was sure it made sense somehow but at the moment all he knew was that Gordon was clearly upset and hurting.

Jeff snorted, choosing to ignore the deep breathing as Gordon fought to maintain control. “I dare say your brother will do a better job than you when the time comes. From what I remember of that paper you barely scraped a pass grade. It really says something about your abilities when you can screw up what should have been the easiest assignment of the lot. It’s your own family for goodness sake.”

“Easy?” The blonde head snapped up, locking eyes with his father and channeling the grief into anger. “That was the hardest paper I’ve ever had to write in my life and it’s going to be ten times worse for Alan. At least I wasn’t mentioned by name.”

“Gordon, what’s going on?” The rising flush of emotion to his brother’s cheeks filled Scott with concern.

“The paper, it’s not just about Dad, Mom’s in there too. Do you have any idea how hard it is to have the worst moment of your entire life there in the set text for the whole class to see? The avalanche, Mom dying, Alan surviving, it’s all there. They didn’t even have the decency to put it in the main text either, it’s just a footnote like it isn’t really important. Our Mom’s death is a fucking footnote and I didn’t want Alan to have to deal with it like I had to, it’s not like I’ll even be here to help him when the time comes. Ever since Dad decided I was going to be packed off to college I’ve been trying to get it changed.”

“That...that sucks.” Scott couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to have to face their own personal tragedy in the classroom. What it evidently had been like for Gordon. “But Alan won’t be dealing with it alone, Dad will be here.”

“What, like he was here for me? You and Virgil were better parents than Dad has ever been. He only cares about the bottom line. Make the grade and nothing else matters.” The chair was shoved back angrily.

“Gordon, you should have told me.” Jeff cut in quietly, his face ashen at the sudden reminder of the tragedy that had ripped his wife away forever. That Scott and Virgil were viewed akin to parents by the younger ones rather than just brothers was also a shock. Had he really been so far removed from his family? What else had he been blind to? His eyes tracked backwards and forwards, trying to keep pace with Gordon who was now striding about erratically on the opposite side of the table in a display of energy Jeff suddenly realised had been absent for many weeks.

“I tried to but you weren’t exactly in a listening mood. You were too busy bawling me out for getting suspended.”

“You got suspended?” How much had he missed out on in the last seven years? If Gordon had ever confided this to Virgil his next younger brother had never shared the burden of knowledge. The Gordon he had left behind may have been a bit of a pest at school with the occasional prank or missed homework but nothing that would warrant him getting suspended.

“Guess some of my screw ups Dad didn’t even want to share with the family. Yes Scott, I got suspended. I...well...I got upset in class and some of the others kept going on about it and then one day I snapped. Ended up breaking someone’s nose. The Principal took it off my permanent record though when he found out what it was over. I think he felt sorry for me.”

“So you tried to get the Department of Education to drop the topic.”

“Yes.” Gordon picked up the letter again, a look of disgust crossing his face. “They won’t though. They ‘thank me for my concerns and provide their strongest assurances of the factual accuracy of the text books’. He’s got another year to go yet but when he gets there please look after Alan” this plea was directed straight at their father, “cos I can’t if I’m at college and it’s going to be rough for him.”

Scott found the disgust mirrored in his own features, not just at the Education Board, but also for the actions of their father who had clearly skipped out on the emotional wellbeing side of parenting. Gordon had faced the demons alone and was now doing his level best to protect Alan.

Any further discussions were cut short by the arrival home of that same small, blonde hurricane.

“Scott! When did you get here?” Alan launched himself across the room and draped himself around Scott’s neck, nearly strangling his older brother. The new arrival seemed unperturbed by the obvious tensions around the table and Scott wondered just how normal it had become for the youngest to be surrounded by bad feelings and barely concealed arguments.

“Hey, let a guy breathe.” The clinging arms loosened slightly but weren’t released completely and Scott returned the hug. “C’mon, we’ve finished here. Do you need to eat? Any homework due tomorrow?”

A shake of the blonde head. “You’re as bad as Gordon. What is it with everyone checking up on my homework?”

As bad as Gordon, not as bad as Dad; Scott filed that away for the next time he spoke to Virgil. He had been so happy to be free of the responsibilities of family that he had never really considered who had stepped up to take his place.

“Well if you’re sure you’re good let’s go somewhere more comfortable, you’re pushing me off this chair.”

Jeff watched as Scott unhooked Alan’s arms and led the party through to the lounge. Those were the questions he probably should have been asking as a father but hadn’t thought to. Scott had stepped in first as though checking in on the youngster was the most natural thing in the world.

All traces of the argument were put to one side for the sake of the youngest but the look Scott shot Jeff showed that the discussions were far from over.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #high expectations #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #Jeff Tracy #family arguments #brothers standing together

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chemicalmagecraft · 3 years

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Foresight is 20/20 Chapter 14

Hinata's palm struck me in the jaw, making me grunt. "Kick his ass, Hina-chan!" Kurama cheered from the sidelines. It was nice seeing how well those two were getting along, even if it meant him encouraging her to beat me up. The two of them actually helped each other a lot. Hinata warmed Kurama up to humankind and got him to be slightly less angry, while Kurama made sure to rub some of his "I'm better than you lousy humans" pride off on her, causing her to be a bit more confident. Plus he liked imparting little bits of arcane knowledge upon his favorite human, meaning...

I just barely noticed with my chakra sense that Hinata was leaking a small amount of chakra out of her fingertips, so I jumped back. Unfortunately, I'd determined with my eyes that expressing too much interest in obtaining the Byakugan with my chakra assimilation would only cause most of the clan to grow wary of me, so I didn't have the ability to actually see her jutsu, but at least I knew to stay away.

I made a few seals, but had to stop when the barely-there chakra rushed me. Even though I moved my arms the chakra swerved faster than I thought it would, causing my left arm to go completely numb. "Ow," I said despite the fact that the problem was that I couldn't feel any pain in my arm. "You're getting faster with that, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Hina-chan said. "Kurama-chan helped me figure it out."

I tried to move my arm, but couldn't. Eight Trigrams Heavenly Will as it was called by most of the family, or much less pretentiously Tenketsu Puppetry Jutsu by Hinata, was a jutsu Hinata invented by combining the basics of Juken that she was learning with the chakra threads I'd showed her how to make and then some sort of advice from Kurama. In addition to acting like a ranged, though technically much less potent, version of Juken, the threads stayed inside the tenketsu of the victim meaning that not only was any recovery from the attack blocked until they were removed but she could also, as her name for it suggested, puppeteer my arm.

"Impressive, sis, but you know that that doesn't exactly work on me." I raised my right pointer finger, causing a single link of yellow chain to form on it. With a bit of concentration, I changed the yellow Adamantine Sealing Chain to a shadowy purple permutation, Adamantine Destruction Chain. I swiped at roughly where I felt the chakra threads with it, managing to snap all of them and suck the foreign chakra from my body.

I'd figured out that my assimilation could also adapt powers that were compatible enough together. I was already working under the assumption that I couldn't just make new elements by combining people's affinities because that would be broken, but I did alchemize Ai's Adamantine Sealing Chain together with the Kikaichu's Parasitic Destruction to make chains that could drain chakra as well as disrupt it for some extra chakra cost. Plus, the disruption and absorption effects synergized, enhancing each other's performance. And there was also the || combination, Parasitic Sealing, which allowed me to cover my body in an aura that disrupts and absorbs chakra. Though it was harder to do than Adamantine Destruction and wasn't perfect...

But I digress. I pointed the chain link at Hinata, shooting an entire chain at her. The general consensus of just about anyone who I used my special chains on was that if I got a grab in the fight was over. Sure, I could still only have more than a few links out for a few seconds without any boost before I got super tired, but between the draining and the throw I could easily pull off with the chains I only needed one good grab to wear down even adults. At least enough to jump in with a few cheap hits to finish them off. Hinata obviously knew this by now, so she ducked under my chain, then rolled out of the way when I tried to pin her to the ground.

I was expecting her to do that, though, and had already prepped my next jutsu. Metal marbles, designed so I could hurt but not kill with my magnet release, scored hits on her side. I charged, and she blocked my foot with her hand. I winced, realizing my mistake when my leg turned numb from the near-instantaneous point-blank Heavenly Will. I used my demon gem-based flight to try to kick her with my other foot, but she got it before I could.

"Full body takeover, eh?" I asked as the rest of my body below my neck was wrested from my control. Really, having a relatively non-draining jutsu that might as well be an automatic win to anyone in melee distance is even more broken than I am...

"Sorry, but can I practice this for a bit?"

I tried to shrug, but remembered the futility. "Go ahead. I still have control over my demon gems, so I can catch myself if you slip up." Hinata spent the rest of the sparring session finding stupid dances to make me do, egged on by Kurama. I did get her to work on her proxy chakra control a bit, though. She could almost make me do Juken by the end. And I could almost do Juken by the end.

kukukuku~

Tenten said something, probably about how much it stank that we had to go to school, as we walked ourselves to school. Well, they walked and I floated because I actually may or may not have a bit of trouble matching other people's walking paces, especially if I'm not paying too much attention... I didn't know what she was saying, though. I was thinking. I mumbled something in response and pulled out my sealing notebook and note-taking pencil, which I used to write down the formula I thought of. I tuned out their conversation even more as I sketched the complex seal down as best I could.

"You messed up a little there," Tenten said as I was finishing off the last strokes.

"Hm?" I asked.

She pointed to one of the runes and oh my that was very wrong. "I'm not sure, but I think it'll just tear a hole in the fabric of space if you don't fix that stabilizing rune." I thanked her and hurriedly fixed it.

"I feel like maybe you should not write down a seal that could potentially tear a hole in the fabric of space itself until you're absolutely sure it won't do that?" Neji said with more than a little concern.

To be honest, I didn't blame him, but... "Graphite's pretty much the worst for making seals," I explained, "which means that it's really good for practicing making the more dangerous seals because it's almost impossible to activate it accidentally. Unless you're a jinchuriki, maybe, but even then you'd probably have to be pretty distracted."

"Well why didn't you have me use a pencil when you were trying to teach me seals, then?"

Finished, I stowed the notebook. "Okay in my defense I wasn't expecting you to screw up the easiest seal in the book when given detailed instructions, much less screw it up enough to accidentally make an incredibly simplified explosive seal. And with the last seal I had you do, I think we both know that you should always assume that there will be an explosion when making a paper bomb."

I tried to teach Neji fuinjutsu once. Turns out he's literally the worst at it. He somehow managed to turn a basic light seal into a thankfully tiny bomb with only a big enough blast radius to burn itself off of whatever it's written on with a noise like a firecracker, which apparently was a theme with him. No matter what, he would always make bombs out of whatever seal I gave him. And then, when I tried to have him purposefully make a bomb, hoping that maybe he was just some sort of bomb savant, he somehow managed to make a seal tag that teleported itself and whatever it was touching to a random place within a fifty meter radius. Which, okay, free spacetime ninjutsu, but how? "I'm still scratching my head on how you managed to make a short-range teleport out of a bomb. Speaking of, what's your mom make of it, Tenten?"

She snorted. "She's still on that high from the wedding, so she's been more concentrated with being all lovey-dovey with Mommy than looking over the seal, but she did say to never let Neji near a seal again when I told her it was supposed to be a paper bomb."

"It wasn't really that bad, was it?" Neji asked.

Tenten laughed and shook her head. "Not at all, Neji..."

"...It's much worse," I finished her sentence with a slight grin. We high-fived. "When I looked at the seal you were making with my eyes, I saw a lot of different possibilities. Random teleportation was one of the better ones. You don't want to know what the worse ones were."

"Right." He didn't believe me. To be fair, I did tend to mess with him... And was messing with him. "So what's the seal you were working on supposed to do? I'm assuming it's somehow related to spacetime."

"Yeah, normally when people screw up seals that have nothing to do with spacetime, the result doesn't do anything to the fabric of reality," Tenten said, elbowing Neji.

"Shut it."

I shrugged. "You're right, though. It was most certainly a spacetime seal."

"Yeah, it looked a bit like an object summoning seal, but a little different," Tenten said. "Was it meant to swap objects between two paired seals?"

"Close. My hope is that it'll form a portal between two locations when chakra's input on both ends, and that it's compatible with demon sage chakra. It's still a little rough around the edges, though."

"Let me guess, secret base," Tenten said.

I brushed my hand through my hair. I was combing it less now, so it was a bit curlier and fluffier. And it was getting so long that my bangs started falling over my left eye more. I loved the way it looked, though. "Obviously. In fact, I have an agent working on finding the location right now. Haven't found anything good yet, though."

"How do you have an agent?" Neji asked me.

"Magic." I noticed a certain building and pointed at it. "Hey, isn't that the school? That looks like a school."

"Yup, that's the school," Tenten said. "Mommy took me here a lot. Mama's job is a little less kid-friendly, plus the teachers looked after me when I didn't want to sit through Mommy's classes."

"Oh right," I said. "Your mom's a teacher."

"Yeah, I said that earlier, weren't you paying attention?"

Something about that sentence felt a little doomy, though I couldn't tell why. "No, I was thinking about how to breach through spacetime to reach another location without accidentally summoning Mega Neo Beqthulhuzillaon, Destroyer of Souls and Eater of Worlds."

"Is that an actual concern?" Neji asked. "Are you messing with us or could you have actually summoned some sort of eldritch horror monster?"

I smirked. "You should know the answer to that question by now. I'm assuming you know the way, Tenten?"

"Duh."

kukukuku~

I tried very hard not to groan. "My name is Uzumaki Tenko," our teacher for the next few years said, writing it on the chalkboard. God I hate chalkboards. If I were Hokage I'd make chalkboards illegal. Which is probably one of the reasons I should not be Hokage, actually... "I look forward to teaching you." I slumped in my seat. It's not that I didn't like her. Tenko was really nice. No, the problem was that she knew I was a literal genius relative to my age level, and with that comes... expectations...

Before, my plan was to just rest on my near-complete high school-level education to put the bare minimum amount of work into the actual academic parts of ninja school, which considering what grades I got with how little effort I put into school before would've made me best in class or thereabouts already. But Tenko already saw me put actual effort into something, meaning she might have been able to tell when I didn't put in the work. So if I didn't want to hear about it from her and Tenten both I'd have to at least half-ass it. Ugh...

I sound like Shikamaru, don't I?

"Didn't I tell you she was going to be our teacher earlier?" Tenten muttered to me. I guess that was what I missed... "And why are you so annoyed Mommy's your teacher?"

"Because she'll actually care if I don't put any effort into my work," I whispered back.

"How terrible," Neji snarked. I flicked him with natural energy. Using natural energy without sage mode may have been a lot weaker, but I could at least flick someone sitting right next to me hard enough to feel. He flicked me back, though. My Neji may have been completely seal-illiterate, but he was just as much of a ninjutsu genius as in canon, and figured out how to feel and manipulate natural energy just by watching me do it, though he hadn't quite managed sage mode yet. We proceeded to engage in invisible and incredibly petty warfare that Tenko would probably have stopped if she were a sensor. Luckily, Tenten was too amused to turn us in. She almost gave us away with her giggling, though.

"Now, why don't you introduce yourselves?" I'm not saying that I completely tuned everyone's introductions out, but I am saying that the only names that I retained aside from Hyuga Neji, Uzumaki Tenten, and Rock Lee was someone from the Yamanaka family whose given name was Kaede. Kaede is a pretty awesome name. Why couldn't I have been a Kaede?

"Hello. My name is Hyuga Kouki," I said when it was my turn. "The reason why I don't look like Neji despite us having the same family name is because he's adopted."

"What!?" Neji spluttered. "No! You're the adopted one!"

"It's nice to meet you," I halfheartedly finished, pretending Neji said nothing. He flicked me for my troubles when I sat down. I flicked back, and as if someone assassinated a duke or something, Flick War II began.

kukukuku~

"Just remember that these are friendly matches," Tenko said when we were all sitting on the ground by the sparring ring. "If I feel like someone is being hurt too badly, I'll stop it there. And once more, it's taijutsu only."

"Why'd you look at me when you said that?" I asked. Her glare turned a little more accusatory. I pouted. "I wasn't gonna do it anyway..."

"Right," she said, turning away from me. "You may now look at the slips of paper I gave you. Who has one?" Tenten and a boy I should probably have known the name of raised their hands. "You two are first. And Tenten, try not to rough him up too badly, okay, sweetie?"

The unnamed kid grinned maliciously. "I hope teach doesn't get too angry after I beat up her precious daughter." Neji and I exchanged a look and snickered. Right, like that kid stood a chance. When they were told to start, the kid jumped in for a punch. Tenten dodged easily and shoved him to the side. He stumbled and fell.

"Get him with your Uzumaki strength, Tenten," I cheered dully.

She scowled at me. "For the last time!" Tenten shouted, then picked up the nearest object. Namely the unnamed kid. "I'm not!" She hoisted her hapless victim above her head. "Freakishly strong!" She threw Hapless Victim at me. Without even blinking, I deployed the demon gems hanging from my earlobes. One formed a springy barrier in front of me that safely absorbed the impact of the collision without too much damage to Hapless, while the other formed a barrier under him to cushion his fall.

"I have no idea why I would think that," I said as I recalled my gems. "Truly, your ability to lift over your body weight in small child despite being yourself a small child is totally unremarkable." She blushed and growled at me.

"Kouki, please stop antagonizing Tenten," Tenko said. "The match is over, Tenten wins."

"How did you do that?" another small child I probably should've known the name of asked me.

"Magic."

Hapless (I was now trying to commit his face and chakra signature to memory so I could keep calling him that) groaned and sat up. "I thought we weren't allowed to use jutsu!" he complained.

"You weren't," I said. "The Uzumaki bloodline manifests itself passively in the form of enhanced vitality and strength, something that Tenten definitely has even if she doesn't quite have the traditional looks."

"HEY!"

"So really, you didn't stand a chance."

Hapless stomped off to his seat and the rounds began again. After a few, it was my turn, as well as, "coincidentally" enough, a young Rock Lee.

"Remember, no jutsu," Tenko reminded me.

"Yeah, yeah," I said, then got into my fighting stan- "Ah, crud," I muttered, realizing that I had not been doing regular old sparring enough. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd actually practiced fighting someone without ninjutsu or genjutsu.

"Start."

I dodged a really shoddy punch. To be honest, it was pretty weird seeing Lee suck at taijutsu. Very lucky for me, but weird. I leaned away from another punch, then caught his arm. "Stop," I commanded. I uncurled his fist, removed his thumb from his palm, and then forced his hand into a proper fist. "It's a common mistake," I assured him. "If you punch someone with your fingers around your thumb, you'll probably break it. Oh, and hit me with those two big knuckles, not the entire fist." When I released him, he cautiously punched me. "Good," I said after catching his hand with mine. "However, I'm afraid that now I have to..." I twisted around and slung his arm over my shoulder in an attempt to suplex him or something. "Finish you!" Key word being attempt... I may or may not have only lifted him onto my back...

"I don't think you did what you were attempting to do..." he said.

"Stupid physics. I always hated that subject..." I shrugged and just dropped backwards in what I hoped looked like a planned move. I really needed to work on my taijutsu...

"Okay, that was not at all what I was expecting..." Tenko sighed. "Kouki wins, I guess..."

"You okay?" I asked as I got off Lee.

He sighed. "I am fine..."

The third noteworthy match was Neji versus Yamanaka Kaede, a hotblooded girl with orange hair like that one Fu guy and red eyes. While Neji was technically a pseudo jinchuriki by now from my experiments, his powers were weird and technically even his "passive" strength would be considered an active jutsu, especially because he could turn it off. The Yamanaka, on the other hand, was surprisingly strong for a Yamanaka. Maybe she was part Uzumaki? She did have red hair. At any rate, while Neji was almost overpowered at one point, he beat her. He was a genius after all.

kukukuku~

"Hey," I said, then sat down on the floor next to Lee. Okay, I actually floated just a bit off the ground, but the sentiment was there... "Sorry about beating you so bad."

He sighed. "No, it's okay... I already knew I would not do well here. I cannot use ninjutsu or genjutsu, and you saw how my taijutsu is..."

"Can you channel chakra into things?" I asked. I really wanted to know what would happen if I started him off early.

"I can, but no matter how hard I try, I will not be able to use a jutsu. The doctor said that there is a problem with my chakra coils, so I am incapable of molding my chakra into jutsu..."

I shrugged. "Not exactly a dealbreaker, if you're willing to work extra hard."

"What do you mean?"

I summoned my crystal ball. Yeah, I know it's kind of a stereotype, but I'd made the jutsu from that crystal ball jutsu Sarutobi used to see Naruto in the first episode, plus it did kinda look cool. "Watch this." I waved my hands over the floating crystal ball, casting the jutsu. Despite not activating my Shoraigan, the crystal ball changed to show another location. By using a physical medium, I could show my vision to others and didn't have the same backlash, though with the downside that it wasn't private and I didn't get nearly as much information.

"See that man?" I said, pointing to Gai training. "He used to be about where you are, but now he's one of the most dangerous shinobi in Konoha through taijutsu alone. Do you want to know how?" I put away the ball and looked at Lee. His eyes said yes. "An insane amount of practice, training, and diligence, combined with challenging himself to do something even more difficult whenever he fails a training exercise. You should probably take time to rest every once in a while, especially at first to keep from permanently damaging your body, but I see a fire in you. There's no reason why you couldn't become as good as or perhaps even better than him one day."

There were stars in his eyes, and he was almost crying. "Do you think so?"

I gave him a small grin. "I know so. Also..." I pulled out the other thing I had for him. "This is a bit of a beginner's fuinjutsu kit, at least my version of it. Try and see if you have some aptitude for it. You may not be able to inscribe seals with chakra alone, but if you pick up enough you might be able to work wonders with seals." Imagine Rock Lee with the ability to make and use seals. To be honest I have no clue what would happen but I do know it would be amazing.

He stood up, energized, and gave me a deep bow. "Thank you very much! I will make sure to become a splendid ninja!"

My grin was genuine. "I'm sure you will."

kukukuku~

Usagi

I lurched along the dirt path. My new body of stone and earth was not suitable for travel in the slightest, but I had no other alternatives. It seemed that compatibility with myself was not quite as common outside of Konoha as I assumed it was at first, and the rabbit was either a stroke of luck on my part or perhaps somehow related to how Kurama was present in End Valley at one point. Perhaps his chakra acted as a primer. Still, I did sense a few scattered people in small villages who had compatibility, though I couldn't in good conscience simply abduct and kill an innocent person. I needed to find a bandit with compatibility.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" a source of malicious intent jeered as two men appeared from behind trees. Speak of the devil... The two bandits, however, were nowhere near compatible.

"There's a toll to use this road," the other bandit said, brandishing his sickle. They had yet to realize my anomalous existence on account of the cloak, gloves, and mask I had fashioned for myself.

"Oh," I said. "I do apologize. I was not made aware of the toll. You really should put up a sign."

"You gettin' smart with us?" the first bandit asked. "We'll rough you up!" I probably didn't look like much of a threat either. The body I'd formed for myself was rather on the short side, to save energy. It was still definitely in the adult range, but not by much.

"You two are bandits, aren't you?" I asked. I already knew the answer, of course.

"Of course we're bandits, now give us all your loot!" The sickle-wielding bandit rushed me. That was a mistake. My body became fluid, the eyeholes of my mask gained two red lights where my eyes should have been, and I dodged effortlessly. I removed one of my gloves and placed my hand on his face, my hand like a lunging viper.

"Do you take chakra instead?" I asked, then infused his body with demon sage chakra. He dropped his weapon as his brain itself was altered in such a way that, while he didn't technically die, he certainly couldn't have been said to have been truly alive anymore. I removed my hand, revealing red markings across his face.

"What the hell!?" the other bandit shrieked. Without turning to him, I sent a signal to my new thrall. The bandit that I had just "killed" snarled like a beast and rushed at him. The... I suppose the best word for it would have been "zombie" bit the man on his arm with partially crystallized teeth. The man shrieked, throwing the zombie away and running in terror. I nodded to myself and split my attention in two, one half of my mind focusing on breaking the zombie down into more demon gems and the other tending to the bandit.

When my zombie bit him it infected him with my chakra, causing the cells in his arm to start to transform into the demon gem-like material that I'd used to zombify his partner. I altered the rate at which the infection spread, causing it to slow near the surface while speeding up within his blood and bones. My hope was that he'd notice the infection, cut his arm off and assume he got it all, then hurry back to his leader while carrying the infection. That would be fun. When I was done with the carrier, I turned my full attention to the zombie, which was almost prepared. With a final command, the corpse disintegrated into red powder. Some of it scattered to the wind, where it would be carried elsewhere. The rest came to me. About half of it went behind my mask, where it bolstered my existing gem. The other half I formed into another gem that I hid within my cloak.

With that done, I placed all of his belongings into a bag I had tied to my makeshift body under the cloak. I wasn't to know fuinjutsu, after all. I continued down the lonely road, ever-so-slightly quicker than I had before.

#naruto #naruto fanfiction #fanfiction #Foresight is 20/20 #F20 CH14

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nad-zeta · 4 years

Text

Match up 🌈

Hi Zeta! Could I get a matchup for Ikesen, please? :3c Basic info: Sagittarius sun (I relate mostly to the truth-seeking, philosophical side of Sag), Gemini moon (addicted to gathering information), Libra rising (just coming off as a nice person on first meeting). INFP, Hufflepuff.

I’m very concerned with ethics and can have a quick temper about perceived injustices; I often feel upset about human and animal suffering, and I’m willing to throw down over someone being hurtful to others. On the downside, I probably have too much pride about my intelligence and also get angry if I feel like someone is talking down to me or dismissing my concerns.

Self-evaluation and change are very important to me. I can never be perfect about how I respond to people, but with experience and loss comes wisdom, and I’ve worked to have more restraint in the way I talk to people even when I’m angry. Even if I’ll never be 100% fair and still make mistakes, I keep thinking about how to do better and trying.

I often spend time listening to people with no outward judgment, so friends, acquaintances, and co-workers are able to feel that I accept and respect them, and I can set people at ease. It’s important to me to be a good listener and to respond in a way that is helpful and supportive for a person’s specific struggles.

My career is in education, currently tutoring college writing & study skills and supervising a peer-turoring program. I love reading about how the brain works and will soon be applying to a graduate program for Learning Sciences. I’m also fascinated with the science of human behavior and relationships.

My undergraduate degree was in English with a focus in creative writing, though with my interest in education now, writing is more of a hobby (that I often avoid). I enjoy sketching as well.

Other than the temper, weak points are a lifelong struggle with depression/anxiety/self-esteem and a tendency to get paralyzed and demotivated by how much I’m already falling short of my standards. I procrastinate a lot and feel like I should be doing more to help people.

I love cats (especially my cat, of course) and pandas. Like a panda, I’m vegetarian and often feel like I have no energy fjsjdnfnwnncjf.

Although I don’t have any firm belief in a higher power or the supernatural, I’m not willing to rule out the idea that spiritual beings / phenomena exist. They haven’t been scientifically proven, but they haven’t been disproven, either!

And uh, I’m bi/pan (grew up identifying as bi so it’s hard to let go of the label even though pan probably fits better) and polyamorous, although outside of an established relationship, I have very little interest in sex. I am also biracial (white/Asian). With all of that, it can be hard to feel like I’m really “at home” anywhere. But I think it helps with having a flexible perspective about diversity.

Oof! That was a lot! Thank you for reading all of it and thank you for being so generous with your time in writing match-ups!

Hi dear! Thank you so much for the request and sorry for making ya wait sooooo long hehe🙈😅! Awww girl I love writing these matchups, so its no problem! I hope you enjoy it and I hope you have the best day! (⋈◍＞◡＜◍)。✧♡

So I match you with……Hideyoshi

So the first time the two of you really interacted all hell broke loose. You were brought back to the castle by Masamune and was presented before Nobunaga. He had declared that you were to be the new Oda princess. You honestly had a problem with that as you didn’t want to feel like you were a burden or well that you owed them anything, so you insisted Nobunaga give you a real job to earn your keep. The man found you most amusing, not only had you fearlessly saved his life, but here you were, now before him unpleased with being a princess, a title most people in the country would kill for. He gave you his classic smirk “Very well then lucky charm, I shall name you as our new castle chatelaine.” You nodded in satisfaction at that, and just before you could start to relax, you felt someone’s gaze burning a hole through you.

You turned over to see Nobu’s right-hand man glaring at you, if looks could kill you would be dead, and TBH you were starting to lose your temper with these men. It wasn’t until Hideyoshi said something that made you go off the handle “My lord, I don’t trust this woman, who is to say she won’t kill you in your sleep, or that she was the one responsible for the fire in the first place.” At that, you scoffed and rolled your eyes “Why would I set a building on fire just to save the dude I am supposedly trying to kill.” Before anyone knew it, you and Hideyoshi were at each other throats. Both of you were being pulled apart by the fellow warlords before things escalated too quickly. Finally, Nobunaga set Hideyoshi straight and dismissed you from the council room to acquaint yourself with the castle

You kept your head down and worked hard, and you were most definitely loved by all the castle staff. You seemed to look past their titles and statuses and got to know them as people, they loved that you never judged them and that you would always be there for them, a friendly ear to listen to their problems and concerns, while giving good constructive advice. This trait of you had also earned you a lot of respect among the warlords, and soon you became quite good friends with most of them. Mitsunari and Ramnaru in particular.

TBH you loved the little angel Mitsunari, as the two of you would often bond over your love for books, reading and knowledge. He loved studying the art of war while you loved learning about people, their brains, behaviours and their relationships. Everyone absolutely adored you, well, all but Hideyoshi.

But that all ended one day when Mitsunari asked if you would like to help him. Mitsunari needed someone who could assist him during the soldiers training drills, and you were all too happy to assist. You sat beside him and helped him with the paperwork. You had noticed that the chain of command would break and that certain people would be better suited for other units. During your lunch break, Hideyoshi walked up to you and Mitsunari, and you voiced your concerns. He looked at you dumbfounded, how did a woman know so much about human relationships and behaviour. Mitsunari chimed in and very excitedly stated that, he had seen you study the human brain and the science of their behaviours and relationships. Hideyoshi thought for a moment then nodded, “Okay then, show me in which unit you think these men would be best suited”. They continued their training drills, and by the end of it, Hideyoshi was Hella impressed with you!

He wanted to trust you, he really did, but he was caught between duty and his own emotions. That was until one day. On a whim, Nobunaga decided to bring his lucky charm with him to battle. You were hesitant at first but going to war with the Oda’s meant that you wouldn’t have time to procrastinate and that you would have a golden opportunity to help people. You had been studying medicine for a while now, as Ieyasu had joined your and Mitsunari’s book club.

The two of you work together patching up injured soldiers all afternoon and judging by the influx of wounded men things weren’t looking too good. That night you had helped Masamune with making supper for everyone. You had stood in front of the big pot, scooping the rice dish into everyone’s bowls when you noticed something peculiar. Hideyoshi was holding out his bowl with his left hand. This was strange as he was right-handed and would usually hold it out with his dominant hand. You made a mental note of his behaviours and watched him as everyone ate. That’s when you noticed that he wasn’t using his dominant arm at all.

Once everyone had retired for the night, you pulled the warlord aside and confronted him. He led you to his tent and unwrapped his arm showing you his wound. You were shook, it was a deep cut across the length of his arm. You lost your temper at the sight “How stupid could you be hiding a severe wound like that, what if I got infected, what if you bled out.” As you ranted about all the possible what-ifs of him not seeking medical treatment sooner, you had him sit down and started gently cleaning and bandaging the wound.

He had realized at that moment that you were a genuinely kind woman and that he most definitely could trust you. And at that moment you saw something that melted away all your anger, worry and frustration. Hideyoshi’s genuine smile. It was absolutely radiant. Like the sun coming up from the horizon in the morning.

Since that day Hideyoshi was a completely different person towards you. He would often invite you to his manor to help him clean and care for the deep gash on his arm. Once his arm was healed, he would invite you to ask your opinion about different soldiers behaviour and relationships, and where you thought them best suited. Honestly, any excuse just to see you and chat with you. Soon your tea date moved to the local tea houses, and you found yourself enjoying Hideyoshi’s company more and more. He loved the way your eyes would light up when you talk about your interests in science and the human brain. He loves how you cared so much for people and animals and couldn’t stand injustice

In fact, one day as the two of you were walking around the market together, you spotted a group of men bullying a poor defenceless cat. Your blood was boiling, and in an instant, you were there to rescue the cat from the men. Luckily for you, Hideyoshi was hot on your trail, as it had slipped your mind that people in this era carried around weapons. After Hideyoshi fought off the men, he looked over at you to see you cradling the cat in your arms. His heart melted, even more so when you gave him the puppy dog eyes asking if you could keep the poor little thing. Honestly, he could never say no to you. Both you and Hideyoshi had long ago fallen in love with each other, but both of you were just low key to shy to admit it

He decided one day that he just had to tell you how he felt, so he planned out a romantic dinner for the two of you. He made sure to prepare all your favourite vegetarian dishes. As the two of you ate, you could tell something had been bothering him. After dinner, the two of you went outside to sit and enjoy the warm summer breeze. This was the moment Hideyoshi decided to blurt out all his feeling for you. You simply smiled at the silly man and kissed him, returning the feelings.

The two of you made the cutest couple, like you, Hideyoshi love, love loved to help people. He is known as the doting mother hen after all. One of the qualities he loved most about you is your kind heart. Often he would go with you and assist you in teaching the street children how to read and write. He would often steal glances at you and smile at you. He loved how sweet, gentle and patient you were towards the children. You never lost your temper with them, and they loved you so much, they loved that they could come to you with their problems, you would always provide them with helpful and supportive advice which they really appropriated

You loved to spend time with Hideyoshi. Even if that meant being in the same room and doing your own thing. You would often sit in his room and sketch while he worked on admin. You loved the way his eyes lit up, and the bright smiles he would give you, whenever you showed him your finished work. He loved your sketches, and he would often low key steal them and hang them up in his room on full display for all to see your beautiful talent

Anxiety and depression is no problem for this doting mother. Whenever you are having an anxiety attack or going through s depression spell, he will be sure to be, right by your side to support you throughout it. He will pull you into his arms and just hold you, whispering reassuring words in your ears. He knows you have a tendency to be too harsh on yourself and hold yourself at a ridiculously high standards. He will spend hours just rubbing soothing circles on your back and whisper sweet nothings in your ears. This man will dote on you so hard that your anxiety and depression would be soothed as quick as they manifested.

Hideyoshi’s all-time favourite is just holding you in his arms for hours and hours as you read to him, the newest piece of your creative writing or tell him the newest fun fact you had learned from your studies. He loves nothing more than to spend a quiet evening with you cradled in his arms sharing sweet kisses as the two of you exchange stories of each others day

Other Potential matches……………. Ieyasu

I hope you enjoyed it, love! (◠‿◠✿)❤🌼

#matchups #ikesen matchup #match ups #toyotomi hideyoshi #hideyoshi toyotomi #ikemen sengoku hideyoshi #ikesen hideyoshi #hideyoshi matchup #submission

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

this isn't off any prompt list but hero/villian indruck where they have a meetcute and both desperately try to keep the other from finding out their alter ego as their relationship gets more and more serious while simultaneously trying to keep their rival away from their seemingly innocent love interest for fear of endangering them

Here you go!

“You win this round, Knight,” The Moth hovers, mechanical wings flapping and smile spreading across his face. The blood trickling down his nose doesn’t faze him in the slightest, “But I’m sure we’ll see each other quite soon.”

He flies off before Duck can grab him, leaving the hero standing, arms crossed (and cross in general), his quiet evening at home ruined by The Moth’s need cause trouble at the Governors Ball.

He’d just gotten to a good part in his book too.

------------------------

“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry!”

Duck looks up as he’s wiping coffee from his lap to find a tall, gangly, angular stranger hurriedly tossing down his bag to help clean up the spill.

“I’m sorry, I get lost in my thoughts sometimes and oh, darn it all.” In his eagerness to help, the taller man splashes coffee onto this white tank top, giving him a belly splotch that matches the one on Ducks green t-shirt.

“It’s uh, no big deal, ain’t like I was in my Sunday best and, uh, that ain’t a library book.”

“Oh no your book.” The other man lifts the stained paperback, looks at it sadly, “At least let me buy you a replacement.” He’s holding the book to his chest now, clearly hopeful that Duck will let him make amends.

Between the red-brown eyes, the tousled, silver-dyed hair, and the earnest, odd smile, he has an air of disheveled charm that, at his age, Duck ought to be past finding adorable.

Instead, he smiles back, “Sure thing. Bookstore two blocks down oughta have copies, and a little cafe to boot. You let me buy you a replacement drink, I’ll let you buy me a new book. Deal?”

The other man nods, hands flapping, “Yes, that sounds wonderful.”

Duck grins, suddenly excited, before noticing he’s a bit sticky.

“Meet me there in an hour so we can both change?”

“It’s a date.”

--------------------------------------

It’s a date? Agh, of all the ways he could have phrased it, why did his blasted, traitorous mouth choose that one?

He stands awkwardly in one corner of the cafe, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pink and yellow cardigan. Was this too flamboyant? He doesn’t even know if the other man is gay. He supposes he could look into the futures to determine the answer to that, but doing so feels rude.

This is why he turned to supervillainy in the first place; he’s terrible with people.

He wishes he’d worn his glasses. They’re technically a tool of his trade, but they make him feel safe.

“Uh, howdy.”

He glances up, finds the man from before looking at him. Now that he’s not racked with panic trying to clean up a spill, he has a chance to take in just how much his type the man is. Short, but bear like (”a teddy bear” his mind supplies, unhelpfully), with green eyes and charming, unhurried vibe to him. His drawl does remind him of a certain hero who’s always in his way, but he won’t hold that against him.

“Buy you a coffee?”

“Yes, please. Ah, um, I guess I should introduce myself; I’m Indrid.”

“Duck” he holds out his hand and Indrid takes it, enjoys the warmth and strength in his grip, “Nice to meet you.”

--------------------------------------

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” Duck tightens Beacon around The Moth, who tears at the blade with his retractable claws. Duck learned about those the hard way, when the villain extended them during one of their first meetings. The slash broke the skin, something rare for Duck on account of his durability.

“And you have got to come up with some more creative lines, hero.” The Moth snarls, “you have used that one twice before now. Which is also how many times you have forgotten about this.” The villain throws himself sideways and down with enough force to yank Duck to his knees and loosen his grip. As his sword clatters to the ground, red powder fills his eyes.

“Gah, jesus, not that shit again.” His eyes sting, and as he pats the ground for Beacon he hears the scrape of metal moving away from him. Beacons hilt disappears into the mist, dragged slowly back by The Moth’s foot.

Duck looks up at him through watering eyes, trying not to breath in the dust.

“Well, you got me at your mercy. You gonna start gloatin about your evil plans or some shit?”

A light, sharp laugh, “Why would I waste my time in such a way? Oh no, I shall be making off with my prize. And making sure you don’t follow me.”

He raises his foot, and Ducks vision whites out on one side as he crumples.

He should be more worried about the villain getting away with the schematics for the ApCorps latest government security features.

Mostly, he’s worried he’ll have a black eye tomorrow.

------------------------

“Hel-oh goodness, Duck, your eye.” Indrid opens the door a half second before Duck knocks, then quickly cups his cheeks to take a closer look.

“Looks worse than it is, sugar, don’t worry. And, uh, surprise.” He produces a small bouquet of Irises from he behind his back. Indrid beams, taking them with squeak of delight.

“They’re lovely, but what’s the occasion?” He’s smiling almost like he knows, almost like he just wants to hear him say it.

“Know, uh, know I said I wanted to take things slow, but I realized we been datin a month I ain’t given you anythin.”

“You bought me coffee that first time. And we have each bought dinner for the other multiple times.” Indrid takes his hand, drawing him inside.

“I know but, well, kinda wanted to do somethin a little more special.”

“Any time with you is special.”

Duck snorts, “Cornball.”

Indrid kisses, “I learned from the best.”

-------------------------------------

“What can I say, I learned from the best.” Indrid grins at The Knight, who is currently hanging upside down in an elegantly simple snare.

“I got the idea from that unpleasant sword of yours. Keep your enemy tied up nice and tight to keep them out of your OW, ow, alright I should have seen that coming.” His glasses are now cracked from the Knight headbutting him.

“I’m impressed you could manage that upside down.”

“Drop these fuckin chains off me and I’ll show you somethin real impressive.”

Indrid tilts his head, “Tempting, but I have a pressing engagement tomorrow morning. Not to mention I need to get this,” he pats the painting he just lifted from the house of a man with a gold toilet, “somewhere safe. Until we meet again.” He offers a mocking salute, and takes flight.

--------------------------------------------

“Again?” Indrid offers, pressed against warm, sweat-tinged expanse of Duck’s chest, his heart beating in time with the rapid rise and fall of Ducks breathing.

“Nope. Not that the body and mind ain’t willin, but the mind and body also got work tomorrow. Damn that felt good.” He usually tops, but with Indrid he’s found it more variable; some nights, like tonight, the other man fucks him into the bed, or over the nearest table, or however far they get before Duck can’t stand waiting anymore. Other nights, Indrid gets on all fours so Duck can fuck him with the strap, drops to his knees before they make it past the entryway, tugging at Duck’s belt buckle with little whimpers.

“Mmmm, it was magnificent my love.” Indrid goes stone still in his arms as that last syllable flutters in the air.

Duck brushes strands of pale hair from his forehead, “I love you too, ‘Drid.”

His boyfriend flops down in relief, “oh thank goodness that’s the way it went.”

“As if I could feel any other way about you.”

Indrid mutters something that might be “cornball” into his chest, yawns and nestles closer with whisper of “love my teddy bear.”

“Love you too, sugar.”

Shit.

He’s in love with Indrid.

Bad things happen to superhero love interests. Very bad things. He can’t bear losing him, but no one beside the other members of the Pine Gaurd know his secret identity. He’s not ready to tell him yet. Soon, but not yet.

Indrid rolls sleepily onto his side and Duck goes with him, turning into the little spoon in his embrace. God, what if an enemy decides to kidnap him, hurt him, just to get to Duck?

Then again, no villain has singled him out, save for one.

Which he’ll need to deal with that one as soon as he can.

-------------------------

“Give up while you still can, Moth!”

“Not a chance.” Indrid hisses back, clutching the gash on his arm from the sword. What has gotten into the Knight today? Usually he only fights Indrid the amount needed to stop whatever crime he’s busy committing.

Today he’s trying to destroy him.

He’s been training, that much is clear, he has new moves that Indrid finds difficult to anticipate in a fight, and a fire in his eyes that heightens Indrid’s guard.

As he flits out of reach of yet another strike, his goal of thievery long forgotten in favor of not getting chopped in half, he tries to determine the source of the change. What would make him fight harder?

Duck. He’d burn this city to the ground, tear every hero in it to pieces, if Duck were in danger.

He reaches the edge of the building, but before stepping off to safety he turns.

“You win tonight, Knight. But do give that new lover of yours my regards.”

--------------------------------------------

“Hey, Indrid?”

“Yes?” His boyfriend looks up from his sketches.

“I was wonderin if, uh, if you’d like to go to a fancier place than normal? Barclay got me an in at La Lune, thought we could go on Friday. There’s, uh, there’s somethin I wanna talk about.”

“Is is a marriage proposal or breaking up with me?”

“What? No!”

Indrid chuckles, “I am teasing. Mostly.” He bounces his eyebrows and Duck rolls his eyes in response.

“Thought afterwards, might be nice to go out to the park and stargaze, tell you what I need to in private.”

“That sounds lovely, my love.”

------------------------------

The stars are aligning in Indrid’s favor this week.

Yesterday, when the Knight tried to corner him on his way out of his lair, he took the gamble of getting close, earning him the reward of landing a deep slash on The Knight’s cheek. One he won’t be able to heal by tonight. Whether he’s in his hero get-up or his civilian clothes, Indrid will be able to spot him.

And tonight, he has it on good authority that the Knight will be appearing in this block of the city. The same block on which sits La Lune. Indrid can go to dinner with his boyfriend right after removing the biggest threat to said boyfriend.

He’s perched on the roof of the restaurant, steering clear of the large skylight. His glasses scan the streets, the windows all around him.

But this is taking longer than anticipated. He hasn’t looked too far into the futures for the night, since his growing romantic side wants whatever Duck tells him to be a true surprise.

He pulls out his phone, swipes to his conversation with Duck. Beneath the photo of a Scarlet Tanager Duck sent him from his work at the ranger station he types, running behind, will be there shortly after 7.

He receives back, NP, see you soon sugar with a kissy face.

The minutes tick by, the spring sun setting inch by inch behind the downtown skyline. At 7:05, he peeks through the skylight, spots Duck. He can’t see his face all the way in the mood lighting of the restaurant, but he knows his gait, his profile.

At 7:30 there is still no sign of his nemesis. He’s been scanning and staring and searching, looking at his phone only once after it buzzes many times. He has four missed calls and five texts

Duck: ETA? Damn, this place is even fancier than I thought.

Duck: Everything okay? If you’re close, I can order us some appetizers so you don’t got to wait to eat.

Duck: Can’t wait to see you.

Duck: Are you still coming? Are you okay?

Duck: Sugar?

That last one comes as he’s reading the others. He peers down through the skylight, sees Duck stare at his phone for a ten count, gnawing his lip. Then he looks up at the sky, eyes shut, as if weighing a decision.

Indrid’s heart plummets.

There’s a gash on Duck’s cheek.

A gash he put there.

Every coincidence, every strange incident he’d pushed to side, lost in the happiness of their courtship, floods his mind.

Suddenly, he knows what Duck was going to tell him.

With shaking fingers, he types,

So sorry, my battery died at the worst of all times, I borrowed a charger from a good samaritan. I’m nearly there.

It takes him two and a half minutes to descend the building and change into his evening wear that he stashed nearby.

At three minutes, he’s walking through the doors, Duck jumping up and hugging him before he even makes the table.

“Sorry for, uh, textin so much, I guess I got a bit nervous. Y’know how shit can get here; can be walkin home and suddenly a supervillain is wreckin shit and you’re collateral.”

“I understand.” He takes his seat, Duck relaxing into the chair opposite him, “in fact, my love, I understand a great deal.”

Indrid reaches into his pocket, producing a pair of red glasses. He slips them on, knowing the other diners will think nothing of it.

“I look familiar, don’t I?”

Duck stares so long, moving so little, that Indrid fears he sent him into some kind of shock.

“Get out. Now.” Duck’s tone is level, his eyes glinting with threat.

“Duck, please, I, I want to explain-”

“Out. I ain’t gonna tangle with you tonight, but I don’t wanna see you ever again.”

Wordlessly, Indrid removes the glasses, and walks into the night.

---------------------------------------------

Indrid is out of ideas.

For the first week after his confession, he searched the futures religiously for any sign that Duck would come after him, would reveal his apartment to the other heroes.

It never came.

He hasn’t stolen anything in two months.

He sent a single apology letter to Duck, doing his best to explain the situation. Watched the futures narrow down to a single one; Duck reading it, then tearing it up.

He even sent anonymous notes to the Pine Guard, altering them to several oncoming disasters or the kind of supervillainy that has a body count.

Wounded pride, a loss of purpose, a wave of self-loathing, and a dozen other complexly unpleasant emotions could form the center of his world.

But it all comes down to one simple feeling: he misses Duck. Misses his smile, his sense of humor, his strange laugh, the safety he felt by his side, and endless list of things stripped from his life by his own actions.

Which is why it has come to this.

He sets up the camera, and starts recording.

------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Duck, I think you should see this.”

Duck plods into the main control room, where Ned is fiddling with the video feed while Aubrey waves him to sit by her.

“I swear to fuck if it’s that police chief tryin to recruit us again-”

“Nah, Aubrey and I finally got through to him.” Mama tosses out from the corner where she’s busily whittling a wooden duck.

The screen flickers blue, and then Duck feels the opposing pulls of revulsion and longing as Indrid’s face appears. His glasses are off, but he’s otherwise in his full villain get-up.

“Hello Duck, and, ah, I assume the rest of the Pine Guard. It is fine with me if you all listen in, but this message is ultimately for him.”

Barclay reaches over Ned to hit pause, “Duck?”

“Y’all can stay.”

The video resumes.

“I have two messages. The first is an apology; not necessarily for the things I have stolen, but for any genuine harm I caused other people, yourselves included. And I apologize once again, and as many more times as you require, Duck, for not telling you the truth sooner. In my defense, there is no easy way to admit to the man you love that you are a supervillain. All the same, I ought to have been brave enough to try, for your sake.”

Indrid sits up and Duck leans forward.

“My second message is that I am retiring from supervillainy. I could say something about a change of view on the world in general, but the truth is that villainy is less interesting without an equal to rival and banter with me. And, well, I am sure I can find other ways to fill my days. Especially if the man I care for is by my side. I should be clear that my retirement is not contingent on you reaching out to me again, Duck. Merely that it is something you may wish to know. Ah, I suppose that is all. This is the Moth, signing off for the last time. I’m sorry again, Duck. I love you.”

“Think it’s a bluff?” Aubrey asks as the screen goes dark.

“No, as one who has mastered the art of insincerity, I do not believe so.” Ned responds, switching on the lights.

Duck, for his part, says nothing.

---------------------------------------------------

Indrid rolls off the bed at the knock, rubbing his eyes as he trudges to the door, too tired to look at the futures.

“How can I…”

The sight of Duck Newton on his doorstep elicits so many emotions that he short circuits.

“Hey.”

“Hello.”

“So, retiring huh?”

“Yes.” He fights the urge to chew his nails.

“Guess that means you’re free to talk right now?”

“Indeed.” He steps back, allowing Duck to step in and shut the door.

“Great, Because we got a lot to talk about. But, uh, first.”

He cups Indrids cheeks, kissing him so lovingly that the former villain melts against him, gripping the front of his ranger jacket the way a falling man grasps at a cliff.

“I missed you so much.” He whispers, and before he has time to hate the crack in his voice, Duck is kissing him again, guiding him slowly and surely to the couch, murmuring in between kisses.

“Missed you too, so much, goddamn, couldn’t stop thinkin about you, love you so much ‘Drid, wanna make things right, we’re gonna make ‘em right, I promise.”

Indrid glances at the futures, sees that in all of them they do, in fact, end up having a long, serious conversation, one that ends in even softer kisses and Duck curled around him in his bed.

But there’s still a few more minutes for him to savor being here, safe and secure, in the arms of his hero.

#prompt fills #superhero au #indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #duck x indrid

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