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something-tofightfor · 3 years

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Nightingale - Part 3

Pairing: Jay Castillo x Female Reader

Word Count: 8,188

Rating: M? Language, talk of implied infidelity, canon-typical content, mentions of blood and tattooing.

Summary: The power outage at the shop means spending time outside of the building with Jay - but is it going to be awkward... or a step forward?

Author’s note:

THANK ALL OF YOU for reading the first two chapters of this. This one’s a lot longer, but I didn’t want to cut it in the middle, since I’m trying to keep these following the same POV format throughout.

I appreciate every comment and reblog - I plan on answering your replies in the next couple of days. You’re all great and I love every single one of you.

Catch up on the first chapter here and the second here.

There wasn’t any point in driving down the street, so instead, the two of you walked the distance to the coffee shop, making small talk. You were distracted, though, the events of the previous few minutes unfolding so quickly that you hadn’t had time to process them.

The power being out was one thing, and the suggestion that you wait it out in case it came back in time was another, very sensible one … but spending an hour with your newly married tattoo artist at a coffee shop was something else entirely. But he’s not wearing a ring, and he’s not … he’s apparently not going on his honeymoon.

You wondered what could have happened in the two months since you’d last spoken to Jay, and decided that it had probably been something awful, despite the fact that he was trying to hide it. Which makes sense because he doesn’t know me. You didn’t know him well at all, but sensed that he was off, the man’s gait slightly more stilted, his posture a little stiffer than it had been.

There was no way to know for sure, though.

When the two of you took seats across from each other at one of the outdoor tables that looked out toward Ocean Beach, you waited for him to speak. It took a few minutes, but then Jay broke the silence, his voice even.

“When I first started workin’ at the shop?” He eyed you, a thoughtful look on his face. “I’d stop here just about every day I had appointments.” That didn’t really surprise you. The ocean view was a lot different than the Bay view, and you figured that caffeine was necessary to get through long and difficult tattoo sessions. “Started with hot, black coffee.” He grinned, licking his lips and raising an eyebrow. “And then I moved onto the hard stuff. Added a couple shots of espresso to that coffee…” The man leaned closer, dropping his voice and you leaned in, too, lips pressed together to see what he was going to say. “But then I got a little insider information.”

“Yeah?” He nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off of you. “You gonna tell me what that is, or -” “Butterscotch cold brew with a double shot and a splash of almond milk.” He tapped the menu with the palm of his hand, sitting straight up again. “Fucking life changing. I’m not sure if you like butterscotch, they also have a chocolate one, but -” “Why not?” You shrugged. “Never tried a flavor like that before, but if you say it’s good, it has to be.” Sliding out of the booth, you pointed to the door. “Want one?” He looked surprised that you were asking, but said yes, and so you turned away from the table, heading inside. There were only a few people in line, and you’d barely had time to let your mind wander before the barista was handing you two plastic cups and thanking you for coming in. That’s probably a good thing.

Pausing in the doorway for a few seconds, you watched the man, taking note of the way he was staring out and toward the road, fingers absently drumming against the table. He was playing it cool, and so you knew you needed to, also, but you didn’t want to outright ignore the fact that you could tell something was wrong. He looked over at the door a moment later, catching you staring at him. Oops. Without pause, there was a switch in his expression - distracted to focused, the man’s lips parting into a friendly smile - which you were annoyed to realize that you enjoyed seeing.

“You ready to try this?” He waited to speak until you sat and slid his drink to him, long fingers wrapping around the cup. “Got me through about a hundred tattoo sessions, so -” With the first swallow, you knew that you liked it - the bitterness of the espresso balanced by the sweet syrup, though the overall bite of the coffee was still present - but you decided to let him hang for a moment, frowning and then taking another small sip. “Oh no. You don’t like it?” He let out a sigh, raising a hand to swipe at his head. “Let me get you -” “No, it’s great.” Laughing, you raised one hand and waved him off. “I’m just messing with you. It’s really good, Jay.” He swore under his breath - something in Spanish that you didn’t catch because it was too quiet, but you saw his lips twitch before they wrapped around the straw, his head shaking back and forth. “Thanks for the recommendation.” The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, the sound of traffic and seabirds along with the subtle sound of waves crashing in the distance filling your ears. Might as well start talking. “Do you think the power’s going to come back?”

“No, I don’t.” Sighing, he returned his attention to you. “Those estimates are usually bullshit, at least over at my place, but who knows. Maybe today’s gonna be different.” Honesty. I like that.

“So if you don’t think it’s gonna come back, then why … why not just have me reschedule, and then you could have -” He moved quickly, pushing his cup to one side and extending his hand, pointing at your arm.

“Lemme see it.” You moved at his request, holding your arm out only to feel his fingers encircle your wrist, tugging you a little closer over the small table. A moment later, he was moving his other hand’s fingertips over the skin of your bicep, head angled so that it didn’t block the sunlight. “It looks good.” He dragged the edge of his nail lightly over the lines, nodding. “You took care of it.” His gaze flicked back up to yours for a brief second and then back down, the man moving your arm just enough to pull it away from your body. “Not too much ink pull, no blowouts.” He cleared his throat. “We did good.” We?

You would have been lying if you’d said that the feeling of his bare hands against your skin - out in the open and not within the confines of the shop - didn’t feel good, that the man’s attention to the bared flesh wasn’t making you feel seen in a way that hadn’t been the case in a while. It was your arm; the same area of skin that was visible on an almost daily basis to anyone that you came into contact with, but under his careful eye, it felt different, more intimate. Even though it’s not. “I just sat there, Jay. You did all the work.”

After a quick scoff, he let go of your arm and took a long drink, finally looking at you again. “We didn’t really get into it during the session, so tell me about your tattoo.” He was deflecting - asking you questions so that he didn’t have to answer the half question you’d asked him, but that was fine. It’s fine because he doesn’t owe me that answer. You had no issue telling him about your tattoo, though, especially since he was the one that had brought it to life.

“It’s for my grandmother.” Swallowing, you shook your head. “Actually, it’s sort of for both of my grandparents, but…” He looked interested, and you had to wonder just how many other tattoos he’d done as memorial pieces, how many stories he’d heard from the people that had sat in his chair. It doesn’t matter, he’s asking me right now. “She, um, she died about a year ago, and he only made it a couple months after that. They’d been married for almost 50 years, and …” You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. “They couldn’t live without each other.”

It seemed stupid - almost impossible - especially when you were hearing yourself say it out loud, but it was the truth. “So why a nightingale?” He was holding his cup in both hands, staring at you. “That’s a real specific kind of bird, right?”

“She liked to sing.” The memory made you smile, shoulders rising and falling. “But only for him, so we never really believed it. My grandma was a lot of things, but we’d never thought she was a singer, because it was only …only when they were alone, so it was usually at night, when she was cleaning or cooking and it was just the two of them in the house. And only because she loved him so much.” Twisting the cup between your hands, you took a long breath. “He called her his nightingale for years, and then after she was gone, he’d spend nights by the window, waiting, even though the birds don’t live around here.” You saw the light flash in his eyes as he listened to you speak, but the man didn’t interrupt. “And now they’re both gone, so this is just a way for me to -” “Keep ‘em with you.” His smile in return after you nodded was another genuine one and he jerked his chin toward your arm. “It’s good. It’s a good tattoo for you. I’m glad you have those memories.” You were, too, and told him as much. “Thank you for trusting me with it.”

“That’s what you’re in the shop for, right? To give people the tattoos that mean something to them?” He barely fought back an eye roll, which confused you. “Jay?”

“You’d think that when they’re putting something permanently on their bodies that people would always want something meaningful, right?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But you have no idea how many people walk in and have no idea what they want - just pick something off of the wall, or the ones that come in an have a picture of someone else’s tattoo and want the same thing?” He actually did roll his eyes then. “That’s why I wanted to draw you up somethin’ that wasn’t just Hanna’s design.” He took pride in his artistic ability - you knew that even if you’d only known the man for a little while, speaking to him briefly a few times. So that makes sense. And it worked out. “And to answer your question from before, I didn’t want to go home.”

“Oh.” Figured as much. You didn’t know what else to say, even though you had a lot of questions. “Well, we’re here, so -”

“You’re not gonna ask why?” He was frowning again, full lower lip pushed out into a pout that under any other circumstances, you wouldn’t have been able to keep your eyes off of. “Not gonna try to guess or anything?” “Do you want me to?” There was a charge in the air - the conversation veering drastically toward being entirely personal, and you knew that if you weren’t careful, it would get there fast. “It’s none of my business, so I just -”

“Not gonna ask about that, or about the fact that I'm not wearing a wedding ring even though you know that I was supposed to get married right after your first appointment? Not wondering why the week of my honeymoon is marked off in the shop’s book, but I’m trying to take tattoo appointments those days instead of spending the time with my wife in Hawaii?” The longer he spoke, the more bitter his tone grew, his pout disappearing, the expression replaced with a frustrated snarl. He wants to tell me, wants to tell someone.

“What happened, Jay?” You finished your drink, head moving back and forth slowly as you locked eyes with the man. “It’s only been a couple months, and you seemed -” “You aren’t married, right?” His eyes dropped to your hands, and when you told him no, that you’d never been, he continued. “I was. For six weeks.” Was? “Wedding was fucking beautiful. Our friends were there, both of our families. I was looking forward to startin’ my life with Kat, and everything was great.” He bit down on his lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. “Guess I shoulda known it was all gonna to go to shit when my brother in law got killed the day after.” “What?” You stiffened at that, shaking your head back and forth. What the fuck? “Jay, wh-”

“He got into a fight at the wedding with one of his best friends, and I guess that should have been my first clue.” The man’s eyes wandered for a few seconds, his chest rising and falling while he took a deep breath and released it. “Someone shot him in his driveway the next morning, and from that point on, everything just went downhill.” Shot in his driveway? You were in disbelief, but he had no reason to lie to you. “In front of his kid, too.” With that, you got it - the vague memory of a news story coming back to you. That was his wife’s family?

“I heard about that. They never caught the guy that did it, right? I saw it on the news, but -” Jay met your eyes again, his wide and sad, a hint of coldness in them.

“They didn’t. And I don’t think they will. Not the police, anyway.” What? He didn’t elaborate, though, instead continuing his story. “I figured that it would get better after some time, you know? We’d grieve and get through it together, but instead of turning to me, she turned to her family.”

“Most people would, Jay.” You didn’t know the woman or her family, but it seemed natural to you. “I’m sure you aren’t as close to them as she is, so she just wanted to be with -” “No, see…” He leaned in, lacing his fingers together on the table. “I was with her the whole time. Went with her when she went to Marta’s. Let the kids stay with us. Let her mother stay with us. I did everything that I was supposed to do, and -” He cut himself off, wrinkling his nose. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… we don’t even know each other, and I’m -” You moved without thinking, reaching for his hands and squeezing his joined ones with one of yours.

Both of you looked down at the contact, and with an embarrassed inhale you pulled back, apologizing under your breath. Shit. I shouldn’t have … shouldn’t have done that. “Don’t apologize. Sometimes you just need to tell someone that has no connection to any of it. Get it out, you know?” You had no idea what you were supposed to do with the information he gave you, no idea what he wanted or needed you to say. But maybe he just needs someone to listen?

“I left.” He sniffled, shaking his head and then leaning back in his seat, avoiding eye contact. “We were married for six weeks, had a fight, and I left, and when I came back, she was gone and her rings were sitting on the counter.”

“But you went back.” Moving forward so that you could lean your elbows on the table, you crossed your arms and said his name. “You went back, Jay. Whatever the fight was, you went back.”

“Yeah. I did.” Do you still want to? That would have been the logical question. If he’d loved the woman enough to marry her, anything that could have happened in the previous months couldn’t have changed his feelings that much - or so you thought. “Look.” He wet his lips again, and you began to realize that the action was an indication of his discomfort - a sign that he was anxious. “This place closes at five, and it’s a little before. We should head back. If the power’s still off, you can come into the shop for a couple minutes, I’ll get you rescheduled, and then we can both go. If it’s on, and you don’t think I’m an asshole for dumping this on you, we’ll get this done today.”

“You’re not an asshole.” Offering up what you hoped was a comforting smile, you moved to stand, holding your hand out for his cup. “You’ve had a rough couple of months. You married someone because you loved her, and this can’t be easy for you.” It wouldn’t be easy for anyone. He followed you as you headed for the trash can, dropping both empty containers into it. “And as long as you promise you can focus for long enough to get through my tattoo, I have no issue with -” “I’d never tattoo someone if I didn’t think I was able to give them the attention that they deserve.” He reached for you then, his fingers closing around your arm, just above your elbow. At the touch, you looked back at him, seeing sincerity written all over his face. “Ever.” He squeezed your arm and then let go, the two of you turning down the street and back toward the shop without saying anything else. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t thinking about what had just happened - and you knew that you would be for a long time.

—

He was pissed at himself.

Jay hadn’t meant to go off the way he had, nor had he meant to tell you so much personal information at the barest hint of your interest. But she listened. He snuck a glance at you as the two of you neared the shop, focusing on keeping his breaths even. He’d gone back and forth between whether or not he wanted to say anything to you at all about what was going on, but the truth was that you put him at ease in a very different way than he’d expected, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself.

He’d seen the look in your eyes, though, at the admission that he believed his marriage was over - it wasn’t quite pity, but it was surprise, a little bit of sadness and some confusion, too. Same as me. He’d been motivated by the story about your grandparents, realizing that even though he was in a situation that was highly unlikely to result in the same type of lasting relationship, he still wanted one. Might not be with Kat, but … maybe someone else.

The power was still off, a note taped to the door explaining why the shop was closed, and so Jay used his key to unlock the front door instead of the alarm code, holding it open for you. “Looks like we’re gonna have to pull the book out.” Humming in agreement, you walked back to the counter, keeping your eyes on the array of body jewelry beneath the glass while he circled around to the cutout, reaching beneath the register for the book and a pen. “So you said no to Sunday. How about Tuesday at 6?” Glancing up, he saw that you were watching him intently, eyes focused on the way he was leaning against the glass across from you, one hand pressed against the surface, the other holding the pen tightly. Maybe I did fuck up. “Hey.” He said your name, clearing his throat. “Is -” “You should talk to her.” Blinking slowly, you raised your gaze to his face. “She’s still in the city, right? I figure from what you said, she probably went to stay with her sister, so you should go and see -” “No.” It came out sharp, the single word cutting through the empty room. “No, I’ve done that already.” You recoiled, standing straight up. “The fight we had?” He laughed, the sound bitter. “Wasn’t even really a fight. I walked in on something that I read wrong, and so I might have been a little off… but not enough to misinterpret the fact that she couldn’t tell me why she married me.” You gasped at that, covering your mouth with one hand and Jay knew that he’d overstepped. Fuck it. He ran a hand over the top of his head, lip curling. “So no, I think I’m done talking. If she wants to have a conversation we can, but the idea of being married to someone that can’t even tell me that she loves me is pretty goddamn unappealing.”

“It wasn’t my business.” You were whispering, eyes wide. “I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry. Forget the second session, I’m just going to go. I’ll reschedule some other time.” No, don’t.. Don’t do that. You weren’t trying to make him feel worse - he could sense that you’d just spoken to try and help, and he felt terrible about his outburst. “Thank you for going with me to get cof-”

You stopped mid-sentence when the lights came back on, both of you glancing up at the same time. Of course. “Perfect fucking timing.” He mumbled the words and was surprised to hear you snort in response, motion halted a few steps from the counter. “It’s my fault.” Opening your mouth to protest he silenced you with a raised hand. “Not her, that’s not my fault. I mean this.” He gestured between the two of you, trying for a reassuring smile. “It’s the first time I’ve told anyone that part of it, so I guess… I don’t know. I didn’t know how I’d feel saying it.”

You stared at him for a few moments, eyes on his face, and then moved closer again, shoulders set. Something changed. Something’s different. She… “Do you want to tell me more about it? About how it felt?” Eyes moving in the direction of his booth, you stared at it for the span of a few breaths. “I’ve been told by a lot of people that I’m a good listener.” Slowly, you brought your eyes back to meet his, and he saw a challenge in them. No, not a challenge… it’s…

“They can’t all be wrong, can they?” At almost the same time, both of you began laughing, Jay flipping the book shut and turning away from you. “Give me a couple minutes to get set up.”

—

It was a simpler set up than the previous session, and he finished quickly, even after stopping to take a call from Holly. She hadn’t been shocked to hear that he was going to tattoo you that day, telling him to have fun and not to forget to set the alarm before she hung up. Like I’d forget that.

You were walking around the shop while he got ready, stepping into the other booths and looking at the art on the walls - flash and custom drawings, pictures of clients and completed tattoos and piercings.

You didn’t touch anything, but by the time you made it to his space, Jay was ready for you, everything in place. “Same as before. Use the bathroom, grab a drink if you need one, I’m gonna go lock the front door, as long as that’s alright with you.” He saw the question before you asked it, quickly cutting in. “We’re not technically open right now, and someone might walk in if they see the lights on, so, if I lock the door, they can’t.”

“Can you tattoo without the main lights?” Glancing up, you narrowed your eyes. “I don’t mind it being a little darker, as long as -” “I’ve got a lamp, yeah. If you’re sure you’re alright with that, it’ll make it less likely that someone’s gonna try to come in, especially since we’re supposed to be open til midnight tonight.” You waved him away, and Jay made quick work of locking the door and flipping the overhead lights off, bathing the entire shop in a soft, dusky light. You were sitting on the chair when he made it back to you, legs crossed at the knee. Jay turned the light over the sink on before he washed his hands and paused before he pushed the button on the floor lamp, angling it properly. “You sure you’re alright with this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He heard the chair squeak as you moved, and when the man turned back around, you were getting comfortable. “Holly’s right upstairs, and I’m pretty sure you’re not going to try anything, so…”

“You were about three seconds from running out the door a few minutes ago, so I’m just making sure you don’t mind being locked in here together.” He heard your quiet noise of agreement, lowering the chair for you and then reaching into the box to pull out a pair of gloves. “You comfortable?” You’d already gone into the position you’d adopted the first session - stretching your arm out and resting the back of your hand against his thigh, but that time you were watching him. “I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

“I shaved my arm before I came in today.” You cleared your throat. “So you can skip that part.” He grinned, winking at you without thinking about it, and the man was surprised to find that even after the way the previous conversation had gone, he was more at ease than he’d been in weeks. Starting with the vaseline, he held up the machine in the other hand, waiting for your nod. “I’m good.” Dipping the needle, he moved it to your arm and started tattooing, the soft buzz of the machine the only other noise in the room. It didn’t stay that way for long, though, your voice cutting in. “So if I came in and wanted a tattoo on… say my shoulder, or my collarbone… would you shave that too? Just to be on the safe side? Or is it -”

“It depends.” He kept his eyes on what he was doing, leaning closer. “Sometimes to cover our asses, we do it even if there’s nothing visible. But for you, no. I wouldn’t, because I can see that I don’t need to.” Your skin took ink well, and he was pleased to see that the light gray was already showing up, even though he’d only added it to a small area. “But the areas of the body where there typically is hair?” Pulling his hand back, he glanced up, your face less than a foot away. “We have to, even if the client says that they took care of it… and I don’t just mean arms and legs.” He watched your eyes widen as you realized what he meant, Jay’s smile growing before he returned to the tattoo.

“I didn’t even think … I can’t imagine just walking into a tattoo shop and taking off my pants or shirt. How … have you done a lot of -” “Not a lot, but enough.” He didn’t like tattooing the places on the body that the two of you were talking about - and flat out refused to do some of them, but work was work, and for the most part, his clients had been fine. “I’m not gonna touch you, but I’ll show you.” He set the machine down, waiting for you to nod in agreement and then moved his hand over your body, holding it vertically and lowering it to follow the line of your hip and then inward. “This is common, over the top of the thigh and to the inside?” You were watching his hand, the man rotating it and pointing at the apex of your thighs. “Pubic bone is really popular for men and women, but I won’t do anything below here.” He moved a finger back and forth to show you his personally imposed barrier. “I’ve done I don’t know how many ass tattoos, or ones just below, on the back of the thigh?” You wrinkled your nose at that, Jay shrugging and licking his lips. “Lotta women coming in that want the front of their body done, too.”

“You mean up here?” You pointed at your chest, pressing a hand against it. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Yeah, there. But…” He moved his hand up, still keeping it hovering an inch or so above your body. “Stomach is a common spot, too. Underneath the bra line, up through here…” He used his fingers to indicate the spaces he was talking about, the tips of his gloved fingers grazing the material of your shirt as he moved his hand up and over your chest. Oops. It had been an accidental touch, but he caught the way you stilled at it, the man pulling back quickly. Shit.

“Sounds like you’ve probably done a lot of interesting tattoos, Jay. Sorry I’m just getting mine on a boring place like my arm.” I’m not. You chuckled and he reached for the machine again, surprised to feel that his heart was beating faster than it had been. “Did your … how did she feel about that?” You didn’t know what to call Kat, and he didn’t either, but he knew who you were talking about.

“She understood. It’s work, and it’s not like I’m fucking my clients on the tattoo table.” He was working again, eyes fixed on your skin once more. “I guess though if I’m being honest, I have slept with a few of the women I’ve tattooed throughout the years.” But. “I was dating them beforehand. They ended up letting me tattoo them after we were already together, so it wasn’t like I used my job as a dating service.”

“That’d be weird, to have a tattoo from a guy that you used to date?” You cleared your throat. “Just a constant reminder of an old relationship, even if the design was something great, it’s always going to -” “It’s not always like that.” He dipped the machine again after wiping the blood from your arm. “One of my exes did part of one of my tattoos, and it’s not a bad memory for me.” You were silent for a minute or so, and then you spoke again, almost like you didn’t want to ask your question.

“Did you ever tattoo your… Kat?” He’d known it was coming - you were sidestepping asking direct questions about their relationship, but still trying to show him that you’d meant it when you said he could talk to you.

“No. She didn’t have a single one.” He frowned. “It kind of surprised me, and we’d always talk about me doing one for her, but it just didn’t… we were only together for 8 months before we got married, and everything happened kind of … fast.” That’s an understatement.

He met the woman at a concert, catching her eye at the bar, and they’d been back at her place that night, not even hours later. It was a whirlwind for him - and looking back at it, he realized that they’d both likely been much too quick with everything, letting the haze of a healthy sex life and their ability to have fun together get in the way of building a relationship the way that it should have been done. By trusting each other. By telling each other the important shit. “I didn’t realize that you hadn’t been together long.”

“Yeah.” Swallowing, he nodded. “I uh, proposed about five months in. Took everyone by surprise, but she said yes, and then everything was about planning the wedding. There was apparently a lot we didn’t know about each other, but it seemed … like a good idea.” He continued to move the needle over your skin, concentrating on the motion. “We never even took a vacation together. Our honeymoon was going to be the first one.”

He didn’t know why he was telling you any of the things he was. He’d only told his closest friends vague details, what they needed to know, and it had been enough. But with you, he was being honest, telling you the things that he had been unsure of throughout the relationship, pointing out the flaws in both himself and Kat. Maybe it’s because she really doesn’t know either of us.

“You should still go on your trip.” His attention snapped to your face, toes lifting from the pedal to stop the machine. What? “You know what happens in all those movies. A relationship doesn’t work out, so one person takes the trip that both of them booked, and ends up finding the person they’re really supposed to be with in the middle of it.” You shrugged, wrinkling your nose at him. “Just an idea.”

“She booked everything.” It was another thing he didn’t like admitting, but the man was on a roll and didn’t see any reason to slow it. “She and her family have always been pretty well off. My job pays the bills, but I couldn’t afford a trip like that by myself. I’m sure they’ve already canceled or transferred the tickets and reservations, so that’s not an option.” The look in your eyes didn’t change as he spoke, so Jay continued. “Maybe you’re right, though, and I should go somewhere, take the week off like I planned, and just … figure shit out.”

“Might help.” You used your free hand to point at the arm he was working on. “You’re finishing this up now, and I didn’t see anything on your schedule after next Sunday morning, so …” He stayed quiet while he thought, focused on packing the last bit of gray into the tail of your bird. He had some money saved, and when he’d attempted to give a portion of the gifts that he and Kat had received as wedding presents back, knowing that it was the right thing to do, most of his friends had waved him off, telling him they didn’t want anything from him. Because they’re good people. “Even if you just drive north and camp or something, Jay? You’ll get away from the city. Get away from everything. You won’t have to talk to anyone, or …”

“That’s a good idea.” He took a deep breath, sitting up and scooting away from you as he set the machine down. “I’m done with the gray. Gonna take a break before I start the white, but it won’t take me long to do that.” Pushing yourself into an upright position, he watched as you glanced down, eyeing what he’d done.

“It’s swelling more today. Hurts a lot more, too.” You’d still sat well, barely moving as he worked, and even though the coffee you’d consumed was the cause of the increased bleeding that he saw, it still wasn’t bad.

“I’m tattooing over still healing skin.” He pulled his gloves off, tossing them into the trash and scratching the back of his neck. “That’s why it hurts more.” The man stood, raising his arms over his head and stretching. “You’re still sitting well, though. Even better this time. You’re making this real easy for me.”

“That’s the first time a guy’s ever said that about me.” You grinned up at him, the man unsure about whether or not you were looking for a response from him. “It’s a joke, Jay. You can laugh.” He did, closing his eyes and biting down on his lower lip. But the words made him wonder about you, about what you were like outside of a tattoo appointment. What she’s like with her friends. “I didn’t know that, though. About the reason it hurts more?” You were eyeing him, watching as he did a quick lap from his booth across the shop and back. “Makes sense.”

“I’m trying not to go too hard on the places I’ve already done.” He washed his hands again, drying them before he turned to face you. “Don’t want it to scar, or ruin what we’ve already got.” Sitting back down, he replaced his gloves, switching to the white ink. Twenty more minutes, maybe less. Motioning for you to extend your arm, he was surprised to feel your fingers close around his knee, squeezing for a few seconds before you let go and eased onto your back. Once comfortable, you turned your arm so that he could reach the skin he needed. What was that for?

“I appreciate that.” You took a deep breath, eyes on the ceiling. “I’ve gotten a lot of compliments on it already.” That made him happy, Jay’s eyes moving over to the picture he was using for reference before he dipped the needle into the cup of white ink. “Can’t wait to hear what they have to say about the finished thing.”

“You’ll have to let me know.” Glancing up at you after he spoke, he paused. “Call the shop, I mean.” Of course that’s what I meant. “Do you want another one yet?”

“What?” He heard surprise in your voice, the man turning his attention to you for a brief second, the machine silent. “Another … tattoo?”

“Yeah.” He gave you a single nod and then tapped the pedal again, adding a highlight to the bird’s eye. “There are some people that have a single tattoo in mind, swear that it’s the only one they’re gonna get. But you’d be surprised at how many people come back for a second and a third… and just keep going.”

“I haven’t really thought about it.” Your words were quiet, the man feeling as your fingers twitched against his leg, the needle passing over the very tip of the bottom of the beak. “If I do, though, I’ll definitely come back to you.”

“Not gonna give Hanna a chance to redeem herself for canceling?” Glancing up, he watched as you rolled your eyes, tongue tracing over your lip as you wet it.

“No. I’m happy she couldn’t do this one. You’ve got magic hands, Jay, they’re the only ones I want on me.” You meant it in relation to the way he tattooed - he knew it, but that didn’t stop him from sucking in half a breath at the way the words slipped from your mouth and met his ears, the innocent comment striking a nerve. It was a genuine compliment - something he hadn’t heard in a long time, and he couldn’t help straightening up slightly, meeting your eyes. “I… meant with the tattoo. I -” “I know you did.” He swallowed hard, blinking at you without looking away. “I guess I just … wasn’t expecting you to say something like that.” No, that’s not it. “Forget it.” He exhaled, looking up at the ceiling and then returned to your tattoo, his focus on the bird’s belly, adding the soft white underside. The truth was that Jay was attracted to you. That had been true even before he’d been married, but he’d chalked it up to the same scenario as when other good looking women became his clients. He was attracted to you and he enjoyed talking to you, and it was evident in the way that he’d admitted things he hadn’t planned to without much hesitation. And I shouldn’t. Because I’m still married.

But Kat hadn’t wanted the rings back, even though he’d taken them to Marta’s. She hadn’t wanted to speak to him. She hadn’t wanted to sit down and talk things over, instead telling him that she’d “be in touch” when it was time. He assumed that meant when she was ready to file whatever paperwork she was going to file, but had no way of knowing for sure. All of those things should have been weighing him down entirely, but apart from the anger and frustration he felt, Jay had accepted that whatever was going to happen would happen. Because what else can I do? She didn’t fight for us.

There were only a few minutes left of your tattoo session, and at the realization, Jay worked up the courage to give you an opportunity to do what you’d offered to do: listen. “Kat was acting really weird with me. Not just about Evan and Marta, but about everything. At first, I asked a lot of questions, trying to get her to talk to me, you know?” You agreed that you did, but didn’t offer up any other reply. “And when that didn’t work, I stopped asking. I didn’t stop anything else, just stopped bothering her about the things she didn’t want to tell me. Figured when she was ready, she would.”

“Smart. You push someone too far, and they’ll just explode.” That’s true. He was working on the last bit of white - spaces within the tiny branch that the bird was perched on, and knew that time with you was nearly at an end. They will.

“And then I walked in on her talking with this FBI agent that was assigned to the case. They were in our kitchen, and the front door was open, but she … she was just wearing one of my shirts over her underwear, and it felt off.” You stiffened at that, which he took note of, the man pulling the machine away from your skin and setting it down, reaching for the paper towels and bottle of soap, dampening the folded squares. “Gonna be cold, but just for a second.” You laughed quietly as he wiped your arm clean, methodically removing and sanitizing the work he’d just done. “She explained it right away, and the explanation made sense. I had been complaining about how we hadn’t really spent time together, how it didn’t feel like we were actually married, how I just wanted things to feel a little more … normal, and she was trying to do something to make that happen.”

Scooting back and away from you, Jay reached for one of the bandages and the tape, sliding back into position as you stared down at the inside of your arm. “It looks great. The white… it’s bright, even though it’s a little red, and -” “Blood’s coming through right now. It won’t look like that when it’s healed, I promise.” He focused his gaze on your face for a few seconds, waiting until you nodded. “Want to look at it in the mirror before -” “Nope.” You twisted your arm, lifting it up and holding it out toward him. “I see it from this angle. I love it. I’ll stare at it in the mirror in the privacy of my own house, where I can look for as long as I want to.” He grinned at that, closing his eyes and nodding. If that’s what you want. “Keep going, Jay.” The last sentence was spoken in a much softer tone than the others, guiding him back to what he’d been saying.

“She uh, she’d been cooking me dinner, but it was burned, so she just poured me a glass of wine, but I couldn’t let it go. I pushed, and when she still didn’t give me a real answer and told me nothing was going on, I …” He wrapped his fingers around your upper arm, smoothing the bandage into place, using his thumb to seal the tape to your skin. “I asked her point blank why she even married me if she couldn’t tell me the truth.” Bringing his eyes up to meet yours, he saw sympathy in them. “She didn’t have an answer.”

“Jay, I…” You brought your newly bandaged arm up, that hand covering your mouth in surprise. “That’s not what I was expecting.”

“I wasn’t expecting it either. If she’d asked me that, I would have immediately told her that I married her because I loved her. That I wanted to be with her. That she made me happy.” He frowned. “But she just stumbled over her words, and when I walked away, she didn’t follow me.”

“That fucking sucks.” Yes, it does. Averting your eyes, you took a deep breath. “So what happens now?”

“I wait. I wait and see when she serves me with divorce papers. I wait and see what she wants from me, because at this point, your guess is as good as mine about what that might be.” He gestured with one hand toward the front of the shop and the two of you walked that way, you a few steps ahead of him. “But she doesn’t want me, not anymore. And maybe she never did.” I haven’t said that to anyone either.

“She’s an idiot then.” You were standing next to the register, Jay’s attention returning to your face as you spoke. “Because you clearly loved … love her. It seems like you wanted to make it work, and it sounds like she didn’t give you a chance.” You spoke with your head tilted to one side, the man watching as you took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds, slowly releasing it. “I hope someone else gives you that chance.”

He didn’t know what it was - the low lighting in the shop, the way you were looking at him, the sincerity he heard in your words or maybe just the fact that he’d been baring himself to you verbally for the previous few hours - but Jay realized that he wanted to kiss you more than he’d wanted anything else in a very long time. I can’t. Shifting from one foot to the other, he didn’t look away and neither did you, though neither of you spoke.

It wasn’t the right time, and he knew it, but the man couldn’t help the way he looked at you, or wondering what it would feel like to touch you, to find out if your lower lip was as soft as it looked, to run a knuckle or two against the inside of your arm or down your back. No. That’s not what this is. “I hope so, too.” He forced the words out, fighting to keep both hands at his sides. She’s not a rebound. “I’ll get through it. I’ve got no other choice now.”

“You will.” Finally breaking eye contact, you looked down and reached into your purse. “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing.” Mouth falling open, you looked back up at Jay, brows knit. “You don’t owe me anything for this one. You let me dump all this bullshit on you all day, and… that’s enough.”

“I can’t let you do that. You used all that ink and the -” “You can and you’re gonna.” Swiping at the top of his head, he put his other hand on his hip. “Just make sure you send people my way if they ask where you got it.” You wanted to argue with him - he could see it on your face, but instead you agreed, eyes closing as you thanked him. “No. Thank you. I just needed someone to listen, like you said. It was worth it.”

“Alright.” Gesturing to the back of the shop, you continued. “Can I use the bathroom before I go?” Telling you that you could, he turned to watch as you walked by, eyes following your movement until the door closed behind you.

“Shit.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, letting out what he hoped was a quiet breath. “Oh, shit.” He’d overstepped - he was almost sure of it, but didn’t know if you’d say anything or just leave, and so he stepped back into the booth and started cleaning up, methodically breaking everything down.

He heard the door open and glanced up as you headed toward him, pausing before you walked by. “Thank you again.” You didn’t say anything else and the man smiled up at you, waiting to see what came next. “I hope I’m not going too far if I say that I enjoyed today.”

“You aren’t. I did too.” There wasn’t a reason for him to lie to you, and so he didn’t. “Take care of that tattoo, alright?” Assuring him you would, you said goodnight, telling him that you could unlock the door without him, and so he returned to work, resisting the urge to watch as you walked out the door.

Instead, he finished with what he was doing, thoughts flitting back and forth over what you’d talked about that day. And how much it helped. Almost fifteen minutes later, Jay turned the light off over the sink and then flipped the floor lamp off, plunging the shop into almost total darkness. It wasn’t late, but Jay realized that he was hungry, the man deciding to stop on his way home rather than attempting to cook with whatever was in the kitchen.

As he passed the front counter, he stopped at the sight of something sitting atop the glass, his lips curving upward into a smile when he realized what it was. I should have known. You’d left him a handful of bills inside of a folded up paper towel, and even though it was difficult to make out in the low light, Jay saw that you’d written something on the sheet, too. It was your phone number, along with a short note.

You ever need someone to be honest with you - call me. Don’t forget to set the alarm.

He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet and slipping the bills into it. Jay stared down at the blue ink on the paper, focused not only on the words, but the numbers, too, weighing his options. A short time later, the folded paper joined the money - but not before he’d saved your number into his phone, his smile growing wider with each digit he typed.

—

#jay castillo #jay castillo x reader #jay castillo x female reader #pedro pascal character #pedrostories #nightingale #pedro pascal

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fang-natic · 3 years

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Sing, Nightingale (part 1) - keigo tamaki x top!reader

You needed to know what he knew, but he wasn't going to give it up without a fight. Not that that matters. You know exactly what kind of fight to give him.

cw: kidnapping, noncon, bondage, mild knifeplay, orgasm denial, bdsm elements, humiliation, blackmail, drugging, needles, overstimulation, wing kink (is that what we're calling it)

an: i said i'd do it so i did. i dont know why i did it. or why it's so fucking long (gdocs says it's 1.3k, what the fuck). but i read some oneshots and did some limited browsing of the wiki so here you go. if you see something that doesn't make sense with the canon, no you don't <3

now i need to write a part 2 for this where you actually get to fuck him stupid. part 2 will probably establish reader to be amab, but you can read this part one as gn!reader

"So, who are you working with?" Hawk asks, cheeks still pink from where you'd ripped the duct tape off. "The Liberation Front? Some evil-League-offshoot? Or are you rogue?"

God, he's talkative. His wings are depleted to ragged, feathery stumps and ropes are criss-crossed over his arms and torso. He's on his knees right now, legs spread with shins bound to his thighs, and a bruise forming nicely on his cheek. Despite that, he still has the gall to mouth off.

You respond with another sharp backhand, this time across the other cheek, sending him careening to the side. "That's none of your concern," You drawl. "You're simply here to tell me what you know, and I'm here to learn it. However long that takes is up to you."

He slowly draws himself back up, shaking his head. He spits some blood onto the floor - "Damn, bit my cheek," he mutters - and looks up at you again. Still no fear in those golden eyes. A lazy grin on his abused face. "You get right to the point, huh? Damn, I like you a lot better than the other villains already."

"Then I take it that you'll be cooperative?"

"Ha, fuck no."

You kick him this time. Not hard enough to break his neck, but you catch him upside the chin, and hear the sharp clack of his teeth snapping together. His head almost droops to the floor in pain before he catches himself. "Almost felt that one."

"You're insufferable." You debate kicking him again, but you need his jaw intact so he can actually give you the info you need.

"That's what they all tell me," He laughs around the blood in his mouth. "Don't flatter yourself by thinking you're the first one to catch me. Plenty of other villains have tried the same thing, and none of them have actually made me sing. You're not gonna be very different."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

You crouch down with a knife in hand, and start the process of cutting away his clothes. He shivers as you make quick work of his shirt, and you can feel his heartbeat peak against his skin, though that doesn't actually stop the cocky lilt of his voice.

"Ah, classic, classic. The ol 'strip-and-whip' method. Most people buy me dinner first, but you're hot so I can make the exception-" He stutters a bit as you grab the waistband of his pants, jerking it upwards so you can drag the blade down the seams. "Phew, you're thorough, huh? Though I can't blame you, my ass is to die for-"

"You're rambling," You chide him. He's now entirely naked, save for his underwear and the shreds of his clothes that are still pinned do this body by the ropes. "Are you nervous, Keigo?"

"Hey now," He protests. "We're not on a first name basis. And this isn't my first rodeo, so..." He trails off as you pull at the elastic of his underwear so harshly it rips. "Whoa, okay, buy me dinner first." He laughs, but it's pitched a little higher.

"I know the kind of villains you've dealt with, Keigo." You touch the knife under his chin and tilt him up to meet his eyes. Finally, some reaction - his pupils have gone small with poorly-concealed fear. "The ones that use electricity and knives to try and make you talk. But you're a spy, aren't you? You're trained to deal with pain. I could cut you up bloody and you still wouldn't sing."

Your other hand squeezes his thigh, traveling up to his hip, tracing along the curve of his hipbone. "But I'm not like those other villains," You say, voice low and murmured right into his ear, as you press your palm against his cock, feeling it twitch as he yelps. "You're going to wish I was."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You have him blindfolded now, and still kneeling in the middle of the cold, concrete room. His cock is stiff and drooling against his abdomen, leashed by a ring at the base. Vibrators hum from where they're clipped to his nipples, and stuffed deep into his ass.

His spine jerks as you play idly with the remote, a whine breaking out behind his clenched teeth. You've been at this for a while now, and he'd been mouthy at first, telling you how this was 'a normal Saturday night for him', and 'I don't need a safeword, don't worry' and 'can I call you daddy or is that off the table.' He'd shut up at the half-hour mark when he realized he was wasting his breath, and that you weren't kidding when you said you had no time limit.

Even so, he was handling things impressively. His bottom lip was bitten raw from where he'd tried to keep quiet, and not once has he begged or pleaded. You were going to need to step things up.

You turn the vibrations down, and he relaxes for an instant, before tensing up the moment he hears your footsteps approach. "What, bored already?" He rasps, making a grin that was more like a snarl. "And here I thought I was putting on a good show."

"I'm about to make it a better one, no worries." You pull the ring off his cock in one quick motion, and it bobbles obscenely. When you lift up a corner of the blindfold, a golden, watery eye blinks back. In your other hand, you hold a syringe, courtesy of Dr. Garaki himself (or pilfered from his laboratory, more like), and he darts between looking at you and it, eying the little needle nervously. "Don't worry, little bird. This isn't a Quirk-eraser or anything like that. It's just going to make you feel things." You pause. "Feel everything, in fact."

"Get away from me," He hisses, facade cracking as you bring the needle down near his neck. You fist your hand in his hair and force his head back, exposing the smooth contour of his throat. "Don't you fucking dare-"

"Whoops," You hum, as you inject him. "Too late."

His entire body shudders, and his eyes goes wide, pupil shrinking to a thin slit, and his mouth drops open in a shaky gasp. Garaki really outdid himself with this one, because the moment you release the hero he's curling in on himself, skin already flushing brightly in the cool air.

"What did-" He groans, throat working in a dry swallow. "What did you fucking do?!"

"It's terrible, isn't it?" You watch as he writhes, trying to position himself in a way that won't make him feel the ropes that are cutting into his skin, or the grit on the floor beneath his knees. "Everything that touches you is now amplified. Like so-" And you demonstrate and dragging one finger along the base of his wing, and he shakes like a leaf, a helpless whimper falling out of his throat. "Isn't that overwhelming?"

He growls, and flaps pathetically. "Don't you fucking touch them."

Ah, that's right. You remember he'd mentioned something about that. In some talk show or another; how he could feel things through his feathers, but only the ones at the base, and how he'd sometimes spend his free time combing through them.

You reach out now and grab one of his wings, squeezing and twisting, feeling all those little feathers tickle at your palm. Keigo, on the other hand, screams as if you shot him, and-

He cums just like that. Splatters white across the gray cement and onto his own stomach. His thighs shaking with the force of it, getting rubbed pink and stinging against the floor, and the blindfold darkens around his eyes with tears. He's gasping for breath like he just finished a race.

You can't help but laugh - one rough touch, and he was undone. You reach down and squeeze his softening cock, and he spasms, shaking his head. "Wai wait wait no, too much it hurts I can't-"

"Sure you can," You twist your hand, and he chokes on air. "Or do you want to be a good boy and finally tell me what I want to know?"

His jaw clamps shut at that, and you sigh. "Guess not." You shrug, and you squeeze a little tighter to watch him cry out.

#keigo tamaki smut #keigo tamaki x reader smut #hawks x reader smut #mha smut #dark mha #top!reader #dark fantasy #dark content #tw: noncon #bottom hawks #fang-natic works #im so glad i posted this the same day of bi mineta drop hslfkjalsdkfjlaskdjflaskdhglaksdjflaksdjf #i dont know who mineta is except i know i hate him and he's apparently bi in canon now LMAOOOOOOO #im so glad i dont care about mha

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princehrry-writings · 3 years

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Angel with a Shotgun

here we go. this popped into my head after i watched a tiktok about angel shots. if you go on a date and don't feel safe for any reason, please please please find a safe way to remove yourself!! asking for an angel shot is a great way to do that!!

WARNING: tw mentions of implied SA, stalking, harassment, police, EMT's, hospitals, alcohol, being drugged, swearing,

please don't read this if any of this stuff makes you uncomfortable. i don't get graphic with anything but still, put yourself first and be safe!! i love you <3

wordcount: 1907

Harry Styles x Reader

masterlist

It started off as a normal night. Y/n had met this guy in class and he’d asked her out for drinks. She didn’t get any bad vibes from him, none of her friends had heard anything bad about him, so she deemed him a suitable guy to go have a fun night with.

She’d met him at a bar just off campus and was having a really great night! The pair were dancing and talking and laughing, genuinely enjoying herself for the first time in a long time on a first date.

In Y/n’s experience, usually guys were creeps and girls never decided she was what they were looking for, so she had a hard time in the dating world. This guy, Jack his name is, seemed ok. Keyword being seemed.

She should have known. When he asked to meet her at a bar all the way across town, she should have put it together that he wasn’t what she was looking for. He didn’t put up too big of a fight when she insisted they meet at the bar closer to campus, that way she would know people there and be in a familiar place if she needed to get away from him quickly.

When he started making comments that were off putting to her, things she doesn’t really want to repeat in fear of actually vomiting all over the table, she starts looking for a way out. He keeps trying to play footsie with her under the table and is getting visibly frustrated at her lack of participation, so she tells him she’s going to get them another round of drinks after finishing the one that was already on the table and quickly exits the booth before he can protest.

Harry had been watching from across the room at the bar, seeing this couple who looked like they were on a first date. He watched as they laughed and talked, getting to know each other. But as the night went on, it seemed the woman was getting more and more uncomfortable.

He had told his coworkers to keep an eye out for the two in case anything was to go down, and when he sees her get up and make her way over to his bar, he has a feeling he knows where this is going.

“What can I get for you, love?” He asks her, leaning over the counter to hear her better. She sniffles a little, and takes a deep breath. Leans in before timidly asking.

“Can I get an angel shot?”

Harry’s senses are quickly kicked into gear and he nods, gesturing to his coworker that he’s gonna get this taken care of before meeting her on the other side of the bar. What neither of them had realized was that 1. Jack was walking up to them and 2. he had slipped something into her drink apparently because suddenly she could barely hold her own body weight. Harry caught her before she hit the ground and Jack rushed over, playing the part of concerned boyfriend but the bartender saw right through it.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to back up.” He tells the man, authority very present in his voice. Jack doesn’t take well to this, eyebrows furrowing and voice lowering in defense.

“S’cuse me mate, but I’m gonna take my girl home. She’s had a few too many, f’you know what I mean.” He chuckles and goes to scoop her up. Harry stops him, putting a hand on the guy's chest, stepping between the girl and this guy.

“You'll do no such thing. This girl has obviously been roofied and it’s you she was running away from. The only thing you’ll be doing tonight is talking to the police, who are making their way in right now to do with you what they will.” Harry says, watching the color drain from this bloke's face. He turned around, ready to make a full run for it but was stopped by not only the police but also a crowd of other guys who heard what was going down and were ready to step in if assistance was needed.

“I didn’t do anything wrong here! She was trying to take advantage of me!” He cries as he’s put in handcuffs and taken away.

“Yeah, it’s obvious the one who’s passed out cold because she was drugged was trying to take advantage of you.” Harry yells after him before turning around and scooping the girl into his arms. Due to the commotion and the presence of not only police but also paramedics, the premises was cleared and the bar was shut down for the night. Harry held the passed out girl close to his body, having had his coworker fetch his jacket from the break room to keep her warm now that the club wasn’t filled with body heat, and waited for the paramedics to come in for her.

When they come in and place her on the gurney, she starts to stir. Little whines and groans escape from her and the EMT’s check her vitals, deeming her stable and letting Harry know she’s going to be ok. He decided to follow to the hospital just so she has a familiar face when she wakes up and has someone to explain her situation that isn’t a scary doctor.

. *

It’s a few hours of unrestful sleep at her bedside and his co-worker showing up with a change of clothes for him when she finally starts to come to.

Groaning and reaching up to hold her head but realizing her arms are too heavy to move, she rasps out, “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital,” Harry explains, wanting to reach out and hold her hand but not wanting to startle her, “You’re ok but the doctors wanted to keep you overnight for observation.”

“You’re the bartender I asked for the angel shot aren’t you?” She questions after a pregnant pause. He hums a confirmation and she looks over his face a few times, before tears well in her eyes.

“What happened?” A few tears fall from her eyes. She can’t remember much after leaving the table, just the sight of green eyes and curly brown hair nodding at her when she asked for the shot. The rest is pretty much a blur, just random flashes of scenes she can’t quite make out in her head.

“You came over and asked me for the shot and then a few minutes later you passed out. The bloke you were with slipped something in your drink. And unless something happened at the table that I didn’t see, then nothing else happened. Do you remember anything happening at the table?” He explains, hoping her answer is no.

He’d learned her name from the EMT’s who checked your ID once you were loaded into the ambulance but he didn’t know the name of the man she was with. He realizes she doesn’t know his name either.

“No, was just being a sleazy dick. I don’t know how he could have slipped me something, I didn’t get up before I went to you. Must’ve turned my head for a bit too long. God, I should’ve known this was gonna happen!” She groans but he shakes his head.

“You can’t blame yourself for this, darling! He’s a sleazeball, a no good lowlife. S’not your fault.”

“What’s your name?” She voices, peering into his pretty green eyes.

“M’Harry,” he smiles, timidly reaching for her hand, rubbing his thumb soothingly across the soft skin.

“Thank you for staying with me Harry! For helping me…” Y/n says quietly. He shakes his head with a small smile.

“No need to thank me, pet. Would do it over and over again.”

Her smile, while tired and defeated, was enough to show him her gratitude. She feels a weight lift off her chest, hearing that nothing bad happened after she got to him.

She knows it’s probably just nightingale syndrome, but Y/n thinks Harry is terribly adorable. With his messy brown curls and tired green eyes that make it look like he hasn’t slept in ages. She thinks she could see herself going out with him, which is an odd thought considering what happened last night. You’d think that would be enough to turn her off to men for good, but there's just something about him. But now isn’t the time to bring any of that up.

“I’ll call a nurse, tell em’ you’re awake.” He voiced, making his way to the door after gently placing her hand back on the bed.

. * .

“Ms. I’m just calling to let you know the restraining order has gone through. You won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Y/n felt a weight lift off her chest. After months of being harassed and stalked, she would finally be left alone. Harry leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek, stroking the loose hair out of her face.

“S’ finally over, lovie. It’s all over!.” He whispered in her ear, pulling her closer to him, rubbing up and down her thighs. She felt tears spring to her eyes, tears of relief, tears of joy, but also tears of sadness because the last few months had been some of the hardest of her life. She was ready to move on and be done with this nightmare.

When Jack had found out Y/n and Harry got together after that night, it’s like it activated something inside him. Like he thought she was just playing hard to get and he had to literally stalk her to get her attention. He seemed to think she was playing a game. Somewhere in his twisted little mind he had the audacity to think she actually wanted him.

He’d sit right next to her every single class period and would get up and move next to her when she tried to get away with him. He’d show up at her house, sitting across the street just watching her front door, he’d call her phone and text her, he’d wait outside her other classes and follow her around campus. She complained to her university, told them what was going on and they didn’t really do anything. She went to campus security and they brushed it off because “She wasn’t in any danger. He just wants to get to know you.”

So she finally was forced to file a restraining order. Her case was still open, from when he got arrested that night at the bar. They're charging him with second degree assault and criminal harassment because apparently she’s not the only girl he’s done this to. Many other women had spoken up since news of that night had spread around campus. Yet still, the university did nothing.

Harry stood by you every step of the way, picking up the shattered pieces on hard days. He wanted to beat the shit out of this guy and he would if it wouldn’t interfere with the case. He knew you needed him and he didn’t want to chance anything.

There was a pregnant silence between the two lovers. Just letting the silence wash over them, letting themselves breath freely without this weight suffocating them, they basked in it.

It wasn’t completely over, because there was still a trial, but he wouldn’t be coming around without getting arrested again.

That was enough for Y/n to breathe easy.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #x reader #harry x reader #bartender!harry #bartender!harry styles x reader #bartneder!harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #bartender!harry styles #tw sa #one direction #fan fiction #one shot #angel shot

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miraculous-sunflower · 4 years

Text

science teachers ARE cool

Mrs. Mendeleiev’s POV

Beatrice Mendeleiev sighed. She did not like the fact that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was expelled without proof, and that Lila’s parents did not come when she was supposedly pushed down the stairs. She tried to get Mr. Damocles, another fool, to look at the security cameras during Miss Dupain-Cheng’s expulsion, but he denied, saying that if she wouldn’t stop badgering him, he would fire her. She reluctantly obliged, though secretly thinking that the school didn’t even have cameras, because of course the principal used the funds from the mayor to buy his foolish “hero costume”. Ms. Mendeleiev kinda liked Marinette Dupain-Cheng, even if she came into science class late every time. She was a good student, getting straight A’s, and her family made the best pastries in Paris, though she knew pastries weren’t even relevant in this incident. She knew she had to help out Miss Dupain-Cheng. Even if she got fired from her job, it was okay. She didn’t like her job very much, as everyone here was a fool, and she could find another job somewhere else, but it was her job, as a teacher, to protect her students. _______________________________________________________________________

Ms. Mendeleiev scoured the internet, trying to find the Italian Embassy’s number. She heard Lie-la -oops i mean Lila- talking about how her mother was a diplomat, so she had to get in contact with her to tell her all about her daughter’s antics - if she knew. She finally found the number, and dialed.

“Hello, what can I help you with?” the person on the other line asked. “Hello, I’m Beactrice Mendeleiev, and I’m trying to get in touch with Lucia Rossi?” Ms. Mendeleiev questioned.

“Actually, I’m Lucia Rossi. I’m the secretary of the Italian Embassy. What do you need?” Heh, another thing Lila was lying about. Her mother was the secretary. Still must be hard work.

“I’m actually your daughter Lila’s science teacher, and I was wondering about all of Lila’s absences and missing assignments. I questioned her about it, and she said she couldn’t do her assignments because of her arthritis and many other disabilities she has.” Ms. Mendeleiev stayed up all night, trying to come up with the perfect story to seem like she was calling for something besides exposing Lila.

“Arthritis? Disabilities? Lila doesn’t have any disabilities? And absences? Are you sure she said that?” Mrs. Rossi was very surprised. Perfect. Ms. Mendeleiev grinned.

Lucia Rossi’s POV

The other woman on the other line was too surprised. Disabilities? Lila didn't have any disabilities. She was a healthy little girl, her little bambina. Was her baby spouting lies? She doubted it. Perhaps this teacher didn’t properly hear her.

“Yes, I’m sure, and on top of all her disabilities, she said that she has a lying disease which causes her to lie, by accident. She said this one a fellow classmate of hers, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, apparently pushed her down the stairs. Marinette did no such thing, and the expulsion was reversed. If you don’t believe me, take a look on the LadyBlog. It was a blog dedicated to the Heroes of Paris, but now your daughter’s face is plastered on it. If I had a daughter, I’d never want her to be bragging about her accomplishments!”

Mrs. Rossi was shocked when she said lying disease. She looked at the “World’s Best Mom” cup on her desk. Lila gave it to her when the school apparently “shut down”. Was her little bambina lying this whole time? And blog?

“LYING DISEASE?!?! I have to call the school. What has this girl been doing? Also, I want to hear more about her absences.”

“I can help you set up an appointment with Mr. Damocles. As for her absences, Lila has been claiming that the Prince of Achu, Prince Ali, has invited you and Lila personally to visit the kingdom for 2 months. Were you not there?” Ms. Mendeleiev sounded confused. Oh dear, it sounded like she also fell for her daughter’s lies.

“ACHU? 2 MONTHS? Lila told me that the school was closed for 2 months because Ladybug and Chat Noir were too incompetent to defeat the akumas!” Mrs. Rossi exclaimed. Now here, she understood. Her daughter told her that the school was closed down, and her teachers that she was traveling, to get out of going to school! She could get in trouble for truancy for that!

“I assure you, Ladybug and Chat Noir are not incopetent. They usually take care of an akuma in less than 3 hours. “Oh, this is a lot to take in right now. I’m sorry, but Lila lied about everything. Thank you for calling me, I really appreciate it. I’ll come by the school this week.” Mrs. Rossi finally breathed out.

“I’m glad I did. Clearly, you were not informed of this, and Lila was lying about everything this whole time!” Mrs. Rossi showed a little smile, but it quickly went away. Before she hung up, she had to ask-

“Before I go, was there anything else Lila said?”

“She said that she saved Jagged Stone’s kitten off an airplane tarmac, and that she knows Clara Nightingale. She also said she’s best friends with Ladybug. Now that I think about it, she probably framed Marinette to get her expelled, now that I know she lied about having a lying disease.”

Saving kittens? Being best friends with pop stars? Best friends with a superhero? She could get sued for all the stories she’s spouted! And if these stories were heard at the embassy, she could get fired! Oh that girl...

“Oh my goodness, I will have to apologize to Miss Dupain-Cheng on behalf of my daughter. Thank you again, Ms. Mendeleiev.”

Sure enough, later that day, the mother searched up the LadyBlog, and of course, her daughter’s face was there, next to the headline, “I’m BFF’s with Ladybug’s BFF!”. She sighed. She was going to expose her daughter for the liar she is, because her daughter fooled the whole school, not to mention hurt one of her other classmates!

Mrs. Mendeleiev’s POV

After the call ended, Ms. Mendeleiev smirked. Lie-la will have no idea what’s coming to her now. __________________________________________________________________________________

Marinette’s POV

“Me and Clara Nightingale are sooo close, that we’re practically sisters! I helped her with most of her dance moves for her newest music video!” Lila bragged.

“OMG girl! That’s amazing!” Alya exclaimed.

“Wow, Lila, you have a heart of gold!” Rose and Mylene gushed.

“So awesome.” Juleka mumbled.

Marinette rolled her eyes. They were talking about Lila as if she was a saint, though they probably did. She was sketching out a new design, and it was Rena Rouge inspired. Alya, Marinette thought. Her and Alya were still friends, but they were a lot more distant. All of her friends were like that. She thought about Adrien for a second, and then quickly dismissed the thought. Adrien was irrelevant, at this point. He gave her that stupid piece of advice, take the high road, and basically got mad if she did anything to prove Lila wrote if the witch spouted another lie. Her crush on him was long gone, which gave her more time to focus on her guardian work.

Marinette continued sketching her design, but then suddenly, she heard a faint but sharp, “Miss Dupain-Cheng?” She looked over to where the voice came from. Ms. Mendeleiev was signaling her to come outside. This is it, she metally scolded herself. You came to class late too many times. She’s gonna call Maman and Papa, and tell them you’re late every day, and they will try to find out what’s up, and then they’ll figure out you're Ladybug, and then they’ll forbid you from fighting akumas, and then Hawkmoth will win, AND PARIS WILL BE DOOMED! She silently walked out of the classroom.

“Hello, Miss Dupain-Cheng. You’re probably wondering why I called you outside, but don’t worry, you are not in trouble. This is regarding Miss Lila Rossi.” Ms. Mendeleiev said.

Marinette was shocked at first, then nervous. “Ms. Mendeleiev, I can assure you, whatever Lila said isn’t true! She lies with-”

“Every breath she takes. I know.” The science teacher cut in. “I called her mother recently, and she too had no idea about Lila’s antics. She will be coming in today to discuss with Ms. Bustier and Mr. Damocles, and I can assure you, she will be exposed for who she truly is.”

Marinette was stunned. Her science teacher knew that Lila was lying? She was sure that she was in trouble. Marinette blinked, “Wow, that’s a lot to take in, but thank you. This means a lot to me, Ms. Mendeleiev.” She was grateful for her teacher.

Mrs. Mendeleiev smiled. “I truly do not like liars either, so it was very tempting. I see that none of your other classmates or teacher has figured out she was spinning a tale this whole time, have they?”

Marinette thought for a second, and said, “There is one who knows. It’s Adrien, Adrien Agreste. He knew, but he thinks avoiding conflict makes it go away. He told me to take the high road.”

“Really? That certainly wasn’t good advice. Avoiding conflict isn’t going to make it go away. It will only cause more chaos. Anyways, I have to go, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Have a good day.” Ms. Mendeleiev concluded.

“Have a good day as well!” Marinette said. “Wait,” she started. Ms. Mendeleiev turned around and looked at her. “Ms. Mendeleiev, is there any way I can be moved into your class?”

“I’m not sure, but after this, I’m hoping that the leadership and staff at this school will improve after this incident. Now, run along, or you will be late for class.” Ms. Mendeleiev waved.

Marinette walked back to Mrs. Bustier’s room, feeling much more optimistic than she had 10 minutes ago. _______________________________________________________________________

In Ms. Bustier’s classroom, they were learning about authors of the world, and were taking turns saying who their-

“LILA ALEXANDRIA ROSSI! WHAT ARE THESE STORIES YOU’VE BEEN SPOUTING?!” A woman who looked like a much older Lila burst into the room. Marinette straight out smirked.

“Mama! It’s not what you-” Lila started.

“Not what I think? You know what I think? I think you’ve been lying to me this entire time! You’ve misplaced my trust, taking me for a fool! Saying that the schools were closed because Ladybug and Chat Noir were too incompetent to take care of them! Saying that you took a 2 month vacation at the Kingdom of Achu! Saying that you know all these pop stars! You realise I can lose my job if your stories wound up at the embassy! Non cercare di scappare via.” Her mother yelled.

Alya became mad. “What do you mean, she said Ladybug and Chat Noir are incompetent? Ladybug is Lila’s best friend!”

Lila’s face was panicked. She knew that if she spun the right tale she could weasel out...

Lucia Rossi took a breath and said, “I’m afraid my daughter has been lying to you all. Everything she said was fake. I’m sorry on her behalf. Also, may I speak to Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” A girl with dark blue pigtails and bright bluebell eyes raised her hand. “I’m so sorry, Miss Dupain Cheng. I wasn’t aware that my daughter framed you to get you expelled. I hope you are doing well.”

Marinette looked at her kindly. “Thank you for the apology, Mrs. Rossi, but please don’t feel bad. You weren’t the cause of this, and you certainly didn’t know.” Lila’s look she aimed at Marinette was murderous.

“Thank you, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Lila, come on. You should be happy you aren’t sued for slander and use of name.” The mother barked out at Lila.

“No, mama! They are under a spell! They are lying! DOn’t listen to them! I never said anything about traveling to Achu, or being best friends with Ladybug!” Lila knew she could get out, of course she could.

“NO LILA! YOU ARE LYING. YOUR SCIENCE TEACHER SHOWED ME THIS BLOG, AND IT HAS ALL OF YOUR FALSE CLAIMS ON IT! DON’T EVEN TRY TO WIGGLE OUT IF THIS MESS YOU CAUSED!’ An akuma showed up, and was heading toward Mrs. Rossi.

“CoMe HeRe, little akuma!” Lila sung. She deliberately tried to grab for the akuma, only to be stopped by a particular bluenette. Marinette pushed Lila over and trapped the akuma in a jar, and placed it on a desk.

“Why am I not surprised? Of course you are working with a well-known terrorist. LILA! HOW STUPID ARE YOU?!” Her mother screamed at her.

Lila was so mad, and wanted to rip that goody-two shoes apart.”YOU!” she began at the bluenette, “You ruined everything! Everything was going so well, all these sheep believed me, and Adrien was so close to being mine! You went and ruined it!” She stomped over to Marinette, and was about to slap her, until…

Alya’s hand gripped Lila’s arm so tight, there were marks. “Because of you, my blog is ruined. What’s even worse, is that you ruined my friendship with my best friend.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you didn’t fact check. You ARE a terrible reporter.” Lila smirked, but was pulled by the arm of her mother.

They left, and Marinette’s classmates immediately surrounded her, begging her, yelling out apologies, and saying how sorry they were for not believing her. “While none of you directly hurt me, it really did hurt that none of my friends had my back,” she looked at Adrien, who looked guilty, “or even believed me! You believed a girl with crazy stories over me, your friend. It’s going to take time for me to trust you all again, but I’d like to build up our friendship again.” She finished.

“We understand, Marinette. We are so sorry!” Rose cried. “Not cool what she did…” Juleka mumbled. “Girl, I’m so sorry. I should’ve researched her claims, I’m a horrible friend and reporter,” Alya concluded sadly.

“While you didn’t research her claims, the snake is very convincing,” Marinette said. “Just remember in the future, take the word of the friend you trust the most.”

Ms. Mendeleiev smiled at the scene. She was secretly watching after she came from the principal’s office. Mr. Damocles and Ms. Bustier were fired by the school board because of their incapability to control a lying student. Mr. Damocles was also charged with a fine for using school funds for personal gain, and Ms. Bustier was lectured because of her insisting that “bullies will become better people if you let them get away with everything”. Ms. Mendeleiev was now Principal Mendeleiev, as she was promoted.

Beatrice Mendeleiev chuckled to herself. “Well, Lie-la Rossi. You didn’t get away with your tricks. No matter what, I will always protect my students. And possibly get promoted while at it.”

#lila exposed #lila salt #ms. mendeleiev #class salt #adrien salt #but very little

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sincerelyella · 3 years

Text

Everything Has Changed - Art Of Letting You Go Chapter 8

Book: The Royal Romance; Ride Or Die; Foreign Affairs (AU)

Song inspiration: Art Of Letting You Go by Tori Kelly

Pairings: past Liam x MC (Ella); Liam x OC; Logan x MC

Characters belong to Pixelberry; MC Ella Brooks belongs to me

Summary: What if Liam was promised as a child to another kingdom’s princess?

A/N: Participating in @wackydrabbles this week, prompt will be in bold.

Catch up here -> EHC masterlist

Thank you @ofpixelsandscribbles and @alyssalauren for prereading! Y’all know I get nervous before posting anything. Love you!

Warnings: Angst

Words: 998

I know you'll always be the one that stays with me, haunting me And maybe I'll never know just how to let you go

“I’m going to pick her as my bride after the social season.”

Drake was the first to break the awkward silence. “Y-you what?!”

Liam scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not really in control of all this-”

“What about Ella?!” Maxwell screeched. “You can’t just marry someone else!”

“That’s just it, Max,” Liam said quietly as he stared out the window. The trees they passed became a blur as his eyes welled with tears. “It’s been a long time and we can’t find her. I need to secure an alliance.” And I need to let her go.

“Li,” Drake shook his head. “I know I told you to open up, but this is not what I meant.”

“I really don’t want to talk about this right now,” Liam sighed. “I’m already irritated because they came to see me on a personal trip. Can we just go to the hotel and get ready for tonight?”

The two friends in the backseat nodded and murmured their consent. As the SUV made its way to The Ritz-Carlton, the jazz music that Bastien put on to drown out the awkward quiet wafted through the air.

Drake leaned forward and patted his best friend on the shoulder. “Sorry, Li, we kind of freaked out on you a little.”

“It’s fine,” he turned and gave them a small smile. “What’s going on tonight at the club?”

“I want to do a body shot!” Max announced from his seat.

Bastien chuckled as he drove to the back of the hotel. “A body shot?”

“Yeah!” He nodded his head so fast he got dizzy. “I’ve always wanted to do a body shot. Also, what’s a body shot?”

Liam began to laugh, he laughed so hard his face turned red. “It’s … it’s-”

“It’s when you take a shot out of a stranger’s belly button, Beaumont,” Drake explained as he chuckled, then laughed harder when Liam snorted from the front seat.

Max gagged. “Ohhh gross! What if you have an outie? Does it just spill everywhere?”

“Or … or what if … there’s lint in there?!” Liam managed to get out between fits of giggles.

The four men laughed for a good five minutes and then composed themselves enough to grab their luggage and head inside.

* Later that evening

Ella and Riya stood outside the club Nightingale with wide eyes and waited for security to check their IDs. Riya squirmed where she stood and looked like she had to go to the bathroom. Ella discreetly pinched her friend on her arm. “You’re gonna get us busted!”

“I have a nervous bladder!” Riya whispered back.

“Ladies,” the tall, muscular man in an all-black suit handed back their ID cards with a smile. “Enjoy your night.”

The two women walked inside and took in the large silver mirrored balls hanging from the ceiling, the black upholstery in the VIP area, and the glass bar that displayed any kind of alcohol anyone could want. The club was crowded, filled with people standing in the corner, dancing on the dance floor, or sitting at the large bar.

Riya elbowed her best friend. “Drinks?”

Ella nodded. “Vodka cranberry.”

The two locked arms and made their way to the center of the club. The bartenders wore all black and were busy running back and forth delivering drinks. Riya stood at one end of the bar and waited patiently for someone to ask for her order.

Ella panned the dance floor and saw the crowd backing up to make room for someone that was break dancing. She smiled and thought back to when that used to be her and Maxwell at the Beaumont Bash. All of her break dancing skills were because of her best friend back in the day, and her smile faded at the thought.

All her friends in Cordonia had to be forgotten. Liam was probably already married to someone else. Ella had been unable to move on in four years, and being in love with Liam was the whole reason her relationships never worked. Time to move on.

* Drake and Liam sat at the VIP area of the club Nightingale nursing their respective drinks. A blonde sat next to Drake talking about her cats while a brunette sat next to Liam who spoke about her blonde-haired friend with cats.

“Where is Beaumont?” Drake murmured to Liam as he nodded and half-smiled at the woman like he was paying attention.

“I think he’s on the dance floor,” Liam said as he sighed. “Wanna go find him?”

“Yep,” Drake stood quickly and apologized to the blonde. “We have to find our friend.”

“You ladies have a good night,” Liam was right behind Drake and the two made their way to the center of the club towards the bar and dance floor.

“My God they would not shut up,” Drake said as soon as they were out of earshot.

“They were … nice,” Liam grimaced as Drake laughed.

“Okay, I’ll go make sure Beaumont didn’t kill himself, just hang out at the bar.”

Liam nodded and leaned against the cool glass, taking another sip of his scotch. He looked around and saw the blonde and brunette that were boring as hell and quickly looked away. There was a woman with a red jumper on, talking with the bartender about her drinks, and another woman in a white lace dress that scooped low at her breasts and had a high slit that showed off her toned legs. Liam’s eyes traveled from her legs, up to her fingers to make sure there was no ring on her left hand and up to her dark hair that was down and in soft curls.

Her face came into view when she turned to look in Liam’s direction and his eyes widened. No one else on earth could look like ...

“Ella.”

The woman’s smile fell as her light brown eyes locked onto piercing sky blue ones. There was only one person …

“Liam.”

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purrincess-chat · 4 years

Text

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH12

It’s ya boooooy! Malin is here!! Super huge shout out to @salty-french-fry for bringing him to life. I commissioned her to draw all of my OC hero babies, so you can see Malin in all of his anime boy glory here! We stan a trans bicon. And for those who are unaware, Malin is another name for fox in French, but like with the connotation of calling someone sly or tricky. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I tweaked it quite a bit from the original. ;)

Previous First Next AO3

------------------------

Chapter 12: WTF Do I Know

“I know our duty is to the city, but I can’t help these feelings stirring my heart. Every time I see her brilliant blue eyes shining in the moonlight, I am overcome with passion and admiration. She truly is Miraculous.” Eliott looked to Marinette sitting cross-legged on the floor for approval. “How was that?”

“Incredible! You really have Chat Noir down,” she said.

Eliott rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks, but I still feel like I could do better. Opening night is only a week away, and I’m playing one of the leads. Everything has to be perfect.” He paced the length of the stage, adjusting his black mask.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. You make a wonderfully convincing Chat Noir.” She assured him—and she should know.

“Wonderfully convincing isn’t perfect. This play is a tribute to Ladybug and Chat Noir’s triumph on Heroes’ Day. If I screw up then I’ll be dishonoring them.” He turned and gestured to the impressive backdrop of the Eiffel Tower.

“No, you won’t.” Marinette stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re an amazing actor, and I know you’re gonna kill it.”

“Places in five everyone!” The director swept through the stage.

Stagehands rushed around the set. Costume designers made last-minute alterations, and each prop was meticulously tested and placed for ease of access during scene changes. Marinette never realized how chaotic theater was behind the scenes.

Eliott let a deep breath past his lips, and Marinette offered him a smile. “I’ll be watching in the audience. You’re gonna do great.”

“Thanks, Marinette,” he said. “And thanks for coming to watch our dress rehearsal.”

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“Sorry I’m so crazy about everything, I just want to be the best.” He fiddled with his gloves. “I’ve been studying English since I was little because my dream is to perform on Broadway. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s what I’ve wanted ever since my grandma and I watched a play together when I was a kid.”

“You’ll get there, and I’ll be sitting in the front row with Macy, Martin, and Adrien.”

Eliott smiled at that, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I actually owe you, Marinette. You’ve helped me a lot as an actor since we met.”

“Me? How?”

“You taught me to take risks. Before I met you, I was just coasting through life, staying out of the way, playing it safe, but now I can stand up for other people and speak out,” he explained. “You helped me find the courage to step outside my comfort zone.”

Her cheeks burned, but she smiled at the sentiment. All of her new friends gave praise so easily—something Marinette wasn’t used to. Helping others wasn’t about getting rewarded, and in most cases, the attention just made her squirm. She helped her friends because she cared. Although, even if their compliments embarrassed her, it was nice to know she was appreciated.

“Watch where you’re going!” A nasally voice grabbed their attention.

“Sorry!” A tiny stagehand shrank under the icy glare of her aggressor.

Eliott sprang into action to diffuse the situation. “Margot, is there a problem?”

“She bumped into me! Can you imagine if I had fallen and broken my wrist a week before opening night? How can I play Ladybug with a broken wrist?” Margot shouted.

Eliott stepped between her and the stagehand, holding up defensive hands. “I’m sure it was just an accident. No one got hurt, so why don’t you go cool off? We’re almost ready to start.”

“Ugh, whatever. Just stay out of my way!”

As she stalked off, Eliott turned to the small girl. “Are you okay, Lisette?”

“You know my name?” Her eyes widened.

“Of course. You hand me my props before I go on stage,” he said. “Don’t let Margot get to you. She’s just nervous because the show is in a week, and it’s her first time playing a lead.”

“It was my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” Lisette said.

Eliott tucked a strand of her blonde hair back into place, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We’re all a little high strung right now.”

“You’re not.”

Eliott flashed her a playful grin. “I’m a good actor.”

“I know,” she said, and when Eliott quirked a brow she fumbled to add, “I-I’ve kind of had to watch you for the past several months. You’re really good.”

“Wow, thanks, Lisette. I’m flattered that a pretty girl like you is a fan of mine,” Eliott said.

Her cheeks flushed, and she gave a small nod before scurrying off to her position at the director’s order.

Marinette couldn’t help the smile on her lips as Eliott found his mark and took a few deep breaths to center himself. He’d grown a lot since they met, and if someone had to play Chat Noir, she was glad it was him. She’d been uncertain at first, but Eliott really was worthy of being a hero, even if his costar was the worst. How could they cast such a brat to play Ladybug?

Taking her seat in the audience, Marinette thought back to her encounter with Gabrielle several nights prior. True to her word, Gabrielle hadn’t bothered them since, but what she was doing out on her own like that? And what was up with the apron in her bag? Something fishy was going on with her, but at least she was keeping her word. It was about time Marinette got some peace and quiet.

♪♫♪ I’m Not Calling You a Liar ♪♫♪

When the school bell rang, Alya remained seated, lips pursed. Her other classmates gathered their backpacks, eager to enjoy their weekend plans. Adrien paid her no mind as he slung his bag over his shoulder and followed everyone else out. They hadn’t spoken since their last encounter, and Alya still wasn’t sure what to think. He sounded so sure of himself. After being friends with Marinette, she knew far more about Adrien Agreste than she ever cared to, and truthfully, Alya didn’t think he was capable of being malicious.

Don’t believe everything Lila tells you. Be a journalist. Investigate.

But how? It’s not like Alya could just call up a bunch of celebrities and foreign princes to ask them to corroborate all of Lila’s stories, and even if she could, what would Lila think if they proved Adrien wrong? Or worse, what would Alya think if they proved him right? If they proved Marinette right…

It had been two weeks since she left. Two weeks since they… Alya had been hurt at first, and her heart still ached thinking about it now. In the grand scheme of things, she hadn’t known Marinette that long—only a few months—so it was possible that there were things Alya didn’t know about her. Dark secrets she kept hidden. But if that were possible for Marinette, couldn’t the same be true for Lila? And why was Alya so afraid to go looking?

“Alya? Did you hear me?”

She blinked out of her trance. “Sorry, what?”

“You’ve been awfully spacey lately,” Lila remarked. “I was just saying that I have an important meeting today with my youth ambassadors committee. Clara Nightingale has promised to sponsor our clean water initiative, and today’s the only day we can meet with her. Is there any way you can take care of that thing Mlle. Bustier needed for me?”

Don’t believe her.

“Actually, Lila, I have to go pick up my little sisters because Nora has practice this afternoon, and Mlle. Bustier did ask you to do it,” Alya said.

Lila’s eyebrows raised, but just as quickly, she puckered her lips into a pout. “Is there any way you could have Nino pick up your sisters? This meeting is really important.”

“Nino promised Juleka he’d help Kitty Section with their sound system today so they can practice before their gig this weekend.” Her heart pounded as Lila’s lip twitched.

“I mean, I guess I can put off my meeting. Those kids in India will just have to go a little while longer without clean drinking water…” Lila eyed her.

“Ya know, if you’re too busy to keep up with your class rep stuff, you can always tell Mlle. Bustier to let us elect someone else. I’m sure everyone would understand,” Alya said pointedly.

“And let Chloe become the class rep again? I couldn’t do that to you guys.” Lila shook her head.

“True, but I can’t cover for you all the time. I have my own stuff going on. Maybe I’m not saving third world countries, but sometimes I have a life to live too,” Alya said. “You were elected to do all of this, you know.”

“No, I understand,” Lila sighed. “I’ve been putting too much pressure on you to do my job. It’s just so hard to juggle going to school and saving the world. I’ll figure out a way to do it for all of you because you’re my friends, and my friends are just as important to me as any starving, third-world country.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that you’ll be putting in more effort.” Alya stood up. “Have a good weekend.”

“Oh, I’m sure my weekend will be better than those thirsty children in Iran.”

Alya stopped in the doorway. “Don’t you mean in India?”

“What?”

“Earlier you said the meeting was for children in India. Now you just said Iran,” Alya said.

“Oh, yeah, that’s what I meant,” Lila said. “I have a different thing for Iran next week. It’s hard to keep everything straight when you’re so busy.”

“Right.” Alya’s eyes narrowed. “Well, good luck.”

“Give your sisters a hug for me!”

Alya’s hands shook as she headed up the hall. It was probably nothing, just a simple mix up like she said, but… Given the circumstances, it was a little suspicious. One thing was certain: Alya would be keeping an eye on her.

♪♫♪ Thnks fr th Mmrs ♪♫♪

“Your rehearsal was amazing,” Marinette said afterward over tea. “Well, except for Margot’s prop mishap. I thought she was going to have a meltdown.”

Eliott stirred his drink with a smirk. “She’s a great actress until something goes wrong,” he chuckled. “I just feel bad for Lisette. She looked like she wanted to kill her.”

“Speaking of Lisette…” Marinette gave him a knowing look. “I think she might have a crush on you.”

“Lisette? Nah.” Eliott averted his gaze, taking a sip of his tea. “I’m not anyone important. There’s no way she’d be into me.”

“That’s not true. You’re an amazing actor,” Marinette said. “I mean that, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Thanks, I guess the thought of someone liking me just makes me nervous.” He bit his lip.

“Come on. You flirt with everyone all the time,” Marinette said. “You flirted with me on my first day of school.”

“Flirting is different. Just because I flirt with people doesn’t mean they have to like me back,” he said, then biting his lip, added, “Do you really think she likes me?”

“As someone who struggles to get two coherent sentences out around the boy she likes, I think she likes you more than you know,” Marinette said.

“Speaking of… You and Adrien sure seem to get along.” He sipped his tea with a satisfied smirk as Marinette’s cheeks burned. He didn’t waste any time flipping the script, but it was her fault for opening that door.

“Oh, do we? I mean, of course we do. We’re just friends, I don’t have feelings for him at all,” she said with a nervous titter.

“I never said you did,” Eliott said.

“Oh, um, yeah, well then I- don’t tell Macy.” She hung her head in defeat.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” He shrugged. “But you don’t have to worry about Macy’s crush. It’s superficial. She fixates on some famous guy for a while, then moves on when something new catches her eye.”

Marinette relaxed. “Good. I’ve just liked Adrien for a long time, and ever since I left my old school, he’s been paying more attention to me, so…I don’t want it to come between us.”

“Nah, I’m sure if she knew she’d back off,” Eliott assured her. “She’s extremely loyal to her friends and would never try to take away something you wanted even if she wants it too. One time she and I argued for twenty minutes because she convinced herself I wanted the last cookie on the plate. We ended up breaking it in half.”

“That’s a relief.” Marinette let out a breath.

“Though I do have to wonder which sounds better, Marinette Agreste or Adrien Dupain-Cheng?”

Marinette nearly choked on her tea. “Eliott!”

“I’m kinda partial to Adrien Dupain-Cheng myself.”

“Stop!” She covered her face, cheeks burning, and Eliott threw his head back with a laugh.

A herd of people stampeded up the sidewalk right before a loud crash sounded a few blocks over. Debris fell from the ceiling, and Eliott tackled Marinette to the ground, cradling her head.

“That sounded close, we should run.” He pulled her to her feet. “My yacht isn’t far from here, we can hide there.”

As much as she hated to do it, Marinette needed to get away. Gradually, she let herself slip from his grasp in the crowd. Eliott turned over his shoulder in an attempt to reach her again, but too many people stood between them.

“Marinette!”

“Go! I’ll catch up,” she called.

His eyebrows furrowed worriedly, but he pressed on without question.

Marinette ducked into a nearby alley and opened her purse. “Ready, Tikki? Transform me!”

Ladybug tossed her yoyo across the street, tugging the slack and launching herself into the rooftops. Racing down the row of buildings, she followed the civilian trail to the scene of the attack. Overturned cars and broken windows signaled that she was on the right track, and she arrived at the same time as Chat Noir.

“Well, well we meet again, m’lady.” His flirtatious lilt echoed between the buildings as he staff-coptered down to join her.

“I would hope so since saving the city is our job.” She flicked his bell. “I think it’s about time we clocked in, don’t you?”

“Ladies first.” Chat Noir bowed as Ladybug tossed her yoyo and shot into action. “Don’t mean to interrupt your tirade, but I’m gonna need to see some license and registration for that car,” he said as they landed. “What’s the matter? Rough break up?”

The akuma turned to them with a growl, tossing the car aside, and Ladybug spotted a small blonde girl cowering underneath.

“Civilian alert!”

“On it.” Chat Noir charged forward, brandishing his staff.

“Ladybug! Chat Noir! I am Showstopper, and I’m about to give Paris the performance of a lifetime after I get rid of her.”

The small girl on the ground cowered under Showstopper’s glare, her blonde buns oddly familiar…

Ladybug gasped. “That’s Lisette which means Showstopper must be Margot! She really was upset by that mistake.”

Lisette attempted to run, but Showstopper served a ball of light at her with the tennis racket—the lucky charm prop from the play and likely where the akuma was hiding. The attack froze Lisette in place, but before Showstopper could make her next move, she blocked a blow from Chat Noir’s staff. A few seconds passed, and the magic faded, sending Lisette toppling forward.

“So that’s it,” Ladybug said, then to Chat Noir called, “Don’t let her hit you, or she’ll freeze you for a few seconds!”

“Got it!” He dodged an orb.

Once Showstopper drove him back several paces, she dashed after Lisette, launching a bus to the end of the street to block the exit.

“Going somewhere?”

“No, but you are.” Ladybug hooked her yoyo around Showstopper’s ankle. Showstopper lobbed several orbs at her before she could pull the slack, and Ladybug backflipped out of the way, diving for cover with Chat Noir behind two flipped cars.

“We need a plan to get that girl out of here.” He peeked over the side.

Ladybug palmed her yoyo. “Lucky Charm!” Her eyebrows raised as a paper lantern landed in her hands.

“Oh great, you can light the way for her to wreck that girl,” Chat Noir said.

Ladybug pursed her lips contemplatively. “I need to go to Master Fu,” she said. “Can you handle things until I get back?”

“Just don’t keep me waiting too long.” Chat Noir nodded before they broke off.

Leaving in the middle of a battle was always risky, but this wasn’t a fight they could win alone. She just hoped that she could find an ally in time.

“Master Fu?” Marinette knocked, peeking her head inside.

“What is it, Marinette?” He glanced up from his book.

“I need to borrow a Miraculous to win this battle.”

Master Fu retrieved the Miracle Box from the phonograph and placed it on the mat in front of her. “Have you found someone you trust to wield it?”

Marinette contemplated her choices carefully, running strategies in her head. After she and Alya split up, she wasn’t sure she’d ever trust someone enough to replace Rena Rouge, but her new friends proved her wrong. Taking a deep breath, she nodded and reached for the fox. “I know exactly who to pick, and I won’t let you down this time.”

Master Fu offered her one of his proud, grandfatherly smiles. “You never have. I have always had faith in you, Marinette.”

Her chest swirled with pride as she stood up. “Transform me.”

Eliott’s yacht was empty when Ladybug touched down on the deck. He told Marinette to hide there, so she’d been certain it was where he’d be. Then again, Eliott wasn’t the same cowardly boy he’d been when they met, and he didn’t turn his back on a friend. She knew where to find him.

“Marinette?” His voice echoed between the buildings of the abandoned street, and he flinched when Ladybug landed behind him. “Ladybug! Thank goodness, have you seen my friend Marinette? We got separated, and I told her to meet at my yacht, but-”

“Don’t worry. She’s safe,” Ladybug said. “Actually, I need your help.”

“My help?” He arched a brow. “I mean, sure, I'll do anything.”

“Eliott Chasse, this is the Miraculous of the fox which grants the power of illusion. You will use it to fight for the greater good.” She extended the box to him.

“Whoa, you're giving me a Miraculous?” he gasped. “But wait, why me? What happened to Rena Rouge?”

“She's...not around.” Ladybug averted her gaze. “Will you help me?”

“I-I dunno. I think my friend Marinette would be way better at this than me.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Eliott…” Ladybug smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You are the right person for this job. Have courage and believe in yourself. That's all you need to be a superhero.”

Eliott pressed his lips together, then accepted the box with a nod. Shielding his eyes from the bright light, he gaped in disbelief as Trixx materialized. “Whoa!”

“My name’s Trixx. I’m a kwami, and if you want to transform all you have to say is ‘Trixx, transform me!’” she explained as Eliott fastened the clasp of the necklace.

“Alright then. Trixx, transform me!” When the orange light faded, Eliott examined his orange and white suit with wide eyes. “Wait, is this really happening?”

“Do you know how your powers work?” Ladybug asked. There was no time to waste.

“Of course. I studied news footage in preparation for my role as Chat Noir in an upcoming play. I wanted to accurately portray the team's dynamic,” he said.

“Good, then follow me.”

Ladybug tossed her yoyo and shot off. Eliott hesitated only briefly, taking a few steps before leaping over the building after her. He touched down lightly beside her before they shot off again.

“I know it's a lot to take in, but we don't have a lot of time,” Ladybug said. She pulled up the news coverage of the akuma. Showstopper had taken the battle all the way to the Eiffel Tower. She skidded to a stop behind a chimney and closed her yoyo. “Hmm…Lucky Charm!”

“A bottle of soap? At least the villain will be squeaky clean?” Eliott shrugged.

Ladybug turned it over in her hands, a plan forming in her mind. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do.”

- - -

Showstopper held a frozen Lisette over the edge, and Chat Noir held up defensive hands as he attempted to negotiate.

“Hand over your Miraculous, or I'll drop her!”

“Maybe we can come to a compromise,” he reasoned, but Showstopper was in no mood.

“You have five seconds. One!”

“There has to be something else you want.”

“Two.”

“After all this is murder we're talking about.”

“Three!”

“I'm sure she didn't mean any harm.”

“Four!”

“Ladybug, hurry up!”

“Five!”

Before Chat could react, Showstopper released her grip, sending Lisette plunging toward her doom. Chat Noir attempted to dive after her, but Showstopper pitched another orb at him. To his relief, Ladybug swung in to deflect it just in time, but there was no time for gratitude.

“Ladybug! The girl!”

“Already taken care of,” she assured him.

- - -

Lisette unfroze midway down, eyes widening in fear as the ground grew closer. Just as a scream reached her throat, Eliott caught her, carrying her safely back to the Eiffel Tower. Her screams echoed across the bars as she clung to him for dear life, but they quieted the moment she looked into his eyes.

“Falling from heaven, angel?” He set her down gently. “Stay hidden. Showstopper can't see you if we want our plan to work.”

She blinked in shock, cheeks flushing. “Wait!” She caught his wrist as he turned to leave. “W-Who are you?”

“Uh… Call me Malin.” He winked, giving a two-finger salute before leaping up to the rafters.

Malin summoned his Mirage on the way up, cheeks still hot. Now wasn’t the time to worry about what Lisette thought of him. First, he needed to save her.

“You're too late!” Showstopper proclaimed, and Malin cleared his throat.

“Are we?” He clocked a brow.

Showstopper spun around where Malin held his fake damsel. “No!” she growled.

“New friend?” Chat Noir sized him up.

“I'll tell you later,” Ladybug said.

Malin set his illusion free with instructions to run, and as expected, Showstopper gave chase. Ladybug really was a wizard at coming up with plans. When Chat Noir moved to follow, Malin stepped in front of him with a wink.

“Who are you?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“Name's Malin, and you are one foxy feline in person, Chat Noir.” He looked him up and down.

“Less flirting, more running. Phase two,” Ladybug ordered. “Kitty, follow me and get ready to use your Cataclysm. Malin, you know what to do.”

“On it.” Malin nodded, leaping back over the edge with a whoop.

Showstopper pursued the fake Lisette to the second-floor restaurants, falling right into their trap. She skidded against the soapy floor as Malin's illusion faded before her eyes. A broom perched between two chairs clotheslined her, sending her tennis racket flying from her grasp right into Chat Noir's waiting Cataclysm.

Malin helped Margot up as Ladybug captured the akuma and returned everything to normal. “Seriously, losing your cool over a prop malfunction is so lame.” He chided. “You're playing Ladybug, so my suggestion is: take a lesson from the real thing and let go of that bad energy.”

Lisette peeked up from the stairs timidly, pacing over to join them. “I'm sorry your yoyo string was tangled. I should have checked it,” she said.

“Yeah, whatever.” Margot rolled her eyes. “Sorry I tried to throw you off the Eiffel Tower.”

“Technically, you did throw her off the Eiffel Tower,” Chat Noir said pointedly.

“You were awesome, Malin.” Ladybug nudged him with her elbow.

“It was your plan, all I did was help.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Ladybug shook her head. “You saved this girl, and we couldn't have done it without you. Be proud. You're a true superhero.”

Malin bit back a smile, surveying his suit and squaring his shoulders with a new sense of purpose. Ladybug was right. He had his doubts when she asked him because he still had a long way to go before he would consider himself an actual hero. If anyone deserved the title without a Miraculous, it was Marinette, and he owed this opportunity to her. He never would have had the courage to accept Ladybug’s offer without her. It was a shame she’d never know how much she truly changed his life. Maybe one day he could tell her this secret, but for now, he’d wear his secret identity like an invisible badge of honor.

“Pound it!” The three heroes said in unison.

Malin turned to Lisette and bowed formally. “Perhaps I will save you again someday,” he said.

Lisette bit her lip before stretching up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Ladybug took his wrist and toted him off as a dopey grin spread across his lips. They retreated to a private corner at the base of the tower, and Malin returned the necklace to Ladybug. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Eliott shifted his gaze to his shoes with a sigh.

“What's wrong?” Ladybug asked.

“Nothing, just… Lisette kissed Malin, not Eliott.” He kicked at the ground.

“You really like her, don't you?” Ladybug asked.

Eliott flinched, rubbing the back of his neck. That morning the thought of falling in love with someone terrified him, but now… Maybe he hadn’t come down from his heroic high, but with Lisette’s kiss still burning on his cheek, he smiled.

“Yeah, I do,” he said.

“Well, Malin is very charming, but I think she might need someone to walk her home. Think Eliott can handle that?” Ladybug pointed to where Lisette was stepping off the elevator.

Have courage and believe in yourself.

On any other day, the fear of rejection would have convinced him to walk away, and maybe tomorrow it would. But today, today he wasn’t afraid.

“Lisette! Wait up.”

#marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix #mdcsp #mdcspr #my writing #cats ocs

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tarithenurse · 3 years

Text

Nightingale - 46

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Hatake Kakashi &/x Fem!OC Contents: Fluff, feels, angst, few NSFW hints, reference to past events. A/N: Oho? Another chapter? Well, I hope you enjoy it. ASK or REBLOG for tag! HUUUGE thanks to all who are reblogging already <3

Ch. 46

Packing their belongings had been quick and it only takes one load to bring it to the house – a load that’s primarily made up with the jōnin's boxes which somehow bothers Kakashi despite knowing why. It’s not his main concern, though.

Coming back from a longer mission, he has been worried that the woman’s decisiveness might have wavered. Most of her lifetime has been spent with nothing but a memory of a home, let alone safety or privacy, so no one would fault her for getting cold feet at the prospect of sharing what essentially is supposed to be a safe haven.

Still, he doesn’t feel any doubt or hesitation from Uguïsu as they empty the borrowed wheelbarrow. Her smile is brighter than the sun shining on the clear blue sky and the birds in the still overgrown garden are adopting the bouncy tune she’s humming.

Dropping down the last cardboard box on the kitchen table (courtesy of a friend from his ANBU days), Kakashi stretches his back. “Gonna head back with the wheelbarrow, alright?”

“Will you be back?” she answers from the living room, already busy unpacking books and sorting them, but she pauses to look over when he doesn’t answer. “’Kashi, sweetie?”

Uguïsu looks like she belongs. Not just in the house but in between the lingering memories that Kakashi still can’t quite talk about because...because there’s just so, so much all tangled up in it. He’s good at ignoring the old pain. Hell, he’s good at ignoring any pain and sometimes it feels like it’s just a dream.

Maybe that’s how it feels for her too? Yes, the past has hurt them both in different ways. Beyond words. Beyond repair. It’s strange to imagine something new and good being built right on top of the old ruins but that’s exactly what Kakashi, at least, is starting to believe can happen. Piece by piece, he’ll have to sift through the rubble to clear the site for what’s to come...and he’s happy he won’t be alone while doing it.

“Kakashi?” She’s standing right in front of him, carefully pulling the fabric away to reveal his face and kiss something wet away from his cheeks.

“Yes -” he has to clear his voice before continuing -”as long as there’s a chance you’ll be here, then I’ll come back...after a few other errands.”

The smile is back, moulding to his lips with a hint of salt. “I need to get something too, but I’m counting on you to come back.” Uguïsu buries her fingers in the unruly, white strands, making him weak-kneed. “Wouldn’t be any need for it, if you didn’t.”

“Mmmm-oho?” It’s amazing how one woman can make his mind almost blank and his body hum with a single nibble on his bottom lip. “What is it?”

“Wouldn’t be any fun telling you, now would it?” She giggles at his pouty face. “Alright, one hint.”

“Please, Uguïsu-chaaan!”

“I got the idea from one of your books,” she whispers into his ear.

And with that she’s gone, leaving Kakashi behind with a raging (albeit confused) boner that delays him before he can see to his own tasks.

...

You think the world of Naruto. Don’t you, Iruka?

Kakashi is smart enough to admit that the team isn’t 100% in sync, but both men know that that isn’t the important part – it’s the progress that counts. All three team members need equally unique motivations, and after writing and reading so many reports on the trio, Kakashi knows that showing them as much as possible is the right choice even if they risk getting hurt sometimes.

Iruka...well, he might not like how far Kakashi is willing to push the kids.

Because the captain of Team 7? He knows the time has come.

All the signs are there (including the messages he “coincidentally” has heard during the last month): visitors, many of whom are kids or young teens, from other countries; the passports being inspected at the gates and stamped after being compared to a specially issued list, signed by the Hokage; the extra work several of Kakashi’s colleagues has been burdened with as the deadline has neared. The exams are coming.

As if on cue, he hears the tell-tale screech of old Third’s eagle calling to assemble.

...

The comforting scent of dogs catches Kakashi's attention the moment he opens the door to his old and new home. Dogs and tea. He can hear the gentle crackling from the firewood stove and sees the kettle standing on the stone counter next to a smaller box with tea tins, whisks, and cups. Grabbing his favourite (one Uguïsu had added to her tiny collection for whenever he came around), he goes in search of the woman. Bare feet don’t make a sound against the wooden floorboards but he knows that she’s aware he’s there.

The jōnin finds the Ninken before spotting Uguïsu half-buried between them, back against the solid mountain that Buru is. Not too far away stands the tea pot and a steaming cup.

“Think there’s room for one more?” None of the piled up individuals say anything but at least a few of the dogs wriggle around to create a spot next to the woman.

This is bad, Kakashi admits now that he can see her. Dark eyes remain fixed on infinity even as she presses herself close against his chest, lips drawn into a thin line, and the lively glow of her skin diminished. Thankfully, a sense of calm seems to return to her with the first kiss on her forehead.

“When does it start?” Seemingly realizing that she’s talking as if Kakashi has been privy to her thoughts, she adds, “the exams?”

“The first is a week from now,” he explains and tugs her closer, “but the trio and the two other rookie teams need to pass a preliminary first.”

Finally, Uguïsu looks up at him. “I’m sure they’ll do fine. They’ve had the best senseis, after all.”

“And here I thought, I was supposed to make you feel better...”

A furry head lifts lazily. “Want us to leave?”

Shiba’s question contradicts the way he remains almost glued against the blue-haired woman, head resting on her thigh, and eyes trained on her – Kakashi realizes he wasn’t the one being asked. Traitor, but really it makes him happy to know that she isn’t completely alone when he’s gone.

Slender fingers scratch through the stiff hair on the Ninken’s head. “That’s probably best...but thank you all for coming.”

The chorus of gentle yaps fades away with puffs of smoke (the last and biggest only after the humans sit up properly), dumping the room into silence as they lie back down on the warm floor. Tugging Uguïsu closer, the jōnin appreciates the fact that it’s possible to do so, even now, without her tensing or pulling away – instead, she seeks out the contact by draping herself partially over him with a deep sigh.

“So...talk about it or distract you from it?”

She ponders the option for a moment. “Maybe...not a long talk but just...explain what happened so it makes sense?” Looking up at him, the dark eyes are filled with a doubt that Kakashi isn’t used to seeing there, so of course he nods for her to begin. “Yes...well...” she collects her thoughts, “first off...it’s not like visitors are completely unheard of here, I know that, but as I was getting further downtown, it started to be a lot of strangers that clearly weren’t merchants or something like that.”

Despite the best of skills of any given team of shinobis, it’s near impossible to hide the way the individual members rely on each other while in new surroundings. All of them would be on high alert and as such subconsciously move in a certain manner, almost as if sticking to a formation. A good team can be discreet at this so civilians won’t notice and the same applies to the hand signals or the whistles, all of it executed in a flash too quick for a commoner to be sure they even saw anything. It’s an entirely different matter if the observer is a ninja too.

Of course, the visitors in question aren’t supposed to be blending in as if on a mission but rather show openly who, or rather what, they are.

“It’s a lot of different headbands and faces,” the blue-haired woman laments, “even more unknown factors and risks.”

Kakashi rubs her arm in an attempt to soothe her. “I admit it’s tense as some of the nations represented aren’t necessarily our allies. Officially, there’s a ceasefire...but the towns guard has been strengthened and every foreign participant, be it students or senseis, are issued a passport after verification of their identity. Much like we always do except this time we have their information in advance.”

“Passport. Identification.” Sitting up, Uguïsu pulls out something from one of her pockets. “These things are easy to get.”

Taking what he’s handed, the man looks with slight surprise at the documentation in his hands. Already, the edges are worn and there are smudges here and there. He recognizes the woman on the picture, the name “Mei” as well.

“That explains how you could circumvent the wards...how did you...?”

She has the decency to look a tad remorseful, fingers interlocked and gaze averted. “You know how...”

Kakashi has had his suspicions after learning about the kekkei genkai she possesses and he can see on the sheepish expression on his girlfriend’s face that she isn’t proud of having used the power on the duo at the gate. Poor Hagane and Kamizuki.

“Yeeeeah....I had some apologizing to do after the hokage had okay’ed me,” Uguïsu mumbles. Her fingers are busying themselves with a strand of hair and the jōnin can hear the rapid heartbeat in the silence that follows. “They took it...kinda good?”

Thinking back on the worry on Hagane Kotetzu’s face in the winter when Uguïsu and her teammates had been brought to the hospital, the white-haired ninja feels confident enough to squash any concerns she still harbours. In fact...it’s almost surprising that more people haven’t maintained any animosity towards her. He looks at the woman.

Sunshine is slanting through the window behind her, creating a golden aura with flickering specks. The warm colour from the wood is reflected onto Uguïsu’s face, preventing it from being concealed by shadows and softening the contours – it cannot lessen the unease that sharpens her frown and has buried into the distant gaze like steel.

“Sweetheart...” Kakashi begins but doesn’t know how to continue in a manner that truly conveys what he is thinking, so instead he backpedals a bit, “we knew this day would come and I’ve already taken some steps to keep your presence hidden.”

Quietly, he explains about the meeting and the request (order, really) he has gotten issued for everyone to only refer to her as Mei and deny any knowledge of her real identity. Then he finds one of his boxes and reveals the contents: wigs, beards, tins of colours for makeup and hair, and even some masks and costume pieces. None of those items are likely to be necessary, knowing a bit of Uguïsu’s skills when it comes to remaining undetected, still the existence might add to the sense of security.

“We can piece together a persona that no one would be able to see through.”

A twinkle in her eye makes Kakashi frown. “Not too good, though.”

“Why...why not?”

“I don’t want you to forget I’m your girlfriend,” she teases.

What else can he do than scoff at that? “Silly-head. Like that could ever happen.” Giggling softly, the woman allows herself to be dragged onto his lap and lose herself in the kiss. “I promised I’d be there for you no matter what,” Kakashi mumbles against her lips, “so don’t you dare think a new face will change that.”

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thegrunkiest · 4 years

Text

Not gonna lie, returning to Skyrim over the past few days has reminded me of just how much I hope TES VI does factions like they did in Oblivion.

!Some critical ranting of Skyrim/positive rambling of Oblivion ahead!

I’m saying this after I started trying to immerse myself in the College of Winterhold, at last, after installing some good magic mods. But I just couldn’t. I couldn’t really care less about this Eye of Magnus or why the Psijic Order wants to talk with me specifically. I couldn’t care about stopping Ancano I can hardly remember what even happens in the questline aside from go into ruin, find orb, go into basement, talk to an aura, go to a ruin, beat up a skeleton dragon and something after that.

This is the same issue I’ve personally had with the Companions, and to a lesser extent, the Thieves Guild. I legit only remember the Companions as “the guild that gives you lycanthropy”. Thieves Guild is a little better, as I do distinctly remember a few of the characters and their quests could get quite creative. I never felt particularly invested however.

So why exactly do I (and possibly some of you) think Skyrim’s factions don’t work, and that they should look back on Oblivion when creating questlines for the next games? For me personally, it boils down to two components: the state of affairs, and sense of progression.

Sense of Progression

I’ll start with the simplest one first. Let’s use the College as an example again, comparing it to the Mage’s Guild of Oblivion. What do you do to gain entry to the College? Cast the requested novice/apprentice level spell (or alternatively, shout if you’re a Dragonborn or just schmooze if you, for some reason, already have 100 in speech). In Oblivion? You have to gain a recommendation from each of the individual chapters by completing a quest unique to each quild hall, which involve a little more work than simply casting a spell.

Alright, alright, so what do we do once we’re in? At the College, we engage in a little lesson with our many (see: three) fellow students. Cool (it’s also our only magic lesson from what I recall - great education system!). Then we’re immediately thrust into the questline, with no real or necessary deviations from the main subject regarding the Eye of Magnus. Then guess what - you’ve become Arch Mage!... wait what? I thought I just joined not too long ago?...

I find it hard to feel good about gaining the leadership role, despite me having just stopped a potentially devastating crisis to earn it, because I never felt more than a junior beforehand. This is how Oblivion does it right with its ranking system in my opinion. While I admit I might have chosen a bad example to draw from, as the Mage’s Guild quests also heavily concerns the main threat in at least some way, but what personally makes it more immersive for me is the fact you’re promoted whilst you’re playing - even to the point you’re being passed onto a different superior for more daring assignments! This is where the little things really count.

Then there’s the Thieves Guild. Unless there’s some backstory I’m glancing over, I don’t see why the Thieves Guild of Skyrim couldn’t have shared the same ranking system as the Oblivion branch, if no one else. In Oblivion, you can only initiate the quests after you’ve passed a certain threshold of fencing stolen goods, something that encourages you to actually be a thief to progress as a thief. I’m not just going from Pickpocket to Gray Fox, as I feel I am from an initiate to Nightingale/Guildmaster in Skyrim; you have various titles you earn in between.

If I had to summarize the point I’m trying to make - I’ll use Oblivion’s Dark Brotherhood. Arguably one of the most popular questlines in TES. Now, could you imagine an Oblivion Dark Brotherhood without Whodunit?, The Assassinated Man, Permanent Retirement, etc. - just axe those unrelated quests in favor of focusing on rooting out the Traitor. No promotions, just primarily finding ways to stop a person who, probably, has killed assassins much more seasoned than you! A deadly threat! Why? Because you’re you! And you obviously deserve to become the Listener after being a Murderer the whole questline.

Which leads me into my next point....

State of Affairs

Skyrim’s questlines seem to have a fixation on factions that are destitute and/or are on the brink of extinction. Business is dry with the Thieves Guild; in the Dark Brotherhood, all but the Falkreath sanctuary is destroyed and the Old Ways are abandoned; the Companions are struggling with the lycanthropy that plagues its strongest members; the College of Winterhold have little reputation in quite an anti-magic province; hell, even the Blades, who were previously slaughtered and run into hiding. The Dawnguard factions I feel are an exception (a reason I like that DLC so much), as the Dawnguard can excuse its low wealth and reputation with the fact that it was just reformed, and the Volkihar Clan have, for all I know, have just been... existing, in the shadows.

Admittedly, Oblivion also has a bit of a running theme among its faction - stable and well-organized factions plagued by a specific threat. The Blades have their Oblivion Crisis, the DB with their traitor ordeal, the Mage’s Guild with the necromancers/Mannimarco, the Fighter’s Guild with the Blackwood Company, Court of Madness with Jyggalag.

The reason why I prefer Oblivion’s guilds over Skyrim, I suppose, is related to my personal problem of power fantasy. Skyrim is a big old power fantasy. You’re the Dragonborn, the chosen one, the Hero of prophecy. So obviously you need to be the savior of each guild, right? You have to be the one the Night Mother deems Listener; the one the Psijics talk to; the one Nocturnal makes a Nightingale.

One might say it’s more realistic that way though, as it adds to Skyrim’s aesthetic of a darker, more unstable time with the Civil War and return of dragons. That’s a fair point. But did 90% of the guilds have to be restricted to poor little groups? Surely the Companions could’ve had other bases in some of the cities somehow, or the Thieves Guild have another hideout in, say Solitude?

You could argue you’re also chosen in Oblivion, sure. But while Uriel saw you in his dreams, you’re place as HoK wasn’t in part due to a superpower, either. I felt I was closing the Oblivion gates because my characters were who they were. You aren’t the only one who can enter Oblivion gates, but you were determined and skilled enough to make it through to the end. While in the factions, you were, for the most part, a newbie working through the ranks until eventually, you’re trusted to confront the threat. In Skyrim it feels less like organizations, and more like ragtag groups that were waiting for you to come in and fix them.

Coupled with the sense progression, this makes experiencing Oblivion’s factions much more organic and satisfying - in my opinion. That’s what’s most important. I’m not ragging on anyone who likes Skyrim’s factions, and I still love Skyrim despite my endless complaints. I understand I may have missed a few points (like the Civil War and Arena), and the ones I made could be disputed.

TL;DR: Skyrim’s fondness for power fantasy and the lack of ranks makes its faction questlines less immersive and more forced, whereas in Oblivion climbing ranks as a sort-of average joe feels organic and more rewarding. This is just my opinion. I don’t hate Skyrim. You’re free to agree or disagree and add to the discussion.

#VS BS #the elder scrolls #elder scrolls #tes iv: oblivion #oblivion #skyrim #i haven't played Morrowind so that's why i didn't mention it #dark brotherhood #college of winterhold #the companions #the mage's guild #the thieves guild #the blades #hope adding tags of the guilds i'm criticizing is okay

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annikasafternoonread · 4 years

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So. That’s The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. Thoughts. I have them. This is going to be a long one, folks, so buckle in.

I guess my overall report would be... better than expected. That might sound like faint praise, but I had serious reservations coming into this book. I think a lot of people were concerned when it was first announced. And I certainly think those reactions were warranted and valid and I don’t regret them -- this book could have been a mess.

It wasn’t. It didn’t try to rehabilitate Snow, didn’t try to make him relatable or sympathetic or misunderstood or a victim. It didn’t do any of that. Snow was a privileged, bigoted, ignorant, self-centered asshole with a superiority complex the size of a planet. Collins got that much right at least. We can see some of the forces that conspired to make him that way, but they don’t make him any less of a terrible person who did terrible things for terrible reasons.

But. That kind of character... is not the most fun to read, honestly. I don’t love spending this much time reading a book that just makes me angry. I don’t love spending this much time with a person I hate. I think I’m glad I read it, to know more what it was and to gain some interesting context about the world, but I don’t think I’d read it again. And I don’t know that I’d recommend it. If I did, it would come with some heavy caveats on there.

So that’s my overall impression: better than expected, worth reading once and no more. On to some more specific hot takes.

So first off, Lucy Gray. I love her in a lot of ways, but she also confused me and I was a little disappointed by other aspects. She’s fun and talented and sweet, but girl what the fuck do you see in Snow he’s a shithead I mean less of a shithead to you, at least compared to the rest of the Capitol, and he did sort of save her life so like Florence Nightingale Syndrome or whatever, but ugh. Gross. I really really really wanted her to be playing him. And I’m not entirely sure she’s not.

As she says when talking about Billy Taupe being a possessive jealous asshole, flirting with people is part of the job description when you’re a performer and entertainer. It’s what she does. It’s what she’s always done. It’s what’s kept her alive for years, being charming and sweet and desirable and making people love her. And now in the Games, she’s relying on Snow to keep her alive. So the more he wants to keep her alive, the better. And if he’s in love with her, and thinks that she’s in love with him, then he’ll be very invested in keeping her alive. As Snow notes at the end, she killed quite a few people, in ways that could have been self-preservation or happenstance or mercy, but could also have been calculated as fuck. It’s hard to say.

I can’t tell you how much I hoped that she’d be cool towards him after the Games, that it would have been all for show and Snow would run back to the barracks with his tail between his legs. She didn’t, which is a big part of why I don’t think she was playing him. Her joy, her kisses, her invitations to spend time together, her song, it doesn’t seem like a lie. But on the other hand, maybe thumbing her nose at a Peacekeeper and Capitol high muckity-muck wouldn’t have been a smart move. Maybe having a Peacekeeper on your side, and someone with Capitol connections, would have been very handy. After all, he kept bringing them ice and baked goods and such. If they could keep him close, he might stand up for them if the Peacekeepers wanted to ban them (which they eventually did a few months later, so the Covey probably knew it was a possibility). He might or warn them if something bad was coming.

The thing that swung me back to “maybe” is how fast she went from “let’s run away to the woods together and be free” to “I’m gonna sic a snake on this motherfucker.” Like, yes he deserved that, but he always deserved it. That’s a hell of a swing for a few hours. Was it just realizing he might have sold out Sejanus that swung her opinion? Was there something else instead or as well? Did that push her to make new connections, or finally tip over the pile of reservations she’d been ignoring? Maybe. But it just seems... like it might have been more than that. Like maybe she was planning to ditch him anyways, though I can’t imagine why. Idk, the theory doesn’t hold together terribly well, but neither does Lucy Gray’s infatuation with another shitty possessive abusive man. Or maybe that’s just patterns.

The question of what happened to Lucy Gray honestly doesn’t interest me that much. I’m sure there’s plenty of speculation and opinions and headcanons about whether she returned to District 12 or escaped to the wilds or died there in the woods, but frankly I don’t care. Oh, I hope she lived, but it’s not relevant. There isn’t an answer, so I’m not terribly interested in figuring it out.

What I do find interesting is Dean Highbottom. He’s a very ironic character, in my opinion. He tells us at the end that he thought up the Hunger Games in a class assignment “to create a punishment for one’s enemies so extreme that they would never be allowed to forget how they had wronged you.” He didn’t actually want the Hunger Games to be real or think they ever could be, and he felt terrible about even submitting the assignment (against his will). He turned to drugs when the proposal was brought forward and became real, because he was so horrified. He didn’t believe in that kind of vengeance, didn’t want to keep that hatred alive. He didn’t think that was what humanity was or should be.

And yet. His response to Papa Snow’s betrayal in submitting an assignment about punishing innocent children for a crime they didn’t commit was to punish Snow for a crime he didn’t commit. So maybe he’s wrong about humans, or at least about himself.

I don’t think Dr. Gaul is right about human nature being inherently evil and violent and selfish, though. Put us in the right circumstances and maybe, sure, but we don’t have to be in those circumstances. She’s so caught up in the eternal war, and obviously you can’t stop a war if you believe it’s still going. And maybe eventually if you’re not hardass there’ll be another one, but maybe there won’t! And goodness knows being hardass didn’t stop the next war! It’s impossible to say for sure that if the Capitol/all of Panem had been more fair and just and kind, the next war wouldn’t have been sooner, but it’s also impossible to say that it wouldn’t have been later, or never. That seems worth fighting for. Dr. Gaul terrifies me, obviously, but she also kind of just makes me sad. What a depressing worldview. She doesn’t see it that way, I’m sure, just sees it as a challenge and a game, but it is sad.

The rest of my thoughts are less expansive, so let’s just bullet point them:

Propaganda works terrifyingly well. Be careful of your internalized biases and the messaging being fed to you.

The effects of pride and honour and position are wild. Snow was simultaneously crushed and elevated by them, as was Sejanus.

Speaking of Sejanus, he deserved better. I love my son.

The fuck was up with Clemensia? They never really resolved that. Is she actually okay? Did her skin grow back? How the hell did that happen? Could she have turned into a snake? Why was she so cutting and mean and unlike herself? Was Gaul controlling her somehow? Why did they refuse to tell her parents anything? But also how could she manage to escape from her room to sneak in on Snow? What the fuck?

I love the full circle of a Mockingjay bringing Snow up, as Lucy Gray’s voice and fame helped him to rise and bloom, to gain Dr. Gaul’s favor and the Plinths’ money, pulling him out of his , and then a Mockingjay tearing him down, when he crossed Katniss and put her family in danger and she decided he had to die.

This was a fucking essay, which I feel a little bad about, but I had a lot of thoughts and feelings okay? XD For anyone who actually read this whole thing, you are a saint, you deserve several cookies, I don’t have a way to give you any so here is instead a picture of my kitten using TBOSAS as a pillow.

Have a good day! See you soon for Mockingjay Part 2.

#annika reads #Suzanne Collins #The Hunger Games trilogy #The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes #book outro #bookshelf

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grailfinders · 4 years

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Fate and Phantasms #97: Nightingale

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re making everyone’s favorite medical practitioner and biting enthusiast, Florence Nightingale! The good Ms. Flo is the most skilled nurse in Chaldea, with a variety of techniques to deal with disease and ill health on and off the battlefield. She’s not afraid to use them, so try not to get sick.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: RUN! It’s a creature legally distinct from Godzilla!

Race and Background

Nightingale’s a Human, and the variant version gives her +1 Wisdom and Charisma, as well as Insight proficiency and the Crossbow Expert feat. Some settings allow for pistols, but some don’t, and we’re playing it safe here. That feat means you can attack multiple times in a turn with a crossbow, attack within melee range without disadvantage, and if you’re holding a crossbow in your off hand and another weapon in your main hand, you can attack with the weapon as an action and the crossbow as a bonus action.

Nightingale might be a nurse, but she spent most of her time patching up wounds in the army, and the Soldier background gives her proficiency with Athletics and Intimidation, both things she pretty good at.

Ability Scores

Make sure your Wisdom is as high as possible for the best medicine checks and spellcasting. Make your Dexterity the second highest to multiclassing, damage, and to keep your AC up (that’s not exactly heavy armor). Your Charisma is next, you can be “persuasive” when you want to be. And by that I mean you’re terrifying. You may be pretty lucid, but you’re still a berserker; that means you’re hard to take down, and that means your Constitution should be next. Your Strength is pretty low. We don’t need it, but you’re still a berserker, so we’re dropping Intelligence instead. You don’t really care about topics other than medicine, so it’s not like you’ll be using it that much.

Class Levels

1. Cleric 1: Shockingly, the nurse is a Cleric. However, you know the best way to avoid infections to kill anything that could infect you, which definitely makes you more of a War cleric than a life one. As a war cleric, you start out proficient in martial weapons, which means we don’t have to jump through hoops to get your hand crossbow like we did with Shirou’s weapon. You’re also a War Priest, meaning a number of times per day equal to your wisdom modifier you can attack as a bonus action after attacking with your main action. This means you can still have two attacks per turn without having to dual wield like your feat wants you to.

You also learn Spells that you can cast and prepare using your Wisdom. You also get Domain Spells, which always count as prepared and you don’t have to spend prep time getting, like Divine Favor and Shield of Faith. The former makes your gun run a little hotter with radiant damage for up to a minute, and the latter gives a creature extra combat awareness, boosting their AC for up to 10 minutes.

You can also prepare spells outside your domain; healing spells are an obvious choice, but you should also check out Detect Poison and Disease and Purify food and Drink to make sure you have some antidotes on you.

Finally, you also get cantrips. Guidance adds 1d4 to an ability score, so long as they follow your directions for fluids and bedrest. Mending puts two things back together (it’s intended for nonliving things, but I’m sure it works fine on limbs too). Spare the Dying is what you’re actually supposed to use when people’s limbs come off, stabilizing creatures at 0 hp so they don’t have to worry about death saves.

2. Cleric 2: Second level clerics can Channel Divinity, either Turning Undead to make those that fail a wisdom save of DC 8 plus your wisdom modifier plus your proficiency, or making a Guided Strike, adding 10 to your attack roll. Some times the most effective way to end a disease is to end the person it’s afflicting.

3. Cleric 3: At third level you get second level spells, like Magic Weapon and Spiritual Weapon. Despite the similar names, the former improves your existing weapon a bit and makes it magical to avoid resistances, and the latter makes a brand new weapon that you control as a bonus action each turn. Along with your domain spells, you also get the performance enhancing drug Enhance Ability, the tranquilizer Hold Person, and more Protection from Poison.

4. Cleric 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to become a Healer. Now when you stabilize a creature using a healer’s kit they regain 1 HP, and you can spend a use of a healers kit to heal a creature for 1d6+4 HP, plus an extra amount of HP equal to their maximum number of hit dice. This healing can only be done once per short rest for each creature. Doctors gonna doctor.

Also grab Thaumaturgy so your Angel’s Yell can carry further.

5. Fighter 1: Bouncing over to fighter gives you a fighting style, like Unarmed Fighting, which gives you unarmed attacks that deal bludgeoning damage, but more so if you’re not holding your crossbow at the same time. Guns are nice, but sometimes you’ll have to get physical. You also gain a Second Wind, letting you heal yourself as a bonus action. This means you can save your regular materials for your party members.

6. Fighter 2: Second level fighters get an Action Surge, making it a lot easier to heal and shoot people at the same time once per short rest by adding an extra action to your turn.

7. Fighter 3: Grab the Banneret as your subclass to gain a Rallying Cry. Now using your Second Wind also heals your party members for a little bit as well! It’s not much compared to healing spells, but sometimes you run out of slots.

8. Cleric 5: Back in cleric now, your Turn Undead becomes Destroy Undead, instantly killing any undead monsters with a CR of less than 1/2 when they fail their save. You also get third level spells like Crusader’s Mantle and Spirit Guardians. The former causes everyone’s guns to run hot with radiant damage even if they’re using a sword, and the latter summons a couple angelic guards to protect your patients. If you find yourself in a lot of close-quarters combat, you can also use Spirit Shroud for some extra enemy control and damage.

9. Cleric 6: At sixth level you can Channel Divinity twice per short rest, and gain an new option to do so. You can bestow your War God’s Blessing on nearby creatures, spending your reaction to add 10 to their attack roll.

10 Cleric 7: Seventh level clerics get fourth level spells, like your domain spells Freedom of Movement and Stoneskin. The former helps you gnaw off your arm like a rabid coyote to escape capture, and the latter gives you all the relevant benefits of raging without stopping you from casting spells. By that, I mean it gives a creature resistance to nonmagical physical damage types. But you’ll have plenty of competition for your concentration, because you can also cast Aura of Life and Aura of Purity this level. One gives creatures in it resistance to necrotic damage and instantly revives non-hostile creatures who’ve been downed, and the other prevents diseases, weakens poisons, and empowers your party against most status effects.

11. Cleric 8: At this level, you can finally use an ASI to improve an ability score, bumping up your Wisdom for better healing and more bonus action attacks. Your Destroy Undead also bumps up to CR 1, and your Divine Strike makes your weapon attacks a little stronger once per turn. Turns out guns are stronger than crossbows, who knew?

12. Cleric 9: Ninth level clerics get fifth level spells. Flame Strike can be one of those neat little bottle-shaped grenades, and you also get Hold Monster for an even stronger tranquilizer. Beyond that and some healing spells, there isn’t really much at fifth level that screams Nightingale to me, but feel free to play it by ear.

13. Cleric 10: At tenth level you can use Divine Intervention to ask God for a bit of assistance in keeping your dumbass party alive. You can use this once per long rest, but also have to wait a week after it succeeds. Since you’re a full level of spells behind regular spellcasters right now, calling in a favor from time to time might come in handy.

You also pick up your last cantrip; Toll the Dead is another solid way to finish off diseased or injured enemies before they can spread whatever’s affecting them to the party, dealing more damage to creatures who are missing HP.

14. Cleric 11: Eleventh level clerics get sixth level spells, and like last time there’s not much specifically at this level that caught my eye. But that’s only if you’re playing the character religiously close to canon, and you probably shouldn’t be if you want to jive with the rest of the party. Or maybe you’re all playing expies of other characters, idk live your life.

15. Cleric 12: Use this ASI to bump up your Dexterity for better gunplay and AC.

16. Cleric 13: Now you have seventh level spells, and unlike the last few levels, there’s spell outside of your usual healing you might want to check out. Temple of the Gods. lets you build your own temple within a cube of 120′. It lasts 24 hours per cast, but casting it once per day for a year in the same spot makes it permanent. Inside the temple, extraplanar entities can be kept out of it if they fail a charisma save, and they also get 1d4 subtracted from their attacks, checks, and saves while inside. The temple is immune to divinations spells, and the temple also boosts the power of healing spells cast inside of it. Great for giving your keep it’s own medical wing.

17. Cleric 14: Fourteenth level clerics have a Destroy Undead that affects creatures of CR 3 or lower, and their Divine Strike becomes a little more powerful as well. You just learned how to build hospitals from nothing, not every level can be a massive leap forward.

18. Cleric 15: You pick up eighth level spells this level. By this level, most spells are a bit too flashy to fit into Nightingale’s toolkit, but Holy Aura still manages to do it. Creatures within 30′ of you glow, and get advantage on all saves. On top of that, attacking creatures have disadvantage, and fiends and undead have to make a constitution save or become blinded for the duration of the spell.

19. Cleric 16: Use your last ASI to bump up your Constitution for more HP and better concentration saves.

20. Cleric 17: At seventeenth level, your Destroy Undead gets even stronger, you get ninth level spells, and most importantly, you become an Avatar of Battle, granting you a permanent resistance to nonmagical weapons. Effectively, you’re always raging, but still have access to your spells.

Pros:

You’re something of a tough nut to crack, especially for a healer. You’ve got quite a bit of health for a cleric, ways to heal yourself and the party at the same time, and a sort of permanent rage damage resistance going on at the end of it.

Despite being a healer, you’re also pretty skilled in ranged combat, with plenty of ways to add more damage to your crossbow bolts. You might not have multiple attacks like most fighters, but you make your shots count. This also means you don’t have to be quite as deep in combat as your standard “mace and shield” cleric.

The healer feat and your Rallying Cry give you access to nonmagical healing. This is most likely to be a niche skill, but sometimes you’ll have to deal with anti-magic zones or low-magic settings, in which case you’ll still be able to shine.

Cons:

Despite us putting several levels and feats into making your crossbow good, you’ll still always have to deal with the fact that it’s nowhere near as strong as a fighter’s would be. It’s fine for emergencies, but you probably won’t be the standout damage dealer of the group.

Bumping over to fighter for a couple levels also prevents you from getting the Cleric capstone, and they have a really good one. Guaranteed divine intervention is nothing to sneeze at.

You don’t really wear armor, and you don’t get anything like monks or barbarians do to offset that fact, so if you’re playing to character your AC is abysmal. Like I said earlier though, feel free to put on a breastplate or something, there’s no wrong way to play D&D. Except for in person, and not wearing a mask.

#Fate Grand Order #D&D 5e #Florence Nightingale #fgo #Fate and Phantasms

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bonbonbun-luna · 5 years

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Cool! Can you do a crossover/AU where Marinette a Youtuber, by secret, like just a hobby/second job. But know one knows it hurt since she never show her face since she wears a mask and such. Became friends with many Youtubers, even Markiplier and Game Grumps even argues about adopting her. Then get worried about their “little bug” and learned about some not happy things with about the school, a video of Chat being well not cool and the lies of this liar...Team Miraculous YouTubers!

I hope you gonna like it! This is non-magical AU and I don’t really watch the american youtube(Maybe only Pewds), but if you like it, I’ll write the second part where Marinette will interact with them! Send me more requests guys (ฅ･ิω･ิฅ)

Marinette sighed in disappointment, looking at the trending tab.

The video «Ladybug and I are soulmates» has gained over ten million views and an incredible amount of likes over the past six hours. Reading the comments in which the loyal fans of Chat Noir called her a blind idiot, Mari could hardly hold back her tears.

This has been going on for two years already.

She started making videos three years ago, hiding her true identity with a mask, lenses and a nickname. This should never have become a big deal, but a month after the first video, which somehow magically gained 400,000 views(Mari was sure that her uncle Jagged Stone was involved in this), Netty decided to make another one, finally buying new equipment and completely hiding her room so that no one could recognize it.

Parents watched her with interest, quietly supporting and sincerely rejoicing in their daughter's new ineres.

Sabina couldn't stop smiling, thinking that this year was the best for her baby girl. Her precious daughter finally made friends, scared off her bully, met many celebrities, fell in love and even found a new hobby. Tom cautiously touched all the equipment Marinette bought, being afraid to break something with his big hands.

Blunette ran excitedly, trying to cover the bright pink walls with a peach-colored material. The installation of the camera was difficult for the girl, but she managed, from time to time hissing viciously at interested parents scurrying around her room. When everything was ready, the Netty started the video in dismay, awkwardly waving her hand.

In her hands bluenette held a recently sewn dress, nervously touching the voluminous petticoat. Each time the light hit the skirt, viewers could notice a pattern in the form of birds surrounded by flowers.

Trying to smile boldly, Mari introduced herself as Ladybug and told that she was holding a costume for Clara Nightingale last performance. Gradually, Marinette became more confident, because she finally could talk about what she likes, forgetting about her worries. Smiling proudly, Netty brought the camera closer to the pattern, talking about how she had spent weeks embroidering it. Giggling, she showed fingers injured by a needle and admitted that she was sincerely proud of what she got in result. At the end of the video, she put on a dress on a mannequin and showed every detail, describing the work on it. Standing behind the camera, Netty wished everyone a good evening and shouted «Bugout!», finishing the video.

With the help of her clients, who actively talked about their favorite designer, and Clara Nightingale, who admitted that she wanted to give Marinette the main role in her clip, the video instantly gained a million views, causing the whole school to buzz with delight, and asking her fans(God, she had fans!!!) to make a new video.

It was stupid, but Marinette squealed almost a few hours in a row, excitedly jumping around the room. Sabina and Tom, selling pastries below, actively distracted frightened customers. Awareness of how happy their daughter was, warmed the hearts of loving parents and they couldn't stop smiling.

The realization that she was a celebrity came to Mari only when her best friend Alya started a blog about her, trying to reveal her true identity. After an attempt to credibly rejoice over Cesaire, the embarrassed but determined Netty set about writing the script and release dates for the commercials. It took her almost two weeks, but it was worth it, because at the end she had a normalized schedule and she finally clearly knew what she was going to talk about.

The third Marinette's video, in which she showed and described in detail the work on the cover of the album of Jagedd Stone, attracted the attention of the famous youtuber Chat Noir. The playfully grinning blond admitted in one of his videos that he was beginning to hate his popularity and it was the inspirational speeches of the little seamstress that made him stay. In the end, he winked flirtingly, asking the girl for an autograph. A few hours after the release of his video several thousand grateful fans signed up on her channel, and all the comments yelled that she was their savior. Smiling like an idiot, she tried to answer everyone, quietly rejoicing that she was able to help someone. The number of her subscribers rapidly increased to 800,000 and she couldn't stop excitedly rushing to the phone with every notification.

At one such happy moment instead of another comment she saw a message from Chat Noir. Blushing and goosebumps, she read about how he would like to work with her, and girl couldn't stop giggling. Trying to hold the phone with trembling hands, she quickly agreed, screeching into the pillow from shock. If she only knew back then what exactly would bring this to her...

Two weeks later they first met each other. The guy smiled playfully when he saw Ladybug, and instead of shaking hands he kissed her hand. Instinctively, the girl pushed him away and shook her head.

«Borders, kitty, borders».

Chat Noir laughed and invited her inside his studio. During the video recording, the young man actively flirted and involuntarily Marinette freed herself and began to respond to flirt. The blonde seemed to her as a long-drawn-out friend and she felt absolutely free with him. Needless to say, the video has become damn popular, forcing fans to wonder if they was dating.

The bluenette immediately began to deny everything, saying that this was their first meeting and they were just acquaintances, to which she received a promise from Chat Noir that he would soon become her boyfriend. Back then Marinette ignored this comment, dismissing it as a silly joke, but now she could not help but regret it.

The girl rubbed her eyes tiredly, looking displeased at the time. The clock showed that there were four hours left before school and Netty couldn't help but regret that she had not gone to bed earlier. She was sure that at school she would face another batch of charges, and therefore sighed wearily.

Eight months ago Lila Rossi came to school. She was an obsessive liar, actively manipulating everyone she met. On the very first day, she began to claim that she was Ladybug's best friend, confidentially reporting that she had introduced the youtuber to Jagged Stone. Smiling brazenly, she said that half of the costume ideas belonged to her. Boiling with anger, Marinette tried to tell everyone about her lies, but her classmates was instantly turned on, calling her a bully.

Now, when the school was a clan by the board of this cunning fox, who took control of even the principal Mr. Damocles, it was almost impossible for a bluenette to study. Every day was like a bad drama when she was accused of every crime that could be.

Sometimes, when Marinette was tired, she began to talk about her problems with her friends from youtube.

«It's almost impossible, 'ya know. When I go to school I am among idiots with one brain cell, and when I record a video, I endure the harassment of this moron Noir. Who am I now, a Wonder Woman?»

She never noticed the worried glances that threw at her, so she had no idea that soon there was a surprise waiting for her.

In the afternoon, trying to endure the ridicule of her classmates, she consoled herself with the fact that the weekend would begin very soon.

«Wow, you sigh so tiredly. Being such a bully is probably so hard», a sarcastic voice sounded nearby.

Turning her head, she noticed a gloomy Alya, who put her hands on her hips. Behind Cessarie stood scared and embarrassed Nino, and Adrian's head could be seen behind his shoulder. Seeing Mari’s resolve, Agreste shook his head in condemnation. Can't Marinette just calm down? All she needs is to become friends with Lila and then all the problems will end.

«What do you need, Alya? I'm tired and want to relax», the bluenette snorted, rolling her eyes and looking calmly at her ex-friends.

Alya angrily clapped her hands on the table, her eyes burned with a fire of justice.

«What do I need? What do YOU need from Lila? Stop bullying her! She never did to you anything bad, and you continue to cling to a good person because of your jealousy!»

Marinette grimaced, squeezing the bridge of her nose with two fingers.

«I have no idea what you're talking about, Alya! I haven’t talked with Rossi for more than three months!»

Lila, sitting at the first desk, sobbed, innocently opening her tear-stained eyes.

«Marinette, how can you lie like that! Yesterday you deleted all my contacts! How do I get in touch with my bestie, Ladybug? She recently moved to New York!»

Alya looked sadly at her friend, wanting to console her, and then turned to Netty, her eyes flashing viciously.

«I can't believe you, Dupain-Cheng! You are even worse than Chloe! How can you-», the girl’s fiery speech was interrupted by the shocked Miss Bustier, who flew into the classroom.

The woman looked around the class worryingly, and after she found out someone, who she was looking fir, her a thin, frightened voice attracted the class attention.

«Marinette, I... He... Um... There is someone at school who wants to meet you».

Immediately after the words was said, the happy Jagged Stone ran into the class. A tired Penny was trailing behind him, who noticing Mari, waved her hand.

«Netty! My beloved niece! I'm so glad to see you, dear», the man sang, jumping to the end of the class in an instant.

A pale Lila stood next to him, trying to hide, but she was stopped by Alya, who grabbed the girl by the hand. Frightened, Rossi swallowed a lump in her throat.

«Jagged Stone? Excuse me, aren't you recognize Lila? She saved your kitten, remember?».

The rock star made the most astonished grimace that he was capable of, forcing Marinette to hide her face in her hands, expecting something not that good.

«She did what? The last time I saw any cats was in my grandmother's house, at least twenty years back.» The man grinned maliciously, and then, ignoring the dumbfounded faces of the children around, he again turned to the embarrassed bluenette.

«My dear designer, there are several people who would like to talk with you! They need your knowledge and talent.»

«Uncle G, I can’t, I have a school!»

Mrs. Bustier spoke again, awkwardly clearing throat.

«Actually, we got a note from your parents, Marinette. It seems you really can go»

Jagged giggled like a small kid and excitedly handed Mari into Penny's arms, who led the girl out of class, quietly apologizing and explaining the whole situation. Jagged smiled sweetly, and then looked predatoryly at the class teacher.

«By the way, haven't I mentioned that there are a few people who want to meet some more from your class?»

Kids whispered excitedly, hoping that they would be lucky one. The man smirked viciously, laying documents on the tables in front of Mrs. Bustier, Lila, Alya and Adrian. The teacher immediately picked up the sheets in her hands, reading what was written on them, and then fell into a chair, unable to stand on staggering legs. It seemed that a little more and she would faint from shock.

«What is it?», Adrian asked frowningly, frowning.

«This is a lawsuit, Mr. Agreste. For you personally, this is a lawsuit about harassment and a restraining order».

«But I did nothing wrong!», the blond guy screamed indignantly, frowning displeasedly.

«Really? But it seemed to me that when you put on a mask and start calling yourself a Chat Noir, you stop respecting woman's rights and understanding the word 'no'»

Smiling coldly at the frightened schoolchildren, Jagged left the classroom, leaving chaos and drama behind. The man didn't care, he hurried to his wife Penny and his beloved niece, Marinette.

Today will be a wonderful day.

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