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spooky-ghostwriter · 2 years

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Sentinels Deck Number 5 - Silhouette

Normally, some time after finishing a Sentinels deck, I like to give a general explanation of what the deck is about, using a few cards as examples. This time, I felt I had something to say about darn near every card in the deck. So... let’s lean into that. I’ll go through the cards roughly in chronological order and tell the story of Silhouette, the goth vampire heroine.

Though Silhouette (civilian name Zywen Lotus) has a fascination with darkness, she’s still... mostly heroic. Silhouette gets her shadowy powers from an evil vampiric artifact called the Shadow Veil, and I wanted the player to feel like her powers are dangerous. Because of that, she starts with a pathetically low 20 hit points and a lot of cards in her deck have her deal herself damage. Trying to prevent the damage typically doesn’t work, so you’ll need some classic vampire life-stealing powers to keep Silhouette healthy!

This also marks my switch to Clip Studio Paint for digital art, and it helped me make some of the best art I’ve ever drawn!

Chronologically, the earliest we see Silhouette is on the incapacitated art for Escarlata, a hero I showed off some time ago. At that point, Silhouette was a little blonde girl by the name of Abby Adler.

Abby’s parents were obsessed with making her into their ideal daughter - a prim and proper good catholic girl. They controlled how she dressed, how she acted, what she studied, everything they could.

In contrast, Abby was more interested in dark and spooky things that her parents would have disapproved of. In particular, she started visiting a vampire coven. She became enraptured by vampire culture and history.

When Abby’s best friend Cassandra was released from the hospital depicted above, Cassandra had gained the power to control fire. Jealous of Cassandra’s relative freedom and superpowers, Abby manipulated the coven master into converting her into a vampire.

Abby returned home to her parents, newly converted and with a new name, Zywen. Her parents kicked Zywen out of the house in the middle of a sunny day, where Zywen nearly died. Luckily, Cassandra found her in the nick of time.

So this brings us to the first step of Zywen’s journey. She is now a vampire. I wanted to include a bunch of “obvious vampire tropes” in the deck for a few reasons. For one thing, the deck also includes a lot of ‘shadow magic’, and I wanted it to be as clear as possible that the character you’re playing is a vampire. But also, vampires vary so wildly from one work of fiction to the next that I wanted to nail down what my vampires can do.

Vampires in the Spooky Ghostwriter Comics-verse are significantly physically stronger than humans at night, but weaker during the day. They drink blood, but it doesn’t necessarily need to be human blood. Animal blood works just fine. They can turn into bats and have slight hypnotic abilities.

Another important piece of any hero deck is to show off the character’s personality. Zywen is an edgy edgy girl. Why drink blood out of a glass when you can have a goblet? Why have a desk lamp if it’s not shaped like a skeletal arm?

However, as disappointing as it may be for her, she is not an ancient sorceress in a Victorian-era mansion. She lives in an ordinary with Cassandra. She plays video games and dresses up her friends in modern goth outfits.

The next step of Zywen’s journey focuses on a character that I haven’t made a deck for yet...

La Nocturna, also pictured in Escarlata’s deck, is one of Escarlata’s greatest nemeses. She’s a vampire, but with even greater powers than normal. La Nocturna had the ability to summon hands made out of solid shadow.

La Nocturna was considered to be a hero, a member of the New Granwall Guardians just like Escarlata. However, La Nocturna didn’t just arrest criminals - she massacred them. In her eyes, the rest of the Guardians were too soft to do what needed to be done to prevent further crime. (Though even that was a justification - really, La Nocturna just wanted to drink human blood and used her hero work as an excuse.)

Escarlata and La Nocturna fought some pretty brutal battles, but it was Zywen who ended the feud once and for all. Zywen knew that the source of La Nocturna’s power was the Shadow Veil. After a particularly rough fight that left Escarlata in bad shape, Zywen used her skills of deception and knowledge of vampire lore to ambush La Nocturna and take the Shadow Veil for herself.

However, when Zywen first put on the Shadow Veil, La Nocturna dissolved into dust. The dark magic that fueled all vampire powers left La Nocturna and was absorbed into the veil, killing her. Whether Zywen knew this would happen or not is intentionally ambiguous...

Now, Zywen had the same shadow powers as La Nocturna, and in rare circumstances, used them to fight criminals. But she still didn’t consider herself a hero, wrought with guilt over killing La Nocturna. Furthermore, the Shadow Veil was full of evil magic, and it had a tight grip on Zywen’s mental state.

This is where the core of the deck’s mechanic comes in. The Shadow Veil is evil. Using it hurts Zywen, but you also get benefits from taking on those risks. When you play the game, you’re moving HP tokens around, but you’re also deciding how far Zywen’s willing to tap into her dark powers.

(Side-note: Soulsearching shows off another quirk my setting’s vampires share with some other vampire mythos - no reflections!)

Finally, as villainy in New Granwall City became worse and the New Granwall Guardians began to need more members, Zywen decided to move forward. Maybe she didn’t fully forgive herself for what she’d done, but however she got her powers, it was worth doing some good with them.

Zywen briefly joined the New Granwall Guardians with an exact replica of La Nocturna’s outfit, taking over her identity. This was really confusing for me as a writer and I couldn’t expect anyone to figure out how this “second La Nocturna” thing worked by looking at a deck of 16 unique cards. So I skipped over this part of the story and moved on to the introduction of Silhouette.

Zywen decided that the Shadow Veil as it had been known before was La Nocturna’s symbol - a symbol of fear and evil. In her studies into vampire lore and magic, she found a way to change the veil’s appearance.

Transmute the Veil is a huge moment in Zywen’s story. Zywen is a character who very rarely has control. She starts out controlled by her parents. Then when she gets the Shadow Veil, she’s fighting for control over it.

Now, she’s the one calling the shots. And I wanted to represent that by making sure that Transmute the Veil offers a choice. “Reveal cards from the top of your deck until you find two semi-specific cards, choose one and keep it” is not a rare effect in Sentinels. But Transmute the Veil does something that no other card does - it makes sure the two cards are distinct. Every time you play Transmute the Veil, you will have a choice.

With the Shadow Veil in a new form, Zywen created a new costume and became Silhouette. From here, the rest of the deck generally just shows Silhouette on various adventures. She works alongside Escarlata in Brutal Ambush, and a couple cameo heroes in Drown In Darkness:

Alius, on Silhouette’s left is an upcoming hero created by Mistilitain. Charlie, on her right, is a shapeshifting detective created by Bobbertoriley. Bobbertoriley also created the environments depicted on both these cards. Brutal Ambush shows a casino run by and named after Jericho Moondancer (the non-demon). Drown In Darkness takes place in the spooky woods of Birchwood, Mass. The hedgehog gremlins being drowned are cryptids you can fight there!

Notably, both of these cards carry the “Infernal self-damage” cost. The Shadow Veil’s evil influence is still around - using shadowy powers or being too brutal still makes Silhouette deal herself damage.

The struggle between Silhouette’s good nature and her evil powers is a recurring theme.

This brings us to everybody’s favourite card of the deck. I love it because it, along with Brutal Ambush, are some of the best pieces of art I’ve ever drawn. Players love it because it’s one of Silhouette’s strongest cards and sets up a fun challenge where players earlier in turn order want to leave lots of enemies alive with juuuust enough HP for Silhouette to jump in and drink their blood.

So what’s going on here in terms of story? Well, most vampires in New Granwall City believe in living peacefully with humans. Zywen does too. But one coven master, Lazarus Vane, thinks differently. Lazarus wants vampires to return to their baser instincts and has the magical ability to make it happen. Casting a spell on the very moon, Lazarus made all the vampires in the city go berserk. Once again, poor ol’ Zywen just can’t stay in control of herself.

(By the way, the character getting his blood sucked is The Shining Knight, a minor villain who also shows up in Escarlata’s deck.)

Spooky.

Well, only a few more cards to go. Let’s get this done.

Silhouette becomes more adept with the Shadow Veil than La Nocturna ever was. La Nocturna could only create shadow hands. Silhouette eventually learns how to create an iron maiden.

Screaming Shadows represents her pulling a victim into a sort of shadowy realm full of distorted faces that scream at them. The faces also scream at Silhouette. Fun times.

The one getting screamed at is Unmute - a villain by @insomn14 . We were working on these decks concurrently, and are both fans of each other’s work. So I have Unmute as a cameo here, and Silhouette shows up on one of Unmute’s cards.

The guest character in Black Iron Maiden is The Faithful, created by zerami.

Vampire’s Tome is the spellbook that taught Zywen how to morph the Shadow Veil, but it taught her a lot more than that!

Spirit Siphon is a technique that only a few vampires can perform - drinking someone’s very essence instead of their blood. It could theoretically leave her target an empty husk, but that wouldn’t be very heroic. Silhouette’s version of the spell typically leaves her victim too tired to continue the fight while also restoring her stamina.

Spirit Siphon has another guest hero on it - Radiance, also created by @insomn14 . Radiance is one of my favourite heroes in the game, homebrew and otherwise. insomn and I also got a kick out of how Radiance and Silhouette have some mechanical similarities while being as opposite characters as possible. Radiance is a cheerful ray of sunshine that motivates her allies.

Because of all that, I knew I wanted to give Radiance a key role in Silhouette’s deck. Spirit Siphon is Silhouette’s only card that appears in the deck at 4 copies. You’re probably going to draw one every game, so you’re probably going to see Radiance.

And that is every card in Silhouette’s deck, and why it’s there. Thanks for indulging me! Here’s a close-up of Brutal Ambush, my favourite art in the deck alongside Bloodlust.

See you next time when I turn everybody into 1920s cartoons.

#sentinels of the multiverse #fan-made hero #silhouette #escarlata #gold dragon #tsukiko #my art #new granwall guardians #whoops forgot to post this for like six months

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hdyiseul · 2 years

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──── 𓆩*𓆪 𝑳𝑶𝑨𝑫𝑰𝑵𝑮 … Hello again !! It's 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐑 (he/him, 21+), @hdjamie mun, and this is my nightmare child 𝐑𝐘𝐔 𝐘𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐋 (21, Behigh Lab). He's like... a huge problem, apologies in advance. Yiseul initially comes across as a rather quite (but not shy) person. He's 'mysterious' to most people, as they typically figure out after telling him their entire life story that they barely know anything about him, even that his sister is Starlight trainee 𝐑𝐘𝐔 𝐌𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐍. He's unpredictable, and hot and cold a lot of the time, can snap at the smallest things and get very catty, and doesn't forgive easily (or at all). He's a big believer in 'revenge is sweet'. Primarily, he’s a singer, but is a very strong performer, and writes songs (which he will never show anyone—at least not for a long time). He loves playing the guitar, long night walks, and ruining lives (joking... or am I?). Here you can find his 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 (here I am slacking on another background... but it'll come ! promise ! ) and under the cut I’ll leave some general info about him to kickstart any plotting ideas. I also have a discord, given upon request !!

──── 𝑻𝑹𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑨

Yiseul is the older brother of @hdmolan , however they do not get along, or well, Yiseul doesn't get along well with her, but he won't ever give the real reason why

He grew up in Manhattan, NY, with all the high-expectations that successful parents usually put on their kids resting on his shoulders. But Yiseul wasn't anything like Molan, who arrived not even a year after his birth—it was as if they knew he was faulty, not perfect like they wanted

While not stupid, Yiseul wasn't a successful as his sister, in school or acting things he was pushed to do, only complying because he wanted to please his parents. He got great grades in English, Art, and Music, but his Math, Science and PhysEd grades were worryingly low

Young Yiseul wanted nothing more than to make friends and have fun, but he was naive and far too trusting, and would end up buying things for his 'friends', until he overheard them talking about how pathetic he was, and how if it weren't for his parents money they'd not keep him around. After that he didn't make friends anymore, at least not for a very long time

Due to people using him when he was young, he's incredibly private, and doesn't talk about his family, or home life at all, and tends to keep people at arms length, however he's nosy, and loves to have the upper hand, so he'll take and take and take, and give nothing back information wise—you can feel like you've told Yiseul your entire like story, and then realise you barely know a single thing about him

After the 'friend incident' when he was about 10, Yiseul began turning inwards, and realised the only person he can trust is himself. This tends to make him a little heartless and inconsiderate of other people, and when he's angry, he can be outright mean. It's safe to say he's got a lot of enemies

Yiseul doesn't talk about how he feels, so most of his emotions either go into his journal, or his lyrics—he's always writing, or doodling, but he absolutely will not share anything he writes with anyone

As 'turned inward' as he is, he likes attention, and being desired, admired, idolised—guess that's why he's in this line of work. He wants everyone to want to know all about him, and yet never be able to know a single thing. He wants to be an unknowable enigma (pretentious, honestly)

While he used to refuse to make friends (his early to mid teens were spent mostly alone) he's a little more open to it now, though he still keeps people at arms length, and does a bit of a 'push and pull' with people—pushing them away when he feels they've gotten to close, and pulling them back in when he decides he wants their attention again

During his solitary teen years, he focused on music lessons, writing songs, playing in the rock band he'd fallen into, and going for long walks (to the point he was almost reported missing a couple times when he failed to come home until the early hours of the morning)

He'd never thought of being an idol until Molan got signed and while he didn't want to copy her, he realised he didn't really have any idea of what he wanted to do, especially having just graduated and started college with an undetermined major, so he auditioned in the fall of 2020, and began training December 2020

He mainly focuses on singing, performance skills (like facial expressions and small gestures—born to be a center tbh) and songwriting, but he won't share his private lyrics with anyone, he writes separate less personal stuff if he has to show stuff

Yiseul loves old things—antiques, old music, old tech, etc. Nostalgic vibes (even though he wasn't around when most of the stuff he likes was made). Very much a 'tortured artist/manic pixie dream boy'

#[ hd ; intro ]#[ ooc ]

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subiysu-chan · 6 months

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Redoing Drows, Ice Elves, Wood Elves and High Elves

Drows:

My Drows mostly live in cave-based city-states, surviving on fungiculture. In the Monde des Ténèbre, only two settlements have survived: the Pyroxene City and the Emrald City, quite geographically far appart and quite culturally different.

The matriarcal culture of the Emrald city has the most colorful male elves in terms of eye color, although the Pyroxene Drows are not that far behind.

They tend to be extremely pale of complexion, have dark hair and low-melanine eyes that can be blue, grey, green, purple, pink and red. Both sexes are quite gracile with big round eyes, short nose and big ears, like, very large elf ears, insuring a very neotenous appearence, somewhat reminicent of a bengal kitten. Their wings are completely transparent. They often present intense dark circles.

Ice Elves:

They would be more "Tundra elves" and they have: "Septentrional wet tundra elves", "Septentrional dry tundra elves" and "alpine tundra elves"

Ice elves tend to be blond with slanted brown, black or hazel eyes. Despite this, their eyelashes tend to be dark, and their eyelids tend to be darker than the rest of their complexion. Their skin color is medium in terms of darkness, ranging from fairly dark to medium light. Alpine elves tend to have darker complexions, while those in costal tundra tend to be quite fair. Because my elves, females tend to have ashier skin and hair, while male elves have more vibrant coloration and iridescent eyes with coppery undertones. They are mostly semi-nomadic. They are the bulkier types of elves, but still pretty gracile to human stardards, they are also the tallest elves, and tend to be somewhat less androgynous, and their ears are the most human-like, with only a slight point. Their wings present brown spots that are composed of microscopic symbiotic algea.

Those in coastal tundra tend to use crabs as livestock, while those in central tundra raise geese for their eggs. Those in alpine tundra do not tend to livestock but practice fungiculture.

In the "Monde des Ténèbres", they are the most thriving type of elves, simply because nobody wants to inhabit their frozen tundras, but they must still face active competition from Dwarves and Humans, creating more war-like cultures. They would also be the elven cultures that practice ritual branding and tatooing.

Forest Elves:

In the current Monde des Ténèbres, they are extinct, but they were historically quite powerful.

Forest elves tended to be brown-haired (ranging from a light caramel color to almost black) with a very beige complexion. Their slented eyes tended to very between brown, black, hazel and green, with some shades of these colors not entirely possible for humans, such as golden-brown, black cherry and lime green. Ear size tends to be something in between the enormous Drow ears and the Ice Elves ears, while their wings also present brown spots with algea. They show similar sexual dimorphism to other elves, meaning ashier females and brighter-colored males.

These elves had three major cultures: the beach tree culture, the birch culture and the pine culture. Their cultures tended to be monarchic.

Their cuisine flavors subtle and floral flavors, and they have a taboo against eating meat of any kind.

River, swamp Elves:

My river elves tended to be be cadaverous with a greenish undertone to their skin and red hair. Very secretive and allusive, with a dark reputation. Mostly hazel or green eyed, sometimes beautiful shades not entirely possible for humans.

Now, remaking the High Elves, because I can:

Now, high elves are portrayed as these haughty and grand. However, "High" is a vague term, so how about it means: "inhabit the highlands" in colder climates, but never go beyond the tree line.

To be true to the scandanavian and germanic origins of the elf myth, I'll let high elves be more of more North European pigmentations, with skin colors more typical of Scots and Norvegians than anyone else, but sometimes featuring shades of brown or blue in their eye color that isn't really typical for humans, such as copper or lavender. They would also be the tallest elves, and would be gracile, but not as extreme as the Drows. They also tend to be a lot less neotenous than Drows, and their ears are pointier and narrower, and of more reasonable sizes.

Their wings do actually have spots that are mat, and not composed of algea, but of pigments other than chlorophill.

In terms of culture, they have a taboo against body modification, that they find barbaric as a practice. They are most compatible with the forest elves. Their cuisine is famously spicy and bitter due to the heavy use of mushrooms that are very hot or bitter to deter people from eating them, as well as the heavy use virburnum, sea hawthorn and rowan as condiments, and lactic-acid fermented moss a common base for their meal. Many of them have cultures based on vegetarianism, although, some, due to the severity of the cold, are forced to consume meat due to the caloric requirements of the heavy cold and the need for animal skins to stay warm. When they do require meat, what they do eat tends to be oysters, mussles, krill, sea-arthropods they can catch and fish, although maggots, lemmings and rabbits might find themselves on the menue. They also have a bird-eating taboo.

Also, none of my elves can eat a human diet...

-They cannot digest starch, to begin with. It can go through their digestive system, but they cannot extract calories from it. So, any starchy thing would go in one end to the other of their digestive track.

-They are obligate fungivores who need at least 50% of their diet to be composed of fungies of all sorts, although lichens might need to be processed to make them more bioavailable.

-Most molds is perfectly healthy to their gut microbiom, and consuming only non-moldy food would make them gravely ill long-term and severely hinder their ability to digest their food, eventually leading to starvation.

-They might experience trouble digesting more than 20g of fat per day, of all kinds. However, their ideal amount of fat per day is closer to 10 g.

-Caffeine is a deadly poison to elves, and an average-sized square of milk choclate is enough to kill an adult elf with no prior medical condition.

-Many anesthetics do not work on elves.

-Alcoloid-based chemotherapy would not work on them, as both they and their cancer cells would be immune to the effects of such a concoction, and you might as well inject them with water.

#elves #worldbuilding

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isaac-morey · 2 years

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Sunday, November 27 -- 9 to 5: What does your character’s work/school day look like? Include 7 tasks that they have to complete throughout the day!

A typical day in the classroom, from first person perspective.

Start of the Day!

That means; checking emails you've definitely gotten overnight about who will be out sick, who has to leave early, and whatever other last minute details parents have graciously left you to find out the day of. Also your early planning period, so organizing supplies for the day, sorting out the ongoing battle that is the snack cabinet, and (hopefully) getting through your morning coffee before the kids show up.

Morning Sensory Play!

Meticulously arrange bins, move tables, and carefully set up spots around the room with containers full of this week's array of textures, colors and sounds for everyone to explore as they settle in for the school day. Get an entire ten minutes before bins are scattered, objects are all over the floor and general chaos ensues. Ignore the fact you'll be scraping sticky tape off the floor for a few days, it's fine.

Snack Time!

The universal rules about toddlers and food are; what they love one day they will randomly hate the next, no two kids are happy with the same snack, and hell hath no fury like a four year old who doesn't want to share cookies. You, however, know how to navigate this jungle. This is why you have an entire cabinet full of snacks on rotation, have memorized food allergies, and are aware of what colors (because, yes, low grade meltdowns have come from someone wanting pink juice instead of purple) are acceptable to which child that day.

Storytime/Music Time!

Depending on the day of the week, we have now reached that point in the morning when it's either testing your voice acting skills via several (one is unacceptable, two is barely tolerable but some days the kids will let you get away with only three) books relating to whatever that week's lesson theme is, or your vocal stylings through sing-a-longs. You're not going to be landing any guest roles on TV or record deals but, hey, at least you know how to get the kids laughing.

Naptime!

There are three types of toddlers; those who sleep, those who are content to sit with their quiet time boxes and entertain themselves while those who sleep can, and those who require hugs, songs, and your undivided attention. It's also your second planning period of the day but don't expect to get that done, not unless you're particularly good at typing around a small child who fell asleep in your lap (which child rotates often but expect no less than one) and another quietly recounting the weekend adventures of their hamster, Mr. Fuzzy.

Art Time!

With a class of, mostly, rested kids it's time to make a mess. There's something truly wonderful about watching them mix colors and glue their masterpieces together. A little less wonderful is the argument and tantrums that often follow sharing crayons, paints and paper but it's easy enough to distract! Magic does give you a little advantage there, and you've never met a toddler who wasn't excited to watch things change colors and learn how to do the same themselves with paint and markers.

Lunchtime!

Not yours, or technically yours too but first, while your classroom is absent of kids, it's cleanup time from the morning activities. Art supplies put away, stray toys back into boxes, wiping off the colorful, glittery, impressive mess that always builds until that break. It's mostly damage control though, actual cleaning has to wait for more time. Occasionally you get around to your second cup of coffee for the day, and possibly even a text or two between quick cleanup, this is why you have your own snack drawer after all; eating and cleaning at the same time is a underrated skill.

Playtime!

Afternoons are the downward slope, time to enjoy the day and watch the kids just be kids. The toys come out, costume boxes, and, yes, you will be expected to participate. A few arguments over toys are expected, just the nature of things, but most of the remaining afternoon you'll be spending at the demand of a herd of toddlers and their imaginations. The class is studying dinosaurs this week; better make sure you brush up on your T-Rex roars because that's practically a requirement. It's the best time of the day.

End of the Day!

After everyone has gone off home it's time to clean up, put things away, play the 'find all the counting bears' game (there are exactly 25 small plastic bears of each solid color, five colors, to be located and put into their bins or you will step on them in the morning and it will hurt. Experience has confirmed this), and call it a day. A long day, but a good day.

The sort of day you go back to again and again because you can't imagine anything being better than this.

Although you really are regretting buying those bears; those things are worse than Legos.

#swynwrimo #swynwrimoz #yes I did way more than I was supposed to but this was fun #and I love Isaac in teacher mode #so

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toomanyanimefanfics · 2 years

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could you write the MHA students / pro heros reacting to an autistic mc major stimming in front of them for the first time? Like a neutral faced, monotone talking MC suddenly bursting with energy with hand flaps and squeals, rocking back and forth and such.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hi anon, I absolutely can! I've made this request into two parts once again, with the students here and the teachers in a part 2! And because you didn't specify s/o or relations I've made this post platonic but if you wanna read them as s/o then go for it. Part 2 with pro-heroes: Eraser Head // Present Mic // Fat Gum ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stimming in front of them

Headcanons for the main three students: Midoriya:

The first time this situation happens in front of him he doesn't really catch on to anything major, his first instinctive thought is: ‘oh i guess something suddenly grabbed their excitement, that's why they seem bouncy all of the sudden’

He's also one to go from mumbling idly into his own collar with almost a resting concentration face that seems off putting to immediately lifting up in an excited smile the moment something has triggered that dopamine hit whether he's aware of it or not.

The more it happens around him the more he just points it towards your general character, he doesn't find it off putting or weird, he just sorta views it almost like it didn't happen at all.

All signs sorta point that he goes through similar moments and probably doesn't even realize that's why he doesn't really notice it as ‘off’

When he does really notice it, he mostly thinks over it in his own head and is not one to voice it unless you bring it up in conversation or verbally acknowledge it.

Honestly once he really gets it, he doesn't even bat an eye. Why would he see you any differently? This new information doesn't mean you’re suddenly different from who he already knows.

But he low key thinks it's super endearing when you get the hand flaps, especially when you stim when happy or excited. It immediately brings his mood up when he sees you stim like that. It's a nice flip from the often monotone vibe that you often wear.

(sometimes he ends up mirroring your stims, not in a mocking way, but I do headcanon him as someone who would stim even without knowing it)

Bakugou:

Read izukus? Cool, forget all of that.

He's more brash about it, but not necessarily in a negative way, i mean he grew up with Midoriya so he’s now desensitized by most ‘abnormal’ or sudden bursts of stim like moments.

The first time it happened he most definitely noticed and you noticed how quickly he reacted to it. He definitely pointed it out too, which made you feel a bit apprehensive about explaining it or carrying on.

But even though he has a bigger reaction than Midoriya he doesn't single you out on it or hold it against you at all. In Fact he's mostly indifferent.

Once he's already used to it, he doesn't even notice it. In Fact if you’re happy bouncing and letting out super happy shrieks he will often ask what made you so happy or what your stims are reactions too (if any).

If you’re more self conscious about stimming in public or even out in school grounds, he's a silent guard dog and will bark off anyone that looks at you weird or tries to negatively point it out.

Todoroki:

Shoto's sort of confused at first, he hasn't ever been around anyone that shows or regulates their feelings that way, so he immediately ends up asking a lot of questions about it, he's not trying to be rude or upsetting, but sometimes his bluntness and monotone voice also can be hard to read.

The switch from your typical, monotone and neutral nature seems almost like a separate person to the one he just noticed and he definitely notices even if he doesn't immediately react at the time.

The first time it happened he thought it was ‘weird’, just because of how he was raised and his lack of showing emotion physically, he seemed really overwhelmed to him and he struggled with how to act or how to carry on any conversation you two were having.

However, if you sit him down and tell him, he’ll absolutely listen and try to understand, he doesn't ask a lot of questions as you explain and just stores the new information away.

Like bakugou, if he notices you stimming he’ll often ask if there's a reason you’re stimming. Often asks what's your favourite or most frequent stim and smiles softly to himself if he sees you from afar stimming, off in your own little world. Part 2 Here ------------------------------------------------- A/N: sorry this took a bit, got mad writers block this week and started to feel as if all the Headcanons were beginning to sound repetitive so I tried to re-write this a few times!! I do hope its okay anon! I'll link Part 2 here when its up! Slowly starting to empty and reply to all the requests in my inbox so hold tight!

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angry-geese · 3 years

Text

Nanami Kento x Reader

Warnings: nsfw. Fingering, tender sex, morning sex, praise kink (sort of), unprotected sex/breeding kink, mention of pregnancy (its like one sentence). Established relationship, some fluff, mostly smut. Afab reader.

Notes: domsetic fluff turned morning sex

Days where you wake up in his arms are rather rare.

Usually, he's ready for work by the time you get up. His day starts earlier than yours. You still make it a point to give him a kiss before he leaves. He'd often have something for breakfast ready, and make you lunch if he had the time. Nanami was always a better cook- you were a bit of a terror in the kitchen. When he arrived home he'd tell you little about his work. You knew of it, although he had little to say. He only actively spoke of it if he had overtime, and only to complain.

That didn't mean you weren't curious. There were a million questions you had for him; if he answered one, it would only add to the growing pile of other ones.

Married life wasn't what you expected.

It took a year to convince him to date you. Prior to that, the two of you had been roommates for nearly the same time. Over time you had gotten used to having him around. He was the one constant in life. People came and went, jobs you started and quit, but he was always there.

Things weren't all that different from the way they were before. Switching to married life felt natural. So much so that it was a bit frightening. It makes you wonder if this is all there is to it. If that's the case, then you could live with it.

You're not quite sure what wakes you up, but you're surprised to feel his body still beside you. Early morning light streams in through the cracks in the curtains. His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush to his chest. The faint scent of his cologne—something woody mixed with something sweet, like vanilla—still hangs onto him. Uncertain if he's still awake, you call out his name. To no response.

Slowly his hand creeps up your thigh, resting on your stomach for a moment before he's pressing his thumb under the waistband of your shorts. Nanami's touches are feather-light as his fingers just barely ghost over your skin. The soft feeling of his thumb grazing your clit makes you jump. He smooths a hand over your hair, cooing words of praise as he leans forward to nip at your ear. Goosebumps raise along your shoulder.

Nanami presses a quick kiss to your neck, going back to suck a dark mark into the skin. It'll be hard to cover up tomorrow. Gently he drags his thumb across your slit through the thin fabric of your panties. You part your legs just a bit to give him more room. He shoves down your shorts—along with your panties—baring your sex. You lift your hips for just a moment to kick them off, throwing them to the side. Your shirt quickly goes the same way. Then his. Nanami pulls you in for a quick kiss, nibbling at your bottom lip until you let his tongue into your mouth. The feeling of the slick muscle is intoxicating. You're already half drunk off the scent of his cologne.

He knows just how to make you melt under his touch. He has a way of pressing your buttons, leaving you crawling back for more. Part of you is embarrassed at how quickly you turn to putty in his hands.

When he pulls away, there's an audible pop! as your lips part. He leans back down to kiss you again. It's only a peck this time, but the same amount of fire is behind it.

A low laugh escapes him when he feels the slick that's collected between your legs. In any other circumstance you'd be a bit embarrassed at how quickly he riles you up. He hooks his arm under your knee, forcing your legs further apart. His thumb brushes over your clit, working in soft, teasing motions. When you try to grind down onto his hand, he simply huffs and pulls his hand away, leaving you aching with need.

"Ken, please-"

"Please what?" He asks. "Use your words..."

"Fuck me!"

To that, he cruelly laughs. The noise comes from low in his chest. You're almost ashamed at the throb it sends right to your cunt. Almost.

He mutters a soft "good" as he eyes you up and down, sizing you up like you're some sort of opponent.

He works you open with his fingers. Just the one at first—then adding a second—rubbing against your g-spot. His fingers are thin, but long, and know just where to prod in a way that makes you whimper. Your eyes roll back when he strokes a particularly sensitive spot. Nanami takes notice of this, and proceeds to add a third. His thumb rubs small circles against your clit. A familiar heat pools low in your stomach. His touches only make you more needy. When your pussy clamps around his fingers—you're close to your own release—he realizes his own need, pressing against your back. Grinding against your thigh only does so much.

Typically he isn't the type to tease. It makes you wonder what's gotten him so worked up.

He pinches your clit between two of his fingers before resuming their circles. His movements are skilled—he's had practice—making you melt under his touch. The wetness that collects between your thighs nearly drips down his hand, making it glisten in the low light.

He finds the squeal you make when you cum endearing, using the moment to kiss you, right on the corner of your lips.

You ride out your orgasm on his hand; shaky, but nearly ready for another round. It won't take you long- he's seen it happen before. Soon you're sitting up, facing him, your cheeks red and your lips bitten pink. He commits the look of your flushed form to memory.

He'd have to tease you more often.

Nanami palms himself through his boxers. He frees his leaking cock. The head is a ruddy color, and rather angry looking, swollen with need. His spare hand moves to knead the soft flesh of your breasts, working your nipples into stiff peaks. He guides your hand to his cock, closing your fist around his member. It's long—a little over six inches—but not too thick. The weight of it is heavy in your hands. You give him a few teasing pumps, making sure your touches are achingly slow. Instantly he notices, giving one of your nipples a harsh pinch, though not hard enough to hurt. When you squeak and mumble a weak: "I'm sorry" he only nips at your ear and chuckles. Any attempt you make to regain control of the situation only digs your grave deeper.

"Are you going to be good?" His lips press against your temple.

Weakly you nod.

"Good." He coos. "You're always so good for me."

He shifts so you're left lying on your stomach underneath him, hips lifted slightly and pulled flush to his. Your body is tacky with sweat—maybe a bit of saliva too—he drags you in closer. Nanami leans forward to mumble into your ear. Sometime during this his teeth find your shoulder, your flesh sporting a crescent shaped mark to show. You're not quite sure if it'll bruise. Probably.

"Had to work overtime." He says, the slightest bit of venom in his tone. "Again. Not happy."

At this you let out a small giggle. That's the second time this week. That must be why he came home so late last night. He never tried to hide his dislike for it. Instead of chatting with you, he simply went to bed.

The head of his cock presses against your entrance, slick with his own need. There's no resistance as he presses right into you, although he still gives you a moment to adjust. Nanami fits right in you, your pussy so tight and warm around him. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to how good you feel. He's had his fair share of partners, but they all pale in comparison to you.

His large hands knead at the flesh of your ass and thighs. He's always admired how soft you are; the curve of your breasts, your stomach, your hips. Even the harsh angles of your face, the way it twists and contorts in pleasure. To him, you were truly the most beautiful thing in existence. There's not much he wouldn't do for you.

He's always preferred to fuck you slow and deep. He could watch you squirm and writhe under him for hours if you'd let him. Nanami has never been one for quickies. Sometimes they're nice, but he always prefers to take his time with you.

Slowly he rolls his hips against yours. You inhale sharply, gripping at the sheets. His pace starts out a bit slow, but he leaves none of your sweet spots untouched.

The second you start to get a bit loud he pulls out, making you whine in frustration.

"Needy today, aren't we, love?"

You grovel at the pet name, hardly amused. "Just touch me dammit."

Nanami's relatively collected demeanor falters when you clench around him, pulling him back in. His fingers dig into your hips, his nails leaving little crescent-shaped indents in your skin.

"Oh fuck-" his thrusts grow erratic, "fuck! I love you I love you I-"

"I love you too!"

His fingers lace with yours. Momentarily he brings your hand to his lips, planting a kiss on your knuckles. The action is so slow and soft you're not quite sure if you feel it.

"I'm so happy I married you."

His free hand goes back to toying with your clit, harshly pinching the bud between two fingers before tracing circles around it. The movements are a bit erratic. He must be close. To stifle a groan, he leans forward, sinking his teeth into the junction of flesh where your shoulder and neck meet. Not hard enough to hurt, although it may leave a bruise. Some possessive feeling deep within him made him proud of the marks he left.

It's enough to send you over the edge. The dam has broken, the floodgates have opened. You cum around him hard, your entire body shuddering as you cry out. The neighbors certainly can hear. Noise complaints happen a bit too often for your liking. He groans as his own release paints your walls white. You feel so full.

Nanami pulls out slowly as to not spill any of his cum, taking a moment to admire his work, and the look of your fucked-out form; the red handprints on your ass, the nail marks in your soft flesh, the way your neck and chest blush along with your face. It makes him wonder how you'd look with your belly swollen with his child.

He'd have to do this more often.

Dramatically you flop down on the bed, chest heaving. A single drop of cum spills onto the sheets. He lays down beside you, taking a moment to push a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You'd be sore tomorrow. Your neck already sports red teeth marks, and half-faded hickeys. He presses a kiss to the mark, rather proud of his work. His arms snake around your body, holding you close to him.

Nanami has never been this much in love.

You're half asleep when he pulls away. It's almost time for him to head to work. Gojo needs his help with something, he's not quite sure what.

Gojo can wait.

He's tucking himself back into his boxers and getting out of bed by the time you turn around. If he notices you staring, he says nothing about it.

"Where are you going?" You ask.

"I'm making breakfast."

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #not sfw #jjk smut #nanami smut #i know im posting this at a weird time sorry mutuals

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud. Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or: Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing. tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. slice of life fluff, light smut. explicit (but only at the end).

tags / warnings. mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc. 7.6k.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif, @papillonsgf, and @yeoldontknow 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note. i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this. it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless. as always, feedback means a lot!

You and forethought aren’t close friends. You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree. You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is. Careful consideration? Thoughtful patience? None of that exists for you. At least, not when you really, really want something.

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this. Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid. By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment. Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to. When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed. (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right?

“Everyone’s fully booked.” The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial. (You don’t blame her.) By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal. You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue. “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice? Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable. Well-known. Considered one of the best in the city. Surely their apprentice would be fine. Just less seasoned, not as experienced.

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter. “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall. “Last room on the left. His name’s Jungkook. His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.” It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves. Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told.

“Jungkook?” There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight. (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.) It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else.

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting: one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits. Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine. A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall; one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it. There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath. All in all, very homey. Reminiscent of your own apartment.)

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space. “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples.

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for. Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe. It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin. “Are you okay?” He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way. Good for him, but worse for you.

He’s so cute. Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.” You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete. “Um— I was told you might have some time? For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering? You’re never shy. Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess. People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!” Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder. He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway. “Yeah, I’ve got time. Come in.” Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek; the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip; each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks. “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no. You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook? He was that. In spades.

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table. It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display. “I’ve got a pretty big selection.”

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him. This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation.

“So—” He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen. You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt. It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion; it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles. He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling. The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity. “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.” It really is. You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink. “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question. Of course it did. It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally. “Like crazy, but it was worth it. This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—” He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.

“A piece of cake?” You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you. (It doesn’t. You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap. “Do any of these interest you?” He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash. There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf). They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.” It catches your eye more than the others have. Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines. A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do. “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.” He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled; you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion. A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen. “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy. Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no. You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though. You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it. You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life. There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,” you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.

“Do you have your ID?” You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form. “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come.

Alone, the nerves set in. You’re actually doing this. Getting a tattoo. Putting something permanent on your body. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap. Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come. (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.)

(But had you really made up your mind? Was this going to be it? It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise. It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!” Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope. You eye it curiously. “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”

He’s really thought of everything. Or the shop has. Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?” It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand. (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.)

You hadn’t thought about that. You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away. “My arm?”

“Upper? Forearm?” There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative. He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you.

“Tricep area, I think? Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.” Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same. “I’m kidding. That was cheesy. But I’m sure it’ll look fine. We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?”

“That sounds good.” A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement.

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake: wearing a turtleneck. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like. Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon? Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)?

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule. Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside. Whatever you’d prefer.”

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill. You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way? He was probably desensitized.)

“It’s fine.” You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly. Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though. Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater. It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath. Two.

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him. “All right. Let’s do this.”

“So, which arm?” He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello.

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers. You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.” It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror. “It’s so pretty.”

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face. “Thanks.” He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful. “What do you think?”

“This is it. Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool. As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee.

“All right. We’ll shave you down and get started. You like the colours, right?” Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart. It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes. (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.) He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him. “Hop on up. Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace. It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?” You’d misheard that, right?

“Your skin. You’re sparkling.” He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.

“Oh.” Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly. “It’s my soap.”

“Sparkle soap?” Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure. He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before. (Which, fair.)

“It’s this specialty holiday soap. It has pigment in it.”

“That’s cool.” He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm. “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree. It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does. Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot. “Thanks.”

“Was that weird? I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.”

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle. “Ready?”

Honestly, you’re not sure. Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog. Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue. “I think so.”

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee.

“All right—”“ The incessant buzzing stops. Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel. “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you. Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.)

“Can I see?” You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah, go ahead. Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right. You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet. It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you.

“Careful!” It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.

“Sorry, sorry.” You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede. Everything straightens out quickly enough. “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?” He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall. “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art. “I’m fine.” That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.” The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open. Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words, “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention. It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours. It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.

“You like?”

“I love.” You’d stare at it for hours, if you could. Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie. “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head. Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose. Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into. “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one. It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink. (You half expect him not to answer; you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.)

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.

“So, what’re you thinking?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking. Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history. You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece. “A sleeve?”

That surprises him. His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously. “Like, a full sleeve?” It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable. “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high. “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,” he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea. “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.” He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up. For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing. (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.) “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan. It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there. He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions. It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin. A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep. Another takes up the entirety of your forearm. There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi. It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch. You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.” Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap. “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers. Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat. He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up. Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.

“You mean we did it,” you return, giddy like a child.

“Ah, right.” The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled. “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey! Screw you!” You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more. It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head. Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow. You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm. That in itself had hurt like a biiitch; you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?” He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to. It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.

“Yes, you are.” You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares. This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together. (Not that you’d complain. You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful. “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration. “You wouldn’t dare.” You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.

“Wouldn’t I? I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed? You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation. Had he mentioned it previously? Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain? No, you would’ve remembered that. You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.” How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea. You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway. Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago. (God, your memory is good. If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.) “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.

“Gonna miss me?”

Would it be inappropriate to say yes? Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question. You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own. “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,” he answers, offering honesty to your reticence. “You can still send me funny photos though.”

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile. “I guess you’re right. Will you still be tattooing?” It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know. You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.” Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin. “Actually, where I got most of mine done.” You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith. He’s finally come full circle. You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to. It wouldn’t feel right otherwise. “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,” he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair. It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn. “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,” you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder. You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go. It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk. “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you. It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available. (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.) “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black. You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?” He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to. (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?) “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended. “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you. “Hey, I don’t judge. You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there. Used your own impulsive history against you. “I would never.”

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what? Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him. “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth. There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up. You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”

“Really?” You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face. “Then why don’t you have one?” He has a million others as it is: a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs. (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)

“And hide all this?” One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home. “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual. “But I’m cuter. It’d be a shame if it were me. You…” The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean. (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.) “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him.

“I’m kidding.” You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries. A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke. “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them? Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was. Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met. It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?” The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.

Were you? You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really? You can’t?” You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it. But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously. It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears. “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”

Had he? Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall. Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of; accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff). Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought. You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,” you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.

“I think you’re cute,” he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff. The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week. The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb. (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer. “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.” Where the confidence comes from, who knows. You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering. It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits.

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go.

Then he does the last thing you expect: shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.

(His lips are so soft. A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate. Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him. French fries and beer and his Chapstick.)

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.)

“You just kissed me.” It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.” Speaking the words into existence feels bad; you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.

“I am.” At least he’s realistic. It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay.

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose.

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next. (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass. Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers. An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,” the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials. You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation.

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof. The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin. You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous. It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left.

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed. He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders. You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,” he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity. It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,” you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped. You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was. As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though. You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow. He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?” You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder. Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again. (You’re proud of that. It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine. You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness. Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad. Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around. It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper. He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror. “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals. Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care. Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre. You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life. It means so much - like progressing to the next level.

Which, you suppose it is. This is a fresh start for you. A new beginning in a new city.

“Proud of you,” he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips. He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago. A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,” you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual. “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that. You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome. From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this: a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had; to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that. Made it worth it in ways you had never considered. Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?” He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself. It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.” The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?” You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets. It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that. He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised. “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?” Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job?

(It truthfully could be. You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.” All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine. “You don’t like when I admire my own work?” Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit. The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need. (Because you really do need it. You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.) It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once.

“Kook,” you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.” He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin. They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas. A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care. Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits. When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt. “I’ve missed this,” he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.

“Missed you too,” you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @xjoonchildx

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luimagines · 3 years

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You know, since the Zelda games are in a kind of medieval era, courting must be a thing in all of the Link's time, more in Hyrule and Legend's era as they are the "first" ones (I know it is Sky, but the people from the sky don't strike me as being very stern in following the protocol of courting, contrary to their earthen people) and are more of ye olde time.

(Small warning as this was view with a female reader in mind, but I won't be making use of any type of pronoun besides neutral)

Hyrule is just a humble traveller, he doesn't have lands or riches to his name, not even a house for the both of you to settle. On top of that, his Hyrule is very dangerous and the menace of Ganon or any other evil being is always a possibility, to the point of making him lose sleep.

He lives on the go, always going to new lands and learning new cultures, which in result has let him admire all type of customs, clothing and jewels he would have never imagined if he didn't see it for himself. He had in several occasions pictured you with such objects, maybe as a gift for your wedding, the glint of the accessories would seem dull compared to the shine of your smile, the flowing fabrics swaying as the both of you dance together and the celebration of your marriage goes well into the night.

If only he had the money to pay for your price, but there's also the problem of talking with your parents, which might be impossible if you ask him due to the current situation. In the end, everything must remain a dream, he doesn't want to give you a poor life nor an early departure if he ever gets ambushed by enemies that for once proved to be more than what he can handle, or in the case of only him perishing, you won't have nothing and will be alone in a dangerous, unknown land as a dowry is something he will never be able to settle, he doesn't have goods to give to you, only what he had in his bag and person.

Legend have almost the same worries as Hyrule, but they are founded by the fear of losing you. He can make enough money for the two of you, maybe you couldn't live a posh life, but sufficient to live comfortable to the rest of both of your days. But no amount of money could stop losing his only family, he doesn't need a repetition of that event but this time with the family born by your union, something made by the two of you with love.

He also feels a type of social pressure; even if he managed to save Zelda and clear his name, there have been times in which Legend caught the stare of people looking at him over their shoulders, judging him. They still believe him a kidnapper, a traitor, and his attitude does nothing to appease their opinions. He doesn't want you to be a subject of that hatred if he ever steps fowards with his desire of courting you.

Twilight's concern is about what you think of his life style. He is a simple guy; he grew up in a quite, self sufficient little town and wishes to live like that until the day of his death. Having a family with you in a little farm is his biggest desire, but he would settle with only being the two, growing old together and living a ton of happy moments.

In case of a modern reader, he's afraid you will find his life poor and boring, he have seen how the city people gets sick and annoyed really quick of the country life and he fears you will do the same. The country life isn't an easy one; you have to wake at the crack of sunrise and having nice things aren't necessary, but you come from an era far advanced than his so even if he can easily get the extra rupees for a gift for you, it won't be anything that you haven't seen or own before.

If he can't give you or make you experience good things, then why would you be with him? He would be devastated if he couldn't make you happy if you ever took a leap towards his open arms and he failed in delivering what you deserve.

--------

Idk! I just thought "well, since they are from a different world and raised in ancient times, then they would have certain views that the reader isn't aware and it will actually worry the guys a lot if they ever develop a crush on the reader.

I skipped Time and Four bc I never played/watched OoT and Four swords. Wild and Warrior strike me as the one who cares the least, wild doesn't even remember them and while warrior is aware and would have gladly partaked, fighting a war made him lower the importance of following such strict protocol. You can't do it if you are dead!

This is.... perfect?

Amazing?

So well thought out and well articulated that I'm speechless.

Four would also have his own courting system from his Hyrule but he's less concerned with a dowry or gifts. He can make gifts and he has a place, a stable job and he knows that he can take care of Reader and a family should the future present itself. He knows he has all those bases covered.

But would Reader like him?

Height is a deal breaker for some people and while he's never had someone to put his heart out on the line before, he's seen it happen to his neighbors and friends, and while he's not necessarily insecure about his height.... He wonders if Reader would ever even consider him an option.

Time though?

Also no land, no house and while he has a job, it's low paying because he doesn't need much as a bachelor.

He's not so concerned with dowry or protocol though. Mostly because he didn't grow up with that on his radar, even after he couldn't return to Kokiri Forest, no one explained it to him and he's never asked. He's noticed some of the typical things when he's in town and the younger boys begin courting with the one their hearts desire, so he knows gift giving, and special treatment.

So Time will be more concerned with catching Reader's attention and making sure that he can at least provide when he gets back home because he's never needed anything for him. But it won't just be him anymore would it?

But a dowry? What's that? I don't know her.

I know you probably didn't include Wind because he's currently the youngest but I do think Outset Island as a vague protocol that he's aware of.

It's not Dowry or Courting Specific.

But I do think that there's a specific order to do things. Like ATLA and betrothal necklaces because there's not much else to say Hey! I'm engaged!

So Outset might have a similar custom of gift given but I don't know what that would be.

Maybe a shell necklace or a certain fish you need to catch to show them you're interested.

All things he wouldn't be able to do outside of Outset of course

#pinky replies #Wind would think about it #if Reader was the same age #because that's how I write his (romantic) scenarios #tumblr tags don't let me use quotation marks as I want to #and I don't know why #I don't think he'd really got through with it though #because of his age #but again #he thinks about it

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gregorygerwitz · 2 years

Note

I will always ask for more, lol! Tell me more about truly and mouse and how she adopted him! I love that!

Should I go to sleep on time? Yes. Am I going to? No. I'm going to make gifs and rewatch clips of the three (3) actual Mouse & Trudy scenes so I can yell about the little found family that I love so, so much, because at any given moment I am thinking about them. this is more important than being rested for work honestly

The thing is, we don't get a lot of content for them, and that makes sense considering how big the ensemble was back when Mouse was on the show (there was a full Intelligence team, plus two regular patrol characters, whereas now we really only focus on Intelligence, which has open spots, and there are no regular patrol characters). All we get for them are small scenes that I love to read into. Because I'm me.

Basically, Mama Bear Trudy™ has low key adopted everyone at some point, but there are a few people she adopted especially hard. Mouse is one of them.

(under a cut because so many gifs and so much babbling) (warnings for: brief mention of Mouse's time in the army and allusion to his medical discharge, gifs featuring guns, discussion of typical procedural violence including a snippet of canon dialogue about a murder-suicide inside of a police station)

The first scene they actually have together is in 2x16, when Trudy is interviewing him for the tech position in intelligence. Mouse spends the entire time fidgety and anxious

affectionately, Mouse.exe has crashed. which is fair. interviews are stressful. especially when this poor boy has mommy issues and now he's faced with *gestures to the energy in the room* it's just. he's not having a good time. which means this is Trudy's very first impression of him that isn't some story Jay told about their time in the army and it's heavily implied that Jay doesn't like talking about it, so the first she could have heard of Mouse was idk maybe Adam making a comment about the case he helped with in s1

and she can kind of... tell that he's anxious. mostly because he's really not hiding it.

and for context, the dialogue in this scene kind of adds to the Vibe™

T: "So, you were a Ranger." M: "Yes, uh, yes. Sergeant. I did, uh, two tours in Afghanistan." T: "Why'd you leave the unit?" M: "Well, the Army gave me the confidence to pursue my dreams. That's why I'm here today." T: "What's this about a medical discharge?" M: "Yes. Yes, ma'am." T: "...Why the medical discharge, Mouse?" M: "Uhm... well, there was a- there was a convoy, and, uh, I was- I was in the- the lead Humvee. It- it was me and Jay, actually... um... um..." T: "Hey." M: "Huh?" T: "We're good."

it's the way I could write essays about this scene alone and the way Mouse zones out while thinking about his trauma and the very gentle "hey [...] we're good" like yes Trudy I also immediately adopted him that's extremely valid

But that's really the first hint we get of their relationship, this very gentle moment that is such a sharp contrast to his other interview with Voight earlier in the episode. That one was very "explain your felony record and prove that you deserve to be here," whereas Trudy is so much more... relaxed, almost? He's already proved himself to Voight, so she kind of just brushes off the record and it's not up to her to decide if he's capable of the job, she just has to give him clearance and... basically check his vibes.

And then she gets to see this moment of vulnerability where he's being asked to be open and talk about this huge traumatic thing that happened to him, and you know what? maybe she will go easy on him. if he's good enough for Jay to call him a friend and good enough that Voight is willing to look past his record, then that's good enough for her too.

And by the time we get to the next real scene they have together (in 3x03), they're closer. They have this little kind of banter that's so light even in the busy lobby while she's trying to handle like 20 people at once. Even when she brushes him off, it's so much gentler than the frustrated orders she was giving to the other officers and civilians around them.

M: "Hey, Sarge. I need you signature on this requisition form. Voight wants new pinhole cameras." T: "Not now, Mouse." M: "He was very clear about his instructions. You gonna send me back empty-handed?"

Then, as he's being pushed aside, Mouse still does this little "no!" that is just. I love it. I love him. It's so glorious I mean. look at him.

It's this very familiar moment in the midst of all this chaos and I love it so much.

And then seconds later, Mouse gets grabbed, and who's the first person to react? Mom™

immediately, Trudy has her gun out, and she's ready to go. Mama Bear Mode™ is activated. someone threatened a cub and she's out for blood.

and I've already screamed about this little moment a million times, but I've been thinking all day about how Mouse is so calm through all of this. he's got a gun to his head for hours during the episode, and he's very calm through most of it, even putting on a braver face at one point. hard and determined instead of calm and neutral. but there is one moment where he shows his fear and it's this moment:

when he looks from Voight, to Kim, and then to Trudy. and it's the one time all episode that he shows his fear, and we see that Trudy also sees that look, and she's still pissed someone has her son at gunpoint of course she's pissed

There's another moment, later in the episode, when Mouse is inside and still being held hostage, where Trudy goes to Voight to talk to him about it, I don't have a gif of it but she does that anxiety thing where she keeps tucking her hair back even when it's already behind her ears? that constant I Need To Be Doing Something motion. it makes me feel things

T: "There was a guy who walked into the 31st, years back - bad domestic." V: "He had a .32 in his sock, killed his wife, a cop, and then himself." T: "The district, the front desk, it's a sacred place. If people don't feel safe walking in there-" V: "Trudy. This isn't gonna end like that." T: "You make sure, Hank."

She never says that she's worried about Mouse specifically, but she doesn't have to. Even Voight is quick to jump in and reassure her that no one is going to get shot or hurt like that - and the most obvious person in danger in that moment, the only person he would need to reassure anyone about, is Mouse. Who, let's be honest, Trudy would have legally adopted and put it on paper if he wasn't 30.

the fact that we get no follow up on all of Trudy's worry and we don't even get to see her reaction when they get him out of there safe is an attack on me personally. that is his Mom™ and we don't even get to see her checking on him after that ordeal? fake. I guess I have to write the fic myself.

And then we really don't get any other scenes of them together until over a season later. We don't get any major interaction, rarely anything with them in the same room, until 4x05. Then we get the favors, and all of the implications that come with that. Trudy even goes to his goodbye party at Molly's.

And apparently the CPD writers are trying to torture me because we've gotten two episodes in s9 that feature Trudy sitting in Mouse's old tech cage and helping Intelligence. Sitting in his chair and doing his old job. And it makes me feel things.

TLDR;;

Trudy took one look at Mouse and just automatically adopted him which makes me feel incredibly perceived. but unlike Voight who's upstairs playing favorites, she consistently looks out for him and shows concern and that makes me feel so many things I miss them I want this back.

#alex says things #shae tag #lovelymysticmoon #answered #mouse gerwitz #greg gerwitz #greg mouse gerwitz #trudy platt #cpd #chicago pd #one chicago #the platt fam #meta #i love them your honor #i have to sleep now but i will be writing platt fam content this week

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obae-me · 4 years

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Hi again! If it's not too much trouble, can I request the brothers reacting to an MC who usually bottles up their anger (they have a LOT of patience) until one day they just explode? You are an amazing person, and thank you for everything! I hope you aren't pushing yourself too hard!!

Hi, welcome everyone to another episode of Mara Doesn’t Know When To Stop, this time featuring this lovely request! I had a small idea, which then turned into five whole pages for Lucifer alone, so, I will also be doing this request into parts, I really hope you don’t mind! I get a bit carried away sometimes...I admit it... Anyway, Lucifer’s part is first! I hope you like it! 💜

Warning: Angst, arguing, cussing, It does lead to a happy end though, it’s a bit cheesy but sometimes we love it

We All Get Angry Sometimes

Word Count: 2707

He was fully aware of MC bottling up their true emotions. Being well acquainted with angels, he knew, despite all their holy patience, that even they had their limits. He will admit, he was impressed and proud with how far they had taken it, being human after all. Their control was practically as good as his own. No matter what his brothers did, what they said, how much they pushed them, for weeks MC just smiled and swallowed it. He was pleased. Until they could no longer retain their anger, and turned it all on him.

It had been at dinner, nothing unlike their meals every day, except recently Lucifer’s nerves had been on edge. It had been a few days since he had been blessed with adequate sleep, and his brothers were more bothersome than usual. Little did he know, MC’s mental state was about the same, close to the breaking point. An unhappy MC meant unhappy brothers, which meant it would all lead back up the ladder to Lucifer. There was only so far MC could be shoved around, only so long they could stay calm, and Lucifer had been the last straw. No one can really remember how it started, it hadn’t been important, simply some passing comment from one of the brothers discussing recent school projects. MC had scoffed, explaining their thoughts on how ridiculous the rules of said assignments were. Then it all went downhill from there.

“I’m not sure it’s your place to be making claims like that based on what your grades have been looking like recently,” Lucifer quipped. The rest of the siblings prepared to stand up for the human, knowing that MC was typically passive in nature.

Only, that same human beat them to the punch. “So, you’re saying that because I don’t meet your lofty standards, I’m not entitled to my opinions?” MC set down their fork, sending chills down the other demon’s spines as the room went silent.

Lucifer narrowed his gaze, already annoyed with their tone. “I’m merely explaining that maybe your statement would have more merit if you worked a little more at your studies instead of slacking off. And for the record, no, you haven’t been reaching my standards. I honestly expected more from you.” Every member of the household felt that line deep in their bones.

MC’s jaw clenched, the fire building up in their chest overwhelmed them to the point where if they shoved it down any longer, they felt like they would explode under the pressure. “You expected more from me? What more could you possibly want?! You’ve taken my home, my family, my friends, my culture, my time! You’ve constantly belittled me, ordered me around, expected nothing but perfection from me, and you still want more?! What have you possibly done to deserve more of me?!”

He was stunned at first, yes, but it didn’t last long. The shock factor was quickly replaced with a wave of fervent irritation. There’s no surprise he was already in demon form, doing his best to intimidate MC into submission. His eyes were glowing that deep red of his, looking down at the human as he got to his feet. His siblings slowly raised up from their seats as well, at the ready to intervene at any second. This whole event had them astonished to their core. Mammon and Levi had their jaws open. Asmo had his hand covering his mouth. Satan would have appeared proud of MC if not for the wary frown. Beel was instantly engaged in protection mode, already in a stance to grab onto Lucifer if he needed to. The eldest was barely able to control himself. Somehow MC had gotten deep under his skin, his body prickling with anger. “What have I--I’ve brought you into my home, ensured your protection, done nothing but make sure your experience down here is sufficient for your fragile little life! Do Not speak to me that way. Know your place.”

MC was physically vibrating from rage and frustration, their mind clouded with fury. Logic was far out the window now, they simply were saying whatever came to mind. Profanities were no longer held back. “I’m sick of your pompous holier-than-thou shit! I’m sick of working my ass off for you and not being good enough! You have a serious fucking lack of respect for everyone around you!”

The air was thick with his aura, his wings fully extended from his body. “Not another wor-”

“Fuck you!”

In a quick blur of motion, everyone worked together in tandem. As Lucifer lunged forward, his brothers held him back. Mammon scooped MC up in his arms and raced to the safety of their room before MC could get hurt, although deep in his heart he hoped Lucifer wouldn’t resort to violence. Lucifer growled inhumanly, flinging his brothers off of him in a single swift movement, ready to pursue the person that dared attempt to say such things to his face.

“How pathetic for you to have gotten so riled up over a few words from a human,” Satan shouted at him as he got up from his spot on the floor. Swallowing the small lump in his throat, he hoped this would prove a decent distraction as well as a way to snap his brother back under control.

Lucifer loomed over him. Satan seemed hardly disturbed. “Watch yourself.” But Satan’s words proved efficient, Lucifer’s Pride wounded as he realized how quickly he allowed MC’s words to get to him, how quickly he had lost control. All of his sibling’s eyes were on him, observing how he was acting. His head was pounding, but instead of heading up to MC’s room, he swiftly retired to his private study where he locked the entrance behind him. He paced around the area for a while, magically turning on some soothing music as his wings twitched in vexation.

He had been completely unprepared for MC’s retaliation, for their venom towards him, but perhaps he knew there was only so much a living being could take before they snapped. Had he been pushing them too hard? Expecting too much of them? Mistreating them? Had he gone too far? What if this spat ended up becoming a problem for the program? What if MC relayed this to Diavolo? His image, his reputation, they would be tarnished. Did MC think less of him now? Did he really care what they thought of him? He was better than this. He expected more from himself. He lowered his head as he sat heavily down into the chair behind his desk. He sunk down low, proper posture be damned. As he took a deep breath in, he realized he hadn’t been breathing for a while, lungs aching. He hadn’t meant to rub MC the wrong way. He simply strived to lead them towards the potential he knew they had. All he wanted was for them to feel proud of their accomplishments, to show the world what he knew they were capable of. But perhaps, it was unfair for the same standards he kept for himself to apply to MC as well. He pinched the bridge of his nose as that deep breath turned into a heavy sigh. He had failed in nurturing the success they’d already accomplished. He’d made them feel like they weren’t good enough, and now look at what he had done, in front of his family no less. Humiliating.

Meanwhile, Mammon was in the process of rubbing MC’s back as they lay on their bed, screaming into their pillow as angry tears fell from their eyes. They hadn’t meant to snap at Lucifer, it all...was just so much. They finally had cracked from the pressure. Everyone’s expectations had gotten the best of them. Be a human representative. Don’t let anyone down. Don’t show weakness. They weren’t purposefully slacking off from their studies, they just were burnt out, almost completely. Lucifer demanding even more from them...was the last thing they needed to hear today. Their own words made them feel sick to their stomach. Being angry wasn’t like them, it never sat well, which is why they always attempted to bury it in the first place. Mammon continued to tell them to breathe and calm down, doing his best not to freak out himself. He’d never seen his human act like this before. After some time, they both heard a polite knock on the door. As MC tensed, Mammon got up to answer it on their behalf. Lucifer was waiting, back in his casual clothes as his arms were settled folded across his chest, foot tapping impatiently against the floor.

“You’ve got a lotta nerve coming back here so soon,” Mammon scowled. “I won’t let anything happen to them, ya hear?”

“Nonsense, Mammon, I have no intention of harming them, I just want to talk. Calmly.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t think they’re in the mood for talkin’.” Mammon did his best to let his body block the entrance to the room, his shoulders nearly touching both sides of the door frame as he made his stature appear bigger. Lucifer peered over his younger brother’s figure, spotting MC sitting with their legs crossed on top of the bed, mostly calmed down as well, refusing to look at him. He noted the tear stains on their cheeks, and he resorted to having to clench his own teeth to stop the bubbling guilt rising up in his chest. He would make this right, if he couldn’t do this, how could he possibly call himself the wise and mature older brother?

“It’s...okay, Mammon,” MC assured him. The demon of greed scoffed, stating much too loudly that he would be right outside the door. He threatened his older brother not to even think about laying a single finger on them, unafraid of any punishment when it came to protecting MC. Lucifer waved him away with a single hand, too exhausted to deal with him further. As the door shut, he strode over to MC’s bed, chin high but spirits low. He had no intention of apologizing first, but if he could just persuade MC to start, he might be able to swallow enough pride to follow.

“Have we calmed down now?” He asked, MC simply nodding in response. “Very well.” He paused for a moment, letting an uncomfortable silence settle over the room. He did have many things he wanted to say, things he wanted to rectify, but for the life of him, he couldn’t bring himself to say them. Not yet. “Did you have anything you wanted to say to me?”

He observed them fight back their irritation before slumping their shoulders as they gave in. “I’m sorry, Lucifer.”

“And?” His voice sounded like a parent scolding a child, causing MC to nearly flinch in humiliation.

They bit their lip. “And the things I said to you were uncalled for. I know how much you do for all of us...for me.” They sat up a bit straighter as they stammered over the thoughts they wanted to say, to explain their feelings. They were afraid to be honest and vulnerable, much like he was, but they had the courage and humility to be open. It was a trait he secretly admired. “I just...I’m finding it difficult to--to find the--the energy and motivation to make everyone happy. And...and it hurt when…” They looked down, swallowing their emotions once more as they halted their watery eyes from crying again.

Lucifer let his body unwind ever so slightly. It would be rude of him now to not follow their example. “I...regret my words and my actions. I allowed my emotions to get the best of me, it won’t happen again.” He let the conversation fall once more as he took the time to straighten his coat around his shoulders and his gloves tighter over his fingers. “It was not my intention to invalidate your efforts. You’ve already accomplished more than I originally thought you were capable of, and it was foolish on my part to expect more from a simple human.” His rather backhanded compliment forced MC to rest their face in their hands in shame. The nerves in Lucifer’s spine shot a jolt up his back as he realized how terribly this was going. His temples were pounding, and he finally put his pride aside for the sake of reconciliation. He couldn’t stand to be the cause of their distress. MC stiffened as he sat himself beside them on their bed. A gentle hesitant hand hovered above their body before it settled between their shoulder blades. He glanced at the door where he knew Mammon was behind, probably listening in, and so he spoke softer. “I’m...sorry.” He had to ignore how harshly the words hurt him, but something about it was freeing. “I seem to have pushed you too far. I am thankful and truthfully astonished of what you’ve done during your time here. Not only did I cross a line today but I was blind to the fact that you’ve been overtaxing yourself. I know how hard it is to juggle my siblings and my work.”

He allowed his hand to drift up and down their back in a soothing rhythm, relaxing some himself as their muscles eased at his touch. MC finally raised their head from the confines of their palms and looked him in the eyes. “Do you think I’m a disappointment? A burden?” He found himself stunned for the second time today, and for a while he wondered when it was that he could be so easily swayed by the words and emotions of this human. Here he was, not only apologizing, but expending every effort he had in consoling them. He wanted MC to be happy again, because somehow it seemed to make his days a little brighter, his mood a little softer. Perhaps...he cared more for them than he realized. Their shouts had wounded him deeply at dinner, but somehow these new words hurt him more. Their forlorn face spurred an unfamiliar pain in his chest.

“I’m sure it will be hard to convince you after the unforgivable things I said to you today, but it could not be further from the truth. I suppose the fact that you question yourself is one of my biggest failures. Clearly, we have not been communicating properly. For that I am..s...sor…” The words got caught in his throat. Apologizing once had been difficult enough, a second time seemed impossible. Out of the blue, he felt a tight set of arms wrap around his torso. He held his arms up in the air, his body turning rigid as his little hairs stood up on end. MC had pulled him into a tight hug, burying their face in his side. He felt their nose nestle against his ribs. As soon as he found his breath, his arms slowly lowered, settling around the smaller human. His body felt warm. Allowing himself a small smile, he cleared his throat. “I would prefer a situation like this to never happen again, do you understand?” MC detached from his sides, sitting back up as they nodded silently. “So, for the future, instead of quarreling with me, I expect you to come straight to me to discuss any woes or issues you may have. Fair enough?”

“Yes, Lucifer.”

He gingerly brushed his fingers against MC’s cheeks. “But it would be remiss of me to ignore the faults of my own. Since our meal was interrupted, what do you say to me taking you out to dinner, as my way of making amends?”

MC felt themselves blush a bit. “Sure-”

The door burst open, Mammon leading the charge as the rest of the siblings spilled into the doorway. They’d all been eavesdropping. Mammon came over and tugged MC further away from Lucifer. “Oi, what did I say about touching MC?!”

“And our dinner was interrupted too, I think we deserve something!” Asmo whined.

A loud grumble echoed from Beel’s gut. “I’m starving…”

Lucifer’s eyelid twitched a bit, and he gave MC one last apologetic look before he sighed. “Fine...we’re all going to dinner then.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc

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waitineedaname · 3 years

Note

Can’t remember the number but the prompt about hearing a song meant for their crush from their roommate’s room???

7. I have work in the morning and I can’t sleep while you’re making music next door, composing love songs for your secret crush.

Gordon was not a stranger to insomnia. Even before all the bullshit that had been thrown at him in Black Mesa, he’d had his fair share of sleepless nights. Anxiety and ADHD would do that to you. Of course, that had gotten significantly worse after he lived through his worst nightmares. It was easier to deal with these days, though. Time had passed since the Resonance Cascade, and he had spent a long time putting his life back together. Learning coping mechanisms, getting a much lower stress job as a physics professor, reconciling with Benrey, the whole nine yards. The night terrors and insomnia came far less frequently than they had when he was fresh out of the birthday bash at the end of the world. That didn’t mean they stopped coming all together, though.

It was one in the morning, if the glowing numbers on his alarm clock were to be trusted, and he had yet to fall asleep. His mind was racing, and not even in the typical anxiety way; he just couldn’t get it to shut up. It didn’t help that he had a class to teach in the morning. He was begging his brain to let him rest, but instead it decided to fixate on anything thought that passed by, like midterms coming up or the TV shows he loved as a child or all the noise coming from Benrey’s room.

Gordon ran his hands down his face and groaned. Yeah, Benrey deciding to compose music in the middle of the night definitely wasn’t helping his sleep. What the hell was that guy even doing? Fuck it, Gordon decided. He wasn’t getting any sleep anyway. Might as well ask Benrey about their music.

He shuffled down the hall, mumbling curses when he stubbed his toes on the furniture barely visible in the dim moonlight. He paused outside Benrey’s room and listened a moment. Some of the sounds were the tell-tale tones of Sweet Voice, sometimes low and resonant, sometimes sweeping to high flute-like notes. Behind the Sweet Voice beeps was the sound of a piano, played with inexperienced hands but still harmonizing surprisingly well. Occasionally, one of the piano notes would come out sour, a key clearly being missed, and the Sweet Voice would be cut off with a non-melodic noise of annoyance before being picked up again.

Gordon had planned to knock on Benrey’s door, but he couldn’t help but stand there a while longer. The song Benrey was putting together was… really pretty, actually. He didn’t know a damn thing about music, but something about Benrey’s song struck a chord inside his chest.

He suddenly realized how weird it was that he was just standing there outside their door, and he shuffled awkwardly before knocking. The music immediately came to a screeching halt, and the silence that fell over the apartment was momentarily deafening. Then there was the sound of Benrey getting up, and then the door opened a few inches, allowing Benrey to peer out.

“Whuh?” They said, squinting up at him. “Thought you went to bed, man.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Gordon glanced over the top of Benrey’s head and saw a few Sweet Voice orbs still illuminating their otherwise dark room. The bubbles painted the room in a warm orange and pink glow, like an extremely localized sunset. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing,” Benrey said immediately, then thought better of it. “Just making music. Dumb, uh, dumb idiot doesn’t even know music? Only listens to Linking Perk? Pork Links? Not very kosher of you, dude.”

“Shut up,” Gordon said, despite laughing. “Can I listen?”

Benrey visibly hesitated, almost to the point that Gordon considered retracting his request and shuffling back to bed, but they eventually nodded and stepped away from the door so Gordon could follow them into their room.

Gordon had been in Benrey’s room a few times before, usually to grab something they’d forgotten and couldn’t get themself or something, but usually he didn’t intrude. It was their space, and everybody needed their own space. Benrey inviting him into their room in the middle of the night felt like an expression of trust that still baffled Gordon every time he thought about it too much; how had they come this far? Benrey sat down on the small piano bench in front of the keyboard Gordon had bought them when he realized they needed some kind of constructive hobby, and after a beat of consideration, Gordon settled down at the other end of the bench.

“Don’t be a dick, okay?” Benrey warned him. “This is a once in a lifetime concert. I don’t perform for just anybody.”

“Alright, alright, I get it.” Gordon put his hands up in surrender. “I’ll keep my comments to a minimum.”

Benrey huffed but apparently deemed that response acceptable. They cleared their throat, put their hands on the keys, and began singing. Gordon was immediately entranced. It started as a low orange note, sustained with a major chord on the piano. Slowly, it was accented with notes of pink and shimmering blue. It sped up, becoming playful, then took on a treacherous minor key peppered with discordant notes, before resolving into a major key that exuded warmth and comfort. All throughout the performance, Gordon was transfixed by the Sweet Voice filling the room, enshrouding him and Benrey in light. The more he watched and listened, the more he thought he might recognize the Sweet Voice colors. There, the orange tone Benrey occasionally sang directly into Gordon’s face by way of greeting, followed by an orange-blue gradient Benrey sang when they were excited to go on an outing with Gordon. The playful pink Gordon learned to associate with Benrey’s laughter, the soft yellow they used when Gordon was too stressed to sleep. The bruised purple color Gordon remembered from bad nights, thankfully distant memories now, and then the gentle lavender of the comfortable mornings that replaced them. Then laced throughout it all, the pink to blue gradient that always embarrassed Benrey and reminded Gordon of the bi flag, hidden under other layers of music as if Gordon wouldn’t notice.

Gordon wasn’t sure how long the song went on, but eventually, it faded into silence as the last few bubbles of light escaped Benrey’s mouth and their fingers stilled on the keys. Gordon didn’t dare say a word, awestruck into silence. Benrey, however, fidgeted and felt the need to speak. “It’s not done,” They said, as if defensive. “It’s still… I gotta make it perfect, you know?”

“I think it’s perfect,” Gordon said, and he meant it. Benrey immediately looked embarrassed and turned their head away to sing that pink to blue string of Sweet Voice. “What is it about?”

“It’s, uh…” Benrey trailed off, rubbing some dust off one of the lower keys. “It’s about… I dunno, life? Living here. With you. And being your friend. And, uh. Yeah. Mostly about you.”

“...Me?” Gordon asked, shocked. Benrey continued to avoid his gaze. “Holy shit. I don’t think anyone’s made a song for me before.”

“Mm. Well, feel grateful. Asshole,” Benrey’s heart wasn’t in the insult for once, clearly deflecting. Gordon smiled and scooted closer on the piano bench, leaning against them affectionately.

“It was beautiful. Thank you, Ben.” Gordon pressed a kiss to their cheek, then stood. “I think I’m gonna go to bed for real now. Good night.”

Benrey had their lips closed tightly, holding back Sweet Voice, and nodded instead of responding verbally. When Gordon closed the door behind him, he could still hear and see the pink to blue Sweet Voice from under the door. He wandered back to bed, soothed and happy, and fell asleep to the sounds of Benrey’s composition drifting down the hall once more.

#hlvrai #frenrey #benrey #gordon feetman #my writing #okay to reblog #THIS ONE IS REAL SOFT <3 #sorry this took me a bit to get to #I'm visiting my mom for her birthday this week #hope you enjoy the fic :]#I love playing with sweet voice stuff. nonverbal language hell yeah

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

Day four of the Horror on Cherry Lane Challenge! Today’s prompt was Sunglasses!

Steve has a lot of secrets. Too many probably.

Most teenagers’ secrets are things like sleeping with the wrong people, smoking the cheap shit the jocks pass out, broken curfews and failing grades. He’s got all of those too, but Steve's secret runs much deeper than that.

His is the kind of secret that’d have men in black suits coming to take him away, or at this point, more than a decade after letting him go in the first place, putting a bullet in the back of his skull and calling it a day before any trouble comes up.

He’s been stuck in Hawkins all his life. Been fed the knowledge about the world off a silver spoon he didn’t ask for. His first five years of life are well forgotten to shock therapy and to the lab, where they intended to use him and the rest of the kids like him as weapons. Pawns in their big game of life.

But Steve was different. He could turn his powers off, make them undetectable by the machines they hooked him up to. They thought he was just a failure, so after so long, they wiped his brain with their very own cocktail of drugs and just let him go. Adopted him out to a middle aged dink couple who wouldn’t run their mouths about where their little bundle of joy came from as long as their pockets were lined with enough hush money, and that was that.

It didn’t take long for them to realize though, that he wasn’t as normal as they had been convinced he was. Not even knowing he was doing anything wrong, little Stevie would have outbursts, or small tantrums as momma always tried to convince everyone who told her Steve was too much for her to handle.

These weren’t just normal crying fits though. Anyone who got near him would be just as sad or scared or frustrated as he was. A single sob from that boy had enough power to crack the foundations of the family home.

Most kids when they have a cranky morning will get on the nerves of their parents, but Steve could disrupt the whole neighborhood without even realizing it. And that was his power.

They didn’t have a name for it, really. The range of what he can do is too broad, too undefined by anything else. There was a telekinetic girl, a pyrokinetic he’s pretty sure is dead now. But Steve was just special. Part of what made it so easy to go under their radar was this, but it also made him a risk.

The only reason he wasn’t immediately reported and given back to the bad men was the power this frail boy carried. It scared Ruthie and John, and they decided that they’d rather face the men at that lab again than a seven year old who could accidentally destroy them with his emotions.

So they kept him, and certainly kept their distance. They forced him into a little mold of how to behave properly and made him take pills to weaken his powers. They send him to behavioral therapy and make him act like he’s not a failed government experiment. A fact which he only learned a couple of years ago after his pills worked a little too well at messing with his memory that he forgot to take them, and memories came flooding back.

For the same reasons, Steve’s bored of being careful. Bored of following all the rules and being passive, just pretending he’s like everyone else so mommy and daddy dearest are safe. He starts getting a little riskier, testing what he can do, since this is the first time he’s ever really had control over his ability. He finds a link with other people and their emotions, something of an empathy power, but he doesn’t get far in his research, because his plan very quickly goes to shit when Billy Hargrove rolls into town.

Where to begin with Billy. That boy makes him feel all sorts of things he never even considered. The very first day he showed his unimpressed (but very impressive) face at Hawkins high, Steve cracks his windshield. Oops.

He was able to tap into that control and tone it down, but that reserve dwindled the more he’s around Billy, and from there it just spirals. Bending the basketball hoop on accident, exploding light fixtures, giving everyone in the school headaches. It gets to the point where Steve has to come to terms with the fact that he had a crush on Billy, and that he has to do something to get it back under his control before somebody gets hurt.

That and he doesn’t want to get caught now. He just got back into the swing of using his powers before Billy interrupted his calm. Going back there, or whatever else might happen, is the last thing he wants for himself.

He settles for a pair of ray bans.

It’s stupid, but when Steve was still young and all but popping his mommas brains every single time he cried, she was desperate to find a way to get him to stop. She started to notice he’d concentrate hard on one thing and another would happen, staring at a lamp until it shattered, looking into her face until her ears started to ring and pop. So she does what she can to break that subconscious focus. Puts a barrier between him and all that he’s hurting. A plastic, race car themed barrier, but it does its job, and it worked every time until they got him on meds. So now that he’s old enough not to just tear the damn things right off his face, he figures it’s worth a shot.

Because nothing had made him this emotional, this out of control since the day he found out the truth about his past. Billy is special, and the very last thing he wants is to lose control and hurt him.

He still feels like a dope walking into the school with a pair of shades on. Everyone starts to stare in that way he tries not to let remind him of the lab and the doctors standing in circles around him, prodding and waiting for a reaction. Steve thinks wearing sunglass inside is the least weird thing to happen in the halls of a highschool if Tina can come in with a perm high enough to touch the ceiling, but whatever. He’ll get over it.

The fact that nothing’s exploded from how on edge he is, mostly from wondering if his momma’s trick will work and not because of their judgement, is a very good sign.

Boldly, he decides to put it to the ultimate test, and approaches Billy.

In his head, he’s so focused on just going to talk to Billy, he has nothing planned to say to him, but he thinks he would’ve forgotten anyways, what with the lazy smile Billy flashes him when he notices him approaching.

Steve’s gaze quickly darts past Billy to check for damage to anything, the racing in his chest from just a look like that typically enough to at least crack a window. Maybe he’s not as confident about this as he thought, or maybe Billy’s just really good at making him flustered.

Doesn’t matter, because he’s at the other boys locker before he has time to process what he’s doing, “Lookin’ for somethin’ Harrington?”

“Oh, yeah, I was just checking for uh, my fans. Yeah, they follow me around everywhere, you know?” It’s bullshit, and it sounds more than dumb coming out of Steve’s mouth, but it makes Billy laugh, real low and raspy and that’s a win in his book.

“That what the little disguise is for?” Billy hums and taps his temple, clearly referring to the sun glasses perched on Steve’s nose.

“Oh these? No, I uh, wear these ‘cause of the uh.. because I wanna sleep in class and down want the teachers to know?” His answer comes as more of a question than anything, so he’s grateful when Billy seems to be more interested in his excuse than the subject at hand.

“Pfft, yeah right. I’ve heard you sleepin’ on the basketball bus. Ain’t no way your snoring doesn’t get you caught before your eyes do.”

Steve just waves him off, laughs with Billy even if his heart isn’t in it.

Billy closes his locker door, switching the subject as the scenery switches. It’s all a distraction to Steve, but he forces himself to look Billy in the face as the other boy asks him, “Seriously though dude, you okay? It ain’t like you to switch up your look. You’re not hiding anythin’ under the shades are you?”

“Nah. Just been thinking, I’m not the King because I’m not cool anymore, right? So I’m tryin’ to look a little more.. interesting.” Steve’s not a very quick or good liar, despite the military guarded secret that is himself and the little black number seven carved into his arm, and he can tell Billy doesn’t buy it.

He’s a good sport though, throwing an arm around Steve’s shoulders and assuring him with a little jostle, “Aw, Stevie, you're cool in my book. At least as long as you quit comin’ up with reasons not to hang with me, yeah?”

“Yeah, I- alright. I can do that. Sorry for flaking so much though. Didn’t realize until you said something.”

“S’Cool. Just meet me at the quarry after dark and it’ll make up for it.” Billy offers, obviously trying to play up the coolness neither of them apparently actually have, and Steve can’t help but call him on it. “It gets dark at like, four-thirty, five o’clock anymore?”

“Fine. Meet me at nine, pretty boy.” Billy smirks, dropping his voice to add knowingly, “And lose the shades. I think you’re much more interesting without ‘em.”

#CherryLangeChallenge #harringrove #billy x steve #steve harrington #billy hargrove #experiment! steve #ej writer #story by ej!#this is a mess but that’s okay #I have two midterms tomorrow and can’t be bothered with cleaning this up again

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britishassistant · 3 years

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From one gut punch to another, but fluff edition: I think Divus hates when Yuu gets sick. Being a test tube baby, Yuu must have missed out on the natural immunities given by typical pregnancy. So when they were really young they would get ill very fast and very terrible. You can’t tell me that first time parents Roger and Anita wouldn’t panic when faced with the dreaded stomach bug. And who else to watch the pup when they run out for supplies then their “Uncle Crew”. At first, Crewel would consider it an triumph that Yuu could get sick since most of his creations have natural immunity, but that immediately changed and suddenly he was panicking too after Yuu had a pretty nasty burst of coughing. After all Yuu is the first creation that he’s ever made that was meant to be fragile, he’s not exactly equipped with how to deal with that. Nowadays Yuu mostly just suffers in silence, but if Crewel happens to hear that a certain reporter is under the weather, The Perfect will mostly likely stumble back into their apartment to find a care package from him with all their childhood treatments and the decent medicine.

@coffee-or-hot-cocoa said: hahaha how about yuu getting sick with a cold, lol the city must be the verge on a civil war with all the villains arguing who takes care of yuu, no crimes where committed but breaking and entering and the occasional medicine theft, they could've had kidnapped a doctor, but nothing says "look i'm husband material" by treating them to get better by helping them themselves. I keep imagining riddle with trey bringing some soup but then being shoved to the side from jade and floyd, with them bringing blankets and medicine, only to be beaten by the savana trio, by them taking a nap with yuu.

Thank you for the ask, dear anon and @coffee-or-hot-cocoa !

And oh. Oh. That makes so much sense and makes me so soft, I declare it canon.

Because Yuu’s lacking in these natural defenses, they tend to be someone who goes all out when they get sick. By which I mean they’re never someone who can have ‘just a light cold’, because their body just goes to the greatest extreme, from 0 to 100 in a matter of hours. They get awful fevers, migraines that leave them hardly able to think, body-wracking coughs, upset stomachs that mean they’re unable to even keep water down, sore throats which quickly devolve into tonsillitis, and that’s if they’re lucky and their symptoms are mild.

And they’ll still try to go to work in this state, because they’re a dumb workaholic.

Yuuken is in charge of turning them around, sitting them back in the car, and driving them home to rest.

It was particularly scary for Anita and Roger when Yuu was small, because chicken pox hit them like a freight train when it went through their class at school, leaving them ill enough for two weeks that they were contemplating taking Yuu to the emergency room so they could at least get the fluids they were losing via IV drip.

Crewel found it fascinating at first, as all of his creations have natural immunity built into them, so nothing can stop them when they rampage. Seeing one of them laid low by a mere disease, it’s a new experience that needs to be documented to its fullest extent to gather valuable data.

Of course it stops being so ‘fascinating’ once it becomes clear how much #Y26 is suffering, how much longer they’ve been bedridden when compared to normal rates of recuperation in children their age, long enough that the idea of them just not recovering at all becomes a viable option.

That’s when Crewel stops collecting data and starts working on a way to cure Yuu or alleviate the worst of their symptoms.

It’s also why he gets so pissy when he finds out what the supervillains are doing while Yuu’s sick. What don’t those numbskull puppies understand about avoiding stressing out the patient and the dangers of weakened immune systems?! Do they want the reporter to stay ill for longer under their antics?? It’s not like they’ll even be able to remember any of the ‘caretaking’ that they’re hoping will earn them brownie points, given how out of it Yuu always ends up!

He usually descends like a fashionable yet wrathful god, chasing the unruly puppies out of the reporter’s apartment with a rolled up newspaper before they can make the situation worse. The best thing they can do is leave their offerings of soup and medicine for Crewel’s perusal and back off quickly. Attempting to force their way in or sneak Yuu out is a fast way to incur Crewel’s cold fury. The Diasomnia, Octavinelle and Savannaclaw supervillain groups learned that the hard way.

Yuuken quickly won Crewel’s favor when they first met by staying as far away as he could when Yuu came down with flu while they roomed together, and doing exactly what Crewel advised him to after he had to leave Yuu in Yuuken’s care overnight, asking sensible questions when unclear about his directives. That at least showed Crewel that Yuuken was willing to do what was necessary to return Yuu to health rather than fulfill a certain ideal of caretaking that’s ultimately more self-serving than actually helpful.

Yuu wakes up a few days later with a can of tuna perched on their chest, grumbling about the remnants of a headache and wondering how much they’re going to need to play nursemaid after Uncle Divvy got done with their supervillain admirers this time.

#ask #coffee-or-hot-cocoa #twisted wonderland #twst #supervillain au #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu #the prefect #divus crewel #twst divus #divus sees ur undisciplined shit and wants none of it near his experiment #twst yuuken #enma yuuken

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writingtoforgetreality · 3 years

Text

Faking To Pretend (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Request: cathy cathy cathy here i am with another request *sigh* i cant help myself your writing is just too good

i was wondering if i might request a steve rogers x reader fic where maybe reader and steve are paired up for a mission and have to pretend to be married (undercover) and some thing happen to kind of force them to admit their feelings for each other (maybe one of them gets injured? or kidnapped idk you do what you want to 😂) anyways LOVE YOU SO MUCH ❤️❤️ (by @msmarvelsmain), [Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: Fake engagements, wedding plans & an undercover mission that jeopardized your well-being in the blink of an eye. Throughout it all, you somehow had to hide the fact that your feelings for Steve were just friendly, nothing more.

Words: 8,610

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, humor, argument, brief mentions of drugs, undercover mission (engagement & wedding plans), female pronouns used, that's pretty much it

[Mimi…this happens when our ideas get mixed up. LOVE YOU TOO!]

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

The familiar sound of a notification emanated from your phone. You deposited the book you had been immersed in onto the mattress & replaced it with the device. It confused you for a second when you noticed Tony being the one to message you. After all, you were literally in the same building.

Stark: meeting in 5.

(Y/N): you do know that you could tell me in person, right? just knock or something.

Stark: you’re too far away.

(Y/N): two doors, stark. TWO!

Stark: meeting in 4.

(Y/N): i hate you.

A loud sigh escaped through your lips. Typical Tony. Two could play that game. You planned on arriving right in time, not earlier. Maybe a few seconds too late. Anything to mess with him. At least he could get a taste of his own medicine that way.

“You’re a minute late.” Tony commented when he watched you walk inside the room. Your arms crossed over your chest as you leaned your shoulder against the door frame.

“You’re lucky I came in the first place.” you remarked. “Besides, I’m the first one here. Mission alone?” you questioned, raising your eyebrows while expectantly waiting for his answer. It was not usual for you to go alone. Except if the mission concerned grabbing pizza from the place down the block. You hoped for him that he did not pull that card, though.

“No but I wanted to discuss it with you before the others- oh, never mind.” Tony stopped talking when three more figures entered the room, brushing past your frame without paying too much attention to you. Sam. Bucky. Steve. What a damn combination. That was your team? Well, good luck. Everyone got seated on the chairs circling the big table but you stood your ground in the doorway. Steve patted the free chair next to his side, eyes flickering up to yours. A silent invitation you politely declined by shaking your head but you made sure that he could detect your small smile. Tony did not seem to mind & went straight ahead into explaining the mission you four had to perform. Most of the time, you zoned off though you really did try your hardest to stay focused. But when you glanced between the men in the room, you already knew the chaos that would come with them.

Basically, the team came across a signal emitting from the back of a small shop. From what you knew so far, it was some sort of a database that saved a whole lot of criminals. Some of them who you had fought in the past & some of them who you had never heard of but they sounded incredibly dangerous nevertheless.

“Question.” one of your hands raised & you waited for them to look at you.

“Go for it.” Tony pointed over to you, letting out a low breath because you were behaving as if you were in class & needed permission before speaking up.

“Why do Steve & I have to be the ones engaged?” normally, you would not care about undercover missions. But when said mission had you teamed up & fake-engaged to Steve? Well, you had a hard time separating work from personal feelings. Not that anything was going on between you guys but you would not lie if you said that you wanted to change it.

“What, do you want Sam & Bucky to be the couple in question?” Stark, in return, asked another question & you rolled your eyes.

“No, of course not.” that earned you disagreements from both, Sam & Bucky. Steve simply sat by, chuckling quietly while observing your conversation quietly.

“And Steve & you are close. It’ll be easier for you guys to pretend.” Tony casually stated & you had to fight the urge to avert your gaze. If you did, they sure as hell would realize something being wrong with you. And you were not about to be embarrassed in front of them. Maybe you already were but at least they did not know about it. After all, you were a fucking great actor.

“Uh-huh.” so you played it cool. As cool as the situation allowed you to be. “But why do we need Laurel & Hardy with us then?”

“Because I said so.” Tony used your most hated phrase & he damn well knew it. After a short pause, he turned a bit more serious again. “They’ll be Steve’s best men.”

“Wait.” your hand raised & you closed your eyes for a second. “Steve has two best men & I’m not allowed a maid of honor?” now everyone inside the meeting room was chuckling. Everyone but you.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Stark shrugged, brushing it off as nothing though he was aware that you were annoyed by his plan already.

“How is that fair?” you could not stop asking questions, somehow hoping that if you continued, you could get out of this successfully. Deep down, it was clear that the mission had been planned & you could not do anything to change it. Not even a single thing.

“It isn’t.” Tony admitted with a brief nod of his head. “But you’ll need Sam & Bucky on this one. So stop bitching around.”

“These are gonna be some long ass days…” you mumbled, putting your face in your hands in frustration.

“Enjoy!” & with that, Tony dismissed you, leaving you behind dumbfounded.

Sam & Bucky exited the room soon after. Steve & you were the only ones left.

“(Y/N)?” Steve’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Immediately, the frown was replaced by a genuine grin. You found yourself in this state whenever he looked at you like that. Whenever he talked to you, actually. “Everything okay?” his eyes showed concern. They usually did when he noticed you zoning off.

“Huh?” you asked before the words had processed. “Oh, yeah. Of course.”

“I’m sorry about.” his hands gestured wildly, searching for the most suitable words. “The mission being uncomfortable for you.”

“No, it’s not uncomfortable.” you tried to explain yourself. “Just, sometimes I feel like Stark just wants to mess with me.”

“Well, if it helps cheering you up…I’ll behave.” he winked at you playfully & you hated how your body reacted to such simple movements.

“I’m sure you will.” you snickered. “My true worries are your best men.” a sly smirk spread onto your face & Steve could not hold back a chuckle.

“Yeah, I can’t control them.” he agreed with you. “I’ll see you around.” he walked past you, turning around one last time. You simply nodded at him, not trusting your own voice. While you handled the situation as best as you could, you wanted to avoid an awkward goodbye. Besides, you would set out first thing in the morning. You needed some alone time before shit started going down. Not that you expected this mission to fail. The exact opposite, actually. The four of you worked incredibly well together. Compensating other’s mistakes & improvising fast if needed. Mostly, though, you ended up straying from the actual plan & that was what had you worried. Because if you did not stick to it, things could turn real uncomfortable real quick.

As if the mission itself was not demanding enough, the car ride to even arrive at your destination was ten times worse. Steve was behind the wheel & you were lucky that you occupied the passenger’s seat & did not have to sit in the back with either Sam or Bucky. They were children, really. Right now, it felt like Steve & you were the parents of two incredibly challenging kids who could not shut their mouths. Not even for a second. Steve succeeded with ignoring them & he was concentrating on the road so that gave him another thing to do. You, on the other hand, were stuck without any distractions except for the bickering that was currently going on in the backseat. But you knew better than to interrupt them because if you did, it would only turn worse. So you took a few deep breaths & settled further into your seat, closing your eyes to maybe rest a bit before your arrival. What you did not notice was Steve glancing over to your figure, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he recognized you attempting to sleep during the stress inside the car.

At least the hotel Tony checked you in was worth it. Fake-engagements had their perks. Especially if a luxurious suite was a part of it. Sam & Bucky were somewhere in another room but Steve & you, the two of you pretty much occupied an entire floor. That was how huge your room was. You did not even have to carry your own suitcases. There was an employee who helped you with that. What a nice way of living that was. If only you were not pretending. But why were you even thinking that way? You had a mission to perform & more importantly, you could not fail. And you would not if you solely focused on your task. It could not be that hard, right? You had done something similar multiple times before. It should be an easy one for you. But it was not. And the main reason was Steve. It was wrong of you to put the blame on him but how could you not if you literally had to pretend to be his fiancée? It felt like a secret wish you did not dare to voice. And yet he was here right in front of you, in the same room. A place you were supposed to share for the next few days. And you somehow had to play it cool. There was only one outcome. Burying your feelings deep down in order to not jeopardize the mission or your team. No matter how much your heart protested.

“(Y/N)?” you heard Steve’s voice as you were stepping out of the shower. Only a towel was covering your still wet body but you feared that, if you did not open the door right away, you were in danger somehow. That was your mind’s conclusion. Which really did not make any sense if you gave it a second thought. You opened the door a crack, risking a glance outside & eased when you only saw Steve on the other end. It was a natural reaction for you to push the door open wider. But you kind of forgot that you were not wearing any clothes except for that poor excuse of a hotel towel which was way too small for your liking. Steve’s eyes widened & he could not stop from letting them flicker up & down your body. You squirmed under his stare, arms coming to cross over your chest in order to keep the fabric in place. A few moments of awkward silence ticked by & you wanted it to end. So you coughed & gained his attention once more. His eyes were locking with yours & while you usually lost yourself in them, you were way more comfortable than having him eyeing your every part in great detail.

“You needed anything?” you stuttered out, hoping your voice did not sound all too weak but even to yourself, you were aware that you were failing.

“Um, yeah…” his cheeks turned rosy. One of his hands came up to scratch the back of his neck. “But I probably should’ve waited a couple minutes longer.” he should have but it was too late now anyway.

“If it’s nothing too important then I’ll go get dressed real quick, alright? I’ll take like two minutes.” you attempted an honest smile but it was underlined with a hint of embarrassment that was definitely detectable. Steve simply nodded, stepping back a bit so you could close the door once more. Your back rested against the wooden surface & you quietly sighed out with closed eyes. That was not what you expected. Fingers crossed nothing between you two would turn awkward from now on. But then again, he was your best friend & it was not like you were completely naked. Just barely dressed but covered enough so he did not see anything. You would be just fine.

With a decent outfit & regained confidence, you exited the bathroom & found Steve sitting at the edge of the bed, looking down at his hands where he shifted a small package between his fingers. His head snapped up when he heard your footsteps. You two exchanged a smile & it was then when you knew that your shamefaced encounter would not change the bond you shared. It was as if everything was the same old. And it was probably for the better.

“Was that why you needed something from me?” you gestured to the little box & Steve was brought back to reality. Right, there was a reason why he wanted to talk to you in the first place.

“Tony gave it to me right before we left.” he stood up & approached you with long steps. “Said it’d be more believable if you wore one.” Steve stretched out his hand so you could take the black package from him. With curious eyes & delicate fingers, you took it from him. Your eyebrows raised as your eyes met his but he only shrugged at you without giving you an actual explanation. Carefully, you uncapped the box & were shocked when you noticed the small, sparkling ring inside. The colors of the rainbow reflected in the diamond adorning the silver jewelry. It looked way too expensive for it to be a fake one.

“Tony wants me to wear an engagement ring?” you asked even though it was more than obvious. Maybe you just needed reassurance.

“Makes it more believable.” Steve repeated.

“It probably cost more than what I’ll earn in a lifetime.” you chuckled & closed the lid again.

“So you’re not gonna wear it?” he questioned cautiously. For a flicker, he turned insecure because maybe the reason why you refused to wear it was because you did not want people to believe he was your fiancé.

“Of course I’m gonna wear it! It’s stunning. Just…” you paused briefly & bit your bottom lip to contemplate your next words. “It’s expensive. I can’t risk losing it. I’ll put it on whenever we’re outta this room, though. I won’t be the one blowing our cover.” you assured & laughed because you were indirectly blaming Sam or Bucky to mess up. Steve silently agreed with you but did not say anything else as you situated the ring on the nightstand right next to the large bed. It was late, the moon already doing its job with providing a pleasant light that shone through the blinds & illuminated the gloomy suite. For tomorrow’s mission, you needed to be well-rested to fully function.

Steve insisted that you should occupy the bed on your own. He would be perfectly fine on the couch. The cushions of it were incredibly soft, Tony had paid a fortune after all, you still felt poorly for sleeping in the bed alone. Tomorrow would most likely bring him back pain. He was not the youngest soul, after all. Not that you would ever tell him. It was not meant as offending, though. If you were the one on the couch, your back would kill you as well. But you were too much of a coward to suggest that there was enough space for two people. That & you were scared that he did not even want to share in the first place. That could be an intelligible possibility. Your overthinking consumed quite a bit of time because when you heard Steve’s soft & even breaths, you knew that you were too late already. Maybe tomorrow? Maybe you could gain enough courage to ask him tomorrow. Why were you even so eager to have him beside you? What kind of question was that? You were very well aware why. The conversation you held with yourself in your mind came to an abrupt stop as exhaustion overcame & lulled you into a dreamless night.

Constant knocking stirred you awake. You groaned into your pillow because you were still tired but someone decided to shorten your rest. Assuming Steve was already up, you peeked over the blankets covering your body. You were right, he was opening the door. Appearing like he had not just got out of bed. Or off of the couch, in his case. Steve tried to be as quiet as possible, thinking that you were still passed out on the bed.

“G’morning.” you mumbled out & wiped your eyes with the back of your hands. Steve smiled at you. Right now, you looked cute. Pissed off because it was too early but that did not matter when you were all wrapped up in the blankets.

“Coffee?” he suggested & you immediately got into a sitting position at the mention of it. He had his answer then.

“Wait. What is this?” you gestured to the serving trolley Steve was pushing over to the bed. It was obvious what it was but you were bewildered because you did not expect him to order breakfast.

“Tony took our undercover mission very serious.” he shrugged, leaving the food next to you & wanting to grab a few things to eat by the table.

“No.” you shook your head & halted his movements. “I mean, come on. When was the last time you had breakfast in bed?” you patted the spot next to you. Steve paused for a second but after a short while of contemplation, he agreed & got seated on the mattress. Breakfast in bed. That itself would have been amazing but with Steve? It was almost as if a dream of yours got fulfilled. You needed to stop thinking that way. Undercover missions meant faking, pretending. Why were you struggling so much this time?

“I look like a bitch.” you commented once you got into your undercover outfit. Sam & Bucky were already in your suite & they complained about what a poor excuse their room was compared to yours.

“So what’s different?” Sam joked & earned a slap from you.

“First of all, if we don’t wear what Tony prepared for us, people will notice. And (Y/N)? You don’t look like a bitch, you’re good.” Steve commented & even though his words were not necessarily cute, they still did things to you.

“Woah, Steve. Nice ring you picked out there, pal.” Bucky spotted the diamond on your finger & could not help himself but tease you two about it.

“Could we all just focus on the mission?” funny thing that you were the one saying that. Considering that you probably struggled the most out of the four of you.

“Okay, got it. (Y/N) doesn’t look like a bitch but she acts like one.” Sam smirked & started sprinting through the suite when you took off to catch him. Steve & Bucky shook their heads & chuckled at your childish behavior. None of this was new, though. Things usually went that way when you were sent on a mission together.

“The signal comes from the back of this shop.” Steve whispered, all of you trying to stay undetected for the time being so you could discuss the plan further.

“It’s a pastry shop?” you pointed out & suddenly, three men were rolling their eyes at you. “What?”

“You expected something that sold knives?” Sam teased.

“Maybe, I don’t know.” you whisper-yelled.

“Sam, Bucky. You two enter the back while (Y/N) & I distract the guy.” Steve described your plan once more & you all nodded, each understanding their task. While you did not exactly know what you would do to grab the clerk’s attention, you were certain that you could think of something. Improvising was something you were skilled at, you simply hoped that Steve would not stand in the way.

“Welcome! What can I help y’all with?” the almost sweet voice of the man behind the counter was not what you would expect when you looked him up & down. At the same time, he really appeared out of place in a shop like that.

“Yes!” your enthusiasm, well fake-enthusiasm, was more than obvious & you wrapped your arms around Steve’s torso to get into character. “My fiancé & I are looking for some pies for our upcoming wedding.” Steve let you do the talking, his only response being a nod, underlined with a genuine smile.

“Ah, young love.” the guy clicked his tongue & shook his head slightly. “We have a variety of our best wedding cakes right here.” he pointed to a selection behind a class cabinet.

“No, no, no.” you contradicted. “We’d love to have pie at our wedding. I saw you have some delicious looking options over there.” you gestured to the other side of the shop.

“Pie at a wedding? Isn’t that a little unconventional?” the seller raised his eyebrows, seemingly suspicious & it looked like Steve noticed that as well.

“I think we’ll do fine with cak-“ but before he had the chance to finish, you nudged him with your elbow & shot him a look. “I’m sure your cake is great but pie reflects us better.” Steve corrected himself quickly once he realized what you were planning to do.

“Alrighty, then please follow me over there.” the place behind the counter was now free so Sam & Bucky had a clear path to enter. “Any preferences?”

“Anything, really.” you encouraged the man who opened the showcase. He was so busy with his task, Sam & Bucky had it easy to break in. The corners of your eyes spotted their figures. Now they just needed more time to successfully get the information you all needed.

“Can I ask y’all something?” the clerk spoke up after handing you yet another sample of pie. Truthfully, it was a dream come true. Spending time with Steve while eating pie after pie? If only you did not have to pretend. Did you pretend? Or did you fake to pretend? Your brain did not make sense anymore.

“Go for it.” Steve encouraged.

“You’re the first couple to ask for pie samples. What’s up with that?” the man asked curiously, no longer looking at you like you were suspicious but genuinely interested.

“Well.” Steve chuckled & you could not help but let your gaze flicker up to his face. “We are a very unusual couple. Pie at a wedding is unusual. It’s perfect.” while he spoke those last words, his eyes locked with yours & you could have sworn that time halted right then & there. But you had to snap out of it. For the sake of this mission. A look over the shop owner’s shoulder confirmed that you did not have to pretend too much longer. Sam & Bucky were already on their way out again, turning their heads in your direction to silently confirm that they were done. Successful? That you could not tell just yet.

A few minutes & another pie later, you looked at your watch on your wrist & gasped exaggeratingly.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Steve asked & you almost gasped again, though this time, it would have been for an entirely different reason.

“Um, it’s late, we need to head to the thing.” you were doing so well & now, at the end, you managed to slip.

“The thing?” Steve inquired & by the look on your face he could tell that you were overwhelmed & could not think of a proper excuse. “Oh, the fitting.” he quickly added, hoping nobody would ask which kind of fitting. Seemed like you two were lucky today.

“In that case…I’ll let y’all go. Do you want me to put the rest of the samples in a box for you to take home? That way you have more time to figure out which one to choose.” he reasoned & Steve & you nodded gratefully. Behind the counter, he worked quickly & handed you a paper bag in no time.

“Thanks, man. We’ll get back to you.” Steve waved, putting an arm over your shoulder as you exited the shop. The moment you were out, you could finally breathe again. Missions made you extremely nervous. Undercover missions such as this one, actually. During the others you were perfectly fine.

“Thanks for helping me out back in there.” you chuckled once you were out of sight.

“Pie? Really? Wouldn’t have surprised me if he just saw through us right away.” Steve said with a smile on his face. Good, so he was not mad at you.

“In my defense…The pies were at the other end of the shop so I helped Sam & Bucky.” you finished your sentence but it sounded as if you wanted to add something.

“And you love pie?” Steve did not even have to ask, he knew you well enough.

“And I love pie.” you repeated & laughed. Steve still had not let go of you, hugging you to the side of his body. You did not seem to mind so he kept continuing to hold you close.

Steve placed the paper bag on the small table right in the entrance area. Immediately, you went to the bathroom to rid yourself of that stupid outfit you had to wear & threw on something more comfortable. Once you exited, Sam was already in your suite. The four of you decided to have the meeting in your room because it was bigger & the others kind of wanted to move in with you.

“What’s in there?” Sam asked, pointing to the brown paper bag.

“Pie.” you simply answered without much thought. Sam hummed but did not say anything else. Steve & you were in the living room area, waiting for Bucky to show up so you could start discussing more about this mission. Specifically what they found out during their inspection. The creak of the door gained your attention & you looked up only to find Bucky entering. Your gaze then flickered to Sam who was hiding behind the door, pie in one hand, his free hand came to his mouth, telling you to be quiet. It all happened too fast, Bucky was in Sam’s sight & in an instant, there was a pie right in the super soldier’s face. Steve came right in time to watch the scene, his previous intention to greet his best friend completely forgotten now.

“Sam.” Bucky growled, way too quiet for your liking. But you could not focus on his warning right now. You glanced over your shoulder & noticed Steve’s almost sad expression. The only one who could not control his laughter was Sam. He was practically on the floor because he was laughing so hard. The only emotion running through you was anger.

“I. WANTED. TO. EAT. THAT.” you were seething & all three men turned their heads at your tone.

“Sorry?” Sam tried but you were having none of it.

“NO YOU’RE NOT!” you pretty much yelled.

“I’m gonna kill you.” Bucky whispered & Sam took that as his cue to run away, through that labyrinth of your suite. Bucky sprinted after him, leaving Steve to shake his head at their childish behavior.

“(Y/N)?” Steve’s voice was soft & yet it did nothing to calm you down. You really did love pie & you had been excited to eat the rest of it in bed tonight ever since you left that shop.

“WHAT?” you snapped back, only now realizing that it was not Steve’s fault. “I’m sorry.” you added almost inaudible.

“It’s fine.” he raised his eyebrows & opened his arms. You were not sure why but Steve wanted to hug you & you never declined one of his hugs. So you fell into his embrace, both of you silently knowing that this action was not because of a stupid pie. Though you had to admit that you were mad at Sam that you could not eat the rest anymore. This hug held a deeper meaning & for a few seconds, you let yourself enjoy it. Until a loud screech from the other room snapped you back into the present. Steve & you parted unwillingly. You had to, before Sam & Bucky ended up killing each other.

The four of you sat around the coffee table, you occupying the floor while the others each took a seat on the oversized couch. A pout was still very much present on your face. Yes, you were mad at Sam but you had other things, more important things, to deal with right now. Revenge could come later.

“So?” Steve was the one to speak up after nobody else made a move to do so.

“Sam & I managed to break in.” Bucky casually said as if you did not see that to begin with. That was the plan after all.

“But?” your tone was still harsh but you tried your hardest to push that aside.

“We couldn’t hack the system.” Sam finished. “That’s your specialty.”

“Okay, wait.” you closed your eyes briefly. “You wanna tell me that it took you what felt like an eternity to check out the back room only to sit here now & tell us that you couldn’t get the information?” you concluded with a loud sigh.

“In our defense…We know that we’re definitely looking at the right place.” Bucky commented, careful to not anger you any further.

“So what do you suggest?” Steve asked the two men.

“We’ll go there again tonight. All of us. (Y/N) here hacks the system & we’ll see what we can do after that.” Sam established the new plan & you nodded in understanding.

“I still hate you for wasting the pie on Bucky.” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Sam chuckled though you knew he was not planning on keeping his promise.

“Alright, please go back to your room before I do something I might regret later.” you motioned for Sam & Bucky to leave & they did after arranging a time to meet again.

Since you had the brains in this group, it was an easy one for you to deactivate the security cameras without being seen. After that, you went on to the alarm system & turned it off as well. Which meant that you were free to go. It was the dead of the night, nobody was around. You could enter without a single soul watching you. Steve pushed his body weight against the back door. Once, twice. Until it opened.

“You do know that I could’ve picked the lock, right?” your voice made him spin around. It looked like he only now thought of that but he brushed it off, pretending that this was his plan & it worked out the way he wanted to. The room appeared rather normal. Nothing that caught your eye, nothing that was out of place. An office like you had seen multiple times. The computer was turned off so you changed that real quick, waiting for the screens to light up.

“Earlier today, it wasn’t protected by a password.” Sam furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yeah, dumbass. Because the computer was on already. Give me a second.” you opened various drawers to look for a sign as to what the password could possibly be. The others let you do your work, not daring to speak up to interrupt you. “There we go.” you found a small paper in between some notebooks. Not necessarily the safest place to keep secret things but you would not judge. The home screen showed up. Again, nothing special. Simply a picture of flowers. Weird for the guy who worked here but that was none of your concerns.

“And?” Steve broke the silence.

“There are some decrypted files…” you mumbled, sitting down on the office chair. This would take a bit longer, you assumed.

“Can you get access?” another question from Steve. At least the children were quiet for now.

“Of course I can.” you smiled triumphantly. “Give me a few minutes, though.” you were so focused on the screen, you did not see the others nodding. It was tough, you were not going to lie, but it was you who hacked into the system. You never failed with that.

“Huh.” you breathed out. Truthfully, you were overwhelmed with all the information you were receiving with one look only. Steve, Sam & Bucky each took a place behind you, staring at the screen curiously. “Guys? That’s…scary.” you chuckled uncomfortably.

“What is this?” Bucky mumbled quietly but since it was so silent in this room, everyone heard. This was way bigger than you initially thought. Once you made it back to your hotel, you needed to call Tony.

“(Y/N).” Steve shoved you away gently, taking the mouse in his hand to enlarge what caught his attention. You had to gulp at what you saw. What the hell were you doing on there? Steve’s muscles tensed, you could tell by one single look at him. It took a few deep breaths from your side until you started the process of transferring the information on your little flash drive. ”(Y/N).” Steve tried again, this time a bit louder.

“Yeah, I know.” you answered, ignoring your fast beating heart as much as it was possible. “I got everything, let’s head back.” it was clear that you wanted to leave this place behind & you were the first who made it out into the cool night air. Breathing worked easier out here.

“Hey, Tony.” by now, you were back in your hotel room, picking up your phone to call Tony once Steve went into the bathroom.

“(Y/N)! Successful?” he asked, already thinking that you finished this mission & started heading home.

“Not yet. Seems like this is bigger than we thought…” you trailed off at the end, not really wanting to explain what you found out.

“Bigger how? (Y/L/N), come on.” Tony urged & heard you sigh over the phone.

“It was at the back of the shop, that was correct. I hacked into the system & …it looks like it’s some sort of website where people can pay beforehand, assigning criminals for certain acts. It’s huge, Tony. Tons of people have an account & there are so many new assignments every minute…I’ll send you the data in a second, okay? We’ll check out the coordinates we found tomorrow. We think it could lead us to a very important member of this website. And maybe the guy from the shop has something to do with it, though I’m not sure which part he plays in all of that.” you left out a very significant detail & hoped he would not ask more questions.

“There’s something else.” he stated, knowing you better even though he could not read your body language like he usually did.

“That’s all. I promise we’ll finish this missi-“ your phone was taken from you but before you could complain about it, Steve continued the call with Tony.

“Someone instructed to eliminate (Y/N) because, & I quote, “She’s too pretty to be part of the Avengers”. That assignment was where we got the coordinates from. Means the guy from the shop probably manages all of that but he isn’t the one we’re looking for.” silence enveloped you two & you figured that Tony was talking on the other end. “Yeah, sure. That’s the top priority. We’ll work on that & you start looking into the website.” Steve ended the call & threw your phone on the mattress next to where you were sitting.

“What the hell, Steve?” you were furious because he acted differently. And not in a good way. The only response from him was a cold look. He then moved out to the balcony that was attached to your suite. It was unusual for him to be so distanced, especially when it came to you. And you were hesitant to follow him. Considering his body language, he was mad at you. Why? You had no idea. Did you do anything to piss him off? Your gaze fell to your hands in your lap. The diamond on your ring finger sparkled beautifully. You recalled how it felt to be next to Steve, in that small pastry shop where you ate pie after pie to pick the perfect one for your wedding. This was something that could never be. It was all pretending but why did it feel so real to you? Steve probably was not struggling as much as you were & you hated yourself for it.

A hand on his shoulder startled him. Steve eased when he found you standing next to him. The sun would begin rising soon but the both of you were not tired at all. Though the reasons were different. Steve’s mind was still occupied with the information that there was someone out there who paid an awful lot of money to have you eliminated. You, on the other hand, struggled with keeping your feelings buried. Your hands held onto the railing. The movement made Steve look down where the engagement ring was still adorning your hand. You had not taken it off yet. In fact, he only realized that now, you even wore it during your mission of breaking into the shop. Sam & Bucky did not comment on it & to Steve, it was almost…normal. But you did say you would not keep it on you unless you were outside, pretending to be engaged to him.

“What did I do?” your voice interrupted his racing thoughts.

“What?” Steve was confused that you believed you did something wrong.

“Ever since we got outta that shop, you’ve been distant & cold. Was it something I did?” you kept looking straight forward, not wanting to hold eye contact because you feared the worst. That you managed to mess up somehow & Steve was angry at you.

“You didn’t do anything.” his body faced yours & you could practically feel his eyes on you. His intense stare made your breath hitch up.

“You sure about that?” finally, you turned around. Your bodies were almost touching, you underestimated the distance between you two.

“You act as if you don’t care.” his statement had you furrow your eyebrows. He rolled his eyes but continued anyway. “Someone paid a huge amount of money. To have you killed. And here you are, pretending that it doesn’t matter. It’s something you’re really good at, huh? Pretending.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” your voice raised slightly but you still wanted to keep it down, you were outside, everyone could hear your conversation.

“See? You’re doing it again.” Steve called you out. “We found that piece of information by accident.”

“I’m aware.” you arms went to hug yourself. A distraction that barely did its job.

“So your life means nothing to you.” his words were harsh. And if you were honest, they hurt. A lot.

“I never said that.” you hated how your voice wavered. How you could not appear to be the strong woman right now.

“You act like it, though.” with each word he said, your heart broke a little more. If only he knew. “I understand. This whole pretending thing is something you’re good at. This mission showed that much. But this is real, (Y/N). So, for a second, stop pretending & act like you care!”

“STOP!” you yelled out of breath. Instinctively, Steve took a step back, eyes wide by your sudden outburst. “Just stop.” this time, you spoke it much softer. Your gaze flickered to the ground, head hanging low.

“I’m sorr-“ Steve was interrupted.

“I said stop.” you repeated. “Steve, we’re on a mission. We’re supposed to put a stop to this shit. None of this has anything to do with me pretending to be your fiancée or me pretending that I don’t give a damn about my life.”

“Are you sure about that?” he emphasized. One hand went to the diamond on your finger & slipped it off. You made a fist around it, though it was not with a lot of pressure. You did not intend to damage the ring.

“I might be good at pretending but I’m no professional.” you admitted. Steve grew more & more confused. He did not know you were talking about the fact that you were not pretending to be engaged to him. To you, it felt natural, it felt good. Right now, though, you did pretend that none of this faced you. But Steve could not tell the difference.

“Can I be honest with you?” he waited until your eyes met his.

“Go ahead.” you waved your hand for him to continue.

“I was cold towards you because once we found out about that, you didn’t say anything about it. And I can’t believe that you just don’t care about it. About your life. I can’t. You don’t have to pretend when you’re with me, you know that. We’re not engaged right now. No undercover mission. You & me. So please be honest with me.” he took your hands into his & you did not flinch back. The touch grounded you but it was no lie that you were having a hard time to be completely honest with him.

“Why do you care so much?” maybe not the smartest thing to ask. Steve’s reaction was proof enough. He let go of your hands, turned his back towards you & let out a breathless laugh. His hands raised to his hair, messing it up in the slightest. Seconds ticked by but it felt like hours until he spun around once more.

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!” it seemed like that confession made the both of you stop dead in your tracks. It was not the first time Steve said those words but his tone differed from the previous ones. Still, chances were high he addressed your friendship with that. Because you were friends. Simple friends. “Say something.” he grew desperate when you did not reply.

“I-I don’t know what you want me to say. That I love you, too? You know that, Steve.” your words were steady, calculated. It was too soon to get your hopes up.

“How far do I have to go for you to realize that I want you?” he approached you, hesitancy in his steps. “Didn’t it feel natural to you when we acted like a couple? Because, I can’t keep that up anymore, I can’t. Tell me you don’t feel the same & I’ll back off. We can forget this right now, we don’t have to talk about it anymore. But if you-“ his speech was cute but you had to be close to him now that he finally confessed that there was more between you two. You cupped his cheeks & pulled him in to kiss him. Steve was shocked at first but it did not take him too long until his hands rested on your waist, tightening his grip on you. After parting, Steve kept his forehead against yours. Both of you had your eyes closed, breathing the same air. You imagined this exact moment more than once. But never before had it played out like that. Not that you were complaining, your feelings were finally out there.

“You were wrong, you know?” as much as you enjoyed the silence, there was still something you wanted him to know.

“Wrong about what?” he opened his eyes to look at every feature of you. Because it was no longer forbidden, he was allowed to do that now.

“I didn’t pretend while we were in the shop pie tasting.” you admitted, a small smile playing at the corner of your lips. “I faked pretending, if that makes sense…But, after I saw the bounty on my head, I started pretending.” he nodded at you, squeezing your waist once to encourage you to keep talking. “Steve? I’m scared.”

“It’s okay.” Steve’s arms went around your shoulders, pulling you close once again. His chin on your head. If only that could dispose of all of your worries. The only thing he could do was letting you hold onto him.

Steve did not sleep on the couch that night. Not because he did not want to but because you insisted to have him close. It was not the first time you two shared a bed. Sometimes, when missions did not allow you anything else, you ended up next to each other. Tonight felt different, better. Because there was no longer a weight on your heart. Were you two in a relationship already? Maybe you had been for some time but the two of you were too oblivious to notice. There was enough time to label whatever this was as soon as this mission was over. Your focus should solely be on this mission. Tons of lives depended on it. Yours included.

“You’re stubborn. Do you know that?” the next morning came sooner than you would have liked. No time for cuddling in bed, no time for breakfast. Two hours of sleep was all you got. But you had never felt this rested in your entire life. The reason was a certain super soldier. Not that you would ever admit that.

“Would I have chickened out if I didn’t know they were after me? No. I can handle myself.” Steve suggested for you to stay behind because they were looking for you. It could bring on unnecessary danger & he obviously needed you to be safe.

“But we know now.” Steve tried reasoning but it was useless, you already made your decision.

“Right. So it’s time to put a stop to it. Come on, Sam & Bucky are waiting for us.” you were out of the door before Steve found enough time to argue with you.

The drive to the coordinates was tense. Not even the kids in the back were joking around. Possibly because this mission turned into something way more hazardous. The situation between Steve & you was the same. Hence why nobody commented on it. After all, you pretty much confessed before there was an actual confession. Therefore, it was the same old. The only difference was your gut feeling that did not give you a hard time anymore. That was not entirely true. You had a bad gut feeling but for another reason.

“That’s the house?” you gestured to the building after the car came to a stop.

“This is it.” Steve confirmed.

“I don’t know why I expected some sort of villa.” Bucky commented while glancing out of the window.

“Maybe that would be too obvious. I mean, we do know that they receive the money beforehand, right? And I’m sure that the order to eliminate me wasn’t his first one.” you spotted Steve tensing up when you talked about that assignment. Your hand squeezed his shoulder & you hoped that your smile was convincing enough. You were alright & you would be after this mission. With Steve, Sam & Bucky on your side, you had nothing to fear. If push came to shove, they would go out of their ways to keep you safe.

“Steve?” Sam spoke up. “You know we need him alive, right?”

“Of course.” Steve nodded though his mind was contemplating going further than that. Unfortunately, you still had to figure out who was the one to assign this to the criminal. Tony was onto that, checking if there was more to find out about that anonymous account who paid the money. “A few punches won’t kill him.”

It was the break of dawn & the neighborhood was completely empty. The silence inside the car was interrupted by Steve’s sign to make a move. All of you stayed close together, you were not about to make the same mistake people did in horror movies. Besides, you felt safer with them around. A noise made you spin around. It was coming from down the hallway. Steve took the lead, you right behind him. Sam & Bucky trailing behind after you. A gun was clutched in your hand but you were not intending to use it today. Hopefully there was no need to. Steve shot you a look over his shoulder, silently telling you to be prepared. When he pushed the door open with his body weight this time, you did not tease him about it like you did when you broke into the back of the pastry shop the other night. The sight you were met with was…unexpected. There was a man sitting behind his computer. The room smelled like drugs. A mixture of multiple things you could not identify & did not even want to.

“Woah, you’re the Avengers.” he slurred his words. So he was drunk as well. “Hey, I’m supposed to kill you.” he pointed at your figure & instinctively, Steve stepped in front of you. Shielding your body with his.

“You sure that’s our guy?” Sam leaned closer to you & whispered. Your shoulders shrugged & you pointed over to the desk where a name tag was proudly displayed. Seemed like he was not the smartest guy if he used the same name for his account on that website. Your heartrate slowed down because you knew you were not in danger. Not right now. Steve approached the man, coming to a halt mere inches away from him. His hand balled into a fist & after one punch in the guy’s face, he was on the floor, unconscious.

“Huh.” you breathed out. “That was almost too easy.”

“Yeah, if we forget about the website where thousands of people assign offenders every single day.” Bucky was right, of course. You stumbled across something way bigger. Hopefully Tony had good news once you returned.

The police was called. They inspected the room & that guy really was everything but intelligent. He horded a file full of his assignments. He would not see the sunlight again, that much was sure. Steve & you waited outside, leaning on the hood of the car. Sam & Bucky were busy talking to the officers.

“Hey.” you started & nudged Steve with your elbow. “Is it appropriate to thank that asshole?”

“What for? For wanting to kill you?” he answered with furrowed eyebrows.

“No.” you chuckled. “But…if it were not for him, we wouldn’t have confessed.”

“There was a possibility that he was dangerous. Maybe we just caught him at a bad time.” Steve mumbled the last part.

“Let’s not worry about that, alright? I’m fine. See?” you gestured to your body, a big smile adorning your features.

“I know.” he nodded but it was obvious that he was still careful about this entire situation.

“I love you.” that seemed to do the job. His eyes met yours, his expression less tense & softer.

“I know that, too.” he smirked when you playfully slapped his chest.

“Steve, you ruined a very roman-“ his lips were on yours before you could finish your complaint. Steve was aware what he was doing, because he smiled into the kiss which caused you to giggle.

“I love you, too.” his lips still ghosted over yours. You could feel as his words left them. “Romantic enough?”

“I’m sure you can do better.” you pulled away & winked at him, moving away to join Sam & Bucky. Steve’s eyes followed your body & he shook his head at you. Yes, he did love you. A lot. And he was already planning how to make his next move even more romantic.

Published (05/18/2021) by Cathy

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Tags: @zestyemby, @captainxholmes, @met4no1a, @bibliophilewednesday, @weareironmanbitches, @n3ssm0nique, @2bornot2b, @iaalien, @bibliophilewednesday (thanks for your support <3)

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