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rina-writes · 2 years

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Little Things

A/N and Summary: A collection of blurb ideas that I was hoping I would expand on, but just ended up being fun things in my head. Could also be used as prompts for others writing about Jack. (Do send it to me if you do write it!) Also, this is the last thing in my drafts so, probably just going to lurk for a bit. Kinda running low on the creative fumes, but excited to read lots.

Warnings: Smutty/suggestive things are under cut, Fem!reader

Appreciation - Jack surprising you every now and then with a cleaning service voucher to use on your shared apartment. He would typically choose a week that’s very tough for you. Maybe you have a lot of long nights at work or you’re having finals week. Either way, Jack can tell you’re having a rough time on your nightly calls and he wants to make things easier for you. Jack appreciates you holding down the fort for him when he’s on tour, and he would happily clean the place up for you if he were there himself. Since he can’t, he wants to give you the wonderful home experience you provide him when he comes home. He would call up the usual agency and pay in advance. The agency would send you an email to find out when that week would be a good time to come in. He wouldn’t ruin the surprise by telling you in advanced. But, he would be looking forward to your sweet “thank you” call just because he wants to see the smile on your face.

Recognition - Jack would love it if you would attend his interviews like Urban and the other Generation Now peeps. In the same way he gestures to his best friend, he would naturally reference you more if you’re sitting there. “Yeah my girl always gets on me for that.” “My girl put me on to this, actually.” “My girl over here was the one who really started that...” He would just beam with pride seeing you sitting there in one of his hoodies, hood up and sunglasses on, chuckling with Urban at the inside jokes Jack was dropping in the interview. Seeing you all snuggly on the side would make waking up super early for the interview worth it. The only thing better was your little hug and cheek kiss that you gave him when he was done.

Insta-Worthy Dates - Jack would really enjoy a private relationship because it makes him feel like you’re just for him. But, he understands that if he’s with someone who is not famous, it can be frustrating to have a mysterious partner. For Valentine’s Day, I can see him going all out for you to post on your finsta/private Instagram. He would rent out a fancy car and have you both dress up to have a romantic picnic on the beach somewhere warm. Of course, there would be bubbly to celebrate. He would happily pose with his glass for as long as it took for you to capture the picture of you both toasting in front of the ocean -- only showing up to both of your wrists to still keep the mystique.

Best Friends - Jack would love to see you getting close to his friends. But getting close to his brother while on tour? Now, that’s huge because family is so important to him. You getting to know his brother while selling his merch would be a dream for Jack. However, he would have a bit of FOMO when you two have inside jokes together or when there are fan photos with you two together. There would be a teeny bit of jealous. If you and Jack’s relationship is private, it would annoy him when people assume you were his brother’s girlfriend. If he sees his brother getting a little too flirty with you, he may say something like “Dude, that’s going to be your sister one day...” It would give his brother the heebie-jeebies, but you would definitely smile and call Jack on it, “So, you want marry me, huh, Jack?”

18+ - Suggestive/ Smut

NSFW Warnings: Fem!reader, slight exhibitionism, phone sex, body fluids

All of You - If you two are getting freaky in a semi-public place, maybe the bathroom of a club or on the couch in the studio late night with no on else around, he won’t take it if you act shy. If he’s plowing into you, he wants to see all of you. You best believe your clothes are going to be bunched up, pulled down and pushed to the side so he can see every inch of you. And if you try to cover yourself in anyway, he’ll use one hand to pin your wrists above your head. You’d be blushing all over as he stares you down, his hips not even slowing down for a second.

Hooked on You - Jack not expecting much going into the one night stand with you, but actually losing his mind after you two get it on. You feel so good around him. The way you look at him makes him feel like there’s a deeper connection too. He’s not sure if it’s just lust or the inklings of love his homies have told him about, but he knows he wants to see more of you. When you tell him you are heading back to your place after a bit of pillow talk, he is too embarrassed to admit he was disappointed. He didn’t actually mind if you stayed the night. Instead, he offers to pay for your Uber. The next day, you wake up to the sound of your doorbell. You answer it to see it’s Jack asking if you want pancakes or waffles. You make your choice, and he walks in with a giant bag of food saying, “Good thing I bought everything.” You eat your full and then have a couple more rounds on the kitchen counter before he asks, “So, what are you doing later?”

Naughty Video Calls - When Jack is on tour, he is a bit needy. Especially being in a relationship, because, when he’s single, he can fill his needs pretty easily in each city he visits. If you provide him naughty pictures/videos to peruse, he will definitely enjoy them thoroughly. But, there’s nothing that beats a nasty video call. Jack would lead up to it, but you’re going to see the look in his eyes the moment he smiles at you. His favorite would probably be you taking a bath, just seeing your skin glistening and the bubbles all around you would be heaven. He would reciprocate of course, showing off anything you want to see.

Teasing - (tw: body fluids) Jack really getting into pussy jobs thanks to you. It would be one of the few times he would do it raw, just because he would want to see you covered in his cum. Watching you supporting yourself on your hands and forearms in order to lift your hips up and down to rub your folds against him would set his skin on fire. He’d make sure to angle it nicely to tease your clit as well, so that after his orgasm yours would come quickly with a few strategic rubs from his thumb.

Massages - Jack would love to give you massages. He would take him time with it. Have you strip down to nothing, lay on the bed and pull out some oils. The lighting would be low and the music would be sensual. He’d talk to you about his day and other relaxed topics to put you at ease. Once you turn on your back, it’s then that the massage starts to feel a bit more like foreplay. He’d play dumb and make it seem like you were the one who had to make it about sex, but it was what he wanted the whole time.

#jack harlow #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #r-writes-fic

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

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Petal

college!sebastian stan x reader

masterlist

Summary; Your boyfriend Sebastian has been spending much time studying, hardly sparing himself a break. Finally, he sees the pros of taking one

Warnings; smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), penetrative sex, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, fluff

divider by @firefly-graphics

Sebastian was to be home any minute, he had been prolifically stressed from his classes regarding his law certification, and you had decided to exhibit him a well deserved distraction that would surely take his wired brain off from the course that was practically running through his veins at this point.

It seemed that at every waking moment, he was doing something to aid his studies, and whilst that was great that he was so dedicated to passing for this insane qualification, he did need to take breaks here and there. He wasn't the only one suffering from his late nights, and his resurrection from slumber at the crack of dawn, no. You were too, you missed him, despite being in the same apartment and room as him for the majority of his spare time.

He acted as though he had no time to spare, but you were well acquainted with his schedule, especially by now. The only difference was, that he had no occupation for a moment to relax with you, or by himself. His showers took five minutes every morning and evening, it was as though he were rushing to clean himself so that he could proceed to go back to putting his nose in a book, or searching specifics online.

But tonight, you were going to cut him off. If he didn't endure a moment of mindlessness, then you were sure to go mad yourself. You were keening for his touch, all you had received in the past few weeks were chaste kisses on both your lips and forehead, as well as verbalised 'I love you's. Perhaps it was selfish, he was striving towards a great achievement in his life, and you wanted a little bit of attention, but you knew he was holding himself from any relief also.

From the minimal time that he spent under the cold stream of the showerhead, he didn't have enough time to rub one out, and there was no fear that you had of him seeing another woman. Sebastian was not like that at all, and you had the clarity of him being in the kitchen half the time, typing away on his laptop, as he ran over some old notes and updated them.

Currently, he was out, he was in his lecture. There was a span of fifteen minutes from the time that he would be on the walk home, and you knew that was exactly how long that took in your shared student apartment, because you too endured your studies. But once more, your own were pushed to the side as you speculated your appearance in the silver tapestry of your mirror.

Your hand steadied on your right hip as you posed in front of it, twisting your waist to find the most attractive angle for you in your new wear. The underwear was tight, and not to mention, completely sheer. It's see through nature made wearing it practically pointless, but considering his current frustrations, it was only fair to give something to rip off of you.

Truthfully, you had to admit, you looked damned good. There was no way he would choose studying law over ravishing your body, a spark jolted through your body as the door behind you opened, and with a seductive bite to your lip, you turned around, only to scream and cover your body with your hands, or at least to the best of your ability. "Holy fuck, don't you know how to knock?!"

"I didn't think I'd have to because your human dildo isn't here!" Anthony defended himself, having turned around, as the image of you, one of his best friends, practically in the nude, burned behind his eye balls. The fact that he had seen you made you feel sick, this was not how you had intended the afternoon to go.

"Is there a reason that you burst into my room looking for me Mackie?" The question was indeed one that you wanted to know the answer to, you still felt so exposed, although he was not looking at you. That was certainly something that you were going to avoid telling Seb, that would definitely be a big distraction from his work.

And of course, alongside that, he would have an intent to possibly murder your flat mate, and whilst Chris would be laughing at that, there would be a heavy hotness to your face, as you watched them immaturely battle. Anthony cleared his throat thoroughly, directing towards the face that he was about to speak.

"Definitely not to see you like that." Retorted the math major, shrugging the shiver off his shiver as the memory tormented him once more. "But... me and Chris were going to meet with Scarlett, Takia and Brie, we were going to see if you and Seabass wanted to join, but as I saw against my own will, you have something already planned for your dinner."

“Um yeah, no, we’ll pass. Thanks tho buddy.” Oh god, to say you felt awkward was an understatement. If you were wearing clothes, or at least more socially appropriate ones, you’d go to him and give him a typical punch on the shoulder. Though, if you were clothed more body wear, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. Only things like this happened in college flats, that was one thing that could be confirmed.

“Okay then. Good to know...” Anthony closed the door and proceeded to enter the kitchen. He went grab himself an apple, and realised then that it was an unfortunate consequence, but he had lost his appetite. There had been nothing wrong with your appearance - nothing at all - but you were his flat mate and friend! And, you had a boyfriend, whom was also a great reference of social interaction for him.

The sound of keys interlocking with the outside of the door echoed through the kitchen, someone was outside, and he’d be write in assuming that it was Sebastian. Chris was presently occupied by scouring the internet for ways to surprise the girl he was currently hanging with, and honestly by that, Anthony was scared to enter his room.

It could have been anything that he was searching, but to his contrasting luck, the last resident of their flat entered, creases firm on his brow, from thinking too hard. Sebastian was mulling over the lecture that his professor had given his class. Remember to take a break every now and then. Maybe he was right, a break couldn't postpone him from graduating him that much, could it.

Perhaps he was putting it all off, because after receiving his degree, the four of you would have to find somewhere else to live, and a part of Seb was inclined to ask you individually to move in with him. A one bedroom apartment would be cheaper than one with three rooms, and atop of that, he wouldn't have to be cautious of minor things like walking around the flat in little to no clothing, or fucking you on the kitchen counter.

They were all coupley things that he had wishes to do, but because there were another two men residing with you and him, albeit them being your friends, he didn't allow you to do so in anything less than one of his shirts that cascaded down your thighs, so that if you weren't wearing panties, everything would be concealed. Anthony gulped, remembering he had seen you in your surprise for this man, and gosh, did he want to keep quiet about his accidental peek.

Sebastian wasn’t the jealous type, it was rather refreshing how he found that to be an unappealing trait, however, it would still not settle well that someone saw his girl, in a compromising choice of wear that was supposed to be for his eyes only. He would surely make it clear that you were his, and thus the fucking in the kitchen that he dreamt about would be more than likely to unfold, as he rammed you against the cupboards, caring not if guests were due.

“Hey.” It was a breath of fresh air to speak to someone who was not on his course, it was as though he had become estranged from the people closest to him during this part of the term. Thus a striking pang of guilt landed in his chest as he wondered how you must have felt. He hadn’t touched you in any intimate sense in weeks, it certainly felt like years.

That truth gave him no pride, he dropped his items on the counter, planning on returning to them after he had tended to greeting you. A long kiss sounded nice, strung by a chord of untwined tongues that groomed the insides of your mouth, as you reciprocated. If he was very generous to himself, he’d perhaps lay down for a moment, and allow his pianist hands to wander for more than a moment, stroking them up and down your thighs, until he gave supple attention to your sweet delicacy, dipping down to kiss it and run his fingers over the beautiful gates that only he was allowed to surpass through.

Anthony muffled a reply to him, before shuffling out the room, casting him a weird side eye, but Sebastian thought little of it as his mind was preoccupied with something other than his studies. Oh, and how he didn't mind. The mental image of your nude portrait blessing his eyes was enough motivation to have him striding at a fast, yet considerable pace, towards the door to your shared bedroom.

He knew you must have been inside, he saw your lanyard hanging on the coat rack, that was literally a makeshift piece of wood that you had drunkenly returned with one night, along with a very much intoxicated Paul Rudd. There had been construction nearby, and you thought that it was possible to turned the sharp edged plank with nails sticking out as a bedframe. Least to say, Sebastian did not allow that to happen, knowing that one morning, you would end up spiking your scalp against one of the rusted nails.

People had gotten hurt by it from where it was already, there was that time that Tessa had tried to lean on it for a photo, that in retrospect was an applicant towards your photography course, but that didn't end well, you were pretty sure there was still a streak of her blood stained into one side. That may have been why Chris had turned its weight around after that. However, none of you had the money to spare to invest in a real rack, so for now it stayed.

It sure as hell wasn't coming with you guys when you moved out, that was one thing that Sebastian was going to ensure. If Anthony wanted it, then so be it, if all went to plan, the pair of you wouldn't be living with the lovable goof when the time came. Turning the knob to the room, Sebastian heard a gasp, and thus after he shut it, he saw you wrapped up in your robe, your head cocked to the side as you seductively tried to settle on your small double bed.

"You made me jump Sebba." No, he could tell that you had been taking a short nap, as though you had wanted to forget some details from your day. And that you did, and you hoped that Anthony did as well. "Have you got much work to do bubs?" You raised yourself on your elbows and shuffled towards him as he came to sit on the side of the mattress.

"Think I'm going to take a short hiatus from it for a few hours." Now that certainly sounded pleasant, you hummed at his words, stroking his shoulder, as you pressed a kiss to his hand that moved cup your cheek. "Have I been neglecting my little petal?" It was a name he used whenever he was seeking forgiveness, but this time, you shook your head, frowning, as you settled a small smile on your face.

"You've been understandably busy, I get that. I'm not going to go as far as to use that word babes, you've just had a little time to yourself and your schoolwork, and that is fine." He tapped your chin, cocking his head to the side, inviting you to straddle his lap. You'd have been stupid if you refused after all the time that you had spent mentally apart from him, so without another hint, you clambered over his thighs, a giddy expression corrupting your face.

"This is why I love you. So open minded, and not to mention, that mind of yours has had me doing some thinking." Nodding in a current to prompt him to continue, his hands eased their lodging onto your bare thighs, stroking the skin with large soothing swipes, making any hair on your body stand on edge, as he averted his eyesight to the split of your gown that crisscrossed around your chest. It wasn't a sexual focus however, it was more so as though he feared a rejection of one kind.

"Hope you're not gonna propose us having a kid or something, because now is certainly not the time." At your humour, he sincerely laughed, causing a calm to wash over you and him, as he finally looked you in the face. “Unless you mean buying a plant, our last one died, and now you use the old pot to stub out your blunts." You could see the improvisational container as you turned your head to the side, seeing its white exterior be a gradient of light to shielded grey.

"I want you to move in with me." Sebastian responded straightly, bracing his slightly nervous palms to the divot of your waist, as he grasped the skin below your ribs, swirling the pads of his thumbs across your skin, caressing each nimble pore on that part of your body. His breath captured the side of your neck, as he licked a sweet line across a vein that he specifically picked out using his

"We already live together silly. Unless we're gonna move to mars." As you spoke, your brows optimistically raised, as your forearms found a home around the back of his neck, as you pressed tentative kisses to his clean jaw. A series of giggles evicted from you as you darted your tongue out to taste his sharp skin, your hand slipping down to control his own, trailing his touch beneath your gown so that the tips of his fingers were brushing the mesh of your underwear that was poised in a curve upon your hipbone.

"As much as the space nerd in me would love that, and not to mention you would make one foxy astronaut, I meant, after this, and here, we find a place for just you and me. I get if you don’t-“ you pressed your left forefinger to his lips, humming with a smile as he shared a gentle kiss upon your skin. He took the digit into his mouth, sucking the skin and swirling his tongue around the crescent of your nail.

“That sounds... perfect.” Ushering your finger from out past his lips, and the barrier of his nipping teeth, you languidly stroked his bottom lip, spreading the small extent of saliva that had coated your finger. “I’m so happy you’re taking a break Sebba, you deserve it. There’s something I want to show you baby, I know you’re going to like it.”

“Is it under this robe by any chance?” Obliging his answer with a supporting action, you allowed his hands to remain beneath the sleek material, as you untied the thick strand that tied the two sides together around your body. Pushing the dark silk from your shoulders, you revealed the design of petals that prompted through the thin material of your undergarments, everything exposed through the sultry and intimate pieces.

“Do you like it?” You seemed to have forgotten about Anthony seeing you in the internal wear, and from Sebastian’s honed gazing at your full breasts, your nipples sternly grew hard, telling him without need for word that he was silently turning you on. A sigh escaped from him, as he plucked at the seam of your panties, tugging lightly at the side to drag the material up your slit, grasping a light moan from your intimately affected lungs.

“My lovely petal, like is an understatement. You do all this for me, I don’t think I’m going to know how much this was, especially where we’re supposed to be budgeting.” Seb quirked his unbrushed brow, pressing his lips against the column of your throat, intaking the smell and pungent taste of your floral perfume. “But I’m not going to complain, because seeing you like this is certainly worth a fine penny. Is it ungrateful for me to want it off of you though?”

“Wait.” You instructed him, pressing your tongue into the divot of his chin, swiping a line of saliva through the bone structure. “I think we should get my money’s worth. First, I want to get my fill of your appreciation, and then maybe, maybe then I’ll allow you to discard piece by piece from my skin.” Your dominant hand pressed against his growing bulge as a you slid off his lap, running your nose along his thighs, as you fiddled with the purchase of his jeans, him helping you tug the denim off, and down his thick thighs.

“You’re so good to me.” He leaned back, curling his fists into the sheets, as he watched you enduringly pat him over his boxers, drawing a spot of precum to seep out onto the white cotton. “My beautiful petal, hungry for my cock, you want it, don’t you? Want to suck my hard cock, practically starving for it, ain’t ya?” Profusely nodding, you drooled as he twitched, and pushed down his underwear, revealing his uncut, and growing cock.

“Holy shit.” Escaped you as a breathy conjunction of two words, your palm reaching out to rotate his foreskin in your hand, pushing the layer back gently to reveal his hidden slit. Your tongue darted out over the flushed head, suckling on the sensitive portion, spoiling yourself with the salty taste of his aroused skin. “You have such a pretty cock baby.” Pressing a kiss along the length, you dragged your tongue up his shaft, before returning to the tip, swallowing down his cock in your throat.

“Fuck.” Your boyfriend revelled in the pleasure, one of his hands capturing your hair in its hold, running his fingers through your locks as you bobbed your head. Gargled sounds choked out from your easing throat, as you continued your administrations, making Seb squeeze his eyes shut, as he endured the pleasure that you pledged him with. “Baby...”

You moaned around his cock, your glazed irises peeking up at him, before pulling off, a strand of saliva connecting you to his hung length. “Say it.” Was his demand as his hand pressed the cheeks of your face together, forcing your lips into an exaggerated pout. It was a notion of past experiences that reminded you of what he was speaking of, you blinked your lashes innocently towards him, steadily breathing through your nose as he patiently awaited for you to carry out his order.

“I’m your cockslut.” You mumbled out, spit pooling out of your mouth and rolling down the cleavage of your lips, descending onto your chin, and slipping to be a river down your chest, playing hide and seek in the cups of your sheer bra. “Love your fat cock, and your large balls, and the way your mouth exhibits complete bliss over my pussy.” He tilted your head to the side, as he leaned down, his spare hand reaching behind you to remove your bra, leaving it hanging loosely off from your shoulders.

“How about I eat your cunt, huh? You’d like that, wouldn’t you petal?” A whine slipped from your lips as you shouldered off the floral laced bra, discarding it on the bedroom floor, as you waded your legs about so that you could do the same with the slim lined panties. “Come on then, get up on the bed pretty girl, let me at that pussy.” Doing as he said, you clambered onto the mattress, your front against the sheets as you tried to position yourself. A slap rumbled off your ass cheek, as Sebastian struck down on the globe of fat, straggling a surprised moan from your lips.

It seemed like he wanted you to remain on your stomach, and so you did as he breathed a swab of cool air upon your clenching lips, swiping his tongue from your heavy clit to your soaking entrance. “Sebs, do something, please.” You collapsed your face into the bed, wiggling your ass towards his face, earning yourself another spank to your behind. It stung, but it was a hot heat that granted you a minor bit of relief; it was certainly better than nothing.

And then, his tongue probed at your entrance, test tasting your cunt as his muscle flicked deliriously over your clit, his forefinger prying at your slit, and slipping without struggle inside of your walls, evoking a withering moan to collapse out from your chest. Another digit slunk through your folds, filling your further, as his pace increased, his mouth surrounding your clit, and rolling the bud around with his instigating tongue. “Petal, pass me the lube.”

With a light head, you blindly reached your hand across to on top of his bedside table, locating the bottle with your fiddling hands, tossing it back towards him. A thump indicates that it did not land on the mattress as planned, instead the container of lubricant hit him in the forehead. A frown covered his face as he shook his head, removing his fingers from your folds, as he grasped the bottle, splurging some of the clear and slippery liquid onto his fingertips.

Seb spread it around his fingers, rubbing it onto his skin, as he applied a little onto your tight hole, prying at your puckered entrance with his lubricated digits. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You gently rubbed your face against the sheets as Sebastian entered his fingers into your ass, quickly thrusting them in and out of you. “Feels so good Sebby, shit.” He continued his administrations with a clenched wrist, evicting pleasure upon you as you practically sobbed onto your shared bed. “No, no-“

He removed his fingers, as well as his own shirt that was still covering his chest. Seb clambered off the bed for a moment, locating a condom, as he gave his cock a couple of jerks, rolling the avast protection onto his length, as he positioned himself on his knees behind you. He entered you swiftly, returning his fingers back into your tighter hole, as he began to thrust into both of your entrances. Sounds of pleasure were compelled out from your lungs, as you half screamed his name; there were tears collecting in the corners of your eyes as you endured wafts pleasure from both intimate angles.

He curled his fingers within you, picking up his pace as his hips profusely clashed against your own. He was chasing a high, whilst simultaneously reducing you to nothing but a racer to your own. “So fucking tight; in both holes.” His teeth clenched as he moaned at the sensation of your walls clenching harshly around him, as he filled the condom with his white and warm seed. He remained inside of you as he brought one hand down to your cunt, playing with your clit, as he sternly thrusted his fingers into your ass.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak, cumming around his softened cock, and mewling into your own wrist. Sebastian extracted his tender cock from within you, also removing his fingers, as he swiped off the condom, tying to open side so that no cum would spill out, and then discarding it in the bin. “Shit, I was wanting some attention from you, but I didn’t know I was going to get that.” You laughed lightly, feeling a little hazy and drunk from your numbing orgasm.

In turn, your boyfriend laughed too, grabbing his shirt from off the ground, and lightly pulling you up, helping you into the baggy material. He pressed a sweet kiss upon your forehead as he rolled to be laid beside you, bringing your sweaty body into his matching side, watching through appeased lids at how you curled yourself into him. “I love you darling.”

“I love you too Seb.” You replied, pressing a kiss to his soft nipple, as his arms locked adoringly around you. “And I’m so proud of you for putting your all into your course.” Your nails stroked down his stomach, as the two of you laid upon the sheets, rather than underneath them.

“Of course I would, it’s for our future in the long term of things.” He stated, brushing any loose strands of hair out from your face. “But I guess it’s okay to take a break sometimes. And that, well that was certainly worth the time away from studying, it always is with you.”

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lastbluetardis · 3 years

Text

Sacred New Beginnings (1/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU, @doctorroseprompts

This Chapter: Teen, ~5500 words

Note: Er... surprise? This idea has been in my head for months but my brain took it and ran with it this weekend. I plotted the whole thing and am gonna try to update every weekend. I don’t anticipate this being more than like... 7-10 chapter? I’d love to keep it under 5 chapters but that might be trimming things down too much for my liking. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this little story!

AO3

Flashing lights and shrieks of his name greet James the moment the back door to his armored car is opened. His head of security ducks out first and James can only see a mass of feet and legs but it’s more than enough to let him know it’s a heavier than usual crowd. Not surprising, considering the news of his latest break-up just dropped while he’d been flying back from a visit to America.

He slides out of the car, helped by hands that pull him as much as guide him through the throng. He ignores the shouts of his name—telling him to look left or right or up or down or every combination therein—and the barrage of questions and jokes that aren’t funny.

Was it you or him that ended it?

Three weeks, is that a new personal record?

Another notch in the bedpost, eh James?

Got another beau lined up yet?

If you’re looking for candidates, what do we have to do to get our names in the running?

“Ignore them,” he mutters to himself, too quietly for anyone except his security team to hear.

In answer, one of them gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they reach his front door. Someone has already unlocked it for him and the darkness within is a blessing he’s all too willing to be shoved into. The cacophony muffles once the door shuts, and finally he’s alone, a rarity for him. If it’s not his security, it’s personal assistants and writers and producers and photographers and the paparazzi.

Or his lover of the month, as the papers have taken to calling his partners.

But nope, his home is empty and quiet and bloody freezing. A shiver ripples up his spine as he treads to the thermostat controller. Summer finally released its hold on London, and the muggy heat has been replaced with a damp chill that burrows down into his bones.

Several button-presses later, James hears the familiar clank of the radiator and he can smell the heating kick on. It’ll take a while for his house to warm up, so James keeps his peacoat on for the time being as he putters around his home, checking the fridge and the cabinets. As always, they’re well-stocked. He hasn’t had to do anything as mundane as grocery shopping in the five years since his YouTube channel full of acoustic covers of popular songs went viral and landed him a lucrative deal with a prestigious record label. Only in his wildest dreams had he expected to find fame and fortune in the hobby he loved so much—for it to have actually happened still took him by surprise, as though any minute he’d be told “it was fun while it lasted, but it’s time for you to leave wonderland now.”

Shaking his head of those thoughts, he goes to the antique dining table that can easily seat ten people, which is great for holidays or in-home meetings, but just plain depressing every other day of the year. A stack of mail has piled up, and he spends the next five minutes attempting to sort it before giving up and telling himself he’ll look at it in the morning, once he’s not quite as groggy—transatlantic flights always take it out of him.

Instead, he rootles around his fridge until he comes up with the necessary items to make himself a ham and cheese sandwich. With the prospect of food in front of him, James realizes he is starving. He shoves a whole slice of ham in his mouth while he assembles his pitiful meal, heaping on lettuce and sliced tomatoes as though that’s enough to negate the pile processed protein and greasy chips he layers in for crunch.

It’s tastier than any sandwich as a right to be, and he nearly makes himself a second one before catches sight of his phone screen and the slew of incoming notifications. His work is never finished, is it?

There are several texts from his publicist, Donna, welcoming him home and congratulating him on not making an arse of himself just by trying to walk up the front drive of his home. (To be fair, he felt entitled to channel his inner crotchety old man and tell reporters to get off his damn lawn if they encroached on his personal property.)

“Though some photos are surfacing of your trip to New York… Anything you need me to get ahead of?”

He rubs his fingers into his eyes, knowing she’s probably referring to his last night out in the city, where he went bar hopping until the wee hours of the morning to try to forget the text his subsequently-ex-boyfriend had sent him.

Thanks for everything, but I need to focus on my career. Cheers mate.

The career that James had kickstarted for him by introducing his rising actor boyfriend to several of his friends in the film industry, because James had been so damn desperate for affection that he’d once again let the wool get pulled in front of his eyes.

And so James had reached out to mates who lived in New York and they’d all gone out and acted half their age and had a wonderful time once James forgot about why he’d gone out in the first place.

But none of that now. Nope. No sir.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he replies. “Let me know if you catch wind of anything.”

Despite the fact that he only just got home and he’s jetlagged and still feeling the effects of his night out in New York, James can’t stay in his house right now. It’s so quiet that his brain is creating its own white noise. He can’t stand being in his head on a good day, and today is not a good day.

He grabs his keys and wallet and makes for the back of the house. His property is landlocked with the back gardens of other houses; the paps have learned the hard way that James is dead serious about protecting his neighbors’ privacy and will not hesitate to phone the police to arrest and sue anyone caught trespassing on private property to snag a photo of him. James hosts dinner for his neighbors several times a year and buys them gifts any chance he can to show his appreciation for their patience and tolerance.

In the dead of night, he slips out into his back garden, the crisp October air burning his lungs in the best way as he ducks his way through the neighborhood, his feet taking him far away from the crowd of reporters that are still stationed in front of his own home. Hopefully they’ll all have dispersed by the time he gets back. Perhaps he should have turned on music or a movie or something, made them think he was settled in for a lazy night in.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, enjoying this taste of freedom and trying to remember the days when he could leave out the front door of his flat without any fanfare.

It’s dark, and thick clouds obscure whichever moon phase they’re in, but the street lamps glow yellow on the damp pavement, lighting his way forward. A crisp autumn breeze ruffles his hair and the leaves, sending them tumbling around him and skittering across the residential street that’s so much quieter than the bustle of New York. It’s good to be home, though.

He arrives at a bus stop and catches one headed into the city proper. It’s no secret that James lives in London, and therefore the general population has gotten used to glimpsing him on the tube or walking on the street or frequenting pubs. He knows people snap quick photos of him, and he’s always happy to stop and pose for a selfie with respectful fans, but mostly he’s left alone when he’s out by himself like this.

Nevertheless, he hears the excited undertones of people trying to inconspicuously point him out to their oblivious friends. He keeps his head down, mindlessly opening and closing apps on his phone for something to do as he pretends he doesn’t notice them. He won’t be on the bus much longer anyway.

Several people get off the bus with him, including a group of teenage girls who are whispering heatedly among themselves. It’s almost funny, watching them debate amongst themselves before one of them approaches him.

She’s red-faced but determined as she blurts, “Can we get a photo?”

“Sure thing,” he says good-naturedly, inclining his head for them to come closer. “Need me to take it?” He holds out a lanky arm and flops it around a bit. “Got a longer reach than any of you.”

He’s certain one of the girls is about to start crying with joy as they all nestle into his side and hand him a new-model iPhone. Damn, it’s fancier than his own. When he was their age, he had an old flip phone that lost reception if he breathed on it wrong. It was a tank though—he’d dropped that thing hundreds of times, and nary a scratch.

“Do me a favor,” he says, handing the phone back to its owner, “and don’t ping our location if you post to social media, yeah? I appreciate it.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” one of the girls squeaks.

His face splits into a grin and he tucks his hands into his pockets. “Is that so?”

The girls spend the next five minutes chatting with him about music and how they’ve been following him ever since his YouTube days. He listens and chimes in every now and then when they ask him a direct question, but he prefers being passive in exchanges like this, content to hear peoples’ stories. It makes him feel normal, if only for a little while.

Finally, they take their leave, and James turns in the opposite direction even though the destination he had in mind is down the street the girls had just taken. But he’s been burned far too many times by encounters with seemingly innocent fans, only for them to begin following him around and showing up outside his house to talk to him again. He makes a point of not drawing out public encounters with his fans.

He wanders down a street he’s vaguely familiar with, figuring he can backtrack in a couple blocks. The night is too beautiful for him to be upset about needing to take a detour.

Everything looks different in the dark, the glow of neon signs bathing everything in hues of greens and blues and pinks and yellows. Shops and restaurants are mostly shut up for the night, their windows dark or blinds drawn. Dingey motels with pay-by-the-hour rates are in full swing, as are the pubs that have a revolving door of people in varying states of intoxication.

Deep bass that he can feel all the way in his chest catches his attention, and he gets turned around a few times, but he eventually finds the establishment: Bad Wolf Brews. At first, he doesn’t think it’s open, and that he must be mistaken about where the music is coming from, but the heavy front oak door opens, and he realizes the glass on the door is tempered so that the interior lights don’t shine through. The music is clear and heavy and vibrating in his bones. He doesn’t think twice before catching the door before it closes and slipping inside.

The air is humid and smells of sweat and stale beer. Bodies are writhing and gyrating to the rhythm blasting through invisible speakers. The acoustics are phenomenal; none of the layers are lost and the sound quality is nearly as good as if he were listening to the record at home on his own stereo system.

The lights are low, and he’s sure he trips into a few people in the minute it takes for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, but finally, he’s at the bar. There are three open stools, and he claims one between a blonde woman and a red-haired man as he wonders what the hell this dive bar serves. He can see beer taps, but he’s more of a cocktail guy. He must look as lost as he feels, because the bartender hands him a menu that looks like it was hand-written and then photo-copied. It jives with the overall vibe of the pub.

The bartender checks in with him a minute later. James opens a tab and orders a sidecar sans sugar, and is pleasantly surprised by the quality. Not to make assumptions, but he’d figured an establishment such as this would have cheap liquor. If the alcohol in his drink is cheap, it’s well masked.

When he’s drained the last drop and about to signal for another, a hand rests on his shoulder. “Can I buy your next round?”

James looks up into the face of a stranger. It’s a woman with striking green eyes and a disheveled pixie cut. Judging by her crimson cheeks and glazed eyes, she’s three sheets to the wind. There’s buzzed, then there’s drunk, and then there’s plastered. He prefers not to let himself get to that last category, and by extension, he doesn’t really like to associate much with people who won’t remember the night come morning.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” he says with his most charming grin. “G’night.”

He has no idea if the woman knows who he is, but the way she shrugs and saunters to the gentleman sitting beside James, he doubts it.

He gets clumsily propositioned a few more times and always politely declines with a smile. So far, nobody here seems to recognize him and he is going to ride out this anonymity for as long as it’ll last. It has been too long since he’s been able to sit in a pub and drink quietly. Well, quietly, insofar as crazed fans or paparazzi aren’t harassing him—the music is loud enough that he’s sure to have ringing in his ears for a few hours once he gets home.

But he’s not really in any rush to get home, and so he orders his fourth cocktail before making his way to the loo. Alcohol goes right through him, and it’s nearly gotten him in trouble on tour a time or two.

There’s no line, but the loo is crowded, and he tries to ignore the double-takes as he stands in front of a urinal to take care of business. If he wakes up tomorrow morning to find that someone snapped a photo of him having a piss, he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

Bladder tended to, James keeps his head ducked and shoulders his way back into the bar. His stool is unoccupied, and when he steps forward, he realizes why. A purse sits on it, seemingly reserving the seat but he can’t figure out for whom. He’s about to take the cocktail the bartender hands him and stand against the shadowed wall when someone picks up the purse.

It’s his blonde-haired stool mate. She flashes him a broad grin that lights up her entire face and squeezes something deep in his stomach.

“Saved your seat for ya,” she says with the ease and confidence of someone who’s known him his whole life.

“Thanks,” he manages through a suddenly dry mouth.

Feeling like an idiot for standing and gaping, he slips into his seat and downs half his new sidecar in one go. It’s as though the ice has been broken now, and she turns to him, her elbow on the counter and her cheek propped on her fist.

“Pretty sure you could outdrink a fish, mate,” she drawls, smiling again in that easy way that does too many strange things to his insides. “You’ve been knockin’ ‘em back for over an hour now.”

Has it really been that long? James checks his watch, and yup, it’s half past ten. The paps should be gone from his house by now, but he feels no draw to leave this place. The alcohol has left him pleasantly tipsy and warm, but he’s more drunk on the fantasy that he’s just a normal bloke having a nice night out in a newly-discovered dive bar.

“Fish don’t really drink though, do they? They absorb water through their gills via osmosis,” he replies, and he wants to bite his tongue off because what the fuck was that??

This woman, whatever her name is, doesn’t seem to mind his answer though, because her face scrunches in a giggle. His body is hot and throbbing with more than drink now, and he wants to hear that sound again but his brain has stopped working.

“Is that so different from you absorbin’ alcohol through your bloodstream?” she muses, finishing off whatever is in her short tumbler.

“Can I buy your next round?” he blurts rather than responding to her question, which he’s almost certain was rhetorical.

Her smile melts into something softer, something private and a little shy. “If you’d like.”

“I do.” He flags down the bartender and glances at his new companion expectantly.

“Gin and tonic,” she says. She thanks the bartender, then James when she takes her first sip. “I’m Rose, by the way.”

“James,” he says, feeling stupid because his face is plastered all over London, which likes to boast that it’s the home of international celeb James Noble. But wouldn’t he seem more of an arse if he just assumed this gorgeous woman knew who he was?

Nevertheless, his stomach sinks a bit when she snorts into her drink and says, “I thought it was you.”

“Yup, it’s me,” he forces, his voice flat. He hides his frown with his glass, knocking back the rest of his sidecar like it’s a shot. The room sways slightly with the violent motion of his head, and maybe he’s slightly drunker than he’d thought.

If Rose catches on to his sudden sour mood, she doesn’t mention it. “What brings you here to Bad Wolf?”

He shrugs and blows out a noisy breath. “I dunno. Went for a walk, ended up here.”

“Those are the best sort of adventures.” She hums wistfully. “Sometimes you find what you didn’t know you needed when you let yourself get lost.”

That observation is far too astute for his current state of mind, so instead he says, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Her eyes flicker across his face for a brief moment before she says, “Okay.”

He hops down from his stool, but Rose hesitates, clutching her purse and coat awkwardly. The bartender helpfully tells her to keep them on her stool, and he’ll keep an eye on it. Rose flashes him a grin that James would rather she flash at him, but he realizes that is utterly absurd, so he simply rests his coat on top of her things to better hide them from view. He then holds out his hand for her. Her palm is soft and warm against his as he leads her to the crowded dance floor.

They find space towards the back of the pub, hidden in the shadows of a hallway that states it’s closed off to patrons. And of course, of fucking course, right when he rests his hands on her hips to find the rhythm of the song, a new one comes on, and his own voice belts from the speakers.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. He loves his music—he made it, after all—but he can’t help but feel pretentious and more than a little silly to dance to it like this.

Rose, however, grins and says, “Oh, come on, this is one of my favorites.”

She catches his hands where he’d loosened them at her waist and forces him to grab hold of her. She’s wearing high-waisted trousers and a top that leaves a sliver of her belly exposed. His thumb grazes the skin of her bare side, and it’s enough to send tingles through his body. Rose, meanwhile, slings her arms around his shoulders and begins to rock her hips from side to side in sync with the bass, embellishing the motions until she looks absolutely ridiculous but so, so beautiful.

He can’t help but grin and laugh, and he mirrors her movements until they’re both dancing like idiots to his music.

“This is how my baby brother dances,” she explains, bouncing up and down while twisting her hips. “We have regular dance parties together.”

“How old’s your brother?” he asks.

“Just turned four.”

He blinks, and blood rushes from his face. “And… and how old are you?”

“A perfectly legal twenty-four,” she drawls, reaching up to flick his nose. “You can start breathing again.”

Thank fuck.

“That’s quite the age gap.”

“My mum got remarried when I was nineteen,” Rose says with a shrug. “She and my stepdad didn’t waste much time.”

“Clearly,” he mutters under his breath.

“It does feel a bit like they’ve started over,” Rose confesses with a too-stiff shrug. “New family, new life, and I’m the interloper.

There is no way this vivacious woman in front of him could ever be considered an interloper, but before he can tell her that, she continues, “Mum does her best to assure me otherwise, but still. It’s hard to watch all the things Mum and Dad are able to do for Tony—that’s my brother, Tony—when Mum struggled so much as a single mum with me.”

“Your dad’s not in the picture?”

A sad smile pinches her face, and he regrets asking.

“No, I never knew him. He died when I was a baby.”

“I… I’m so sorry.” Well, he’s totally buggered this all up, hasn’t he? He wracks his brain on how to salvage the easy banter they’d had at the bar, but draws a blank.

Rose seems to realize they’ve lost the mood, but she breaks out into a lazy grin and says, “Since you seemed so opposed to dancing to your own music, it’ll please you to know a new song’s on. C’mon, show me your moves.”

He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so he follows her lead, watching her dance her heart out until her cheeks are pink and her hair is damp with sweat. He’s sure he doesn’t look much better, since he can feel the perspiration beading down his back and beneath his arms, but he can’t bring himself to care. Tonight has been the most fun he’s had in a very long time. Clubbing in New York had been a lark, but he’s been swarmed by his American fans half the night, and had been busy drowning his latest heartbreak to fully enjoy it. But here, now, with Rose, it’s like he’s any other bloke in a pub, chatting up a pretty girl he wants to get to know.

Their bodies are wrapped around each other with the ease and grace of partners who have known each other for years, and he forgets that he has known Rose for all of a few hours. He never wants this night to end. He wants to cling to this fairytale and pretend that the clock isn’t about to strike the proverbial midnight.

But time marches on as always. The clock really does strike midnight, and the bartender begins to clear people out of his establishment. James is as exhausted as he is exhilarated, no longer drunk on booze but rather the company of Rose and the magic they made together by simply dancing the night away.

They head back to the bar to retrieve their coats and her purse, and to close out their tabs. James slides his credit card to the bartender and asks him to charge everyone’s tab to his card. If the bartender is surprised, he hides it well. A few minutes later, James is signing off on the receipt of purchase of several thousand pounds-worth of alcohol. His personal assistant is sure to be confused as hell when she wakes up to see the charge. He fires off a quick warning text to her so she doesn’t open up a fraudulent charge claim.

James salutes the bartender, knowing he’ll come back to this pub as often as he can until he’s found out and this place once again becomes somewhere that’s overrun with his fans.

The night is refreshingly cold when he and Rose emerge into it, a nice change after the stifling, sweaty heat of the bar. However, she hunches her shoulders against the chill, prompting him to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her into his side, all too eager to lend her some of his body heat.

“Can I walk you somewhere?” he asks, glancing around the street that is now full of the drunken patrons who’d been in the pub with them. They all disperse in different directions, stumbling home or to a different bar that is still open. “Or wait with you ‘til you catch a cab?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, pulling up her phone to order a ride. She taps on the screen for a few quiet moments then says, “Done. Should be here in a few minutes.”

They descend into a slightly awkward silence that James wants to break, but he can’t think of anything clever to say. So he says nothing, and finally headlights wash over them, momentarily blinding them before a taxi pulls up.

“D’you wanna share?” she asks, opening the door to the back seat.

Is she as reluctant to leave him as he is to leave her? Or is she being polite and eco-friendly by ride sharing? Nevertheless, he nods and slides into the back seat beside her.

There is something incredibly intimate about sitting with Rose in the dark interior of the taxi, and he feels like he’s fifteen and wondering how to hold his date’s hand after a cheap night out at the cinemas. He fists his hands together, knotting his fingers until his knuckles pop.

The driver goes to the address Rose provides first, and all too soon they’ve arrived.

“I’ll cover the fare,” he says when she makes to hand over some bank notes to the diver. “It’d be my pleasure.”

She hesitates, but nods, then opens the door to climb out of the car. His pulse quickens as he watches her walk away with nothing but a, “Goodnight.”

“Can you wait just a minute?” he asks the driver.

“Meter’s still runnin’,” he grunts.

“That’s fine.”

James scrambles out of the taxi. “Hey, Rose?”

She turns back to face him, frowning.

“I… er… I had a great time tonight,” he says lamely, but her frown relaxes into a smile. “It was fun. With you. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” she answers.

He licks his lips; his mouth is bone dry and his pulse pounds in his ears, making his vision throb with each frenzied beat.

“Do you… do you maybe wanna do it again some time? Hang out together? I… I’d really like to see you again,” he says, cursing his clumsy, fumbling words.

She scrutinizes him for a long moment, her expression indecipherable. His stomach sinks. Maybe this was a one-off, a story for her to tell her mates.

You’ll never guess who I met at the pub last night. James Noble! He paid for all my drinks and we danced like idiots.

He stews in his misery of doubt, and just when he’s about to tell her to forget about it, she slowly nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“Really?” he asks, a hopeful edge creeping into his voice.

She laughs. “Really.”

“Brilliant!” James fumbles in his pocket for his phone, and he thrusts it at her. “Give me your number? I’ll text you. Or call.”

He rocks back and forth on his toes and heels, waiting for her to finish up with his phone. He has a sudden, potent bolt of panic that she’s snooping through his private messages or photographs for something to use against him to make a quick profit, but before that panic can take root, she hands his mobile back to him. It’s open to a new texting conversation.

From: 🌹 Bad Wolf Girl 🌹

Now I’ve got your number too 😉

He beams at the name she’s given to herself in his contacts, then he pockets his phone.

“I’ll see you later,” he says.

“You better,” she replies with that knee-weakening smile he’s grown to love over the course of the night. “See ya.”

“Bye.”

He stands there like a moron until she’s safely inside, then he turns back to the taxi and climbs in. The deserted streets streak by as the driver takes him to his neighborhood. He never gives his address though; he always chooses a destination a few streets away, just in case.

James generously tips the driver and bids him goodnight before slipping into the night to his home. He was right: the paparazzi are gone. There is no fanfare as he slips his key into the lock and lets himself into his house. It’s warm and cozy, but still too quiet for his liking.

Between the plane ride and his night out, he feels greasy and disgusting, and indulges in a hot shower before bed. He washes Rose’s scent off of his body, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla that’s as sweet as it is musky.

He’s groggy by the time he crawls into his giant, king-sized bed and burrows deep into his mounds of pillows and duvets. One of his ex-girlfriends once teased that he turns into the marshmallow man when he sleeps.

His sleep is deep and dreamless, and when he awakes with the sun the following morning, he feels more refreshed and invigorated than he ever remembers being. He’s got a full day of meetings with his songwriting team to brainstorm his next album, and he is ready.

But first, he checks his phone. There’s nothing from Rose, which makes him a little sad, but also nothing from his publicist, which is always a good sign. If ever she messages or calls him first thing in the morning, it always means there’s some sort of dumpster fire to put out. Usually a dumpster fire full of compromising photos of him.

He makes a point of not Googling himself, but he does occasionally check his social media pages for new posts about him, wanting to know when, where, and how his fans came across him in the wild. He easily finds the photo that he took with the group of teenage girls, and makes a point to like the original post and type a quick, “Nice to meet you all. Thanks for chatting with me last night - J” in the comments section. He snorts to himself as his comment blows up within seconds.

But other than some grainy photos of him riding the bus, he can’t find any other photos of himself. Nothing of him wandering the streets or drinking in the pub or even having a wee in the mens’ room. And best of all, there’s nothing of him and Rose. No photos of them dancing together or sharing a cab. If Rose has a social media account, it didn’t post any sneaky photos or bragging stories about dancing all night with James Noble.

He can’t quite believe it; he managed to have a fun night out drinking without it all being thrown back in his face the next morning. Within seconds, he’s grinning to himself and pulling up Rose’s contact information. It’s still in his phone, further proof that his night with her wasn’t some sort of jetlagged fever dream. She was real.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well. Thanks for last night.”

She responds almost instantly. Good morning to you too. I should be thanking you for paying my drink tab and taxi fare 😉 And for being an excellent dance partner.

“The pleasure was all mine, on all counts.” He sends that message, then types out a new one, “I’m gonna be in meetings all day (yes, I know it’s Sunday), so please don’t be discouraged if I don’t reply. But I’d really like to see you again. Want to do dinner or drinks or coffee or something?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, needing to make himself presentable for when his driver picks him up in an hour. Yet he can’t help but check his phone every three seconds, until finally there’s a message from Rose.

Yeah, I’d like that. I work ‘til five most nights, but I’m free after that. Or we can wait ‘til the weekend.

With spirits lighter than they’ve been in months, James steps out of his house with a broad, stupid grin that the ever-present crowd of paparazzi are all too happy to photograph.

#ficandchips #dwfic #doctorroseprompts #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #yet another iteration of james and rose lmao #romance #meet cute #light angst #musician au #my fic #sacred new beginnings

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wicked-mind · 3 years

Text

Remember Me: Chapter Seven

Summary: Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones?

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Swearing (I like swearing. Adds character and sounds pretty to me lol), mentions of surgical procedures, car crash, miscarriage, John Walker, slight bit of PTSD.

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As always, any likes, reblog, or comments are appreciated (:

*gifs not mine

Previously

Y/N removed her eyes from his face, listening to the story. Her forehead creased a moment as she thought about all that was said before meeting his gaze once again. A small smile curved on her lips and she leaned towards him, kissing his lips softly before pulling away slightly to look at him, “I forgive you, Bucky."

Bucky felt relief flood through him at her words, smiling down to her. He couldn’t find any words to say to her so instead he returned his arms around her body and pulled her closer, kissing her deeply. Those were words Bucky had waited to hear for so long and for a while he didn’t know if he would ever hear them from Y/N. Everything seemed right in the world for now, and even though he was worried about what was written in those journals John had given her due to what Steve had said, he hoped that whatever else it was would be forgiven also.

Truth was, Y/N always had forgiven Bucky for what was said the moment she left. She knew it was from his own fears. But what had broken her heart was hidden in the pages of those journals.

Chapter seven - The truth in the writing

Y/N wasn’t supposed to be back to work until noon, but she got called in early due to an apartment fire that would lead to multiple traumas coming in meaning it was all hands on deck. Bucky watched her pack the yellow folder John had given to her last night into her backpack before taking her to the hospital. He came back to Steve’s to find him and Peggy having some coffee. Bucky grabbed himself a mug of the dark liquid before leaning against the counter, “She took the journals with her.” He said over to Steve.

Peggy narrowed her eyes as they flickered between the two, “What journals?”

Steve sighed, sitting at the dining table next to Peggy, “Y/N’s friend, that blonde guy named John, brought some of her journals that were left behind at her base camp. Says there’s everything in there.” He informed.

“Yeah, including something we don’t know about.” Bucky grumbled out, “Something that made our break-up worse than just the words that were said.” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. He replayed that night so many times in his head that every moment was burned into his brain and he couldn’t think of anything other than what was said before she left, “We gotta figure this out. So I can at least try to make it better after she reads whatever is in there.”

Peggy set her glass mug on the table, “Okay, then let’s walk through it.” She said helpfully, “Y/N came here that night after her shift and showed us the deployment papers with the date for her to leave set in a month, June 7th. She was so excited to tell you that she left immediately after. What happened at your house, James?”

Bucky sighs, setting his mug down on the counter to run a hand through his dark hair, “She came in all excited and jumped into my arms. Everything was fine and then she showed me the papers. We argued about it because I didn’t want her to go. I told her if she walked out those doors I wouldn’t be here waiting for her and not to come back. And then she left.” He flinched at his own words. He hated that he had said that to Y/N.

Steve leans back in his chair, “Then she came back here in tears and frantic. We tried to get her to talk to us about what happened but she just packed her bags, got in her car, and left.” He sighs, “I called her everyday for about four days until she finally picked up and told me she was fine, just needed some space, and she would be back soon. After that, I didn’t hear from her until she was deployed.”

Bucky cocks his head to the side at Steve, narrowing his eyes, “You never told me that.”

Steve scoffs slightly, “Yeah, well, you made my sister run away, we weren’t exactly on the best speaking terms, Buck.”

“So we have no idea where she was or what she was doing for a month before she was deployed?” Peggy interrupted, watching Bucky and Steve shake their heads to say no. She bit her bottom lip for a moment, “Maybe something happened in that month.”

Bucky looked over from Peggy to Steve, “What did she say while she was deployed?” He asks curiously, folding his arms as he leaned against the counter.

Steve looked from Peggy to Bucky, picking up his mug and bringing it to his lips for a drink before setting it back down, “Y/N called me when she got to the base, told me she made it safe and she was sorry she didn’t come back before she left, that she couldn’t come back. I asked her what happened between you two and she told me what was said. I told her you didn’t mean it and to at least give you a call.” He watched Bucky’s features soften for a moment, “There were a few more phone calls. She told me what you said hurt, but that she was okay and there was another reason she couldn’t come home or talk to you. We didn’t really talk about you two after that.”

Bucky groaned slightly. What had happened? The more he thought about it the more the timeline didn’t make sense. Everything had been fine between them the days, even weeks leading up to when she ran away were fine. He sighs looking back to Steve, “I don’t know, man.” He said, “Everything was great. We made cookies together, went on rides, had a Star Wars marathon. Everything was perfect… So perfect in fact I bought a damn engagement ring.”

Steve looked at Bucky with almost fully wide eyes before looking at Peggy who was sipping her coffee avoiding eye contact, “You knew about this, Peggy?”

Peggy put her coffee down, pursing her lips a little before speaking, “Of course I knew! Who do you think had to help him pick out the damn thing?”

Steve nodded and turned his attention back to Bucky, “Wow.” He said still nodding, “Well, now I really wish things would’ve gone differently. She would’ve been so excited.” He said with a small smile towards Bucky. Steve had always trusted Bucky with Y/N. The way he treated her was like a queen.

Bucky’s lips twitched into a small smile for a moment at Steve’s approval before it faded back into a stern line. He was going to ask Steve for help with the proposal when Bucky eventually figured out how to ask, but hadn’t gotten around to it before it all went to shit, “So nobody knows what the reason is…”

Steve nodded slowly, “Well… none of us know. But there is one person who does.”

Bucky groaned a little again and rubs his hand along his face, “God, I really hate John Walker.”

—

Y/N dealt with the wave of incoming traumas from the apartment building fire, running point on sorting patients by the degree of their injuries to create a steady flow in the operating room and emergency room. Once everything had died down, Y/N sat in the attending’s lounge eating a sandwich and starting to go through yellow folder from her backpack. There were photos of Y/N with Bucky and some of her with Steve and Peggy as well of her with John. There were also photos of her while she was deployed mostly doing silly poses in the middle of nowhere. She placed the photos back into the folder and pulled out the two notebooks next. They were leather-bound full sized journals. She opened the first one that looked just a bit more well used, figuring it was the first one. Her brow furrowed when she turned to the first page. It was dated at the top, May 15, 2019 but the rest of the page looked like the words had been gone over with permanent marker. Y/N turned to the next page and the next but for about ten pages over the next ten days from May 15th, all the words had been scribbled over with permanent marker, “Well, that’s just great.” She mutters out to herself softly, “Thanks me. Super helpful.”

Y/N finally found a page with actual words instead of just a page of black marker, the date read May 25th, 2019. It was filled with the words repeating ‘I am not my trauma.’ over and over again until the last line that read:

I’ll forget the piece that was taken away from me.

She frowned a little. What trauma did this refer to? What had happened? She turns the page quickly to read the next page.

May 26th, 2019

I leave in eleven days.

I want more than anything to call him. I don’t know what I would say. How do I explain what happened. Where do I begin?

He told me if I leave to never come back. That he won’t be waiting for me.

A part of me knows that’s a lie. I know he’d be there with open arms if he knew what happened.

I found that ring after all…

Y/N had to read the line over again a few times. Ring? There was a ring?

But how would he feel if he knew how ruined I was?

His sun swallowed into a dark pit.

He loves me. And I don’t think I’m me anymore.

Nobody wants broken things.

May 28th, 2019

I want to feel safe again.

They say writing down what I feel is going to ground me to reality. They also said I should call somebody. I can’t do that. I can’t let them know how much I hurt. I just want to run as far away as possible and that’s what I’ll do. I need to get out of here. It feels like I can’t breathe and everywhere I look I’m met with eyes filled with pity. It makes everything worse the way they look at me and stare. I get released tomorrow, I’m signing out AMA. Then it’s just nine more days. Maybe it’ll replace my trauma with a different trauma. Anything would be better than this.

I miss Bucky. I miss running my fingers through his hair and the way his stubble would brush against my skin. I miss being in his arms the most. They were so safe like nothing could ever hurt me. I wish I would’ve stayed then none of this would’ve happened. We could’ve just fought about it then go to bed and sort it out until I left. At least then I would’ve felt save and would’ve been safe.

I think the worst part about our fight was that I knew about the ring. I found it in his boxer drawer when putting away his laundry. You’d figure he would’ve picked a better hiding spot, but nope. He’s never been good at hiding things from me. I was halfway expecting him to propose when I showed him my deployment papers so we both had something to look forward to when I came back. I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat if he did. After all, James Buchanan Barnes is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. But that’s not what happened. And here I am stuck in pain and guilt.

Y/N shut the book when she heard someone come in, wiping away some tears she hadn’t noticed falling from her cheeks. She looks over and put on her best smile for Chief Miller, “Afternoon, Chief.”

Miller had his hands tucked in his pockets, “Everything okay, Y/N?” He asks gently, nothing the tear brimmed eyes.

Y/N nodded, keeping the same smile on her face, “Yeah, everything’s good. A friend brought me some journals to see if they’ll help me remember. It’s just confusing and a lot to read.” She said softly, “Were you looking for me?”

Miller nodded at her words, “I’m sorry, that must be hard.” He said with a reassuring smile, “I was just getting all your medical records transferred over and one was locked from a hospital in Queens. I just wanted to ask if you wanted to unlock it so we have that information on file in case it’s needed in the future.”

Y/N tilted her head at him, her brow pulling together in confusion, “I don’t remember what the nature of that visit would be… Did it have a date? I can call the doctor from the hospital to get it unlocked if I know the date.”

“May 14th, 2019.” Miller replied, “The doctors name I think was Wanda Maximoff.”

Y/N nodded slowly at the date. It was the day before her journal started with the scribbled out pages. She pushed the journal into her backpack, “Thanks, Chief. I’ll give them a call.” She said with a small smile before standing and leaving the room. She found an empty office with a computer, googling the hospital in Queens and asking for Dr. Maximoff.

“This is Dr. Maximoff.” A woman with an accent said over the phone when Y/N was connected.

“Hi, this is Dr. Rogers from Brooklyn Mercy. I was calling about a locked file in my health records.”

“Oh, Y/N! How have you been? Are you back from deployment?”

“Been better… And yes, I am. I was calling because a medical report of mine from May 14, 2019 is sealed and I don’t remember the nature of the visit. I lost a lot of my memories due to an incident overseas and I’m trying to put pieces together.”

“I see.. I’m so sorry to hear that. Our hospital isn’t too far from Brooklyn Mercy, I think we should talk about this in person given the situation. I’ll drive down and meet you in about forty-five minutes, would that work?”

“That’d be perfect, thank you Dr. Maximoff.” Y/N said before enhancing goodbyes and hanging up. It felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest with how fast it was racing and she felt sick to her stomach as she tried to remember what happened. Whatever happened, it was bad enough that Dr. Maximoff was coming to tell her in person.

Y/N asked Chief Miller if he would be there when she went over the information with Maximoff, wanting some sort of support in case whatever happened was really bad. She kept adjusting herself in the chair in front of Chief Miller, nervous for whatever information was about to come out. She put on a small smile when Dr. Maximoff came into the office holding a medical file, shaking her hand and watching her take a seat in the chair next to her, “Nice to meet you again, Dr. Maximoff.”

“Oh call me Wanda. And again, I’m very sorry about your memory loss. I want to start by saying that we have support groups I can recommend after we talk about this information. Given that you don’t remember, it is possible you’ll go through all the emotions and grief again.” Wanda said before placing the file on Chief Miller’s desk and opening it slowly, “The night of May 14th, 2019 paramedics responded to an accident involving two vehicles. You were in one of them. It was determined the other driver was driving under the influence and had a large amount of alcohol in his system.”

Y/N nodded slowly, watching Wanda instead of looking at the file. Her eyes were full of kindness, even maybe a little pity, “What happened to the drunk driver?”

“He died in surgery. With the amount of alcohol in his system, the bleeding couldn’t be controlled and the damage was too severe.” Wanda said before continuing, “It was later determined that he was going forty miles per hour over the speed limit and from your statement, he was driving down the wrong side of the road with his headlights off. You didn’t see him coming until it was too late.”

“How bad was it?” Y/N asks softly, picking at her fingers nervously as she listened.

Wanda sighs, flipping through pages of the file on Chief Miller’s desk, “You sustained abdominal bleeding, two fractured ribs, and superficial lacerations that our head of plastic surgery took care of which is why there is no scarring. You made me promise not to call your emergency contacts.” Wanda paused, observing Y/N’s reaction but she was just sitting there nodding, “We took blood samples to cross match your blood so we couldn’t have to keep giving you O-negative blood. Those blood tests showed trace amounts of the hCG hormone. After we took care of the abdominal bleeding, you miscarried from stress. You didn’t know you were pregnant. You asked me to seal the records of the accident and you signed yourself out against medical advice.”

Y/N took a deep ragged breath, looking down at the floor in shock. The writings in the journal were making sense. She could hear Chief Miller and Wanda asking if she was okay but they sounded distant and like they were underwater. Flashes started coming back in her mind of that night. She was driving down the road back to her hotel she was staying at, crying and listening to sad songs on the radio when the crash happened. Y/N put her hand on her chest as her breathing became more erratic, it was like she couldn’t get enough air. She could see Wanda and Miller trying to ask if she was okay and calm her down but their voices were so different and everything around her was swaying. She remembered sitting in a hospital bed and crying over the news and the guilt she felt for leaving the safety of Bucky, “Can’t breathe…” She whispers out, trying to stand slowly from the chair. Y/N remembered the day after it happened, Wanda brought the journals to her hoping it would help to write what she was feeling since she wouldn’t contact anybody. She remembered the grief she felt as well as the shock and pain. This was the reason she didn’t come back to Bucky and avoided him, she didn’t know what to tell him. The world was swaying like she was on a boat and it felt like she was underwater, unable to get air in her lungs or hear the muffled sounds coming from Chief Miller and Wanda. She stumbled around at the room spinning, blinking rapidly before the world around her started fading to black and she fell onto the floor.

——

Steve, Peggy, and Bucky were still all trying to figure out events that lead up to Y/N running away a month before her deployment, trying to think of any clues that would help put the puzzle pieces together.

Steve’s phone starting ringing and he excused himself from the conversation to take the call, “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Doctor Miller, Chief of Surgery over at Brooklyn Mercy. Is this Steve Rogers, Y/N’s brother?”

“This is Steve. Is everything alright?” “Yes, everything is alright. I’m just giving you a call to ask you to come in. Your sister had a pretty serious panic attack and lost consciousness. I think it would be good if you came in.”

“What? Yeah, I’m on my way.” Steve said, walking back into the kitchen, “We have to go, Y/N’s been admitted to the hospital for a panic attack.”

Bucky frowns, “Probably read those damn journals.” He growled out, turning immediately and walking out the front door to his motorcycle and speeding down the road towards the hospital with Peggy and Steve right behind him in their car.

When they arrived at the hospital, Chief Miller was waiting for them at the front doors. He lead them up to the room Y/N was in where she was talking to Wanda with the door closed and crying, pulling an oxygen mask up to her mouth every so often. Bucky looked through the window to the room before noticing that none other than John Walker was standing a little bit away from the room leaning against the wall with a frown. Bucky immediately felt rage consume him, stomping over to John and pushing him against the wall, “What were in those journals?!” He yelled before landing a punch to John’s cheek.

John winced at the hit and pushed Bucky away from him, “She knew about the ring, asshole! She thought you were going to propose that night but instead you broke up with her!”

Chief Miller and Steve quickly pulled the two apart, Miller holding John back while Steve held Bucky back, “That’s not what it was about! Now knock if off before I call security.” Chief Miller said, moving to stand between the men, “Due to her privacy, I can’t tell you what it was but it wasn’t about a ring.”

“She knew about the ring?” Bucky said, wide eyed as he processed the words. No wonder she had been so mad at him and what he had said. She thought she was coming home to a potential proposal and instead he told her if she left to never come back.

Peggy had separated herself from all the testosterone and walked into the room Y/N was in, shutting the door behind her, “I’m Peggy, her sister-in-law.” She told Wanda before she took a seat on the edge of Y/N’s bed, gently taking her head, “Are you okay, honey?”

Y/N shook her head rapidly, keeping the oxygen mask pressed to her mouth and nose as she cried into it. She remembered the pain when Wanda had told her she miscarried and feeling alone due to the fight she had with Bucky. It was the reason she had ran- she didn’t feel like she had a home to go back to and she wouldn’t know what Bucky would think if she told him she had lost their child. All Bucky had wanted was to grow up and have a family with her and she ruined that. Her gaze set on Bucky through the window and she pulled the blanket on her legs up over her head, sobbing loudly underneath the blanket. How could she even look at him knowing what she knew now?

Wanda got up to close the blinds in the window before returning the chair placed next to the bed, “Y/N,” Wanda asks gently, reaching out a hand to rest reassuringly on Y/N’s leg over the blanket, “You’ve dealt with this pain alone for a long time and you’re going through it again like it’s fresh. You should talk to someone about it, you need support.”

Y/N pulled the blanket off her head at the sound of the blinds shutting, looking at Wanda through her blurry tear filled eyes, “I can’t…You… You tell Peggy… I can’t… I can’t.” She sobbed out, dropping the oxygen mask to her lap and putting her face in her hands.

Wanda looks over to Peggy who was eyeing her curiously, “The night of May 14th, 2019 Y/N was brought in after her car was hit by a drunk driver. We took care of all the injuries… But we found out she was about six weeks pregnant. Due to the stress of her injuries and the stress she was already under, she miscarried.”

Peggy’s jaw dropped at the news, slowly looking over to Y/N. She quickly adjusted herself on the bed to scoot closer to Y/N, pulling her into a secure hug and stroking her hair softly, “Shh… It’s okay… I’m so sorry, honey…I’m here…” She soothed gently. It all made sense of why Y/N didn’t come back before she was deployed and why she never talked to Bucky.

Eventually Wanda offered a light sedation for Y/N since she couldn’t stop crying and keep her breathing under control. Y/N drifted off to sleep from the sedative, her mind finally calming but the ache in her body didn’t fade. When she opened her eyes, it was nighttime. She looked over to the window to see Peggy and Steve talking to Wanda and Chief Miller outside of the room. Her attention was take when she felt a soft squeeze of her hand, looking over and seeing Bucky sitting in the chair staring at her with a small smile. The sight of him almost made her break again, pulling her hand out of his grasp and pulling the blanket up over her head to hide from his face.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bucky said with a small frown when she hid away from him under the blanket, “Baby, come on look at me. Talk to me.” He pleaded, trying to pull the blanket away from her face, “What happened, doll?”

Y.N eventually quit fighting the tug of war with the blanket, letting him pull it away from her face. She didn’t meet his gaze though, staring into her lap as tears started to roll down her face. She was amazed she still had any water left in her body to cry, “I can’t… You should go…”

“Fuck that, darlin. I’m not going anywhere when you’re crying.” Bucky told her, moving himself from the chair to sit by her bedside. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leaning close and kissing her temple softly, “Talk to me, please.”

“I can’t.” Y/N replied, still not meeting his gaze as she shook her head, “I was finally feeling like everything was right in the world… Like I was back where I belonged with you… Safe.” She took in a sharp breath, releasing it slowly, “Now, it’s just all going to be ruined again. We’ll be ruined. You’ll leave.”

Bucky’s frown deepened at her words as scenarios ran through his mind of what Y/N could be talking about, studying her features intently, “No we won’t. I told you that you are the love of my life, Y/N. Nothing is going to change that.” He told her, moving his position to take her face in his hand and forcing her to look at him, “Now talk to me.”

Y/N stared at Bucky for what felt like forever, studying his face. She wondered what would reflect back to her in his eyes when she told him. Right now his eyes were pooled with concern for her but once she would tell him, they knew that concern would leave, “The night we fought… May seventh right?” She watched him nod, “On May fourteenth I was driving and I was hit by a drunk driver. I was taken to a hospital in Queens where I was treated.” She watched the concern grow in his eyes at her words, “I didn’t know I was six weeks pregnant and I lost the baby… Our baby… I would’ve came back if I knew, never left… But after I couldn’t come back to you.”

Bucky’s mouth parted slightly at the words, his eyes moving across the features of her face watching the tears leak down her face. He hadn’t even noticed his own tears starting to fall at the news. Guilt raked through his body at the words he had said that made her leave, put her in that position to get hurt. It would have never happened if he would’ve swallowed his own fear and anger at her deployment. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug, “I’m so sorry, doll.” He said through his own shaky breathes, trying to control his breathing as he cried, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I did this, it’s my fault… I’m so sorry.”

_____________________________________________________________Taglist: @vicmc624 @buckypops @shawnie--jo @ahahafudge @intothesoul @austynparksandpizza @stcrryslibrary

Shout out to @shawnie--jo for having a big brain and guessing correct (:

If I missed anybody on the taglist or you would like to be added, send me a quick message, comment, or ask. Thank you for the support (:

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic series

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lovelyirony · 3 years

Text

morgan doesn’t have to be a hero. she just has to know the family that was.

(or me ignoring everything about infinity war and endgame)

Thinking about how Tony doesn’t tell Morgan everything about Iron Man. There are books, of course. A couple of children’s authors and illustrators thought it would be nice if the kids could see heroes on something else other than a news source that also talks about casualties and how much they actually lost.

It’s nice for Tony, too.

No one saw the wormhole. No one illustrates him falling out of the sky, body plummeting and seeing what the future would be.

It’s Morgan’s favorite book, seeing the team defeat the “mean aliens.” Her eyes follow each hero. She likes Hulk the best. She likes tracing along the pages, asking “whozat” every two minutes or so.

She finds the old armor in the garage when she’s in her “investigation” phase, and correlates it to the book.

She doesn’t think that Iron Man is that cool. She wants the armor to be pink and green, so dad loses out on “cool points.”

She finds the armor that he’s building for Pepper, because he’s still paranoid and worried and he wants her to be safe.

He survived one house of his falling, and he’s not sure he’ll survive another one.

Morgan asks about the picture at the kitchen, the one where Tony and Peter are posing for Peter’s official internship.

“That’s...that’s your family,” Tony says, because he can just picture how excited Peter would be at having a little Morgan around, crawling everywhere. “His name is Peter.”

He never refers to Peter in the past tense. He doesn’t know if it’s for Morgan’s benefit or his own.

He tells her all about Spider-Man. “Spidey” becomes easier to pronounce, so they go with that.

Sometimes mom finishes those stories while dad goes to get juice pops.

(And look at the photo for a bit too long.)

Morgan asks him where Spidey is, once. More than once. But the first time it was...it was painful.

“Where is he?” Morgan asks.

“He’s...”

Tony doesn’t know what to say. He’s not gone. No, fuck that. Peter isn’t gone. But he’s not here, and Tony doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t know where anyone is.

“He lives far away, so he would have to take a long time to get here,” Pepper says, smiling. “But now, we are going to travel for the kitchen for lunch! The menu today is carrots and celery with hummus, and some fresh fruit and a sandwich. What do we think?”

“Is the fruit seasonal?” Tony asks, voice thready. “Points off if it’s out.”

“You’re a nerd,” Pepper says. “Yes, it’s in season. Would you mind turning the washer on? I forgot to.”

Tony nods, and Pepper grabs his hand, squeezing.

He was so lucky to have her in his life.

And then the Avengers are reforming. Scott Lang, aka Ant-Man, aka the weirdest superhero name he’s ever heard, has a theory.

About time travel.

He said he didn’t Back to the Future think about it, but he totally Back to the Future thought about it.

The problem is that it works.

That’s not the real problem. No, it’s not a real problem at all. He thinks about everyone returning and it’s happy and good again, and-

He’ll have to leave.

He hasn’t forgotten Strange’s statement.

Only one situation where this doesn’t fail. Where we don’t fail.

And it has to be him.

You don’t come back from something like that.

Usually, anyway.

Tony’s determined that he’s coming back. That everyone is coming back.

The whole plot of Back to the Future goes as such: Marty’s life sucks, his parents’ lives are boring, and they’re not supposed to change the future.

They do anyways.

And it works. That’s the thing. Out of every single “time travel is dangerous” trope, Back to the Future still shows that sometimes some changes don’t affect the future badly, it just changes it.

Tony knows that that can be done. It has to be done, because there’s no way in hell he’s going to leave Morgan. He already pinky-promised her that they’d make a picnic for her fifth birthday, and pinky-promises are the most binding contract he’s ever been a part of so far.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if it can’t be done.

He has to go with Steve to get a stone. He doesn’t necessarily like that because neither of them are subtle and they’re going to see his dad.

Which is just gonna be a ball of a time. And Tony looks like Howard, just a few slight changes, but it’s undeniable.

As long as no one connects the dots, he’ll be fine.

They’re both like bulls in china shops. Neither has ever been out of the spotlight, and neither have been trained very well in the art of subterfuge.

“What, SHIELD just decide to set you loose?” Tony hisses as they’re making an escape.

“Oh and you didn’t have any time to learn?” Steve snaps back. “Let’s go.”

Natasha almost doesn’t return. Almost. Tony’s terrified to think of what would have been happened had she still been there.

“Dumbass,” Clint mutters. “Thinking you could jump and we wouldn’t have done shit about it. You’re stupid.”

Natasha just has a graceful smile on.

“You’re not allowed to be the stupid Avenger all the time, Clint.”

“Okay I accidentally blew up a microwave one time and suddenly-”

Tony laughs.

Genuinely laughs.

It’s been a while since they’ve functioned like a team. Been a longer time since they’ve been one.

They get the stones.

Hulk gets everyone back. Bruce gets everyone back.

He’s confusing.

But there he is, Peter.

Tony hugs him, and he tears up, and god he’s so glad that Peter’s back. That everyone is back.

It feels nice.

But they still have a fight to finish and a glove to play hot potato with.

Thanos is still formidable. He’s still skilled, still has an entire army.

Well...they’re not outmatched for long.

Dr. Strange opens portals, leading a whole new mass of people to help. And Tony sees Danvers, which he has yet to talk to Rhodey about. God, Rhodey had been right about her being alive.

But that’s not important.

He’s fighting one-on-one.

Thanos is confident that he’s going to win.

See, that’s the thing about Tony: he may not have been trained in subterfuge, but he knows all about flouting expectations. He knows that everyone had expected so many things of him that when he did anything out of the ordinary, no one paid attention.

This is just like that.

Thanos snaps, only it’s not enough this time.

It’s not going to be like last time, with Peter panicking and people screaming and tragedy lining the news for years.

No this time? It won’t work.

Because this is the time where the hero wins against all odds and there’s a happy ending. He’s going to make it so, no matter how much of a toll this takes. He’s getting back to Morgan and Pepper no matter what it fucking takes.

Thanos is gone. His army dissolved.

And he is satisfied. He’s tired, but happy. And he’s fairly sure that the glove has taken its toll on his body, but he hopes to god that he’ll be okay.

Pepper is running her hands through his hair, telling him it’ll be okay, and asking anyone for help with transportation.

There’s one person important that didn’t get blipped, and luckily, she’s a personal friend: Helen Cho.

Sure, it’s time-intensive.

Yes, Morgan is mad that daddy can’t read her a bedtime story.

But...she gets to meet Peter, torture him with forty questions a minute, and Tony gets the use of his arm back.

So it equals itself out.

The world, for now, doesn’t need a lot of superheroes. Everyone’s still settling down, no one wants anything but normal.

This means a lot of superheroes have no idea what to do.

But Morgan does.

When dad gets back and is up for playing again (which took forever), Morgan asks to see the team.

If dad is Iron Man, then it only makes sense that he knows all the other ones. And she has a lot of questions.

The Avengers are a...a team. God, that’s about the only thing they can call themselves now. They used to be a family but everything’s changed and stilted and awkward.

Morgan knows none of this.

So ergo, she decides the most amazing thing ever for her fifth birthday party is to have a picnic with the whole team. Writes them invitations and everything, makes her mom trace out the words she wants to write so that it looks “extra fancy.”

Tony’s never been one to deny Morgan something she really wants.

“You sure you wanna handle this? You and Steve aren’t exactly on the best of terms, and I don’t think the team has actually talked.”

“Well, no time like a five year old’s birthday party to get to catching up.”

It’s...something.

Morgan is blissfully unaware and everyone makes so that she stays unaware.

This involves some...awkward conversations.

But mostly just making peace with the fact that life happened.

And Natasha finally has another niece, even if she’s not named after her.

“You still should’ve,” she jokes.

“We were thinking about it, honest,” Pepper remarks dryly. “But hey, thanks for coming. Morgan’s very excited to learn how to ‘be a spy’ in her words.”

Natasha grins.

“I’ll have her taking out government officials in no time.”

“Or just teaching her how to disarm dangerous people, thank you very much,” Tony says hurriedly.

“Didn’t peg you to be the helicopter parent, Stark,” Clint says.

“Oh trust me, he barely left the house when she was born,” Pepper says with a laugh. “And he would check everything. I had to convince him that Morgan did actually need to sleep in her crib.”

“She would’ve been fine by us!” Tony defends weakly. “And besides, you said you did want an office space!”

“Working in the sunroom is fine enough,” Pepper says. “And you forget that you offered to build me one, which is an offer you still haven’t done.”

“I saved the world, you know.”

“Oh, did you?”

Tony grins, popping a grape into his mouth as he sees the scene unfold.

Morgan’s having great fun showing everyone her little hideout, and where she goes on walks.

She’s made friends with Peter and introducing him to her stuffed animals.

Yeah.

Life is good.

#fix-it but not fix-it bc i'm just saying it's canon #endgame noncompliance #hehe :)#lovelyirony writes #morgan stark #tony stark #pepper potts #peter parker #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #steve and tony are like. u know when u have beef with someone but like. not the most important beef #but like enough so that you can't talk #so. you know.#also tony IS the helicopter parent #also i've never seen back to the future that whole line was just bc i looked it up on wikipedia

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perfectlymarilynmonroe · 3 years

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Hey babe, I had a q about your last photo caption. The bit about Marilyn refusing to be a kept woman is somewhat misleading to me- didn't she live with Johnny Hyde for a time, and didn't his influence grant her favorable notice during casting for films like The Asphalt Jungle? Maybe I'm not remembering correctly, but I don't think their relationship was precisely sexual even if he clearly doted on her for a time. Obvi she got further on her own merit, but I do think that's an oft unexplored moment in her life that was definitely instrumental because of her choice to link up with him. Just wondering about your thoughts on this! Love the blog <3

Hi! Thank you for your sweet comments about my blog :) Sorry for the delay in response, but I wanted to give a thorough response to this. I’ve actually received a couple of comments on Instagram lately regarding this, and I don’t mind addressing this confusion.

*Disclaimer to everyone reading: This is based on the research I have done and is to address a number of issues. This isn’t to glorify Marilyn or deny any flaws or imperfections, but to state the facts. I’m publicly sharing this so I can later refer back to it. It’s a longer response to answer any follow-up questions I may get but, of course, you can still ask any you may have. ♡♡

It can be deceiving, but I think the bigger concern is what she took for what she got, rather than vise versa. If she was looking to be a gold-digging, role-stealing actress, she would have married Hyde the minute he asked her to. She would have inherited his millions and could have bought her way through Hollywood. For a young woman with hardly anything, she chose herself and said no.

Just before she met him, she was getting help from John Carroll and Lucille Ryman, so when she said, Johnny was the first to believe in her, that isn’t entirely true. Due to her lack of a father-figure as a child I think that when she saw the belief in her from a man like Johnny, at a reputable agency, who was willing to do anything for her, she latched on to it.

Hyde’s co-workers at William Morris later reported being furious with him because he slowly began to abandon his other clients and focused only on helping her. In the case of The Asphalt Jungle, since you asked, it was actually the help of both Hyde and Lucille Ryman that she was given an audition. However, director John Huston later said she didn’t get the “role because of Hyde...she got it because she was damn good.”

In my personal opinion, based on the facts, whether did not sleep with Johnny - some historians even refuse to believe they were ever sexually involved - it was never for roles, auditions, etc. As I mentioned, if it were, she would have married him, taken his money, and used that to her advantage. She actually stopped seeing him - both personally and professionally - by Fall 1949 because she was so sick and tired of being called, “Mrs. Johnny Hyde” by him and hearing from colleges that he was calling her his wife.

When it came to being a “kept” woman, she was referring to the large number of “casting directors” or studio execs, etc, who faked an upcoming film to lure her into their office and attempt to seduce her, or held their hand on her thigh while she auditioned, almost forced her, etc... and each time she managed to walk out.

She wrote an article entitled, “The Wolves I’ve Know” that was published in a number of places like Motion Picture in 1953, The New York Daily News, and more. When she met with Ben Hecht for her autobiography interviews, she also spoke of them and it was published in a London newspaper in August 1954, and in Australian magazines in 1955.

He did leave his family and move into a bigger place and invited her to live there, but she never officially moved in. She did spend quite a bit of her time there, but by early Spring she was living on her own and was very low on rent. This is why she posed nude on red velvet in May 1949. She admitted to thinking of asking men she knew for money to help her, but felt she wouldn’t have been able to forgive herself, and it made her sick to even think of it.

For everyone reading this, remember, she was twenty-three. She was still a very young girl and had grown up with little guidance in her life. She was abused, and was in and out of so many school and homes, she was never taught how to do things. She figured it out on her own, and of course, like anyone in that situation, maybe didn’t always make the best decisions or have the best thoughts.

I know this answer was very long, but I felt I needed to address a number of points because things are rarely black and white - especially for Marilyn Monroe, who is the subject of much scrutiny, then and now - and there are many things to consider in regards to a sensitive subject like this!

I hope I’m not missing anything, but I hope it answers your question! xo

Below is a list of various quotes said by Marilyn that I hope everyone will find helpful :)

From “The Wolves I’ve Known” published in The New York Times:

The first real wolf I encountered should have been ashamed of himself because he was trying to take advantage of a mere kid. That’s all I was and I wasn’t suspicious of him at all when he stopped his car at a corner and started to talk to me.

He looked at me all over and then came up with that famous line: “You ought to be in pictures.” That was the first time I’d ever heard it, so it didn’t sound corny to me.

He told me he had an office at the Goldwyn studio and said why didn’t I come and see him and he would get me a screen test. It sounded pretty good to me because I was crazy to get into the movies.

I was modeling at that time and I asked the people who ran the agency where I got my jobs what they thought of his offer. The manager called the studio but never was able to get in touch with my would-be benefactor. However, the wolf called the agency and I made an appointment to go to his office on Saturday afternoon.

I didn’t know then that the producers and other movie officials don’t make Saturday afternoon appointments. I found that out later. I also found out that he didn’t really have any connection with the Goldwyn studio but had borrowed a friend’s office.

He was fat and jovial and, of course, drove a Cadillac. He gave me a script to read and told me how to pose while reading it. All the poses had to be reclining, although the words I was reading didn’t seem to call for that position.

Of course, there are other ways a girl could survive until another studio came along. A starlet could take on a lover, usually a well-heeled married man who could pay her bills, or she could become the mistress to an old man and through his connections help advance her career. Believe me, there were and still are many starstruck girls that do get by that way. But for myself, respect is one of life’s greatest treasures. I mean, what does it all add up to if you don’t have that? If there [is] only one thing in my life I [am] proud of, it’s that I’ve never been a kept woman.

And believe me, it wasn’t because there weren’t opportunities to become one. I think I had as many problems as the next starlet keeping the Hollywood wolves from my door. These wolves just could not understand me. They would tell me, “But Marilyn, you’re not playing the game the way you should. Be smart. You’ll never get anywhere in this business acting the way you do.” My answer to them would be, “The only acting I’ll do is for the motion picture camera.” I was determined, no one was going to use me or my body—even if he could help my career. I’ve never gone out with a man I didn’t want to. No one, not even the studio, could force me to date someone.

You can’t sleep your way into being a star. It takes much, much more. But it helps. A lot of actresses got their first chance that way. Most of the men are such horrors, they deserve all they can get out of them!

The one thing I hate more than anything else is being used. I’ve always worked hard for the sake of someday becoming a talented actress. I knew I would make it someday if I only kept at it and worked hard without lowering my principles and pride in myself.

#ask #Johnny Hyde

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mofieroll · 4 years

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Thunderstorms (Josuke Higashikata x Reader)

A Josuke Higashikata x Reader one shot where you were once part of the Crusaders, coming to Morioh with Mr. Joestar, and your pomp baby likes you.

Word Count: 5.2k

A chilly breeze under the warm sun. You were standing on the port of a moving boat, facing the wind that blew your [H/C] hair as you leaned on the sill with a calm expression, eyes closed and lips quirked into a wide smile. You loved moments where you just partook the natural quiet sounds around you, the splashes of water and whispering currents being music to your ears. The day has been serene so far, but you didn't really come here for vacation.

"Shizuka! Come quick! Come quick!"

The voice of a man called for you, disturbing your moment with the calming ocean. You stood from leaning and yawned, popping some stiff muscles before you ran off in panic upon realizing that you were supposed to take care of the person that called for you. Yeap, you forgot of your job for over a second.

You entered the lounging room of the boat and darted your eyes on the back of a crouching man who seemed to be inspecting something on the ground beside the couch. You couldn't see what it was but you were relieved, placing your hands on top of your heart as you sighed.

The man shifted his head and glanced at you with wrinkled eyes and parted lips, "I tried slipping on it, Shizuka, but I couldn't!"

You peeked over him after you reached his side and saw something yellow, "Is that what I think it is?" You replied, giggling as you realized his comedic attempt on trying to solve cartoon logic.

"This banana peel couldn't make me slip.." The old man repeated as he tried to stand up. You held his arm and helped him settle on the couch. He grabbed his wooden cane and placed it in between his legs before setting his eyes on the oceanic scenario outside the windows, "[Y/N]..! I'm sorry.. the name Shizuka has been on my mind lately.. It's-it's a pretty name, don't you think?"

You smiled at his words, grabbing the banana peel from the ground before sitting beside him, "I think it is, Mr. Joestar!"

Familial and friend, you were someone that Mr. Joestar would describe with those two words. Being a member of the Crusaders, and being the youngest one at that, had a big contribution on your platonic relationship with the old man. He was always looking out for you while your brave self assured him that you're afraid of one thing, but you're not afraid to kick the lingering enemy Stand users' peaches. He believed you like how a father would believe her daughter's imaginary stories, making sure you won't feel like you were invalidated. Although, his worry that the trip would scar you, both physically and mentally, increased to the max when the group arrived at Egypt, which led to you being transported back to your lonely home by the Speedwagon Foundation.

You couldn't understand the reason of his worry along with the other Crusaders, so you had a childish decision to to cut ties with them, only to reach out a few years later. At that time, you talked to Mr. Joestar himself, not even hiding the fact that you broke down on the phone when he hesitantly told you that only three of your group survived. You were joyed that he still considered you as a part of the Crusaders, but you were disappointed that you were immature, making you miss all the trivial things that happened. The old man comforted you like those nights when you were missing your parents, fondly telling you, "That's a no-go! The boys wouldn't want you shaming yourself now, and neither would I. Live your life like you're supposed to, little [Y/N]. Everyone would be so proud of the woman you'd become!"

Now that you're on the legal age of 18, you're trying to fulfill your number one goal in mind, and that is to be a doctor under the Speedwagon Foundation. Sure, you're a bit forgetful sometimes, but you have a free pass for being under special training which was only possible because of your Stand.

..and your connection with the Joestars.

You and Mr. Joestar were sitting in silence, lost in reminiscing thoughts, until the sound of a water vehicle grew to be disturbing the peace even if it sounded far.

"What..?" You glared at the surroundings, frantically looking from the door where you came from to the side of the windows, figuring out where the vehicle is most likely to be, "Mr. Joestar, I have to check something outside. It'll be quick, a'right?" You stood up, rushing outside after you received no reply from the unbothered old man who still had his attention on the scenery.

You ran through and up the hallway until you reached the edge of the deck. You held on to the red fence as you leaned with squinting eyes, trying to see who was on the.. motorboat approaching the boat you're on. The attempt took minutes, making you sit on the floor in boredom before you jumped to your feet in excitement as you finally saw the passengers of the smaller vehicle. One was a boy in a blue uniform you absolutely do not know and the other..

The other was your childhood emo crush who now wore a white hat and coat, "JOTARO! Jotaroooo!" You screamed, waving both your hands with a cheeky grin. This is your first time meeting him after a decade! You forgot, but you were just as excited when you were informed about meeting Jotaro Kujo during this boat trip with Mr. Joestar.

"I heard you're a Marine Biologist now, huh! Remember when you knocked that one shark out to save me?!" You ironically screamed before laughing, following the motorboat to the back as the boy in uniform whispered to Jotaro while pointing at you. The adult man didn't mind the two children around him and focused on driving the motorboat, tugging the brim of his hat down as he gave himself a small smile.

Two of the Speedwagon Foundation crew was already waiting for the motorboat when you reached the back, "Sirs! You knew they were coming?" You asked as you reached their side, eyes still on the said vehicle.

"[L/N]? We actually informed you about this.." One of the two answered, making you rub your neck as you looked up, trying to remember it happening. You tried.. and got extremely confused in just a minute that you didn't even notice that the passengers of the motorboat had boarded yours. You were snapped with your sudden realization that you've told Mr. Joestar you'll only be quick with checking, making you run back to the room he's in.

Okuyasu Nijimura, who actually thought you ran off because he stood in front of you, looked back at Jotaro with a puzzled face. The adult man shove his hands inside his pockets and gave permission to follow you with a jerk of his head, to which the student complied to, but not without a scrunched face and a dramatic hop on the small wall that separated the stern of the boat from the hull where the lounge was.

Mentoring three different teenage boys has been a pain in the back. Jotaro doesn't know if he should be happy that you're back with them or.. he should just devise an escape plan from all of this. Either way, with you here, he's certain that he doesn't have to look out for his Jiji that much.

The boat arrived at the harbor safely. Knowing that an enemy posed as a crew and wanted to get rid of Mr. Joestar was a bit surprising, you even thought Okuyasu was Mr. Joestar's son at first! But now that you're seeing his actual son who had an eye-catching pompadoured hair, you weren't surprised on how charming he was.

You whistled and nudged Jotaro who was on your side. Everyone had their eyes on the father and son walking away hand in hand, "Woah, that's Josuke Higashikata? Sheesh, Jotaro. What's with y'all Joestars being so hot and everything?"

Jotaro glared at you, "Gimme a break. You're older than him."

You glared back and faced him, "I'm literally 18 and he's 16! Don't say that like I'm some sort of creep!" You jokingly punched him on the shoulder and voiced an ora, to which he responded with tipping his hat down and turning his back on you, "Hmp— Oh, may you please tell Josuke that I could tend to his wounds? I don't wanna ruin their moment right now, so maybe later?"

Jotaro turned his head and nodded, "Coolness! Thanks, my dear ocean man!"

—

Several weeks have passed since yours and Mr. Joestar's arrival at Morioh, and you've grown closer to the group as to be expected. Okuyasu always goes out of his way to meet you at the hotel you're staying at because of how much he enjoys your pampering when he blurts to you about how his pomp-haired friend gets the ladies in school, he had even told you that Koichi had a scary girl obsessing over him, not forgetting to mention that she was cute anyway. You seldomly meet the said boy, Koichi, as he was not the type to go around town if not needed, and only accompanied him once when he walked his large fluffy dog. Josuke on the other hand, always comes with Okuyasu to the hotel but he doesn't speak to you and only observes your interactions with his friend and his father while you also played with the invisible baby they found, whose name is now Shizuka. You didn't know there was a relevant reason as to why he wouldn't talk to you even if you tried to start a conversation, so you shrugged it off and just shot him genuine smiles whenever your gazes met. You were technically the older sister in the gang and it would make sense that Jotaro was the older brother, but he was more of an uncle figure.

Josuke planned to continue his tsundere facade until he was sure of asking you out -on a date- for a hangout with just the two of you, but what he didn't expect was for a certain someone, who he just can't seem to get along with, to poof up and force him to ruin his own plans.

"Listen, listen! I met a Stand User earlier today. I was just doing my own thing when he took photos of me without my permission. He even directed me of what to do and straight up got mad when I hesitated! Turns out, he's a mangaka who found me as a good reference and I was like, good and not perfect? He glared at me for a second then he just summoned his Stand! Yo! It was a cute, white and gold dude! Of course he didn't get the chance to use the dude on me, I have my totally cute Stand too! Next thing I know, he invited me for coffee! Rad, huh?"

You didn't even need to mention his name for them to know who you were talking about. The two boys who listened, Josuke and Okuyasu, looked at each other in shock before talking to themselves like you weren't there. Calling him the 'spider-licking guy', badmouthing him and expressing every inch of their dislike for the man. Inviting you for coffee was a bad call, it just meant that you two became friends and scheduled a date. Josuke tried his best to make you back out of it, eventually talking to you all the time and taking care of you, his father and the baby, like the older brother —your partner— he wanted to be since the time he realized he likes you. He couldn't accept that the mangaka had the upper hand, so he tried to do everything he can to change that.

But of course, the 'pure love kind of guy' failed.

The day of your date with the great mangaka arrived. You were in a good mood as you prepared, the voice of Kai Harada playing on the background radio noise. The man had said that today is a sunny day, to your delight, but there is a chance of a hard gloomy storm at afternoon, to your dismay. If there's one thing about nature that you dislike the most, it's thunderstorms. Although those weren't mentioned, the anxiety of being out in the open while it occurred crept over you. You observed yourself at the vanity mirror: your hair fixed into a [H/S] that you do only for special occasions and a [F/C] [O/F] that fitted your style and body as you kept your face in a natural but fresh look, eyeing details of yourself to shrug off the previous thought.

It's now 1PM and you are finally face to face with the mangaka, seated outside the famous Cafe Rengatei in Morioh. You arrived earlier than the meeting time, making you certain that your efforts to fix yourself went to a shame.

"It seems you've made an effort for your meeting with me today. You look quite presentable," Rohan started, leaning on the chair as he crossed his arms and had his chin up.

You quirked a brow, copying his action, "And what does that imply, Mr. Good Reference?"

"It implies that you're a perfect reference right now so I'll be straight to the point of this meeting," He frankly stated. Puzzled at the word 'meeting', your brows creased, "I want you to let me use Heaven's Door on you, and you will be paid. Since I didn't get a good— let you get away before, I'm asking for the permission you're requiring me of. I heard from my friend, Koichi, that you might have an interesting story. I could have just used Heaven's Door on him, but his information of you is limited. So, is that settled?"

And here you thought this was a date.

You bit your cheek from the inside and held the clothing on your lap, "Yeah, yeah. When do we start? Oh, and you don't have to pay because you sounded real genuine and kind. Thank you very much!" You replied, a bit of sarcasm coming with it.

Rohan raised an eyebrow and battled with your blank stares before speaking, "Tch. I have the money to pay, [L/N]. Meet me at my house tomorrow morning. Don't make me wait." He grabbed his sketchbook from below the table and stood up, giving you one final, sassy look before he left.

You watched him walk away, sighing deeply as his form vanished. He got you hard with the coffee invitation and he didn't even stayed a little longer to order and enjoy an afternoon snack with you. Oh, right.

You were just acquaintances. Nothing more and maybe less. It's not that you liked him in a certain way, you were only bummed that you requested a day off for this. Taking care of the people you care about and studying for your medical course are much better than misinterpreting a business deal for a casual date. You sighed once again, lightly hitting your head on the table, "This is the work of the worst enemy Stand."

The disappointment took over your senses on your surroundings, so you became more oblivious to the Josuke that was watching you far behind.

And yes, he's been there all the time.

Shocking and unbelievable to the ears of the mutual friends of Rohan and Josuke, but the mangaka was the one to set you and the student up. It's true that Rohan had heard of you from Koichi, but that's not all. He had also heard that Josuke had been acting distant to you when all he talks about at school is.. well, you. How did he even know about that? It's absolutely not the work of Heaven's Door, Koichi just had to slip up.

You and Josuke both stayed at your respective places, unsure of what to do next now that Rohan had done his part. A few minutes passed, and you both sighed at the same time. You stood up, deciding that you'd go back at the hotel and play with the adorable Shizuka, while the nervous Josuke continued watching you, figuring out the right time to show up.

You were supposed to walk back, but then drops of water started falling from the sky. You opened your palm and looked up the sky, only to see gray colors eat up the blues. You closed your eyes and sighed once more, whispering to yourself, "This day is a work of an enemy Stand."

Not for Josuke who brought an umbrella that he'd share with you, though.

The drops of rain became a heavy storm within minutes, making you run to the nearest waiting shed. There were only hints of you being soaked, but it didn't help your body that had low resistance towards the cold. In this moment where you hugged yourself to keep your body heat, you remembered the Crusaders. The group of big men who all had a soft spot for you, and the small dog who accompanied you at your mischievous times. They were the group that always made sure to keep you warm, the group that always assured you that thunderstorms—

"AAAAH!"

You squealed upon hearing the deafening noise from above, the sound of pouring rain quickly enveloping after. You whimpered and tucked yourself in the corner of the shed, hands covering your ears and tightly gripping your now messed hair as you trembled greatly. Slowly and weakly, you dropped yourself, your knees meeting the coldness of the ground. This was supposed to be a nice day. A nice, enjoyable day that involved no stress and no professional work. Mr. Joestar also wanted you to enjoy but this, fighting back the urge to sob while you silently hollered in the storming public, isn't exactly your idea of spending your leisure time.

"[Y-Y/N]?"

Josuke stood just outside the waiting shed, a black umbrella, protecting him from the rain, in hand. He ran when he heard your scream, resulting to his shoes and pants to be thoroughly soaked. He looked at you with worry and guilt, although clueless as to what exactly caused your outspoken self to curl into a whimpering puppy. Rohan.. It must've been him. He shouldn't have just stood there watching, "[Y/N]..? Did Rohan do—"

A loud thunderstorm sounded once more, making you scream and push yourself to the corner. Josuke gasped, it's.. the thunderstorms that's causing this.

Josuke entered the shed and closed the umbrella, hanging it on the roof. You weren't paying him any of your attention, your conscious mind devoured by unsettling thoughts. Your phobia of thunderstorms was something you caught from your childhood. Something you caught from the freezing and lonely nights without your parents, people who you most expected to be there for you when you're being secluded by fright.

The boy who was now crouching in front of you noticed your lack of attention as he's been calling your name. He bit his lower lip, feeling more and more soft as each second passed. He should have known.. he usually did ask Mr. Joestar about you after all.

Josuke gave up on calling you and proceeded to his second move, which was to cover you with his gakuran. He stood up, unclasped the remaining buttons and gently enrobed you with the garment, slight joy sparking in him when you quickly accepted and wrapped yourself with it. He expected that you were still clueless of a person here with you, but you really are filled with surprises.

"T-thank you.. Angel.." You muttered, a serene feeling slowly emerging when you thought a kind citizen had randomly decided to be concerned over a breaking down woman. You exhaled deeply, eyes opening as your whole form has been blanketed by the coat.

"Angel? You think that suits me?"

You felt your heart skip a beat upon hearing the familiar cheerful voice. It wasn't some random citizen who helped you, of course it had to be someone you know.

You draped the coat over your shoulder and wrapped your body with it, head turning to the side where your sight met the ever-majestic boy's grin, hastily noticing his biceps as he only had a yellow sando as a top. Your eyes widened in surprise, bringing back the coat over your head to hide the creeping blush on your face. The turn of events had you sweeping away the thoughts of your phobia, at least.

"A-ah..? Of course it suits you! You're my.. our JoJo after all!" You faced him and answered after sighing inside the coat, trying to compose yourself, "Your g-gakuran is so warm, Josuke. I might just steal it now!"

Josuke let out a chuckle, comfortably glad that you feel better now. He had one more move up his sleep and he'd ecstatic if he could do it, but maybe some other time.. or later..? Woah there, he shouldn't be thinking about that right now. But for real, he's curious on.. how having you in his arms would feel. Your body insufferably close to his.. your loving arms wrapping around him as he shared his body heat so that you'd be shivering no more.. Sh*t, this is still a crush, right?

"U-uhm, Higashikata to e-earth..?"

"Ah? What? Oh! Yeah, sorry! W-were you saying something?"

Josuke got too far with his thoughts that he stayed still, staring at you with half-lidded eyes and a smirk, a pink shade on his cheeks which were becoming evident even with the storm blocking out the light from the sun. You didn't consider that he looked at you like a lovestruck boy and snapped him from his trance, concerned that he might be feeling cold now.

"I was asking if you.. uhm.. now that I think of it, I m-might sound like a creep," You said, still trembling. You closed your eyes and sighed, meeting his encouraging expression as you opened them again. A pursed smile formed on your lips, "You could have your coat back although I.. I was hoping if we could share it but—"

"Of course we can! I thought you'd never ask, [Y/N]!" Josuke jumped to his feet, a confident grin on his face. You looked up at him, confused, "Brr! I'm starting to feel cold too! Well?" He happily lied, crossing his arms and making an up and down motion over his biceps to add to his bluff. Josuke's not going to let this chance pass! You were the one to offer the.. intimate gesture, he'd be cursing himself forever if he messes this up.

You nodded with your mouth agape and tried to stand up on your feet. Your legs were numb for having to carry your weight on the ground, so it'd make sense if you stumbled for a bit. Fortunately, a strong and quick-thinking boy was there to catch you before it even happens, his hands —which flicked the coat— supporting your waist as you held on his wrists. Oh boy, why is it that you think he'd be a perfect gym partner?

"Perfect gym partner, huh? I wouldn't mind that too, Ms. [Y/N]!" Your eyes widened upon his words, "Yep, you just said it out loud!" Josuke laughed, giving you the urge to turn around in embarrassment but you couldn't, his stubborn hands locking you in place. An awkward silence engulfed as you looked into each other's eyes, the sound of pouring rain joining in again.

You gulped as Josuke sighed and cleared his throat, "I know this isn't a good moment to say what I'm about to say, but I don't think I could do it anywhere else without being awkward so I'm going to say it," Josuke sighed once more and you blink as a response. He sounded complacent yet also shakened while your confusion is getting ahead of you, "I'm really, REALLY going to say it now! I'm actually going to say it, will you let me say it? Uh.."

"..F*ck this is harder than I thought."

You creased your brows, adamantly switching to your sister form, "Language, JoJo!" You retreated your hands and tapped his cheeks, and.. you know you shouldn't have done that.

From another person's view, yours and Josuke's position just got more romantic than ever. Your small hands cupping his adoring face as his were firmly placed on your waist.. His almost bare top fighting the cold breeze brought by the storm just so you could be warm under the cover of his gakuran that was appealingly big on you.. This is much preferable than what Josuke daydreamed. You even called him JoJo, which he's never heard you call his nephew or his father with. Holy.. you're oblivious to the fact that you're setting the mood for him, aren't you?

You were about to pull your hands away when he swiftly locked your wrists, your waist now free from him. You gasped and felt your heart skip a beat. It was just like when you first heard his voice earlier. Being with him like this feels good but.. it doesn't feel right.

"I'm being pushy here, aren't I?" Josuke chuckled shakily, "I feel like bursting at this moment, so.. Ms. [Y/N], would ya listen? I know it'd be uncomfortable and freaky, but I seriously need to say it."

You barely nodded, his hands bringing down yours and holding it in his. He was looking down at the pairs, smiling at how yours fitted in his, "It's only been weeks since we've met— heck, since I've met you and Mr. Joestar, and this isn't really the right time for me to be having this.. puppy crush when enemy Stand Users are on the lose, but I don't usually crush over someone this hard." He grunted, his hands delicately squeezing yours, "I.. I like you, [Y/N]. Like, like-like like you. There.. I finally said it."

The moment would have been cute because of his mulish confession, but you just had to ruin it for the poor boy.

"Josuke we're.. we're family." Josuke flinched before looking at you, his arched brows hitting each other. The tables have turned, and he's the one that's waiting now, "Mr. Joestar, Jotaro.. they're like father and older brother to me while.." You sighed, successfully pulling your hands away from his weakened grip, "Josuke, I don't want to trade my close relationship with your father's family.. for a possibly temporary feelings for me."

Your words hit like Cupid shot their arrow backwards, but Josuke didn't let himself be completely fazed. He was taken aback for a second, but that doesn't mean he didn't expected this. He knew how much the Joestar Family meant to you. You're even proud that you owe your life to them, to such good people that were the epitome of justice and heroic greatness. He took note of that fact when he was getting to know you through his father, who seemed to enjoy telling stories about you. Somehow, he could say he was prepared for this.

"But, doesn't that mean if I proved my feelings aren't temporary and I'm proudly certain of it, I would have a chance with you?" Josuke grinned, tilting his head as he shove his hands in his pockets, "Also, Mr. Joestar approves of you being his daughter-in-law. Man, I'm just glad you didn't accept his offer to adopt you years ago. That would have sucked!"

Your lips opened and closed like a fish underwater, making Josuke smirk inwardly. You were almost speechless, and that's a good thing for him, "How did you.. Why do you even.." You stiffened, fiddling with his coat as you turned on to your side, facing the raining scenery, "Josuke, I don't know why you're doing this, b-but this ain't funny, y'know? Don't you like, see me as your older sister or—"

"At first," You glanced at Josuke who was now facing outside too, "When you introduced yourself as Mr. Joestar's caretaker, yeah," He stole a glance back and pouted, "But when we got to know you and literally took care of me like you're my caring girlfriend? Hell no. I could even bet Okuyasu also had a crush on you, but he told me you were like a mom, a cute mom at that." He shook his head, chuckling at what he said, "Misunderstanding your actions was a sh*tty move for me but I don't regret it one bit, Ms. [Y/N]."

There, Josuke did not just confess his romantic feelings to you, but also admitted how his decision to like you seemed inappropriate. It was valid nonetheless, as you weren't related to him by blood, but you take pride in being the Joestars' comrade —even if you seemed thirsty for them some times— and he acknowledges that.

No one gets to choose who they specifically prefer to be with, anyway. He had to 'Dora!' his way out of his boundaries with you or he would be lying to himself, which he dislikes the most, aside Rohan.

"Are you sure Mr. Joestar's okay with this?" You asked, sighing, "I don't mind giving you a chance now that—"

Josuke didn't even let you finish and proceeded to lock you in his arms, pulling you in excitement as his arms snaked around your neck and your head, "I said 'chance', JoJo! You haven't even asked me if you wanted me to be your girlfriend—"

"So you like me too?" Josuke cut you off again, smiling down at you. You sighed and nodded, accepting your defeat. He shouted a yes, an arm punching above, hitting the roof of the shed, "Aw—! But hey, you just admitted that you like me! Take that, Rohan!"

You slightly pulled away from Josuke, "What does Kishibe have to do with this?" You asked, glaring at him. Josuke shook his head, scratching the back of it as he grinned. Rohan totally had something to do with this as he didn't only set them up, but even tried to discourage the lively Josuke by saying that you'd reject him and tell him that you only see him as family. Technically, he was right— but that didn't last long!

You were going to ask about it again when a thunderstorm sounded, breaking down your collected spirit as you ended up holding yourself close to the boy in front of you. His playfulness aside, he fixed his gakuran that was still on you and wrapped you in his arms protectively, assuring you that you're going to be okay. Another thunderstorm followed, startling you even in his arms. You were a shaking mess, your fists grabbing a handful on the back of his sando, face buried on his chest. He should've been shivering from the cold all this time, but your presence provided warmth for him and he's grateful for that. Josuke willingly let you nuzzle yourself around him, knowing that it comforted you and it brought contentedness to his feelings.

"I hope you won't mind being the rainbow that brings color to my life, [Y/N]."

"Y-yeah, JoJo.. u-unless I strike you as a lightning w-when you break my heart.."

"I'm frightened that you can be scary while you're scared [Y/N] but.. sh*t, I just realized.."

"What i-is it now..?"

"It's also hot."

[End!]

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some-dr-writings · 4 years

Text

Gundham’s and Kazuichi’s mangaka S/O wants to draw them

Gundham Tanaka:

· Though you were the Super High School Level Mangaka you specialized in historical fantasy! You absolutely adored doing research and finding new mythical beasts and species to sketch and incorporate into your work. It was no surprise that Gundham became your muse the moment you two met!

· Gundham would allow you to visit his creatures and draw them to use as bases for cryptids and monsters of all sorts in your manga. The four Dark Devas often acted as your pose models given how unusually animated they were for hamsters.

· Having asked the Overlord of Ice to allow you near his animals so often you spent much time together and eventually started dating.

· “My Queen, the Stringer of Fates, what curse dares to plague your soul?! You’ve not touched the pages with which you create and destroy worlds, as if it were deadly to do so! You’ve yet to search out a demon to immortalize. Not even have you greeted the four Dark Devas of Destruction as you always have.” You huffed lazily watching the rabbit Gundham was currently grooming. “Artists’ block. I can’t seem to draw or write anything. Either I just stare at a blank page for hours, or I start something which quickly dissolves into an incoherent mess!” Rubbing your temples, you grumbled at the clogged feeling fogging your mind. “I did pull a few all-nighters last week. Maybe I’m just drained. But if things keep going like this, I’ll miss my deadline! I already asked for an extension on it last week, I can’t keep doing this!”

· Gundham watched as you picked up the sketch pad and pencil. There was this stiffness in your movements. Your hand which once flowed about gracefully like a bird in flight now paved plain straight lines. Your eyes darted about unable to focus on anything. “UGH! I can’t even draw a proper circle for the rabbit’s body!” Sinking into your seat you tossed your sketch pad and pencil aside. “Perhaps a day of respite is in order.” “No, I already took a day off yesterday. I feel I’m even worse now than I was two day ago.”

· The Devas quickly scurried over to you, hopping into your lap, or climbing onto your shoulder to nuzzle your cheek. “… thanks.” Gently petting the two in your lap you sighed in defeat.

· It was at that Gundham abruptly stood up. “Where is my Queen, and what have you done with her, villain?!” “… Huh?” “MY Queen would never rot away so quickly into a decrepit state such as this! She’d fight and claw till her final breath! She’d never faulter so easily!” “I Am, your Queen.” “Hmph! No, you are not. Now, tell me where she is.” You marched right up to Gundham glaring at him. “I’m right here! I am your Queen, the Stringer of Fates!”

· It started as a chuckle which boomed into uproarious laughter! “There you are. That determination, your will to live has returned to your eyes. I am glad to have you back.” Surprisingly, you did feel like you had more energy than before. “So, shall we be off? A piece of you is still missing and we must search it out less you start to fade away once more.” “… Yeah, a date sounds nice right now.”

· As a bright blush dusted his cheeks, the Overlord of Ice took your hand into his bandaged one, the other taking your bag of sketch supplies, he led you out of the school grounds into the great beyond!

· The day was filled with fun and laughter as you raced from place to place, doing anything you could think of. A walk in the park, a trip to the arcade, lunch at a café, shopping at a bookstore, and anything else you could have dreamed of.

· As the sun began to set, Gundham and you found yourselves at the clear beach, dancing around barefoot, not a care in the world. “… Gundham. Thank you, today was amazing.” His entire face instantaneously flushed hearing his true name being called. In that moment he just looked so beautiful to you. His sheepish smile, those tender eyes, just, everything about him.

· “May I draw you?” “… Of course, my Queen.”

· And thus you drew, having completely forgotten that morning or the past few days, you were struggling.

· “Ah! Your depiction captured my true form! I should have known you could see through my mortal guise!” He so happily admired your drawing with sparkling eyes.

· While he was distracted you worked on another piece, one of a dark king holding his queen close on the soft shores of the beach.

Kazuichi Soda:

· You never held much interest in machinery till you came to Hope’s Peak and met Kazuichi. It seemed just about every time you saw him, he was tinkering with something, from a small robot toy to a monster truck engine. Often times the parts of whatever he was working on were spread out, and then seeing how they all fit together fascinated you. Without realizing it you’d end up just watching him work for hours and sketching out the pieces and tools he was using.

· Quickly this fascination bled into your own work, incorporating steampunk-esque elements into it. And the more elements you added, the more references you needed. At first you tried getting some on your own, but you’d just end up injuring your hands and fingers in some way or you’d break the pieces.

· “Look, you got me into this mess and now you have to take responsibility.” “W-what!?” Before Kazuichi could panic you placed an old, rusted pocket watch before him. “How do I disassemble this!?” For a week or two after you’d bring some new item to Kazuichi to disassemble and reassemble. You eagerly sketched out the pieces you needed the references of and more.

· Quickly you and Kazuichi became friends. You would chatter away as you did your own things. Before you knew it the two of you ended up spending time together just to be together, no drawing and no tinkering.

· Kazuichi would go to you for advice for his unrequited crush on Princess Sonia to which you’d try your best to help, even if it did hurt a little given your crush on the mechanic. She wasn’t the only thing he spoke of though, so you had plenty of other conversations.

· Kazuichi certainly liked chatting so when one day he was quiet you got a bit worried… Then you remembered something. “Oh Soda. You’ve never been on a school trip before, right?” “Hmm, uh, yeah. I skipped out on the only one I got a chance to go on.” “Because of financial issues, right.” “Yeah.” “Well, I happen to be going on a trip all over Europe for background references and I was thinking who better to take along than my best friend and best mechanic I know!” The news certainly perked him right up, and he excitedly chattered on about traveling! Quickly the news spread, and it ended up becoming a class trip! Honestly, though a trip alone with Soda sounded lovely, you more enjoyed seeing how ecstatic he was to be going on an actual class trip with everyone.

· The trip was fantastic, it seemed to be nonstop fun. Often you’d forget that you were being payed to go on this trip for work and that you needed to get reference materials, thankfully Mikan took more than enough reference photos for you.

· Though during the trip, you noticed how Kazuichi, though still friendly, was a bit more reserved than usual. When you asked him what was wrong, he said he appreciated the concern, but it was something he had to work out on his own.

· Eventually your trip took you all to France the city of love. The place was certainly an artist’s dream, you found yourself drawing nonstop there. It was amazing!

· At one point in your trip your class wanted to get to a restaurant at the top of a rather large hill, but the only way to get there was via a thin road by car. So, you, Kazuichi, Sonia and your driver were the last to get to the restaurant.

· Then the car broke down. Kazuichi immediately went to check the engine while Sonia stood at the edge of the road, looking out at the sunset. It was a gorgeous sight, her profile, the sunset, the city lights, everything. You had started sketching out the scenery when a though struck you.

· You elbowed Kazuich, gaining his attention. You then leaned in real close while still looking at Sonia, not noticing the blush spreading on his cheeks as he kept looking to you. “Hey Soda, now’s your chance. This view is absolutely romantic, and you’re in the city of love. Don’t you think this is the perfect time to ask out the girl you like?” This hurt, it really did, but seeing how happy he was to be going on a school trip without worry like he always wanted, you could hardly imagine his joy if Sonia got together with him at a time like this. It hurt, but you just wanted to see him happy.

· “… Ask out the girl I like, huh…… Okay.”

· Turning to you he placed his hands atop your shoulders. “Y/N I have a crush on you. Please go out on a date with me.” “… Wait? I thought… what about Nevermind?” “I, well, yeah, I do like her, but… I really like you… I… That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out lately and... so I... You get it, don’t you!?” “… Soda, please let me draw you!” “Huh?” “Well, if we start going out, we’ll be boyfriend and girlfriend, right? I’d like to have something to commemorate the moment by.” “S/O!” He pulled you into a tight hug, giddy out of his mind.

· You ended up drawing him at the restaurant. He loved the drawing so much he took a picture to use as his phone’s lock screen. From then on you often drew him for references for poses and though all great, his favorite would forever be the first one you made of him. It was made to celebrate you getting together, it was always so special to him.

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remedialpotions · 4 years

Text

An Artistic Rendering, part 2

I couldn’t stop myself. (But also, I had a lot of fun writing this so... here. Have it.)

Wednesday night art classes were typically followed by a casual dinner at a nearby restaurant. Usually, Hermione enjoyed this post-class debrief session with her mum, but that had been under normal circumstances, when they’d been working on drawings of flowers or cats or bowls of fruit. Tonight, Hermione was not totally sure how she would tolerate sitting across from her mother for an entire meal, nor if she would ever be able to look her in the eye again.

“So, what do you think you want to order?” asked Mum cheerfully, opening up her menu. “I’m rather hungry, aren’t you? Maybe we ought to order a starter - the bruschetta here is supposed to be excellent.”

“Sure,” Hermione said, staring blankly into her own menu. Words like ‘carbonara’ and ‘pomodoro’ and ‘rigatoni’ floated meaninglessly in front of her. “Whatever you want.”

“Ooh, let’s get some wine, too,” Mum added. Had Hermione possessed the wherewithal to look at her, she would have been goggling in disbelief. How on earth was she so cheerful after what had just transpired? How was she, too, not completely disturbed? “How about Chianti? I never know what’s supposed to ‘pair well’ with something else, I just always get what I like-”

“Great,” interjected Hermione, eyes fixed on a description for chicken marsala. “Sure. Whatever.”

Mum set down her menu; in her periphery, Hermione sensed her leaning curiously toward her. “What’s going on, dear? Are you all right?”

“‘What’s going on?’” Hermione repeated back, incredulous. “‘Am I all right?’”

“Well-” Mum blinked, taken aback. “I know there were a couple other drawings that the instructor liked better, but she still thought yours was rather good - and you’ve always been better at things like science and maths anyway-”

“It’s not that.”

Just as Mum opened her mouth to inquire further, a young woman in a crisp white blouse and black pants arrived at their table. “Good evening, ladies,” she greeted them. “My name is Nicola and I’ll be your server this evening. May I get you started with something to drink?”

Mum ordered the bottle of Chianti (Hermione privately thought they might need more than one by the time the night was over) and the bruschetta, and Nicola flounced away.

“Mum,” Hermione said, once she was sure that their server was out of earshot. “You drew a picture of Dad.”

“Well, of course I did.” Her voice was infuriatingly casual. “He was the obvious subject, wasn’t he?”

“So you don’t think that was awkward for me at all?”

“Yours was of Ron,” Mum pointed out, leaving Hermione to briefly wonder how she was possibly related to someone so level-headed. “I’m certainly not interested in seeing my future son-in-law like that.”

The discomfort of the evening was dulled, at least momentarily, by this implication that she would be marrying Ron. While they were not yet engaged - Hermione was in no rush, and perfectly happy to cohabitate - she was also quite certain that she would be spending her life with Ron, and it was nice to know that her mum was so certain of it too.

Though, perhaps that made the events of the evening even more bizarre.

“That’s different,” replied Hermione finally.

“How, exactly?”

“He’s not in his fifties, for one-”

“One day he will be,” said Mum, “and I’m sure when that day comes, you’ll find him just as attractive as you do now-”

“Oh my God,” groaned Hermione, squeezing her eyes shut against the barrage of unwelcome mental images that her mum had just conjured up for her.

“Well, really.” Hermione forced herself to open her eyes, only to see a knowing, almost smug sort of look on her mum’s face (perhaps they had more in common than she thought). “Am I meant to believe that this was the first and only time you’ve ever seen it?”

“Please stop-”

“And don’t think we don’t know what happened in Australia.”

Before Hermione could inquire further about this - Australia was a topic that almost never arose between her and her parents, for obvious reasons - Nicola returned with a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. The instant the wine was poured, Hermione seized upon her glass and drank deeply from it.

“What were you saying about Australia?” Hermione asked, once she had stopped to catch her breath.

“Just that it was clear what had… transpired between the two of you.”

Hermione paused, considering this, hoping her face was not giving anything away. It was true that she and Ron had had sex for the first time in Australia, just days before locating her parents and restoring their memories. And she did not expect her mum to be under any illusions about the nature of her relationship with Ron; they lived together, and before that, she had been quite unabashed about spending the night at his. But it was one thing to know, and quite another to discuss it.

“You could tell?”

“A mother always knows,” said Mum blithely around her own, more reserved sip of wine. “And really, it was just a matter of time. I always knew that.”

“You did?”

“It was always clear to me, and to your dad, that you had a certain connection with him,” said Mum. She had grown thoughtful now, introspective. “Actually, I imagine it was clear to everyone but the pair of you at times.”

“You’re right about that.”

“It’s why we were always happy to let you spend summers with his family, or spend your Christmas at Hog - at school,” she finished lamely, eyes darting around the restaurant. “You had such trouble fitting in when you were younger, and we were so happy that you found someone who… who understands you, the way he does.”

Hermione nodded, thankful that Nicola had swept over to them with a plate of bruschetta, because she was at a rare loss for words. She always knew her parents had liked Ron, and they’d made no secret of their gratefulness that she had found friends at last in him and Harry. But she hadn’t known that they had seen the depth of their relationship, or understood its uniqueness. Most people questioned what she and Ron saw in each other… but her parents had always known.

“And he really must love you,” Mum went on, helping herself to a piece of toasted bread piled high with chopped tomato, fresh basil, and grated parmesan. “To have done what he did for you.”

Myriad events flashed through Hermione’s mind: Ron, at twelve, vomiting up slugs; at thirteen, telling off Professor Snape; at fourteen, begrudgingly pinning an SPEW badge to his robes; at eighteen, offering himself up for torture in exchange for her. Posing starkers for a figure drawing ranked rather low on his running list of self-sacrifices, and yet it was not lost on Hermione how lucky they were that this was now their biggest concern.

“You’re right,” replied Hermione, taking her own slice of bruschetta. “He really does.”

***

Ron was at the sink, scrubbing a sponge over a dinner plate, when Hermione walked through the door of their flat. “Hi,” Hermione greeted him brightly, approaching him in search of a quick kiss hello. “I’ve brought leftover spag bol if you want it.”

“You know I do.” Ron shut off the faucet and picked up a small towel to dry his hands, then bent to touch his lips to Hermione’s. “A departure from your usual, innit?”

“I didn’t want anything too fancy,” replied Hermione, handing the styrofoam box to Ron, who immediately opened it to peer inside. “I was a bit put off my appetite to be honest with you.”

“Uh oh.” Ron fished a fork out of a drawer. “Dare I ask how it went?”

“You were very well-received,” Hermione assured him, making him grin as he twisted strands of pasta around his fork. “But erm…”

“Yes?”

“My mum… she, er…”

“Oh, no.” Ron paused with his fork in mid-air. “She didn’t have… comments, did she?”

“She did, actually, but that’s not the problem. She…” Hermione waited while Ron chewed his mouthful of pasta. Unlike her, his appetite only increased during times of distress. “She drew my dad.”

To her surprise, Ron burst into raucous laughter. “Yeah, I expected that she would have done.”

“You could have warned me!”

“And you could have warned me that a group of twenty people were going to see my todger before you had me starkers in the sitting room,” Ron grinned, “but you didn’t, did you?”

Though she was outwardly scowling at him, Hermione had to work to keep a smile off her face. “Again, it’s not like I took photos-”

“Merlin’s pants, I bet that’ll be next-”

“And really, it’s quite different when it’s your own father - I didn’t look at it or anything,” Hermione was quick to state, “but even just knowing…”

She broke off with a shudder. Ron set down the container of pasta and folded her into his arms, where she laid her cheek automatically against his chest.

“That sounds traumatic,” said Ron, gently kissing the top of Hermione’s head.

“It really was.”

“Should we sign you up for therapy?”

“Yes, please.”

With another little chuckle, he kissed the top of her head again, and she settled in against him. Her mum had been right: she did have a connection with him that was unlike anything else. She had always known that they would end up exactly as they were now, even when they hadn’t been able to see it themselves.

“So you said your mum had some comments?” asked Ron after a few minutes’ easy silence. “I’m a little scared to ask.”

“Not about the picture,” Hermione said. “Mostly about how… how good you are for me.”

“Yeah?”

“She referred to you as her future son-in-law.”

Ron loosened his grip on Hermione just enough to look down at her with surprise. “Did she really?”

Hermione nodded again. “Does that… freak you out?”

It was not a question of whether he loved her, or was wholeheartedly committed to her; she knew without a shadow of a doubt how he felt. But with marriage came things like babies and home loans and joint vaults at Gringotts, and it was not unreasonable to think that at nineteen, he simply might not be ready for it.

But he just shook his head, and moved in to kiss her again - this one soft, warm, lingering. “Nope. Not at all.”

Happily, Hermione resumed hugging him.

“Maybe next time,” said Ron, his hand rubbing idly up and down her spine, “you lot could do something a little more… you could join a book club, maybe. Something like that.”

“That could be fun,” responded Hermione. “Only, my mum’s got a bit of a penchant for romance novels.”

“Oh. Perhaps not, then…”

#romione #rhr #ron weasley #hermione granger #so just to be clear Hermione's mum did not look at the drawing #she's not a creep lol #also nobody should take the mention of bruschetta as 'excellent' as an endorsement of raw tomatoes

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gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights · 4 years

Link

Rating: T

Summary: Marinette needs a model to finish her figure drawing portfolio. If drawing Chat Noir will distract him from asking why she refuses to ask Adrien, then she'll make it work. (It's not like his suit leaves much to the imagination, anyway.)

Word Count: 4729 | Chapter 1/2

Notes: See AO3 for notes. tldr: the main genre is humor and despite what you may think, there are no sexy times

XXX

“This is terrible!” Marinette flopped face-first onto her bed and wailed into her pillow. “I’m going to fail figure drawing, and get kicked out of the design major, and never get an internship and starve trying to get commissions and I won’t be able to afford cookies for you which means you’ll have to find a new chosen and Chat Noir will hate me and—”

“Marinette, breathe!” Tikki ordered, lightly smacking the part of her cheek that wasn’t buried in her pillow. “You’re catastrophizing again! None of that is going to happen.”

On a conscious level, Marinette knew that. But that didn’t particularly matter right now when her mind was racing and the final due date for her portfolio was days away and there was no way for her to catch up now.

The figure drawing lab was closed for the models to prepare for their finals. This wouldn’t be a problem, except she had missed too many classes due to akuma attacks to finish the pieces she needed. All she had were five out of fifteen finished drawings and six loose sketches, hastily abandoned while she made increasingly awful excuses to go transform. “I need to go water my plant” had been the most recent. It was a miracle Professor Carbonneau hadn’t kicked her from the class already, considering how coveted the seats were.

But it didn’t matter if she was technically in the class if she couldn’t draw enough live models to pass.

“It’s hopeless, Tikki. There’s no way they’ll let me retake this class. I barely got a spot in the first place.”

“It’s not hopeless,” her kwami said more softly. “You’re Ladybug. You’re luckier than that. And you’ve worked too hard to fail now. I know you’re stressed, but you can’t give up!”

She rolled over onto her back, shoulder brushing a drawing that had slid down the wall and gotten lodged in the crack next to her bed. She pulled it out only to crumple it and toss it towards her trash can. Even the better designs she’d hung from a wire with tiny clothespins felt more like mockery than inspiration right now.

“If I wasn’t Ladybug, I wouldn’t have had to miss so much class in the first place.” She sighed.

“I know, Marinette.” Tikki patted her shoulder consolingly. “I wish it didn’t have to be so hard on you. You give everything you have into both being Ladybug and creating your art. You shouldn’t have to give up one for the other.”

In a way, it felt like she already had. She’d never abandon Paris, no matter how frequently fighting Hawkmoth’s villains cut into her classes. But could she really abandon her dreams of becoming a designer either?

“You’re right, Tikki. I’ll… figure something out.” She smiled and rubbed Tikki to her cheek. “I can look up reference pictures online, I guess. The details won’t be as good as drawing from life, especially for the size of paper I have to use, but it’ll have to work.”

“I could always model for you!” Tikki joked, flashing a few poses she’d surely seen from the Agreste magazines Marinette used to have plastered everywhere. She figured she’d look weird enough to her flatmates from her odd sleeping habits and patrol times without adding photos of her old crush into the mix.

“Thanks for the offer, Tikki.” Marinette giggled at the kwami’s attempt to look flirty. “But I think this course is meant to teach human anatomy.”

“I bet one of your other friends would model for you if they knew how important this was,” she insisted. “What about Adrien?”

“No!” Marinette smacked her fist to her forehead to try to dislodge the image of Adrien shirtless and posing for her that came unbidden. “I can’t ask him! I’m trying to actually get art done, not drool all over the carpet.”

“I haven’t seen you drool in a while. Not over him, anyway.” Tikki smiled knowingly, and Marinette glared.

“I do not drool over Chat Noir either.”

“I never said anything about him.”

She groaned, flopping back and wishing the mattress would just swallow her up already. She didn’t drool over Chat. He’d gotten over his crush on Ladybug before they came to university. Unlike her, apparently, he knew how to move on.

Not that it mattered, because she didn’t have time for a boyfriend! She was stressed enough as it was!

She took a few deep breaths and pulled herself back to the matter at hand: finishing her portfolio. She wouldn’t dare ask Adrien to model for her, even if there was a slim chance he’d actually do it. They were finally comfortable as friends, and while she was used to staring at nearly-nude models in class, she didn’t trust herself to not make things weird again if she had to stare at him in his underwear for hours.

Though unfortunately, he was probably the only one of her friends used to sitting and being stared at for hours. Maybe it would be worth it…?

“Nope, nope, not doing it.” She shut her eyes again. She hadn’t been able to confess to Adrien in the past four years. There was no way she could risk revealing her crush in such an embarrassing way, even to save her final grade.

...Granted, she’d done worse. He’d gotten her constipation pills and she hadn’t given up.

“What are you not doing?”

“ACK!”

Marinette bolted upright, nearly toppling off of her bed at the voice from the window. For a moment it had sounded like Adrien himself, summoned by her thoughts. Thankfully, it was just the blond boy who was a more regular visitor to her fifth-story window.

“Chat!” She whirled to scowl at him through the windowscreen. “Don’t you know it’s rude to eavesdrop?”

How long had he been there? Had he heard Tikki? Had he heard her not-confess to drooling about him?

“You left the window open.” He shrugged from his perch on the outer ledge.

She had left the window open because she needed some fresh air to keep from suffocating under the pressure of her deadlines. Sure, usually the open window meant Chat was welcome in, but…

Actually, maybe Chat Noir was exactly who she needed right now.

“I guess I did.” She sighed before prying off the screen to let him in.

He slipped over the sill, bowed, and produced a pink rose from behind his ear.

“For your hospitality.”

She laughed and tucked it in the vase on her desk, replacing the wilting flower he’d brought her last week. She was lucky her roommates weren’t as nosy as Alya, or she’d never hear the end of it.

“You know, if you’d really wanted to get me something, you could’ve brought the rabbit miraculous.” She leaned back against her creaking desk as he took his usual spot on the cushion in the corner of the room.

It was a joke, but as she said it, the idea sounded tempting. Alix wouldn’t mind parting with Fluff for a day while she patched her portfolio back together, would she? If she weren’t worried about causing some kind of temporal paradox, she would’ve done it.

“Rabbit? Sorry, someone else has already hopped on that one.” He grinned, crossing his legs beneath him. “You don’t feel like squeaking by with the mouse again?”

She stifled a laugh. “You’re terrible.”

“But you’re smiling.” Only he could look so smug about it. She always frowned just to prove him wrong. But she did feel better already, the way she always did around him. “So what’s up? I didn’t come to my favorite civilian’s house just to drop a few amazing puns.”

“Awful puns.”

He waved her off. “Anyway, I just wanted to see how you were doing, with finals coming up and everything. Akuma attacks always spike around now, you know.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” She rubbed her temples.

“Don’t worry, though. Ladybug and I have special patrol routes this finals week. We’ll take care of any akumas faster than you can say ‘thank you Chat, you’re the best superhero ever’.”

Despite everything, she laughed. The daily patrols would be just one more stress placed on her, but it was necessary after Finalizer destroyed the entire university last semester. But Chat was surely dealing with the same thing, and he’d still taken the time out of his studying to come make sure she was alright.

“Thank you Chat, you’re the best superhero ever,” she said with a teasing grin. She didn’t expect the blush that spilled out from under his mask.

“I-I guess I am pretty great.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“And I guess bragging about yourself is supposed to scare off akumas, huh?”

“Yeah, I mean—hey!” He pouted, sending her giggling again.

“Sorry, sorry.” She joined him on the ground by the cushion. “You are great. I wasn’t expecting you, but I’m really glad you came.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s just… been a long day.” She sighed. “I missed my last class today, and now I don’t know how I’m going to finish my portfolio for my final.”

“Are you feeling okay?” He reached out to press his palm over her forehead, as if he’d be able to feel anything through his glove. “I’ve heard people get sick around finals week, too. Do you want soup? I can bring back some soup—or juice maybe? What do you like when you’re sick?”

“Stop, Chat, I’m not sick.” Though her face probably warmed enough at his concern to pass as a fever. “I just missed class because… um—I stayed up too late studying and accidentally fell asleep!”

“Oh.” He pulled back his hand and nodded sagely. “That makes sense.”

She held in a sigh of relief. “Anyway, I need to finish at least four more figure drawings before… three days from now? Which wouldn’t be a problem except I need a live model and it’s not normal for friends to strip down to draw each other.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t sound that weird to me.”

She pointedly did not imagine him stripping down in front of her. ...Not entirely, anyway.

“Yeah, well, unless you want to model for me—”

“I will.” He grinned before pink tinged his cheeks. “Um, or I would. I don’t think I can take off my suit without revealing my identity.”

“You—take off—” She made some noise that vaguely approximated a keyboard smash. Not because of the thought of seeing him shirtless! But he really trusted her that much, even as a civilian?

“Sorry, forget I offered. It was stupid.” He suddenly looked even more embarrassed than her, which was saying something.

“No, no! I—I really appreciate it, Chat Noir.” She squeezed his arm and smiled gently. “I would never ask you to detransform for me, but it means a lot that you even thought about it. Really.”

“You know you’re one of my best friends, Marinette. Of course I would. Besides, I’m used to—nevermind.” He ruffled the hair at the back of his neck. “Anyway, I’d gladly model for you if I could. But hey, don’t you have a friend who’s literally a model? Why don’t you ask him?”

Her eyes widened at the sudden subject change. “A-Adrien? NO! I—I mean I can’t, I—” She groaned and dropped her head in her hands. It was bad enough for Tikki to tease her, but if Chat Noir found out about her maybe-not-so-old crush? She would never hear the end of it.

“Why not?” His head tilted, his brow creasing beneath his mask. “He is your friend, right?”

“Yes.” She sighed. Just a friend, who would probably not enjoy her ogling him half-naked. Which wasn’t the point! She was just trying to pass her class, not stare at boys!

Maybe she should ask Alya at this rate. She was ride-or-die enough to do it. But Alya had a worse finals schedule than any of her friends, with all the journalism papers she’d put off while chasing akumas for the Ladyblog. Nino, then? No, he had several music scores to finish composing.

Adrien probably had as much work as the rest of them, with his math and physics classes. It wouldn’t make sense to ask him.

“Then I don’t see what the big deal is,” Chat said. “I’m sure he’d love to model for you.”

“He’s probably busy,” she said, which was true. “And besides, modeling for figure drawing is completely different from clothes modeling. You have to hold poses much longer, and some of them are weird, and you have to, you know, wear a lot less clothes.”

Her face burned. She was stupid to even bring it up; she was just digging herself an even deeper hole.

“I think you underestimate how long photoshoots take,” he quipped back, and she raised an eyebrow.

“How would you know, anyway?”

“I-I wouldn’t! I just think, all things considered, he’s your best choice. I’m just trying to suggest what’s best for your grade, as a good, supportive friend should do.”

“Uh-huh.” She frowned. It did seem a bit odd how insistent he was on this. Had he guessed her not-so-secret-crush after all? “It doesn’t matter, because it’s not going to happen.”

“But—”

“Nope,” she cut him off, shoving him a little to make room for herself on the cushion. He scooted to let her smush in next to him. “I’d sooner draw you suited up.”

“...Would that work?”

She glanced at his chest, which was about at her eye level with the way she was slouched against him. She never really thought about it before—really, she hadn’t—but the suit didn’t leave too much to the imagination. If she used Chat as a model and just fudged a few parts, would anyone really be able to tell? It would definitely be easier to get the proportions right than it would be drawing from a screen, especially for the quick gestures that were supposed to comprise a third of her portfolio.

And if it distracted him from asking about Adrien, well, that was just a bonus.

“You know what? I think it would.” She grinned and scrambled up to get her drawing board, which she’d dropped against her desk as soon as she’d gotten home, too exhausted to store it properly. Part of the giant pad of newsprint was coming off of its clips, and she adjusted it before propping it up against the foot of her bed. It was even less comfortable than the benches in the drawing lab, but it would do.

“You—really?” He beamed.

“Of course, silly cat. I might not be able to use you for the detailed figures, but need gesture drawings too. Your suit is tight enough that—nevermind.” She flushed again. This was such a bad idea.

But it would work. If she could be professional with Chat Noir while fighting akumas, then surely she could be as professional as she was with the paid figure drawing models.

She expected him to tease her over that last comment, but he just sprung up and started striking ridiculous poses.

“So, how do you want me?” He flexed, and she snorted.

“Not like that. These are warm-up gestures, so let’s have you do a few that you can hold for at least thirty seconds. They can be standing or sitting or using props, it doesn’t matter.”

“Props, huh?” He tapped his chin before reaching behind his back for his baton. It wasn’t like it was unusual for models to pose with staves in class, but she still had a feeling she was going to regret giving Chat Noir that permission.

Two seconds later when he had an arm and a leg wrapped around his baton, she knew she regretted it.

“How’s this?” He asked, flashing a toothy grin.

“Chat.” She glared, and he laughed before stopping his joking attempt at pole dancing.

“Sorry, sorry.” His grin was unrepentant, but he rested the baton behind his shoulders instead. “Better?”

She shook her head while letting out a little laugh. He was just such a dork.

“Sure, that’ll work.”

She fished her conté sticks out of her pencil case, set a thirty second timer on her phone, and swore that she wouldn’t make this awkward.

She looked up to find him pursing his lips in a kissy face.

Aaaand she promptly burst out laughing.

“If you’re going to make that face, I’ll have to ask someone else to model for me.”

“Nooooo! I’ll be good, I promise!”

True to his word, he schooled his face into a neutral expression. His charcoal-lidded eyes peered up through golden bangs.

She forgot to breathe for a few seconds.

“Marinette? Is this better?”

“Uh—y-yeah! That’s great, just hold that until the timer goes off, then switch poses.”

She pressed the start button and brought her conté to the paper before she could get lost in his eyes again.

From there, it was much easier. She was used to staying professional during her figure drawing classes, and all she was doing was capturing his form, not the bright green shade of his irises. Not that the sharp curves of his shoulderblades and defined calves couldn’t be distracting too. But the timer helped with that; she couldn’t lose focus when her warm-ups each lasted thirty seconds.

“How do you draw so fast?” He asked after shifting to pose where he knelt close to her sketchpad.

Her face colored in embarrassment. It was much harder to draw someone when they could watch you. Gesture drawings weren’t particularly interesting to the untrained eye; he probably thought she was wasting his time drawing glorified stick figures.

“Woah,” he breathed.

“Stay still,” she said before he could learn farther into her space.

“Sorry.” He snapped back into position. “It’s just your drawings—I don’t know much about art, but they just. They look like they’re moving.”

“You can tell?” She smiled hopefully, briefly forgetting about the timer. “That’s the point of gestures. It’s to warm up and get the form on paper without getting lost in details. It’s not what I draw the most, since I’m taking this class to prepare to draw my fashion designs, but I’ve enjoyed it a lot.”

“It really shows. And you can do this even though you missed so many classes?”

“Er—well I do practice outside of class as much as I can. It wasn’t easy.” She’d nearly snapped her conté sticks from frustration those first few weeks. Professor Carbonneau was pretty lenient with her students, but that didn’t stop her from comparing her drawings to all of the studio art majors who had clearly been practicing for much longer. She knew her art still wasn’t the top of the class, but as long as she could pass with a grade high enough to stay in her major, she would be grateful.

The timer buzzed, reminding them both to get back to work.

“Let’s move it up to a minute this time,” she said.

“Whatever the Princess wishes.” Chat Noir bowed, holding the pose for her to draw.

She laughed and went back to putting him down in black and white.

Tension leaked out of her as she swept her conté in long arcs, soft shadows, sharp edges. Somehow Chat Noir was a much better model than she’d expected. He barely twitched under her scrutinizing gaze. Every once in a while he cracked a joke that set her line shaking, and she had to force herself to glare at him.

It was normal. It was fun. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

At least, that was what she thought until they finally got to the fifteen-minute pieces.

Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of staring at her partner lounging on the cushion like a real model. Taking down the contours of his legs and side and maybe-occasionally just staring at his chest.

If he noticed, he was at least kind enough not to comment.

She swallowed, glanced at the timer, and kept drawing. This one would be for her portfolio; she couldn’t afford to get too distracted. Not that she should find him distracting in the first place.

“Let’s take a break. You’ve been at this for a while,” she said when the timer finally went off. She folded the cover back over her sketchpad and set it aside.

“You’re the one who’s been drawing. All I had to do was sit there.” He shrugged.

“That must not be easy to do for so long, though. In our class, the models get breaks every thirty minutes.”

“Really?” His eyes widened. “That must be nice.”

“We can’t have anyone falling asleep on us,” she joked, standing and holding out a hand to help him to his feet. “Come on, I’ll order us a pizza. It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me.”

His cheeks pinked below his mask. “It’s nothing, really. I’m a pro at sitting and looking pretty.”

She rolled her eyes, but unfortunately couldn’t argue with that.

XXX

“So,” Chat Noir said before swallowing a mouthful of pineapple pizza, “did you get enough drawings for your class?”

“Not quite.” Marinette sighed, running her fingers over the edge of the paper plate in her lap. “I still need a few thirty-minute pieces. I don’t want to keep you here all night, though.”

“You know cats like to stay up late, Princess.” He winked. “But in this case, I do actually have a study session early tomorrow. What if I came back tomorrow afternoon?”

“Hmm… I guess that could work.” She took a bite of her pizza. “I didn’t want too many drawings of the same model, but I don’t have many other options. And you are really good at this. I just wish I could...”

“Could what?”

“I could really use someone who doesn’t wear a full body suit for the longer poses.” She sighed. “Your suit’s too shiny for me to pass it off as skin, and I can’t make up the shading from scratch. My professor will know.”

“There’s always Adrien,” he said with a smirk.

Marinette had half a mind to throw her pizza at him. “Why won’t you let that go?”

“Because I know for a fact he would love to help you out.” He shook his crust at her.

Her face flushed at the word love. She thought she was better than this by now!

“Really? And how can you be sure?”

“Because I—uh—because…” He glanced back and forth before shoving the pizza crust into his mouth.

“Come on, spit it out, Chat—no not literally!” she exclaimed when he frantically spat the crust back onto his plate.

He sheepishly grinned and put the slobbery food back in his mouth. She smacked her forehead, probably getting pizza grease there.

“You’re gross, you know that?”

He swallowed. How he didn’t choke on the crust, she didn’t know.

“But you love me anyway.”

“Keep dreaming, kitty.” She managed to get it out without so much as a stutter, despite the heat remaining in her cheeks. Whatever feelings she did or didn’t have for Chat, it wasn’t like she could act on them. Not when they couldn’t know each other’s identities, and not when she still couldn’t get over Adrien.

Not when he’d already gotten over her.

“Anyway, what were you trying to tell me?” She asked before she could dwell on that.

“Oh. Uh.” This time he didn’t have any more food to use as a distraction. His eyes darted back and forth before he sighed. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but… IthinkAdrienhasacrushonyou.”

Marinette felt her brain cells fizzle out at trying to process that sentence. She had to have misheard, hadn’t she? “Come again?”

“Adrien,” he said more clearly, “has a crush on you.”

Was she dreaming? She was dreaming. She had to be.

“And how would you know that?” She asked, her voice a little higher than normal.

He crossed his arms. “A cat never reveals his secrets. And besides, even if I’m wrong—which I’m not—he’d still help you because you’re his friend, and he cares about you. So I really think you should ask him, or else I’ll use my superheroly powers to get him to model for you myself.”

“You wouldn’t.” Her eyes narrowed, though her heart was beating out of her chest. Adrien? Having a crush on her? It wasn’t like they’d seen each other too often this semester, with both of them being busy with their classes. Why would he like her now?

At first she thought he was going to argue, but then he seemed to deflate. “Fine. I’m sorry for being so pushy, I just… you really don’t like him, do you? Did something happen?”

Why did he seem so hurt by that? “N-no! I mean, I do like him, I like him a-a lot actually, and—you can not tell him this,” she threatened with a finger near his nose.

He went cross eyed trying to look at it, but nodded.

She dropped her hand. This was stupid. If Chat knew about her crush… she’d worried about him teasing her, but really, he was her friend. Her best friend. She had to keep enough secrets from him because of her identity. It would feel good to at least be able to share one.

“I’ve had a crush on Adrien forever, Chat,” she finally admitted. “That’s why I didn’t want to ask him to be my model. I don’t want to get distracted. I need my drawings to be the best they can, and I especially don’t need him catching me ogling him.”

Her face burned. It was one thing to share secrets, but maybe she didn’t need to share that much.

He laughed. Was her crush really that funny? He almost sounded surprised though, like there was any chance she wouldn’t fall for a sweet, caring, kind friend who also happened to be unfairly attractive. Maybe he was only surprised because he thought puns and roses were the way to a girl’s heart.

(His way had worked too, though, hadn’t it?)

“So you want to ogle him.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Yes—no—shut up!” She shoved him, and he collapsed laughing on the carpet.

“I’m hurt, Marinette. And here I thought you wanted to ogle me.”

“I hate you,” she said through her fingers as she contemplated ways to erase this conversation from existence. Could a Lucky Charm do that? “I can’t believe I ever thought I liked you.”

“Ouch. And here I thought your dad’s punches hurt. Whoever made up that ‘sticks and stones’ saying was a liar.”

It took her a moment to realize he was referring to the time her papa was akumatized. Of course he wouldn’t expect that she actually liked him now.

That was for the best though. She wasn’t supposed to admit that, not as Marinette, especially not when she’d just learned Adrien (probably) had a crush on her. She could hardly go out with Adrien when Chat Noir snuck in her window a few times a week, could she?

It hurt too much to think of letting her strange more-than-friendship with her partner go.

“So, you think there’s time for one more drawing?” he asked, brushing his hands off on his suit.

“If you’re still up for it.” She couldn’t turn down the opportunity, even if she was even more afraid of giving her feelings away now. Besides, if he thought she only liked Adrien, he wouldn’t notice her acting weird. Right?

“Of course. Can’t deny you the opportunity to capture all this.” He flexed his arms in a few different poses.

“You know, I was going to thank you, but now I think that might go to your head.” She laughed.

“Ah, it’s too late for that.” He grinned. “You’ve already inflated my ego beyond repair.”

She didn’t see how, but he was already holding his pose, one hand on his hip, the other arm flexing up near his head. His legs were braced in a slight squat that would probably hurt to hold for too long, but left her with an all-too-good view of his quads.

She set her timer for thirty minutes and hoped that she could keep her secrets to herself a little longer.

#marichat #miraculous ladybug #fic tag #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #tali writes #charcoal lines #humor

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lessonsfrommadamexmas · 4 years

Text

Maiko AU Week 2020 -- Link to AO3 Day 6: Behind the scenes - @idonthatemaiko

A/N: I went for photography instead, so more like a “behind the camera”.

Ty Lee had convinced Mai to invite Zuko to her project. According to the girl, their childhood friend had changed considerably from the times when they went to school together. Recently, Ty Lee had met Azula at the mall, and Zuko’s sister had invited her to have some tea at home. According to Ty Lee, Zuko had changed. He had a burning scar on his face now.

Night had fallen and Mai saw a car stop in front of her house. A stupid childish feeling made her feel suddenly nervous. She hadn’t seen Zuko in since they were both thirteen and the last thing she remembered about him was how her heartbeat jumped and her face turned red whenever he addressed her. In those years, he had been the most handsome boy she had ever seen, and although nothing in particular stood out about his features, his golden eyes contrasted perfectly with his dark brown hair. He was also hot headed, but a gentle soul like his sister never bothered to be. Despite being daring and loud, Zuko was nearly as shy as Mai, and Ty Lee said it took her a lifetime to convince him to participate, appealing to the importance of that photoshoot for Mai’s career.

From the backyard, she waved and shouted for him to come in.

— It’s open!

Mai could see it. Ty Lee never bothered to go in detail, but mentioned that it had happened around the same time he had moved from their school. He was barely a teenager. Mai didn’t feel sorry for him, though. Zuko had always been a fighter, surviving his abusive father on a daily basis, and now that he joined them in the garden, she could see he remained as gorgeous as she remembered.

— Good evening — she greeted.

— Mai… — he replied distracted by her, it seems, but she preferred to refrain herself from assumptions of what she was seeing. — Good evening. How long has it been?

— I know — she replied, reminiscing the only time he had come to her house with Azula.

— Hi, Ty Lee!

— Right on time!

— Ty Lee — Mai pointed at the girl who was organizing her material — was kind enough to lend me a hand throughout the project, but today she’ll be essential.

— Look, I told her I was coming because she insisted you needed me, but I don’t think I’m good for this. You know, picture, being a model...

— How so, you’re so fit! Look at your body! — the girl mentioned from afar.

— My body? — Zuko’s eyes widened shyly and his hand scratched his head nervously — I thought this was about my scar…

— And it is — Mai confirmed to calm him down and shot Ty Lee a reproachful glare. — Don’t worry, this is simpler than you think. Let me fill you in on the details.

He nodded, looking a little more confident.

— Okay.

— I signed up for a photoshoot competition. What I wanna do is to photograph scars in light of self acceptance and overcoming trauma. For each person, the photo will reference the situation in which they acquired the scar, except that now they will be powerful and domineering in that scenario, get it?

Mai searched the latest photographs on her camera and walked to Zuko’s side.

— Here’s an example.

The woman in the picture looked like she was stopping a moving car with both her hands. On her forearm, there was a long scar from a cut.

— So, a car accident? — he inferred, looking at her.

— Exactly — she nodded in response.

— That’s amazing, actually. I never thought you would end up pursuing art.

He smiled at her.

— In your case, you have a burning scar, so my first thought was fire. In the picture, it will be like you’re the owner of fire, you know? You have overcome it and now you can bend it at your own will, materialize it in your hands. As for the fire, since I’m not allowed photo manipulation, Ty Lee’s gonna help us with that.

— Ty Lee…?

— Remember my circus upbringing! — Ty Lee said and waved with a grin.

He shot her an unbelieving but amused look and pointed out:

— Yes, as a contortionist.

— I know fire breathing too, and a bit of juggling.

— It’s all safe, she’s good, actually. But back to the idea, I also remembered you and Azula practiced kung fu when you were kids — Mai continued.

— I still practice, yeah, we never stopped.

— I thought you could help me out with a move that would look like you’re shooting fire. What do you say?

— Sounds perfect. Shall we begin?

— Sure, then I’ll need you to be only in your pants, if you don’t mind. The Zuko here isn’t afraid to surrender himself to fire and expose his skin, understand?

— Yes, no problem at all.

He didn’t wait for any command before he started to take off his clothes. If she initially thought he would be timid, Mai realized now she was the one who wasn’t ready. As soon as his shirt crossed his head, the woman

He kicked off his shoes and she… She had to speak, apparently.

— Did you think of any move?

— Oh, yes, how about…

He supported himself on his right leg and stretched the left one. The right arm was curved above the head with the palm facing up, while the left arm was also stretched out with the palm facing out.

— Excellent.

— Since I’m shooting fire, maybe I should fist my hand?

— Yes, definitely — she approved, excited about their synchrony. Zuko had captured the idea on the spot and he seemed eager to help. — Now put on your intimidating, determined face.

He did as he said.

It took them a while to figure out the perfect angle and positions, but after some attempts, Mai got exactly what she had envisioned

— Ok, guys, this is it. Come see it!

She was proud of her work, but not as much as at the moment Zuko saw the result.

— Mai, this is fantastic! It’s better than I had pictured it in my head.

— You did it, Mai! — Ty Lee hugged her from behind.

— Thanks to you — she told her friend. — And to you, Zuko. I couldn’t have thought of a better pose.

— I did the very minimal. Look at this! You’re really talented and I hope you win.

— Right? — Ty Lee said. — It’s been a pleasure to help out and see all the pictures come to life! You should come for tomorrow’s photoshoot, right, Mai?

— Ah, I’d love to! — he said, but hurried to add: — I mean, I don’t want to hinder your work, though.

— No, you won’t, don’t worry about that. It’ll be tomorrow morning, at 10 pm. Feel free to come — Mai invited him with a smile.

#@maikoauweek #Mai and Zuko fanfic #avatar fanfic #modern au

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