Tumgik
#WritersMonth2020
I’ll Be Seeing You | Robert Fischer x Reader (Oneshot)
Prompt: Dream
Fandom: Inception
Words: 1354
A/N: Been meaning to write some stuff for some of Cillian Murphy’s characters and had rewatched Inception. I started to think what else that technology could be used for, and this fic came about. I rewrote it twice because I make things complicated on myself and the final result is always the easiest to write.
-
The mind is a complicated maze and there are many that make it a profession to navigate through them. A few, however, go deeper than that. While others interpret and study the mind, thoughts and ideas could also be extracted or planted.
You knew you were in a dream. You were standing at the George Washington bridge, leaning against the railing and watching people come and go. It was a place you went to often as a student when you wanted to think. But, you knew you weren’t physically in New York. You were in a hotel room in London where you had to attend a business meeting.
The last couple of months had been stressful, but hopefully, with the new deal, it would all be worth it. You breathed in deeply, the smell of salt and exhaust would have been filling your nostrils. As you exhaled, you turned to walk back to your old apartment.
Your feet carried you to a familiar part of the neighborhood and you felt a bittersweet taste in your mouth at the sight of it. The mom-and-pop businesses, people jogging, students walking home from school, the art running along the wall. You missed this place.
Once you had gone up to your apartment floor, you saw a familiar figure. Tall and lean man with neatly styled hair and a tailored suit.
“Robert?” you said in surprise. Why was he here?
He turned, those haunting blue eyes greeting you as he smiled. “(Y/n), I was hoping to catch you,” he said.
“Why are you suddenly here?” You walked around him, keys at the ready to open the door.
“You must be thinking of me,” he joked, “Or how else would I be here?”
“I don’t know.”
You opened your apartment door, cautiously letting him in. Since it was your dream, you could always manipulate a few things if it gets out of control. Until then…
“Now, why would I be thinking of you?” you wondered out loud, plopping down in an armchair.
Robert shrugged. “You must’ve missed me.”
“I don’t,” you answered sharply.
He looked around your apartment and sat himself on the couch near you, leaning back as if he owned the place. Your eyes scanned his form, wondering why he had showed up. He looked the same as the last time you saw him, back when he was trying to follow his father’s footsteps. So much had happened since then.
“So, what have you been up to lately?” he asked casually.
You crossed your arms. “You know what it is already.”
Robert huffed out a laugh at your stubbornness. “Humor me, (Y/n/n).”
“You used to hate it when I do. Nothing was funny to mister Robert Fischer, successor of daddy Fischer’s company,” you said sarcastically. “Nothing was right. Nothing was easy. Nothing was ever enough.”
He sighed in defeat, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, I’m sorry. There were things I’ve said that I shouldn’t have said. I was angry and stressed and it clouded my thinking. I’m sorry, (Y/n), and you were right to leave me.”
You felt your heart squeezed at his words. It was what you had always wanted to hear from him all these years. After you broke up, you had not spoken to him ever again. You moved away and started your own business that had been gradually thriving.
He stood up, shrugging off his suit jacket and walked over to one of your many bookshelves where you had a couple of picture frames placed. Graduation pictures, birthday polaroids, and a few framed certifications and achievements on the wall next to them.
“I’ve been reading about your business in the news. I’m happy for you,” he said with a genuine smile, pointing at the picture that you took with the starting crew of your business.
“Thank you.”
He moved on to the books that filled the rest of the shelves, running a slender finger over the spines and stopping at the small photo albums. You quickly stood up as he pulled one out that you were sure he was familiar with. He flipped it open and was greeted with a picture of the two of you from college at a bar with your friends doing a pub quiz. He smiled, taking his time at looking at each and every photo that you had foolishly kept. This physical one was still in a storage bin, but it didn’t mean that it no longer existed.
“I miss you,” he whispered, blue eyes flicking towards you as you walked up to him.
You crossed your arms again. “You never called,” you said softly, and hating yourself because of it. Now was not the time to feel small.
He slid the photo album back and turned his body to face you. His eyes roamed your face, as if trying to memorize it, hands slowly rising to grab your arms. Then, he slowly led you towards the middle of the living room, leaving your side to fiddle with the record player that he remembered he had gifted you for your birthday.
Billie Holiday’s voice filled the room as Robert walked back to you, and offered you a hand.
“May I have this dance?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
You laughed, looking away so he wouldn’t see you smile, but it was too late. You relented, taking his hand and allowing him to gather you in his arms. He began to sway with the music, resting his head against yours.
“I miss you so much,” he muttered again into your shoulder.
You sighed, wrapping your arms tightly around him. “I miss you, too. I hate that I do, but I can’t stay mad at you for this long.”
The two of you stayed like that until the song finished. Then, Robert pulled back, holding your face in his hands.
“Come back with me,” he said.
You frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Wake up,” he said firmly, “Please. Wake up.”
You blinked in confusion. Suddenly, there were flashes of the streets of London. You had gone to have a quick walk to think when it started to rain heavily. The roads were instantly flooded, cars splashing water onto the sidewalks as they drove past.
Non, je ne regrette rien started to play, echoing around the room and seemingly not having any source. Robert looked around, eyes widened in panic.
“Please, come back with me,” he pleaded.
A car turned a corner near you and lost control.
“I… okay. But I don’t understand-” you said as the music grew louder.
You had been frozen in place as the car skidded onto the sidewalk, then…
Darkness.
Robert closed his eyes and you did the same, forcing yourself to wake up.
-
Non, je ne regrette rien was playing softly as you woke up. Your body felt heavy and your limbs were too stiff to move. You blinked, your eyes adjusting to the light as you looked around. White walls, white curtains, white blankets, white bed with metal railings, an IV drip in your arm and a cast on your leg. You were in the hospital.
You heard someone sigh in relief next to you. The music stopped and a thin man with dark hair came into view. The person that was next to you walked up to him and shook his hand.
“Thank you,” he said to the man.
“No problem, Fischer,” the man said. “About time we use this stuff for good.”
“Robert?” you strained to say with your dry throat.
He whipped his head around, showing his disheveled hair and bags under his blue eyes. The man looked between you two and offered a small smile, packing his things and left without a word. Robert rushed to your side, gently picking up your hand as if it might shatter with too much force.
“What happened?” you asked. “How did I-”
Robert shushed you, pressing the button above to call in a nurse. “I’ll explain later, love. You’re back now,” he said, slowly standing up.
“Don’t leave.”
“I won’t. I’ll be nearby. I promise.”
314 notes · View notes
iamnotoriginalphil · 4 years
Text
The 7 Times Lou Miller almost kissed you + the one time you kissed her
Tumblr media
Synopsis: There’s always been something between you and Lou.
Words: 2910
Warnings: none
**GIF not mine**
1.
You were sitting on the floor of the loft, a box of pizza open in front of you. The place was quiet, everyone out for the evening and you were getting ready to settle in for a nice evening alone full of bad movies and junk food. You were just lifting a large slice into your mouth when you heard footsteps.
“Oh, hi.”
You smiled up at Lou. She stood over you, one hand on her hip, a sceptical look on her face. You held up the slice of pizza.
“You want some?”
She lowered herself beside you, stretching her legs out in front of her. You pushed the box towards her, finally taking a bite of the cheesey goodness. She took a slice, considering you over the top of it.
“I thought you had to be at your club tonight,” you said, wiping some grease away from the corner of your mouth.
“Turns out things run smoother when I’m not there micro managing everyone,” she replied, “something about less pressure and stress on the employees making them perform better.”
“I can’t believe your one of those overbearing bosses,” you said, laughing, “I thought you were meant to be the cool one.”
“I am the cool one.”
You laughed, leaning towards her. You pressed your forehead against her shoulder, trying to stifle your giggling. You could practically feel her rolling her eyes.
“Okay, okay, no need to make such a big deal out of this,” she said.
She grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her. Her eyes were sparkling despite the stern look on her face. You were still giggling, your tongue trapped between your teeth. Her eyes flickered down then back to yours. Your giggles stopped.
“I can think of a much more pleasurable way to spend the evening than being the overbearing boss at the club.”
You watched her draw steadily closer, heat rising in your cheeks. She was so close you could see every single eyelash, you could count the colours in her eyes, you could feel her breath ghosting over your lips. You might not have put it in to words before, but the yearning inside you was almost unbearable.
“Well that was a waste of time.”
You jerked away from Lou, your face feeling as hot as the sun. Daphne was striding past you, not even bothering to look at the two of you. You watched her go, shuffling away from Lou just a little. You picked up your slice of pizza again.
“There goes my quiet night,” you muttered.
“It was already gone, sweetheart.”
Lou got up, leaving you too.
2.
You sat on a bench in the park, people watching as you waited for the rest of the team to show up. A lake was in front of you, ducks quacking as they chased tourists for food.
A warm body bumped against yours as it sat down. You turned your head, recognising the blonde hair in your peripheral vision. An arm looped through yours, a body pressing close in the cold air. You shifted against it, drawing closer to share in the warmth.
“You’re here early,” Lou said.
“I thought I’d get some fresh air,” you replied.
“I’m glad to catch you alone.”
Something in your lower stomach tightened. You drew away from her, wanting to put some space between the two of you. If what you thought was coming, you did not want to be sharing the same breathing space as her.
“Oh?” You tried to sound light but weren’t sure you’d managed it.
“We were interrupted last time,” she said.
“By Daphne.”
“Yes.”
Her hand came up, cupping your cheek to turn your head towards her. You stilled, not sure what she was doing. This was hardly the let down you’d been expecting.
“I intend to fix that now, sweetheart,”
Her breath ghosted over your lips. Your eyes slipped closed, waiting, every atom in your body straining towards her. She paused.
“Or another time.”
You blinked your eyes open. Lou was staring at something over your shoulder. You turned, looking too. Debbie was sauntering up the path, her hands in the pocket of her coat. You sighed, drawing away from Lou.
“To be picked up another time,” she said.
“Sure.”
3.
The beat was thrumming through your body, your hips swaying in time. Alcohol had loosened you up, giving you the confidence you needed to join the dance floor. Your eyes were closed, feeling the music rather than watching the other dancers. You wanted to get lost in the moment forever. You were glad you’d accepted Lou’s invitation to visit her club, despite your initial anxiety. She hadn’t spoken of the almost kisses since that day in the park. You were hoping this was the olive branch to change that.
Warm hands settled on your hips. You jerked away, your eyes flying open. You turned your head, only to be met with blonde hair and the sting of vodka in your nose. You sighed, letting out a relieved chuckle.
You lent back against the strong body, following Lou as she picked up the rhythm you’d lost in your surprise. Her breath was ghosting over the skin of your neck. You shuddered, pressing against her more insistently.
One of her hands slipped around you, her fingers slipping under your shirt, brushing against the skin of your stomach. You groaned, turning your head to try and find her.
Blue eyes met yours, dark and all consuming. Your skin was hot, a coil within you tightening. Your eyes flickered down to her lips then back to her eyes. She tightened her hold on your hip.
Before ou could close the gap you felt someone grab your arm, pulling you out of Lou’s grasp. You turned, ready to shout at whoever it was. You met large dark eyes, Daphne grinning at you. Her eyes were a little glazed but other than that she looked as fresh as the start of the night.
“Come dance with me,” she shouted over the music.
You shot a glance at Lou over your shoulder but she’d already melted back into the crowd. You pushed the disappointment back down as you let Daphne lead you back into the dance.
4.
You were lying on your bed, legs stretched out in front of you as you lent against the pile of pillows against your headboard. You had a book open in your lap, your finger running along the rough edges of the paper. You weren’t taking in the words, your ears straining for noises from the rest of the loft.
You’d heard movement before, the door closing, voices coming and going. It had all fallen silent a few minutes ago but it was hard to tell if you were alone in the building. You turned your attention back to the book, assuming that if the person you hoped to see was still there then she would come see you. Your business was unfinished.
You turned the page in your book. Your door creaked as it opened. You dragged your eyes up, watching Lou slip in. She climbed onto the bed beside you, leaning back in your pillows. You closed the book, putting it on your bedside table.
“Don’t stop on my account,” she said, flashing you a smile.
“I have something more interesting now,” you replied.
“Must be quite captivating to keep you from an interesting book.”
“Oh, it is.”
She swung herself over, straddling your lap. Your hands settled on her hips as she wrapped her arms around your neck.
“Fourth time is the charm,” she murmured.
She lent down, drawing closer to you as you strained up towards her. Her nose brushed against yours, her lips close enough to feel as she spoke.
“I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
You heard the door below open and close, loud as a gunshot in the silence. Lou stilled, a hair’s breadth from you. You dug your fingers into the flesh of her hips, trying to bring her attention back to you, but she was listening to whoever had returned.
“Hey guys, is anyone here?” The voice called up to you.
“Tammy,” you said at the same time as Lou.
Lou hauled herself off you, her hands slipping from you. You let out a frustrated groan.
“Can’t we ignore her?” you asked.
“She’ll be knocking on the door any.” A knock sounded on the door, “second.”
“Anyone in there?” Tammy called through the wood.
Lou gave you a pointed look. You threw your hands in the air in surrender and fell back amongst your pillows. Lou climbed off the bed and opened the door.
“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Tammy said.
“You weren’t interrupting anything. We were discussing literature,” Lou replied, stepping out and closing the door.
You sighed, picking up your book again. It was the only company you’d have that night.
5.
You had your hands cupped around a warm mug of coffee, leaning backwards on the bench in the kitchen. You were watching Tammy cook with a glass of wine in her hand, stirring something in a large pot. Whatever it was, it was making your mouth water.
“I didn’t realise Lou had such an interest in literature,” Tammy said.
“What?” She gave you a penetrating look, “oh, right. Yeah. She has all kinds of interests.”
“Interests you share?” You ignored the amusement in her voice.
“Sometimes.”
“And should we be worried about those shared interests?” she asked.
“I shouldn’t think so.”
“I hope not.”
The door slammed open, Lou striding in, a look of determination on her face. You gave her a smile but she ignored it, jerking her head to the stairs you. You followed behind, ignoring the penetrating stare of Tammy as you left.
Lou held the door to her bedroom open, waiting for you to enter. You slipped inside, looking around the room. It was clean, almost meticulously so. A large bed, white and soft, stood in the middle of the room, just waiting for someone to fall into it. The light streamed in through a huge window, bathing everything in warmth.
“Can I help you with something?” you asked after Lou had closed the door.
She plucked the mug from your hands, wrinkling her nose when she saw how milky you’d made it. She put it down on a shelf as you watched, not sure what she was doing. She stalked towards you, a fierce glint in her eye. You backed away, uncertainty keeping you from her. Your back hit the far wall. You inhaled sharply.
“I think it’s time we finished that discussion from the other night,” she said.
One hand landed on the wall by your head. You looked up into her face, feeling your skin burn with the intensity of her gaze. Her other hand grasped your chin, tilting your face up to her. She shook her hair from her eyes as she traced your bottom lip with her thumb. Warmth pooled in your stomach.
“I can’t take it any longer,” she said.
“Then kiss me.”
A loud banging started up on the door. Lou ignored it, drawing closer to you. Your eyes fell closed, waiting, every atom of your body straining towards her. The banging didn’t stop. With a growl she tore herself away from you, ripping the door open.
“If you can bear to, Tammy has finished cooking and we’d quite like you both to join us.”
Debbie. You pushed yourself off the wall, ignoring the way your legs wobbled beneath you. You walked past Lou and Deb, trying to regain your composure. You didn’t need to endure any more teasing. From any of them.
6.
There was something to be said for the quiet of a library. All you could hear was the rustle of paper, the scratch of pens, the click of keyboards. You scratched the back of your neck as you looked over the old newspaper.
Debbie had sent you off to do some last minute research. She needed some leverage on someone, and given how the last job went, you were willing to trust her on this despite not knowing how it connected to the new job. There was nothing that had turned up yet, but Debbie had faith in you so you couldn’t let her down.
“Are you going to keep reading all night?”
You jumped, dropping the paper to the floor. You grumbled, stooping down to pick them up again. Lou chuckled, helping you collect the scattered papers. Her fingers brushed against yours as she passed them over.
“This is not proper library etiquette,” you said. She grinned at you.
“The library is closing soon,” she said, ��c’mon, there’s a great Vietnamese place around the corner.”
“I’m not done yet.”
“Yes.” She put her hand over yours, “you are.”
You hadn’t realised how close she was to you. You turned your head, ready to tell her what she could do with her Vietnamese place, only to find your nose brushing against hers. You jerked back but one of her hands shot out, grasping the back of your neck.
Her eyes flicked down to your lips, your tongue darting out to wet them. You took a deep breath in, waiting, seeing the precipice before you. You were ready to jump.
“The library is closing for the night.”
You jumped. A woman was standing at the end of the stacks, looking at the two of you. You drew away from Lou, putting the papers down on the closest table. You walked past the librarian, assuming Lou would follow.
“So Vietnamese?” you asked over your shoulder to her.
“Vietnamese,” she agreed.
7.
You were growing restless, Lou had been gone for a few weeks, putting plans into motion for the job. You didn’t like to admit you missed her but the loft felt empty without her snarky comments. You were lounging on the sofa, your eyes closed, listening to Amita and Constance talking.
You’d declined Daphne’s invitation to go out with her, you had ignored Amita and Constance’s attempts to draw you into conversation, and you hadn’t bothered listening to Rose’s mumblings about fabrics. All you wanted to do was lie there and think about things.
It was no secret there was something going on between you and Lou. Tammy had picked up on it weeks ago, Debbie probably knew longer, and finally, finally, the others were cluing in. If only something had actually happened.
The number of near misses were leaving you breathless. You were anxious, your stomach a roiling mess every time you saw her. It was a very specific type of torture. It was driving you crazy.
“Well, we’re ready to go tomorrow.”
You sat up, Lou had managed to enter through the door without you hearing it, masked by the chatter of your teammates. You blinked at her. She looked windswept, disgruntled, but satisfied with whatever she’d been doing.
“Then tomorrow we move out,” Debbie said from the upper level.
“Move out where?” Amita asked.
“To the west coast. Nineball will get us the tickets for tomorrow.”
“For all of us?” you asked.
“You better pack a bag.”
She disappeared back into her room, presumably to go through her extensive closet and pack what she’d need. You got off the sofa, wandering over to Lou.
She grabbed your face, pulling you towards her. She gave you an intense look, pulling you closer to her. Finally, you’d feel her lips against yours. Her eyes shone.
“Hey, there’ll be plenty of time to do that when we’re done with this job,” Debbie called down to you, “get packing.”
You slipped away before the disappointment could overwhelm you.
+ 1.
The job was a success. Or so you’d been told. You’re part had gone flawlessly, exactly to plan, just as Debbie had described. You assumed it had gone well with everyone else. Constance seemed to think so when you’d passed her as you’d left the building.
You rushed back towards the loft, detouring by your place to get changed to give you a better chance of not being recognised on any security cameras. Just like Debbie had told you.
The loft was quiet when you got back. You were used to people making all kind of noise, not the quiet strains of music from the upper level. You wandered up, hoping it was more than a forgotten radio.
You pushed the door open, knowing what you were hoping to see. A tall frame was laying on the bed, arms behind her head, eyes closed as her foot bobbed in time with the music. You smiled, closing the door too quietly to be heard over the music.
Her eyes opened as you hauled yourself onto the bed, slinging one leg over her lap. Her hands grabbed your hips, ready to push you off. You smiled, leaning down.
“Eighth time lucky,” you said.
You pressed your lips to hers before she could say anything, before anyone could walk in, before anything could stop you. Her fingers tightened on your hips. She kissed you hard, intense, like a drowning woman looking for air. You couldn’t stop yourself moaning into her mouth.
You didn’t stop when you heard other people come in. You didn’t stop when there was a knock on the door. You didn’t stop when you heard an exasperated noise from the doorway.
Nothing was going to stop you this time.
370 notes · View notes
superbataddicted · 4 years
Text
Writer’s Month 2020 (Day 25)
Day 25 Prompt: Drop
Pairing: Superbat, Clark Kent x Bruce Wayne
Summary: Drabbles about weddings and proposals.
Batman crashed through the glass of the skyscraper, dropping like a stone towards the ground. Before he could pull out his grapple gun, someone had already caught him.
“Nice catch,” Green Lantern winked at Superman before zipping upwards, leaving an annoyed Batman in the arms of Superman.
“I’m not a football,” Batman glowered, peeved that he was being unnecessarily rescued, “And I need no catching.”
“You’re definitely no football, alright,” Superman grinned, “But I still love catching you, anytime, any day. And if you don’t mind, may I continue catching you for the rest of your life?”
“Is this a proposal?” Batman arched an eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“Out in the open with everyone listening?”
“They can handle the distraction.”
“...you really sure you want to do this?”
“Yes, I do.”
“...I’m not the easiest catch, you know.”
“I can handle it.”
“...”
And the League, tired of waiting, shouted all at once.
“Just say yes!”
And Batman finally gave an imperceptible nod which Superman easily saw. Beaming in delight, Superman flew Batman back to the fight. Together with the League, they defeated their enemies in record time for they had a wedding waiting to be planned.
204 notes · View notes
Text
Music
“I can’t believe I let you convince me to come to this thing with you. I mean seriously, when have I ever listened to anything besides classic rock?” Dean grumbled as he followed his brother to their seats in the large concert hall.
“Oh, quit bitching,” Sam whispered angrily. “It’s Eileen’s last concert before she goes on maternity leave and you promised her you would come see one of her performances. Trust me, you don’t want to be on her bad side right now. I told her to wait a minute before I got her juice and she made me sleep on the couch for three nights.”
Dean smirked as they took their seats. “She’s got you whipped man.”
Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s mocking. “When you get married, you’ll understand.”
“Hardly,” Dean scoffed. “Last time I checked, guys can’t get pregnant, so I won’t have to worry about a pregnant partner with random food cravings. I mean seriously, jelly dipped grapefruit slices have to be one of the most disgusting food combos ever. Even I wouldn’t eat that.”
“Whatever. Like the saying goes, people do crazy things when they’re in love. You just wait,” Sam said with a grin.
Before Dean could argue, the lights dimmed and focused on the stage. Since Sam was Eileen’s husband, they had special front row seats for family only. Dean watched with little interest as the orchestra members walked onto the stage. He saw Eileen carrying her violin and gave her a thumbs up when she looked in his direction. Dean groaned inwardly as more and more people crowded onto the stage. He never fathomed an orchestra would be so big.
His eyes were lazily gazing around him, waiting for the concert to start when suddenly his attention was snagged. Leading a row of orchestra members was the most gorgeous man Dean had ever laid eyes on. He had messy black hair that refused to be tamed. His face was square with high cheekbones and a strong jaw and Dean wanted to know what those lips felt like against his. He was tall, at least six foot with a lithe muscular build. Dean raked his eyes down the man’s body and nearly drooled at the thick thighs that were encased by the black dress pants he wore. Dean felt the breath leave his body as the man’s eyes quickly glanced at him before facing the front again. They were stunning blue sapphires that sparkled in the low light and Dean was already lost in their depths.
Dean refused to look away from the gorgeous man. He watched as the man settled in his chair before pulling a large stringed instrument towards him. Dean was mesmerized by the nimble fingers that ghosted over the strings, being careful to make a single noise. He stared as the man flipped through his music and imagined what those fingers would feel like trailing over his body. He shivered in anticipation.
Sam elbowed him lightly. “Dude, are you ok?”
Dean swallowed dryly. “Yeah, I’m good Sammy. I totally gotta get that guy’s number. Maybe Eileen could help a brother-in-law out.”
Sam looked to at the man that Dean was still staring at. He snorted before saying, “Good luck. That’s Castiel and according to Eileen, refuses to date anyone and everyone. He’s solely focused on his music and says he doesn’t have time for frivolous relationships.”
“Yeah, well he ain’t ever met me yet! I won’t be frivolous, hell, I’ll give him a hundred reasons to be with me if you know what I mean?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Ugh, gross,” Sam huffed. “You can try, but I’ll be here to pick up the pieces when Cas turns you down.”
“Whatever bitch, just you wait and see. Cas is gonna be mine,” Dean argued.
“I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you get Cas to go on more than three dates with you,” Sam challenged.
“Deal! It’ll be like taking candy from a baby.” Dean smirked.
The men fell silent as the conductor held his hands up and the whole orchestra readied themselves. Dean jumped when the next sound was the loud bang of a drum. His eyes glued in on Cas and they never left. Dean hardly heard the music, his gaze so intent on the man in front of him.
They had gone through three songs and Dean couldn’t recall what a single one of them sounded like when Castiel suddenly stood up and moved towards the front of the stage. Dean’s gaze followed him like a hungry wolf stalking it’s prey.
“I would like to introduce our very own Castiel Novak. He will now perform a solo that he has written himself for the very first time. I know all of you will be blown away by his talent and skill.” The crowd applauded lightly as Castiel took a lone seat in front of the rest of the orchestra.
For the first time that night, Dean listened to the music being played. Cas’s fingers moved gracefully, making the instrument sing. The notes that echoed throughout the hall told a heart wrenching story. They described a man who was looking for love but had no idea how to find it. The tune was slow and melodic, and Dean was captured in its sad embrace. The minor chords resonated through the air and Dean felt a single tear roll down his cheek. Once the last eerie note had floated through the air, the crowd erupted into applause.
Dean jumped to his feet, his hands stinging with the force of his clapping. He watched as Castiel bowed deeply a few times before picking his instrument up and walking back to his original seat. He glanced at Dean again and flashed a small smile in his direction. Dean felt his heart beat faster at the minute gesture.
The rest of the concert was a blur as Dean only had eyes and ears for Castiel. When it was over and the orchestra stood for their final bows, Dean clapped along with everyone else. His eyes tracked Cas for as long as possible until the man walked out of sight off the stage. Dean sighed heavily, hoping he would get a chance to talk to him.
“So, what did you think?” Sam asked as they waited for Eileen.
Dean shrugged, “It was better than I thought it was going to be. Still prefer my classic rock but this wasn’t half bad.”
“Well, I’ll count that as a win in my book,” Sam said before walking around his brother and pulling his wife into a hug. “Congrats pumpkin, you did so good tonight! I’m so proud of you.”
Dean watched his brother and sister-in-law with fondness. Eileen was a perfect match for Sam in every way. After years of trying, they were finally pregnant and Dean couldn’t wait to meet his niece who was due in a few weeks. He pulled her in for a tight hug and congratulated her on a wonderful performance.
“Psh, you didn’t hear her. You were too focused on Castiel,” Sam interjected.
Dean felt his cheeks heat up as he glared at his brother. “Shut up bitch. I was not!”
Sam snorted. “Yeah you were. I bet you couldn’t even describe any of the music tonight besides his solo.”
“Well, I would love to hear him describe it,” a deep voice rumbled from behind them.
Dean spun around to find the gorgeous musician standing a few feet away. Up close, Castiel was even more gorgeous and Dean couldn’t suppress the small whimper that escaped his throat. He felt the blush staining his cheeks deepen. “Uh, hi,” Dean croaked.
Castiel’s lips spread in a small grin. “Hello. My name is Castiel. From what Eileen has told me, you are Dean.”
“Uh, yeah. I’m Dean and the moose behind me is Sam,” Dean explained as he held his hand out.
Castiel’s palm was warm and smooth as he shook Dean’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Dean. Would you please tell me what you thought of my solo? I heard that you prefer classic rock and I must say I’m curious as to what you thought about such a different genre of music.”
Dean rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. “Uh, well, it was haunting and sad for one. I mean I had a tear rolling down my cheek by the end of it. I’m not usually a fan of slow songs but there’s no other tempo that song could have. And, um- I mean, well, I’m sorry that you haven’t found the person you’re looking for.”
Castiel tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
Dean dropped his gaze, afraid he had said something wrong. “Well, the whole point of the song is about being lonely and how you want to find love but don’t know how, right? That’s why it was so dark and gloomy because you’re lost, and you don’t know how to find your way. Since the song ended on such a long eerie note, I’m assuming you haven’t found what you’re looking for and you’re calling out to anybody who will listen.”
It was silent and Dean finally looked up. Sam and Eileen were staring at him like he had grown a second head while Cas looked like he was close to tears. Dean felt his stomach tie itself in knots. He wanted to ask the musician on a date but instead he had offended him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean,” Dean started to say.
“Stop,” Cas ordered as he stepped closer. He reached out and hovered his palm over Dean’s cheek. “You just described that song perfectly. Writing it was very difficult for me because of how much of myself I put into it. You’re right, I am lonely, and I wish I wasn’t but nobody has been able to alleviate that loneliness.”
Dean wanted to kick himself for his next words. “I thought you didn’t do relationships and were focused on your music.”
The corner of Cas’ mouth quirked up. “That’s what I tell people to try and hide how I truly feel. Besides, no person I’ve ever met has been able to describe my music the way you just did. I would be honored if you would go on a date with me.”
Dean’s eyes were saucers as he stared in shock at the man in front of him. “Are you serious?” Castiel nodded. Dean shifted his head, so Cas’ palm rested lightly against his cheek. “I’m free now.”
Cas’ face split into a large gummy smile. “Let me go grab my things and then I will be right back.”
Dean watched him walk off before turning to Sam and Eileen. He smirked at his brother as he said, “There’s one date. Three more and you owe me a hundred bucks.”
Eileen gasped. “You guys are betting on Cas!”
Sam wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Dean fell heads over heels the moment he saw Cas, but I told him he’d never have a chance. I bet him a hundred bucks if he could get Cas to go on more than three dates with him.”
“Trust me, I’m not messing with Cas. I really want to get to know him, money or no money,” Dean said hastily, wanting to stay on Eileen’s good side.
She eyed him warily and warned him not to hurt Cas but otherwise wished them the best of luck. She never had to worry because Dean treated Cas like he hung the moon. He did, in fact, end up going on more than three dates with Cas. It was a whirlwind kind of romance and two years later they were married. At their wedding, Cas played a brand-new song for Dean.
Dean was in tears by the end of it because this song was different than the first solo he heard from Cas. This song wasn’t sad and dark but light and jovial. This song was about a man who had been searching for love and had finally found it. It told the story of an epic romance that was just beginning.
Tagging: @lonewolf34500 @notwithd @multifandom-fanatic @flowersforcas @cockleslovesdestiel
148 notes · View notes
marisanimecafe · 4 years
Text
Baby Breath
-in which you finally come with a way to talk to mysterious tattoo artist apprentice.
Pairing: Tattoo Artist! Bakugou Katsuki x Florist! Reader
Warning: Word vomit, unedited- read at your own risk [will probably edit tomorrow]
Genre: Tattoo Artist x Florist AU, Fluff
[ara’s notes] this is my offering for the writer’s month 2020 prompt tattoo artist x florist,,,,,, did i do it right? also i kinda wanna write a part two,,,,,, haha, just kidding,,,,, unless?
The first time the Tattoo artist apprentice comes to your shop is with heavy steps and an angry ‘What does this flower mean?’ 
The boy who you know to work at the tattoo shop next to you, however, other details are unknown. The boy looks positively adorable and embarrassed to be holding baby's breath bouquet. You suppress a giggle that seem to be rising in your throat.
You suppose that you are not doing that good of a job because he gives you a look that screams pure murderous intent. 
“Um, Baby breaths are known to symbolize innocence and purity.” You say and you feel his temper rise as his grip on the flower tighen. You had no idea that boy next door had such a foul temper. 
“What the fucks the supposed to mean? Is that making fun of me?” He growls in anger and you snatch away the bouquet from the angry who would surely crush your favorite flowers. 
“It means-” You pause to gently press the crumpled gift paper that holds that baby breath flower, “that someone wants you to know that their intentions towards you are pure and innocent.” 
As you look up from now okay looking flowers to the angry boy, he is looking at you with the most disgusting look at he can muster- or is it a constipated look? Does he not know how to react, so he is reacting with anger? Of course, all the thoughts of redeeming him go out of window when he opens his mouth again.
“I would prefer cash.” You have stop yourself from twisting the bouquet in anger. 
“Cash does not represent sincerity and innocence. It shows wealth.” 
“I don’t want sincerity or innocence. I want wealth.” Oh boy, is he testing your patience. You take in a deep breath, after all you had started this chaos by sending him the bouquet and a note that read 'if you know what they mean, you will know why I sent them.'
"Well, the sender does not have wealth, apparently. So, the send you this bouquet with their pure and innocent intention." You say as you present him the bouquet. A part of you expects the boy to snatch the bouquet and brutally stomp on it. Due to that, you are surprised to see the boy blushing as he tries his best to cover the lower half of the face with his large hand.
"DONT FUCKING LOOK AT ME, YOU SHITTY WOMAN!" The boy screams as his face in opposite direction but his words have no impact as his face is covered with blush.
"I am looking away." You say trying to fool him into looking at you and he falls for that and he falls for your radiant smile.
“YOU LIAR-” You cut off his angry screaming by shoving the bouquet in his hands and saying customary "Thank you for coming, sir." 
You didn't expect him to reply, much less reply with, "You can call me Bakugou." 
Bakugou, Bakugou, Ba-KU-gou, you think about the way his name sound many times before actually saying it. 
"Then, it was very nice to meet you, Bakugou." He scoffs in response as light blush covers his face. 
Oh what an interesting creature you are, Bakugou.
148 notes · View notes
ohmightydevviepuu · 4 years
Text
writer’s month prompts
prompt twenty-four:  true love’s kiss canon divergent 3x11, ‘going home’
for @shireness-says, @profdanglaisstuff, @optomisticgirl and the “3B no-curse renaissance”.  
Tumblr media
What happened was this.
There was a curse. Massive, billowing plumes of goddamn purple smoke--Emma had seen pictures, but the storybook had not done them justice. They were ominous, they were terrifying, they were heading straight for them, spilling out from the Wishing Well right down Main Street and pushing up against the town line.
They only had a few minutes left and Emma felt every second ticking by--this was not supposed to happen. Maybe she’d been hanging out too much with her kid, The Heart of the Truest Believer and all of that, but she wanted to believe and they’d gotten him back from fucking Peter Pan, hadn’t they? They’d flown on a pirate ship with a magical shadow and put a magical freaking barrier around his heart so that a demon couldn’t steal it. They’d figured out the evil plan, they’d done all of the things.
All of the things.
And still, this was how it was going to end: another curse. Everyone separated. No happy endings.
Emma was feeling that, all of it, as the seconds ticked by and the smoke got closer and she could hear the screams in town, Grumpy chief among them--“It’s coming, it’s coming,” like they didn’t already know that. Like they couldn’t see it.
Her parents were watching her and it was just--it was so stupid, all of this best chance bullshit, but now she had to make a choice about her kid, the choice she never got to make last time, to keep him safe because she could and that made it not much of a choice at all. But she was going to miss her parents, and it would be worse now than it had been, now that she knew she’d had parents, parents that wanted her and loved her even if she hadn’t quite relaxed enough to let herself believe it. Henry was in their arms, one last hug from his grandparents, from Regina, and Emma stood by the door of the Beetle and watched them. One last goodbye to Neal and there was a sliver of her that she wasn’t proud of that looked at him and thought, just a little bit, good riddance.
She’d been right in the Echo Cave. It would be easier to have him and all of it behind her forever. Closure she’d never gotten and now it was coming with a bigger price than she’d ever imagined.
She didn’t look at Hook. At Killian.
She couldn’t.
He was looking at her, though, eyes drilling straight into her skull, windows into his goddamn soul as she saw everything she’d never let him say to her spilling out. He opened his mouth to speak and Emma had to brace herself.
“That’s quite a vessel you captain there, Swan.”
It wasn’t what she’d expected him to say and that was--it was good. Too many emotions wouldn't help the situation. There was no going back anyway. No undoing the things that had happened--and hadn’t happened--between them. No more apologies or regrets.
So why was she disappointed?
She smiled at him and ignored the tears tickling the corners of her eyes and then he said, “There’s not a day that goes by I won’t think of you.”
And she had been right; it was easier when he didn’t say anything and just let his eyes spill all of his secrets, because that hurt. It had been less than a week and she didn’t want to think about how it had happened but he had become her--
Something.
He was something. And he was hers--her rock, her friend, her person. Emma wasn’t someone who believed that people could belong to each other but she knew if she asked him he’d agree, even if he wouldn’t have a week ago.
Until I met you.
Regina pulled her aside because of course there were things the Evil Queen hadn’t felt ready to reveal yet--no rush or anything--and said, “When the curse washes over us, it will send us all back. Nothing will be left behind. Including your memories. It's just what the curse does. Storybrooke will no longer exist. It won't ever have existed. So these last years will be gone from both your memories.”
Emma looked at her parents. At Neal. At Killian.
She couldn’t breathe.
“Now we'll go back to being just stories again.”
She. Couldn’t. Breathe.
Her eyes were on him again as she struggled to get air in her lungs and fuck it. Emma took two steps forward and grabbed him just like she’d done in Neverland and this time he didn’t wait to react, to kiss her back; he was all in, a drowning man looking for one last gasp of oxygen. She arched into him and he stole her breath and thoughts and words, his lips and tongue promising everything they could never have.
Emma could taste the salt on her tongue and wasn’t sure if it was from her tears, or his.
She didn’t think. She didn’t notice, not until she pulled herself away and started walking toward the car, reaching blindly for Henry and he wasn’t there.
Panicking, Emma opened her eyes and saw--nothing. No purple smoke. No empty forest. Just the town line sign exactly where it had been, the dwarves’ painted line exactly as it was, everyone staring in strained disbelief, pure joy mixed with confusion on their faces and Emma said to Regina: “What did you do?”
Regina raised her eyebrows the way she did, her arms wrapped tightly around their son. “What did I do, Miss Swan?” The “are you fucking kidding me” was strongly implied so Emma ignored it, turning to her parents and breaking out into a little run as she hurled herself at them. “Mom,” she said. “Dad.”
She felt her father’s hand against the back of her neck and her mother reaching to pull her forehead down close enough to kiss. “You did it,” Mary Margaret whispered. “You saved us.”
Emma stepped back, blinking in confusion. She looked at her father, who shrugged his shoulders; he looked like she’d hit him with a dreamshade-tipped arrow.
Neal wouldn’t meet her eyes, but then again--he’d always been a coward.
Hook--Killian--had his fingers pressed up against his lips as he stared at her, his blue eyes unblinking. She’d done a number on his hair when she’d kissed him--
When she’d--
When--
Oh.
Oh.
--
full list of prompts full collection on AO3
--
@thisonesatellite @katie-dub @kmomof4 @captain-emmajones @carpedzem @mariakov81 @spartanguard @lfh1226-linda @karl0ta @pirateherokillian @therealstartraveller776 @gingerchangeling​ @snowbellewells​ @withaheartfulloflove​ @scientificapricot​
89 notes · View notes
Text
Coffee Shop AU - Writer’s Month Day 15
Cas hasn’t visited Deancaffeinated in weeks, has stuck very closely to the government guidelines during this quarantine and locked himself up at home. He only left the house for grocery runs, wearing a mask and disinfecting his hands maybe a bit too much. He’s able to teach his college classes from home, thankfully, and since he’s living with his cat, he doesn’t feel too lonely.
A few days into lockdown, he realized that there’s not much he misses about the outside word except for his family and friends. Well, there’s one thing. He can’t help but miss Dean and his lovely little coffee shop around the corner.
Cas used to visit several times a week, more for Dean and the few words they always exchange, the soft smiles Dean sends his way, the comfortable touches to Cas’ shoulders or arms, the baked goods Dean suggests just for him — and not really for the coffee anymore.
It’s not really flirting, what Dean does, but sometimes Cas likes to imagine it could be a thing close to it. Sometimes Cas likes to imagine there could be more between him and this gorgeous, friendly, tough-but-soft barista and shop-owner. Sometimes he likes to imagine going on dates, talking and laughing and getting to know more about Dean.
So now, with shops opening up again, Cas can’t stop thinking about going back for coffee or literally anything else — to see Dean and to support his coffee shop during this horrible and complicated time. He decides, eventually, to combine it with his weekly grocery run.
When he pushes the door to the shop open a few days later, it feels like an entirely different place.
There’s disinfectant by the door, for one, papers hung up that ask him to please wear a mask. But most importantly, there aren’t any people, where there used to be fights over seats by the window. There‘s less tables and chairs too, to make sure there‘s enough space if people come and want to sit downy
Dean stands behind the counter, with none of his usual bravado or grinning, a bright red mask hiding his nose and lips.
“Hello and welcome, how can I help you today?” he asks, voice friendly but definitely faking his happiness.
“Hello, Dean,” Cas answers, and watches Dean do a double take, leaning over the counter a little. “I’d like an Americano and a muffin, if you have any?”
“Cas, holy shit, it’s been a while,” Dean breathes, eyes suddenly a little bit brighter. “How are you? How have you been dealing?”
“It’s been okay,” Cas answers, almost automatically. Then he catches himself, thinks about all the times he has been honest with Dean and was greeted by nothing but comfort and understanding. “Actually, it’s been a little terrifying. I’m lucky to be able to teach from home, but I haven’t seen my friends and family in weeks, I miss��� I miss them.”
Dean looks almost as sad as Cas feels. “Yeah, same. I miss my family a lot. And my friends, obviously. I missed you, to be honest.”
Cas feels a blush spread across his face, even up and above his mask, his eyes jumping between Dean’s. “I missed you too. I really — I really enjoy my visits here.”
“Yeah?” Dean asks, blushing a little, himself. “I’m glad to see you. To know you’re alright. I wondered, even thought about… How I could contact you?” He laughs, eyes flitting down towards the counter. “Looking you up online felt too stalkery, though.” Dean turns before Cas can answer, starting the machine and preparing Cas’ order.
“You,” Cas starts, voice breaking a little. “I could give you my number?”
He doesn’t really expect Dean to whirl around with happy eyes — but he hadn’t expected Dean to think and worry about him, either.
“Yeah?”
“Yes, I’d be happy to give it to you.”
Eventually, Cas walks home with not only coffee and a chocolate-chip muffin, but also Dean’s number.
He’s just around the corner when his phone buzzes in his pocket with a text.
Dean - 11:08
Hey there! Forgot to tell you how cute you look with the longer hair ;) even rocking the mask. Maybe I could call you in the evening? Dean
97 notes · View notes
duskowithapen · 4 years
Text
Day One: Tattoo Artist/Flower Shop AU
Writers Month 2020: Day One
Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug
Pairing: Luka x Marinette
Of Flowers and Tattoo Needles
Miraculous AU where Marinette is the tattoo artist with some very impressive ink and Luka is pining from across the way where he works at his sister’s flower shop. Day One of Writer’s Month 2020 – Tattoo Artist/Flower Shop AU
Read on AO3
Read on Fanfiction
“You’re drooling.”
Luka straightened quickly, wiping a hand over his chin. “No I’m not.” He turned around to see his sister walking in from the back room, a sprig of lavender tucked behind her ear.
“You might as well have been,” she says, walking closer to lean beside him at the counter. “Not that I’d blame you – Marinette’s cute.”
The Marinette in question was the owner of the tattoo parlour across the way. On quiet days like today, she could be seen sitting outside her shop with a sketchbook. Luka swallowed dryly. The sun was shining off her impressive tattoo – a full sleeve that wound around her wrist and up over her shoulder in a tangle of flowers and vines that he couldn’t see clearly.
“Well?” Juleka’s dry voice snaps his attention back.
“Well what?”
She waved a hand towards the door. “Are you going to get a tattoo?”
Luka splutters. “W-What? Why would I – what makes you think –” How’d she known I’d considered it?!
He’s saved by the bell – literally – as Rose walks in. “Jule’s, what are you doing to your poor brother this time?” She asks, joining them at the counter which was suddenly feeling a little cramped.
Pecking her partner on the cheek, Juleka smiles innocently. “Trying to convince him to get a tattoo.”
“Oh, you totally should!” Rose claps her hands. “You have to go to Marinette – between her and Nathaniel, you’ll get the coolest tattoo! Marinette was the one who designed ours!”
“Really?” Luka glance at Juleka’s uncovered wrist. It was ringed by a flower wreath – red and purple roses (passionate love and love at first site), hot pink dahlias (commitment) and bright red gladiolus’ (strength and integrity). Rose had one exactly the same. It was a beautiful representation of their relationship – one Luka was waiting for them to consummate with a marrige. It was also a nod to their shared brainchild.
The Secret Garden might have only been a few years old, but it had blossomed into one of the most successful flower shops in Paris, often completely selling out around any holiday, and with a reputation for incredible flower arrangements, which Luka was proud to say he had a hand in.
Luka smiled. “I wouldn’t mind a tattoo,” he said after a moment, “Maybe something for you and mum – like her raven tattoos.”
Juleka’s smile was small, but no less terrifying for it. “Then go talk to Marinette now. Doesn’t look like she has any clients.” She was still sitting outside her shop.
As Luka was pushed out the door, Rose shoved a small posy of cherry blossoms into his hand. “Give Marinette these – they’re her favourite!”
How does she know her favourite flowers? Luka thought wildly as the door locked behind him. Slowly crossing the narrow avenue, he could feel their gaze burning into the back of his neck, and his hands became sweaty. They were making him nervous. He didn’t normally get nervous. He normally wasn’t going to ask a very cute girl to give him a tattoo.
Marinette looked up as he approached, and he couldn’t help but notice how adorable the freckles dotting her nose and cheeks were. Luka dug his fingers into his leg. You’re here for a tattoo, he reminded himself, not to check out the artist! But he couldn’t stop himself from taking in the blue sheen to her pigtailed hair, the welcoming smile stretched across her face, the impressive artwork which looked even better close up. Spiralling around her arm on pale green stalks and vines were cherry blossoms, pink orchids, blue morning glories, larkspur, hyacinths and bright yellow daffodils. Renewal, fertility and abundance, affection, cheer and goodwill, sincerity, luck and good fortune… he thought absently. After so long working with flowers – and even longer hearing about them from Rose – the symbolism came to mind automatically.
“Uh… hello?”
Luka blinked. Her eyes are really blue. Then he remembered himself and smiled. “Sorry. Are you Marinette?”
Her grin became wider. “Yup! Are you Juleka’s brother?”
“Yeah. She and Rose said that these were your favourite flowers?” He held out the blossoms. “They asked me if I could give them to you.” Well, technically they did. Even if it was meant to be more from me than them.
“Awww, thank you!” Marinette buried her nose in the pale pink petals and breathed deep. “They’re beautiful!”
“You’re welcome,” Luka said numbly. Her smile was almost blinding. “Uh, there was something else.”
Marinette’s head tilt made her pigtails bounce. It should be illegal for someone to look this adorable. “How can I help?”
“I was wondering about getting a tattoo.”
“Oh, of course!” Marinette leapt to her feet. “What else do you come to a tattoo parlour for? I’m so sorry, come in and we can get started right away!” She babbled. “Or should I say, welcome to Charmed Ink! Do you have any ideas for what you want? I’m partial to flowers as you can see, but I’m good at more tribal stuff too, and lettering, but Nathanial’s the best for portraits and a lot of the animal stuff..”
She continued to talk even as Luka took in Charmed Ink. The art on the inside of the tattoo parlour made it look larger than the comparatively small storefront suggested. The back wall was painted with an incredible mural of cherry blossom trees in full bloom, framing a red bridge arching over a river. The side walls were white and in scattered groups were photos of tattoo art – in one clump was a variety of dragon tattoos, in another was various words in all different fonts. The two tattoo stations were set in the back corners, with a small waiting area directly before the entrance. This was where Marinette led him, stopping quickly at a desk partially hidden by a folding screen.
She noticed his awed look at the back mural and smiled, a little calmer now. “That was a collaboration between Alix and Nathanial – he’s my other tattooist. They were all in my class in collége and lycée – same with Juleka and Rose, actually.”
“They did a great job,” Luka murmured. “And I’ve seen your work before – the tattoo you did for my sister was incredible. I was kinda looking for something similar.”
“Were you wanting a tattoo on your wrist too?” Marinette sat on one of the plush couches, and Luka sat across from her.
“No, I was thinking of something on my shoulder – my left shoulder,” He gestured, “Maybe going down my arm a little? I don’t want to go for a full sleeve now, but looking at your tattoo, I’d definitely consider it for the future.”
Marinette’s blush travelled across her cheeks and up her ears. “That – that’s a good plan. I can definitely work with that.” She made a note before looking at him under he lashes. “Were you wanting flowers?”
At Luka’s confused look, she continued, “You said you wanted something similar to your sisters, but you didn’t want it on your wrist…?”
“Ah, that’s right.” Luka tapped at his knee a little, quick staccato beat. “Yeah, I was thinking blue iris, gladilous and maybe daffodils.”
“Is there a meaning behind those flowers, or…?” Marinette made another note.
Luka nodded. “Yeah. Gladiolus’ are mum and Juleka’s birth flowers, not to mention their symbolism – strength and integrity. Blue Iris’ are my birth flower, meaning faith and hope, and daffodils are good luck and good fortune, but I also like the yellow.”
Marinette hummed. “I take it your favourite colour is blue?” She asked, waving her pencil at his blue hoody and matching Jagged Stone t-shirt. With a wince, he realised he was still wearing the Secret Garden apron over his faded jeans. Whoops.
“How did you guess.” Luka deadpanned, and he grinned at Marinette’s chuckle. “But seriously, yeah, I like blue and yellow. And, if we’re going for something like the start of a sleeve… think you could incorporate a snake or something in there?”
“Snakes are transformation and renewal, aren’t they?” Marinette murmured as she wrote. “There was this one symbol I remember, with a snake biting its tail…”
“The ouroboros,” Luka nodded, “It’s an eternity symbol.”
“Hmmmm…” Marinette started sketching in earnest. “So we’re going for something that can be added to later, definitely going for a circling snake – probably around your arm – but should the head be going up or down – put the flowers in colour clusters, or mix them up… maybe have them growing out of the snake? But if the snake is blue… you’ve got the more teal tips to your hair, so I could go for something more on the green side of the spectrum to help tie it in, but the snake should also stand out…”
All Luka could do was watch as Marinette seemed to get lost in a creative haze. Her pencil moved rapidly over the page as she sketched, occasionally going back over a line with her eraser, muttering about her hand not listening to her brain. Once or twice she looked something up on her phone before continuing – at one point, she leapt out of her seat to go and stare at one of the photos on the wall.
This process went on for about twenty minutes, Luka browsing through social media in between watching Marinette with what Juleka would probably class as a ‘disgustingly lovestruck’ look on his face. He couldn’t help it! She was just so vibrant, pouring all this passion into her work. Not to mention the cute little wrinkle between her eyebrows as she seemed to struggle with something at the bottom of the page.
Marinette slammed her sketchbook down with a bang that made him jump. “So! I have a tentative outline – tell me what you like and don’t like, and we can work from there.”
The sketch – and Luka didn’t know how Marinette could class this as an outline given the level of detail – featured all the aspects he wanted. On the front and back sketch of his arm and shoulder was a winding snake, the head sitting just under his collarbone and the rest of its body circling his arm before ending just above his elbow. But it didn’t just circle his arm. It also twisted around the gnarled and knotted stems that supported intricate bursts of flowers. An iris sat directly below the snakes head before more flowers dotted the stem around his shoulder to a larger, more detailed flower on his shoulder blade. Gladiolus’s tangled with the main body of the snake, interspersed with tiny iris’ and leaves, merging with daffodils close to his elbow. Each flower differed in size, though the iris on his back was the largest, probably about the size of his palm if he got the proportions right. Notes on both sides of the sketch were arms with arrows and a frankly scary amount of question marks. Luka looked away when he saw the words ‘dark coffee brown’ and ‘burgundy vs wine’.
“This… this is incredible Marinette.” He looked up at where she was wringing her hands. When she bit her lip, he had to refrain from reaching up and biting it for her. Concentrate Couffaine!
Marinette giggled, the sound high with nerves. “Thanks Luka. It’s a bit rough, and I’d want to go over the colours with you before we start anything, but I’m glad you like it. Anything you’d want to change?”
“Not really,” He hummed. “How would you continue this, if you were going for a full sleeve?”
When Marinette took a seat at his side, leaning into his shoulder a little, Luka stiffened. He hadn’t noticed before, but she’d split the posy of cherry blossom flowers into two and attached them to her pigtails – their scent wafted over him, and he tried not to breathe too deeply. “Well, if I was going to do a full sleeve with the snake, I’d make the snake the body of the tattoo,” she said, pointing at various parts of the sketch, “Probably make the circuits wider and accentuate the gaps a little more with the flowers. The head would have to be a little bigger, to make it proportionate, but otherwise not much would change.”
Luka nodded slowly. “So, say, if you maybe did that – the thing with the head and the – the circuits? And then have the snake ‘end’ in a clump of flowers above my elbow.” It was his turn to point, dragging a finger along the clump of daffodils and trying very hard to ignore the way Marinette pressed just a little closer to see. “Maybe if you added some of the gladiolus and iris here as well, and then if I add more to the tattoo later, you can have the rest of the body kind of emerge from there.”
“That would work really well actually,” Marinette said as she took the sketchbook back. Luka tried not to pout as her warmth moved away. “I can make a wreath just above your elbow – kinda like what I did for Juleka and Rose – and have the snake’s body ‘disappear’ into that. It would be easy work to make it ‘reappear’ beneath it later.”
Marinette scribbled these notes in as she spoke, before turning back to him. “So, about price… for a piece like this – half sleeve, colour and design… you’re looking at about one and a half grand.”
His eyebrows threatened to disappear into his hairline. “That low?” While he hadn’t seriously thought about getting a tattoo before today, he’d spent time with a lot of people who had. A full sleeve tattoo could cost as much as four grand – a half sleeve would be at least two.
“You’re getting the friends and family discount.” Marinette shrugged. “And I’ve been in a bit of a designing rut lately – all people seem to want are dragons or family names. This is a bit of a godsend, actually.”
Luka smirked. “Friends and family discount, huh?”
With her nose in the air, Marinette sassed, “Of course. Juleka’s my friend, and you’re her family.”
Throwing caution to the wind, Luka leaned in a little. “That’s why, huh? I’m hurt Marinette.”
“Hopefully you aren’t so sensitive when it comes time for me to break out the needles, Luka. I don’t want to listen to you crying for the six hours this is going to take.” The smirk she shot him sent a thrill through his chest. She’s got some fire.
“Oh believe me, Marinette.” Luka steadied himself on the couch back behind her shoulders and gave Marinette his best stage-ready, sweet-talking, come-hither bedroom eyes before growling out, “I don’t think six hours with you will be any hardship.”
90 notes · View notes
blisslilywrites · 4 years
Text
𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑠.
Tumblr media
➵︎ You’re a fairy who accidentally wound up in this world, but with the help of a human you met, you’re hoping you’ll be able to find a way back
Pairing: Tsukkishima x Fairy!Reader Word Count: 1.6k [one-shot] Genre: fluff(?), fantasy Warnings: none
A/N: yepp this is pretty late but ive been busy lately plus i wasn’t rlly happy with how this turned out but figured might as well just post it -lily 
Tumblr media
The ground glowed blue. Fallen leaves and loose pieces of grass started swirling around you. 
This is not good.
You saw a flash of white and suddenly fell through the ground. 
The world became dark. 
You screamed and flailed, flapping your wings out of instinct. It proved futile and you soon realized your surroundings were devoid of air. You were just… falling. 
As soon as you realized this, everything became light again and you saw the grassy ground approaching fast. You hit the ground with a thud a second later and knocked yourself out. 
When you woke up, you groaned and slowly got up. Turning around, you took in your surroundings. A few bushes sprouted here and there, grass that extended in all directions, and a smooth gray pathway that cut through the vibrant green. 
That’s odd. There aren’t any pathways like this in the fairy kingdom. 
You shrugged. Ah well who knows what projects the higher-ups are cooking up. This might just be another one of them.
You didn’t actually think it was some project the senior fairies were working on. It was just a way of trying to reassure yourself, and it wasn’t exactly working. The moment you woke up, you knew you weren’t in the Fairy Kingdom anymore
The scenery here wasn’t that different from the ones at home but there was still something that felt off about it. Maybe it was the pathway, or maybe it was the way the wind that blew in your face smelled a bit old. It didn’t seem to have the same freshness as the wind from back home. You tried your best to brush it off and come up with a plan.
Deciding the best thing would be to follow the path, you spread your wings, picked a direction, and let the path guide you.
After what must’ve been hours of flying, both wings were exhausted and you resorted to using your legs. The sky had become a palette of reds and oranges. 
It’s dusk. That means the night folk should be coming out soon.
You shuddered remembering the last time you had a run-in with one of the night folk. Not wanting something like that to happen again, you picked up the pace.
A while later, you spotted two lights in the distance. It was coming closer and closer at an alarming pace. You froze on the spot and couldn’t move until you heard a loud, blaring sound and instinctively dived out of the way. 
The lights zipped past and you could see they belonged to a shiny moving box of sorts. It wasn’t a creature you were familiar with and the fear that was inside since you fell through the portal started to grow. 
You hurriedly got up and continued walking. The further you went, the colder it became. You huddled your thin wings around your arms and continued forward, not wanting to stop until you found something, anything, that could serve as shelter. 
The pathway sloped downwards and you could make out faint lights coming from the valley below. Hurrying forward, you spotted what looked like a town and immediately uncurled your wings and flew down to it. 
Upon closer inspection, this town was nothing like the towns of the fairy kingdom. Lights came from strange places and gave off a white tang. There wasn’t any grass here, save for a few patches here and there. Instead, the ground was all smooth. There weren’t many trees either and you wondered what these creatures used for their homes. Did they live in the huge blocks that covered the area? 
You were curious to know what creatures lived here, and even more so, if they were welcoming.
-----
Practice had just ended and Tsukkishima was all ready to go home. Yamaguchi had stayed home sick so it was just him walking home today. He put on his headphones and strode out of school and onto the sidewalk leading home. 
He was well past the school when he noticed a few street lights flickering. This area of town always gave him the chills. At this time of night, no one was out and the streets were ominously empty. It was also very quiet, which didn’t exactly bother Tsukkishima but always struck him as a bit off for some reason. 
He was about to turn a corner when he bumped into someone. Looking down, he saw something, or rather someone, fumbling to get up. The force of walking into Tsukkishima had knocked them down so he begrudgingly gave them a hand. Begrudgingly because he was Tsukkishima, because he didn’t know this person, and because they were dressed head to toe in what looked like huge leaves and flower petals. 
The oddly-dressed person ignored Tsukkishima’s hand and jumped up on their own. It was then he saw the insect-like wings protruding from their back. 
Thinking this person was probably just another dedicated cosplayer, he muttered an apology and continued making his way back home.
-----
You stared at the creature you had just bumped into. This one was unlike the shiny moving box in that it had features similar to fairies. 
It had a nose, two eyes framed by something unfamiliar to you, a band that extended across its head and covered the sides of it, two arms and two legs clothed in interesting-looking garments. It didn’t have wings but was carrying a sack of sorts over its shoulder. The creature was quite tall, taller than you by much, so you had to look up towards it. 
Before you could say anything, he muttered something lost to you and turned to walk away.
“Wait,” you called out, going after it.
The creature didn’t turn around so you kept calling. It finally did and looked at you with what seemed to be extreme perplexity.
“What do you want?”
You paused, not quite understanding what this creature was saying but sensing it was somewhat annoyed. 
Ohhh we don’t speak the same language. You smacked your head, ashamed of not realizing it sooner.
In one fluent motion, you took some golden-colored dust from a pouch by your side and sprinkled it on your lips, murmuring an incantation while doing so. 
“Can you understand me now?”
The creature looked unimpressed and merely looked at you before repeating, “What do you want?”
“Umm..well you see, I’m lost. Could you tell me where we are..?”
The creature looked even more unimpressed and in a sarcastic tone he answered, “Japan.”
“J-Japan..?” 
You’ve never heard of this Japan place before and you were starting to worry more.
“What? Don’t know what Japan is?”
You nodded sheepishly regretting not paying much attention in world studies class.
Now the creature just seemed to look shocked.
“Where are you from then?” it asked.
“The Fairy Kingdom,” you replied almost instantly. 
It narrowed its eyes and scowled, “Where are you really from?”
“I told you, the Fairy Kingdom.”
-----
Tsukkishima had no idea why he was still talking to this person. They were clearly unhinged. He told them they were in Japan like the smartass he was but they seemed to have never even heard of it. 
The Fairy Kingdom? Wings? Clothes made out of plants?? Yeah, they definitely needed help. 
He was about to walk away, again, when they flew in front of him. They flew, with their insect wings that were apparently not a prop. He blinked once, twice. 
“Could you--”
“You’re an actual fairy?” he interrupted.
“Uh yeah.”
“And you’re from the..Fairy Kingdom?” 
“Yes. That’s what I’ve been saying,” the fairy pouted and flapped their wings in a huff.
Tsukkishima found that action a little cute but kept it to himself. He was still processing all this.
You stopped pouting and fluttered to the ground. 
“Umm, so it seems I may have gotten myself a little lost and ended up here.” Looking up at him, you asked in your most pleading voice, “Could you maybe help me find my way back… please?”
He hesitated. He’s heard stories of deceiving fairies and how people said to not get into deals with them. Or maybe that was another fictional creature… Either way he wasn’t about to risk anything without the prospect of getting anything in return.
“What do I get? In return for helping you?”
“The satisfaction of doing a good thing?”
He shook his head, “Not good enough.”
“Ummmmm… I’ll owe you?”
“Hmm interesting offer,” he said with a smirk. “We can discuss that in detail later. For now, let’s go. It’s getting late.”
“Wait so are you going to help me?”
“Possibly.”
You cracked open a wide smile and jumped up in the air, flying alongside him as he walked down the path. 
“Thank you… What was your name? I didn’t quite catch it.”
“You can call me Tsukkishima.”
“Tsukkishima..that’s kinda long. I think I’ll just call you Tsukki,” you said with a grin. “By the way, my name’s Y/N. Nice to meet you.”
He cringed internally wondering what he had just gotten himself into. 
It’ll all be fine though. There’s no way this could be real. This was just some dream or hallucination brought on by his exhaustion from practice. Yes, that was it. He’ll gladly humor this fairy. It was just a dream anyway.
The next morning when he woke up, the first thing he saw was your face, wide-eyed curiously peering down on him.  
He let out a yelp and quickly reached for his glasses. 
Taking a deep breath, he calmed down and realized two things: he was late for school, and you were still here which meant… it wasn’t a dream after all.
Tumblr media
A/N: qksnkd okk not my best fic,,, it feels incomplete somehow? idk maybe if i get some inspiration in the future i’ll consider writing more parts. also hoped tsukki wasn’t too ooc;-;
81 notes · View notes
Moral Support | Diego Hargreeves x Reader (Oneshot)
Prompt: Hurt/Comfort
Fandom: The Umbrella Academy
Words: 1572
Warning: TUA Season 2 Ep 6 Spoilers
-
Diego told you to wait in the car, but of course you weren’t going to listen and he knew that. He had even rolled his eyes when you said you will, followed by the slam of the car door. You waited until they were all inside before you made your way in. You knew what floor it was, so you could just simply use the stairs and your abilities to catch up.
As you walked into the grand lobby, you looked up and smirked. Or you could just fly up. You closed your eyes and concentrated, your long coat turning into wings and as you opened your eyes, they were black like an eagle’s. With a bend of the knees you jumped up with your arms wide open, feeling yourself fly past the floors until you reached your destination. You landed on the railing and made your way to the elevator.
You were planning a grand entrance, but as the metal doors opened, a strong stench flooded the corridor. You shrunk back and cough, making way for the others to flee the confinement.
“Happy that you came?” Diego teased.
“Shut up,” you muttered, shoving his shoulder.
“Come on, let's go. And let me do all the talking, alright,” Five said, walking ahead towards the Tiki Lounge. “And, (Y/n), this is a family matter-”
“I’ll stay out of it for as much as possible,” you said, raising your hands, “No problem, old man.”
“Thank you,” he said, fixing his jacket, “Though I highly doubt that you’ll follow through, at least you're the sensible one. I know you won’t say anything without reason.”
“Whoa,” Luther said defensively.
The others debated who should talk first and how to go about facing their father while you stood to the side, sitting yourself next to Diego. You sighed when Diego chucked the conch that Vanya suggested to use across the room, already getting a bad feeling about this meeting.
“You tried,” you told Vanya, “And I think it would have worked with an even tempered group.”
With the slam of the doors, the group fell silent, watching a younger Reginald Hargreeves stride over towards the head of the table with a book in hand. They all took their seats, an uneasiness washing over them. It had been years since they’ve faced their abusive father, so you couldn’t blame them. Yet, this version of their father doesn’t even know the trauma that he had brought to them in the future.
You kept your promise so far and stayed silent, listening in to their discussion. That is, until Hargreeves wanted them to prove their powers. For a while, you thought you could get away with it by sitting back, but he turned to you.
“And you?” he asked.
“Thankfully, I’m not one of your adopted children,” you said, sipping on your pina colada.
“Then why are you here at this important meeting?” he demanded, staring you down condescendingly. “You have no business here.”
“Moral support?”
Hargreeves scoffed and was about to retort when Diego snapped. He leaned forward. “Look, we know that you’re involved in the plot to assassinate the president,” he started.
You sighed, shaking your head. You told him that Hargreeves being there didn’t mean that he conspired JFK’s assassination. Correlation does not prove causation, but Diego was dead set sure that his dear old dad was up to no good.
“You were recently hospitalized, isn’t that correct?” Hargreeves said. Diego shook his head, knowing where he was going with this. “You still seem to be suffering with delusions of grandeur and acute paranoia.”
“Am I?” Diego took out the photo taken from the Frankel Footage and pointed at it. “Explain this. That’s you. That’s two days from now on the grassy knoll at the exact same spot that the president is gonna get shot.”
Hargreeves took the photo and eyed Diego critically. “Well… I suppose you solved it, then. You single handedly unearthed my nefarious plot. Is that what you want to hear?”
You grabbed Diego's arm, urging him to sit back down, but he shrugged you off. You looked towards his siblings for help, but they were as silent as you were, watching the scene unfold. There was no need for your powers for the extra boost in your senses to tell that Hargreeves was getting to him. Hearing him continuing to criticize Diego might also be getting to the others as well, even Vanya, who was lowering her head.
As the insults kept hitting, the cold hard truths in the form of knives stabbing Diego over and over in the wounds that hadn’t quite healed, he slowly slunk down in his seat. This time, you gripped his arm and he let you as he shook.
“-A man in over his head!” Hargreeves concluded.
“Y-y-you’re w-w-wro-ng,” Diego managed to reply.
You knew Diego had been cut deep when he started stuttering again.“Okay! Time for my role as moral support,” you said, setting down your drink. “Listen, Reggie. Diego is someone who wants to save people and save the world because he’s a kind and compassionate person that wants to do good, not because he’s a calculative soldier following orders from a man who shows more affection to his experimental ape than his own adopted human children. The fact that the apocalypse could have been prevented had you been a goddamn father for them says a lot about you and what you think you’re achieving, so I suggest you hold off your tactless psychological analysis, that is clearly not going to give you any positive results, to yourself and listen to them for once. Thank you.”
“(Y/n),” Five said, reaching over to grab your shoulder.
“What?”
He pointed up at lights hanging over the table. Small black dots were falling down and landing on the table, crawling towards Hargreeves. Black widows. Your tongue tapped your incisors, confirming that fangs had grown. You looked around at the table, no one but Five and Diego meeting your eyes. You took a deep breath, feeling the fangs retreat along with the small spiders.
It was Diego’s turn to pull you down and you let him. He squeezed your arm in a sign of gratitude. You nodded, then looked back at Five. Once he knew you were calm, he pushed the discussion forward about the upcoming Doomsday.
Hargreeves was condescending as ever, acting as if it wasn’t his problem to deal with. Klaus began to act weird and you closed your eyes, switching them to cat eyes. Although cats can’t see ghosts as clearly as Klaus, they have an awareness of where they are. Ben was here.
You rushed over as Klaus collapsed, managing to let out a faint confirmation that Ben was trying to possess him. After Luther’s outburst, showing Hargreeves what he had done to him, Hargreeves simply dismissed him and walked around you as you heaved Klaus up. He eyed you curiously before continuing forward, requesting to speak to Five in private.
“Come on, big guy,” you said, “Help me?”
Luther stood there, dumbfounded, before snapping out of it, picking up Klaus with ease and dragging him all the way to the elevator. He propped him against the back wall and the others piled in, Diego being the last one and the nearest of the door.
“Congratulations,” Allison said to Luther.
“For what?”
“I think that was the first time ever that you stood up to dad,” she said, sounding impressed and Luther hadn’t realized about that until now.
“Are you okay?” Vanya asked Diego.
He was silent for a moment, looking at you, then glancing at the others over his shoulders. “So much for having my back in there,” he muttered, “Team Zero, my ass. At least (Y/n) said something, and they haven’t even met the guy before.”
“Dee, I’m pretty sure the only reason I could say anything, that I was the only one that could say anything, was because I never met him before,” you said, defending the others. “It’s not completely their fault. I wasn’t the one that had to grow up with his toxic bullshit, okay? You guys did. I give you guys credit for even coming all the way here in the first place to face him.”
“Well, you gave us too much credit,” he said, walking out as soon as the doors opened.
You muttered your farewells to the others before rushing after Diego. You stopped him outside by the curb, grabbing his arm. He whipped around and pointed a finger at you in warning.
“Diego, he’s an asshole. That’s a massive understatement,” you said, “but all those things he said does not change all that you’ve accomplished on your own. You survived with the cards that you were dealt with. You saved people.” Diego shook his head, turning to walk away but you held firm. “You saved me, remember?”
“Thought you said that you had that situation handled,” he said, his cheekiness slowly getting back.
“I’m not afraid anymore to admit that I needed a little help back then,” you said, “I’m always here if you need to talk, Dee.”
Diego sighed, closing his eyes and pressed his forehead against yours. “I know.”
He opened his eyes and saw a familiar figure moving in the parking lot. Just like that, he was off. And, like always, you made sure he didn’t go and get himself killed.
168 notes · View notes
iamnotoriginalphil · 4 years
Text
Hotel Rooms and Early Mornings (Helena Bertinelli x f!Reader)
Tumblr media
Synopsis: There’s only one bed
Words: 3k
Warnings: smut, swearing
**GIF not mine**
You stared down at the single bed. When you’d hastily checked in you had asked for a double room and had been reassured the two of you would be very comfortable. You had stupidly assumed that meant there would be two singles, not a single double. You had thought it was odd the way the check in clerk had emphasised the word friend but had been too focused on getting into the room to pay any attention to it.
“Well, this is a surprise.”
Helena was staring at the bed too. It was perfectly made, chocolates on the pillow, the exact kind of place you had once dreamt of being able to afford to stay in. Now you wished you were anywhere but here.
“I can go downstairs and ask for them to fix this,” you said, already turning away to go back to reception.
“No, it’s late and we can both fit in that bed,” she said, putting her hand on your arm, stilling you instantly, “lets just go to sleep. We have an early start tomorrow.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m going to have a shower.”
She disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a soft click. You sunk down onto the edge of the bed, burying your head in your hands. Normally you’d be fine sharing a bed with a friend, if you weren’t hopelessly in love with said friend. You weren’t sure you’d be getting much sleep that night.
“Are you alright?”
You hadn’t noticed the door to the bathroom open, nor the puff of steam that had exited the room with her. She was looking at you, concerned. You sighed.
“Just tired. If you’re done, I’m going to shower.”
She let you pass, surrendering the bathroom to you. You shut the door, closing her away from you and the complicated feelings constricting your heart. You sighed again, squeezing your eyes shut. You ran the shower, trying not to imagine Helena in the exact position you were now standing, water streaming down her naked body, her hands running over her skin. You turned the water from hot to cold.
When you emerged from the bathroom Helena had turned the lights off, the bedside lamps throwing up a soft glow to the room. She was looking out the hotel window onto the dark night. Her face was nothing but shadows and highlights, a painfully beautiful picture of light and darkness.
“Left or right side?”
She turned, looking less interested in the outside world than the one in your little room. She gave you one of those soft smiles that made your heart skip a beat. You gave her an answering smile.
“I don’t mind. You choose.”
You slipped into the bed, the sheets soft against the bare skin of your arms. Helena turned the lights off, climbing into the bed beside you. The city lights outside the window were just enough to cast shadows in the room. You turned your head, finding dark eyes staring back at you.
“Goodnight,” she whispered.
“Goodnight.”
It was hard to relax when the scent of Helena wrapped around you. Every shift of her body was like an earthquake to you and the warmth rolling off her in waves was making it too hot for your brain to function. Given all that, it was a surprise when you eventually dropped off to sleep.
You awoke to the soft light of early morning and a pair of strong arms wrapped around you. You closed your eyes, snuggling back against the warm body pressing into your spine. Warm breath ghosted over the back of your neck. You let out a contented sigh, getting ready to go back to sleep.
“We have to get up.”
Helena’s voice was raspy first thing in the morning, managing to be both sexy and adorable at the same time. You grumbled, pulling her arms tighter around you. She chuckled, running her nose up the column of your throat.
“We have a job to do.”
“It can wait,” you mumbled.
One of her hands slipping under your shirt, her fingers stroking along the skin of your stomach. You stiffened, the niggling voice in the back of your head finally being heard. This wasn’t right. This was wrong. Helena should not be acting this was.
She sighed, drawing her arms tighter around you. You grabbed her wrist, not sure if you were trying to pull them of you or hold her tighter.
“What are you doing?” you asked.
“What do you mean?” she murmured.
Her lips brushed against the skin at the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You turned to face her, finding her face so close to yours the only way you could see her was if you crossed your eyes. You drew back a bit, one of your hands coming up to press against her shoulder. Her skin was silky under your touch, the thin strap of her tank top barely noticeable.
“Why are you touching me like this?” you asked, “we’re not…”
“Dinah told me this week would be the perfect time to tell you about my feelings,” she said.
“Helena, I know you think that explains things but it really doesn’t.”
“I am in love with you.”
Any words that you might have thought of saying in response died before they could ever formulate. You sat up, her arms falling from around you. The quilt pooled around your waist as she sat up too, drawing her knees to her chest.
“Dinah thought you felt the same. Was she wrong?”
You shook your head, still trying to wrap your head around the sudden change your life had taken. You had dreamed of this kind of confession from her but you had never thought it would happen. It had been a fantasy to fill your spare time with, not a reality you would have to face.
You turned around, putting a palm flat on the mattress to keep you from falling back. The colour had drained from her face and she was looking up at you with big eyes. You weren’t sure you had words to explain what was going on in your head.
You surged forward, pressing your lips to hers. She jerked backwards, pushing on your shoulders to get you away. You fell back, tears ready to fall at a moment’s notice. Her face had hardened, her eyes sharp. You turned away, your hands falling to your lap, your fingers twisting together.
“Don’t mock me,” she said.
“I wasn’t.”
She pushed the blankets off her, climbing out of the bed. She rooted through her bag as your tears began to fall. You bowed your head, letting them land on your hands. This was not how you thought this moment would ever go.
“Why are you crying?”
You shook your head. You didn’t need to explain your feelings, not to her after what had just happened. You climbed out of the bed, stumbling as your foot got caught in the covers. Strong arms wrapped around you, keeping you from falling on your face.
You looked up at her. She seemed worried, concerned, but closed off. You pulled out of her grip, pushing your hair behind your ear. You didn’t want to look at her anymore.
“Let’s just go finish this job.”
“(Y/N)…”
“Right now you’re not going to believe me no matter what I say,” you said, “so I’d rather we just forget all of this and move on.”
You pushed past her, getting ready to dig your clothes out of your bag. A hand closed around your wrist, stopping you before you could get away. You needed her off you, needed just a moment alone where you could get your thoughts straight. You needed to get your head on right or the rest of this trip was going to be unbearable.
“Believe you about what?” she asked.
Her voice was low, dangerous, daring you to lie to her. It sent a shiver down your spine, and it definitely wasn’t from fear. That voice had been the cause of many sleepless nights. Your tongue darted out, wetting your lips. Her eyes darken as they watched you.
“Believe. You. About. What?”
“THAT I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!”
The only sound in the room was your ragged breathing. You tried to pull your arm from her but she held on tight. She tugged you into her body. You caught yourself, your hand landing on her shoulders. Her free hand tangled in your hair, pulling you forward.
Her lips were insistent against yours. You slid your arms around her neck, keeping her close, pressing your body against hers wantonly. Her hand pushed against your lower back as her kiss consumed you body and soul.
She picked you up, your legs wrapping around her. Your body was slammed against a wall, pinned completely. You moaned into her mouth, sliding your hands into her hair. She groaned when you tugged on it, pressing against you more insistently.
“Helena,” you moaned.
Her lips attached to the underside of your jaw, her teeth nipping at your skin. Your head fell back against the wall. She sucked on your pulse point hard enough to leave a bruise on your skin. She ran her tongue over it, nipping at your skin again before kissing you hard and intense.
“Helena,” you whispered against her lips.
She hummed, drawing back from you. Her eyes were hooded, her lips kiss swollen, her hair in disarray from your fingers. She’s never looked so gorgeous to you.
“Don’t we have a mission to finish?” you asked.
“It can wait.”
She threw you on the bed. You bounced, falling back on the bed. She climbed over you, straddling your waist. You gripped her hips, digging your fingers into her flesh. Her hands skimmed over your body, pushing your shirt up your stomach. You shivered at the skin on skin contact.
“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered.
You sat up, gently cupping her cheeks. She was looking at you like you were the answer to every problem she’d ever had. You kissed her, softly, slowly, pouring every ounce of love you had into it. She sighed into your mouth, her arms wrapping around your waist.
You slowly drew away. Her eyes were closed, smiling at nothing. You pushed her hair behind her ear. She blinked her eyes open, chuckling. She kissed you again, her fingers running up under your shirt, tripping along your spine.  
“We really should go,” you said, “if we don’t leave now we won’t manage to get to the next city today.”
“I don’t wanna.”
She kissed you again, cutting off the rest of her sentence. You laughed, pulling away again. She followed, not letting you go. You pushed on her shoulders.
“Helena, I love you, but we really do have to go.”
“I love you too.”
You couldn’t stop yourself from kissing her again, all tongue and teeth. Just hearing those four little words were enough to make your heart feel fit to bursting. You fell back on the bed, pulling her with you. She giggled into the kiss, pressing her body against yours. You didn’t want to let her go for even a second.
“If we don’t stop now I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to,” you said as her lips ran down your neck.
“You want to stop?” she murmured into your skin.
“No,” you groaned as her teeth sunk into your pulse point.
Your back arched towards her, every atom wanting to be close to her. If you could, every part of you would be touching every part of her. She ran her hands up your body, pushing your shirt up as she went. You shivered at the cool air touching your skin, chased away by the warmth of her touch.
Her thumb ran along the underside of your breast. You shivered, pressing closer to her. She hummed into the crook of your neck, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin she found there. Your fingers tangled in her hair, holding her close, a moan falling from your lips.
“Helena,” you groaned as her thumb swiped over your nipple, the bud hardening under her touch.
“Yes?” she asked, sitting back on her heels.
She watched your face as her thumb swiped over your nipple again. She looked hungry to see your reaction. Your back arched towards her, wanting more than the light touch. She pressed her other hand to your stomach, pressing down to keep you pinned to the mattress. With her other hand she pinched at the now hard bud of your nipple. You whined.
She pulled your shirt from your body, throwing it aside. Her eyes raked over your bare chest, her eyes darkening. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. She traced a finger down between your breasts. You shivered, straining towards her.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” she requested.
“Fuck me,” you moaned.
“How?”
You realised that this might be the first time she might have had sex. She genuinely seemed unsure what to do with you, spread out underneath her.
“Let me show you.”
You knocked her hands from your body, placing one on your breast, the other resting at the waistband of your shorts. Her eyes were hungry as they watched you. You rolled your nipple between thumb and forefinger, your back arching up into your touch. You kept your eyes trained on her, watching her reaction to you.
You pushed your other hand under the waistband of your shorts, you finger running through your folds. You moaned, your hips bucking up towards you.
Another set of hands tugged your shorts down, pulling them off your legs. You circled your clit with a finger, looking up into the dark eyes of Helena as you pinched at your nipple. She bit down on her lip, watching your hands move over your own body.
You hissed as you ground your thumb against your clit. The spring within you was beginning to tighten. Her hand knocked yours from your breast, taking over playing your body. She experimentally rolled it between her fingers, watching your face contort with pleasure. She tugged on it. You let out a strangled noise, surprised by the shot of pleasure that ran straight down to your core. She did it again. Your legs trembled.
“Do you like that?” she asked.
“God yes,” you moaned, increasing the pressure on your bundle of nerves.
She knocked your hand aside. You let out a frustrated mewl, your legs snapping together as you tried to get some friction back. She pushed her hand between them and began to circle your clit as she’d seen you do, her finger barely brushing over your bundle of nerves. Your legs fell open again, bucking up against her hand. She looked on hungrily.
“Helena,” you whined.
Your hand slipped between your legs again. You pressed your finger to your entrance, pushing into yourself. You arched your back as she pinched at your nipple again, her thumb passing over your clit. You whined again as her fingers disappeared from your clit.
She pulled your hand from between your legs. She took the fingers into her mouth, sucking on them as she pushed her own finger into you. You moaned. Her palm brushed over your clit again. Your hips jerked up, your breathing turning ragged.
“More,” you groaned.
“More?”
“Another finger.”
She pushed another finger into you, her palm pressing more insistently against your bundle of nerves. The coil within you was tightening. She bowed her head, taking one of your nippled in her mouth. You made a high keening noise, your back arching into the warmth of her mouth. Her hand began to grind against your clit as her fingers thrust in and out of you. You were panting, your fingers clutching at the sheets beneath you. You were biting down on your lip to keep quiet. You could taste the coppery tang of blood on your tongue, your teeth having broken through the skin of your lip.
“Is this good?” she asked.
“So good,” you moaned.
Her teeth scraped over your nipple. You fell over the edge, your body growing rigid as your orgasm ripped through you. She stilled above you, drawing back to watch you. Your fingers twisted in the sheets, looking right into her eyes as the pleasure coursed through your veins, slowly coming down from your high.
You sat up, kissing her again. She pressed her body against yours, her arms wrapping around your waist. You drew back, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“You were amazing,” you murmured.
Her face looked soft but she climbed off you, turning away. You followed her to the edge of the bed, wondering if you’d said something wrong.
“We should go,” she said.
“Oh, now you care about the time,” you said but didn’t argue.
She took her clothes from her bag, locking herself away in the bathroom. You sighed but pulled on your own clothes. The bathroom door opened, light spilling into the room. You glanced up as you zipped up your bag.
“Are you going to be awkward the rest of this trip?” you asked her.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she replied stiffly.
“Well, just so you know, I love you and I plan on returning the favour when we get to the next hotel,” you said.
She looked at you, wide eyed. You gave her a smile, walking up to her. You kissed her lips, softly and slowly, waiting for her to push you away. Her hands eventually landed on your shoulders, neither pulling you closer or pushing you away. You drew back with a smirk.
“Let’s go. The sooner we get there the sooner we can start having some more fun.”
She shot out of the room so quickly it was as if the devil was on her tail. You followed behind, laughing at her eagerness. Yeah, you’d be having some fun.
167 notes · View notes
superbataddicted · 4 years
Text
Writer’s Month 2020 (Day 14)
Day 14 Prompt: Metamorphosis
Pairing: Superbat, Clark Kent x Bruce Wayne
Summary: One-shot, Fluff and Introspective (from the eyes of Bruce’s kids)
Changes were happening and everyone was well aware.
Dick noticed the mirroring of their gestures – how Clark would arch an eyebrow, remarkably similar to Bruce’s, and how Clark’s Kansas expressions had slipped into Bruce’s vocabulary.
And when Clark was arguing with Bruce, he would plant his hands on his hips, chin out and brows furrowed. Now, Bruce was doing the same – fists on hips instead of arms crossed and shoulders hunched, looking as if he was bracing for a fight.
Dick loved watching the two of them go at each other like this, face to face and hands on hips. It was a sight to behold and even their tone and pitch were so alike – Clark adopting Bruce’s tendency to growl through clenched teeth.
Tim, however, liked the improvement to Clark’s fashion. Although the plaids were still evident and the oversized clothing as well – the overall feel was that of being done on purpose. That Clark had chosen to wear his suit a little looser or he had tucked his shirt out a little more to pursue a retro-style of dressing.
Even his plaids had undergone an upgrade, all thanks to Bruce’s endeavour. Resigned to the fact that his husband would never give up on plaids, Bruce had taken to designing them, utilising top-notch materials. Of course Bruce was careful not to make them look expensive, and both he and Tim were very much tickled by the fact that Clark was wearing high-end fashion which looked so ordinary.
Jason, though, was definitely enjoying dinner more with Clark around.
It wasn’t that dinner wasn’t great last time. It was just that Bruce, in his attempts to connect with his kids, tried too hard. He was always careful with the topics he brought to the table, afraid of being a bore. So he would stick to what Google told him was the in-thing among the young, but it was obvious that he was not into them.  
Now, the conversation at dinner was so much freer – random stuff being talked about, be it about the past or their work or world news. Most of the time though, Clark would tease Bruce, stealing a piece of his favourite food or providing detailed description of his husband’s embarrassing acts.
Bruce, depending on his mood, would either be flustered or annoyed. At this point, the rest of them would jump in, either taking the side of Bruce or digging up more juicy titbits to share with Clark. Dinner would then become a chaotic mess, and Jason loved how much laughter and smiles there were then.
Damian had finally accepted that Clark was good for Bruce.
His father spent too much time indoors, either at some board meetings or reading reports in the study or tinkling in the Batcave. The functions and galas he had to attend were pretty much indoors too, and his father’s complexion was too pale for Damian’s liking.
With the inclusion of Clark into the family, his father was now sporting a tan, just enough colour to give him a healthy vibe. That was all due to Clark and his need to soak in some sun. And he would do his utmost best to drag Bruce along as well.
The two of them would then abandon Wayne Manor, heading for a shady spot in the rose garden. Very often, a picnic basket would come along too and inadvertently, his father would end up napping on Clark’s lap.
Besides that, there were also frequent visits to Smallville which contributed to the tan. His father would work alongside Clark, helping to upkeep the farm. Of course there would be secret trysts out in the wheat field or in the back of the old pick-up parked along some deserted lane. And Damian, who always came along to see the animals, would pretend not to know what the two of them were up to.
(Yea! I did 2 weeks of this.But I’m still a week behind.)
79 notes · View notes
joemerl · 4 years
Text
Writer’s Month, Day 19: “Deaging”
Fandom: Young Justice
Word count: 569
Summary: The Team finds a babysitter for the Justice League Babies.
Author’s notes: Are “Klarion deages one or more characters” fics still popular? I remember that they used to be. Anyway, here’s one random scene that I came up with in case I ever wanted to write one.
"SUPERMAN! GET DOWN!”
Superman cried as Conner grabbed him out of the air and wrestled him onto the couch—no small feat, as he still had, if not his full strength, far more than the average toddler. Conner grunted as Hawkman and Hawkwoman ran by and bumped into him without stopping.
"There are too many of them!” Wally screamed, carrying the Flash under one arm and Black Canary under the other. Then Black Canary screamed, causing a Canary Cry to hit the floor. Wally fell over and dropped them both.
"Don’t worry, I’ve got them! Well, one of them,” M’gann muttered. The Flash had managed to zip away, but she scooped up Black Canary and covered her mouth at the same time. She was also holding Captain Atom, Wonder Woman and the two Green Lanterns. She looked weird with that many arms.
Wally climbed to his feet just in time for Captain Marvel to fly by and start doing circles around his head. 
“WHEE!” 
Wally sighed. “Come here, Billy.”
Unlike the others, Captain Marvel didn’t seem to mind being restrained—when Wally plucked him out of the air he simply placed his head on his shoulder and wrapped his arms around his neck like a normal baby. Without really thinking Wally began to rock back and forth and pat him on the back.
“He looks younger than the others. Which I guess makes sense, since he’s younger to start with.”
“Yeah, but he was in his adult body, so—” M’gann suddenly grew yet another arm, using it to strike herself on the side of the head. “Hel-lo, Megan! AGH! Hey—!”
She dropped all of the toddlers—most ran or flew away, though Hal, who had fallen onto his backside, start crying. M’gann sighed and gave him a piece of candy to quiet him down.
"I have an idea. Wally, give him here.”
Wally handed Captain Marvel to M’gann, who sat him down on the chair. Conner, still wrestling with Superman, glanced over as she got down on her knees and looked baby Billy in the eye.
“Billy, do you remember the magic word?”
His large, blue eyes blinked as he regarded M’gann seriously.
“The magic word that makes you a superhero? Can you remember what it is?”
Captain Marvel screwed up his face. “Sha...sha...”
"Shazam.”
“SHAZAM!” he giggled, throwing up his hands.
Lightning flashed and thunder boomed, causing several of the nearby toddlers to scream in fear or delight. Once it cleared an eleven-year-old Billy Batson was sitting on the couch. He blinked in surprise, lowered his arms and began to examine himself.
“Whoa. That was weird.”
"HA! Great idea, M’gann! Now we can go help the others track down Klarion!”
"Billy, watch the kids,” Conner added as the three of them ran toward the exit.
“Huh?! I can’t watch this many kids! You realize I can’t use my superpowers, right?!”
They didn’t answer, disappearing around the corner. Billy stared after them until he felt Green Arrow pulling on his shirt.
“Tell me a story!”
“Make it about princesses!” Black Canary added.
“Princesses are stupid!”
“SHUT UP!” she yelled and tackled him. The two rolled around on the floor, hitting and pulling hair. Nearby, Aquaman sat on the ground and started crying for no reason. Batman used his toy-sized grappling hook to start climbing up the wall until John Stewart flew into him. 
Billy put his face in his hands and groaned. 
69 notes · View notes
Text
History Project
“Winchester, Novak, you two are the last pair of partners. Alright everybody, you have the rest of the period to determine what your project is going to be on. Remember, you must get it approved by me before you can begin working,” Ms. Harvelle said to her senior AP history class.
Dean sighed at hearing who he got partnered with. Castiel Novak was not the worst person to get partnered with but he wasn’t even close to the top of Dean’s list. Dean looked at Benny, his top choice, and felt a surge of jealousy that he got paired with the school’s genius, Kevin Tran. Benny was guaranteed to get an “A” now. Dean grabbed his bag and walked towards Castiel, who was sitting in the back right corner of the room, like he did in every class. For some odd reason, Cas refused to sit in any other seat.
Dean dropped his backpack on the ground before pulling a chair up and joining Cas at the table. “Hey Castiel, looks like we are partners,” Dean said nonchalantly.
Cas, who was drawing something in his notebook, didn’t look up but nodded his head. “Hello Dean. It seems we are. I’m sorry for that. I know that I wasn’t your first choice.”
“How could you know that?” Dean asked.
Cas glanced up before looking back down at his notebook. “I am the weird kid that nobody wants to work with. I’m sure you would have preferred Benny or Lisa. You probably would have taken Ketch over me.”
Dean grimaced. “Ugh, no! You’re way better than that snotty brit who thinks he knows everything. Honestly, Cas, I don’t mind being partnered with you.”
As he continued to watch Cas, he noticed the other boy suddenly set his pencil down and quietly clap his hands together three times before picking his pencil back up and start drawing again. Dean thought it odd but didn’t say anything; everybody had their eccentricities. He grabbed his pen and notebook from his bag and sat them on the table. “Alright Cas, any ideas on what to do our project on?” He waited for the other student to answer, but Cas just continued to draw in his book. Like before, Cas randomly put his pencil down and then clapped his hands three times. “Uh, Cas, you ok?”
After a few seconds, Cas finally responded. “I am fine. Do you have an idea about a project to do?”
Dean huffed. “That’s what I just asked you. Look, why don’t we look through the list of topics Ms. Harvelle gave us and mark any we would want to do. Then we can compare our choices and see if we have any in common.”
Cas clapped his hands again as he responded. “That sounds like a good idea.” He grabbed his list and started reading through it, never once looking at Dean.
“No wonder people don’t want to work with him,” Dean thought as he started going through the list. He marked off five things: Mongol Empire, Japanese Samurai, Roman Empire, Aztec Empire, and Greek Mythology. “Alright, I’ve got my list, what about you?”
Cas finally looked at Dean as he nodded his head. “My list is complete.” He clapped his hands again before sliding the list to Dean.
Dean looked at Cas’ list and was surprised at how many options on the list he checked off. Out of twenty-five topics, Cas checked off twenty-one. The four that he didn’t check were all the ones Dean had checked on his own list. There was only one choice they had in common: Greek Mythology. “Well, it seems we only have one item in common and that’s Greek mythology. Do you want to do that one since we both checked it off?”
“I think that would be best. What is your favorite topic relating to Greek mythology?” Cas asked as he continued to draw.
Dean could feel anger rising as his classmate kept ignoring him. He was trying to be a good partner and work with Cas and yet the other boy would barely look at him. Dean didn’t expect them to become best friends, but they could at least be civil and work together to get this project done. “Dude, would you look at me when you’re talking to me? I don’t even know if you’re paying me any attention.” Cas clapped again and went right back to his drawing. “And would you quit with the clapping, it’s really annoying!”
It was as if Cas didn’t even hear Dean as he kept on drawing. They sat in silence for a few minutes and when Cas clapped his hands again, Dean barely kept his anger under control. “Did you not hear me? I asked you to stop with the clapping!”
Cas actually looked at him and Dean felt bad when he saw Cas’ bright blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “I’m sorry I’m so aggravating to you Dean. If I could stop clapping, I would. If keeping eye contact with people didn’t cause me such anxiety, I would do it more often. Maybe we should just ask Ms. Harvelle if we can do our projects individually. Most of the teachers will make an exception because of my… uh, condition. They don’t want to deal with me either.” Cas dropped his gaze and went back to drawing, clapping his hands a few seconds later.
Dean was shocked at what Cas had just said. What condition did Cas have that would cause him to avoid eye contact and repetitively clap his hands? Even though he was weird and annoying, to think that even Cas’ teachers had been mean to him was heartbreaking. Dean suddenly felt really bad about his outburst. He looked over at Ms. Harvelle and decided he needed to talk to her.
Dean stood up and waited to see if Cas would look up. He noticed the other boy’s shoulders slumped and Cas sped up his drawing but otherwise didn’t move. Dean sighed as he walked over to the teacher. “Uh, Ms. Harvelle, can I speak to you privately for a moment?”
Ms. Harvelle looked up from her computer and smiled as she said, “Of course, Dean. What do you need?”
Dean chewed on his lip and cast a glance in Cas’ direction. The boy was still drawing, not paying anyone else in the room any attention. He looked back at his teacher. “It’s about Cas.”
“If you’re going to ask to work on your own, the answer is no,” she said before Dean could continue.
“Um, that’s not what I was going to ask. I mean, I was going to until Cas said something that was really sad,” Dean replied.
“Oh. What did he say?” She asked with concern.
“He said that he had a condition and most of the teachers didn’t want to deal with him because of it. I know Cas isn’t super popular, but I thought that teachers liked all of their students,” Dean said as he rubbed the back of his neck.
Ms. Harvelle snorted. “Trust me Dean, teachers don’t like all of their students. You better not tell anybody I said that, or I’ll never make you one of my special burgers again.”
Dean grinned. “Yes, Aunt Ellen, my lips are sealed. Do you know what condition Cas has?”
She was silent and Dean feared she wouldn’t tell him. After a minute, “I shouldn’t tell you, but I think it will help you understand Castiel a bit better. Castiel is autistic. That’s why he doesn’t retain eye contact very often, why he typically draws, and why he claps every so often. He will also not always answer you when you call him and sometimes has a hard time understanding other’s emotions.”
“Oh man, I really screwed up. I got so mad at him, but I didn’t know. I need to go apologize,” Dean said, his voice full of guilt.
Ellen stood from her seat and put a gentle hand on her adoptive nephew’s shoulder. “Dean don’t beat yourself up. You aren’t the first and sadly you won’t be the last. As you heard Cas say, a lot of his teachers have a hard time accepting him. I just hope from now on, you won’t be so quick to judge others.”
Dean dropped his gaze. “I promise not to. I feel really bad and just hope Cas will still want to work with me.”
Ellen flashed a smile at the teen. “Apologize and make sure he knows that you’re sorry. Honestly, I put you with Cas for a reason. I figured if there was anyone in class who would be willing to understand him and work with him, it would be you. One more tip, even if Cas looks like he’s ignoring you, he’s probably not.”
Dean felt a little better after hearing Ellen’s words. “Thanks, and I promise Cas and I will have an amazing project to turn in.”
Dean walked back to his seat and this time when Cas clapped, he didn’t find it as annoying as before. “Hey Cas, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for the way I acted before. I shouldn’t have gotten mad about things you can’t, uh, control. I promise to be more patient from now on.”
Cas didn’t look at him, but Dean was able to make out the smile that spread across his face. “Thank you, Dean. That means a lot. Does this mean that you want to be my partner?”
“Yeah Cas it does,” Dean replied with a grin. “So, my favorite topic in Greek mythology is the gods and goddesses. What about you?”
Cas nodded. “That’s actually my favorite topic as well. So, what kind of project do you want to do?”
“Alright guys, we’ve got about five minutes before class ends,” Ms. Harvelle warned.
“Hey, how about you come home with me today after school and we can brainstorm some ideas?” Dean offered as he packed his bag up.
“That would be acceptable. I will meet you after school by the gym,” Cas replied as he packed his own backpack up except for his notebook and pencil. While they waited for the bell to ring, he continued to draw in his book.
Dean looked over to see what he was drawing and gasped. “Dude, that’s amazing! How the heck can you draw that with just a pencil? Man, my stick figures are pathetic and here you are drawing a rendition of ‘A Starry Night.’”
Cas glanced at him with a smile before immediately dropping his eyes. “Thank you, Dean. I love drawing and this is my favorite painting, so I decided to try and draw it myself. It’s not as good as Van Gogh’s, but I’m proud of it.”
Dean’s eyes lit up. “That’s it! What if we made a book on the gods and goddesses? You can do the artwork and I could come up with a story? My drawing sucks, but my writing is pretty great.”
Cas nodded, clapping his hands excitedly. “I love that idea! We need to get it approved; I hope Ms. Harvelle will approve it.”
Dean stood from his seat and hurried over to his aunt. He told her their idea and she was very excited about their project. He walked back to Cas; a large smile plastered on his face. “She gave us a very enthusiastic yes! So, we can start working on it today after school, if you still want to come over that is.”
“I would still like to come over. The sooner we get started, the better,” Cas replied right as the bell rang.
The two boys walked out of class together, Cas drawing as he walked. Dean kept an eye out to make sure Castiel didn’t run into anything, but he didn’t need it. The other student avoided every obstacle with ease. They said their goodbyes as they parted ways, Dean going to science and Cas walking towards the art building.
By the end of their project, which they got an “A+” on, Cas had become one of Dean’s best friends. Five years later, Cas was a successful artist and Dean was working on his third book to publish. They were still best friends, but now they were also husbands who loved each other unconditionally.
Tagging: @lonewolf34500 @notwithd @starrynightdeancas @flowersforcas @cockleslovesdestiel
61 notes · View notes
kimmycup · 4 years
Text
Writer's Month 2020 Day 1: florist/tattoo artist
Here's the thing.
If Rhodey didn't know the idiots himself, he too would assume otherwise. It's easy to think so, when you meet them, that Loki is a tattoo artist and Tony the florist.
Well. That Loki is a tattoo artist, at least, he's not sure still why people assume Tony is a florist. Maybe they think those ink stains are dirt marks.
But Loki is tattooed, top to bottom (Rhodey never wanted to know that but now he does, and he had to live with it), in absolutely amazing suit of flowers, cogs, runes and subtle symbolism.
And Tony is, unless you've seen him shirtless in the summer, ABSOLUTELY BARE.
And you don't get to see Tony shirtless in he summer if you didn't earn it.
But if you did, you would see a steampunk style circular tattoo of his own design that's a representation of his pacemaker. He calls is the arc reactor and it's gorgeous, blue, and a biggest sign of trust to be shown it.
But Tony isn't a florist. Tony is the tattoo artist and Loki is the guy who run into his shop when they were both 19, Tony having started his business with money he didn't exactly ask his dad for, and Loki running away from home to get his first tattoo because it would piss his dad off.
And well. Loki liked it. And came back for another and ten more, and for the artist. And then Loki started his own business, a flower shop of all things, which apparently no one but his mother could have predicted.
And Tony might have pulled some (a lot) of strings to get Loki a place in the same building, so they could be door to door because at that point they were both about as subtle in their pining as a bull in a china shop.
And just as oblivious.
But they GOT THERE.
And looking at them walk down the isle surrounded by Loki's flowers, matching tattoos on their hands rather than rings, he thinks all that matters is that they did get there.
It's a strange and unusual combination, a florist and a tattoo artist, but no one could say either Loki or Tony are normal or boring either.
And all that matters is that's for all it's unique nature, the combination is clearly a very fitting one.
74 notes · View notes
ohmightydevviepuu · 4 years
Text
writer’s month prompts
prompt twenty-one:  family (this bit of captain cobra fluff was suggested by @katie-dub​ -- who apparently shares my obsession)
full collection on AO3
Tumblr media
It’s been years and Henry still has a terrible poker face; just, he’s really bad at lying, which is pretty dumb considering who his family is, he must get that from Grandpa, because out of all of them Prince Charming is hands down the worst liar in the group. So of course Killian immediately suspects something.
Like, jeez, it’s just an envelope, it’s not a Dark Curse. The Black Fairy, or--crap, his grandfather--would never be so boring. He can imagine the dismissive handwave from Regina, too, all how pedestrian, like she’s never seen something so ridiculous in her life. Seriously.
It’s an envelope that Henry spent way too long looking at over at Doc’s--not the envelope, really, but what’s inside of it, and the way he sweated over every word even though he was literally writing it with a magical pen.
His handwriting is awful and Killian likes to tease him about it and Henry always laughs and says, “Whatever, old man, some of us didn’t have actual centuries to practice our copperplate and make it perfect.”
Belle always laughs, too, when he says that. The way that Belle laughs at Killian makes Henry laugh, too, and it fills up the library shelves while they’re re-stacking or sitting in the back room drinking her favorite tea or just reading, Henry begging Belle to pull in subscriptions to his favorite comics while Killian--badly--attempts to catch up on a couple of centuries of pop culture.
He still hasn’t seen Star Wars, but that is mostly because whenever Emma says “Hey, you wanna go home and see what’s on Netflix?” that’s Henry’s cue to stay at Regina’s, instead. He’s got enough emotional scars already without having to listen to that.
And sometimes it’s really obvious that Killian’s only known a few kids in his entire life, like when he winks and says, “Come now, lad, enjoyment of sexual activities can be an important part of your life” and Henry tries not to vomit or roll his eyes--but then again, there’s Violet, isn’t there? And Henry knows who he’ll be going to with any Questions he has on that front when he’s ready. If he’s ready.
But his mom is happy, like--so, so, happy--happy in ways that Henry didn’t know a person could be happy. And it’s because of Henry, true, and also because of his grandparents and even Regina but it’s mostly because of Killian.
Henry’s happy, too, happy in ways he didn’t know he could be when he was ten years old and knocking on a stranger’s door in Boston after stealing a credit card and getting on a bus with a storybook that turned out to be real.
Hence the envelope. And the card.
They’re not big on holidays in Storybrooke except for that one freak year during the curse when they’d all remembered Valentine’s Day, all the other days subsumed by apocalypses and impending doom, which is probably why Doc has so many cards in stock. Most of them are out of date and really weird, but it’s June and time hasn’t stopped--yet--this year, or at least it hasn’t since the last curse, and the Black Fairy is behind them and his mom got married.
Henry hadn’t even known that was a thing she’d wanted to do, but leave it to the three-hundred-year-old self-proclaimed ‘man of honor’ to get all traditional about things, and now--well. Henry’s got a big family these days but he doesn’t have a dad and he misses his father but really it’s more like he misses the idea of him because he’d barely known Neal at all and then he was gone and his mom was really kind of a wreck about it and Killian had been the one to explain it to him, about his complicated history with Neal and Emma’s complicated history with Neal.
Killian had explained a lot of things. Astronomy and sword fighting and how to cheat at dice and how to win at cards and how to fight dirty when you had to but how to always avoid fighting dirty by having a plan for every situation. How to sail and tie knots and built fires and how to cook, because Killian refused to let his mother do anything besides occasionally scramble eggs.
“The trick with food is to make it edible, love,” he said whenever Emma complained, but Henry always put his foot down when it came to the subject of boiled mackerel.
There’s lox and bagels for breakfast on the morning of the third Sunday in June; or at least, Henry had sweet-talked Emma into poofing some up from New York because Maine had a lot of things but lox and bagels only counted when they were from New York.
But before they eat, Henry hands the envelope to Killian.
Killian holds it and stares and, finally, after deeming the pieces of paper non-threatening, slits the edges with his hook. There’s a swift intake of breath and the card is back on the table and Henry’s pulled into a hug that almost rivals one of Grandpa’s.
The card is mostly blank except for Henry’s sub-par (but still magical) handwriting. 
Thank you, Dad.
“You’re welcome, my boy,” Killian whispers.
--
full list of prompts
--
@profdanglaisstuff​ @thisonesatellite​ @kmomof4​ @shireness-says​ @optomisticgirl​ @spartanguard​ @carpedzem​ @karl0ta​ @captain-emmajones​ @lfh1226-linda​ @mariakov81​ @withaheartfulloflove​
86 notes · View notes