#i was picturing this in fall after he's a little more functional but still kinda fucked
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something a little silly
(he's not actually angry at the "drugs" thing, just busy trying not to die)
oh i almost forgot
transcript of my bad handwriting:
Page 1 Panel 1: 2013, 1:38 pm (sfx: DING DING DING)
Panel 2: 9th period, 1:40 pm
Peter's internal thought bubble: "Oh shit my meds"
Panel 3:
Student 1: Hi, Mr. Parker!
Peter: mm-hm
Panel 4:
Student 1: Mr. Parker? Hello?
(Student 2: Huh?)
Panel 5:
Peter: Hm?
Student 1: What are those, tic tacs?
Student 2: No, he's doing drugs!!! (In class!)
Text pointing to Peter's hand holding his pills says "PTSD medication"
Peter: HKFGH (choking noise)
Page 2:
Panel 1:
Student 1: Are you okay?!
(Student 2: oh fuck)
Peter: COUGH COUGH
Panel 2:
(sfx: WHEEZE)
Peter: It's not DRUGS!
Panel 3, Peter cont.: Well, I mean, it is drugs, but it's prescription—it's medication. OK?
#came in through the window last night#peter parker#nadiart#fanadiart#rough art#comics#spiderman#always feel weird tagging the au stuff just cause it's so specific but... well i won't pretend i look at the peter parker tag lol#a post arguably still about a somewhat serious topic but with a more lighthearted mood#bright blue capsules = 5mg generic prazosin just fyi#he takes it starting in early 2013 to prevent flashbacks and nightmares (technically it's a blood pressure medication tho)#he takes it in morning. afternoon (at work). and bedtime. otherwise he can barely leave the house.#i was picturing this in fall after he's a little more functional but still kinda fucked#In Retrospect I'm not sure that him getting a job in 2013 makes sense though like it's a miracle he graduated from his master's program#on the other hand he strikes me as the kind of guy who works himself harder when stressed... but a few months is a very quick turnaround#maybe i should have him doing full time classes instead of pt and finish his degree over fall 2012 or smth... idk#i'll figure all that stuff out Later#anyway my approach to peter's shirts is generally anything that looks thrifted where he saw it in all its hideousness and said#''i love it''#also don't get it twisted the only reason peter even carries a water bottle is for his pills#accidentally pavlov'd himself into being hydrated but not into buying a reusable bottle lmao
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Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, here's how I think the tfa Decepticons would handle a Human Error incident (suddenly turned human with zero logical explanation)
-Megatron ain't doing great. God dammit he's fucking TINY. Just when he's gotten his body back after god knows how long of being a severed head on the floor, he's vulnerable AGAIN. He's still up and functional, doing whatever needs to be done and not letting his present weakness interfere with his goals, but he's in full on paranoia mode. He trusts nobody and he's not going outside if he doesn't have to. Too many things that could go terribly wrong while he's a pathetic creature of flesh with no fucking armor plating and no rotors to fly with. Doesn't give a fuck about trying anything he could only do as a human, he's too busy trying not to die. He'll only eat the nightmare that is organic food if he's in a human body long enough to nearly starve. He'll never admit that it actually tastes better than energon. His pride would never allow it.
-Starscream is miserable and will LOUDLY bitch to everyone present whether they care or not. Unlike Megs, however, it's less in a "I have no armor plating, anything could crush me" way and more in a "EW EW EW WHY IM I SQUISHY GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFF OH PRIMUS IM HIDEOUS" way. He's grabbing the nearest paper bag and putting it over his head. He's not risking ANYONE taking pictures of this little incident to blackmail him. He's especially angry that he can't fly. What do you mean he has to walk everywhere like some kind of monoformer??? What the fuck??? He'd normally try to off Megatron while he's vulnerable, but slag that, he's vulnerable too, and he doesn't even have his null rays to slag him with anyway. Convinced human food is going to be disgusting, pleasantly surprised when it's not. Gets a little obsessed with garlic bread, but we've all been there.
-Blitzwing has lost not one altmode, but two, and given how reflexive his transformation is, he's going a bit stir crazy. Doesn't help that he's lost his wings either. To try and cope, he's got the zoomies something awful, and tries running around the mountain base, jumping off whatever high surfaces he thinks won't kill him for a taste of altitude again, laughing his ass off as Random when he hits the bottom (very uncomfortable for him that he only has one face, too). However, in spite of his physical discomfort, and how generally overwhelming the situation is, he is at least a little excited that he can partake in human culture without consequences. He gets swept up in an arcade for a couple hours and has the time of his life, and tries as much earth food as he can. He's generally the only reason his teammates haven't starved yet because he's the only one willing to go out and get it. He has decided he really likes pizza, beer and chocolate. Genuinely a little sad he won't be able to eat it in his normal form.
-Lugnut is a bit disappointed that he's been given such an unworthy form incapable of serving his liege. How can he aid the GLORY of Megatron and the Decepticon cause when he is so small, so weak, so... Organic? But, he picks himself up and vows to do everything in his power to remain useful. And that starts with testing his limits to see how much use he can be. When he sees Blitzwing jumping off cliffs, he's certain his comrade's had the same idea and joins in, determined to find the threshold for his new body's pain tolerance. It is not as high as he would like. He can't really see as well now that he has one eye instead of his usual five, so he kinda keeps falling off high places anyway even after he's done doing it intentionally. Eventually tries organic food because he needs to fuel up to be of any use, but still loudly condemns it as inferior to energon. He kinda gets a kick out of knowing it's made from organic beings, though. He feels like he's turning some of the life on this useless planet towards a good cause by using its energy.
-Shockwave was already having a really weird day, falling through the space bridge and ending up on earth of all places. But as nice as it was to eschew his cover for a bit and catch up with his true comrades, it was kind of undercut by being suddenly even tinier than his usual disguise and significantly less durable. Not too fond of losing his extendable reach, either. Though he may not be too thrilled, he's still determined to make himself useful. More useful than the two idiots launching themselves off a cliff, anyway. He does a bit of research into basic self care and how to not die in general, as well as trying to figure out what did this to them and how to reverse it. Not opposed to trying earth food, he admits he's curious, if a bit intimidated by how varied it is. Learns he's got a bit of a sweet tooth, ends up mildly addicted to baked goods. Especially cheesecake. Once this whole humanity business is over, he starts a small side project on an internal filter that makes some organic matter edible just so he can keep eating it.
-Nobody takes their newfound humanity worse than Blackarachnia. She already hated being partially organic, but now the detestable, disgusting side of her makes up 100% of her frame. It feels like the final nail in the coffin. She's completely shut down, she just can't take what she's become, unsure whether this nightmare will ever end. She's not holding out on Shockwave being able to fix the issue. It never got magically resolved the first time it happened, why would it now? Her only cold comfort is the other cons have to suffer with her. She's not eating human food. If she starves, she starves, but she's not stooping to that level. She didn't before, and she sure as hell won't now.
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NikGraves? They’re slowly becoming one of my favorite ships
This is gonna be a lot like the last one just without Price so it'll be interesting to see how that changes the dynamics
Feel free to submit ships or other questions about the ship like "Who takes the hottest shower?"
Who was the one to propose? Graves. He knows when he likes something and isn't going to shy away from keeping it
Who stressed more over wedding planning? Still Nik. I can see Graves being stressed at first but then he mentions it to a few of the Shadows closest to him and boom! He's got like a professional wedding planning team.
Who decorated the house? Graves. Nik wanted to but Graves has so much gifted to him from his Shadows they had no choice. Of course, the only stuff that goes up is stuff Graves likes. He's got class, after all.
Who is more organized? Once again going off the idea that Graves is really good at keeping up appearances of being organized, but it's Nik that's keeping track of stuff. They make an incredibly well-functioning duo which scares people. Truly a power couple
Who suggested kids first? Still Nik as a genuine topic. Graves gives in pretty easily, especially when they find the cutest little girl and take her in. Now, all I'm picturing is Graves waltzing into Shadow Base with their little girl just proudly showing her off. Idk why this is a thought I had with this, but Graves calls Nik his "big bear" cause like, duh? And it kinda sticks until they adopt their daughter and then suddenly he's "Papa Bear" and she's little "Pooh Bear". So of course Graves got her a little bear onesie complete with ears on the hood. And she's running around on the base, and the Shadows are all 'screaming' "There's a bear loose!" and it takes a bold Moose to rein the terrible monster in *I am not sorry, Mike :D*
Another super cute idea relating to NikGraves and their toddler: Graves, holding her up like Simba in that one scene: BEHOLD, A CHILD! *cheers and screaming from the Shadows. There are some of them crying* *Graves could not be happier*
Who's the cuddler? Nik is still the cuddlier one. Graves gets dogpiled a lot during the day, but poor Nik has no one to cuddle "except for you, lyubov ;)"
Big spoon/little spoon? They interchange a lot, but Graves does his best to be a big spoon, even if he secretly melts when Nik just wraps around him from behind.
Favorite non-sexual activity? Horse back riding. I dunno I just see them doing that for some reason. They continue going to the same place after adopting 'Pooh Bear' because there's a special program for young families (ie families with small children) and she's just giggling madly while riding the cutest pony. (This idea has possessed me. This is your fault, @mike-like-t-scream all yours! We're just trading brainworms at this point, aren't we? First it was you with Moose, then me with the fucking YouTuber AU, and then you with Graves, and now me with NikGraves and their toddler daughter)
Who cooks? Graves. He knows how to feed his man. Mostly cause his Southern ass would drop dead if the love of his life hadn't eaten properly all day
Who comes home drunk at 3am? Nik on the rare occasion, but if there was a party with the Shadows, it's Graves or one time it was both.
Who kills the spiders? Nik, but he's under watch. I genuinely feel like Graves is the type of mf-er to have been like "Oh, yeah, guys I got this" during his recruit days, only for him to have been bitten and break out into a horrendous allergic reaction. Nik and Graves both don't to risk him having another allergic reaction like that
Who falls asleep first? Even though Nik is a pretty chilled out, sleepy looking kind of guy, he's genuinely so bad about sleeping. Look at that man and tells me he gets the recommended amount of sleep at night, I fucking dare you. SO therefore, Graves always passes out the second he hits the mattress. He's either 100 or 0, no in between.
A head-canon? Graves actually has a few siblings, and he's still relatively close to his family. Close as in he enjoys visiting on the holidays and for special occasions but other than that, they don't really talk much. Not for bad reasons, just more like he and his siblings all grew up and have lives of their own now. His family members were not fans of Nik, at first. Especially Graves's parents. Hell, this guy's probably a good ten years older than Graves if I had to guess, and which means Graves's parents are about the same age distance apart, assuming they were in their twenty's when they had Phil. It took a while for them to all warm up to Nik, which he probably expected, but they were never outright mean to either Nik or Phil. His mom definitely voiced her concerns, and his dad definitely threatened Nik (to which Nik treated it with such seriousness and he like shook Graves Sr.'s hand with a grim "With my life, I will protect him" to which Graves Sr. is like "oh yeah, this dude's chill!").
ALSO Graves is definitely a middle child. He gives off such strong feral middle child vibes to me, I just... He's the middle child, I promise.
Do they have any rituals? Graves's rituals for safety, fun, and winning during the Shadow Olympics and Nik's stretches for safe flying.
Who has the most patience? Nik, obviously. This actually concerns his parents-in-law cause let's be honest, the Graves family is probably a bit messy and they all have pretty short tempers with each other. Meanwhile Nik's just chilling, he's vibing with the old family dog while his husband and brother-in-law are wrestling over the last burger, as if they both aren't in their forties.
Gif that sums up the relationship:
*is still sick* Hehe cats
#phillip graves#cod nikolai#nikgraves#gravesnik#nikolai x graves#graves headcanons#nikolai headcanons#nikgraves headcanons#mentions of ocs#shadow company moose#shadow company
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Queer SecurityWaiter/DreamTheory headcanons (part 2)
Featuring lots of Mike being trans. Mainly that, in fact 🫶🫶🫶
Mike:
-I said previously that he always assumed he was straight cause he’s never been attracted to dudes, but then I remembered “oh yeah wait he’s trans that doesn’t make sense” so to explain that, I feel like he’s one of those trans guys who kinda always saw himself as a boy, even if he didn’t really have a way to put it into words, plus it’s not like he really thought about attraction and dating much, so when he was younger, he probably was one of those “girls” who didn’t fit in with other girls, had mainly guy friends (out of the few friends he had lol), and thought romance and dating seemed gross, so he wouldn’t talk about it unless other people brought it up, and he’d have to fight for his life every time he tells people that he in fact DOES NOT HAVE A CRUSH !! (No one believes him because no one ever believes that. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was one of those kids who just named some random classmate that he thought seemed vaguely interesting just to shut people up)
-I’d say he probably came out as trans at around 18, after he graduated. He probably knew he was trans earlier than that, maybe like somewhere around 15-16, but he didn’t want to deal with coming out and transitioning socially so he stayed in the closet until it was easier to kinda just…cut people out lol. He’s stealth and kinda just transitioned best he could without people questioning him, which wasn’t hard with his parents falling out of the picture and not really staying in contact with anyone from school (frankly I don’t imagine he was very popular lol) so like…yeah
-had a “looks like a lesbian with a boyband/justin Bieber type haircut” phase somewhere in his teenage years. Kinda didn’t care when people rumored about his sexuality. He didn’t date anyone so it just doesn’t really matter, but if people asked him directly he’d just say he’s straight cause again coming out as anything just seemed like a hassle
-had his first and only date (before Ness) at like 19/20 years old, and (as far as I’ve heard from the people talking abt the apparent fnaf movie novel) it’s canon that the girl didn’t wanna go on a second date because “his eyes were too intense” (autism💥💥💥) it was some random girl who asked him out, maybe a coworker or smth who thought he was cute, and he just said yes cause he didn’t really know what else to do and figured he might as well since it’s certainly generally considered embarrassing to have never gone on a date before as someone old enough to be in college (which he didn’t go to cause 1: money 2: he had to take care of Abby 💔💔💔) then after he was like “yeah I was right idk what the hype is about dating seems lame” (he’s a little dumb /j)
-he’s in his mid-late twenties, and I think his been on T for like 2-5 years, so he probably started T somewhere around 20-23. Again, realistically, no idea how he’s affording that, but…he did it 🤗🤗🤗
-the day this man discovers trans tape is the day this man finally learns a bit of peace (not as much as top surgery obviously but certainly more than regular binding)
-I reiterate once again that he binds so unhealthy. Wears his binder at home, wears it out, wears it when exercising, wears it from when he wakes up till he goes to bed, and he only takes it off at night because he literally HAS to and even then he still wears a slightly tight sports bra cause bro is NOT DEALING WITH THE BOOBAS (someone please stop him please good god how are his lungs still functioning)
-god at dressing to pass. Knows all the hacks. Even before T he passed pretty well, he just looked young. He knows all the right exercises to shape his body in certain ways, knows all the right kinds of clothes and materials to hide and accentuate the right things, dresses and acts like a man pretty easily because bro is just like that, he’s the kind of trans guy who’s basically just a cis guy with titties /hj like i said before he uses man soap (3n1 energy), he gets man haircuts at man haircut places, he wears man shoes that give him some extra height (being very stereotypical and gender-roley here but that’s legit just how he is)
-on that note, man’s height dysphoria is AWFUL !! Not to call Josh Hutcherson short (though let’s be real he is a short king and he owns that shit ((still taller than me though 💔💔💔)), but Mike is 5’5, which to some people is short even by women’s standards, so yeah he definitely wears thick shoes and shoe lift things to help him get closer to around 5’7-5’8 on a good day, and he definitely lies abt his height when he can get away with it
-the kind of guy who gets dysphoria over literally everything (“do I look like a woman when I sit like this?” “Are my eyes too feminine?” “I feel like how I’m walking is gonna out me” “the color pink cannot touch my body” “no I can’t sing that song, it’s sung by a woman” “does the way I hold this look girly?” “Why does my smile make me look like a girl” “this shirt makes my chest look big” “do I write like a man??” etc etc. all while he literally has a beard and is built like a brick /hj /lh)
-generally speaking could not and never has cared less about romance and dating and sex and all that UNTIL NESS HAPPENED AND NOW THIS MAN IS HEAD OVER HEALS IN LOVE WITH THIS SILLY LITTLE TWINK MALEWIFE FEMALEHUBBY THEMBOSS 💥💥💥
-k sorry he’s just a little fruit but like literally for one person and one person only other than that he is/would be chronically bitchless and be pretty ok with that
Ness:
-has a type (trans people 💥💥💥 t4t royalty 💥💥💥) /hj
-but low key on a real note dude doesn’t really actually have a whole lotta preferences he just likes gays and autisms /hj
-does drag both ways and eats it up hardcore
-crossdressing doesn’t exist he just is gender. What gender? Yes.
-I literally can’t think of anything serious to say abt Ness’ queerness they’re just so 💥💥💥
-just a little fruit what do you want me to say
-THE girlfriend-boyfriend
-WHAT DO I SAY ABT NESS SHES JUST SILLY 💔💔💔
-my girlboy boygirl who just loves their little guy failure soggy cat of a man WHAT ELSE CAN I SAY ?? 💥💥💥
anyways that’s it I think I mainly just wanted to talk abt Mike’s transgenderism more which like can you blame me no you can’t he’s my meow meow 💔💔💔
#securitywaiter#dreamtheory#fnaf#fnaf movie#mike schmidt#ness the waiter#ness x mike#mike x ness#queer#trans#neurodivergent#audhd#headcanons
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PLEASE tell me more about the AU you have in that snippet you wrote! I want to hear all about it!!
I'd love to tell you more about it!
... Provided there was more to tell.
Honestly, that snippet almost wrote itself yesterday. The only sources I can trace it back to are my headcanons about an immortal Knuckles and the sort of relationship he and Shadow could have if given the opportunity.
They're fundamentally very different characters, but the potential for mutual understanding between them, to say nothing of earnest and interesting interactions, is maddening in that it hasn't been explored in canon.
So yeah, all that and me being in a mood for Destined Child just kinda spawned that scene. There are a couple details I'd thought of that didn't make it into the snippet that I can share:
I pictured that with all the time Knuckles spent uncovering the secrets of Angel Island, learning its capacity for travel through space, and teaching himself the ins and outs of the Tornado 2 for sake of bringing it home, he's the de facto mechanic of this ragtag group of functionally immortal misfits. It's closer to patchwork than anything Tails or an actual engineer could do, but it's enough to keep the bots from falling apart. He likely grumbled and groused about it early on, but like with Tails' plane, he self-taught what he needed, because he's still just that kind of echidna more than a century after his friends passed.
And like I said, I think Shadow and Knuckles could have some great conversations if just given the chance; the freedom to write them a century or more removed from canon, where they've already achieved that mutual understanding and are–perhaps not the closest friends like Knuckles and Sonic or Rouge and Shadow, but at least comrades who understand and would fight on the other's behalf–their interactions just flowed naturally.
I also figured that Vector would've been the last of Knuckles' tribe of choice to pass away, being a crocodile and all. I guess that means he'd also probably be the one hanging on to Gemerl by that point, assuming Cream didn't have a family of her own.
And now I've wandered into the stream-of-consciousness thing I sometimes do once I start typing; that is, details that are occurring to me right just now mixed in with half-thoughts I had before I started typing.
Might as well put in a cut at this point.
Anyway, the other point that I left out of the snippet is Silver, both through lack of mentioning him and by being vague about how many decades ahead of the canon timeline the scene is. I'd toyed with having Shadow or Knuckles bring him up, something something timelines so shouldn't interact with him but also maybe leave a clue that the ARK may be capable of contacting them off planet? Scrapped the idea for being too complicated for not being the focus of the scene.
I actually hadn't considered a particular reason for them to leave the planet. I think I felt that their grief–alongside Eggman being gone–plus the fact that Knuckles discovered they could without using the ARK or building their own ship was reason enough. Omega's primary objective had been removed, Shadow would probably feel relatively confident that Mobius wouldn't urgently need his protection anytime soon, a liberated Metal has no reason not to follow Shadow, Gemerl likewise had been freed from his self-assigned guard duty, and nothing in Knuckles' job description specified the Master Emerald had to stay on Mobius.
The fifty tons of ordinance line re: Omega was just... aside from Rouge, I wasn't sure what else they'd consider too important to leave without. OH. Circling back a bit, I had thought that perhaps Knuckles got a little less stringent with Eggman's leftover scrap on his island, (I'm thinking... maybe a fortress or two and other leftovers?) so long as it's not everywhere. Probably shoved it in one place rather than going through the trouble of tossing it all off the island. Extra pieces for damaged bots in a pinch and if Shadow, for whatever reason, misses industrial environments he can camp out for a few hours.
I figured as I posted the snippet that Gemerl's addition to the island, what he'd bring, would probably just be a designated plot to garden and attend to some plant life, reminiscent of Vanilla's.
I figure just about anything Metal needs it has in its supercomputer dome.
I didn't think of them having a specific mission in mind when they took off; perhaps scouring beyond the stars based on some clues about how Knuckles' tribe and species disappeared? That thought's also interesting because I could feasibly tie that into other thoughts I have about my Only Sonic Remembers AU, which would make this... er, Immortal Crew a spinoff I suppose.
That covers all I've got on it, really.
#ask#ask answer#ask that halfway morphed into#headcanon#and#Bruce talks about#this got long#Glad you liked the ficlet though Measly!#thanks for the ask
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BBQ at the Kent's
Clark invites his friends over for a quiet BBQ at Ma's farm. It just doesn't go quite how he expected.
Masterlist
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Clark had invited his closest friends and their underlings to a BBQ at Kent farm. So what if his closest friends, all happened to be from the Justice League. Kent Farm was a perfect location. It was out the way so if power mishaps it was unlikely to be observed by anyone passing by. It was a large space so could hold lots of people. Especially as his friends seemed to have a habit of collecting underlings like Pokémon, in particular Bruce. AND it wasn't Wayne manor which despite what Bruce says isn't always a relaxing place to be.
Ma was catching up with Alfred and Lois which was good, Alfred deserved a medal as well as the chance to relax. The teens and kids were mucking about/chilling in the house, and he could catch up with his colleague slash friends and relax.
What he may have miscalculated though was his little sister returning home to see Ma. She knew about him and his 'side job'. She had also, very early on, figured out his friends ‘side jobs’ too. Working it out was a breeze according to her, they weren’t particularly discrete in the beginning (according to her at least). She had covered for him and saved his bacon more times than he would willingly admit. Hell, she's covered for him to them and covered for them without them knowing. She’d provided so many alibis and removed evidence that they hadn’t thought about. The issue though, with his sister turning up, was more that THEY a) didn't know about her and b) didn't know that she knew and finally c) she could quite easily give them all a run for their money.
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Walking into her family home she found a swarm of teens lounging around the living room. They were all chatting and talking over each other that they didn't notice her enter. Raising an eyebrow, she spotted Conner, who was currently wrapped around another boy with dark hair.
"Hey Mini Bale! Nice look you got going. Bet it's driving the old men mad and completely beats the plaid shirts and starched suits. Is Haybale out in the yard?"
Conner jumped, causing the others in the room to stop chatting, and looks to see his sort of aunt smirking at him across the room.
"Hey M, didn't know you were coming too? Yeah Clarks out back. Ummm….. why are you here?"
"This is my home too Mini Bale.” She deadpans him, “I was planning to surprise to see Ma as not visited in person for a while. I don’t need to tell Haybale every time I visit, he isn’t the boss of me.” Conner’s aunt pouted before gaining a glint in her eye, “What I wasn't expecting to see was Haybale having a "small gathering” here and not invite moi! But alas it is what it is."
The glint turning into a smug look with a dangerous edge as she took in the room.
"Auntie M!!!", the call distracted her from the room suddenly as Jon ran in from the kitchen and launched himself into a flying jump to hug with the women standing in the room. "Straw stack!! How are you doing sweetie? Made any new friends?"
While Jon dissolved into conversation with his Auntie, Tim took the opportunity to quickly assess the newly dubbed Em. She was well dressed, the sort you don't often see on farms and would be better placed in the city. Her clothes were expensive, the type he often could see board members wearing when relaxing. Even with Jon holding her attention she seemed to have clocked him studying her and nearly everyone else who was watching her interactions. Leaning into his boyfriend he queried.
"Em? Does she? Is she? Who???"
Conner chuckled at Tim's confusion, as well as the mystified faces of the others there.
"Tim, guys, I'd like to introduce you to Clark's sister, and my sorta aunt and Jon’s definite Auntie, Marinette. M for short. And before you ask Tim, no she isn’t like him. She *does* works with Max Kante in developing high tech material and gadgets since well she grew up with Clark and wanted to help him cope with his powers… She and Max created MiracuTech as a result. It’s her brainchild though really, M doesn’t really need Max."
"Mini Bale stop!! You’re dramatizing it. I need Max just as much as he needs me, our skill set complement each other. We couldn’t make half the stuff MiracuTech does without his input.” Marinette blushed, “Max says hi by the way and to tell you to pop by the office. He wants to test his new “creation” with you. Not that that offer will remain if you keep speaking of him like that. But it does remind me, how are you finding the glasses?"
It was Conner’s turn to smirk at his friends, and they could suddenly see the family resemblance in the pair.
"They're are awesome M. Like the play back function is brilliant. I've recorded so much blackmail."
His friends paused and a shiver went down their spines recalling all the incidents that have happened since Conner got his latest sunglasses.
"Fab feedback. I'll let Max know.” Taking as glance around the room, “I'm gonna take a wild guess as say Battle Barbie, Fishtails, Greedy Gonzales and Moody & Broody are out back with Haybale and Ma, Mini Bale?"
That again caused the room to freeze, being siblings with Clark kinda made sense that she would have known his identity, but for Clark to tell her about other identities was worrying. Conner tilted his head and looked at his sorta aunt as if trying to work out what she was planning.
"Yeeeeah, what are you up to M? I'm pretty sure you promised Clark you'd not cause mischief when you met everyone."
"I deny ever making that promise. I have evidence to back up that claim too. Plus, the amount of shit Haybale has caused me cos of his moral compass and lack of impulse control makes it fair game. Though I do support his altruism.” She paused debating what she would say next, “To set the record straight what I *actually* promised was that I would *consider* not causing *too much* mischief. And I have considered it and think that I'll survive this course of action. You’re not the only one with playback ability. Thanks for the info Mini Bale. Let's catch up more later!"
With that she ruffled his hair as she walked past him out to see her dear older brother.
"You've spent too much time as a cat M!" Conner called as he tried to sort out his hair. The room erupted as she left the room. Confusion, mild panic as to whether their identities were at risk and answers were demanded from Conner and Jon. Tim whined at Conner’s comment, "Cat?! We've got to keep B away from her!"
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Out in the yard, Clark was relaxed surround by what he supposed was the founding JL members. He'd heard his sister turn up and cause subtle chaos amongst the teens in the house slowly dreading her announcing her arrival out here. Ma would be thrilled to see her. He was too, sort of. Just not in front of everyone. Kon-El was right with her spending too much time as a cat. And Tim was right as well. He'd have to keep Bruce away from her, she'd be just his latest type.
"HAY BALE! You're holding a party for little ol' me?! How delightful of you."
Clark cringed. He still hated her nickname for him.
"Lois! Ma! You both look lovely as ever! Oh, it’s been too long since I've seen you in person."
Marinette swooped past Clark to the ladies and gave them huge hugs before quickly falling into conversation to catching up with them, thankfully ignoring Clark allowing him some time to deal with his friends.
"Why is Marinette K from MiracuTech at your farm Clark?"
Barry quickly asked, staring at his sister with stars in his eyes. Ok maybe it wasn't just Bruce Clark had to worry about.
"Yes, why is the Guardian, Lady Fortune, at your home?" queried Arthur looking at Clark with confusion and slight apprehension.
"MiracuTech… Guardian," Diana quickly put together gasping, looking at Arthur who had cottoned on to her implications as well, then back at Marinette.
"Guys! Please! Cool it, M I hope," Clark quickly glared at his sister, who was grinning manically knowing the trouble she was causing for him, "can answer your questions and Barry, M, Marinette, is my sister. Why wouldn't she come here? Though this wasn't planned visit that I was aware of."
"You have a sister."
Bruce stated, as Diana and Arthur wondered off talking in hushed tones. Clark could hear that they had figured out one of her 'other' identities but was content that they wouldn't add drama for the moment he redirected his attention back to Bruce.
Clark sighed tiredly, "yes, I have a sister, Bruce. Who likes to keep her personal life private. Which is why you guys have just found out about her and not before."
"Is she Kryptonian?"
"Bruce!! you can't ask Clark that!!" Barry exclaimed, not really surprised by his bluntness but still Alfred was about, and he was ‘Bruce’ currently so social etiquettes, and all should be observed.
"What can't Moody & Broody ask Haybale, Greedy Gonzales?" Marinette enquired, a picture of planned innocence, as she snuck up on them. She gave Clark a side hug and a ‘knowing’ sibling smile.
"M… please… stop with that nickname. Bruce was just asking if you were adopted as well."
"Fine!" She rolled her eyes, "Boy Scout it is then. Moody & Broody I'm not adopted. Ma and Pa had me as a 'Surprise! you're pregnant’ a few years after they'd adopted Boy Scout here"
Bruce frowned at the names she'd been given them. While she just gave a facade of innocence, she held a glint in her eye that destroyed the illusion along with the names she was giving everyone.
Ignoring Clark and Bruce, Marinette turned to Barry to discuss his work at S.T.A.R labs and potential collaboration with MiracuTech. Clark internally groaned as he watched his sister get animated about some sort of tech project she wanted to discuss.
Bruce observed the interaction. It was clear that she knew more than she was letting on. Though he had done research on his peers to know their weaknesses and strengths, Clark having a younger sister never came up. How he had hidden her was impressive, unless it was herself who had hidden her existence from him… That was worrying causing Bruce to deepen his frown as he watched Barry and Marinette chat.
Clark joined in frowning at the pair, but because of how was Barry flirting with his BABY sister before he started to groan as it seemed to go completely over her head. She still seemed to be oblivious to those around her liking her slightly more than friendship.
"M! Ma's told you before no business talk at home."
Laughing back at him his sister nodded "We’ll have to continue this discussion another day maybe Greedy Gonzalez, when Boy Scout isn't being all boy scout-y and acting like a golden child."
Seeing an opportunity Diana butted in and 'subtly' tried to guide Marinette to where she was sitting with Arthur. "Lady Fortune, it's an honour to meet you in person. My mother has told many a tale of our mutual friends’ legacy"
"M is fine. Lady is much too formal for my liking right Ms Prince? Our friends have told me much about your mother as well Battle Barbie. But I must say I'd be more interested to hear about your curator work at the Louvre" Allowing herself to be led away.
___________________________________
Bruce gave Clark a patented batglare, "She knows." Clark rubbed his neck before back at Bruce.
"Yes. She knows. She's my sister. It's kinda hard to hide learning how to manage superpowers from family you know. It was her and Pa that helped find solutions to manage the powers. Lead glasses… her idea."
Growling at Clarks response. "She knows ours. You told her"
Taking a deep breath, "No Bruce.” Clark sighed out, praying to the god’s his sister cared for, for the patience to deal with his paranoid friend, “I didn't. She's smart. Ridiculously and stupidly smart but that's aside. She *knows* who I am. She follows my career, like I do hers. She knows who I work with, like I know who she works with. And who my friends are. The info is all there to work it out. She's also got me out of tight spots as an alibi way too often. I'm pretty sure this is opportunistic revenge for it. Especially for all she did before Lois *knew*"
"Oh god it was her calling you at the watch tower that made you pale. Not Ma Kent!!" Barry cackled, "She's the one you're scared of!!"
"Ssshhhhh Barry! Yes! She terrifies me. Much more than little sisters should. You do realise she has covered all your butts more than you think too. Remember she is a tech genius, she works *with other* tech genius’s and we, sometimes in a rush in the early days, forgot about cameras and visuals lining up."
Barry paled at that. Bruce on the other hand looked intrigued. Of course, her problem solving, and detective skills would attract him. "How long has she known?"
"Mine, since forever and never told anyone. Yours, as she has never said anything directly, I’m going to guess since we worked together the first times. I don’t really know for how long, but it’s been since the early days. You don’t need to worry though; she understands the need for secrets and how to keep them. This,” Clark says waving his hand around, “is her way to letting you know she knows without stating it. It’s definitely her subtle form of revenge on me for having to hack large corporations and delete footage or claiming that I was with her visiting so couldn’t get caught out.”
Clark turned to Bruce all serious, “Don’t antagonise or integrate her. Please Bruce! She can and will break into the Batcomputer and cause it to run slow and force your phones and alarms to only play baby shark.”
“So, she’s the one who helped you hack LexCorp to get the evidence required for your latest article”
“That’s what you got from that?! That my genius *baby* sister sometimes, might, maybe, help gather evidence to take down corrupt businessmen and politicians?! Not the fact that you shouldn’t wind her up!!”
“Well I know your tech skills aren’t up to scratch and though there was potential for Lois, it doesn’t really fit her MO so its nice to know how you truly do it. Do you think she would tell us how she hacked into JL main computer and the bat computer? Or be willing to assist in building better protection.”
Clark stared at Bruce, and was about to respond, but before he could Diana caught his eye as she knelt before M holding her hand. Stars in Diana’s eyes while Arthur looked like he was going to faint.
He groaned. Now, Diana!
His baby sister was really trying to stress him out with all the potential shovel talks he would need to make. The shimmer in her eyes when she briefly caught him looking at her suggested that she may be more aware that she was letting on. With the headache she was causing him, he would need a drink after all this.
Thankfully, before Marinette could cause more chaos with the Atlantean and Amazonian, her phone went off resulting in her slinking off to deal with what sounded like guardian issues from his eaves dropping giving what he thought was breathing room.
“Are you ok Arthur? Do I need to talk to M?” Clark enquired to his friend, hoping his sister hadn’t caused too much trauma for his friend.
“She can hold both sides of the balance and not succumb to the pressure or temptation. A true soul and so young. You let this all happen to your younger sister?”
Ok so she had caused some trauma for the Atlantean after all. He was certain it was related to the cat as well as the bug.
“Let is a strong word, Arthur. Forced is more appropriate. M is more stubborn than Bruce at times. And at 14... yeah hormonal teenage younger sister in Paris. My hand was forced.”
Diana and Arthur choked looking at Clark in horror, “14!?!?!”
Both Bruce and Barry raised an eye at him in judgement. Like they’re ones to talk with how young they let their mentees join the field.
“It is decided. She will be traveling with me to Themyscira and to Atlantis when Arthur puts on his ‘big boy pants’. She requires extra support in this matter.”
“14? Extra support? Diana, what are you talking about? She is in her 20’s not 14. You can’t kidnap Clark’s sister, Can she?”
Barry looked perplexed by the situation. Unsure on what they are talking about. She seemed to be fine and had survived years without assistance and knowing about their identities. Going to Themyscira and Atlantis would not help with that.
Staring at Clark with an unnerving intensity, Bruce answered Barry’s questions.
“She was one of the Parisian heroes. Their leader from what Diana and Arthur are suggesting. She started her extracurricular activities before even we officially did, much younger than we were and Clark didn’t stop her.”
“Oh.... Wait?! You didn’t stop her!!”
Clark was really regretting this BBQ. It was starting to feel more like an interrogation on his big brother skills, a judgement on his mentoring capability NOT a relaxing escape with friends.
“It would explain why Clark was so insistent of a some of the support protocols now,” Bruce mused. “She didn’t let you help and forced you stay away, didn’t she? Your powers, if you got akumatised, had the potential to cause a global disaster and the magic could have hurt you out of costume.”
“If you knew this, why are you giving me grief! And Diana, you can’t kidnap M. She has a support network already.”
“I didn’t. You just confirmed it. And more support can never hurt.”
Damn bat with his detective trickery and throwing his own arguments back in his face. Groaning in response Clark looked at his friends,
“Fine. You can ask but it’s HER choice no forcing it ok.”
After some grumbled agreements they all agreed.
___________________________________
“I hate you,”
“I love you too, Hay Bale.”
Marinette grinned at her brother with a cup of tea in hand. His friends had finally departed more than one had managed to get him to convince her to exchange numbers. She’d agreed to visit Diana when back in Paris to arrange a visit to Themyscira. It scared him how quickly after the initial interrogation and worry they all accepted her. She was bound to provide them so much blackmail on him. Clark was dreading his next JL meeting.
“You did this on purpose.”
“Not really. Ma knew I was visiting her this month. The fact you were here with everyone was just a perfect opportunity which I took up.”
Clark stared at his sister. None of her nervous tells were showing so wasn’t lying to him, not that she would. She hated secrets, and she carried so many with so many implications if they were revealed. As a result, she hated liars if there was not true reason for them.
“Fine. You do realise I have so many shovel talks now to dish out?”
“What?”
“Did you not see the heart eye’s Barry was giving? Or how Diana was constantly trying to get close? And once Bruce had assessed that you weren’t a threat, kept trying to engage you in conversation about detective stuff?”
“Oh, So, errr, they aren’t like that normally to friends?” A faint blush was making its way across Marinette’s cheeks. “I like wasn’t aware. Can I blame miraculous side effects?”
Clark laughed at his baby sister, yeah as clever as she was, she remained her wonderful blissfully ignorant self on flirting which he adored.
“Nah, they aren’t normally that friendly. Didn’t think you noticed and sure let’s blame the kwami, they caused some of this drama any way. I vote for Plagg and Trixx for being at fault.”
#maribat#maribat au#ml x dc#mlb x dc#dc x ml#dc x mlb#marinette x clark#siblings#platonic#marinette x superfam
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gazes (joaquín torres x reader)
SUMMARY ››››› It's become increasingly apparent to Sam and Bucky that you and Joaquin cannot take your eyes off each other. Unfortunately for them, you two have decided to be Professionals and that means keeping your eyes, hands, and lips to yourselves. No matter how difficult it is.
WORD COUNT ››››› 3,716
WARNINGS ››››› sexy times implied
A/N ››››› Ok so these headcanons y'all have been sending me are incredible. I read these two back to back and I just had to write something connecting them.
The kid had no tact.
Sam wasn't exactly sure why he expected more from the guy who'd led into his theory that Steve was on the moon by referencing vague internet rumors, but even despite that, he'd assumed Joaquin possessed some sense of subtlety.
Instead he was over at the leg press trying and failing not to stare at Y/N as she bent over at the middle to help Bucky push deeper into the stretch.
"You know she could hit you with a harassment claim for staring at her like that."
Joaquin jumped, the weights dropping suddenly with a loud clang. Across the gym, Bucky laughed as Y/N whipped around to face the two men. "Everything ok?" Her voice sounded genuinely concerned, and Sam couldn't help but smirk as Joaquin turned towards her, giving a little wave.
"Foot slipped," he answered, and she nodded, turning back to Bucky quickly.
"Foot slipped," Sam mocked.
"Dude, you scared the shit out of me."
"If you paid half the amount of attention you give to Y/N to your surroundings, you'd have known I'd been standing here for three minutes."
Joaquin gave a defensive scoff. "I wasn't staring at her--I was just--" he stopped, searching for an excuse, and Sam raised his eyebrows.
When it was clear Joaquin couldn't find a convincing enough lie to end the sentence, Sam shook his head. "You know, if you talk to her, she might actually let you take her out."
"I talk to her," Joaquin protested.
Sam shook his head, uncrossing his arms. "No, I mean talk to her. Chat her up. You've gotta have some game, right?"
"I've got game..." His sentence trailed off as he turned to look in her direction, finding her standing over Bucky's feet with her hands on her hips. "But like, we're co-workers, you know? I don't want to make things awkward around the gym or the compound or anything."
"Joaquin," Sam said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You're already making things awkward."
"He's staring at your ass again."
"And you're trying to get out of stretching again," you quipped, moving Bucky's leg closer to his chest. The super soldier tilted his head as if to acknowledge the legitimacy of your accusation.
"Doesn't change the fact that I think you're about to give him a heart attack."
"I highly doubt he's worried in the slightest about my ass. He's probably zoned out."
"He's definitely focused in...on--"
"On my ass," you finished, shaking your head. You might have given Bucky's claim a little more credence if it weren't for the fact that Joaquin Torres had been anything but the consummate professional towards you. He was friendly and upbeat and welcoming, and one of the few genuinely good guys you'd ever had the pleasure of working with.
You'd never caught him staring once, and it's not like the boy was exactly known for subtlety. Last time Bucky had asked him to cover for him so you couldn't come down and teach him the right way to train his body, he'd told you that Bucky had left the compound to get you a thank you gift for all of your hard work. All while staring at the gym door.
The heavy sound of weights falling against each other echoed throughout the gym, and you spun around to face the sound. Sam hovered over Joaquin's shoulder, the latter no longer working the leg press but instead looking as if he'd just received the scare of his life.
Bucky broke into laughter, and you smacked at his leg.
"Everything ok?" you called out, and Joaquin smiled, giving a sheepish little wave at you. "Foot slipped."
"It's a good thing he wasn't at the bench press. You might have killed him."
Your head snapped back to Bucky who was giving you a shit eating grin.
"You're an asshole."
"I'm right."
"Do you think if I ask nicely Wakanda will take you back?"
"So you know I'm right."
You chanced a glance back at Joaquin who was still talking to Sam before turning back around and placing your hands on your hips. "I'm calling Ayo."
You were running early.
Not to any event in particular, but just for the general course of your day. It was rare for you to wake up to your first alarm so completely refreshed, and with a fully awake brain, you found it much easier to navigate the morning. You were able to get dressed without crawling back in bed for a few more minutes, and didn't have to battle with sleepy indecision when choosing what you wanted to eat for breakfast.
One thing after another just continued to roll your way, leading you to the gym much earlier than usual.
And that's where the luck stopped.
Or maybe it didn't stop. But it definitely took a turn. Because while you fully expected someone else to be in the gym already, you hadn't expected just one person to be in the gym. And even if you had, you wouldn't have guessed that that one person would be Joaquin. And if, for some reason, you'd had the foresight to sense that, you definitely never would have pictured him to be running on the treadmill shirtless.
You stopped in your tracks, eyes falling to the bouncing dog tags on his chest and then lower to the well defined abs you'd somehow never seen before.
It felt like you'd seen just about every man in this compound shirtless. At some point, they all seemed to strip in the gym or during one of your group training classes you ran for those who weren't field agents. Bucky was shirtless half the time you worked together. It was so normal, you hardly even blinked an eye anymore. Seeing Sam without a shirt was more rare and quite the sight, but it'd never caught your breath quite like seeing Joaquin. Joaquin, who had never so much as worn a tank top in the gym, Joaquin.
And now here he was, chest bare and heaving, feet pounding rhythmically against the treadmill, hair still messy from his pillow and sweat. Your brain couldn't seem to function correctly, offering you images of the sight before you, only closer. Much closer. Hovering inches over your stretched out body as the headboard behind you rammed into the wall with the force of each thrust--
"Hey," Joaquin greeted, noticing you standing off to the side. You blinked, heat rushing to your face as he turned the treadmill down to a more leisurely pace. "Something wrong with my form?"
It was tempting to lie and offer to "help him fix it." Or to be completely honest and tell him you'd never seen a human form as perfect as his.
But neither of those responses were professional or even appropriate, and you needed this job.
You swallowed, shaking your head. "No, I was just wondering why you were wearing those," you said, gesturing to his dog tags, and allowing your eyes to fall to his chest once more. You followed a bead of sweat as it rolled down his body, heading to the waistband of his shorts. Joaquin reached to touch his tags, causing them to jingle together once more and pull your attention up to him.
"It's hard to let them go," he smiled, ruefully, hitting the button so the belt slowed even more. "I'd say it's a habit, putting them on, but at this point they're just like a part of me."
You nodded, wishing you'd taken this conversation anywhere but to the idea of dog tags and what they stood for. It wasn't so much a mood killer but a guilt inducer because instead of you feeling embarrassed and somber, all you wanted to do was grab them and pull him closer to you.
He must have read the conflict on your face because he gave a crooked smile. "Yeah, sorry, it's kinda morbid."
"No," you shook your head, clearing it of the daydream induced fog. "I probably shouldn't have asked."
"No, nah, it's cool," his smile grew into grin, as the belt came to a stop. He leaned his forearms against the console, staring at you as if waiting for you to continue the conversation. Which you were not equipped to do with a smiling and shirtless and sweaty Joaquin Torres right before you.
"Well, thanks for being cool about it," you said with a nod.
My God, something was wrong with you. They were just abs. And sure, maybe the abs belonged to the man who not only found the time to moonlight as a superhero but star in your increasingly dirty dreams of late, but it was just a body party that you'd seen a million times.
But never on Joaquin.
You blamed everything your brain was doing to you on Bucky and all of his stupid comments about Joaquin's supposed fixation on your ass. You wondered what he would say if he could see you now. "And I thought I was half machine. I could practically see your brain short circuiting." or "If that's what you're like when you see him half-naked, how are you ever going to--"
"Yeah, of course," Joaquin said, still smiling, his eyes lifting up over your shoulder as the other door to the gym opened and Sam came in. "Hey," he greeted with a jerk of his chin.
"Hey," Sam said, drawing closer, his eyes on you. You forced a smile on to your own face, and lifted a hand, not trusting anything that was coming out of your mouth.
"You're here early," the other man said, stepping onto the treadmill next to Joaquin's, and putting his water bottle down next to the machine.
Both of them were looking at you now, and it's not like you could handle staying in this gym any longer. "I came down looking for my water bottle. I think I left it here yesterday."
Sam raised his eyebrows glancing around the gym, and Joaquin stepped down off of the machine. "Do you want help looking for it?" he asked, and your whole body seemed to tense up at the idea, your brain transporting you to a future scenario where the two of you wandered around the room, Joaquin next to you or behind you, so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him, all the while searching for a water bottle that was sitting on your dresser.
"No." Your voice came out too high, but you tried to play it off, shaking your head. "I've already interrupted your workout enough. It's either by the weights or not in here."
"Alright," he nodded. "If you need any help looking around the compound though, let me know."
"Thanks," you said. And then you gave another stupid wave and beelined it for the weight racks because you had to get out of here.
You made a show of looking next to each section of weights, even bending over to check underneath of them as if it could have been knocked under somewhere. After you felt an appropriate amount of time had passed to be convincing, you straightened up, empty handed. You turned back to Joaquin and Sam, both watching you rather than continuing their workouts as you might have hoped.
"Not here," you called back with a shrug and then left the gym and headed straight up to your shower.
He was nothing if not predictable.
The minute Y/N bent over to check behind the weight rack, his eyes were glued to her. Or perhaps more accurately, the bright teal spandex shorts she wore. As she pulled herself back up from searching for her water bottle and turned to them, Joaquin quickly looked to Sam as if the two had been talking the whole time and then "casually" returned to her.
"Not here!" she said, shrugging and then walking out of the gym, her footsteps quick and purposeful as she left through the door Sam had just entered by.
"So, what'd I interrupt?"
Joaquin looked up at Sam as if remembering he was there. "What?"
"You know, when the two of you were sitting by this machine making eyes at each other? Did you actually say anything to her or….?"
Joaquin shook his head. "No, she just came in and, uh, we chatted for a second, and then…" he trailed off, as if not fully remembering any of the past ten, twenty, however many minutes.
"You just chatted," Sam repeated, the disbelief on his face edging into his voice.
"Yeah," Joaquin nodded.
"Anywhere in this chat you finally ask her out?"
"Nah, it didn't feel right."
"It didn't--she was practically taking off the other half of your clothes with her eyes," Sam sputtered, gesturing to Joaquin's shorts.
The kid laughed and shook his head as if Sam didn't know what he was talking about. Joaquin moved to exit the gym as well. "I'll see you later, man," he said, leaving a very exasperated Sam behind.
Bucky Barnes was a motherfucking liar.
"Let's grab a drink on Friday," he said.
"Consider it me making it up to you for being such a pain in your ass," he said.
"I'll buy," he said.
Mothefucker.
This wasn't just you and your favorite co-worker getting a drink. This was a goddamn set up. Because one hour and three mojitos into the night, Sam and Joaquin walked in the front door.
"I fucking hate you," you said, glaring up at his stupid smug face.
"Well, what a surprise, he grinned, as you shook a finger up at him.
"I told you in confidence I'm a flirty drunk."
He snorted, giving you a look out the side of his eyes. "You told me you were a flirty drunk after you sent me several highly inappropriate drunk text messages about what you wanted to do to a certain Lieutenant, who," the self-satisfied smile was back on Bucky's face. "Is making his way over to us right now."
"When I get home, I swear to God, I'm buying you a ticket to Wakanda."
Bucky quirked an eyebrow. "You're not going to do it now?"
"I didn't bring my credit card because you said you were paying," you huffed.
Before Bucky could respond, Sam and Joaquin were next to the two of you, greeting Bucky with hand slaps and one armed hugs. Sam came around and wrapped an arm around you first before sliding into the seat next to Bucky, and Joaquin came forward, giving you a quick hug.
Which was a first.
More than the feeling of his back underneath your palm, or the way he seemed to emanate warmth, you were done in by how absolutely incredible he smelled. But before you could fully identify whether it was his shampoo, a cologne, or just him, he pulled away and took the only other available seat near the group--the one next to you.
"I see you started without us," Sam said, raising his eyebrows at the assortment of glasses that sat before you. Most of them were Bucky's as he downed beers faster than should have been humanly possible.
"Hard drinker, huh Y/N," Joaquin teased, shooting you a smile.
"Pfft," you dismissed. "Only three are mine."
"Three?" Sam asked, leaning forward to better look at you. "How long have you been here?"
"An hour," you said, completely unnecessarily leaning forward too.
Bucky shrugged. "I got the time wrong."
"Guess we better catch up then," Joaquin said, and you sank back into your chair, narrowing your eyes at him in challenge.
"If you can."
They did.
You were outpaced fairly quickly against the two soldiers and one super soldier. The rum-induced fuzziness around the edges of your brain was compounded by having Joaquin so close to you. At some point he'd pulled his chair a bit closer to yours so that he could better hear the conversation, and you don't remember when it happened, but his arm had also slid around the back of your chair. To your relief neither Bucky nor Sam seemed to acknowledge this. In fact, Bucky was positively quiet and normal all things considered. Everything was going better than you could have expected.
Until the music kicked up.
Sam was the first to be dragged onto the dance floor. He was Captain America. Of course he'd been targeted by the stunning girl in the red dress who'd only had to come up and ask "Does Captain America dance?" to succeed in pulling him off to the dance floor.
Bucky was next. Although he wasn't tugged onto the dance floor by his hand the way Sam was. It was the sight of the person in the tight black number that did him in, luring him away to the dance as if drawn by a magnet.
And then it was you and Joaquin, sitting at the bar. Alone. Together.
You looked up from your drink, pushing the straw down into the ice to stir up the clinking sounds, and he took a swig of his beer before putting the bottle back down on the bar.
"Alright, let's dance," he said, nodding with his head towards the crowd, and you let out a disbelieving snort.
"I don't know how to dance. I mean, I can dance," you attempted to clarify, although you had a feeling words were failing you at the moment. "But that's real dancing, and I can't do that."
"I guess you're lucky you have a really good teacher asking you to dance then," Joaquin grinned, holding out a hand. You looked down at his open palm, hesitating only for a second before you slid your hand into his and jumped down from your chair.
He led you out through the moving bodies expertly, dodging couples who were clearly more into the dancing than each other and couples where the complete opposite was true. The small bit of space he found you was closer to the center of the dance floor than you'd usually feel comfortable with, but when he turned towards you with that look on his face, any of your residual anxiety had vanished.
"Ok, come close," he said, and you took a small step closer to him, causing him to laugh. "Closer." He gestured, and you moved forward some more, Joaquin's hands finding their way to your hips and pulling you even closer. His hands rose, one finding its way to your mid-back, pushing your elbow up to rest on his, as the other took your hand and placed it over shoulder.
"This ok?" he asked, eyebrows raised, and you nodded, trying to keep your attention on him, his instructions and his words, and not the way that you could feel just about every part of him from the way he was angled against you. His right side was flush against your left, and his knee pushed between yours.
"Just follow me," he said, his head bent close to yours. Before you could even respond, he started to move, pulling you along with him through the dance. It was smooth and rolling and you'd never seen a guy able to roll his hips like Joaquin. He seemed to know exactly how to guide you, moving his body to push and pull yours along whenever you hesitated or felt lost, coaxing waves and movements out of you that you didn't know you could do. Each success was met with a small word of praise and a brilliant smile, as his hands shifted to hold you closer, and you wrapped your own hand around his neck to better feel and predict his movements.
It felt as if a fog had rolled in over the dancefloor, obstructing all else from view so it was just you and Joaquin, eyes locked to each other as you moved together, occupying the same space.
The song faded into the next one, and Joaquin stopped. You went to move backwards, to give him space and have him move on as many other of the more skilled dancing couples seemed to do, switching partners amongst each other. But he kept you close to him, hand sliding down to your waist.
"Now you can really dance," he teased, his eyes shining as they stared into yours.
"Only with you." It was supposed to be a self-deprecating joke, but it came out too quiet and earnest. Joaquin licked his lips, and your eyes followed the gesture, flickering between his mouth and his eyes.
You don't remember making the decision. You only remember, moving even further into his arms, and pushing yourself up to reach his lips with your own. He bent down to meet you, pulling you even closer and pressing his hard body into yours. His lips moved as slowly and sensually as his hips had, drawing you in and guiding you through a careful rhythm that promised much, much more.
Sam sat with Bucky at the bar. Joaquin and Y/N had disappeared somewhere amongst the dance floor, hidden amongst the crowd.
"You think it worked?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam.
"If it didn't we're screwed," Sam shook his head, taking a swig from his drink.
As if on cue, the two emerged from the swaying bodies, hand in hand, sweaty and much happier than they had been when Sam had left them at the bar.
"We're gonna head back to the compound," Joaquin said with practiced casualness.
"Yeah?" Bucky asked, and Sam swore there was mischief literally glinting in his eyes.
"Yeah," Joaquin nodded too fast and too many times. "Yeah, Y/N forgot about something there…"
"What'd you forget?" Bucky asked, turning to Y/N with a wolfish smile.
"Nothing. We're going to have sex," Y/N said, flatly, causing Sam to nearly spit out his drink. "And if you say one more word, I know a pilot who will fly you to Wakanda himself. No ticket needed."
Bucky mimicked zippering his lips into a smug look, and she rolled her eyes before tugging Joaquin out of the bar by his hand. And he followed. Eyes glued to her ass.
#joaquin torres x reader#joaquín torres x reader#torres x reader#joaquín torres#joaquin torres#torres x y/n#joaquin torres x you#joaquín torres x you#joaquín torres x y/n#torres x you#joaquin torres x y/n#fatws fic#tfatws fic#joaquin torres fic#joaquín torres fic#torres fic#marvel fic
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can i request a fic where sapnap takes the reader to his hometown? like the classic going to places he went to when he was younger. maybe playgrounds and ice cream shops idk
places i used to go
warnings: language of course, an allusion to virginap, my uneducated guess of what sapnap was like in highschool, tiny detail of long haired!sapnap, singular canon detail of underage drinking, jokish about marriage
tags: sapnap x gn!reader
words: 2191
A/N: you are a god, anon. i love comfy and nostalgic fics like these and it was so fun to write. if you hate it dont tell me but if you like it lemme know akskdjd
inbox/requests: open
-
The wind whips fast on your bare fingers, cool and quick and raising goosebumps in its wake. You blink in the haze of the early sunset, head lolled to the side of the headrest. It feels good.
“That’s where I went to high school.” Sapnap interrupts your thoughts and points a finger at a collection of tall brick buildings down a side street. The silver of the lettering is dull, but you can still feel the nostalgia.
“And you’re about to see the park that me and my friends used to hang out at after work and—actually, nevermind.” His arm drops to the middle console and he looks straight ahead with slightly pinker cheeks.
“Do what?” You ask, voice all sweet, and a grin grows on your face. You turn towards him and wiggle your eyebrows.
“Nothing. Homework.” He avoids your eye contact and hikes his hand up higher on the steering wheel. “Anyways— Do you want to get some food before we head out? I know a great place.”
You two were just coming to a close on your little trip to visit his family; it was his step-mom’s birthday and you decided to make a week of it. It was your first long-term trip with Sapnap, and also your first time meeting his dad’s side of the family. You were proud to say she loved you. His little sister took a little more effort to talk to you of her own volition, but soon enough she was on your side.
You have a couple hours to kill before making your flight back home, so Sapnap has taken it upon himself to give you a quick tour of his hometown.
“Yeah,” you decide, bottom lip popped out. “Can we get ice cream after?”
“Uh, duh.” The Neighbourhood’s Stargazing starts through the speakers and he reaches to turn it down. “I’m so ready to get home and sleep.” He stretches his neck in his seat, letting out an uncharacteristically inappropriate grunt when his bones pop. You make a disgusted face, nose wrinkling, but stretch your own back, slumping down in the seat. The day had been full of packing up and this horrible hike his dad liked to do early in the mornings, so you two were pretty beat.
“Okay, we’re here,” he announces three sleepy minutes later in his best attempt at a whisper. Lifting your head off of the corner of your seat, you blink in the setting sunlight as a yawn splits your face. “You’re so cute.”
“Shut up,” you mumble, and struggle to get your seatbelt off in that post-nap haze. You’d barely been asleep for thirty seconds, damn it. The air is a swampy heat when you step out of the car onto rocky gravel and nearly twist your ankle climbing over the curb. Sapnap catches you by the lower back, trying to hide his laugh but failing miserably. You slide him a dirty look, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can manage while limping towards the front entrance.
The door jingles when you two breach the doorway, alerting a bored-looking hostess that the circus has arrived. She looks at Sapnap a second longer than she should, eyebrows screwed together in silent confusion. But she leads the two of you to a booth near a large window, handing you sticky menus and promptly fucking right off to the host station. She nearly runs.
“Do you know her?” You ask, inconspicuously hiding your face in the search for their 24/7 breakfast menu. You feel his eyes on you.
“Don’t think so.” He leans on one elbow and slides his phone out of his jeans’ pocket. In the 25 seconds it takes for you to find their french toast and sides menu, he has browsed and closed his phone with an animatedly shocked look on his face.
“What?” You give him a weird look and put down the menu.
“I totally went to homecoming with that girl.” He eyes the hostess. You glance over at her again, meeting her gaze, and offer a polite smile. She turns away quickly, eyes wide.
“She’s cute,” you say, voice high and fake, and he drums his fingers on the tabletop as an amused look makes its way onto his face.
“Are you—?”
“What?” You reply right back.
“Nothing.”
Thank God the server comes up to your table then and starts asking for drink orders, or else you’d have to admit (sheepishly) you were a tiny eensy-weensy bit annoyed. Only a tad. But after requesting a Dr. Pepper and a water the conversation surrounding the nervous-looking hostess dies.
“I’m so hungry I think I feel my stomach shrinking.” You flop your head onto your arm on the table top and make a whiny noise into the stack of napkins your server left at the table. Sapnap rubs his thumb into the side of your forearm, touch warm and nearly dissolving the pangs of hunger and jealousy.
“You weren’t hungry an hour ago.” He lifts your hand to his face and plants a kiss on the back of it. Oh, pulling out the big guns, huh? “I would have made you something.”
You tilt onto your chin, pouting, and stare up at his cute face. His cute, scruffy, perfectly-kissable face.
“I think I got hungry staring at you for half an hour.” A mischievous grin grows on your previously-petulant face and he just shakes his head.
“I do have that effect,” he admits with cockiness in his tone, lifting his eyebrows and leaning back into the booth with his lips pursed.
The server returns with two glasses and takes your food orders onto their little yellow notepad. You chug the water down when they leave for the kitchen, getting your lap and chin thoroughly wet in the process. Sapnap just snorts at you and shoves the napkins your way.
“So,” you start, patting dry your jeans. “tell me what you were like in high school.” You cross your arms and settle into the booth, smirk on your lips.
“What I was like?” He parrots, sipping at his soda, looking thoughtful. “Firstly, a virgin.” You make a noise. Duh. Dude had a buzz cut his junior year. (You’ve seen the pictures. His step-mom particularly likes them.) “Secondly, I was actually— well, I wasn’t popular, but I had a lot of friends. We were all semi-athletic lonely band kids but we had fun. Had one girlfriend senior year but she went to Cal Tech in the fall and I didn’t. I, um, worked at a Dairy Queen in the summers and gained so much weight I had to lose all over again for Unified Track.”
“Relatable,” you comment, drinking noisily at your water. He fiddles with the paper straw wrapper and crunches it up into a ball. It goes soaring into your drink with a quiet “Kobe” and you just give him a look. He smiles toothily right back at you. “Stop being cute, I’m trying to listen to your story.”
“Oh, my bad,” he mocks. “Anyways. That’s what I was like in highschool.” You fish the paper ball out of your water and flick it wetly at his arm. It sticks and you choke on a laugh, cheeks puffed.
Two plates of warm food are set down loudly onto the table and you thank the server with a surprised smile, Sapnap mirroring you.
Two minutes of wordless chewing passes, minds occupied just by “food, me eat” instead of anything related to your previous conversation. You realize that Sapnap is one of the loudest chewers ever, and he realizes that you fail to notice the streak of maple syrup in your hair.
“C’mere,” he mumbles through a mouthful of omelet and hash browns and beckons you with his hand. You lean closer, chewing slowly, as he pats a napkin at the strands of hair trapped in syrup.
“Thanks, baby.” You take the napkin from him and pause your assault of the warm french toast before you to clean the sticky sugar out of your hair. He just watches you, half of a smile on his lips.
You two finish your food in record time. It’s borderline vacuum-like. There’s a short grace period where you just sit like two lazy cats, slumped down in the booth and holding your full stomachs. But the check comes soon after, and you both pay your way and are out of the restaurant without any mad dashes for the bathroom. A miracle, really, because of the American-like amount of butter you both consume.
“I’m a much more functional person now,” you mutter into the cotton of his shoulder, swinging your hand in his. He just hums in agreement.
“I guess we’re not getting ice cream, then,” he teases, and you just groan in response.
“I don’t feel like having diarrhea on a plane, unfortunately.” You sigh heavily when you have to split and get into your respective sides of the rental car.
The entire trip (somewhat roundabout because of the amount of side quests to show you things from his childhood) to the airport Sapnap is a chatterbox. He’s like this when he has sugar: either bouncing off the walls with energy or talking your ear off.
“That’s where my dad proposed to my step-mom. I was kinda young but I remember being surprised at how big the ring was— dude broke the bank for her.” It’s a little gazebo you catch a glimpse of through the trees in a park. It probably was an incredibly picturesque moment, and you can sense how much she must have loved it. With just meeting them this weekend, you can already see how much love those two have for each other.
You hope people can see how much you love Sapnap.
“Oh my God, it’s still there.” He points out the side of your window to what looks like a Dairy Queen that has been through World War 3. “My buddy Eric and I once spilled a gallon of that liquid ice-cream-shit all over the men’s bathroom.”
You shoot him a horrified look. “Why was it in the bathroom?”
He just smirks.
“—And that’s my Uncle Ron’s house. Had my first beer there.”
“And last, hopefully,” you add, pulling a disgusted face. The two story bungalow is cute, and one of your favorite colors: olive green. “That shit is nasty.”
He just shrugs and continues down the side street.
“Is this the park you were talking about?”
He pulls into the gravelly parking lot of a small clearing of tall trees, a picnic table and campfire sat squat in the middle. But he doesn’t respond, just turning the car off and climbing out. He reaches the passenger door without speaking, and opens it for you. You climb carefully out, confused.
“Come on.” He takes your hand and starts for a small path to the left of the picnic table. The mid-sunset shade envelopes the both of you.
“I hope this isn’t where you kill me.”
“No,” he snorts. “I just wanted to show you something.”
It’s just a few moments of stumbling through the damp underbrush before you’re coming face to face with a small, mossy pond that sits right underneath an incredibly old willow tree. He stops right on the edge of the rocky path and turns toward you.
“This your make out spot?” You ask between a grin as he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush to him. Your innocent smile fades when you feel the press of his lips to the side of your neck, light and ticklish. Oh.
“No,” he murmurs, and just breathes you in. “I came here once—the night before I graduated highschool. And I told myself when I really really loved someone I’d take them here with me.” He sways with you in his grasp, a gentle and song-less dance.
You grip his shoulder tighter in your hand and lean into him.
“That’s— awfully romantic, huh?” Your voice is quiet. Almost nervous. He just makes a noise of agreement.
“So here we are.” His voice is the opposite of yours, all strong and confident.
You two just move together for a moment. The sun breaks through the tree canopy, shining bright orange down onto the glassy surface of the pond. Crickets and frogs chirp back and forth as the willow vines swing in a cool evening breeze. You watch nature come alive around you, suddenly grateful for the man in your arms.
“Don’t propose,” you whisper, breaking the gentle tension. A laugh breaks the silence and he’s pulling away to look at you. Maybe in disbelief. A strand of hair falls into his eyes and you brush it away, fingers stilling on his temple and sliding down onto his cheek. Stubble scrapes against the skin of your palm and he stares at you through those meadow eyes.
You realize in that moment that he is exactly himself. Of course he is. He’s Sapnap, and everything that encompasses that. Dark and light and fiery and cool. He always has been, and always will be.
You realize you wouldn’t mind if he proposed.
-
A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. let me know what you think
#sapnap#mcyt#sapnap x gn!reader#sapnap x reader#sapnap x you#sapnap fluff#sapnap drabble#sapnap one shot#sapnap oneshot#mcyt x reader#mcyt x you#honey answers#my lovely anon#sapnap fanfic#bubblyhoneyfics
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| ʜᴏᴍᴇ | ᴊᴊᴋ | ᴀᴏᴛ | ʜǫ | ꜰɪʟᴏ | ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛs | ᴍɪᴍɪ |
CRUSH // INUMAKI TOGE
amihan's note: oh god this is so embarrassing, some of this may or may have not how i acted towards my crush, out here exposing myself- bear with my humiliations i bought upon myself, happy reading!
summary: modern au wherein you have this crush on inumaki toge and you cannot function right whenever he's around. what can i say? he just takes away your words with his mere existence 🥴✋
crush!toge x gn!reader
the first time you noticed him was when he accidentally bumped to you yes it's cliche i know shhh
your friend happen to know him! would you look at that, luck's on your side
but it was a mistake asking your friend, yuta
he won't stop teasing you whenever toge's around
saw him passing by? yuta pokes your side and starts calling for toge, "toge c'mere!" then off you go to 'meet' your teacher to talk about that non-existent project you were gonna have.
your actions didn't go unnoticed by toge
he even joins yuta for the fun of it
oh you're having a good day? let's ruin that and make you humiliate yourself:
you inform your friends that you're having a great time so far, currently munching on your food happily.
all the stress gone along with the projects and homework that was piled up. until yuta thought it would be fun to ruin your streak.
he apparently just so happen to tell toge, out of all people, that it's alright to have lunch on your table.
surprise, surprise, the only available seat was beside you. "you little shit" you glare at yuta sitting across you who have the biggest smile on his face.
you gulp nervously as toge takes the seat beside you, "hey, i hope you don't mind" his soft voice making you feel fuzzy inside, oh that dreamy voice of his.
yuta gets all giddy, he chuckles at your state. he really thinks this will be the good time to introduce you, like c'mon you haven't even got time to fix yourself properly!
you're still recovering from the all-nighters you pulled. "i'm sure y/n is more than okay to have you here~"
yuta gestures to you, "l/n y/n, inumaki toge" toge turns to you smiling sweetly, "nice to meet you" he holds out a hand.
your throat becomes dry, looking back at him, trying not to look away because goddamn he looks good, who gave him the right?!
you snap out of your daze when you hear yuta's snickers, you feel heat rushing up your cheeks.
subtly rubbing your sweaty palm on your uniform before shaking his hand, "y-yeah, nice to meet you."
you mentally slap yourself for stuttering, quickly letting go of his hand and going back to your food. doing your best to pretend your crush is not beside you also eating his lunch.
after that faithful day, toge never fails to tease you with your little crush on him
oh did i forget to mention he's your classmate?
on top of that, you didn't even know how it ended up with having him as your seatmate
you can't help but give him side glances whenever the lesson starts
he will always catch your eyes on him making him smirk a little
one time, he straight up turns to face you staring right into your eyes small smile on his face, you squeak turning your head to the side quickly. you hear him chuckle at this before going back to writing down his notes.
if you're wearing glasses;
he playfully flirts with you if the teacher gives you a little break. he will nonchalantly pull your glasses off your face and try it on.
"woah, kinda high but not so far from mine" he said while scrunching his nose cutely. let's just say he wears contacts
he cocks a brow at you still wearing your glasses, "you think i suit this frame?" you nod your head hesitantly, looking away, face feeling hot.
"need my glasses please," you manage to mumble out. he chuckles nevertheless giving your glasses back.
there's this event on your school wherein toge was pulled from the sea of students
making him the center of attention, it was the usual event that the school hold every year wherein they teach you about relationships and such.
"what about you, young man?" the host points at toge's direction after giving a heartfelt speech about relationships.
"come and join me," your eyes zeroes on toge as he stands beside the host hands on his back, looking all polite and kind.
"anyone you fancy in these school?" the host puts his mic in front of toge gesturing at the crowd, toge smiles after getting the question.
"yes," a simple answer that have you a little disappointed because damn you're wishing that's you.
the host's smile gets wider, "oh we have a lucky one, such a fine handsome young man they would have."
the host continues the event letting toge go back to his seat after the little interview.
'indeed, lucky them' you thought to youself.
however, before toge could sit down. his eyes locks with yours, your breath hitch and busy yourself with your id looking at it like it's the first time you've seen it. yuta laughs at your crisis and shakes his head "you're hopeless."
yuta most likely forced you to have the courage to hit that follow button
you know what happened next? only a few seconds passed, he already accepts your follow request
of course, you come and check his profile right after
there's also that day when you encourage yuta to send a message to his crush
but yuta got an idea of making this fair for the both of you
he really likes the idea of you and toge working out
this is a great opportunity to push you towards him
he tells you to send a message to toge, so that it would be equal for you two
how stupid of you to agree with this boy
as soon as you hit send, you toss your phone to yuta wanting the floor to open up and just fall down on the bottomless pit
yuta gasp loudly seeing the response
he smacks your stomach which was closest in his reach and shoves your phone to your face, laughing loudly.
you: hey, i just wanna tell you that you're really smart and i can't help but also admire your pretty handwriting :>>
inumaki.mp3: oh thank you, thought you would compliment my face considering you stare more to it ;DD
your mouth hangs open looking back to yuta who's still laughing
to say that you're embarrassed and not wanting to exist right at this moment would be an understatement
last embarrassment for this headcanon
yuta just loves messing with you
there's this sports event in school wherein lots of students gets a chance to have an excuse to take picture with their crush if u're from philippines u know the feels
yuta takes this chance to get you one, of course he's that great of a friend like that
a little context for this, there's this kind of like a party for the students to enjoy after the long sports week that happened. with deejay and all plus the loud music blasting! -well our school provides one i dunno bout urs-
toge's sweating slightly after getting out of the crowd, still laughing from the little showdown they had in the center of the little crowd his friends gathered.
this day of the sports week is definitely his favorite part, his friends pats his back as they shout to each other over the loud music.
staying back where it's more calm and less people compare up in front where the students are jumping up and down restless.
yuta happen to pull you out just in time of finding toge with his friends chatting. he grins at you, you look back at him scared not knowing what's going on.
he drags you to where toge's group are standing, once you arrive you bite your bottom lip eyes widening after seeing toge.
you begin to turn on your heel and just straight up ditch yuta, however, luck's not on your side today. "togeee~!" yuta shouted patting his shoulder.
toge turns and sees yuta, smile still on his face. his eyes widens in recognition, "oh yuta!" he nod at him.
he moves his gaze to your back seeing you're about to flee the scene. yuta pulls you back making you face toge, "you remember them right?" toge nods giving you a smile.
you quickly look away, palms already sweating. your mind working on how to kill yuta in so many possible ways, "they wanna take picture with you, if that's alright?" yuta asked waving his phone, your plan scratching to killing him right now.
before toge could reply, his group of friends notices the little interaction and teases him.
"oh what do we have here?" nobara looks at the scene with a knowing smile, yuta pushes you to stand beside toge readying his camera.
yuji whistles seeing you two together, "c'mon~ put your arm around them!" yuji ushers, as toge's friend cheers in the background.
toge looks at you, his smile comforting you before wrapping an arm around your shoulder. you inhale deeply from your nose, trying to calm down yourself.
"smile for the camera!" yuta shouted having fun with this as he clicks away on his phone capturing every moment. yep, you're definitely gonna kill him later.
copyright © 2021 by love-amihan all rights reserved. do not repost in other platforms. reblogs are welcome and highly appreciated! <33
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk headcanons#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#inumaki to/ge#inumaki to/ge headcanons#inumaki x y/n#inumaki x you#inumaki x reader#okkotsu yuta#jjk yuta#fandom;jjk#jjk;inumaki
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I would for sure read a continuation of the birth photographer fic if you feel comfortable writing it/have time! Xx
a/n sorry I kinda combined these two together, I hope this is okay!! sorry ive taken so long too!! my requests are still open, just going a bit slowly :)
summary: literally just birth + harry
dad!tom x reader
warnings: childbirth, mentions of fainting, squint for suggestiveness too
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“Your doing so good darling, just keep breathin’ like that for me, in-out-in-out”
That had pretty much been the soundtrack to your last 3 hours. And yes it was MORE annoying than it sounds. Of course, that’s also ignoring the insane amount of pain your uterus was putting you through - as it spasmed while the little bug in there was wriggling away. Giving birth was not easy but giving birth with a husband-turned-midwife wittering away in your ear? Un-fucking-bearable.
“Tom…. I love you but..” Everything had really been starting to ramp up in the last half an hour, you were a panting sweaty mess now. “Please… SHUT THE FUCK UP” Tom would’ve recoiled completely away from the bed because of your tone, if it wasn’t for the absolute death grip you had his right hand in. Instead, Tom settled for straightening straight up and staring helplessly and dejectedly across the room at his brother - who of course was trying to hold back laughter, knowing it would be very easy for you to switch your target to him.
Clearly it wasn’t a social call to the hospital, Harry was here under the premise of taking photos when the baby arrives for Tom; but really to stop his brother from having his own breakdown - as commissioned by you. Lets just say, however scared and mortified Harry was of this ‘event’ he was taking a lot of enjoyment from how his brother was acting currently.
“It’s okay sir, if you were pushing a watermelon out of hole that normally was the size of a whiteboard marker, I’m sure you’d be a bit tetchy too.” That lady was your favourite midwife and in a lull between the sets of contractions, you actually managed a laugh. Wide-eyed, Tom just nodded jerkily, murmuring some sort of agreement. It was at this point a flash of light reverberated around the whole room, causing you to breathlessly laugh, Harry’s face informing you the picture he just got of Tom was priceless.
The laughter didn’t last long though, the next contraction had you bearing down on the bed, face contorted in pain as you sucked desperately on the gas and air tube.
“Okay Y/n I think we might be getting there, let me call the senior midwifes in okay?” The midwife had your legs hiked apart, a blanket attempting to cover your modesty - but at this point she was basically sticking her face in your noon. Modesty was out the window.
“Already?” Tom was shocked to say the least, from all his reading and research he’d learnt that the average labour time was more like 5 hours. Lets just say, Tom never exceled in school, never much enjoyed reading - which made the hours of highlighting baby books and pregnancy leaflets all the more extraordinary.
“Babies don’t stick to the script sir.” You could tell she was proud of the pun there, because you know, Tom’s a moviestar. “Professional improvisers, the lot of them.”
The cream walls of the hospital room very quickly filled with more and more people - Harry staying like a fly on the wall, now nervously biting his nails as he watched an obscene amount of medical people all take their turn oggling his sister-in-law’s bits. This was a weird ass situation.
Almost immediately it was at the point the midwifes were telling you to push, which after 9 months of holding a baby in (as well as your ill functioning bladder) sounded like an absolute dream. But it was also absolutely terrifying and exciting and horrifying all wrapped in one. Naturally then, after nodding hesitantly at the midwife between your legs, you’d craned your neck across to tom .You might’ve just told him off, for trying to encourage you, but now? You needed his encouragement.
What met you though, was his face completely drained of colour, mouth hanging slightly open as he hadn’t moved - still staring intently at the midwife. She followed your gaze, only taking half a second to survey the situation before knowingly smiling.
“Can we get a bit of help for dad please?” Immediately one of the more junior looking midwives was directing (pushing) Tom into the chair next to the floor. Suddenly actually concerned, you looked with wide eyes to the lady between your legs, who you felt bad for not remembering her name. With a comforting squeeze of your ankle she reassured you he’d be right as rain after a few moments of having his head between his knees. Also sensing you needed your support, she arched up, beckoning over to Harry who had an equally bemused look on his face.
“No - I-um I’m not.” His squeaking protests were interrupted by a large scream on your part, as another contraction tore through your body. Helplessly Harry glanced between Tom, who was still hunched over on a chair with a nurse squatted infront of him; and you, writhing around on the mechanical bed. He didn’t hesitate then, in jumping right to your side, allowing you to start crushing all the bones in his hand too.
And then it was all happening, a blur of activity and screams. It didnt take long for Tom to pull himself together and then you were flanked on both sides by Holland boys - both giving cheesy encouraging words (which you would’ve again told them to shut the fuck up for, if you’d been able to), Tom also stroking the top of your head. He found it pretty impossible, watching the woman that he loved go through such immense pain - especially when he was technically half the cause. Well… actually more that that, it had been him who had been… well shall we say *needy* those nine months ago.
“Okay Y/n the heads crowning, I know you’re tired but we need a few more big pushes, can you do that for me?”
Merely 5 minutes later and the most beautiful sound in the world echoed through the 4 creams walls. You were absolutely spent, eyes closed as you panted, knowing tears were flooding down your face too. Immediately though, familiar hands cupped both sides of your face, a forehead resting on yours.
“You did it Y/n/n.” His eyes were glassy, watering and red and the way he scoffed a smile in disbelief had you mirroring him exactly.
“We did it.” Your voice was hoarse and scratchy from all the yells of pain but it didnt matter. The midwife calling you by the name ‘mum and dad’ got both of your attention, a title you’d no doubt start getting used to.
“Meet your beautiful baby girl.” Another choked sob escaped your throat, as this little roughly wrapped up pink alien looking thing was placed onto your chest. Both you and Tom just gazed at her, completely transfixed at the way she wriggled her head slightly, nuzzling into your chest. Tom gently hovered his palm against her little head, while you pressed down the blanket gently, just so you could see all her features.
Then a flash echoed around the otherwise silent room, making you all look up to Harry who was gritting his teeth in apology. “Do mum and dad want to smile for the camera?” The question was posed so hesitantly and quietly, really it wasn’t funny either. That didn’t stop you and Tom both pulling out the biggest grins and chuckling away, allowing Harry to capture the perfect moment. Being referred to as mum and dad - it was bloody comical.
“You gonna tell me her name now?” You looked from Harry to Tom, nodding in approval for him to spill the beans.
“Amber. She’s Amber.”
You’d squabbled for months before ending on Amber. It had been a long relentless process, Tom claiming that your baby might just have ended up as ‘as yet untitled’ which you and your hormonal state had stormed out at. It hadn’t taken much to forgive it though, Tom had long since worked out that Ben and Jerrys was the way to your heart.
The nurses took Amber back to do some tests, properly cleaning both you and her up and after that everything was weirdly calm. Harry had left to give the twothree of you a moment alone and Tom was about to do his turn of skin to skin.
“This really is it isn’t it?” He murmured, whilst carefully scooping Amber from your arms.
“Mhmmm… your stuck with two girls who’ll go psycho on you without a moments notice.” He seemed to accept it though, just nodding in response.
“And I still can’t bloody wait.” His eyes penetrating deep into you, had you blushing like a nervous teenage girl. “ ‘m still so proud of you, you grew this little human.”
“Your not allowed to call her little because you didnt have the ‘little’ thing rip your insides apart.”
“Hey! I’m upset about it too! Was like I had to watch my favourite pub being burnt down.” Of course, trust Tom to make a dirty joke at a time like this.
“Don’t kid yourself, you weren’t watching, too busy fainting.”
“I didn’t actually faint!” This time he protested a bit too loudly, causing Amber to mewl a little and bury her head into the crook of her Dads arm. “I think Ambers just told you to shut it too.”
“You annoy the hell out of…” Your grumbling was interrupted by an impressive, ear-splitting yawn. “ You annoy the hell out of me.”
“But you love me?” He sing-songed, now back to a hushed tone.
“I hope so, otherwise we’re in a bit of trouble.” He scoffed, but nodded his head, taking the hand that wasn’t cradling Amber to tuck some sweaty, knotted strands of hair behind your ear.
“I do owe Harry though, he was at least able to stay on his feet.”
“He was a better birthing partner than you too, much much less condescending and annoying.” You sniggered, making Tom pout once again, only wiping the look off his face when you yawned again, rubbing an your eye like a toddler would.
“If your done insulting me… get some rest love, I got you.” All you did was nod, with a small groan (because below your waist still hurt like a bitch) rolled over so you could fall asleep to sight of the two of them.
“Got you both, my two beautiful girls.”
hope you enjoyed, would love to hear any thoughts <3
taglist: @hollandfanficlove @hallecarey1
#tom holland x reader#tom holland#tom holland fluff#Tom Holland blurb#dad!tom#tom holland imagine#harry holland
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Ink on his heart
Summary: Here’s how Bucky Barnes got a haircut and then decided it was about damn time he controlled his own destiny - starting with a bit of ink.
Star Spangled Bingo Square: “A thoughtful gift”
Characters: Bucky Barnes x TattooArtist!Reader
Words: 7,400
Warnings: Tattoo experiences, a couple stories about war. Some swearing. Mostly lots of feels and fluff.
A/N: This one has been in my head a long time, I love tattoos and I love the idea of Bucky getting them! While I desperately wish I could draw the designs in my head, hopefully you get enough of a word picture to imagine. And yes, it is kinda long (I know, I know), but I couldn’t stop myself!
Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!
*****
Not that Bucky’s counting, but it’s been three days, 18 hours and 26 minutes and he can’t get over it.
In the damp, chilly hours before dawn, he sits on the floor of the tower living room, watching the marshmallows in his hot chocolate melt in white swirls. Now and then, he lifts his eyes to the windows, finds the faint edges of his reflection in the dark glass, and tilts his head. Tentative fingers scratch through close cropped hair and a slow smile appears. Even now, he expects long strands trailing through his fingers. Believes he can feel the phantom tug of a snarl.
It was just a haircut. What a simple, ordinary thing.
But Bucky Barnes has never been ordinary.
That small act triggered a startling transformation. Decades of heartbreak fell away with that dark hair, revealing the shape of a man he begins to remember, and it makes him think. About small things, about change. About simple acts making an extraordinary difference.
The last haircut Bucky remembers before the beginning of his first ending, was January 1945. The memory came back one evening, of a tent in Austria, the heavy silence of snow drifting down. He remembers Steve with a dull scissors, snipping carefully along his ear, remembers the catch of a knife gently shaving his neck. It was a ritual they shared for years. When pennies were tight and life was tough, they took care of each other.
And then? Then there was after.
After the fall, after capture, after the world went pear-shaped. Hydra wasn’t concerned with the formalities of self-care, a haircut was functional. Sharp scissors biting into his scalp, rough hands tearing his hair, a harsh slap if he considered resisting. Get it done and get it done fast. The Asset has work to do.
He despised those haircuts.
But now, here he is. No more handlers and horrors. No more running. No more hiding. No more ropes dragging him somewhere he doesn’t want to be.
Wresting back his independence was exhilarating.
When Steve had finished this haircut - because Bucky still preferred a Steve Rogers special to anything - he’d dusted off Bucky’s shoulders and waited. Sam stood behind him, and Bucky rolled his eyes, expecting a barrage of sassy comments.
But Sam just ruffled the freshly cut hair and laughed.
“Not bad old man. Still not as handsome as yours truly, but hey - maybe someday.”
Such a simple thing, a haircut.
It makes him wonder what else he might do, just for himself.
Fuzzy and disconnected, an old memory flickers to life. It buzzes in his brain, images and connections filtering through the cracks and Bucky lets out a breathless laugh.
“Yeah,” he murmurs to himself. “Okay.”
He closes his eyes and sips his hot chocolate.
*****
Steve yawns when he answers the door. Blond hair spikes in every direction and he rubs his eyes, looking for all the world like a sleepy, overgrown toddler.
“Hey, man. Everything okay?”
Bucky leans against the doorframe and chews his thumbnail while he gathers his thoughts.
“Sure, just - can I get a favor?”
Bemused, Steve ushers him inside and Bucky plops in the red bean bag chair Steve keeps tucked beside his dresser. Stretching out his legs, he waits for Steve to flop back into bed and snuggle his pillow, before he speaks.
“Remember back in ’37 when we were coming home from that shitty bar in Midtown, and we saw that sailor getting a tattoo?”
Whatever Steve expected, it wasn’t this. It takes him a moment to conjure the image, but when it comes he belts out a laugh.
“That terrified kid gettin’ a big heart on his arm? Looked ready to shit his pants?”
Bucky grins at the memory, a milk-faced kid with hair dark and shiny as an oil-slick.
“Thought he was gonna puke on the guy.”
“Yeah, and didn’t we stand outside that window arguing while you tried to convince me we both needed one? Something about good girls liking bad boys?”
“Hey, I stand by that statement!”
“Oh fuck off, you know exactly what your Ma would’ve said if we’d come home with tattoos.”
“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “God, she’d a skinned me alive.”
“Damn straight,” Steve agrees and they fall quiet, momentarily lost in shared memories of a woman with a voice of steel and a heart of gold.
Bucky leans forward and rests his chin on his knee.
“You know, all these years and I’ve never really - done anything like that,” he admits wistfully. “Gotten something done to me, I mean. Something I decided on my own. If that makes sense?”
Controlling his own destiny, choosing to do something by himself, instead of always accepting things done to him - the idea is intoxicating. He remembers the pained grimace on that sailor’s face and he relishes the prospect.
Pain you choose to feel holds a different meaning, than the torture he knows.
“S’never too late, Buck,” Steve says drowsily. “You can do anything you want.”
Bucky contemplates Steve’s words. He can do anything he wants. Heart beating fast, he takes a deep breath.
“So listen, I was thinking -”
*****
For two straight weeks, Steve works on ideas.
The floor of his bedroom is littered with sketches and concepts, crumpled sheets of paper dappled with flowing lines. Finally, after midnight on a dreary Thursday, he knocks on Bucky’s door. The moment it opens, he shoves his tattered leather portfolio in Bucky’s hands.
“So, I guess, uh - here.”
Steve crosses his arms, his toe tapping nervously, and Bucky chokes down a laugh. Some things about Steve Rogers remain comfortingly unchanged. No matter how incredible his work, all confidence seems to evaporate the moment Bucky lays eyes on anything.
—
“Give it back asshole!”
“God dammit Steve, YOU’RE the one who asked me to look!”
“Yeah well, I changed my mind, now give it back!”
—
Bucky remembers laughing while Steve chased him around their apartment. He remembers the neighbors banging on the wall, shouting at them to shut up, and he remembers the smell of their forgotten scrambled eggs burning. But most of all, he remembers that drawing - he tucked that portrait of his mother in his rucksack the day he shipped out and it stayed there, a good luck charm all through the war.
Steve had cried when Bucky told him.
Because Bucky’s opinion was always the one that mattered. Seventy years changes nothing.
Tonight, he opens the leather case, revealing three separate drawings. Outlines of black ink and a rainbow of colors paint over the curves and breaks of a human form and he pores over each page. Each drawing is utterly unique, telling the story of Bucky Barnes in metaphors and moments.
There are no words.
His throat feels suddenly thick, cotton lodged in his windpipe.
“I can redo them,” Steve blurts out. He snatches at the paper, but Bucky spins sideways, blocking the reach.
“The fuck you will. You ain’t touching these,” his voice cracks. Blinking back the flood of emotion, he looks up. “This is - they’re perfect, Steve. Thank you.”
Steve blushes petal pink and coughs to hide his delight. He fails miserably, of course, but that’s one more reason Bucky loves the little punk.
*****
One week later, Bucky stands before a demure brick storefront on a slow Brooklyn side street, the portfolio housing Steve’s three precious drawings clutched tight in a sweaty hand. Glancing at the address in his hand, he looks up to find stenciled letters curving across a glass window.
BROOKLYN INK
ESTABLISHED 1973
“Here we go,” he mutters. Before he can lose his nerve, he shoves forward.
Three steps inside the tattoo parlor, he pulls up short.
Wow.
Black iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling, splashing sparkles across plush velvet chairs, rich violet and bright turquoise. The floor is an eclectic mix of reclaimed barn board, full of knots and whorls in every shade of brown. Artwork in black and white frames line the brick wall, tattoo designs, letters and fonts, photos of finished work. The entire space overflows with warmth, and Bucky feels instantly at ease.
The front desk is empty, but he hears someone rattling around back, so he takes a seat. Piled high on an end table are bundles of photo albums, full of work; he sinks into the cushions and starts flipping through.
Immersed in the images, he misses the sound of quiet footsteps.
“Are you James?”
The voice startles him and in one swift move, he manages to throw the album on the floor and tumble from the chair. Pages of photographs spill everywhere and he crawls over, hastily scooping them up and babbling one inappropriate apology after another.
“Shit! Sorry, I’m sorry! Shit, I mean I’m sorry for saying shit. Fuck, I didn’t - oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m not usually so - ”
Soft laughter greets him and he looks up in panic, a more refined apology on his lips, but the words evaporate.
Crouching beside him, graceful hands gather up the mess of photos, slipping them back into the album. Dropping it carelessly on the end table, she bounces back to her feet and offers him a hand.
“No worries,” she says with a breathtaking smile. “I shouldn’t have startled you.”
Although he has no need for the support, Bucky reaches mutely for her outstretched fingers because he can’t help but take them. When she tugs, he allows her to pull him up.
“I’m, um - Bucky. Please, call me Bucky.”
“Hello Bucky,” she says. She shares her name and he repeats it slowly. Clearing his throat, he takes a deep breath.
“Thanks for meeting me so late, I know it’s after hours.”
“Sure,” she says lightly. “So, what can I do for you?”
This is the tricky part.
“On the website, it mentioned you had experience with - with tattooing around scars,” he begins carefully. “Scar tissue I mean. Is that right?”
With his question, her expressions turns serious. She observes him for a long moment.
“Yes, I do. Can I ask how long you served?” she asks delicately and Bucky acknowledges her perception with a short nod. He toys with the zipper on Steve’s portfolio, debating his response.
“Seemed like forever,” he finally says, and it’s the most honest answer he has.
Nodding silently, she motions him behind the counter.
“Come on back, let’s see what you had in mind.”
Hugging the pictures to his chest, Bucky follows, eyes saucer wide as they weave through the work area to her space. The shop smells like the woodsy smoke from the candles sitting along her table, mixed with ink and latex and an odd sterile tang. He inhales and discovers he likes it, the strange scent lighting him up.
Dropping to her stool, she gestures for him to have a seat. Bucky sits gingerly, wide eyes still staring. When she catches his eye, he flushes.
“Sorry. First time I’ve been in a shop.”
“That’s okay, there’s lots to see,” she says easily. Looking at the portfolio still clutched against his chest, she grins. “Did you have some ideas already?”
He thrusts the portfolio at her. Propping it on her knees, she flips it open and he beams when he hears her astonished gasp.
“I like the colors there, if you think they’re possible?”
“Sure, might take some extra time, but I can do it,” she murmurs, pinching her lip. Turning the page sideways, she examines every minute detail, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is exquisite.”
“I’ll tell my artist. He’s a real diva sometimes.”
“I’d say he’s earned that right,” she laughs, tracing the paper with a light finger. She flips to the second picture and tilts her head. “The grays and silvers might look nice with midnight blue for contrast?”
Bucky nods eagerly. “Yeah, I love that idea.”
She looks again, examining the intricate design.
“Can you tell me about your pain tolerance? The designs are beautiful, but they’re complex. Each will take multiple sessions to finish.”
Bucky drops his eyes. He heaves a sigh at the obligatory question.
“It’s high,” he mutters. “Very - high.”
Silence follows his admission. When he dares to look up again, he feels a twinge in his chest at the compassion he finds. He offers a rueful smile and she slowly returns it.
“Would you like to come after hours? It can get noisy during the day, if you prefer things quieter. Most soldiers like that better.”
There is a sweep of relief at her casual acknowledgement. He huffs out a shaky breath.
“That would be great. If you don’t mind, I mean.”
“Not at all. I’m a night owl anyway.”
“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly. “Me too.”
She looks back to the portfolio, carefully shuffling the pages.
The third picture appears.
And Bucky sees it, that precise moment when realization sinks in. When she realizes exactly who is sitting in her chair tonight. There is no doubt the drawing gives that fact away. Heart pounding, he flinches, steeling himself for the inevitable.
But nothing happens.
She meets his nervous gaze head on and yet - that gentle smile remains.
“Bucky,” she repeats and this time she understands. “Oh. It’s nice to meet you, Bucky Barnes. Come back tomorrow night, 9pm. Don’t be late.”
He leaves the tattoo shop feeling lighter than he has in years.
*****
TATTOO 1: FOREARM
“Show me a man with a tattoo and I’ll show you a man with an interesting past.”
- Jack London
*****
Perpetually early for everything, Bucky arrives at 8:45pm the next night.
The bell over the door tinkles when he enters, and she looks up from the front desk and waves. His stomach unexpectedly leaps and he thinks it must be nerves.
“Hey, Bucky,” her voice is soft.
“Evening,” he says shyly.
“You ready to do this?”
“Could hardly sleep last night,” he confesses with a grin.
Sliding timidly into her black leather chair, he watches her arrange tools on a shiny silver tray. An arm rest is attached to his right side, and he dries his sweaty palm on his jeans before easing his arm onto the cushion, palm up. When she drops onto her stool at his side, he offers a weak smile.
“You got the email I sent with all the information, right? Did you have any questions?”
He scrunches his nose, recalling the long, detailed summary she shared. For each of the three tattoos he requested, she gave him a detailed analysis of the process for creating each design; broke down how long each session would take; gave explicit instructions on the healing and care process; confirmed each individual color and how it would be applied; clarified the tools that would be used, including their brand names and how each one worked; she even provided floor plans of her shop - outlining entries and exits and bathrooms and locations of fire extinguishers.
It was a novel of information that must’ve taken her hours, and he was inexplicably grateful for the time she spent just to make him comfortable.
“No questions, I just, uh - thanks. For putting all that together. It was helpful to have all the information. Helps me keep my head on straight.”
“Of course,” she says. “So this first design should take probably 5-6 hours. Since you’re new, we’ll start with short blocks and see how it goes.”
Bucky gives a jerky nod and she pauses, pressing her fingertips against the smooth skin of his forearm.
“Here are the rules. You’re in charge, okay? We can go as fast or as slow as you need. This is not a race, and I have nowhere to be but here. Any time you want to stop, you say the word and I stop. We can take a breather, grab a cup of coffee and start again - or we can call it a night. This is your experience, Bucky. You’re in control. Understand?”
There is a fierce surge of gratitude at her words. Gratitude for her kindness, for her acceptance. Gratitude for her.
“Got it,” he whispers.
And with that, they begin.
Bucky follows each step, while she measures his arm, while she considers the contours and angles of his muscle, while she cleans and preps his skin. When she finally applies a stencil, his heart is hammering so hard his teeth are chattering.
The low buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears with a click.
When the needles touch his skin, sweat instantly beads his neck. Adrenaline drenches his tongue and for one wild moment, Bucky panics. Wonders if this was a terrible idea, because what idiot asks for pain, seriously Barnes, what the hell is wrong with you, why’re you so stupid all the -
And then - oh.
Huh.
Interesting.
Wide-eyed, Bucky follows her careful strokes, black lines appearing on his skin.
It does hurt - sort of. Obviously nothing he can’t handle; in the grand scheme of his life, this would register as a minor inconvenience, but there is a pinch.
But that spark of pain vanishes, when the raw symbolism behind Steve’s design hits him full force.
Holy shit.
How many times through the decades did Bucky Barnes die? And how many times did he rise, born again from the frozen ash of oblivion? It was simply what the Soldier did. But it was a shadow-life, nothing more. Bucky never knew how close he was to giving up, until that day above the Potomac, Steve’s bloody face beneath his furious fists. He was so far gone, so lost and forgotten, until those memories cracked the Soldier’s fierce veneer.
And suddenly he was Bucky again. Awake and alive. For the first time in 70 years he felt fire in his soul. For the first time in 70 years he could breathe.
Tears inexplicably fill his eyes.
“All okay?”
Through a tunnel, Bucky hears her voice. Hypnotized by the metaphor inking itself into his skin, his head feels waterlogged when blinks up at her.
“Sorry?”
She scans his face, her thumb rubbing the pulse thrumming at his wrist.
“Everything okay?” She asks again and Bucky feels a potent rush of euphoria.
“Yes,” he says slowly. The excitement bubbles over and he lets out an ecstatic laugh. “Yes! This is incredible. This is - fucking hell, this is amazing.”
Chuckling to herself, she bends back to her task.
“So I guess we’ll keep going?”
“Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”
Two hours later, the outline of the Phoenix is inked into his skin, crisp black lines like fresh paint. Long tail feathers are curled around his wrist, the lush feathered body splashed over his forearm, her wings spread open and curving around his arm, her head reaching toward the sky.
Born from ash. Alive again.
Bucky hates to cover it up, but she insists.
“Follow the cleaning instructions and it should be fine. We need to wait between the sessions, give you time to heal.”
At that comment, he fidgets.
“Actually, I heal pretty - fast.”
��I assumed you might. Usually I say 2-3 weeks between sessions, so how about you come back in 1 week and we can see. Let’s just make sure. Does that work?”
Bucky glances at the crisp white bandage on his arm.
“Okay, that works,” he says.
She squeezes his hand and he meets her eyes.
“You did great,” she tells him.
Bucky smiles in return. And he doesn’t stop for the next six days.
*****
When he walks into the shop for his next session, he carries a large coffee for himself and an extra large iced peach green tea for her. When he gets to the front desk, he thrusts the cup at her.
“Evening. Um, here. Saw you had one last time, so - anyway.”
“Bucky, thank you. I’ve been craving one all day.” She gives the straw an experimental bite, before taking a long drink and for some reason, the silly quirk makes his heart bounce.
After a quick check on how he’s healed, she declares him perfect and they get started, settling into a comfortable silence. After an hour of buzzing, Bucky clears his throat.
“Is it okay to talk while you work?”
“It is,” she affirms, dabbing at the ink. Glancing up, she sees hesitant blue eyes. “I’m good at listening too. Sometimes it’s nice just to listen.”
Bucky figures that’s a fair statement. He fiddles with a stray thread on his shirt.
“Do you read much?” He asks hopefully, picturing the teetering stack of books beside his bed. She perks at the question.
“I love to read. Have a pile of books on my nightstand waiting for me to find time. What about you? Are you reading anything good now? Any favorites I should know?”
Bucky swallows the happy surprise. If he could, he’d be content to spend the rest of his years with a comfortable chair, a cup of coffee, and an unending supply of stories. He could talk about books for days, he just normally keeps quiet, because most people aren’t interested in that facet of Bucky Barnes.
So he begins to talk.
He tells her how Natasha lent him all her Russian copies of Pushkin and Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, insisting that reading in the original language was infinitely better. He describes how he found a copy of Rumi’s poetry at a yard sale, and what an incredible treasure it was. He flusters recounting how much he cried reading ‘A Fault in our Stars’ and says he was scared shitless to even see a clown for a full year after reading Stephen King.
He talks and talks and talks, and when he finally stops to breathe, she glances up.
“It’s nice to hear a man who’s so well read,” she says and Bucky preens at the compliment. “Do you have an all time favorite? Something you never get tired of?”
A favorite? No question.
“Yeah, I do. Something I read during the war and kinda fell in love. It’s about here, I guess. About Brooklyn.”
At the description, her mouth quirks, but she keeps working.
“Did you ever think about a book quote for a tattoo?”
Now there’s an idea. He makes a mental note to think of a quote he could add as another tattoo. Or maybe another couple tattoos. Hell, one session in and he’s already addicted.
The comment tumbles free before he realizes he’s spoken out loud. He blushes at her laughter.
“It can be addicting,” she agrees. Bucky understands completely, seeing the vibrant crimson ink soak into his skin, painting the bird’s feathers. And then she pauses, meeting his eyes with a peculiar expression. “The right words can make you feel invincible.”
Setting the tattoo machine down, she rolls her chair back a bit and sits up straight. Lifting the hem of her shirt, Bucky sees a line of gold text inked below her ribs, his eyes following the flowing cursive.
“She was all of these things and of something more,” he reads aloud.
“‘A Tree Grows in Brooklyn’ is my favorite book too,” she says quietly. There is a long, unbroken moment where they stare into each others eyes. He should say something, he thinks. Something intelligent or witty or anything, but instead he just thinks about the fact that he found a woman in Brooklyn to permanently carve pictures into his skin and she has the same favorite book as him.
Bucky always was a sucker for fate.
“That’s - that’s really - I love that,” he finally says instead.
*****
A week later, Bucky arrives with a bundle of folders and an exasperated expression.
“This is really annoying, but do you mind if I finish some reports while you work? Got behind, someone’s gonna have my ass.” Bucky raises the papers apologetically.
“No problem,” she says easily. “Let’s keep your ass safe.”
Bending back to her task, Bucky snorts a laugh. They’re just a handful of mission reports, normally he types them soon as he returns, but lately he’s been slacking, because lately he has other things he finds more interesting.
Like the scene in front of him.
Together they work, each with their own pen. Bucky writes, she colors, and the clock on the wall ticks along. After awhile, she takes a break to stretch. Rolling her shoulders, she observes him.
“Are you left-handed?” she asks curiously and it takes Bucky a moment to think.
“Oh. Uh, not really,” he says. “But I can switch. Never been a problem.”
At the confession, she raises her eyebrows.
“That’s impressive. I wish I had a talent like that.”
He ducks his head at the praise. And he keeps writing, of course. Maybe adds a bit more flair. After all, the old Bucky Barnes did like to swagger.
*****
“Well, I think that’s it.”
It takes a beat before Bucky understands what she means. Confused, he peers up at her with a dopey expression and she gestures at his arm.
He feels his heart lurch.
It flames to life along his arm, painted in vibrant ruby red and rich crimson and deep plum, highlights edged in shining gold. Mesmerized, Bucky stares down at the lines of ink and he flexes, the tendons of his arm shifting, and the bird moves. For one wild moment, he believes if he stays still, it could leap from his skin and take flight.
It leaves him breathless.
“God, this is better - fuck, it’s so much better - than I ever imagined. How did you - wow. I don’t know how you did it, but - thank you. Thank you so much.”
Unanticipated emotion makes his voice tremble. Because this is the first time Bucky Barnes chose something permanent for himself. Serums and metal arms and bullets and blades, those were always forced upon him, his pleading refusals met with violence and sneering indifference.
But this?
This.
This.
This is all his.
*****
TATTOO 2: BACK
“Wear your heart on your sleeve in this life.”
- Sylvia Plath
*****
“So, uh, how exactly does this work?”
Standing beside the leather chair while she organizes her inks, Bucky wrinkles his nose. She looks up and motions for him to turn, straddling the chair with his chest pressed against the back.
“Are you comfortable completely removing your shirt? Or would you prefer to leave it part way on? I’ll just need it out of the way for the right side of your back.”
Bucky grimaces. Eventually she’s going to see his shoulder - he knows that - but he’s not in the mood to rip that band-aid off yet.
“Uh - let’s do part of the way if that’s okay?”
“That’s okay,” she confirms and he awkwardly tugs his right arm free, baring the broad expanse of his back. Tucking his arms in front of him, he slings a leg over the chair and rests his chin carefully on the headrest.
He says nothing, simply stays still while she absorbs the sight. Littered up and down his back are a litany of scars, puckers from the occasional bullet, thin lines from errant blades, and a few other marks he prefers not to define. His voice is muffled when he warily asks.
“Are you able to - work with it?“
“Absolutely,” she answers firmly and Bucky warms at the decisiveness in her tone. Her confidence makes him feel infinitely more positive.
This is the largest of his three tattoos, stretching from the tip of his shoulder blade and flowing down to his waist. It will also take the longest, but Bucky assures her he has no issue sitting perfectly still for hours.
It’ll be worth it. He can’t wait to show Sam - he’ll get a kick out of this one.
Once she applies the stencil over his skin, she goes to work, dropping into that headspace of deep focus. She works so quietly for so long, he falls into a trance, lulled by the melodic buzz.
When she speaks, it startles him.
“What made you decide you wanted a tattoo?”
He lays his cheek along the edge of the chair so he can see her from the corner of his eye when he answers.
“S’random, but back in ’37, me and Steve were out and I remember walking by this old tattoo shop over in Midtown. They had one of those big glass windows with the chair in front, so people could stand and watch. Anyway, we walk by and there was this kid sitting in the chair, and no fuckin’ joke, he was getting a big heart on his arm with ‘MOM’ written in the middle.”
“Ah yes, the ever popular ‘mom’ tribute. I’ve done a few of those,” she says and Bucky grins.
“Well anyway, I always kinda wanted something, you know? Thought about getting one before I shipped out, but I didn’t, and then it was - “ he pauses for a moment, but she encourages him with a questioning hmmm? and Bucky bravely pushes forward. “I had lots of years where I didn’t get to make my own decisions. And there was so much - bad shit that happened to me. Anyway, I guess I thought if someone’s gonna do something to me, I wanted it to be on my own terms. You know?”
“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I think that makes perfect sense.”
Bucky sits quietly, contemplating. The question has been rattling around his brain for awhile and it spills free before he can stop himself.
“The whole process, it feels sort of - intimate, doesn’t it?”
He flushes at the insinuation, but intimate is the best way to describe it, he thinks, this practice of someone permanently carving their art into your skin.
“It is intimate,” she says softly, leaning closer. “It’s almost like you’re - leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin? I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s what it’s always felt like.”
Bucky nods, watching her capable, artistic, beautiful hands as they move, slowly transferring bits and pieces of herself to him.
What a gift. He holds on tight.
*****
It was bound to happen at one of the sessions.
It’s been dark and rainy for days, buckets dumped from the heavens, the perpetual grumble of thunder always near. When Bucky comes through the front door, he feels like a wet dog. He shakes out his jacket, stomps his boots. He feels off base tonight, the result of bad sleep, bad dreams, and one particularly bad mission. He’s frustrated with himself for bringing it with him, thinks maybe he should’ve cancelled, but the thought of skipping his session - both the ink and her - was too depressing.
So instead of holing up in his room and moping under the covers, he braved the storm.
The one inside and out.
Searching for calm, he licks chapped lips.
“Hey,” he says, cringing when his voice cracks.
“Hey, Buck,” she turns cheerfully, but when she sees him squinting at her through the droplets cascading down his face, his shoulders hunched and tense, she stops. Looks him up and down and her expression softens. Beckoning him back, she digs up a towel and a dry t-shirt with ‘BROOKLYN INK’ stamped across the front, ushering him to the bathroom.
“Take all the time you need. No rush.”
Bucky mumbles his thanks and shuts the door. Gripping the sink, he glares at the mirror, at the smudge of dark beneath his eyes, at the clench of his jaw. Closing his eyes, he breathes slow and deep.
“You’re okay. You’re okay.”
He repeats the mantra, determined to settle. He’s been eager for this session all week, he’s sure as hell not ruining it because he can’t get his idiot brain to stop spinning.
When he finally emerges, he finds her arranging her work space. Halting in front of her, he keeps trembling hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes downcast.
“I’m afraid I’m poor company tonight,” he admits quietly.
“That’s okay. We can reschedule, Bucky,” she says softly and Bucky feels the disconcerting sting of tears. He rubs the heel of his hand against watery eyes.
“If it’s okay, I’d - I’d rather go ahead. Been looking forward to seeing you - uh, seeing you work, all week. It was just - “ he pauses and fights the temptation to spill his guts. No, he snarls internally, she doesn’t need to hear all your shit.
He clamps his mouth shut and shrugs instead.
She says nothing, but when she gives his hand a comforting squeeze, Bucky feels that familiar surge of gratitude. She guides him carefully toward the chair and he slumps into the seat, automatically tugging up his new shirt.
“Just close your eyes and breath. You’re okay.”
Bucky rests his chin on the edge of the chair. Troubled eyes flutter shut, and the comforting buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears, muting the sound of the storm raging outside. When he feels the prick of the needles, he lets out a weary breath. And when he feels the easy pressure of her fingers, he begins to relax.
For hours, she works. Firm strokes, painting the story across his skin.
The dark night begins to fade before she finally sets her tools aside. When he climbs to his feet, she pulls him into a gentle hug.
Bucky sinks into her arms.
That morning, the sun begins to shine.
*****
Bucky’s been sitting for a couple hours now, eyeing the brick wall behind the chair. A question pops into his head and he feels like a jerk for not asking sooner.
“Hey - all these hours together, and I never asked you - what made you want to draw on people for a living?”
She hums at the question, and he can hear the happiness in her reply.
“Well, I always wanted to be an artist. For my eleventh birthday, my best friend Mike gave me this set of gel pens, there were a million colors. When I told him I wanted to be a tattoo artist, he let me draw pictures all over him for practice. He insisted on being the first person I inked, once I got my license. Would always tell people he was the ‘original canvas’ for my brilliance.”
When she laughs, Bucky chuckles with her; it reminds him of Steve.
“Sounds like a good man,” he says.
“Yeah, he is - he was,” she quietly corrects herself. “He was an EOD specialist in Afghanistan. Right before he left for his last tour, I drew up plans for the arm sleeve he always wanted; he planned to get it when he finished. A month later, he was in a convoy that was moving through the Gereshk Valley in the Helmand Province, when an IED hit his vehicle. He didn’t make it home.”
The story hits home like a kick in the face.
Too many soldiers, too many lives. Bucky reaches back to still her hand. He slowly turns to face her, gently tugging the tattoo machine free and setting it aside. Wordlessly, he offers his hand and she accepts it gratefully, weaving her fingers through his. It takes a few attempts before she speaks again.
“It took me a long time to get through that. One day I met a friend working down at the VA, and I heard a vet talking about the scars on his legs. He sounded so - sad about them, you know? Kept saying he didn’t recognize himself anymore. And I just stood there thinking, maybe I couldn’t help Mike, but I could still do something.” Staring resolutely down, she considers her fingers still entangled with Bucky’s. “I did some research and took some classes and - learned how to tattoo on scar tissue.”
Bucky gazes at her. He feels a sweep of pride at the way she turned her tragedy into something beautiful.
“I’m so sorry that happened,” he says and she finally looks up, meeting blue eyes bright with compassion. “But you should know, what you’re doing for people, it’s incredible. And if you don’t mind me saying, I think he’d be real god damn proud of you.”
A tear slips down her cheek and she ducks her head, her whisper so low he nearly misses it.
“Thank you Bucky.”
*****
Hours later, Bucky hears a clatter of tools and her huff of relief.
“All done.”
Wiping her hands, she pops excitedly up from the stool and Bucky pushes back from the chair to follow. Without a thought, she grabs his metal hand, tugging him impatiently over to a set of floor length mirrors along the wall. Bucky grips tight and obediently follows, his pulse racing. When she positions him at the mirror, she adjusts the panels so he can see himself from all angles.
“There, have a look.”
Along his spine, the single metal wing bursts free, so intensely realistic, Bucky’s jaw drops. It arches gracefully up, curving over his shoulder blade and sweeping down his back, razor sharp feathers tickling his rib cage before billowing out above his waist. Made from silvers and grays and shaded hints of midnight blue, it glows in the light. When Bucky reaches toward the sky, the muscles shift beneath the ink and it creates the strangest sensation of feathers unfolding.
All the scars littering his back, a flesh and bone patchwork of memories left by vicious handlers and fights too close for comfort, have disappeared. Blending into the steel of his new wing, their only purpose is to strengthen the image.
After all this time, he’s come to terms with the metal arm so unwillingly gifted all those years ago. But it’s remained a relic of a past life, something heavy, to drag him down.
But now, he rolls his shoulder back and his new metal wing lifts him higher than he’s felt in a long, long time.
*****
TATTOO 3: SHOULDER
“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.”
- Haruki Murakami
*****
“So our last session.”
“Our last session,” he murmurs.
Bucky thinks for a moment that she seems glum, but maybe that’s wishful thinking.
“This is a tough one,” she warns, “but I think we can do it in one session. I won’t try and cover them up, it won’t work. The best solution is to incorporate your scars into the design. Make sense?”
Bucky pictures the pattern Steve drew, bright green leaves and vines tracing the seam of his arm, melding with the thick ribbons of raised tissue. It doesn’t matter, but he timidly asks anyway.
“Will it hurt?”
“No,” she says gently. Pressing her hand to his galloping heart, she shakes her head. “It won’t hurt much there, but you need to tell me if it hurts here. You need to tell me if I should stop. Remember, you’re in charge, okay?”
“Okay,” he whispers.
Steeling himself, he whips off his shirt, balling it up in nervous hands. The cool air blowing through the shop is a relief for his overheated body.
“Do you mind if I feel the skin here? So I can make sure I approach it right?”
“Yeah, ‘course,” Bucky mumbles. Staring at his hands, he waits.
Leaning close, her fingers brush over him, feeling the lines and ridges, assessing the canvas. For ten minutes, she tests his skin, lightly pushing and pressing, observing the scars and bumps where metal meets man.
“Does it still hurt?”
She doesn’t want to ask, but needs to know what she’s working with. With a grim smile, he shrugs.
“Not really. Aches sometimes, but doesn’t hurt. Can’t feel much there besides some pressure.”
Nodding, she pinches her lip. “I was thinking last night, um - would you want to add anything else into the design? Nothing big, but a few flowers? Some daisies maybe?”
“Sure, I’d like that. Any reason for daisies?” Bucky asks curiously.
Pulling out a few additional bottles of ink, she absently touches the necklace at her throat, and Bucky sees a silver daisy spinning.
“Daisies represent new beginnings. Thought it might be a nice way to end, if you like?”
Does he like it? The idea of having this small thing in common?
Hell yes he likes it.
Maybe - maybe he even more than likes it?
“Yeah. That sounds perfect,” he says softly. He swallows hard and she nods encouragingly.
“Okay. Remember - stop me if you need a break.”
This one, Bucky knows will be hard. It was the reason he left it to the end - the mental fortitude required here is much different.
As she begins, he contemplates the pink furrows gouged into his skin. The memory of how they got there flashes before him, a sick image of shredded skin raked bloody beneath his blunt fingernails. Faint screams of a past life echo in his ears, the smokey cry of his own voice desperate for relief from the pain.
Cold sweat slides down his face and he slams his eyes shut, but that seems to make it worse. The images glow technicolor bright, and he grunts a frustrated breath.
And then, through the thin latex of her glove, he feels her cool hand press against his pounding heart. Cracking an eye open, he finds her calm face and he focuses on her, until his breathing begins to ease. Blinking rapidly, he drinks in the curve of her nose, the shape of her mouth, the beauty of her eyes.
His heart stutters, stunning him into a different kind of breathless.
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, wide eyes locked on hers. “Yeah, I’m okay. You can keep going.”
When she bends back to her task, Bucky melts. It occurs to him, that perhaps if she might let him, he could be content watching her forever.
But for tonight, this forever lasts only a few hours before she’s done.
And there it is.
Shades of green line his shoulder, the vines curling and winding around his scars, blending them seamlessly into the foliage covering his skin. Spidering vines trail across his chest, and it seems incompatible in a way, something alive bursting from the stark metal, but the leaves look so real, he swears they flutter with each breath he takes. Strewn throughout the greenery, small splotches of yellow and white reveal her daisies and he sucks in a breath.
For the first time in his life, Bucky stares at his scars and a foreign word comes to mind, one he never, ever thought to use.
“Beautiful,” he breathes. “They’re beautiful.”
*****
And so, after 3 months and 30 hours together, they were done.
Hands in his pockets, Bucky gazes at her. Ink on her hands, ink on his heart. It hits him then, this is it. They shuffle, making small talk, neither ready to say goodbye.
“Promise you’ll come back if you decide on anything else. Tattoos, piercings, anything,” she teases and Bucky laughs.
“Told you, I might be a little addicted,” he admits, knowing full well he means to tattoos and to her. “Soon as I can think of a reason, I’ll be back.”
“I hope so,” she says. There is a brief moment where she seems to gather her courage and then she leans in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re a work of art, Bucky, but - you were before any of this. Remember that.”
Dazed, Bucky touches his cheek.
Indelible and perfect, the tattoo of her lips inks itself straight onto his heart.
*****
When she arrives at the shop the next day, there is a new sight sitting on the front desk.
Daisies, their white petals and yellow faces as fresh as the afternoon sunshine filtering through the window. Bemused, she looks around the bustling shop and spies the card propped beside the overflowing vase, her name scrawled across the front.
-
“When I got home, I stood in front of the mirror for hours, staring at your artwork. Every time I told myself to go to sleep, I found something new I loved. The tail feathers on my Phoenix or the petals of your daisies. What you’ve given me is more than I ever hoped - I can never thank you enough.
But anyway, I remembered what you said - how this kind of art is like leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin.
Well, I won’t lie - you must have done, because I miss you already.
So at the risk of being forward (although I did break into your shop and leave this, so maybe this won’t seem that forward), would you have dinner with me?
I think there’s another new beginning waiting out there, if you’d like to find it with me.
Yours,
Bucky”
-
At the bottom of the note, a phone number is printed.
Brushing her fingers over the delicate white petals, she pictures him, that dark haired man with eyes like blue ink, so heartbreakingly beautiful inside and out. She feels the unconscious pull of her heart, telling her all she needs to know.
A new beginning.
She says yes.
*****
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#SSB2020#bucky fic#bitsmasterlist#tattoos#tattoo trope
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Hi is it ok to make a enimes to lovers tenya iida?plzzz with a grung y/n???
Yes yes yes YES YES YES
So, as I’m typing this, I’ve got a Google tab with pictures of grunge fashion behind my Pages document because I had no idea what it was before and now I’m obsessed. I can totally see Iida falling for someone with this type of style, it’d be so cute!
This ended up being really long skjfguanspdifhaosdi
Hope you like what I whipped up!!
Never Hated You
Masterlist
Prompt List
. . .
“(L/N)! Get your feet off of the desk this instant!”
You groaned loudly as the class rep marched up to your desk, a stormy look painted across his face.
“Iida, chill out.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your ankles on top of the desk. “I’m not hurting anyone.”
“Be that as it may, I will not stand for the disrespect of school property!” Iida blustered. “Do you have any idea how many great people have sat in your desk, learning to carry on the mantle of hero? How can you sit here and put your feet up on-”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, dude.” You rolled your eyes again, making a big show of putting your feet down. “There, happy?”
“Quite.” The bespectacled boy bristled, not looking happy at all.
You chuckled, waggling your fingers in farewell as Iida returned to his own desk. Kirishima, in the seat in front of you, leaned back. “You sure do like riling him up, huh?”
“Someone’s gotta teach him that not everything needs to be taken so seriously.” You shrugged. “Besides, he’s kinda hot when he’s angry.”
“Dude!” Kirishima laughed in surprise.
“Am I wrong?” You snorted, gesturing to the boy in question, who still looked very irritated, and very handsome.
Did you find Tenya Iida wildly attractive? Yes, yes you did. You were very vocal about that and you found no shame in it. That being said, did you also find him a little annoying? Yes. So he was not saved from your constant teasing and pestering.
At the beginning of the year, you realized that you seemed to be the epitome of everything Iida detested. You were brash, not afraid to pick a fight, and always had some witty remark to make. You never wore the complete uniform, opting to leave your gray blazer at home, replacing it with your favorite leather jacket. The prescribed neat little shoes had been swapped out in favor of your old combat boots. Iida had just about had a conniption fit when he’d first met you.
Realizing that the overly serious boy was constantly up your ass, and that he was in point of fact very cute, you made it your personal mission to annoy him to the ends of the earth.
It worked spectacularly. Sometimes a little too spectacularly.
On multiple occasions you pushed too much, resulting in boorish lectures from the much taller boy that you could’ve slept through, if not for the decibel at which he gave them. It never seemed to deter you though. The next day you’d come back with a self-satisfied grin on your face as you plunked your boots up onto your desk. He was too cute for you to stop.
Over time, you stopped teasing him just for the sake of being an asshole. Though you’d never admit it out loud, Tenya Iida was starting to grow on you. You lightened up on the torture, only to spend more time actually trying to get him to talk to you. He always seemed suspicious of you though, to no fault but your own, you figured. So you made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.
“Hey, Iida.” You leaned against his desk after class one day. “Think we could get together over the weekend and do homework? I’m having a little trouble understanding the math stuff.”
“You want me to help you with homework?” Both of the class reps eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.
“Yeah, man,” You affirmed, chuckling. “Who else would I go to?”
Yaoyorozu. Midoriya. Todoroki. Iida listed in his mind. All of them are doing exceptionally well, and you don’t make yourself the bane of their existences.
“It’s just,” Iida pursed his lips, organizing his thoughts. “I certainly wouldn’t mind helping you if you really need it. I didn’t think you liked me very much, though.”
“And I didn’t think you liked me, but here you are, telling me you wouldn’t mind helping me out.” You chuckled, and smiled sadly. “I’ve never disliked you, Iida.”
. . .
To say you confused Iida would be the understatement of the century. You appeared to him as someone who didn’t care one bit about structure or rules. But as he sat next to you in a coffee shop, explaining quadratic functions, you seemed to really care. You poured over your homework, a pensive look on your face, turning to him every time you came across something you didn’t quite understand.
“I don’t get it.” He said quietly as you scribbled away at your worksheet.
“Really? Cause I’m just starting to.”
“No, not the homework.” Iida sighed, staring at you.
“Then what’s up?” You put your pencil down, matching his gaze.
“Why do you go out of your way to aggravate me so often if you don’t dislike me?”
The question caught you off guard. You glanced away, almost guiltily.
“At first, I did it just to get a rise out of you.” You admitted. “I guess I started getting fond of you though, and I realized that annoying you was the only way to get you to talk to me.”
Now Iida was the one to be caught off guard. “Y-you just wanted to talk to me?” He repeated.
“Yeah, and I thought I had ruined it.” You placed your head in your hand, and swirled your drink around in its cup with the other. “I thought I had provoked you too much by the time I realized I wanted to be your friend. I honestly thought you hated me.”
“Never!” Iida was shocked by the idea. He very rarely hated anyone. When his brother had been attacked, that was the first time that he had ever felt that boiling pit of rage in his stomach. “You irritated me to no end, yes, but I never hated you.”
“Hey, I’ll take it!” You conceded with a laugh.
Iida found himself laughing with you. He watched as smile lines etched themselves onto your face as your grin widened.
“(L/N), what say we start over?” He suggested. “I would like to be your friend, too.”
You gave the boy a disbelieving, yet giddy smile. “I would be more than happy to do that, Iida.”
. . .
Something very peculiar was happening to Tenya, and it seemed to be your fault.
When you playfully teased him, he swore his heart rate accelerated to five times what was normal. Whenever he said something that made you laugh, he felt like he was on top of the world. He felt butterflies in the pit of his stomach when you’d put your hand on his arm.
None of these feelings were bad, per se. In fact, they actually felt quite good. It was like a calm washed over him whenever he was in your presence. He felt more relaxed than he’d ever been when he was around you.
So, there was no problem with what was happening, but that didn’t stop Tenya from still being wildly confused.
The feeling also made him want to protect you.
This too was a mystifying thought. He wanted to keep all his classmates safe, of course, but somehow it was different when it came to you. But you were perfectly capable of protecting yourself, you being an excellent hero. You had great control over your quirk, and you knew your limits. Not to mention you “kicked ass” in combat training, to use your words.
Tenya knew all this well, in fact he reminded you of it regularly during training. So why, when villains dropped into the clearing of the training camp, was his first instinct to get in front of you? Why did he grab your hand and pull you closer to him as you ran with your classmates back to the main building? Why did his hand linger on your shoulder even when you were inside and out of the danger?
You asked yourself these questions, too, but you didn’t complain. It’s not like Tenya Iida grabbing you and holding you protectively was a bad thing, but he looked too pale for you to resign yourself to not questioning him.
“You okay, Bub?” You asked, glancing up at the bespectacled boy in concern.
“What? Oh, y-yes, sorry.” Tenya separated himself from you, but you grabbed his hand before he could get too far, pulling him back to your side.
“This is scary,” You muttered as a way of explanation, your face heating up.
Heat rushed to his face as well, but he didn’t try pulling away again. He readjusted your grip so it was more comfortable. “Yes,” He murmured back in agreement.
You stood in silence for a moment, listening to the rest of your classmates chatter away in fear. You squeezed Tenya’s hand. He repeated the gesture.
“Tenya?”
The sound of his given name pushing past your lips pleasantly surprised him, but he quickly shook off his confoundedness. “Yes?”
“I was going to tell you something tonight, but I’m afraid my plans have been ruined.” A wobbly smile crossed your face, but it fell almost immediately after. “Once this whole ordeal is over, and we’re all back at school safe, remind me to tell you then, okay?”
“Why can’t you just tell me now?”
You shook your head. “Now is defiantly not the time.”
“Well, alright then.” Tenya squeezed out hand again. “Although I’m afraid you’ve made me quite anxious to hear what you have to say, (Y/N).”
You smiled weakly again at hearing your own first name. “Now you know what it feels like when a teacher tells you to see them after class, Mr. Class Rep.”
. . .
Tenya remembered your request as he was putting books on a shelf in his new dorm room. He stopped short, the conversation replaying in his mind. As much as he wanted to march himself over to your room that very instant, he resigned himself to waiting.
“I’m still not done settling in,” He muttered to himself, surveying the several boxes filled with personal belongings stacked neatly in a corner. “And (Y/N)’s probably still unpacking, too.”
A new-found vigor to his actions, Tenya found himself hurrying to complete his task. It had only taken the few days spent at home away from you and a quick conversation with his brother for him to realize that he had a crush on you. Reject the idea as he tried, it made a lot of sense.
He chuckled humorously to himself. What had you done to him? He used to see you as nothing more than a misbehaving delinquent who constantly went out of their way to get on his nerves. So what happened? What did you do?
You befriended him. You had looked at him with that sad, sincere smile, and told him that you thought you’d ruined your only chance of being friends with him. You’d heard him out as he heard you out.
It wasn’t a question of what you had done, not anymore. It was all Tenya.
He had given you a second chance. And he never regretted it for one moment.
He still didn’t regret it, even when you grabbed his arm and tugged him along with the rest of the class to survey everyone’s rooms. He still didn’t regret it even when they got to his room, and you put on a pair of his glasses, flopping onto his bed as you teased him for the shelves full of matching frames.
He especially didn’t regret it when they got to your room, where you proudly stood next to a wall of printed out photos of your friends. Tenya’s eyes drifted to a shot of you and him at the fair, both of you holding ice cream cones.
“Pictures taken moments before disaster,” You remarked, following his eyes and tapping the wall next to the photo cheekily. He smiled, remembering how mere seconds after taking the picture, you had tripped over his foot and fallen flat on your face, taking out not only yourself and your ice cream, but Tenya’s as well.
Ask them, he urged himself as the class headed back to the ground floor. The question never seemed to escape him, though. In fact, when he rushed back inside after he, Midoriya, Yaoyorozu, Todoroki, and Kirishima had been pulled outside by Tsu and Uraraka, you had already gone up to bed.
That’s it.
Tenya was a man of thought and intellect, not one of action. When the job called for it, he of course sprung to do his part, but not before carefully assessing the situation and weighing his options. So he surprised himself by going up to your room without a second thought, determined to get whatever it was you had hinted at out of you.
“Woah, didn’t I just see you?” You smiled coyly as you answered the door. “What’s up?”
“I wanted-” Tenya paused, eyes narrowing. “Wait, you still have my glasses.”
“Astutely observed.” You sighed, reluctantly handing them over. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. I wanted to see how many days I could wear them before you realized they were yours.”
“You might’ve gotten away with it, if not for me being here now.” Tenya admitted, pocketing the spectacles. “I didn’t realize before.”
“So that’s not why you’re here?”
“No, during the training camp you said you wanted to tell me something, but that you wanted to wait until the… situation was over.”
You made a face. “I was hoping you had forgotten about that.”
“Why? Is it bad?” He asked nervously.
“No, just… weird. I only told you because I was scared we wouldn’t make it out of there alive, but now I’m regretting it.” You sighed. “Come on in, I may as well tell you.”
Tenya closed the door behind him, watching cautiously as you sat on your bed with a huff. “If you really don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”
You considered for a moment. “How long have you been holding onto this?”
He blinked in surprise. “A few hours. I only remembered this afternoon.”
“A few hours is all you need to get worked up about something. There’s no sense in me not telling you now,” You rubbed your eyes, looking both physically and mentally exhausted “especially if I promised you that I would.”
“Alright then, if you’re sure.” Tenya hesitantly sat himself next to you, now wishing he hadn’t bothered at all.
“Okay, so, uh, we’ve been friends for a while, and I’m really happy for that.” You started, rubbing your hands together thoughtfully. “And I don’t want to put that friendship in jeopardy, but recently my feelings towards you have changed, and I feel like you deserve to know.”
“Have they now?” Tenya’s heart pounded so loudly he worried you could hear it. He wondered if your feelings were anything like his.
“Yeah, they’ve gotten a little more… romantic.” You sighed heavily once again, seeming to resign yourself to your fate. “Okay, I’m gonna just say it: I really like you Tenya. More than as a friend. You’re stubborn, adorable, and always know just what to say, and every time I see you I just wanna kiss your stupid face all over and tell you that you deserve the whole damn world, because guess what? You do!”
Time seemed to tick to a stop. Tenya himself froze, his body stiff and his tongue limp in is mouth. Then his face exploded in color, and all at once, he gained control over his body again. His arm gestured frantically in his regular tic, and his words seemed to trip over each other in an effort to be heard.
“W-w-well thank you for your kind words! I greatly appreciate you telling me this. I have also recently c-come to the conclusion that I, uh, e-enjoy your company more than a friend should as well! I-I’m not sure what this means for us moving forward, b-but-“
You wrapped your fingers around the hand chopping the air wildly. You pressed your lips to his cheek, and rubbed your free hand up and down his arm in a soothing motion. You laughed lightly, but there was no mockery in it. “Thank you, Tenya.” You whispered.
The boy stiffened once more, before naturally relaxing, leaning into your touch. He mirrored your soft, loving smile, placing his hand not being held by you on your knee gently. “Of course, (Y/N)."
#mha#bnha#iida#tenya#tenya iida#iida x reader#tenya iida x reader#tenya x reader#bnha x reader#mha x reader
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— 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝 + 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫-𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧 !
𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭; karasuno and fukurodani react to their manager doing the body count/bodyody audio tik tok ! [insp by this tik tok]
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞; crack(?
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; suggestive themes, maybe a little swearing i can't remember ajaksjq.
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; the trend it's to put pictures of all the people you've slept with, in case anyone doesn't know!!
karasuno !
-> it was a joke, it wasn’t supossed to get out of the thrid year managers gc.
-> the girls found it hilarious and was a good conversation topic for hours, discussing who you put or didn’t put.
-> they knew, of course, it was fake. you hadn’t slept with oikawa, KYOUTANI, BOKUTO, tendou, atsumu, TERUSHIMA and OSAMU.
-> it was SO obvious it was a joke for them that nobody felt the need to point it out.
-> they just said things like “the most quiet are the worst ones” “OMG DETAILS ABOUT THE TWINS!!” “did terushima yk,, made a good use of his percing” because they KNEW nothing was real.
-> until tanaka and sugawara asked kiyoko for her phone to watch some videos of the new play they were trying.
-> and misaki, from johzenji, sent a “forget about teru— 🤢 can’t even say it,, Y/N I WANNA HEAR ABOUT BOKUTO!!! ik man’s p a c k i n g”
-> tanaka looks at suga and suga looks at tanaka and they’re like .......tf
-> suga’s finger “slips” and they see the other messages until finally they reach your video.
-> you’re there looking pretty as usual and above your head reads “seems like were showing our body counts with this sound? here it’s mine 🤪”
-> tanaka is about to say “it can be what we’re thinking” but when OIKAWA’S picture appears both their jaws hit the floor.
-> nishinoya sees them and ofc he wants to know what’s so shocking, so he gets closer.
-> he drags hinata too, and shoyo’s like “that’s the great king!! play it again!! play it again!!”
-> fyi: suga paused the video because wOW and they don’t know who’s left in your video.
-> sugawara looks straight in the eye at nishinoya, going “keep hinata, kageyama and yamaguchi away and bring the team” with the MOST SERIOUS EXPRESSION
-> noya is lowkey scared??? like wtf??? but does as he’s told bc suga seems super intense.
-> kiyoko and yachi left to fill the bottles and pick some needed implements from the club room, you had classes for a few more minutes, therefore, there was nobody to stop them.
-> once the rest of the team, including tsukishima because everyone seemed to have forgotten he was a first year too, is together, suga plays again the video, while the littlest ones watch from afar in curiosity.
-> the silence, you will never hear them in a more tense silence.
-> they read what’s your tiktok about, daichi’s eyes go O.O, asahi goes RED, nishinoya seemed to be ready to FIGHT THEM ALL, ennoshita awkwardly laughs, even tsukishima blushes a little.
-> then oikawa appears. EVEYRONE’S EYES ARE FULLY OPEN AND NOYA LET’S OUT A GROAN???
-> but when kyoutani shows up they’re in SO much shock they kinda forget oikawa before, and daichi whispers an “oh god”
-> then it’s BOKUTO’S TURN and tsukishima just stops functioning. asahi is static on his place contemplating, withouth being able to form a coherent thought.
-> suga highkey wants the tea.
-> tendou feels like a betray to asahi, tanaka and tsukishima. noya, just for a second, wonder what was that like.
-> ATSUMU AND OSAMU FUCKING MIYA AND THEY EXPLOTE.
-> THE EXPLOTE LIKE WHAT????? WAS IT AT THE SAME TIME???? Y/N?¡¡¡¿¿1
-> they aren’t ready for the cherry on the top at the end, a picture of terushima sticking his tongue out, sweaty after a match, SMOKING HOT, and it’s not a picture he posted to his social medias or anything.
-> it’s only suga, and daichi a little bit, who realize that if that picture isn’t public, then either he send it to you or YOU TOOK IT.
-> that’s when you walk in the gym, just to say hi before going to change.
-> the first year are playing among each other and you are like ????
-> they don’t even notice you’re there so you go nearer to see what they’re watching. and you see the picture of tersuhima yukie, from fukurodani, once sent asking misaki WHY her kouhais where that hot. it was also the only picture you had of him and the one you used in you video the day before.
-> the phone in suga’s hands seems familiar and... that’s kiyoko’s
-> “Y/N” screams asahi when he sees you and the rest looks like they saw a ghost.
-> a second of silence goes before everyone blows in questions and you just hear names between bambling, “OIKAWA MNASNANPGDF” “MANASKL BODY COUNT ASLKLAS” “MAD DOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
-> and daichi makes himself heard despite the screams.
-> “y/n, i know you’re 18 and capable of making your own decisions, but we have to talk about... physical relationships, with our rival teams”
-> kiyoko arrives and quickly puts two and two together and asks yachi to go check on the first years.
-> she looks at you and sees you like WHAT TF DO I DO and nods and say “you shouldn’t have gone through my phone, no matter how curious you are, sugawara-san” COLD AS ICE ISTG.
-> AND SHE CONTINUES “what who y/n does or doesn’t do on her free time is none of your business, all of you, if she decides to get together with anyone it’s just up to her. you should be ashamed of yourself, specially the third years. you weren’t just violating y/n’s privacy, but mine, kaori’s, yukie’s and misaki’s. it may have been a joke, or not, but it doesn’t give you the right. if you ever do something like this again, we will be talking with coach ukai and takeda sensei” SHE GRABS YOUR ARM, TURNS AROUND, CALLS YACHI AND YOU THREE LEAVE LIKE QUEENS????
-> once you’re in the club room, both you and kiyoko start laughing because the team was FROZE in place. not even daichi was so scary.
-> the team then apologizes to both and send an audio to the groupchat too, and never bring the subject uo again.
-> still, they all wonder everyday if you really did or not.
-> and of course, they get so defensive when they see any of the boys in the video it’s hilarious to you and the other managers.
— fukurodani !
-> damn yukie making up dares that always ended up bad for either you or kaori.
-> mostly you doe.
-> at a sleepover, she was like let’s make fake body count vids and who falls asleep first has to show them tomorrow at practice!!! it will be fun!!!
-> you accepted because you usually fell asleep after one of them did but that time it was like they gave you a sleeping pill because you fell like a rock after a few hours.
-> as to why you were there, the day after, about to go ask the team if you should post it.
-> you list consisted on kenma, kita, sakusa, daichi, and just for the fun of it, konoha.
-> the girls call konoha aside so he doesn't ruin the prank, and you proceed.
-> "hey guys, should i post this?? i’m not sure if i look good enough to be seen by the world” bokuto practically yells at you that you always look pretty before taking your phone from your hands.
-> “why don’t you ask yukie or kaori?” asks akaashi, that was a question you hand’t thought about and by pure luck, you were saved by bokuto yelling at the team to come and see what you’ve done.
-> konoha is about to head their way and yukie just grabs his arm like “no ❤️"
-> and nobody can contradict yukie’s no so he has no choice but to stay.
-> anyways
-> the team gather around bokuto, who is about to press play. at first it’s just your face, and everyone agree you look pretty.
-> but then they read “did anyone say body count? ;)” and they look at each other like ......what
-> washio leans to stop the video because he genuinely doesn’t know what body count is, sarukui explains it a little too loud, grinning, and washio goes "oh–"
-> thanks to sarukui’s explanation bokuto confirms his idea because one part of him did think it was how many people you’ve killed.
-> they press play again and kenma appears and bokuto just stares, doesn’t react.
-> akaashi’s eyes widened and he GASPS, washio can’t hide his disappointment mostly because why would you make this video and then show it to them.
-> when kita shows up bokuto lets out a surprised squeak, along with washio that’s just question your and his whole existences-
-> sarukui is smirking, his complete expression yells “way to go y/n!!!”
-> sakusa comes as a shock to every one of them, even sarukui loses the grin for a bit.
-> “how did you manage to...?” whispers akaashi, half amazed, half grossed.
-> bokuto then has to pause it for a little to keep his composure, he looks at your like WHY WOULD YOU MAKE ME GO THROUGH THIS
-> but when they resume it and daichi welcomes him he thinks it just can get any worse.
-> washio is like “isn’t that karasuno’s–?”
-> “HELL YEAH IT IS” SHOUTS SARUKUI AND THE GIRLS BEHIND YOU LAUGH SO HARD BECAUSE HE IS SO PROUD OF YOU.
-> the rest is like 🧍♂️ while sarukui is SO happy for you LMAO.
-> it’s at the end when no one smiles. konoha’s picture smiles at them and bokuto just stops the video to look at him, only a few meters away.
-> he looks at the picture and then at konoha and so on.
-> can’t get his mind around it????? lowkey no one can.
-> akaashi isn’t even blinking and his eyes are concerningly open, washio is regretting all his past choices that led to this moment.
-> sarukui death stares at konoha. no more fun sarukui, he crossed the line.
-> kaori and yukie are wheezing WHEEZING I SAY and konoha is so confused.
-> his teammates look like dogs about to attack but he hasn’t done anything to upset them?? has he??
-> like robots, akaashi and bokuto get up and walk towards konoha. a part of you tells you to protect him but... what are they going to do tho...
-> “you’re out of the team” THEY SAY AT THE SAME TIME AND ALL AND KONOHA GOES WHAT
-> your co-managers can’t even breath istg NO HELP
-> you then intervine trying to keep konoha in the team lmao “IT’S FAKE GUYS!! A PRANK!! KAORI!!!! YUKIE!!!! BACK ME UP!!! I’M KIDDING DON’T KICK KONOHA OUT”
-> akaashi partially believes you, but bokuto?? nope.
-> you planted the seed on his mind.
-> the whole team acts weird when they see guys from your vid and are looking for chances to bark at konoha.
-> “AKAASHI HAS TO STAND BETWEEN YOU TWO ALL THE TIME” that’s the new rule he set.
-> just to see them freak out, konoha sometimes flirts with you at practice ;)
#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu headcanons#karasuno hcs#fukurodani headcanons#karasuno headcanons#fukurodani hcs#haikyuu manager#manager reader#haikyuu crack#karasuno crack#fukurodani crack#– star's; originals! [❀]
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hola 😎 i have a request for ya! which i do hope you like cause I literally spent hALF aN hoUR thinking of how it should go... anyWAYS, i’m gonna request it rn cause why not? .. anyways—maybe a hc for Levi, Armin, Erwin, Mikasa, and Pieck; their S/O’s favorite memories with them are playing in their mind. They wished it happened again. people thought they (they = pieck, levi, armin - yk)—people thought they went crazy. out of their mind insane. They do often smile, when they hear their S/O’s laugh. They cry when they hear their S/O’s screams. They couldn’t save them in time. they were now dead. // now do keep in mind, that this all happened weeks after their S/O’s death. they felt so useless at the fact that they couldn’t save them in time. the one they loved the most.. totally wasn’t crying while thinking of this shdjf
(Not gonna lie had to read this request a couple times cause I was confused. Hope this is what Anon wanted.)
Erwin
•Being a commander he'd seen way too many people die but never had he ever been this close to one of them.
•When his S/O passed away he'd spent most of his time in his office, burying himself in insane amounts of paperwork.
•Probably isolates from Hange and Levi for a while as well.
•That is until his S/O's memories start to pop up in his head.
•At first he thinks he's just lucid dreaming but soon the "dreams" become too realistic to ignore.
He's listening to his S/O laughing at his corny jokes again.
He's seeing his S/O pout at him when he's still in his office after hours.
His S/O's smile shines so bright and so deep he can practically reach out to touch them all over again.
•After the third occurrence of these "dreams" he's going to Hange.
Levi immediately tells him he's gone insane.
Hange is definitely laughing the second he brings up the idea that his S/O's memories were transferred to him.
(Kinda weird how judgey they are when they fight man eating giants and have a literal titan on their team but ok.)
•More people find out and of course they don't take it too seriously but Erwin always feels his heart race when he gets a new memory of his S/O.
•He'd put his head down on his desk. Or lay back in his chair to watch every bit of it unfold.
•He's slowly repressed the image of his S/O's bloodied corpse from weeks prior. The sound of their screams and replaced them with every memory he now possesses from them.
•They're his little gifts.
Pieck
•She's got pictures of her S/O in so many different situations all over the place. In her titan, in her room, some kept in her wallet.
•Hasn't taken down not one since they died.
•Probably started contributing less to any conversations she had with any of her fellow comrades.
•Tho Reiner and Porco refuse to leave her side for too long.
She'll ask them for an hour alone and less than a minute after the hour is up there they are.
They just know how painful these kinds of situations are and even if Pieck's not crying in front of them they can see the pain in her eyes.
•She's secretly glad for their support.
•When she starts seeing her S/O's memories she probably cries the first couple times.
Doesn't tell Porco and Reiner or anyone for that matter until they walk in on her sobbing her eyes out while holding something precious of her S/O's
Porco thinks she's lost it but Reiner is immediately trying to reason and understand what she thinks she's seeing.
•Slowly but surely she's allowing herself to feel everything she'd been holding back once she sees her S/O squeezing the life out of a cute stuffed bear she'd gotten them. The smile on their face etched into her memory all over again.
•Everyone is definitely still confused about what she thinks she's seeing because she didn't.. eat her S/O???? But they've grown to just accept it.
Mikasa
•This girl has spent weeks after her S/O died in a state of Libero
•She's there but she's not there.
•It shows on her face to Eren and Armin but like everyone else is kinda just seeing the normal Mikasa.
•As soon as she has nothing going on. She's in bed under the covers or sitting at her S/O's grave.
Falls asleep there from time to time and has to be brought back inside. (Probably by Jean/Armin.)
•When she starts to see her S/O's memories she's kinda awestruck.
Sees her S/O falling asleep on her shoulder but it's not from her point of view??
She's so confused but for the first time since the night after she couldn't save them she actually sleeps through the whole night.
The beautiful memory of her S/O's hair flowing in the wind now a distant memory.
•She wakes up to her tears staining her pillow, hair a wild mess and Armin and Eren standing over her.
She'd managed to over sleep somehow.
•When she tells Armin and Eren they're skeptical to say the least. Armin is trying to figure out how something like that could be possible while Eren is doubting it and saying Mikasa was dreaming.
•But to her it was so real.
•She'd felt her S/O for the first time since they’d died so many weeks ago. Somehow.
Armin
•Armin is breaking down left and right.
Sometimes over breakfast
Sometimes after training
•Poor boy is a hot mess. He can't get those screams out of his head. Watching your body slowly crumble away. Your blood spilling over the ground as a titan devoured your quickly draining corpse.
•Sometimes he just holds his head in his arms and rocks back and forth.
He couldn't do anything and now you're gone for good.
•He's got titan memories sure but after a while yours start to pop into his head too.
•He loses his breath as he sees you in his arms again, nuzzling into his chest laughing into his skin.
•He just breaks down again.
•He's like.. "explaining" what he's seeing to the rest of the squad through like tears and muttled breaths and everyone except Mikasa is all like 🤔🤨
•And then Mikasa translates and she's like, "He's seeing his S/O's memories.
•Literally no one has the heart to tell him that it makes no sense. The poor boy's been a mess for weeks. 😭
•They kinda just.. all accept it and like Eren even starts to ask what Armin had seen that day or that night.
•Eventually they think either Armin is really keeping up this charade or he's genuinely got his S/O's memories lodged in his noggin with Berthot's
•And honestly it's better this way because he's functioning so much better now.
Levi
•Spends the first couple weeks being oddly silent.
•He's buried in paperwork anytime anyone sees him in his office. (Like Erwin)
•Erwin and Hange made an attempt. And by attempt I mean Hange went in when Erwin told her to just leave Levi alone and Levi kicked her to the curb.
•Boy gets all soft late at night. Curled up in his chair with the pillow his S/O slept on and his eyes full of tears. Rocking himself as he envisions their voice, their hands..
•And then suddenly he's not anymore
•They're in his memories!
Or well.. their memories are in him.
•He's watching them cry about tough training as they curl into his lap.
•He's seeing their eyes sparkle as he hands them tea.
•If it were possible to hug a memory he would.
•He's not telling a living soul about these memories that aren't his popping into his brain
Because he doesn't need to be told he's probably imagining it.
Because he's got something beautiful to hold on to
Because they're his soulmates precious last gifts to him and they'll die with him.
•Hange definitely finds out something though but oddly enough she's as chill as she can be.
•Levi's little secret is safe with her.
#aot x reader#erwin headcanons#pieck headcanons#mikasa headcanons#armin headcanons#levi headcanons#snk x reader#erwin x reader#pieck x reader#mikasa x reader#armin arlert x reader#levi x reader
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The second part of a request from TheLOAD from... a while back. The initial one was the Nix/Nokk/Knucker piece. This one took me a little longer for a few reasons. Mostly school reasons. And writer's block reasons, which is why this is taking the place of the monthly preview. And because, for research, I had to re-read the entirety of Drakon by Daniel Ogden for information. For those not used to my pedantry, this is not an "in-canon" family tree of the Greek dragons, such as you might see in those huge Greek mythology family tree pictures that are on the internet (I've got a few in my favorites from waaaaayyyy back as well). Rather, this is a way of showing how the concept of the dragon came about throughout time and how other beings are related through those branching lines. Of course this is presented as a lot more neat than it probably should be. If it were truly accurate it would have interconnected lines all over the place and obscure the little lizards.
Before we talk about what's on the tree let's talk about what's not on it. Though Odgen talks about every (and I mean every) slightly Draconic being in Greek and Roman mythology, I've opted to include a trimmed down version. Because some, like Medusa and Lamia, I personally do not consider dragons proper, and others like the goddess Keto are relatively obscure and probably only exist to explain the existence of a related being (like the ketea). Creatures like Chimera and Typhoeus are included because, while not usually serpentine or draconic, they are in effect dragons; horrible, vaguely reptilian monsters slain by a hero. Not every individual dragon is depicted, only the ones I thought pertinent to include.
(warning: LONG)
To start with, a drakon is a snake. The Greeks used the word to refer to both huge monsters and mundane snakes. Drakon itself is derived from the word dérkomai and is believed to literally mean, "the one who sees". The hypnotizing power attributed to snakes is present in drakons, traditionally given the job of the sleepless guardian of treasure. Going back even further, we see that the drakon comes from two disparate cultural perceptions of snake, each of which is still present in its classical form.
Snake Goddess - One of the native precursors of the Greeks were the Minoans. They had more in common with their Egyptian and Near Eastern neighbors than the Italians and Balkans. From what little we can gather of their culture, it appears the snake was a symbol of the goddess. Whether or not it was any goddess in particular is unknown. This theme survives into ancient Greece, however. Athena often uses snakes as agents when acting with mortals, Hera uses them as well (the twin serpents who attempted to strangle Heracles and the Hydra), and Medea had a chariot pulled by snakes. Earth goddesses in particular are heavily associated with them. Python was a direct product of Gaia, and the snake was a divine symbol of Demeter, who also had a rad snake chariot. Even in mortal women, their dynamic with snakes and dragons is nurturing. Several heroines sing to snakes as their masculine counterparts steal the treasure they guard, fulfilling a nurturing role in comparison to the destructive masculine one. Here the snake is a guardian, a creature of the earth and everything beneath it, including gold and the dead. These dragons are usually not slain, but pacified by the presence of a woman. In addition, the beard is an originally Greek symbol associated with snakes, particularly those connected to the gods. This was quite possibly a signifier of their supernatural status above mundane serpents. The goddess depicted above isn't any one in particular, though her dress does pull from a statue of Athena holding a curled python.
Drakaina - One way in which the snake goddess has survived is in the drakaina. This word is simply the feminine form of drakon, but also encompasses the numerous beings characterized by having the upper body of a woman and the lower body of a drakon. Numerous beings in Greek mythology fit this theme, but the one I've focused on is the Scythian drakaina, a woman who intercepts Heracles during one of his labors and kidnaps some cows. She offers to return the cattle in exchange for a night of intercourse. And then Herc is off and we're told the three sons of that union go on to become kings of great renown in Scythia. Some authors interpret this as a Greek adaptation of a Scythian myth, with one of the key pieces of evidence being that the drakaina's name is Hora, meaning "Seasons". Regardless of whether or not this is a goddess, it is a story where the snake-woman is neither killed nor stolen from, instead given the prestige of being the founder of a line of kings.
PIE Chaos Serpent - From the Proto-Indo-Europeans up North, we get the dragon we're all more familiar with. Serpents of this breed, such as Apep, Tiamat, and Jormungand, are all enormous, destructive creatures allied with darkness and the unforgiving seas. They represent the primordial chaos from what order sprang out of, and often have a hand in trying to return the world to that way. One of the primary themes associated with them is the dragon slayer: a god or hero who fights a dragon to save something, be it a land or treasure or an Ethiopian princess.
Typhoeus - This guy, though significantly more humanoid and giant-like than any others, is the clearest example of a PIE chaos serpent in Greece. It does not get more typical than a giant snake (like) monster fighting a storm god. Typhoeus probably sprung from traditions where he was more serpentine, but gradually added other aspects. Such as his own storm god qualities. In Greece, gods associated with the winds are always given wings, save for Zeus. The two's battle is reflective of a battle between the terrible whirlwinds and lightning strikes and the calmer, helpful rain showers that enable humanity to survive.
And then we get to the drakon proper. Taking elements from both sides of the tree, the archetypal Greek drakon is an enormous, often monstrous serpent associated with both the underground and the waters in some way. They are agents of gods, most often goddesses, sent to battle heroes or guard priceless treasures. Sometimes they're killed, sometimes they're merely lulled to sleep by a helpful maiden. Rather than breathing fire (which everything from mechanical bulls to horses to giants do), they possess venoms and rows of sharp teeth. Mention of their terrible gazes is often made. This drakon has both a beard and a casque-like crown, common elements in drakon descriptions from Greece. Its face is much less serpentine, being modeled after a clay illustration of the Colchian dragon. This gives is a suitably monstrous look, as if it were being pealed from layers of mud.
Chimera - Despite its odd appearance, the chimera fits the pattern of a dragon terrorizing a countryside and being slain by a plucky hero. The chimera may in fact be the originator of the classical Saint George imagery, where the saint is depicted as towering over a crawling, pitiful dragon. A 3rd century mosaic from Imperial Rome may have started this trend. What makes her (because despite her mane the Chimera is a female) stand apart from all the rest is the sheer strangeness of her form compared to others. Especially the little goat that comes out of her back, like a rider. Which I had to cut for spacing reasons :(
Hydra - Another classical Greek dragon is the multi-headed hydra, who has given its name to a whole genre of creatures with more heads than they ought to have. In addition to having the attributes of a typical Greek drakon, the Hydra has two traits seen in Mesopotamian monsters as well. The first is the amount of heads. Having many heads is not as common in Greece as it is in the Near East, where the idea of an eleven-headed sea serpent pops up numerous times across several different cultures. The second is that the hydra, in its earliest mentioning by Hesiod, is said to have been raised by Hera specifically to combat Heracles. This same tactic is done by a few Mesopotamian gods. In their realm of influence, monsters are pawns of the gods, who send them out to do their bidding on Earth while they lounge in Heaven. Our Hydra may have been a later influence from Greece's neighbors to the East. Also, had to add in the crab that Hera also sends in to help the hydra. If this were a spec bio piece, I would make it a species of crab that evolved to clean the hydra of parasites.
Cetus - Sea monsters such as these are perhaps the furthest from the traditional Greek drakon, while still remaining core parts of the mythology. In form cetoi range from exaggerations of real whales and sharks to dog-headed serpents with frilly fins and ears. Or even animal-headed fish. Because they live underwater, they almost always function as tools of divine vengeance. Kinda hard to steal treasure underwater. Heavy metal tends to sink. While cetus was originally a word for any sea monster, it would eventually become the root of the scientific term cetacean: whales and dolphins.
But the tree doesn't end there. See, even after the culture we recognize as the Ancient Greeks and Romans faded, their dragons still lived on. Medieval Europe, with its glorification of Greco-Roman texts, derived many of their folk beliefs from their predecessors. Or, the people who they liked to imagine were there predecessors.
Draco - The Romans adopted the Greek drakon whole-clothe, like a lot of stuff. The only noteworthy original dragon to come out of the pre-Fall Roman era was the Dacian Draco. The Dacians used the image of a dragon as a standard during war-time, represented as a serpent with the head of a dog. When conquered, the Romans adopted this, possibly beginning the Western tradition of associating dragons with military power and identity. The dog-headed serpent would also survive to the modern period, showing up in descriptions of Balkan lamya.
Indian Drakon - Here begins a tradition in Greek and Roman literature that claimed that foreign parts were full of large, dangerous, and more interesting fauna than the mundane peninsula they were all stuck on. This is a common theme of humanity in general, where everyone you're not familiar with is teeming with exciting and ancient life. Just look at cryptozoology. India in particular was a favorite of Greek tall tales, being far away for journeys to be rare, but also rich and full of exotic animals. Philostratus populated India with three types of drakons: the lowly marsh, the silver hill, and the dazzling golden mountain drakons. They were typical in every respect, having enormous sizes, red crowns, beards, and guarding treasure beneath the earth. An interesting addition was that they were the mortal enemies of elephants. Being the largest land-animal (in real life), they made perfect prey for these humongous serpents. Feeding on them was fraught with peril, however, as the struggle between reptile and mammal could result in the death of either party, or both. To symbolize the foreignness of the drakon, I drew it as a sort of hybrid between the drakon and the Hindu naga.
Pliny's Drakon - This drakon is otherwise the same as the Indian, but is the start of another theme. As time went on, philosophers began taking more grounded looks at fantastical animals. While also perpetuating even more outrageous falsehoods. None was more popular than Pliny the Elder, hence the name. He believed that, while foreign drakons might be real, they were much more similar to the snakes of Greece than the monsters of legend. He scoffed at the crowns and hair they were adorned with. His Natural History was the first of many instances where the fantastical elements of the dragon were toned down to seem more palatable to a scientifically minded audience. It also introduced an interest into the life history of the dragons, treating them as real animals with lives beyond the myths. Our dragon up top evolved to resemble pythons, rather than the other way around to what probably happened in real life, where pythons were exaggerated to become dragons.
Then, we get two foreign influences, which would come to shape the modern definition of the European dragon. Christianity's influence cannot be understated here. As Jonathan Evans states in Medieval Folklore, the dragon came to be confused with several other desert animals. In Jewish and early Christian belief, desert animals were themselves demonic, living in inhospitable regions devoid of human life. Later, texts like Revelations would specifically denote dragons as heralds of evil, and even harbingers of Armageddon itself. This is in contrast to the morally neutral Leviathan. In the medieval era, dragons were beings of evil, without a doubt. Bestiaries were full of on the nose fables about how the natural lives of dragons. Like how they could not stand the breath of a panther (a symbol of Jesus Christ). Or how they could not catch birds that nested in the Peridexion tree (the tree being the church and the birds being Christians, who are safe from the devil so long as they do not stray from the arms of God). This is represented by a typical medieval devil, being brightly colorful and made in mockery of God's creations, aka a weird hybrid with a snake coming out of his butt. Then, the Germanic dragon. This is seen especially in Northern and Western Europe. The Germanic dragon is otherwise similar to the Greek, except that it began as a character of evil. Lindworms and other serpents are almost always antagonists, and there is no heroine who saves them from their fate of death. They also had a stronger connection to treasure. Greek dragons guarded treasure as a job, but the very existence of Germanic dragons is tied with their golden hoards. In addition, in Greek myths, getting transformed into an animal is usually the end of one's story. With the Germanic dragon, it's merely the beginning. Transformed dragons act as antagonists and moral lessons wrapped in one; a lesson to all to not be greedy. Germanic dragons, represented by the lindworm, reinforced their role as antagonists and agents of selfish evil.
Which finally brings us to the medieval dragon. In a way, this creature is a mix of everything above. The dragon is an animal and demon in one, simultaneously a figure of evil who spoils the land around them and a living being with its own life and needs. The medieval era also introduces the origin of dragons, showing them as having nests and young, not simply coming into existence out of the earth or sea like before. They also developed some less reptilian traits, like wings and hair. This was probably because of artistic traditions among the monks who wrote bestiaries rather than popular legend, which continued to conflate them with snakes and lizards and even crocodiles. This particular line of the tree would develop a life of its own, spreading far and wide across Europe and eventually reaching beyond the seas. Our modern conceptions of dragons are a whole 'nother story.
#mythology#mythical creatures#dragon#dragons#serpent#snake#snakes#Greek Mythology#myth stuff#drakaina#drakon#typhon#typhoeus#chimera#hydra#cetus#draco#drake#devil#demon#lindworm#medieval dragon
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Hi honey how‘re you doing?💗 I hope you‘re doing great ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ I wanted to ask if you still do inarizaki manager headcanons, because if you do can I PLEAASE request something? Inarizaki is my comfort team and I really want a girlfriend rn (lmao simp) so can you please write a fic about inarizaki randomly meeting their cute little manager in public with her girlfriend and her girlfriend has her arm around her and then they go talk and find out that they’re dating and the team is actually really suprised that Y/N is kinda „💅“ you know... because she dresses and acts really feminine (like she loves plushies,pink,skirts and shit) so they didn’t really expect this but they‘re really supportive (but kinda sad because they were simps for her -oop) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) YOU DONT HAVE TO OFC if you dont want to write about gay relationships that’s fine no worriesʕ•ᴥ•ʔ It’s just I don’t really like lesbian representation by other writers because they always make her hate feminine stuff, really masculine and I really like your headcanons. AGAIN It’s okay if you don’t want to write it, take care of yourself and please don’t stress yourself💓
Omg heyyy sweetie <3 I'm doing fine!!
Thank you so much for sending in your request! I usually don't reply to requests, since I've been really busy lately. But every once in a while, I see ones like yours in my inbox, and I can't help but write imagines for them, so thank you for this!!
I wish you all the best in finding a girlfriend, love. You're amazing, and any girl would be beyond lucky to have you !! 💖
And yes grrr, the lack of lesbian/gay representation is not okay :( I'll do my best to make sure I write more headcanons for my LGBTQ+ followers in the future :)
Inarizaki's sapphic manager headcanons
If you were to ask any of the boys on the Inarizaki team "which girl do you love most, in this entire world?" they'd say your name in a heartbeat.
Because frankly, those boys adored you to hell and back. It wasn't just because you treated them with so much respect, or that you were an attentive manager, the best they've ever had.
It was because of your kind and sweet nature, and the smallest of things you did which softened those boys to putty whenever you were in their vicinity.
After finding out your favourite colour was pink, Osamu took it upon himself to cook food in different hues of it.
The pink blush on his face whenever you were awed by it, made everything worthwhile. Eventhough it took hours to perfect the pink cupcakes, or shrimp dumplings, you saying "These are all in my favourite colour, 'Samu! Thank you" made it all worthwhile.
Atsumu, after following you home one day to work on volleyball plays together, noticed you collect plushies.
“These are all really cute” he stammered, as he inspected each of them.
A small idea formed in his mind as he gifted you with a plushie, a week after, for your birthday.
“I hope you'll add it to your collection... I named him chibi, I hope you don't mind.”
And Miya Atsumu would never forget the way your eyes lit up after receiving the gift, or the kiss you placed on his forehead as a sign of gratitude.
"Who knew something like that could make her so happy?" He thought giddily.
Suna thought you looked extremely pretty every time you wore a skirt.
He never missed an opportunity to compliment you, or to take a picture of you, looking your absolute best.
“You seem to like wearing skirts, huh?”, “yeah, I always have”
At night, he sometimes looked through his photo album with a soft smile. "She really is the prettiest girl I've ever seen."
Kita finds you small. (Wow borderline size link shjxjsks But please let me explain)
He loves seeing you in his jackets or his hand when comparing to yours, because it makes him feel responsible to protect you. To keep you safe.
In conclusion, they're whipped, your honour. Those boys love you to the Pluto and back, truly.
And it was an unspoken rule that someday, whoever got to date you would take the absolute best care of you. They had the others to worry about if they didn't.
Which led them to wonder. Why hadn't you fallen for any of them yet? Were they not obvious enough?
One cold January day, Akagi realised you were acting strange. “I'm telling you guys, she probably has a boyfriend somewhere!”
The rest of the team stared at him disbelievingly, but Akagi didn't give up. “No I'm telling you, she looks happier than usual and I see her smiling at her phone a lot.”
“I propose we follow her after practice today” said Atsumu. Of course, his ideas were usually radical, and they would've never done such a thing. But they were desperate, did you really fall in love with someone else?
After practice, you waved at them with a small lopsided smile on your face and headed away. Unbeknownst to you, the boys were actually maintaining a distance just so they could follow you.
They ended up in a coffee shop, as you seemed to be waiting for someone.
The look conspicuous. Six boys, all wearing sunglasses. “It's a wonder she hasn't seen us yet” drawled Osamu sarcastically.
Suddenly, a girl slid into a seat opposite yours and placed a gentle kiss on your lips.
Inarizaki.exc has stopped functioning. “So that's why she never liked any of us” whispered Kita with a small smile.
Ever the diplomatic leader, he walked up to you and your girlfriend. “Hi y/n-san, hello miss” he said politely to the both of you. A faint blush could be seen on your cheeks as you figured Kita, and the rest of the boys saw the kiss.
“Kita-san, boys, this is my girlfriend gf/n” you proudly announced, as your fingers found hers' and intertwined them together.
“We're so happy to find out about this, you guys make a lovely couple.” said Aran. The twins diverted their attention to your girlfriend and began peppering her with questions. “How did you guys meet?”, “Who asked who out?”, “Yer' so lucky”
Your heart felt full, it was not everyday that you found out you had the best friends in the universe. “Thanks guys” you whispered through choked sobs, as Suna gently hugged you. “please join us for some coffee”
taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @k-sakusa-old @pleaseshutup2021 ❤️💛💚💙💜
#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuufanfics#haikyuu fluff#inarizaki#haikyuu!!#inarizaki x reader#inarizaki manager#inarizaki hcs#inarizaki manager headcanons#Inarizaki imagines#atsumu headcanons#osamu headcanons#miya Atsumu#miya osamu#kita shinsuke#ojiro aran#ginjima hitoshi#suna rintarou#suna rintarō#suna headcanons#kita headcanons#akagi imagine#suna imagines#suna rintaro x reader#Osamu fluff#atsumu fluff#suna fluff#lgbt#haikyuu x lgbt reader
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