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honey-lemonz · 3 years

Text

Kokushibou [Satisfied smut]

Xmale reader

3rd

Warning! Sexual Content!

Includes: stress sex, fight then fuck, koku being a bratty bottom, biting,blowjob, marking, multiple orgasms ,multiple rounds, over stimulation, dirty talk, fighting during sex, degradation (heavly). Hiding, slapping, spitng, and a spite fuck. Goodness..Enjoy!

Kokushibou pushed the archer against the wall as both were fighting.

For almost 7 hours.

(M/n) or the archer was happily living on his land and was fine but. The dam fake Samurai had other plans to upset that. Like attacking him. Gods they hated each other..

To the point it was not comical.. no no.

Sexual almost.

Two strong men grunting and groaning, one with blood all over him..for being the one with more hits. Sweat on their bodies and one with his hair arrayed. Kokushibou was losing it.

Internally and externally.

Internally he could not understand why he was feeling slightly aroused in battle, especially with this fucker. The archer demon named Yasumebu (M/n). A demon he hates because he reminds him of his late twin.

Someone who is superior and most likely would be superior to him.

He felt his cock trying to poke in his hakama pants. His kimono was sticking to the sides on his body as he was forced on to the ground. Yasumebe was about to prepare an arrow until..

Kokushibou moved his leg to reveal he was aroused but no on purpose or on invitation. But (m/n) was the only other demon around who could have done this to him. To him it was weird. He froze the arrow and squinted at the Samurai.

He but his foot on Kokushibou's growing hard on and moved it without any sign of being gently.

Kokushibou groaned and hissed at him. About half of his eyes, the three on the left pinched shut. It was not out of pain but only pleasure. This made Yasumebe..disgusted to say the least.

But also he wanted to kill the upper rank for what he had done...but torture is always a better cause.

"Look at you..you pervert. Getting aroused with me in a fight you picked..how promiscuous..really are that much of a bastard you need a dick in you to make you feel whole?"

He moved his foot more vigorously, it made the upper rank squeak but not moan. No! He will never get any sign of pleasure from him. "I-I am not, aany an c-can get aroused. Never for oor from you-"

"Oh cut the bullshit you bastard. You attack me in my home and demand I die so you an be the best? Or is it jealousy? Jealous of me to the point you want me to fuck you? Make you a proud man with my cock stuffed into all your slutty holes?"

Kokushibou's six eyes widen. He dropped his sword from the feeling. What feeling is this? He asked himself. Demons cannot blush or anything but he could feel his ears burn and his cock ache and throb.

He hated him to the point it turned him on? Is that possible? No.

He hated Yoriichi but they were brothers and that is just wrong...but this dam archer..

Before he realized his mistake of thinking to deep, he got an arrow into his wrist and an arrow shot his sword far away from him.

"Well took you too long to answer the question so it is a yes, isn't it? Gods, I hate you but I always give whores like you a chance. By now you'd probably be satisfied sucking a cock and dying. The great upper rank one? Such a fucking slut.."

The arrow glued his wrist together so he could not move em, he could make another sword but he had to concentrate to do that. He needed his full energy to do it but his energy was focused on..him..the archer and how he needed t̶o̶ ̶k̶i̶l̶l̶ him.

The archer pulled Kokushibou by his hair next to a stool, he was gracious or caring about it. He hated him and as did he.

But goodness did he remember how they fought. How strong he looked and how much strength it goes into an arrow. Not that he thought the sport was worth this time, oh never. But him...it made his condition worse. His cock was probably leaking streams of precum.

"Must you fight, I am helping you. Trust me I do not want a whore like you anyways, a good one can shut up and take it..you..most likely are a brat or bitch about it.."

Kokushibou hearing this moved his combined wrist up to scratch the shit out of his arms like a fucking cat.

"Goodness if you want to mark me already! Dam, such a needy bastard...beat how many times you sucked your masters cock all these years...most likely didn't make you choke or gag for the hell of it..but now worries like defeat and death.."

He brought his up to his face. Both were around the same height, so it worked. But Kokushibou was now on a bedding and he was looking up at him. So he felt smaller. He hated it. But it aroused him.

Hate what pleasures you. But between you and I..is not the first he gotten aroused at the thought..

"I make sure to be the one to make it your first.. now if you bite he I cut you cock off too. Got it?"

Hell to Yasumebe it was an excuse to just make him feel a better or worse pain.

"Tsk, as ever I would do as you ask yo-"

He got fucking bitched slapped in the face. "Now I'm going to say this again. You were the one who got to be a perv right? You can suck your masters cock for all of eternity then you can suck a real mans one and not a cowards. Something you need to do. Bite me and you can burn in the sun with my cum all over and inside you. Now be a good brat and suck."

He stood above him with a tight grip on his head and hair. (M/n)'s own cock was out and the marvel it was had the upper rank's mouth salivating.

He just stared at it, like it was something new to him. "What you never seen another mans dick before? Always ready to ride and suck one for you life, so be the slutty brat you are and do what you know best. Go one you need help is my cock to big for your mouth? The one you use to pledge and talk shit? "

In his head he muttered, probably eat it too.

Kokushibou opened his mouth to rebuttal..dumb move. A thick and long length was shoved down deep into his throat. Making his gag on spit and the length. H opened his lower eyes to see not even all of it was in his mouth. The hell?

(M/n) hissed and moved his hips back and forth, he was fucking his face. "Good little slut, do what you know best bastard. Then maybe I can fuck your other hole, maybe even be nice and let you cum.:

Kokushibou groaned on his cock and moved tied wrist to get a grip and move on his own accord, but no avail. His own cock was in need of help. His mind was erasing with how much pleasure would come if he would get fucked like a whore.

Which he is.

His tongue lapped at the lip and it moved in and out his throat. He was pumping his cock with his hands at the same momentum. So feverish and so tempting, it make slick warm between his thighs. His ass flexed at the homewreacking feeling.

His large cock pushing in and out of his made him close two sets of his eyes and let where his true ones stay open. (M/n) hissed and pushed his head all the way to the hilt of his cock and made his stay there. Groaning as Kokushibou's mouth filled with an ocean of cum he swallowed.

The taste wasn't as bad as he imagined. His cock spurted some ropes of cum but he knew with how his luck was playing it would not be the first time tonight. He was allowed to breathe and swallow the rest.

(M/n) looked down at him, his eyes were glossy and he was gasping for air.."Goodness you really are that bad.."

Kokushibou didn't care about his pride or his will, or even the envy. He felt hatred and pleasure. He needed to feel more, it was so addicting. It was like a slow burn he loved. The fire in the pit of his stomach burned for more. To be full , imagining that amount of cum stuffing his tight entrance or making his abdomen bulge..

To be breeded like a mating whore for him..

(M/n) pushed the Samurai to the side of the bedding and for him to be on his front. Ass up, he pulled the rest of his clothing off him. He would often scratch him or put marks he knew he could heal over..if he was concentrated enough.

His plump ass had goosebumps as his breath glazed across it. No kissing rather biting. He bite down on his ass. "For such a plump ass, you and kiss a lot of it aye? Sluts like you can be so troublesome but in the end.."

H sat up and got close to Kokushibou's ear. He moved his already messy and disheveled hair. His lapped his ear lobe and bite down to make it bleed.

"All of you are just bratty whores who need to be taught their place..." Two fingers were pushed into his slicked up entrance and they clung onto (M/n)'s fingers like glue. Kokushibou moaned out curses as he slumped down. He turned his head to the side to he the rest of his.

It felt too dam good. His fingers were so close to his prostate and so close to making his mind wipe to pure ecstasy and pleasure, even if he wasn't at it already. He moaned out without a care in the world. Asking no begging for more. It made (m/n) want to torture him more..

They did hate each other, but to one it was just funny.

"M-more, please fuck me more gods..please..fu-fu~ck.." he cursed as he spread his legs wider to make his fingers go deeper to touch or even at least brush his prostate.

His eyes were closed except the true ones, the only one he could keep open. Upper rank one was glossy and also looked like a bunch of whores eyes. He bucked his hips when his own forgotten and needy cock was slowly getting pumped.

"Wait- WAI- no ahh~" As soon as he pumped his length and pushed deeper into his hole, feeling for his prostate. He came again onto the bedding. He gasped loudly and slumped over. Kokushibou's cock twitched but was still erect.

"Well, what was it you were saying bastard? Or were you too busy cumming like a little whore to even finish? Hmm well it guess my cock can satisfy your perverted self, disgusting."

He spat on his gasping hole and moved his fingers out. The amount of slick or cum on his fingers made him laugh at the pathetic state of the upper rank. "Wow, such a slut for all this? Wonder how easy it is to break your ass and see you go silly."

He yanked almost his hips back up to his waist, Kokushibou swallowed thickly at what was about to happen. (M/n) stroke himself and placed the tip of his cock on Kokushibou's gaping whole.

"One more thing pervert.."

He leaned forward to upper rank one, Kokushibou felt his chilling breath on his ear. All his eyes widen as his cock slowly pushed into him.

He whispered:

"I win slut.."

He slammed his cock into him, pushing harshly onto his prostate and making the upper rank yelp and moan loudly. He almost screamed, (M/n) gave him no time to adjust. Rather he fucked him ruthlessly. He used his hair and yanked it, making him look at the ceiling and also to feel himself hit deeper and deeper.

Kokusibou was babbling about more and more. Or how he hated him. Just either 'fuck me' or 'i hate you'. The archer demon did not care. He was a slutty pervert who got what he wanted. A good cock with a good fuck.

"Such a tight- little slutty whole..gods, im going to loosen it up for you and make sure no one couuld fuck you like I- ah~could..you'd like that Kokushibou? To be a slut and ask others to fill you with their cocks like I do?"

He thrusted faster and harder, Kokushibo's prostate was abused and he felt himself cum again and again. Due to his unlimited stamina and would be fine. But he was feeling drained, he felt so fucking stupid. He was getting fucked stupid even more.

(M/n) hissed when Kokushibou tightened around him, he groaned and growled as he shot thick ropes of cum into his ass. Filling him over his opacity and making his abdomen stretch to accommodate to the amount.

All his eyes, closed with tear stains. Kokushibo's head was let go and he fell straight into the bedding. (M/n) looked at him and didn't bat an eye to spit on his face. His lower half was with filled with cum or covered in it. He cleaned himself and took his arrow out of his wrist and gathered the rest.

He looked one more time at the upper rank. The most feared of them all, looking like a slut in heat. He pulled the hair that would have been a neat pony tail but now is just out and disheveled. He made him look him in his eye.

"See now upper rank? Such a pathetic fighter and warrior, you did do one thing. Your were a decent fuck, not the best but decent." he patted his head and walked out the destroyed house.

Soon it was lit on fire. To destroy what ever was left.

Kokushibou luckily got away and out of the suns fury. But he did hate the archer demon with all he had, and envy him so much. But fuck... he sighed as he stroked his cock from the memory.

"He was right.."

His licked away the cum from his ass as he pulled away his fingers and from his hand. His cock throbbed at the dull feeling. The lackluster feeling inside him only his enemy gave him.

"I am such a whore for yasumebe.."

#demon slayer x reader #x male reader #kokushibo x reader #kokushibo #Kokushibou xmale reader #uppermoon one #upper rank one #smut #Kokushibou smut #top male reader

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bluejayblueskies · 4 years

Note

seven for jontim? <3

jontim + things you said while we were driving

The tension in the car on the way to Great Yarmouth is so thick Jon could cut it with a knife. He’s not really sure how he ended up carpooling with Tim—something about old habits and the Archers and ‘time to think’ that has Basira and Daisy sharing a car—but they’re an hour in and Jon can count the number of words Tim’s said to him on one hand.

Jon wants to break the silence. He doesn’t know if they’ll get another chance to talk, if he’ll get another chance to say everything he wants to say. To apologize, to try to make amends, to tell Tim that he still—

Jon sucks in a breath and looks out the window, at the sprawling countryside as it whisks by. Once upon a time, his hand would be clasped with Tim’s on the center console and Tim would be telling him some elaborate story about his latest camping trip or the case he’d been working on that had taken a dramatic turn or the latest office gossip and his own rather strong opinions about it. That’s one of the things he’d liked about Tim—the fact that Tim could talk, and Jon could listen, and when Jon got excited about something and interrupted Tim’s story, Tim would take it in stride and listen with a smile.

God, it had been so easy, and now it’s not, and that more than anything makes Jon ache like his heart has been torn free from his rib cage.

Jon doesn’t realize he’s been tapping his fingers in a nervous rhythm on the center console until Tim lets out a labored sigh and breaks the silence as gracelessly as a bullet through a glass house. “Just say it.”

It’s too loud after so long with only the noise of the road and the low murmur of the radio, and Jon startles, his hand retreating back to his lap reflexively. “What?”

Tim’s eyes remain on the road, but Jon can see the tension in him, in the way his hands grip the wheel firmly and his mouth flattens into a thin line. “Just say whatever it is you need to say. Might as well. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

Jon winces slightly at the flatness in Tim’s voice, at the way he sounds just- just indifferent. It cuts worse than any anger or frustration. At least those meant that Tim was still feeling something toward him, no matter how negative. Now, Tim just sounds tired. Resigned.

“I was…” Jon swallows and looks down at his hands so he doesn’t have to see Tim’s face. “I was thinking about the time we went to the coast together, to follow up on that case about the mermaid.”

Tim makes a sound that might be a laugh if it weren’t so humorless. “Yeah, I remember,” he says, and maybe Jon’s imagining the hint of wistfulness in his voice, looking for something that isn’t there. “Turned out to be nonsense, but it…”

Tim’s hands tighten on the wheel for a moment before going slack, his face twisting into something pained. “It was nice,” he says, so quietly Jon almost doesn’t catch it. “You, er. You had a lot to say about harbor seals.”

Jon flushes and rubs one thumb over the other—a nervous tic of his, one that leads to dry and cracked skin if he isn’t careful. “Yes, well. Growing up by the sea tends to foster an interest in marine wildlife. And, er. Well. Nobody else ever seemed interested, in- in the topic.” A pause. Jon worries his bottom lip between his teeth and says, “I miss our conversations.”

“Jon,” Tim says. It’s a warning and a plea and a refusal all wrapped into a single word. And Jon should just leave it at that—let them pass the rest of the time in silence, like they’ve been doing for months.

Instead, he says, “I’m sorry, Tim. For- for everything.”

“Please, just- not now,” Tim says, his voice growing sharp around the edges even as the core retains that same weariness Jon’s grown accustomed to.

He hates it. He hates that Tim doesn’t tell jokes anymore, that Tim doesn’t smile wide and easy and greet Jon with a ghosting hand across Jon’s upper back, that Tim’s shoulders sag ever so slightly as he walks like he’s bearing the weight of the world. He hates that it’s his fault.

“Then when?” Jon says, that same sharpness bleeding into the words against his will. “After this is all over? We might not—”

We might not make it out alive, his mind supplies. But the words stick in his throat. Instead, he says, “Just. You don’t have to say anything, just- just listen. I- I don’t expect forgiveness.” Jon pauses, then says, softer, “It’s not my right to ask for it.”

Tim’s quiet for a long moment. The radio is playing something upbeat, a pop song that Jon’s never heard but that sounds exactly like the rest of the music the station has been supplying. Jon wants to turn it off; it grates on his nerves, makes every second feel like an eternity.

He doesn’t. Somehow, he thinks silence—true silence—might be worse.

“Okay,” Tim says finally, his eyes still fixed on the road. “Just- just please don’t say you’re sorry. I don’t want to hear it anymore.”

“Right,” Jon says. His fingers go to the hem of his shirt, fiddling with the fabric. There’s a loose thread there, and without thinking, he pulls it. It spirals out, making a neat line in the fabric where the weave falls out of line that Jon won’t be able to smooth out again.

He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? He can’t mend what’s broken, can’t unpull the thread that’s tugged them out of sync. In less than a day, they’ll be in the museum, and Jon’s skin will be crawling with the memory of ropes tight around his wrists and plastic fingers coated with lotion touching him over and over and over, and they’ll be executing a plan that Jon can’t shake the feeling will go horribly, terribly wrong. They have so little time. Never enough time.

So, Jon says instead, “I remember when we first met. I- I don’t know if you do, it- it was very brief, and you seemed quite occupied with whatever case you were researching, but I- I remember. You were, uh. You were wearing that olive green shirt you like, the- the one with the buttons that look like flowers. You were distraught when you ripped the sleeve on that barbed wire fence when we, uh, broke into the—”

Jon cuts off with a small laugh. “I suppose our research tactics were quite unorthodox. And more than a little illegal at times. But when I got excited about a case and decided to pursue it in a more, er, thorough capacity, you were always there. I- I don’t think I ever told you, but that was the first time I realized how much I’d grown to like you. You, lamenting about how you’d had that shirt for years, so- so dramatic about the whole situation. And I spent a frankly embarrassing amount of time finding another one just like it, an even more embarrassing amount of time figuring out how to give it to you without coming across as- as weird or what have you. But you just smiled and took it, and- and maybe it’s silly, but I think that’s when I…”

Jon doesn’t say when I started to fall in love with you. But from the pinched look on Tim’s face, he knows he doesn’t have to.

It’s like Jon’s there again, the weight of Tim’s smile making his pulse flutter hummingbird-fast in his throat, his voice slipping into the stutter he tried so hard to hide at work so that he came across as professional. He practically thrust the shirt into Tim’s hands, his cheeks burning as he did so. And Tim’s thank you, so genuine and surprised and happy, had dragged a smile of Jon’s own to his face.

Tim had liked making Jon flustered—had made it a game, figuring out what he could say to make Jon smile or laugh or flush so deeply it was visible against his skin. Jon didn’t understand why some of the things he said made Tim smile in return or press a quick kiss to Jon’s lips or give Jon a soft I love you that still made Jon’s pulse quicken no matter how many times Tim said it. But it didn’t matter, because Tim understood him.

Jon misses Tim so much he can hardly breathe, even after everything. His words come out slightly choked when he says, “I remember when you would bring me lunches because you knew I would forget to eat sometimes if I got caught up in my work. And- and when you went to that shop that had a cat and you sent me- Christ, so many pictures, it- it was really quite excessive.” Quieter, Jon says, “And when you brought me to that park with the lights, and- and you told me that you loved me.”

“Jon,” Tim says. It comes out tense, like somebody who’s trying very hard to keep their emotions in check.

“I know,” Jon says, pulling and pulling at the thread on his shirt until the fabric is bunched up completely and utterly ruined. I miss you. I love you. I’m sorry. “I… I know.”

Tim’s quiet for another long moment. Then, he exhales heavily, like he’d been holding his breath, and moves one hand from the wheel to the center console, palm up.

Tim’s hand is warm in his. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps his eyes trained on the road, even as his fingers twine with Jon’s in a practiced motion that’s still as easy as breathing.

Jon spends the rest of the car ride memorizing the feel of Tim’s hand in his, the shape of his fingers and the soft skin of his palm, and tries very hard not to think about the way it feels like a goodbye.

#tma #tma fic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fic #jontim #jonathan sims #tim stoker #my fic #my writing #1.7k words isn't exactly a ficlet but I had a lot of emotions about s3 jontim i suppose #oops! all angst #voiceless-terror

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wherearemyglassesbro · 4 years

Note

i saw that you play genshin impact, so i’m kind of curious... what’d be the axis and allies’ vision and weapons?

Uh oh...now you got me started. Be warned, it’s a long one cause I have no self control

Some key terms for those who don’t play genshin impact and want to be included!!

Cryo -> ice, Hydro -> water, Dendro -> nature, Geo -> rock, Pyro -> fire, Electro -> lightning

Hilichurls: a common enemy found in the wild. Despite looking like hairy trolls, they have a district language as well as texts, art and song that they share together making them an advanced species!

Ruin guards: another enemy. Giant, scary robot...they scare me...

Knights of Favonious: an organization of knights within Mondstat that keep order and peace :) very nice guys and gals over there!!

Mondstat: modeled after Germany

Liyue: modeled after China

Alfred: pyro, claymore, Springvale Mondstat

Alfred would be a super heavy hitter in battle but his drawbacks are that despite his energetic nature, he’s slower because of the weight of his weapon

He blows stuff up a lot and sets all of the grass around you on fire so if you fight with him...His teammates will take damage from him Jeez Louise!!!

Since we don’t have all of the nations of Teyvay unlocked, I don’t know where he’d be from! I’d have to explore to get a sense for it so for characters that don’t have a place on the map yet, I’ll mark them with an asterisk from now on! :)

Idk where he lives but I do know that he’d be a devoted member of the adventurers guild! He’s always willing to offer a helping hand to anyone in need! Wether it be helping Granny Ann make hash browns or taking comissions to go kill a huge ruin guard who’s terrorizing the town!! He’s always leaping into new jobs! He isn’t even in it for the money or rewards! He just loves helping out!

Arthur: Dendro, archer, Mondstat

Artie is a beast in battle! Shooting vine Aries at enemies to tie them up or temporarily blind them??? Sick as fuck. Keep in mind, Genshin doesn’t have any Dendro characters that are playable yet so idk how they’d fight but I think I can guess :)

Artie is technically part of the knights of favonious because he works in their library. He translates books written in ancient texts into the standard language so historians and others can read what the old civilizations had to say

Instead of having normal eyes, they’re slit like snake eyes. And he has leaves instead of hair :)

He has a little seelie that floats around at his side. He talks to it but it doesn’t really do anything but provide company to a lonely guy :’) he needs more friends

Matthew: Anemo, catalyst, *

It’s always good to have a catalyst on your team! Ningguang is a great example of an underestimated catalyst cause she can do INSANE damage man!! So I think Mattie would be the same way

Matt isn’t violent and doesn’t enjoy fighting so his in-game voice lines would say that lol

Mattie is an alchemist! Well...A student alchemist. He didn’t take up an interest in alchemy until like, 3 years ago so he’s got a lot to catch up on still! He’s doing his best!

He gets very annoyed with Alfred since Mattie is detail oriented and gentle...Alfred is not any of those things. But he still loves his brother and on rare occasions, he’ll assist him with his commissions

Ivan: Cryo, catalyst, Liyue(temporary)

Ivan would be a support character for sure but he’d do a damn good job of doing it

He’s buff but he doesn’t do hand to hand combat, he’s mastered magic for a reason

Ivan spends most of his time studying hilichurls. He writes books about them, translates their texts and acts as a peace keeper when he can. He gets information from them about the Abyss Order in return for free reign of small portions of protected land where they can live without fear of being killed

Because he’s from Schneznya(spelling?) he’s kinda expected to be a bad guy but he left a long time ago. But he still sounds like he’s from there and...He’s super pale too so there really is no mistaking where he’s from

Ivan can’t stand how ignorant humans are towards hilichurls so he does everything he can to advocate for them. He’s covered in scars from when he first started engaging with the beasts. A huge scar runs down his face but he doesn’t mind it

He’s got big, sharp teeth!! So he doesn’t often smile cause he thinks he looks weird

Francis: Hyrdo, long sword, *

Fran is underestimated when it comes to combat (like Kaeya...I see you slandering this man) but he has so much potential!

Since he’s a hydro, he is so useful for elemental reactions! If he’s paired with a cryo or pyro user, he’d totally boost them!!

Fran is a traveling entertainer, he goes between the 7 nations as a singer and actor for small stage plays. He has a crew of friends who travel with him, they’re one jolly bunch!

He always acts all nonchalant and stuff but once he’s in a battle, he’s wild. Especially if the abyss order holds up his crew on their way to their next tour destination “We need to be in Liyue Harbor in four hours you are NOT holding us back!” *tidal wave*

He’s a regular tavern hopper! A very recognizable face since he’s been banned from a handful for getting too rowdy

He can make not one, but 2 special dishes :0

Yao: Dendro, polearm, Liyue

I just imagine him as a shorter, richer and cooler version of Zhongli

He’d do that kick move that Zhongli does with his polearm oh man that looks SICK dude!!!

Yao would shoot vines out and they’d strangle enemies for a few seconds before disintegrating but if he’s leveled up enough, they’ll totally strangle those stupid hillichurls lol

Yao sells rare gems and other miscellaneous items for very high prices in Liyue where he grew up. His shop is upstairs by the Fatui bank. Rich people enjoy looking at what his shop has to fifer and will argue prices with him. They’re getting scammed for sure. He’ll list a set of cor lapis earrings as $50,000 and the rich will be like ‘I’ll pay $25,000, no more than that’ and he’ll take it!!....Cause thise earrings are worth $5000 at most >:)

Hes close with a lot of the higher ups in Liyue and is often invited to fancy lunches or dinners where they discuss policy, contracts and vendor permits. He doesn’t really get a say in any of that but he benefits from listening

Kiku: Electro, claymore, *

Kiku would be SUCH an awesome electo user are you KIDDING me??? I can see it now, him swinging that huge sword around, purple lightning bolts flying all around and he looks like a total badass? Amazing vibes

When paired with cryos???? He’d do an insane amount of damage fr

Kiku runs a small restaurant where he...runs the place...but doesn’t cook. His restaurant is extremely exclusive and people often throw fits when they can’t get in cause the wait list is over 5 years long. He’ll rest his hand on their shoulder and smile ‘is something wrong? I’d love to take a complaint if you have one’...No one has even dared to complain to his face lol

Behind the restaurant front he deals with the Fatui, buying and selling minerals or artifacts. That’s where his knowledge is at, not with food. He pays his staff to ignore what goes on behind the scenes and the locals are too busy enjoying the restaurant to question what goes on after dark

Gilbert: Pyro, long sword, Mondstat

Gil would be one of the free characters given to you at the beginning of the game but hey, I’m not complaining

He’s highly destructive and very chaotic in battle, he can do that spin move even though that’s meant for claymore users

He’s Mondstat’s biggest trouble maker. He runs an underground gambling room that sits underneath a tavern. He isn’t really into gambling but he makes a lot of money by running it

The only knight who knows is Ludwig which is not good cause...Gil pretty much bribes his brother into not telling the knights of favonious (peace keepers of Mondstat)

Gil never got his gliding certificate cause he kept flying into buildings. He broke his nose doing that lol

Lovino: Pyro, catalyst, *

I can’t add anymore images so imagine a floating, red and black orb. Lovi doesn’t get a book catalyst cause he doesn’t read :) That’s the catalyst thing I’m talking about 😅😅

My guy has the angriest in game voice lines, he’s inconvenienced by every battle, every enemy is ugly and a fuckin disaster. He’s just. Angry.

He’d be a super weak character if he needed to rely on hand to hand combat but he learned magic for a reason babey

He owns a flower stand in his country and makes all kinds of beautiful flower arrangements. He even picks his own flowers in the fields when he can (but usually pays the town’s children to do it for him to ‘teach them the value of hard work’).

Everyone knows he’s a total hothead and will piss him off on purpose just cause it’s funny lmao. But then somehow...Their hair or clothes will just...catch on fire. So is it really worth it to tease him? :/

Feliciano: Hydro, archer, Mondstat(temporary)

I feel like Feli would also be a free character, not cause he isn’t good or anything! But you always need an archer on your team!

Feli has healing properties for his team and doesn’t do an insane amount of damage but when given the right resources, he’d be a pretty sick healer

He moved to Mondstat to join the church there. He leads prayers in front of the church and sings in the choir inside.

He is the sweetest and has never committed a crime in his LIFE but he’s afraid of the knights lol he’s terrified that he’ll get in trouble and be kicked out of Mondstat forever! That would never happen but he’s a worry wart cause of his brother

Ludwig: Geo, long sword, Mondstat

Lud is the only one that I could really think of as a Geo but Geos are awesome :)

He’s a hard hitter but has like...No shield so he’ll take damage fast if you don’t give him those artifacts with shield in them or whatever lol uhhhh I wouldn’t know anything about that cause I suck at building my teams ;-;

He’d totally be in with the knights of favonious! (I think that’s spelled right lol) but he’d take his duty as a knight very seriously!! He’s a familiar face around Mondstat, the elderly absolutely adore him and the local teenage girls swoon over him which he finds super embarrassing lol

He has to work hard to keep Gilbert in check cause even though Gil isn’t a knight, his actions reflect negatively back on Lud very often... :(

Please ignore the spelling errors and terrible photo cropping on my part lol this was so fun!!

By the time you’re seeing this, ive already made full outfit red sheets for everyone mentioned above!!!! :D

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ziracona · 3 years

Text

[FGO AU -- The Kid (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, ?)

“…Still nothing?” Her hands are perfectly still, muscles tensed and brow furrowed with all the concentration I ever seen on any mage, but, I think she can tell the answer before I give her a sympathetic smile. “AUGH,” she exclaims, flinging herself back unhappily into her seat, “Why! I’m trying my hardest! I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong!”

The mage folds over like a camp chair and deflates with unhappy sounds, sliding back against her own seat.

“Hey, come on now,” I try reassuringly, “It’s not so bad. I don’t know any magic at all, but pretty much all skills take more than an hour to come together.”

She lets out another long sigh and blows some hair out of her face, then straightens up a little. “Yeah, I know,” she admits, “But it’s not like I only tried today. Actually, I’ve…been trying to practice it like all week. So I’d be ready…”

Whoa.

I…guess I shouldn’t be surprised—I keep underestimating her, and her level of plannin’. She strikes me as impulsive, and she is—to the core—but, she’s smart too, and reasonable. Knows how it works, and thinks, just, goes for the long shots anyway. It’s a combination of traits I both like and can relate to.

“Still,” I offer, “You ain’t got a teacher, ‘n mage stuff’s complicated to learn.” She still looks incredibly down, but she nods as she stares vacantly through the bed past me. “…’Sides,” I add, “That medicine you gave me’s helpin’ a lot already—I’m feelin quite a bit better. And you don’t need to worry about havin’ to heal me, sooner or later. I’m getting’ a steady supply of mana from you, even if it’s slow, so my spirit core’s rebuildin’. It’s just gonna take it a little time. It won’t be like a real—human—bullet wound would be to heal.”

“Really?” she asks, perking up immediately.

“…Yeah.” I’m kinda surprised she didn’t know that. Girl seems to have a roulette-wheel of a library about my kind in her head. “At this pace, I should be back on my feet by mornin’.” Crap, it is morning. I forgot. I give the blinds a glance. “Or, --I mean a few hours.”

“That fast?” she asks, eyes widening.

I shrug, which hurts. Ow. Why…do I keep doing that? OW. DAMN it, Bill. When I’m not moving, I forget how much the entire left side of my chest is in agony when I do. “Not back to normal, but, on my feet,” I manage with my teeth clenched, trying not to let on how much that hurt.

She nods, thinking that over. “Can I do anything to help speed it up?”

I still can’t get used to that.

Kid’s so….fervent, and sincere. And nice to me. I’ve been awake for maybe an hour with her now, and I’m still not remotely used to it.

I refocus quick, and give her a smile. “Not more than you already have.”

“I could get you more food,” she suggests eagerly.

That’s probably true, actually, and I could use it. Just. “…Well, if you got some,” I stutter out. I am not used to feeling flustered, but I am realizing quick I am even less used to people bein nice to me. The odd heroic spirit maybe, but humans? Feels totally off now. Like I’ve snuck in somewhere I’m not supposed to be.

Happy, the kid snags her tray, but before she can leave I say, “—Actually though, uh, --before you go—I’m realizin spectacularly late here you still haven’t told me your name.”

She freezes with her hand on the tray and her face turns red. “CRAP, YOU’RE RIGHT!” the mage whips around to face me and gives a distressed bow. “I’m so sorry—I can’t believe—”

“—I-It’s fine, really,” I assure her, “Just you got me at a little bit of a disadvantage right now-”

“—Right! I-I’m sorry. I totally forgot! I’m Ritsuka Fujimaru,” she says, offering me a hand. It takes me a second to get she wants me to shake it, and I awkwardly do.

“Ritsuka Fujimaru,” I echo, “Well, you already know my name, but seein’ as I got several to pick from, Billy’s good. –Oh, uhm—you got a name you prefer me to call you?”

“Uh.” She gives me a glazed stare like someone looking at an oncoming train. “My…friends in high school called me ‘Gudako’ sometimes.”

I stare right back and forget to take back my hand from our handshake. Damn!! “…Your friends weren’t too nice, huh?” I offer sympathetically.

Her face turns crimson and she gives me a look saying she was praying and expecting that I wouldn’t know what that meant and is crying on the inside that I do, and I feel real bad for her that we spirits get such decent language translation built into us on summon. “No,” she offers in a tiny, beaten voice, staring past me.

It’s real hard not to grin, but I beat the impulse down internally with a shovel and give a sympathetic smile instead. “Well, I really just meant ‘do you prefer ‘Ritsuka’ or ‘Fujimaru’,’” She turns a deeper shade and I see her wish for death a little. “But if it’s any consolation, I would definitely not describe you as boring.”

The kid finally looks me in the eye again, a bit like a kicked dog, but she smiles back after a second and seems to bounce back with it. We both remember we’re still holding hands then and let go.

“Well, thank you,” she says like she means that, “I guess I’m not this week anyway.”

“Hardly,” I agree with a smile.

She returns it and takes the tray and goes back into the kitchenette I gotta assume is back there somewhere, and I get another second to think alone.

I’m doin’ better—a lot, I think. So far I think I’ve been up something close to an hour. All this is very strange to me, and it’s not been a great couple of months, but I’m feelin’ less and less dead by the minute, and the answer to ‘does pain medication work on Heroic Spirits’ seems to be a solid ‘yes’—which—considerin alcohol still does and I knew that, in retrospect shouldn’t be such a surprise to me. A glad one though, for sure. Still.

What now? That’s the real question.

Kid says she just wants to help, and at this point I mostly believe that. There’s usually a catch somewhere down the line, but maybe not. I do think at the least she thinks she means it right now. …And…and. I wish that was all I had to worry about. But, the less pain I feel, the clearer I’m starting to think, and either way, she’s right; I can’t just go back to the throne, or I’ll get resummoned. I’m stuck here like this, tied to her right now. But I can’t stay here indefinitely, and neither can she—actually, come to think of it, if they got any kind of security at that workshop, she might be in danger now, for breaking me out. Mages are…known for their ruthlessness. There could be people already on the way to deal with her. Okay. Better find that out, and fast.

Then, third and last on the list of things for me to figure out and deal with is those mages themselves. And that’s the big one. I’m not the only one of us that’s gonna happen to, if it ain’t already happened to more of us, and I can’t leave the place like that. If they have more spirits already, I need to break them out. And either way, I need to destroy that research and probably the people in charge, so they don’t just rebuild, or they absolutely will. And fast. Not sure this new master is just gonna let me go on a wild murder tear either, though, no matter my motives. Which is a problem…

She’s back then, though, so I’m out of time to focus.

“More okayu, plus some chocolate, if you’re feeling good enough,” she offers hopefully, setting her tray back down, “and I brought you some tea too.”

See that’s the problem, I think mournfully at the sight, I can’t do nothin’, but I can’t just betray her after this either, even if I got a good reason! No one’s ever been this good to me—I can’t just go lie to her and then pull a bunch of bloodshed on her dime—even if she don’t sign off on it, she’ll find out, and she’ll feel responsible, and she’s a kid, I’ll have done that to her! I don’t wanna give some kid who saved me a bunch of guilt trauma! After all this? …Hell. I… But I can’t do nothin’ –I can’t. I got friends in the Throne, and even if I didn’t, I ain’t about to allow that to keep on goin’. We don’t deserve that; it ain’t right. But if I tell her what I got in mind, she might use a command spell and bind me, so. …But still. I can’t… I can’t…do either, but. …Maybe I could convince her to absolve the contract, and get it done after that and before I vanish, just, once I got more strength? I got my Independent Action that could keep me goin’ for a little—even Gunner, I got a lot of my Archer traits, so, once I’m healed, it might be enough to get- …No. Ain’t enough. She’d still see what happened, and know the only reason I got it done was her. Same problem as before. Shit. Shit, this sucks… I’ll be doing somethin terrible no matter what, then…

And I know myself. And that the thing I’m eventually gonna do is not leave that place standin’ with people like me trapped dyin’ inside it. As much regret and guilt as that’s gonna buy me too…

“What?”

I glance up, and she’s got her head cocked. I gotta stop bein’ an open book here. Let me think…

“About Ur-shanabi,” I start hesitantly, “Master, did—”

Her expression changes drastically to distress and she immediately cuts me off. “—Oh, please don’t call me that.”

I forgot I even said it, so it takes me a second to get what she means. “’Master’?”

“Please?” she says again, “I know you’re supposed to, and I’m supposed to call you my servant, but I really hate that.”

Everything else I’ve been thinkin’ about just kinda shuts off and I stare at her, blink. … Y…yeah, me too. Always…

“You’re all heroes, or famous artists, or explorers, or fighters, and we’re just mages. –I mean, even if it was different, I’m pretty sure I’d still hate it,” she continues with a sigh, somewhere deep in thought in her own head, but she comes back and meets my gaze, “But please don’t. I don’t want you to have to think of me that way either. I guess I don’t know how this all usually works in a lot of detail, and I know you’re stuck bound to me right now, but I don’t want you to worry I’m gonna try to make you obey me. I won’t! That’s not why I helped you!” She looks so intense. Leaned forward, one palm on the bed, look on her face that makes me believe she means it. “I want you to know I’m never gonna do that; I mean it. I won’t ever use a command spell on you to make you do something you don’t want to do, I promise.”

Her eyes are amber and bright like coals and full of intent. I find it impossible to look away.

“Not ever. I don’t want to try to use you or control you; I. …I’m…really just trying to help…” She finishes, pulling back once she’s made her statement and looking just a little embarrassed only now it’s done.

“…Well, good,” I finally find my voice, “Because I’ve never been much for the Master-Servant thing anyway. Can’t ever seem to stick to it, and it tends to cause problems down the road.”

She smiles back, happy with my answer and that I’ve accepted her proposal.

Some kind of a mage... This is…almost too much to really even understand right now, but I think she…meant it. She thinks she did. I’m beginin to think calling her a mage at all was plain off. She’s somethin’ else. I always think the kid’s thrown me for about as many loops as she can, and then I get knocked down again, and it’s been less than a day. Don’t bode well and really does for me at the same time.

“’Boss’ then?” I suggest, but I can instantly sense her dislike.

“’Partner?’” she counters hopefully.

That does have a much better ring to it, I gotta say. “Partner,” I concede with a wink, “If you’re sure that’s what you want.”

Never had a master that wanted me to un-know my place before.

“Well, you could also call me ‘Ritsuka’,” she says hopefully and then immediately becomes embarrassed. “Uhm,” she hurries, glancing away when I grin at her, “A-And you’re sure you prefer ‘Billy’? Not Henry?”

Lord it’s been a while since anyone called me that. Sends me a long, long way back. And not really in a good way. I appreciate the thought though.

“No,” I reply.

She seems surprised a little, but I can tell she’s not gonna press me, so, there’s really no reason to say this, but for some reason I want to tell her.

“That’s my middle name, actually,” I say.

“Huh?” says the girl.

“Henry,” I clarify, “Middle name. It’s William Henry McCarty, actually.”

Her brow furrows. “…But I thought…?”

“Step-dad had the same name, and it was too many for one household, so mine got shortened,” I gloss over, “Took it back when I picked my own name on the lamb.”

“So. …You outlaw-named yourself … ‘Your Name The Hot One’?”

It’s my turn to suffer nickname shame, though I’m not too ashamed of that, because it’s pretty funny. Does suckerpunch me a little to get called on it more than 100 years later.

“…I-I don’t know…” I answer automatically before thinking of what to say, “Maybe. …yeah.”

She almost chokes on a laugh. I grin.

“I mean, if you got the opportunity—wouldn’t you? I’m just sayin,” I say casually, past the slight amount of embarrassment I felt and pretty proud of myself again. It was a slick name.

“It’s got flair,” she says approvingly.

“Thank you,” I reply.

“So, what were you gonna ask—before I interrupted you?” she asks, picking up the cup of tea and offering it to me. I take it, feeling immense guilt as our hands touch for a second and I’m stuck thinkin about all the things she’s done for me for no reason other than bein’ kind, and the fact I’m definitely going to turn on that and her, and how awful that is.

I…wonder if it would make things some kind of right if I came back and let her kill me after? No. No, that’d make it worse. Mage or not, I don’t think this kid’s ever hurt anyone. I don’t know what I can do to soften taking this kind of kindness and drawing blood with it, but…

“Ur-shanabi,” I say quietly, working hard to pass off my internal distress as distraction as I hold the little clay cup and feel the warmth. It smells good. I know I have to drink it, and I’ll feel physically better, but everything nice I accept is piling on guilt.

…I wish. I wish I had a choice here, but I can’t let them keep this goin’. I wish I knew a way to make that right, or at least explain to you I’m sorry. And everything she says and does just makes this worse! I don’t want to hurt her. I really don’t. In any other situation, I wouldn’t, but I have to, and I hate it. I don’t want to betray her. I don’t want to make her regret showing me kindness. I don’t want her to feel the way it feels to not do something cold but safe, and then get shot for it.

Hot water slips over the top of my hand and I jerk back and just spill more of the tea, sucking in a sharp breath at the unexpected pain.

“Whoa! –Are you okay?” she asks worriedly, passing me a napkin and leaning over to catch onto my hand and help steady the cup and what’s left inside it, “What happened? Are you feeling worse again?”

Hell! My hands are shaking and I can’t quite get them to stop. Calm down. You don’t gotta do anything right now. You can feel bad later. Just think a second.

“Nah—s-sorry,” I manage, trying to smile at her and not quite sure how well I do, “I uh—I guess I’m just still a little weaker than I thought. I’m fine now.”

“Here,” she says, brow all scrunched up in concern, taking back the tea and passing me the ice pack to set on my hand.

I hate this. I’m terrible. It ain’t fair—it ain’t wrong for me to go back, I gotta, but. I hate this. I hate it.

I take the pack and try to look grateful. “Thanks.”

“Sorry about your hand,” she says.

I wave it off. “It’s already done hurting.”

“…” She waits a second, leaned a little forward expectantly, and I forget what for until she prompts me again. “What? About Ur-shanabi?”

“Oh,” I say. Right. “I was gonna ask how much you know about their operation. –How you even ended up in the right place at all.”

“Oh,” she says, and she loses some color.

Huh?

“Uhm,” she glances away, then back, and seems more herself, but I’m not sure I buy it this time. I don’t think she’s lyin’, per-se, but there’s something else she’s not saying. “Well. I’m from a mage family, but, not a ‘mage’ family—we know about magic, I did—growing up. But, I didn’t ever get any formal training, or anything. So I guess it was more like mage-adjacent in a lot of ways. There was this test I heard about from a friend—a research project on magical circuits, and I was curious.” She glances down at her legs again, but this time she looks far away and almost happy, like she’s revisiting a better moment in her head. “I’d always been curious about myself and magic, and I was excited, because if you participated in the research project, you got to know stuff they found out about your magical circuits—stuff you might be good at.” She glances up at me and gives me an embarrassed smile. “It sounded really cool. I had wanted to know for so long, and I thought—I still think—it would be really great to learn how to do more magic. So, I went.”

The girl—nope—Ritsuka, thinks for a second, then holds out her hand and looks at it. “Apparently I’ve got really unusual circuits.”

“Unusual?” I echo, kind of intrigued. I know jack-all about magic, but I am curious.

She glances over and nods. “Yeah. I thought I did really badly in the study, because I didn’t know any real spells at all, and everyone else did. They pulled me aside after and I thought they were just going to kick me out before we even got results, but, apparently my circuits were so unusual they wanted to do a case study. I’ve got ‘Almost no practical control or ability to utilize them, but possess a nearly inhuman amount of mana.’”

“Really?” I ask. I can’t feel that at all. I’m getting enough to keep me sustained, sure, but that’s it.

“I know, right?” she agrees, nodding and leaning forward, “That’s what I said! But apparently I do. They asked me if I’d come in to do more studies, and I said yes, because I was also curious. And that was Ur-shanabi. I’ve been going there for a while now,” she adds, then stops, gives me a guilty look, then looks away and keeps going in an almost dejected tone. “Uh. But I worked, or, was allowed in, I guess, a totally different part of the building. You were up on the 12th floor. I was on the 4th, R&D testing labs.”

“Oh,” I say, very confused by this reaction from her, and a little concerned by it too if I’m honest, “What brought you up to the 12th?”

“The mage I met with the most was named Nakata. He worked in a lot of projects more important than mine too. I think that was maybe the only time I was ever on the 12th floor,” she answers, “That day, I showed up and waited for a couple hours, and he never showed up in R&D. There were other people who wanted to use the room we usually used for another test, so I asked if I should go home, and the secretary said yes, but I bumped into Dr. Nakata in the elevator on my way out. He said he’d been swamped by a last-minute schedule change, and still wanted to do our test, but he’d be maybe another hour, and that I should just wait for him by his office. Which, is on the 12th floor. I was just standing there, and this big group of mages went into a large room at the end of the hall, so I was curious and watched them, and.” She shrugs.

Yeah, I can fill in the rest.

“I guess you don’t know a lot about what they were doing with me, then,” I say, a little disappointed. Any new information would have been useful. I don’t know that I expected another answer, though.

“…Actually, yes,” says Ritsuka, looking uncomfortable. I glance at her in surprise and she looks flustered and guilty and glances away again. “Uhm. After I saw you, I asked Dr. Nakata what was going on up here, and who you were.”

You coulda been killed, I think in a frozen kind of horror. What were you thinking?

“He told me,” she says simply, “You were a heroic spirit, and they were doing tests on things you could do using them. He even told me what the test was.”

I don’t know what to think or how to feel about that, so I just listen. I wonder why on earth he’d tell her?

She glances up and holds my gaze this time, an undercurrent of almost…incensed feeling somewhere deep in her eyes. “He said they had found a way to keep a summoned spirit away from the throne for a long time at low mana cost, and instead use the connection to their Saint Graph and essence as a fixed unit outside of time now, to generate a potentially limitless source of energy. To…make a heroic spirit into a battery.” I can tell while the rest of it was her echoing, the last statement is her own, and she’s bitter. “I asked how, and he told me,” she continues, “He said you had to trap one right between life and death, so they would give as little presence as possible to anything looking, and wouldn’t find a way to escape or retaliate on their own, but couldn’t actually vanish either. ‘An art and a science, to find the perfect thread to stop at, and keep them in place on the edge of death.’ Stuck. In pain, and too weak to fight back, but here.”

She lets out a long sigh and glances at me and says, “I said that sounded awful, and what about the spirits, and he told me a lot of stuff about heroic spirits being familiars that are meant to serve mankind in whatever way they’re summoned for, no matter how painful, and aren’t people anymore and that’s their intended use.”

Ow. I mean, it’s not new; I hear this from mages all the time, but it’s never fun to hear one say it right to your face. Fuckin mages…

“But, I think he could tell I didn’t like it, even though I was a little scared by then and trying not to seem as much like it,” she continues, glancing down at her hands, “And he told me ‘Don’t trouble yourself. You’re new to this, but it’s a normal part of being a mage. If it helps you rest easier, the one we summoned was Billy the Kid, an outlaw and a murderer from the old American west,’ a-and. That…” her voice gets quieter, like suddenly she thinks maybe she shouldn’t have said any of this, “…I could think of it as divine punishment, in a way. And not have to feel bad.”

…

That. It really shouldn’t bother me to hear. People always act like that to me. Even when I was alive. I think about being sent to hang for a murder I didn’t commit for a moment. I had so many murders on my record by the end of it, but I’ve never pulled a trigger that wasn’t in self-defense or a last resort. But it’s never mattered. You are what people make of you, in the public eye, and in history I guess, no matter what the truth is. And eventually that tends to push you to an ending written about the person you’re described as. I never thought of any of the fights I was in as murder. I guess it’s been a long time since I could even pretend that mattered to anyone but me, though.

…I still hate it.

It hurts. Not so much people sayin’ that—don’t care too much what people think; I know who I am. But, the fact that it just straight up don’t matter what’s true, at all. Even a little… I could have lived a completely different life and not been remembered as any worse at all.

“He thought I’d agree with that.” Her voice is angry. I glance back up, train of thought broken, and Ritsuka looks as mad as she sounded, somewhere else in her head too. It’s a quiet, deep anger. “I didn’t.”

There’s something about how she looks, like she’s an embodiment of what she’s saying, and again it becomes hard to look away if I’d wanted.

“He was wrong. I guess there are some people who deserve to die,” she continues, “I’ve thought about that. About if I think if…if someone killed my family or something, I’d want them to have to die too for it. If I think that’s fair, and right. But. …Even if some people probably deserve to die, nobody deserves to be just kept in pain forever. Even the worst people. I don’t know how anyone could think after more than a day anybody at all could possibly know it’s right to go on hurting someone. Not even the worst person.” She looks distressed by that for a moment, then glances back at me and smiles a little. “I decided that, and that I was going to try to do something, and then I went home and looked you up, and you didn’t even sound that bad.” Her eyes go big immediately and she looks mortified. “—Wait—That sounded bad! I’m sorry! I-I said that wrong. I—I meant—I didn’t—I just mean—he’d said—uh—a-and you didn’t sound like—it seemed like you weren’t so—like stuff went wrong for you more than you were a bad person actually, a-and you didn’t seem like you were really a murderer—"

The poor kid is sweating buckets now. I think she thinks she’ll have offended me sayin’ that, but it’s very much the opposite.

“—I should stop talking. I’m sorry. I-I just—uhm. You were different sounding than I thought before I looked you up is the only thing I was trying to say—I’m so sorry I don’t know why I said any of it at all!” She gives up and hunches over apologetically in shame.

“…I ain’t mad,” I try to assure her after a second.

Ritsuka glances up between her bangs and gives me a sorrowful, worried look.

“…I…think I actually appreciate that,” I continue after a second, figuring it out as I go and then giving her a smile, “I ain’t sure what you read about me, or how true it was, but I’ll take what goodwill I can get.” She raises her head a little more, but still looks worried, so I keep going. “Ain’t offended me—I get it. You were already thinkin of doin’ something dangerous. Gotta know what you’re in for best you can, with a heroic spirit. Only smart to try’n be prepared.”

Looking a little better, she cautiously un-hunches. “Yeah. …I really didn’t mean to say it how I did, though. I don’t think you’re bad! I mean, I know I don’t know you, but I-”

I hold up a hand. I feel like after all this, I really oughta let her off the hook.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say with a sure smile, “You don’t gotta explain yourself, or tell me what you thought, or what you think now. I don’t have to know. I’m aware you’re takin’ a risk on me, especially with my kind of record, and I appreciate it. Probably ain’t easy for you.”

Shit, haven’t thought about that before, but it’s true. Kid might have command seals, but I’m quick, and she’s not experienced. Pretty much any heroic spirit she summoned that wanted to could kill her easy. She didn’t think to use one immediately to order me to not. I’ve been so strung out and nervous of her, I haven’t thought for a second about the fact she’s probably scared of me.

“…Uhm. In light of that, Ma- Partner,” I correct, “I’d like to set a few things straight for you, if you don’t mind?”

She seems to recover a little, straightens up and gives me a very serious nod.

“If you’re worried about me, don’t be. Whatever you heard, truth is I never killed anybody except when it was them or me, or I was defendin’ someone else. I never was a fan of it, either. Only crimes I ever set out to commit were thefts, mostly outa need,” I say, “Where I grew up, once you had a reputation, that was all you had left. I stole food when I was on my own at sixteen, and there weren’t no turning back after that. ‘Bout that simple.”

The gal’s listening attentively, head cocked. Takin this serious. And I’m still thinkin over how this has probably been for her. Angering a group of powerful mages is scary enough. Now she’s contracted to an outlaw spirit, and she’s apparently a mage who’s got no real practice usin spells. She’s basically just a civilian. She’s all alone here too, and somethin like sixteen or seventeen, and she’s got no real idea what I’m gonna be like, or want, or do. I’m not in great shape, but I’m still a heroic spirit, and a lot more powerful than her, and I’ve killed people. That’s a pretty good reason to be scared. I don’t want her to be, though. At all.

“I know all you got’s my word on this,” I say, working hard to convey my sincerity, “But it is the truth. More importantly, you saved my life, and I owe you. I really am grateful. I got no plans to try and hurt you; I promise—you got nothing to worry about.”

FUCK. What I’ve just said hits me like a ton of bricks. Fuck, I should’ve phrased that differently!—no no no—damn it damn it; I should have thought about it first! Hell! I am gonna hurt her! Probably. Not physically, which is what I was thinkin’ about when I said that, and meant, but it’s not technically what I said, shit shit shit, I just promised her something I’m gonna break—oh great, and I must have some amount of that showin’ on my face because she actually does look nervous now. I lied and I actually made her more afraid of me. Great job! Damn it damn it damn it.

“I’m really not the kind of person to do that,” I add quickly, trying hard to save it. This is bad this is bad. “I wouldn’t have a reason to anyway, but you definitely don’t gotta worry about me—” Everything I am thinking to say is wrong. All of it. ‘turning on you’ – a lie. ‘repaying that by making you sorry’ – a bigger lie. Shit. And I feel like it now too, more than before. I’m the worst—I’m terrible. I know I don’t have an alternative, and I have to go back, but this is awful, and I feel very appropriate amounts of guilt about it. I deserve this. “attacking you or something,” I go with, even though it sounds weird in my ears, because I don’t want to outright lie again, and even this much is making me feel miserable. “after you’ve been good to me.”

I hate this. I hate myself. Maybe. …Maybe there’s another way, maybe I can… Can…

She smiles for a moment, happy I said that I think, then slowly looks worried. “You look worried.”

Oh. I guess I’m the one who looks worried.

I…

I can’t. There’s nothing I can do to work this out better than it’s gonna be. I just. …I just…

…Fuck it.

“I am,” I say honestly, turning my head to look at her. She’s so sincere, and so worried. She’s been so good to me. I just. … I just… “I’m worried about Ur-shanabi,” I say, so sure I’m going to regret this in seconds, but doing it anyway because of some deep inherent flaw in who I am, “I’m okay right now, but I figure with me gone, they’ll just take another one of us and do the same thing. If they haven’t already.”

I watch slow horror creep over her face as that clicks. “…I. Would…? Oh. They will. And it’ll be my fault.” she says, glazed-over expression on her face.

What? “No!” I say immediately, “That it’s someone else and not me? It ain’t your fault. It’s theirs—they’re the only ones doin’ it, aren’t they?”

She comes back to herself a little and looks at me, but her face is still drained of color.

“It won’t be your fault,” I say again, “That’s ridiculous, and you know it. …They will keep doin’ it, though. Probably to more and more of us, if they can. Probably they’ll sell the idea to other mages too.” I hesitate, give myself one last solid chance to reconsider this, and don’t. Just pray for luck. I’ve gotten a lot of it the last 24 hours—maybe I have a pinch left. “…Unless I find a way to go back and stop them pretty fast. It’s that, or this is gonna keep happening to us. And it’s only gonna get worse. …I got friends, in the throne. …I don’t want that to happen to any of them. Even for the ones I don’t know, even the ones I don’t like, it’s like you said: nobody deserves that. So. I think. …I gotta go back.”

Her eyes are huge and I can see her running what this means, trying to process it all. I’m praying she’ll agree with me, but it’s such a long shot to get from an idealistic teen.

“Please!” I try, going for the best pitch I can before she decides to force me not to, “I-I know you’ve met those people, and I’m askin’ a lot, but at least think about it. You helped me because you knew what they were doing was wrong—I know it too, and I’m the only one in a position to shut it down. I can’t do nothing, and this is the only way to end it. You don’t know what it’s like. We-“ I’m getting to desperate, and I know it, but I hold up a hand and plow on because so long as I keep talking, she isn’t, and I don’t know what else to try. “—Our bodies are pretty close to what they were before; we feel pain the same, we can just survive more of it. I-I’m lucky, I got shot—I’ve known spirits who were bled to death, or hung, or burned, or decapitated—you can’t imagine what it would be like to be stuck chained down forever with your head just not quite severed all the way enough to kill you. I know it’s not your fight, and it’s not fair for me to ask this, but I have to try and stop them. And I—can’t. Without an anchor. Please...”

Maybe this won’t be a terrible idea. Maybe it won’t backfire on me immediately. Maybe she’ll let me go. Maybe she’ll understand. Maybe I won’t have to—

For a moment, she stares at me, motionless. Then her eyes well up.

Damn it. Damn it; I knew! I knew she’d feel like she had to stop me, and I showed her my hand because I felt bad, and now promise or no, she—

“I’m so sorry…” she whispers, and I’m fully expecting the threat of a command spell to follow that, but instead she tucks her knees up to her chest and folds over into a little ball and starts crying again.

I don’t…rightly know what to do about that, so for a second I just stare at her like an idiot.

“I know it was bad,” I hear muffled and choked up from the little bundle she’s made herself into, “I. I don’t—don’t know how awful it was, I know, but I know it was—I know it was so bad. And it’s my fault it was you.”

What?

“You have to go back?” she asks pleadingly, looking up at me for a second from over her knees, like she’s asking me if I gotta go die in a war, “What if they catch you and put you back where you were? O-or kill you and just summon you into a trap again? I’ll never get back in if—”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘your fault’?” I ask, still stuck on that and very lost again. So much so she’s halfway through her next paragraph before I even clock that me potentially getting trapped again is the only thing she has immediately objected to.

Ritsuka looks at me with her big, tearful eyes, then looks defeatedly at her knees. “…I. One day, several months ago, I showed up for a research day and Doctor Nakata had these boxes on the table, and a bunch of papers.” The kid looks and sounds completely miserable, and exhausted. “I didn’t know what any of it was, so I asked him. He said it was for another project, and to just wait a few minutes while he packed it up. …And then he changed his mind, and said actually, would I come over? He told me they were deciding between a few candidates for a project, and at this point it didn’t really matter which one they started with, and would I like to pick one. I asked what the project was, and he said it was a secret. But, it looked so important, and cool, and I wanted to be involved, so I said yes please, and I went up and picked. I didn’t know what they were.”

Ritsuka grimaces and looks sadder, rests her chin on her knees and exhales slowly. “No, I think I did. I just didn’t know what they were for. I could sense they were all magical, and they were all odd, and specific. An old little clay vase. A shuriken. An earring. A coin. A letter. And a photograph.”

I stare. She makes herself look up at me, and I can see how sorry she feels. “I picked the photograph.”

Ah.

“He even told me later,” she adds quietly, all the spunk gone, “That I picked you. When I asked, after seeing—”

“Good.”

She looks up quickly, surprised.

“I appreciate you feelin’ bad for me,” I continue sympathetically, “But it ain’t your fault, what happened to me. You didn’t know what was goin’ on, and if it hadn’t been me, it’d have just been someone else. Luck of the draw; just how life happens. On top of that, they’d have gone after every one of us on that list eventually, and if I hadn’t been here and now with you, I might not have ever gotten out.” It’s true, and I give her a smile. “Also, this whole thing is a pretty big relief.”

“A relief?” she echoes, confused.

I nod. “You get summoned with a catalyst, ain’t much you can do but show up, like it or not, but I wanted to answer the call when I got it. Up till now I thought my sixth sense had plain stopped workin’ or something. I guess it was actually just because I thought I was answerin’ your call.”

She looks confused for a moment, then smiles slowly. “…Really?”

I give a little head tilt. “Best I can guess.” I honestly don’t know if a summon can work that way at all, but I’d like to think so, and why not? Makes us both feel better.

I meet her gaze and try and get her to smile back, and this time it works.

“I really am sorry,” she says, “even if you’re not mad.”

“Well thank you,” I say, accepting the apology, “But consider it behind us.”

Something she said earlier that I had running in the back of my head comes through hard, and I feel the bottom of my stomach drop out.

“…You said a coin?” I ask, really, really, really hoping my gut feeling is wrong for once.

She nods, catching my expression and getting sympathetically worried along with me.

“…Was it kinda silver, with a face on one side, and a short cross and some words on the back?” I ask.

“Uh. I only saw one side, but it did have a face,” she says nervously.

“Was there a scratch across it? Deep? Diagonal on the face?”

“Yeah,” she says, surprised, “How did you know? What is it?”

Oh no. Oh shit that’s bad. Okay. Okay, this is gonna be okay. I can figure this out. He might not even be here yet, and I can snag the coin and he’ll be fine. All this means for sure is that I have to figure this out, more than before now.

“A friend,” I answer when I remember I need to, “—a catalyst to summon one, I mean.”

“Oh,” she says in a voice like I feel.

For a moment, we look at each other in silence. I got no idea what she’s thinking, but my mind’s far away and frantic, trying to piece together some kind of plan.

“…What do we do?” she asks.

“Huh?”

“You said you gotta go back in,” says Ritsuka as I refocus on her, and I can see she’s come to some kind of decision, “And need me to help, and now you know they’re gonna hurt your friend unless we can stop them. I’ll help you, but I don’t know how. How do we go back and stop them?”

I gape.

“…You…want to help me?”

She gives a nod, looking confused that I’d ask her.

“You-? I mean—it might. …I might have to…shoot someone,” I say. Wow. Great job Billy you sure did sugar coat that and make it sound real fine. Nicely done.

Her eyes widen, and she glances away, hesitates. Then says slowly, “…But if we don’t, they’ll keep torturing heroic spirits for energy.” Working through it herself.

“That’s about it,” I agree sympathetically. It…can’t be easy for her. She’s a civilian, a kid. And she seems like a bleedin’ heart who doesn’t want to hurt anyone. She’s already been a lot more understanding towards my perspective than I expected.

“…So it’ll be bad either way,” she says finally, looking back and meeting my gaze.

I’m kind of taken aback that she’s put it into almost the same words I did to myself, but I nod.

“…That sucks,” she says to herself sadly.

“Yeah,” I agree quietly, looking at my own knees and thinking it over.

“…Is there a way to do it without killing anyone?” she asks after a second, hopeful.

Probably not. Even if I destroyed the whole building, there’s the people in charge who know how to do it, and can and will rebuild. I think she can see that on my face, because her expression falls.

“I…don’t know for sure,” I answer, “But. I think…probably not. … They’d rebuild. –Not all of them—not all of them would know how, but, at least a few will.”

She stares off at nothing, thinking.

I feel worse, somehow. Thought I was doing the nicer thing, basically giving her a chance to stop me, and risking my success. But. Now I think maybe I’ve accidentally been more heartless.

She shouldn’t have to carry a choice like this. Life ain’t fair, and I know that, but I’m finding I like being on the giving end of that even less than the receiving.

“…How old are you?”

The mage turns and looks at me, surprised, and flushes a little. “…I. S-seventeen?”

“Yeah?” I ask.

She nods.

Seventeen. She’s about the age I was when my life started really fallin apart. I hate being a part of that for someone else. I don’t want to.

“You don’t have to have anything to do with it,” I offer quietly, “You could dissolve our contract. Fifty-fifty chance I get the job done before I vanish, fifty—”

“—No!” she cuts in adamantly before I’m even halfway through my pitch, “No way! You’d get trapped there again! That’d be even worse! I made a deal with you to protect you if you trusted me! I’m not just gonna abandon you now.”

I blink. Tilt my head, taken aback by her fervor.

Did you? Is that what the contract was to her? I try to recall her words. ‘My soul becomes your will; your spirit becomes my destiny.’ Right, she said that wrong. But what I want to remember is before that. I try hard. “Please—If you die, they’ll summon you back! I-I can ground you! I can keep you here!” I can’t see much in the image in my head, but I can hear it, I can feel it—the pain and her hand on mine.

…I guess she did.

I don’t know how to respond to that. Look down at my own hand, playing it again in my head.

The kid is thinking still, her brow furrowed with worry. Taps the edge of the little bedside table agitatedly with a finger. “…So. Either we find a way to destroy their research, and get any other spirits they have out, and…maybe fight some of the people in charge,” she says finally, “…or they keep on doing this to you all, forever. There’s no other way things can go? You’re sure?”

I’ve already thought about it, but she’s so sincere and sad I think again, and then nod.

She sees that and glances at her hands and then back at me. “Then. …I guess we have to go back and stop them. You’re right.”

I stare at her. A-are you serious? Even as such a bleeding heart, you really—?

“But nobody gets hurt that doesn’t have to, okay?” she adds fervently, “And. I-I want to try to talk to the people in charge first! I know they won’t change their minds and it’s probably a waste, but.”

“—We can try,” I agree readily, overcome with relief, “Are you sure, though? You don’t have to stay contracted to me, and you sure as hell don’t have to come. You—you’ve already taken a lot of risks for me, big ones, and I know I’m basically returnin that favor by involving you in bloodshed. I don’t want to do that.”

It’s her turn to look surprised, and she blinks and tilts her head right back at me, and for some reason it makes me feel a whole lot better and a whole lot worse at the same time. But also more like I understand her.

“You’re not doing anything to me,” she says simply, “They’re the ones doing something that has to be stopped. It’s not your fault you’re the one who knows about it.”

I…guess that’s true. Feel like I’m getting my own words thrown back at me; maybe I am.

“It sucks,” she adds, “And I’m scared. I don’t want to hurt anybody, or get anyone else hurt. But. Mom and Dad always said it’s just as bad to stand by and let somebody be hurt as it is to hurt them yourself, if you could have done something about it. So. I want to help you, and I will.”

“You’re sure?” I ask again, “It’s…it’s a whole lot, and it ain’t gonna be easy, or safe, and you’re—” If I say ‘a kid’ I think she’s gonna get offended because I would have when I was seventeen. “Young. It shouldn’t be on you to fix.”

“Well, you’re young too,” she says.

Ow. I’m twenty-one. I know I’m short, but at least I’m an adult.

“And you’re mostly dead, so let’s just agree it’s unfair for both of us, but we’re partners, and someone has to do it, and we’re here, so that’s us,” she says very diplomatically.

I give up and sigh, then offer her a hand. “If you’re sure, Partner.”

She takes my hand and shakes it.

“So, what can I do?” she asks as she lets go.

“Well, anything you know about the building’s layout’ll help, and what defenses they might have. Mostly, I just need to get back to fighting shape,” I answer.

She nods. “Food, then?”

I give in again and smile. “Thanks.”

#fate grand order AU #fate series #fate fic #writing #billy the kid #ritsuka fujimaru #fate go #The Kid #The Kid (fic)#I wish I had as much time as my heart wants for writing :'-]#'Gudako' basically means 'boring girl'. and Billy called himself William Bonney which is Irish for 'William Attractive' more or less so they #deserve to both be roasted but in the most loving way possible also Ritsuka my dear I'm so sorry your friends suck

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mason-knight-retired · 3 years

Text

follows X and X (he’s working through some stuff)

Mason casts another glance over the chest plate and briefly considers if he should do the same. Bringing their phoenix armor back to its previous glorified state feels symbolic somehow – removing the rough gouges of the past and smoothing it over into something new. He wonders if that’s what Ben is doing, or if it’s merely just a repair ahead of their next fight.

He climbs onto the bunk beside Ben with a tired sigh and leans back against the bulkhead. Ben throws him a curious look in the dim light and Mason remembers what Ben had signed when first rapped quietly on Ben’s door.

“You know you don’t have to sleep on the floor, right? Just so we’re clear on that.”

Ben snuffles and leans into his side. It’s a practiced move from long ago that has Mason throwing his arm around his shoulders and resting his chin on Ben’s head. It’s part comfort, part calculating because like this, Ben is forced to use his voice and not his hands to answer.

He figures Ethan would approve of that.

“Neither do you.”

Mason chuckles, “Good to know because the floor looks uncomfortable and we already know your bunk has room for two.”

Ben snorts and Mason cops an elbow in his side for that. There’s considerable force behind it and it makes him grunt with through his short laugh.

“You’re bigger,” Ben informs him. “Softer,” he adds slyly, then pokes him again for good measure.

Mason laughs, then leans away, snatching up Ben’s pillow and shoving it under his head. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that,” he says then decides to lean into it. “Kids these days, no respect for their elders.”

He catches the gleam of Ben’s grin in the low light before he turns and draw his knees up. There’s a thoughtful look in Ben’s eye as he gazes back at Mason. His smile slips, knowing Ben sees right through his forced cheer anyway.

Suddenly seeking out Ben seems like a bad idea. Mason sits up.

“Anyway, I should let you get some sleep.” He tries to get to his feet but Ben doesn’t let him go. Mason isn’t sure why he thought he would.

(Something bothering you). Ben motions sternly at him to sit back down so he does.

“You’re signing again.”

Ben scowls and flips him a sign that Mason definitely knows is rude and not to be repeated in polite company but he soon follows it up with a softer, concerned, (You can talk to me).

Mason thinks about all the issues bubbling under the surface and shakes his head sadly.

“Not about this, kiddo.”

Ben isn’t happy with that reply and after a long, quiet moment, signs again.

(Why do you hate him?)

For an instant, Mason is confused. “Who?”

“Maddox.”

“I don’t hate him,” Mason protests it on instinct but he’s not sure how much of it is a lie. His feelings around Ajax were complicated. They always had been, and in light of Marie ripping into him about the other adept, Mason was feeling just as conflicted as ever.

Ben’s expression is troubled. Mason hates that.

“Maddox…” Mason exhales roughly. “That… that’s a tough one.”

(No, it’s not.)

“Shit. Yeah, it is. Ben, this is… this is a whole lot of complicated talking to you about this. Of all people.”

Curious eyes and a single word. “Why?”

“Why?” Mason shakes his head, casting around for an answer that might keep him at bay and coming up with exactly nothing. “Because… Because it was… It was messy.”

He doesn’t need to specify what ‘it’ means. Ajax’s arrival on P1 and every day afterwards… Definitely not Mason’s finest hours.

“Why?” Ben says it harder this time.

“Ben,” Mason tries to warn him off gently, a little bit of steel in his tone. It used to work, back on P1, but apparently that effect has worn off now. Just another thing that’s changed. “I’m not going to talk to you about this.”

(Talk about big brother then).

“Archer?” Mason says, just to be deliberately facetious. Ben wasn’t the only one who could be stubborn. Mason knows full well Ben is angling for Ethan but that’s another subject he’s not ready to face yet. “He seems alright. Happy to have you back.”

Ben’s roll of the eyes is dramatic enough to make Mason consider escaping again. “It’s late, we should get some shut eye, Benji.”

(No, should talk. Overdue), Ben shrugs. (Can’t sleep anyway).

Mason considers that closed eyes and a thump of his head against the bulkhead. “You’re really not gonna let me have this one, huh?”

“Nope.”

Mason sighs but eventually squints open one eye. “Alright. What do you want to know?”

(Why?) Ben signs again. It’s on the tip of Mason’s tongue to nag him about signing but it was late and dim and he has no trouble seeing the motions thanks to his enhanced sight anyway. Trying to change the subject would only delay the inevitable.

“Why...?”

“Maddox.”

Mason has to stop to consider his answer, to sift through all the shifting layers there. Hate was too strong a word, but there didn’t seem to be anything else that came close.

Whatever it was, it was mutual. Mason knows that much and says as much to Ben.

Ben doesn’t seem convinced and Mason is at a loss as how to make him understand. Somehow Mason’s past, and probably Ethan’s and Nico’s too, could be neatly divided into two parts: Ben, and After Ben.

And After Ben sucked.

“Maddox got the short end of the stick before he even arrived,” Mason says quietly, surprised at the words coming out of his own mouth, of the realization that accompanies them. Ben gives him a quizzical look that leaves Mason floundering to explain.

But then the words come and they don’t want to stop.

“Because… he wasn’t you, Benji. You were my responsibility, mine and Ethan’s and we lost you. The team… the team didn’t exist without you. And then they gave us Maddox and he was angry in a way you never were. And all the spaces that used to be bright got dark and everything changed and then there was the reaper tech and the indoctrinations and we discovered there was rot at the core of what we were supposed to be and…”

(You blame Ajax for that?)

Mason exhales and scrubs a hand over his eyes. His chest hurts. “I don’t…. I don’t know. Maybe I did.”

There’s a shift of the mattress as Ben scrambles up beside him. They sit shoulder to shoulder and somehow it feels easier to talk when he doesn’t have to see the reproach or the disappointment in Ben’s eye.

“And I thought I tried, but, Marie…. Well, I guess I didn’t try hard enough.”

Ben leans over enough so Mason can see him sign, (we all make mistakes, boss), then surprises him by giving him a hug.

“Look at you, kiddo,” Mason tries to chuckle through the lump in his throat and Ben’s hair tickling his nose. “Giving me the sage advice now, huh?”

Ben shrugs, but he doesn’t let him go yet. “Grew up.”

“Yeah, you have.”

There’s a moment of silence before Ben pulls back. The look in his eyes is suddenly intense and serious and very pointed.

(It wasn’t your fault).

Mason has to look away. “You’ve said that before, and I know you mean it, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to let it go. We... we… we buried you. When we thought you were dead, you were out there alone and…”

Ben hugs him again and Mason’s pretty sure his face is damp. “Wasn’t your fault, Boss. Not Maddox’s either.”

“Yeah,” Mason exhales the word.

(Not just Maddox though), Ben gives him a shrewd glance already moving on. (You and big brother- You’re not good).

“Why do you say that?”

(Strained. Sad.)

“I didn’t realize this was going to turn into a therapy session,” Mason says dryly but it makes them both feel better, even if the subject still makes him hurt. “And don’t worry about me and Ethan. We’re still friends, that won’t ever change. We just disagree on some things.”

(Big things)

“Big things, little things. He’s still my favorite person in the galaxy, next to you of course. I made sure they sent him a copy of your spar with Eva, I think he would have got a kick out of that. Probably send you a bunch of notes though.”

(I told Archer to look in on him).

“What?” Mason tries to imagine Archer and Ethan willingly spending time together but can only picture them glowering across the room at each other. Or mostly Ethan doing the glowering. “I wish I could be a fly on the wall when that conversation goes down.,” He laughs in spite of himself.

Ben shrugs. (I look out for you. He looks out for Ethan.) Ben gives him a weighted look. “Until you can look out for each other.”

Mason chooses to ignore that and his eye catches on the photo still attached to his wall.

“Well, now that we’ve hashed all that out… What about you, Benji? Are you alright?”

#alcohol may or may not have been involved in this #not sure if i needed this or mase did lol #idk sorry #mason knight #scooter roosevelt #maddox gibbons #yes i cried #stupid ocs stupid characters #on the upside hopefully mason can finally let go of his scooter guilt now idk

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queenof-literature · 4 years

Note

I absolutely loved the gerudo story a lot! If you are still taking ideas/suggestions may you please continue on with wild telling them about the others? I liked medoh and the rito the most lol but any will be awesome I loved how happy wild and the others were while hearing the story of Riju and nabrois.. thanks 💚💜

Thank you for your kind words! I turned this into a series on my AO3 (queenofliterature) since it has gotten multiple requests. I hope you enjoy and your cosplay is super cool!

“Pleeeeeease!” Wind continued to beg Wild over dinner. It had been a couple of days since Wild told the story about his time with the Gerudo, and Wind was desperate for Wild to tell more, as he had made very clear. Since the first story, they had traveled to Twilight’s Hyrule, although no villages were close enough to get to tonight.

“Dear Hylia. Wild please tell him another story before he explodes.” Legend yelled from across camp.

“Wind, Wild doesn’t need to tell us anything else if he doesn’t want to.” Time lectured Wind, who was attached to Wild’s back, arms wrapped around him like a stationary piggyback ride. Wild didn’t find himself minding. Ever since he had returned Wind’s hug the first night he told a story, the kid had seemed comfortable with attaching himself to Wild like he would Hyrule and Warriors. It was surprising at first, but Wild got used to it, and kinda liked it.

“Um that’s okay. I can tell more stories. I just don’t want them to be boring or anything. There’s no more dressing as a woman and seducing people for items or sneaking into Yiga bases.” Wild joked although he was slightly nervous about his other stories not measuring up.

“But you still have three more divine beats to go right?” Sky voiced curiously.

“And your fight against Ganon!” Warriors called.

“And all your crazy ideas along the way!” Hyrule finished as the rest of the group laughed, Wild included.

“Okay, just let me pass out dinner.”

Once again, the group was all gathered around the campfire, eyes on Wild. Wild still found it intimidating, but it was far less scary this time.

“Well… I guess I could tell you about the Rito?” There were some questions and confused murmurs among the group, except Wind, who lit up at the mention of the birds who lived on Dragon Roost Island.

“You have Rito in your Hyrule too?” Wind questioned excitedly.

“Yeah I do. Do the rest of you not?” There were ripples of no’s throughout the camp.

“Oh, well they’re basically really big, talking birds? That might be an offensive way to describe them. They’re like Zora are to fish I guess.” Wild stated awkwardly. He didn’t really expect to have to explain what a Rito was.

“I can just show you!” Wild remembered he had a picture of Kass and his children on his slate. When they first saw the Sheikah Slate, all five of the girls had crowded around him and demanded to see it. When they saw the photo rune, they wanted him to take a picture of them and their mother and father. He told them he had no way to let them have a copy or anything, but they just wanted to be with him in his travels. It was a very sweet sentiment and Wild absolutely loved that picture.

“Oh wow, you weren’t kidding about them being giant birds.” Hyrule commented when Wild flipped his slate around for them to see.

“They look a bit different from the Rito from my Hyrule but that’s kinda been a common theme among all of us.” Wind noted.

“They’re very nice and welcoming people.” Wild confirmed as he put the slate back on his hip. “When I first got to the village, I had to walk up a whole bunch of bridges that just kept getting higher and higher. The Rito were really upset and worried, since the Divine Beast, Vah Medoh, was causing chaos and shooting anyone down that flew up too high.” Wild remembered the ear-piercing screech that greeted him when he first arrived. All of the Divine Beasts had a call, but none were quite like Medoh’s.

“Oh no that’s awful! The Rito love to fly! Was anyone hurt?” Wind questioned, genuinely concerned for the villagers.

“Unfortunately yes. Some men went up to try and defeat Medoh, but one got shot down and hurt his wing, his name is Harth. He’s alright now. The Rito that went with him, Teba, got him to safety and was planning to face Medoh once again. I spoke with the chief of the village, named Kaneli. He’s very kind, and he has a very deep and hearty laugh.” That was one thing about Wild the group had noticed. He always remembered odd or specific details of people. It may be connected to his loss of memory, but that was simply the person he was. He wanted to get to know as many people as he could and help them when needed.

“So do any of the leaders know that you’re the hero from 100 years earlier?” Four questioned. He really hoped he wasn’t crossing a line by asking, he was just truly curious.

“It kinda depends. The Zora live to be centuries old, so most of them knew me, well… the old me.” Wild stated uncertainly. The rest of camp knew Wild’s struggles with his past self, almost seeing him as a different person than the one they knew now. They were slightly curious about what Wild was like before. They would never trade Wild for anything, but it would be interesting to see how much he had changed. Twilight, who was sitting on Wild’s left, put a gentle hand on his shoulder, while Legend scooted a little closer on Wild’s right, almost unnoticeable to everyone but Wild.

“The Gorons didn’t care all that much, just as long as I could board Rudania. Riju knew that I was friends with Urbosa, or that she at least sent me. And the Rito thought I was the champion’s descendant.” Some snickers left the group at that.

“Hey, I tried to tell him it was really me, but I didn’t have the Master Sword yet. Even then, I’m not sure if he would have believed I was the actual champion, but he was worried for his people. He asked me to help them with the Divine Beast since I was the only one who could board it.”

“Why are you the only one who can board it?” Warriors asked.

“Well, I don’t have a solid answer for you, but it’s because I’m the Hylian Champion.” Wild answered. There wasn’t a scientific answer he could really give, that’s all he really knew.

“Wait, since you’re a champion, do you have a Divine Beast too?” Hyrule exclaimed, eyes shining with anticipation and mischief. Oh Hylia, if WIld had one of those things and he and Hyrule teamed up... Please say no, please say no, please say-

“Well, sorta.” Wild rubbed the back of his neck as gasps (and some groans) arose around him. “It’s very small, smaller than a horse. But it has two wheels and it’s faster than anything I’ve ever ridden. It’s loud though and has to be powered by materials. I’ll show you when we get back to my Hyrule, I’ve tried summoning it here and it doesn’t work.” Wild wished he had a picture of it, but he would show them the real thing soon.

“That sounds amazing!” Surprisingly Hyrule didn’t yell this, but Legend did. He blushed, realizing how loud it was. The rest of the group chuckled. Legend could pretend to be snarky and cool all he wanted, he was such a nerd for new items.

“It really is. I can run over so many monsters, and jump off so many cliffs without getting hurt! And it goes over pretty much any terrain! I just have to be careful not to fall backward down a hill or something. But that doesn’t happen often and-” Wild rambled on, oblivious to the look of horror on Twilight’s face.

“Um, Cub. We love hearing about your Hyrule but… I think you’re going to give Twilight a heart attack.” Time teased, looking at his protege’s face.

“Hehe. Whoops.” Wild laughed, the rest of the heroes joining in, except for Twilight of course who simply glared at his mentor.

“Anyway.” Wild continued, still giggling a little. “The elder sent me to Teba’s wife and child, who begged me to go to the Flight Range and stop him. She said that I could just jump off the Revali’s Landing, a platform named after the Rito Champion from a hundred years ago.”

“Did you remember him at this point?” Sky questioned reluctantly. Like Four, he was nervous about crossing a line.

“I actually remembered him when I looked at the landing.” Wild’s eyes grew slightly distant. “Revali was a complete and utter asshole.” There were surprised huffs of laughter from around the group. That certainly wasn’t what they were expecting. “But… I understood why.” Wild stared into the fire. “He was hurting I think. I got to read his journal and he worked really hard to develop Revali’s Gale, the wind I use now. He worked to become the best archer and protect his village. And then, some random Hylian kid comes and takes the Master Sword and becomes the princess’ appointed knight. He always taunted me, kinda telling me that I was only getting to fight Ganon because of the sword, while he had to sit in his Divine Beast. But I got the sword when I was twelve, and my training started long before that from what I can remember. And I don’t - I don’t think I ever wanted that.” Wild’s breathing hitched the tiniest bit. Not enough to be noticed by anyone who didn’t know him, but this group knew him well.

Twilight instantly pulled him into a hug, and Wild didn’t fight it. He didn’t cry or feel a huge panic coming on, but the hug felt nice all the same.

“It sucks that Revali went through that Wild.” Warriors stated, smiling at the teen gently. “But that is not your fault. You didn’t choose the sword, the sword chose you.” Wild nodded from where his head was on Twilight’s shoulder, before pulling himself away gently. Meanwhile, Time cursed Hylia in his mind, again. Twelve… He understood there was a fight coming, he really did, but this boy was only twelve. No, he was younger when he was forced into training. Wild mentioned to Time when talking about Mipha that he traveled there with knights as a child. He was a child. He still was a child… Time pulled himself out of his own head. There was no changing Wild’s past. That was over one hundred years ago. They could help him now.

“I’m sorry, Wild.” Wind sighed out. “I didn’t mean to bring out bad memories.”

“You didn’t, bud.” Wild reassured. “Sometimes memories just come into my head, even if I’ve seen them before. I wouldn’t tell you if I didn’t trust you.” That halted the camp entirely. Wild had made a lot of progress in trusting them, but they were happy to hear him say it. Before they could dwell too much on what Wild said, he continued his story.

“So anyway, I talked to Harth, the Rito that broke his wing, and a couple of other Rito. Including the girls you all saw in the picture. They’re Kass’ daughters!” Wild stated excitedly. He told them previously about Kass and how much he adored hearing his songs. Wind once asked Wild to sing one, but he blushed a bright red and furiously refused. Wind bet Wild had a pretty voice and he was just embarrassed about it…

“Their mother was worried sick for her children, along with the other parents in the village, and the children were all disappointed they couldn’t fly and play. Well one didn’t want to go to singing practice, but I still had to get the Divine Beast under control as fast as possible. So I bought the Snowquill Set that keeps you really toasty and rushed to the Flight Range to help Teba. When I got there, Teba said he didn’t need any help but I insisted. So he told me that he would challenge my archery skills.” The group leaned in, what sort of test? “He made me shoot five targets in three minutes with my paraglider.” Wild stated in a deadpan voice. The boys froze, then burst out laughing. Wild could shoot three arrows at once, sometimes five with the proper bow! Five targets in three minutes were nothing! Wild chuckled along with the group. He wasn’t arrogant with his archery, but five targets in three minutes was a little too easy. He expected Teba to continue challenging him, but he never did.

“So he gave me some bomb arrows and told me to jump on his back, we were gonna go defeat the Divine Beast.” Wild continued.

“Woah wait, already? Didn’t the other Divine Beasts take you a little time to get too?” Warriors questioned.

“Well Naboris took a little more time since the Yiga clan were causing trouble, but there was nothing else I could do to prepare.” Wild shrugged. “So we flew up into the clouds, Vah Medoh was huge up close! It had a giant courtyard type structure on its back! And it could shoot lasers and had a shield around it! So while Teba distracted it, I used the updrafts to shoot at all four points the shield was powered by. Unfortunately, Teba got grazed by the lasers. He was okay, but he had to land. So I started the puzzles in Vah Medoh. They were so fun! There was one where I had to get in this ride on a track and tilt the beast so I got to ride to the other side! And I was so high up!” Wild continued rambling on about the puzzles he had to solve.

The other boys in the group smiled softly. One of the reasons they enjoyed Wild telling stories was because of how excited he would get while telling the parts that didn't haunt him. The others sometimes struggle with Wild’s Hyrule because of the ruins of the structures they know, but Wild truly loved it, which made sense, it was just like the hero who came from it, wild and untamed.

“So finally all the puzzles were done and all the terminals were unlocked, and the main control unit was unlocked. Like the others, when I put my slate up the control unit, a Ganon Blight came out. This time it was Windblight Ganon. He was easier than the others, but still hard. He could summon tornados! And I had to rely on arrows a lot since he flew out where I couldn’t reach him. But eventually, I got his health down enough for the final blow. When I activated the main control unit, Revali appeared.” Wild smile became bittersweet like it did when he talked about any of his friends from one hundred years ago. “He teased me again, but this time, it seemed more friendly and less bitter. He gave me Revali’s Gale so I wouldn’t always have to rely on cliffs and high places for my paraglider. I went back to see Harth and Teba, and they and their families were fine! The elder thanked me a lot and gave me Revali’s old bow. It’s in my house with the rest of the champion’s items. I used them against Ganon. A little bit to avenge the other champions. You know?” Wild looked to find them all staring at him. “Uh… The end?” Wild ended awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. The rest of the group seemed to snap out of it. Wild was amazing. And highly intelligent. His stories of battles and puzzles and shrines only proved that. Once again, just like when he ended the first story, Wind crashed into Wild and knocked the breath out of his lungs.

“You’re a great storyteller Wild!” Wind cried happily.

“The sailor’s right, Cub.” Twilight smirked, but the kind look in his eyes betrayed his teasing lilt.

“Well, that was a perfect little bedtime story.” Legend yawned and clapped Wild on the back.

“Legend is right, it’s getting a little late. Warriors, you have first watch right.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know Old Man.” Warriors huffed but smiled and ruffled Wild’s hair as he passed, earning a lot of protests to which Warriors just laughed at.

The rest of the group thanked Wild for the story and headed to their bedrolls. The Links were happy that Wild was talking more, and didn't want to make a huge deal out of it and scare him into science once again. But they also wanted him to know they appreciate him trusting them enough to tell them of his trials.

After making sure no one needed his help with anything, Wild collapsed into his bedroll. He enjoyed telling the others his stories, but he still wasn’t used to talking for long amounts of time.

A couple of minutes later, Twilight, who was preparing his own bedroll, realized he hadn’t heard Wild shuffling about like he normally did. He turned around to ask if he was okay, only to see him completely conked out on top of the blankets, apparently tired from talking so much in one night. He snorted softly at the smaller teen, before slowly going over and tucking him in. If Wild wasn’t completely passed out, he would have denied what he called being treated like a child, but there wasn’t a single protest as Twilight lifted Wild slightly and put him under the covers, tucking them around him. There was only a small sound that Twilight absolutely would not admit not to find adorable, as Wild snuggled into the blankets covering him. Time hummed slightly, making Twilight turn around.

“He was too young.” Time said solemnly, referring to what Wild told them earlier that night. Twilight had similar thoughts. Wild had told him after a memory that he was only twelve when he got the Master Sword. Twilight knew he was too young. A lot of the group was.

“Yeah… But he has us now.” Twilight smiled at Time, who looked at his pup with pride in his eyes. Those who weren’t asleep or didn’t have the first watch were soon wrapped in their bedrolls peacefully, the only sound being crickets chirping around them.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #wild #breath of the wild #twilight #wind #time #Warriors #four #legend #hyrule #sky #prompt #request #fluff #rito #queenof-literature story #QoL Story

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kyber-crystal · 4 years

Text

Undercover

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~2.6k

Summary: In which an undercover mission to catch a group of infamous HYDRA bosses has you ending up with much more than you bargained for. You were expecting to have several surprise thrown your way, but never would you have guessed this included discovering your true feelings towards a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed Captain.

Warning: horrible writing because this is an old oneshot, mentions of blood, slight!angst, fluff

A/N: the ending sucked and I apologize. and even the gif’s horrible quality couldn’t ruin his beautiful eyes omg asdlfjdl

"Party of four, under Chris Evans?"

"This way, please."

You linked your arm through Steve’s and you, him, Clint, and Natasha followed the waitress to your tables right across from each other.

"You see them yet?" Natasha murmured into her wrist communicator as she placed the velvet-red napkin over her lap, covertly sliding her gun from her purse into her thigh holster, and you did the same once seeing her do this, slightly lifting up the edge of your shimmery, navy blue dress. "Y/N?"

"No..." you muttered as you observed your surroundings, unable to catch anything suspicious about the scene around you. "Clint?"

"Not yet," the archer replied, "Cap?"

"I don't think they've arrived yet..." Steve’s eyes narrowed as he glanced back towards the entrance. "We'll keep an eye out for 'em."

"Roger that."

"So, I heard the seafood pasta here is really good," Steve spoke up to break the awkward silence that had fallen between you since you'd been seated, "and the pizza."

"Not pineapple, right?" you raised an eyebrow at him as you took a sip of water, "If it's pineapple, I'm out."

"In case you're forgetting, this is an Italian restaurant, not Hawaiian," he reminded you. "So no, it's not pineapple pizza. That stuff's a big no for me."

"Are you kidding me?" Sam groaned into his mic as he sat around in the lounge with the others back at HQs. "You guys really suck at this stuff."

"What do you mean, Wilson," you sighed as you fiddled with your necklace. "Don't be weird."

"Is this really y'alls idea of flirting?" the Falcon scoffed. "You guys are supposed to pose as couples to divert attention from yourselves, not act like some twelve-year olds debating over whether pineapple belongs on pizza or not."

"Come on, kick things up a notch, will ya?" Pietro took the mic from Sam's hands, "Even Bucky could do better, and you know he's terrible at acting. Tony’s standing behind me right now, Y/N, and he says if you don't play your part he's eating all your toast when you get back."

"The agents haven't even arrived yet, Speedy," you rolled your eyes, "don't need to keep up my act when there's no one around to watch."

"Actually," Steve began, lightly nudging your foot underneath the table, "keep a close watch on that table of six up front. They're looking pretty suspicious. Nat, Clint, did you get that?"

"Yup," Clint replied, taking note of the six men, who all dressed in identical black suits at a round table across the room close to the entrance. "I see them."

"Play your part, lovebirds, play your part," the speedster reminded you. "Alright, I'm out."

"Clint, you get a scan on those guys?" you asked. "Rhodey wants us to send the data back as soon as we can."

"Doing it right now," he responded, pulling out a small tablet from Natasha's purse, "Nat, keep an eye on them. Something goes wrong, then you and Steve gotta back us up."

"Yeah, got it."

"Wait, hold on a second," Steve lowered his voice, "something's not right. Wasn't this place completely occupied just a few minutes ago?"

You looked up and realized that half the restaurant was now empty, the chairs where the men had been sitting at pushed in and plates left untouched. "Where the hell did they go?"

Just as you were beginning to come to your sense, the lights flickered on and off and a loud gunshot echoed off the walls, glass shattering and people frantically clamoring around as they hurried to grab their things and get out of the place.

You quickly stood up and slid your gun out of your thigh holster, loading it up as you grabbed the sleeve of Steve’s suit and tugged him around the corner to the kitchen.

"You guys okay?"

"Yeah. You and Nat?"

"We're fine. Keep an eye out for them. They're splitting up and calling others over; it won't be long 'till they all get here."

"Well," Steve breathed out, leaning against the wall to catch his breath, "what now?"

"What do you think? Take them down and try not to get killed in the process," you panted, undoing your updo and tying it into a high ponytail, "We've done things like this before. Now shut up, will you? They'll find us right away if you don't be quiet."

"Too late, they're gonna find us now," he rolled his shirt collar down and wrung out his hands, "and it's a dead end. We go out and we're surrounded."

"Shh," you put a finger to his lips, "they're coming."

"What do we do, then? I think they'll be pretty suspicious of two people trying to take cover under the tables.”

"I don't know!"

"Then what?"

"Promise me you're not gonna freak out," you gazed straight into his icy blue eyes as you heard footsteps echoing throughout the hallway. "Don't blow our cover."

"Okay? But what are you—"

"Just go with this," you muttered, and you took his face into your hands and pressed your lips to his. What you once thought were mere butterflies in your stomach had now erupted into that of hummingbirds rushing around your insides, with a feeling of electricity flowing through your veins. It's just an act, you reminded yourself, but even when you pulled away you swore your lips felt as if they were on fire.

"Sergeant? Come in. You find them?"

"Negative," the man with the red tie spoke into his walkie-talkie as you and Steve pulled apart, breathless, "it's just a couple that had one too many drinks. They must've escaped. Sweep the nearby locations and the area outside, then report back to me."

"Yes, sir."

"How the hell am I supposed to fight in a floor-length dress," you muttered under your breath as you bunched up your dress in your hands and kicked off your heels, "damn, dressing up fancy is uncomfortable. Don't know how Tony does it."

"Glad I'm not a woman," Steve joked. "I don't have to put on a bunch of makeup whenever I go out."

"I did this," you gestured to your face, "against my own will."

He went over to the storage closet, pulling his shield out from underneath the rags. “Alright, let’s go get ‘em.”

“Where and when the hell did you - how did you get tha-”

Just as the man who'd come across the two of you was rounding the corner, you locked and loaded your gun, shooting him straight in the back of his head and he immediately slumped to the ground.

"One down, five to go."

"Four," Steve interrupted as one agent attempted to go at him from behind, delivering a solid kick right to his solar plexus before slamming him to the wall. "You're brutal, Y/N."

"Well, you can't be nice to an organization that's attempting world domination, can you?" you shouted over the noise as a dozen more men filed in and began opening fire. "Get behind me!"

"I’m Captain America, I don't need your protection!" he yelled back as he swung his shield out, the vibranium soaring smoothly through the air before swiftly knocking down four men all at once.

"Make your way out as soon as you can," Natasha stated, "we're taking the ones outside, then we gotta head back."

"Still handling them!" you grunted as an agent wrestled you into a tight headlock, pressing a small blade up against your neck. You're lucky that you're much smaller than him, so wriggling out of his iron grip is easier for you to do.

Slamming your elbow against his chest to knock him down, you whip out your twin daggers and drive them into his abdomen, trying not to flinch when you yank them back out and blood splatters across the marble floors.

You barely make it out the doors before you stumble and nearly trip over your own feet. Your vision starts blurring and you feel dizzy, and everything blurs together into one hazy mass. You can barely keep yourself upright for longer than a few seconds at a time before your legs give out underneath you.

Steve quickly catches you before you can sink to the ground, scooping you up into his arms and carrying you to the car.

The rest of the ride back to the compound is dead silent. Earlier you'd been too wrapped up in trying to not get yourself killed to fully let the kiss with Steve sink in, but now it had come crashing down all at once.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, "for what I did back there. I didn't mean it."

"It's okay," he murmured as you leaned into him and rested your head against his chest.

He tries to ignore the sparks that shoot up his body at the feeling of your body leaning into his, and the way your lips felt so perfectly molded to his because it was done to throw the agents off your backs, and he's not supposed to feel anything more for you.

He tries to ignore how his heart breaks just a little at the fact you didn't think of it as any more than an act.

But he brushes the thought off. Because Captain America isn’t supposed to catch feelings for his teammate. He especially cannot fall in love with his best friend, as that would be unprofessional and go against all the rules he previously set out for himself - which were to avoid loving someone as more than a simple friend as much as possible.

...

You let out a sigh as you slide your dress over your head, standing in the shower and letting the hot water run over your body, staying in there for a bit longer than normal before deciding to step out. You change into a pair of sweatpants and someone’s sky blue hoodie, before heading downstairs to the lounge.

"Wow, so you're indeed alive," Thor comments as you pour yourself a latte and sit down on the couch, wrapping yourself up in a fleece blanket. "And surprisingly, not beat up."

"You got stabbed in the eye before, so you're not one to talk," you sassed.

"Lady Y/N, I would not appreciate it if you came back in a body bag or something. I very much need you around because I live off your snickerdoodle supply."

You scoffed. "Oh, that's the only reason why we're friends?"

"It most certainly is not! You are a wonderful woman..."

"Liar."

"I'm going to go upstairs and beat Sir Samuel's ass in Mario Kart for the second time, so you can get the TV here to yourself. You may watch all the rom-coms you want," the Norse god stretched his arms in the air and stood up.

"I don't watch rom-coms. I Love Lucy was the only exception, and that was because I was bored and Steve was the only one who was free last Saturday afternoon."

"Alright," he replied before going upstairs.

You lean back against the couch and throw an arm across your face. The memory of kissing Steve keeps replaying in your mind over and over and over again, and as much as you'd like to forget it, a part of you doesn't want to, because despite the inconvenience of the situation, it still felt so perfect. You swore your lips were still burning from it.

His lips that were so soft and warm against your own, the way he gently held you as if you were something fragile, the way he made you feel.

"Well, you look rather depressed and unhappy," you heard Steve comment as he came up to you from behind. "You alright?"

"Totally," you replied in a sarcastic tone as you stood up, throwing the blanket off yourself and coming around the sofa to stand in front of him. "You need something, Rogers?"

No," he stuffed his hands in his pockets, "I just wanted to check up on you and see if you were okay."

You exhale, and you lean forward and put your forehead on his chest, allowing yourself to get lost in him for a moment, lost in the way he made you feel despite all your efforts to try and do the exact opposite. You didn't let your arms go around him like they so badly wanted to. You didn't let the rest of your body melt into him or even your cheek find its way against the soft cotton of his shirt because you knew if you took things a step further, you'd fall in too deep and would cross the line.

"I'll only need a moment. I'm not planning on staying like this forever," you mumble. "I just needed some company."

He chuckles and wraps his strong arms around you. "It's okay, I have plenty of time. There's no need to rush."

Steve pulls you closer, but your arms were still crossed over your chest to create a necessary barrier between the two of you. You remembered telling him once that there was no better feeling in the world than having the right person holding you in their arms, and it was true. Hearing his breath in your ear, his warm breath falling against your neck, feeling the steadiness of his heartbeat against you, and the warmth of his body seeping into your sent a tingle down your spine. He bent down so that his head filled in the space next to yours, settling against the crook of your neck.

You decide to just swallow your protests for a bit and ignore the wild thoughts racing rapidly around inside your head. You don't want to remember what had happened earlier. You don't want to remember the past nor what was to come in the future. You just wanted to stay in the present with no other cares or worries in the world. And for the briefest of moments, your wish seemed to come true.

But then you come to your senses and realize what exactly you're doing, pushing your arms against him and he releases his hold, though he does so hesitantly. This wasn’t right. You were acting like a complete child - in front of Steve, for all that matter.

You wiped at your cheeks with your sleeves. "Thanks, but I think I'm okay now."

"Y/N, if this is about earlier..."

"I don't know why, but I can't stop thinking about it," you mumbled, wrapping your arms around him again, "I keep telling myself it was just for a mission, that if I pretend I don't have feelings then maybe it won't hurt as much to have my heart broken."

“You don’t need to pretend,” he said quietly, “if I feel the same way.”

"What do you—"

He cuts you off by sliding a hand up to the back of your neck and pulling you to him, his lips gently pressing against yours once again. But it feels more relaxed, more natural than the last time you'd done it several hours ago. Nonetheless you still get that electric feeling, the feeling of fireworks exploding in your body and fire lighting up and running through your veins upon his touch, your heart racing at what feels like a million miles per hour as he rests his hands against your hips and yours go to the sides of his face.

"That was better," he breathes out as you pull apart, and you can't help from cracking a small grin.

"It was."

"Don't be a cockblock," Bucky growled as he gripped Sam's forearm, preventing him from bursting into the lounge. "Leave them alone for once. They deserve a break."

"Like you aren't one, either."

“Y’all are damn children!” Sam shouted from the hallway. “Act your age! Thirty-something year-olds don’t act like this!”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut it, Wilson.”

“Eh. I ship it, anyway.”

#avengers imagines #steve rogers x reader #avengers x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #marvel fic #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers one shot #captain america one shot #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction

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avengerscompound · 5 years

Text

The Test

The Test: A Clintasha Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff

Word Count: 3111

Rating: M

Square filled: @clintbartonbingo - G1 Missing Scene

Warnings: Sex talk, pregnancy scare, talk of past miscarriages and red room stuff, angsty, hurt/comfort

Synopsis: When Natasha wakes up feeling nauseated, she and Clint had to face the possibility that she might be pregnant. With the newness of their relationship and the fact that the Red Room has made it impossible for her to carry a baby to term, the three minutes it takes for the test to work are the longest of their lives.

A/N: After Natasha showed up in Rocket Raccoon with two of Clint’s kids I’ve been thinking about a story about how that happened considering in 616 Natasha can’t carry kids to term. Now with Katie Barton showing up too, this story of finding out Nat was pregnant came to me. I’m really happy with how it turned out.

The Test

Natasha woke completely engulfed in Clint’s arms. That’s how it had been since she’d started her relationship back up with the archer. It was like he was worried that during the night she’d disappear on him again and realize they weren’t meant to be together. Not that she could blame him for that. Their history was anything but smooth sailing but even at their worst, she had loved Clint Barton. He was her best friend. The only person who looked at her and saw the potential for what she could be despite her past, rather than a limited version of herself because of it. There were often times she didn’t think she could live up to the image Clint had her, but god damn if she didn’t want to when he looked at her the way he did. Even when he was married to someone else, or she was dating someone else, he never looked at her with anything other than the eyes of someone who truly believed in her.

They had always felt inevitable, but timing or their own messed up bullshit had gotten in the way. This … this felt different. Permanent. Home. She just hoped they didn’t mess things up again.

As much as she wanted to stay, wrapped in his well-toned arms, the bathroom called her. She slipped out of his embrace, pushing a pillow into his arms as he reached out to the once occupied space. She knew it wouldn’t keep him asleep for long but it would buy her some time in the shower alone before he hopped in behind her and it became about anything but getting clean.

She used the bathroom and hopped under the warm stream of the shower, letting it wash over her. It was a rare day where she didn’t need to be somewhere doing something. It was nice to be able to just enjoy it. She grabbed the shampoo and squeezed some into her palm. Something about the scent triggered her gag reflex. She dry heaved as she rinsed the soap from her hand, and staggered out of the shower, dropping to her knees and throwing up into the toilet.

Clint appeared behind her and pulled her hair back behind her head. “Are you okay, Nat?”

“No,” Natasha said, throwing up again as he rubbed her back. When her stomach finally seemed to settle, she sat back and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Pizdets. That came out of nowhere. I can’t even remember the last time I threw up.”

Clint helped her to her feet. “Maybe it was something you ate. Those shrimp tacos from that dodgy-looking food truck?”

“You had three times as many as me,” Natasha argued as she got into the shower. She used the water from the showerhead to rinse the taste of sick out of her mouth. “Why aren’t you sick?”

Clint stripped off his clothes and took out his hearing aids, putting them on the top of the medicine cabinet. He climbed in behind her and circled his arms around her. “Because I’m a manly man and you’re just a tiny girl.”

Natasha elbowed him. Hard. It made his foot slip out from under him and he pinwheeled his arms trying not to fall before Natasha caught him again. ‘Are you trying to make me kill you?’ she signed.

“Yeah, I was regretting that as the words were leaving my mouth.” He said a little too loudly.

Natasha let out a breath and leaned her head against his shoulder. She wondered if it was the tacos. She’d been feeling a little off for weeks now. Achy and ill. Like she was getting the flu. She stood back and looked up at Clint. ‘Maybe it wasn’t the tacos. Maybe I’m getting sick,’ she signed.

“Can you even get sick?” He asked.

She shrugged and turned away from him. Honestly, she didn’t think so. While the serum she had was flawed compared to Steve’s it had always kept her healthy. Maybe it had started to run its course now. Or maybe whatever she caught had been designed specifically to attack super-soldiers.

“Maybe you’re pregnant,” Clint teased, running his hands up Natasha’s sides. “Let me see.” He cupped her breasts and seemed to bounce them in his palms like he was trying to weigh them. “They do feel bigger.”

Natasha scowled and wheeled around on him as she tried to mentally count back to when she’d last had her period. She had never been great with birth control. The hormonal stuff worked for a little while and then the serum would start adjusting for it, and her body physically rejected any kind of implant. So there was just the barrier kind, and she’d remember that most of the time until things got comfortable. Normally it didn’t matter. The serum had made it hard for her to conceive anyway. But not impossible. “Don’t even joke about that!” She snapped, not even bothering to sign it, and trusting he got the tone in her voice by lip-reading alone.

“What?” Clint asked, a genuine look of confusion on his face. It was hard to keep her fear and anger directed at him. Besides, as far as he knew she was just infertile because of the Red Room. He didn’t know the dirty details.

She huffed, jumped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and dashed to the bedroom. She grabbed her phone and started going through her calendar to work out exactly how late she was. Clint appeared in the doorway, still dripping water, with a towel wrapped low on his hips as he put his hearing-aids back in. “What did I say, Nat?”

“Pregnant, Clint!” Natasha shouted. “I think I’m pregnant!”

Clint just stared at her with his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “What? What? What do you mean, Nat? You said you couldn’t?”

She dropped her gaze. “No,” she said. “I can. I have been before.”

“What?” Clint said. “Nat! You said! I would have been more careful!”

“I know, Clint!” She cursed under her breath. Just a string of random nonsensical swearing in various different languages, including Latin.

While Natasha was trying to figure out how exactly to explain to him how she’d fucked up, Clint’s face seemed to go through a whole emotional journey. Like he was experiencing the five stages of grief all at once but instead of settling on acceptance, he settled on a hopeful optimism. He moved to Natasha quickly and kneeled on the ground in front of her.

“But this is good,” Clint said, taking her hands in his. “Nat, if you are… you get to be a mom like you wanted. That’s good isn’t it?”

Natasha felt a very unfamiliar sensation in her eyes. Was she about to cry? Was Clint’s hopeful little puppy face about getting to have kids with her going to make her cry? She rubbed her eyes in frustration and shook her head. “You don’t understand, Clint.”

“Is it me? You don’t want to have kids with me?” He dropped his hands and flopped back onto his butt. Lucky seemed to sense something was up with his favorite human being and he padded over and flopped down directly in Clint’s lap. “Of course you don’t. Why would you? I’m a fucking mess. I’m sorry, Nat. If you… I dunno… want to …” He shook his head and shrugged. “...alone. Or whatever.”

“Oh, you idiot bird,” Natasha said, kneeling on the ground in front of him and cradling his jaw. “I love you so much. Of course, I would want to have kids with you. If anyone it would be you. It was always you.”

“Then what is it, Nat?” Clint asked. “Shouldn’t you be excited?”

“There are so many things, Clint,” she said, looking down again. “We’ve only just gotten back together. Our lives. But most of all…” She stopped and let out a shuddering breath. Clint looked at her with both fear and hope written all over his features and she was about to break his heart, the same way hers broke every time she thought about this. “Clint, it’s not that I can’t get pregnant. I can’t carry to term. The serum makes the pregnancies non-viable.”

“Oh,” Clint said. The sound almost like he’d been punched in the stomach. “Oh,” he repeated. He leaned forward pressing his forehead against hers. “Has this happened before?”

Natasha sucked in air suddenly and two tears escaped her eyes. She turned her head away from him. He couldn’t see her weak like this. She couldn’t be weak like this. Not in front of Clint. Not when he looked at her like the way he did.

He reacted quickly, shoving Lucky off his lap and pulling her into it. His hands bunched in her hair and he kissed her. The kiss was everything she needed it to be. Strong and reassuring. Loving and tender. She knew exactly what he was thinking as he kissed her. It was going to be okay. Whatever happened, good or bad, they were together and it was going to be okay.

When he broke the kiss he kept her wrapped tightly in his arms. “Maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves, Nat. When was the last time you had your … you know?”

Natasha pulled back from him and got back up, retying the towel around her. “My period?” She asked, and Clint nodded enthusiastically. “Good god, Clint. You want to have a baby with me and you can’t even say the word period? What if this works and it’s a girl, and I die, and you have to tell her about periods?”

Clint started laughing as he got up. “That is really getting ahead of yourself, Nat,” Clint said and when the scowl didn’t leave her face, he shook his head and looked into her eyes. “If we do end up having a daughter together, I promise I’ll practice saying period.” He sat down on the side of the bed and patted the space beside him. Natasha moved up next to him and put her head on his shoulder. “But when was it?”

“I’m not sure exactly. It tends to be erratic. They really did a number on my reproductive system. But I’d say around two months ago. Give or take a couple of weeks.”

Clint patted her leg and got up and started pulling on the dirty clothes he had scattered around the room. “I’ll go buy some tests. Okay? Then we’ll know and we can work out what to do from there.”

Natasha watched as he hurriedly got dressed and Lucky seemed to be determined to try and trip him over. “Clint?” She said quietly.

“Yeah, Nat?” He said as he pulled on his shoe.

“You’d be a good father, you know?” She said.

Clint came over and kissed her forehead. “Thanks, Nat. You’d be a great mom.”

“I’m really scared.” She whispered.

“That’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s scary.”

She caressed his cheek with her thumb and flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I’ll be right back.” He said and whistled for Lucky. The mutt trotted after him as he headed out the door.

Natasha was still lying staring at the ceiling when Clint burst back through the door. She hadn’t moved at all since he’d left. She had just stayed lying there, wrapped in her towel with her legs hanging over the end of the bed. The only difference between when Clint left and when he arrived was Liho was now curled up on her chest.

“Nat?” He said softly. “Are you dead?”

“I wish I was dead.” She replied.

He sat down beside her and gave Liho a scratch on the head. “I got you some presents. Look.”

She sat up, putting a disgruntled Liho on her pillow, and looked in the plastic CVS bag he was holding open. Inside was some Hershey’s Kisses, a Pez Dispenser in the shape of Ariel from the Little Mermaid, a bottle of strawberry lemonade, a small remote-controlled car, and the pregnancy tests.

“You bought all this for me?” Natasha asked, looking up into the blue of Clint’s eyes.

Clint nodded and kissed her forehead. Her eyes glistened with tears again and Clint's heart ached for her. He knew how she felt about looking this weak, even in front of him. He wished he knew the right words to say to make her realize she could do this.

“I love you, dummy.” She whispered.

“I love you too, Nat.”

Natasha sighed and pulled out the tests. “I better do this then.”

Clint sat on the edge of the bed and waited for Natasha to come back out of the bathroom. He pulled the remote-controlled car from the box and set it up. When Natasha returned, she sat down next to him and put the tester on the bedside table. Clint handed her the car’s remote.

“What do we do if it's positive?” Natasha asked. Her voice was hollow like she had lost the ability to emote over this anymore. She started driving the car and immediately hit the dresser, knocking one of the wheels out of alignment. Clint got up and picked it up. He grabbed the multi-tool he kept on the dresser for when he wanted to mess around with his custom arrowheads and came and sat back down while he attempted to fix the small car.

“I don't know, Nat,” he said, frowning. “What do you want to do?”

“I just -” she let out a breath and leaned over to watch what Clint was doing. He wasn't entirely sure himself, but he'd taken off the whole base and was trying to straighten up the wheel. “I hate how the Red Room still has this control over me. I want to be a mother. And I can't imagine anyone else being the person I have kids with except you. But they've taken that from me. This will just go like it did last time. I'll get excited about it. Start buying baby things. And one day I'll wake up in a huge pool of blood and it will be gone. I can't go through that again, Clint. It'll destroy me.”

Clint put the car back together and put it on the ground without saying anything. Natasha pressed on the controls and the car did a donut and spun off under the bed. Lucky barked at it and crouched with his head under the bed, his tail wagging like a helicopter blade. “I’ve been through that too, you know?”

Natasha turned her head to face him. “What?”

Clint nodded and fiddled with his fingers. “Bobbi. It wasn’t planned. Like now. But damn if we weren’t excited about it. She didn’t make it very far into it before we lost it, so we never told anyone it happened. Didn’t want the sad looks and asking if we were over it yet. It hurt. Bad. But you move on. There’s not a lot of choice. Whatever happens, if you want to try to go ahead with it, I’ll be here. If you do end up losing it. I’ll be here. If you really think you can’t go ahead with the pregnancy… for whatever reason… I’ll be here, Nat.”

Natasha rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. “What if it does work out? I want to be a mother more than anything, but are we really ready for that, Clint? How would that even work? What if all that happens is we end up breaking up and raising this kid who just hates us for never being there because there’s always Avengers stuff?”

Clint shrugged and reached under the bed. He pulled the car back out and took the control from Natasha and started to drive the car in figures of eight around the bedroom floor while Lucky both chased it and ran from it. “Now? Later? What difference does it make, Nat? We’ll never be ready. Not really. But I love you and I want… all of that with you. We can work it out. Even when we weren’t together, it’s always been you and me.”

Natasha put her foot out and the car banged into it. Lucky pounced on it and flipped it onto it’s back. They both started laughing and Clint pulled Natasha into his arms.

“We’ve never talked about any of this before. Family. Children. Not even marriage. You married Bobbi but you never even brought that up with me.” Natasha said.

“Bobbi asked me,” Clint said. “In fact, Bobbi asked me, took me to Vegas and booked a cabin in the mountains with a spa, so we were married and on our honeymoon within a week of her saying she even liked me like that. The first day I met you, I was in love with you. I would have married you right then and there. But I know you, Nat. That’s never been you. You want to get married?”

You smiled and nosed at his cheek. “Maybe. To you.” She let out a sigh and wrapped her arm around his waist. “I hate the can still hurt me. I’ve been away from them for years and they can still make me cry. I don’t cry, Clint.”

“I know, Nat.” He said gently. “You’re my strong and emotionless girlfriend who I love very much.”

“Has it been long enough?” Natasha asked.

Clint picked up the test and looked at it. There were two indicator windows, a really small one with a single vertical line running through it and a much larger one that had what looked like a big bright pink plus. His heart skipped and for a second he forgot how to breathe. Positive. The test was positive. Natasha was pregnant and maybe she’d end up losing it, but right now she was pregnant with his baby and he was the happiest he had ever been in his entire life.

“Positive.” He said, keeping his voice neutral, in the hope that how happy he felt wouldn’t put pressure on her to do something she didn’t want to.

Natasha looked up at him and slowly her face broke in a smile. “We’re parents, Clint.”

Clint grinned and leaned in and kissed her, cradling her jaw in his large hands. Maybe it would go the way it had for both of them in the past. Maybe they’d have to work through their grief together in the broken, fucked up way they both dealt with things like that. But right now, at this very moment, they were parents and nothing, not even the Red Room could take that from them.

#clintbartonbingo2019 #clint barton #natasha romanoff #clintasha #clint barton x natasha romanoff #hawkeye #black widow #hawkeye fanfic #black widow fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #pregnancy #angst #the test

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skekheck · 4 years

Note

How about an urru rating list? Even though there's not much info on these guys, I like to hear what your opinions are on them. Thank you

FUCK YEAH LET’S GOOOO (and you’re welcome asdf)

1. urVa: Best mystic 10/10. But in all seriousness, the reason why I love him so much is because of the book series. He’s just a sweet grandpa hermit who lives in a hovel and offers you stew or tea. I love the scene where he’s showing Naia how to use a bow even though his was way to big for her. Or how protective he was of both her and Kylan when they saw Tavra’s silhouette from afar. I’m sure he was thinking that might have belonged to someone else. Although their scenes weren’t as plenty, their friendship was very sweet. Not to mention he’s a little more proactive in the gelfling resistance, even stopping other skeksis besides his counterpart (skekLi in Song). I just wish Flames allowed Naia to mourn over him properly. But I’m also not knocking his appearance in AOR: he’s great too I just wish he had more spotlight on him. I want to know more about his friendship with Aughra (how it extends from MalVa) and the complicated relationship he had with skekMal (because there are signs that he had conflicted feelings about his counterpart as he showed genuine sadness over “ending the Hunt”). Also the fact that even despite his age, he’s still strong and stealthy (and apparently good at martial arts) and that’s pretty rad. Also x 2 I love his design it’s really good. urVa is just *chefs kiss* the best. His sacrifice never fails to hurt me, though. Fuck you skekMal, urVa didn’t deserve this.

2. urLii: He’s a really close second. Honestly if he gets significant screen time in future seasons he may take urVa’s place. This is also mainly because of the books, but also from the few things I know about his appearance from the prequel comics. He a little senile cave gremlin taking care of Thra’s old artifacts. I’m still sad that in the comics only Maurda Argot knows about him because it just seems like urLii’s the Grottan’s silly grandpa who tells them stories about the artifacts in the Tomb of Relics. But I’m glad that the two have something similar to Aughra and urVa’s dynamic it’s great. I also seriously love his sense of humor. Like he lightly picks on Ordon for laughs and calls him Ordie. In the books, it can get pretty dark (making death jokes at his expense) and I love the fact he shares that with skekLi. And speaking of, when urLii and urVa stopped skekLi, the Satirist called the Archer’s bluff when he warned he’d shoot the skeksis if he tried anything. He was playing on urVa’s feelings that the Storyteller would die too, but then urLii dangles himself off from the edge of the cliff like “I will not hesistate, bitch”. There’s a lot to love about urLii. Although I hope he gets his glasses back they looked so cute on him.

3. urGoh: Gotta love this mystic stoner. To be honest, I think I like him only because I love the dynamic between him and skekGra. I’m not sure if I would like him on his own. But at the same time, I do really enjoy his character. I feel like despite smoking his brains out, he’s being intentionally slow to get on skekGra’s nerves. Also major props to urGoh for helping the Heretic reform because I know it wasn’t easy (he was one of the most dangerous skeksis apparently). Also I like how he used hookah smoke for dramatic fog for his and skekGra’s puppet show. That’s creative.

4. urSan: She sounds so pretty. Like her outfit matches the color of the Silver Sea, her hair is indigo with white streaks, she’s just... I want to see her. I want to see what her puppet would look like. I like how she’s considered a folk legend among the Sifa and she lives in a lighthouse near by making star charts and maps. And apparently she had occasional visits from skekSa and that’s really interesting considering how fiercely independent the Mariner makes herself out to be. I feel bad for her: her skeksis counterpart is also a dumbass and urSan had to suffer a slow death because of her. Fuck you skekSa, urSan didn’t deserve that.

5. urSu: So on one hand, urSu is probably the reason the mystics adopted a complacent philosophy and just let the skeksis destroy Thra instead of trying to work or co-exist with them. Also the fact he placed a heavy burden on Jen by basically having him fix their mess because of a prophecy. So he and the other mystics are just as responsible for what happened on Thra. But on the other hand, I think he understands how much he fucked up and is trying to make amends along with the other mystics by protecting Jen. He didn’t tell the gelfling his destiny right away probably because the boy already had a traumatic experience losing his family he doesn’t want to add to that by telling him he alone must save the world. He wanted Jen to have a normal, happy childhood. UrSu really tried being a good dad to him and I appreciate that.

6. urSol: I think I’m starting to like him more because of the headcanons I gave him but anyway. The sequel comics states he’s a rebel by mystic standards and after many years of doing nothing he suddenly gets involved with Thra. If Dark Heart is indeed SilSol, I think that’s really interesting that urSol deviates from the main group. I also like how it’s describe that urSol enriches the world around him through words as opposed to skekSil who manipulates it. I feel like urSol has a lot of potential being an interesting character. Also he’s just the softest looking mystic, like a cinnamon roll.

7. urTih: It really sucks being a mystic, but urTih probably got the worst of it besides urSol. Not only is his skeksis stupid, but said skeksis is also a self-mutilator... for science. He also has the funniest death he just blips out of existence because his dumbass counterpart fell down a shaft (which was also super funny). He didn’t deserve it: let him practice alchemy in peace. On the other hand, I also wish urTih was with skekTek because that guy needs something positive in his life (and also tell him to stop vivisecting and creating abominations).

8. urUtt:

Also I like the fact he can just weave clothes using a system of knots instead of cutting cloth. Making use of all the material and not wasting it that’s rad. UrUtt is also one of the most cinnamon roll looking mystics of the bunch.

9. urSen: Not going to lie when I read about his passage in the Dark Crystal bestiary I felt so sorry for him. He knew he’d die years in advance and he just isolated himself from the rest. Poor guy I hoped one of the mystics came by to visit him.

10. urAc: He’s pretty cute I like his lil hat. It sounds like he and urUtt work together since he’s the one that created patterns into cloth that incorporate the wearer’s thoughts. Seems very fitting considering their skeksis counterparts are friends.

11. urAmaj: As a common theme in this post I feel bad for him but for different reasons. He’s patient with how he cooks his food, making sure it has a nice balance of flavor and texture as well as nutritious. Yet he can’t make good gelfling food, according to Jen. He’s doing his best Jen leave him be. Also it’s cute that he’s close friends with urNol.

12: urNol: He has one of the most nice sounding names among the mystics. According to TDC Author’s Quest, urNol makes great elixirs and seeds that can grow into anything. Since the mystics are implied to have planted the Great Trees, I wonder if they were urNol’s creations. Also poor guy lost an eye and an arm, but I guess it could be much worse.

13: urIm: I like that he’s known for being a healer, but is the only mystic that knows something called a death trance. I just think that juxtaposition is very interesting. Also I’m wondering if he was the mystic responsible for teaching the Dousan the mystic ways?

14: urZah: Once again I feel bad for another mystic, the fact that he has to be associated with the absolute worst skeksis. Also I want to know why he’s so distrustful, even with the other mystics.

15: urYod: I always confuse his name with urNol’s for some reason, which is weird because his name kinda rhymes with “Shod”. So apparently ShodYod helped Aughra in her observatory? I wonder if urYod ever had a friendship with her at the beginning.

16: urMa: Poor bastard there’s literally nothing about him. Hopefully he gets a page in the bestiary.

17: urYa and urHom: Even more poor bastards they never even made it that far after the Great Division. For some reason, urHom is the only one with a confirmed title.

#asks for skekheck #mystics #long post is long ghjk #holic-user

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lemonsandstrawberries · 5 years

Text

Hey, babe

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), MCU, og6 Avengers appear

summary: Tony and Steve had been married for years and going steady, having a good thing going on. It wasn't until recent times when Tony found out that Steve had a sort of habit, Tony couldn't decide if it was annoying or heartwarming.

length: 2 169

a/n: I was rereading some of my fics and noticed that Steve calls Tony 'babe' a lot. Like a loooot. Granted, my headcanon since I started writing Stony is that Steve calls Tony 'babe' while Tony calls Steve 'baby', but I think I have overused it, especially when it comes to Steve calling Tony. So, this fic is me poking fun at my own habits, while writing some domestic fluff - hope you like it! as always, feedback, reblogs and likes are appreciated and needed!

——————–

Hey, babe

“Hey, guys! Sorry, I am late there was a line at the cash register.”

“Was there a line or did you let all the old ladies before you again?”

There was some laughter, and Natasha skillfully grabbed the bag of spicy takis Steve roughly threw in her direction. Clearly to repay for the teasing comment.

“Maybe I did,” Steve clipped, handing more bags of chips to his team, and carefully sliding a huge bag of cheese puffs under sleeping Thor’s arm, the god sprawled all over his favorite red armchair. Thor mumbled out a thank you, and huddled the bag closer to himself, almost like a pillow. “And then I helped some carry their groceries. What?” Steve defended himself with a laugh, lasting a critical look from his team. “They call me Captain, I couldn’t refuse!”

“We all call you Captain,” Clint pointed out, reaching hands for his pack of potato chips, Steve tossing it to him.

“That’s probably why he is always stuck on snack duty,” Natasha whispered to Clint. It became a sort of habit that each impromptu movie night, Steve was the one delegated to go shopping and supply his team with sweet and salty snacks, while the rest chose movies and ordered pizza or some other movie appropriate meals. It was a good system.

“Here is Bruce’s weird mix of spiced peanuts,” Steve took another bag out from the grocery bag and handed it to Natasha, who took one couch for herself and Bruce, Clint sitting on the floor and leaning over her legs, earlier gathering all pillows and blankets available and making something resembling a nest. “And this is for me and you,” Steve smiled, walking to the other couch, solely occupied by Tony, already waiting and curled in one corner and smiling at Steve. “Here you go, babe,” Steve said, handing Tony a pack of gummy bears and a large bag of cool ranch Doritos.

“Thanks,” Tony smiled, accepting the swift kiss on his forehead and even tipped his head up a bit for better access. It was a sweet thing they usually did, something that was so casual it went by without any comments, just this time, Tony heard some muffled laughter. Steve didn’t pay attention, but Tony swayed to the side, trying to locate the source, but, of course, everyone both Natasha and Clint looked perfectly innocent.

“Just gonna wash my hands and be right back,” Steve said, heading out of the living room, greeting Bruce on his way.

“Did I miss something?” Bruce asked, sitting next to Natasha and noticing that as soon as Steve left, Clint started to smile tauntingly, while Natasha had that sort of fondly irritated look on her face, and Tony sat curled in his corner all confused. Thor just kept sleeping, hugging his chips.

“Told you it will happen,” Clint pointed out cheerfully, opening his bag and stuffing a handful in his mouth, chips crunching nicely in his mouth.

“What will happen?” Tony asked, feeling alarmed when most of the people gathered in the room started to send him some looks. As if knowing something he didn’t, and Tony hated not knowing things. “Whaat?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” Bruce smiled kindly, taking his bag of peanuts.

“You really don’t notice it, huh?” Natasha asked, sounding baffled. As for someone who claimed to be a genius, Tony could be somehow slow when it came to the simplest things.

“Notice what?”

Tony didn’t find out, as Steve entered the living room and Clint shushed everyone, as the whole room waited for it to happen again. Tony narrowed his eyes, not appreciating being dissed like that. Before he could complain to Steve about their teammates being a bunch of assholes, it happened again.

“Babe, scooch a little.”

And there it was again. Clint burst out a triumphant ‘HAH’, Natasha and Bruce smiled at each other in a soft way, and Tony scoffed not knowing what was happening.

“What?” Steve asked, sitting in the corner instead of Tony so his husband could lean into him. Just the way they liked.

“Nothing!” Clint repeated.

“It is just sweet how you two behave like a newly married couple even after years of marriage,” Natasha said gently.

“Yeah, sweet,” Clint chuckled, and Tony narrowed his eyes again. If it was sweet, why he felt like being mocked? “Do you even remember his name?”

And the secret was out. Tony blinked, somehow always being aware of it, but just realizing it. Practically from when they started to date, Steve barely called him by his name. It was always some sort of pet name, 'babe’ being the most common one. Tony didn’t mind. Usually, he was the one giving everyone nicknames, most of them having some mean, yet hilarious twist, but in Steve’s case it was all love and tenderness. Tony felt really good about being Steve’s 'babe’, year after year. Not that he would willingly admit to it.

“Sure I do,” Steve beamed, arraigning his hands around Tony’s waist and pulling him in closer. “It’s - ” and his voice dropped, just like Tony’s heart did when he heard the hesitation in his husband’s voice. He whipped his head around in panic, just to see that characteristic way Steve pulled his eyebrows together, faking thought or when he was joking, something Tony learned to recognize after all those years spent together. “ - it’s To-ny, right?” Steve asked slowly as if putting it all together cost him effort.

There was some laughter and the happy atmosphere was back, so the movie could finally start. Only Tony couldn’t focus, grounded in a warm embrace of his husband, his thoughts traveling elsewhere.

Mostly around the shared years with his husband, digging up memories from the past, and analyzing them.

It was time to do some research.

Tomorrow. Tony leaned his head back, Steve put his chin on top of his head, further locking them together, and Tony's eyes slid close. There was a limited number of times a person could watch 'Harry Potter’, but being in his husband's embrace never got old.

***

“Morning, babe.”

First one. Just like every morning, just seconds after Tony had stirred in his sleep, slowly wakening up, before he could even open his eyes, there was a soft voice in his ear and a kiss, sometimes on his forehead, sometimes on his cheek, sometimes on his nose. The nose kisses were extra funny and Tony’s nose always scrunched cutely and maybe it was the reason why soft morning nose kisses were one of Steve’s favorite. Not that Tony complained.

“Morning, yourself,” Tony replied, like on most of the mornings, voice still a bit hoarse from sleep. Lazily, he opened his eyes and looked at Steve’s bright blue ones. Just like the early morning sky. That was a sight that never got old. And then, Steve leaned down and they shared a proper, good morning kiss, before starting their day.

***

“Here is your coffee, babe.”

Second one.

“Thanks!” Tony beamed a smile, waiting for Steve to smooch his cheek, and after getting his kiss, he quickly sucked the hot liquid in.

“Hey, what’s your hurry? Slow down, babe!” Steve laughed, observing his husband and flipping pancakes at the same time in the pan, with a single flick of the wrist. Seemed that years of throwing a vibranium frisbee were finally paying off.

Thanks to the sip of coffee fueling his sleepy mind, Tony noticed that it happened for the third time and it was less than an hour from when they woke up. Tony slowly sipped his coffee, waiting for pancakes and wondering what would be the 'babe count’ at the end of the day.

***

“Baaabe! Did you see my sketchbook?”

“Babe, please pass the salt.”

“Babe! Feet off the table!”

Tony grunted and obediently lowered his feet and put them on the carpet, Steve smooching his head on his way out to a SHIELD meeting. Tony glanced at the watch on his wrist. It was 2 pm and it was thirty-two 'babe’ and still counting.

***

“Goodnight, babe.”

Ah, the last one.

“Babe! Don’t hog the covers!”

Okay, almost the last one. When Steve settled, Tony curled with his head resting on his husband's chest and when he felt the steady breathing and heard first rumbling snores coming out from Steve’s mouth the count was over.

Seventy-two 'babe’.

Zero Tony.

Huh.

***

Of course, Tony didn’t mind being called 'babe’ on a daily basis by Steve. It was nice and made him feel all happy inside and somehow giddy, just like during their first years of dating. Maybe it wasn’t the most creative pet name and Steve did overuse it, but Tony felt good with it. It was like a reminder of how much love Steve had for him and it was a really good feeling.

Sure, their team taunted them both from time to time about it, but Tony didn’t care. He was happy with Steve, and he knew that their team was happy for them too.

Just sometimes it was too much.

“Do you really have to call Tony that during battle?” Clint hissed at Steve, sporting a bloody cut on his cheek, while Natasha was busying over him and cleaning a cut on archer’s forearm. She didn’t say anything, just made a grunt of agreement.

Hulk. Black Widow. Thor. Hawkeye. Babe. Captain America.

All members of Avenger’s team.

Steve laughed the complaint off, which wasn’t a great idea when you have bruised ribs and grimaced in pain, while Clint went on a rant how distractive it was, and Tony listened, feeling something tight in his heart. Sometimes it did happen, that out of habit and in the midst of fighting instead of 'Iron Man’, Steve called him 'babe’.

“Babe, on your left!”

“They are coming towards you, babe!”

“Babe, I need a lift!”

Tony sighed, messaging his hurt shoulder with some arnica cream from the Iron Man to building collision he had earlier, thinking that maybe, he should find a way to lessen the frequency of Steve calling him 'babe’.

***

“Morning, babe!”

Tony grunted, rolling away and taking the covers with himself. His body still hurt from the last battle and it was way too early for that chipper mood.

“Aw, my babe is tired?”

Tony grunted again, sounding more miserable this time, agreeing.

“Okay, I will leave you alone for a bit. Don’t want you to be grumpy for the whole day.”

And a kiss. And Tony grunted again. And then he opened his eyes, hearing Steve leave their marital bed, and thinking that he found a way.

***

“Babe, come eat!”

Grunt.

“Babe, I am leaving your laundry on the bed!”

Grunt.

“I need you to sign this, babe, it is debriefing from yesterday’s fight.”

Tony grunted, leaving his scribble at the dotted line. And then allowing himself to be kissed on the jawline.

He tried to pretend that it wasn’t nice, but it was so nice, it was melting his mind.

***

It happened late evening. Tony was working on his tablet, comfortably sitting on the couch, when he heard Steve walking behind him. Time to repeat everything all over again. Tony even paused his work and puffed out his cheek, awaiting to hear familiar, happy voice and get a kiss, when the footsteps got quieter and Steve just passed by him.

Without a word.

Without even a look.

Oh.

Well, it was fine. It was something Tony had been working on for the whole day and it was finally paying off. No more irritating pet names, kisses distracting him from work. Just this familiar, a bit of cold atmosphere he had plenty of while growing up when his parents barely acknowledged him.

Great.

It was what he wanted, right?

Right.

Then why it felt so incredibly sad?

It wasn’t even a big deal. It was just some comfortable routine, Tony didn’t even notice before it was pointed out in a joke and didn’t think he would miss until he was deprived of it.

Tony didn’t like it. Somehow it became a lot darker and colder around him, some depressing feeling smothering and dark clouds gathering over his head.

“Oh! Hi, babe, didn’t see you there!”

And the sun was out again when sweet words and a quick peck fell on the top of his head. It made his heart raise, his whole body warmed up with a pleasurable tingle and it was good that he was already sitting down because his spine felt like melting -

- and Tony grunted. Like if he didn’t have any control of it. The next second he covered his face with both hands, because dammit, why are you like that, Stark, and Steve walked away with a smile, noticing that Tony’s ear tips became almost glowing red, probably just like his face, just from the pure affection Steve had towards him while Tony tried to show so hard that he didn’t enjoy it.

Luckily, after years of marriage and shared life, Steve knew his husband better.

#stony #superhusbands #tony stark #steve rogers #fluff #domestic fluff #humor #humor and fluff #og6 avengers #kinda team fic #established stony #Thor Odinson #natasha romanov #clint barton #bruce banner #fanfic #fanfiction #no tickling

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hell-on-training-wheels · 4 years

Text

Work in Progress Wednesday

Thanks for tagging me @therealpoesdaughter

Have some Shaolin Mom! >^. .^<

However, despite the smell and trying to keep them alive, Kung Jin had to admit, there was something endearing about the now almost 7-week-old kittens. They slept with him almost every night on the bed —sleeping being a loose term with how sporadic their nap schedules were due to their high energy.

Whenever he did wake in the middle of the night—as he was doing at the very moment— and looked down at them all snuggled against him with a smile. They all seemed to trust him, and the archer dare say, were rather fond of him. And despite how much the others had been teasing him, he reminded himself—and them— constantly, he was NOT going soft, and if he had any affection for them, he would take it to his grave. No one would know they were growing on him. Even if it was ten percent.

Jin didn't know what to do with such a misplaced sense of affection from them; it was so perplexing to have something depend and love him so willingly. He was just there to keep them alive until he figured out who he could pawn them off on. He was nothing but a warden, running a tiny prison in his room filled with five little inmates—although at times he felt less like the warden and more like one of the disgruntled guards having to herd and deal with them. Or perhaps better yet, he was one of the inmates himself, especially considering he was once again imprisoned in the bed with them laying on him.

They usually picked the same spots on him: TJ was almost always on his head and if not, curled against the junction in his shoulder. Lia and Hana were always inseparable— as if a part of their own chain gang—and either settled between his legs or by his side; bunched together in gray, white, black, and amber ball. RJ remained his constant confidant (following him everywhere when it wasn't time for bed). The white kitten always nestled on top of him; either tucked under his chin or in a ball on top of his chest. Every so often, the fluffy Thunder God would wake, blink its blue eyes tiredly at him, give him a series of quick kneads, lick him, and then fall back to sleep. As if it was telling him 'Rest now Kung Jin. You will need it for the upcoming storm.'

Somewhere in the darkness, came the all too familiar sound of scampering tiny paws racing sporadically around his room; flying about with frenetic frenzy that caused the Shaolin to let out a tired sigh as he heard something fall off his desk nearby.

… And then there was Jack

A black shadow suddenly darted across his groin, earning a grunt from the archer, and at the same time waking all the kittens who meowed indignantly by both the archer moving suddenly and the energetic panther on another one of his midnight hunts. The black cat lowered its front paws forward, its butt sticking in the air, as it brought its nose level to the sheet; its eyes widened to the size of jade colored plates as he searched.

"The bug! It's escaped again! The foul, crunchy fiend!"

Jin's eyes picked up on a brief flutter above his face, tiny and nearly invisible if not for his keen eyesight.

A single white moth flew above his head as Jack sauntered over to Jin, stepping on RJ in the process, as it sat on the archer's chest. Jack balanced on its back haunches and swiped with its front paws in the air; squeaking with frustration.

"Fiend! You finally show yourself! Bring your delicious self closer, coward! As soon as I get you, you're kitten chow!"

The cat jumped in the air, flailing and spinning with the grace of a drunken figure skater, before it landed squarely on Kung Jin's sternum. The archer let out a groan and he suddenly felt TJ's orange paw rest on his nose and unsheathe its claws to hook inside the archer's nostrils, pulling them up into his nose like fishing hooks.

"Stop moving you STUPID Shaolin Duck. I am TRYING to sleep on your stupid, fat head."

Kung Jin sucked his teeth before he lifted a single hand to unlatched the cat's paw from his nose, earning a tiny annoyed mew from the orange tabby while Raiden Jr., its blue eyes slanted at its obsidian haired brother, growled.

#WIP wednesday #shaolin mom #kung jin

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marvelous-writer · 5 years

Text

Monster Mash

Summary: The Stark family gets invited to a Halloween party at the Compound, only Peter fails to mention that he’s sick.

Happy Halloween, everyone!!! 🎃🕷🕸🕷🕸🎃

Link to read on Ao3:

The plan had originally been that Tony, Pepper, Morgan, and Peter would all dress up as a family of vampires for the Halloween party the team was throwing at the Compound.

That said plan was going right down the toilet now because somehow, Peter got sick.

“Pete you ready? We have to leave in five minutes!” Tony calls from downstairs.

“Yeah…” Peter groans into his pillow, hair damp from the shower he’d gotten out of minutes before, only to have a dizzy spell when he bent down to grab something, resulting in him lying down until it was over.

Only getting up feels like a lot of work right now.

Why does this always have to happen to him? He’s been looking forward to dressing up and going to the party tonight, especially since Halloween was one of his favorite holidays outside of Thanksgiving and Christmas. One thing’s for sure, he definitely wasn’t telling or letting anyone know that he’s not feeling well because that would mean missing out on the party, and Morgan’s been so excited about going since Tony told them about it. Peter definitely wasn’t letting her down, not over a silly little cold.

No. He wasn’t going to give in to this. It was just kind over matter.

At least that’s what he’s been trying to tell himself all day, since waking up horribly achy and groggy.

“Gotta get up…” Peter murmurs to himself, sucking in a grounding breath before he slowly pushes himself up.

Thankfully his vision doesn’t blur like it had earlier, so that was a win. Peter rubs at his face tiredly, hands dropping in his lap as he looks over at his closet, eyes landing on the black tuxedo he was supposed to wear tonight. It was the same one Tony had bought him for that Stark Industries gala a while back.

The last thing Peter wants to do right now with how he’s feeling, is wear that horribly uncomfortable thing for heck knows how many hours tonight. Too bad there wasn’t something else he could wear, something more comfortable and Halloweeny.

An idea suddenly pops into his head.

…….

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Tony dryly says, an unimpressed look on his face, decked out in his black tuxedo, his hair slicked back with hair gel.

Peter shrugs, dressed head to toe in his Spider-Man suit, wearing the cape over it that he was supposed to wear over his tux. “What? I’m… uh… Vamp-Spidey? Spider-Vamp? Spire?” Peter weakly says in his defense, holding his arms out.

Morgan giggles at Pepper’s side, who are both decked out in their costumes, a form-fitting shiny black dress on Pepper, and a cute black dress with a flowy black skirt with orange and silver sparkles.

“Do you have any concept of a secret identity?” Tony asks.

“Well, it doesn’t matter, right? The team already knows who I am and it’s Halloween. I can just keep my mask on all night if it bothers you so much.” Peter lightly says.

Tony closes his eyes and punches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head with a sigh. “You know-fine. You look great, kid. Let’s just get in the car. We’re already ten minutes late.”

“Not late enough for your taste though?” Pepper asks, looking like the perfect bride for a Vampire.

A smile tugs at Tony’s mouth at her teasing. “Ha ha. Come on.” He says as he opens the front door.

…….

By the time they arrive at the Compound, it’s five-forty in the evening and the driveway is a literal parking lot. In the half hour drive over, Peter ended up taking an impromptu nap, which did nothing to help the exhaustion that’s heavily weighing him down and the car ride didn’t do anything to help his stomach.

When they arrive on the Avenges’ floor, the lights are dim, party lights flashing and glowing around the room, the speakers turned up playing The Monster Mash. There are a couple of people dancing in the cleared out living room but people seem to be mostly standing around mingling, snacks and punch in hand.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to show up.” A voice comes over the music.

Peter looks over and does a double take when he sees Clint, who’s dressed as Black Widow in a black skintight bodysuit, red wig and all.

Tony snickers at the sight of the man. “Wow… looking good, Barton. Who’s idea was this?”

“Eh, I lost a bet to Sam. Loser had to dress as Nat.” The archer shrugs. “But hey! You guys look amazing as a family of Vampires and-” His eyes fall on Peter, brows pulling together in confusion. “And Spider-Man?”

“He felt like being creative tonight.” Tony explains, an amused grin on his lips.

Clint hummus, brows raising as he nods. “It’s certainly different, but hey, what the hell, right? It’s Halloween!” He smiles, holding his arms out. “You guys go on and have some fun!”

Pepper smiles, “We’ll do that. You too.”

Peter follows behind them further in the room but Clint claps his hands around his shoulders, stopping him.

“I’d just avoid the blue punch. I think Nat spiked it.” Clint whispers.

Peter raises an eyebrow under his mask. “Why? With what?”

“Don’t know, some fun juice if you know what I mean. Sam’s a wee bit off his rocker and I’m feeling a bit buzzed.” Clint grins. “You and your sister stick to the red punch bowl, got it?” He says, gently patting his shoulders.

“Got it.” Peter says as he watches him stalk off towards the kitchen.

Peter walks around a little bit, taking in all of the costumes and the shockingly lifelike decorations that were littered around the place. There are a bunch of skeletons and webs hanging on the walls, as well as fake blood spatters.

Peter’s stomach churns at the sight of it all, so he has to tear his eyes away and focus on looking for Morgan. Despite disappointing everyone with his costume choice, he’s immensely grateful that he’s wearing his suit with how loud everything is, his mask already dialing down the brightness and sound levels.

He finds Morgan by the snack table with Pepper, where Happy and May are, laughing a something. They’re both dressed as 70’s hippies, definitely May’s doing, but Happy looks pretty, well… happy. The both of them do.

Peter watches Morgan licking the frosting off of a cupcake that resembles an eyeball, cringing when he sees her frosted covered tongue licking at the top.

“Hey, there he is!” May smiles when she sees him, smiling brightly, her light pink glasses shining in the lighting. “Spider-Vamp.”

Clearly she already bumped into Tony.

“Or-what was it? Spire?” Happy throws in with an amused grin.

“Oh, haha.” Peter rolls his eyes, as May hugs him since she hasn’t seen him in a few days since he’s been staying over at the lake house for the weekend.

They all talk for a few minutes, before Morgan pulls Peter away into the kitchen so she could get a drink. Peter avoids the bowl of blue punch and goes for the red, poring Morgan and himself a cup. He rolls up his mask to his nose and takes a small sip, cringing from the sweetness of it. Morgan doesn’t seem to mind it as she happily drinks it, while Peter cautiously sips at the overly sugary beverage.

They go back out and stand with Pepper, who was now talking with Natasha, who was wearing a Hawkeye costume, her red hair tied up in a tight ponytail. There must’ve been a story behind that costume choice.

“Oooh, Petey look! Games!” Morgan excitedly squeals, tugging on his arm as she points at the other side of the room, where multiple Halloween themed games are spread out, like pin the arm on the skeleton.

He raises an eyebrow at that, wondering who was behind that one. Clint probably, maybe even Sam.

“Well let’s go see them.” Peter tells her, earning an excited squeal from her.

……

An hour pass by, and at this point, Peter’s regretting not telling Tony and Pepper he wasn’t feeling good so they would’ve stayed home.

The filtering in his mask isn’t helping Peter out that much with all of the noise and bright lights around him, and he’s developed quite the headache over the past thirty or so minutes. But then again, his senses are always extra sensitive whenever he’s sick. Which he certainly wasn’t.

Mind over matter. Peter tells himself, brows pulling together when his stomach strongly disagrees with the one cup of punch and a few snacks he’s had tonight.

He can feel the sweat building up on his back and on his forehead, regretting wearing his suit. He could have just dressed up as a ghost with a simple white sheet over him and wear whatever he wanted underneath it.

Peter is standing beside Morgan, who’s been playing the skeleton game for the past ten minutes. There are a lot of kid games here but Morgan seems to be the only kid here.

At least she’s having fun at this thing though.

Peter closes his eyes, wishing that there were chairs or something around so he could sit. He’s starting to feel a pinch but lightheaded all of a sudden, which probably wasn’t a good sign. Maybe he just needed some water.

Peter opens his eyes again and his eyes roam over the costumed partiers until his eyes land on Tony.

“Hey, M? How about we go see what Daddy’s up to?” Peter loudly says to her, bending down to her level so she could hear him over the base of the speakers.

“Okay.” She nods, seeming alright with abandoning the games.

Peter takes her hand and the two of them make their way through the sea of people, taking a few moments until they reach Tony. All of the movement is making Peter dizzy.

“Ah-there you two are!” Tony smiles when he sees them. “Having fun?”

“Yeah… lots.” Peter says, with no real excitement behind it. “Uh, I’m just going to grab something to drink.”

“Okay.” Tony nods as he smiles at Morgan and picks her up. “And how are you my little Vampire Princess?”

Peter can’t hear her answer over the loud music and voices as he turns away and walks over to the kitchen, maneuvering around the crowd.

The kitchen is thankfully empty when he walks in, and he breathes out a shaky, relieved breath as he pulls his mask off. He winces from the onslaught of bright lights and sounds, a dull throbbing behind his eyes as his headache ramps up a few notches.

Peter makes a beeline to the refrigerator but he pauses when something catches his eye. He looks down at the countertop of the center island next to the sink, fear shooting through him at the sight he’s met with.

A cutting board is out, with a severed hand right on top next to a butcher knife. There’s blood everywhere, all over the board, the countertop and all over the sink. The hand looks so realistic that there’s a piece of bone and mangled flesh peeking out from it.

Peter’s stomach violently twists, as saliva rapidly fills his mouth. His eyes widen fearfully as his eyes dart around himself for something to throw up into, knowing that there was nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable from happening.

He moves for the sink but pauses, noting how absolutely disgusted that would be for a guest to find him upchucking in a sink, plus he never wants to lay eyes on that hand ever again in his life.

Peter’s eyes land on a trash can by the refrigerator and he practically dives for it, making it just in time before he’s heaving into it, throwing up what little food he’s eaten all day.

He doesn’t even hear the footsteps coming towards the kitchen.

“Peter?” He recognizes Happy’s voice. “What the hell-are you alright?”

Peter tries to answer him but opening his mouth but he gags, finding himself bent over the barrel again, painfully retching.

“I’m… I’m going to get Tony or May. I’ll be right back. You just… stay there.” Happy panically, sounding like he had no idea what to do.

Peter only groans in response.

Not even thirty seconds later, Tony rushes into the kitchen.

“Oh, Pete…” He sympathetically says as he walks over to him, placing a hand on Peter’s back, rubbing small, soothing circles.

“S’ the hand’s falt…” Peter moans into the barrel.

“What hand?” Tony asks, confused, probably looking around the kitchen for it. “Oh… that hand. Yikes. Yeah, that’d do it for me too. I’m going to have a serious talk with whoever did that, and my money’s on Clint.”

Peter remains silent, focusing on keeping his stomach as still as possible. He feels like absolute garbage, no pun intended. His head is pounding now, a dull pulsating behind his eyes and he feels horribly woozy, but thankfully less nauseous now.

Tony’s hand pauses on his back. “Was it just the hand that got you sick? You’ve been acting off all day.”

Peter caves and shakes his head. “No... been feeling sick all day.” He confesses.

Tony breathes out a sigh through his nose. “Kid, this is why you have to tell me these things. I knew something was up with the whole costume switch.”

“M’ sorry.” Peter softly says into the trash barrel.

Tony continues rubbing his back. “It’s alright but please let me know from now on when you’re not feeling good. Okay? Please? You know I have a heart condition.”

Peter silently nods in agreement.

“Think you’re done?” Tony asks after a few minutes of them standing there in the middle of the kitchen.

“Think so…” Peter says as he slowly stands up.

He leans against the counter, avoiding looking towards the sink, watching Tony seal up the garbage bag and take it out from the barrel. He turns around and looks at Peter, concern etched on his features.

“How about we head on home? Get you into bed?” Tony suggests.

Guilt floods through Peter at that. “No, you guys should have fun-”

“Pete, I can’t have any fun when I know you’re feeling this miserable. Besides, we’ll just make up for it at Thanksgiving.” Tony says with a small smile, gently placing a hand on his back, steering him out of the kitchen. “Let’s go find Morgan and Pepper.”

As soon as he says it, Pepper appears right in front of them with Morgan in her arms, looking concerned as her eyes land on Peter. “Oh, Peter, sweetie. Happy said you weren’t feeling well? I was just coming to check on you.”

“Yeah, he’s not feeling so hot so we were going to find you two and see if you wanted to head on home?” Tony says.

She nods. “Yeah that’s probably a good idea.”

Peter leans into Tony tiredly as they head towards the elevator, the bass painfully beating against his ear drums, beating along with his pounding head.

“Wait.” Peter stops suddenly when they’re at the elevator. “I gotta tell May we’re leaving.”

“Uh, yeah… don’t worry about that, kiddo. She’s a wee bit out of it right now.” Tony says, leading him inside the elevator.

“Oh… she must’ve had the blue punch Clint told me about…” Peter mumbles.

“Yeah and a little too much of it, I’m afraid. Happy told me they were leaving anyways when he found you.” Tony says, pressing the bottom floor button.

…….

Along their drive back home, Peter falls asleep in the back of the car, his head pillowed with his and Tony’s cape, the radio playing a soft classic rock in the background.

He wakes up sometime later, when they’re halfway up the stairs, finding himself in Tony’s arms.

“Are we home?” Peter sleepily murmurs, head resting against the man’s shoulder.

“Yeah, bud.” Tony softly says as he walks across the hallway to Peter’s room.

Peter hums, letting his heavy eyes slip closed once again.

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