My Bitch Ass Got Whipped By Simon SO Hard Start Doing Sculpting When It’s Not Even At Work (practically

My bitch ass got whipped by Simon SO hard start doing sculpting when it’s not even at work (practically working overtime)😫

Just dumping everything in works so far 🎨

i'm tsu'tey

pairing: tsu’tey x fem na’vi reader warnings: angst, fluff, detailed injury, blood word count: 1.2k

Okay So This Is A Request (bare With Me I’ve Never Done This) BUT

tsu'tey lay on the forest floor as he groaned out in agony, looking down at his extensive wounds. dread began to set in as he realised he was alone; and if he did not get medical attention right away, he wouldn't make it. he tried to slow his rapid breathing as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the pain.

'okay… okay…' he muttered to himself as he tried to reposition himself; causing him to scream out in pain. after what felt like an eternity, he managed to position himself up against a rock. he never thought he would be afraid of death, but his instincts began to kick in as the severity of the situation drowned him. he spat at the ground as he watched his crimson blood soak into the dirt; his vision beginning to falter. but suddenly, he heard footsteps running towards him over the slight ringing in his ears.

seeing the olo'eyktan in such a state made your heart sink; you had always admired tsu'tey from the shadows. he was extremely strong willed and fierce, and you had always felt safe knowing he was the one leading your clans warriors.

you were suddenly extremely thankful that you had ignored mo'ats orders to stay put. you couldn't just sit by and do nothing while others were out there risking their lives, so you decided to stay close by and aid those who were injured.

you desperately kneeled by tsu'tey as you pulled out your supplies from your pouch; immediately getting to work on fixing up his wounds. even in his dazed state, his eyes widened as his eyes adjusted; his gaze falling on your beautiful face.

then, he realised that he did not know who you were.

he had tried to make it an obligation to know everyone from the clan; and yet he somehow missed you. he had no idea how he could have done such a thing. your beauty mesmerised him. it distracted him from the pain; put him at peace. you placed a healing paste on him as you closed your eyes, pleading to eywa for her assistance in his recovery. your voice was like silk; soft.

'…great mother, heal tsu'tey…' you pleaded. tsu'teys heart fluttered at hearing you speak his name; it rolled off your tongue as if it were meant to be spoken from your lips. with what little strength he had left, he reached his hand to hold yours; looking into your honey eyes.

't- thank y…you.' he spluttered as you felt your heart skip a beat. his eyes were beautiful; they looked right into your soul. but, they soon began to grow drowsy. 'your… y-your… name…' he trailed off as his body betrayed him. as a defence to preserve his energy, tsu'tey passed out against the rock; his hand still holding yours.

it had been a couple of weeks since you had saved tsu'teys life; and you had gone back to being invisible; hiding in the shadows. but, tsu'tey hadn't forgotten. your image was engraved into his mind and he spent every single day searching for you amongst all the other faces.

tsu'tey was sat by the fire of the hometree with jake and neytiri as jake sat back on his elbows.

'are you sure this girl even exists?' jake teased. tsu'tey shook his head in annoyance as he began to grow frustrated. if it wasn't for his healed wounds, he would have actually considered that you may have been an angel that was sent to deliver him to eywa.

'perhaps she is of another clan?' neytiri suggested but tsu'tey shook his head.

'no, she is omatikaya.' he persisted as he groaned. 'i know it.' tsu'tey instinctively glanced toward the entrance of the hometree as something caught his eye. there, floating through the air of the hometree was an atokirina; a woodsprite. tsu'tey followed the spirit with bewildered eyes as it twirled in the air and floated towards the edge of the structure.

'what the…' jake trailed off as he and neytiri also took notice of the seed.

you were stood on the other side of the hometree, talking to se'vi about your day; but she soon lost interest in anything you were saying as her gaze shifted above you. you furrowed your brows as you looked up; wonderment quickly taking over your senses as the beautiful spirit floated above you. you looked back in awe as you instinctively held out a hand; and the seed took refuge in your palm. you blinked back in shock as you looked towards the spirit; other clan members beginning to gawk at you in astonishment. you turned your head around, noticing all the faces staring at you; and you began to feel extremely nervous. you were used to being invisible and yet here you were with an atokirina in the palm of your hand; as if eywa wanted you to be seen.

tsu'tey felt his heart skip a beat as you looked around the room; your heavenly form sending goosebumps down his entire body.

'that's her.' tsu'tey whispered as jake and neytiri looked at one another; sharing a knowing look.

eywa was trying to bring the two of you together.

'go!' neytiri encouraged as tsu'tey scrambled to his feet. he made his way over to you; his eyes never leaving you; afraid you may vanish into thin air if he looked away for even a second.

you noticed him making his way over to you as you suddenly felt extremely small under his gaze. maybe he was angry at you for vanishing after you had healed him; maybe he was angry at you for helping him at all. you turned to se'vi as she looked at you with a wide grin; you had told her all about what had happened that day, and she was convinced that eywa had a plan for the two of you.

after what felt like an eternity, tsu'tey stood in front of you; looking down at you with adoration in his eyes. the atokirina flew up from your palm; dancing between the two of you for a moment before it disappeared from the hometree as quickly as it had appeared. you gulped hard at the sight of tsu'tey standing in front of you; intimidated by his authoritative demeanour. but, you noticed a glint of something in his eye.

'you saved me.' he whispered as you relaxed slightly. his tone was thankful and soft. you nodded with a smile as you bowed your head towards him in an act of respect.

'i did.' you spoke; your voice much smaller than you had intended. tsu'tey reached for your hands; holding them in one of his own as he brought them close to his chest. a deep blush formed on your face as your body began to feel warm; your insides beginning to flutter.

'i'm tsu'tey.' he introduced himself. even though it was clear that you knew exactly who he was, the introduction felt personal. he wasn't introducing himself as tsu'tey the olo'eyktan; or as tsu'tey the warrior. he was introducing himself as tsu'tey. a gentle smile tugged at his lips as he felt a warm feeling in his heart. 'what is your name?'

tags: @theseuscmander @fanboyluvr @neteyamslovrr @live-laugh-neteyam @darkacademictrash @sweetdayme4427 @callmeoncette @icarusthefoolish @neteyamsblog @avtprint @taymaddie @s-surreality @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @daeneeryss @sakura-onesan @mechformers @sharkybabe9 @floralifetime @singular-itae @nilrilie @elegantkidfansoul @seashelldom @nnobodyiss @yaya6765 @dani111 @eternallyvenus @bothofm @slasherblog @ikranwings @neteyamyawne @tsuteyss

lucky

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt finally gets to take out the girl that's been leaving care packages at his door for two months.

warnings: swearing, slight angst, tooth rotting fluff (might need to call your dentist after this one)

word count: 3k

a/n: the highly requested fluffy sequel to care packages. thank you to everyone that requested this. i hope you enjoy your first date with matty. ❤️ as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[part one]

“I hate you, you know that?”

Matt nearly spit out his coffee as he lurched over the conference table slightly, forcing the lukewarm bitter taste down his throat as a wave of incredulous laughter tore through his chest.

“What? Why?”

“Because it isn’t fair. It’s bad enough you’re so goddamn charming, and it’s borderline offensive that you’re like the most attractive dude I’ve ever seen. Not to mention that whole wounded duck routine you’ve got going on that makes all the girls fall at your feet-”

“Foggy, I don’t-”

“-but what’s exceptionally unacceptable is that you somehow managed to find a girl that knows about the horns, and not only didn’t run away, but still agreed to go out with you. Like the fact that you’re a vigilante and a walking human disaster totally didn’t phase her at all. That’s…like…against the rules!”

Matt couldn’t help but snicker at the disgruntled tone lacing his best friend’s exasperated voice, and the way the edges of Foggy’s mouth dipped in displeasure.

“What rules, Foggy?”

“The rules of the universe, Matt. You’ve had too much good fortune-

“Right, like being blinded and orphaned-”

“Oh, shut the hell up. I’m talking about-”

“Guys, please. If you two keep bickering, Matt’s gonna be late. He’s lucky she’s even going out with him at all. Can we finish this?”

Karen glanced between Matt and Foggy with an arch of her brow, trying to hide the smirk that threatened to capture her lips as Matt’s teasing grin faltered into a purse of his lips from that bruise to his ego.

“Wow. Thank you…for that vote of confidence, Karen.”

“It’s true and you know it. Now, both of you sign these damn papers so we can get out of here before she changes her mind.”

Foggy’s expression suddenly turned serious as he focused his attention solely on Matt, staring at him with an accusatory finger pointed in his direction.

“I swear to God, Murdock. If you fuck up my pipeline to those crack cookies, I will never forgive you. You better turn that Matthew Murdock charm up to a million, you got me? I want those cookies, Matt. Cookies.”

»»———　　———««

It had been five days since Matt had asked you to dinner, and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you. Between the slew of court cases he was elbow deep in and the extra patrol he’d been doing at the docks to bust a trafficking ring, he hadn’t had a chance to talk to you again. He couldn’t feel your presence when he awoke past his alarm in the mornings, and when he finally got home at the Devil’s hour, he could hear you below him sleeping soundly in your bed.

For the past five nights, the harmony of your heart’s rhythm had eased him into a peaceful sleep like a serene lullaby.

But Karen’s words had anxiety filling every single cell in his body as he navigated the bustling streets of Hell’s Kitchen.

What if you had changed your mind?

It had been five days. Five days without getting to speak to you again. Five days without another care package.

That wasn’t unusual, right?

You didn’t follow a strict schedule with them. The drop offs were usually every few weeks. It just wasn’t time for one.

Or maybe you didn’t want to deliver any more of them.

Maybe the reality of who and what he was sank in and gave you cold feet.

Maybe this was over before it began.

“Fuck.”

Matt felt like he was losing his mind playing the role of the plaintiff and the defendant in the case of had he royally fucked this up already. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this nervous to go on a date. Maybe it was because you were the first person he was going on a date with as himself. Not one half concealing the other. Not with a pre-spun web of lies to cover his tracks. Not with a rehearsal to remember to play down his abilities.

All his cards were out on the table, and while he felt an absolute rush of liberation that you knew the truth already, the consequences of that truth were daunting and seemed to be lurking around every corner of his mind. By the time he reached his door, his clammy hands kept slipping over his key, and sweat had started to bead uneasily along his hairline.

Should he call this whole thing off?

He really didn’t want to.

Did you want him to call it off?

He prayed you didn’t.

Had you been thinking about him for the past five days too?

He really hoped so.

»»———　　———««

When Matt finally made it to your door, he was nearly out of breath and his cheeks were flushed with heat. He had changed three times because you had, and he didn’t want to be over or underdressed. He focused his senses intently on you, trying to decipher the materials and textures of the outfit you finally settled on. You had music playing as you got ready, and for a few moments Matt just paused and listened to you hum along. You seemed to be in a good mood, and that eased his nerves considerably.

Was it wrong for him to invade on your privacy like that? The angel on his shoulder was already adding it to the laundry list for his confession on Sunday. But the Devil in him argued that he was going to hear you anyway. It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help what his senses picked up.

Fifteen minutes before he was supposed to meet you at your door, Matt panicked and realized he hadn’t got you any flowers, and promptly ran down the street in search of a vendor. He spent eight minutes trying to pick some out. He didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked, and roses felt too cliche and insincere. He wanted to pick something special, something that showed he put thought into them, even if he had run to get them right before he was supposed to pick you up.

The vendor had talked him into a bouquet of violet peonies, and since he didn’t have time to spare, he raced back praying that this was the one flower you didn’t hate or God forbid were allergic to.

Matt took a moment to gather himself outside your door; wiping the sweat from his brows with the back of his hand, attempting to steady his rapid breathing, smoothing his windblown hair back into place, and reciting a quiet Lord’s Prayer for good measure.

When his knuckles finally collided with your door to knock, he didn’t know if his heart was racing from the marathon he had just run, or because of you.

The light patter of your feet eagerly approaching the door caused a smile to grace his lips, and once he tuned out the sound of his own heart raging in his ears, he could hear yours fluttering in your chest like a hummingbird.

You were nervous too.

There was a bright smile on your lips, and a light twinge of embarrassment from how quickly you had flung your door open, and you let out a quiet laugh at your own expense.

“Hi Matthew.”

God, he had forgotten how melodic your voice sounded, and how much he suddenly loved his own name hearing it fall from your lips.

“Just Matt, is okay. Only my priest calls me Matthew. And, well…a few judges in the courtroom. And my partners when I cause them undue stress in the workplace. I mean you…you can call me whatever you want, whatever’s more comfortable. It’s just-it’s kinda formal, and you don’t have to-”

“Matt’s nice. I like Matt.”

“Matt likes you.”

Matt internally grimaced as those words slipped past his lips, and the mixture of disapproval and mortification on his face from his own blunder caused a fit of giggles to erupt from your mouth.

“Well, then we’re on the same page. Glad we’ve covered that base for tonight.”

He let out a breathy chuckle as he dipped his head for a moment, trying to find the source of his usual easy charm to refuel his glaring depletion. He cleared his throat as tilted his head to the side slightly, gazing blankly past his crimson glasses in the direction of your face with a somewhat shy smile on his full lips while delicately handing you the bouquet.

“I uh…didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked, but the guy said these were the prettiest ones he had.”

Warmth spread across the tops of your cheeks when your fingers lightly brushed against his to retrieve his thoughtful offering, your lips immediately splitting into a wide grin.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you, Matt. I love peonies. How did you know purple was my favorite color?”

Matt perked up at that, and he stood up a little straighter as a proud, dimple-showcasing, toothy grin took over his mouth.

“Lucky guess.”

“Do you always get so lucky?”

“I guess we’ll find out tonight.”

Matt’s dazzling grin immediately dropped, and you could see his eyes widen behind the cherry tinted lenses. As his face paled and his lips parted in horror, his brows shot up above the frame of his glasses.

“Oh God, I didn’t-that wasn’t…I swear I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not-you’re not-this isn’t…I meant the date. Not that I’m expecting anything-I wouldn’t-I just…meant I hope it goes well. I didn’t-Jesus fucking Christ.”

You were nearly in tears with laughter as Matt stumbled over his words. A part of you felt bad for laughing at the clarity of his humiliation, but it was so endearing knowing he was just as affected by his nerves as you were. This man that went out every night to take down dangerous criminals, and was arguably the most feared man in the city himself, was standing in front of your door stumbling over an apology about an unintended double entendre.

Reaching out to place your hand on his arm, you gave it a reassuring squeeze, momentarily distracted by the dense muscle you felt beneath the soft material of his shirt, before smiling at him in sympathy as you attempted to control your laughter.

“Matt, it’s okay. Really.”

He let out a deep exhale, his tongue darting out to wet his lips quickly as he let out a short and dry chuckle. Matt nodded his head in your direction, a faint curve of self-deprecation on his lips.

“Is this the worst first date you’ve ever been on?”

There was a teasing tone accompanying the timber of his voice, but layered beneath you could detect a chord of genuine curiosity intermingled with trepidation. The smile on your lips only grew as you looked up at him.

“Actually, it’s one of the best.”

Matt was completely in awe of you. There wasn’t a single falter in your heart’s rhythm. He felt his lips easily mirroring the smile that was on yours, reaching his hand out to lightly grasp your elbow as your hand was still comfortably placed on his bicep.

“What would I have to do to make it the best?”

“Hm. What’s for dinner?”

“Italian. That I know you like.”

A soft noise of content hummed from your throat, and the grin that bloomed on your lips triggered his own.

“Yeah, you’re definitely in my top three right now. But, the night is still young.”

Matt couldn’t help but chuckle at the playful invitation that flowed from your voice.

“Top three? I can work with that. I like a challenge.”

»»———　　———««

The restaurant Matt brought you to was a quaint, family owned spot just a few blocks away from your shared apartment building. It’s a place he had passed by on several instances, the aroma of fresh produce and homemade pasta sauce passed down through generations capturing the intrigue of his senses every time he crossed its path, but he had wanted to save it for a special occasion like a celebratory fifty year old bottle of champagne.

And tonight, he was popping the cork on it with you.

The space was incredibly cozy. Tea light candles flickered romantically on every table and cast an amber glow in the somewhat dim lightning. Collections of sepia and noir photos of large families and historic Italian architecture decorated the walls. The imported Sangiovese was rich in tannins and bold in flavor, caressing your tongue like bittersweet velvet. And the loud personality and thick accent of your waiter repeating your orders off in an alluring symphony of Italian made you feel like you and Matt had somehow been transported straight from Hell’s Kitchen to Italy just by passing through the door.

Both of your nerves seemed to evaporate into the breeze flowing through the open windows with every splash of burgundy against your lips and exchange of exquisite flavor from your dishes. Matt asked you questions with childlike excitement, eager to learn more about you, studying you with the exact same enthusiasm he showed important cases that were of the utmost importance to him.

In return, he found himself answering your own inquisitions easily without having to spare the devilish and more complicated details. It was so incredibly emancipating to not have to pretend with you. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t having to play a character. He could just be…Matt.

You approached every question with genuine curiosity and a respectful distance of where his invisible boundaries might be, and it made his heart soar that you were trying so hard to carefully craft his comfort. Matt had known that he was enthralled with you the first time he met you, but by the time dessert came, he was absolutely smitten.

He didn’t want to get too ahead of himself, but he also didn’t want the night to end.

“Can I walk you home?”

“Hm, I don’t know. You sure it isn’t too out of your way?”

Even if Matt couldn’t feel the way your lips parted into a huge smile, he could hear it in the cadence of your voice. The subtle joke made him chuckle as he nodded his chin in your direction, his own mouth pulling into a charming smirk.

“I’d still offer even if you lived in Long Island.”

The sudden spill of heat across the tops of your cheeks and the quiet sharp intake of your breath had his heart pounding faster in his chest.

“I suddenly wish I did.”

Even though your tone was playful, he could detect the implications behind your words. You didn’t want this night to end either, and that had him soaring up to cloud nine. Feeling emboldened by your indirect confession, Matt reached his hand out slowly to brush his fingertips against the palm of your hand, easily threading his fingers through your own, reveling in the softness of your skin that he had missed. He felt a spark every time your pulse resonated against his own, and his cheeks nearly hurt from how much he was smiling.

“I prefer you living a floor below me.”

By the time the two of you reached your front door, Matt couldn’t tell if it was the electricity from the building buzzing in his ears or the anticipation that kept building the entire walk, growing larger and larger like a snowball ready to plow into his chest to cause an avalanche when you turned your body to face him. As your thumb lightly brushed against the back of his scarred knuckles, a question that had been bouncing around in his head all evening could no longer go unanswered.

“So, as far as first dates go, what’s the verdict? Did I move up at all?”

Matt splayed his most charming smile across his plump lips, and while the flirtation in his voice was evident, so was the unmistakable undertone of uncertainty. The blood rushing through his veins was roaring in his ears like tides crashing against the shore during a storm.

“I’d say you made it to the top two.”

Matt cocked his head to the side slightly, seemingly surprised by your answer, his brows raising above the browline of his glasses slightly.

“Second place?”

“Unless you’ve got a last minute testimony for me to rule in your favor, Counselor.”

Your voice remained soft and teasing, but your heart was fluttering violently in your chest, like the hummingbird was trying to escape its cage. Matt carefully let go of your hand, reaching up to pull his glasses away from his face, baring himself completely before you as he slipped the crimson lenses into his pocket. The slight gasp from seeing his eyes for the first time that caught in your throat caused a bashful smile to appear on his lips.

His tongue darted out to wet them quickly, catching a taste of the tiramisu you shared still lingering on your tongue. He wanted to devour it from your lips. Taking a bold step forward, he did his best to fix his gaze where he thought yours was, leaning in slightly until your noses were merely an inch apart, the warmth of his breath fanning over your lips.

“May I?”

His voice seemed to have dropped an octave lower, coming out in an intimate whisper that you answered all too eagerly.

“Yes.”

Matt couldn’t hold back any longer. He quickly closed the sliver of distance between you, pressing his lips to yours with a satisfied groan, feeling a surge of pride at the way your breath caught in your throat. For a good thirty seconds, you actually stopped breathing. When he reluctantly broke the kiss, he brushed his lips against yours and whispered into them softly.

“Breathe.”

The second the command slipped off his tongue, you exhaled heavily before sucking in a sharp drag of oxygen, and Matt couldn’t stop the smug grin that overtook his entire mouth.

“Well, sweetheart? What’s the verdict now?”

“Yeah…yeah, yeah definitely in the number one spot.”

Matt beamed at the breathlessness of your voice, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you in closer to his chest as he purred into your ear.

“Lucky me.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @desert-fern @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @danzer8705

Threadbare (1)

Steve Rogers x Fashion Designer!Reader (see series)

Summary: Steve gets to meet his favorite designer, and you get a surprise visitor at work.

Warnings: none. Maybe a bit of creepy behavior but not from Steve. Yes, I did just want to use the leather jacket gif for shiggles. What's it to ya? WC 3355

Steve Rogers hates stuffy functions. He hates the brown-nosing. He hates trying to convince people who have everything to give scraps to people with nothing. He hates watching the excess and indulgence, even when he knows it ends up giving something to those in need. He hates it. He hates the whole lot of these stupid, asinine—

Steve takes a breath and smooths his hand down the buttery fabric of a double-breasted jacket hanging next to his intended garment.

Ok, fine, he hates the functions, but he actually enjoys the dressing up part.

He didn’t used to. No. The only outfit outside of his Cap suit that ever truly fit him—before or after the serum—was his SSR uniform, and coming from a time of nothing, Steve accepted that as a huge win.

And then he woke up in this world of excess and—what do they call it? Fast-fashion?— realized that what should be easier to acquire was much, much harder to find: room to breathe.

Steve may roll his eyes at Tony’s custom everything, but he admits internally that at least Stark’s comfortable all the time. Steve would settle for being comfortable in his own skin.

This helps though, this gloriously draped, stiff in a supportive way, heavy in a grounding way, and shapely button down. He doesn’t need a whole suit tonight; it’s not that kind of event. In fact, Steve wasn’t specifically invited. He heard Tony talking about the new collection by the designer of this shirt—which happens to be the label for 90% of Steve’s dressier clothing at this point—and Steve outright volunteered himself to go with Tony.

See, Steve Rogers is now a big, broad guy, and it’s been an adjustment, as well as plain difficult, to gather a wardrobe that isn’t custom tailored due to his sheer size and proportions. The team jokes about his tight shirts, but if he buys things large enough for his shoulders, his waist swims in fabric. Steve had to live off of stretchy clothing for the first three years he was out of the ice. He wasn’t out of his Cap suit long enough for the investment to be worthwhile. Then it took another several years before he discovered Tovarich.

The man must know what it’s like to be big and broad, that’s for sure. Steve may not be much for high fashion, but he’s genuinely gotten so much comfort and enjoyment out of Mr. Tovarich’s work that Steve wants to thank him personally. For once, being Captain America is a good card to play to ensure he gets to meet the designer.

Steve adjusts his rolled sleeves a bit in the mirror, smirking at himself for being a bit of a dandy concerning his look right now, but he’s determined to have a good time out with Tony. It’s just a fashion show. How difficult can it be?

Really damn difficult, that’s what it is.

Steve isn’t prepared for the bizarre press interest in who is there instead of what is being shown. He’s used to cameras flashing at him—especially because the bright and loud pops of flashes were much worse in the ‘40s—but Steve’s in awe of the models’ complete indifference while walking a straight line with a straight face in some of the simplest, most magnificent men’s wear he’s ever seen.

If all he had to do was tick boxes on a list to order things, Steve would be in big trouble with a full bingo card and an empty wallet. It’d be worth it though.

Tony tries to talk to him every so often, but the music is outrageously loud. Steve can’t hear a thing.

He gets tapped on the shoulder by some women sitting behind him, and they try to say some more things he can’t hear.

Everyone rises to clap, and Steve joins in, overwhelmed by the fast pace of all the outfits on repeat, when the man on his other side accidentally elbows Steve and drops his program. The paper flutters to land in front of Tony’s feet, so Steve picks it up, hands it back, and the man makes an appreciative face before gesturing vaguely at the runway and mouthing his admiration. Steve nods and smiles, happy he’s not the only one fanboying over clothes.

The lights change in the venue. The photography and clapping stop. Tony starts yammering on about an after party, but Steve wants to meet the designer.

“Oh, Cap, that walk-and-wave was as close as you’re getting today. Tovarich is a hot commodity. I’ll just get you a fitting sometime.” He clamps a hand onto Steve’s shoulder and tilts his head toward the refreshments. “Shall we?”

Darn. Steve should have done more research on how fashion shows work, but he hates how invasive online snooping feels. It was fine when he was catching up on history and historical figures. However, most of the ‘news’ now is not news at all, so he avoids searching for information that way. He doesn’t ask question about Mr. Tovarich because, in theory, it’s none of Steve’s business and Steve may or may not be slightly ashamed at how obsessed he is with something as trivial as clothing.

Fashion is not something he thought about until very, very recently. The most time he’s spent worried about what he puts on is his tac suit, and the main features of that are being blade resistant and bullet proof. Those things don’t exactly interest him so much as they are in his best interest.

So Steve is rather disappointed by the outcome of the evening, but he’ll manage. For once, he’s got a tiny bright light of something to look forward to in the form of a few more dress shirts and a very sharp vest.

He goes on with life as usual.

Months later and they’re doing this thing.

It’s called the Hellfire Gala, and apparently, it’s a big, big deal. Steve’s told everyone goes all out, that he’ll need to be dressed to the nines, and he realizes this is his opportunity.

Tony’s elated to make the arrangements for him with the Tovarich Atélier and plans to go with him. He wouldn’t stop grumbling about how awkward Steve might be, raving that he can’t have Steve getting a bad rap under his clout, so Steve shows up nervous.

Tony sends a text saying he’s running late. Of course he is, today of all days.

Steve shuts his eyes and lowers his head in gratitude that there are only two seamstresses when he first arrives. The ladies—one older and one younger—offer refreshments and ask a few questions about the event and what styles he might be interested in. He explains the getup needs to highlight the ‘Cap’ persona since the gala is a celebration of their work as Avengers, but other than that, it’s the-sky’s-the-limit for Tovarich.

The younger seamstress smiles at that and calls it ‘fun.’

Sure. That’s one word for it. Steve would also call it daunting.

As instructed, he stands on a small platform while the ladies bustle about speaking quietly to each other. Steve hears Tony ring the reception bell before any measurements have started, and he heaves out a sigh of relief.

“In time for the good stuff, am I?” Stark winks.

“Always perfectly welcome, Mr. Stark,” you, the younger woman, say politely. “Would you care for anything to drink?”

“Uh,” Tony smooths his hand down his current suit front, eyes flickering to Steve, “have you met me?”

Your smile widens. “Dominica, please,” you signal to your coworker.

Between your fingers, you’ve folded a scrap of paper, something you scribbled while Steve stood awkwardly on the pedestal (which isn’t to say he has stopped standing awkwardly), and Tony snatches the paper from your grasp, unfolding it to make a challenging, inquisitive face.

Steve huffs and glares, praying his friend doesn’t start hitting on Tovarich’s employee before the man even shows up. Steve isn’t the one to be worried about.

Stark takes Dominica’s proffered tumbler of brown liquor, saying nothing.

You are a ninja with the tape measure, gentle hands sliding over his chest and waist and—Steve swallows—his hips, all while rattling off numbers…which no one writes down. Steve moves his arms and legs when told. When you’re kneeling on the edge of the platform, eye level with his crotch, Steve decides to distract himself and get some answers.

“I’ve been looking forward to my first meeting with Mr. Tovarich. When might he arrive?”

Tony clears his throat, wincing. “Not possible, buddy.”

Steve tenses.

“I thought that—“

“You can’t meet him for the the first time.” Tony holds up a hand before Steve can move. “You already did. She’s measuring the distance between your balls and the floor.”

Steve startles out a ‘what,’ snapping his legs shut with your hand between his thighs.

“Captain Steve Rogers, please meet your favorite designer,” Tony beams, shoving his tongue against the inside of his cheek and hiking up his eyebrows.

Steve shrinks, face burning.

“Hello, Captain Rogers,” you introduce yourself with a lovely smile, “I will…need my hand to make your suit, sir.”

His open-mouthed impression of a fish is cut short by standing at attention, releasing the seal of his thighs. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry.”

“Very polite,” you mutter before turning to Tony. “Mr. Stark, was that entirely necessary?”

“For the look alone, yes. My god, I’ll pay you again just to watch now that he knows.”

You push off the platform and practically skip over to Tony, reading over his shoulder. “How did I do?”

Tony looks at the piece of paper. “Damn it. Spot on,” Tony grunts.

“And that means…?”

“That I leave you alone for the rest of the consult,” Tony whines. “Fine, but make it worth it, buddy. Lady gets paid by the hour.” He snaps his fingers playfully. “Dominica, let’s take room two, my dear.”

Steve’s not sure what to do with his hands and mistakenly remains up high on the pedestal while you pull out a notebook and sit at a small table.

“Oh!” You look up at him with tender, lively eyes. “You may step down now.”

He feet seem to thunder to the floor even against the carpet. “I didn’t mean to—I just assumed that—I’m sorry, Misses—”

“It’s Miss,” you correct him. “And don’t worry. You are not the first, and you won’t be the last. Have a seat, Captain.”

“Steve.”

“Steve,” you correct yourself this time. “I’ll tell you a secret. I prefer that most people assume a man runs this business. You get to see people’s true colors when they finally find out.”

That doesn’t help Steve’s hot flush of embarrassment.

“You are one of the good ones. I can tell,” you add, adjusting to a fresh page in the notebook and marking the top corner.

In the silence Steve asks, “so you already knew my size?”

“You aren’t so different from my standard cut.”

“No,” he allows. Of course, he should have known that seeing as everything he buys from your label fits him so well. He kicks himself internally while trying not to frown at his slip up. It is, however, easy to keep a smile while basking in the glow of yours.

You pop your shoulder up into a shrug, lips morphing into a wry tease. “And I’m pretty good at what I do.”

Amazing, Steve thinks to himself. You’re amazing…at what you do.

Your elbow rests against the table, hand cupping your jaw as you hold Steve’s gaze.

“Some even call me a master of the male form.”

His swallow is deafening, which only makes you happier, and he looks down at his knee, rubbing his pant leg while his face heats.

“But for today’s purposes—“ you lean back in your chair, twirling your pencil playfully, a magic wand in your brilliant hands “—why don’t you tell me what makes me your favorite designer so I can make you my favorite client?”

Why’d you have to be so pretty? Why do you need him for so few fittings?

Steve has to stop himself from spending a Tony Stark-sized fortune on clothing for the pleasure of walking into your store and seeing you alone—well, in the hope of seeing you at all. Dominica is very sweet, sassy in a hard ass mom kind of way, and she’s one of four total assistants you have at the shop. Steve’s met three of them.

There’s just only one of you, and you’re busy.

Between his duties with the Avengers, actually sleeping, and debating with himself about what constitutes looking desperate, Steve is lucky to have caught you in-house only half the times he visits.

And then he tore a shirt. In fact, he tore three shirts, and to his credit, two of them were by accident. The third…uh, there’s a chance that when Steve exclaimed “oh shoot, I didn’t see that nail poking out” that he 100% saw that nail and deliberately brushed himself against that wall. He also may or may not have deliberately done it in front of Tony, faking that it was no big deal, because now he has the excuse that Tony is the one who told him to go see you.

Yeah, Steve agrees, if you say so.

He’s all excitement and nerves again when he rounds the corner of your street, but then the adrenaline shoots through Steve’s veins for a different reason.

A squad car has jumped the curb in front of your shop, lights flashing, doors left open, and Steve can hear lots of tense voices.

It’s a stressful enough day without the uninvited guest. Not many people—who know how you work and are not assholes—would dare to show up within a month of the Spring Show, without an appointment, and demand a rush job.

A rush job on a custom suit that you explicitly said could not be rushed before its scheduled time, mind you, but the surprise visitor doesn’t care.

Richard Fisk is broad. He has dirty blond hair that falls in front of his eyes when he tilts his head to smile. He often travels with a whole team of other imposing men.

The son of Wilson ‘Kingpin’ Fisk, however, is a prime example of personality souring good looks. Where it’s bashful and adorable that Steve Rogers hides his smile, Richard barely bridles his menacing entitlement.

You hate him, but he’s not a person you can outright refuse. He makes all of your assistants uncomfortable. Fisk is needlessly hostile to Tarik, who is thankfully not here today; he’s a creepy dick to Abby, who you insist stays in the fitting room with Anja, your longtime client who trusts you to push the envelope tastefully for a redheaded woman in her sixties; and he almost made Jules quit because he couldn’t follow instructions during a consult. Dominica stands in as the perfect buffer when she’s here, but the eldest of the Tovarich Atélier employees is currently on the other side of the city for a VIP delivery.

Your busy, busy day just got much harder.

His trio of beefy entourage flanks Fisk at the front of your shop.

“Here for my suit, sugar,” he drawls, flicking his used toothpick into a corner on the floor.

He eyes Abby as she shuts herself and Anja away from his direct ire, and although this leaves you alone, it stops your worry for their safety in addition to your own.

“As it stipulates in the commission, we take at least—“

“Those little hands are free now, I see,” he spits, stepping within an few inches of your face. His breath is foul and hot.

The aggression has you stumbling back, smashing into a side table and knocking a box of supplies to the ground.

“How ‘bout you get to work.”

You take in a heavy, fortifying, and quiet gasp. “Per your order, the fabric is manufactured off-site because teal is not a standard color. It takes time to produce. This was made very clear when you signed.”

Fisk flashes that menacing smile. “We can wait. One of these fine men can…keep you focused till you do your job.”

The condescending tone and disrespect of your work ethic spark flames of rage in your gut. Even though terror still simmers beneath, it’s too easy to let an insult fly.

“You’re lucky I’m even making it. The all white one last summer was a stretch, but teal? On you? Not something you can pull off.”

He lunges forward again. “Keep up the cheek, and I’ll lock you in my basement until I get everything I—“

“Ma’am,” a cop bursts through the shop door, “we got a call…” The officer goes quiet after one look at Fisk.

Abby must have phoned after hearing you knock supplies down, and you’re grateful, yes, but police are of little help with this guy. Cops wouldn’t dare ruffle Kingpin’s feathers or his awful son’s by proxy, but if you roll over now, you’ll never get back out from under him.

The only way forward is to put your foot down.

“Mr. Fisk, I wouldn’t make you a black and white striped three-piece if you did chain me in a basement. You’re a spring, and I have standards.”

“Ma’am,” the officer warns, his partner standing nervously in the open doorway.

“What kind of professional would I be if I let you walk around looking like a mental asylum inmate? I’m doing you a favor!”

Richard brandishes another toothpick. “The customer is always right, sugar.”

It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid to taunt him and yell. Being insulted and diminished doesn’t make you want to be smart though; it makes you want to be right.

Your hands ball into fists of fear and rage. “It’s my name on the label,” you bark, “and I could just refund you to get you the hell out!”

Now you’ve really done it.

The boy gangster’s face twists and his oral fixation goes limp in disbelief. No one talks to Richard Fisk that way, least of all women.

His men step between both the cops and their boss, leaving Fisk himself to grab a solid wood tie box from the nearest counter and fling it at your face.

Your arms fly up to block it, but nothing ever connects, nor is there a crash behind you.

An officer’s voice wavers from across the room. “Uh, I’m sure this can all be worked out. No need to…start anything.”

You’re ashamed to say that your hands are shaking when they return to your sides and reveal an entirely different bulky blond.

Steve Rogers casually holds the caught box in his hands, staring daggers as he shifts squarely in front of you to block Fisk.

“This doesn’t concern you, Captain,” the bully grunts. “Piss off.”

Steve strides forward to replace the box neatly and plants himself inches from Fisk’s face.

“Can’t do that. She’s expecting me.” He turns back to you. “Ready?” Steve asks with a tight smile.

You swallow down one iota of your alarm and clear your throat.

“Yes—” the word cracks but you hope familiarity will scare off Fisk for now “—thank you, Steve.”

That seems to be Captain America’s cue to handle everyone else at odds in the storefront. By the time you get control of your trembling limbs, Steve has shown Fisk the door and promised the officers that you’ll be looked after.

Abby peeks out of the fitting room, surprised to see only Steve.

“Did they send you instead?”

She opens the door wider for Anja to see.

The redhead quirks an eyebrow. “Call the police more often, honey. They’ve upped their game.”

The now bashful, broad blond tilts his head, rogue hair falling across his face. His blue eyes sparkle beneath long lashes while he apologizes for lying, but you can’t for the life of you figure out why he’d feel guilty.

“I…” Steve stumbles. “I don’t have an appointment. I just wanted to see you.”

Currently estimating four parts to this grumbling into the ether but who knows. I clearly cannot be trusted to estimate length anymore...

[Next Part]

You can find more to read on my Main Masterlist! For readers under 18, please see the Light Masterlist which contains all-age-friendly works.

@supraveng @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @femefetalelevelingup @darsynia

𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

₊° - 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞)

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵: Hiii! I was wondering if I could request a Draco x fem!reader where the reader is this super shy girl with insecurities and has a really big crush on Draco but nobody knows about it and draco has never even noticed her and Draco and reader somehow get trapped in a small like closet or classroom together and can’t get out because they dropped their wands and Draco hates it at first but they eventually settle into a really deep conversation that leaves Draco feeling a certain way about the reader by the time they are finally let out. Please and thank you!! :)

𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰'𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵. 𝘪 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 <3

His footsteps echoed against the cold tile floor as Draco Malfoy hurried through the hallways, distancing himself as far away from the Dungeons as he could. However, he needed to step up his pace if he wanted Professor Snape to lose him among the plethora of students squandering the corridors. The wooshing of his cape and the fast approach of his footsteps still sounded too close to Draco for his comfort.

“Stop at once!” Snape’s voice bellowed through the corridor, making students around him look up in fright, afraid he might have it out for one of them. Draco sprinted up the stairs, stumbling into some second years as he stopped for a split second to take in his surroundings— more students, but not enough to blend in with. His eyes scanned the hallway and then fell on one of the storage closet doors. It was ajar. Without thinking he rushed inside, trying his best to let the heavy dark wooden door fall silently shut. He breathed through his nose, trying to regain his breathing quietly, and heard students mumble and jump away as Professor Snape’s voice neared.

Draco was close to letting out a yell of surprise when the wooden door opened and fell shut in its hinges with a loud clang, making him jump aside into the shadows of the closet as someone bumped into him. But when he looked up, he didn’t find Professor Snape staring down at him. Instead, he had to lower his eyes a couple of centimetres before they met those of a girl.

“Bloody hell, do you-” His cuss was cut short by the hiss of the girl in front of him, staring at the door in the dark of the closet.

“Shut it-” Almost as quickly, the girl shoved his wand back down, stopping him from casting Lumos and quite possibly betraying her hiding space. The two waited, in the dark, unaware of who the other actually was. The girl’s ear was tightly pressed against the door, eager to find out if the coast was clear. Getting impatient, Draco shoved her aside, wanting to listen for himself.

“Why-”

The girl shushed him again and softly slapped against his hand which was starting to put too much weight on the door, making it creak in protest. Somewhere in the distance, they couldhear the students disperse after the grande bell in the Clock Tower roared through the school three times.

Draco sighed in relief, knowing Snape must have left in order to make it to his class, and so he cast Lumos to find the door handle in the dark. He clumsily and somewhat harshly shoved the girl aside once more,

“Out of my way.” Once his wand lit up the closet, he could finally see who he had been in hiding with, and his jaw slacked and his ears turned red when he realised he never meant to be so rude to the girl in front of him.

Y/N stared back at him, eyes full of shock and terror at the realisation of who she had been sharing the cramped closet with, and she didn't even register the soft and mumbled apology that Draco muttered under his breath until she saw his lips move. Embarrassed by looking at his lips, her eyes immediately shot up to his, but the nerves and blush that coated her cheeks immediately after that made her realise how big of a mistake that decision had been.

“I- um… I… sure, of course.” She stammered, moving past him to give him the room, growing even more embarrassed as she stepped on his feet, making the sixth-year Slytherin hiss in pain.

“I’m so sorry! Merlin, I-”

“It’s fine,” Draco mumbled quickly, but not nearly as harshly as he would have treated anyone else.

Draco cleared his throat, masking his own nerves, and rattled the doorknob, simultaneously pushing his whole weight against the heavy door. It didn't budge, not even a millimetre.

“What the-”

“Alohomora.” Y/N flicked her wand quickly, wanting to help the boy out and not make more of a fool of herself. Only the door didn't open after the basic spell.

Surprised, Draco looked back at her for a split second before turning back to the door to try it himself.

“Alohomora.” Nothing. He repeated himself a couple of times, through gritted teeth, before finally shoving his wand back in his robe.

“What did you do to it before you walked in?”

Taken back by the accusation and the annoyed furrow of Draco’s brows, the girl felt too accused to realise her initial fright, “Me? I didn’t do anything.” She rattled the doorknob once more, not liking the accusing tone the Slytherin used, “You were here before me.”

Draco sniffed in disdain and punched the door, “Is that why you came here, to lock me up with you?” The moment he said it and saw the look on Y/N’s face, he wished he hadn’t. His anger had taken over once more. It wasn’t a rare occurrence as of late. The task the Dark Lord had given him weighed heavily on him, and it was even worse that he could tell no one. He had to lie, even if he knew that Dumbledore was probably well aware of everything going on. If that all wasn’t worse enough, Snape had been breathing down his neck ever since the first day of school. He needed to do this himself, and he sure as hell didn’t need any help.

He noticed Y/N’s silence and saw the girl with her arms crossed, in an attempt to hug herself to comfort while staring down at the tiled floor. This was his doing, his actions had caused her to shut herself out. He didn’t know the girl on a personal level, but had shared classes with her for years and had often caught himself staring at her. Never had he ever seen her this uncomfortable. He hated himself for being the reason behind it.

“Sorry.” He said curtly, for the first time in years apologising to someone other than his father. The girl merely shrugged in reply, as a way to shake it off, but Draco could see how bad it made her feel.

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s fine, Draco.” She finally said, his name rolling off her tongue like silk.

He tried to keep the most distance he could in the cramped closet, to not make her even more uncomfortable. Only he failed to realise that her silence and unease weren't because of his comments, but because of his presence. You see, in some other reality where Y/N wasn’t as shy as she was, she would have loved being trapped in a closet with the boy she’s had the biggest crush on ever since first seeing him. Perhaps she would even make use of it. But in this reality, the only thing she wanted to happen was for the floor to swallow her whole. She tried her best to hide the blush on her cheeks by focusing on the ground. She would never act on her crush on the Malfoy boy. She'd always been intimidated by him, for his status, wealth and friends created some sort of distance between him and everyone else at Hogwarts. Not to mention, Draco Malfoy made it all too clear how much he loathed Muggleborns on a day-to-day basis. She was too different from him in every way, he would never like someone like her, let alone her. She cowered away at that realisation.

Y/N had admired the boy from afar for years, cheeks turning scarlet whenever he so much as glanced her way. She had made sure to be discreet about it, and was almost certain that the boy had no clue. Pansy and the others had though, oh they had, and they made it painfully clear as well. They made fun of her whenever she walked by. Draco never joined their jesting or laughter, probably too busy to be wanting to pay her attention anyway. But Y/N couldn’t help but pay attention to the silver haired boy each and every opportunity she got. Hence why it had become clear that he was changing. He could stare off into the distance for the duration of a whole class, he seemed to shut himself out from his friends and no longer made it his duty to pester anyone different from him. He had turned more skittish, more anxious. Unfortunately she would never find out why, nor dare to ask. For now, she would have to keep it at secret glances, even if they weren’t so secret to Draco.

Draco put a finger to his mouth when footsteps approached, and a shadow was seen to stand in the light below the creak of the door. The pair grew quiet, until the footstep disappeared again.

Relieved, Draco turned to lean against the cold wall, staring at the girl in front of him and shamelessly taking in every detail that was available to him in this little light. The girl was beautiful, but that wasn’t something he hadn't been aware of already. However, he had never been up close to her before, so he took his time taking her in. Another blush crept on Y/N’s cheeks when the boy shamelessly stared at her, checking her out.

He tilted his head in curiosity, “So why are you hiding here?”

Y/N swallowed, realising she wouldn’t be able to come up with a believable lie without stuttering or stumbling over her words, “I um… They were messing with me.” Draco tilted his head the other side, wanting her to elaborate, “They tried to throw a few hexes at me so I ran.” The burning of her cheeks didn't disappear when she revealed how she had run like a coward and had done so for the past six years.

“Who?” He quipped.

Y/N bit her lip, contemplating wether to come clean or not. But who was she kidding? The whole school knew of Pansy’s disdain against her.

“Pansy and her friends.”

Realising that Pansy’s friends were also Draco’s, she tried the doorknob again, “I’m sorry, I can go. No, I should go. I’ll find another spot. I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me.”

Draco listened to her rambles and the ghost of a smirk appeared on his face. He wasn’t enjoying her anxiety, no, he found it adorable how she wanted to flee from him so bad when all she had done for the past six years was probably wish for a moment like this.

“I don’t think it will open. We’ve tried already, remember?” He teased, then saw it didn’t do anything to calm her down. “Relax- It’s fine.” He assured.

Y/N let out a relieved breath, “Right, good. Because this is my usual spot.” She surprised herself by the joke that so effortlessly rolled of her lips, “So if anything, it should be you having to scurry away.”

Amused, Draco raised an eyebrow, and then he laughed, impressed by her quick wit. Either Y/N was growing confident, or she was still too shocked to be in a closet with him to think of anything she was saying.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, by the way.” His voice now close to a whisper, he pushed himself off the wall. Once again, he found himself needing to apologise, “Sorry if I did. I was frustrated.” He knew it was a shitty excuse, but noticed the girl’s shoulders relaxing.

Then for a third time, he opened his mouth to apologise, “I’m sorry they’ve been treating you that way.”

Y/N’s eyes snapped up to his, surprised at the sudden statement in which he did not back his friends, for all that she knew, for the first time ever.

“I don’t think you’re ugly, daft or boring, by the way. You’re quite the marvellous witch.”

“I thought Mudbloods can’t be witches.” The challenging reply had left her mouth before she could stop it, but she was surprised to see the crooked grin on his face, instead of an annoyed scowl like the one that he would usually sport.

He wagged a finger and nodded his head, “Keeping me on my toes, I see. Good.” He stared at her again with that unbridled sense of confidence and pride, and Y/N found herself wanting to slap it off his perfectly sculpted Grecian face.

“Better than all those fools who just nod at everything I say and don’t have an opinion of their own.”

“I think they want to agree with what you have to say because you can be quite intimidating, did you know?” Y/N slid down the wall and landed on a wooden crate.

He stared at her, letting her words land in his head before following her example and sitting down.

“Perhaps.” He pursed his lips, “That still gives you more guts than any of them. Didn’t know you had it in you.” The backhanded compliment didn't fly over her head, if anything, it made her incredibly aware of the situation again.

She swallowed, and with a small voice, she muttered, “You don’t know me at all.”

Draco let out a big breath, one that served as a reply of its own. Too bad he didn’t have the luxury to befriend whoever he wanted. No, they had to be of status, wealthy or pureblood. Otherwise, his family’s name would be tainted and they would be shunned. He had always believed his parents when they had told him how things were supposed to be. But ever since he had caught Y/N staring at him, he had started to notice her, too. What he had also noticed? How his views and opinions slowly started to fade and change. He often hated the universe for making her a Mudblood or being born to a family of no importance. If only things could have been different, who knows, maybe he could have pursued her. If only his family hadn't been tied so closely to the Dark Lord, maybe he could've gotten away with doing whatever he wanted to do. Then again, if he failed to succeed in killing Dumbledore, the Dark Lord would have his head, so maybe he should just take the plunge.

Her words hung in the air and the silence that followed was only interrupted by the second banging of the Clock, signalling that everyone had to be in their classrooms now. The girl in front of him let out a frustrated groan at the realisation she would have to miss her Herbology exam now that she was still stuck.

“What?”

“I’ll miss my Herbology exam.”

Draco sniffed his nose, thinking there were worse things to miss out on.

“Okay- you might think of it as unimportant and stupid, seeing as with one little wag of his finger, your father will have changed all your grades, but I actually have to work hard for my grades.”

Draco’s head whipped hear way, but he stayed quiet. Had anyone else talked to him this way, he would have lost it. But he could only stare at the girl, stunned. He realised that she saw him just like everyone else— like a spoiled and entitled brat.

Y/N kept still, realising her mistake when she saw the conflict and pain in the boy’s eyes.

After a few seconds, Draco opened his mouth, “It’s not like that at all, if you must know. My father would actually have my head if I only had bad grades. But I can’t blame you for not knowing that, we don’t know each other, remember?” He spoke slowly, immediately balling his fists afterwards to conceal the anger still left in him, the anger he definitely did not want to throw at her again.

Draco stood back up to throw his fists against the door instead, in hopes that someone would hear him.

“Hey! Let me out or you will hear from my father!” His lips sneered and Y/N was caught off guard by how quickly his demeanour could change. Just now, when he had been talking to her, he had turned so silent and soft, almost understanding, something she had never seen him do before. She had brought that side out of him, but now he was back to being that same brash Malfoy boy that everyone knew— and hated.

Y/N sighed and threw her head in her hands, making Draco look at her. Of course, this was pure torture for the girl, to be trapped in a closet with him. And after all that his words had ruined in the mere span of five minutes, who could blame her?

“Can’t stand the thought of being anywhere near me? Do you want to get out of this closet so badly? I can't get out of it, or I would've. If only just to ease your nerves.” He teased, testing the waters, then realised why the girl next to him grinned softly.

“Oi, you know I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Do you find the closet comfortable then?”

“Only this one, with this company.” He said it with a laugh as a smirk slipped past his lips, surprising even himself.

Y/N’s face flushed a bright red once more and this time Draco found his stomach tickling after witnessing it. He stared at her face again, long, then right into her eyes. He felt himself smiling once more. He cleared his throat, not wanting to dive in deeper, for now.

“So, um, Herbology then, yes?”

“What about it?”

“Is that your favourite subject?”

Y/N sat back once more and looked at him only to see the boy was being genuine, trying to make some smalltalk. She grinned.

“One of my favourites, yes. Although it’s hard to pick a favourite when you’re a student at a Wizarding School and didn’t grow up with it all. I want to indulge as much as I can.”

Draco nodded, realising the girl was hinting at her Muggleborn status.

“So what’s the muggle world like?” He asked after thinking hard and long of a question, finding himself ridiculous for being so nervous about her reaction, “How much does it really differ from ours?”

He knew he had asked the right question when he saw her face light up with glee, “Well, for starters, we don’t use apparition or the floo network, so travelling takes longer. When we have to get something, we can’t use Accio and-”

He smiled at her, truly smiled, as he listened to her passionately talk about her life back home. He gave himself a small pat of victory for getting the girl from looking at the ground to looking into his eyes, to making her feel comfortable enough to share something so personal.

He answered the questions she asked in return and found himself enjoying her company immensely. The conversation flowed naturally, but it came to an abrupt stop when the door suddenly opened swiftly.

Professor Snape stood before them, but the two didn't realise until their eyes finally adjusted to the sudden harsh light. They were filled in horror when they saw their Professor looking down at them, taking them in, glaring into their eyes uncomfortably long. Snape looked between the two, then into the closet, and it doesn’t take a fool to see what assumption he was making. He lifted an eyebrow, once again taking the two squeezed-together teenagers in. Unsure whether to speak up about it, he sneered his lip in abhorrence, gave it another few seconds to ponder over, and then decided to skip the awkward conversation,

“Next time don’t run away when I call you or I’ll leave you there locked for eternity, Malfoy.” He spoke slowly, then quickly paraded away.

The two walked out of the closet, weirded out by the sudden encounter, then turned to each other,

“I hope you won’t get into too much trouble with Sprout,” Draco offered a kind smile, which the girl returned,

“And you with Snape… with whatever it is you did."

Draco nodded, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

“You’re not so bad as they all make you out to be, but I already had a hunch,” Y/N spoke as she adjusted her hair, now aware they’re both in daylight again and not in the dark where she had been able to hide away in the shadows. But Draco didn't care. He took her in once more, and nodded his head pleasingly.

“I’ll see you around.” The girl smiled softly, then turned to walk away until Draco stopped her,

“Same place, same time, next week?”

He joked, realising that having Y/N as company hadn’t been so bad. To be quite frank, he was already looking forward to seeing her again.

461 notes View Post

bakersbucky

2 years ago

i loved thissss!!! i cried jSDFHDEfgr U DID GREAT :)) i'd love a part 2!!

the night we met |tsu'tey x reader|

what: after spending her growing years pining after the future Olo'eyktan, y/n tearfully recounts the moving moments throughout their ‘friendship’ as she hears of his promising to Sylwanin

warnings: all the angst- sorry besties, not canon compliant (kinda?),

words: 2k

what have you: heyo this is my first avatar fic and first actual written fic in quite some time! so if you like it please let me know! Thinking of doing a part two (possibly in his pov?)- let me know if you’re interested in that! thanks for reading :)

I am not the only traveler

Who has not repaid his debt

I've been searching for a trail to follow again

Take me back to the night we met

Life with Tsu’tey by your side was nothing short of a dream. He was your longest friend and closest companion. It seemed as though from the moment you could walk, the two of you were joined at the hip. Always together, never far apart. This carried on well into your growing years, both of you nearing adulthood side by side.

You weren’t sure when you started to notice Tsu’tey becoming a man before your very eyes. His shoulders broadened and he seemed to grow a foot overnight. The clan started to come to him for problems instead of his father and he solved them with a grace foreign to you. Tsu’tey was no longer that awkward boy you once knew, he was officially the future Olo'eyktan. Eytukan had chosen him officially before Eywa and the people. Soon enough he was off training in the ways of leading the clan.

This didn’t keep him from visiting you. He always held true to his promises of hunting with you or simply sitting aloft a tree talking well into the night. Tsu’tey always had time for you and you for him. You can’t exactly pinpoint the moment you started to fall for him, but you fell hard. The two of you would often speak candidly of your futures and on more than one occasion he had insisted that you would still be just as important as you were now. Those words lit a spark of hope in your heart that he would one day choose you as a mate. Although the odds were stacked against you from the start, the promise in his words kept you praying to Eywa that he would choose you.

You heard the hunters before you saw them, screeching ikrans landing loudly in front of Hometree. As you watched Tsu’tey dismount his beautiful banshee with ease, celebrating with his fellow clan members. Celebrating the success of making it through his Dream Hunt. The beating of your heart increased as you watched your childhood friend. His proud smile radiating from across the camp

“If you stare any harder Y/N you’re going to set him on fire,” a voice startled you from behind. Slowly turning from your ‘hiding spot’, you came face to face with Arvok and his teasing smirk.

“Oh shove off you skxawng! Leave me be for once!” you hissed.

“Now is that how to address the brother of your best friend I’m wounded Y/N,” Arvok dramatically spoke, clutching his heart in faux hurt.

“Grow up, you child! I am just watching them all return, not just him,” you defended meekly, hearing the lie as clearly as you spoke it.

“Ah, of course. May I tell Tsu’tey you are watching his hunters closely then? Maybe you are looking to mate with one of them?” he teased, before quickly stepping away when your tail smacked his leg.

Rolling your eyes at the young na’vi, you pushed yourself off the tree that was previously hiding your form. Trust Arvok to catch you spying on his brother. A slight blush began to rise to your cheeks as you hurried out from the treeline. Walking towards the center of the clan, you heard talk of a celebration coming that evening. As you got closer to the fire, and to Tsu’tey, the former Olo'eyktan Eytukan called for everyone to join him.

“My people! The time has come! Our Tsu’tey has passed his last rights, he is now one of the people, tonight we will celebrate!” he praised. The air was filled with shouts and cheering as the clan took in their future leader. The clan was proud of the man Tsu’tey had become, a fierce warrior and kind friend.

Where you stood at the back of the pack you could hear a group of younger na’vi girls giggling while casting sly looks at Tsu’tey. Faintly you overhead one, Aythi asked, “Maybe he will choose a mate this night? Do you think he will mate with the future tsahìk? Sylwanin is quite lovely.”

Your heart ached as you watched the group nod in agreement at the possible pairing. This was always the way. The Olo’eyktan mated with the Tsahik, but you held onto those promising words Tsu’tey had spoken moons ago. You would always be in his future. Slowly a kernel of doubt weaseled into your heart, what if he only meant that you would be there as you were there now? What if he only intended to keep you as his friend and nothing more? Rationally this was always a possibility but you thought you had more time before you had to think about it.

Before you could sink further into your darkening thoughts, two strong hands clutched your shoulders and quickly spun you around. Plastering a smile on your face, you were graced with the golden eyes of your closest friend. Grabbing you by your waist, you soon found yourself being spun into a tight hug. A sincere laugh tumbling out of your mouth as you looked down at Tsu’teys happy smile.

“I did it, Ma’Y/N! I survived my dream hunt! All thanks to your guidance,” he cheered happily, oblivious to how your heart stuttered in your chest.

Ma’Y/N. Ma’Y/N. Ma’Y/N.

He had never let that slip from his lips. Not in the 18 years you had known him, always careful with his words and how he addressed you. But you couldn’t stop the hope that squeezed your heart tightly.

Pulling from his embrace, you fell into step with him as he talked quickly of his experience.

“It was amazing! The glow warm tasted odd but after I felt like I was floating on air. I could not tell where I ended and Eywa started. It was surreal, Y/N. I can not wait for you to experience it!” he spoke enthusiastically, hands waving to accentuate his point.

“I’m so happy for you ‘Tey! For you are now our fiercest warrior and we will celebrate that at eclipse! You are one step closer to your bright future my friend,” you responding happily.

The conversation flowed easily as the two of you discussed the coming events and soon enough you were at your families section of hammocks. After a brief goodbye, you waved gently to Tsu’tey as you headed towards the vines that served as an entrance to your home. Just as you reached the greenery, a voice called to you, “Wear the dark blue beaded top for me? It is my favorite on you Ma’Y/N.”

The answering smile you sent him almost spilled your feelings to you. Glee spread throughout your body and you were all too eager to appease his wishes. He had never been one to compliment anything about you, besides your hunting skills and finding out he had a favorite item of yours? That was almost too much for your delicate heart to handle.

And then I can tell myself

What the hell I'm supposed to do

And then I can tell myself

Not to ride along with you

You were never one to fret about your appearance, but something urged you to look your best tonight. For all you knew it could be the start of your future, so you took your time in getting ready. The taut braids that normally fell along your shoulders were undone, leaving your hair falling in soft waves along your back. You also took great care in arranging the dark blue beaded top, being extra mindful that it fell across your chest in the most tasteful way. By the time you had arrived at the celebration that evening it was in full swing. The fire was raging and the delicious smell of today's kill blanketed the area. You knew you hadn’t missed anything important when you scanned the area and noted that Tsu’tey was not yet there.

Walking towards the fire, you watched as mated couples danced together to the loud music of the drums. The longing look in your eyes is noticeable by anyone who actually cared to look. Luckily for you, no one usually spared you much of a glance. Quickly eating a bowl of meat, the crowd hushed. Following the clans line of sight, your breath catching in your chest.

There he was, in all of his magnificent beauty. Tsu’tey stood tall and proud as he walked towards the clan, head held high. With bright yellow and navy paint marking his body, he looked confident as he walked towards his fate, his future. Studying the markings, your heart beating faster as you took in the color that matched the top he requested.

Surely this was a sign that he was going to choose you, this must be a sign from Eywa that you two would be mated. Why else would he ask you to match him? He is allowed to choose his colors and he picks the color of your beads. Heart hammering against your ribcage, you pushed yourself closer to the base of Hometree eagerly. You wanted to be the first to grab him once he had been announced.

You watched him walk up the thickest root before taking his place beside Eytukan and Mo’at. He looked the picture of the perfect warrior, the perfect Olo’eyktan. The clan quieted down as Eytukan cleared his throat while approaching the crowd.

“My friends, let us gather this eve to celebrate the fierce warrior Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyitan. As he has completed his final rite of passage, the Dream Hunt. You are Omaticaya now. You may make your bow from the wood of Hometree. You have shown great courage and strength to our people. It is decided that our future Olo’eyktan will be mated with my Sylwanin, our future Tsahik. Before Eywa they will be chosen as our clan's future! Let us celebrate for both occasions this eve!” he bellows, chants erupting from the crowd.

Shouts of happiness and congrats emerge from the clan behind you. But you find yourself rooted to the spot and as you find Tsu’teys eyes, it feels as though Eywa herself is rooted to the spot. You’re not sure what you expected his face to show, but happiness wasn’t it. The despair in your heart as Sylwanin grabs his hand is almost too much to bear. The action that finally cleaves your heart in two, is when you notice the colors of her beaded top- yellow and navy. She was marked as his before you ever even knew.

Tears gathered along your waterline as you pushed yourself through the crowd. As you neared the forest edge, you were almost sure someone called your name but the ache in your heart wouldn’t allow you to turn around. Deep down you knew who it was and you knew if you faced him right now it would utterly ruin you.

As you laid in your hammock with the distant sound of music, you allowed the tears to fall freely. It was almost as if you could audibly feel your heart breaking in half. The one you loved was promised to another, promised to the one clan member who he should belong to. You knew now that you would have no place in his future, promised words no longer held meaning here. At least not in the way you believed they would. No, you would live your future with no more than passing hellos and seeing his family grow. You’ll spend your days as a ghost of his past.

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Oh, take me back to the night we met

721 notes View Post

bakersbucky

8 months ago