otp: i owe him a debt

anonymous asked:

i just wanted to say i love your writing!! pls keep it up <3 //also pls if it's not too much to ask, could u write smth abt adrien getting jealous bc nathanael is getting too close to marinette (but if ur too busy or tired or u don't feel like it, i totally understand!!)

(Thank you so much Anon😁, anyway I am sorry this took forever)

To say Adrien Agreste was envious, was like saying the morning sky is blue.

Nathanael and Marinette were picked to paint a mural for the school. This meant that the two got to spend time together after school, alone.

Adrien had gotten out of fencing practice only to see the red haired artist working with his brunette crush, both of which seemed to be having fun.

Fortunately for Adrien, he had friends to point out his envy.

“Dude, green is definitely not your color.” His best friend Nino commented.

Adrien muttered something about not being jealous. But Nino couldn’t hear it over his clear envy.

“Could you repeat that? I don’t think Nino could understand you over your jealousy.” The reddish brown haired best friend of Marinette stated with a smirk.

“I said I’m not jealous Alya, I am envious. There is a difference.” The blonde teen repeated.

The two bespectacled teens looked at the model and sighed.

“Stop worrying about it. Marinette doesn’t see Nathanael as anything more then a friend.” Alya comforted.

“Yeah, but Nathanael has a crush on her.” Adrien pointed out. “I just don’t like it.”

“Then go over there and say hi.” Alya remarked. “Unless you want Nathanael to have more uninterrupted alone time with Marinette.”

Adrien had already begun walking over there before the blogger had finished.

“Hey you two, how is the mural coming?” Adrien called out as he walked over there.

Marinette turned to the voice and smiled.

“Hey Adrien.”

Nathanael was a bit annoyed by the interruption.
“It is going well, but Marinette and I still have a lot of work to do. I appreciate you checking up on us, but we need to get back to work.” Nathanael remarked passive aggressively.

“I figured as much, so I wanted to see if I could get you guys anything. Some more paint, some snacks, some drinks. You two are putting a lot of effort into it and I wanted to help you out as my thanks.” Adrien responded, deflecting Nathanael’s remark to leave.

“That’s really nice if you Adrien. Now that you mention it. We could use some more black paint. If you could help get it, that would really help.” Marinette answered.

“I would be happy to. But where is the black paint exactly?” Adrien asked.

“I’ll show you where it is. It is on a high shelf, so you can help me get it.” Marinette said as she put her brush down.

“I’ll come with you guys.” Nathanael said as he began putting his brush down.

“It is fine Nathanael, we don’t need so many people getting paint. Plus, we need to get this mural done. Keep working on the painting, I’ll be back in a bit.” Marinette said as she began heading to the art room.

Nathanael faked a smile until he saw her look away, he then glared daggers at Adrien and Marinette walked to the art room.

Adrien thanked his lucky stars on what happened.

The two get to the art room and Marinette points to the shelf where the paint is.

“It is right up there.” Marinette pointed out.

Adrien looked at the high up shelf and found a stool to climb on. Marinette held the stool as the blonde model climbed and grabbed the cans.

“Got the… Wow!” The blonde shouted as the paint can’s weight threw him off balance causing him to fall off the stool and hit his head on a table.

“Adrien!” The blunette exclaimed in horror as she got to the floor and check his injury.
She scanned his head and only found a bump on his head but he saved the paint from spilling.

“Doesn’t look like a concussion. You should be fine. I’m sorry you got hurt because of me.”

“It isn’t your fault, I was the one that yanked the can. Which I managed to save.” The blonde smiled softly.

Marinette giggled, which caused the model to blush.

“The paint can owes you a debt of gratitude. As do I my paint saving hero.” Marinette said with a teasing smile.

She kissed the bump on the blonde’s head. Adrien felt his face burn red.

“I think you will make a full recovery.”

Though the blunette’ statement fell on deaf ears as the light peck left him in his own little world.

(I hope you enjoyed it.)

I Owe Him A Debt

He was a fact in her life - simple, constant, unyielding. There was little physical about their relationship, and Natasha thought little on it. Natasha knew her emotions, knew how they worked, knew what they said. She knew better than anyone how she regarded him, what he meant to her, and if anyone dared attempt to say she did not care would find themselves with a very painful fist in their face.

She treasures him as much as she can treasure another person - it is not love. It is not some sense of fealty. It is companionship. It is trust.

Natasha trusted no one - but him. He owned her, as surely and completely as a human could own anything. He had held her life in his hands, held her future, everything she was, and instead of stamping out her light he had fostered it. He breathed new life into her, and after years of nothing she felt again.

Emotions were useless - that was what she had been taught. He told her otherwise. Instead of fighting because she was told, she fought because it mattered. It was difficult, at first, and it was no surprise when the only thing that could get her to fight with ardor was him.

Years passed, time changed, and she owned her emotions. Just because she kept her face impassive as she ended lives, kept her stance neutral when she heard the sounds of terror, did not mean she felt nothing. It simply meant she knew how to control it. She knew how to use it.

Natalia had felt strongly, everything and anything. She had cried at night when a tree branch scratched at her window and curled around a stuffed toy when it got too dark. The Black Widow did not feel love, she did not feel remorse, she did not feel friendship. She was empty and cold, nothing more than a tool to be used.

Natasha Romanoff felt everything. She fed her emotions, listened to them, but did not let them control her. She took the ironclad will of the Widow and the heart of a child and merged them, forced them to intermingle until finally she found the perfect balance.

She did not love. She never would again. Instead, she lived. Because that was what he had given her. He had plucked her up from the depths of hell and opened her eyes, he had burrowed his way past her ironclad defenses and forced her to see. Years of darkness, gone in an instant, and all because he could see past the Widow’s bite and into the scared child buried within.

He was a fact in her life. A constant, and though she did not love him, though she could not love him, she would be damned if she let someone take him away from her.

Diplomatic Relations and Intelligence Failures, Pt. 12

((AKA The Lady Sif asks Maria Hill on a date.  The first parts of this can be found on AO3, or here on my tumblr.  Sorry it’s taking so long to finish, but I’m getting close, I promise!  Slight warnings here for severe beatdowns on the bad things that are coming for them.  Nothing bloody or overly graphic, but bad things are happening.))

“SHIELD has an insurance policy for these sorts of situations,” Maria said, doing her best to hold onto her temper. Considering her life experience and her current job description, it was harder than it should’ve been. Of course, she was juggling a confused and traumatized mob of civilians, around three dozen biological specimens that violated almost as many laws, two squads of SHIELD strike teams and three more sweeper teams. She also had no idea where her date had gone.

Considering all of that, she wasn’t sure how her most pressing concern was horticultural.

She took a deep breath, letting her fingers tighten on the SHIELD tablet in her hand, like it was a security blanket. Or a potential bludgeon. “We can cut it-”

“You can’t,” Callie said, her hands spread wide, standing between them and the building. “You CAN’T. You can’t kill it!”

“We can’t LEAVE it!” The bartender had been splitting her attention between them and her phone, where the club’s owner was apparently having a drunken meltdown. Even from here, Maria could hear her yelling. “Have you seen our goddamned building?”

She stabbed a finger at the club, and everyone looked.

The whole building was covered in heavy vines, the stems as thick around as Maria’s wrist, and studded with nasty looking thorns. Here and there, thick, glossy green leaves and thin tendrils flicked against the heavy brick facade. All in all, it looked like something out of a gardener’s nightmare.

“We can transplant-” Maria started.

“We can kill it with fire,” Angela said, and Callie let out a howl. The bartender flinched when her phone made a very similar sort of sound.

Maria shut her eyes, and gritted her teeth.

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