#a slightly different approach that i usually take for my art so um

[mellohiizz]

I just wanna go from here Close my eyes and disappear (disappear)

a different version under cut bc im indecisive

[kellanved-ammanas]

Hello! I really liked your spydad fics and I hope you write more, I like wholesome stories with spy

TF2 Drabbles: SpyDad - Good Job

Scout’s first proper painting ended up being a cartoony depiction of the Administrator making a goofy face as she got run over by a car. It wasn’t a good painting by any means, Scout’s unfamiliarity with the medium was evident but it was recognizable. Which was more than could’ve been said for Spy’s long ago first painting, barely even remembered at this point. Still he’d lent his expensive fancy paints to Scout only for this to be the end result; a bad painting that would probably get them both in trouble if the Administrator ever saw it. Maybe that should annoy him but well, it was Scout. His approach to art had always been different than Spy’s. That didn’t have make it bad.

He shifted to look at Scout, still wearing the painter’s apron that he’d made an even bigger mess on than it had had before. “I suppose I should count myself lucky you didn’t decide to depict me in an unflattering scenario this time.”

Scout shrugged. “I thought about it ‘cause it would’ve been funny but then uh… figured you wouldn’t appreciate the humor in that and might decide to not lend me you paint stuff anymore.”

“Hmm. You enjoyed it then?”

“It’s super different from pencils, coloured or normal, so it took a bit to get used to but uh, yeah, it was fun. It’s actually really nice not having to work so hard to get a solid colour, it just goes on like no big deal. How’d I do though? I know it looks awful but like, for my first time with a new art supply I think it’s pretty freaking decent.”

This is where Spy could crush Scout’s feelings of accomplishment if he were to apply his usual art standards to the piece but… he had no desire to do so. No, he wanted to encourage Scout’s artistic tendencies as he should’ve been around to do from the start. “I like it. You did a good job.” The words felt stiff and hollow in his mouth, he wasn’t used to giving much praise, but he did mean it. It wasn’t a good painting but he liked it anyway and the clear effort put into it made it a good job.

“Wait, really? Or are you just saying that to try to make me feel good or whatever before turning it into one your backhanded compliments?”

“No, I really do like it. It’s not my type of art but… I appreciate the effort you put into it. And for you first painting, it turned out rather well.”

“Um… okay then. Thanks. So I can uh, do this again sometime? Borrow your paints and stuff.”

“Yes, you may. Just ask first.” Though having stated interest in painting again, next time Spy got a chance, he’d buy Scout a set of paints for his own personal use. Probably he’d start with a slightly cheaper brand. “Also, before you head off, I advise against putting this painting anywhere the Administrator might see it.”

“No duh. I ain’t that stupid. Once it’s done drying I’m gonna… I don’t know, put it in my room I guess. And then it’ll stay there.”

“Very well. I was just making sure you didn’t do something stupid. Now let me teach you about the proper way to take care of your brushes.” He turned and started for the corner where he kept everything brush related.

Scout groaned but followed. “That sounds lame. How important is it really?”

“Extremely. Good brushes are expensive. Leaving them dirty for too long will ruin them.” Spy would also be getting him some cheaper brushes too. Still good ones but he wasn’t interested in letting Scout potentially ruin the best of the best, resulting in needing new ones.

[dgdraws]

Artfight Postmortem

as you may know, i am prone to reflection on my art and process and progress. herein, i'm gonna navel gaze a bit about artfight 2024.

top line: really enjoyed myself, did a bunch of new things and this was "The Year of Artist Friends" which is spectacular.

i completed 20 attacks this year, including my first ever mass attacks! altogether I drew 28 different characters (incl 4 of my own).

for the first time, I had *users* i wanted to attack, rather than just characters i'd gathered via search or discord. honestly, three years ago when i picked up the stylus i was just excited at the prospect of drawing for other people, period. artfight was a cool way to be in community without prerequisites. i didn't quite dare to dream i might make some real connections and make proper friends. and yet :) here we are! i went in with three 'art friends' and i'm leaving with at least three more

in addition to being the year of artist friends, this could be "the year of clip studio paint was on megasale a week before artfight" because i knocked out like 2 practice pieces before July 1st so i wouldn't be starting with completely unfamiliar tools, but i used/learned csp for the vast majority of my attacks. one i finished in krita (lonnie), and my final attack i only used krita.

definitely trial-by-fired myself! but it motivated me to explore csp, and most important, gave me a reason to practice practice practice. last year i drew almost exclusively humans, lots of full bodys, because i wanted to get a better grip on anatomy and drawing a variety of faces. it worked then, and, well, i think i learned more of csp in one month of artfight than i would have if i was just plodding through my personal projects for 33 days :) *looks at my wip folder with months old files* pretty sure.

ok i'm gonna look at a few faves/standouts now:

came in hot with 0tt0 here! the main brush for this one (froggy pencil) was a mainstay for the whole month. so versatile!!! and lovely texture. this isn't quiiite brat green but this was what made me go, hmm, what if i... did a few pieces inspired by this album i can't stop listening to?

and then i took a huge turn and just used a soft round brush for Desa and Iryna for my dear friend @bobomcfoe bc i really wanted to turn these out in something approaching my "usual style" of late and i feared getting too deep into the temptations of csp if i put them off. and, um, yeah i love them. i got sooo close to matching that angle but ahh i can see the tilt now! nonetheless, love these two, not least bc brookie has some of the most pleasing color palettes to work w :)

then on to Rosé and baby's first vector lines! you can RESIZE lines in csp. did you know that? i didn't know that. i did forget to use it as much as i could have in later ones though, so i still only kinda know it ig. and halftone shading! bc why not? another thing i really only did this once, but want to experiment with more

Rook here, for my new friend @gender-premium-tm, was me realizing how to use filters/filter layers in csp. now THAT is something i used a lot this month! also something i use often in krita. i must say, though the csp options are slightly more limited (afaik), they have oomph!

okay these two are my "explicitly brat pieces"! artfight keeps you moving, which i find really valuable, bc i could have dithered foreverrr over Lonnie's gif here. like, do i add his arm? maybe he should be wearing a shirt? or, what if i just draw him twice, instead of splitting the expressi--see it just never ends. and as i am always going on about, art is so precious bc it is a reflection of us when we make it. maybe for some future artfight i'll redraw this (as Lonnie's artist @wenmistry did for me with Ebon this year), but for july 2024, i'm amazed at how well i executed this for just 2.5 days of work! (i did forget his glasses, which realization gave me a different take on the composition, so this is high on my list of potential redraws)

and then Aagatha. this is in my top 3 for this year. the pink just works so well with the green and her artist added the song to her character playlist AND added the necklace to her actual dnd inventory. like. omg. the impact your art can have!!! how freaking cool is that???

two mass attacks! i was in a silly goofy mood. i feel like i really got a handle on vectors w the anthro mass attack, i adjusted every single point on that one by hand. weird what hyperfocus makes you do sometimes, but i learned a lot from that. mainly that i will probably never user vectors as my main linework tool. there are circumstances it is perfect for, and outside of that i'm good w my raster lines lol

which is exactly what i used for this other mass attack, featuring mostly my ocs. hey, sometimes you need to shake things up! i can see here the style starting to hew back to my "usual style", though i'm thinking that might have a lot to do with drawing 5 people very quickly. falling back on practiced techniques. and by this time i apparently knew csp well enough to reproduce them pretty closely! ooh, one thing this made me miss was the transform tool in krita. that floor was ROUGH to wrestle into place in csp.

purple and green turned up a lot this year!

Echo is my crowning achievement with the froggy pencil, most of the shading here is just layers w that. and one last nod to brat green :)

i've worked in the paper cut style before (both my pfp's use it) but i really exploited csp's clipping layers to make Scraps here. they did make me briefly forget how they work in krita when i switched back, so well done w that

i played with gradient maps a little earlier in the month but for Okanar i actually made my own gradient! really a useful tool for ref'ing real human skin tones to make non-human ones, without muddying them up too much.

finally, Chaos. this actually might be my favorite! ironically this is the one that i made in krita. it was like, ahh, yes my old friend. wait where is the scroll bar. ah, okay, yes my old friend... the line layer is set to burn which just makes the whole thing so warm (and the cause of the red outlines on the earrings). used my old sable brush, a pattern fill set to overlay... my old stomping grounds! but plus a rendering technique i picked up this month and some other random habits i picked up in csp (like copying a detail to a new layer, moving it where i want a copy, and drawing/tracing it back onto the original layer in the new position. nothing i couldn't have been doing in krita all along, but made easier by the tool layout in csp, and therefore now discovered by me. amazing how one integrates new knowledge. it's like magic sometimes!!!)

that was a good roundup! if you actually read this to the end, wow! and thank you! i hope it was interesting... and inspiring! bc i want to read about your process and reflections too! yes you! and plz tag me, i'm always down to gush about art XD

[summerwritesfics]

🌎The Prince In The Tower

Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang Length: 979 Words Rating: Mature Warnings: Fairy Tale AU, Prince!Kuai Liang, Knight!Hanzo Hasashi, Locked in a tower, Rescue, Isolation, Kept Prisoner, Attempted Forced Relationship, Minor onesided Sektor/Kuai Liang, Kuai’s gone a little strange from isolation, Mentioned death of origami animals (it makes sense in context trust me)

Meanwhile In Another Universe Masterlist

Notes: By my “putting Kuai Liang through hell” standards this is pretty tame, and tbh he does get a semblance of a happy ending. Cuz y’know. Fairy tales :)

“Alright, thank you all for gathering here today.”

Kuai Liang linked his fingers, resting his elbows on the table as he stared at the array of origami animals before him. There had to be almost 100 at this point, the art form one of the only forms of entertainment Sektor allowed him to have. At some point, Kuai had started using them as a substitute for social contact. They were not just his creations at this point, but also his friends.

He was definitely aware that probably made him strange in other people's eyes, but those other people hadn’t been stuck mostly alone in a tower for almost 10 years, so quite frankly they had no room to judge him.

“I realise that recently we’ve had some unfortunate losses amongst us. Pàxiū, Fang Mei and Nián Qīng will be sorely missed.” 

It was a tragedy, really. Sektor may have approved of Kuai’s only hobby, but his jealousy was so great it extended to lifeless objects. Every so often, he’d “kill” one of Kuai’s animals, for no other reason than to hurt him. Usually, this meant squashing them, taking them apart or ripping them to pieces. Poor Nián Qīng’s death was particularly traumatic though, Sektor cruelly throwing her into the fire, having some of his soldiers hold Kuai back from saving her.

“But, I have no doubt we will-“

He stopped himself when he heard the door to the tower open. Swallowing sharply, he pushed himself to stand up. He knew if Sektor caught him talking to the bits of paper, he’d have more casualties on his hands. He stilled, listening to footsteps approaching the door to the room he was in. He saw the knob begin to turn, and he held his breath, scared of what tortures Sektor had in mind for him today.

Except, when the door opened, it revealed someone who definitely wasn’t Sektor.

Actually, it didn’t even seem to be one of Sektor’s soldiers, given his armour was a completely different style. He had long black hair tied into a bun, and a short black beard. A long sword was in his hand, but when he saw Kuai Liang, he slowly put it back into its sheath.

“Prince Kuai Liang?” The man questioned, like he wasn’t sure that was who he was looking at.

“Um. Yes?” Kuai fiddled with the hem of his clothing. “Do I know you, sir?”

“No. My name is Hanzo Hasashi,” he replied, walking over towards him. “I am a passing knight who became aware of your plight. I am here to free you.”

Kuai blinked and all that could come out of his mouth was “oh.” It took a couple of seconds to really understand what had been said to him. “Oh! You’re here to rescue us!”

“Yes I- wait… us?” Hanzo raised an eyebrow and briefly looked around the room. “I wasn’t aware anyone else was here.”

“Well, I need to take my friend’s with me.” Kuai gestured towards his army of origami animals. Hanzo stared at the table with a look of disbelief. “If I leave them Sektor will probably kill them all in an act of vengeance.”

“Those are…” Hanzo hesitated, glancing between the animals and Kuai Liang. “Those are just bits of paper.”

“Yes, well, they are bits of paper I’ve formed a bond with, thank you very much,” Kuai snapped, feeling a little bad as soon as he did. He rubbed his arm and looked away. “I’m sorry. They have just been my only companions for the last 10 years. They mean a lot to me.”

Hanzo’s face softened slightly, his confusion replaced by what Kuai could only describe as pity. Kuai should probably have hated that, but instead he decided to take it as a sign of understanding.

“I see.” Hanzo reached around to pull a bag from behind his back. “They may fit in here, but I can’t guarantee they won’t get squashed.”

“If it’s just a little, I should be able to fix them,” Kuai sighed in relief. At least his rescuer was being somewhat kind to him. That already put him leagues above Sektor. He turned away and began to scoop up his companions and gently placed them in the bag. “Thank you…”

“If they are that important to you, I have no room to judge you,” Hanzo replied, eyes darting back and forth as Kuai continued to fill the bag. “Have you really been here for 10 years?”

Kuai hummed in confirmation. “Originally it was just meant to be until I agreed to marry Sektor but uh… That hasn’t exactly happened.”

“You have held off his desires for 10 years?” After Kuai put the last few animals into the bag, Hanzo pulled the strings to close it up. “I will admit, I am impressed by your resolve.”

“Oh, it helps to realise if I were to marry him, his treatment of me would just get worse.”

Hanzo nodded, although there was clear conflict on his face. He put the bag away regardless, and then held out his hand to Kuai.

“Come, let’s get you out of here.”

Kuai smiled, taking Hanzo’s hand and letting him guide him through the corridor, and down the spiral staircase of the tower. As they stepped out into the outside, he had to close his eyes from how bright it was. A couple of seconds to adjust, and he was slowly able to open them and look around.

There were trees, and the light blue sky above him. He could hear birds singing, and a pleasant breeze licked at his skin. In the tower, he had only been able to spy very brief glances of the outside world. Everything looked far more beautiful than he remembered.

As Hanzo tugged on his hand, silently instructing him to follow, Kuai couldn’t help but smile.

He was finally free.

[mythicamagic]

Unorthodox: a Sesskag oneshot

Summary: Kagome is pleasantly surprised to receive a present from Sesshoumaru for White Day... until she glimpses the contents inside her gift box.

AN: Written for the Sesskag 2021 Big Bang event on tumblr! @chierafied​ 

I was paired with @milomai-art​ and here’s their lovely artwork: https://milomai-art.tumblr.com/post/648766972634513408/unorthodox-mythicamagic-inuyasha-a-feudal

Rated K+

Words: 3,000

You can read it on Ao3, Dokuga or fanfiction.net. 

Unorthodox

Valentine's day had come and gone, with a notable difference this year for Kagome compared with the last lonely three;

Her return to the Sengoku Jidai.

To celebrate reuniting with her beloved friends, she'd gone all out. Everyone received gifts, right down to Myoga and Jaken; no one had been excluded.

For all her efforts, however, she expected nothing in return. Though she'd explained the concept to the Inutachi, Sango and Miroku were much too busy looking after their children to keep track of dates, Shippo was often away at Kitsune school and Inuyasha had been absent as of late. Besides that, since their relationship had ended, the subject of Valentine's had become an awkward one. She'd had to stress the platonic intent behind her gift to him.

Therefore, Kagome had pretty much forgotten all about White Day by the time it rolled around.

Exiting Kaede's hut with a tub of water in her arms, intending to give the old miko's horse a good scrub down, she dug in her heels the second exquisite silks, armour and a fur pelt registered- having blinked into existence before her. Kagome gaped, swaying. Water sloshed, some spilling to their feet.

"Uh hi," looking up at grave, handsome features, she arched a brow. Sesshoumaru stared at her fervently. "Nice to see you, Sesshoumaru," adjusting her grip, Kagome sidestepped him and flashed a warm smile, used to his minimalistic approach to conversation by now. "Do you need something? Inuyasha isn't here. I think he's helping the next village over repair a-"

"I am not here for him."

Kagome noted his succinct tone, sounding more defensive than usual. Setting down the wooden tub carefully, she straightened, tilting her head. "Then what are you here for?"

"White Day."

"White... ah!" Kagome gasped, "that's right! How did you know about that?" she blinked, noticing he looked extra grumpy today. His jaw ticked, golden eyes narrow. Slowly, the miko brightened. "No way. Did you... get me something?" she breathed, strangely touched.

Of all people, Sesshoumaru had remembered? Was she dreaming?

A hand thrust out stiffly towards her, balancing a small box upon his palm.

Accepting it with thanks, heat touched her cheeks. Weird. She really shouldn't be indulging this- or feeling kind of happy. It didn't mean anything to be pleased, right? Was she even allowed to feel warm and fuzzy towards her ex's brother?

Opening the lid, Kagome tried to squash her excitement- peering down. Slowly, she reached in, retrieving a silky soft thing.

It appeared to be made of something long, silver and fine, the material woven into a pretty design. A bracelet of silk, if she could hazard a guess.

"Um, thank you," Kagome raised her gaze. "What's it made of, out of curiosity? It's very soft."

Sesshoumaru appeared pleased, preening a little. "Only the finest material."

"Really?" she stroked it. "I hope you didn't go to any trouble on my account."

He scoffed, midsummer gaze smiling slightly as his tone became haughty and prideful, "it was no trouble to use this one's own hair."

Kagome dropped the bracelet back into the box. "Whut?"

Lithe fingers combed indulgently into his fall of lustrous silver hair, "you need not be alarmed. The strands grew back quickly."

That isn't what's alarming me, Kagome silently screamed. Now that she was paying attention though, the pale bracelet really did resemble the demon lord's long flowing locks.

Her hand recoiled a little from the box. "W-well, um... thank you very much," Kagome said thinly. "It's a very thoughtful gift. Truly."

Sesshoumaru's keen, piercing eyes roved over her strained features, voice deepening. "If you do not wish to accept it-"

"N-no, I do! I'll wear it right now!" Kagome grabbed it madly, fiddling with the thing while repressing a shudder. She tried and failed to secure the clasp, stiffening when large hands closed over her hand.

The demon lord leaned forward- that same hair currently being secured around her wrist falling free from behind a pointed ear. Silver strands draped down like a gossamer curtain, tickling her flushed, sensitive skin.

Sesshoumaru tilted his head up, expression unreadable.

Shifting her wrist, Kagome observed the threads of hair wrapped around it. His bracelet felt odd, the concept totally foreign. However, she could feel how much the gesture meant to him. She didn't fear offending him because of his dark temper- more because she cared about his feelings and wanted to nurture any hint of a bond between them.

"Thank you," Kagome said. "No one else brought me anything today, so I'm...I'm grateful."

Even if it was the weirdest thing she'd ever received. A bracelet made of hair wasn't exactly traditional.

Straightening, Sesshoumaru's lips thinned as his eyes flickered with confusion.

Kagome blinked, wondering what else he'd envisioned her saying.

"Hn," inclining his head regally, he pivoted sharply and began stalking away quickly, giving a swift kill to the conversation.

---

Without a frame of reference for how long he desired her to wear it, Kagome tugged her sleeve down to hide the bracelet from curious eyes during the next few days. She tried to ignore the sensation of hair continually brushing her skin.

"I wonder if it means something important," Kagome examined it while sprawled out upon a grassy hill, taking a break from her miko duties Kaede had started dishing out ever since her return.

Sesshoumaru had seemed extremely serious while giving it to her. Then again, the gift could've meant nothing. Maybe his hair was just THAT valuable in the Daiyoukai's opinion. She snorted, twisting her wrist and watching silver threads catch on sunlight, making it shine white. "His ego is big enough. I'd believe it. Heh, maybe he'd also give me one of his eyelashes, or a fingernail or..."

Why was Sesshoumaru heading towards her?

Sitting up and fussing absentmindedly with her hair- removing a few stray leaves- Kagome felt heat flood her face.

Okay, no- she shook herself, putting a firm lid over the butterflies taking flight in her stomach. Too strange. Enough of that.

The Daiyoukai stopped a few feet away, expression detached. Kagome knew by now to ignore it in favour of looking into his eyes. They were intent and unblinking today, hinting at his seriousness.

"Hi," she said, patting a spot next to her. "It's rare for you to visit the village again during the same week. What's up?"

Sesshoumaru cocked his head to the side at her odd term. Kagome bit her lip, finding it endearing. Her attention strayed, noticing yet another box sitting innocently upon his hand.

She paled. Oh no.

Gracefully sweeping himself down onto one knee- he thrust the new box out towards her, giving Kagome a dizzying sense of Déjà vu.

I was joking about the fingernails. Please be something normal. Please.

Accepting it gingerly, blue eyes flicked up towards him. "White day is over, you know."

"This one is aware."

"So...why the new gift?"

Sesshoumaru pretended to be interested in the gentle bubbling stream not too far away. "Because it pleases me to give it to you."

He was so difficult to figure out. Not wanting to squash his newfound sense of generosity, Kagome carefully removed the lid.

The contents did not look promising.

Trying not to jump to conclusions, she reached in and removed the long necklace. A single solitary tooth hung from the chord.

"Ah," Kagome squinted. "Open your mouth a sec."

Sesshoumaru's lips parted wordlessly, mouth opening wider to reveal a gap where one of his sharp canines used to be.

"This...is yours?" she asked weakly.

Sesshoumaru closed his mouth and nodded primly. "It will serve you well, should you have need of it."

In what way would I ever have need of a tooth? a wrinkle marred her brow as she considered it, coming to a small realisation. "To make a sword from?"

"Hn."

Well, that explained a small piece of the puzzle. In a very 'Sesshoumaru' way- it almost seemed a little sweet, practical even.

However, this did not help assuage her naturally squeamish reaction while looking at the freshly plucked tooth.

"Thanks," she said lamely. "I-I'm sure it'll be very useful if I visit Totosai in the future."

Her answer didn't seem to be what he was looking for. Sesshoumaru's gaze flitted from her to the dangling fang. "Females... prefer jewels, make-up or clothing, I suppose."

Kagome scratched her cheek, "depends on the lady- but you really don't have to worry, Sesshoumaru," laying a hand over pale knuckles resting upon his knee, she gave a squeeze. "I'm touched you're being so thoughtful. There's no need to give me anything else though, I have more than enough."

His nostrils flared, jaw setting stubbornly. He drew himself up to stand, "you are too modest."

Feeling thoroughly discombobulated, Kagome could only watch as he pivoted with all the grace of a dainty dancer, stalking away with billowing sleeves.

---

For two weeks, Sesshoumaru continued visiting the village at random intervals. His flair for turning up at the most unexpected times made it difficult for Kagome to anticipate his visits. Sometimes he'd arrive bright and early, others- nearing nightfall. Occasionally he'd visit Rin, but their interactions seemed distracted. Rin would whisper fiercely to him while gesturing in Kagome's direction, but he'd ultimately leave without speaking a word to the miko.

It was odd, confusing. She'd used to think of Sesshoumaru as a fairly straightforward demon. As of late, he'd been downright unpredictable and... flakey. She kind of missed their previous easy interactions when she'd pick herbs and prattle on while he occasionally offered a word or two. His silence had felt comfortable rather than awkward.

I don't know how to get that back, Kagome thought sadly.

A chilly wind passed by, breeze rushing around her exposed neck. Adjusting her miko garb, she sneezed, shivering a little. Autumn would soon be on its way.

The heat of an intense stare sent a new chill down her spine. Kagome turned, sensing it- only to find Sesshoumaru gazing at her intently.

Was it her imagination, or did he seem absurdly pleased? As though struck by a revelation.

As was typical behaviour for him, the demon lord began walking away without a word.

---

Trudging back from training in the woods, Kagome shouldered her bow while walking around a thick tree- only to quickly stop, almost bumping straight into polished armour.

Sesshoumaru stood before her, holding another box. This time it was larger, more of a rectangular shape.

"M-more?" Kagome squeaked. Her heart thundered. It felt like so long since they'd last spoken.

Sesshoumaru inclined his head gravely, "hn."

Biting her lip and somewhat dreading what cast-off part of him could be inside this time, Kagome grasped the lid and removed it- only to slam it abruptly back down.

"What… what is that?" she asked thinly.

Sesshoumaru's lashes fell shut and slid open in an unruffled blink.

"My fur."

I thought as much.

Kagome removed the lid with trepidation once more, lifting out the lush, soft coat. Even while her hands sank into the cloud-like material, blue eyes remained wide with distress.

Sesshoumaru seemed to guess her line of thinking. "It is discarded fur that I have shed, not cleaved off. Do not worry."

"O-okay," she said thinly. It's still weird though. Too weird. Imagine if I'd made a coat of shed skin.

It was so odd that Kagome felt a line needed to be drawn, placing it back into the box and numbly accepting it from him. "Sesshoumaru… I have to put my foot down now. I appreciate your gifts but I can't accept any more."

He stiffened, the burning embers in his eyes freezing into glassy orbs.

Kagome rushed to explain, "it's very sweet of you, and I appreciate the thought. I'm just not, uh…sure they're suited for a human. Besides, you seem to be worrying about what to get me instead of talking to me. I'd rather we just spoke like old times instead of this awkwardness."

"I see," he said stiffly.

She took a step forward, eyes widening when he took one back and turned. "This one did not intend to give you things deemed inappropriate and unwelcome. Farewell."

"Wait-!"

Too late, Sesshoumaru blurred away from her outstretched hand.

Kagome grit her teeth, sighing and balancing the box on one hand. Damn it.

Slowly, Kagome lowered the box onto a tree stump and gingerly lifted the coat. It felt lush and divine, her hands disappearing within the sheer volume of fur. Sliding her arms into the sleeves and putting it on, Kagome wrapped it around herself, feeling like she were enclosed in a giant fluffy cloud. His static youki brushed her skin intimately, fanning out from the strands.

It was big. It was a little ridiculous. It was wonderful.

Kagome groaned, burying her face in her hands. Sure, the idea of him collecting his shed fur to sew into a coat was strange by human standards, but actually wearing the coat, she now understood his simplistic intent.

He'd just wanted her to be warm.

"You're such a weirdo," she grumbled, blushing and dipping her nose into the fur. It smelled like him; wild forests, with the hint of refined smoke from a pipe.

Maybe she was weird too.

---

He was absent for an entire month.

Sesshoumaru figured it would help ease the sting of rejection. The second he caught Kagome's fragrance, however, it was like an old wound had been ripped open again.

His lips thinned, firmly keeping all emotion locked tight behind a placid mask as he visited Rin.

Chatting with the girl allowed him to soothe his stung ego for a while, distracted by Rin's news about the village and her training. Occasionally she would mention the miko and his chest would tighten again. How pathetic of him.

Once his cup lay empty and Rin mentioned the need to leave in order to assist the older miko, Sesshoumaru took his leave.

Stepping foot outside Kaede's hut, however, he froze.

Kagome stiffened before him, swathed in furs- his furs- he dimly noted.

More than that, lithe fingers curled around the fang resting at her collarbone. The silver bracelet of his hair caught the light before disappearing beneath the length of her sleeve.

Kagome's cheeks heated, and she thrust out a box, letting it rest on her palm.

"I asked around," she muttered. "Inuyasha was clueless, and Shippo kept laughing whenever I tried to ask him what was going on. Luckily Myoga happened to stop by," blue eyes pinned him in place. "You could've told me what all the gifts meant instead of leaving me in the dark."

Sesshoumaru did not accept the box just yet. "I thought my intentions were achingly clear."

Embarrassingly so, for a proud demon.

"Not for humans!" she huffed, lowering her hands a little. "I was confused the whole time! How was I supposed to know that you were giving me a betrothal bracelet, or that the fang was for any half-demon children I might have when they need a sword? I kind of figured out the coat, but I didn't know it represented your intentions to provide for me."

Sesshoumaru stared. Oh. Perhaps he should've listened to Rin about courting the miko after all.

Cheeks scarlet, Kagome sighed, lifting the lid of her box off and removing something from inside.

"May I?"

Sesshoumaru nodded dazedly, golden eyes widening. His entire being thrummed, heart picking up speed.

Shifting closer, Kagome pushed some dark locks behind her ear, the length slightly shorter than usual. Sliding a black bracket around his striped wrist, Kagome swallowed. Her hair had been woven into a band much like his, though nowhere near as intricate.

The demon stared at it, fixated. Baser instincts purred.

Molten gold eyes slowly raised to pin her with a disarmingly reverent look. He spoke no words of poetry, no love or longing, but it was there, he hoped. Abundantly clear. Kagome seemed to recognise it for what it was now.

She smiled a little, hugging her arms and scuffing her foot. "Don't get the wrong idea; I'm not saying I'll jump into marriage with you, but it turns out I'm kind of interested in dating you. Really... interested," Kagome forced out, obviously embarrassed but soldiering on. "If it's okay, we could...do that," she finished lamely.

Sesshoumaru took a step forward, invading her personal space. She blushed exactly the way he'd hoped she would, babbling. "So the uh- think of the bracelet as a dating bracelet! Maybe down the line it could...it could become an engagement thing," she murmured, voice dimming in the wake of his proximity.

"Hn," honeyed eyes smiled, careful claws unfurling to find her chin. "That would be pleasing," he uttered in a faint rumble, tipping his head down. "I accept."

Satisfaction rolled through him fiercely as she tilted her head just so- lips meeting and brushing feather-light against his. Emboldened, Kagome's hands found the collar of his hankimono just as he took her by the waist as though entering a dance, tightening.

Sesshoumaru let his eyes flutter shut, inhaling sharply through his nose. He could smell her so bright and clear—the sweetness of tangerines, faint, exotic soaps—and her mouth so warm. Kagome kissed him, firmer, hand finding his hair- fingers curling. His breath began to roughen the longer their kisses went on. His heart chanted the truth of it all- 'yours.'

If the foolish woman wanted him, he'd already given himself to her. The ticklish brush of her hair claiming his wrist made him smirk against her mouth, glimpsing his own band of white around hers and revelling in a plume of possessive pride.

Perhaps it was unorthodox by her standards, but they were not exactly normal themselves. And so, Sesshoumaru drowned himself in the curious, raw newness of the strange miko, surrendering to all the oddities that would likely follow during their strange courtship.

End

[hologramband]

One Day p1

Alive!Luke x Fem!Reader Modern AU Word Count: 2.6k A/n: hehehe here’s the first part! I have it mostly planned out, there should be 3-4 parts! Lmk what you think! Summary: A shy girl is used to floating under the radar, keeping to herself most of the time, all was well until an opportunity fell into her lap, but what will these new people bring with them?

You were really good at staying right under everyone's radar at Los Feliz. You knew everyone, everyone knew you, but you didn’t have anything more than just a surface relationship with your classmates. You didn’t mind that, it was harder to get hurt this way. You got accepted to the Performing Arts High School with your ability to dance, but have always found your real talent lies within your visual art. Whether you were using paints, pencils, or a pen, you loved the way that your hand flew over the paper and created an image that represented your many different emotions.

In a way it made sense how you loved both dance and drawing, both sharing the flowing of movements to express things that words cannot. It was easier for you to express your emotions and thoughts in these mediums since social connection was hard for you. You had tried it once, really connecting with a person, but it ended up coming back and hurting you, causing you to shut down, so you weren't in a rush to try again any time soon. You floated down the hallways with ease, only having to stop at your locker to grab the remaining textbooks you need for the next few classes. While you were stopped you heard your name called from across the hallway, looking up to see Julie raising her hand in a small wave. “Hey, (y/n)! I like your top!” She came to a stop by your locker smiling. “Thanks! It was my moms, she just found this box of old clothes from when she was in school, this one just really stuck out to me.” You smiled down at yourself and looked back up at the girl to see three boys approaching. You felt heat subtly rise to your cheeks and you tried to focus your eyes on Julie. “Hey Jules, you ready to go to class?” Luke spoke as soon as they reached her side, sending you a nod of acknowledgement when he noticed you standing in front of them. Alex and Reggie both raised their hands with small waves in greeting to you. You smiled in return and turned back to close your locker, swinging your backpack on in the process. “Well, I gotta get to class too, see ya around.” You smiled back at the group and heard Julie call after you. “See you in Art!” You turned slightly and waved in return. Julie and you were pretty decent friends, you talked to her more than anyone else at the school, she had a good balance of how to get to know you without pushing you. You had met the boys a few times in passing, much like the previous occurrence, them not really speaking much more than a ‘hello’ here and there. There was something about Luke though, he never failed to send a storm of butterflies loose in your stomach. He probably didn’t even remember your name, but you could remember all the details of his face, not in a weird way, just in an artistic way, ya know? He had such a coolness about him, like he could totally embarrass himself but brush it off like it was nothing, like he meant to do it even. You thought you were getting better with your anxiety around people, but as soon as that boy was in front of you, it seemed as if your brain forgot how to function. You shook the boy from your thoughts as you continued through your day, classes went by like they typically do, all your general classes like math and english were in the first half of the day, the second half being taken by your dance class and then art. It was simple to say that you much preferred the second half of classes. In dance you went about as normal, running through a few routines and while wrapping up your teacher mentioned something about a new project that would be announced tomorrow. After changing you made your way to your final class where Julie had already arrived and claimed a table for the two of you. “Hi!” she smiled up at you. “Hi! How were your classes today?” You replied, starting a conversation that you hoped would carry throughout the class. You really did like talking with Julie, she was so sweet and really made you feel like she wanted to get to know you. The first day of class she noticed you were sitting alone and she took this as an opportunity to introduce herself, commenting on the particular band tee you had on, being able to strike up a conversation instantly. You admired her for this, the confidence she had when walking in a room was just astounding to you. The two of you went about the class in a way that you similarly would, talking about this and that while sketching away in your respective books, her only pausing to write ideas in her song notebook when an idea would hit. The class you were in didn’t have many actual assignments, just that you needed around 3 small pieces turned in periodically and one larger one for your final at the end of the semester, it made it an easy free flowing environment where there wasn’t too much pressure to stress on any one thing. Before you knew it the ding of the bell was going off overhead and you and Julie started packing up your things, she quickened her pace when she saw the boys waiting at the door for her. “You guys have practice today?” You giggled at her rushed movements. “Yeah,” she laughed as she zipped her bag closed, “Luke and I just finished up a new song too so I’m really excited to get back to the garage to figure out the music behind it.” She smiled up at you and you returned the affection. “Well don’t let me hold you up! Hope it all goes well! See you tomorrow!” You waved to the girl as she ran to the door, only pausing to throw a wave back at you. You laughed and shook your head at the girls' antics and went about your day as usual, starting your walk back home, you didn’t live too far and enjoyed the fresh air and time to recollect after the school day. After getting home you grabbed a quick snack and retreated to your room to finish a sketch that you had been working on in class today. Digging through your bag your heart rate increased when you pulled the red covered book to see the top covered in multiple stickers, this wasn’t your book, it was Julies song book, meaning she was currently in possession of your sketchbook. She must have grabbed yours on mistake when she was packing up quickly. You lightly sighed as you pulled out your phone to text her about the accidental switch-up. She replied instantly just realizing the mistake herself, then invited you over to switch them back and possibly hear some of the songs they were working on, looking for an outsider's opinion. You hesitated in saying yes, did you really need your book back that bad? Sighing, you sent back an okay and asked for an address, as nervous as you were to hang around the guys, more specifically Luke, you remembered how excited Julie was to go over the new song, the one that was probably sitting in the book you were holding in your hands. You threw on a light jacket and grabbed your backpack, for reasons unexplainable to you it just always just felt safer to walk around with a backpack on, and you were on your way to Julies. You could feel your nerves rising with each step you took towards her house, by the time you stood at the end of her driveway you felt like your heart was in your throat. “Calm down, (y/n), it’s just a little hangout to get your book back and hear a few songs, no biggie, nothing to fret about at all.” you whispered to yourself, taking one last deep breath before continuing your walk up her driveway. You had just come into view from the garage when you heard Julie calling out your name. “(Y/n)! How was your walk?” Julie ran out to meet you, now walking beside you into the garage. “It was good! You actually live closer to me than I thought, it was only like a 15 minute walk,” you smiled at her and you continued the small talk until you looked up and met eyes with the brunette guitarist. “(Y/n), these are the guys, Alex, Reggie and Luke,” she introduced them to you and you raised your hand in a wave. “Yeah, i’ve seen you guys perform before, you’re all really good!” you smiled and met each of their gazes. “Thanks! And that was all our old stuff, just wait until you hear what we have coming, um..” Luke stuttered realizing he didn’t know your name. You went to say it but Alex beat you to it. “(Y/n) you idiot,” he hit the back of Luke's head, while rolling his eyes. A blush rose to Luke’s face and he laughed it off. “I-I knew that, I-I just-” “You’re at the school for dance right?” Alex spoke again, interrupting and trying to take the attention off of the stuttering Luke. You smiled and nodded. “Yeah! I’m on a dance scholarship, so that's my main focus but my second is visual art, which reminds me,” You take your backpack off and pull out Julies song book, “here’s this!” She smiles and takes it from you. “Ugh thanks so much, I don’t know what I would have done if I lost this, Reggie can you grab her sketchbook? It’s on the piano!” Julie opened her book and smiled looking at the page. “Oh wow,” you heard Reggie mutter causing everyone to turn to him, “(y/n) this stuff is like, really good.” You blushed and looked down at your feet, you’ve never been good at accepting compliments. “Dude, boundaries!” Julie muttered reaching for the book, but Luke got to it first, taking his own turn looking through the pages. Your heart jumped when he started smiling at the pages he was flipping through, you didn’t have anything in there that you kept hidden, it was just that no one had ever gone through your work before. “You have so many different styles, this one is like a cartoon, but then the next one is like hyper realistic.” Luke looks up to make eye contact and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks. Alex took the second of him being distracted to pull the book away from him and hand it back to you. “I’m sorry for them, they still haven’t figured out what it means to respect someone's privacy.” He narrowed his eyes at his two bandmates. “You know,” you opened the book in your hands to search for a particular page, “I actually have something of each of you individually. I sketched them out the night after I saw one of your guys’ gigs.” You scrunch your face in concentration, you feel everyone rush to stand behind you when you finally find it. You look around at them to take in their reactions, their eyes were all glued to the papers you were displaying in front of you, Reggies mouth falling open. “Oh! Is this why you asked for the pictures my dad took of that night?” Julie looked up at you. “Yeah, I wanted to be able to add the details of everyone's chosen instruments and get some added information on where the highlights were from the lights,” you looked at each of their faces again and made a rash decision to gently tear the pages from your book, handing them to each respective person. Each person held them gently in their hands, then looked up to you in amazement. You just shrugged your shoulders in response, not knowing what else to say. “Well,” you looked out the window and saw the setting sun, “I better start my walk back to my house, it’s getting dark and I wanna get back before that happens. Enjoy the pictures guys!” You smile and turn to walk away, all the band still shocked to silence. “She’s never torn a page from her book before,” you hear Julie tell the boys as you walk further down the driveway, smiling to yourself. It was true, you never pull pages from your sketchbook, not this one at least, it was the better quality of all the other ones you had. You typically just used the less expensive books for class, you go through all the pages so quickly you didn’t want to waste the one’s in your higher quality notebook for the rough sketches, but the pages that you drew the band on were in the higher quality notebook, you had taken the time to really get them right, and they turned out fantastic. Your mother had always told you to spread joy where you can, and after seeing all their faces you knew that it was only right to let them have the pages that they were looking at. You arrived home and couldn’t wipe the smile off your face, there might be something there with them, an opportunity to make new friends, to open up. This idea makes you both nervous and excited, you let these thoughts and ideas later lull you to sleep. --- The next day at school you were walking to your locker when Julie caught your eye, she was waiting in her phone by your locker door. You would usually see her in passing in the mornings, but this is new. “Hey Julie, what’s up?” You greet the curly haired girl at your locker. “Hey (y/n)! Not much really, just watched to catch you this morning and run an idea past you…” She smiles and looks around her before returning her gaze back to you. “Okay? Is everything alright? You seem nervous,” you giggled at her antics and went back to putting the combination into your locker. “Yeah, yeah, I just know you take a while to open up and get close with new people, and I don’t wanna rush you into anything you aren’t ready for, but the boys and I were wondering if-” She gets cut off by a yell from down the hallway. “JULIE! HAVE YOU ASKED HER YET?” You turn to see all three boys running towards you, Julie facepalming at Reggies yell. “Geez Reg, she literally just got here. There's no need to yell,” Julie rolls her eyes at them and looks back to you. “Anyways, we were wondering if you wanted to make more designs and stuff for the band, like for posters and maybe album art one day.” She smiles at you after finishing. “You-you want me to… really?” Your eyes widen in shock. “Yeah! We all really like what you did with those portraits, and you’re pretty chill letting us keep them and all, we want you to be a part of our band, even if it isn’t you on stage with us, you’ll keep things looking cool.” Luke says as he leans against the lockers beside you. “Plus, then you’ll be able to hang out with us more!” Reggie pipes in. They all look at each other then back at you. “So,” Alex smiles at you, “What do ya think?” A million thoughts fly through your mind at once, they really want you to hang out with them more? They liked what you did? You looked at them all, looking back at you, and smiled. “I’d love to.”

tag list ✨

@gia-kerks​ @fangirlangioma​

[lambden]

Here’s some belated Geraskier fic that I finally get to post, as last week’s flash fic challenge has wrapped up! This was originally published anonymously; kudos to those of you who guessed that I was the author. Head to the collection to see the picture prompt that inspired this, as well as view the other works. I've been having a great time participating in fandom events like this; I promise there's more on the way!!! (Read on AO3)

Up To Date

prompt: "You were so hot that when you asked if I was the blind date you were looking for, I lied and said yes. But then your actual date comes up to introduce themselves and I'm so embarrassed."

G, 2.3K words, modern AU, Geralt/Jaskier

It shouldn’t be this difficult to find inspiration. He never used to struggle like this in high school, finding his muse in everyone and everything. Even his mundane trip on the city bus to and from school would give Jaskier hundreds of ideas, for poems too personal to publish or lyrics too deep for his band to use. Back then he had thought he lacked discipline and experience, so the clear choice had been to take his interest in poetry one step further and go to university.

The problem, as he’s now discovering halfway through his second year, is that he maybe hates university. He loves it, of course; he loves the praise from his professors and peers, he loves learning about the history of literature and art. He even loves the academic rivalries that wax and wane every term, and the competitions that ignite a mean streak in him he didn’t know he had.

But his assignments are of worse quality than anything he’s ever written before, and try as he might, they aren’t getting any better. Putting words on the page just to meet a count is impossible for a poet, not when the space and thoughts and images are all supposed to be cohesive. Poems used to flow from him so freely he hadn’t been able to keep track and now his well of motivation has just about run dry.

That’s what led him here, for the third time this week. His creative dysfunction has forced him into the day-to-day habits of an elderly man who spends his days reading in public gardens. It hasn’t helped so far, but maybe this third time will be the charm. Jaskier finds his favorite place: right by the koi pond, next to a strange art installation with ivy crawling along it. He sits at the base of the giant question mark, dropping his backpack onto the bench beside him.

“This better fucking work,” mutters Jaskier to himself and the koi, opening today’s book to a random poem. He refuses to let his mind wander at first, gluing his eyes to the page and reading with intense intent. The first poem he sees is about love.

Groaning, Jaskier flips the page. The next poem is also about love.

The third poem is about war, and Jaskier thinks that might be alright, until he realizes what this long-dead poet is trying to tell him, which is that war is also about love. Because it is, of course, but also of course it is. Jaskier scowls deeply and flips through the book to a random page, hoping to find something to spark inspiration that won’t just make him feel hopeless and single and hopelessly single.

Before Jaskier can get through the title, someone speaks to him, startling him so badly he jumps. “Are you Yennefer’s friend?”

Jaskier scrambles to catch the book by its cover and nearly drops it. He hadn’t even heard anyone approach. “Sorry?”

The stranger audibly sighs, as if Jaskier has inconvenienced him terribly. With all the force of someone announcing their presence at their own death row, he grits out, “I’m here for a blind date she set up. With you.” Jaskier looks up at the man and sees him wearing a blank expression, pointing at the question mark in front of the bench. “By the thing.”

“Oh,” Jaskier says, still looking at the man. It takes a second for the words to sink in because the stranger is perhaps the most handsome person Jaskier has ever seen. He could write a thousand poems and still fail to capture his beauty. He has golden eyes, for one, and a sharply chiseled face. Even grimacing like this, his jaw is set in the loveliest way, and his stern brow is framed by platinum white hair, half-tied up. He’s wearing a fairly gloomy outfit for a blind date, but maybe he told whoever Yennefer is that he would be dressed in black. Regardless, he’s making it work.

The gorgeous stranger is still waiting for an answer, scowl worsening as Jaskier tries to make his decision about how the fuck to handle this. Really, there’s no decision at all— he just impulsively takes the leap. All his best ideas come when he’s stumbling forward blind anyway. “Yes,” he finally says, jumping to his feet. “Yes, um, I’m sorry, you caught me off-guard. I’m Jaskier.”

“Geralt.” They’re of a similar height, but Geralt is so much wider. Jaskier wants to climb him like ivy on a question mark. “I’m sorry I interrupted.”

“It’s fine! I got here a while ago. You know, can’t be too early!” Jaskier has never been early for anything in his life. He sits down again and shoves his books into his bag as quickly as he can. Geralt shifts his weight back and forth between his feet before awkwardly sitting on the bench next to Jaskier, looking out at the garden. “I’ve never done this kind of thing before,” he admits, which is true. His usual lies and schemes are much less chaotic.

Geralt doesn’t reply to that, leaving Jaskier to privately wonder about his dating life. He stares at the plants, giving the impression that he might be hideously nervous. Jaskier has no idea why someone like Geralt would be nervous about anything but it’s an awkward situation, to say the least. Right as Jaskier’s about to suggest they get out of here before Geralt’s real date shows up, the man asks, “What were you reading?”

“I was studying, sort of,” Jaskier says. “I’m a student.” Then abruptly he wonders how much Geralt knows about who he’s supposed to be, and he swallows, pulse racing.

Glancing over, Geralt’s yellow eyes meet his. There’s no obvious doubt there, just a curiosity. “What’s your major?”

“Poetry,” Jaskier grins as their conversation starts to pick up something resembling a rhythm. “What about you, are you in school?”

“No,” says Geralt, cutting his dreams of a normal date conversation short. “Are you any good? At writing poetry?”

What a weirdo. Jaskier’s heart thrums. “I’d like to think so!” This, at least, is something he knows how to talk about. Except, of course, it isn’t really the truth. “Well… recently, I’ve been in a bit of a creative rut. Just waiting for the right burst of inspiration to come along.” Perhaps this blind date that he’s stolen will suffice, but he doesn’t say that. “This place is great for that, actually. I mean, it hasn’t worked yet, but I’m sure any day those fish will sing for me.”

Geralt blinks. Jaskier feels a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck. He tries a different tactic, crossing his ankles and asking politely, “Are you a reader? What kind of things do you enjoy?”

“Nonfiction,” Geralt answers, slightly stilted. His gaze drifts over to the plants once more. “Not biographies, more like… encyclopedias and field journals. I like field journals.”

“Alright,” Jaskier says, shrinking into himself. This is going terribly. “I’ll have to go bribe some scientists for their field journals, then.” The corner of Geralt’s lip twitches, and Jaskier’s stomach flips. Gorgeous and weird and maybe, although he’s trying his best to hide it behind seven layers of nerves, maybe a little amused by Jaskier. Jaskier is going to fuck him right here in the garden. “Do you take journals of your own for work?”

A rather roundabout way of asking ‘what the fuck is it that you do’ but somehow, it lands. “I’m a… researcher,” Geralt mumbles. How very vague. “But I don’t publish my findings very often.”

Jaskier raises an eyebrow. “Do you work… for a company?”

“No.”

“Right. So you’re just keeping all your findings to yourself for no good reason at all.”

“No.”

“Then it sounds like you’re a pretty terrible researcher, actually.”

Geralt’s eyes flash as he turns to glare at Jaskier. “What?”

“Well, if you don’t share what you’ve found with anyone—”

“My… colleagues—”

“Aha! So you have colleagues!” Jaskier pokes Geralt’s side. “You aren’t just holed up in some depressing storage unit with months and months of research just for you.”

Once more, Geralt half-smirks. Not even half— more like a one-fifth smirk. “Years,” he admits.

“Years…” Jaskier tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. “Why do I have the feeling that you’re perhaps a significant number of years older than me?”

“I had the same thought when I saw you sitting here,” Geralt mumbles.

Jaskier snorts. “Seems like something Yennefer should have warned us about, perhaps. I would ask you directly how old you are, but I’m fairly certain that the only response I will get is a very gruff no.”

“No,” says Geralt, nearly smiling.

Making a show of pouting, Jaskier folds his arms over his chest. “Is that your favorite word?”

“No.” Geralt breaks into laughter as he repeats himself, and his whole face lights up with it. Jaskier laughs too, delighted by how joyous Geralt looks. He’s even more beautiful when he’s happy like this, and Jaskier wants very badly for this not to be their last date. “If I tell you my favorite word, you’re bound to judge me for it, as a poet.”

“As a poet, I swear not to mock you,” Jaskier raises his hand to cover his heart, barely restraining himself from grinning.

But before Geralt can share whatever it is, someone else approaches their bench. A second stranger— a woman about his height with short brown hair, wearing a pretty blouse. Jaskier notices her much more quickly than he’d noticed Geralt, and he makes the connection instantly. This can’t possibly end well.

“Oh, Yen wasn’t kidding,” says the stranger, eyeing Geralt. “You are very distinctive!”

Geralt stares back at her, slack-jawed for a moment. “What?”

“I’m Renfri,” Geralt’s date introduces herself. Jaskier wishes the earth would open up and swallow him whole, especially when she glances over at him. Her gaze slides back to Geralt, as does Jaskier’s, and yeah, he is very fucking distinctive with that white hair and those yellow eyes. Damn. “My friend Yennefer set us up for a blind date…?”

As Jaskier contemplates throwing himself into the koi pond, Geralt twists to stare at him. Jaskier can only imagine how mortified he must look right now; his face burns as both Renfri and Geralt look his way. Perhaps Renfri will figure it out before Geralt says anything; she looks like a smart woman.

But Geralt just gets up, dusting himself off and shaking his head. “No,” he tells Renfri, which would almost be funny if it weren’t the weirdest thing Jaskier has ever seen anyone do. Then Geralt leaves, turning to walk away from both of them, leaving Jaskier and Renfri alone together in the garden. Renfri frowns, watching him go with obvious increasing confusion. Jaskier also jumps to his feet, equally confused but determined not to lose sight of Geralt.

He chases the man— and it does feel like a chase, Geralt must be fucking speed-walking away— and finally tracks him down well outside the garden. Geralt is thundering down a set of stairs leading to a parking lot and he doesn’t stop at the sound of Jaskier careening towards him. Only when Jaskier desperately calls his name does he finally stop, slowing until he reaches the bottom landing and then standing there, still.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier calls down the stairs, breathless. He begins to descend them but Geralt doesn’t turn around. “Fuck, you’re fast! Shit. I’m sorry, Geralt.”

Without looking his way, Geralt complains, so quietly that Jaskier nearly misses it, “Yennefer is going to kill me.”

“I would have fucked off,” Jaskier says quickly, hurrying down the rest of the steps until he gets to the bottom. Geralt still doesn’t look at him so Jaskier slides none-too-gracefully into his space, demanding his attention. He’s hardly red in the face or anything, but he looks embarrassed. Jaskier crumbles. “I’m sorry. I— seriously, I don’t care, I would have fucked off. I should’ve left, I should’ve— You should go back there, she’s beautiful!”

Geralt’s nostrils flare but he doesn’t look away. “Why did you lie,” he demands, flat.

“Well,” Jaskier deflates. “Um. You’re beautiful.”

“Hmm.”

“I really am sorry,” he offers.

Geralt, still watching him closely, says, “You don’t sound sorry.”

“What do you want me to do?” Jaskier throws his hands in the air, breaking away from Geralt’s stare— in the greenhouse, surrounded by bright lights and open, manmade nature, it had been easy to sit under the weight of Geralt’s eyes on him. Down here, at the end of a staircase and the entrance to a dark garage, chest still heaving, it feels too intimate. He puts some distance between them, sighing. “You want me to go back there and explain the whole situation to poor Renfri?”

When Jaskier finally turns around again, Geralt’s gaze hasn’t left him. “I want you to come have dinner with me instead,” he says, slowly but purposefully.

“Oh,” breathes Jaskier. “That’s— well, if you want that.”

“I already made a reservation for two. My name’s on the list.” Geralt is fidgeting with the end of his sleeve at first but when he approaches Jaskier he drops it, striding forward without hesitating. “Table for Geralt and one young brunet friend of Yennefer’s.”

Jaskier chokes on his own surprised laugh. “I don’t actually know Yennefer,” he needlessly explains.

“She’s going to hate you,” says Geralt, half-smirking, and then he adds, “Well, she’ll hate both of us now.”

They get to the restaurant twenty minutes late, Geralt’s hair mussed up and lips a bitten red and Jaskier wearing his backpack and a shit-eating grin. The host sees them and immediately tells them their table has been cancelled, and they end up getting terrible two-dollar slices from a hole-in-the-wall pizza place. They eat on the way back to Geralt’s car and then he drives Jaskier back to campus, kissing him soundly in the door to his apartment until Priscilla comes home and yells at Jaskier to get a room. As they squabble Geralt apologizes, polite and nervous, and kisses Jaskier’s cheek and tells him it was nice to meet him.

Jaskier goes inside and spends the next thirteen hours writing the best poetry he will ever write.

[ladyvader23]

The Lost Saber

Set in the Dad Vader Chronicles Universe, this short is dedicated to @silvereddaye as a belated birthday present! Silver is such a great friend. She works so hard for her Star Wars server, and she’s so talented. Her art is beautiful, and I have the privilege of playing D&D with her, where she has one of the coolest characters ever! She’s just so awesome and I wanted to write something for her and the idea of Leia stealing Vader’s saber just...seemed entertaining enough for that very occasion. I hope you enjoy Silver! 

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Vader did his best not to panic. How many places could his lightsaber be, after all? He was certain he’d had it on his belt when he’d returned home the night before. He was certain he’d had it when he tucked the twins in bed. Leia had, after all, asked him about it, and he’d explained its properties as a weapon and companion in battle. It was an odd choice of a bedtime story, he had to admit, but she’d seemed satisfied afterwards and didn’t complain when he told her to sleep. 

Then he’d seen it in his meditation chamber that morning, and he distinctly remembered grabbing it...but now he was in the Imperial Palace and it was gone. 

And the Emperor was watching him expectantly, a disobedient moff shaking in his boots as he awaited judgement. 

The plan was to scare him before killing him by igniting his saber and casually and slowly moving towards him, letting the tip of his saber singe the ground. Then he’d stab him and let the man die a slow and painful death. 

But there was no saber on his belt. 

“Have you lost something, Lord Vader?” On the surface, Palpatine’s voice was as benevolent as ever, but there was an edge of annoyance there. Vader didn’t need the Force to tell him that. 

Vader didn’t answer. Memories of all the times he’d lost his saber as Anakin flooded his mind, memories full of Obi-Wan giving him long admonishments and lectures that...he’d basically given Leia the night before. What kind of father was he, if he couldn’t even follow what he’d told Leia? Already he could picture both of the twins losing their lightsabers and when he brought it up, they’d point out that he’d lost his and--

He crushed the man’s windpipe and he dropped to the floor. 

“That was not what we decided.” There was definite venom in the Emperor’s tone. 

“The wait for punishment had the same effect.” Vader pointed out. 

The Emperor scoffed and waved him away, irritated. “Come back when you are prepared for your job.” 

Vader didn’t argue, and he was grateful that he didn’t have to explain the embarrassing situation further as he strode out of the throne room. 

Where could it have gone? 

He racked his brain, trying to remember what he might have done that would have required him setting it down. He couldn’t think of any, beyond briefly stopping by Captain Piett’s office to have a word with him. Had he set it down there? He didn’t know why he would have…

His comm rang and without thinking, he picked it up. “I am busy, this had better be an emergency.” He snarled, assuming it was an idiotic officer with news on Rebel movements. 

“Um. Hi, this is Miss Kengall, Leia’s teacher?” 

Vader stopped in the middle of the ornate palace hallway. He paid no mind to the guards side-eyeing him from where they stood. “Is something wrong?” Already his mind conjured up a million things that could have happened--most of them caused directly by Leia. But if someone had threatened her and he was without his lightsaber...though he technically didn’t need the saber to protect his children...

This day couldn’t get any worse. 

“Well,” Vader’s jaw clenched. This woman didn’t know how to get to the point, did she? “Leia...um. She’s got your lightsaber.” 

He stopped cold.

“It was show and tell. She wanted to show your--oh, stars, she’s turned it on--” 

He heard the whoom of a lightsaber waving around, along with children exclaiming in wonder. 

An image of Leia chopping a limb off of a child, or worse, entered his mind. While he’d dismembered plenty of people with a saber, it somehow was very different when the one wielding the weapon was a five year old. 

“I am on my way.” He turned the comm off before the teacher could protest and began hurrying as quickly as he could towards his speeder. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he arrived at the school, he found Leia waiting for him in the principal's office. Apparently, her teacher was at least competent enough to get her to hand over the weapon, because it sat on top of the principal’s desk. 

“Ah. Lord Vader.” A short, portly, balding man greeted as he entered the office. “I was just explaining why--” 

“Leave.” He growled as he glared at Leia. He watched her sink into the too-big seat, as though that would spare her from his wrath. 

“But...it’s my off--” 

Vader stretched out a hand. The man flinched, but rather than strangling the idiotic man in front of his daughter, he called the saber to his grip. 

“...Very well.” The principal attempted to sound calm as he stood. “I’ll...I’ll leave you to it.” 

Vader waited until the man was gone and the door had firmly closed before he took a few steps forward. The office was small, so it only took him two steps before he was towering over his daughter. 

He didn’t even know where to begin. It was pure luck that no one had been injured because of her foolish actions. She refused to meet his eyes, too, which told him she knew she was in big trouble. 

“What have I told you about asking for permission before taking things that are not yours?” 

That seemed like a reasonable place to start, even though taking a lightsaber was far more serious than her taking one of her brother's toys. 

Leia squirmed in her seat. “I...I have to pee--” 

“You do not. Answer my question. Now.” 

He had never harmed his children. They were far too precious. But he had no qualms about using the vocorecorder in his helmet to its full intended effect when the time called for it. 

“...I need to ask.” 

“Why?” 

Leia squirmed more. “Because it’s not nice.” 

He hadn’t ever explained it that way. He was a Sith, he did not care for niceties, but he supposed it worked. “And why else?” 

“Because it’s against the law and I’m not allowed to break the law till you say so.” 

That was the reason he’d always given when explaining why stealing was wrong. 

“And did I say so?” 

“No.”

“Then you should not have taken my lightsaber.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What you took from me is very serious, Leia. You could have hurt or killed one of your friends. You are too young for such violence.” 

“I just wanted to have the coolest show and tell.” Leia mumbled. 

“I could have assisted you with finding something far less dangerous.” He paused as a thought occurred to him. He hadn’t actually ever shown Luke or Leia what a lightsaber could do. There had been no reason to. They were too young to accompany him anywhere that would have shown them how dangerous it was, and he doubted any of their cartoons portrayed lightsabers. 

“Leia. I want you to watch closely.” He said, igniting the blade. As the hum filled the room, she reluctantly looked up. 

Just as he turned and sliced through the principal's desk with ease. 

She jumped, staring wide eyed as the metal desk collapsed, the edges where he sliced through melting. He turned the saber off and motioned. “One day you will learn to wield your own saber, but without proper training, you could have done this to one of your friends or your teacher. Do you want to do this to them?” 

Leia was still staring wide-eyed at the desk as she vigorously shook her head. 

“Do you understand why I am so angry with you for taking my lightsaber?” 

She nodded. 

“Explain it back to me.” 

She finally tore her eyes away from the desk, huffing as she did so. She never liked it when he made her prove that she understood, but she also knew he would not give in until she’d done it. “I could have hurt someone.” 

“And you could have hurt yourself.” Carefully, he knelt down to her level. It was more difficult than usual, given the room’s small size and the chopped desk in the middle of it, but he managed. Barely. He reached up and cupped her cheek. “One day I will teach you to use your own. I promise. But for now, I do not wish to see you hurt because you didn’t listen to me. Do you understand?” 

Tears welled in Leia’s eyes and she nodded before throwing her arms around his neck. 

He was still angry...but it subsided slightly with her little arms around his neck, and he patted her back soothingly. 

“You are grounded for the foreseeable future. No holovision. No friends. Not until you can prove that you’re responsible again.” He told her as she pulled away. 

She pouted and held up two fingers. “Two days.” 

“This is not a negotiation.” He pointed at her. “Prove you are responsible and we will revisit the matter of privileges.” He paused. “And I’m sure you are likely suspended from school as well. You will have plenty of time to think on the meaning of responsibility in the meantime by writing a letter of apology to your teacher.” 

Her pout deepened into a scowl, but she knew when he was unswayable. 

He stood and clipped his saber back to the belt where it belonged. “Get your things. We are leaving.” He told her as he motioned with his hand and the door to the office opened. 

Where the principal stood, waiting. 

“I...ah, assume Miss Leia understands what she did was wrong?” The man nervously asked as Vader approached, blocking his view of the office within. 

“I have dealt with it.” Vader answered simply. “How long will she be suspended?” 

The man swallowed nervously. “I...that won’t be necessary--” 

Vader took one threatening step forward and shoved his finger into the man’s chest. “I do not care for your fear of me. You will discipline my children the same as you would any other. How many days would you suspend a child for such an infraction?” 

He watched the man pale. “Uh...I, uh...thr--three days?” 

Vader’s gaze narrowed. That seemed lenient for a child who’d brought a weapon to school. He leaned forward until he was practically in the man’s face. “You are certain?” 

The man shrinked away from him. “...A-a week, but it was really--” 

By then, Leia had emerged from the office, her pink princess backpack slung over her shoulders. Vader stepped away from the man and placed a guiding hand on his daughter’s back. “She will see you next week, then.” 

Without another word, he guided Leia past the school secretary droid and to the front office door. 

He did not miss the principal gasping, “What happened to my desk?” before they left.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

WandaNat x Reader : Kiss The Chef

Summary: Food is the way to the heart! In this case at least.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,883

* * * * * * 

“I said minced, this is chopped.” You resist the urge to shout, instead choosing a mild anger.

The man frowns, eyes glancing at the garlic on the cutting board and back to you.

He clearly doesn’t know the difference.

A deep sigh wracks your body before you fan him aside, picking up the chef’s knife and a fresh garlic clove. Then mincing it yourself and making sure he sees the difference.

“Now you certainly don’t sound like someone who loves their job.” 

Setting the knife down, you wipe your hands off on your towel, and turn to your long time friend and pain in the ass, Mister Tony Stark. 

“Why are you in my kitchen Anthony?” You ask, passing him, and stopping at the sauce station to taste test.

Tony feigns hurt, hand over his heart,“ that is no way to greet a friend.” 

You simply look at him, a bored expression on your face. In short telling him to get on with it because you have a kitchen to run.

He nods,“ alright alright. I’m here to cash in that favor you owe me.” 

“Did you not do that already? Cause I’m pretty sure I catered your second wedding my friend.” You remind him.

Clicking his tongue, he tells you,“ you got paid. That was a job, this is a favor.” 

The urge to groan is high but you don’t. A deal is a deal.

“What is it?”

* * * * *

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you eye the large facility, before heading inside with a sigh.

Tony is waiting at the door for you with an all too familiar smug grin on his face. If you were the violent type you would’ve smacked it off. 

“Don’t look so proud.” You huff.

Chuckling, he throws his arm around your shoulder and begins the tour of his compound. He takes you around to the gym, shows you his lab, and the living quarters where your temporary room is, then finally shows you the way to the kitchen.

As you walk you memorize where you’re going, since this’ll be the route you take most often for the next month. 

Once inside, you survey the room with narrowed eyes, checking all of the equipment it’s fitted with. It’s all state of the art, which Tony brags about, and it’s not a problem but it does mean you’ll have to get acquainted with it all. 

Tony also informs you of F.R.I.D.A.Y his fully automated A.I. He let’s you know how it works, how to order fresh ingredients, and how to pull up recipes(mainly his favorite meals but also those of his teammates. 

“And the pièce de résistance.” He jokes, then grabbing a f/c fabric and shaking it out.

‘Kiss The Chef’ is written across the front of the apron in white and Tony happily places it around your neck, despite the blank expression on your face.

The man always finds your stoic and aloof personality amusing. Especially since, while cautious, he proves to be the exact opposite. Still you two are friends. 

You’re expecting Tony to leave. With it being well past six you decide to prepare dinner and the man knows you’d rather he not hover. But he does. 

Still you move through the kitchen with the same grace as you do your restaurant. 

With this being your first day as their chef, you want to make a good impression, so you fix a meal you’d perfected long before you’d become a professional chef. 

All the while you’d had to stop Tony from dipping into the food you made. Snapping at him more than once and slapping his hands away from the food. Until eventually you kicked him from the kitchen with a task to go get everyone. 

Using that time to set each plate on the table, with white wine as it’s a compliment to the pasta dish. Making sure they all look presentable and that the table looks nice but not cluttered, you go back into the kitchen to give them their space to eat.

You don’t even try to hide your proud grin when you hear their reactions to it. First their awe at the set up and then the silent chatter about how much they enjoy the meal. 

As you wait, you nibble on the leftover food and drink a beer. Until Tony comes in to bring you to meet everyone.

“Guys this is a friend of mine, Y/n. Y/n this is Steve, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Natasha, Carol, and Rhodey.” You nod to everyone, eyes lingering on the brunette Wanda and the red head Natasha. 

They look familiar you just can’t place where you’d seen them, so you move past that.

“Y/n is the chef who prepared this meal. As a favor to me, she’s agreed to be our chef for the next month, hopefully by which we can have the position filled permanently.

Everyone nods at his information and the man you now know as Rhodey speaks up,“ well thank god for that. This was incredible. I’m assuming you have experience as a chef.”

Nodding you tell him,“ I’m head chef at a restaurant in Manhattan called-”

“Pezzo di Paradiso.” Wanda interrupts with wide eyes.

Beside her, her redhead girlfriend holds the same expression.

How had they not noticed? You work at their favorite restaurant. And this is a dish they’d thought tasted familiar. 

They’d seen you more than a few times there. They even considered asking to thank you after a meal on more than one occasion but always became flustered at the idea of having an actual conversation with you.

Mainly Wanda. The young woman had developed a crush on you that grew with each visit to your restaurant. A crush that Natasha had continuously teased her about, despite her own attraction to you. 

Now you’re to be in their home for an entire month.  

That seems to fly by quicker than anyone liked.

Over the next couple weeks the team finds themselves loving absolutely everything you cook and growing to like you as a person in general, which admittedly takes a moment since you’re pretty closed off. 

Some nights were spent teaching one of them a certain recipe or valuable techniques. Your two main “students” being Wanda and Natasha.

At first the women weren’t sure about invading your environment as you worked but you’d assured them you didn’t mind showing them some stuff. Especially since you allowed their teammates to learn from you.

What everyone had begun to notice was your approach to the women. While with everyone else you were stern and slightly frustrated, you were much more patient and forgiving with them.

On more than one occasion Tony found you smiling or chuckling softly at Natasha’s mistakes with meals or Wanda’s curiosity toward the meals you made.

He’d teasingly asked you why didn’t snap at them for hovering or being in your space and when you stumbled to answer him he knew. Your month in the compound had lead you to develop feelings for the women.

Which had ate away at you. 

The women are in a relationship. Clearly in love with one another. You knew that your feelings for them would amount to nothing as they are obviously happy together.

But that doesn’t make leaving any less hard.

Your month is up. Tonight is your last night as their chef. So you plan to go all out, as both a thank you and a goodbye. 

Using F.R.I.D.A.Y, you pull together everyone’s favorite meals. It’d been a while since you yourself cooked eight different meals but you still give it your all. Even when you set the table. 

You have F.R.I.D.A.Y call everyone down after you’ve set name cards around the table. You know there’s a chance that you’ve overstepped, having left red roses at Wanda’s and Natasha’s spots.

It’s your way of telling them that they are indeed special to you, without the risk of saying the words to them and having that blow up.

As had become usual, you hear their excited chatter as they sit down, and even their comments pointing out the difference in their spots to Wanda’s and Natasha’s. 

You present them all with a three course meal. Starting simply with salads for everyone, again being special with Natasha and Wanda as you give them soups from their countries of origin. 

The second the smell of the Shchi hits Natasha her mouth waters and while she is mesmerized by the food, she finds herself mainly focused on you as you place a bowl of Zöldségleves in front of Wanda.

Both women then look at you. 

It’s clear you’d paid more than enough attention to them as they spent time with you in the kitchen. And you’d noticed the few times the women mentioned missing the taste of food from their homes. 

Which is further proven when you serve them their favorite meals from their home countries. Chicken Paprikash for Wanda and Pelmeni for Natasha. 

By the end of the night everyone is stuffed, not leaving though until they toast to you and thank you for your services. 

Natasha and Wanda, set on one particular goal, wait for everyone to leave, before going into the kitchen. 

They find you putting away the leftovers from each dish, named sticker labels pressed to the side of the tupperware. As always they’re flustered and attracted to the sight of you moving in the kitchen so elegantly. Like this is truly your element. 

“Oh,” you finally notice them, taking a hardly noticeable step back in shock,“ is there something I can help you ladies with?” You ask, ignoring the heat that’s begun to rush up your neck at the realization of your situation.

“In fact there is.” Natasha says, a smirk tugging at her lips.

You’re almost positive this is the moment they tear you a new one for leaving the roses and obviously making their meals more special than the rest of the teams.

“We were hoping we could give our compliments to the chef.” Wanda speaks slowly, a small purposeful step forward.

Fighting a confused frown, you nod,“ um, well, compliments received.” 

The women take notice of your nervous state. It isn’t often that you act this way. As you usually keep a cool and collected air around yourself. 

And unbeknownst to you, this gives them every bit of information they need. Their thoughts that you are attracted to them as they are you had just been confirmed by you.

“Actually, Wanda and I believe our actions could speak much louder than our words.” Natasha’s voice drops to a flirty tone.

You aren’t sure if you heard her right, but it’s clear you did when Wanda nods and takes yet another step forward.

Hesitantly, she reaches for your hand, and releases a breath when you let her take it.“ We’d really like to show you are gratitude.”

Her innocent words hold a suggestive tone and you swallow, glancing at Natasha who simply smiles reassuringly. So you nod and let them pull you from the kitchen.

You aren’t sure if this will be more than it’s implied to be but you’re eager to find out.

* * * * * * 

[picassho-18]

Art of Fire (II)

Zuko x Reader; Part 2; 2k words

A/N: disclaimer! I have not read the comics set after the finale, but this is set a little after Zuko’s coronation

Summary: The recently crowned Fire Lord Zuko meets a new friend of his Uncle’s, a special fire bender that quickly grabs his interest over a cup of tea and the discussion of the arts.

ALL CURRENTLY POSTED PARTS:  Part 1   Part 2   Part 3    Part 4

Apprehensive, you began to walk up the steps leading to the Royal Palace doors. While you were confident, maybe borderline cocky, with your skills and artwork, the idea of seeing Zuko again made you nervous. And you most definitely did not want to make a fool of yourself.

Iroh had obviously encouraged you over a cup of tea. He had admitted to intentionally having you meet his nephew. He may also have accidentally let it slip that Zuko wasn’t socializing with anyone since things with him and his past girlfriend Mai had split up.

Iroh seemed to think that the pair of you would be good together. It was nice to hear, especially because of your rapidly developing crush on his nephew. Yet it did not give you enough confidence walking up those steps, a sketchpad and pencil in your arms.

A servant at the door saw the materials in your hands, “Hello, are you the fire-painter to see the Fire Lord?”

You swallowed, no chickening out now, “Yes, that's me!”

“Excellent, he has been hoping you would come. Follow me.” The servant turned, walking you down majestic hallways throughout the Royal Palace. At one point you walked past a courtyard, so extremely lovely with a pond that had turtleducks swimming gently through the clear water.

Not really thinking about your actions, you stopped following the servant, slipping silently into the courtyard while the servant continued to walk away, not aware that you stopped following. Checking to make sure no one was watching, you walked to the pond, the turtleducks quacking softly as you approached.

“Oh how adorable you are!” you exclaimed, sitting down at the edge as they all swam closer to you. “I wish I had something to feed you!” you said sadly, as they watched you intently, their adorable eyes following your movements.

One of the turtleducks got close enough that you were able to reach out, giving it’s head a little scratch. You let out a little awe as it swam closer, nuzzling against your fingers.

Suddenly a voice rang out, causing your hand to jerk away from the turtleduck, “So I see you’ve made a friend.” You looked up to see Zuko leaned against a column to the entrance of the courtyard gesturing to the turtleduck you had been petting, obvious that he had been watching you.

“Ah, I’m sorry Fire Lord” you stood up quickly, giving him a small bow, “I just couldn’t resist them, when I saw how adorable they were.”

He waved you off, a soft smile on his face, “It is of no concern. They are extremely cute creatures.” Zuko walked over to you, standing next to you, both of you still watching the turtleducks.

“So, um, what was that emergency that last time we spoke?” you asked him, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Zuko’s eyes darkened, the little bit of shine that they earlier vanished, “Politics” he stated simply. As if that cleared everything up. When he saw your confusion, he continued, “Ever since my coronation not everyone in the Fire Nation has agreed with my new ideologies. Lets just say the Palace has been attacked every so often by insurgents.”

“Ah” you responded, you didn’t know that there were insurgents, everyone you’ve encountered always seemed so supportive to the end of the 100 year war.

A silence overtook the pair of you, both looking at the sparkling pond in front of you, thinking about the world you lived in. While the end of the war seemed so full of hope, a sense of completion and promise of a better future, yet the struggles have not been lifted. With his eyes on the turtleducks, you took the opportunity to really look at him.

You could see the stress on the frame of Zuko’s body. Dark rings hung under his eyes, possible from the lack of sleep or constant stress. He was a walking image of exhaustion. His shoulders sagged slightly, as if the weight of the world was resting on them. In a way it actually was. The Earth Kingdom, Water Tribes, along with his own Nation were all looking to him in this time of change.

He cleared his throat, pulling you from your thoughts, “So how about we plan out this piece of art?” he asked, sitting on the grass, you following suit, nodding. Zuko suggested, “How about a mural? I was thinking possibly for that wall?” pointing to a wall just outside the courtyard.

Instantly, your brain kicked into art mode, “Oh yes! That wall is big and empty, and it can be seen throughout the whole courtyard. Any ideas of what it would be of?”

He hesitated before answering, taking a deep breath as he stared at a nearby tree next to the pond. “I was thinking it could be a portrait of my mother.”

You looked between Zuko’s face, and the tree he was staring at. You saw the sorrow buried in his face, his eyes seemed distant, like he was not present, but instead inside a memory.

“Underneath that tree, my mother and I would watch the turtleducks. In her arms, she made me feel so safe, so loved. I think a portrait of her would be perfect.”

You nodded, understanding the pain he was feeling, “I think that would be lovely.”

“My only request would be that she's smiling.” His voice trailed off, his mind devoured by more memories, as he laid his head down on the grass, staring up at the sky.

“Of course” you said softly. At your voice his lips quirked upward in a slightly smile

Next to him, you began to sketch. You have seen Ursa’s portraits before, and sketching one with a smile would not be too hard. It remained silent, the pair sitting close together on the edge of the pond as your pencil worked rapidly on the paper, and Zuko’s eyes had begun to shut. His breath had slowed down, as if he was on the edge of sleep.

You had finished the sketch, but when you saw the Fire Lord asleep next to you, you had no clue on what to do. Silently, you place the sketchpad and pencil at your feet, trying not to move much. It looked like he needed all the sleep he could get. The fact that he could fall asleep that fast was an indicator of that. What you would have never guessed was how much Zuko found your own presence soothing.

Suddenly, a gust of wind hit the courtyard, the branches swaying slightly. A young boy appeared, sliding between the pillars; his orange wardrobe and blue tattoos obvious to who he was.

What you should have done was instantly stand up and bow to the Avatar, giving him your respect, yet when he began to open his mouth to speak, probably quite loudly from the stories you have heard about him, you instinctively shushed him, gesturing to the sleeping Zuko.

You froze, finger over your lips, as you realized you just shushed the Avatar. Thankfully, he appeared to not take it the wrong way, and snickered at the sleeping form beside you. He glided softly over the grass to sit down silently beside you.

In a quiet whisper, he spoke, leaning close to you so as not to wake Zuko, “Hello. My name is Aang.”

With a small grimace, you whispered back, “I’m so sorry I shushed you. I probably shouldn’t have because you are the Avatar, but it looked like Zuko needed his sleep”

Aang nodded, “That he does. The past few weeks have been hard on him.” You looked at the young boy, yet he appeared anything but. While he was small, and no taller than the average 12 year old, his face told a different story. That he has seen things. Experienced things that no person should. It was eerily similar to the face that you had been quickly associating with Zuko.

Aang continued, “So how do you know Zuko?” He was slightly confused at how someone appeared so close to a friend of his without knowing.

Still with a soft voice, you whispered, “Um. Well I am actually close friends with his Uncle. But I’ve actually only met Zuko twice. I’m sort of surprised that he has fallen asleep right here.”

With a wistful tone, one coming from experience and knowledge, Aang responded, “He must be very comfortable with you. Zuko is not one to let his guard down with others. He is typically very closed off to others.” While he said this, you looked at Zuko’s face. It was more serene, like the stress had vanished as soon as he fell asleep.

Zuko suddenly stirred, a quiet groan rumbling in his chest as he began to rub his eyes. He sat up, glaring slightly at the sun, before he noticed Aang and you beside him.

His voice deeper than usual, Zuko grumbled, “How long have I been asleep?”

“Um, probably around an hour. You looked like you needed it so I didn’t wake you.” you replied sheepishly.

“And it appears you’ve met Aang,” he replied, his eyebrow cocked up slightly, but a warm smile resting on his face.

Aang laughed, his boyish nature showing a little more,“We have met but not before she put me in my place, stopping me from waking you.” You shyly smiled at Zuko when his eyes widened as he realized what you did, blushing.

He stood up, clearing his throat, “Well um, thank you Y/N, but I uh, must continue my duties for the day.”

“Of course.” you stood as well, along with Aang, “I finished the portrait, but uh, will tomorrow be a good day for me to bring the supplies and start?”

“Yes, of course. Midday will be perfect.” Zuko responded, trying to ignore the looks that Aang was shooting at him. The air had grown awkward, like Zuko and Aang were having their own conversation with simple looks.

Confused at the sudden change in atmosphere, you said, “Alright, then I’ll be off!” Quickly left the pair behind as they said their goodbyes, leaving the courtyard.

Aang turned to Zuko, “Well, do you have something to tell me? Or am I supposed to ignore the way she spoke about you? Or the way you were looking at her?”

***

Read Part 3 HERE

ART OF FIRE TAG LIST: 

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Radiant

my work for @mysme-rbb​! art is by lynnimaybe on twitter. thank you for letting me share!

An obnoxious chime rings out from a speaker as the bottles fall, the clanging of glass against asphalt making Saeran wince. This was far from his first attempt at knocking them over, and he was grateful he finally won, hearing you let out a quiet cheer next to him. Rubbing his temples, he shuts his eyes, briefly granting him reprieve from the bright neon lights of the booth. He knew you were having fun, and he had been, but the noisiness of the festival was beginning to seep into his mind, rendering him exhausted and overwhelmed.

You‘re an angel. You always are, and this time was no different. A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, and despite its gentleness, Saeran still jumps. You’re there as usual, staring at him with wide, worried eyes. A black cat plushie is clutched tight against your chest with your free arm, its beady eyes reflecting his worn-down expression. “Saeran?” You start, voice just loud enough for him to hear, “I was calling you, but you didn’t answer. Do you want to take a break?”

The answer is obvious, but you always offer him a choice. He nods, and you carefully take the sleeve of his hoodie in your hand, guiding him over to a free bench. Saeran accepts the help wordlessly, practically melting into the wooden seat. Joining him, you stare out at the sky, not speaking. He doesn’t either, silently thankful for your understanding. Even if he had something to say, he wasn’t sure his body would cooperate. Every part of him felt so tired.

It wasn’t surprising, really. He was still recovering both mentally and physically, and moving around the fairgrounds had slowly worked up an ache in his muscles, burning down to the bone. You both hadn’t done much, admittedly. He was too nervous to try the rollercoasters for today, and you both agreed the haunted house was not a good idea. You’d been considerate of him the whole time, mainly choosing booths or rides where you had to sit, but the lines were still soul-crushingly long.

The biggest break he’d had was on the ferris wheel. At first, the inability to leave the basket and the sheer height made his heart race, and you had to take his hand to soothe him. But once he pieced together that he was safe, he wouldn’t get hurt, he was able to relax and enjoy the view. It was almost dreamlike, the way the red-purple warmth of the sunset lit up your face. It had been hard for Saeran to look away, but when you turned your attention from the sky to check on him, he had to. He had been too embarrassed to admit he was admiring you instead.

Now, Saeran watches children busily run up and down the slowly clearing paths, chased after by amused but stressed parents. The fireworks show would be starting soon, you had informed him earlier. He wasn’t too sure about the event; it would be loud, and crowded, and new, just like the rest of the fair had been. All overwhelming sensations for him, but the spark of excitement in your eyes when you spoke about the show made him want to try it. If only for your sake.

He glances over at you, watching you brush your fingers over the short whiskers of the cat plush, waiting for him to give a sign that he was ready to move again. You seem happy, a content smile on your face as you admire the prize. When he’d noticed you adoringly eyeing the plush hung up on the display rack, he knew he’d have to cave and get it for you. The encounter with the the booth attendant had been uncomfortable, having approached them without you, and it took six tries. Seeing you now, it all felt worth it.

A small hum is all he offers you, but you get the cue all the same. “Come on,” you say as you bounce to your feet, offering Saeran your outstretched hand. Even after all this time, you always ask, never simply grabbing ahold of him. He didn’t deserve your kindness, he thought, but he accepted it anyways. You seemed happy trying to make him happy. Silently he takes your hand, allowing you to help him up.

Waiting until he gives you a nod, you set off, the balloon tied securely around your wrist bobbing with each step. Feeling more relaxed than before, Saeran takes a moment to enjoy the atmosphere. It was peaceful, the bright neon lights of the fair reflecting on the river barely visible through the treeline. He’s almost too distracted observing the way the colors distort and ripple on the water to notice the small form rushing past, but the excited squeal the child lets out sends him stumbling back into you, his grip on your hand tightening in a brief moment of fear.

Oblivious parents hurriedly walk behind, leaving Saeran clinging to you, trying to steady his breathing. Your soothing whispers don’t quite sound like words, but your voice still manages to bring him back down, the tension in his shoulders releasing with a heavy sigh. “Sorry... dumb kid. I’m okay now,” he mutters, loosening his vice grip on your hand. You nod in understanding, but still don’t continue your walk, so he takes initiative, leading you down the path and around a corner.

Suddenly, there’s a loud whistle and a startling pop, a burst of orange and pink illuminating your face as you both whirl to face the sound. Saeran jolts and freezes, moving a bit slower, and by the time he’s turned the source of the noise is gone. He feels his heart pick up, but your face doesn’t share his fearful expression. Oh... was this was it was supposed to be?

Watching the horizon, it isn’t long before a single streak of white shoots up into the sky, exploding into a soft golden color. Right. Fireworks. As soon as he rationalizes the source of the sound and determines it to be safe — not coming towards you, not a weapon, a good and harmless distance away, all the way across the river — he turns back to you with a still slightly apprehensive look, tilting his head curiously.

Your eyes are filled with wonder, tracking another rocket as more shoot up into the air, widening ever so slightly as it erupts into white and blue. The excitement was almost radiating off of you, and it doesn’t leave your eyes when you catch his uncertain gaze.

“It’s alright,” you soothe, “just watch.” Clutching the plush close to you, you shift to tug the oversized sleeve of his hoodie up, just enough to entwine your fingers with his. You didn’t grip much, letting him make that decision on his own, squeezing your hand in silent thanks.

It was always overwhelming, going out and experiencing these things for the first time that everyone else around him was so accustomed to. The whole time he’d felt like a fumbling mess, never able to bring his voice above a mutter, too embarrassed by the signs that shone through that showed he was new to everything happening. This felt no different, and all the more imposing.

He’d heard about fireworks before, but never bothered to look into them. Now, though, seeing the vibrant display, he couldn’t help but be silently breathtaken, his lips slightly parted in awe. Did he have the same dumb expression as the small children? Probably, his brain says. If he did, you wouldn’t mind. You never had, even when he thought you should, when you had all the reason to shoot him a judging look like the ones he’d picked up before. But you never looked at him in any way but loving. You were always safe and familiar when everything else was new and jarring.

Relaxing slightly, he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips. He knows you’re watching him now, feeling your perpetually adoring gaze on him. This isn’t unusual; you always look at him with stars in your eyes when he’s able to unwind and enjoy the moment despite his reservations. You think he doesn’t notice, but he does every time, and it makes his heart a bit warmer. The fear that he’s not good enough, that he isn’t progressing enough, always lingers at the back of his mind, so he’s happy he can make you proud like this.

Deciding to tease you, Saeran turns his head back to face you. “Enjoying the view?” He asks stoically, and your face noticeably heats up. In some desperate attempt to get out of the situation, you smile and nod frantically.

“Y-Yep! They sure are... bright.” You noticeably wince at the clumsiness of your words, attempting to redirect the conversation. “Are you? You seem happy. Um, just by seeing you now, I mean.”

Deciding to spare you, he hums happily, turning back to watch the show, noting the way the colors reflect in the water, blooming on the surface before the sparks sizzle and fade out. “Yeah. It’s a bit noisy, but otherwise it’s... alright.”

There was so much he had to thank you for: for always being by his side, for your unending patience with him, for teaching him how to love and feel loved again. “Thanks for bringing me,” he says instead, but the soft look he gives you out of the corner of his eye shows everything he can’t bring himself to communicate in words.

Pressing yourself to his side, moving slowly to give him a chance to stop you, you lean your head against his shoulder. “Thank you for letting me bring you,” you respond. It’s a hidden message just like his; he can tell by the way your voice wavers with emotion. Thanking him for trusting you despite all he’d been through, and for not closing himself off from you.

Adjusting, he leans back against you, feeling strangely alright with the public display of affection. He barely minded the crowd of people that had gathered to watch the fireworks. For once, Saeran’s mind wasn’t swimming with paranoia and fear; to him, it was just the two of you and the colors lighting up the night sky.

[massivedrickhead]

bechloe tattoo shop au? Beca gives Chloe a tattoo?

So I’ve had this prompt in my inbox forever. I started writing it last year not long after I got my tattoo but it wasn’t going anywhere so I kinda gave up on it. But I just started watching Ink Master and I had to finish this prompt. 

It’s kind of pointless but I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, and now I’ve written it I might as well share it.

I also gave Beca loads of tattoos because I’m high-key attracted to the idea of a heavily tatted Beca

Read on AO3

------

“Hi,” Chloe said, approaching the reception desk at Titanium Tattoos and Piercings. There was a blonde woman sitting behind the desk, spinning on her chair.

“What’s up?” She asked, with a heavy Australian accent. 

“I have a consultation appointment,” Chloe said. 

“Cool, what’s your name?” The woman asked, looking down at her computer.

“Chloe Beale,” Chloe said.

The woman nodded. “You’re meeting with Beca?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said.

“She’s in with a client right now, why don’t you take a seat and she’ll be out soon. My name is Fat Amy, give me a shout if you need anything.” Amy said, gesturing over to a collection of couches. 

Chloe nodded and took a seat, her eyes roaming over the art that was hung around the room. She recognised a lot of it from Instagram, and she knew Beca was responsible for most.

Chloe waited for another 10 minutes before Beca came out, followed by a very pale looking man. 

“Okay Jesse,” Beca said, patting him on the shoulder, “keep it clean, no swimming for a few weeks,  and when it starts healing don’t pick it.” She handed him a sheet of paper. “Follow these instructions and take care of it yeah? If you get it infected it makes me look like a jackass.”

Jesse laughed. “Thanks, Beca.”

“Go give Amy your money and give us a call if you have any questions or anything,” Beca said. She spotted Chloe waiting. “Chloe, right?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said.

“Give me a couple of minutes to grab a drink and I’ll be with you. You want a coffee or anything?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Chloe said, watching Beca rush off to another room.

Chloe’s heart was pounding, and it was only partly due to nerves. Beca was cute. She had seen a picture of her on the tattoo shop’s Instagram but seeing her in person was something else.

Beca returned after a few minutes. “Chloe? Do you wanna follow me?” 

Chloe nodded and followed Beca into the shop. 

“Sorry I’m running a bit late,” Beca said. “My last guy got a bit lightheaded, we had to take a break.”

“No worries,” Chloe said.

Beca showed her into her room and asked her to take a seat.

“So, this is just a consultation, I’m not going to be sticking you with any needles today,” Beca said taking a seat next to her. “What is you’re wanting to get done?”

“I have a couple of reference photos,” Chloe said, pulling up her phone. “I want something kind of floral but a bit geometric too?” She handed Beca her phone who nodded and she swiped through the pictures. “And I also want to incorporate this ‘B’,” Chloe added, showing Beca a specific picture. 

“Okay, cool,” Beca said. She rolled her chair over to her desk in the corner and came back with a sketchbook and pencil. She started drawing as she spoke. “The B isn’t your partner’s initial is it?”

“No,” Chloe said, laughing. “I’m single.”

“Can I ask what it’s for?”

“Don’t laugh,” Chloe said. “But, um, I’m graduating from college next month, and this is the logo of the a cappella group I’m in.”

She saw the corners of Beca’s mouth twitch as she carried on drawing.

“That’s cute,” Beca said. 

Chloe laughed and felt herself blush slightly as she watched Beca draw. She was having a hard time focusing on anything else. Beca’s eye makeup was dark, her ears were pierced in several locations, and both arms had what looked like full sleeve tattoos.

She was distractingly attractive.

“You thinking colour or like black and grey?” Beca asked, glancing up.

“I was thinking black for the flowers and the shape, like kinda simplistic, not a lot of shading. But maybe we could do some colour in the logo?”

Beca nodded. “Awesome. Like the blue in this picture?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said.

“Where did you want it?”

“My ribs,” Chloe said.

This time Beca looked up fully and stopped drawing. “Is this your first tattoo?”

“No,” Chloe said, pointing at her tiny ladybug on her wrist.

“Cute,” Beca said, laughing softly. She ran a hand through her hair. “You sure about getting it on your ribs? It hurts like a bitch.”

“I’m sure,” Chloe said, laughing. 

“Okay,” Beca said, grinning. “How big?” She moved closer and put her hands against Chloe’s ribs. “Like this?”

Chloe felt suddenly light headed. “Yeah,” she said, trying to keep her voice casual.

Beca nodded again. She turned her sketchbook over so Chloe could see and passed her phone back. 

“So I can do something like this. You’ve got the geometric diamond shape here and that contains the flowers, but they’re sort of breaking that barrier here,” Beca said, pointing out different aspects of her sketches. “And then we can put the ‘B’ in the flowers but maybe a bit concealed? To give it some like depth.”

Chloe knew she should be focusing on what Beca was telling her, but she was having a hard time focusing when Beca was this close.

“Yeah, that’s awesome,” Chloe said, finally looking down at Beca’s sketches. “Exactly what I’m looking for.”

“Cool,” Beca said, grinning. “Can you send me that logo? I’m gonna draw up some more designs tonight.”

“Sure,” Chloe said. She airdropped Beca a picture of the logo. “I really love these designs, Beca. They’re perfect.”

“Thanks,” Beca said. “I’m glad you think so, you’re going to have this tattoo for a while.”

“So when can we do this?” Chloe asked, standing with Beca and heading back to the front of the shop.

“I might have some time tomorrow if you’re up for it?” Beca asked, heading behind the reception desk to check her schedule. 

“Yeah, that would be great,” Chloe said. “I’m free all day.”

Beca began typing into the computer. “How about 3pm?”

“Sounds great,” Chloe said, feeling a rush of nerves and excitement. She knew her tattoo was going to hurt like crazy, but somehow she was more nervous about having Beca’s hands on her body.

“Sweet,” Beca said grinning and typing into her computer. “So, I would recommend you don’t drink any alcohol tonight and please don’t drink any tomorrow. Make sure you eat too, I don’t want you passing out in my chair.”

“I don’t want that either,” Chloe said, laughing. 

—

Chloe arrived the next morning with a stomach full of butterflies but feeling excited. She was looking forward to seeing Beca again and she couldn’t wait to get her new tattoo, despite how much pain she was about to go through.

Beca called her through after she had been waiting for a couple of minutes.

“I usually take a girl for a drink before I ask this, but can you take your shirt off?” Beca asked.

Chloe laughed and pulled off her t-shirt, leaving her in just her bra. “Can I keep this on?” She asked, tugging at her strap.

“For now, yes,” Beca said. “Let’s get the design on there and see how it sits.”

Beca placed a piece of paper against Chloe’s ribs and applied the stencil of her design. When she peeled the paper away, a blue stencil remained.

“Have a look in the mirror,” Beca said. “Try it on for a bit while I get set up. Move your arm around, see how that’s going to affect the tattoo. Just make sure you’re 100% happy with it. Anything you wanna change or add we can do no problem right now.”

Chloe looked at the stencil in the mirror and did what Beca advised, twisting her arm and side, making sure it didn’t distort the tattoo in any weird way. 

She loved the design Beca had made, and she couldn’t wait to wear it.

“Happy?” Beca asked.

“Yeah,” Chloe said. “I love it.”

“Anything you want to change?” 

“Nope,” Chloe said, stilling grinning at the design in the reflection. 

“Okay, then let’s get started,” Beca said. She patted her chair which had been folded flat like a bed. As Beca pulled on a pair of black latex gloves, Chloe lay down on her side, her back to Beca’s chair. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said, feeling her heart race as Beca placed her hands on her ribs.

“Here we go.”

Beca hadn’t been lying when she said the ribs hurt. Each line felt like a knife was being pulled slowly across her skin. 

“How’s it going?” Beca asked after about thirty minutes.

“Yeah it’s uh, it feels great,” Chloe said.

Beca laughed. “Liar.”

“It fucking hurts,” Chloe said, laughing lightly. 

“You need a break or anything you let me know, okay?” Beca said, wiping away some ink and blood.

“Will do,” Chloe said, clenching her hand as Beca carried on tattooing. 

“How come you picked this design?” Beca asked, eager to keep Chloe’s mind off the pain she was putting her through.

“I just really wanted a way to commemorate the Bellas,” Chloe said. “They’ve been my family for like the last four years. They gave me confidence and - ah fuck - and a support system. That last line really hurt.” Chloe laughed, feeling tears prick her eyes.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Beca said. “We’re making progress though.”

“Good,” Chloe said. “What’s been your most painful tattoo?”

“My ribs for sure,” Beca said. “I had some big pieces planned for them but after I got some lyrics tattooed there I totally changed those plans. So if it makes you feel better, I think you’re metal as fuck right now.”

Chloe laughed again. “That does make me feel better.”

“Your next tattoo is gonna be way easier now,” Beca said. 

“My next one?”

“Yeah you’re gonna get the bug, trust me,” Beca said, wiping away some more ink and blood. “It hurts like a bitch but I kinda like it.”

Whatever Chloe had planned on saying disappeared as a string of expletives flew out of her mouth.

“Damn I did not expect that from you,” Beca said laughing. She could see Chloe gripping the side of chair. “You doing okay?”

“Mhm,” Chloe replied, jaw clenched.

“No you’re not,” Beca said, stopping her machine. “We’re taking a break.”

“Thank you,” Chloe said, letting out a slow breath. 

“Stay where you are, I’ll get you some water,” Beca said. She pulled off her gloves and dropped them in the trash. “If you wanna sit up wait until I’m back, okay?”

“I’m good down here,” Chloe said.

Beca left and grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and a straw. She stretched her back out before heading back in.

“You still with me?” Beca asked.

“Sure am,” Chloe said.

Beca pulled her chair around so she was sat by Chloe’s head, and passed her the bottle and the straw. 

“Your bedside manner is excellent,” Chloe said, smiling as she took a drink.

“I just don’t want anyone having a bad experience in my shop,” Beca said. “Plus if you passed out I’m way too tiny to lift anyone off the ground. You ready to finish this bitch?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said, drinking some more and then putting the bottle down.

“Awesome,” Beca said. She pulled on a new pair of gloves, pulled her chair back up to Chloe’s side, and started her machine back up. “We’re almost done with the line work now. Then it’s just some shading and some colour.”

“Cool,” Chloe said, thinking it still sounded like a lot to do. “So have you got any tattoos you regret?”

“Uh, not really. I mean I have some kinda shitty tattoos, but I think even bad tattoos tell a story,” Beca said. “I do have an ex-girlfriend’s name hidden under a cover-up though. That’s why I’ll always try and dissuade a client from getting their partner’s name on them.”

Chloe laughed. “Yeah I think that’s good advice. Is there anything you’ll just refuse to tattoo?”

“Oh yeah,” Beca said. “I won’t do any Nazi shit, or any other racist stuff. Nothing homophobic or anything like that. Like it’s just a straight up no, and once I know they want something like that I won’t tattoo anything else on them either.”

“That’s awesome,” Chloe said.

“Yeah, I don’t want bigot dollars,” Beca said. She stopped tattooing and wiped down the ink and blood again. “Okay the outline is done.”

“Thank god,” Chloe said, letting out a breath of relief. 

“You’re doing great,” Beca said. “Not much longer, I promise.”

As Beca carried on the tattoo, they carried on talking, each learning a little more about each other. 

Chloe learned that Beca also made music, and spent a few evenings a week DJing.

Beca learned that Chloe volunteered at an animal shelter, gaining experience for when she went to veterinary school in the fall.

After hours of tattooing, Chloe was finally done.

Beca helped her up, and Chloe admired her new tattoo in the mirror.

“Beca, it’s so awesome,” Chloe said, grinning. “I love it.”

“I’m really glad,” Beca said. “Can I take a quick pick for the Instagram before I get you wrapped up?”

“Yeah, of course,” Chloe said.

Beca took a few pictures and then cleaned and wrapped Chloe’s new tattoo, before handing her a sheet of paper on aftercare.

“Please take care of it. No scratching, no picking, no getting it dirty,” Beca said. “Follow these instructions and you’re gonna have a beautiful, nicely healed, tattoo in about a month.”

“Thank you so much, Beca. It’s exactly what I wanted, it’s perfect,” Chloe said.

“You are very welcome,” Beca said. “You sat like a champ. I’ve had grown men cry in my chair getting their ribs done, you did great.”

“So, um, what’s the deal on drinking now?” Chloe asked.

Beca laughed. “Give it 48 hours at least. This sounds gross but you’re gonna be bleeding and… oozing for the next couple of days, you don’t really want to thin your blood.”

“I can drink by Saturday then?” 

“Sure,” Beca said. “You got big plans?”

“No, I was just kinda hoping I could go on a date with this cute girl on Saturday,” Chloe said. Having survived her tattoo, she was suddenly feeling invincible.

“Sounds like a lucky girl,” Beca said. 

“Beca, would you like to come for a drink with me on Saturday?”

Beca couldn’t stop the grin that spread over her face. “I see. I’m the lucky girl?”

“You can be.”

“Sure,” Beca said. “It isn’t often I get asked out by clients after I put them through three hours of pain. Let’s do this.”

[starrynite7114]

everything is you: seven

A/N: Two updates?! I know, I’ve had this update ready and I’ve been writing ahead for some fics. This one has been ready, but I just wanted to post a few things before posting this one. I would just like to apologize now, these next few chapters are going to be very angsty, but we’re getting to fluff I promise!

Enjoy the chapter! Love you all!

everything is you

one : two : three : four : five : six

Word count: 7523

Warnings: Angst

Masterlist

Request tagged list: @justahopelessssromantic : @ifoundmyhappythought : @carlaangel86 : @woahitslucyylu : @encounterthepast : @enamoured-x : @whyisgmora : @briana-mishell24 : @bribri-82 : @briannab1234 : @chibsytelford : @agirllovespasta : @twistnet : @everyhowlmarksthedead : @trulysuccubus : @jadert15 : @sammskellington : @cind-in-real-life :  @claytoncardenasbabymama : @sadeyesgf : @thickemadame : @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass : @gemini0410 : @elcococruz : @samcrobae : @sesamepancakes​ : @iambabyharry : @blackmissfrizzle : @soamayansfangirl : @1-800-imagines​ : @phoenixhalliwell​ : @lady-pswrld​ : @dazzledamazon​  : @getyourcrayoncas​ : @fvckthisbxtchup​ : @lukealvxz​ : @scuzmunkie​ : @lilac-tea-time​ : @danie1432​ : @cocotheclown​ : @soaronmywings​ : @my-rosegold-soul​ : @buttercup812​ : @itskiranbitch​ : @angelreyesgirl​ : @sheeshgivemeabreak​ : @vicmackeybullshxt​ : @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​ : @khyharah​ : @strawberrywritings​ : @cherry-icetea​ : @fuzzy-jellyfish​ : @losolvidad0s​ : @brownsugarcoffy​ : @courtrae89​ : @prdsdjarin​ : @blessedboo​ : @marvelmaree​ : @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat​ : @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ : @thesandbeneathmytoes​ : @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind​ : @maddie-georges​

Anyone who wants to be added to the tag list, please leave a message below or message me!

Angel closed the door of the home he shared with Alena, sighing at the day’s events. Being entangled in Potter’s web of lies and killing Kevin, it was too fucking long of a day. All he wanted to do was relax until he had to go to the club for Templo.

He heard the laughter coming from the backyard. The sun had already set, but he knew Alena and Cruz liked hanging out at the backyard, once the sun was not as high up. But it was the male voice that threw him off. 

“Cruz, maybe you should become a painter just like mama.” He knew that fucking voice.

Victor.

This was what he fucking needed. 

“Daddy is a painter too, he’s awesome.”

Angel smirked at that. But he was still irritated that Victor was in his home. Of all the fucking times to have this mother fucker here, it had to be today.

Opening the door to get to the backyard, he found Cruz, Victor and Alena painting in the grass area. What a pretty sight.

“Daddy!” Cruz ran over to him. Angel picked him up, giving him a kiss. “Want to see what I made?”

“Let me shower first.” Angel placed him back down. He looked at Alena, waiting for her to greet him and she just smiled at him.

Smiled.

That’s it.

“Sunshine, can I speak to you?”

Alena frowned, and nodded her head. She excused herself and walked over to Angel. He looked down at her before going inside with Alena following behind him. They left Cruz with Victor, Angel didn’t want Cruz near them since he knew they were about to fight.

“What’s he doing here?” Angel turned, surprising Alena causing her to bump into him. He held her in place making sure she didn't fall. 

“He came to drop off some pastel that he got at an art gallery for Cruz.” Alena explained, stepping away from his hold. “Apparently Coco invited him to the party later.”

“Coco? Coco invited him? For fucking what?”

“He stopped by at the scrapyard so he invited him.” Alena shrugged. “He’s just my friend Angel.”

“Friend that you kiss?” He scoffed. “I don’t want him here Alena.”

“You’re being unreasonable, we’re not doing anything.”

“I’m unreasonable?” Angel gave her an incredulous look, shaking his head. “This man doesn’t give a fuck we’re married, and you think it’s fucking okay for us to be in this position?”

“Angel, I let Victor kiss me. Why are you so focused on him?”

“Because he’s fucking enticing you.” Angel was so fucking frustrated. The fact Alena didn’t seem anything wrong with her friendship with Victor was so fucking annoying.

“You can’t just blame him, I was a willing participant.”

Angel groaned. “You’re so fucking irritating. I told you I have feelings for you and you rub this motherfucker in my face.”

“I’m not rubbing anything.” Alena glared at Angel, annoyed at having such a pointless argument. “He’s just my friend, that’s it. The guys liked him and invited him. I think if you give him a chance you would too.”

“Fuck no Alena, he’s trying to take you from me, so fuck that.” Angel wanted to laugh at the situation he was involved in. This was the last thing he fucking needed today. All he wanted to do was be with Alena and Cruz, now, all he wanted to do was get the fuck away from here. “I’m going to shower.”

Alena watched as Angel disappeared into their room, sighing. 

Tonight was going to be a long night.

===========

“I could get used to this.” Victor took a sip of his beer, sitting next to Alena, across from Coco and Gilly. 

“Hanging out with a bunch of misfits? Your prim and proper background is cool with that?” Coco teased.

Victor shrugged. “Being prim and proper is quite boring. You guys are pretty cool and I get to hang out with this pretty lady right here.”

Alena blushed, laughing at Victor’s compliment. She looked up and found Angel sitting with Creeper and Hank. He was smoking his cigarette, legs wide open as he just stared at her. She knew he wasn’t happy, especially since she came to the clubhouse with Victor. They weren’t going to go, but Coco insisted they went.

Was Coco playing devil’s advocate, perhaps, but someone had to fucking push Angel.

“Angel is gonna end up fighting this guy.” Gilly warned Coco, his voice low so that Alena and Victor couldn’t hear him.

“Maybe that’s what he needs to wake the fuck up.”

Alena watched as one of the club hangarounds sat on Angel’s lap. He smirked at Alena before the woman covered her from Alena’s view. Alena’s heart dropped, looking over at Victor. He saw what she saw and sighed. She always knew that there was something going on with Angel and other women, but seeing it first hand was something different.

“You wanna go?”

“Yes, please.” Alena stood up, taking her purse. “Let me go use the bathroom then we can go.” 

Coco saw the crestfallen look on Alena’s face and looked back. He shook his head, watching as Angel flirted with the woman on his lap.

“This dumbass motherfucker.” Coco shook his head.

Gilly and Coco watched Alena go inside the clubhouse. When they turned to Victor, he was making his way towards Bishop, who just sat down beside Angel. 

“Looks like you are about to win a 20.” Gilly commented. 

“Mr. Losa, thank you for inviting me again.” Victor shook his hand.

“Any friend of Alena is a friend of the club.” Bishop smirked. “Alena going with you?”

“Yes, she’s not feeling well.”

“What’s wrong?” Angel stood up then.

“Shouldn’t matter to you, that woman not giving your ego enough attention?”

Bishop, Hank and Creeper all shared a look. This was not going to end well. 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Angel had enough of this motherfucker. He had him fucked up.

“You heard me, don’t pretend you give a fuck about Alena when you know exactly what you do to her. You let that woman sit on your lap, knowing Alena could fucking see you. After all the sacrifices she made for you and your son, the best you can do for her is toy with her feelings to assure she stays by your side?” Victor scoffed. “What a real man you are.”

Bishop, Hank and Creeper’s eyes went wide at Victor’s words. Someone had to finally tell him what was going on. They saw Alena approaching, she could immediately tell that his body was tense and seeing the look on Victor's face, she knew nothing good would come out of this.

“Angel, please, don’t start.” She wrapped her arms around him from behind. She knew Angel could still make his way over to Victor with her hanging on him, but she didn’t care. 

“Alena, let go of me.”

“No, it’s okay, just go have fun with that girl.” Angel turned to her then and she had that irritating smile again, the one that she gave him whenever she tried to smile through whatever shit that was said or done. “It’s fine, um, she has to finish sewing your patch on.” She touched the patch that was slightly hanging off his kutte.

“Cielo,” he closed his eyes. He tried to take her hand in his, but she moved away, walking over to Victor. 

Angel was wounded. 

“It was nice to see you guys, I’ll see you.” Alena quickly said her goodbyes. She whispered something to Victor before he said his goodbyes and led her to his car. She looked at Angel one last time and smiled again, before sliding inside Victor’s car.

For once in his life, Angel felt like he was losing Alena. He watched as Victor’s car drove off. 

Looking at Coco, his brother shook his head. “I never thought I would see the day, but it seems like you’re not the only one who has her attention.”

Angel turned his motorcycle off, letting out a breath. He waited for an hour before coming home to blow off some steam. He didn’t see Victor’s car so he figured he dropped Alena off and left. Taking off his helmet, he made his way to the front door and frowned at the darkness inside. Alena usually left a light on for him, just so it wasn’t too dark for him. It was more for her than him and whatever made her feel at ease he was fine with.

Opening the front door, he had this feeling of dread. Taking his phone out, he saw a message from Alena. 

She just sent it.

‘Wifey ♾👑💍’‘

Hey, I went to San Diego and I brought Cruz. I think it’s best for us to try this trade off thing. I can take care of Cruz from Sunday to Thursday and drop him off at your place Thursday morning or Wednesday night, whichever you prefer. It’s Tuesday, I’ll drop him off Thursday morning. Have a good rest of your night. Congratulations again on getting the secretary patch. :) 

Angel’s heart dropped, rereading her message. What did she mean trade off’s? They were doing this whole drop off bullshit? Absolutely not.

Angel walked right back out of their home, locking the door. He rushed towards San Diego, parking at Alena’s second parking spot in the underground parking lot of her apartment complex. He was so anxious that he took the stairs to the fourth floor where she was. When he got to her floor, he rushed towards her door and he felt like the wind was knocked out of him. Right in front of him was Alena and Victor talking right outside of her door. She pulled away, eyes widening when her eyes landed on him.

Victor turned around and pursed his lips. He kissed her cheek, whispered something in her ear and pulled away. Making his way down the hall, he nodded his head at Angel, the smirk on his face was something Angel wanted to knock out of him, but he kept his composure. His mind couldn’t let go of Alena’s statement. 

“Hey,” she greeted him when he was in front of her.

“We need to talk.”

“Cruz is sleeping.” Lame excuse, but she didn’t expect Angel to come and see her.

“He’s not part of our conversation.”

Alena led him inside, closing the door behind him. They sat down on the couch, sitting on opposite ends.

“Alena, that girl at the club sh-“

Alena cut him off. “No, you’re fine, you don’t have to explain anything to me.” She shook her head, waving him off. “We always knew what this was and I’m sorry I reacted the way I did.”

“I was trying to make you jealous and I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, it’s okay.” Alena let out a small laugh, her hands on her lap, smoothing out her skirt. “It’s almost one in the morning Angel, we could have talked tomorrow.”

“No, I didn’t want to wait.” Angel studied her and she wouldn’t look at him. She had her hands folded on her lap, and she was just looking at anywhere but him. She was retreating into her shell, something she did when trying to avoid a conversation she didn’t want to be a part of.

Tough shit.

She couldn’t drop a bombshell like that on a text message and expect for him to be okay with everything. 

“I don’t want to do trade-offs.” He addressed the elephant in the room. 

“This would be a nice practice once we get divorced Angel. We can’t stay like this forever.” Alena reasoned, for once looking up at Angel and meeting his intense stare. She’s never seen him look so displeased with her.

“Do you ever think about Cruz? Don’t you think it would confuse Cruz if we do that? Why change something that’s working?” Angel knew it technically wasn’t working. 

“But it’s not working for me!” Angel was surprised when Alena yelled out. He’s rarely heard her scream, but it was never towards him. Angel’s statement angered her. She always thought about Cruz, it was the reason she was still in this, regardless of how many times her heart broke. “I want a family. I want to experience life too. You and Cruz have been my life for years, and nothing is going to change that, but please Angel, I deserve to be loved, to have a marriage that’s not out of convenience.”

Angel looked like he was just struck. He frowned, not expecting Alena’s outburst. You can only push someone for so long. “I, Alena, I love you. We have a family. You want more kids? We can have that. Just,” for once, he didn’t know how to charm Alena. “Don’t do this Alena, please, I need you.”

“If you love me, respect me, give me what I want and just let me put this space between us.”

“You know I respect you and I love you, I can’t lose you.” Angel tried to move closer to her, but she shook her head.

“Doing this would push me away Angel.”

He didn’t know what to do. Letting her go was never an option he thought he would be given or force to have, but it was here looking at him straight in the eyes. 

“Cielo, please don’t make me do this. Don’t separate us. If you don’t want to sleep on the same bed, that’s fine, but please don’t put such a great distance between us.”

Alena shook her head. “I’ll stay here from now on and we can work on something. This isn’t about Victor, the girl, or anything. This is about you and me. We’re facing that reality soon and it would be better to ease Cruz into it. I work in San Diego so it shouldn’t be a difficult adjustment.”

“What about the weekends? He’s used to all of us being together.” Angel felt himself losing, drowning, and he couldn’t stay afloat no matter how hard he tried. “Alena, come on, I didn’t do anything with that girl.”

“I’m going to bed, you know where the pillows and blankets are.” She stood up and forced herself to look at Angel to offer him a smile. “We always knew it would come to this. It’s better to start early than keep pushing this act that was eventually going to fade.”

Alena walked away and into her room, closing the door behind her. The tears she held back fell then and she felt like an idiot. She kissed Victor, something that made the butterflies in her stomach run wild, but the guilt ate her up too. When she saw that woman on Angel’s lap, the way he smirked at her, it was almost a taunt. And all she could do as always was withdraw herself, and be that girl again. The one who knew Angel Reyes would never want such a weak woman. The one who knew Angel would never settle for her. The one who knew that no matter how much she gave, just like her father, everyone would leave her. She shouldn’t have high expectations and she didn’t. She was thankful at the blessings that Angel has bestowed in her life, she would forever be thankful for him. 

But things were coming to a close.

Alena wanted to protect her heart as much as possible, though she knew she would have done it sooner.

Looking at her bed, Cruz was sound asleep holding his bunny. She quickly changed and joined Cruz in bed. 

Their dynamics were finally changing, something everyone was not eager to see.

Everyone knew this would have a great effect on Angel more than Cruz.

After all, Alena was taking away one of the most important things that has kept him sane throughout this whole ordeal.

Her presence.

Angel walked into their room, leaving Alena’s after their discussion. He couldn’t stay there, it was too much for him. Victor’s words about her sacrifices, Alena’s words and this shit with his family, everything was falling apart.

Going inside their shared closet, he looked at Alena’s clothing, feeling like a completely pathetic douchebag at how emotional it made him feel to look at clothing. He looked through her clothes, her side was always so organized and his was slightly messy due to him changing quickly to get to places. He tidied up his side of the closet, trying to distract himself. 

Alena’s side was tidy, but maybe he could rearrange things for her. 

He couldn’t believe how much of an idiot he was. He should have known that action would hurt Alena. She already believe he slept with every fucking person that hangs around the club, he was certain this didn’t help his cause.

“You’re such a fucking idiot.” Angel took a box out that was on the shelf that separated Alena’s dresses and jeans. It was unmarked, and the box was too nice to not hold anything. Maybe it was pictures for the scrapbook Alena was trying to make. 

Sitting on the floor, he opened the box, ready to go through the pictures of him, Alena and Cruz. But instead, what he saw was a shock.

Inside the box were not pictures. It was a brochure for a school in Paris, France. A plane ticket for Paris, Alena’s name on the ticket along with a portfolio that had Alena’s artwork. He dumped the contents of the box, going through every letter and content of the box. 

Alena was going to Paris. She lied to him. She told him that she didn’t get in, that she was going to stay out in Santo Padre. But from what he could see, Alena was going to leave, but he remembered asking her when Valeria brought it up, she said she wasn’t going.

===========

Alena let out a yawn, placing her head on Angel’s shoulder. They were watching the season finale of some show Angel was an avid fan of and she just came cause Angel wouldn’t let her say no. 

And he bribed her with his father’s carne asada. 

“Let’s go to bed.” Angel turned the television off, standing up and causing Alena to fall on the couch.

“Okay, I’ll make breakfast in the morning.” Alena grabbed the throw blanket she had given Angel, getting comfortable on the couch. 

“The fuck you doing?” Angel chuckled. “You’re not sleeping on the couch.” 

“You’re dating someone Angel, I don’t think she would like it if we slept on the same bed.” Alena let out another yawn, taking off her glasses and placing it on the coffee table.

“Cielo, I don’t give a fuck about Valeria. Come on.” Angel always thought it was so cute how Alena gave a fuck about Valeria, she could kiss his ass. Their relationship was solely based on Alena and Dante’s relationship and right now, they were no longer together. His relationship with Valeria was almost over. He was going to go for who he truly wanted and that was Alena.

Just as Angel was about to join Alena on the couch, there was banging on his door. Angel’s eyebrows furrowed since Coco and Gilly knew not to disturb his time with Alena. Opening the door, Valeria pushed past Angel and walked over to Alena who had gotten up due to the knocking. As soon as she reached Alena, she slapped her, knocking Alena’s glasses to the floor. 

“I told you to stay the fuck away from Angel, did I not?” Valeria was immediately pulled away by Angel who was absolutely livid.

Alena kneeled down to find her glasses and Angel just glared at Valeria. 

“I’m gonna need you to get the fuck out of my house.” Angel told her, trying his best to keep his cool since he didn’t want to lose it in front of Alena.

“Fuck you, I’m your girlfriend not that bitch!” Valeria shook her head, not surprised that Angel sides with his precious Alena. “Did she tell you she was leaving for Paris? Been planning it for years! Did your precious cielo tell you that?”

Angel looked at Alena who just put on her glasses, shaking as she did. He knew that Valeria hated Alena, which was the cause of many of their fights, but he didn’t give a fuck what this placeholder has to say.

“We’re done.” Angel opened his door. 

“Fuck you and your bitch.”

Angel slightly blocked his doorway and leaned down so only Valeria could hear the words coming out from his mouth. “Next time you harm her in any fucking way, you’re gonna wish you never touched her.” Valeria swallowed hard, leaving Angel’s apartment. She knew Angel would never harm a woman, but for Alena, he would. 

“I’m gonna go.” Alena grabbed her phone and keys. 

“Alena, don’t leave.” Angel frowned, standing in front of the door. “Cielo, let me see your face.” Her hair was covering her cheek, and she kept her distance from Angel.

“No, it’s okay.” She shook her head. She should have stayed away from Angel, but she couldn’t even if she tried. It just hurt since Valeria hit her at the same spot Dante hit her not a mere two weeks ago.

“She hit you at the same spot, go sit down and I’ll put some ice on it.” Angel wasn’t moving, he wasn’t going to let her go home. Valeria was psychotic and may be waiting for her there.

“Angel, please, I just really want to go home.”

“Come on Cielo, I don’t want to argue, please sit down.” 

Alena looked up at him and his heart clenched seeing the tears in her eyes. He was going to fucking kill Valeria. 

“Hey baby, don’t cry.” Angel closed the distance between them, softly cupping her cheeks. “Go to bed and I’ll get you some ice.”

Alena nodded her head, not wanting to argue with Angel. Making her way to his bed, Alena placed her things down at the bedside table she had gotten him a few years ago. Slipping under the covers, Angel came back with a pack of frozen vegetables. He slid in beside her, turning her body so she could face him. He placed the frozen pack on her cheek, frowning.

“She told you to stay away from me?” 

“Yeah, I get it though. She said that I ran to you all the time and that you two couldn’t flourish if I keep getting in the way.” She gave him that small smile he was accustomed to, the one she gave people even when whatever was said to her hurt her. It made Angel angry from time to time how she just let people do that to her, but she was all about killing them with kindness.

But she didn’t need to worry, she had him.

“Are you really leaving?” Angel’s chest tightened hearing that from Valeria. Alena couldn’t possibly leave him.

But she was, she had a plan to do so, he just didn’t need to know.

“No, I could never leave you.”

A small lie never hurt anyone

===========

Angel chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. He couldn’t be angry at her, she didn’t leave. But it further infuriated him.

How many more times was he going to ask Alena to make a sacrifice for him? 

Hell, he would have never let her make this type of sacrifice for him. 

She deserved better. 

But he couldn’t let her go.

He would do better for her.

He’ll give her the space she wanted and they could go from there.

===========

Bryan sat across from Angel, giving the waiter his order. 

“This is unexpected.” Bryan commented as he placed his cell phone down. 

“Yeah, I needed some clarification and I figured no better person to ask than you.” Angel was still not happy regarding the box he found at Alena’s side of the closet. He rarely went through her stuff, but after their falling out, he wanted to tidy up the closet for her. And when he did, he found that box. 

“What’s going on?” Bryan took a sip from his water. 

Angel placed the plane ticket on the table sliding it over to Bryan. His eyes landed on it and was unsure of what the problem was, from what he understood, Alena told Angel. Bryan closed his eyes then, letting out a chuckle at his stupidity for even thinking Alena would tell the person who had the power to make her stay that she was leaving.

“She never told you.” Bryan sighed. “Where’d you find this?”

“Alena has a box that she didn’t label and it had her portfolio and everything for the school in Paris that was connected to that museum.” Angel was angry, not at Alena, at least not mostly, he was angry at himself for being so selfish. For not realizing how much she sacrificed. He remembered how angry Alena’s mother was at her, how angry Bryan was at her. They didn’t talk for a few months until they came to meet Cruz.

“The Louvre.” That whole fiasco was a sensitive subject for all parties. Though him and his mother have moved pass the whole situation, every now and then his mother would bring it up and it would just upset Alena. They wouldn’t want her to trade it for the world, they loved Cruz and they could never fault Alena’s good heart. “Angel, there’s no point in bringing that up. She didn’t leave.” 

“The point was she was and she had no plans on telling me.” 

“How do you know that?”

“Cause I asked her.”

“My sister knew that if she told you, you would ask her to stay and you know her, she has no powers over you.” Bryan thanked the waitress who placed his food on the table. “Come on Angel, you had my sister wrapped around your fingers since she was sixteen years old. She can recognize that you’re not a saint, but that doesn’t matter to her since her world revolves around you.”

Angel couldn’t argue with that. She’s had him wrapped around her fingers since she was eleven years old. 

“I’m not upset at your sister, I just thought she would have told me. She was planning it for years.” Angel thanked the waitress when she placed his plate on the table.

“She was planning it for years because she kept backing out.” Bryan sprinkled tabasco all over his dish. “This is supposed to be spicy?” He scoffed, taking another bite. 

“Not everyone burned their tongue with spices when they were young such as yourself.” Angel shook his head amused by Bryan’s ridiculous spice tolerance. “I want to make it real with your sister.”

Alena and Angel have been civil with one another, but she’s kept her word. She stayed in San Diego and came to Santo Padre when she dropped off Cruz or shit at Vicky’s or the clubhouse. It was painful, difficult for Angel and this only started two weeks ago. 

But he had to give her the space she wanted, he was going to fight for her. 

“Has it not been?” Bryan scoffed. “I don’t know why you two continue to play this game with one another, we all know you’re as devoted to my sister as she is to you, though you may be a little bit more devoted.” Bryan always teased Angel. He knew what their relationship was, yet, Angel never stepped out on his sister, which he was thankful for. He wasn’t certain why Alena had it in her head that Angel always stepped out on her when it was nowhere near the truth. “Alena gave up plenty for you and my mom and I always resented you for that. But we would never fault you, Alena’s a big girl, she made her own choices. We swallowed our opinions since we could see that you cared for her, maybe you weren’t ready to face facts, but we knew you did.” 

“Why’d you let it go on for this long? I hurt your sister.” Angel hated admitting how much he hurt Alena, but he truly did and he would spend a lifetime making it up to her.

Bryan shrugged. “Alena loves you Angel. No matter how many times we discuss it, how many times we dissuade her, she’ll come running to you.” Bryan took another bite of his food. “I hated you for a long time because my innocent baby sister was enamored by you, I was convinced you fucking did some voo doo magic on her.” Bryan remembered how much he disliked Angel. Whenever Angel came to pick up Alena, he would watch him like a hawk, but Angel was never intimidated by him. They were the same height, almost the same built, but Angel was focused on Alena. He was even certain Angel didn’t notice he disliked him so greatly. “Then I realized that in your own fucked up ways, you were in love with Alena too. I knew you wanted to confess to her before Dante’s unfortunate arrival, but every time it was going to happen for you two, something came in the way.” He recalled how Angel pulled him aside, informing him of his intentions on asking Alena out, that this was it. “I honestly thought after Cruz, my sister would walk away, go to Paris as she intended to do so. But then you married her.”

Angel knew the circumstances were always so terrible for them, but he was in love with her and he was happy Bryan could see it. He wasted time and he knew he did. But he would give her time to take time for herself. He didn’t want to pressure her, when she was ready to talk they would talk then.

“I want to give Alena the world. But she isn’t exactly talking to me right now.”

“My mom told me.” Bryan wiped his mouth with the napkin on his lap. “It’s Alena, she’ll eventually come around and run to you.” He smirked, he knew his next sentence would rile Angel up. “Oh, but that’s right, Victor has finally decided to make a move.”

“The fuck, you know that clown?”

“I do, Alena introduced us years ago, even then you could tell he was into my sister.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” Angel scoffed.

“Angel, I don’t fucking understand your relationship with my sister any better than anyone in this unconventional family we have. I always thought you knew about him.” Bryan shrugged.

“Should I be worried about that asshole?” Angel wondered.

Bryan sighed. “Alena has been in love with you for years. She’s had her moments where she’s decided that she would keep you at arm's length. Remember when she had a miscarriage?”

Angel did and it was one of the worst times in his life. 

It happened a year ago. He and Alena usually used protection, but a year ago, they decided to forego it since she went on birth control. Then she got pregnant and it was difficult to see how hard she was on herself.

===========

Alena sat on her side of the bed, wiping her tears as she read the discharge papers she was given. 

How could she have not known?

She was too early, this much was true, but this was just difficult to accept.

Her inhaler was right beside her just in case she became worked up by this whole situation.

Miscarriage.

She miscarried her and Angel’s child.

“Cielo, I’m home.” She heard Angel call out.

She debated whether or not she should tell him. If she didn’t let him know, there would be no disappointment. The door opened and Angel immediately frowned seeing the distress Alena was in. Cruz was peacefully sleeping on the bed, his back touching Alena’s leg since Cruz always had to be in some type of contact with Alena when he falls asleep near her.  

“Cielo, what’s wrong?” Angel rushed to her side, kneeling in front of her.

Alena handed him the paperwork she was given and Angel skimmed through, frowning at the diagnosis. 

“Baby,” he sighed. He stood up, pulling her up so she was kneeling on the bed. He wrapped his arms around her, Alena crying into his chest. She was doing so well holding in the sobs that wanted to wracked through her body. “It’s okay.” He tried to comfort her as best as he could. This wasn’t on anyone, it’s not like they knew and even if they did, they can always try for another.

“I’m sorry Angel, if I knew, I would have been careful.” Alena was holding on to his shirt under his kutte. It broke him hearing her in this way. “They said it happens, but I didn’t even know.”

“Alena, stop being so hard on yourself. It’s okay.” Angel’s heart broke. He was sad about the possible baby, something he always wanted with Alena, but they could always have another child. “I love you mi Cielo.”

Alena didn’t reply and just hugged Angel. Having his arms wrapped around him definitely made her feel better. But she just realized that whatever this was with Angel, them being intimate and enjoying one another, it had to stop. 

She couldn’t put herself out there to just be put down like this.

After the miscarriage, Alena distanced herself from Angel, requesting they wouldn’t be intimate, which he didn’t care. But he didn’t leave her alone. He did everything for her as best he could. Because he knew Alena blamed herself for losing their baby. And it wasn’t her fault.

Shit unfortunately happens, but his Alena was a saint and took everything on her own.

Angel walked in the room he shared with Alena and found her laying on her side, turning away from him. He sighed since that’s what he always walked into, Alena’s back turned to him and as much as he wanted to hold her, she wouldn’t let him. Again, it was fine, but he wanted to help her and she wouldn’t let him. She was drowning in this self loathe and he just felt powerless.

“Hey Cielo, did you eat?” She hasn’t been eating well and usually only did so while Cruz was eating. She would nibble on a few things and that was it. Cruz was at his father’s since he wanted to give Alena a break so he was almost certain she didn’t eat.

“Yes.” Alena continued to scroll through her phone, not wanting to face Angel. How could she face Angel? She lost their child. He kept telling her it wasn’t her fault, but it was hard to think that.

“Alena, come on, can you at least face me when you talk to me?” He missed her. She would crack a smile every now and then but it was momentary. Then she would just go back to whatever she was doing. The only time she had a genuine smile on her face was when she was with Cruz.

Alena sat up and turned to face him. “Everything okay?”

“No, it isn’t, you won’t fucking talk to me. I get it, you’re upset, you blame yourself, but Alena, it’s not your fault. And I’ll keep saying it till it registers.”

“How can you even say that? I lost our baby and you’re okay with that?” Alena narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t have to spare my feelings, if you’re upset just come out with it.”

“I am fucking upset because you won’t fucking talk to me! Whenever I try to comfort you, you retract like you’re fucking repulsed by me.” Angel snapped. “Alena, I’m sorry we lost the baby, but that doesn’t change what you are to me, to Cruz or to anyone. We can always try for another if you want, but don’t close me off, please.” His last word was a plea and Alena frowned at his words.

She didn’t realize she was closing him off or at least in the way he was describing. Alena just thought that Angel hated her, that he was just masking however he truly felt. She knew Angel wanted a baby, she’s overheard him tell the guys. Her mind was cruel and it did not provide any mercy towards her feelings. 

Angel hated her. Angel didn’t want her. Angel was just being nice. Angel hated her.

These thoughts persisted in her mind and as hard as she tried to push them away, it wouldn’t go away.

“It’s okay if you hate me.” Alena’s small voice broke Angel’s heart.

Hate her?

He could never hate her.

Alena looked up at him, tears brimming her eyes. “I’m useless and not special just like what they all say. I can’t even carry a baby.”

Angel rushed over to her then, wrapping his arms around Alena. She tried to push him away, not wanting his comfort even though deep down she did. She just didn’t think she deserved it.

“Stop fighting me Alena, please.” Angel buried his face at the crook of her neck. “Don’t you ever listen to these idiots. You’re the best person I know, I would die without you. Accidents happen Alena, but this isn’t on you. Please. You’re killing me. You won’t eat, you won’t talk to me. Don’t close me off.” 

Angel held her tightly. It was the first time in four months that Alena has let him hold her. He felt like a sap, but he missed having her in his arms. He missed it when she would bury her face on his chest whenever her alarm went off to go to work. He missed it when she would be draped over him because Alena was a mover when she was asleep. She always managed to be entangled with him. But these last few months, she hardly slept and somehow she was able to function. It worried him greatly, and she refused to tell her mother. But Angel got her brother to come and for a moment he thought it would turn around. 

It didn’t. 

But he was going to heal her, he was going to help her.

Just like how she always did for him.

When Angel felt Alena’s arms wrapped around him, he felt a sigh of relief rushed through his body.

“I’m sorry Angel.”

“Don’t apologize, you did nothing wrong.” He pulled away but made sure Alena’s arms remained around him. He cupped her face, softly caressing her cheek with his thumb. “I’ll always be here for you Alena. We’re a team. Don’t close me off again, let me be here for you.”

“Okay.” She nodded her head. Angel wiped away her tears. “This is a weird request, can you kiss me?”

Angel chuckled. Alena never had to ask, the only reason he hasn’t kissed her was because she made him feel like she didn’t want him anymore after the miscarriage.

“Of course Cielo.” 

Angel bent down and kissed her. Feeling Alena’s body relax as soon as their lips met. He missed the warmth of her lips against his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, loving the feel of his lips against hers. She loved feeling his scruff against her skin.

She knew it was still a battle, but at least now she finally let Angel be in her corner.

===========

“That period was hard.” Angel sighed, losing his appetite. Alena avoided him for almost four months. The worst part, she was actually around when she was doing it. This time, she put great distance between them and he knew he wasn’t going to last four months. There was no way. “So, should I be worried?” He’s never been uncertain with Alena before. It was always pretty straightforward in some sense. But this time around, there was someone around he felt that was influencing Alena and that he didn’t know how to deal with.

“You’ve never been worried before, why worry now?” Bryan was always intrigued by their relationship. Angel kept Alena at arms length, but as soon as the atmosphere changed and Alena was going to move forward, he changed and held her close. He did this for a few years and for the last two years, Angel was still hot and cold, but he made sure to never keep too much distance between them. He held her close, but not too close. Quite frankly, he was tired of it, so maybe he would play devil’s advocate, his sister deserved better than this. 

“There wasn’t another person. Also the same person she hid for years. It’s like she was protecting their relationship.” Angel was picking at his food. He was a fucking bottomless pit and this woman had him picking at his fucking food.

“She wasn’t protecting their relationship, she just picked certain words to avoid you worrying. I mean, what guy our age would babysit a kid for a woman he lived next to?” Yep, devil’s advocate. “Like I said, he’s always liked my sister and she anticipates to divorce you within a year since that was your deal. Unless, things truly have changed?”

“What?”

“Don’t be obtuse Angel, you do this shit all the time. Something or someone could threaten your position in my sister’s life, you become this clingy husband that would not let her out of your sight. I don’t doubt your love for my sister, but how do I know you just don’t love her because you need her to keep your life in order? How do I know that you’re not playing the part to get laid? My sister is an adult, but so are you. If you truly care about her don’t play with her feelings and just divorce her. She’ll still be there for Cruz.” Bryan took some of Angel’s food and he gave him an incredulous look. “What? You’re not eating.”

“First of all, I should beat your head in for even saying shit like that to me. Playing with her feelings? I’ve protected your sister since she was twelve fucking years old. You think I’m fucking with her? I’ve been in love with your sister since we were kids. A love that grown into this unconditional and uncontrollable feelings that I can’t even fucking pinpoint.” Angel was furious Bryan would assume that he was playing with his wife, his love, his life, his soul. He could see why it would appear that way, but he was all in. He didn’t need to prove it to Bryan. Maybe to Alena, no, to Alena he would, cause if her brother thought this way, god knows what she was thinking. “Second of all, fuck you. I was there for your sister when you turned your back on her after your father kicked her out of your home.”

Bryan pursed his lips then, not expecting for Angel to bring that up. He wasn’t angry at Angel, but he still never forgave himself for turning his back on Alena when she needed him most.

“I won’t apologize for giving you my opinion Angel, that’s how I feel. If you always felt this strongly, why haven’t you told Alena?” Bryan looked outside the window, resting his arm on the table, his hand in opening and closing, trying to remain calm. “I’ve never forgiven myself for turning my back on her, thank you for always being there for my sister.”

“I’m not going to apologize for bringing it up, don’t try to act mighty on me. We’re not trying to count our sins, but don’t act innocent either.” Angel leaned back on his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Every time I wanted to tell Alena how I felt, something always came up, the last one being Cruz. I thought that after we married, even though I created this farce we could divorce in five years time, things would just fall into place and I didn’t have to worry about it. I haven’t slept or looked at anyone since Alena slipped my ring on her finger. And I have no plans of doing so. I don’t deserve your sister, I hear it all the time, but I’ll spend my whole life trying to at least be the man she deserves to have.”

Bryan nodded his head. “Good, glad you can finally see that.”

“Wait what?” Angel was confused, sitting up straight at Bryan’s words.

“Come on Angel, I’ve watched this dance you’ve had with my sister for far too long. It seems you’ve truly gotten your head out of your ass. If I knew it would be Victor that knocked some sense into you, I would have dropped the bombshell long ago.”

“It wasn’t Victor. It was your mom.”

Bryan cackled. “Of course it was. So what’s the game plan? I heard my sister is quite determined to not speak to you.”

“I’m going to give her time, I hurt your sister this last time and I just want to give her time.”

“How much time? Victor may sink his claws in her.”

“However long she needs.”

The ball was in Alena’s court. He didn’t want to push her. He could wait, just as she’s awaited for him. 

[kinder-writes-surprises]

A Writer’s Favourite Trope

yuh this is just plain tooth rot teehee. also, welcome to my first non-bnha writing piece on Tumblr! I think this is orange because it has like... two slightly suggestive pieces and a smooch? idk we’ll roll with it

-Mod Pasta

Word Count: 1399

It wasn’t supposed to be too complex: As part of Marc and Nathaniel’s individual projects for their different college classes, they chose a trip to Italy to study the art there. They went together, being best friends since high school after all, and partners in work. Unbeknownst to the other, both had massive crushes on one another. They did not share the knowledge of Italian though, and this led to many the problem: Getting onto the wrong connecting flight and being redirected twice, Nathaniel grabbing the wrong luggage and having Marc comfort him in the bathroom for twenty minutes after the angry mother stopped yelling at him, losing track of one another and holding hands with bright red faces until their taxi arrived, and the icing on the cake: Booking the wrong size room.

Marc was sure he had booked for two beds. Alas, there before them was one bed in their tacky beige hotel room, the smell of salt and bread wafting in through the drapery blowing in from the windows. Next to the bed was a night stand with a written note including the wifi password, some sweet words that Marc couldn’t make out, a complimentary sampler perfume, and a quickly hidden plastic package that left their cheeks bright red while Nathaniel used the bathroom and brushed his teeth.

“It’s fine, we both fit on your bed usually,” Marc gaped, looking at the curtains and then back to the bathroom door. Marc’s bed was wide, had lots of pillows and blankets to separate them, and there was always the impeding eyes of their parents making sure they wouldn’t so much as brush against Nathaniel’s arm. Now they were alone, utterly alone, and Nathaniel finally popped his head out of the bathroom, startling the black haired person, “Right?”

“Y-Yeah,” They nodded, swallowing hard. They flashed him a painfully fake grin, “It’s pretty early, do we have anything planned?” The dumb question left an incredulous look on the boy’s face. Marc had been the planner of their first day, after all. Their cheeks darkened further, “Ah, it’s um,” They looked at the clock, “Eight AM, and the bu-bus comes at one, right? Yeah,” They nodded to themself and Nathan’s eyes softened, approaching the nervous and flustered one.

He placed a hand gingerly upon their shoulder, “We’re here, we made it. We’ve got a whole week in Italy for crying out loud, let’s relax for a bit,” He then covered his mouth and looked away, a long yawn escaping from his body. This spurred Marc into yawning, and they both ended up chuckling. Nathaniel, now in a sleeping shirt and his boxers, flopped onto the bed. Marc went to the bathroom and freshened up, getting into a sleeping shirt and shorts. When they popped out of the bathroom, Nathaniel was already fast asleep.

Knowing the boy was usually diligent unless tired, Marc set the alarm on the bedside table to 12:30, and their own phone alarm just in case. However, when their eyes flickered to the bed, their heart skipped a beat. Nathaniel was fast asleep on the right side, his legs splayed out a bit. Marc was much taller than the boy, and had grown like a beansprout during high school. They had to carefully maneuver their body into a comfortable position, hoping not to disturb the redhead. Their entire body had to be red by now, and their noodle legs stuck their feet right at the edge of the queen sized bed.

Queen sized, what were those clerks thinking? They hadn’t the nerve or guts to ask for a rain check on the room size, and Nathaniel’s previous question of availability had been shot down with a scathing “We are booked weeks out!” At least that is what it sounded like to the shy person and bolder boy. They had been told they only needed to know how to count and say please and thank you, and they had already been yelled at in Italian twice now, and those two flight attendants individually spoke their own languages, so they could include those as well.

Marc could almost taste the body heat rolling off of Nathaniel. A slender being, Marc was always chilly, while his forever warm friend was a natural furnace. Sometimes they would lean on the boy in the dead of winter, too cold to worry about their dignity. However, it was a chilly summer morning in Italy, and the thin double cover the bed had provided minimal warmth.

Marc would rather die than scoot an inch closer to their lava-skinned crush, but they wouldn’t have to: the boy sighed, shifting his body around to where he was splayed on his back. Marc lay still as frightened prey. Then their tempter shifted again, their leg draping over Marc’s abdomen and arm resting on their chest. Marc’s heart jumped into their throat: The boy was already transferring heat to him like a conducting cord, and he seemed attracted to the other’s chilly nature.

Just as Marc was starting to drift off, the long flights and layovers finally catching up to them, Nathaniel scooted closer, a small grunt exasperating his unconscious effort. Marc felt their eyes snap open, and the smaller boy was suddenly cradled against the front of him, practically spooning him. Marc definitely wasn’t going to fall asleep anytime soon they thought: not with their crush’s body pressed to the front of them.

Time passed by slowly, and Marc tried to memorize the way Nathaniel slotted against their body like it was the last book they would ever read. However, they couldn’t keep their mind running for too long, and even they succumbed to the previous day’s escapade sleeplessness.

-

Marc was also the one to wake up first. They noticed that there was something soft and flesh in their hands, and when they looked down, strands of red hair assaulted their mouth and eyes. They shook their head free of the assailants, but only awoke their owner: their very sleepy friend. Nathaniel slowly looked up, and it dawned on both of them that they were intertwined, Nathan’s arms and legs around Marc while the other gently encompassed his torso with his larger legs. Nathan was even technically sideways straddling the other.

“I-” Nathan cut Marc off with a quick shake of his head, starting to pull back from the other.

“Oh Gods, I’m sorry,” Before he could, a smile graced Marc’s lips that caught him off guard, halting his detanglement of limbs.

“It’s okay,” Marc’s voice shook with embarrassment, and their bright red cheeks gave everything else away. Nathaniel swallowed hard, blue eyes boring holes into Marc’s.

“I could wake up like this again,” He whispered, catching the author off guard. They gasped, looking to the boy’s shoulder to break eye contact.

“H-How many times?” Gosh they sounded so awkward, their lizard brain was a menace wrecking havoc on their social abilities.

“I-uh,” Nathan blinked in shock, “Every day?” Then he gaped, his face draining of colour, “If you want to, that is.”

“That-That’s my line, Nathaniel,” Marc’s flustered expression shifted when they giggled, and Nathan also laughed, remembering that day they had met. The day he mistook Marc’s writing for Ladybug’s journal, and upsetting and indirectly akumatizing the other.

“Then take it,” Nathaniel’s eyes flickered down to Marc’s lips, and Marc was about to ask what he meant when it dawned on him. He was entangled in bed with his crush shamelessly flirting with him, and now he was asking them to kiss him. Marc couldn’t possibly deny this.

So they leaned forward, eyes beginning to close. Nathan’s rough lips met Marc’s lipstick tinted own for a second, the exchange of minty breaths momentary before two blaring sounds had elbows and feet scrambling for purchase.

The alarms had gone off. Marc fell off the bed, and Nathaniel’s shirt was stuck around his head now, the sheets trapping his legs together. They both laughed like maniacs immediately at their awkwardness, and they quickly got ready for their bus to the Vatican City. They could hardly admit that such a scuffle had led to bruises littering both their bodies for the rest of the trip, but they figured it out eventually.

Maybe it just took a week outside of the city of love for them to recognize it in each other, and a very, very stereotypical trope.

[phoenix-manga]

[DCA Event] - Six Queens Event Part 6

[Parr - I Don’t Need Your Love]

Rozeline could feel the ghost send emotions of pent up frustration and regret. But unlike the others that synchronized with their ghosts, Rozeline boldly let her own feelings clash with the ghost. She intends to make the ghost understand her vision, her true intentions for the six of them. For a while the ghost struggled but soon it mellowed out and synchronized with her emotions.

Her eyes glowed blue but it was a soft glow compared to the bright ones that the other five girls had.

She looks to the girls who are currently unstable and for a moment the ghosts were the ones talking to her instead of the students. She needs to let the ghosts know that they CAN have their chance at a happy ending but taking over them will NOT grant them that chance.

Rozeline: No, no, no, stop, stop! I really don’t think it’s a good idea.

Allison (Boleyn): Literally, what are you on about, mate?

Rozeline: Like… “Let’s see what has the biggest cheer, being murdered by your husband or experiencing the trauma of losing a baby.” Are we really gonna do this?

Briar (Seymour): Um, I’m pretty sure we’ve been doing that for the last hour, so.

Rozeline: But… miscarriages. Come on, surely, that’s one step too far.

Vidya (Cleves): Ooh, someone has a conscience all of a sudden.

Cerule (Howard): Ooh, “I’m Catherine Parr, I draw lines in arbitrary places.” Blah-blah!

Evonie (Aragon): She just knows she’s not gonna win.

Briar (Seymour): I’m sure she doesn’t even have a story to tell.

Rozeline: Yeah… you know what? I will tell you a story.

Rozeline signals the band to play something less lively and the lights dim. and the song starts. She starts singing about the queen’s misfortune of having to leave her true love to be with the king because the royal chose her and she can’t say no. The audience is focused on Rozeline and the ghosts’ possession slowly fades as they listen to her singing. A rush of emotions go through the ghosts and girls, the grief and heartache they’ve felt and the sorrow of not having to live the best life they dreamed of. Slowly turns into determination and courage.

Then the song starts to become lively as Rozeline begins to sing about how she is through with the king’s B.S. and this show is about the QUEENS!

At the pause of her song, Rozeline looked to the girls and asked the reason why this particular king and his six wives was the one history remembers and when she asks them if they remembered who the wives of the of the previous kings were, but for some reason they don’t know.

Rozeline states that the reason why the eight king was remembered was not because of his way of ruling but because of his SIX WIVES. At that, the ghosts felt a spark of realization as they looked to Rozeline.

Soon the ghosts started to lessen their possession and sync with the girls as they came to Rozeline and sang back up vocals, they all start to glow as the sorrowful atmosphere changed to a more upbeat tone and the queens started to dance to the tune.

The audience liked the last song and the message conveyed. Jack was emotionally touched since the story of a woman who is letting go of her past to be happy is tugging on his heart so much. When the girls start to glow at the end, Lilia and Crowley were confused as to what was happening but then they realized the entire situation just from seeing the glowing colors coming from the girls. The thought going through their heads were, “So, those ladies reached out to you this time...”.

At the end of the song, the girls looked to the audience and asked if they want to see a royal happy ever after. The crowds cheered loudly.

Cerule: Well we don’t have one...

Audience: *Laughs*

Evonie: We wish we could tell you that we had happy endings but the reality is that we don’t...

Briar: And there is nothing we can do to change that...

Vidya: Ever... OH WAIT! Since this is our show, we can have any ending we want!

Allison: We’re going to give you our slightly edited version of what really happened because...

Rozeline: We’re SIX!

[Finale - We’re Six]

The finale starts to play and the girls started to bounce to the song and the audience clapped to the song as the lights shine a bright gold on the six queens.

Queens: We’re one of a kind, no category~ Too may years, lost in history

We’re free to take our crowning glory for five more minutes...

We’re SIX~ whoa whoa we’re six

Audience:

As they sang the song, they could feel the ghosts’ joy and at the end of the song as the confetti and stage fireworks go off. The glowing stopped and their eyes turned back to normal but the audience didn’t notice apart from Lilia and Crowley.

The possession was lifted and the show was a success. The applause was nearly deafening as the crowd was yelling “Queens!” and “Love you gurl!” amongst the noise.

At the backstage, the other dorm leaders were there at the back, Elu and Jinlong were by the stage control panel and Ella was congratulating them on the successful show and Perrine was helping the others take off their costume.

As soon as the audience started to leave the building those of NRC stayed behind to congratulate their friends.

Vil and Divus were talking with Ella about how the costumes were brilliant. And Evonie was beside Ella during the whole exchange, she flinches when Divus makes eye contact with her. He offers to make her a model for his next fashion show but she ran off before he could finish. She has HEARD what happened during the Fairy Gala from Elu who was told by Ruggie and she does NOT want to step foot into that hell hole!

Divus: How about I make you  model in one of my fashion shows!~

Evonie:

Allison is being chased around by Riddle cause she teased him on how red he got during some acts and her saying a dirty joke to get him to choke was worth it. The boy ain't having it as he is ready to off her head while Cater and Trey chase after them. Allison in the distance yelling, "sorry not sorry!"

Kalim was blushing red as he congratulates Vidya on her performance. Jamil on the other hand, the moment he got to talk to her he is wondering how she could copy his moves just by looking, Vidya replies with sword fighting. Just sword fighting. Not the answer that he’s expecting but okay...

Azul was fidgeting and was shocked when Cerule came out wearing her usual uniform. Azul cannot comprehend as he compared the Cerule on stage and the Cerule in front of him. The difference is mind boggling to him. Cerule asked what’s wrong and Jade and Floyd got this glint in their eyes and was about to spill it before Azul struck the back of their legs with his magic. The twins did, in fact, noticed his blushing face during the show and yes, they will use it to tease him.

Azul: Oh uh.. You’re in your uniform again!...

Twins: huehuehue~

Briar was greeted by the Diasomnia boys with Lilia pulling out a bouquet out of nowhere. Lilia and Malleus congratulate her with the show’s success and were surprised at how they were moved by her singing. Sebek is singing praises because to be able to move the young master to tears must mean that she was skilled in the art of theater. Silver just pats her shoulder but then looks at her as if he understood that she was singing out her heart too, but Briar can’t tell.

Jack and Ortho are chatting with Rozeline and for a moment she looked at Jack and he looked back at her. No words were exchanged but they both knew what the other was thinking. Rozeline hopes that Jack wouldn’t be skinned, who would take care of his poor cactus then?

All in all, those who attended the showing had a good time, at least the students who get to be exempted for that day... They’re happy until Professor Trein wants an essay based on what thy know about the history of Henry the VIII and his six wives.

Trein: Those who attended the play must write an essay on what you know about the six wives of the eighth king.

Deuce: I f*cking called it!

NRC Students: SHHHHHIIIII-

[Extra]

This moment shook Riddle the fourth time if you count the other times he got shook while watching the stage play.

Allison: Oh, I get it. Since the only thing we have in common is our husband, grouping us is an inherently comparative act and as such unnecessarily elevates a historical approach ingrained in patriarchal structures… Yeah... I read.

Riddle: 

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Wet Paint

Fandom: Marvel (Janitor/Teacher AU)

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky is a janitor at the Shield High School and you’re the art teacher at said high school. You see each other a lot, which formulates you both developing crushes on each other. What happens when you’re staying at school late and Bucky comes in to clean up your classroom? Based off this imagine.

Warning: smut

Bucky whistles as he rolls his cart down the hall. It was pitch black outside, letting him know that night as come, as he continued to work his way cleaning through the school. All of the lights in the classrooms were off, except for one. The light peaked through the windows and doors of the classroom. With furrowed brows, Bucky looks at the watch on his wrist and sees that it’s way too late for anyone to be here right now. Only him. 

He strolls up to the door and peers in and there inside, he sees you. You’re wearing your earbuds and moving your body to the music you’re listening to as you paint on a canvas. A smile appears on Bucky’s face as he continues to watch you. He’s always had a soft spot for you. You were so beautiful and kind and funny. You always made an effort to greet him whenever you crossed paths, as well as apologize for the mess you and your students would make in your classroom. He adored you, terribly so. But there was no way you’d feel the same. You were a teacher and he was just a janitor. 

Despite his head telling him to turn around and tend to the other classrooms, his heart was pushing him to head inside. So he did. 

He pulled open the door and rolled his cleaning cart inside, eyes still on you as you danced and painted. He left his cart near the door as he slowly made his way over to you. Too preoccupied with your music and artwork, you didn’t feel the presence behind you until you felt a hand on your shoulder. 

You screamed and jumped forward, knocking into your easel and making paint splatter onto the floor. You turned around with wide eyes, only to meet another set of startled ones, “Bucky!”

He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, looking apologetic, “Ah geez, sorry about that Y/N. Didn’t mean to startle ya.”

You shook your head, taking your earbuds out of your ears and setting them down, “It’s okay, Bucky. You didn’t mean too. I think I should be sorry anyway,” you gesture to the wet paint that nw decorated the floor. 

He shrugged, “What kind of janitor would I be if I didn’t clean up messes?” He heads back to his cart, grabbing the mop and bucket of water, “So, why’re you here so late?” he asks as he begins to mop up the paint. 

You nod to your canvas, “New art piece. Started it during my last period and I didn’t wanna stop.”

Bucky takes a moment to look at the unfinished piece of art. It’s a snowy landscape with mountains and trees. It’s not even finished and it’s already breathtaking, “It’s beautiful,” he mumbles out in awe.

You shy away at his compliment, “Um, thanks.” you then look at him up and down as he continues to stare at your painting. His jeans were snug against his thick thighs, and polo shirt with the school’s logo hugs his round belly. He looked good. You cleared your throat, gaining back his attention, “Do you like to do art?”

He hesitantly bites his lip and nods, “Yeah, actually I do.”

“Really? Maybe I can model for you and you can do me-I-I mean do an artwork piece of me!,” you say in horror, realizing what you said previously sounded wrong.

Bucky chuckles, “I know what you meant, Y/N. And, uh, sure. We can do it now, if you’d like?”

You looked at him slightly confused, “Don’t you need to finish cleaning?”

He shrugged, “I just have your classroom and three others left. Won’t take me long.” he approaches a blank canvas sat on an easel next to yours. 

You walk over to the small platform where your models, alive or inanimate, usually are placed and you step atop it, “So, uh, how do you want me?” your eyes widen, “To pose! How do you want me to pose?!” Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. You’re such a mess whenever you’re around Bucky. 

He rolls his lips in as he looks at you, trying to figure out what position he wants you to pose in. He then walks over to you and he lifts his hands, but stops, “Is it alright if I-”

“Of course,” you say with a reassuring smile. You watch his face as he moves you around. He makes you sit on a stool and he lets your hair down, you can’t help but want to lean into his touch as he moves parts of your hair around. He then gestures to your blouse, silently asking if it’s okay for him to unbutton it. When you nod, your breath hitches as his fingers pop open the first three buttons of your blouse. 

Before he stands back to get a look at you, your hand cups the back of his head towards you and you press your lips against his. For a moment, he tenses, but then starts to kiss back. His own hands cupping your face as your lips move in tandem with each other. 

You grab hold onto Bucky’s shirt, lifting it slightly, before he pulls away, hands stopping yours, “Don’t.” he’s panting and his lips are swollen from the kissing. 

You nervously gulp and start spluttering out apologies, “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t-This was dumb. I shouldn’t have done that. I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry, Bucky,” you slide off the stool and begin to walk away, but his hand grabs hold of your waist. 

“No, no. Hey, wait.” he moves to stand in front of you, “You didn’t do anything wrong. I-I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long now and I want you. I really do.”

“But you-”

“I’m not comfortable with my body. I don’t-I’m not very nice to look at.”

Your entire body softens at his confession, “Bucky, I can assure you that you are very nice to look at, but if you’re not comfortable with taking off your shirt. That’s okay. I’m sorry for assuming.”

Bucky leaned in pecking your lips, “Nothin’ to be sorry for, sweetheart. It’s just my own thing that I gotta deal with.” he sighs and runs his hand over his cropped hair, “Guess I ruined the mood, huh?”

You shake your head, “Not at all. I’m glad you told me. I would never want to make you uncomfortable, Bucky.”

Bucky groans and grabs you by the waist, pulling you in closer, “You make it so hard for me not to want you.”

It was your turn to kiss him as you murmured, “Then don’t hold back. You want me? You have me.”

He all but gently smashes his lips against yours, walking you back towards the podium, but instead, into the small table that you rest your paint on. He quickly reaches over, catching bottles and cans of paint from spilling. He was somewhat successful, nothing fell to the ground, however, paint now covered his hands. 

He sighed, “Sorry. Lemme just-” when he tries to move towards the sink, you stop him.

“No, now you can definitely mark me as yours,” you say with a smirk and Bucky practically growls as he cups your face and kisses you. You feel the paint transferring onto your skin, but you don’t care. All you care about right now is Bucky fucking you. 

When he pulls himself away, he points to the podium, “Undress and lay down for me.”

You snicker as you finish unbuttoning your blouse, “You gonna paint me like your French girls, Barnes?”

You watch with a curious gaze as Bucky pours paint into a pan and then sticks his hands into the paint, his palms now covered orange. He walks over to you and his gaze darkens as he sees you naked and all laid out for him. 

He kneels in-between your legs and then grabs hold of your calves. You gasp as the cold paint reaches your skin. Goosebumps form as Bucky slides his hands up your legs, past your thighs, and gripping your ass. 

“Undo my pants for me, baby,” his voice his deep and heavy, unlike the lighter tone he usually has when he speaks with you. This Bucky is different that the Bucky you usually interact with. He’s different, but not unwelcome. 

You pop the button of his jeans and slide down the zipper, using your hands to push them low enough for you to grab his cock and pull him out of his underwear. 

Bucky hisses as you begin to stroke them, but then slaps your ass with his paint covered hand, “No. Tease your pussy with my cock, babygirl.”

Your eyes widen, because you never expected this side of Bucky before. You thought he was a sweet, gentle lover. But this side of him was definitely unexpected. You liked it. A lot.

You take his dick in your hand and begin to rub it against your pussy, up your slit, and tapping his head on your clit, all the while his paint covered hands continue to roam all over your body, leaving a trail of where he’s gone and hasn’t been yet. Evident handprints now remain on your breasts and thighs, you really are marked as his. 

As you begin to tease your entrance with his tip, his orange tainted thumb grazes against your clit, leaving a trace. You sigh, wanting more of his touch, but then gasp when Bucky fully sheathes himself inside of you. 

“Fuck, you feel better than I imagined, sweetheart,” he says through gritted teeth as he begins to thrust into you. 

“Think about fucking me a lot, Barnes?” you ask with a smirk and he nods with a grunt.

“All the time, baby. All the fucking time.” he leans over, caging you in with his arms, his hips snapping into yours with every thrust. He stares into your eyes and watches your face scrunch up in pleasure. He relishes in this, in the fact that he’s the source of your pleasure, in the fact that after pining and wanting you for so long, he has you here beneath him. 

“So good, Bucky,” you moan, hand snaking down in-between the two of you and starts rubbing your clit. 

He then reaches down and moves your hand, “No, let me,” he murmurs and begins rubbing hard circles on your bundle of nerves. 

“Fuck!” you cry out and Bucky leans down, kissing and biting at your neck, further marking you as his. 

“Shit, baby. So fucking beautiful. A piece of art you are, my little art piece. My canvas to work with.” he grunts when he feels your walls tightening around him, “You gonna cum, my little art piece? Huh? Go ahead, cum on my cock. Wanna feel you. Let go for me, babygirl.”

You wrap your arms around Bucky and whimper out his name over and over again until you let out a string of curses. The wave of pleasure hitting you hard as you cling onto Bucky like your life depends on it, all the while he’s still thrusting into you. He’s desperate now for his release. His pace fast, rough, and messy. 

“Ah fuck, baby. Gonna make a real mess outta you now.” he groans as he pulls his cock out, fist wrapping around his shaft as he begins to pump himself ferociously. Within moments, ribbons of his seed join the orange paint on your body, landing on your pussy, stomach, and parts of your chest. 

When he’s spent, Bucky sits back and gets a real good look at you. Your body is covered in sweat, paint, and cum...and you’ve never looked more beautiful. 

You giggle as you look up at him, “Definitely not what I expected when I decided to stay late today.”

A shot of insecurity shoots through Bucky, “Do you regret it?” he tries not to look upset, but his eyes say it all.

You shake your head and sit up, “Not at all,” and you reach to grab his hand, “I’ve had feelings for you for a long time, Bucky. Sure, this wasn’t ideal, but I don’t regret it one bit.”

He lets out a shaky, relieves sigh, “That’s good to hear.”

You nod and grab for a rag, wiping up the cum and wet paint on your body, “Guess I should go home and clean up.” you take the hand Bucky offers you and stand up.

He sighs, pulling up his pants and tucking himself back in, “I wish I could bring you home myself, but-”

“But you still have a job to do. It’s okay, Bucky. Really.” you lean in and kiss his cheek, “How about after I get off work tomorrow, you take me on a date?”

Bucky’s beaming at the suggestion, “Y-Yeah. Okay. Uh, do you want me to pick you up here or at your place or-” he pauses when he watches you scribble down your number on some scrap paper laying around and hands it to him.

“Call me after you finish up here and we’ll hash out the details then?”

He takes the paper and slips it into his pocket, “Alright. Sounds good.”

You smile at him and then points to he podium, “You should start with that mess there since you did that.”

He snickers and salutes you, “Yes, ma’am,” and then pulls you in for another kiss, “I’ll talk to you later.”

You pat his cheek and smiled, “You better,” with a wave and a wink, you gathered your things and left. Now from then on, that podium will always remind you of the time that Bucky Barnes, the school janitor, literally marked you as his.