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katrin-may · 2 years ago

Text

Drawing

CW: fluff, some cuddles, reader artist (na'vi), Neteyam calms the reader, support.

TW: tears, some sadness.

Au: Hello, I was inspired by this art to write this drabble(?). Thank you for waiting and reading me. I hope you will enjoy. enjoy reading!🥰

Oh, I also ask you to just rely on this art and finish the rest in your imagination.

Credits for art:https: //www.instagram.com/p/CnwKPC-vn-Y/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

Softly touching the paper with your pencil, you began to draw lines. You sat leaning against a tree and watched a group of friends sitting nearby, including Neteyam, Kiri, L'oak, and other acquaintances. They were sitting and laughing, chatting about their own things. But you were attracted to one particular fellow, the oldest of them. And now you captured that moment on paper. You were known in your country as the best and usually the only artist. Your sketchbook was full of drawings of local nature and the people of your clan. Because of your talent, you were welcome everywhere except...

- Are you following us? - answered the biggest boy in the company of the chief's children.

- Yes, she's definitely following us," said another of those with a bow-face.

- No, not at all," you shouted back at them and stepped back from your work.

- Of course, you're always on our tail wherever we are, and with that notebook of yours.

- Come on," Neteyam didn't punch his friend¹ in the chest hard enough to let him know he had to stop. - She's just doing her job. - He shifted his gaze to you, and your breathing quickened.

- It does. Then why is it that every time I look around, she's always sitting on my tail, squinting in our direction?

- Maybe she likes you," Neteyam smiled, glancing from you as you drew on to your friend, who was already blushing, but it wasn't clear if it was anger or embarrassment.

There, in your sketchbook, is a sketch of Neteyam with a smile on his teeth, and the rest.

- We'll teach her a lesson later," the big man whispered to his skinny friend.

Some time passed, and the friends began to leave. There was no one left in the clearing except your two friends and you, who were sitting nearby. You were about to start packing your things and going to your office when you heard footsteps. When you looked up, you saw the boys. One of them was leaning against a tree and the other was standing over you with his arms crossed over his chest.

- Did something happen? - You asked, clutching the album to you. But it didn't stay in your hands for long, because the man standing above you¹ snatched the album out of your hands. - Hey! Give it back! What do you think you're doing! - You stood up sharply and tried to snatch your thing, but you were held tightly by the other guy standing behind you. The pages were all over everyone you could think of, but it was particularly the Chief's eldest son who got hurt.

- Oh, so that's it," the big fellow grinned, and flipped the album over to face you, where the page was Neteyam in the armor of an Icran rider. And then page after page flipped, and there he was, all over the place.

- And? What's wrong with that? - You grinned.

- Oh, really, what is it? A hobby, maybe? Or an addiction? Neteyam is all over the place!

- What's wrong with that? He's the son of a chief, isn't he worthy of having many portraits of himself?

- Yes? In that case, where is L'oak in close-up and in every detail? - The question stumped you, and you gave yourself away by blushing. - That's right. - The boy¹ nodded to his friend² toward the fire, and he² dragged you toward the still-cold coals where the company fire had recently been.

- Hey! What are you doing? - You broke free of the skinny fellow's grip, but he was strong enough² despite his weight.

- Look," the big guy grinned, tearing out the pages of the Neteyam's, ripping them to shreds and throwing them into the coals.

- No, what are you doing! - You shouted desperately. The drawings slowly smoldered and distorted.

- This is just a warning. Stay away from us," he poked you in the shoulder with a finger. The other guy immediately opened his arms, and you immediately rushed to the embers. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you picked the stick closer and tried to reach for your creation. The boys left you alone, lurking around the corner for a long time, giggling nastily. You began to cry. You felt terrible, because not only did you think they were good, not bad, but your efforts had gone to waste.

The pictures were torn apart like a jigsaw puzzle, and now you managed to put one picture together, the same one you had drawn just before this incident. You covered your face with your hands and cried even harder.

- Y/N? - You heard a man's sweet, warm voice. You hesitated to turn around and tried to clean yourself up, thinking you could somehow hide your red eyes and the tears on your cheeks that were still pouring down in torrents. You felt a touch on your shoulder and a sudden warmth behind your back. - What happened here? - Neteyam pointed to the fire.

- I... Well... - you hesitated, not knowing what to say, for you were afraid that Neteyam would take you for strange and intrusive.

- Tell it like it is.

- I got very upset and burned my drawings.

- And to be honest? - Sitting down next to you, Neteyam pulled you to his chest and put his arm around your shoulders. You felt so warm and light, and the gentle gesture made you feel somehow calmer.

- That's how it was.

- Then why are half your drawings on the ground right now, and," he pointed to your attempts to collect the drawing. You hid your face against the boy's chest out of embarrassment. Still hugging your shoulders, Neteyam began to gently stroke your head with his other hand.

- Well. Oh. Anyway, your friends... That's them. After that skirmish, they came up to me and decided to destroy what I love... - Neteyam stopped his machinations with your hair, lifting your face by the chin, he looked into your weeping eyes, and then turned his gaze to the drawings.

- Bastards, just like them," the boy said hoarsely and tried to get up, but you put your arm around his waist, preventing him from doing so.

- What do you want to do?

- I'm going to talk to them. It's going to be okay," he took both your hands in his big hands and looked you in the eyes. - I promise.

After a while, Neteyam returned, but his face was bruised.

- What happened? - All this time you didn't move from your seat, trying to get all the pieces of paper together.

- They won't bother you now," the boy smiled and began to help you pick up the pieces of paper.

- What happened to your face?

- Oh, that. It's just bruises, I tried to talk to them, but they solved everything with their fists.

- I'm sorry...

- What are you sorry for?

- For all this, if it wasn't for me, we wouldn't be in this position right now.

- Anyway, they should have gotten what they deserved a long time ago. And that, that was the last straw, they were too rough on you," Neteyam touched your shoulder consolingly.

- Thank you," you smiled and continued packing.

- What was drawn here?

- Mostly you," you said without a shadow of doubt and with complete confidence.

- Oh," the boy stared at you in surprise, and his gaze made you blush.

- What?" - You asked awkwardly, dreading his answer.

- No, it's all right. Maybe you still have some of your works? I've never seen them," your friend said.

- Of course there are! - You exclaimed and rushed off in search of a more or less complete album. - Here it is," you handed the pictures to Neteyam, and you both stared at them. The first page showed a sleeping buttercup and his children, in the middle of your forest. The next was a landscape of a waterfall at sunset, with many fish in the water and birds soaring in the air. All the pages were filled with landscapes and animals, you really liked the nature of your forest, and there were almost no people (na'vi). There were a couple of sketches, really, the rest of the work, all taken apart by the inhabitants of the settlement.

- It really is so beautiful. Where did you learn to paint like that? - Neteyam looked away from the paper.

- I don't know, it just happens," you scratched the back of your head confused.

- I didn't see you draw me, so could you draw me again? - Your eyes widened. You were afraid to keep drawing. What if someone burns all your work again?

- What if someone sees it again?

- I won't let what happened today happen again," and when you saw the confidence in his eyes, you relaxed and nodded approvingly. Taking the paper from the guy's hands, you pulled out a pencil. - Oh, what's the best way for me to sit down? - Netayam began to assume various poses. - Maybe so," he smiled and stretched his arm muscles, showing off his musculature. You laughed.

- As you wish," the laughter changed to a smile, and Neteyam just sat down on the grass, lifted his knees and looked into your eyes. - Is your neck going to be all right? - You looked into the boy's eyes.

- I hadn't thought of that, but I think it will be all right! - Neteyam smiled, and you touched the paper. Drawing line after line, there was already a sketch of body and head and then hair, a cute smile and piercing eyes. - Can I move? - You looked at the boy and the drawing, comparing them.

- I think so," Neteyam immediately jumped up and walked over to you.

- May I see it now? - He pointed to your drawing.

- Oh, of course, but I can do it if you like, I have to put the finishing touches on it.

- Then I'll wait," Neteyam smiled broadly and lay down beside you, leaning against the stones.

The lines turned from a sharp sketch to a soft drawing.

- Can you sit in the same pose? - Without further ado, the boy sat up again, somewhat oblivious to the way he had been sitting. You decided to help and, comparing him to the drawing, touched his strong shoulders and arms, guiding them. - There you go. And also," you lightly touched his chin with your fingertips and turned him sideways.

- Your hands smell good, did you know that? - Netayama's words made you blush and pull your hand away, and you smiled embarrassed.

- No, but I'll know now, thank you," you quickly took the drawing and hid behind the sheet, continuing your machinations, at which Neteyam grinned implicitly.

One last sweeping motion, and...

- done! - You exclaimed, calling the boy to you.

- Good," Neteyam sat down beside you and you turned the drawing toward him, watching his reaction. He was silent for a while, examining every detail of the drawing and looking at you askance.

- Look, it's incredible! - exclaimed Neteyam, smiling broadly as he took the portrait back. - Literally every freckle, hair, bead, and abrasion. It's just like me! Now I know exactly why everyone loves your work so much! - That guy's words really embarrassed you.

- Oh, really? Thank you so much! - You awkwardly scratched the back of your head and looked at your friend.

- Can I have this?

- Of course!

- Thank you so much! - Neteyam emotionally hugged you by the shoulders. You were surprised, but decided to respond to his embrace.

- I'll take it as a thank you," you both laughed as you pulled away from each other.

- Oh, no, I'd like to do more than that as a thank you.

It's nighttime, and everyone is asleep, including you. You quickly disperse with Netheyam to each other, but now you are in your tenth dream, until you hear the crunch of tree bark. You wake abruptly and get out of your cocoon, about to attack your opponent. But there was no one around, just a square bundle of leaves at your feet. When you unfold it, you find the glued sheets with your drawings, and not just any drawings, but the ones with Neteyam. All the same ones you drew this afternoon and on previous occasions. Did you notice that almost all of them were put together, not very neatly, but you can see that with soul, and if the drawings have only appeared now, does that mean that someone has been restoring them all evening?

There was also a note attached to the drawings:

"Thank you very much again:)".

#neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x reader #neteyam imagine #neteyam fluff #neteyam fic #neteyam #avatar #atwow imagines #atwow

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gohyuck · 4 years ago

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1/7 of my milestone drabbles!

pairing: streetracer!mark lee x reader

genre: fluff/angst/smut

word count: 2.1k

plot request: @hansolstea said: streetracer au + “if you think you can beat me on the tracks, then you’re on the wrong side of the wheel”

warnings: not chronological so pay attention to timestamps, ambiguous relationship between the main characters, mild car accident, explicit sex, choking, ...cumming inside, mild overstimulation, slightly shitty aftercare due to the setting

SATURDAY 1:27 A.M.

“fucking take it.” he growls in your ear from above you, burying your face further into the pillow and readjusting your position so your hips are higher in the air. you let a gasping moan out without meaning to, and mark, almost without thinking, lands a hand against your ass in response, drawing forth a keening wail. “you think you’re all that, huh? think you’re invincible? hm? answer me.”

“n-no, fuck, mark, i-” he speeds up his hips, pistoning into you at a breakneck pace, almost smothering you into the motel bed’s surprisingly soft pillow. it’s obvious that he doesn’t care about what you say as long as it isn’t the safe word. you already know he’ll leave you bruised and battered, aching from how hard he’s fucking you, but you also know not to expect anything else.

mark lee is not your friend. mark lee certainly isn’t your lover. mark lee is a cocky, inflammatory bastard who has never hesitated to push your buttons in public. he brings out the worst in you, and you bring out the worst in him.

unfortunately for everyone involved, mark’s the best fuck you’ve ever had, and you know that he’s never had as good a time sticking his dick in anyone else.

as he pulls out, causing you to whine at the loss of contact, only to flip you over and immediately plow into you again, hard arms caging you in against the bed, you can’t help but think back to the series of events that led you here. not four hours earlier, you’d been on the ‘track’, jeno’s ford mustang right beside mark’s chevy corvette c6. everything that had happened there had led to what’s happening now.

“fucking take it,” mark growls again, almost unaware of what he himself is saying at this point. you’d laugh at him if you weren’t drunk off of him. his words bring you back to the present, your back arching until your chest meets his. “someone has to put you in your place.”

FRIDAY 9:55 P.M.

“come to get your ass beat?”

mark whirls around to see you leaning against your brother’s bright red mustang, a smirk adorning your features. he’s always been reactionary when it comes to you, and tonight is no different: his relaxed gaze hardens immediately as it falls on you, and his otherwise gentle smile morphs into a sneer. still, he attempts to maintain his composure, never wanting the first of you two to break.

“you’re not even driving tonight, princess. that’s big talk for someone too scared to race against me.”

“not my fault my brother wanted a piece of you first. be grateful - you couldn’t handle going against me.” you respond with ease, pushing yourself off of the car in favor of walking towards the man you can’t stand. his shoulders tense up for a moment, only to ease up again as he rolls them back, shoving both of his hands into his black bomber jacket’s pockets. you take a split second to appraise him, though you pray he doesn’t realize that you’re checking him out: black bomber, plain white tee, a thin checkered red flannel, ripped black skinny jeans, a dark brown belt, and a black beanie. even you can’t deny how attractive he is, no matter how badly you wish you could.

your eyes have trailed to his chest, and when you snap your head up to look at him, he’s smirking. that bastard.

“if you think you can beat me on the tracks, then you’re on the wrong side of the wheel,” he shrugs his shoulders, very obviously presenting you with a challenge. “should be inside the car, not outside it… unless you’re afraid, princess. i’d let you off the hook if you were, of course. it would be understandable: nobody wants to lose.”

“call me princess one more fucking time-” you retort, so close to him that you can smell his cologne.

“princess.” he draws the word out, and that’s the only mark lee you’ve ever known. the pain in your ass. he’s a good friend of jeno’s - hell, your brother even looks up to the man smirking at you right now - and gets along well with everyone you know. you’re the only exception, and you don’t know how to feel about that.

anger. arousal, maybe- no, just anger. it’s just anger, you tell yourself. before you can even sort out your own thoughts, you find yourself turning, yelling out your brother’s name.

“i’m driving tonight,” you call out, leaving no room for argument. “me versus mark.”

jeno looks at you, then at his friend, and then back at you, mouth falling open as if to argue. as his eyes meet yours, though, he knows: bickering with you is futile. your brother tosses you the keys to his precious car, and when you meet mark’s eyes again, you’re the one smirking this time.

“good luck,” you sneer, leaning close until you’re as in his face as you possibly could be. “princess.”

FRIDAY 11:39 P.M.

you’ve never seen him look quite this downright pissed. mark is genuinely one of the more easygoing, mild-mannered men you’ve met, only even acting ‘riled up’ whenever someone - typically hyuck or yuta - makes an inflammatory or downright jokingly flirtatious comment at him. it takes a lot for him to feel rage, and even you don’t think you evoke emotions that strong from him. he’s been insanely annoyed with you, yes, but it usually isn’t anything too far past that.

now, though? now mark fuckin’ lee has a steel grip on your left wrist as he tugs you out of the car. it isn’t too bad - the bumper is crooked, now, and one of the sideview mirrors is dangling and both taken together will cost a very unsexy couple of grands to fix without accounting for the paint - but you can hear your brother’s bemoaned wails at what you’ve done to his precious car. you’re surprised at yourself, too: you’ve never crashed before.

you’d looked over at mark for a split second too long while going just a hair too fast, and then, suddenly, the side of your - jeno’s - car was scraping some corporate compound’s metal fence. you’d panicked to a stop upon hearing the metallic crunching noises, and had only later heard mark’s c6 screeching to a halt up ahead. he’d yelled your name, you’d thought, but you were still dazed.

that, and jeno, who’d been just ahead at the finish line, had already started screaming by then. not for you. for his car.

“what the hell were you thinking?” mark yells, pulling you just a little too hard, causing you to stumble into his chest. “why didn’t you slow the fuck down?”

“i- shit, i didn’t realize until it was too late.” you can’t even throw the same tone of voice back in his face, too preoccupied with the realization that, had your steering been just a little off, you might be mangled in the mustang right now.

the race had gotten cut short then, with you apologizing profusely to your brother for as long as possible afterwards. mark had stepped back, watched on as the two of you assessed the damage to jeno’s car. it was only everyone else had left and jeno’d realized that he’d have to drive home with his car in the mess that it was that mark had stepped in between you and your sibling, offering to let you stay with him for the night rather than risk you and your brother killing each other over the mustang (‘nana’, so affectionately named by jeno after his best friend).

“thank fuck,” jeno’d said, eyes practically rolling into the back of his head in exasperation.

“fuck this,” you’d muttered under your breath, though a part of you truly is thankful for the intervention and the distraction both. mark had heard you. jeno hadn’t.

you expect to pull up to the apartment mark shares with his friends yuta and jungwoo, but, instead, he pulls into the parking lot of a motel you know well. of course you do - you’ve rendezvoused here with him on multiple accounts before. it’s only then, as mark fixes a hard, dark gaze on you, that you realize what you’re in for. his mouth meets your skin, your hands meet his hair.

“someone,“ he murmurs into the flesh that joins your jaw and neck. “needs to teach you how to slow down. that someone, though,” a fresh hickey blooms against your skin. he pushes open his car door with the hand that isn’t gripping your shirt’s hem. “sure as hell won’t be me.”

SATURDAY 1:29 A.M.

“someone has to put you in your place.”

mark reaches up your body then, curls a hand gingerly - almost too gingerly - around your throat. he presses lightly against the sides, only enough to make you feel slightly lightheaded. he’s looking down at you directly, gaze hard, daring you to look back. you’re close but it isn’t enough - you’re on an edge, but there’s nothing else behind you, no catalyst to push you into bliss.

his hand tightens, the other comes down to your pelvis, thumb swiping experimentally against your clit. you can’t help yourself - you tighten immediately around him, back arching slightly as both of you let out choked moans simultaneously. he swipes against your clit one more time before settling his hand against your hip, starting to rub circles into your bundle of nerves if only to feel your vice grip around his cock. you practically keen, gasping at the sheer amount of sensations your body feels.

you’re on the edge. you’re about to fall. mark’s hips stutter against your own, and he plays with your clit even more vigorously as he cums, not bothering to pull out. he never does, anyways. the hand around your neck tightens just a bit before he lets go of your airways entirely, and the sensation of finally being able to breathe properly again does you in, your chest fully arching almost against mark’s own as you reach your own orgasm.

it feels like an eternity until the stars are all out of your eyes, but you find yourself falling back to earth as mark finally pulls out. you’re panting, catching your breath, eyes glassy as you try and fix your gaze on him. he notices this, chuckling softly.

mark heads to the room’s bathroom, and you hear running water for a second before he emerges with wadded up toilet paper and a wet towel. you wince, knowing he’ll use the one-ply toilet paper on you first, but also knowing that neither of you are shitty enough to leave a cum-covered hotel towel behind for the staff to find. he wipes up the mixture of yours and his cum up from between your sensitive thighs, quieting shushing you and apologizing as the scratchy toilet paper meets your still-sensitive pussy. once he’s sure it’s all cleaned up, he wipes you down with the wet towel, doing his best to soothe your skin.

once he’s discarded the toilet paper and put the towel up, mark pulls on his boxers before gently pushing you over to get into the bed beside you. everything smells like sex, but you can’t bring yourself to be as disgusted by it as you think you should be. you move onto your side, wrapping an arm around him and throwing a leg over him, ignoring the fact that he’s like a space heater and you already feel sticky as it is. he allows his arm to wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer.

“i’m serious, you know,” he mutters after a while, sighing as he speaks. “you need to learn how to slow down. that could’ve ended very, very badly tonight… and as much as we… have our ‘differences’ or whatever, i don’t know what i’d do without you. okay? so pay more attention when you’re driving. you’re too valuable.”

there’s no response. mark shifts so he can see you, and he realizes that you’re fast asleep, bare chest rising and falling in tandem with mark’s heartbeat. you haven’t heard a word of what he’s said. a small smile graces mark’s features.

he lets his head fall back onto the too-flat motel pillow, finding that he, too, is suddenly very tired. his eyes slip shut, sleep pulling him in as the night goes on. he pulls you closer on reflex. you allow yourself to get pulled closer in the same way. in the morning, you’ll ask him what he means by ‘you’re too valuable’. you’ve got at least six hours ‘til then. you fall asleep with a smile on your face, mirroring mark’s own.

#mark lee #mark lee smut #mark lee angst #mark lee fluff #mark lee x reader #nct smut #nct 127 smut

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hermannsthumb · 4 years ago

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I've read fics where Hermann disapproves of PDAs but what about the reverse? As in he's so stunned at winning the most amazing man in the Shatterdome (6 phds, literal rockstar, gorgeous Newt) that he deliberately provokes contact and shows of affection. Just to show off to people and send a clear back off signal. And Newt just dotes on him obliviously.

ok this one is another super old prompt and when I was writing it this week it KINDA got away from me. but I hope everyone enjoyyyys. partially inspired from conversations with @k-sci-janitor 👀 totally sfw, except for one brief reference

anyway, a fic about hermann being all affectionate with newt and also discovering what relaxation is

——————————————-------------------------------------------

The day after the world doesn’t end, Hermann brings Newt breakfast in bed.

Honestly, it surprises Newt more than the whole world not ending thing. Up until the previous evening, after all, Newt was pretty damn sure the guy absolutely hated him, and that if Hermann was gonna do something as out of character as bringing him breakfast, it surely meant he’d spat in it first. Or maybe poisoned it. If hated isn’t the right word, Newt would say Hermann at the very least barely tolerated. And then the whole sharing the neural load thing happened. And, after that, hugging, not once, but twice, and then falling asleep in bed together. And now Hermann’s perched on the edge of his bed (which they shared while they slept) and handing him a plate.

“You had quite the busy day yesterday,” Hermann says kindly. Hermann has never spoken to Newt kindly before. Atop the plate are two pieces of toast, a soft-boiled egg, and a mug of coffee. The coffee and toast (Newt notices) are exactly the shade he prefers. He wonders if Hermann picked up on it before or after the whole mind-melding thing. Before wouldn’t surprise him—Hermann has always been weird about noticing details like that. The egg, however, is something purely Hermann in taste. “I imagine you could use a nice spot of breakfast,” he adds.

Newt shoves his glasses on and blinks at Hermann groggily. He struggles to sit up, partially tangled in his sheets, and then takes the plate. A little bit of coffee sloshes down onto one of the slices of toast. “Are you wearing my sweatshirt?” he says.

Hermann smiles and looks down at the ragged old MIT sweatshirt he’s tossed on. He may have a few inches on Newt, but he’s still one skinny motherfucker, and it hangs almost comically off his frame. “I am,” he says. “I poked around in your closet, I hope you don’t mind. My clothing was in a rather sorry state.”

Sorry state is an understatement for both of them. Newt’s surprised they haven’t been formally ordered to burn the shit they wore to the bone slums yet. Blood, dirt, and kaiju guts aside, Newt’s, at least, reeks to high heaven with sweat. “No worries,” Newt says. He picks up the coffee and blows on it. He wonders where Hermann got coffee that smells this good. It’s been hard to find anything decent and non-instant on the base these days, and (thanks to limited rations) chain shops like Starbucks cost an arm and a leg for even a small. He also wonders what people thought when they saw Hermann strutting around the base with bedhead in a sweatshirt that obviously wasn’t his. Newt almost wants to blush on his behalf. Scandalous.

Before Newt can so much as take a sip of the coffee, Hermann is suddenly unbuckling and shucking off his grey slacks. “Dude!” Newt yelps, flushing bright red to the tips of his ears. Hermann blinks at him innocently. “What are you doing?”

It’s not so much that Newt is upset as it is that it’s so wildly out of character for Hermann that he feels he owes it to Hermann to act at least moderately scandalized. In all his years of knowing and working alongside Hermann, he’s never so much as seen Hermann’s bare wrist before. Now he’s in Newt’s goddamn bed flashing calves, and thighs, and neatly-pressed little white briefs… Hermann rolls his eyes and tosses the slacks (unfolded!) onto Newt’s desk chair. “Making myself comfortable,” he says. “Would you like me to stop?”

Does Hermann iron his underwear? It would be at odds with the rest of his clothing if he did, which is usually in various stages of frumpy to outright wrinkled, but Newt can’t think of how else it would look like that. He wonders if Hermann’s stitched his name on the inner waistband. It seems like the kind of thing Hermann would do. Newt suddenly realizes he’s been staring at Hermann’s briefs (and, worse still, considering how cute Hermann looks in just them and Newt’s sweatshirt) for an uncomfortably long time, so he quickly shakes his head and drags his eyes to Hermann’s face. One of Hermann’s eyebrows is quirked up. Newt hasn’t been subtle. “No,” he says. He clears his throat. “No, dude, you’re—all good.”

He chokes down a too-hot sip of coffee to have something to do with his mouth.

Hermann smirks.

The bedcovers are drawn back. Hermann slips under them and drapes an arm across Newt’s chest, his hand curling protectively over Newt’s hip. With his other hand he snags Newt’s coffee from his grasp and takes a sip. Newt watches his jaw and throat work as he swallows it, a funny feeling blooming in the pit of his stomach. The mug is handed back over, Hermann’s fingers brushing against Newt’s, which make Newt feel even funnier. “Newton,” Hermann declares. “I think we ought to have sex.”

“Oh,” Newt says. “Can I finish my breakfast first?”

“Certainly,” Hermann says.

Newt’s heart pounds as he spreads a little packet of margarine across one of the pieces of toast; he can feel Hermann’s eyes on him, never straying once. Hermann’s hand draws little circles on his hip. Newt drops his toast twice to the plate before he can successfully take a bite, and even when he does, he doesn’t taste it. Hermann’s fingers dip under the hem of his t-shirt. Newt swallows his toast. “Why?” he says.

Apparently it’s the right question. Hermann nods, like he’s pleased Newt has asked. Like they’re talking theories or something. “I came to the conclusion while I fetching your coffee,” Hermann says. “It occurred to me that I wouldn’t have gotten up at seven in the morning to get coffee for just anyone. Then, of course, there is the whole drifting business—”

“You realized you wouldn’t have done that for just anyone too, huh?” Newt says with a smile. Hermann’s hand on his hip stills, and his cheeks go pink. Newt’s relieved to have gotten some ground back here. “Hermann, that’s sooo romantic.”

“The world was at stake,” Hermann sniffs.

“It’s okay,” Newt says. “I won’t tell anyone the great Dr. Gottlieb has feelings. So, what, you realized you have a big ole crush on me?”

Hermann takes the unfinished piece of toast from him and sets it down on his plate. He pulls Newt’s glasses off, kisses him soundly, and then puts Newt’s glasses back on. His mouth tastes like toothpaste. “On the contrary, I’ve always suspected it,” he says. “It’s just that now I have the time to confirm it.” He reaches up and strokes at Newt’s hair. “We have the time for lots of things, now, Newton. Whatever we’d like.”

Newt finishes off his coffee quickly, not even caring when he burns his tongue, and then tosses the remainder of his breakfast to the floor. His egg spills onto the massacred skinny corduroys he wore yesterday. Whatever, Newt’s burning them anyway. “God, get overhere already, man,” he says, tugging at Hermann’s borrowed sweatshirt. He needs to help Hermann confirm his crush or whatever, pronto.

It’s a few days before Newt and Hermann finally drag themselves out of bed and to the lab to tackle what little work remains for them to do—cataloguing what are apparently the last kaiju samples known to man (Newt), recording and backing up their drift data (Newt’s solo drift, and then their joint data), drawing some random scribbles on the board and pretending they’re important calculations about the possibility of the Breach reopening (Hermann. Okay, whatever, maybe they are important). Unfortunately, the delay isn’t for any sexy reasons, as much as Newt would’ve liked it to have been. The events of the last day of the war caught up with them pretty quickly after that morning in Newt’s bed, and they mostly just slept, ordered out dinner, popped ibuprofen for their various aches, and avoided medical at all costs. (Rumor had it the medical staff on base were looking for him and Hermann so they could do some brain scans. Apparently drifting with a kaiju brain is potentially dangerous, who knew.)

A rancid smell washes over them the second they push the heavy lab doors open, and Newt spots several hunks of kaiju organs rotting away on his workbench. Hermann clamps a hand to his mouth. “Oops,” Newt says, turning to Hermann sheepishly. He can’t help but cower as he does. He and Hermann got along swimmingly the past couple days—it’ll be sad to see all that hard work go down the drain over this. “Guess I forgot to clean up the other day. In my defense—we were kind of busy.”

But Hermann doesn’t snap at Newt, or thump his cane on the ground, or call Newt an idiot, or even look annoyed; he lowers his hand from his mouth and laughs. Albeit a terse laugh, but still. Newt gapes at him. “We were rather busy,” Hermann concedes. “So long as you clean it up in the next ten minutes, I—what, Newton?”

“Nothing,” Newt says, quickly. “I’m gonna—um—deal with it now.”

Hermann disappears from the lab while Newt is digging around in the storage closet for extra heavy-duty trash bags. When he comes back an hour later, he’s holding a cardboard tray of small plastic cups, and Newt has just hefted his last spoiled sample into the lab’s airtight biohazard bin (a bit mournfully, if he’s being honest, since he’s sure there’s still more to learn about the kaiju from them). Newt squints at the cups in the tray while he rips his messy disposable work gloves off. “What’s that?” he says.

“Iced coffee,” Hermann declares.

The gloves slap, wetly, into the biohazard bin, and Newt lets out a low whistle. “Dude. No way. From where?” He’s not sure when he gave off the impression that the way to his heart was good coffee, but maybe it’s true. Then again, Hermann could probably win him over with a cup of lukewarm tap water. Not because Newt is desperate or anything. He just really likes Hermann.

“A little shop a bit away from the base,” Hermann says. “I took the bus.” He draws back his chair and sits down with a soft sigh, setting his cane against his desk. Then he draws out a small brown paper bag from his parka pocket. He tosses it to Newt; Newt catches it with one hand. “They had these funny little cakes on sticks. I thought you might like one.”

“Cake pops?” Newt says.

“I presume,” Hermann says. While Newt inhales the little chocolate-dipped cake pop (which is so good, oh my God, Newt hasn’t had dessert that didn’t come from a vending machine in plastic shrink wrap in years), Hermann adds, “I wasn’t sure what sort of iced coffee you liked, so I made sure to get a variety.”

“Sick,” Newt says, spewing crumbs on his shirt. “Um. But, like, why though?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hermann says. “I suppose I wanted to do something kind for you.” He carefully slides a straw out of its paper wrappings and pokes it into the lid of one of the coffees. Once he crumples up the wrapper and tosses It into his train bin, he grips his cane, and uses the handle to nudge Newt’s desk chair towards him. “You worked awfully hard cleaning the laboratory.”

Newt preens a little, even as he privately wonders why Hermann’s acting so weird. Well, nice. But nice is weird for Hermann, so they’re basically the same thing. Is this part of his whole deciding whether or not he digs Newt thing? Newt just assumed the awesome morning they spent together would be proof enough of that. Then again, Hermann’s pretty thorough. “I guess,” Newt says. “It was kind of my mess, though.”

Hermann pats at the empty chair with a smile. Hermann’s smiles are so rare—crooked, and stupid cute—that Newt’s heart gives a painful little twist at the sight of it, and he realizes he doesn’t actually give a shit about why Hermann’s being all weird, actually. “You’ve earned a break,” Hermann says. “Besides, I’d like to spend time with you.”

Newt’s too stunned to argue with that one. When he sits down, Hermann inches their chairs together until their knees are touching.

They don’t necessarily fall back into their usual habits by the next week, but the better ones they’ve picked up (being a little kinder to each other, a little more patient, a little more respectful, and also the fact that Hermann can’t seem to stop touching Newt) all but fall into the background as Newt throws himself into his work with renewed determination. Unfortunately, his desire to get it all done as soon as fucking possible speaks less to his awesome work ethic, and more to the fact that he’s just not sure what else to do with himself now, and he likes that work gives him the excuse to not think about it. Hermann said they have all the time to do whatever they like now. Well, Newt likes working. He knows working. Relaxation is a foreign concept to him, and it was a foreign concept to Hermann up until recently. While Newt is toiling away over his decaying kaiju samples in the lab, Hermann is out—

“Where?” Newt says.

Hermann gives Newt the most serene smile Newt’s ever seen cross his face. “I took a bath,” he says. “It was very nice. I bought some nice soaps, and lit some candles, and looked online to see how to do one of those mud masks. It was very relaxing. You ought to try it.”

“Try bathing?” Newt says.

“Yes. Well, no. I mean taking a bath. Is there something you’re not understanding?”

Newt tries to imagine Hermann with a mud mask on his face and cucumbers over his eyes and fails miserably. Hermann hates messes. He would never stand for mud, let alone on his skin. Where’d he even find a bathtub? Did he break into the rangers’ locker room again? Aren't candles banned on base for being a fire hazard, anyway? “Yeah,” Newt says. “Pretty much all of it.”

Hermann shakes his head with a snort, and Newt catches a whiff of something floral and fragrant—his fancy new soap or oil, he guesses. “I’m not surprised. You know, Newton, you are awfully tense.”

Hearing that from Hermann of all people, the king of having-a-massive-stick-up-your-ass, is probably the funniest thing that’s ever happened to Newt. He laughs out loud and plunges a bare hand into his kaiju sample with a gross squelching noise. “Sure, dude.”

He’s almost too engrossed in his sample to feel Hermann sidling up behind him and setting a hand at his waist. He definitely feels Hermann nose a kiss behind his ear, though, and the hot flush that spreads down across his neck from it. Newt’s hand goes sweaty around his scalpel. One thing he definitely wasn’t expecting from a post-no-apocalypse Hermann is how free he is with affection in any and all forms. “Give it a rest, love,” Hermann murmurs. He nudges at the heel of Newt’s boot with the end of his cane. Love? “Why don’t we head back to my quarters and watch a film? You can pick.”

“But.” Newt fidgets. “I have—my sample—”

Another little kiss. The soapy-oil smell is stronger now. Newt thinks it might be lavender. He wonders if the mud mask left Hermann’s skin all soft. “It won’t be going anywhere, Newton.”

Newt sets down his scalpel.

When they they pass by a group of LOCCENT staff in the hallway, Newt makes to drop Hermann’s hand (which Hermann had laced together with his own before they left the lab), but Hermann holds fast, maybe even faster than before, and looks at him with his stupidly sweet set of big eyes. Newt waits until they round the corner to say anything. “Sorry,” he says, lamely. “Um. I thought—you wouldn’t want—” Hermann continues to stare at him. His iris is still ringed red like Newt’s. “I just mean I know you’re weird about stuff like that. Public stuff.” Hermann has been a closed and tightly-bound book for as long as Newt’s known him; he can’t imagine that would suddenly change and he would start broadcasting his emotions far and wide in the course of a week just because he’s a little less stressed.

Or, you know. Maybe Newt’s totally wrong on this. “Ah,” Hermann says. He nods, very seriously. “Yes. I have been considering that as well. I see no reason to hide recent developments in our relationship.” He squeezes Newt’s hand. "In fact, I see no reason to not be quite, er, proud of them. You’re quite the catch.”

Newt remembers the stolen sweatshirt. Maybe Hermann wearing it out to get them breakfast was more calculated than he realized. “So if I made out with you against the wall right now you wouldn’t be mad?” Newt says.

“Well,” Hermann says, inclining his head to his door, "seeing as my quarters are right there, it seems a rather unnecessary inconvenience.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Newt smiles as Hermann leads him in. “Can I really pick the movie?”

“Within reason.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #esperata

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cheerypining · 4 years ago

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Appearance HCs (Brothers)

I've seen some comments ab how I draw the boys and wanted to get it written out how I percieve their designs! Do forgive how disorganized these are ;;

Lucifer

I'll admit, I don't draw Lucifer often, but I do have at least some thoughts ab him!

No visible blemishes, but considering how much he works I always assume it's a makeup thing, so when I draw him he tends to look very tidy and perfect, but I hc that he has dark circles that he tries to cover up.

I'm sorry but I can't in good conscience believe his height in the chart. He gives me petite muscular vibes. I tend to give him some kind of discreet heel.

He has the ghost of a six-pack, you only see it if he really flexes.

He's one of those people that has a soft face, but makes up for it with like, terrifying eyes. His expressions completely transform his face.

Speaking of expressions, I imagine he's very expressive regardless of the face he's making.

Mammon

Perfect skin. He doesn't try at all. No blemishes whatsoever.

All slim and lean muscle, none of the bulging muscles someone like Beel would have but he has obvious shape to him. No six-pack for Mammon. He's slim straight down to his fingers.

I will say, this man has very nice legs. He runs a lot for various reasons, most of them not exercise.

This man is PETITE and he dresses for someone slightly larger than him, almost everything he wears fits loose on him. It makes him look smaller.

Even when he's mad, he's the least threatening person in the room. He's strong and he's tough but he's not much of a fighter. He doesn't really have an angry face or if he does, it's not a good one.

Resting sweet face

White eyelashes. They wouldn't show on a lot of people, but they stand out against his skin. His eyelashes are very full, eyebrows are on the slimmer side though.

Leviathan

He's not particularly tall, but he is skinny, which gives him the appearance of being lanky without being obscenely tall. Long in every aspect, face (to a degree), hands, legs etc.

Slim muscle, but not much. He's a good swimmer, sure, but without the aid of his powers he isn't winning any athletics competitions.

Extremely pale. So pale. He has the faintest dusting of freckles that pop up when he goes outside, but he usually sunburns before they come out much.

Appears shorter than he is because he has horrible posture. When he gets angry he stands at full height and you'd swear he grows a foot taller.

Dresses very lazily. If it isn't comfy he won't wear it. If he goes out he makes an effort but at home he's always in that jacket and it's a 50/50 chance he's wearing some kind of sweatpants.

A lot of people describe him as having a bowl cut, but I disagree. I had the same hair as him and it'd be disingenuous to say he had one lol! I see his hair as an overgrown version of a decent haircut. He probably has to be dragged out to get his hair cut.

Asmodeus

Pale in a healthy way, lots of healthy color to his skin. Tries to limit the coverage of makeup on his face because he's proud of his skin. That 3 hour skin routine pays off, ok??? Almost always has some kind of light color on his lips.

"Dude, your brother is gnc af"

He has a strong body but less like the others, it's clear he does a lot of yoga. He's very flexible and well-toned.

He almost never has the same hair style. Even if he has braids two days in a row they'll be different kinds of braids.

His eyelashes aren't particularly full but they're very nice. He doesn't usually wear any kind of mascara. However, Asmo tends to touch up his eyebrows, they aren't very prominent.

Always posing in case someone takes a picture.

Beelzebub

Beefy. BEEFY. It's canon and y'know what, I agree. He's ripped. He looks very soft, but the moment he moves or flexes a muscle, it's clear how defined each muscle is. All of his muscles are practical, no bodybuilder show muscles.

He's also huge. His hands are gigantic. He may not be 7ft tall, but between his presence and his general size, he is a very big boy.

Very soft but very masculine. He isn't a big square, but everything on him is defined. Somewhat round face.

He has wild eyebrows that Asmodeus picks at incessantly and though they aren't too big, his eyebrows are very full and prominent.

He gets a lot of sun, brings out the odd freckle or two.

Cuts his own hair, styles his own hair.

Always has little knicks on his hands and arms.

Belphegor

You can't convince me that he doesn't have raccoon eyes. Permanent dark circles.

The babiest of faces, he's very cute. Unlike Mammon he can be very intimidating. Looks like he could kill you, would kill you.

He's a little on the squishy side but nothing much. There's muscle somewhere because he works out with Beel, but it's hidden in a layer of chub. He has a bit of a belly but everyone just finds him cute.

He stares a lot and blinks less than he should. His eyes are the kind you can feel on your back when you pass by. 50/50 on whether or not he has heavy eyelids at any given time.

Looks grumpy. Is grumpy.

Also has overgrown hair, it gets long pretty fast, but Beel cuts it for him when he cuts his own hair.

He's good at tidying his hair but always has that one odd spot that didn't quite get tamed after he woke up.

Satan

Tidy, tidy, tidy. He's always fixing his clothes and hair. His teeth are obnoxiously white but he doesn't smile with them often. His hands can feel very rough because he washes them constantly.

His hair is cut regularly, it's always fresh and tidy. He never has any facial hair or shadowing on his face. His eyebrows are well-manicured, though he won't talk about it he spends a long time getting ready.

Wears a bare minimum of makeup, nothing obvious.

Wears glasses but not as open as he should. The glasses are definitely square.

Nothing he owns is currently fashionable but he doesn't like to clothes shop so he holds onto them. Lots of colors that don't really look that good on him.

#obey me #swd obey me #obey me headcanons #my headcanons #om headcanons

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amphxtrite · 4 years ago

Text

george weasley x fem!reader

part two: our future together

warnings: swearing, spelling/ grammar mistakes.

summary: George falls head over heels for the reader at Quidditch try-outs.

word count: 2.2k

enjoy <3

___________________________________

Ah Quidditch, one of George’s favourite activities, other than pranking. The feeling of cool wind blowing against his face and the rush of adrenaline he gets hitting bludgers, and flying across the stadium at full speed makes him feel on top of the world. He’s adored the sport every since he was just a little kid watching in envy as his older brothers and his dad flew around throwing quaffles, catching snitches and, his favourite, hitting bludgers. He’d always dreamed of being to play real quidditch, not just the scrimmages at home, so when Fred suggested they try out for the gryffindor team in second year, he jumped on it. George smiles at the memory of their first try-out, they’d dusted any other kid in the beaters department and since then always have. Fred laughing loudly brings George out of thought.

It’s the start of a new year, which means try- outs again. George tries not to worry about it, he’s been on the team for years now, what could go wrong? He tries to focus on how excited he is to get back on the Hogwarts Pitch, but his anxiousness is shown, he’s tapping his foot and figeting with his bag string. “Let’s get a move on Fred, we’re going to be late!” He starts to drag Fred out the door of the gryffindor common room. “Alright, alright! Just quit your pestering.” Fred sighs, rolling his eyes and stuffing a dungbomb he was poking at back into his bag. “I don’t understand what’s got you in such a worry.” Fred starts. “We’ve been on the quidditch team for the past three years, we’ve got this!” The older twin smiles, patting George on the shoulder, “I know, but who knows who’s going to try out this year, what if there’s someone bloody amazing.” George says nervous. “Can’t be better than us, eh?” Fred smiles back. George manages a weak grin.

The twins make their way into the changeroom and get into more suitable clothing, swapping out their uniforms and ties, for their quidditch jerseys, and shin guards. Grabbing their brooms, they make their way onto the pitch and are greeted by their captain, Oliver Wood. “Hello lads.” He greets with his usual heavy Scottish accent. “How’s it going Oliver?” The twins answer back in sync. “Not bad, just excited to start try-outs, you guys have got competition this year!”Olliver laughs pointing over to a small group of gryffindors huddled together. “Well I guess we’ll just have to show em who’s boss, right Freddie?” George nudges his twin. “Right on George.” Fred answers back smugly.

The try out begins with a couple laps around the pitch, so Olliver can start to pick off those he sees unfit. Fred and George decide to have some fun looping around people and pestering their friends. “Heya, Harry how's it going?” George smiles at the blue-eyed brunette, while flying upside down above him, Harry flashes a smile and rolls his eyes at the twins' antics before making small talk with the red-head.

Oliver finally calls everyone back down and starts each round of try-outs starting with chasers, he and Fred began to cheer on Angelina, Katie and all their fellow gryffindors, feeling pride watching his classmates play.

George starts to grow nervous as the try-outs for the beaters roll around, he figits with his broom as Oliver begins to call them out in twos. “Alright let's have y/n and Finnick go first!” Oliver motions for two people. George sees a tall, skinny boy walk out first, sizing him up, he turns to Fred and shrugs slightly before turning back to look at whoever y/n was. His breath catches in his throat. You were stunning. He watches you in shock as you climb onto your broom with a bat and push off, taking a moment to admire the way your h/c hair blew in the wind and the look of excitement plastered on your face as you flew around, your e/c eyes seemed to shine like diamonds in the sunlight. How did he not notice you before? “Blimey.” George whispered out watching you race back and forth hitting bludgers back with such elegance and force. He had a dopey grin stuck on his face as he watched the way your eyebrows scrunched together when you spotted a bludger and how you retaliated quickly after a not-so-good hit. You were perfect. “Freddie…” he turned to his twin next to him. “I think I’m in love.” He concluded a blush littering his freckled cheeks. Fred eyes widen and his brows shoot up, looking back towards the pitch, he’s in time to see you landing back down, a huge smile plastered on your face as you pant slightly, giving a high-five to your partner. Fred looks back towards his twin “y/n?” Fred questions, George nods, still gazing at you, stuck in a daze, as you take a sip from your water bottle and spoke to Angelina. “Mate, that’s Angie’s best friend, she’s going to rip you to shreds!” Fred laughs. “Really?” George questions, he tries to think back to if he’s ever seen you before, but draws a blank every time. “How come I’ve never seen her before?” George asks, his eyebrows knitting together in a confused expression. “Well you’re pretty bloody clueless for one.” Fred smirks and continues, “You know, she goes to games a lot to cheer on the team, you probably haven’t noticed cuz you’ve got your head so far stuck in the game.” Fred laughs loudly. “She’s also in the year below us so that explains why she’s not in any of our classes.” Fred finishes explaining, rolling his eyes as he watches his twin’s love-struck expression.

“Weasleys’ you’re up!” Oliver shouts. The twins shoot up immediately, walk over and quickly ascend into the sky. “Alright George it’s go-time so put your goo-goo eyes away, alright?” Fred warns. George blushes bashfully, sneaking a glance down at you one last time, he almost has a heart attack when he sees you looking back at him, cheering him on with Angelina. He musters a smirk and decides to show off a little. Oliver releases the bludgers and George grips the bat a little tighter, he lets his usual competitive nature consume him and he flawlessly hits back the incoming bludgers with a strength only to be rivaled by his own twin. Flying back and forth down the pitch, doing loops and laughing, he looks back at you again after hitting the bludger several yards back and sees a look of amazement cross your eyes, your lips slightly parted in shock at the sheer talent of the twins. George’s smile goes even wider and taking a chance he shoots you his signature wink and speeds back into the game. Praying that he’d gotten the reaction he wanted.

Back down on the ground, you watch in awe as the Weasley twins loop around, hitting bludgers and laughing their heads off, you could kiss being a beater goodbye when the twins were this good. Your focus was mainly on George, his loops and turns were just so amazing and the ways his arm flexed made you blush. Continuing to watch him, he makes eye-contact with you and winks, before swinging his bat again, You smile and feel your heart swell. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Angelina, who comments on the small interaction.

“Oh what’s this I see?” she teases, “does someone fancy a certain Weasley?” Angelina continues a wicked grin crossing her face. “Don’t be ridiculous Angelina, there's nothing there.” You say brushing her off as the twins land, pushing each other around smiling. “I don’t know y/n, I’m pretty sure that wink was something.” She nudges you. Ah shit so she saw that. You feel your face grow hotter as a devilish smile grows on Angelina’s face.

George had just touched down. Wiping the sweat of his brow with his arm he nudges the boy beside him, “Nice job Fred!” he says high-fiving his twin. “You too!” Fred laughs back, bumping shoulders with George. Oliver calls up the next duo as Angelina calls out for them. “Oi, you two nitwits, i have someone for you to meet!” she yells for them. George can see you bury your face into your hands and he frowns. Was something wrong? Fred saunters over with George in tow and the two groups meet halfway.

“Well hello there Miss Angelina, you called?” Fred says as he approaches the two friends.

“Yes, I’d like you two to meet my very best mate y/n.” She laughs wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You blush and mutter a thank you to Angelina before speaking.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you, you’re very great at quidditch by the way, y-your skills I mean.” you stutter out, mentally cursing yourself for messing up your introduction. George couldn’t care less in fact, he could’ve melted right there, your voice was adorable and your nervousness made him just want to wrap you in a hug.

“Thank you, haha y/n right?” Fred answers swavely before George could open his mouth, The younger twin turns and glares at his brother, what was he doing? “Yeah, that’s me.” You respond.

“Hey Angie, how come you haven’t mentioned little y/n before?” Fred teases. Angelina rolls her eyes.

“Oh I have, you two twats don’t seem to listen though.” She says coldly. Panic takes over the older twins face. “Oops?” Fred cringes. his answer coming out more like a question.

George decided to speak now while the other two were bickering. “You’re really good yourself you know, you’ve got a mean swing.” George compliments, your face lights up like a kid in a candy store. “Wow! Thanks George, it means a lot.” you smile sweetly at him. His breath hitches.

“W-wait you can already tell the difference between us?” he asks, trying to be nonchalant, but his voice comes out very excited. “Of course!” You laugh. “Angelina’s been telling me loads about you guys, and I’ve just drawn the personality to the person.” You giggle out. “Of course, she obviously can recognize the better looking twin.” Fred butts in puffing out his chest smugly. You roll your eyes, “Fred’s the confident and cocky twin and George is the sweet and compassionate twin” you explain with a smile playing on your lips. Fred opens his mouth in mock offence looking to Angelina for an answer, Angelina stares back at him and mutters a quick, it’s true.

George could tell he had to be beaming, you thought he was sweet and compassionate! He was going to burst with happiness.

“Hey Freddie can I talk to you, alone, for a sec?” Angelina asks, pulling Fred away. “Uh-yeah of course.” Fred follows slightly confused. Angelina shoots y/n a wink and George a look that said, don’t fuck up, as she continues to pull Fred away.

Oh shit she saw his blush didn’t she? Feeling nervous he turns back to face you and he can’t help but stare into your gorgeous eyes, tracing your adorable nose and perfect lips, he can feel himself falling. Hard.

“Lovely weather we’re having” you started, George accidentally cuts you off “Uh- hey, y/n how’d you like to grab a butterbeer with me this weekend?” he asks with a grin, silently kicking himself for interrupting you. Your eyes widen at his sudden boldness, but it’s replaced with a smirk. “Are you asking me on a date Georgie?” His face must’ve been on fire now, he hoped you’d think it was because of the try-outs. Godric he loved the way you said his name.

“I might be, what if I was?” he questions sarcastically. You grin playfully, you pretend to think it over, tapping a finger on your cheek. “I’d say, I’d love to go with you George Weasley and do this.” George looks at you confused as you walk closer to him, but it’s replaced with happiness when you wrap your arms around his torso. He was going to faint, he was sure of it, serotonin was coursing through him at such a fast pace he felt himself physically wobble. You step back a bit, not wanting to over step any boundaries.

Regaining a sliver of his confidence he flashes a charming smile. “Well then y/n what do you say then? Will you go on a date with me?” He opens his arms. You roll your eyes playfully and step back into his embrace. “Yes George I’ll go on a date with you.” you murmur into his broad chest. He hugs you tighter as Angelina and Fred walk back into your view, “alright love birds, y/n and I have got to get going.” Angelina pulls you by your shirt out of George’s embrace, you pout and say one final goodbye to both the twins before grabbing your bag and rushing to Angelina’s side, waving before turning and chatting with her.

Fred leans closer to the blushing red-head, “I take it, it went well?” Fred teases. George doesn’t answer at first, too busy watching you fade in the distance. “Perfect. It went perfect.” He feels himself grinning like an idiot and turning to his twin, “Freddie, I think I'm in love.” He says again joyously, “Alright, loverboy, let’s go get showered and changed so you can go hang with your little y/n again.” Fred suggests. George nods excitedly and grabs his bag, walking alongside Fred back towards the castle. Smiling all the way back.

George didn’t think it possible, but he found himself loving quidditch even more, tuning out Fred’s voice, he silently finds himself hoping he’d get to play quidditch with you by his side.

#george weasley #harry potter imagine #harry potter #weasley twins #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #quidditch #fluff #harry potter fluff #george weasley fluff #imagines

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achliegh · 4 years ago

Text

British V-Sign

Punk Rock Leo? If y’all want a series of this you will have to let me know because I like this, but it also reminds me of something a 12 year old would write. (Cringe)

TW/CW: Swearing, Drinking, and a blowie in the bathroom lol, if there are others let me know I can’t think of anything else.

Sergei was on the phone with someone. Everyone else was in the shower or getting into their game day suits. Everyone was a little bummed because they just lost against the Rangers, 3-0. It stung but with Kasey being their only goalie and having a pulled thigh muscle makes it hard on the team.

Sergei was pulling on his blazer, he laughed into the phone and nodded as if the person on the line could see him. No one really paid attention, usually people get calls in the locker room from family, then again Sergei was speaking English. Suspicious.

“I will let them know! The whole team got it!” He hung up and whistled for everyone's attention. When all eyes were on him and mostly dressed he made his announcement. “Okay, I have the entire team invited to go to a free Punk Rock concert!”

“You like Punk? Sergei, why did I never know about this?” Dumo walks over to stand next to his friend and puts a hand on his shoulder. Sergei punches him in the arm slightly and rolls his eyes.

“I don’t really care for it, but an old friend of mine's son plays and has a concert at the Barclays Center. I thought you would like to go, maybe cheer up.” He smiles that sweet smile he always puts on when he wants to do something but not go alone. Most of the team agrees, Sunny and Sirius decide that concerts aren’t really their place and decide to stay at the hotel.

Everyone went to the hotel to change into something more comfortable. Finn knocked on Logan's door because he was taking forever. Finn didn’t really know what to wear to a punk concert so he went with his normal ripped black skinny jeans and a white shirt and some white tennis shoes. When Logan finally opened the door the room was a mess as expected, he shook his head as Logan held up two shirts for him to pick from.

Logan was so indecisive that Finn being his best friend made all his decisions for him. Once Logan was dressed in a Metallica black and white tie-dyed shirt with the sleeves cut off and some light wash baggy and ripped jeans, he threw on his stupid boots that weighed like 20 pounds but Logan took everywhere.

Everyone was waiting for them by the time they walked out of the elevator, the usual chirping about being late ensued as everyone piled into the vans waiting for them. They were expecting some small concert hall with a couple of mediocre bands that would sound great after a few drinks. Instead everyone but Finn was taken aback when they pulled up outside one of the biggest concert halls in NYU. Sergei went first and gave the bouncer a word. He let them through without hesitation. Leading them into a taped off area of the mosh pit.

“Sergei who the hell do you know!?” Finn was looking around so confused but also in awe. “Do you have a past we don’t know about?” Sergei laughed and shook his head, patting Finn a little hard on the back.

“Nope! You remember the travelling Junior Professional teams I used to coach.” Some of the older players nodded while Logan and Finn shook their heads. “Well I used to coach Eloise Knut’s son. He was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis last year as he was on the road to recovery from a torn ACL. He used to just do music for a hobby but now it’s his whole life.” Sergei shrugs as Finn and Logan gawk at him. Dumo snaps a picture of the two and sends it to the group chat.

“You mean Eloise Knut the absolute hockey LEGEND!” Finn looks at Logan then back at Sergei. “You’re shitting me.” Sergei shakes his head again as the lights start to dim and the band comes out. They all turned to face the stage, it was too dark to see anyone clearly but they knew people were up there.

Suddenly, a spotlight shines down on an angel, a giant angel. He’s tall built blonde with a green streak over his left temple missing with his beautifully golden angel curls. The mop of hair suit his face, a mesh shirt tucked into some bagged Black torn to shreds jeans and four inch platform boots. His golden skin glowed from under the light with a cloud of twinkles on his face that must be piercing's that can’t be seen from this far away. They also notice some black smudges around his eyes.

Logan is suddenly very thirsty. He got even thirstier when this angel opened his mouth. The songs were amazing, they were punk and crazy but also not anything he ever imagined. Everyone around them was dancing, drinking and laughing. Whooping when the angel from the stage came closer to sing directly to the group and pointed at Sergei before waving at him with the sweetest smile.

He was close enough Finn could make out his piercings, a septum a simile, an eyebrow and so many in his ears. What took his breath away is when the angel had been focusing so much on his bass solo that his tongue poked out of his mouth… and it was pierced.

Finn and Logan both took big gulps of water at the same time, then gave each other pointed looks saying ‘You too?’ They both nodded and looked back on stage. Standing so close the back of their hands were touching. There had always been an unspoken thing between them but unspoken was always unspoken unless they were slightly inebriated somehow. So they never did anything around the team. But, this angel was pushing them close and closer to having to drink.

Once the performance came to an intermission Logan and Finn shared a look. Then they told the team they were going to the bathroom. Being told to be safe they made it to the bathroom, luckily it was empty. Logan had Finn pinned to the door in a matter of seconds.

“Please tell me you saw that gorgeous man!” Logan was dropping to his knees and undoing Finn’s belt and jeans before Finn could even process what was happening. A shocked moan was ripped from his throat as Logan swallowed him down with no hesitation. It didn’t take long for Logan to pull an orgasm from Finn. Logan loves going down on Finn so making him finish was easy, without even being touched. Logan stood back up as Finn was fixing himself. He washed his hands and splashed some water on his face.

“Yeah” Finn is still trying to catch his breath as he finishes his belt. “I saw him.”

They get back to the team without drawing too much attention to themselves, again standing so close to each other but this time their pinkies are linked. Finn is all bright smiles the rest of the night while Logan is a bit more shy than normal. Blushing at the slightest joke.

Once the concert ended and everyone crawled back into their respective beds they still couldn’t get that boy out of their heads.

The next morning on the car ride to the airport Finn tapped on Logan's headphones and showed him his phone. He has typed out a tweet that had Leo (They eventually got his name from Sergei) tagged.

“I’ve never been to a Punk concert but @peanut made me fall in love <3” It had a picture of him and Logan, and another that was just Leo. Logan was tagged on the side. Logan nodded, smiling and clicks post for Finn.

What they weren't expecting was a response when they landed.

#sergei #pascal dumais #leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Note

For the meet ugly prompts, 15 and/or 21 for ot4?

Here you go! I went with 15: I step out of the bathroom and right into the middle of a bar fight and you punch me accidentally so I punch back on instinct. There's no sex scene, but quite a bit of talk about sex.

Duck’s taken a few hits in his life. He’s not expecting one when he steps from the bathroom of Tarkensian’s General Store and Lunch Counter, but that’s what he gets, sharp and hard in the eye.

“Fuck” He yelps, swinging his fist out to keep whoever the fuck is pissed at him from doing it again. He misses, catching sight of a tall government suit as his momentum spins him into the wall.

At the gunshots, he drops to the floor.

“Goddamn it.” His attacker sprints towards the front of the store. Another shot, squealing tires, banging doors. By the time he’s made a cautious journey to the cash register to make sure Leo is okay, the man who punched him is arguing with another suit in front of a Dusenberg with bullet holes in the right front tire.

“I told you to never discharge your weapon unless absolutely necessary.” All six feet of mr quick fists is staring down at his partner.

“They were getting away!”

“Necessary means life or death, Agent Roberts; if we tracked them once, we can track them again, and stopping them today is not worth the life of the civilians in that store. Or anywhere else.”

“Who gives a damn if some hill-billys take a hit, this is government business-”

“That’s enough.” The taller man’s voice sharpens, “Protecting the people down here is why we’re doing this in the first place. If you can’t get that through your skull, you’re asking for a one way ticket back to the tiny police force they pulled you from.”

The shorter man rips his badge from his pocket, bouncing it off the other’s chest, “Save yourself the fucking trouble, I fucking quit.” With that he stomps down the dusty road towards the only hotel in town.

Duck and Leo, who’ve been watching the exchange like it’s a picture show, pivot to setting knocked cans and scattered boxes right as the remaining agent steps through the door. He stands, waiting for them to look his way and clearing his throat to speed them along.

“I, um, I apologize, Mr. Tarkesian. I only meant to question those two men in a friendly way, but the moment they saw my badge one threw a haymaker. Which leads me to assume they are bootleggers, a conclusion I was deferring until I could speak to them. That’s neither here nor there. Are you alright? Are your customers?”

“All in one piece, sir. Your partner ended a sack of flour, but nothin’ else.” Leo tilts his head at the pile of white dust, “though you gave Duck here a hell of a shiner.”

“Oh my lord.” The man puts a hand over his mouth when he sees Duck’s face, “I’m sorry. You stepped out of the washroom right when I tried to stop the younger brother.”

“S’okay. Not, uh, not the worst thing to ever happen to me at dinner time.” Duck would rather not get involved in whatever the hell is going on here.

“No, it’s not.” The man runs a hand over his slick-backed black hair, “will you let me buy you dinner as an apology? Or at least some ice for your eye?” The chagrin is unusual from a government man in this part of the country, and Duck can think of worse evenings than letting a handsome face pay for his meal.

“You buy me dinner” he tilts his head at the lunch counter, “I won’t be sore about bein’ sore.”

The man smiles, “That seems fair. Mr. Tarkesian, if you’re able to write up a bill for the damaged goods I’ll...well, I’ll do my best to get you paid back for it. Have someone drop it off at Amnesty Lodge for Agent Stern.”

“Will do.” Leo nods, then adds, “Duck, ask Pigeon for some ice on the house for that eye.”

Once their orders are in and Duck’s eye is chilling, the agent sets a thoughtful hand on his hat where it’s resting on the counter.

“I really am sorry.”

“Not the first time someone’s slugged me. Definitely the hardest, though. So, uh, guess that’s somethin.”

“If it’s any consolation, my hand sympathizes with your eye.” He holds up his right hand, bruises blooming on the knuckles. Duck holds out the ice but the agent shakes his head, “it’s my own fault for not opting for a more efficient way of apprehending those men.”

“Take it you’re here tryin to bust some moonshiners?”

“Yes. As you might imagine, it hasn’t led to the best reception.” He tilts his head towards the quartet of men scowling at them from down the counter.

“Doubt your partner helped with that any.”

“You don’t know the half of it. One of those men who wants the respect for his badge but doesn’t give a damn about earning it.” He sighs as Pigeon sets their sandwiches in front of them, “Nevermind. I shouldn’t complain about a fellow agent. Um. What do you do here in Kepler?”

“Arborist for every town in the county. The bigwigs at city hall realized any money they saved lettin me go when things got bad wouldn’t make up for what would happen if trees took out houses or the brush got too high and made it easy for the whole damn town square to burn to the ground.”

“Sounds like they’re lucky to have you.”

“Yep.”

They eat in silence, evening sun searing their backs through the windows.

“I’m, um, well I was going to say I’m usually better at conversation than this. But it’s been so long since I did any talking that wasn’t part of an investigation or government business I’ve forgotten how to be charming. Or even interesting.”

“Buyin a fella dinner is pretty charming.”

“No, it’s just the decent thing to do.”

“Take the compliment city boy.”

The agent raises an eyebrow and Duck prepares to be hit again for disrespect. Then Stern laughs, soft and tired, before sending a Clark Gable caliber smile his way, “It’s nice to be talked to like a person instead of a suit.”

Duck shifts on the stool to more easily enjoy the way blue eyes glint when he says, “Even easier if you told me your name.”

------------------------------------------------------

“Well, Joe, this is me.” Duck gestures to the house that’s been in the Newton family since it was built. He’s the last one left in town, so the faded paint and sturdy foundation are all his.

The agent regards the house with the same cool curiosity he’s applied to everything else they’ve encountered tonight. It’s only when his gaze lands on Duck that it takes on a new dimension, friendly and almost innocent in it’s hope.

“You, uh, feel like joinin’ me for some coffee? Wouldn’t wanna interfere with government business by keepin you.” He teases.

Joe is already joining him on the porch, “Roberts probably reported on our earlier altercation. I’ll have better luck keeping Agent Hayes from shouting my ear off if I give him until tomorrow to cool off.”

Duck gets the lights on as Joe hangs his hat and jacket by the door. He opens the cabinet, searching for clean glasses and mugs, spotting the bottle of bourbon that was there long before prohibition started right when the taller man steps behind him.

“Uh, any chance I can convince you that’s a bottle of vinegar or somethin’?”

“No. It doesn’t matter, though.” Since Duck’s hands are full, Joe closes the cabinet, “I don’t give a damn if people drink. I don’t care if someone wants to brew up moonshine in their yard or run a bar. What I care about is how this whole mess has made it easier for mobs to flourish, for normal people to get caught in the crossfire of a corrupt police force and ruthless criminals.” The sofa creaks as he sits down, “I’m not in Kepler because I think it’s some cesspool; I’m here because I know a major bootlegging ring has a leg here, and that the people who benefit from it won’t be the people who get arrested in my investigation casts to small a net.”

Duck keeps his mouth shut; he could tell Joe just how much Kepler’s changed since a certain family got their hands on it. But he’s not sure what else he’d reveal without even meaning to.

Even exhausted, Joe manages to look handsome when he adds, “All that’s to say, I wouldn’t mind a drop of that bottle in my coffee.”

The longer he sits on the couch with his coffee cup, the more relaxed Joe turns. He also doesn’t move when Duck scoots closer, and soon their legs and hands keep bumping each other.

“Do you know Amnesty Lodge?”

“Yep. Few of my friends work there, it’s full of good folks.”

“I agree. I, um, the only other person in town who’ll talk to me like I’m a human works there. Barclay’s one of the few people who doesn’t seem scared of me. Or, he did at the beginning. Now, well, some days I’m almost convinced he’s happy to see me.” A secretive blush dusts his cheeks, “I’m sorry, I get rambly after ten p.m. It’s just nice to have someone to talk to about him.”

Duck happens to be privy to what a man in love with Barclay Cobb looks like. So he keeps some gentleness in his tone when he teases, “City boy likes his men a little country?”

“Barclay is from San Francisco.” Joe looks up from his nails, bringing them almost nose to nose.

“That don’t answer the question.”

“Maybe this will.” Joe drops backwards onto the cushions, taking Duck with him courtesy of a kiss and not letting him up until dawn.

-------------------------------------------------

Practically everyone in Kepler has a job on the side, some legal and others not. Duck considers himself lucky that his is all pleasure with a chaser of business.

He let’s himself into what could generously be called a shack, the ragged exterior giving way to walls of beautiful drawings and a floor that’s more paper than wood. Seated in the far corner at a three-legged desk is a tall, skinny man with pale hair and red spectacles. Kepler’s Van Gogh of Vice, Indrid Cold.

At Duck’s footsteps he turns, angular cheeks and sharp nose a bit sunburnt but smile putting that star (and any other) to shame.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite model.” He stands, undershirt and denim pants hanging off him as he gathers Duck into a kiss. Then he pulls back, concerned, “goodness, what happened to your eye?”

“Hey, sugar.” Duck kisses his chin, “Got caught up in some trouble at Leo’s. Nothin to worry about. What am I today?”

“A brush salesman. Go put on that jacket, the rest of your clothing will do just fine.”

It’s the same routine every time; Indrid sketches Duck in some poor replica of a costume (a policeman, a boxer, a salesman), then instructs him to strip down to some level of undress. If it’s a weekend, Indrid will ask if he can sketch Duck for more complex drawings, some nude and some not, rather than the Tijuana Bibles that help line his threadbare pockets.

He always pays Duck for his time, even though Duck points out that, as his boyfriend, he can see him naked and hard any time for free.

They talk about birds and work, about going to the city sometime soon for a real night out, until Indrid instructs him to remove his shirt.

“My, my, what did you get up to last night?” Indrid traces a finger around the hickey on Duck’s lower belly.

Duck tells him, letting Indrid scoldingly nibble his collarbone as punishment for not inviting him to join.

“I’ve given Agent Stern a wide berth, so it is reassuring to know he’s a decent sort. Though someone really ought to inform him that Barclay shares his feelings.”

“Yeah. Barclay.” Duck chuckles, “they’re two grown men, if they can’t figure out they wanna fuck, I ain’t gonna hold their hands and drag ‘em into bed. Uh, wait, fuck-”

“I got both your intended meaning and the double one. Now kindly remove your trousers and lay on the bed.”

“Any specific pose?”

“Whichever one allows me to be in you the quickest.”

“You’re the boss, sugar.”

-----------------------------------------------------

“He did what?” Barclay thunks the last crate into the back of Indrid’s car.

“Dearest, I know you’re attached to Joseph, but Duck did nothing wrong by sleeping with him-”

“That’s not what I meant.” The cook sets the bags atop the clinking crates, “Duck can’t lie. Him fucking around with Joseph could end really badly.”

“Duck doesn’t know about this” Indrid closes the car, fidgets with the key.

“Yeah, which means he doesn’t know what things to hide. Joseph is smart, Duck could say something totally innocent and give him a clue.”

Indrid rubs his forehead, “We can discuss it further when I get back from this run.”

Barclay mumbles, “okay.” Then Indrid is being lovingly crushed in a hug as his boyfriend speaks into his shoulder, “Sorry I snapped. I get so fucking nervous when you do this.”

“That makes two of us. But I didn’t come by my nickname for nothing. I slip by as quietly as a moth in the dark.”

“But what if the cops lay a trap? Or some other family wants in on Leeshon’s territory and decides to hijack you? Or-”

“Leave the what-ifs to me, dearest. I’ll be back in two days. I promise.”

When Indrid is no more than a shadow on the backroad, Barclay trudges back to the Lodge. He hates this, hates the men who put him in this position, hates the feds who sniff around like dogs waiting to bite, hates how one of the two men who can stop his heart with his smile is also one who could throw him in jail.

The instant he sees Joseph in his usual corner seat, that all evaporates. He knows the agent originally used the Lodge restaurant as a place to eavesdrop. When he’s here these days, it’s solely for Barclay’s cooking and attention. Barclay will give him as much of both as he desires, feed him full of it in hopes of delaying the inevitable. So when the chairs are up and it’s only Joseph leaning on the counter asking if Barclay will join him for a slice of pie, the cook sits on the stool beside him, leaning in as close as he dares, and tries not to think of the future.

---------------------------------------------------

“Mr. Cold?”

“I’m on the back porch.” Indrid calls, cleaning up his paints as Joseph rounds the house, his pristine shirt, shoes, and hair making Indrid feel a rare bust of self-consciousness at his dishevelment. He stands, brushing off his pants, “how can I assist you?”

“By letting me take a look inside your home. I’ve heard rumors that you deal in items that are only bought in back rooms and I need to see if they’re true. I don’t have a warrant, and I’ll get one if I have to, but then I’ll have to bring other kinds of law enforcement with me who might, um, might....look, you’re important to Duck; I don’t want this to escalate any more than it has to.”

Indrid grins, waving him inside, “Say no more. I do believe there’s been a misunderstanding. Your mind, on account of your profession, went straight to bootlegging. I deal in something a bit different” He flips open a briefcase and gets the pleasure of watching Joseph Sten blush.

“It’s not the kind of art I’d sell if I had my choice, but I have a talent for rendering all manner of lewd acts on paper. Owners of bowling alleys and hunting clubs pay decently enough for them.”

“I, um, I see.” Joseph picks up one booklet, flipping through it, “I must admit these are more realistic than the ones I've encountered in the past.”

“I use models whenever possible in both these and my other work” he gestures to the non-explicit paintings on the wall, “in fact, you know two of my preferred muses.”

“Duck” Joseph’s thumb runs tenderly over the illustration.

“Indeed. And this one…” he holds up a second book, “is based on Barclay.”

“Good lord.”

“That’s the general consensus on that part of his body.” Indrid places both booklets safely in their spots, “does that satisfy your curiosity?”

“Yes.” Joseph runs a hand over his hair, “very much. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Cold.”

“Of course. And by all means, call me Indrid. Should you ever be interested in modeling...” he let's Stern feel the full force of his appreciative gaze, "do let me know."

The agent leaves in more of a hurry than he arrived. Indrid closes the door, slumps against and says to the dust specks, “that was too close.”

He reiterates this point to Barclay in the evening, who agrees with him that, as much as Joseph means to him and Duck, when Indrid returns from this run they’ll talk with Mama about how to get the agent out of the Lodge and, ideally, the town. They finish their conversation right as three members of the Leeshon family arrive, electing to travel north along with their goods for some “official business.” Apparently, word of the The Moth as a skilled driver is spreading, the implications of which are keeping Indrid up at night.

He stoops and smiles for the men with menacing shapes under their coats, blows a final kiss to Barclay, and speeds off into the night.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

“Is everything alright?” Joseph hovers over Duck’s shoulder, his eyes locked onto Barclay.

“‘Drid does these trips to sell his stuff, and he ain’t back yet. Ain’t called either of us, which is mighty strange. Usually he lets us know when he’s headin home.”

“And I tried the motel where he usually stays on his last night back down. They haven’t seen him.” Barclay wipes the same spot of table for the fiftieth time, “Duck’s truck is busted and Mama’s got the one we use for Lodge business, so we can’t go look for him ourselves.”

“We could take my car.” Joseph offers without hesitation, “if you know his usual route, we can at least rule out a wreck.”

Barclay shudders; he doesn’t want to think about Indrid, caged and lifeless in twisted metal. He wants to think about it so little that he does the most foolish thing possible; he decides to give a federal agent a guided tour of their bootlegging route.

Soon, they’re creeping along the winding backroad, Barclay navigating from the front seat while Duck bounces his leg in the back. The longer they drive, the more somber the expression from the man beside him.

“Indrid’s the Moth, isn’t he?” Joseph murmurs.

“Hate to say it Joe, but you’re so outta bounds you ain’t even in...the...game” he catches Barclay’s eyes in the mirror, “oh you gotta be fuckin kiddin me.”

“Wish I was” Barclay locks his hands in his lap, “Started about six months ago. Leeshon and his mob decided Kepler was a good spot to stage some of their smuggling. They went to the lodge first; Mama told ‘em hell no, told ‘em to get gone, and they threatened to shoot her then and there to burn the whole place and everyone in it. I stepped in, offered to do it. I was so fucking bad at the driving I almost got caught. Indrid offered to help to keep me safe and keep them from going after the Lodge.” He glances at Joseph, “we’re just trying to protect our family.”

“I don’t doubt it. But you haven’t exactly put me in an easy position. I had a hunch after I was in Indrid’s house; the faint smell of alcohol on certain bags, the regular trips along the exact same route. I just...I was hoping I was wrong.”

“You know damn well ‘Drid ain’t a threat to anyone.”

“He’s aiding the mob”

“To protect us--ohfuck” Barclay’s door is open before Joseph even stops the car. At the crossroads before them are two cars, each riddled with bullet holes. The one on the right, back half full of shattered bottles, is Indrid’s.

“No!” Barclay dodges the other bodies, Duck right behind him, and wrenches the driver-side door open. There’s bullets in the seat, but no body.

“Rival family, I can tell by the rings. They must have ambushed them.” Joseph stares down at one of the bodies by the second car.

“We gotta find him, he might still be, there-” Duck grabs Barclay’s arm, pointing towards the brush, “someone dragged themself that way.”

Duck leads the scramble through the foliage, following signs Barclay can’t see until they reach scuffed shoes on long legs.

“‘Drid, fuck, fuck, c’mon sugar talk to me.” Duck is on his knees, guiding the unconscious man into his arms.

“He’s breathing.” Barclay runs his hands over Indrid’s body, looking for broken bones. Finds one on his left leg, making his boyfriend groan in pain.

“You’re gonna be okay, we’ll get you home.” There’s a clanking noise from the direction they came, “I like Joe an awful lot, but if we gotta steal his car I will.”

Indrid manages to smile with dry lips, “I tried so hard to get back. Hard to crawl on a broken leg after playing dead for as long as it took everyone who’d been shot to finish dying. I just...can we...I want to go home.”

“You clear a path, I’ll carry him.” Barclay scoops Indrid up, follows Duck back towards the car as he snaps and pushes at brush.

“Thank the lord.” Joseph opens the back door of the car, “here, he can lay down. We’ll take him to the doctor right away.”

Duck stays in the back, Indrid’s head in his lap, petting his hair and whispering to him as Joseph turns the car towards town.

“You realize I have to report the shoot out.”

Barclay never takes his eyes off Indrid, “Do what you have to. Just don’t expect a warm welcome back.”

----------------------------------------------------

“....no, Agent Hayes, there were no survivors of the shoot-out.”

“Any records on the cars?”

“Only one. The other didn’t have plates.” Joseph keeps his breathing even as his boss mulls over his report.

“Alright. I won’t send a second man down, but if this escalates I expect you to alert me at once.”

“Understood, sir.” He hangs up, relieved, and steps into the hall of the Lodge. There’s not much spring in his step, since he doesn’t dare show his face in the restaurant.

Then there’s a lot of spring as he’s yanked through a door. Before he can raise a fist, calloused hands cup his cheeks and a beard prickles his skin as Barclay pins him to the wall in a kiss.

“Did, did you hear the callmmpph” He holds tight to Barclays shoulders as the cook manhandles him towards bed.

“Yep, had Aubrey eavesdrop on you.” Duck grins from his spot on Indrid’s comfy sickbed, “you gonna tell us why you covered our asses?”

“Barclay may have to release him for that.” Indrid pats the space next to Duck and the cook let’s Joseph drop into it.

“Arresting Indrid would have put the whole Lodge in danger and done nothing to stop the mobs vying for power on this bootlegging route. It’s the better call to let people think you’re dead for a time and see if I can catch Leeshon as he’s sniffing around for a new driver. And, um, I, I couldn’t hurt you. Any of you. You’ve made me happier than I’ve been in years and I, I just want to help you protect the town.”

“Aww, knew you were soft deep-down, city boy.” Duck kisses his cheek.

“I never did get to thank you for your role in saving my life. Come here.” Indrid crooks his finger and Joseph leans in, expecting a kiss on the cheek. He gets one full on the lips, Indrid humming when he brushes their tongues together. He purrs when they part, “after all, if you’re staying in town, I intend to join my boyfriends in their admiration of you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“Wonderful. Iin that case, perhaps you’ll model for me.”

“Only if you buy me dinner.”

“Hey, I had to get punched to get dinner.” Duck teases.

“Let me go get it started.” Barclay winks, “don’t get into too much trouble until I get back.”

#OT4: Government Men and Their Cryptid boyfriends #reader request #meet ugly #indruck #sternclay #inclay #agent stern/duck newton #prohibition au

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ivory-sunflower · 4 years ago

Text

Arty Art Things ✨

Hellooo!

I've decided to post some of the arty things I've done either recently or in the last few years, well the pieces I'm somewhat proud of at least. All my posts tend to be a lot more wordy than they need to be but hey it's what I do here!

Conchúr White

Anyone one who's been on this blog for a bit will have probably have seen me talk about this lovely Irish fella. The pencil drawing is actually a year old as of yesterday, I only know that because screenshots of me flipping out about Conchúr following me on twitter popped up in my memories yesterday. I think I'd sent it to him at about 3 in the morning (I was not in a good head space at that point in time), so probably not what he was expecting to see when he opened his phone in the morning aha

The biro version is much more recent: I got bored while sat at my desk and doing research about university courses, saw a biro, saw my old drawing of Conchúr, had an idea. I revisited my GCSE art techniques and here we are. Again, I put this up on Twitter and now (at the the time I'm writing this) when you google "Conchúr White" it's the third top image of him which is a bit mad really. I think I spent all of about 20 minutes on Conchúr but another 45 minutes on the words behind him. The words are the names of the songs on his EP 'Bikini Crops', he doesn't just really love the idea of Channing Tatum driving him around at night in a daisy print bikini... Well maybe he does but what he does in his spare time is none of my business...

TechDif

So I mentioned that the pencil drawing of Conchúr came from a rough patch in my mental health and this one is no different! In fact this one came from an even worse circumstance so we love to see it. I had a bad, bad time in July and this started as a way of distracting myself from what was going on in my head. Without it, I can't honestly say I'd still be here so even if the final product of this had been a terrible mess I would still love it for keeping me alive. However, it did not turn out to be a terrible mess!

Now that the origin of this is out the way, where do I start with TechDif? Unlike Conchúr, I haven't really talked about them on here (unless you count one brief post about Citation Needed) before so I guess I'll do it here. The Technical Difficulties are a wonderful group of 4 British fellas who have had their fair share of fun online and even before. They did a radio show at university together, which went on to become their Reverse Trivia Podcast, later moving on to a panel show called 'Citation Needed': and a game called 'Two of These People Are Lying'. All of which I would thoroughly reccomend, they're one of my go to things when I'm having a rough time. All 4 of them are excellent! Tom Scott (red top, blue jeans on the picture) has his own YouTube channel which does content aside from TechDif. If you're quite nerdy and like science, linguistics, computers, or any number of other things you may enjoy Tom's channel. He is probably best described as "The Moderator" of the group, much like a tired teacher he tries desperately to keep everyone on track with what they're meant to be doing, but usually it does not end well for him. Then we have Matt Gray (space top, holding an ice cream) who also has a channel away from TechDif stuff, he does techy electronic things and has a series called 'Will it Soft Serve?' where he puts all kinds of strange things through a soft serve machine. Matt brings a very specific energy to TechDif and I can't fully describe what that vibe is but I love it. Matt and Tom also share a YouTube channel where TOTPAL is posted and they had a series called 'The Park Bench'. Moving on to everybody's favourite Gary Brannan: Gary Brannan (SATIRE hoodie, glasses) and can I just say, what a fella he is! He's just excellent! He is the one that will argue and rip into Tom the most (not in a malicious way) and hilarity ensues. There are some episodes where he is absolutely on it, getting all the points and others where he very clearly has no idea and that's where some of his funniest quotes come from. Given how badly I was doing at the time I made this, his response to it on Twitter was so so lovely. I specifically remember one tweet where he said I'd made him happy and although it was probably a flippant comment, it just made feel alright for a bit. Yeah I might be feeling awful right now, but I've made someone else happy so that's a nice feeling. Then last but certainly not least, we have Chris Joel (buffalo check shirt, beard)! I would be lying if I said he isn’t my favourite... His sense of humor is the one I vibe with most, he can get rather dramatic in parts and can chat bollocks like a champion. He has absolutely no online presence away from TechDif and, like Rens from Temples, I fully believe he’s a cryptid and lives off in a tree somewhere.

The picture took me about 4 days to complete, well 4 nights because I did most of it between the hours of 12 a.m. and 7a.m. - I remember watching the sun come through my window each morning. It’s made up of lots of little pieces, all cut out and stuck on; even the sky and hills are made of separate pieces of paper. Nothing was actually drawn on the piece of paper it’s all stuck on, it’s not how I usually do things but if I messed up one little but I could just redraw it rather than ruining the whole thing. The most tedious parts to make were Chris’ shirt because I had to draw each square individually and then join the as well, and cutting out the ban-hammer in the bottom right was surprisingly hard. Every single detail of the picture is a reference to the podcast/shows, I still have the plan sketch and reference list knocking about somewhere. I listened to a lot of true crime videos while making it to the point that certain parts remind me of different cases: the brandy now reminds me of Peter Tobin, and the big spiral thing reminds me of Tim McLean (very harrowing case) - sorry that fact is a bit morbid but interesting nonetheless.

I did post this for a little bit back in July, but I received some rather awful messages so I took it down. Generally, Tom Scott/TechDif fans are lovely but there’s been a few that have taken a disliking to me for some reason so I’m hoping they don’t resurface again. I’m in a better head space now though, so even if they do I’m more equipped to deal with it this time.

Hozier

This was a quick sketch I did in April, I was getting bored with lockdown and decided to summon the bog man himself. There’s not really much more backstory than that, no poor mental health story, no fun twitter story - he’s just here. He’s vibing. I will say I’m particularly proud of his nose, I just think it’s one of the best noses I’ve ever drawn. His hand is okay, but I think that the hands on my Conchúr drawings are better. So there is the Hozi-Boi...

The Corpse Bry

I’ve talked about Bry on here before as well, I love him, he’s excellent, top lad. He is a living Tim Burton character, he’s 6′6, very skinny, and his legs are longer than my will to live. I was watching ‘The Corpse Bride’ a few weeks ago and suddenly had an idea and so ‘The Corpse Bry’ came to be. I gave him a little panda friend because the panda has always been his animal - he used to wear a panda beanie all the time and his album had a panda on the cover. Again, there’s not really a fun story behind this one, I guess it’s somewhat fun because it’s the first art I made after finishing my psychology exams in October so it was nice to actually have the time to draw.

James Bagshaw

Ginger talking about Temples for the third post in a row? it’s more likely than you think! I did this one last week, I’d had a bit of a wobbly day and had group therapy on Teams in the evening and I just couldn’t concentrate on what was going on and I ended up doodling Mr James E. Bagshaw, the glitter crying fraggle man himself. It’s a bare-bones drawing that I could definitely work into more but I’m happy with it as it is to be honest. I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit and add the individual bits of fringe to his jacket, just thinking about doing that makes me tired. Maybe I’ll get around to drawing the whole band at some point...

Alice in “Wonderland”

This one is from about 5(?) years ago, it’s not my typical style and was a “study” based on another artists work (basically i just had to copy this fellas work). I’ll be honest, this one has a sketchy backstory that I won’t go in to because it’s not exactly a nice one, and because of that I also won’t say who the artist is that it’s based on. Despite this, I’m still really proud of this one and I’m so sad that I never got this piece back after I got taken out the class. I’ve considered trying this style again, I’ve even joked about doing another Conchúr drawing in this style as a nod to my progression through GCSE art, eventually leading to Conchúr drawn in ink on music manuscript and stained with neon paint and dyes - it would be quite the project!

So this has been quite a lengthy post so apologies about that but life goes on. Similar to the vinyl post, I’ll probably add to this as and when I make more art. Even if no one is reading these posts, I’m enjoying making them so that’s the main thing. It’s just nice to document things and the feelings that go with them. 💕

~ Love Ginger xx

29/11/2020

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sassyduckqueen · 5 years ago

Text

Can’t Help Falling In Love- Lukanette

This is based on the song 'Can't help falling in love with you' and a myth I read about the sun and the moon. In the story, the sun and the moon are a couple and the moon inspires the sun to make plants but she gets no thanks and the more the sun is thanked, the bright it gets but the brighter it gets, the harder it is to see the moon. She's hurt by this as she feels lonely and ignored. One day, she stays out on earth and the sun goes home. There she meets the darkness, falls instantly in love with her and wants to make her happy. He suggests humans should exist and on the first night of their existence, he scares them. The second night, he invites her to join him and the humans praise the moon for her light. She feels like she's just as important as the sun and realizes she's in love with the darkness. She breaks up with the sun and marries the darkness as he was the one willing to sacrifice himself so she could feel important.

So in this, Adrien is the sun and the plants are his fans, Marinette is the moon, the genius behind the sun but ignored and Luka is the darkness, who allows her to take his limelight so she can feel important and loved.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Look it's Adrien Agreste!" A few girls screamed as Adrien walked by them and waved. Holding onto his arm was his girlfriend, Marinette. As smart as she was beautiful, she was the genius behind his current look. She had designed his outfits and put all of her time and effort she could into them. She painstakingly hand-sown on the details of the little cat and pieced together the beads around his neck. He smiled as he waved as his fans screamed and cried before they walked over to the interviewer.

"Wow, Adrien. I love the new outfit," Alec Cataldi stated as he held the microphone to Adrien. "Is it one of your father's pieces?"

"My father and I are branching out and trying out next outfits by new designers," He stated.

"Awesome and who is this lovely young lady on your arm tonight?" He asked and Marinette was sure he meant nothing by it but it bothered her that he said tonight. Adrien, however, laughed and flipped his hair.

"Oh, this is just Marinette," He stated in a matter of a fact way. "She's a great friend and inspiration to me,"

The words stung like someone had poured acid in a wound but she kept a brave face and walked with him as he waved to his fans, blowing them kisses. She frowned to herself. While everyone saw him, no one truly saw her but she said nothing for she knew that he had always been destined to shine. As the night went on, the party grew tiresome and the two of them leave. Adrien had his driver drop her off home and promised to be around tomorrow. She nodded to herself and made her way into her apartment above the Bakery. She put her coat down and stroked the ears of her cat, Tikki before freeing herself from her dress and changing into something more comfortable before she took out her moment recent project and began to sew to herself as she hummed softly. The feeling of the needle going through the material relaxed her but this time, she didn't feel her worries melt away. She loved Adrien. She loved him with all her being. She didn't doubt that. She had done since she'd first met him and even though it took him years to notice her, she remained loyal to him, never looking at another boy. He had finally asked her out a few months ago and she instantly said yes. And what bliss had it been. They were the talk of the town. The model and the designer. Their work together was killer and she was proud to call herself his girlfriend but recently, it had been going down hill. The more he wore her designs, the more he shined but the more he shined, the more she became invisible. She didn't mind that he wore her outfits but he never directly said they were hers and every time, she was with him, the same words came out of his mouth. 'This is just Marinette. She's a great friend'. There was never 'this is my girlfriend. She designs these clothes I'm wearing' or 'This beautiful lady is my queen'. Not that she expected something like that. She just wanted him to appreciate her. She sighed to herself and put her project away before going to bed.

~A Few Days Later~

"Hey, Marinette. Can you get me a skinny latte pronto?" Adrien asked as he read the latest issue of Vogue Paris, which he had a photoshoot with a day ago. Marinette looked up from the dress she was scoring with an annoyed look. He was sat the dress with his feet up. "Anytime soon would be good,"

"Get it yourself," She stated, a little snapper then she meant. He lowered the magazine and looked at her with surprise. "What?"

"Why you been all bitchy? I just asked you to get me a latte," He gasped, frowning. She straightened up and gave him a look.

"And all I said was get it yourself. You have two legs that work perfectly fine, don't you?" She replied, making him frown.

"I'm busy," He stated, causing her to roll her eyes.

"I'm also busy or have your eyes stopped working?" She asked, folding her arms. "Miss Bourgeois wants her dress finished tonight so I have to get it done, meaning I don't have time to go on an errant for you and I'm also not your PA so either get it yourself or get someone else to get it,"

"Geez, I get it. No need to bite my head off," He rolled his eyes as he got up and headed out of the room. Marinette sighed and went back to pinning the dress. Hopefully, he'll be in a better mood when he comes back but he wasn't. He slammed down his coffee and consciously made passive aggressive remarks. She finally slams down her kit and face him. "What?"

"What the hell is your problem?!" She asks, making him frown.

"Nothing!" He gasped.

"Really? Cause you're acting like you have a problem!"

"The only problem I have is that you're acting like a spoil brat!" He gasped, making her frown. "It's like since I got more famous and known, you've gotten more jealous,"

"I'm not jealous!" She screamed. "I'm hurt that you act like I don't exist because since you've got famous, it's like I don't exist!"

"That's what you're upset about?!" He gasped like she had said something trivial, making her frown. "I thought you were more mature then that, Marinette,"

"Get out!" She screamed as tears filled her eyes. He grabbed his jacket and coffee then left the room, rolling her eyes. She finally let her tears fall as she fell to the floor. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed. It's like he didn't see her anymore and that she was completely invisible to him but not just him. Her friends are always paying him attention, her family are always singing his graces and the other designers ignore that the clothes he wears are hers. To her, it felt like the more people gave him attention, the less and less she saw. She felt lonely and useless but more then anything, she wondered if he loved her anymore. More tears fell as she wasn't sure what the answer was.

(***)

"Yes! I love it!" The photographer called out as Adrien posed and smiled. His fans screamed and cheered as they watched as he threw a charming grin at the camera, completely ignoring Marinette as usual. He smiled brightly and Marinette felt sorrow. The more his fans screamed, the more lonely she felt. She didn't understand how she could feel so lonely, given how many people were around but she felt close to been nothing and Adrien was completely ignoring it. He acted like their disagreement hadn't happened and when she bring it up, he made her feel like it was her fault. "Aah no! We're losing the sun!"

"That's ok. We got some excellent photos today," Adrien replied as he looked at them on the photographer's computer. The photographer and his team packed up as Adrien turned to Marinette. "Time to go. I'll have you dropped off at home,"

"No," She stated, not looking up from her notepad. He frowned deeply.

"What?"

"I said no," She stated, finally looking up at him.

"What do you mean no? How are you gonna get home?"

"I'll do what I did before I met you and get the subway," She replied, going back to her drawing. He frowned deeply.

"Fine!" He growled a little before turning on his heel and leaving. Marinette let out a sigh of relief and continued to draw the street lights came on and the sun set. She hummed softly to herself as she drew, losing herself in the zone. When she next looked up, she realized the night had settled in completely now and that she should probably go home. She packed up her things and began to make her way to the subway but the sound of music caught her attention. She looked to her side and saw a man not much older then her stood in the street, playing a guitar and singing softly as a few people stood around, listening to his music. She slowly wondered over as he finished playing his song. The small crowd clapped as he grabbed his water and took a drink. Marinette couldn't really see him as he knelt down and changed the settings on his amp. A few people stepped away as he straightened up and started to play his guitar, re-tuning it. Marinette found herself intrigued by the mysterious guitarist. His hair was short and black with teal blue highlights. His hoodie matched and his black jeans were ripped. He finished tuning his guitar and looked up. Instantly, his eyes met hers. A soft but seductive smile came across his lips and a mysterious twinkle danced in his teal blue eyes. Marinette felt her cheeks burn a little as he looked at her before he started to play his guitar. The song sounded familiar but it wasn't until he started to sing that she recognized it. He stepped close to the microphone as he looked at her before his voice came through.

"Wise men say only fools rush in," His voice sounded like it was from the heavens above. It was soft and gentle yet full of the mysteries of the night. It brought a shiver to Marinette's spine but one of pleasure and joy. "But I can't help falling in love with you,"

He looked directly at her as he sung.

"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin if I can't help falling in love with you?" A few more people joined them as he sang softly, playing his guitar skillfully. She honestly felt like she was the most important thing in the world right now. She didn't know how he did it but it felt like she was the only thing he could see. He paid no attention to the other people who were watching as he sang softly. "Like a river flows surely to the sea, Darling so it goes some things are meant to be,"

He stopped singing as he played a bit of a solo, looking down at his guitar so he could focus on his music. Marinette closed her eyes as she listened to the notes.

"Take my hand, take my whole life too," The sound of his voice made her open her eyes again. Once again, those teal eyes connected with hers and she honestly felt like it was just him and her. Like there was no one else around. She felt all of her sorrow and pain wash away in a sea of music as he continued his song. "For I can't help falling in love with you,"

He stopped playing his guitar before holding the mic as he leaned closer to it.

"Like a river flows surely to the sea," He sang without the music. "Darling so it goes some things are meant to be,"

A few girls swooned as he sang softly before he started to play again. Marinette listened intensely.

"Take my hand, take my whole life too for I can't help falling in love with you," He sang, moving his eyes across back to her. "For I can't help falling in love with you,"

The song came to an end and everyone around clapped, bringing Marinette into reality. He smiled and thanked people as they put change and notes into his guitar case. Marinette took out a couple of spare coins and walked over. He nodded to a gentleman, who had given him €20. He looked up as she put the change into his guitar case and smiled softly at her before his eyes landed on her sketch pad.

"Are you an artist?" He asked, nodding to it. Her face blushed as she realized what he meant.

"Oh, not really," She mumbled, looking away shyly as she pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He frowned softly to himself as he looked at her. "Um,"

"You look really familiar to me," He mumbled, grinning before clicking his fingers. "Aren't you the sweetheart of that model Adrien Agreste?"

Instantly, her face dropped as he said that, making him frown before holding up his hands.

"Sorry. I didn't meant any offence by that," He mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm not very good with words,"

"T-that's ok," She mumbled. "But yes, I am the girlfriend of Adrien Agreste,"

She held out her hand to him.

"My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng,"

"Luka Couffaine," He smiled, shaking it before pulling away as he began to clearing up his stuff as people walked by. "Did you like the song by the way?"

"I did. It was by Elvis originally," She mumbled, making him smile.

"Didn't peg you for an Elvis girl,"

"Who doesn't like Elvis? He's the king," She scoffed as he took the money out of his guitar case and put it into bags. "Do you want a hand?"

"No, I'm good thank you," He smiled before placing the bags into his rucksack before packing away his microphone into a case. He placed his guitar in it's case and put the rucksack on. "I have to get going but if you're interested, I play this spot every night,"

"Is that an invitation, Mr Couffaine?" She asked but he didn't answer. He just smiled in a mischievous way that made her heart skip a beat before he disappeared into the night. Marinette let out a soft sigh before she headed to the subway.

(***)

Marinette found herself coming back to that spot where Luka played under the night sky every night and his music relieved her off her sorrow but every time she left, her loneliness came back. After a particular bad argument with Adrien, Marinette came to Luka's spot a little bit late. He was just packing up and looked a little sad but as soon as he saw her, a smile came across his face and his eyes lit up but it didn't last long. He dropped his rucksack and rushed over to her when he saw the tears rolling down her face.

"Marinette, what's wrong?" He gasped but she didn't answer. Her lip trembled and more tears fell down her face. He brought her into his arms and rubbed her back. "It's ok,"

She sniffed and wiped her eyes before looking up at him.

"I'm s-sorry," She mumbled, looking down.

"Don't be," He replied, looking at her with a soft look. Marinette felt a blush come over her face as she looked away shyly. "Look, I have to drop these back at home-"

He nodded to his equipment.

"But if you'd like to join me, we could go grab a coffee at mine and talk about whatever you want. Sound good?"

"T-That sounds g-great," She sniffed, smiling a little. She went to grab one of his cases but he smiled, picking them up. She walked with him as he began to walk towards the Seine.

"I should warn you. I live on a boat," He states, looking at her seriously.

"That doesn't surprise me if I'm honest," She smiled as he turned onto the boat. She looked and smiled at the name. "The Liberty huh?"

"Ah, I didn't name her," He smiled, offering her his hand. She took it and he helped her onto the deck before they headed downstairs. Marinette looked around as Luka put his musical gear away. She smiled softly to herself as she looked around. It was a cosy place with a simple but homely feel. An brown sofa that had seen better day was opposite a TV and the kitchenette was small and yet it felt more alive then she had seen in a long time. It was the complete opposite of Adrien's apartment. Adrien's place was perfect. Not a single thing was out of place and it was in a minimalist design. It was black and white in it's color scheme and Adrien's OCD helped keep it tidy. Luka's boat on the other hand was what one might call a little messy. Music scores were scattered around, along with several musical instruments and a few drawings were pinned to the walls, along with a couple of photos. There was a couple of mugs on the coffee table. Marinette smiled a little before walking over to the photos. She recognized Luka instantly but the two women next to him didn't seem familiar. "That's my mum and sister,"

She jumped at little as he came over.

"Juleka is currently in America with her fiance, Rose," He stated. "And Mum is on tour,"

"Your mum's a musician too?"

"Kind of. She has her own unique shows. She mixed music with comedy," He smiled. "The Liberty use to belong to her. She gave it to me when I turned 18 and she moved in with her husband,"

"That must of been quite the scene changer. From a boat to a house," Marinette mumbled but he laughed softly. "What?"

"I never said she moved into a house," He replied, taking out his phone and showing her a picture of a huge tour bus. "That's the Liberty mark 2,"

Marinette stared in shock before looking at him.

"She moved into a tour bus?"

"Yep," He grin, looking fondly at the pictures. He pointed to a picture of him, his sister and two others. "That was my first band. I was the guitarist, Jules was the bassist, Rose was the leader singer... that's her... and that big guy was our drummer, Ivan,"

"What were you called?"

"Kitty Section," He smiled. "We use to sing songs about Unicorns and fluffy bunnies,"

"Seriously?" She asked, looking at him.

"Yeah," He grinned. "Rose was also the song writer and as you can tell, she loved the color pink,"

Marinette couldn't help but laugh a little as Luka smiled down at her. Marinette moved around and noticed a cloth over a cuboid object. She looked over at him and raise an eyebrow.

"That is Sass' tank," He replied.

"Who or what is Sass?"

"My snake," He smiled, lifting the cover off, revealing the beautiful snake. "I put them on while I go out so he doesn't realize I'm out. I worry that he'll get lonely if he realizes,"

"That is adorable," She smiled. "Can I meet him?"

"Hmm, once I've fed him," He replied, walking over to the kitchenette. He picked up the kettle and filled it up with water before putting it on to boil before going into his freezer and taking out a small sealed box. He walked over to the tank and took out a frozen mouse before opening it and put it into the cage. Marinette watched with fascination as the snake devours the dead mouse. Luka put the mice back and looked over at her. "You know most girls would be freaked out by that,"

"I'm not like most girls," She smiled softly, looking over at him.

"I'll say," He replied. "So coffee, tea or hot chocolate?"

"Hot chocolate please,"

"One Luka Couffaine hot coco special coming up," He grinned, grabbing two mugs and making them one each. A few minutes later, he came over and placed one of the mugs in front of her. Cream covered the top and it had sprinkles onto top of it. He placed his down next to hers and sat down so he was facing her. "So what do you want to talk about?"

"How you learnt to make an amazing looking hot chocolate?" She smiled, picking hers up and taking a sip. "Wow,"

"I work part time as a barista during the day," He explained. "So I know how to make a mean latte and hot chocolate,"

"This is really good," She mumbled, sipping it again. He picked up his and took a sip. "So how long you been playing guitar?"

"Since I was a little kid," He replied, putting his cup down. "Look, can I ask you something?"

"Well, you just did," She smiled cheekily, making him playfully roll his eyes. "But you can ask something else?"

"Why were you crying?" He asked but instantly regretted as her eyes filled with sorrow. "Never mind. I shouldn't have asked,"

"I feel invisible," She mumbled, making him frown as he looked over.

"What do you mean?"

"I probably sound jealous and petty but since Adrien has gotten more popular, it's like he's forgotten who I am," She mumbled, looking down. "He doesn't treat me like his girlfriend anymore. When we first got together, he was constantly acting like I was a queen. He was kind and sweet and he made me feel wanted and loved. We shared an common interest as we both loved fashion and we thought it would be amazing for me to design some clothes for him and for him to wear them to red carpet events but he stopped telling people they were made by me, he started to flirt with his fans and was more bothered about the media coverage then me. At the red carpet events, when the press asked who I was, he would say stuff like 'oh, that's just Marinette. She's a great friend'... it's like he's ashamed to be seen with me and he acts like such a child when he doesn't get his way. We had an argument a few days before I met you. I was busy making a new outfit and he demanded that I go get him a latte. His literal words were 'hey, get me a skinny latte pronto'. Honestly, I don't care that he wanted a latte. What hurt was that he talked to me like I was nothing and expected me to drop everything when he was sat there with his feet up, doing nothing while I was trying to make a dress for my client. He had a go at me for telling him to get it himself,"

"He doesn't deserve you," Luka mumbled, making her look at him. He blushed and looked away. "I um... just ignore me,"

"Luka, are you blushing?" She asked with a slight tease in her voice. He cleared his throat and sipped his drink. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure,"

"Why did you play Elvis the night I met you?" She asked, causing him to blush again.

"Um... I p-play wh-what I feel," He mumbled, shyly.

"It was 'Can't help falling in Love'," She stated before looking forward. "I like spending time with you,"

"You do?"

"Yeah... maybe it's selfish but I don't feel invisible when I'm around you," She mumbles. "I feel important,"

"You are important," He smiled. Marinette felt her heart skip a heart beat as he looked at her with a look that she could only describe as pure love. He looked away and finished his drink. "Do you want to hold Sass?"

"Sure,"

(***)

Luka pushed open the door of the night club. He looked around and instantly spotted Marinette, who was dressed in a short black dress and leaning against the bar. A girl with red hair was with her. He walked over and Marinette instantly jumped up, grinning as she saw him. Her friend stood up as he walked closer.

"Lu-Luka!" She slurred, stumbling forward. He caught her and helped her stand straight.

"Wow, Marinette. You're wasted," He mumbled, worry covering his face. She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Hmm, you sme-smell really nice," She grinned. "You know I really like you, Luka! Like super like you,"

"That's nice but you're really drunk," He frowned as she leaned to kiss him. He gently pushed her away enough to stop her from kissing him. He really liked her and he had been thinking about kissing her since he met her but not like this. He would never take advantage of her or anyone. She frowned a little before he turned to her friend. "Thanks for calling me,"

"I figured you were the safe choice," She stated. "Giving that Adrien is the reason why she's pissed out of her skull,"

He frowned softly as she giggled.

"I'll get her home," He replied, gently putting his arm around her waist. "Come on, Marinette,"

"Lukaaaa. Can you sing me a song?" She huffed as he led her out of the night club and hailed a cab. "I think your voice is really sexy,"

"And I think you're very drunk and don't mean that," He states, getting her in. "What's your address, melody?"

"The Tom and Sabina bakery!" She called to the taxi driver before giggling to Luka. "I secretly live in a bakery. Don't tell anyone,"

"I won't," He smiled softly as she curled up to him as the taxi drove to the bakery.

"H-hey, why didn't you kiss me back?" She asked, looking up at him.

"Because you're drunk and I'm not that kind of guy," He states, looking at her.

"Awww! You're always so nice, Luka!" She grinned. "Such a gentleman!"

"I do try," He smiled as she started to hum. His eyes went wide as she hummed Can't Help Falling In Love. Slowly, it came to a stop and he looked down, only to see her eyes closed and her breathing slow and soft. He ran his fingers through her hair as the taxi went through traffic. It pulled up outside the bakery and Luka paid him before gently waking up Marinette. "We're here,"

"M'kay," She mumbled, sleepily. He helped her out of the car and the taxi drove off. She wondered to the side door and tried to find her keys in her back. Luka gently took it off and found them instantly before he unlocked the door. She grinned sleepily and went to head up the stairs but almost tripped. He caught her and closed the door behind them before helping her up the stairs.

"Which one is your room?"

"That one," She grinned. "You wanna join me?"

"Not tonight," He replied, opening the door. He helped her onto the bed and took off her shoes before taking off her necklace.

"But where are you gonna sleep?"

"I'll just head back to the Liberty," He smiled but she grabbed his hand and sorrow filled her eyes.

"Please stand," She mumbled, tears in her eyes. "I don't want to be alone,"

"Alright but I'm gonna sleep on the sofa," He stated, gently getting her into bed. He moved the cover over her and gently kissed her hair. She pretty much felt asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. He smiled softly and leave the room before settling on the sofa.

(***)

Marinette woke up with a hang over from hell. She was tired, achy and she knew she had been really drunk last night. She got up and noticed she was still in her party dress so she headed into the bathroom and took a shower before getting dressed. She wondered into the living room and saw Luka asleep on her sofa. Memories of last night flashed back into her mind and she felt her face heat up at how she had tried to kiss him yet he had pushed her away and taken her home. She owed him thanks and an explanation. Looking over at him as he slept, her heart sang a beautiful song she hadn't heard in a long time and like that, her feelings for Adrien and her feelings for Luka had became quite clear to her. She was no longer in love with Adrien Agreste and had fallen in love with Luka Couffaine. She jumped a little as he stirred. Those beautiful teal eyes stared up at her and she was pretty sure she had died and gone to heaven.

"Hey, you're up," He smiled softly, sitting up. She walked over and sat next to him.

"I'm sorry about last night,"

"That's ok but why were you so drunk?"

"I found out Adrien had cheated on me," She replied, calmly. Luka frowned. "I got drunk because I thought it would hurt to face it. I should be hurt and angry but really.... I don't feel anything,"

"Maybe you're just blocking it out?"

"No. I think the reason why I don't feel is because I know the truth," She mumbled. "Me and Adrien stopped loving each other a long time ago. Our love is dead but I don't know if I can end it. I don't know who I am without him. All these years, I have loved him so much and now that love-"

"Marinette," He stated, pressing his fingers to her lips. "Come to the Grand Paris Hotel tomorrow at 6pm ok?"

"O-ok,"

(***)

Marinette walked around nervously as she looked for Luka. She spotted him talk to someone. He looked really nice, dressed in a suit. He looked over and waved. She walked over and smiled at him as a few people came over.

"Luka, who is this charming young lady?" Marinette recognized the man as a famous musician. She half expected him to do exactly what Adrien did and introduce as 'just Marinette'.

"This beautiful melody is my muse," He smiled softly at her. She blushed a little at his introduction. "Without her, I would be lost in a world of darkness,"

Another blush lit across her face as Luka gently kissed her hand.

"In fact, I believe you're familiar with her clothing label, Miraculous," And like that, she was the center of attention. People were asking her where she got her wild ideas from and she felt important. She looked over and saw Luka, smiling softly at her like she was the most beautiful creature in the room and she realized to him, she was. A blush came across her features as he looked at her with pure admiration and love.

"Marinette?" The familiar voice of Adrien knocked her out of her thoughts. She frowned softly. "I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you'd be slaving away on another dress,"

"Well, I'm not," She frowned, looking at the young woman on Adrien's arm. She was younger, prettier and more refined then Marinette. "Replacing me already?"

"Well, since you didn't answer your phone, I had to improvise," He rolled his eyes but Marinette sighed.

"Adrien, I didn't answer my phone because I'm done," She states. "I'm done with your drama, with your father, with your expectations but mostly, I'm done with you. It's over, Adrien Agreste. Goodbye,"

With that, she turned on her heel and walked over to Luka. Adrien frowned but made no attempt to win her back, confirming her theory but Luka had done something for her that Adrien never did. He let her be herself.

"You let me take the limelight..." She mumbled. "Why?"

"You deserve to shine,"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything you want,"

"How long have you been in love with me?"

"Since the moment I saw you in the crowd," He replied, honestly before taking her hand in his. "I can't help falling in love with you,"

#lukanette #adrienette #marinette dupen chang #luka couffaine #adrien agreste #moon #sun #dark #elvis presley #music #musician #aged up #luka is sweet #adrien is an ass #marinette deserves better #myth #Pro LukaMari

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heademptyjustvolleyballs · 4 years ago

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Karasuno Back Country Camping

Backcountry camping is done in remote, isolated areas where groups need to be entirely self-sufficient. It usually requires canoeing, hiking, or climbing to reach the site.

Daichi Sawamura: Brings a family size tent so friends can share. Scouted the site ahead of time and basically organized the whole excursion (it’s a captain thing). Brings the cooking supplies and camp suds. He’s scheduled group activities for everyone, but once he gets there, he just wants to sit in a folding chair by the fire and watch the clouds.

Koushi Sugawara: At the beginning of the trip his phone's on airplane mode, he packed a book, and he's excited to spend some time off the grid. By day 3, he's taking hour long hikes away from the site, desperate to find a data signal. Eats an entire bag’s worth of marshmallows in a night and makes himself sick. Mosquitos and deer flies ignore him the lucky bastard.

Asahi Azumane: Came fully prepared for the worst case scenario. He brought bear spray, flares, whistles, enough first aid supplies to stock an ambulance... and yet somehow managed to forget his sleeping bag. Brought an axe in case they have to chop wood for the fire, but someone else has to use it because it makes him nervous. Packs everything in waterproof compression sacks & his backpack is super organized.

Yuu Nishinoya: Packs super light: minimal food & clothes, supplies & entertainment. Sleeps in one of those hammock tents so he doesn’t have to search for level ground. Favourite day time activity is finding that perfect diving rock and jumping in the lake. DIdn’t pack a towel so he has to lay out in the sun to dry off, or use a t-shirt. Prone to wandering off alone to explore the area around the site. Will probably return with mushrooms or berries that he cannot confirm aren’t poisonous.

Ryuunosuke Tananka: Only brought 1 pair of shoes on the trip. They aren’t proper camping shoes, and they get so waterlogged, muddy, and gross he’s going to have to burn them when he gets home. We aren’t even going to talk about the state (and stank) of his feet (RIP Tanaka’s tentmate). Walks around the campsite practically naked. Definitely skinny dips in the lake. Never cooks or offers to do dishes.

Chikara Ennoshita: He’s one of those gourmet back-country types. Sure, bringing more fresh food is extra bulk & weight, but he thinks having a real meal in the middle of the woods is worth it. Invested in kevlar no-tear bags to safely store food overnight. Keeps his cellphone off the entire trip, but brings an actual camera to document the adventure. Makes fun little slideshows from the pictures he takes on the trip. Tells the best scary campfire stories.

Hisashi Kinoshita: He camps so frequently that his bag is always packed and he can be ready to go really quickly. However, any trip longer than four days has him itching (figuratively and literally) for a shower and starting to get anxious to go home. Brings extra bug spray. Doesn’t own any fancy camping gear except for a camping hammock, he’ll sleep in it on really nice nights. Keeps a camping journal with maps, drawing, notes, etc. that is better than any field guide on the market.

Kazuhito Narita: Takes him the longest to set up his tent-- he really should have invested in a pop-up to avoid dealing with all the poles. Has watched 1 too many episodes of Survivorman and thinks he’s going to have to Bear Grylls his way through every difficulty he encounters. He’s fully ready to live off the land-- he brought a fishing rod, hunting knife, and wilderness food guide (there’s also 10 packs of instant ramen in his backpack). Once lit a fire just using two sticks and he won’t let you forget it.

Tobio Kageyama: Brought a single-person tent because he doesn’t want to share, but regrets it because he can hear EVERY animal scurrying by at night. Not great at camp cooking but at least he’ll offer to do the dishes. Poor baby has to soak a bandana in bug spray and wear it around his neck all the time because he gets eaten alive. Didn’t bring any rain gear so he has to wait out storms in his tent. Lives off of beef jerky & raisins, no one knows how he isn’t dying of indigestion.

Shoyo Hinata: He’s over-excited and over-packed! Half the stuff he brings never leaves his backpack. Runs around the camp barefoot & climbs trees for fun during the day. Manages to see all the wildlife-- otters, foxes, rare birds, snakes-- but by the time he points them out to others, they’re gone. Hates lake swimming (the lake bed is slimy and he didn’t bring water shoes), so he only gets in the water for quick dips when he starts feeling nasty. Wears a whistle around his neck at all times because if he ventures away from the site, he WILL get lost.

Kei Tsukkishima: No matter how comfy his sleeping pad is, he cannot sleep in a tent and resigns himself to being sleep deprived and extra grumpy the entire time. Offers to bring & make breakfast every morning because it’s not like he’s sleeping in. Can build a functional rain shelter in under 10 minutes with no assistance (it’s a very appreciated gift). Spends the whole trip at the site, he’s too tired to do any hiking or canoeing. Wears the same clothes the whole trip, but washes them with camp suds daily.

Tadashi Yamaguchi: Borrows most of his gear from more experienced friends, which makes him extra cautious when setting up camp. Made his own fire-starters and lanterns, just to feel extra outdoorsy. Always sunscreened up and wearing a hat. Brings the best snacks, and remembered a portable speaker for the tunes! Terrified of having to shit in the woods.

(I’m going to put the girls on a separate camping trip... stay tuned)

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itsjustmyfantasyroom · 5 years ago

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Fresh Start part 5

Sorry if i have the college parts wrong, I’m from Australia and don’t know much about American College culture, but this is fiction right?! :)

Warning: mentions of rape and physical abuse.

You woke up in the morning early, showered and washed your hair; it was all sticky from the dancing you and the ADA had done the night before. When you got out, you dried yourself and wrapped yourself in a towel. You checked the clock, it was 8 am; you had one and half hours to get organised. Seemed simple right, wrong. After going through every draw in your tall boy, you pulled out your favourite pair of dark blue skinny ankle jeans and put them on. You loved these jeans; they made your ass look amazing and were so comfortable. You looked through your shirts; most of them were work shirts. Then you came across a white cold shoulder t shirt, it was your first time wearing it. You made a mental note to buy more “going out shirts” if this was going to be a regular thing, which you really hoped it was going to be. You looked yourself over in the mirror and you didn’t look too bad. You then went in and dried your hair, leaving it out straight for a change, put on just a little bit of makeup for colour and some perfume. You walked to your shoes and picked up your most comfortable pair of flats and once again weren't work ones and put them on, followed by your jean jacket. You looked at yourself once more before grabbing your wallet, keys, putting your badge in your front jean pocket, your phone in your back pocket, quickly grabbing a cold top tart and walked out the door to get a cab.

****

20 minutes later you arrived to where the horse carriages were, you paid, got out and scanned the side walk, that’s when you seen him, in light blue tight fitted jeans, a navy jumper and a white polo shirt collar poking out with a nice pair of navy boat shoes, you could smell his cologne from where he was standing, you loved his smell so much. He spotted you, smiled brightly and walked towards you.

“Morning Mr Barba, glad you didn’t disappoint.” You said with a cheeky smile

He looked at you with a big smile on his face, lent over and kissed you on the cheek while placing a hand on your hip.

“Morning Y/N, please today I’m Raf.” You giggled as he started to walk off to the park gates, you couldn’t help but look as his bum in those tight jeans, wow you thought to yourself. You where so used to seeing him in suit with his jacket usually on hiding everything. He turned around and caught you staring; he smiled, “Coming?” You nodded with red cheeks and headed towards him.

As you walked through the park you asked each other questions to get to know each other. You heard about his mother and grandmother, his upbringing, studies and how he made his way up to ADA and working with SVU. He heard about your home life and getting to this point. It was nice, just talking to someone that wanted to know you, know how you ticked. He was amazed by you. You sounded so wise, like you had been here before, but you were so clam, soft and kind, he hoped you never lost that, working with SVU was hard; he had seen so many things that haunted him. He found out that you didn’t have much jewellery, was because it wasn’t something you brought for yourself, you only wore pieces you had gotten as gifts from your Mum and family for different occasions. You laughed and teased each other, it just felt so right. So comfortable, it just worked. You had never clicked so much with someone of the opposite sex as you did with Rafael.

“It’s so beautiful in here.” He nodded at you. “Hungry? It’s getting late, should we go and get lunch?” You nodded, “Follow me.” He said and you both started to walk out of the park shoulder to shoulder. Just as you got to the gate, you had just finished laughing at something funny he said when your phone started to buzz, you took it out of your back pocket, “Sorry its Liv, I better take this” he gave you a small smile as he knew this, whatever this was, was about to come to an end. Way to kill the mood Liv he thought to himself

“Y/N, I’m sorry to call you on a day off, but I need you at the prescient now.”

“Um ok Liv, I’ll be there in 20.”

“Thanks Y/N sorry again.”

You hung up the phone, and looked up at Rafael standing there looking out into the traffic;

“Raf, I’m so sor.....”

He cut you off before you could finish by placing his hand around your wrist, “it’s Ok, I of all people know what the job can be like. I’ll just have to buy you lunch another day.” He said with a small shy hopeful smile.

You giggled, you lent in and kissed him on the cheek, him still holding on to the wrist, “Thank you so much for today, it didn’t disappoint, I had a really good time with you Rafael. And Yes rain check on lunch for sure”, he pulled you in for a hug and then peaked you on the cheek. You pulled away looking straight into his eyes smiling, you were nose to nose, but you didn’t have time for this right now you had to get to the station. You turned out of his embrace, walked the curb and waved down a taxi; you jumped in and shut the door and waved bye to him.

Rafael let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “You idiot, you should of kissed her, she was RIGHT there” he screamed inside his head. What if he never had a chance to make a more like that again? When he seen you walk towards him before going into the park, he couldn’t stop staring, how could he, you looked amazing in everything you wore, work cloths, ball gowns and casual clothes. You knew how to match things together, which just looked amazing. He caught you staring at him, he smiled to himself as he remembered your face when he turned around and caught you. He loved your laugh, your giggle, your quick wit and how wise you seemed, he loved that you loved old music, reading and theatre. He loved the little kisses on his cheek and how you never pulled away from his touch. He was disappointed the day had to end, but he knew too well about the job you had.

----

Deep in sleep, he rolled over to his phone buzzing; he looked at his clock on his bedside table with 1 eye slightly open, 1 am. He picked it up half asleep, “Hello”

“Barba, you were sleeping? It’s Nick, your needed down here now.” And he hung up. He jumped out of bed put on his jeans and polo and then a jacket and ran out the door grabbing a cab. When he walked into SVU he saw craziness, people everywhere, was it always like this, this time of night? Liv walked out of her office, “Barba, Sorry we had to call you at this hour, but we have a situation and we needed you.” She walked back into her office, him following close behind. He walked in to both blinds up on the two ways in her office. Fin and Amanda where in one room with some college kid that held his head in his hands with Fin standing over him and what looked like Amanda yelling at him. Then he looked over to the other window and saw Nick and you, with another guy, also looked like he was from college with his arms crossed and looking down at the table. When he seen you standing next to the table, he was shocked. Your hair was tied up messy, your make up run around your eyes, your face slightly reddened, what looked like a split lip which was bloody and swollen, you had a NYPD singlet top on tucked into your jeans so it didn’t look too big and what looked like finger and hand print marks around both your arms. Liv turned on the intercom.

“YOU TRIED TO TAG TEAM ME. You ripped my shirt off, which was new by the way. You thought I was just some pledge girl. If you did it to me, how many other girls have you done it to? What would you have done to be if I didn’t break free when I did HUH?.......You better start talking Mate, you and your friend are in a lot of trouble.” You snarled.

“What the HELL happened?” he spat at Liv frowning at her.

Liv went on to tell him that a young college girl came in this morning saying she had been rapped last night during a party for hell week at college. She had to ask a guy for a photo of his privates to prove she could belonged, the guy agreed, then started to hit on her, and then another one of his friends joined, they put a rush on the DNA and to was positive match for these two guys. The young lady told her that there was another party that night with more pledges to be made, so she put you and Nick in as under cover and you had to act the part and see if these guys would do it again.

Barba put a hand over his face and sighed.

“Why does Y/N look like that? She is a mess! Her lip is split and, is that....is that hand marks around her arms?” He said through gritted teeth, taking in deep breath threw his nose. He had to try and put his feelings aside for a minute and act professional. He had a great morning with you, that she interrupted with this case, just to put you under cover at some party, for you to get held down and bashed, he was pretty sure you would of have more fun with him.

Liv looked down, “Uh....Nick couldn’t get to her in time when we told him to go, she had a wire and a camera in her earrings. There were just too many people to get past, she was back handed by this kid when she wouldn’t stop screaming and she was held down by the other kid, quite hard as you can see by the marks. They ripped her shirt off, if she didn’t break free when she did, things could have been very different. Lucky she remembered her training, broke free to pull her gun on them just as Nick and all of us ran in.”

He looked down at his shoes, “Liv, it’s her second week, hell it’s just the end of her first and you put her under cover?”

“She did a great job Rafa, we were watching the whole time, and Nick just couldn’t get past everyone when he needed to. And she was the only one that looked the part.”

“You put her in danger, Nick put her in danger. Just because she looks young. I need to see the tapes of what happened, NOW. I hope she didn’t take any pictures.”

3 am you and Nick walked out of the interview room, the kid asked for a lawyer and they were being arraigned in the morning. You went straight to Liv’s couch and sat down with a huff, Nick followed sitting next to you.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t get to you in time. I would never want anything to happen to you.”

“So you should be.” You both looked up to see Barba, less than impressed, with his hands on his hips. Nick rolled his eyes, “No one asked you Counsellor.” You put your hand around Nicks arm to claim him down.

“You both need to relax. No harm was done.”

“Look at your lip and the marks on your arms.” Barba snapped

“Evidence” Nick spat back

Liv walked in, “The young lady that came in this morning said she will testify if Y/N does.”

“You need to get home get some sleep and be back at my office by midday tomorrow I need to prep you and her, be prepared for long afternoon Detective.”

“Yes Counsellor.” You said as you stood up.

“I’ll get her home” said Nick as you both walked out of the office.

You had just walked through your door when your phone buzzed, “what now” you said to yourself out load;

4 am; Barba: Sorry if I was too snappy at you, i was worried when I found out what happened to you. Hope your Ok. See you at Midday, my office. Get some rest.

4.03 am; You: All good, see you then.

#bring back barba #law and order svu #barba #barba x reader #rafael barba #barba and reader #rafael barba fanfiction #fantasy #fanfic #svu fanfiction #suv fandom #svu fan #svu x reader #we love barba #barba fanfic #barba fan

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laytonsartblog · 5 years ago

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Okay so I'm dumb here's a one shot

I know I said everything that's a story would be posted on AO3, but, I have dumbass energy and was inspired by the reblog I made earlier and it is 2 am on a school night so WOOO incoherency is at an ALL TIME HIGH

@infinimay whoop tagged u for what I'll call the Bus Duty AU

Perhaps I'll make this a series?? Something light, fluffy, nothing too heavy on the angst (okay I lied)

The Wheels on the Bus (Spin the Tales of Love)

Chapter 1., Like Patton

Virgil and Damian woke up to get to school at precisely 7:30 am, and to be ready by 8:10 for when their bus arrived, every school day.

Their mother, which is now Virgil's stepmother, always said that a tight schedule and tighter patience is what wins people over. That must be how she got Virgil's idiot dad, who took nearly three years of coy smiles and teasing touches to even start dating. They had married this year, and while Virgil is certainly happy about it, he didn't realize that it came with having to deal with a new stepbrother.

That's why, instead of 7:30 and 8:10, Virgil rises at 7:15 and is waiting by 8:00. Their mother never notices, never needing to wake up this early for work, and their dad works night shift. They were by themselves, but they handled it for nine year olds. Virgil especially figured out how to handle it as soon as he figured out that despite all this change, he was still by himself.

"Vi! Vi!" Damian, or DeeDee as he liked to be called, shouted as he approached Virgil at the bottom of the street. "Why do you never wait for me?"

Virgil shrugged. "I don't know, you give me a weird feeling, like cooties, but nice? Like wriggling worms in my head. It's sticky."

There was silence between them as they waited for their bus.

"You give me wiggly feelings too. Truce?" Damian suddenly said after what seemed to be forever to their adorable little minds, and he outstretched a hand.

Virgil took it. "Pleasure doing business, Worm boy."

Damian pouted and pulled his hand back, but didn't need to wait much longer in cute anger as the bus pulled up to their street. Seemingly forgetting the nickname, he pulled Virgil along onto the bus.

"Hey, kiddos!" their favorite, and only bus driver greeted as they sat in the front row.

Virgil never liked the bus, despite how early he was this year. It was loud and cranky and he had to sit next to DeeDee and there were always the mean kids who flicked his head as if a ping-pong ball on the way to their seats. The one thing that made it bearable was the fact he got to sit close to Patton.

Patton had allowed them to use his first name from the get go, inspiring names like "Patting!" from the kindergarteners or "Shatting" from the mean sixth graders. Virgil never tainted the name for he saw no reason to change what was already his favorite part of the morning.

Patton gave them treats on their birthday, never forgetting a single one. Patton hugged them when they were sad and showed them that crying was okay. Patton never yelled or screamed when things got too loud; he knew better than to plague these children with learned behavior, scorn, and hatred. Instead he'd play games that involved the whole bus to busy everyone, or at the very least play music and encourage them to sing along or guess the song.

Patton made things better. But Virgil knew he was sad.

Today, even with Damian's unwavering questions at everything he saw and with the fake stories he kept saying to the kid in the seat next to them, even he could tell that their bus driver was tired.

The two observant fourth graders watched as their second father didn't smile as brightly as he usually did whenever he greeted the kids getting on. He sagged; sluggish and baggy. Virgil noticed he looked a lot like his cousin Remy before a test under his eyes.

However, despite how observant, Virgil never knew how to comfort the gentle man. It's why he and Damian are in the front row. The doctors said he has a "speech impediment" where he couldn't put the words in his head to the outside world quite right. They said his brain was wrong. He knew Damian had a streak of lying and throwing tantrums. It's why he didn't like his new brother; he only served to make him look stupider.

Still, that didn't stop Virgil from putting a hand to Patton's shoulder, at least not entirely. He didn't expect for him to gasp and jump, but Virgil didn't exactly know what to expect anyway. He just pulled his hand back and looked down at his ripped pants in shame the rest of the bus ride.

They got there slower than Virgil had thought, but no, they were on time. Perhaps his brain was being weird again? He couldn't tell, but either way he walked begrudgingly by Damian into the school.

They passed by their school's office on the way into the gym, which is where you wait until school started. Virgil, again, ever the observant one, saw his school secretary in the window.

He was what was best described as professionally squabbled, or in Virgil's terms, cleanly messy. Mr. Nguyen had hair that was combed back just so and glasses that hid all his worries and fears. He had impeccable pressed ties that, on the occasion, got festive when a holiday came around. He had skilled hands and Virgil hadn't walked by a day where he wasn't working or presenting a board meeting or, if he wasn't doing that, wasn't there at all for the whole day.

Virgil never really disliked Mr. Nguyen. He had no reason to like him either. But right now, Virgil could see he looked exactly like Patton did; utterly miserable.

"Hey, DeeDee, y'see Mr. Nguyen? In the window?" Virgil whispered as he sat right at the entrance so he could get a good look at him.

Damian merely ignored him. "We always see him. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is," Virgil started, already frustrated with the words that wouldn't come out. "He like- he- he's Patton today."

Damian rose a brow, a suspicious trait he most likely picked up from his mother. "You mean he looks like Patton did today?"

Virgil could only nod in relief. "Yeah! He looks Patton today. Do you think the teachers look like that today?"

Damian scanned around the room. He saw nothing out of the ordinary on the teachers' face. However, he did spot a certain trashy boy that Damian all but felt puppy love for. He waved him over. "Rem! Rem!"

The boy, peeking from the corner around his preoccupied brother at his name being called, grinned a crooked and partially toothless grin and ran over to Damian. They merely embraced before Remus took out his backpack, no doubt to reveal some gross frog from his collection.

Virgil cared less and just kept staring at the office, seeing Patton and a few other drivers come in for their mandatory morning report before they head out to go back to whatever they do when not driving. Patton still looked like a walking corpse.

Virgil vowed to take that frown away.

However, the school bell had other plans.

Virgil thinks that time really has slowed down, and maybe it isn't his stupid brain.

Every minute of class felt not as much a blur as it usually was. Usually, class was as easy as it got, and today he even got to skip out of gym for speech classes. He liked the speech teacher, Valerie. She allowed him to say her first name like Patton did. Virgil liked Valerie too.

But even his marvel at how fantastic his day had been so far didn't distract him from the fact his bus driver was unhappy.

Virgil sat with Damian and all the other broken kids at lunch. Remus was there too, and as much as he loved Damian off his back, the two talking about frogs and the fact the French eat frog legs was already starting to get on his nerves. He just focused on his sandwich and juice box, never saying a word.

It became time to throw out the food, and Virgil knew it was gametime. He looked to everyone at the table before rushing, the other two running to throw out their styrofoam plates the fastest.

Sadly, like always, Virgil's dreams of success were barred by Remus's long, nimble legs and long, skinny arms.

Virgil wanted to pout and tell them that Remus always wins, but Mr. Glover came in to clean and one look sent the three of them scrambling to recess.

Today they had art time, and Virgil had never been more determined in his life.

He grabbed construction paper, glue, crayons, markers, tape, and a How-To: pop up book. They were supposed to be making Thanksgiving cards for one of the staff members, and technically he was following what he was supposed to do. It was just that Patton's name hadn't been listed on the board to write to for their fake post office.

No matter. He would make the best card ever to cheer up his favorite and only bus driver. Damian seemed more interested in watching Remus eat the glue stick and then calling for them to go to the nurse.

Virgil ignored the two's antics in favor of focusing on his masterpiece.

Finally, at the end of the day, with high hopes and spirits and even better hope for Patton, Virgil all but ran to the bus he remembers so clearly beyond anything else. Damian followed close behind, sitting beside him in the seat they always sat.

Virgil heard Patton greet him, as always. Virgil could still hear how tired he was. He looked as pale as Virgil did.

Virgil, without prompting, took out his card and shoved it into Patton's hands before taking his seat and covering himself up with his hoodie as far in the seat as he could go.

Patton watched the young boy sat back down in a hurry before looking down at the card. The craftsmanship, of course, could be better, but honestly Patton could hardly care. He read the "I Think Your Cool" at the top and then a hand drawing of a turkey, covered in glitter and Patton's signature blue.

Patton almost cried, and then did cry when he saw the inside.

It held handwritten words with a picture of presumably Virgil fighting away the storm clouds over Patton; the bus with muscles and also beating up the stormcloud. The words wrote "I saw your sad face. I want to fix it. See! Fixed it!"

When Patton looked up, sniffling and holding the card dear to his heart, he saw Virgil peaking out from his jacket. That little boy held the softest smile and even Damian stopped for a moment to grin, gap tooth apparent but not even a hint of malice could fill Patton at this moment.

Last night had been so awful, but maybe today hadn't been so bad. No, today had been fantastic. Virgil fixed his heart for just a moment.

Edit: the card! Made by moi

#sanders sides #patton sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sander sides angst #Bus Duty AU #eventual logicality #the dark bois are gonna save the day #with an addition of Roman #after a while #whooooweee it is 4 am and I have nOT slept gn

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jawnjendes · 6 years ago

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i could use something good | shawn mendes

university au, shawn x goth gf

AN: this is their First Date and its nearly 4k words and i gave myself emotions so and a bitch is TIREDT so TAKE THIS BLEASE n let me know what u think pls i need it

!!!!also!!!! should i give this bitch a name? should the goth gf be called something other than goth gf??? let me know if u have any name suggestions!

!!!ANOTHER also!!!! i made a playlist!!! its a fuck ton of whiplash! i spent 3 days on it!! enjoy!!

masterlist | series playlist

“If I didn’t know you,” said Stella, who was at my bedroom doorway, “I wouldn’t think you were going on a date with a guy like Shawn Mendes.”

She wasn’t wrong. I was decked out in a long black button up, ripped black jeans, and black Vans. However, I had the decency to keep my makeup colorful. Who doesn’t love bright red eyeshadow, thick wings, and a nude lip? Besides, all black clothing and bright eyeshadow was all I had for the moment. These days, I barely found time for washing my clothes or makeup brushes. My glamorous office job and homework was getting quite demanding. I was surprised I found time to see Shawn on the weekend.

I say that as if I wasn’t putting off psych homework. The last time I did this was for some fuckboy who didn’t care about my grades… or me at all. How did I know it was going to be different this time? Usually, I can tell when someone wants to hook up and leave it at that, but I have spoken to Shawn as many times as I can count on one hand, and I couldn’t detect any of that. Must be a good actor. Maybe he’s done this before.

“Maybe I’ve lost my mind,” I said, more to myself than to Stella.

She heard and responded anyway. “Losing your mind is staying in bed for a whole twenty four hours. You’re getting back into the swing of things, so even if this date goes bad, the interaction is good for you. This is normal for our age.”

Again, she’s not wrong. My antidepressant prescription was finally refilled, so the fog in my head was starting to clear up. It was just way too easy to slip back into isolation. My self destructive tendencies were just being done out of habit at this point.

“When was the last time you went on a date?” Stella asked.

I blew out a sigh and thought about it as I applied lip gloss over my nude lipstick. I was hardly the type to go on an actual date. “Shit, I don’t know. Before college, I think.”

“So you were seventeen?”

“No! I started college late. I was probably eighteen, almost nineteen.”

“That’s still about three years.”

“Well, chances are neither of us are really taking this thing seriously,” I said, putting my lip products into my purse. “He didn’t ask me on a date. He just wanted to hang out.”

Stella clicked her tongue and folded her arms. “So you’re just gonna go get laid?”

“No. I’m past that part of life.”

“So it’s a date.”

“No.”

She was more confused than I was by the time Shawn had texted me. He asked to come up to the dorm, so I gave him the floor and number. According to Stella, I was either definitely getting laid or my man friend was a real gentlemen. I wasn’t sure which one I was more nervous about.

“Should I answer the door?” Stella asked, bouncing on her feet. “So I can tell him that you’re almost ready, and then you can make a dramatic entrance, and he’ll be like ‘you look… wow.’ Y’know the way guys do!” She said all of that very fast.

“And then I say ‘you don’t look too bad yourself,’” I said, amused. “What universe is this?”

We both laughed, but then we were cut off by a knock on the door. Stella looked at my with a grin so wide her dimples came out. I tried to match her enthusiasm.

“I’ll get it,” she said, turning on her heel towards the front door.

“No, I will!” I snapped, suddenly frantic. I pushed past her to answer the door.

“No, you have to make your dramatic entrance!”

“I don’t have to!”

We bickered as we got closer to the door. Mind you, it was five steps from my bedroom. I pretty much slapped Stella’s hand out of the way as she reached for the doorknob, and I knocked her out of the way with my hip. At the last second, she stood behind the door as I opened it.

I smiled wide at Shawn, who had been waiting for thirty seconds too long. He was in a white button up, black skinny jeans, and black boots. Tall and handsome as ever. It’s always the handsome ones that’ll get you. What are the chances I was falling into another fuckboy trap?

He returned the smile, probably acting like he didn’t hear me tackle my roommate. “Hey, you ready?”

I nodded like a lovesick puppy. This was quite unlike me, if you don’t think about the times I was easily swayed by various guys who gave zero fucks. Oh god, am I easy?

Stella was hopping like a bunny from behind the door. I shot her one last glance before stepping out of the dorm and into the hallway.

No one was around to see or feel the awkward air of me walking next to Shawn. It was obvious that we were… into each other? But it was still, for lack of a better phrase, the first date and I was unbelievably aware of that. Just by appearance alone, Shawn and I didn’t look like people who would typically hang out with each other.

Shawn walked with a type of confidence I could only dream to have. People noticed him, people wanted to be friends with him. There was just something about him that draws you in, and it drew in my broody ass.

I walked with my shoulders hunched, my hood up, and my head down. I tried not to be noticed, and I was pretty sure it worked. Strangers in class who tried to talk to me were always caught off guard by my black lipstick and dark eyeliner, like it’s never been done before. I was a little unapproachable, and I didn’t intend for it to be that way.

“So before we go,” Shawn said, “you got any allergies or dietary restrictions I should know about? ‘Cause we’re gonna go eat.”

Okay… doesn’t seem like a hook up situation. I was also surprised he had the decency to ask. The only reason why my face felt hot was because I actually had an answer.

“You ready? ‘Cause it’s a decent sized list,” I told him. Then, I named all the restaurants I couldn’t eat at because I’ve gotten sick from the food. “Also, I can’t have anything spicy, or anything that’s super processed and dripping with grease.”

I didn’t love explaining this to people, but it was necessary. I prefer not being sick, especially on a date. It’s a long story.

“Alright, coffee it is,” Shawn concluded.

We ended up going to the place he and Camila performed at a couple weeks ago. It was much less crowded in broad daylight. Shawn ordered some passion fruit whatever, and I stuck with jasmine tea. I insisted on paying for myself, but nah, I was invited here or whatever.

“Where do you wanna sit?” Shawn asked when we had our drinks.

I wordlessly went for the table at the far corner of the shop. The place was quite small, so we weren’t exactly away from everyone else. From here, I could see the entrance, and the string of customers that would come and go. The bathrooms were also right next to where we sat, so I could make an impromptu escape if needed.

“Away from the sun, eh?” Shawn joked. “As expected.”

If this date was going to consist of goth jokes I swear-

“So how’s your day goin’?” I asked, keeping a smile on my face.

“The usual. I worked, went to class.”

I nodded, playing with my steaming to-go cup. “You said you work at a flower shop, right? What’s that like?”

“Oh, I love it.” Shawn sat up in his seat. “I love the different types of flowers we got. There’s one, a chaenomeles, or a flowering quince - beautiful, one of my favorites.”

The way he talked about being surrounded by pretty plants four times a week was entrancing. He was really into it. He went into detail about arranging flowers down to the vase they went in. He knew his stuff and he loved every bit of it. Damn it, he’s passionate. I like passion in a guy. Damn it.

“So you do the arrangements and you deliver them?” I asked. Listen, I wanted to know more about him and for him to know less about me.

“Pretty much. Although, I’ve been delivering to a lot of funerals lately. That’s probably more your neck of the woods, right?” He smirked.

I scoffed. “Oh yeah, the girl who wears all black must love attending funerals, huh?” I sat back and sipped my tea. “It’s quite the opposite actually, even though I’ll admit, I look like I love death and dying.”

Shawn tilted his head, curious. “Is that not what being a goth is?”

“I wouldn’t know ‘cause I’m not a goth.” A smile almost grew on my face, but I stayed neutral.

Silence fell between us, and I looked down at my cup. I could feel Shawn’s brown eyes on me, and one glance at his face showed me a charming, boyish smile. He knew I knew something, and he was quietly coaxing it out of me.

And it worked.

“Okay, fine!” I said, scooting forward and placing my elbows on the table. “Goths are merely aware of how short and fragile human life is. We-” I cleared my throat, “They acknowledge and accept the fact that we’re all going to mcfreaking die one day.”

Shawn nodded. “Okay, I see. So they’re not afraid of dying?”

“Depends on the person,” I replied. “They’re incredibly aware of the dark side of things - obviously. But they know of the light too. Light and dark, life and death. But anyone can have that mindset, really. So I would say being goth is finding beauty in the dark.”

“So what makes you not one of them?”

I thought for a moment. Yeah, I was fascinated by things that deviated the mainstream. I thought about death more than I’d like to admit. I wore skulls and black lace and dark makeup, but that shouldn’t be a reason to put me in a box. I knew I wasn’t going to stay like this forever. I just never labeled myself as what others labeled me as.

“I forgot where the beauty was,” I finally answered.

That made Shawn smile. He finally got a sliver of what I just might come with. He didn’t say anything either, he just sank into the moment, and it felt like he wanted me to be there with him.

My eyes went around the coffee shop, trying to find a way to change the topic. More people were starting to enter the vicinity. It was getting less chill and more hectic. Then I looked at the table top. We both had our hands around our cups. I found Shawn’s bird tattoo on his hand, something that made him just a little more attractive.

“So what does your tattoo mean?” I asked.

His response had me floored. “Which one? I’ve got five of them.”

Damn it.

“I guess all of them,” I replied, a smile creeping up on my face.

All five of his tattoos were special and deep. Each one gave me more reasons to not ghost him after this was over. Shawn really loved this city. He really loved his family. He loved his mother so much.

“You really love music, huh?” I mused, looking at the beautiful guitar tattoo on his forearm.

“More than anything,” he replied.

“More than flowers?”

“A hundred percent. Playing music is all I want to do for the rest of my life.”

Tell me why that made me genuinely smile. Tell me why that was so goddamn attractive.

I asked him what his favorite songs were to play, and he had a list of sweet love songs I had listened to at a different point in time. He loved writing songs about love, and he revealed he hasn’t been in a proper serious relationship before. Neither had I. Shawn was a year younger than me, so his reasoning was from just that, being young.

Part of me wished that was also my reason.

After talking to Shawn for over an hour, we fell into a silence much less awkward than when we were walking out of my dorm building. I was stuck wondering how a soft, sunshine-y boy like him could find interest in a stone cold storm like me. I wondered, but I didn’t want to tap out just yet.

Once the coffee shop was too crowded, we went out to the street. This part of downtown was still unfamiliar, but I didn’t mind this time. I was talking to a cute boy. A soft boy. This wasn’t a normal occurrence for me.

“What are you thinking about?” Shawn asked me as we strolled down the street.

I was staring at the ground. I really didn’t know what to say. We spent the last hour sharing our thoughts and whatnot, why does he need more? I merely shrugged.

“Alright, well I have another question,” he said. “What made you agree to this date?”

Oh fuck it is date.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But after spending some time with you, I can say… you’re… charming? And, kind?” I chuckled. “I don’t really talk about things like that so explicitly.”

He looked at me for a second. “Okay, well I do. I asked Stella about you after I saw you at my set. All I’ve wanted to do is to get to know you. You’re just really cool, and really mysterious. It’s kinda drawing me in.”

This had to be a trap somehow. Shawn couldn’t possibly have genuine interest in me. He was all softness and joy, and I was all stormy and bitter. This couldn’t be real.

“I… awesome,” I mumbled, trying to hide my giddiness. Yeah, I was in disbelief, but how often is a guy like that so upfront about his feelings? That is, if he wasn’t lying about any of this.

“You haven’t told me enough about you, honey,” he said.

I glanced at him, placing my hands in my sweater pockets. So he noticed my questioning. “Well, you kinda got it figured out. I’m a girl who likes wearing black.”

“That’s it, eh? Come on, don’t be shy.”

Shyness wasn’t what I would have called it.

“What do you wanna know?” I asked sheepishly.

“Hmm… something crazy that’s happened to you.”

Honestly, it’s just as bad as the word, “everything.” But at least I had something to think about. The craziest thing I did was move countries at the age of nineteen, but it was only crazy in the eyes of my relatives, which was a lot of people. Does that count?

“I got my wisdom teeth out when I was seventeen,” I said casually. “That’s about as crazy as I get. When I was hopped up on drugs, I was telling my mom a tale of a chosen hero who on adventures all over the kingdom.”

Shawn chuckled. “Really?”

“Yeah. My mom recorded it, because she got really into it. She thought I was gonna be the next JK Rowling or something. But when I watched it back, I realized I was just talking about the Legend of Zelda series.”

“Insane. You’re insane.”

We walked a lap around the block, talking about nothing, and then we got back to Shawn’s car. I felt a thrill in my bones I couldn’t explain. I was trying to keep a cheesy grin off my face. I had to keep up my composed exterior.

“So have you been having fun?” Shawn asked when we were inside the vehicle.

“Definitely,” I replied simply.

He looked at me with a smile, and then he was pressing buttons on the radio. “Connect your phone. I wanna hear what you’re listening to.”

I quickly opened the Spotify app and changed the song I was last listening to. Why? It was one of Shawn’s songs. It was too soon for him to know that I was growing fond of his music. Instead, I chose a fairly popular Halsey song, and it played on the speakers.

“Oh, nice,” Shawn said, and he was singing along in seconds.

It got less nice as I listened to the lyrics. This song reminded me of a harder time. That’s probably why I didn’t listen to it for so long.

“You know I’m the one who put you up there

I don’t know why”

Cool way to finish a first date.

I stared out the window and stayed quiet, letting this dumb song swallow me whole. Flashbacks hit me before I could try to stop them. Backseat of my car. Weeks of silence. Feelings like you’re underwater. It made my insides go cold.

“You really get into it, eh?” Shawn asked halfway through the song.

The sound of his voice startled me, but I didn’t jump. I blinked a few times, coming back to present day. I’m in another man’s car. We’re in a different time period.

“Yeah,” I said. “A good song can alter my mood so quickly, I wonder if it’s normal.”

“Oh, I know the feeling. But I also think it has to do with the memories associated with the song.”

Once Halsey finished her song, a slow rock tune played. It was far less triggering, and it had a mile long title.

“She’s the Prettiest Girl at the Party and She Can Prove It with a Solid Right Hook,” I read off my phone. “That’s a banger.”

The following conversation about music helped ground me again. I knew Shawn was passionate about it, but music is the real love of his life. He was looking at the road as he drove, but he had a sparkle in his eyes that shone through the dark. Sometimes he was the flower delivery guy and the singer at a wedding. Sometimes he was the guy who played guitar at a house party.

Shawn was that guy.

We listened to several more of my favorite songs, most of which were symphonic metal. Some of them were lyrically dark, the type that compelled people to do that head tilt and ask “are you okay?” in that voice. Shawn just asked if I wanted to rethink not calling myself a goth, to which I played a Little Mix song to put that shit to rest.

“Oh, Woman Like Me?” he said, surprised. “Didn’t see that one coming.”

“There are many sides of me, my dear,” I told him. We were getting closer to campus, which meant the date was almost over. “You’ve only seen one.”

“Hopefully you’ll let me see more.” He pulled into the parking lot and stopped in an empty space in front of the main building. “So what level am I on now?”

I was shocked he remembered that. But if we’re being real here…

“Two.”

He chuckled. “Two, eh?”

“Yup.”

He hummed. He was looking at me again, and now I was looking at him. His eyes were still sparkling in that stupid cute way, and it was getting me weak.

“This might be the first time you’ve made direct eye contact with me,” he said softly.

“It’s because you’re cute and it confuses me,” I admitted, maintaining the eye contact. There, boy, another little sliver of my feelings.

That stupid charming smile appeared on Shawn’s stupid cute face. He quirked his eyebrows once and licked his lips. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his mouth… This is bad.

“Well, you’re beautiful and it doesn’t confuse me at all,” he said, his voice getting low. You know, that voice that tells you something is going to happen. “In fact, it’s made things more clear.”

I felt myself getting even weaker. My heart was pounding, not just in my chest, but in my ears and my legs and the bottom of my feet. My stomach was turning over in a way that I wasn’t used to. My body was gravitating towards Shawn before my brain could process it.

“I really like your eyeshadow,” he said softly, doing the same motion.

“Thanks,” I breathed out.

Our faces were an inch apart. I got an intoxicating whiff of his cologne. I was teetering on the edge of just diving headfirst, but I had to be strong.

“I don’t kiss on the first date.”

We stayed in that position for a second. Shawn was the one to lean back first.

“Okay, that’s okay. I understand,” he said. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

It was easy to tell my rejection got to him. I didn’t want to leave knowing he was disappointed. I didn’t want him to think that I didn’t like him. I had been more aloof than I’d like to admit on this entire date, so maybe he was getting the wrong idea.

“So we should go on another date,” I told him, touching his arm, “and maybe I’ll kiss you then.” I smiled hopefully.

That was what he needed to perk up again. “Yeah, definitely. I’m looking forward to it.”

I nodded. “Okay. Alright. I’ll text you, or something. I’m gonna awkwardly leave now.”

He chuckled. “Alright. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

I had my purse and my phone on me, and I placed my hand on the door handle. But I stayed in that position for a minute. It was long enough to be weird. Was I really going to leave knowing that we really wanted to kiss each other?

“Ah, fuck it,” I said with a shrug, and then I was turning back to Shawn.

I would have hoisted myself over the center console if he didn’t meet me halfway. Shawn leaned in as quickly as I did, and his lips were pressing onto mine. It was much softer than I had anticipated, and I only realized it when Shawn placed a hand on the side of my face, gently cupping my chin.

My hand went around his wrist as we gently broke apart. It was only a split second of breathing time before I pulled him in for another. I softly took his bottom lip into my mouth, resisting the urge to just pounce on him completely.

Shawn moved his hand to the back of my neck, trying to pull me closer. Tongues and teeth began to clash, and it only made me grab onto his clean button up. Would it be a bad idea to spend some time in the backseat? We were practically leaning over the center console, moving back and forth like one was going to top the other.

But again… I had to be strong.

We broke apart, panting. My fingers stroked his cheek, and his hand found its way into my hair. I felt his quick breathing on my upper lip, and it only made me want to kiss him again.

“I have to go,” I told him.

But he leaned in again, kissing me once more. “Alright.”

“Alright,” I repeated breathlessly. Then I kissed him again, only for both of us to laugh softly.

“So what level am I at now?” Shawn asked with a cheeky grin.

I returned the smile. “Two and a half.”

“Oh, really? I’d say I’m at level four.”

“Nope. Two and a half. But it’s like I said, we’ll go on another date and see what happens.”

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #fourtristattoosspring #shawn mendes smut #shawn x goth gf #deadass tho im so fuckin tiredt #blease validate me i need i

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