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thoraway125 · 2 years ago

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Tegan and Sara’s Instruments and etc

Fun fact they used Chocolate Covered Sunflower Seeds for the shaker in ‘Back In Your Head’

Tegan’s stuff

Guitars

Art & Lutherie Ami Cedar (black)

Epiphone Coronet

Fender Acoustic (gloss sunburst)

Fender Stratocaster

Gibson Blues King

Gibson G6128TCG Duo Jet

Gibson Les Paul (goldtop)

Gibson Les Paul Junior

Gibson Les Paul Studio Gold Series

Gibson Maestro

Gibson Melody Maker Special

Gibson Joan Jett Signature Melody Maker (white, w/Zebra humbucker)

Gibson SG Junior 60’s

Martin X Series LX1E Little Martin Acoustic

P-90

Martin 00 Acoustics

Seagull Acoustics

Vintage Gibson Melody Maker (natural Mahogany)

Yamaha APX-3M

Pedals- Upper Row: Boss NS-2, OD-3, LS-2, and TU-2. Lower row: Ibanez TS-9, Boss CE-2, MXR M-133 MicroAmp, Boss DD5 and a Zvex Fuzz Factory.

Boss SD-1, RV-5. TR-2, DD-3, TU-2s

Keyboards

Alesia Micron

Angel AX-25N2 Glockenspiel

MalletKAT

MicroKORG Synthesizer/Vocoder

Clavia Nord Electro 273

Roland Juno-G

Sequential Circuits Prophet- 5

Sequential Circuits 2

Amps

Acme Lulu head into Dr. Z closed back 1/12-inch cab (miked with Heil PR30)

Fender Hot Rod Deluxe Amps

Other

Dunlop Capos

Dunlop Nylon .73mm/.6mm picks

Couch Black Byloos

Gibson Masterbuilt Premium Phosphor Bronze Wound

Gibson Red Lightning Bolt strap

LP Shake-It Shakers

Ultra Feedback Buster

Victorian Strap

Sara’s stuff

Guitars

Art & Lutherie Ami Cedar (black)

Danelectro ’67 Dano Heaven Hawk Series (creme alligator)

Epiphone Les Paul

Fender Jaguar (olympic white finish) 1995

Fender Telecaster (sunburst)

Gibson Blues King

Gibson CJ165 (rosewood)

Gibson ES-335

Gibson Everly Brothers J-180 Acoustic 2005 (Chris Walla’s)

Gibson Les Paul Goldtop

Gibson Les Paul Junior Special P-90 (satin cherry)

Gibson SG Junior 60’s

Gibson SJ-300

Gretsch Duo (jet black)

Gretsch G6131MY Malcolm Young Signature II (the yellow one)

Gretsch Malcolm Young (red)

Martin X Series LX1E Little Martin Acoustic

P-90? idk this might go with ^

Martin 000M Acoustics

Regal RC-1 Duolian Resonator (Nickel Plated Steel or 2003 Polychrome Grey)

Takamine EAN30C

Vintage 1972 Fender Telecaster Thinline (black, w/Wide Range Humbuckers)

Pedals

Boss output selector; Liele input selector; Pro D2 stereo direct box; and Boss overdrive, chorus, reverb, delay and tuner out to amp. Two DI’s, a dry DI signal.

Keyboards

Alesia Micron

Angel AX-25N2 Glockenspiel

LP Shake-It Shakers

MalletKAT

MicroKORG Synthesizer/Vocoder

Clavia Nord Electro 273

Roland Juno-G

Sequential Circuits Prophet- 5

Sequential Circuits 2

Amps

Acme Lulu head into Dr. Z closed back 1/12-inch cab (miked with Heil PR30)

Fender Hot Rod Deluxe Amps

Other

mac tower

Protools rack

D'Addario strings

Dunlop Tortex Standard Guitar Picks 0.06mm

Dunlop Acoustic Guitar Capo

Dunlop Capos

G7th 405 Capo

Gibson Masterbuilt Premium Phosphor Bronze Wound

LP Shake-It Shakers

Planet Waves Delrin .61mm picks

Other band members

Edward ‘Ted’ Gowans Guitars

1975 Fender Stratocaster 1965 RI Jazzmaster E1 Moog Fender American Deluxe Tele Fender Jaguar Gibson ES-335 (satin finish) G&L ASAT Gretsch Malcolm Young (red) Martin Acoustics

Pedals Boss tuner, Zvex Super Hard On, Fulltone Fulldrive 2, Mosfet, Ibanez TS-9DX) Boss TU-2, LS-2, MXR Dyna Comp, Ernie Ball volume, Line 6 DL4, Voodoo Lab Pedal Power, Z.Vex Super Hard-On, Line 6 DL4, and vintage chorus and delay

Keyboards Nord Wave synthesizer

Amp Acme Varsity, AC10 Shaun Huberts Bass

Fender Jazz (natural finish, maple, mother-of-pearl block inlays) Fender Jazz (sunburst finish, tortoise-shell pickguard, rosewood)

Pedals Ampeg SVT Classic rig, SVT-CL bass head with an SVT- 810E bass enclosure. Taurus 3 Bass Pedals

Theremin Etherwave Plus

Amp Amp SVT-CL head into SVT-810E cab and Eden World Tour 800 Head into Eden 410XLT cab

Johnny Andrews Drums a Yamaha Kit

Mics Shure MS91 and Yamaha Subkick (bass), Shure Beta57 (snare top), Neumann KM184 (snare bottom/hi-hat), Shure Beta56 (rack tom), Shure Beta52 (floor tom), two Audio-Technica AT4033s (overhead)

#tegan and sara #ted gowans #shaun huberts #johnny andrews #tegan quin #sara quin #equipment jargon

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daily-dose-of-sweets · 4 years ago

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Sweets’ Scars

Based on S4E21

Lance Sweets X Reader

Summary: You and Sweets have been in a relationship for a year now, but it isn’t until a case involving a certain metal band that you realize there might be something he’s not telling you. Something about his past. You don’t want to press, but you can’t help but worry.

Words: 3331

Warnings: Scars, and very short mention of abuse

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As soon as you step foot into the venue, the blaring metal music floods in around you. You wince and quickly cover your ears to dull the screaming voices and screeching guitars. The music reverberates through your ribcage, pounding and ragged. Why do people listen to this kind of stuff? You can barely make out the mass of moving bodies ahead of you because of the flashing lights and flickering fires that practically blind you. It’s all so much, too much. You’ve never liked crowds, but this is a whole different level, and the urge to escape grips your chest.

You jump when a hand rests against your shoulder and you whip around only to see Doctor Brennan peering at you worriedly. “We won’t be here long,” she assures you, though she has to scream for you to hear her.

You nod, eyes darting back to the crowd of people, all covered in leather and heavy makeup. The two of you stick out like sore thumbs in your normal clothes, which was never something you thought would be possible. You huddle closer to your mentor, swallowing your nerves and twisting your fingers into your sweater.

“I’m going to call Booth!” She shouts out again.

You don’t respond this time, not that it really matters in the situation. You doubt you could get loud enough to overcome the noise.

Why did you have to come on this excursion? Why couldn’t Clark come? He was your senior after all. You had just recently started working at the Jeffersonian, and you were currently the youngest intern on the team. You figured it would be a calm job, just working with your people and maybe a few witnesses every once and a while. This...This was not what you were thinking of.

“I’m disturbed that despite my extensive training as an anthropologist, all these bands sound alike and appear to share identical belief systems and morals.” You hear Doctor Brennan shouting into her phone, to who is most likely Booth. She pauses, listening to his response before speaking up again, “I have no idea what you’re saying.”

You bite your lip nervously, eyes scanning the dark crowd again before landing on the stage, where the band ‘Zorch’ was performing. That’s why you were there, to question them about the remains.

“Are you guys ready?”

You shy away when a man comes into your space, pressing a hand to your back. With wide eyes, you look to Doctor Brennan, begging silently for help. She stares at the man with her brow furrowed, and then recognition floods her eyes.

“Sweets?”

What? You look back up at the man’s painted face, eyes narrowing as you take in his features. Then it hits you, just as quickly as it hit the anthropologist. It is Sweets! You couldn’t recognize him with the makeup and slicked back hair.

“Wait, is that really you?” You question, stepping closer to him. He casts a look down at you, lips pulling into a small smile that makes your heart stutter.

“Yeah, I had to meld to get information. What do you think?” Sweets holds his arms up, looking mighty pleased with his metal getup.

Your eyes slowly trace over his figure, and you can’t help but notice how well his sleeveless black shirt fits him, or how it shows off his arms. Heat comes rushing to your face, turning your cheeks rosy. Thank goodness the venue is so poorly lit, or else he’d probably notice. Your eyes lingers on the choker strapped around his neck. Part of you wants to grab the ring on it and drag him close for a kiss, which only serves to darken your blush.

“You look good,” you manage to squeak out before quickly turning to Doctor Brennan, completely missing the small smirk that replaces Sweet’s smile (he definitely noticed your flushed face).

“What information have you gathered?” The anthropologist asks him, completely oblivious to how flustered you just grew.

“Zorch’s lead singer is Murderbreath,” Sweets begins, gesturing to the stage just as the man blows out a puff of fire, “Look at that. Who does he think he is, the guy with the tongue from KISS?”

You laugh at the jest. You used to listen to that band, back in your rebellious teen phase that everyone goes through.

Sweets explains how the feud of the two bands has progressed, though your eyes stay focused on the band, looking for anything that might help with the case somehow. That when you notice the lead singer pull out a large knife, thrusting into the air for all to see and drawing chants from the crowd.

“Guys, he has a knife,” you worry aloud to your colleagues.

Sweets gently draws you closer to him in a somewhat subconscious way, “No, don’t worry, it’s totally fake.”

A shudder passes through you when the singer drags the blade along his throat, blood immediately dripping down his painted skin. He thrusts the crimson knife back into the air victoriously, before gripping his neck with his other hand. Blood seeps out from between his fingers, coating his gloves. You gasp when the man convulses and drops to his knees, fingers still wrapped around his throat.

“That’s...not fake,” Bones murmurs, “Murderbreath slit his own throat!”

Before you have time to even process what’s happening, you’re dashing forward, easily weaving through the throngs of fans. The screeching music fades into the background, overcome by the pounding of your pulse in your ears. The flashing lights blur together and all you can focus on is the man crumpled on the ground. The people part around you as you jump onto the stage, quickly followed by Doctor Brennan and Sweets.

You dive down next to the singer, pressing two fingers to his pulsepoint and covering his hand with your own.

“We need something to stop the bleeding,” you urge, panic swelling in your chest.

Brennan looks around quickly, “A compress, we need a compress!” Her eyes lock on Sweets before she darts up, ripping his shirt right off of him despite his complaints.

She drops back down, pressing the wadded fabric to the man’s neck. It’s only then that the music comes to a halting stop. The band goes silent, glancing between each other and towards their lead. You shake your head, lips pursed in irritation. Now they take it seriously.

“Hold this against the wound,” Brennan directs Lance before shouting into her phone, “Booth, can you call it in?” You assume his answer isn’t what she wants, because she shuts the phone with an irritated huff and begins dialing a new number.

Glancing around, you feel anger rise to replace your panic when you see how many people have their phones out to film the spectacle. Without hesitation, you jump up in front of the group, shoving some people back and blocking their cameras. Who, in their right mind, would record something like this?

“Stand back, please!” you cry out, taking a step back as the crowd pushes forward in retaliation, “Please! Get back, we need space to work! Move back!” Do these people have no respect? Or just basic decency?!

You take a glance back at your colleagues to check on what’s happening, but your eyes land on something that knocks the very breath from your lungs. Your chest tightens painfully at the sight of the scars running along Lance’s shoulders. The dancing lights glaze over them, catching on the raised skin like little criss-crossing lightning bolts. A burning sensation fills your throat, spreading to your eyes, but you blink rapidly, determined to not let it get the best of you right now. There are more important things to focus on! You turn back to the crowd, arms spread wide to keep the stage clear.

Soon enough, paramedics and police come rushing into the venue. Everything else comes as a blur. The sirens, the gurney, rushing out to the ambulance, it all swirls together in your mind like a chaotic storm. It leaves you dizzy when things calm down and Murderbreath is on his way to the hospital. You, Sweets, and Doctor Brennan are left standing outside the venue, and it’s then you notice Sweets is still shirtless.

“We need to get you a coat before you catch a cold,” you murmur worriedly, trying your hardest to shove the images of his scarred shoulders out of your mind.

“I have one in my car,” he tells you with that familiar gentle smile, but now it carries a different weight to it. Is that just you, though? Could you be overthinking this all?

You let out a heavy sigh and aggressively rub at your eyes as Sweets walks away. Why hadn’t he told you about it? You could guess the cause, not many wounds left marks like those, plus, in your field of work you are exposed to all kinds of scars. Did he not want you to know? Why wouldn’t he want you to know?

“Are you okay?”

You look over to Doctor Brennan, the heavy weight in your chest growing almost impossible as you blurt out, “Lance has scars on his back.”

“Scars? What kind of scars?” She peers at you with that perplexed expression of hers.

“Almost like he’d been…” You pause and flex your fingers to keep your nails from digging into your palms, “Like he’d been whipped. They were old.”

“Has he not talked to you about it before?”

“No, do you think that means something?”

She tilts her head, almost like a dog, not that you’d ever say that out loud, “I am not sure what you mean.”

“Well, I mean, we’ve been dating for a year now, don’t you think, I don’t know, don’t you think he would have told me something like that?” You bite down harshly on your lip, “Does he not trust me with his past?”

“It is best to not assume what Sweets might be thinking,” Doctor Brennan murmurs in that ever present, logical tone.

It’s not much, but it’s enough to placate you a little. She’s right after all. You have to gather the evidence before making any inferences. It’s possible Lance just wants to forget whatever happened to him, which you can understand. Horrible things are sometimes best left in the past. Taking a deep breath, you roll your shoulders and give your hands a good shake.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yep!” You squeak and turn back around to face Lance, who at some point snuck up behind you, “Peachy! Just fine! Is everything- Is everything okay with you? Not cold anymore?”

“I’m warming up,” he replies with a lecherous grin, “Though I could use some help.”

You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks when Sweets spreads his arms wide for a hug. The slight twinge of self consciousness doesn’t stop you from tucking in close though, fingers linking together at the small of his back.

He rests his chin on top of your head gently, “Is everything really okay?”

Of course he’d notice. You weren’t being the most subtle you guess.

“I’ll tell you about it later, okay?” You promise quietly and hide your face in his coat.

“Okay.”

“I suppose we should head back now. Booth will want to question Murderbreath if he’s well enough,” Brennan calls out to you as she heads to her car, “Will you be driving back with Sweets, (Y/n)?”

“Sure! If he’s okay with it!” You turn your eyes up to him questioningly.

“Of course.”

And just like the gentleman he is, Lance takes you back to the lab, leaving you with the promise to talk after work. You do your job with as much attention as usual, but in the back of your head, you can’t stop thinking about how on earth you're going to broach the subject.

How do you ask someone about something you probably weren’t meant to see? You know he probably won’t get angry, Lance has always been patient and oh so sweet (his name really did fit him). You just don’t want to cross any boundaries. Should you wait? Should you ask Booth about it first? No, no that’s a terrible idea, he would just get all awkward. You groan and set down the tibia you're currently looking at. It’s all so frustrating!

You’ll just have to do it. Lance always says communication is the most important part of any relationship. Even if you don’t know how to start it, you're sure he’ll know how to direct the conversation!

With that in mind, you wrap up quickly and wish Doctor Saroyan goodbye as you head out of the lab. Lance is waiting just outside for you, leaning back against his car’s hood. All the makeup from before has been cleaned off and his hair is back to its normal fluffiness.

“Well hello there handsome,” you chirp, leaning up to peck to his cheek, “Good to see you back to normal.”

Lance laughs softly, “Was it really that bad?”

You purse your lips for a second, glancing away when you think back to his outfit. The makeup was a bit much, but the rest of it…

“Oh, maybe not, huh?”

Oh gosh, are you blushing again? You quickly bury your face in his chest, which is rumbling with his laughter. How embarrassing! Could your face go just a minute without lighting up today? It felt like every second, there was something that made your cheeks flush. It’s a wonder how you haven’t just turned into a tomato yet.

“Shut up,” is all you end up grumbling, “Will you take me home now?”

“Sure.” He gives you a small squeeze, “Hop in.”

You practically dive into the passenger seat to avoid anymore discussion of your embarrassment. Knowing Lance, he’d use this to tease you for quite a while. You just hope he’ll go easy on you, especially around your colleagues. You’d probably die if he brought this up around Doctor Brennan or Doctor Saroyan. Or even Hodgins, because goodness knows how he’d make fun of you for the rest of time.

During the drive back to your apartment, Lance intertwines his fingers with yours and rests them in his lap, thumb tracing over your knuckles. It’s enough to calm the jitters vibrating in your chest. It’s like the embarrassment and anxiety over your upcoming conversation have swirled together in a chaotic rush.

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you now?” Lance breaks the silence of the car, though he keeps his voice soft.

You take a deep breath. Everything in your head has led up to this, you can do it.

“I...I saw the scars...on your back…”

His hand stiffens in yours, not much, but just enough for you to notice.

Things fall quiet for a few seconds. You watch Lance’s face nervously. His eyebrows synch down just the slightest bit and his lips press into a thin line. You can practically see him thinking the whole thing out in his head. The gears turning, the conflict, the small flash of pain. It makes your heart ache.

“We don’t have to talk about it, Lance,” you reassure him softly, “It’s okay.”

Those honey orbs glance at you before locking back on the road. You really wish you weren’t in the car right now, so that he didn’t have to split his focus like this. Whatever this is, it can’t be a light topic.

“I’m okay,” Lance finally says, “It’s okay. This is something I’ve worked through, we can, we can talk about it.”

Good, that’s good. You weren’t going to push it if he didn’t want to talk about it, but it lifts the weight in your chest to know he’s open to it.

“Can we wait until we get to your place though?”

“Of course, of course!”

You settle back into your seat, though your hand stays firmly in Sweets’. It’s a comfort to you both. The rest of the drive goes by fast, thankfully, and before you know it, you’re right outside your apartment building. Even as you walk up to your place, Lance trailing behind you, your fingers stay linked.

“Want anything to drink?” You ask as you toss your jacket on a hook and slip off your shoes.

“No, I’m fine,” he mumbles and slips into the living space.

You pace about your small kitchen in an attempt to keep yourself busy, but find nothing to do, so you slip onto the couch next to the psychologist. You sit close enough for your knee to brush his, but hopefully not close enough to crowd him.

Lance scratches the back of his neck with a sigh and starts, “So, you know how I grew up in the foster system for a bit?”

“We’ve talked about it, yeah.”

“Well,” his voice comes out a little shaky so he pauses. You scoot closer to rest a hand on his knee, to ground him. His hand covers yours and he sends you a grateful smile before starting again, “Well, when I was young, I ended up in a bad foster home, and um, and the foster dad-” another heavy pause, “-he would beat me.”

Your heart absolutely sinks at those words, at how meek he sounds now, compared to your usually self-assured, outspoken boyfriend. How could this happen to someone like him? Someone so wonderful and gentle, someone who does everything he can to help others? No wonder he never told you about it.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Lance,” you murmur in a gentle tone.

He draws his shoulders back a bit with a deep breath. It’s like he’s letting the weight slowly slip from them as he leans back into the couch. You watch his face as it subtly shifts through several emotions, someone bad, some good, some just thoughtful. Eventually, he raises an arm, a silent signal for you, to which you curl into his side. His fingers trace along your arm before settling on your elbow and giving it a small squeeze.

“Don’t be sorry. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I didn’t go through that,” he reminisces, voice still quiet, “I might not have joined the FBI, might not have...met you.”

You look up at him, touched yet worried at the same time.

“I might not have had the best childhood, but I’m living a good life now. If I can stop it from happening to someone else, then it’s all been worth it,” he says, the brightest, most genuine smile lighting up his lips.

The awe that hits you almost sucks the breath from your lungs. You can’t help but just sit there and stare up at Sweets adoringly. It’s like his heart is made of pure gold, something that can’t be touched or soiled by the hardships of his past. He’s your greatest treasure, holding more value to you than anything you could ever hold, touch, even be near. He’s...absolutely amazing.

“I love you, Lance.” You can’t help it when the words slip off your tongue.

Those eyes are once again set on you, swimming with unbridled content, peace. They sweep you away into their depths, and all you can do is to wrap your arms around him to keep yourself anchored. He pulls you close, lips pressing oh so softly against your forehead.

“I love you too, (Y/n).”

*Bonus*

“You want me to wear it again?”

“Maybe…”

“Really?” His tone comes out teasing, eyebrow perched high as he gazes down at you.

“You’re so mean,” you huff, not even bothering to hide your blush this time.

Lance only laughs and bows down to press his lips to yours briefly, though it’s enough to set your heart racing.

“I’ll go change now, if you’d like,” he hums, throwing you a little wink as he steps out of the room.

“Jerk,” you grumble under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

I hope you enjoyed this story! It was a tad longer than usual, but it’s something I’ve been wanting to write for a while! This is one of my favorite episodes :)

As always, if you have any requests, don’t be afraid to ask! I’ll write for Sweets, Aubrey, and most of the interns! Love y’all!

#Bones #bones reader insert #bonestv #lance sweets #Dr Lance Sweets #dr lance sweets x reader #lance sweets x reader #sweets #sweets x reader #Temperance Brennan #reader #reader insert #x reader #Self Insert

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chaotic-nick · 4 years ago

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Strings: Miche Zacharias

note: I posted this on wattpad at the start of the year and they actually are consecutive one-shots after this.

(Please do tell me where I can improve my writing and how)

warnings: none

-begin-

He truly never understood the power he had. Even when Hanji explained it to him in between the breaks their classes had or through text in paragraphs and voice notes. Lynne and Petra making a fuss to get it through his head. Nanaba even agreed with them. Though Erwin was different on the other hand. He used his advantage of charming his girls- even senior students for the benefit of . . . an eventful night.

Levi sometimes did it, too. But after the consecutive events of passing out and waking up to migraines, he'd rather much stay where Miche was at parties. At the corner with Moblit and the girls.

Mike also found it stupid when Nanaba explained that him being taller than Erwin was a 'natural' magnet for him to gain so many starry-eyed admirers. His reserved personality earned him the label of being mysterious. Next to Erwin and Hanji, who else would be interested in talking about social issues as passionately as him?

But aside that, he knew what the advantages he was granted when he strapped his guitar at the bar they visited behind the dorms every Friday since their second year. Playing his own jazz renditions under a circle of orange lights earned him and his friends' free rounds of whatever alcohol they wanted.

Although he didn't want to do anything with them, he scored numbers being passed to their table. Numbers from students from different universities. Working women- all of the kind, bought drinks for him in hopes that they'd take him home. Especially the divorced women who had fetishes for the silent type.

He indulged himself in one girl- an education major, coming to other agreement that they didn't want anything romantic persuasion from each other. Their pleasure-only relationship ending in their third years. It was also in his third year that he grew sick of his guitar, packing it in its hard case and hiding it underneath his bed.

"You have your fucking shit on the walls- you cleaning that, too?" Levi said when he announced that he wouldn't be playing for a while.

Erwin didn't look at him, only saying. "You're only sick of it because you're sick of people watching you play."

"You think I didn't realise that?" He snapped back.

All he wanted was someone to show up at the bar and take his spot. Tell him with their strings that it was alright to be on a plateau of development. It was a challenge that he wanted. Something that would spark something in him to pick up his guitar in an attempt to be better.

A sudden bolt of lightning.

And it did come to him.

In a form of a college freshman on an early Thursday evening, wearing a romper that she loves wearing by the looks of it.

Though before it did, boredom suffocated him. He was left with no choice but to give in. Crouching down to retrieve the guitar from his bed. "Told you he wouldn't last a month," Levi accepted a fifty note from Hanji and Erwin.

It was a routine that they (the veterans) ingrained themselves with. Helping the bar's owner carry boxes of his stock to the room and endure his stories of the retired gun above the door. But when a group of new faces came in that day, Hanji had pulled them into helping than waste time going back to their dorms and wait until the opening time. Mike only watched from the elevated platform as he tuned his guitar.

The colour of its body and the romper she wore matched. A striking red.

"Help us out will ya, you'll be taking our places when we graduate," Said Hanji.

"You brats are athletes, right?" Levi pierced his eyes at the Eren, Jean, and Reiner. "Put your arms to use and bring the tables down."

Mike had to answer the call, unwillingly tearing his eyes away from (Y/n) who threw longing looks at the guitar over Ymir's back. Poor thing was left laying on its body on the speaker.

"You should take a picture," said Sasha. "The guitar and your romper match!"

"I kinda wanna play it,"

"Then go," Ymir instigated. "The owner took a call- play your heart out until then."

And so she did, getting out of the counter.

He was on the height of euphoria when he promised that he was going home that weekend to meet his nephews. But fear made him push the door when his treasured guitar was missing from the amp.

But his short anguish was simmered as quickly as it asserted itself when a rendition of 'Just the two of us' set the mood. Magically matching with the setting sun's colours. It highlighted her, who was lost in her music.

Imperfections, yes. And plenty. But her smile from the excitement of never missing a note spread through them. Even his friends stopped, the items they were helping with still in their hands.

Joining her at the end of the platform, waiting for her to finish.

"Oh hello," she greeted, her excitement setting what she'd be for the rest of the night. Happy.

"You play?" The advantage of their height made him appear to loom over her. But she was nowhere ogling at him. Nor was she intimidated by his presence.

"Yea! Sometimes though," who knew that the jolt of inspiration he thirsted for came when he went out to receive a call.

And she was pretty, too.

#miche zacharias x reader #mike zacharias x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #mike zacharias

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missmitchieg · 3 years ago

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Gifts Of Love

4. Julie To Willie - Helmet Doodles

Julie smiled as she watched her phantoms wrestle around the studio together, doodling stars and lightning bolts on a brand new, blank, white guitar strap to give to Reggie. She'd already given Luke his own guitar strap with smiley faces, clouds, and hearts, and drawn rainbow stripes on Alex's drum sticks, so now it was Reggie's turn to get a gift. She giggled as she doodled the last star and presented the strap to Reggie, who beamed at the gift from where he was trapped under Alex. "Thanks, Julie. I love it." He said softly.

Willie chuckled as they got a noogie from Luke and wriggled out of his hold, tying their hair up into a bun. They watched Julie show Reggie a brand new guitar strap for his bass, after giving Luke a new guitar strap a month ago, and Alex spare drum sticks just last week. It was just Julie's thing. She was a gift giver. Willie liked that about her a lot. It was cute. It was sweet. But they did sort of wish they would get one of Julie's gifts one day. They really hoped Julie would grow to love them as much as she loved 'her phantoms', as she liked to call them, one day.

Meanwhile, Julie had been struggling with the "right" gift to give Willie. Sure, she had given them a home, and a family, and more than a few new coping mechanisms for anxiety she'd read about on the internet, but that was all basic necessities for survival and happiness. She needed to give something better. She needed to give them something perfect.

The next day, Julie found herself pacing in her bedroom as she wracked her poor brain for something to give Willie only to be startled by a knock on her door. She groaned softly and scrubbed a hand over her face as she walked to the door and opened it, coming face to face with Alex.

"Hey! Uh, sorry if I'm wrong and bothering you, but I just..." Alex scrunched his face up, placing a hand on his chest. "Felt like you needed me?" He questioned as he stood awkwardly in her doorway, tilting his head curiously. "What's going on? You have that look on your face like whenever you're stuck and need advice."

"I need a great gift to give your boyfriend. I don't know if I should go the artsy route and get him spray paints, or markers and pens, or maybe acrylic paints. O-or should I go the skate route and buy a spare skateboard just in case something happens to his? He still wears his helmet all the time to feel safe. Should I get him knee pads? Elbow pads? Shin guards? I just want him to feel ok." Julie listed off frantically as she started to pace again, just barely registering Alex's gentle voice repeating her name.

"Jujube!" Alex called out Reggie's nickname for her and placed his hands on Julie's shoulders, effectively stopping her pacing. "Juju, I'm sure whatever you get for Wills will be the perfect gift in their mind, whether it's new sneakers, or a crop top, or just a beanie." He assured her and smiled, but it was all for naught.

"I didn't even think about clothes! That's another route to go! Willie likes green, right?" Julie asked, wringing her hands together.

"Yeah, it's their favorite."

"Noted." Julie nodded.

"They love tie dye. Maybe get him a kit?" Alex suggested.

"A tie dye kit. Good. That's good. I should write that down." Julie nodded and grabbed her notebook, scribbling down things Willie liked: Hot dogs. Skateboards. Tall blondes. Sharks. Puppies. Green. Nature. Dancing. Singing. Art.

"Just, if you go the clothes route, don't get anything long, or super tight. Makes them feel claustrophobic." Alex advised.

"Is that why they're always in those loose crop tops and shorts?" Julie asked and Alex nodded.

"I have a date with Willie tonight but, uh," Alex pointed to his heart. "call if you need more help." He smiled and poofed away to go ruin a police officer's day with Willie.

Julie smiled at the offer and shook her head fondly, going over the list of potential perfect gifts for Willie.

"A tie dye kit. New clothes. Safety pads. Art set. New paints. A painting. A new helmet to replace the cracked o-" Julie gasped, and a smile grew on her face as she realized just the right gift to give their sweet Willie.

The next day, Julie gently approached Willie as they returned from an afternoon of skating by the beach, giving them her usual soft smile. "Hey, Wills."

"Hi, Julie!" Willie greeted, giving her a bright grin and a high five.

"Fun afternoon?" Julie asked casually, leaning against the studio door.

"Yeah! I saw a puppy today, and stopped another officer from giving another bogus ticket." Willie reported.

"Sweet!" Julie nodded and chuckled, biting her lip. "I was just wondering if maybe I could steal your helmet for a while? Maybe a half hour?"

"Preeeeetty sure it's not stealing if you specifically ask for it, Crown Jewel." Willie teased.

"You know what I mean!" Julie laughed and gently shoved them.

"Yeah, I know." Willie nodded and removed their helmet to hand to Julie. "Here you go."

"Thanks." Julie smiled and squeezed their shoulder gently before walking away to her bedroom to start on her gift. She did her best to gently clean the 37 year old scuff marks off of the helmet and started doodling away with only her best, most high quality markers and pens. She smiled as she lovingly doodled hearts, stars, swirls, diamonds, waves, and sharks all along the helmet in bright colors.

When she was finished, she admired her handiwork and walked back to the studio where Willie had apparently roped the boys into watching shark puppet tiktoks on the tablet Julie gave them. She rolled her eyes fondly and walked back inside, gently clutching the doodle covered helmet to her chest. "Willie Bill? I'm done with your helmet."

Willie perked up as they heard Julie's sweet but unsure voice, their eyes catching their helmet, but it looked a little "different" now. They smiled and walked toward Julie, breath catching as they took in how much Julie had doodled onto the helmet. "Julie..."

"I gave the rest of my phantoms presents with my own doodles. Realized it was only right to do the same for you as well." Julie shrugged slightly and bit her lip. "Is... That ok?"

"Julie, this..." Willie smiled, wiping a tear away. "This is perfect. Thank you." They said, giving Julie a tight hug as she grinned at them.

#julie and the phantoms #julie molina #willie #alex molina #jatp fanfic

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tyforthevnm · 2 years ago

Photo

Frank Iero and the Patience at Mattress Firm Amphitheatre, Chula Vista, CA | July 7, 2017 | Toby Hughes

#frank iero #fiatp #july 7 2017 #july 2017 #2017 #lightning bolt guitar strap #31 guitar #rica.archive #yellow sweatband #toby hughes #frank's arms #arm tattoo #tattoo

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vampcubus · 5 years ago

Note

Izuku with a reader with a vampire like quirk (acts like Marceline from adventure time) and likes to sing. She and Uraraka argue and fight for his attention and affection. Fluff and angst at the end please. I really like your writing luv! Keep up the good work!! UwU

| A/N: I had so much fun writing this so it got pretty lengthy! It’s also not as fluffy as I had first intended, but I hope you like it nonetheless! |

(Edit: It’s been split up into two parts due to text block limitations.)

♡ Warnings: Angst, blood-drinking.♡

♡ Words: 2200+ ♡

See part 2 … here

. . .

Bite Me (Midoriya/Vampire!Reader) [Part 1]

You reclined on Midoriya’s bed in his dorm room, fingers plucking at the strings of your guitar to find a good rhythm that stuck. You were technically here for a friendly study session with Midoriya, Iida, and Uraraka, but your bluenette friend canceled last minute so it was just you three. Which, was fine you could still get a lot of work in.

The only thing was, it wasn’t fine. Your eyes drifted from the strings to where Ochako and Deku sat adjacent to you, laughing about something you didn’t care to know about.

Midoriya has barely paid any attention to you the entire time you’ve been here and it was getting on your damn nerves. You frowned, leaning further away from the rays of sun that shone through the slightly open curtains. He always made sure to close them for you when you came over. I guess he was too busy with Uraraka to care.

Not that you couldn’t close them yourself! But that wasn’t the point.

As selfish as it may sound you like to think that he thinks about you. And normally, he does! But when Uraraka-san’s around… not so much.

Why did he like her so much? Was she better than you? Was it because she had a more reliable pulse? Better impulse control? Fuck, now you’re just making yourself feel bad.

While sifting through your bitter thoughts your fingers subconsciously caught onto a good tune, and you closed your eyes, humming to the rhythm and trying to think up some rad lyrics to pair with it. A bit early, but you were never a conformist to basic music composition anyways.

You heard Uraraka giggle and Midoriya chuckled back, the sound making you snap your eyes open and strike a harsher yet kind of nice-sounding chord.

You continued playing quietly to yourself, whispering a few different lyrics every now and then to sound them out and see which ones stuck. As you build a good foundation, you had unknowingly captured the attention of your classmates who finally turned away from the assignment and one another to look at you as you played.

She looks so concentrated! Midoriya thought as he watched you with sparkling eyes, feeling blessed to have been given the opportunity to bear witness to your creative process. He’s always admired you, especially your way with music. And now that you’re properly hanging out as friends more often, he’s written almost an entire notebook about you and your quirk! You were so cool!

Your quirk was very vampire-like in nature. You had increased physical strength and speed, the ability to float, and the more blood you consumed the stronger you were. Not only that but you could shape-shift into a bat! A cute one at that… Midoriya smiled crookedly at that, reminded of the time you fell asleep in class and when Mr. Aizawa smacked a book down on your desk. You got so frightened you poofed into a little bat version of yourself!

He might have drawn your bat form too…

Some might say your quirk was a little villainous, but he didn’t see it that way at all! You’d make a great hero one day, regardless of how er… exotic? Morbid? Your quirk was.

“Wow, Y/N-chan, that sounds really good so far!” Midoriya gushed a little, shaking you from your focused trance and negative thoughts—accidentally pulling the wrong string, making you cringe.

“Oh-uh, thanks!” You blushed, feeling the blood rise to your usually ice-cold cheeks.

“You’re going to make a great artist one day. After you go pro that is.” Deku flattered, freckled cheeks lighting up with the slightest dusting of pink. That’s also when he noticed the weird angle you were leaning to keep out of the light streaming through the curtains.

“Oh no! The curtains! I completely f-forgot, I’m so sorry, Y/N-chan!” He stuttered apologetically, scrambling to his feet to go and pull the curtains shut. You sighed in relief leaning back into a more comfortable position. “You should’ve said something.” He frowned, the guilt clear in his mesmerizing emerald green eyes.

“D-don’t worry about it, Deku. You looked… busy.” You coughed awkwardly, fingers subconsciously returning to strumming across the strings to distract yourself.

To your delight, Midoriya sat closer to you this time. And you shot Uraraka a subtle-yet-victorious glance, to which you were met with her frustrated one. It was almost like there was an invisible bolt of lightning between you, cracking challengingly between two rivals as you shared a familiar look of ‘friendly’ competition. You knew she had a crush on Deku, and she knew that you had feelings for him in turn. Neither of you wanted to step away, both dead set on winning Deku’s affections for your own. Of course, the little green ray of sunshine had no idea about this, but he didn’t need to know.

“Can you—um… c-can you possibly… teach me some things?” Midoriya asked bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes darting from your own now-softer ones and your guitar. Your normally-still heart swelled and beat a few times, your cheeks burning. You felt the excitement bubble inside and you couldn’t help but give him an enthusiastic fanged smile. You didn’t even have time to send Uraraka a bragging look, you were too eager.

“Of course!” You exclaimed, slipping your guitar strap off your shoulder. “Scoot a bit closer.”

A while later you found yourself sitting behind Deku, arms wrapped around him to guide his clumsy hands across the strings of your favorite guitar. He had been incredibly nervous the first few lessons, especially with you touching him like this, but he relaxed once you got him into the zone. Uraraka scribbled away at an assignment to your left, sending you glances every now and then.

For once you weren’t worried about her though. All you could think about was the rough texture of Midoriya’s hands under your own as you adjusted his posture once more.

“Hey, there ya go, you’re getting the hang of this!” You complimented, and he flushed, cringing when his fingers fumbled and played the wrong tune. “You’re fine. You’re a natural, Deku!”

“You think so?” He asked, eyes shiny as they glanced over his shoulder at you. You avoided his gaze deliberately to hide the heat that had risen to your face.

“Mm-hm.” You hummed, trying to contain your excitement as he managed to play a few basic tunes. You were so proud!

“Hey, Deku?” Came Uraraka’s voice out of nowhere. You’d forgotten she was there… Midoriya turned to her, asking her what she needed. “I’m having a hard time with this problem, can you help me out?”

Ochako smiled charmingly, tilting her head to the side in a cute way as her pink cheeks spread with her grin. You scoffed, covering it up with a fake cough when Midoriya gave you a questioning look. She wasn’t that cute.

Apparently, that was an unpopular opinion because Midoriya gingerly returned your instrument and scooched over to the end of the bed to help Uraraka with her assignment. You weren’t saying that she didn’t actually need help, but you weren’t saying that you trusted her either. You knew she was just trying to deter his attention from you and onto herself.

You sighed, standing up from the bed with a look of temporary defeat.

“Sorry, guys. I think imma leave, catch you later.” You announced, and while your back was turned you missed the look of disappointment on Midoriya’s face. You slid your guitar over your shoulder to rest on your back and slung your book bag over your other shoulder. Your green-haired classmate didn’t have much time to say goodbye before you were crossing the room to the door.

“Oh, okay I’ll see you—” the door closes before he can finish. “Later…”

. . .

The next morning you sat on the steps at the entrance of U.A. with your guitar, doing your usual morning fiddling around with a new song. The same one you started the night prior. You’d gotten pretty far, an open notebook with scrawled lyrics and music notes balance on your outstretched knee crossed casually over the other.

You used to do this while waiting for your friends to come to school, perhaps serenade them jokingly as they approached. Even after moving into your dorm, you couldn’t quite shake the habit.

The sun wasn’t ideal, but you had a giant sun hat and the appropriate clothing for being outside in it. Deku usually met you on the stairs anyways so why would you move?

“Hey there, Y/N!” You hear Deku call from behind you.

Speak of the devil.

You turned your head to look over your shoulder, flashing him a fanged smile while your finger continued dragging your pick across the strings. “Heyyy, g’morning sleepy, you’re later than usual.”

He laughed nervously, walking over to sit down on the stairs beside you. Now that you got a better look at him, you noticed how drained he looked, the bags underneath his eyes more prominent in the light of the morning sun. A gentle wind rustled his curly green hair, and his jade eyes reflected the glare of the sun, making them almost glow.

Your cool cheeks darkened and you cleared your throat, eyes darting from him to save yourself the embarrassment.

“Long night?” You asked and he nodded sheepishly. He’d spent most of the night studying with Uraraka who was unusually… enthusiastic? He wasn’t sure how to put it.

“You usually stay up with us. Was something wrong last night? You left… so suddenly.” Midoriya looked to you expectantly, eyes crinkled with concern and something else you couldn’t quite place. You tried to laugh it off in your usual cool, smooth way, playing a bit more enthusiastically in an attempt to sell it further.

“Nah, man I’m cool. I was just… I was just.” Your words failed you when you were suddenly taken back to last night, the stare Uraraka had given you, how jealous you’d felt. So much so that you just couldn’t stand being in the room any longer. The same reason the lyrics of the same song you’d been working on since then were so bitter. You couldn’t help it, really. The way Ochako looked at him sometimes sent your blood way over the boiling point.

It was like a parasite, feeding on your patience with every tiny competition for Deku’s attention until eventually one of you cracked. It wouldn’t be you.

You jumped when you felt a hand on your shoulder and whipped your head to the side to see Midoriya with a sympathetically worried expression, hand twitching on your shoulder. The coolness of your flesh crept through even your sleeves and for a moment he was mesmerized by it. He made a mental note to scribble it down in his notebook later. You felt the frosty sheen of your resolve melt under his touch. Not many had the balls to touch you.

“You were just what? Are you okay?” He asked, not sure if the surprised look of confusion swirling in your eyes as they reflected some of the morning light—even from under the huge sun hat on top of your head—meant that you were going to get angry or not. You didn’t normally respond well to others worrying about you when you could obviously take care of yourself.

“Pssh—Yeah! I’m fine, quit worrying. Wouldn’t want any of your pretty green hair falling out for me.” You chuckled, and his spotted cheeks bloomed a light pink. Did you just say he had pretty hair? You looked away from him and back to your guitar with a newly-lit smile. It was alarming how much effect this boy had on you, being able to cheer you up just by worrying for you. “And uh, if you’re free later…”

“Yes!” You blinked at him as he blurted it before you could even finish your sentence. Did he even know what you were going to say?

“Uh…”

“I-I mean, um…” Izuku blushed madly, realizing that he’d just gotten way too ahead of himself. He must sound so desperate right now! The truth is that he would’ve said yes regardless of what you asked, never the type to pass up the chance to hang with you. “S-sorry, please continue.”

“I was going to ask if you wanted s’more guitar lessons.” You giggled at his embarrassed posture, palm shielding his face from you as it reddened.

“O-only if you promise to train with me!” He blurted out without thinking, eyes shining with emerald stars as he stood up from the stairs.

He couldn’t help it. He’s been wanting to ask you to train with him for such a long time but never knew how to ask without coming off as strange. Your quirk fascinated him, and he still knew so little about it! And what better way to evaluate your quirk than in a fight?

Again you blinked, caught off-guard by his enthusiasm.

Hah, what a fanboy. Can’t blame him though, I am pretty rad.

“Deal.” You grinned, showing off your pearly-white fangs, floating into the air and strumming your guitar as you made your way inside.

#izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku x reader #deku x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #midoriya #deku #bnha x reader #mha x reader #vampire!reader #bnha #mha #bnha fanfiction #blood

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kkruml · 5 years ago

Text

STAY CH 15

A/N: My word. I’ve written about a dozen iterations of this chapter and deleted them all. Nothing felt right, no next step seemed logical or natural in moving these characters to where I want them to be. With some serious hand holding, love, and, encouragement by @abreathofsnowandwaffles, @missclairebelle and @ecampbellsoup I hope I’ve managed to stay true to these characters and this story.

A sincere thank you to anyone out there still reading this story. 9 months is an insane amount of time to wait between chapters so I am really grateful for anyone who still finds this story worthy of their time.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

AO3

Mood Music

Previously

“Ye’ve spent sae many hours scouring my bookcases looking for Laird knows what- this is a better- and more entertaining- use of yer time.”

“More entertaining, you say? For whom, exactly?” Feeling the smile in her voice, he let out a heavy sigh and nuzzled his nose into the curls at the nape of her neck. Her voice was shy as she asked, “Would you show me a few more?”

This just might work.

Slowly, and carefully, he showed her cord after cord. Pausing occasionally as her crude British tongue broke his concentration, he watched her fingers move slowly from string to string. Kissing her shoulder, and feeling confident he had shown her enough cords to pique her interest, he reluctantly disentangled himself from her.

Slowly shuffling to the hall, he turned at the doorway for a final look. He stopped to take her in.

A look of determination set on her face. Her left hand was rotated and gripped the guitar’s neck with purpose. The loose white shirt, his shirt, hung off her shoulder- exposing the faintest of black ink on her shoulder.

Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he swiped the screen and held the phone up. He watched her form come into focus on his screen and hit the shutter button, watching a freeze frame of this moment flicker and disappear.

CLAIRE

Visualize the movement. Breath on the down-stroke. Focus.

You can do this Beauchamp.

Fingers trembled in place as they spread over the strings, stretched and suspended- waiting.

C. G. Am.

Her fingers struggled to steady as she found the last chord.

“Ha!” she exclaimed triumphantly as the strings hummed pleasantly under her fingertips.

“Ye’ll be chargin’ folks to hear ye play before ye know it, Sassenach.” Deep yet playful, she heard his cautiously optimistic tone seep through his breezy banter.

“Don’t distract me,” the words came out but there was no real weight behind them. Just beneath the surface, she could feel- almost touch his eagerness to be near her. He hadn’t broached the subject of sex or intimacy since the accident, save a few small reflexive nuzzles and small kisses into her hair.

And of course- those three words.

They hung suspended between them. An intimacy she never dreamed of and yet, there it was. Since that proclamation, she’d felt shy. Unsure of herself and whatever recollections she lost- and with them the moments between them she couldn’t get back.

She pried her eyes open long enough to see a tautness to his jaw, his stubble lining the curve of his cheek, the line beautiful and potent and all at once innocent. A foreign yet familiar sensation pulsed just below her navel.

All at once, her mind drew vivid images of them tangled in a sea of white. Like the shutter of a camera, flashes of movement filled her vision- her hands locked in his above her head, the motion of his hips against hers, the line of his lip that curled with each pulsation. Feeling like a voyeur into the memories she already had and the dream for the moments she wished to be true, she blinked and looked away.

She’d noticed him observing her for a few days now. At first, he was watching rugby but the volume was a low hum instead of a raucous roar from the living room. Then it was his finding every excuse to meander to and from the kitchen- offering to refill a barely touched water glass or to inquire about a dram of whisky.

Finally he set about cleaning the bedroom or rather, shuffling piles of his laundry from the bed to the chair, studiously inspecting the contents of each garment with great effort.

Her eyes would linger on the nape of his neck, auburn curls kissing the skin as the ripples of muscle flexed under the cotton of his shirt. Like the night they met. A flicker of a memory- or was it a memory? The thought lingered just long enough before fading into the deep like a wave receding from the shore.

Right on cue, Jamie sauntered into the room- whisky in hand.

Eyeing her glass, he paused before uncorking the bottle and splashing a few drops into the tumbler. Setting the whisky down onto the nightstand, he waited. His hand dropped to his side, index finger drumming against his thigh. Every line in his body was tense and unsure, searching for something. His voice was hoarse but warm, “Did ye… need anything?”

Neach-gleidhidh.

Guardian.

Cocking her head to the side, her eyes shifted to his face. Smiling, she said, “You call that a proper pour?”

_________

JAMIE

They were awoken by the melodic whistle of a small Stonechat just outside their window, and the soft sigh next to him that accompanied it filled the room.

Instinctively, he stretched his limbs to the corners of the bed. Feeling her form next to him, he paused. Still hesitant and unsure, he resisted reaching out to her. He felt her warmth, thrumming and inviting. He thought he felt her sharp intake of breath.

“Oh-Jamie!” Soft, delicate fingers reached for him and settled on his forearm with a gentle ease. Her voice, clear and awake despite the early hour, hummed with a verve that pulsed between them. “I saw there was a pick your own strawberry patch just a few towns away. What do you say to a bit of fresh air?”

Her fingertips burned into his skin.

Sorcha.

The sensation was intoxicating. His flesh buzzed with an almost dizzying energy.

She’d resisted leaving the flat for more than her medical follow ups since the accident. A cloud had hung over their flat, a quiet melancholy that melded with moments of comfort. Long stretches of rain cast a shade over the apartment, but this morning was a most welcome hint of spring breaking through.

“Oh,” he started, trying to wrestle with the excitement in his voice. “I suppose I could.”

“I would kill for some caffeine,” her voice was suddenly small, quiet. “Could we stop for a cuppa on the way?”

Small steps forward, lad.

“Aye Sassenach.”

_________

CLAIRE

Where the bloody hell are his keys?

Fingers impatiently swept across folds of material as they searched through his satchel. A solid metallic rectangle shuffled loose and made a thud against the worn wood floor. The screen lit up and her eyes caught the distinctive pattern of a brick wall, a swirl of curls, and white chucks.

The night they met.

The image, his view of her, was staring back at her. Seemingly meaningless but yet, he wanted to take it. To keep it. To keep that snapshot in time, forever.

Her fingers twitched as she carefully picked up the device, trembling slightly as she swiped the screen as a new image came into view. A profile of her shoulder, a mess of curls interrupting the white ivory skin. Peeking through a tangle of brown, stark lines of black wings seemed to dance across the screen.

The heron.

A whisper echoed in the room, a faint but distinctly familiar voice, her father. When in doubt, love, remember the heron.

Carefully, she set the phone back on the table, face up. Watching the screen dim and fade to black, she let out the breath she had been holding.

“Are ye ready, Sassenach?” His voice echoed from the hallway and snapped her from her thoughts.

Ready. Was she ready?

She wasn’t sure. But she needed to get out of their flat.

Their flat.

The thought made her smile, and slowly she felt the tension between her shoulders recede. Shoving his phone and keys back into his bag, she grabbed the leather straps and clutched it close to her chest. With a new resolve, she strode towards the door and into the sunshine.

_________

JAMIE

With a new cup of Oolong in one hand and black coffee in the other he hurriedly made his way back to the car, muttering a few course words for the barista- and the fresh and still steaming stain on his pullover.

This is no’ the time to be mussed up or late… again.

“Thank you,” she said softly, reaching for her tea. Her fingers grazed his and she paused. Like a bolt of lightning coursing through his veins, he flinched but did not draw his hand away. “Though… you were gone so long I feared you had stood me up… again.”

“Och ye see…” he started before he caught the bite of her lip as she smiled. Their second date. “A witch are ye then- able to read my thoughts?”

“A witch- as in green with ruby slippers?” she said with a smirk and fake indignation. Her eyes gazed down at her hand- smooth ivory skin taught the lines on her palm. Her voice softened, “Well no but… perhaps a white one.”

A white witch.

Ban-druidh.

_________

CLAIRE

“Did ye ken the surname ‘Fraser’ isna Scottish?” His voice was wistful, thick with centuries of history behind it.

She paused, watching the sun light his hair in a soft afternoon glow. Meandering through another row of bushes, each step was more tranquil than the last. “Oh wot- no ‘History of Scotland’ lesson today then?”

Letting a most decidedly Scottish grunt speak for him, he crouched down to a nearby plant. Inspecting each strawberry with a nimble index finger and thumb, he turned back to look at her. “There’s nothing more Scottish than yer clan’s history, ye ken.”

She could see the story bubbling from within him. She longed for the lilt of his voice as he expounded centuries of Scottish history. Yearning to hear more yet reticent to seem too eager, she exhaled and gave an exaggerated eye roll for good measure. “Oh aye… And?”

A deep hum rolled in his chest and his lip pulled at the corner, giving way to a heart stopping smile. It took her breath away.

This man.

The cock of his head, the set of his shoulders. The look in his eye. She’d seen that look before. A heady stare, behind it held whispers in the dark and promises made between them in early hours of the morning. A truth between them. A promise.

This man loves me.

He settled back onto his heels, his knees pressed into the soil and his hands resting on his thighs. She recognized the posture- it was the same he adopted when regaling her of tales of his time in France with his brother-in-law Ian, and when settling in with a dram of whisky while telling stories of his time at Uni.

Pulled to him like a magnet, she knelt down beside him. Leaning forward with anticipation, an honest smile spread across her lips.

“Ye see, Sassenach… I am a Highlander- born and bred. But our name ‘Fraser’ is French. A Monsieur Fresiliere came across from France wi’ King WIlliam. ‘Tis a long story, but he took a piece of the Scottish mountains. Part of that land included what became Lallybroch.” His shoulders straightened with pride, his voice dripping with humor. “Even if our tower doesna have a face.”

North-facing tower.

She had studied that one. Had repeated it over and over to herself since he took her to his childhood home.

“Turarach.” She said softly to herself.

_________

JAMIE

Had he not etched that word into his heart as a wee lad, he might have missed it. But there it was- clear as day.

He taught her that word.

He took her home when Jenny had her bairn. They had spent the day exploring Lallybroch, and he had taken her to the broch- or what remained of it. He had painstakingly repeated the word to her, syllable by syllable. And he watched her English tongue stumble over the vowels in a most endearing way.

Clearing his throat, he attempted to collect himself. “Och, aye lass. I see ye’ve kept up yer studies.”

Her eyes widened and a soft shade of blush spread across her cheeks. “Well…there’s only so much Rugby I can watch without taking to your bookshelf for solace.”

Or my guitar.

His heart constricted as he watched her face struggle to maintain composure. “Are ye makin’ fun of me?”

Fighting a smile, she replied, “Oh I would never, Monsieur Fréselière.”

He shifted towards her. “Monsieur is it? I seem to remember ye called me Laird.”

_________

CLAIRE

A memory.

Safely tucked under dark linens and surrounded by the stone walls of his childhood room, she’d had a glimpse into the past. Splashes of tartan mixed with the heat of campfire and starlight filled her vision. In that moment she’d called him ‘Laird,’ and felt the prophecy behind it.

The weight of his gaze burned her skin.The safe haven of that room, the intimacy of that moment filled the space between them. Blinking her way into the present and determined to meet his stare, she countered, “Did I?”

“Oh aye.” The mood shifted as he breathed out the words, an almost palpable energy pulsated between them. A deep purr erupted from his chest, his accent thick. “I felt more whole in that moment than I had in a long time.”

Whole.

The word danced around the corners of her mind. Her eyes shifted from him to the golden hues splashed across the sky. Was she whole? Twisting her wrist for inspection, she felt no sharp pain, just a dull ache from use.

No longer broken.

Now came the recovery. As a doctor she had seen the scans, she knew the rehabilitation trajectory. Yet here, with him, the statistics and analytical journal findings faded from mental view. Here, in this moment, she was simply Claire. With Jamie. Her Jamie. An overwhelming sense of calm washed over her.

“I think I know exactly what you mean,” drawing her gaze back to him, she exhaled contentedly. Instinctively, her hand reached out for his, taking it gently. “Thank you, Jamie.”

“Och, ‘tis nothing lass.” Dirt-stained fingertips pressed into her skin. His warmth encompassed her.

“Jamie…” she started, her eyes lowering to see their fingers intertwined. Blinking hard and tilting her face to meet his, she finished, “I don’t just mean for today.”

An echo of a smile tugged at his lips and he exhaled.

“Dinna fash, Sassenach,” His voice hummed, soft and tender. “There’s the two of us now.”

His words were so simple. But there was something in the blue of his eyes that spoke to the depth of his meaning. Her breath caught as she felt the same weight of prophecy to his words.

#outlander #outlander fan fic #outlander fanfic #STAYfic #jamie x claire

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quickspinner · 5 years ago

Text

My Favorite Inspiration

Here’s my entry for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers event! The prompt was snuggles/cuddles and forehead kisses. I hope you enjoy @blue-bell-rising !

“Oooh,” Luka said, halfway up through the hatch to Marinette’s room. “That’s not a good face.”

Marinette moaned, turned her chair back to the desk, and flopped down on it, burying her face in her arms. “I can’t do this, Luka,” she groaned.

“Well, I don’t believe that for a minute,” Luka said, coming the rest of the way into her room. He slipped off the strap of his guitar case, and laid it gently on the ground, and then went to Marinette, laying a hand on her back and rubbing it lightly. “You absolutely can do it.”

“You don’t even know what I’m talking about,” Marinette grumbled, turning her head enough to peek at him with one eye.

“I don’t need to,” Luka leaned down to give her a cheeky grin. “You can do anything you put your mind to, I’ve seen it. But go ahead and tell me what’s giving you trouble.”

Without lifting her head, Marinette reached out, slapping blindly on her desk for a moment, before her hand finally landed on a loose piece of paper. She grabbed it and held it up.

Luka took it, straightening up to read it, though he kept one hand on Marinette’s back. “Junior Design Contest,” he read, “Sponsored by Teen Vogue Paris.” He snorted. “See? I was right. You absolutely can do it.”

“I can’t,” Marinette moaned, still face-down on the desk. “I’ve been trying for hours. Nothing is working. Everything I come up with is terrible and derivative! Unoriginal! It’ll be so bad that not only will the judging committee laugh themselves stupid at my proposal, they’ll probably pass it around in the industry for laughs and I’ll be blacklisted and then it’ll end up in classes for young design students as an example of what NOT to do and—”

“Whoa, whoa, breathe, Marinette,” Luka reached forward and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “Come on, sit up and look at me.”

Marinette let out a heavy sigh, and then did as he asked, leaning back until she was slumped in her chair and pouting up at him. “Luuuukaaaa,” she whined.

“Hey.” Luka reached down and turned her chair around, and then pulled it back with him to the chaise so they were sitting knee to knee. “Okay, you’ve had your little pity party,” he teased. “But you and I both know that Marinette Dupain-Cheng does not back down from a challenge. Is this contest really something you want to do?”

“Well...yes,” she sighed. “I mean, the derby hat contest was cool but it was pretty small-scale. Teen Vogue Paris, there’ll be hundreds of designs submitted. If I could make the top ten in a competition like that, it would really mean something. But I’ve been so busy, I didn’t find out about it until yesterday, and I really have to crank something out if I want to make the submission deadline. And I’ve been trying but I’ve got nothing!” She ended in a wail, throwing her hands up.

Luka smiled to himself, and took her hands. “Marinette, I’ve never known anyone with a mind that works like yours,” he said seriously, cradling her hands in his. “You’re smart and creative and fantastic under pressure. I know sometimes when you’re on a short timeline, it can feel like you have to get it right the first time and you can’t always let your creative process work itself out. But you need to just take a breath, and let it happen. Forget about the deadline for a little bit. You can’t make a plan to meet it until you know what you want to do. You’re trying to jump to step seven and you need to start back at one. Just let the ideas flow for now.”

Marinette gave him an uncertain look.

Luka moved his hands up to cup her face and leaned forward to kiss her forehead tenderly. “Whatever’s going on in here,” he whispered against her skin, “It’s going to be brilliant and amazing.” He kissed her forehead again, and then her nose. “So just let it come out, give your imagination some room to breathe. Don’t edit yourself. You can sort it all out later.” He sat back. “Will you come take a walk with me, maybe talk it out a bit? I’m a good listener.” They both smiled at that.

“Well…” Marinette sighed. “I guess I’m not getting anything done here, so...sure, let’s go for a walk.”

Luka grinned, and waited while she got her things together and tucked her sketchbook under her arm. He strapped his guitar back on, and together they went downstairs and out into the sunshine. Luka smiled to himself as Marinette took a deep breath by his side. She slipped her hand into his and he could feel some of the tension leave her. Luka laced their fingers together. “Anywhere in particular you want to walk?”

“Anywhere’s fine,” Marinette shrugged.

“Okay.” Luka gave her hand a little tug to get them started. “So, tell me about these ideas that you decided wouldn’t work.”

“Well, at first I thought—“

Luka listened as she listed ideas and dismissed them just as quickly. There was one, though, that she kept circling back to, and the smile on his face grew slowly as her words flowed faster and her step got bouncy and her eyes lit up. “There we go,” he murmured to himself, and allowed a satisfied smile to settle on his face as he concentrated on guiding Marinette through the streets, tugging her around obstacles and out of the way of hazards.

Suddenly he realized they were near the Liberty and had to laugh at himself. He’d led her there automatically. “Think you’re ready to start sketching?” he asked the next time Marinette paused for breath. He nodded to where the boat could be seen in the distance.

“Oh. Oh!” Marinette blinked, just as surprised as he’d been. “Yeah, that would be great actually.” She giggled and Luka grinned.

Rose and Juleka were hanging out on deck, so Luka and Marinette went below and curled up side by side on Luka’s bed. Luka got out his guitar and occupied himself with it as Marinette began to sketch.

“There,” she sighed finally, putting her pencil down and stretching her fingers. “I can work with this. It’s enough for the proposal, at least, and I can keep refining it after submission so that I’ll be ready if I make the first cut.”

“Will you hit me if I say I told you so?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay,” Luka chuckled. “Then I won’t. Even though I totally did.”

Marinette dug her elbow into his ribs. Luka winced away and grabbed her hand, and in the ensuing struggle, Marinette’s sketchbook slid from her lap, bounced off the edge of the bed, and landed on the floor.

“I got it,” Luka grunted, shoving her hands away. He leaned down and reached out one long arm to snag the book from the floor.

“Thank you, Luka,” Marinette said gratefully, but when she tried to take the book, Luka didn’t let go. She looked at him and found he was staring down at the sketchbook.

“What’s this?” he asked, turning it towards her. The pages had flipped when it fell and it was now open to a design for a jacket with a very familiar blue and pink lightning bolt down one sleeve, a scattering of pink and blue stars on the other arm, and triangular details along the shoulders that echoed the shoulder piece of his stage costume.

Marinette groaned, trying to snatch the book back from him. “Oh, no, that was supposed to be a surprise.” Luka let her take it reluctantly, and then slipped his arm around her waist.

“I really like it,” he said quietly, nuzzling her cheek. “Can I see the rest of it?”

“What makes you think there’s more?” Marinette said lightly, and Luka chuckled. He pulled her over his leg to sit her in front of him so he could wrap his arms around her waist.

“Please?” he said, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I’m sorry for ruining the surprise, but I’d really like to see what else you have. It looked awesome.”

Marinette sighed, and pouted a bit, but she opened the book and turned it to the next page so he could see the back of the jacket. It had Luka’s name on the back in pointy letters, and the kitty section mask logo, personalized with a blue horn and his lightning bolt over the eye.

“I was just playing with some ideas for merchandise that I wanted to show you guys,” sighed Marinette, “But I got so into it and started adding all these details, and I decided to keep it back and try to make it for your birthday.” She groaned. “Ugh, now my whole plan is ruined!”

Luka squeezed her tight, and she leaned back against him and let her head fall against his shoulder. “It’s not ruined,” he said in her ear. “I love it, Marinette, I really do. Now I get to be excited the whole time you’re making it. Have you started yet? Can I go shopping with you?”

“I haven’t started yet,” Marinette replied, amused. “And no, if I let you go shopping with me you’ll end up paying for something and I’m not going to let that happen.”

“It’d be the least I could do when you’re going through all this work.”

“I knew you’d say that.” Marinette elbowed him, more gently this time. “It’s a gift. That’s not now gifts work.”

Luka leaned around her and curled a finger under her chin, turning her face back up towards him. “It’s enough of a gift that you even thought enough of me to create something like this, let alone make it for me with your own two hands.” He kissed her forehead tenderly, almost reverently. “You’re going to do great things, Marinette. I’m honored to be even a small part of it.”

Marinette turned red and spluttered, dropping the sketchbook in her lap as she covered her flaming cheeks. “Luka! How can you just say things like that?”

“Because they’re true,” Luka said, grinning, letting her face forward and hugging her close again. “Now come on, tell me more.”

“Well,” Marinette sighed, picking up the sketchbook again and turning back to the front view. “I guess since the surprise is ruined I might as well ask what you’d prefer. Do you like Juleka’s star on the other sleeve? I know how close you are so I thought maybe—but if you don’t like it we could just leave that sleeve plain...I think two lightning bolts would be too much though—”

“I love the stars,” Luka smiled, resting his chin back on her shoulder. “I love that you thought to put Juleka’s symbol on it for me.”

“And for the color of the jacket itself, do you think white, grey, or black? I could do it in blue but I don’t think the details would stand out so much…”

“What were you thinking?” Luka asked.

“Well, I know you don’t wear a lot of white, but—” Marinette went on about the pros and cons of the different choices, more thinking out loud than asking his opinion, but her face began to redden as she slowly became aware that Luka was cuddling closer and closer, curling around her, his chin still on his shoulder, his arms tight around her waist, his chest pressed against her back.

“You’re so amazing,” he said, and the genuine admiration in his voice was enough to render her speechless. Marinette meeped quietly and turned in his arms, burying her face into his shoulder. “Aw, come on,” he teased, moving one hand to rub it along her back. “It’s the truth, I should be allowed to say it.”

“Well, what about you?” Marinette pushed back, looking at him with a determined pout. “Does that mean I get to compliment you until you can’t talk?”

Luka laughed lightly. “Go ahead,” he teased, rubbing his nose lightly against hers. “I don’t blush as easily as you.”

“Oh yeah?” Marinette never backed down from a challenge. She turned to gave him fully and got up on her knees so that her face was level with his. Luka sat back slightly, leaning back on his hands, the amused smile still on his face. Marinette planted her hands on his shoulders.

“You’re a great listener,” Marinette began, “And you’re a great brother. I know you’re always supporting Juleka and watching out for her.” He continued to look at her placidly, though there might have been just the faintest bit of color in his face. She wasn’t sure. “You’re an amazing musician. Kitty Section would fall apart without you.” Okay, that got some definite color, and a slight change of expression, like he wanted to deny that last part. That gave her an idea. She licked her lips and adjusted her position slightly as she prepared her next attack.

“You’re always encouraging everyone around you. You welcomed Adrien when he showed up. You’re always complimenting the other band members and when you have criticisms, you’re so thoughtful about it that nobody minds hearing it from you.” Okay, she was closer to the mark. There was definite color in his cheeks now. “You’re a natural leader and you do it so gently no one resents you for taking charge.”

“Marinette,” he said, looking away. “That’s—“

“True,” she insisted. Time to go in for the kill. “And you inspire me,” she told him, a slow smile growing over her face. “You always encourage me and give me a safe place to create. No matter how stuck or frustrated I am, you make me feel better. You’re kind and selfless and you always know what I need. So I think your mind is just as brilliant as mine, even if it maybe works a little bit differently.” She leaned up and kissed his forehead as he’d done for her, and Luka made an inarticulate noise, pulling her to him so he could bury his now very red face in her shoulder.

“I win,” Marinette said cheekily, giggling as she moved her legs out from under her to settle more comfortably into his embrace.

“You forgot something,” he mumbled from her shoulder.

“Yes?”

“I have Jagged Stone’s personal designer making my birthday present.”

Marinette laughed and put her arms around him.

#quickspins #lovebugs and snakecharmers #lukanette #i am lukanette trash i admit it #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #mlfics #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #all that remains

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zatanni · 5 years ago

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Lukanette September Day 6/7: First Kiss, Second Chance

Their first kiss happens several years after they met.

They’d both loved and lost and grown and moved on, but by some twist of fate (or luck) Marinette found herself attending the same arts Université as her charming what-if. Broken hearts mended, conversations turned into playful banter, and soon Luka and Mari were exploring what could have–no, what should have been.

Z: Art and Songfic for Day 6 and 7. The song I used was May I by Trading Yesterday, which you can find here: https://open.spotify.com/track/72DAOl4TGmp48MvXsLbMR4

I hope you like it!

Fic below the cut!

“Hey, ‘Nette. Did you hear about the music festival next month?” asked Juleka, who together with the rest of Kitty Section, were attending Renommé University for the Arts.

Marinette warmly greeted her long time friend and favorite model. Juleka, after that photoshoot so long ago, had since gained a bit more confidence, and now wore her bangs to frame her face instead of hide it. The simple change did wonders for her modelling, especially on the runway.

“I haven’t, actually. Is Kitty Section joining?”

“'Course we are!” chirped Rose as she sidled up to her girlfriend. Marinette wondered why she even asked. Kitty Section was really gaining traction these days. They were set to release their sixth album this summer. Some days, the members couldn’t even walk across campus without being stopped for at least one picture.

Ivan joined the girls’ excitement, showing off the new platinum white drumsticks he was planning to use onstage.

“Actually…”

A smooth low voice accompanied the familiar arm that draped around her shoulders. Marinette felt the usual tug at her heartstrings and fought to keep her face from filling with red.

“We were hoping you could help us out with that, Ma-ma-marinette. You know, just like always,” Luka chuckled.

With her reply, the whole band cheered and ushered her to their own corner of the common grounds, a small picnic table where they could have lunch and discuss their ideas.

The junior kept his arm securely on her shoulder even as Marinette already agreed to the job. That she’d agree was a given. After all, they were such close friends. Besides, Kitty Section was a delight to work with, they’d always allow the designer creative freedom, much like their idol and producer Jagged Stone always did.

And…

And Luka would be there.

Marinette wasn’t sure how to define what she and Luka were. They were friends, of course, but…

Friends didn’t stay up til the wee hours of the morning having conversations about nothing and everything.

Friends didn’t sneak into your dorm to give you chicken soup, nor stay up all night to care for you when you were sick.

Friends didn’t fix a loose bra strap nor let their fingers linger for one second…two…three wishful seconds long.

No, Marinette thought, as she felt Luka’s piercing eyes look up from his guitar and fall on her as she sketched out new designs.

Friends didn’t do that at all.

…

“Stare any longer and you’ll burn a hole in her head,” Juleka teased, looking up with two gloves stained with hair dye.

Luka raised both his hands in defeat, scattering the band’s sheet music he was working on all over the floor.

“Hey, this is Rose’s place, ya can’t make a mess!” Juleka chided, helpless, as both her hands were filled with purple goo.

Luka grumbled and picked up the pages, making one messy stack on the corner of the coffee table.

“You sure you don’t want to dye your hair again?” She asked, turning back to the mirror.

“How do I ask her, Jule?” Luka sighed, the million-dollar question finally hanging in the air. Juleka would have laughed at her brother had he not been playing such a depressive tune on his guitar.

She followed his gaze back to Marinette, who was sketching happily in the next room while Rose, Ivan, and Mylene occasionally looked over her shoulder.

“You know I suck at words. I’ve been at this for years.”

Luka promptly gave himself a self-deprecating guitar diss and Juleka couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Her brother must have really loved Marinette if he was having such a hard time finding the perfect way to ask her out.

It suddenly occurred to Juleka that the latter part of his sentence wasn’t and exaggeration. Luka really had been at it for years, back since before the whole disaster when Mari got with Adri-that guy. But now that they were attending university and there were no more barriers between them, Luka had gotten even more explicit with his affection.

A smile here, a touch there, a subtle moment where it seemed like Mari and Luka had their own little world stitched between daydreams. Juleka didn’t pretend she didn’t know where Luka would be when he snuck out at night, or when he’d leave practice early to catch her after class. She didn’t pretend to miss the way his eyes seem to drift to Marinette every time the girl smiled or laughed.

Her brother was in love. And he had been for such a long time.

Juleka shoved down the slight guilt from the fact that she’d chosen to support “Adrienette” all those years before when really she should have been supporting her brother, who made Marinette happy in the best of ways.

“You’re overthinking it,” the girl advised, as she slid off the gloves shed used to dye her hair. “You should just do what you always do…you know, what you’re good at,” she encouraged.

“What, be emo?”

Juleka smacked him on the head. “No, silly!”

The girl picked up a discarded piece of crumpled paper, filled with the familiar scratchy handwriting belonging only to her brother. She smoothed it out and held it out to him.

“Ask her with a song.”

…

The night of Renomme’s Music Festival had finally come. Several bands had lined up to play one after the other but everyone knew that they were all really waiting for the final performance by Renomme’s very own celebrity band.

Even the members of all the other bands stayed after their performances to see what the cat-themed personalities would be playing for them today. Over the years, Kitty Section’s style had evolved, with them decking out hit after hit especially since the members all hit university.

The crowd roared to life as the band stepped onstage in black combat boots, sporting the edgiest outfits they had ever seen them wear. Dressed uniformly in leather jackets with their respective masks embroidered on the back in luminescent gold thread, the members took the time to show off their new clothes. For the first time, the members donned masks with black bases and uniform gold accents with their respective designs.

Marinette took a risk with the darker color palette, but the monochrome style change plus the gray-scale and silver recreation of their debut backdrop showcased exactly what Kitty Section was these days: different and evolved, but staying true to their roots. It seemed to have an even better reception than Marinette hoped.

Luka looked over to the side of the stage where Mari was watching. Ocean eyes met bluebell ones, and by the gods, did sparks fly.

He winked, and she smiled, sheepish, as he jumped right into an earth-shattering riff to kick off their performance. They started off with their first and still popular song, the one that that they played on Bob Roth’s segment. But with the skills and experience they’d built up over the years, what used to be the work of a cool garage band turned into a sick track on the same level of Jagged Stone.

The music hall screamed with the sounds of their fans, both students and outsiders alike cheering the all the words in unison, Rose’s once-chirpy-turned-husky voice leading them along. Juleka matched her girlfriends energy, melting the hearts of girls and boys alike with her guitar and back up voice. And who could forget Ivan, with his precise beats and crazy drum fills?

But Luka? Luka was living. The way he banged his head to the music had Marinette worried the mask would fly off, but his energy and passion had everyone screaming even harder as he led the band into their next song, and the next one after that. Watching him rock on with Kitty Section during practice was amazing enough, but it was nothing compared to what Luka was like on stage. He was a marvel. Everyone felt like they were seeing the makings of the next Jagged.

Kitty Section hit their last notes and let Rose's hard vocals ring throughout the gymnasium. There was a pause and then, a loud, thundering applause. Fans were losing their minds, demanding more, more more.

ENCORE! ENCORE! ENCORE!

Sweat was dripping down their faces as they reveled in the crowd's deafening cheers. Through it all, Juleka met her brother's eyes and nodded.

It's now or never.

Marinette's eyes widened as Rose stepped away from her microphone. In her place, was Luka, for the very first time in Kitty Section history.

The crowd was silent, confused, as they recognized the signature lightning bolt on the mask of the lead guitarist as Luka took center stage. He put a hand over his black mask and pulled it to the side, inciting collective gasps from those fans who didn't know him and one small gasp from Marinette.

Wait! This wasn't part of the plan! Marinette thought, almost panicking. She looked at the eyes of the members one by one, but the only one who met her eyes was Juleka. And she was smiling.

Luka’s voice pulled her attention back to him, and he was staring at her with deep ocean orbs so raw with emotion that she could melt.

"This song is for the most amazing person I have ever met. I’ve always wanted to tell you...all this time.”

The crowd exploded with hoots and cheers all curious to see just who the lead guitarist was looking at on stage left, but all Marinette could see was Luka. Luka, looking so vulnerable, so honest and true. Luka, who made her heart sing and dance every moment he was near. Luka, Luka, Luka.

The crowd went silent in anticipation as he closed his eyes and took his first breath to sing.

And there you stand opened heart, opened doors Full of life with the world that's wanting more But I can see when the lights start to fade The day is done and your smile has gone away

He turned to the side, fully facing his heartsong.

Let me raise you up Let me be your love

Marinette’s heart soared, and she stood frozen, entranced by his smooth baritone.

May I hold you As you fall to sleep When the world is closing in And you can't breathe May I love you May I be your shield When no one can be found May I lay you down

Tears welled up in her eyes at his confession. God it was so beautiful, so him.

All I want is to keep you safe from the cold To give you all that your heart needs the most

Luka raised his arm toward Marinette as Rose took his guitar. He was shaking so much he couldn’t play as well, but Juleka smoothly filled in.

Let me raise you up Let me be your love

But his voice delivered his conviction, and Marinette found herself walking onstage, closer to him, as he sang the chorus again.

May I hold you As you fall to sleep When the world is closing in And you can't breathe May I love you May I be your shield When no one can be found May I lay you down

The crowd went wild as he took both her hands in his. This was it. This was the moment.

All that's made me Is all worth trading Just to have one moment with you So I will let go With all that I know Knowing that you're here with me For your love is changing me

The instrumental died down, and Luka touched his forehead to hers, singing the lyrics in a gentle whisper. He was confessing. He was asking for a second chance.

May I hold you As you fall to sleep When the world is closing in And you can't breathe

Ivan hammered the bass pedal as Juleka ramped up her guitar for the key change.

May I love you May I be your shield When no one can be found May I lay you down

Goosebumps appeared on her skin as he concluded the song with powerful vocables, and Marinette...Marinette had never been so sure.

The instrumental faded out, the crowd was stunned silent, hearts so moved by emotion they couldn’t speak.

And Marinette, her heart filled with to the brim with love for him and him only, took the second chance he so freely gave her, and pulled his lips to hers.

_______________________________________________________________________

Z: So...did you guys like it? I decided to combine two days because I couldn’t ignore how well they fit together. So here’s an Art for First Kiss and a Songfic for Second Chance.

They’re all in university here, and yes, its implied that a certain blonde had her heart first. I hope you like it :)

For not the first time, I used the song May I by Trading yesterday/The Age of Information because it’s my ultimate Lukanette song.

Again, find the song here: https://open.spotify.com/track/72DAOl4TGmp48MvXsLbMR4

@lukanette-month

#lukanetteseptember2019 #lukanetteseptember2k19 #lukanettemonth2019 #lukanette #luka couffaine #luka #marinette #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #mlb #ml #mlb2019

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