#i do have a few more drawings for this tiny au in my sketchbook that i never posted | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 3 years

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Would you do a Jean x Reader x Reiner one? The reader felt so betrayed by Reiner being a titan shifter and when he left she felt so confused whether she can loves him or not after finding out the truth. Jean comfort her and they eventually fall in love. Or you can do a modern au one where Reiner cheated on the reader and Jean begin to see his chance with the reader then they both had a relationship. But she still can't forget Reiner. I truly love your writing! Have a good day ! ♥

i was wondering if you could do a modern au jean x reader. where the reader is very stressed for a test of some kind, and jean and the reader end up skipping the test and spend the whole day together instead, where towards the end of the day jean confesses his feelings for the reader. a lot of fluff please if you could i am obsessed sorry by @cj-sparkss

A/N: So i decided to merge those two requests because they fit really good together in my head! I hope ou guys like this! I strongly recommend listening to any song in Halsey's album, Manic while reading.

Pairing: Jean/ Reader, some past Reiner/ reader if you squint

Tags: college!au, art school au, fluff all the way

Warnings: Jean being way too cute for his own sake, seriously

Sketches Of You

Your head was burning.

Your eyes were stinging; tiny little little blood vessels were popping here and there, throbbing profoundly as they merged together, rushing their way to your irises. You didn't know for how long you had been awake, mostly because a few days had passed and you didn't remember falling asleep or waking up on your once comfortable desk chair.

Before you laid numerous books open in different pages, most of the writting they held emphasized by your favorite pastel highlighter. What felt like your lamp buzzed, burning a canary yellow light over the mahogany material of your desk, warming up the spot where your hand used to lay. A pen in your hand was all you could bring yourself to hold with your numb, frozen fingers, the plastic edges of its tube sunk into your skin, carving bumps to mark their spot in your hand.

Wait, oh no, you thought as you looked around this wasn't your dorm, this was the university's library.

The library around you was extremely quiet as you laid face down on one book, your mouth slightly part and your lips dry save for the little ribbon of drool that moistened a line down your right cheek. Only for one more minute, you told yourself, deciding to shut your eyes together just to allow them sometime to rest, ignoring how such request was what had caused you to drift off to such extend in the first place. Stinging tears escaped the corners of your eyelids, signifying how tired and dry your irises had grown to be. Letting out a huge sigh you tried to lift your head, at least this could be an attempt to get your life together for the day.

Your scattered books came to close quietly under your palms, the numerous pieces of papers and notes being tucked messily in between pages, your own fatigue causing you to break your own rules when it came to being as neat as you could with your notes. Another sigh left you as you sank into the back the plastic chair, your books firmly standing on top of eachother and into your palms.

This test was going to end you. You knew it. Despite having tried to memorise all the information that was required for you to even try to get a five -seriously, a five would be absolutely godsent if you could at least get that grade- all you were left with was your brain feeling mushy and muddy without any actual knowledge of the subject you had been studying for. Why on earth was gothic architecture an essential class in your first year in art school was beyond you. Was this university never supposed to let you graduate on top of trying to prevent you getting in for numerous years?

Resisting the urge to scream or pull your hair off your head you decided that it was time to get up, your knees straightening slightly at the your brain's command, only to be sent back into the blue plastic of your chair, your whole body growling in fatigue. Your chest heavied as you let out a whine, bringing your hands to your eyes to scrub away the stinging ache you were feeling.

"You good?"

Your head turned to the direction of the voice maniacally, your eyes shooting wide as you practically ripped your hands off of your face. Looking up, your (e/c) orbs met with hazel ones, little specs of yellow and green stared back at you through thick eyelashes, adorned with a complex of worry plastered on dark chestnut eyebrows.

"Yeah Jean, I'm just studying."

"Oh it's Mr Ackerman's test right?"

"Hm" you hummed in response, another whine coming out of your lips.

"Yeah I remember how that class went for me. He's pretty nice if you get to know him though. I have to submit a few sketches for tomorrow, can I sit with you or were you leaving?"

"No, I'll keep you company, I need a break from whatever.." your eyes wandered at the books in your hands and the numerous note sheets peaking out from anywhere you could lay your gaze on "..this is."

Extending a hand Jean reached out for the head of the chair right next to you, pulling it back in order to let himself sink into the dark blue plastic seat, similarly to you. His lips pushed into a thin line as he looked at you, his cheek puffing up in the action. A hand came to your shoulder comfortingly as another one pulled out his sketchbook from his run down and way too littered with dry paint tote bag.

"Are those for Moblit's workshop?"

"Mhm." Jean confirmed. "You got any 0.8 tipped inks?"

"Yeah, I do."

Setting the leather covered sketchbook on the mahogany table Jean turned his head to you again, pointing his eyes onto the black pencil case in front of you. In response you shrugged your shoulders, your palms shooting up to your eyes once again. Jean's hand grabbed on your case, his long fingers digging through the numerous inking pens and markers that overlapped each other.

"I can't believe you have the Sakura Pens when you know I don't like them." Jean whined, hands roaming through your belongings still.

"Jean," you said, a deep chuckle escaping you in the process "I happen to like them, you know."

"They're yikes."

"You just can't use them correctly."

"How do you use an inking pen correctly. Enlighten me." Jean mocked, his fingers throwing signs in the air to accentuate his words.

Resting his head on his fist Jean opened his sketchbook, swiping through numerous ivory cold pressed pages, filled with inked sketches. Your eye twitched as you tried to keep up with many of the drawings you could spot; you had seen the contents of this sketchbook a thousand times, admiring Jean's skill with ink. His professor, Mister Moblit had one of the most interesting workshops for students who specialised in inks, and you aspired to take his classes in your following year in art school, supposing you could pass your classes this very semester.

"What are you supposed to be drawing?"

"Anything, mostly things that make us feel like they are important to draw." Jean said.

"Oh and library is important?"

"Sasha said you'll be here, so yup. And I want to draw my hands actually "

You clicked your tongue, shaking your head in borderline disbelief. Honestly, if you weren't that bummed about your test and your recent break up you could have laughed at Jean's sly arrogance. Your eyes traveled to Jean, examining his quiet form as he studied his palms. Inevitably your eyes studied them as well.

His fingers were long and tan and harsh to look at, scrapped in most places with tints of Indian ink. They stuggled to manage with your pencil case, his pinkies and thumbs couldn't even begin to fit in the little object and it made you wonder how he even managed to work his inking pens correctly with such enormous hands. Some veins popped from here and there, accentuating his bulky joints perfectly; they run from the back of his palms to his wrist, mingling with more of their blue kind in his calfs and biceps. The occasional blotches of dried paint were decorating them. Even some paint covered hairs spiked as the light contracted his form.

You smiled miscellaneously.

Your own finger traveled without remorse towards them, poking at a few hairs that were littered with paint. By pinching one, Jean shot back in half pain, his brows furrowing in confusion as he stared at you. "Hey, what they fuck!"

"You do that to me all the time when i have paint in my hands!" You half laughed, shooting him a mocking furrowed look as well.

“You’re so cruel!” Jean grinned.

“To pay you back with your own penny right?”

Jean cocked his eyebrow at you, a few lines begging to make an appearance on his forehead. He shook his head a couple of times, throwing a few shaggy strands of hair away from his face, his forehead immediately lighting up as his ashy blond locks overlapped just above his ears. You mimicked him, using a hand to move your feathery bangs away from your face as to not have them intertwining with your vision.

Jean brought a digit to his mouth, biting at the bulky knuckle while wrapping his lips around it to suck at the sore spot, dramatically mourning the loss of one single hair. It made you laugh harder than it should have and you told him off, quickly grabbing his hand by the wrist to pull it further away from his mouth.

"Ew you idiot are your hands even washed!? Don't put them in your mouth!"

Jean's smile faded gradually as he nodded its only reminder remaining in his eyes as they softened with each passing second they looked at you. You bobbed your head to the side, taking in the way he was looking at you and you felt your gut grunting in the anxiety you had managed to drown at one time.

You definitely knew that look.

"So how are you after... The whole Reiner thing?"

When Jean let the sentence out, he instantly regretted it. Biting back the inside of his lip, his teeth dug into his soft, fleshy gum, the tiny specks of spiky under lip hair he had poking through his chin. You could see the regret plastered on his face, yet you ignored it with a sigh, pushing your stern further back into the chair again.

Of course Jean would ask about that. Reiner and you had broken up a little less that a month ago and it was stressful enough to send your anxiety over the roof. Coming home to find him drapped in the sheets with someone else was still burning through your brain like a hot iron, marking the fleshy crevices by piercing your skull.

Jean and you hadn't had a chance to talk about your break up yet; in the midst of it being a spontaneous reaction to Reiner's anathema and your upcoming mid-terms, you had chosen to indulge yourself fully with the everlasting pleasure of delving into studying.

And now, as you tried to utter your awaited words your stomach clenched at the foreshaken memory that you had tried to bury in the depths of your soul, your hands sweating just a tiny bit as you gulped down on some saliva to dumpen your dry throat. Jean's hazel orbs were set on you with curiosity and reluctance, his skin tingling inside his crewneck sweater.

"I mean, Eren told us about it and then we fought on who would punch Reiner first you know."

You oggled at him as he spoke awkwardly, your lashes batting rapidly as a wave of confusion washed through you.

"You don't have to hit Reiner you know, we all make our choices and he made his."

"Ah," Jean sighed heavily "I suppose so. I'm here for you though, you can talk to me."

"You're actually doing an assignment at the moment" you said and pointed your finger onto his sharp nose, giving him a playful push to the side. "No need to talk about my sorry love life."

"Your love life isn't pitiful, don't talk about it like that!"

"It's not pitiful, just sad." You sighed, reaching out to your pencil case. "Just sad."

Your fingers run through the case even though your eyes weren't fixated on the action, your sense of touch working its way to let you know which object you were seeking. The tips of your fingers caught on the thick Posca marker quickly and you locked it in a grasp between your pointer and middle finger, bringing it up through the zip up opening.

"Give me your hand." You ordered at Jean as you clapped your fingers to your palm in a 'come here' motion.

"It could always get better you know." Jean spoke and threw his hand to you.

Slowly the cap was off the market with a snap and you slid it up towards it's butt to pop it on there as to not lose it in any case it feel off of the desk and onto the mosaic floor.

Jean's nose lit up in a faint scarlet and his ears followed right next, lighting up in a deeper shade of the color on his nose which made his hand snap away from you in a matter of seconds. With puckered lips he stared at the corner of the room that was in the opposite direction of yours, his gut drenching him in short tempered anxiety.

"You done painting my nails with the posca pen?" Jean remarked, lips still puckered as he turned to face you. "When's your exam?"

"Three o'clock."

"Wanna ditch?"

Your eyes goggled in his for a second. The luminous morning light that peaked through the library binds fell onto him dearly, caressing a few of his features in a lemony colored mellow way, your gaze traveled into anywhere on his face as you tried to examine his expression while your gut was beginning to churn at the sly thought of agreeing with his query.

Weighting your options wasn't a seriously hard thing to do; if you took the test you were most likely going to fail, but if you didn't take it you'd have to live with the guilt of not even putting the minimal effort in it for a few weeks. But, you had tried so hard to pass all of your other classes so why shouldn't you slack off for one that was bound to end in a fiasco?

You found yourself nodding to Jean before you could actually give more thought to it. His face immediately lit up, ashy blond locks flying over his eyes as he shook his head in excitement. With one move his sketchbook was closed again, left to mourn over the non existent scribbles Jean could have made during all this time he was sitting next to you.

The hard cover protected sketching pages were thrown into to his tote bag once again, the sound of the sketchbook colliding and clashing with a few more objects he had in the bag filling the silent air of the library.

"Put your books in here!" He offered, opening the sides of the tote bag right on front of your face, signaling you to do as he suggested.

By taking a long sigh you took a turn in throwing your books and pencil case in the bag, one object following another on the pursuit of finding their own place in Jean's crammed bag. A shy smile adorned your features as you looked at him, the mischievous little devil on your shoulder smiling proudly at your actions as if you were a high schooler skipping school.

_____

Black Cat was a notorious cafe among art university students for numerous reasons. For example, it featured a decent amount of of beautiful contemporary art that was meticulously merged with the soft, cobblestone-cottagecore-home-during-the-winter aesthetic and all of their tables, stools and booths were artist-friendly to the max. Additionally it played Nirvana and Metallica for most of the day and on top of that they actually had a chunky and extremely cuddly black cat roaming around the store that you often found on your lap during your time there.

Oh, and the batwoman made amazing custom cocktails.

Really was there anything else anyone needed in a store?

The soft tangerine light flickered open as the sun outside started to hide it's shy low lights under the peak of a mountain you couldn't recall the name of, the soft smell of apple pie filling your nostrils as you sipped lightly from your earl gray tea occasionally, stealing a few glances of Jean's focused expression. A knowingly half smile went up to your face as you looked at the scenery outside before fixing your eyes back onto the bright screen of your phone.

Jean cooed in his leathery chair for the upteenth time today, his gaze fixated on the sketchbook on his hands. You had spend last hour in absolute silence; you had decided to roam around in your phone for references for an assigned collage you had to do in Photoshop as Jean had settled on drawing the horizon from outside the window to practice on his perspective while finishing up the sketches he had to submit.

Your day had passed by pretty fast; you had visited an urban side of the town that was flooded with art supply stores and you had delved into every single one roaming around to find any kind of supplies you were short on, or just generally needed. As Jean correctly had said, you are always short on art supplies.

Thus, you had ended up with a bag filled with complementary acrylic colors in tubes of 20ml mostly because they costed a dollar each, and also because as art students you got to receive twenty percent off of all your supply bills. Jean had only bought a new set of watercolors and a few Edding inks and 0.7 tipped poscas, as he was sure he would ruin your expensive Sakura Liners in his attempts to finish his project.

Then you had decided to cram your place for some much needed lunch before heading off to Black Cat to have some tea and coffee while Jean would finish off his last few of the sketches he had been drawing throughout the day.

"So" Jean awkwardly spoke as in to break the deep silence, his thumb pressing over the edge of the page his drawing was placed as he closed the sketchbook carefully "I wanted to ask, because ahem, I'm your friend and I'm worried about you... Do you want to vent about Reiner?"

"Ah, no" you shook your head and fixed your gaze onto the auburn colored liquor in your cup as you reluctantly lift it up to bring it to your lips before speaking "I mean, I got so sad you know. And I haven't gotten over it, of course, I mean I liked Reiner. A lot."

"I came see it in your eyes. But I'm here for-"

"And he's a bitch you know? He could have told me if he was bothered by anything I did or if it wasn't going well for him. I'd gladly work anything out or even break up peacefully."

"You know," Jean sighed, he too bringing his cup of coffee to his lips to take a sip before gulping it down. "My opinion is obviously biased here, but I support you. I've took a psychology class and we were actually delving into as to why some people cheat, there are many reasons as to why it could have happened."

Your heart slightly aches as you looked at him, a few veins in your hand twitching slightly as he continued rambling about all things he had grasped from his class. Your stomach growled angrily in anxiety, warning you to put an halt to your friend's words but you couldn't bring yourself to do so.

Not knowing the reason as to why Reiner had chosen to see someone else behind your back had hurt you beyond repair. Deep inside you still felt the need to get some closure, although with your stress on your exams you had been sure you would most likely give in to anything Reiner would say and this wasn't who you were.

You could go on without having any closure, it shouldn't have mattered so much to you in any way.

And to some extent it didn't.

"I'm hurt, but I'm the other hand I don't really care about anything you know?"

"Mhm, yeah, look at you getting over it so quickly!" Jean said semi enthusiastically. "You need to be able to share your pain in order for it to become small and eventually non-existent."

"You know, for someone who takes such sophisticated classes you talk like you haven't slept in ages!"

"Give me a break, as if you don't."

The two of you burst into bubbling laughter, your chests heaving and falling as the sounds of joy left you one by one. Jean's hand had come to rest on top of yours softly, giving you a couple of squeezes as his eyes squinted in synch with yours.

And then, in a moment that seemed like it was forced out of a coffee shop au fanfiction, Jean's hand rubbed a few soothing circles over yours. Slowly his laughter was begging to set into a silent harmony, the woody brown specs of his eyes providing the slightest tint of warmth into his gaze.

"This is why I love you so much."

The choice of words was supposed to be naive whether it was intentional or not, or that's what you tried to tell yourself because you thought you knew Jean better than anyone. The look in his eyes, the soft upwards curves of his eyebrows, the way his top lip overlapped go bottom one as his eyes glimmered into yours; this wasn't a very casual look for Jean, it was the look he had on when he was looking at something that mesmerised him. And you knew he meant exactly what he had said.

But did you like Jean?

Well, was there anyone who could spend so much time with Jean and not fall for him, even without realising it?

At one time it had become obvious that he liked you, although he'd never act upon it. You knew it in his movements, in the little ways he looked at you or cared for you like no one else actually did while hiding behind the mask of being a friend. Eren had been one to tease him for it restlessly and you had been able to catch upon that too but you had never let it be known that you had been able to see through his facade.

"Forget it I shouldn't even have had-"

With curious eyes you stared back, your gaze never truly leaving him. When he suddenly shook his hand off of yours you found your other hand pressing on top of his, trapping the limb in place as you tried to open your mouth to utter any word. It was still hard to find the right choice of words, ones that wouldn't hurt to be heard.

"Jean... I-"

"No, forget it, it just slipped, shit."

"Look Jean shut up for a second please I want to speak okay?" You huffed half playfully, despairate to stop Jean's mumbling "I know."

"You know?" Jean cursed under his breath.

"Yeah, I do, it's obvious. And I've had this huge crush on you ever since fifth grade you know? I never really got over you because I spent all of my teen years thinking we'd end up together."

You watched as Jean's face lit up at your words, a new glimmer adorning his eyes just as the sky turned a sheer violet as the sun retreated deeper into a non visible horizon.

"And then we kissed in eighth grade and we fought about it and we stopped hanging out because I asked for space since I just could believe what was happening. But we're friends again and it's the best thing to happen to me in years."

You continued, your hand never leaving his while soothing circles were rubbed onto his palm.

"But I'm not going to ask you for space this time."

"You're not?"

"No. Just a little patience. I'm still getting over Reiner and I don't want to be unfair to you and rip you off of something that you might ask from me."

Jean snapped his hand away from yours and you retreated your hands back to yourself shyly, a bitter mouth leaking into your mouth as you tried to swallow it down fast to no avail. Somehow your heart felt a strong stinging, the pulling of your heartstrings at steak while your heart was sprawled before you.

Was that your last chance with Jean? You had told yourself that time and space between you would be right one day, but that day seemed to stray further away now, slipping right off your hands because you couldn't forget Reiner fast enough.

"I'm not fourteen anymore, so don't be afraid about me straying away. I just wanted to show you something."

Jean's worked through the pages of his sketchbook, taking a few seconds before they landed where they wanted to. Flipping the sketchbook to match your point of view, he revealed the sketches he had been scribbling all day. They depicted you in majority. The look on your face as you picked a tube of paint, your hands as they grabbed through numerous brushes and sketchbooks. Even the way you stared at your phone as you sat across him was perfectly sketched on the paper and hatched in indian ink, adorned by Jean's raw drawing style.

"Jean, that's me!"

"Mister Moblit told us to draw things that were personally important to us. So, I hope you don't mind."

Damn, you felt like tearing up.

In the midst of trying to get your stupid heart to calm down from the impossible rhythm in which it was beating at and stating at Jean's sketches so hard that your eyes felt like they'd pop out and any given moment your would felt like setting fire to your whole being while your tears were restlessly trying to put it out. It was even outdated to feel like that about Jean, your younger self told you but there was no way you could help it.

With rivers of tears running from the corners of your eyes you looked up at the hazel orbs that were set on you, feeling your heart want up by their luminous gaze.

"Jean I-"

"Shush, you don't have to say anything. Just let me know if I can hug you."

"I'd love that." You said shyly under your breath.

Next thing you knew Jean had gotten up from his seat and had plopped himself right next to you, pushing your head deep in his chest. The song in the background faded gradually as you felt serenity wash through you, despite your heart hammering in your chest beyond a point you could actually feel it.

And for now all that mattered was that you could listen to Jean's heart beat nearly as fast as yours while his words played inside your head.

Maybe, just maybe time and space between the two of you was right this time.

taglist: @sasageyowrites @levisbrat25 @ackermans-freedom-inc @melancholicmonologue @berrijam @callmepromise @nobody-knows-anymore

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starcrossedkaiju · 3 years

Text

Kingslayer AU: Chapter Eight

I don’t know what to say other than I like this one. Rendog enjoyers come get your free angst!

Scott filled the pages of his sketchbook gradually at first. He sat at his window and drew what he saw, focusing on putting shapes on the paper. Many times he was unhappy with the finished product, almost ripping out and throwing away his limited space.

He had to learn to be okay with it. The next time it would be a bit better, and a bit better, until the tree he’d been slaving over didn’t look half bad.

Soon his interests turned to drawing his friends. Their faces would pop up on his pages, drowned in eraser smudges at first. Then it became easy. Like second nature, he could memorize Grian’s knowing grin, Jimmy’s downturned eyes, Martyn’s slightly crooked nose.

He drew the way he saw Ren’s piercing yellow eyes that night, the way they were shadowed by his brow.

It felt better. To have a place where his memories could stay exactly the way he saw them. Scott even pinned some up on the wall of his room.

Soon his supply of paper started dwindling, Martyn told him if he needed more drawing paper to come back and ask him for some. So he did, after Jimmy went to bed and the world was quiet under the snow.

Scott made a trip to the Renchanting base, entering through the tunnel hidden under the mountain. It took him right to the storage area. Which was dark and deserted. Only a clock ticked on the wall, everyone else must have been in the sleeping quarters or back at their bases to fend off the Phantoms.

He took a torch from the “stuff chest” and started making rounds, looking at each storage container. Food, Armor, ores, wood, stone, and redstone. Until there was a wall of chests with people’s names on them.

Everyone in the Red Army had a chest, from left to right there was Ren, Martyn, Etho, Skiz, Impulse, Tango, Joel, and then Scott.

The last chest on the right side, Scott’s name was carved on top. It hadn’t been there before. He placed his hand on the lock, wondering if he should even bother opening it. Someone had cared enough to dedicate a space for him to put things. Under the roof of Dogwarts no less.

His torch flickered and Scott decided he’d spent too long lurking around, so he flipped the lock up and quietly opened the chest. Slowly so it wouldn’t creek.

Inside there was a single stack of drawing paper. Hand-sewn like the one Martyn had given him.

Scott placed the torch down and retrieved the paper. He knew it must have been Martyn. A smile found its way onto his face, and he let it stay there. This time, when nobody was looking.

Blowing out the torch and closing the chest, Scott gathered the sketchbook and decided to just leave through the front. It was almost midnight anyways.

Up the stairs and to the double doors of the enchanting room. The book on the table rose from its position and opened towards him as he walked past. Scott still had his hand on the doorknob when he opened it and stepped out into the frigid night.

Of course he didn’t expect to see anything, so when he did see something he froze in place.

In the spot that Martyn would typically occupy, on the very top of the walls sat Ren. His grey cape was bundled around himself to keep out the cold and his pointed ears were pressed low on his head. He was facing away from Scott.

Huddled on the perch, Ren’s shoulders were shaking. Silently, he cried.

Scott stood in the doorway motionless. He couldn’t believe the scene in front of him. Ren wasn’t one to cry. He was calculating and smart, rarely loosing his temper to even the worst of setbacks. A humorous man in charge of an Army of vagabonds, he never cried. He never expressed so much as a single weakness, he couldn’t afford that.

So it really shouldn’t have been a surprise, not really, that the Red King would save his sorrow for when nobody should be looking. Under the loneliest arm of the Milky Way, coldly gazing down on him. The weight of every star in the sky on his shoulders.

It made him look small.

Scott backed away from the door and ran back to the tunnel he came from, the kind of running you do when you are convinced your worst nightmare is snapping at your heels; and maybe for Scott it was.

He sprinted home without looking back. Trying to shove the image of Ren out the back of his mind.

That night he crept quietly back into bed, doing his best not to disturb Jimmy. Who stirred momentarily before simply turning over.

Scott stared at the arm of the Milky Way through the window until he fell into a dreamless sleep.

Days pressed by, Scott slithered too and from the walls of Dogwarts under the noses of his allies and between Spy Ring meetings. The first page of his new sketchbook lay empty, because whenever his pencil hovered above that damn page all he could see was a man huddled up under a galaxy of stars that would never return his wishes.

So when he was called out on night watch to the Renchanting base, Scott snuck out with his empty sketchbook held close to his chest. He arrived to a sleeping base, aware that his shift would be over in an hour and he would get to go home when the next guard showed up.

He yawned and stared out the window, at the stars above the wall. A pencil came to his hand and he started drawing what he saw. The shape of the wall against the glowing sky. He drew it, but it wasn’t right. The image in his mind came back to the front.

A weeping man holding a million stars on his shaking shoulders, the end of his frayed cape flaring out when the breeze kicked up. Tiny compared to the infinite sky. Scott’s fingers and palm turned black with graphite as he crafted the cosmos onto that paper.

His scribbling and smudging consumed all his thoughts as he focused on making the scene perfect, the pencil dulled and threatened to snap under the pressure.

“Major,” a stern voice came from right behind him.

Scott seized up in his chair, a feeling of terror so pure exploded in his chest that his vision left him for a few seconds. He gasped and turned around with his jaw on the floor.

Behind him was Ren. Clad in his winter jacket, a hand on the back of Scott’s chair. He stared directly into the other’s eyes from behind the dark lenses of his aviators. All the color had gone from his face.

Hoping the Red King hadn’t seen what he was drawing, Scott moved his hand to close the book.

It was too late. Ren had been watching him draw for long enough to know.

“You saw me?” Ren asked, but it was phrased more like a fact. It was.

Scott’s hesitation was enough of an answer. He stared up into Ren’s glasses, reminded of a familiar time. This time was different though, and this time Scott wished he could see behind the lenses.

He nodded and tore his eyes away, it felt intrusive to be staring.

“Ren,” Scott said to the floor, but was dismissed.

“No. Just go home. Now,” the other man ordered with a wavering voice.

Scott didn’t nod, he didn’t look at Ren. He gathered the sketchbook and slammed it shut within five seconds.

He didn’t say goodbye as he fled the walls. Scott ran from Ren, and this time he felt bad about it.

Scott didn’t return to Dogwarts for a week after that. Nobody called him to the night shift, nobody asked him to run any supplies. Maybe he was grateful for that, in the sense that he wouldn’t have to look Ren in the eyes again.

Until one night he couldn’t sleep. The clouds cast a dark blanket over the sky. Scott huffed and crawled out of bed, not bothering to change out of his pajamas. He pulled his boots on and took his coat off the hanger.

A walk is what he told himself he was going on, but really he knew where he was going. He didn’t know why, but for some reason Scott had a feeling he wasn’t the only one that couldn’t sleep.

This time instead of entering Dogwarts through the underground he rounded the front, cresting the hill right in front of Big B’s house. Scott scanned the top of the wall and saw what he was looking for. He shoved his hands in his pockets and entered Dogwarts through the front door.

Scott climbed the ladder and balanced himself as he walked over to Ren, who was sitting with his legs dangling over the side of the wall. His jacket was pulled tightly around him. Scott didn’t greet him when he sat down, Ren had seen him coming a mile away.

Ren didn’t look at him, he breathed in heavily, then sighed out a burst of vapor into the cold air.

“You couldn’t sleep?” Scott started the conversation this time.

“Wouldn’t matter if I could. I’m on night watch,” Ren said after a beat of silence.

Scott nodded, turning his head to the dark sky, “it’d be nicer with some stars, hm?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Ren trailed off. He stared at his shoes.

“Okay I’m sorry, I’ll just-“ Scott made to get up and leave but Ren interrupted him.

“No, wait, you can stay,” Ren pulled on the sleeve of Scott’s elbow.

Scott nodded and pulled his knees closer to his chest. A pocket of clouds had moved, creating a window that let the moon gaze upon the Earth.

“Do you stargaze a lot?” Ren asked, this time he looked at Scott.

He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses.

“I try,” Scott replied, “there’s this huge book I found uh, In a village library a while ago. It has everything you can possibly see from down here in it,” he mused.

“Have you ever read one?” Scott asked.

“Uh, an astronomy book?” Ren’s eyes flicked to the left in thought, “I mean I’ve seen them. I haven’t read them. You like astronomy?” he asked.

Scott nodded, then pointed north, into the cloud cover, “you can’t see it now, but Ursa Major would be right over there,” he said.

Ren looked over like he was trying to imagine it, “you like Ursa Major?”

“Easiest to remember,” Scott said plainly.

“I’ll bet. S’ like a namesake,” Ren rested his chin on his palm, “I wish I had a constellation with my name,” his ear twitched on his head.

Scott’s metaphorical ears perked up, “Oh well, there’s one kind of like that,” he said. Ren’s actual ears perked up.

“It’s called Canis Major. It means Great Dog, or Big Dog,” Scott pointed south, “it will always be easy to see on a clear day. One of its stars is called Sirius,” he explained.

Ren nodded, “I’m familiar. Brightest in the sky, right?”

“Yeah. That’s right,” Scott replied.

“Canis Major huh?” Ren repeated. Scott nodded.

“Canis Major, and,” he looked over at Scott, “Scott Major,” Ren nudged the other on the shoulder.

“Right,” Scott said, and suddenly the sky didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

Not when you have a friend to share it with.

#listen. hear me out...#the constellation thing was clever okay!!#also Canis Major rises in the winter. I call that poetic #there’s nothing too deep about Scott being Ursa Major other than his name and him being star-born #kingslayer au #3rdlife #3rd life smp #3rdlife smp #rendog #scott smajor #mcyt #mcytblr #cas types

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kjack89 · 3 years

Text

Impasse (Pt. 2/3)

Continued from here.

E/R, Modern AU, former relationship. Slightly heavier angst this time.

Between Grantaire taking a nap and Enjolras getting surprisingly engrossed in the complicated geopolitical reality of the novel he had picked out, they managed to mostly avoid each other for the rest of the day, which was truly an impressive feat, considering that the only other room in the tiny apartment was the bathroom. But after Grantaire had woken up and made himself some instant noodles (Enjolras had already eaten a granola bar while Grantaire slept), he started working on some sketches, and Enjolras knew from experience that the man could lose himself for hours in that.

Enjolras, in the meantime, eventually got bored with the novel and decided to work on drawing up some plans for an upcoming demonstration. It was a comfortable, well-worn silence that stretched between the two as they worked. They had done this many, many times before, though usually Enjolras would punctuate the silence by asking a few rhetorical questions out loud that Grantaire would be unable to stop himself from answering.

There was none of that this time and yet still, the silence was more companionable than either man had managed to be in...well, since they ended this relationship, or arrangement, or whatever you wanted to call it.

Which was probably why it was never going to last.

“I’m going to bed,” Grantaire announced, and Enjolras looked up, blinking owlishly at him before turning to glance at the clock. He was surprised to see it was already midnight, and he shook his head once to try to clear it. “Sure,” he said, “I’ll be there—”

He broke off, realizing in an instant that he had almost automatically responded, as he had hundreds of times before, ‘I’ll be there soon’, followed inevitably by an off-hand, ‘I love you.’

His eyes met Grantaire’s, and he knew in an instant that Grantaire had been thinking the same thing, that his mind too had immediately leapt to all the nights they had spent like this, to the times when Grantaire would come up behind Enjolras and drape himself over his shoulders to whisper in his ear that he was going to bed and that Enjolras should join him, or when Grantaire would simply drop a kiss onto Enjolras’s head as he walked past, or even to those nights when they’d had a fight but Grantaire would show up at Enjolras’s apartment unannounced anyway and let himself in without a word of apology or explanation, because he had never needed one.

But there was none of that this night, and Enjolras quickly looked away, feeling his face color. He cleared his throat, trying to cover what he had been about to say. “I mean, uh, I’m sure I’ll be going to bed soon, too.”

Grantaire jerked a nod and quickly peeled his hoodie off and shucked his jeans before burrowing under the blanket on the couch in just his boxers and t-shirt. “Night,” he said, and Enjolras glanced over at him.

“Goodnight,” he said, though his voice sounded strained to his own ears.

This time, Grantaire quite quickly fell asleep, but when Enjolras finally gave up on his own attempts a work not long after, the same couldn’t be said for him, and he was left staring up at the ceiling for a long time before sleep finally took him.

----------

For the first time in longer than Enjolras could remember, he wasn’t woken by the alarm on his phone, but instead by the smell of eggs cooking. He sat up slowly, and it took him a minute to remember where he was.

Grantaire was standing in front of the hot plate in the little kitchen area, still wearing just a t-shirt and boxers, his tousled hair indicating he hadn’t been up long either. “Morning,” he said through a yawn. “Hope you don’t mind scrambled – we didn’t have a lot of options.”

“Scrambled is fine,” Enjolras said, feeling like the exchange was unusually formal, since Grantaire had made him breakfast more times than he could count and knew that Enjolras wasn’t picky when it came to how he liked his eggs.

Then again, that was probably the reason for the formality.

He had barely managed to sit up before Grantaire handed him a plate, seemingly avoiding his eyes. “Eat up,” he said gruffly. “And be prepared – whoever was in charge of restocking this place after the last riot forgot to get coffee.”

Enjolras groaned. “That’ll make for a fun next few mornings,” he said with a sigh.

“You think we’ll be here that long?” Grantaire asked glumly, and Enjolras just shrugged.

They again lapsed into silence as they ate, and as soon as Grantaire finished, in seemingly record time, he told Enjolras, “Dibs on the shower.”

Enjolras blinked. “Sure,” he said, “that way I can do the dishes since you cooked—”

But Grantaire had already disappeared into the bathroom, and Enjolras groaned and flopped back down on the futon. He scrubbed a hand across his face before sitting up again and finally getting out of bed. “Note to self,” he muttered, “next time you get stuck in a safe house for a few days, make sure it’s without your ex and with some coffee.”

Grantaire took an unnaturally long time in the shower – and Enjolras tried not to think about what he could be doing in there – and by the time he did emerge, Enjolras’s mood, exacerbated by lack of caffeine, had showered. “Took you long enough,” he muttered as he brushed past Grantaire. “Hope you left me some hot water.”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t purposefully sabotage your perfect hair like that,” Grantaire shot back, though he paused, his expression unreadable. “Shame there’s not enough hot water in the world to do something about your face, though.”

Enjolras glared at him. “Same could be said for you,” he said curtly.

Grantaire’s eyes widened, and Enjolras realized a moment too late that he had crossed a line, and he flushed. “I – I didn’t,” he mumbled, wincing, “I mean, uh, that was uncalled for. And mean, even for me.”

To his surprise, Grantaire barked a genuine laugh. “No, it was a good one,” he said, a little grudgingly. “Besides, I set myself up for that one.”

Enjolras managed a tentative smile. “Well, I’m sure you’ll return the favor at some point,” he said bracingly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, this hair takes some time.”

“I’m well aware,” Grantaire said with a smile that was a little too soft, and he quickly recovered, his smile disappearing.

Enjolras slipped into the bathroom, catching sight of his reflection in the fogged mirror. Grantaire hadn’t been lying – his face was a mess, courtesy of the black eye that had swollen overnight to take up almost a quarter of his face. He shook his head and huffed a sigh before getting into the shower and hoping that what remained of the hot water would be enough to relax him and get the weird interactions from that morning out of his mind.

He was mostly right – the hot water did soothe him, and he was in a much better mood when he got out of the shower than he had been going in. But all it took was one look at Grantaire perched on the couch, sketchbook balanced on his knees, and he was right back where he started.

Which meant the only option left was to retreat to the futon and return to his own work and ignoring Grantaire as best as he could.

But his resolve was tested sooner than expected. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet when Grantaire threw his sketchpad down, clearly frustrated. “I need a drink,” he announced to no one in particular, not waiting for Enjolras to respond before making his way over to the cabinet where the liquor was stashed.

Enjolras bit back his automatic response of ‘isn’t it a little early to start drinking?’ because he knew it wasn’t worth it. And besides, it almost certainly wouldn’t stop Grantaire, who apparently decided to forgo a glass and swig bourbon straight from the bottle.

That in and of itself was distracting enough, but it was made worse when Enjolras finally straightened, glanced at the clock and reluctantly asked Grantaire, “Do you want any lunch?”

“Want,” Grantaire repeated, his eyes already glassy. “Want is a peculiar word, don’t you think? Want...desire...and that’s not even getting to what we need, need for life, need for love, need for…”

He trailed off, and Enjolras sighed and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Is that a no to lunch, then?” he asked, a little grimly.

Grantaire blinked as if just realizing what Enjolras had asked, and laughed. “Liquid lunch for me, I think,” he said cheerfully, raising his bottle in a salute.

“Fine with me,” Enjolras muttered, in no mood to put up with Grantaire when he was like this.

By the time he had made himself some cup noodles, Grantaire had all but drained the first bottle of bourbon, and Enjolras arched an eyebrow as he watched Grantaire lurch his way into the kitchen to procure a second bottle. “Normally I know better than to say anything about you’re drinking,” he remarked, “but are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I am stuck,” Grantaire said through gritted teeth as he attempted to screw the bottle cap off, “in a 250 square foot box, with my ex-boyfriend, and no window to the outside world. What’s the worst that could possibly happen?”

As if to emphasize his point, the cap came flying off of the bottle and ricocheted across the room. Grantaire looked vaguely surprised before he almost doubled over with laughter.

Enjolras wished he was remotely as amused. “Fine,” he muttered, “but I’m not cleaning up your puke. Again.”

“You say that now, and yet…”

Grantaire trailed off ominously before swaying his way back to the couch, where he plopped down with a sigh. Enjolras shook his head but went back to work, or tried to, anyway, until Grantaire decided to start monologuing.

“I am thirsty,” he announced, taking a large swing from the bottle. “I am thirsty, and yet I drink. Is this not a conundrum? And yet, maybe what I’m thirsty for isn’t more to drink. But why drink at all, if not to satisfy thirst for something?” He flung a dramatic hand across the back of the couch, hitting the cushion with a thwack. “I drink to forget life, to forget every cruel twist that brought me here and that makes me go on still. What’s even the point? Day in, day out, we wake, we work, we sleep, we do it all over again. If I wish to make some indulgences in between, whether food or drink or fucking, who can blame me?” His eyes rolled over to Enjolras, and a small smile lit his face. “Well, you can blame me. You, with your perfect morals, and perfect fucking hair…” He trailed off before shaking his head again. “But us mere mortals aren’t like that,” he said with a sigh. “The people you fight for? They’re much more like me. Is that why, then? Save the cheerleader, save the world, or whatever? Though forgive me for casting myself as a cheerleader in that little parable, such as it is.”

He took another swig of bourbon. “Men are fucking trash,” he said. “Humanity, really. Might as well wipe us all out and start over. Maybe we’d do it better. Maybe we’d make every fucking mistake all over again. But one thing’s for sure, we can’t keep going like this. Not when it’s broken. Not when all I want is to put it all back together again but it’s in five thousand pieces and all I’ve got is chewing gum and an overwhelming sense of futility.”

Enjolras sighed and rubbed his temples. “I have never in my life met someone who loves the sound of his own voice as much as you do,” he said tiredly, and Grantaire just grinned lazily at him.

“Who else would love my voice if not me?” he asked. “You used to, once, or maybe you didn’t – I can never be sure.”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras sighed, really not wanting to get into this now, especially with Grantaire like this, but Grantaire ignored him.

“‘Course, maybe that’s why things ended the way they did,” he mused. “Maybe this is how it was always supposed to be. Or maybe—”

Whatever other option he was going to present was cut off by him tipping forward off of the couch. “Grantaire!” Enjolras half-shouted, jumping to his feet and rushing to Grantaire’s side. He turned Grantaire over and let out his breath in a huff when he saw Grantaire still grinning up at him, a little dazedly. “Jesus Christ, I thought—”

He broke off when Grantaire reached up to cup his cheek with one calloused hand. The touch was so gentle, and so familiar, that despite himself, Enjolras leaned into it. Grantaire searched his eyes for a moment before telling him, “I think...maybe you were right.”

“About what?” Enjolras asked.

“This isn’t a good idea.”

Before Enjolras could respond, Grantaire surged forward, kissing him. Enjolras was so surprised, he didn’t pull away at first, which Grantaire clearly took as an invitation, his mouth opening against Enjolras’s with a sigh, his hand cradling Enjolras’s cheek like it still belonged there.

For one extremely tempting moment, Enjolras almost let him continue, his baser instincts arguing that there was no harm, that they had done this so many times before, once more couldn’t possibly hurt.

And he was probably right.

It wouldn’t hurt him.

But he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it would hurt Grantaire. Which was all he had been trying to avoid in the first place.

So despite how much he really didn’t want to, he caught Grantaire’s wrist with his hand, and he pulled away. “I am right,” he told Grantaire, as gently as he could. “This is a bad idea.”

“But those can be the best kind,” Grantaire told him, his eyes dark.

Enjolras shook his head. “Not this time.” He stood and reached down to help Grantaire to his feet. “Not like this.”

Grantaire made a face as Enjolras pulled him to his feet. “If this is because I’m drunk, let me remind you, that hasn’t always stopped you in the past.”

“It’s not just because you’re drunk,” Enjolras told him. “Even though you are, and if I let go of you, you’d fall over again.”

“Calumny and lies.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Grantaire’s head lolled against Enjolras’s shoulder as they shuffled toward the futon. “Bed,” he agreed, his eyes fluttering closed. “I like bed.”

“I know you do,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire cracked one eye open. “I like bed better with you in it.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I am, as always, impressed by your dedication to shooting your shot at the worst possible time.”

“It’s the only kind of shot I ever want shot at you.”

Grantaire’s voice was suddenly very small, and very serious, and he sounded more sober than he had at any point that day. Enjolras swallowed against the lump that rose unexpectedly in his throat. “Well,” he said roughly, “you don’t have to worry about that in here.”

Grantaire looked relieved, and he curled up on the futon, his eyes fluttering closed. “Good,” he murmured. “Then let’s stay here and never leave.”

Enjolras laughed lightly, automatically reaching out to gently stroke Grantaire’s hair like he had done a million times before. “You won’t be saying that tomorrow when you wake up with a hangover and remember that we have no coffee.”

Grantaire waved a dismissive hand without opening his eyes. “That’s future Grantaire’s problem,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Enjolras laughed again. “It sure is,” he agreed. “Now get some sleep.”

He turned to go, but Grantaire caught his hand. “Enj—” he started, his voice breaking. “I miss you.”

Enjolras swallowed again before carefully detangling his hand from Grantaire’s. “I know,” he said, his voice so low he was pretty sure Grantaire probably couldn’t even hear him. “So do I.”

>>Read part 3 here>>

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #les miserables #fanfiction #modern au #former relationship #but how former is it really #reconciliation #ish

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massivedrickhead · 4 years

Note

bechloe tattoo shop au? Beca gives Chloe a tattoo?

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

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

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

Read on AO3

------

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

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

“I have a consultation appointment,” Chloe said.

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

“Chloe Beale,” Chloe said.

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

“Yeah,” Chloe said.

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

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

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

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

Jesse laughed. “Thanks, Beca.”

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

“Yeah,” Chloe said.

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

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

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

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

Chloe nodded and followed Beca into the shop.

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

“No worries,” Chloe said.

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask what it’s for?”

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

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

“That’s cute,” Beca said.

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

She was distractingly attractive.

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Chloe said.

“Where did you want it?”

“My ribs,” Chloe said.

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

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

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

“I’m sure,” Chloe said, laughing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Happy?” Beca asked.

“Yeah,” Chloe said. “I love it.”

“Anything you want to change?”

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

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

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

“Here we go.”

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

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

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

Beca laughed. “Liar.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My next one?”

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

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

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

“Mhm,” Chloe replied, jaw clenched.

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

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

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

“I’m good down here,” Chloe said.

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

“You still with me?” Beca asked.

“Sure am,” Chloe said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s awesome,” Chloe said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

After hours of tattooing, Chloe was finally done.

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

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

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

“Yeah, of course,” Chloe said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can drink by Saturday then?”

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

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

“Sounds like a lucky girl,” Beca said.

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

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

“You can be.”

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

#bechloe #bechloe au #bechloe prompt #bechloe drabble #drabble #prompt #au #beca #chloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #Beca x Chloe #Pitch Perfect #otp prompt #pitch perfect fanfic #pitch perfect fanfiction #pitch perfect au #fanfic #fanfiction

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shypandawrites · 3 years

Text

New girl (Twilight au Witch x Edward)

WARNING: this will be crap but I like writing so let me know what you think and Thank you!

I hope you enjoy it!

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

Walking into the damp forest was relaxing to me, I hugged my hoodie closer to me as a gust of wind blew past me, sending chills down my spine.

“A little chilly isn't it?” I remarked to myself as I continued to walk in the forest from my house. I listened to the birds sing as I stepped over roots and hopped over a little stream before I stepped onto the gravel. Glancing around I was confused to see that I was in front of someone's house, it was a couple of stories high with glass and wood covering the sides, in front of the house were a couple of fancy cars. Oops, I went farther than I intended, I pondered to myself as I turned around and walked back home, humming along the way.

Once I stepped through the door I could hear my dad doing something in the kitchen, so I crept closer to the doorway and peeked in to see him placing a black pan of something on the counter with smoke coming off it. “Not go as planned?” I asked, wandering over to inspect the damage. Did it look like some kind of meatloaf? My dad laughed as he turned to open a window to let the smoke out.

“No, it didn't. How about I order some pizza?” He grabbed his phone and started looking up pizza places near us. Got to love my dad when there is nothing to make pizza will always be the answer, not that I would complain of course. “Sure! Pepperoni please.” I picked up the pan with an oven mitten and dumped it in the trash. “And I won't ask what this dish was ok?” I joked, putting it in the sink for later. He just laughed and started calling around.

I walked past him to go to my room upstairs to unpack more of my things, listening to music as I do. Once I was unpacked I glanced around my new room and then grabbed my sketchbook I had thrown on my bed while I unpacked and went to the window seat I had in my room. It was one of the reasons my dad chose this house, that and how deep into the forest it was. We liked our privacy. Flipping to a new page I started to draw the view outside my window. Drawing always seemed to calm me down or relax me. Soon I finished that drawing and then started to draw the house I walked to.

Just as I was finishing it my dad hollered up the stairs that the pizza was here. “Yay!” I giggled, hopping up from the window seat. I go to the kitchen to see my dad setting the plates on the tables for us. “Thanks, Dad,” I said, munching down on a slice before putting it on my plate with another slice.

He just laughed at me and got a couple himself. “Walk anywhere fun?” The house I saw popped in my head but then I shook my head, going back to eating my pizza. “No.” His eyebrows went up but then he dropped the subject. “Ok, then are you excited about starting school tomorrow?” That made me smile. “Yeah, actually but it seems that a girl named Isabella Swan is starting school tomorrow as well. I heard some of the people talking about her at the gas station. She’s the sheriff's daughter.” I said, as I ate the last of my pizza and went for another.

We ate with jokes about the move and after I washed the dishes, I went back up to my room and played some music as I doodled on a page. Wasn’t long before I headed to bed and woke up to my alarm blazing from my phone. After shutting it off and getting ready for the day I came downstairs to grab something to eat before heading to school. I wasn’t surprised to see my dad already making breakfast before his day starts. “Hey, kiddo.” He said as I came into the kitchen to see him putting some scrambled eggs on two plates.

“Hey, I can at least make some easy eggs.” He joked putting one of the plates on one side as I got the juice and poured us some. As I put them down we sat and ate. When we finished the plates went in the sink and I grabbed my keys and hugged my dad before driving to school.

I played some music as I drove, as soon as I got to the school a group of people was around a brown-haired girl who looked a little uncomfortable with the attention. That must be Isabell Swan. I hopped out of my car and easily walked around them as they fussed over her. Getting my schedule and directions to my classes was easy enough. I was a little late to my first class but that was because I got a little turnaround.

Once I knew I was at the right door, I knocked and opened it to see an older man at the front of the class that turned to me with a smile. “You must be the new student Luna ?” I nodded and walked over to him as the class went silent and stared at me as I handed the teacher my schedule. “Well, welcome, I am Mr. Varner and welcome to Calculus. I hope you’re good at math.” He joked then turned to survey the class. “You can take the seat next to Edward.” He waved at a boy in the very back with an empty seat.

“Ok.”

Ignoring the stares and some glares that I was confused about I sat down and nodded to the ‘Edward’ I was sitting by and looked straight as the teacher continued the lesson. When the teacher was asking people to answer the big math equation he had on the board, I figured out the answer and wrote it down as the guy next to me answered it correctly.

The class went on like that, and each time Edward would answer some of the girls would turn and stare at him. I wonder why they keep staring? Can’t they tell that it is annoying him? Taking a moment to look at him I could see why people would stare at him. He is very handsome and some might think beautiful but even the beautiful don’t want to be stared at for long.

Just as I was thinking that he turned his head to look at me and I ducked my head and turned away. That was dumb of me, I shouldn’t have stared! Focusing more on the lesson, I wrote down each answer, and when the bell rang I handed that to the teacher. He just laughed and then handed me the math book. “I’m so sorry about that.” I waved it off. “No, it’s fine Mr. Varner. But how would I get to.” I paused to look at the schedule again. “History.”

As I was asking him, he looked behind me and smiled. “Why don’t you have Edward show you the way,” he suggested, and Edward upon hearing must have stopped and stared at me. Feeling his eyes dig holes into my skull cause I didn’t turn around made me feel like I wasn’t worth his time. “No, it’s fine I’ll find it somehow.” I lightly giggled, taking my schedule back and walking around Edward as he stood aside from the door. Wouldn’t want him to hate me.

After a few trials and errors, I found my history class. This teacher was a nice lady with glasses, after giving her my schedule back she asked me to sit next to a girl named Alice. I liked her spiky hair. She smiled and I couldn’t help but smile back, not looking her in the eyes. I took my seat and listened to the lesson while writing down notes. Halfway through the lesson the teacher Mrs. Wilcox stopped and turned to me. “If you need help catching up I’m sure anyone would love to help you.” It was funny seeing Alice’s hand shoot up. “I can help her if she has any questions.” Her cheerfulness is nice, she seems like a great person to know. “Well ok then, if you have any questions just ask Alice then.” She said as she went back to her lesson.

“Alice,” Alice said, putting her hand out to me with a smile. “Luna,” I whispered, shaking her cold hand. The instant my hand touched hers my mind went blank as her life went through my mind. I let go of her hand and nodded to her before looking upfront and sifting through her memories. She can see the future? Neat. I smiled to myself as I was glad to not be the only one who is not normal.

When the bell rang I got up to go to my next class when I felt a hand grab my shoulder. I jumped back a bit at that, jerking to look at who it was before dropping my gaze at who it was. “Oh, sorry I thought you might need help finding your next class.” Alice smiled. She is nice. “Sure, my next class is art.” “This way!” she said, walking in one direction, Hurrying after her I kept up as she kind of danced the way, it was interesting to see someone dance walk.

Reaching my class I turned and thanked Alice before heading in. “No problem.” Watching her dance away was funny. And she is so tiny. For some reason, that class went by fast which I was sad about cause I liked Art. As soon as the class was over I asked Mrs. Bloom where my next class was English with Mrs. William. When that class was over I asked the teacher for directions to the lunchroom and after she told me I went and got some lunch and sat at an empty table next to another in the corner.

Just as I sat down and pulled out my sketchbook to draw as I ate, I saw Isabella at a table. She seems to like it here. Going back to a drawing of the lunchroom I heard a girly giggle. I saw it was just Alice with a guy who looked like he was in pain. I wonder if something happened. Seeing others come through the door I watched as a beautiful blonde and a big guy came and sat down at the table I was next to.

Alice waved at me which made me duck my head as the others turned to me. I never ate that fast in my life. Throwing my garbage away I went back to my seat and was finishing the drawing of the lunchroom when someone came over to me. “Hello.”

“Hi,” I said, without looking up. “No need to be rude.” the person scoffed and walked off. “I wasn’t,” I whispered, a little hurt. Motion to my side caught my eye, and after glancing over to the table with the beautiful people, I looked away as I saw Edward seeming to glare at me. I thought back to think if I offended him somehow and I couldn’t think of any.

Maybe I’m just destined to be hated for no reason. Getting back to my drawing I finished it and put my sketchbook in my bag as I grabbed my schedule again. “Late again.” Alice’s voice made me glance over to see a medium-built guy sitting down breathing hard, clutching his tray. “Shush Alice It’s not my fault the teacher is a devil to me.” He defended himself, as he began to eat as his life depended on it. His dark brown hair swayed as he chatted with Alice.

Looking away from their table I looked at the schedule to see I had Digital Media next. But where would that be? I could ask Alice but Edward seems like he doesn’t want me near them, judging by the glare he hasn’t dropped when he looks my way. I gave up as I picked up my backpack and started for the door.

I wasn’t watching where I was going, cause the next thing I know I bumped into the back of someone. “Sorry!” I hurriedly exclaimed, quickly walking away and out the door. I walked aimlessly around until I finally found the class. I entered right as the bell rang and got a seat at the very back. The seats next to me were empty until someone got up and sat next to me. “Hi, I’m Asher.” A voice said to my right. Peeking over I saw it was the guy that was sitting with the beautiful people. “Hi.” I nodded, seeing the teacher come in and hand out the tablets that we plug into the computers.

It wasn’t long before we’re drawing something in photoshop. As I was drawing I felt a hole digging into the side of my head. “Did I do something?” I whispered to them since the teacher was walking around. “Oh, no I was just wondering if you were going to tell me your name. You did bump into me at lunch.” He chuckled, turning back to the computer. My face started to burn as I ducked my head to hide my face. Stupid! Of course, he would want to know your name. So he can call you out on it.

“Luna. And I’m sorry for bumping into you I didn’t mean to.” He simply shook his head. “Luna then, it’s fine. I was going to tell you it was fine but you were gone before I could. My sister did tell me to be nice to you though.” I stopped drawing to peek at him again. “Your sister?” “Yeah. Alice?” I felt my eyes go wide. She is his sister?! “Alice is your sister? But you don’t-” “Look alike?” He laughed softly. “Well, that is because we are adopted. All of us are.” Ah, that’s cool! “So everyone on that table is adopted?”

I went back to drawing on the computer as he was silent for a moment, probably thinking of if I am worth his time. “We are but some of them are together.” “Together?” I questioned as I added the finishing touches and got ready to send it to the teacher’s email. Just as I did he leaned over to see what I drew. “Wow, that is good!” “Thanks.” Leaning back so I don’t accidentally touch him and see his mind. No one wants their mind invaded.

He soon realized that he was too close and backed up sheepishly. “Sorry.” I just shook my head. “You were talking about them together?” It was a little funny seeing him go from sheepish to beaming. “Right. Well, Alice, I’m sure you met Jasper the curly blonde one.” I thought back to the one who looked like they were in pain. “And Rosalie the beauty is with Emmet the huge guy.” “They do look like a cute couple,” I commented, with a little smile.

“Right! They make a lot of people jealous. It's quite funny to see.” He laughed a little too loud cause the teacher came over. “Need help, Asher? Luna?” I shook my head, pointing to my screen that showed that I sent my work to him already. “No Sir I was just chatting with Luna, since we are both done I just have to send you my work.” I stared as his tone went from happy to monotone. It was weird.

Mr. Turner simply nodded his head and went back to walking around the room, helping people. I glanced at the clock to see it was almost time for the class to end. Pulling my bag into my lap I waited. “Why don’t you look at people?” I heard Asher ask, he had turned to me. I felt my body freeze. Think of something! “I ah I have this fear of looking people in the eyes.”

He looked like he didn’t believe me but then shrugged. “Alright, that would explain it I guess.” Before he could ask more questions the bell rang and I jumped out of my seat. “Yeah. Bye!” I answered, walking out the room before he could catch me.

Marching through the halls I tried to get to my last class while not hitting anyone. I almost collided with the blonde beauty Rosalie around the corner. Barely missing her I apologized and went to my last class Social Studies. Once I got to the class I headed straight for the back seats in the corner. Glad that no one sat next to me. That joy went down a little when I saw Asher enter the classroom but he didn’t seem to see me as he sat at the front.

The teacher Ms. Simms welcomed me in the back to which I just waved and sunk into myself again. “And if you need any help I’m sure someone is willing to help.” She smiled as she walked to her desk and sat down. I didn’t need to look to feel someone staring at me cause it was answered when someone sat in the chair next to me. “You are fast you know that?” Asher jokes, getting his homework out to do as I already was finishing the English assignment I got. “Sorry,” I mumbled as I put the finished paper in my bag and brought out my sketchbook.

“No, It’s ok I’m a little nosy, sorry about that.” Shaking my head I hid a smile. “You’re fine anyone would want to know about the new people they meet right?” His face beamed. “Yeah. But it’s nice to have someone to talk to. Some of my friends only wanted to be my friend cause they wanted to get closer to my siblings. And cause you’re new and you don’t seem to want to get close to them I thought it might be nice if we could be friends if you’re ok with that.” He is cute. I'll give him that. My lips turned up as I held my hand out to him.

“A friend would be nice.”

“Great!”

I kept my little smile on my face as his memories came flooding into my head. “And it would be nice to have a guide around the school. I can’t count how many times I’ve lost my way.” I tried to joke which worked by his laugh.

Chatting with him came easier after that. We spent the whole class period talking while he worked on his homework. The bell rang as we were putting our stuff away and we walked out still chatting, it wasn’t until we got to the parking lot that we had to separate.

“Hey is it ok if I talk to you when you get to school tomorrow?” He asked as he was turning to go to his family, not parked far from us. “Sure.” He then turned back and grinned. “And sorry about my family I know they are weird with how happy Alice is and how Edward looks like he...Never mind.” I nodded, taking a step closer and patting his shoulder, and whispered. “It’s ok don’t worry about it I know it takes a bit for vampires to get used to being human again but it’s nice to see them being happy that way.”

I didn’t need to look up to see his face drain of all color as the muscle under my hand went stiff. “What did you say?” “Well, they are. And I have to go bye see you tomorrow.” I said as I headed to my car, now feeling multiple eyes digging into me. I started my car as there was a knock on my window. I jumped startled to see Asher panting at my window. “Catch your breath.” My hand went to roll down the window and he took a few deep breaths before looking at me as if he was going to plead.

Right as he went to speak my phone went off. Picking it up I saw that my dad messaged me not to forget the cheese at the store before sending over the whole list. Dad why? I turned back to Asher seeing Edward and Emmett coming over and that did nothing to help my heart. “Sorry Asher I have to go I’ll talk to you tomorrow bye.” Putting my car in gear I drove off as he stood there with his brothers.

Calming down my heart wasn’t easy but I did it. I know they were probably going to just ask me not to tell anyone. Not like I would but still, seeing two people walking over with mean expressions is not something I would wish on anyone.

I found the store pretty easily. And was getting what was on my grocery list when I saw a beautiful lady reaching for the top shelf for a sauce. “Would you like me to get that for you?” I asked, not wanting to be rude. She turned and her golden eyes smiled at me. “Yes if it’s alright.” I shook my head, trying not to hug her as I reached up and grabbed the sauce she was reaching for. I gave it to her and she thanked me and we went our separate ways, only to meet up in the parking lot.

She was standing outside her car looking defeated. “Did something happen?” I approached her, seeing some keys in the car with her holding a different pair of keys. “I left my car keys in the car. And I only have my house keys.” She explained as she continued to look defeated. “Do you have someone to come pick you up or someone to come pick up the car cause if so I can give you a ride home?” I offered, seeing that made her look at me.

“I wouldn’t mind but are you sure?” At that, I gave a small smile not looking her in the eyes. “Yeah, I don’t mind if that’s ok with you miss…” “Esme.” I smiled at her this time. “Then Esme I wouldn’t mind driving you my car is this way.” I pointed as she was texting someone, before looking at me. “Ok then, one of my boys will come to get my car since he has the keys as well.” We walked over to my car and filled it up with our groceries. Getting in the driver’s seat I followed her directions to her house and to my surprise her house was the same one I walked to.

“Beautiful house,” I commented as I helped her take her groceries in before heading back to my car. “Would you like to stay for a bit?” Esme asked, and I don’t think I could say no to her, she had a motherly aura around her. “Sure just let me take my groceries to my house. It’s surprisingly close to yours.” She grinned. “Oh, you must be our new neighbors.” I nodded getting in my driver’s seat.

After putting the groceries away I put on my hoodie and walked over to her home and knocked, she greeted me and waved me in. Her home was stunning and spacious, it even had a piano! I sat down in one of the high chairs as we talked about the weather and our hobbies. It was nice talking to Esme, I shook her hand and felt sad for what she had to go through but she is happy so I can’t be too sad. It was refreshing to talk to her. I even got a snack from her.

It’s nice to see the vampires are happy with living among humans. As I was taking a sip of the tea, she made me, I felt a prog in my mind which usually lets me know when someone is trying to read my mind or that something is coming closer. “I’m sorry to ask this randomly but what is your last name Esme?” She paused her snack-making and smiled at me. “It’s Cullen. Dr. Cullen is my husband and we have this home with our kids. They go to forks high, you might know their names.” She started to count on her fingers. “Alice, Jasper, Rosalie, Emmett, Edward, and Asher.”

Just as she said Asher’s name a car engine cut off outside. “That must be them.” I took another sip from my cup as the Cullen clan came into view. The instant Edward saw me he started to glare. But when Alice saw me she skipped over to me and hugged me. “Hi, Luna.” “Hello, Alice.” They all seemed shocked by this but me and Alice. “I see you met.” Edward continued to glare as Asher just looked at me with pleading eyes. “Yeah, we met.” He then turned to Esme. “She knows.” “Of course I know,” I said as Esme’s face turned sad.

Alice let go of me and just stood next to me, when Jasper went to walk over to her she shook her head at him, looping her arm through mine. “You do give off the vibe of not being human you know,” I commented, shrugging as I turned back to grab my cup only to see Edward in front of me. I kept my head down as he stared me down. I finished my cup and hopped off to put it in the sink when he finally spoke.

“If you tell anyone.”

“You will kill me?” I tilted my head at that thought. “Well, then go ahead.” He was taken aback at that. “No?” glancing to see him back up a little I walked around the counter and put my cup in the sink. After I rinsed it out, I quickly washed it and put it on the dish rack.

I turned to see them all still standing there, and only Asher breathed. Seeing Alice still smiling at me made it seem funny. They were all ready to kill me but it seems she didn't. “Esme?” Walking over to her seemed a little nervous but then gave me a sad smile. “Is it alright if I come over tomorrow? I would like to try that tuna snack you were telling me about. If that’s ok if not I won’t.”

I waited for Esme to answer as a bouncy bunny came over to me and hugged me again. Does she have no fear? I wrapped an arm around her little shoulders. “You’re calming.” Her cheerful voice seemed to bring everyone back to the present. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Asher sitting down on one of the high chairs, watching us all.

“I would like it if you came back,” Esme said, walking over to us and placing her hand on my shoulder. “Ok,” I smiled at her before taking my arm from Alice and headed out the door. I didn’t make it a few steps on the gravel when someone grabbed my arm.

Turning back I saw Asher with Edward and Emmett behind him. “Hmm?” I tilted my head but kept my eyes closed. “Where are you going?” The grip on my arm was warm so I knew it was Asher who was holding my arm. “Home,” I said, simply taking my arm out of his grip. “Then can I walk you home seeing how it is getting dark?” He is sweet. I ruffled his hair and shook my head. “I’m ok, see you tomorrow.”

Without another word I smiled and walked back to my house past some trees. Stepping inside I was greeted with the smell of smoke. I held in a laugh as I went into the kitchen. “What happened this time?” I asked, opened the windows as he put the smoking pot on the counter. “It was soup since it looked chilly outside.” He defended himself. “Would you like to try again and let me help?” I laughed as he nodded in defeat.

I found a different pot and started helping him make the soup while cleaning the other one out. Even taking the trash out, I came back in and we ate, joking about it.

After we got done eating he insisted on doing the dishes so I went to my room and looked over my homework to make sure it was right and when I was satisfied I pulled out my sketchbook and started to draw before it got late and I went to bed.

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Any feedback is welcomed ! and yes I know it was bad but I'm trying.

#twilight #Edward Cullen #Witch x Edward #Shypandawrites #Twilight AU #Edward cullen x reader #New girl #Twilight imagine #Witch

44 notes · View notes

thatsamericano · 3 years

Text

Knotted Up and Undone

Pairings: America/Romano. Human AU.

Rating: Teen, but only for cursing.

Warnings: Allusions to gender dysphoria. This is mostly fluff.

Word Count: 1280

Summary: Alfred didn’t learn how to tie a tie from his father. Savino didn’t either, but luckily he learned later, and he’s there to help Alfred figure it out.

A/N: Inspired by @luca-talia‘s sketches of trans America with Romano. Will be posted on AO3 soon.

“Vinny, can you help me with something? I kinda don’t know what I’m doing right now.”

Savino frowned to himself as he went over to his roommate’s bedroom door and curled his fingers around the doorknob. The last thing he needed to deal with was Alfred in any state of undress. The first time Alfred tried to take off a binder, he’d panicked because it was so tight he had a difficult time removing it on his own, and Savino had to help him. Alfred hadn’t wanted anyone to see his naked chest, so he’d been horribly embarrassed by the whole thing, even if Savino was trans too. He’d immediately gone online to order a binder in a bigger size so he’d never have to deal with that problem again.

Out of respect, Savino had avoided looking at Alfred’s chest as much as possible that day. But the tiny glimpse he’d gotten of Fredo’s bare back before he pulled on a t-shirt was far more arousing than it should have been. He’d had a stupid, horribly inconvenient crush on Alfred for several months now. It had started before Alfred had even come to terms with himself and was still presenting as a woman, but it had gotten worse after Alfred opened up to him about how he was questioning his gender identity. Since he started presenting in a more masculine way, Alfred was much happier and more confident. He was free to be himself in a way he hadn’t been before. And every time Savino helped him with something related to his gender or presentation (other than the aforementioned binder incident), Alfred would give him a huge, blinding smile with obnoxiously blue eyes twinkling at him with gratitude. Anyone who saw Alfred looking at them that way would have fallen in love with him at least a little.

Savino slowly pushed the door open and was simultaneously relieved and disappointed that Alfred was fully dressed. He was holding a tie and staring down at his hands like the strip of cloth was an extraterrestrial object he had never seen before.

Savino walked closer to Alfred and took the tie out of his hands. “You don’t know how to wear a tie?”

Alfred shook his head. “Nobody ever taught me. My dad taught Mattie, but not me.”

Savino draped the tie around his neck, underneath his shirt collar. “The first few times I wanted to wear a tie, I had to get Feliciano to help me. I practiced with videos on Youtube until I could do it myself. I can send you the links later.”

Alfred was giving him that warm smile again. “I appreciate that a lot, Vinny.”

Savino swallowed heavily and prayed he wasn’t blushing too much. It was difficult to focus when he was standing so close to Alfred and when he was looking at him like he had performed a miracle just by agreeing to send him some Youtube links.

“Okay, I’m going to do a four-in-hand knot on you today. It’s the most basic one, so it’s the easiest to learn.” Savino went slowly, just like the men had in those Youtube videos, and he explained the process of looping and knotting a tie step-by-step. He kept his gaze firmly set on the tie, because he knew he would lose concentration entirely if he glanced up at Alfred’s handsome face. Hell, if he looked at Alfred too much, he’d probably end up doing something ridiculous like tying his fingers into the knot.

By the time he was drawing the knot up to the base of Alfred’s throat, Alfred’s breathing had grown noticeably more labored. When he looked up at him, Alfred was still smiling, but his face was redder than he’d ever seen it.

“How long have you been wearing your binder today?”

“It’s not the binder. I think it’s you standing so close to me.”

Savino’s fingertips were tingling as he pulled them away from Alfred’s shirt. “What?!”

“You’ve helped me out so much, dude. From giving me a haircut when I was too nervous to go to a barber, to helping me shop for stuff in the men’s section, and right now when you did this tie for me. And just like emotionally, with navigating all the transitioning stuff. I don’t know how I could’ve made it this far without you.”

“I was just trying to be a decent fucking person. I wanted you to have support from someone who’s been where you are right now.” Savino had supportive brothers and a supportive grandfather. And while he was grateful that his family had been good to him, they didn’t always understand him and the difficulties he went through in his day to day life. They were cis, and being seen as male had always been so much easier for them.

“I know. You’ve been a really great friend to me.” Alfred smiled at him, with the same gratitude as before, but now there was a hint of nervousness in those gorgeous blue eyes. “It’s just, I, umm… wanna be more than just a friend to you.”

Savino felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Now, he was the one who found it difficult to breathe, and he hadn’t worn a binder since he had top surgery. “Fredo, I—”

“You don’t have to feel the same way!” Alfred was anxious, and he started babbling. “I mean, I totally get it, ‘cause we’re roomies, and you might not even be into me like that. And I’ve never been in a relationship before, so it’s not like I’d know what I’m do—”

Savino figured the only way to shut up Alfred up was to kiss him into silence. So he gently tugged on his tie to pull his face down towards him and leaned up to kiss him.

At first Alfred froze, releasing startled puffs of air against Savino’s lips. After a couple seconds, he wrapped his arm around Savino’s waist and hesitantly kissed him back.

Savino broke the kiss and dropped back down onto his heels. “You don’t have to tell me it’s okay to reject you. That isn’t what I want.”

Alfred was beaming at him full force and bouncing a little on his feet. He’d thought Alfred’s smile was blinding before, but now Savino was wondering if he actually needed to wear sunglasses indoors.

“Dude, I am so happy right now! I’ve never been kissed before!”

Savino was surprised. “You haven’t?” Alfred had always been so good-looking. Surely, someone would have wanted to kiss him long before now. But maybe he hadn’t wanted to kiss them.

Alfred shook his head. “Nope! I’m glad it was you. I really like you.”

Savino smirked and rose up to brush a kiss over both cheeks. “I really like you too. Good luck on your job interview.”

Alfred checked his watch. “Oh shoot, I completely forgot about that! I better leave if I want to get there on time!”

He hastily grabbed a suitcase and started heading towards the living room. Savino trailed after Alfred and watched as he rushed out the front door.

“See you later, Vinny!” he called over his shoulder. “Love you!”

The door slammed shut, and Alfred was gone before a flustered Savino had a chance to reply. Savino’s next words were spoken in the empty silence of their living room.

“Ti amo.”

Alfred would be back at the apartment in an hour or two after he was done with his job interview, and Savino would have a chance to tell him that in person. But for now, Savino picked up his sketchbook and started drawing until his roommate returned home.

#hetalia #transtalia #they're both trans guys #romerica #hws america #hws romano #hws south italy #aph america #aph romano #aph south italy #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fanfiction #hws fanfic #hws fanfiction #aph fanfic #aph fanfiction #tw gender dysphoria mention #original post

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violetwolfraven · 3 years

Text

Peace and Joy

@spot-king-of-brooklyn I’m your secret Santa! @newsies-secretsanta

You said your favorite ships are sprace and/or javid and you’re good with pretty much anything so I’m gonna write two separate vaguely holiday-related oneshots in the reincarnation AU. Don’t worry though nothing heavy, just fluff. No COVID because I’ve had enough of that dude and I say so. Enjoy! Happy Holidays!

Tw: referenced past period-typical homophobia.

...

Spot couldn’t remember being this happy... ever. Not in the early 1900s or in the early 2000s.

Well, the closest he could think of was 1902, when he and Race moved on from being newsies and from being leaders of their respective boroughs and rented that old apartment in Brooklyn together. But that had been muted by the need to be careful. They couldn’t be normal young people in love because they always had to hide.

And that was fine at the time because it was expected. It was them doing whatever it took to be together not knowing they’d ever get the chance to do it another way.

Now, in the bright, beautiful, forward-thinking 21st century, they could be safe. They could be in love without fear of the consequences. They could go out Christmas shopping together, and Spot didn’t know if that counted as a date, but it kind of felt like one as he watched his boyfriend bop a little to Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You as he looked around.

He ended up having to look away before he started blushing too hard. Even if he wasn’t the King of Brooklyn this time, he still had a bit of a reputation as a stone cold badass. For all he knew, one or more of their more mischievous friends could be spying on them right now. And besides, this thrift store probably had stuff he could get the few Brooklyn kids who’d come back, too.

He was still deciding if Hotshot would think it was funny if he got him a tank top that said ‘hot stuff’ on it. The others would find it funny, but Spot honestly wasn’t sure if it would make his former second uncomfortable.

“Hey, Spottie, ya think my little brother would like this?”

Spot turned back to see Race holding up a bright purple worm on a string, but a giant version of one. One that was big enough to be a scarf.

“Knowin’ your family,” he admitted, “I think any of ‘em would be happy to get one of those.”

It was true. Honestly, the most sensible Larkin brother was the second-oldest, Crutchie, but Spot could still see him proudly wearing a worm-on-a-string-scarf to school after winter break ended.

Besides him, Medda, Race’s mom, tended to embrace whatever unique fashion choice she could find. And Jack, of course, didn’t let being the oldest of four stop him from being a theatrical little shit who liked drawing attention to himself.

And Romeo was somehow even more eccentric than Race, so he would definitely like that thing.

Race grinned, “I’m gonna get Ro a worm scarf for Christmas.”

“Your family is ridiculous.”

“Thank you. So, what’re ya gettin’ for Denton?”

Oh, shit. Spot had completely forgotten about getting anything for Denton.

He really should get something for him. After all, the teacher hadn’t even known Spot when Jack asked if he could stay with him. All he’d needed to know was that Spot needed a place to hide from his terrible parents and couldn’t stay with the Larkins, mostly because Medda had a strict rule about her boys’ partners sleeping over unless it was absolutely necessary. (it was also because Spot couldn’t think of anyone he’d want to live with less than Jack Kelly, but Denton didn’t really need to know that, did he?)

So far, Spot’s parents hadn’t shown any signs of missing him, and Spot couldn’t decide if that hurt or not, but it barely mattered anymore.

Because Denton didn’t really have any rules beyond ‘do your homework’, ‘take a shower occassionally’, and ‘if you leave the house, let me know where you’re going.’ He helped Spot pick out a Halloween costume, let him spend Thanksgiving with Race, and gave him money for Christmas shopping. He was fine with Spot being gay and having a boyfriend, even if there was an added rule with that of ‘you can’t have the door closed if you’re alone in your room with Race.’

He gave Spot space, but also made it clear that he could come to him for anything he needed help with. He never hit him, never pushed when Spot wanted to be alone, never even raised his voice unless they were in an already-loud room and he needed to get his attention.

In short, in only a few months, he’d become the best adult Spot had ever had in his life. He wasn’t his father, but he was closest thing Spot had ever gotten to a dad.

The Denton they’d known in their last life had been kind of like that, too. He’d helped as best he could whenever one of the newsies got into trouble, always being there for anyone who needed him since Kath first introduced her new reporter friend to her newsie friends. Of course, Spot hadn’t been living with Denton then, so he’d never really thought about it.

“What do you even get a middle-aged man for Christmas?”

Race shrugged, “Power tools?”

The idea of getting Denton power tools was so ridiculous that they both laughed.

“Uh... he’s a writer,” Race pointed out, “So... fancy pens?”

“Fancy pens? We’re at a thrift store, Racer.”

“Well we don’t gotta stay here forever. There’s a Barnes and Noble across the street.”

He wasn’t wrong about that, but Spot wasn’t sure about the whole ‘fancy pen’ thing. It seemed a little generic.

“Yooooo! Spot, check this out for Jack!”

He was holding up a bright blue sketchbook that said ‘Sketchy Bitch’ on the cover.

“Oh yeah, ya definitely have to get that for Cowboy.”

Spotting (no pun intended) something else on the shelf behind him, Spot grinned.

He had the perfect thing to get for the man who’d taken him in.

...

“This is gonna be so fuckin’ awesome.”

Davey snorted, “You’re way too excited ‘bout this, Jackie.”

He loved his boyfriend, but he had a tendency to get overenthusiastic about things.

Well, he loved that about Jack, too. And he loved being able to call him his boyfriend, now. That they didn’t need to hide this time.

He and Sarah had both been a little worried about their parents’ reaction, but it had turned out to be for nothing. They’d each gotten a t-shirt with their respective pride flag for the first night of Hanukkah, and Jack and Kath were always welcome to come over as long as at least one parent was home.

Davey loved Jack just as much in this lifetime as he had in his first, but it was different, not having to hide it. It was good different, but definitely different. Being able to be who they were and be in love and knowing that it was generally frowned upon to be homophobic now, at least where they lived.

And being able to do random shit that was romantic and fun as hell, but not something would even occur to most people to do.

After a sleepy conversation once Crutchie, Race, and Romeo had fallen asleep watching White Christmas (which Davey appreciated for the choreography in the dance numbers) one time about how there weren’t really any Hanukkah movies, Jack had collaborated with Kath to write a lesbian Hanukkah musical romcom to post to YouTube.

Objectively, it wasn’t that great. It was good for a movie made by a bunch of high school juniors, but they couldn’t afford good cameras or microphones or anything. Plus, it was appealing to a very niche audience, so Davey doubted this movie would get more than twenty views.

Still, it meant a lot that Jack was so excited about it, that he was working so hard on props and editing in the lighting and music for it so Kath and Saz could play Jewish lesbians fake-dating at a holiday party who fall in love. It was cute.

“It ain’t gonna win any awards,” Jack admitted, “But I think we’s got somethin’ good here!”

“We do,” Davey agreed.

Was he actually talking about the romcom starring his sister and her girlfriend? Partially. It was a pretty good movie for something produced by teenagers.

But they had something good there that wasn’t on the screen of Jack’s laptop, too.

Jack seemed to share those thoughts, with the way he was smiling.

“What’s with the look, mi amor?”

Davey rolled his eyes as the other boy put his arm around his waist.

“Like you don’t know, love,” he chuckled, “Remember the last time we did somethin’ like this? And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.’”

“Shh,” Jack shook his head, “Nope. We don’t talk about the latkes incident.”

“You mean when you almost burned down our tiny little kitchen trying to—“

“We don’t talk about it!”

Davey laughed. It was funny, how Jack couldn’t, in any lifetime, cook anything more complicated than like... chili or stew. While he could make something edible, he couldn’t make anything that was really considered good.

“Davey, love, luz de mi vida, it was literally over a hundred years ago, so stop. Bringin’. Up. The. Latkes. Incident!”

He punctuated the sentence by hitting Davey with one of his mom’s throw pillows.

“Okay, Jackie, I get it! Stop hitting me!”

“Fine,” Jack grinned, “I ain’t almost burned down a kitchen in over a century, babe. I thinks that’s a good record to have.”

“Most people never almost burn down a kitchen,” Davey pointed out, “I know I—wait, did you just call me ‘babe’?”

Jack was definitely not meeting his eyes to try to hide how he was blushing, “Uh... is that okay?”

Davey smirked. Jack didn’t get flustered that often, but it was adorable when he did.

And even if he had almost burned down their apartment, it had been cute back then, how he’d tried so hard to try to do something nice for Davey for the holiday season. It was cute now, too.

That was one thing that hadn’t changed through the decades, he guessed.

“It’s definitely okay, babe.”

...

“Spot, is this a... ‘Best Dad In The World’ mug?”

“...if you cry, I’m outta here.”

#newsies #newsies secret santa #btw i’m sorry i wrote in a nod to wormsies #i couldn’t help it #sprace #javid #javey #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #jack kelly #davey jacobs #reincarnation au #fluff #violet’s writing

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bruh-haikyuu · 4 years

Text

A/N: Iwaizumi domestic AU!! I am here to quench your Iwaizumi Hajime father-of-three thirsts.

On another note: Haikyuu manga ends today :(( Guess who’s gonna fucking DIE. Anyways, this manga has left so much of an impact to me, I feel like it’s already imprinted in my heart. Thank you so much to Furudate for making such a wonderful story, and may their stories flourish! I’ll still make content though, I’m really waiting on that new light novel and the second cour of the anime pspsspsps 👁👁

ménage. | iwaizumi hajime episode 1 – haimish.

summary: in which your oldest son is about to begin elementary school, but your husband misplaces the documents while in a frenzy.

word count: 2215

warnings: manga spoilers!!

(adj.) homey; cozy and unpretentious

At seven and four, Kazuki and Isao were at the age where they couldn’t keep their messy doodles confined into the sketchbooks you’d bought for them.

The first victim to their mischief was the wall in the kitchen beside the door leading to your backyard. It was a small parade of animals, with streamers and party hats. Tiger-san with his jagged crown, the dainty family of rabbits, and the hefty Bear-san (“No, Mommy! That’s Cat-san!” your second oldest had huffed indignantly at the clutter of crayon circles) who was at the very front of the entire crew. Your boys were lucky enough that it had been you who’d walked into their little streak of artistry. An understanding glance had been enough, seeing that you probably weren’t so different back then. You’d clean it up with a secret trick your mother had taught you and everything in the Iwaizumi household was back in business. Easy-peasy.

But had it been Hajime who’d encountered their mess... let’s just say you wouldn’t hear the end of the boys’ shrill wails until the next week.

Unfortunately for you and your trusty washcloth, Kazuki and Isao’s artistic escapades didn’t stop at the kitchen wall. Next, it was the floors, the windows of the entrance and even on the door to your bedroom (with a side of elephant stickers that you’d admit were pretty cute). Thus, it didn’t take very long for your husband to finally be faced by their “little” temperament. And not very long for the boys to be faced by their father’s wrath.

But there was simply a stubborn rock settled somewhere in your sons’ heads—they get it from Hajime, you’d kept telling yourself—and for simply the reason of being boys in their early youths, they kept on drawing. Everywhere. Anywhere.

At least the both of you were thankful enough for Hina-chan. Still a tiny ball of warmth curled up cozily against in your arms, Hina was the youngest and the only daughter in your modest family of five. And the least likely source of your daily hurdles.

“By the time Hina learns to hold a pencil, should we just introduce our home as an art gallery or something?” Hajime had asked you rather comically after seeing the colorful family portrait Isao had drawn in one of his reference books.

Though Kazuki, your first child, was completely aware of his responsibilities as an older brother, it was concerning enough that he still hadn’t let go of his childishness. He was seven now, and in a few months, delving into April, he’d be in first grade. Maybe he was simply rowdy in nature... who knows? With a gruff husband like Iwaizumi Hajime, anything was possible.

Elementary school... you pondered, gazing softly at your family in the living room. Hajime cradling Hina in one arm while he and the boys cheered wildly at the service ace that was displayed on TV. How exciting.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

“Remember to ask for ‘Ichimura-sensei’, alright? She was the teacher I talked to when Kazuki and I checked the school. She’ll know the details I asked her about in the last meeting so you just have to give her the application form.”

Hajime suppressed a chuckle at your adamant ramble. “You’ve only been telling me this all week. I won’t forget, you know.”

“Sorry,” you sighed, bouncing your sleeping daughter in your arms. “I just want to make sure nothing goes wrong. This is our firstborn we’re talking about.”

“Trust me, Y/N,” he smiled. “It’ll be fine.”

You could only nod quietly. Was it the maternal instinct within you that was acting up? It all felt too soon, too quick. If you blinked, Kazuki would’ve already gotten married already... You weren’t ready for that.

But the least you could do was get used to the changes that were going to happen around the house. Starting with this.

“You’ve brought the form with you, right? You didn’t forget it?”

You felt bad that your husband was being held up at the entrance to your little home, but it couldn’t hurt to be just slightly careful. Unclasping his bag, he scrabbled through it, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry, I’ve put it in a folder here last night, so there’s no way it would—Eh?”

More rummaging.

“Hajime, is everything alright?”

He was pulling things out of his bags now. 2000-yen bills, crumpled receipts, his packets of protein shakes, Hina’s diapers. But no application form. Nothing.

“I-It’s not there.”

“Huh?!”

“H-Hold on, I’ll check our bedroom,” his voice was in the least reassuring tone he could muster and you felt your heart drop a million feet into the ground.

Why would this happen now of all times? The document was already filled and sealed with your inkan*, payments documented, crucial information written on that single sheet of paper. Crucial information you couldn’t afford to fill in twice... and it was missing?

You really didn’t want to think about how today was the last day to submit applications—

“Kazuki!!” Hajime’s thunderous voice cut through the silence.

A tiny echo of pattering footsteps and Hina shifted against your chest but did not wake. You were thankful enough; anymore ruckus and your sanity would snap.

Yawning, your eldest scratched his dark bedhead and sauntered over to his father who fisted a sheet of paper in his hand. “Daddy, you’re too loud...”

Putting the paper onto full display, your eyes nearly bulged out of your head at what was on it.

Had the form always been so... colorful? You could barely see any writing on it, covered by the persistent doodles your son had scrawled over. Mixes of hiragana he’d been practicing, completed with small side drawings—Anpanman*, some horses and a purple paddy field. All in all: it was a mess. But it was clearly the form you’d filled in. And it was clearly Kazuki’s mess.

Hajime scowled, the space between his eyebrows wrinkling. “Did you do this?”

“...No.”

“Well it couldn’t be Isao or Hina, couldn’t it?” he seethed. “Don’t take me for an idiot. Isao’s been having playdates all week and Hina can’t draw yet. What did I tell you about drawing outside of the papers and books we gave you, huh?!”

“B-But I was just trying to help!” Kazuki exclaimed. “You and Mommy are always so busy taking care of papers. So I thought if I helped you write in it... you’d come and play with me again.”

Suddenly, a lump rose in your throat. You were always so busy taking care of Hina and Isao and their immeasurable demands, and your husband was either at work or out playing volleyball with the neighborhood team. You wondered how lonely it was for him the entire week you were taking care of the registrations.

How lonely it was, despite being surrounded by so much people.

Your husband, however, was completely unfazed. “Go to your room.”

“But Daddy, it’s not—!”

“Kazuki.” Each syllable he drew out sent a shiver down your spine. In a split second, the Iwaizumi household’s living room grew cold. “Go. To. Your. Room! Put your arms above your head and keep it that way until I come back!”

As if on cue, the waterworks emerged.

“I hate you, Daddy! I hate you! You never listen to me!” and that was the last thing you heard from the tear-streaked boy before he stumbled through the hallway, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

“...Mmn,” Hina roused, her tiny button nose flaring, and you instantly knew what was to come. Oh no...

Sighing in defeat, your husband crossed his arms and ambled back towards you and the bawling baby in your embrace. Pressing your lips together, you mumbled to him. “You could’ve been a bit nicer to Kazuki. Now look what happened.”

“He’ll never learn his lesson if I don’t get strict,” he said, the guilt crossing his eyes. Swimming. Settling. “I’m going to go ahead to the school before they close for the day. Ask if they’ve got anymore forms I can fill in there.”

You nodded, hands coming to rub gently against your daughter’s back as your husband kissed your forehead—a daunting ritual you did before whenever he left the house.

Then, he bent down to softly coo at the red-faced infant. “Hina-chan, how about a kiss for Daddy before I go?”

The result: Hina only cried louder. Repelled by the sudden change in volume, Hajime scratched the back of his neck remorsefully.

“I get it, I get it... I’m the bad guy today,” he rustled. “I guess I’ll be off now. I’ll leave the house in your care, Y/N.”

You smiled at him, your hard-working husband with a weak spot for your little family. “Be careful, Hajime-kun.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, you were left to your terror again. A crying seven-year old, a crying baby, and if all the noise were to wake up Isao from his afternoon nap... Geez, what a mess...

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Hajime really felt like he knew this guy somewhere... High school? A volleyball match? That refreshing aura wasn’t really difficult to tell apart, either...

“You’re number 2 from Karasuno High, ain’tcha?”

“Uwaah... Seijoh’s Iwaizumi Hajime...” Sugawara twinkled, the grey cowlick on his head standing up straight. “The atmosphere of an powerful ace really is hard to miss.”

Hajime blushed. When was the last time someone called him a ‘powerful ace’? He had you to call him that whenever you were feeling nostalgic, but otherwise, that label was a shard of the past.

“Sugawara-san, right?” he recalled. “You work here at this school?”

The man chuckled. “Yep! I’m a teacher now. How about you, Iwaizumi-san? What are you up to here?”

“Oh, I’m looking for Ichimura-sensei. I want to talk to her about the registration for my son.”

Sugawara shook his head for a moment before replying.

“Unfortunately, Ichimura-sensei is out with the flu. That’s why I’m covering the weekend shift for her. You can just give the forms to me, and we can look over the terms and conditions.”

What luck, Hajime thought. But at least having this guy around wasn’t going to be as bad of an experience.

“Ah... about that...” he started. “My kid drew all over the application form and I don’t remember making any copies. So, would it be a problem if I did it again right now? Me and my wife are in a bit of a tough spot at the moment.”

By the grace of God, Sugawara said, “I don’t think it’d be a issue. Let’s go to the office and discuss it together. Before that, can I ask for your ID, Iwaizumi-san?”

“Ah, yeah, sure, let me just get my wallet...” filing through his bag, Hajime rifled through the stacks of paper, looking... searching... And when he got to his wallet: “Huh?”

There it was. The application-payment form he’d filled in last week, in its pristine glory. And with absolutely zero drawings on it. There was his family seal and everything. Down to both of your signatures, in the blue ink you’d insisted on using (Hajime never really bothered to make out the different uses of different inks).

“The form...” he muttered. “It must’ve slipped from the folder or something. Then that means the one at home was probably a copy...”

Freezing, Hajime realized. Crap. What have I done?

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

By the time Hajime got home, the house was already quiet again. Isao and Hina were asleep in your bedroom—Hina in her crib and Isao laid spread-eagle on the limited expanse of your queen-size bed. Taking the opportunity of a silent home, you decided to use the time you had to eat some sweets you’d secretly stashed in the fridge away from your children’s eyes.

“What a ravenous wife,” he’d teased, only for you to smear a dollop of whipped cream across his face in retaliation.

It didn’t take him long to realize the muffled sobbing from Kazuki’s room had subsided too. Curiosity getting the best of him, your husband stepped inside the danger zone.

Hajime always thought that Kazuki was a peaceful sleeper. He could sleep anywhere and still look like he was having the time of his life. During times like this, where Hajime was drained empty at the end of the day, he couldn’t help but feel jealous of his son.

Gingerly picking him up from the carpeted floors, Hajime rested Kazuki’s head on the crook of his broad shoulder, his gentle breathing blowing faint breezes next to his nape. Looking down at the smattering of papers on the ground, he reached down to read one that Kazuki had presumably written right before he was knocked out cold.

I’m really sorree Sorry Daddy :( I promise to never draw on your things ever again. Kazuuki

Below the large lopsided text he’d written in crayon was a smudged drawing of (what seemed) to be him. Well, if Hajime was a stickman with prominent eyebrows that stuck out of his face.

“I’m sorry too, kid. Guess I was being unfair, huh?” he murmured. “I’ll make it up to you once you wake up. We’ll all play together. Me, you, Isao, Hina and your mom. We’ll use as much time as we have left.”

And Hajime never backed down on a promise.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Glossary:

inkan - personalized seals used in lieu of signatures in paperwork

anpanman - a Japanese children’s superhero cartoon character, looks like this

#bruh haikyuu writing #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #domestic au #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyu #hq #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #seijoh x reader #aoba johsai x reader #iwaizumi hajime imagine #iwaizumi hajime scenario #sfw #hajime x reader

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dessarious · 4 years

Text

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt77

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

AO3 Beginning Previous Next

Damian spent the next day with Marinette at the hotel. Chloe and Luka both had school and Mari needed someone to keep her calm before the meeting with the Justice League. Not to mention Damian did not want to be stuck in the apartment with Drake. When Hawkmoth was unmasked it created a lot of ripples that everyone was still reeling from. Françoise Dupont was one more casualty. Between the ongoing investigation that was happening because of what happened to Marinette and the fact that Hawkmoth’s son went there the school was shut down until they found new staff at the very least. Since Damian hadn’t transferred yet he was off until it went through.

“So how’s your family taking the announcement?” He figured she’d ask eventually but it had taken her three hours so he’d give her points for restraint.

“The same way they take everything. It’s just one more thing for them to make fun of and overanalyze.” He saw her expression go hard and when she spoke there was a dangerous edge to her voice.

“They’re making fun of your sexuality?” He actually shivered at her tone. This was why Batman himself was terrified of this tiny girl.

“No. More making jokes about me having a significant other at all. Apparently they all decided that if I was ever to show interest in someone it would definitely not be reciprocated. At the moment they seem to be debating whether I’m making the whole thing up or holding my boyfriend’s family hostage to get dates.” It was their usual nonsense and he was used to it. Marinette however looked ready to transform and go back to Gotham to ‘talk’ to them.

“You should tell them that’s not okay. You shouldn’t be so worried about dealing with them that you’re afraid of living your life.” Damian just scowled at her in annoyance.

“I’m not afraid of those idiots.” She rolled her eyes and sighed.

“I didn’t say you were. But how many times do you decide to not do something because you don’t want to deal with the fallout? How often do you debate whether it’s worth it to do something that actually makes you happy because you think they’ll give you shit for it? They need to know that’s not okay. You should be able to live your life without being concerned about what they’ll say or do.” That made sense, to a point anyway. When he really considered it he realized she was right. It never would have occurred to him to ask to go to an arts school because he didn’t want to listen to their comments. At the same time, it was how they acted with everyone in the family.

“They don’t just do it to me you know. They constantly harass each other just as much. I could just ignore it and not let it control my actions.” He hadn’t realized how much it did control his actions if he was being honest. That was one of the many things he’d learned about himself because of his friendship with Marinette. Not that he’d ever tell her that.

“That doesn’t make it alright. Just because they don’t discriminate in their stupidity doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be called out on it. Just like when I call you out for being an asshole.” He gave her a flat look but she just smiled at him. It was becoming harder to keep a straight face around her and he couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing.

“Any idea what you’re going to say to the Justice League?” All else fails, redirect the conversation. Marinette grimaced at the question before blowing out an annoyed breath.

“I assume that Superman is going to start before I can get a word in edgewise so having an actual speech planned out is pointless. There’s only a few things I want to make clear. First that the ban to travel to Paris will be lifted at the end of the week in case of ‘loose ends’. Mainly I just want them to stew about the fact that they can’t do whatever they please.” Damian let out a snort of laughter at that. Given the way they’d all tried to descend on Paris the moment Hawkmoth’s capture hit the news he understood why she was doing it. They didn’t wait to confirm she had in fact caught the real villain and could have just been putting Paris at risk. “Second, that they still have absolutely no authority over the Miraculous themselves. Having Wonder Woman’s backing should help with that but I wouldn’t be surprised if one or more of them try to tell me to give them the Miraculous. And third, if any of them think tracking us down to take them is a good idea they’ll get the full force of the wrath the Kwami are capable of. Given that Plagg destroyed the dinosaurs in an ‘oops’ moment they should probably be worried about what he can do when angered.”

“As much as I would like to believe words will work, you may have to do another demonstration.” Marinette just nodded at him. She knew as well as he did that this wasn’t going to be easy. It was highly probable that they’d spend the next six months or so showing various members of the League that they needed to back off. Yet another reason for him to stay in Paris. Damian still didn’t understand why Marinette didn’t just ask him for the civilian identities of the heroes so she could deal with them herself. “Did you figure out which wheelchair you want to get? My father said he’d pay the difference if you need something out of your price range.”

“That’s a kind offer but I’m not struggling for money. My business has actually gotten even better since the fashion show. I might actually have to hire some people to make the clothing so I can concentrate on design if I don’t want to start turning people away. I’m also getting a lot of interest from clothing manufacturers about designing discount clothing to market to a broad audience. Honestly just doing one of those would likely have me set for life. I’m just glad I’m at the point where this won’t completely destroy my parents financially. While it’s nice to know they love me enough to sell the bakery and move somewhere that’s accessible to me I would never want them to have to.”

“Well if you need tips or names of people to help with that, Drake would be a good source. I know that you have Jagged stone but global manufacturing is different from music in a lot of ways. Wayne Enterprises deals with a lot more of the problems you’re likely to see.” She nodded thoughtfully before offering him a bright smile.

“Thanks, I might just do that. It’ll be helpful to talk to someone who knows the ins and outs of things. I was actually going to ask you since I have a feeling you know a lot more about your father’s business than you let on.” Damian just blinked at her for a moment before giving out a sigh and pulled out his phone to send her a list he’d put together. It was names and numbers of people in the company who could help her along with various laws, specifically intellectual copyright laws, and some other things to do with business. She just gave him another bright smile before she started drawing in her sketchbook again. He really wished he could figure out how she did that.

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#maribat #marinette dupen chang #Damian Wayne #bffmaridami

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spirit-of-vengeance · 3 years

Text

@spxcemuses @mr-mansnoozie @xxstar-bluesxx

Guess who gathered enough mind to finally write her full backstory of Western Verse. Her being a bounty hunter is set in the Wild West time period (1865-1895), there is no current year(s) to set her story in mainly because I don't want to make a mistake messing up the timeline.

Calm before the storm

Her father, Attila a lesser Hungarian noble whom supported the 1848-1849 revolutionary war but after the failure of it he escaped emigrated to America to avoid the Habsburg revenge, soon followed by his brother Gábor. He could save a small amount of his fortune along with his two most important horses: a purebred Lipizzan stallion and an extremely rare Akhal Teke mare. He had settled near a small town, due to his financial situation and education as a noble he established a school with the support and approval of the local church. To quieten his guilt for abandoning his country in its peril, he poured all of his heart into educating children; at least he is still useful in some way.

One day, a group of artists traveling artists, acrobats traveled through the town and the aristocrat fell in love at first sight. She was like the queen of fairy from the folk tales he'd heard in his childhood, she was tall, blue eyes sparkled like light sapphire, long golden brown hair floated ethereally with every twirl. The smitten lord shamelessly courted the the graceful acrobat, determined to know at least the name.

The group had stayed in the town for a few weeks, allowing Attila's and Myra's romance to blossom; after a month she ended up staying with him, just like in true fairytales.

My obsession with angst backstory strikes again

The lord was in love, deeper than poets could express it. Since the loss of his home and country he had found his place in the universe along with the perfect companion by his side. He paid less attention to the school, the church and other public affairs; it wasn't like he abandoned them but became more withdrawn to spend time with the love of his life, especially after the birth of their daughter. She was almost the perfect miniature of her mother, same beautiful hair glinting gold in the sunlight, only her eyes were the brightest emerald green he'd ever seen.

While Myra's heart and aura was as pure as a fairy's; the local church was beyond distressed. They claimed that Attila had completely abandoned helping those in need because of her wicked seduction. When they witnessed her performing for the amusement of the crowd, the 'temptress witch' brand couldn't be lifted. They gathered a few enthusiastic townsfolk whom shared their views and a few morally questionable men whom only wanted a piece of the lord's fortune.

10 year old Karma was awakened from her deep slumber by her frantic father; smoke and yelling blinding her senses as he carried her out of the burning house into the nearby forest so the mob won't find her. He promised her he will be back but he had to return into their home for Myra; he couldn't leave her inside. Karma watched her dad disappear into the flames, the air filled with suffocating smoke and religious shouts for god to smite the sinners. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the spot where her father was gone, waiting for her parents to stumble out of the half collapsed building; but that never had happened. She sat unmoving from her spot, struck staring into the flames then into the ashes as the sun has risen.

Birth of the marksman

Attila's brother, Gábor arrived the next day after hearing the news, he was the one whom found Karma still staring at the ruins in a catatonic state. He couldn't avenge his sibling as it meant endangering his niece and she has lost more than enough.

Gábor expected her to become a soft spoken, reserved lady once she overcame her trauma; that theory was soon abandoned when once he had awoken to his niece practicing with his rifle outside with frighteningly great accuracy. The young girl naturally had an extraordinary aim and after a few long talks, he'd seen the determination burning in her to avenge the murder of her parents. Given by her mother's dance lessons, she was also flexible and capable of many different acrobatic moves; this combined with her aim proven to be a very dangerous combination.

To not awaken suspicion he told his friends Karma was an orphan whose parents were killed by bandits and he had adopted her to give her a family and education. Karma was fascinated chasing greater heights of her skills, this involved reading every possible book about anatomy, marking, engraving the useful spots of the body. Karma knows where to shoot to disarm, to cause a slow death, to paralyze, to disable for life and when it is only a warning: an injury which will heal with time. Along with her accuracy, her drawing speed only can be compared to lightning. Although she prefers/most comfortable with her dual revolvers (model undecided yet), she is still a menace with shotguns, rifles, flintlocks and even bows due to Gàbor's 'A Hungarian is not a Hungarian if they can't use a bow' mindset.

The bounty hunter quicker than death

Karma had her first official gunfight at the age of 18 on the auction. for Vihar (Storm), the filly of her father's horses.

Detailed post about Vihar

She officially entered the bounty hunter business when she was 20 and Vihar was 2, aiming for the most dangerous criminals whom committed the worst acts possible. In her early years after the kill she slit open corpses she trying to find the bullet, surverying the damage it caused and adding filler information to her anatomy knowledge. Of course she didn’t bother burying the bodies, she knew as a woman she has to be extremely vicious above talented to be hired and mutilated dead bodies did send a great message & served as cement for building her reputation. The name Karma wasn't entirely her idea, many thankful family members claimed that karma has came for their loved ones' murderers. Her talent spread like wildfire among the men of law, glad to be rid of the dangerous scum; with careful planning, use of environment and Vihar as backup she had wiped out gangs, not solely focused on individuals.

Unfortunately her reputation summoned an unofficial grand price on her head as well in certain circles; they had tracked her back to her uncle's house. The battle claimed Gábor's life and nearly her sight as her right eye was almost slashed out. The new loss opened old wounds: her not being able to protect her loved ones. She couldn't look into a mirror, the scar a reminder how despite all years of training she wasn't untouchable; after burying her uncle plan to gain control over her psyche already formed.

She took a knife and carefully carved four half circles around her eye to form a crosshair with her pupil being the middle of it. She made sure she kept the wounds open for enough time to scar as visibly as the vertical cut; she wanted a symbol to add to her legend. Excuse my pathetic excuse of an edit, I'm not good in this, nor I can draw.

Now Karma is 25, Vihar is 6, both of them in their peak physical prime; the name Vihar is also symbolic a little, Karma is the lightning to her horse. She is dancing on the thin edge of bounty hunting and being an outlaw as she often takes...side jobs to help people who deserve it and usually that person doesn't have a bounty on their head, therefore it is technically murder.

Local antisocial feral monk & cocky gunslinger feral lady / addition of the AU with the amazing @mr-mansnoozie

Near her uncle's house, Karma had discovered a cave and a grumpy mute monk living in it along with his pet bear. The monk, Sandy eventually became a second uncle to the traumatized angry orphan, he taught her how to move & creep upon someone soundlessly, disappear without a trace, cover her stances and behavior patterns of various animals. Before and after returning from a job she always visits her uncle of choice for a chat; a silent way to prepare him to the possibility of her not coming back. But she always do. She considers Sandy as part of her tiny family, although his...copying mechanisms with his own traumas were a bit strange to get used to; she adapted quite fast, after all who is she to judge with a past like that?

I'm a dead man walking, Hell's at my door.

aka collection of small headcanons

🎯 Her dual revolvers are called Salvation and Damnation because she's dramatic

🎯 Karma has a small sketchbook filled with anatomy drawings for further practice.

🎯 She actually can sing, but rarely does, only to Vihar since she never received positive feedback on it. Her voice is gritty, rugged and deep; definitely not the usual and desired sounding from a woman.

🎯 If her target was an outstandingly cruel bastard and/or one of those whom killed her parents she uses a little psychological torture. After fatally wounding them she starts whistling (for the most terrifying experience wear headphones & close your eyes while listening) as they try to crawl away or beg for mercy. The first time the whistle gets shrill & more intense is when she lazily reloads, knowing she has both the time and the upper hand. The second pace shift is when she aims; she shoots during the last, long drawn out high note.

🎯 This is her only verse where Cindy is afraid, no terrified of fire; during her....26 AU's she's always been associated with fire despite dying in or being wounded by it. In this verse she is more tied to lightning, the scent of smoke is enough to send her into a silent panic attack and despite loathing the cold she will never sit close to the fireplace. Her other deep fears include injuring her hands & sight and losing Vihar. Her horse is the only remaining family member of hers, she can't fail her too.

🎯 Most of Karma's scars, injuries are a result of her standing between Vihar and a knife/bullet/ even a bullwhip when a criminal was smart enough to catch on their deep emotional bond.

🎯 She has recurring night terrors about the night her parents died, she always wakes up in cold sweat; she's sort of used to them. Though, sometimes she still cries but thankfully Vihar is there to comfort her.

🎯 Karma has a special morning stretch routine to keep her flexibility and warm up her hands & keep them steady and fast.

🎯 Due to her dad and uncle she received high quality education

🎯 For the untrained eye, the belt of her hat are simple crosses while in reality, they are inverted crosses to symbolize her stance with Christianity

🎯 Karma's middle name is Emerald, given by her father due to her eye color.

🎯 Karma was first inspired by League of Legends Miss Fortune because that name alone is great but unfortunately she is too pirate coded for a western so I abandoned the relation. Though when Karma is not being the 'Call me a slow reader but I only made it to the Dead part, the or Alive didn't register.' ; her personality is similar to hers.

🎯 Due to her dad, Karma is actually half aristocrat. Not like she cares about it the slightest; the only indication of noble blood is her idle stance. It is an unconscious mirror of how her father used to hold himself: back straightened to almost impossible point, left arm behind it, right hand resting on the grip of in her case, revolver instead of hilt of a sword.

🎯 If given the chance to live a normal life, she would've grown into a captivating, lively young woman, much like her mother but with the aristocrat elegance of her father; finding a suitor who lives up to her parents' and her standards would've been the challenge of the century.

🎯 Her special move is called Dance of Death. This is used as last resort when she's facing more opponents up to 12, as with her dual revolvers she has 12 bullets without reloading. She mentally marks the stances of all opponents, predicts their movement, firing order and possible way of their bullets before whirling out of her hiding place. Each pose minimizes the chance of getting shot, and with each change of movement two bullets are fired, two men drop dead.

🎯 Her accuracy isn't just 'gun goes boom >:D' but a combination of natural talent, endless practice, movement prediction, sharp, quick thinking & analytical skills and different techniques molten together to utilize them all at once

🎯 Her hair is now as long as her mother's, she always keeps it in a single tight braid to keep it out of the way; without her hat and hair down she actually loses some of her dangerous edge.

🎯 The only physical memory Karma has of her parents is her dad's hussar sword she found underneath the ruins of the house, it was protected by a very thick wooden box & a lock of her mother's hair is tied to the grip. She has hidden it in the nearby forest, her thoughts often wander to it along with the wish to wield it.

#🦂 western au🔥| one shot; one kill #🔥headcanons🔥 | secrets of the fire #I can't help myself with the little hungarian details can I?#it just makes me so happy because my country doesn't really get any recognition in media & it feels good to weave the history of my country #into a badass character #I also spent 2.5 hours typing this. my fingers ;-; though totally worth it 😄#🔥alright to reblog🔥| let the wind carry the cinders

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beholdme · 3 years

Text

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 19

Chapters: 19/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18]

"It’s skew.”

“Come and straighten it, then.”

“I’m spotting, you’re hanging.”

Gerry growls at him. Jon looks rather pleased about it.

Martin, who doesn’t want Gerry to hit their infuriating lover with a hammer, goes over to where he’s hanging the massive painting and tilts it minutely to the left. “Better?”

“Perfect!” Jon pronounces, clapping his hands.

Through some sort of witchcraft, the artist has hung the painting in such a position that it emulates where a window would be in a traditional room. It opens up the space in such a way that it seems less like a store room, and far more like a creative space that someone would actually enjoy spending time in.

The lightning helps too, warm light filtering from the ceiling and corner lamps, and LCD strips illuminating the bookshelves from inside.

All in all, considering this was a utilitarian storage space just a few weeks ago, it seems like a downright miracle.

The three of them lean back against Jon's desk, free of clutter for the first and only time in its life. The bookshelves are empty, and except for his new painting, so are the walls.

The piano occupies one wall, and Gerry hopes to hear it being played often.

Jon reaches out and takes Gerry's hand, drawing them close together affectionately. "How long have you been planning for us to move in?"

"Well, I wasn't planning, per se. Only considering the possibility." Gerry smirks confidently. "I know we're all a little bizarre, but this is the course of most relationships, and we could only spend so much time sleeping over before paying for three flats became superfluous."

"Besides," Martin continues for him. "There's no harm in planning for something you hope will happen eventually. Especially when your new flatmates will be this wildly good looking."

He gestures to himself dramatically, doing a small turn in place. Gerry and Jon laugh with him happily, until he stumbles back into Gerry's side, where he gets wrapped up under an arm.

"So do you like your new space, Jon?" Gerry cuddles around him, twisting the three of them into an odd sort of snuggle pretzel.

"I absolutely adore it." Jon utters happily, sighing in contentment as they all lean there together.

***

At the end of June, Jon hands over his keys and the three of them officially live together.

There's still a lot of settling to be done, even though they've been moving in together for almost six weeks by that point. The boxes are unpacked, but they still need to make it a comfortable home for all of them, a certainty that comes only with time.

Martin and Jon both love their studies, a matching pair that look and feel completely opposite.

Martin opts for a small bedroom, keeping the bed from his old flat, his painting hung opposite. He finds an antique writing desk at a charity store, and installs it for writing poetry or working on his laptop in the evenings.

He adorns the walls with pictures and posters, and random pieces of poetry and music that he loves.

It's a cozy space that he adores, even though he opts to sleep in the master bedroom almost always. The option makes him feel like he has his own breathing room, even if he rarely needs it.

Jon's is more of a true study, with a large desk taking up the majority of the space. His walls are lined with shelves, and he promptly fills them with books and knickknacks. The odd collection includes first edition classics, next to mass market paperbacks and music books, with non-fiction nature and animal books scattered throughout. These are interwoven with seashells, tiny mechanical statues and several flowers preserved in resin, gifts from Martin throughout their relationship.

On the wall above the piano, he hangs framed photos of his parents, himself with Gerry as a teen, and all three of them together as adults. The photo he once took of Martin, Gerry and Tim hangs right in the centre, all his favorite humans in one frame. He hangs the sketch of him and Martin in the park from when they were all courting, as well as the others he has stolen from Gerry over time.

Gerry embraces the chaos and upheaval as if it's all he ever wanted, and really, it is. A home, with the people he loves, noisy and frenetic, loving and comfortable.

In the middle of July, he quits his job at the bar in the middle of a shift, with very little contemplation or preamble.

He smiles at his lovers radiantly when he comes through the door several hours early to find them watching a movie.

"What happened?" Martin queries, clear concern lining his expressive face.

"I quit." Gerry flops down between them, snuggling down immediately.

"But why?" Presses a sleepy Jon, trying to hide a yawn behind his hand.

Gerry shrugs. "I got the job because I was bored, essentially. I wanted to interact with interesting people and I didn't know anyone in London anymore. But tonight I realized how badly I wanted to be right here, with you two." He smiles at them, trying to explain without conveying too many of his sappy emotions. "l honestly couldn't think of one reason to be working at midnight on a Saturday, instead of at home, or out on a date, or literally anything else we could be doing together. So I quit."

"Oh Gerry." Jon whispers, both of them carefully tuned to his moods, regardless of his attempts at seeming unconcerned.

"I don't feel the need to fill my time and chase inspiration anymore. I just want to be with you. Both of you." He kisses first Martin's hand, then Jon's, grinning at them all the way.

"I love you. I'm happy you're home." Jon whispers to him, sleepy and content.

Martin hums an agreement, squeezing his hand and smiling down at him lovingly.

They watch their movie and then go to bed all together, and Gerry knows he's made the best choice of his life.

***

Gerry finds himself with an odd amount of time on his hands while his partners go to work during the day, like normal people.

He decides to take on several art commissions from clients he's actually interested in working for, which thrills Gertrude. He doesn't think it entirely makes up for his boyfriend hitting Peter Lukas in the middle of a showcase, but it's a start.

He also indulges himself and buys a new tattoo machine.

He's not really interested in taking clients again, but… well, he wants it and so he gets it. If it's only to use on himself or the occasional visitor, then that's fine by him.

"You have everything you need to give tattoos now, right?" Martin asks him one early morning.

Gerry is still mostly asleep, clutching a cup of tea and petting Saturn where he perches on his lap. He blinks at Martin, confused.

"I think so. I mean, I haven't used my machine yet, but there's really only one way to test it out." Gerry tilts his head curiously, sunlight glittering in his hair, dyed back to its original black. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you want to give me one?" Martin grins at him a bit shyly.

Gerry sits up straight, instantly wide awake. "Yes. So much."

Martin laughs warmly. "You have the same look on your face that Luna gets when we take out the catnip toys."

Uncaring about how eager he might look, Gerry shoos Saturn to go over and kneel by Martin. "I would be honored to have your tattoo virginity. Do you want me to draw something?"

"Yes," Martin tells him with a grin, "that's exactly what I want. A Gerry Delano original, right on my skin."

"What do you want it to be?" Gerry's teal eyes are bright and slightly manic, and Martin glories in the sensation of producing a new reaction in his lover.

"It's entirely up to you." He responds, pressing a firm kiss to Gerry's mouth. "I want to see what makes you think of me."

"Oh, I like it." He declares, jumping up and going off to find a sketchbook.

Martin sips his tea and smiles to himself, very pleased indeed.

***

"You're just going to let him give you whatever he wants to?" Jon blanches when Martin tells him.

"Relax Jon, it's Gerry, not some evil mastermind. He'll draw something I like. And if I don't, it's not hard, I just tell him no."

Jon, who rather considers that Gerry is an evil mastermind, does not look convinced. "But…"

"Hush, love." Martin tells him firmly.

Gerry, drawing under the window nearby, takes no notice of them. He has a focused frown on his face as he concentrates on the careful lines appearing on his page.

Martin considers it a rare pleasure to just watch him draw, and tries to guess what might be forming on the page before him.

He completely trusts that Gerry knows him exactly well enough to draw him the perfect tattoo. And then he can have his own piece of Gerry, inked right into his skin.

When he sits back down with Jon and Martin a little later, he has a smudge of charcoal above his eyebrow, and Martin gently rubs it away before Gerry has a chance to start talking. He blushes quite uncharacteristically, and Martin knows it means he's been swirling in the frantic rush of his own creativity.

"So I have a proposal for you." Gerry starts, body humming with excitement. "A tattoo in two parts, if you will."

"Yeah?" Martin encourages him, just as interested.

Gerry collects Martin's hand in both of his own, running a thumb over a spot on his wrist. It's the same place that Jon has his own tattoo, which immediately makes Martin pleased. "A small crescent moon, right here. The placement to match with Jon, the symbol for Luna."

Gerry pushes a scrap of paper forward, an elegant crescent moon filling space.

"For the other…" Gerry turns over the larger page, handing it to Martin.

There's an immeasurable beat of silence as Martin contemplates the design before him. A set of waxing and waning moons, connected by a series of dots, lines and more dots making a background of geometric shapes.

He… feels it. He understands now, what Jon had meant, when he described seeing the inspiration for his own tattoo for the first time. It's a representation of some inner part of himself, normally hidden from the world, but carefully unearthed for his lovers, over the course of many months and endless intimacy.

"Martin?" Gerry entreats, leaning minutely closer to him.

"I love it." He whispers, pulling the goth over to kiss him fiercely. They tangle together pleasantly, for several moments, everything else falling away as they get absorbed in each other.

"Not that anyone asked me, but I like it as well." Jon informs them pertly.

"Your opinion is as important to us as ever, baby." Gerry replies, grinning proudly. He turns back to Martin. "Where do you want it?"

Martin considers for a moment, before getting up and pulling off his shirt and jumper, leaving himself bare from the waist up. He still feels a small pang of shyness to be naked in any way, but confidence born of time and perspective drown most of it away now.

He and Gerry stand facing each other. Martin lifts the other man's hand, placing it on his sternum, over his softly pounding heart.

"Right here?" Gerry asks, voice soft.

"Right here." Martin affirms.

***

In the end, Gerry takes them over to Melanie's tattoo shop to work on Martin. He lists a number of reasons, but really, he finds a certain amount of comfort working under the stark lights and amid the buzzing of other machines.

They do the small tattoo first, and Martin sits for it exceptionally well.

Before Gerry starts the sternum piece, an endeavor of several hours, Georgie arrives and drags Jon off to drink coffee and catch up in a nearby coffee shop. Melanie goes into the next room to take another client, and Gerry and Martin are left alone together.

"Ready, love?" Gerry asks as he finishes placing the stencil, bisecting his chest.

"I'm nervous," Martin confesses softly.

Gerry doesn't move his gloved hands, not wanting to contaminate them, but he does press their foreheads together gently, taking a moment to sooth Martin with his companionship.

"Do you want to take a break? You can just sit with the stencil for a while." Gerry leans forward and places a swift kiss on Martin's nose, before retreating from his personal space.

"No, I'm ready." He smiles, biting his lip a little. "I just- I feel like this is a big moment, you know?"

"It is. You're embracing who you really are." Gerry runs a finger along one of Martin's chest scars, considering. "You're choosing to love yourself instead of just tolerating him."

"How can you always tell?" Martin whispers the words, voice heavy with emotion. "How can you put things into words like that, so simply."

"I know you. You think I don't see when you avoid looking in the mirror. You hope I don't notice that you used to hate being naked, even with Jon and I." Gerry pauses, tripping Martin's head up with the tip of a finger, minimizing contact still. "But I see you, Martin. I love you just the way you are. And I want you to love yourself just the same. I'll tell you everyday, show you constantly, if I need to."

Martin is crying for real now, tears streaming down his face. Gerry abandons his sterility, pulling Martin into his arms. He rocks his lover gently, and they are just together for a moment, no need to rush, no distractions. Just them, and the comfort they find in each other.

"I love you too." Martin tells him simply, when they pull apart.

"Good," Gerry grins, kissing him thoroughly, the taste of salty tears on his lips. He stands, pulling off his ruined gloves and going to wash his hands again.

Martin takes a sip of the tea Jon made him before he left, smiling because Jon always makes it with a little more sugar than he allows himself. "I'm ready."

When Jon returns, they're just finished up, the last few moments of buzzing filling the air. He watches them together, artist and canvas, and loves them fiercely.

"How was coffee with Georgie?" Martin queries, taking his offered hand.

Jon relays the details as Gerry finishes, and then cleans up.

Jon and Gerry stand on either side of Martin in the mirror as he looks at it for the first time. Martin nods wildly, when Jon asks if he likes it, and they hug him from either side as he sheds a few more tears.

Jon had once thought that tattoos seemed very boring in comparison to Gerry's normal work, but seeing the design come alive on Martin's skin, full of feeling and depth, he can't help but think of it as the best thing his lover has ever done. Gerry can't help but agree.

"Let's go to the park!" Martin exclaims as they leave, after saying their goodbyes to Georgie and Melanie.

"The park?" Jon asks, laughing. "It's so windy."

"I don't care, I want to feed the ducks and eat ice cream with my boyfriends." He insists, giddy with happiness and adrenaline.

"Okay, but you're picking the flavours this time." Gerry says, taking one of Martin's hands. Jon takes the other.

"Deal."

***

Jon and Gerry find themselves watching Martin once again feed ducks as they sit beneath a tree, more than a year after the very first time.

"Why don't we come to the park more often?" Jon asks from where he reclines between Gerry's long legs.

His arms snake around his waist, and Jon feels very content and comfortable, despite the cutting wind.

"Because," Gerry kisses under an ear softly, "we live in England and it rains more than 100 days a year."

"He looks so happy here." They watch as Martin stoops to offer a piece of bread to a curious toddler. The child is inordinately pleased, and her mother watches on gratefully from nearby as they feed the rowdy birds together.

"Are you happy?" Gerry asks him, unexpectedly serious. "With your life, with me?"

"Gerry! Of course I'm happy with you." Jon sits up, turning in the tangle of Gerry's limbs to face him.

"I'm only checking on you." He runs a gentle finger down Jon's face, then cups his cheek affectionately. "I know how much stress work puts you under and I hate that for you."

Jon looks away from his intent gaze, fiddling with his fingers nervously. "Well, yeah. My job sucks. The worst part is, I love being a librarian! Being surrounded by books, helping people choose something to read or guiding them with their research. But that's so little of my job now, and Elias just finds new and interesting ways to put pressure on me. But I'm not qualified and I know I probably won't get another job in a library, especially not without a glowing recommendation from Elias-"

"And we both know that's never going to happen." Gerry finishes for him.

Jon nods and they just sit together a moment. Gerry lifts one of his hands and kisses each of his fingers and then his palm, until Jon blushes and smiles at him.

"I know you think it's annoying, so you keep your feelings about work inside, a lot of the time. I don't want you to do that anymore, okay? If you have a terrible job, then we all carry that."

"But-"

"Nope, no buts. We are all partners. That means more then dinner dates and living together and sex."

"And punching rich fuckers who hurt our Martin."

Gerry laughs, still reveling in Jon's unexpected protectiveness- and the violent manifestation of it. "Yes, that too. There will be other jobs, for all of us, probably. But our relationship, the three of us. We're forever."

"Like those tattoos that you gave Martin today?" Jon asks, pert glint in his eye.

"Yes, much like that." He smirks brazenly back. "And the one I gave you, and the ones I've given myself, over the years."

Gerry continues, squeezing Jon's hand, "I know that the idea of not being able to provide for yourself scares you, but we're in this together now. You don't have to cling to a job that you hate in case you're left without one at all."

"I-" Jon looks away, uncomfortable to be so well understood. Gerry stits with him, energy easy between them, just holding his hand, loving and supportive.

"I have been considering, that is, maybe becoming a school teacher." The confession is halting, and he offers it with a small shy smile.

"I think that's a wonderful idea." Gerry responds, gentle encouragement colouring his voice.

"I would probably have to go back to school for a year. Get a post-grad in Education. I wouldn't be working for most of that time, and my savings will only go so far, even without having to pay rent." Jon whispers, as if the words will be any less offensive to him if they are quiet.

"You know I can float you, especially for just a year. And Martin too."

"It just doesn't seem fair to burden you with that."

"It's not a burden, it's a part of life. You think you're so old, that you should be settled, but you're barely 30, Jon. You still have time to make new life choices occasionally, and the point of being in a relationship is that you let us support you every now and then." Gerry is earnest and focused, and Jon can't help but believe him, long fingers cupping his face and teal eyes holding his gaze.

Martin arrives then, plonking down next to Jon and giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"What are we talking about then? Such serious faces."

Gerry nudges Jon, who haltingly offers Martin the same idea he told Gerry.

“Oh, I think that’s a great idea.” He says, eyes alight. “Like, high schoolers, right?”

“Yes, of course. Anyone under 10 is an alien and I don’t want to hear any arguments.”

They laugh at him, their contentment surrounding him warmly.

"You don't have to quit right away." Martin offers. "There are plenty of part time degree programs, and you have to apply first. It all takes time."

"You seem pretty clued up about it." Jon observes, narrowing his eyes at Martin suspiciously.

"Well, if you must know. I've been thinking about getting a business degree."

"Oh my God! Martin, how is this the first we're hearing about this?" Gerry demands, sitting up straight.

"I didn't want it to be a thing until I was sure, and the move was over." He confesses, "It's gonna take a lot of my free time and I wanted to discuss that with you both carefully."

"I'm gonna be living with two thirty year old students." Gerry mutters, shocked. He leans back against the tree again, running his fingers through his long hair.

"I haven't agreed yet-" Jon starts.

Martin speaks up at the same time. "You could get a degree too. We could all be students together."

"No, but thanks anyway." Gerry shudders, grimacing. He perks right back up. "I'll be your sexy study partner though."

"Gerard!" Jon cries, scandalised.

Gerry shakes his head. "As if I've never felt you up while you were trying to study for a test."

"Exactly!" Even Jon struggles to keep up his prim expression at that, and they tumble into pleasant laughter together.

"So," Martin hazards, "are we gonna do this?"

"Well, if you're going to. I suppose we should both get it done at the same time." Jon responds, still hesitant but clearly warming to the idea. "You're really okay with this, Gerry?"

Gerry beams at them both, a soft, special look in his eyes. "I'm more than okay with anything you want to do with your lives. In case you haven't noticed, I'm really very fond of you both."

Jon leans forward in the circle of Gerry's legs, pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss, before turning back to lay against his chest.

Martin shifts around to lean into his side, and Gerry tucks one arm around him, the other around Jon. Jon reaches out to take one of Martin's hands, and the three of them sit wrapped up together.

As ever, their own mutual magnetism draws them forever closer and closer, binding them to one another in an inexplicable tangle of love and affection.

"Do you think it will always be like this, between us?" Martin whispers gently, as the sun begins to set and the landscape sets ablaze before them.

"Probably not," Jon responds, voice warm and content. "Life will keep shifting like a tide, and we'll move with it, but the great thing about us is- we're moored together. Nothing can keep us apart, because what we have is stronger than whatever shifts and eddies might try to take us away."

"The gravity between us is fiercer than any storm, any disaster that might try to shake us." Gerry picks up Jon's train of thought, pulling them both minutely closer.

"Good," Martin says simply, fiercely in love and the happiest he's ever felt.

They watch the sun as it drops below the horizon, sometimes quiet and occasionally sharing some errant thought or another.

They eat ice cream on the way home, holding hands and laughing.

It's warm, and soft and peaceful.

And they're all, finally, home.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #fic #also on ao3

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ashtheshortstack · 4 years

Text

make them learn - ch 1

Rating: T Ship: Adrinette (sorta) Chapter 1/3: broken frame

Tags: Princess Justice AU, Akumatized Marinette, Bullying, One-Sided Reveal, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Read on Ao3

Next Chapter

“You’re either with me, or you’re against me.”

Lila’s words were clear and harsh, but Marinette battled akumas on a daily basis. It wasn’t something she couldn’t handle. She feared some things, but Lila Rossi definitely wasn’t one of them. Did the lying brat piss her off? Oh, big time. At first, it was jealousy revolving around Adrien, however, the blond seemed to figure out Lila’s lies all on his own. He didn’t need the constant proof. So, Marinette was comfortable that Adrien would never date someone like that. He wasn’t the type.

“From now on, you and I are at war. You will lose all your friends and be all alone. And Adrien will soon be mine.”

Marinette had to give her credit. The brat tried her best, that was for sure. Lila had successfully gotten her expelled, but suddenly just recanted all of her statements the next day and confirmed she made it all up. Blaming it on some stupid disease that didn’t exist, but whatever. It worked. She was thankful for that. Even though Lila’s change of heart clearly had something behind it, Marinette decided to not fret on it too much. It was clear the brat was still out to get her, but Marinette knew that taking the high road was obviously the best option. Adrien was right, there was no need to feed the troll.

No way could she have predicted that Lila had something more sinister up her sleeve. Of course, she hadn’t assumed that the incident was the last she’d hear from Lila, but Marinette didn’t realize there could be something much, much worse.

It had been a typical day for Marinette. There had been an akuma attack the previous evening, so she was a bit sleepy, but nothing she’d never pushed through before. She was Ladybug for a reason. She wouldn’t let a little lack of sleep ruin her day. Besides, Marinette looked forward to school. Seeing Adrien every day always uplifted her mood. He was such a kind soul, often lighting up the room more than she was sure he realized. Marinette knew he didn’t have a great homelife with his mother disappearing, assumed dead, and his father being an uptight, strict, recluse. It amazed her that he could be so positive every day. That he could be such a good person. Knowing what he went through just made her admire him even more.

Despite how she tried to hide her fondness for him, it was difficult. Luckily, Adrien was the oblivious type and had no idea what feelings Marinette harbored for him. And she planned to keep it that way. No matter how much she wanted to be with him, she knew that Adrien loved another girl. She assumed that it was Kagami. They had gotten awfully close lately. And it hurt even more because she and Kagami had become friends. So, it wasn’t like she could hate her or be angry at her for liking the same boy as her. Even though Marinette liked him first , she digressed. Kagami would be good for him. They had so much in common… so it was okay. No matter how painful it was. No matter how much it made Marinette’s chest tighten with an ache. No matter how she desperately hoped that Adrien would see her the way she saw him…

Taking her usual spot on the bench, Marinette sat with her knees pulled up to her chest as she doodled a few sketches into her sketchbook. However when Adrien arrived in the courtyard and made a bee-line for Nino, Marinette couldn’t help but follow him with her eyes. She could feel a soft small cross her lips when Nino swung an arm over the blond’s shoulder with Adrien grinning in return. It was wonderful to see him happy. She was glad he had a friend like Nino.

“Hey, girl,” a familiar voice chimed.

Startling at Alya’s sudden appearance, Marinette gave a tiny yelp. “Oh, hi.”

“You had that dopey look on your face again. You could try to be a little less obvious, you know,” her best friend teased.

Marinette laughed and tugged at a pigtail, “Sorry, I don’t mean to,” she glanced back to Adrien with her smile returning and shrugged. “Besides, he never notices anyway.”

Scoffing, Alya shook her head. “Adrien does notice you. You know that, right?”

“Well, yeah. But in a friend kind of way. He doesn’t see me the way… well I see him,” there was a sadness in her tone that she didn’t like.

Marinette didn’t want to be disappointed that Adrien liked someone else. He was human. He was allowed to have his own crushes, right? But… she was also allowed to be human as well. And be sad she’d have to let him go. Maybe it was for the best? She had to focus on defeating Hawkmoth before she could even think about pursuing anything romantic. The world she lived in was dangerous, and she wouldn’t dare get Adrien dragged into it. If he got hurt… well, she wouldn’t know what she’d do.

Alya bumping her gently. “You sound like you’re giving up.”

“Not giving up,” she said with a shake of her head, “just respecting his choices. He’s such an amazing person, and I don’t want to get in the way of his happiness.”

“Oh, Marinette, he’ll see it someday…” Alya fell silent as Marinette gave a non committal hum in response. “In the meantime, are you gonna take all those pictures of him down in your room?” she asked.

“No way, he’s easy on the eyes.”

The two shared a laugh at that. Marinette returned to her drawing as Alya watched over her shoulder. Eventually, Alya flagged down her boyfriend. Nino, with Adrien in tow, came over to join the girls. Marinette was able to keep her cool when Adrien took a seat between her and Alya and watched her sketch.

“That looks great, Marinette. Have you thought about entering my father’s next contest?”

With a giggle, Marinette did her best to stop her heart from pounding. Stay cool, she reminded herself. “U-Uh, maybe. When is it?”

Adrien smiled. “It’s in a few weeks, I think. I can check with Nathalie and get back with you?”

“Yeah, sure,” she replied quickly.

There was a beat before the blond spoke again. “You really are talented. I wish I could draw like you and Nathaniel.”

“I’m sure you can draw just fine. Someone as amazing as you? I’m sure you're great at anything,” she blabbered out.

He laughed at that. “Well, thanks. May I?” he asked, bobbing his head towards her sketchpad and holding his hand out for her pencil.

“O-Of course,” she sputtered and instantly handed him her pencil and book.

Marinette couldn’t help but watch him as he doodled in her sketchbook. His tongue poked out between his lips, wiggling slightly as he focused on his art. She noticed his brows pinch as her eyes wandered along his face down to his hands. Hands she’d held so many times and wished she could again and again. Granted, it was usually when Adrien was tugging her along to escape an akuma or that time he pulled her in to dance.

Sucking in a breath, she looked away as she felt her face warm. Marinette silently prayed that he hadn’t noticed the vibrant flush that kissed her cheeks. When he finished, he held up the completed product. “Ta-da! What do you think?”

In the middle of the page was a poorly drawn cat with a large body, stick legs, and a thick tail. There were dots for eyes and a squiggly cat mouth. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of it, and Adrien quickly joined her.

“Maybe, I need more practice. You should teach me sometime.”

Marinette’s heart fluttered at the statement. “Yeah, maybe sometime. You may need quite a few lessons though,” she teased.

Adrien smirked at her. “You gotta be kitten me, Marinette, I thought I was pretty good.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the horrible pun. There was a dull sense of familiarity that she shoved into the back of her mind. It was common to make puns. No need to overthink it.

The bell chimed, echoing through the courtyard. Her friends all stood, ready to head to class. Adrien returned her sketchbook, smiling at her. “You coming?”

“You guys go ahead, I need to pack up my things.”

The blond tilted his head. “Need help?”

“No, no. I got it,” she assured him with a smile.

Adrien didn’t seem convinced, giving her a once over with a concerned pinch in his brows. But after a moment, gave a slight shrug and started up the stairs.

Letting out a loud sigh, Marinette took a moment to gather her wits. She was proud she was slowly able to interact with Adrien despite how nervous she still felt around him. Her heart always pounded while her palms felt clammy. Wiping her hands on her pants, she corrected herself. Marinette glanced down at her sketchpad, glancing over the drawing. Adrien signed his name at the bottom with a smiley face next to it. She smiled, hugging it to her chest. Marinette would always cherish any moment she had with him.

Standing, she gathered her things and headed up the stairs. Class went as usual. Lila was absent for the day, making Marinette relax a little knowing she wouldn’t have the brunette glaring at the back of her head for the day.

She took her notes, occasionally glanced down at Adrien (no one could blame her, really, he was so easy on the eyes), and drew tiny doodles on the corner of her paper. Marinette surprised herself with a little cat drawing that replicated the blond’s sketch from before. There was so much to learn about Adrien still. Did he really like cats? Maybe, he was a Chat Noir fan?

Marinette was yanked from her musings when an akuma burst into the door of the classroom. Her classmates screamed and took cover beneath their desks as Madam Bustier shouted for the akuma to be gone. But the akuma locked eyes with her before smirking wickedly.

“Ah, there you are Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I was hoping I’d find you here. I’m Crush Detector, and I’m here to expose your crush.”

Her heart pounded with panic. “W-What?”

Crush Detector gave a mused hum before prancing over to Adrien who stood at his desk with a gritted frown. “Don’t you want to know the truth , Adrien? We know how you feel about people who lie. I’m here to be honest… because we’re friends, aren’t we? ”

Marinette watched as his expression changed. His eyes hardened. “Lila!” he hissed.

Gaping, she looked at the akuma. “Lila?” Again!? How many times could this girl be akumatized intentionally? Was she working with Hawkmoth at this point?

With a grin, Crush Detector turned her attention to the projector holding up a camera that was clearly the inflicted object. “Why don’t we all see the truth, hm?”

Marinette watched in horror as the pictures of Adrien on the walls of her room flashed onto the screen, then Adrien’s schedule in detail, her desktop screen, then her. There was literal footage of her pieced together from before school. The entire conversation she and Alya had before class was played back in front of her, as well as her hugging the sketchpad after he’d doodled in it.

Tears pricked her eyes, her heart dropping into her stomach. Her throat felt tight as her hands began to shake. She was utterly humiliated. It wasn’t a secret to her classmates how she felt about Adrien, but for him to see…

Kim laughed aloud. “You have his whole schedule on hand?”

“I knew you liked him, but I didn’t realize you were a stalker, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe mused.

Her bottom lip wobbled as more and more images of her cooing over the blond were shoved into her face. As booked towards the door, vaguely hearing Alya and Adrien call after her.

Crush Detector blocked her exit. “Oh, running away from your feelings again , Marinette?”

She saw red. Marinette shoved Lila’s akumatized form out of the way. She booked it to the bathroom. Knowing that the akuma would be after her any moment, she locked the door, knowing it’d at least delay the process of Lila entering.

Taking deep breaths, Marinette held her head as she slid down the door. Sobs wracked her body as she buried her face into her knees.

“Marinette…” Tikki’s voice murmured as she floated out of the purse. “I’m so sorry…”

With a sniffle, she wiped her face. “We have to catch an akuma.”

“Marinette, are you okay?”

Her body felt numb. An emptiness swirled within her. There wasn’t time to care. Lila had done this to purposely humiliate her. And she wouldn’t let that witch get away with it. Marinette called on her transformation.

She left the bathroom, seeing Adrien searching around the courtyard. He hadn’t noticed her, thankfully.

Crush Detector laughed spitefully. “Oh, c’mon, Adrien! We know you don’t like her! Don’t pity her!”

The glare Adrien shot her was bone chilling. “This was the last straw, Lila. I told you to leave Marinette alone.”

“Oh, but… I’m not Lila anymore, am I?” she snickered as she sat on the railing.

Ladybug’s fist clenched. Rage flowed through her veins. A heat took over her she’d never felt before. It boiled at her back, shooting up her spine. Her fingers trembled with anger, her teeth grit harshly together.

“Shut up!” she screeched before wrapping the akuma in her yo-yo. Ladybug yanked her victim harshly, forcing Crush Detector off the high railing and down onto the concrete of the courtyard. The akuma shouted in pain as she met the ground forcefully. “That’s enough! That’s enough! ”

Adrien was stunned by Ladybug’s appearance, jaw hung open. She didn’t blame him. Marinette had never felt so much pain… hurt… anger… bubble through her. She’d never hurt an akumatized person intentionally. But Lila deserved it. She deserved so much worse!

Ladybug tightened her yo-yo. “Do you just love to hurt others!? Does it make you happy? What do you think will happen now, huh!? Do you really think Adrien will love you after this!?”

“Adrien will be mine,” Lila hissed.

She tightened the string. The akuma gasped for air.

Adrien took action. He ran over, snatching the inflicted camera and smashing it on the ground. The akuma flew out, but Marinette didn’t budge. When she saw Lila deakumatize… when she saw her at her mercy… she kept her wound in the yo-yo.

“You have so much hate in your heart. You’re a horrible person! You just love to humiliate others, and for what? It’s not going to make anyone like you. It won’t make Adrien like you. You’re just a coward! Too afraid to be yourself, so you lie to everyone and bring everyone else down to bring yourself up!”

“Ladybug!”

She gasped, glancing over at Adrien. His face was red. Had he been shouting at her the whole time?

Quickly, she released Lila and snatched the akuma from the air. She waved off the butterfly silently. Adrien was staring at her with an emotion she couldn’t read. Lila was glaring at her with more fury than ever before. Swallowing, Ladybug gave Adrien a nod before whipping her yo-yo and fleeing quickly.

o~o~o~o

Sobs wracked her body. Marinette hadn’t even made it to her bed. She wallowered on the floor, her face in her hands. Hot tears spilled onto her hands. Breathing was difficult through her cries, unable to catch necessary air. She vaguely felt Tikki’s pats of comfort on her head.

“Marinette, you have to calm down… Hawkmoth will--”

“I know , Tikki… I know. I-I need to--” she glanced down at her phone. There were many, many missed calls from both Alya and Adrien. Even one from Nino… which may have just been Alya calling from his phone. She couldn’t be sure. Her throat felt tight as she scrolled through her messages.

There were texts from Lila. How’d she even gotten her number!? Who would’ve given it to her?

Hope you learned your lesson about crossing me. He’ll never love you.

Marinette didn’t dare open any more of them. She felt sick. Nauseated from the pain and anguish that stirred within her. There were texts from Adrien and Alya, both begging her to call them. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to speak to anyone.

She trembled as she reached up to take her earrings from her lobes. Tikki gasped, looking at her chosen with worry. Marinette held the miraculous out in her palm, gazing at her kwami expectantly. “I need you to take these and find Chat Noir.”

“Marinette, no--”

“Tikki, please. I can’t let Hawkmoth get my miraculous. This is the only way to keep the earrings safe.”

Tikki’s gaze was pleading. “B-But Marinette, you could lead him right to Master Fu.”

Shaking her head, she took a breath. “I can tell you… the only person I’ll be after is Lila. She--She’s the reason for all of this. This is entirely her fault. A-And if I get akumatized and whatever I do… she deserves it.”

“Marinette, don’t talk like that.”

“Go to Chat Noir.”

It was a command. And Tikki knew it. The heartbroken expression on the kwami’s face was answer enough. She floated over, giving Marinette a kiss on the head. Watching her kwami phase through the window, she knew she’d done the right thing. She knew that the best option would be for Tikki to go to Chat. Chat had used the Ladybug miraculous before. If anyone could save her, it was her crime-fighting partner.

When the black butterfly floated into her room, she wasn’t surprised to see it. The utter feeling of hopelessness that overwhelmed her was like fodder to Hawkmoth. It absorbed into her purse, and a voice echoed in her mind.

“Princess Justice… your feelings have been exposed to the boy you love against your will…”

#princess justice #princess justice AU #miraculous ladybug #adrinette #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #angst #ML fic #princess justice fic #ash writes #make them learn #tw: bullying #miraculous ladybug fic #adrinette fic #hurt comfort

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writing-mermaid · 4 years

Text

Shades of blue

Summary : When a young artist is fascinated by the shade of blue in the eyes of the posing model.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader; Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter

Warnings : None

Word Count : 2067

Square Filled : @star-spangled-bingo : Model AU

Author’s note : Also written for @buckybarnesbingo ‘s fluffathon, with the prompts Admire, Art, After, Nuzzle, Cutie and Chocolate. Don’t forget that feedback is appreciated and really important.

Song of the title : Shades of Cool - Lana Del Rey

Masterlist

Star Spangled Bingo masterlist

Bucky Barnes Bingo masterlist

Buy me a ☕

Steve Rogers walks through the room, slaloming between the easels of his “students” of the day, while looking at their paper sheets. In the meantime, he looks at the model, his best friend James Barnes, who accepted to pose a few times a week because he needed the money for college. Steve understood why, because he too, had to look for a job to pay for his school fees. When he found that job, he knew it was the perfect one as he is majoring in arts.

Concerning James Barnes, rather Bucky, he needed it to continue his literature studies, his parents still had to pay for his five little sisters’ studies, and he couldn’t ask for them to have one more loan, since he lost his last job. When Steve told him about the model job, he frowned and said that he would try, even if he doesn’t think that this would be his thing, but he needed to eat and pay for his books. That’s how, for the first time in his life, Bucky finds himself naked in a room full of strangers, drawing him.

Sitting front row, Y/N Y/L/N is studying the handsome model’s eyes color. She cannot decide what color they are. Blue, definitely blue, but what shade ? Because it seems that the color changes when the light changes. At some point his eyes are bright blue, a minute later they can have the color of the sea, and a few seconds later, the color of a stormy sky. She’s concentrated on his face, and his face only, the rest of his body doesn’t interest her, just his face, his blue eyes, his red and kissable lips, that three days stubble, his short chestnut hair, her charcoal scratching the surface of the white sheet in front of her.

Steve stops by the Y/H/C haired girl sitting at the front row. He admires her work. Unlike a lot of people in the room who drew Bucky full or his body, or some parts, she’s only drawing his face. Steve looks at the precise lines she’s drawing. She seems to be mesmerized by Bucky’s eyes and Steve can understand why, his best friend’s eyes are sort of a mystery to themselves. Her gaze doesn’t live his and it seems that Bucky noticed. The way she looks at him above the easel makes Steve think about that scene from Titanic where Jack draws a naked Rose like as she says, “one of his French girls”. Steve works here for a few months now, and it’s the first time that he sees her. She puts down her black charcoal, searching for a blue one.

“This is an amazing work”, Steve suddenly says, making her froze.

“Thank you”, she answers, slightly blushing at the compliment.

“You really managed to capture everything of his face. His gaze, his mouth, nose, freckles. Though, you seem to be in trouble with the color of his eyes. I must admit that I myself never managed to find the good color.”

“How do you know that I have trouble with finding the model’s eye color ?”, Y/N asks, curious to know.

“Oh, Bucky is my best friend, and he was my very first model when I started to draw when I was a kid. Even now, when I happen to draw him, I still don’t find the right color, so I make drawings of my girlfriend Peggy or of landscapes, that’s less complicated”, Steve explains. “I’m Steve Rogers by the way”, he adds, extending his hand.

“Y/N Y/L/N”, she replies. “Sorry, I won’t shake your hand, or you’ll have charcoal everywhere.”

“Don’t worry, I’m used to it. Anyway, if you want to, I can introduce you to him after this session, which will be finished in fifteen minutes”, Steve adds, checking his watch.

“Thank you, Steve”, she smiles at him.

The last fifteen minutes pass like a blink of an eye and Steve thanks everyone for attending to his lesson and listening to his advice. Y/N starts to clean her easel, closes her sketchbook and puts her charcoals back in their box. Meanwhile, Bucky slips back the robe that he abandoned two hours ago on a stool next to him. At the second Y/N left the room to wash her hands, Bucky walks to Steve, who’s cleaning the leftovers.

“Who’s she ?”, he asks his blond friend.

“New one, just like you. Very good one though. She’s the only one that drew your face and not your body. I even saw one or two people very busy to draw your…”

“Please no, this is really embarrassing”, Bucky face palms himself.

“You should wait for her to come back; I think she has something to ask you. I told her that you were my best friend and that I can introduce you to her.”

“Please don’t tell me she wanna draw my wienie”, Bucky whines.

“Who wants to draw your wienie ?”, a beautiful brunette says, entering the room, making a beeline to Steve before kissing his lips.

“A new girl, very good artist, and I really don’t think she wants to draw his wienie”, Steve explains.

Steve tells Peggy about Y/N and her skills, saying he hoped that she would be okay to show her work to them. Y/N finally comes back in the room. Steve introduces her to Peggy and Bucky.

“Do you think you can show us your work ? If you want to of course.”

“Yes, sure, after all this is an art class and you are the model”, Y/N says, motioning to Bucky.

She opens her sketchbook again, revealing a few previous drawings before she finally found the one of Bucky she made barely an hour ago.

“This is really amazing”, Peggy whispers, as she’s afraid of saying this out loud.

Bucky looks at the drawing, speechless. He cannot believe how a drawing could look like him so much. It’s almost like he’s looking at himself in the mirror. Everything his perfect, every line, every freckle, his three days stumble, everything is there.

“May I ask you something ?”, Y/N questions, making Bucky getting out of his bubble.

“Yes, sure.”

“Would you accept to pose for me ? I mean not here but in private, I wanted to work on your eyes and it’s not possible in a room full of people. Of course, I will compensate you for your time.”

“I… I don’t know, it’s the first time I’m doing this, isn’t it unprofessional ?”, he asks Steve, turning to him.

“Not necessarily, you’re free to do what you want. You can pose for Y/N if you want to.”

“So yes, I’d love to”, Bucky says, turning to the young Y/H/C haired woman in front of him.

“Great”, she exclaims, “this is my phone number”, she adds, handing him a little piece of paper with her phone number.

And then, a week later, Bucky finds himself in a tiny apartment, under the rooftop. It’s a very small place but Y/N managed to make it her home. She even have sort of a balcony.

“Please make yourself comfortable”, she says from the kitchenette, “I’m coming as soon as the tea is ready.”

Bucky looks at the room, it’s a medium open space. In a corner, there is Y/N’s bed, a pile of book at its feet, not far from it, her desk, with a laptop and a few pictures of her friends and family, he supposes. In the middle of the room, there’s a couch and a tiny red table facing a small television. In the opposite corner of the bed, there’s an easel, a stool, a tiny chest of drawers and drawing material. A ginger cat walks along the window’s low wall before scratching the pane.

“Oh, that’s my cat, Oliver, can you open the window for him please ?”, Y/N asks Bucky.

Bucky nods and lets the cat in. Oliver rises his head towards Bucky, smells his hand and purrs when Bucky scratches him behind his hears.

“Here we are”, Y/N says, coming back in the room, carrying a tray with two mugs, a tea pot, different flavors of tea, and chocolate biscuits, along with a bowl of milk for Oliver. “Please, serve yourself”, she adds, while putting down Oliver’s bowl.

They talk about everything and nothing, whilst drinking the tea when Bucky finally comes back to the main subject.

“So, tell me exactly why you want me to do for you ?”

“Well, as I told you, I’d like you to pose for me. See last week during Steve’s lesson, I draw your face and I had a problem for your eyes. I mean, the light changed so many times and your eyes color changed with it. I’d like to find the best light to do them justice. Your eyes are really unique.”

The next week, Bucky comes back at Y/N’s apartment, to find her painting on her balcony when he enters her home. A few minutes later, he finds himself sitting face to face with her, under the natural light. It takes a few hours for Y/N to make a new portrait of Bucky with the accurate eye color. But then, it became a habit for the two to have posing seances. First, she works on his eyes, then she moves to his nose, lips, chin, hair after a few seances. During it, they both start to know each other, the more time they spend together, the more they start to fall for one another.

Y/N decides after a few weeks that she’d like to move on to his body if he’s still okay to pose for her. Bucky agrees, without admitting yet that he loves spending time with her. And when Bucky poses half naked, Y/N notices what she didn’t during Steve’s class, Bucky’s broad shoulders, his perfect abs, his strong arms, his beautiful hands. Oh, his hands, Y/N starts to think about what they would feel on her body if he used them on her. Oh jeez, she thinks, I start to have sinful thoughts, this is really no good.

One evening, after a long day of posing, Bucky sits on one of the low walls of Y/N’s balcony, one of his legs hanging in the air, leaning his back on one of the walls. The days has been quite hot, and the evening is still warm. Y/N comes back from the kitchen with two beers, Bucky is partially turned away, Oliver on his lap. Y/N smiles at the sight, thinking that she could get used to this.

“Yes, you’re a cutie”, Bucky is patting the cat’s back. “You’re the best kitty in the world.”

“Don’t start this with him, he’s gonna beg for it the next time you’ll be here.”

“I don’t matter”, Bucky says, “I like this little fellow, after all, he accepted me here, he didn’t have to at first, he could have thought that I would still his pretty mom from him.”

Y/N blushes at Bucky’s word. She sits in front of him, handing him a beer. She mirrors his position on the wall while the sun is going down. In the sunset light, Bucky’s gaze is more intense than in any other light she has seen him before. Oliver jumps of Bucky’s leg when Y/N moves closer to him. Y/N turns her head to the setting sun, her left hand on her leg. Bucky looks at her, she’s glowing in the sunlight and Bucky finds her more beautiful than he did before. She was so adorable with those stains of paint. Bucky moves closer, he wants to kiss her so bad. He extends his hand to lace his fingers with Y/N’s one. Y/N turns her face back to Bucky, their gaze meeting. Bucky leans towards Y/N who meets him halfway. Their lips touch softly, Y/N slides a little closer, climbing on Bucky’s lap. Once there, she deepens the kiss, sliding her fingers into Bucky’s hair. After a few minutes, she pulls away, catching her breath, her forehead against his.

“What about now ?”, Bucky asks.

Y/N doesn’t answer, she just gets up and grabs Bucky’s hand to lead him to her bed.

The next morning, Bucky wakes up nuzzling Y/N’s hair, her bare back to his bare chest. He props his head on his elbow, looking at her peacefully sleeping, silently thanking Steve for the model job.

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lov3nerdstuff · 5 years

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could you please make a loki x reader where he finds out how good she is at drawing/ art and it’s all just fluff?

Imagine: You just wanted to draw a beautiful stranger in a coffeeshop when suddenly everything goes pearshaped.

A.N.: Thank you @marvel-ous-buckyy for being the first one to request something! I did my best to put this prompt into action and I really hope you like it! It kinda turned into a coffeeshop AU but only a little bit :) let me know what you think!

Beautiful stranger

You were sitting in a small coffee shop downtown, shortly after 10pm, with a nice hot cup of steaming brew in front of you. It was your favorite spot in the whole city, all kinds of people came in for their daily caffeine fix. Some even came into the shop more than once a day. Especially this late at night, people came here more frequently than one might expect. As usual, you were sat on a small table in the middle of the room, your sketchbook in front of you along with a couple pencils and watercolors. No eraser, as you didn't believe in erasing when sketching. Whatever came out of your hand and onto the paper was worth to be kept or worked around. Other than that, there were hardly any huge mistakes in your drawing anyway. You had practiced your art all your life and nothing filled you with greater joy than sitting in public, drawing strangers or nature.

Today was no different. You sat in your usual spot and after a few warm-up sketches you decided it was time for a larger and more detailed piece. So you looked around yourself, taking in the surroundings while taking a sip of your coffee. It was too hot still and burned your tongue, but the smell it emitted was just too delicious to resist.

Your eyes wandered from the seemingly daily-changing staff to the customers. Most just ordered to go and were out and about again at this time of night, but then your eyes fell upon a tall man with raven hair who was sitting on the opposite side of the shop. You blinked a couple times, trying to get your eyes to fully focus after having stared at your sketchpad for an hour.

He was astonishingly gorgeous, almost surreal in his appearance. You coughed, awkwardly trying to swallow your own breath. Had you seen him here before? You were sure you'd had remembered seeing him.

You could see a little more than his profile from where you were sat. He looked down onto a journal he held in his hands. Blinking a few more times, you noticed how graceful and elegant his hands were, his whole physique. He looked out of this world, even if he wore a casual dark grey suit and a green dress shirt like most business people working late. His raven hair hung loosely around his beautiful face, framing it perfectly.

What was a person like him doing at such an ungodly hour in a coffee shop? Well, you were also sitting here, touche, but for the sole reason that you wouldn't be able to sleep at home anyway. If the heavy insomnia you suffered from kept you up all night, at least you could use the time to draw in peace and be happy for once.

Back to the beautiful stranger. The energy he radiated seemed to draw you in like he had his own gravity, only working on you. He was so focused on his journal, he didn't seem to notice your staring. His high cheekbones and sharp jawline were just screaming at you to draw them.

So you started with delicate but certain lines, making sure to capture every detail of his being. Drawing the hair, you suppressed the urge to just walk over and run your hands through the black locks. It looked so soft… you tried to do it justice in your work.

Exactly there lay the problem you saw in your drawings. You wanted to capture the most magnificent and the most beautiful the world had to offer, but in your eyes you often failed to truly reflect their outer beauty. Instead, it turned into both, a structural and aesthetic representation of the emotions they conveyed. This time… there was so much sadness radiating off this man, but also so much passion and the pure intensity of it made your skin crawl with excitement. This drawing would turn out a masterpiece, you just knew it!

For a little more than an hour you drew and sketched, only then wondering why on earth he hadn't finished his coffee yet and left. Maybe he was here for something different after all? You didn't know and as long as he remained sitting in this same position for you to draw, you also didn't care why he was here.

Once you finished the rough sketch, you went on to inking your work. Why hadn't he left yet? Usually the people you drew only remained sitting still for no more than the time it took them to finish their coffee or maybe the news feed on their phones. He was so different…

You finished inking a while later and he still hadn't moved. Not believing your luck, you went on to color the drawing, keeping everything in cool tones and rough textures. Except for his face. That, you drew with the utmost care and delicacy. Just as you were about to finish the piece, time seemed to stop for you, as a bulky and seemingly drunk man stumbled against your table and poured the contents of his to go cup all over your sketchbook. Immediately the ink and the colors started running together and off the page, replaced by black hot liquid. You let out a yelp, jumping up from your chair and knocking it over in the process. No, this couldn't be happening… It had taken you months to fill this sketchbook and now the whole thing was ruined. After a second of utter shock, you jumped into action and grabbed the first thing available to try to save what you could from the mess.

"S-ssorry…" The man slurred, bumping into you on his way to the door, fleeing from the situation without another word.

Using the hem of your shirt, you gently patted the book dry, but it was by far too late. A young barista came rushing to your side with a bunch of napkins, cleaning the table and offering some to you. Only now did you notice that your jeans were drenched as well as your shirt. But you simply stared at the heavily smudged, crinkling book in your hands. All these memories kept in there, all the emotions you could never have explained outside of their colorful visual representations. Gone. You felt tears stinging in your eyes and your vision became blurry as you suppressed a sob. The barista finished cleaning your tabe and apologized for the hundredth time to you, but you were lost in your own mind, tears running down your face even though you willed them not to. You hated crying, hated emotions and most definitely hated people in this very moment. Without any more care for your surroundings you slumped down on your damp chair again, starting to slowly gather your drenched supplies. You just wanted to leave, go back to your tiny apartment and cry in the shower until there wouldn't be any more tears left.

Grabbing your bag, you pushed the chair back under the table and bid the staff goodbye. Outside, the cold but fresh air hit your face and you felt a little calmer. The night just happened to have this effect on you.

Just as you were about to saunter down the street, a smooth voice addressed you from behind.

"Excuse me, Miss, but I believe you forgot your book."

The voice made you shiver slightly, it was deep and calming, yet very in control.

"It's a sketchbook, but it's of no use anymore. Some douche emptied his…" You stopped mid-sentence once you turned around and saw who the voice belonged to. The beautiful stranger stood so close to you that your breath hitched and you took a step backwards out of instinct.

He was even more intriguing from up close. Your gaze shot to his face. He had green eyes that could've swallowed your soul if you kept looking at them. To your surprise, he seemed just as taken aback when he looked into your own orbs.

A blush crept up to you cheeks in no time and you quickly looked down to the book he held out to you. It looked nothing like the drenched and wrinkled thing you had just thrown into the trash. Instead, it looked almost like new.

Frowning, you took it from him. "This can't be mine, mine is all damaged…"

You flipped it open in the middle, staring at one of your drawings from a few weeks back. Completely and utterly intact and beautiful as ever. Incredulous, you flipped back and forth, but every drawing in the large book seemed to be completely fine as it had been a few hours ago.

"What…?" You breathed, your gaze shooting up to meet his once more. "How did you do that?"

A slow smirk played on his lips as he watched your irritation with great amusement.

"I noticed that you were drawing me." He simply said in this incredibly soothing and yet dangerous voice.

You blushed an even deeper shade of red. "When did you notice?"

"Oh, just about right when you ogled me for the first time." He grinned, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "When that guy dropped his coffee on your book, I was quite furious."

"And why is that?" You asked, gaining control of your body once more. Something told you to stay away from this man and something else, something much stronger, told you to learn everything you could about him.

"Well, I wanted to see how your drawing turned out. If you got the best angle, you know…" He winked at you, making you chuckle slightly.

You took another look at the book and twisted it in every direction in your hands. "But how did you restore it completely, I mean, all the ink had started running and…"

You were cut off once more when, with a slight wave of his hand, the moisture and stains in your clothing started to simply float out of the fabric, before vanishing into thin air. Your eyes widened and you stared at him open mouthed. "Who are you?" You finally managed to ask.

"My name is Loki. Of Asgard. Or of Jotunheim. Depends on my mood, really. It's a pleasure to meet you, my dearest." He grinned at you, his hands in the pockets of his pants.

You snapped out of your awe rather quickly. He was the infamous Loki, a literal god?! That explains the magic. You hadn't heard all that much about him other than that he was the brother of one of the Avengers and capable of magic

You smiled at him. "I'm Y/N. Thank you so much for saving my book! It means a lot to me, really. Can I buy you a coffee or something as a thank you?"

He let out a small laugh. "Oh dear, I had so much coffee while waiting for you to finish your drawing, I don't think I can take another cup." His smile turned into a grin once more. "But you could let me take a look at your drawings. If they are only half as intriguing as you, then they'd be very much worth saving."

You let out a shy laugh. "You don't need to flatter me to take a look." But then, when you were about to hand the book over to him once more, you felt insecure. It contained so many memories and emotions you hadn't ever shared with anyone. And now you'd show them to a beautiful stranger? YES, part of your mind screamed. So you let him take it out of your hand and simply hoped for the best.

He noticed the shift in your mood immediately and kept the book closed in his hands. There was something in your eyes that reminded him of his own and he felt the sudden urge to comfort you. That was new… he never really cared about the people he met and so he would always put on the charming facade everyone seemed to expect of him. With you however, he suddenly felt like he could try something new, something… true.

"If you are not comfortable showing these drawings to me, you don't have to, you know..." He said quietly.

"It's silly, I just… feel so vulnerable showing this real life imprint of my soul to a stranger." You laughed nervously and looked into his eyes once more. There was no trace of his previously cocky expression left and all you could see was sincere worry and… hope? Hope for what?

"Maybe… would you…" He seemed rather introverted now, as if someone had switched his personality for a different one. "Would you like to take a walk with me?"

You smiled, a real and happy smile this time. This man right in front of you, this version of Loki, you liked much better than the previous one. It just felt more real fo you.

"I would love to." You answered gently and the two of you took off down the street.

For what felt like hours the two of you wandered the streets of your city, talking about everything and nothing. You warmed up to him quicker than you could believe for yourself and you felt like he opened up to you too, if only just a little for now.

It was already about sunrise when you yawned. That hadn't happened in a long time.

"I'm sorry I kept you up all night." Loki apologized with a small laugh.

"Nah, it's fine. I suffer from insomnia almost every night, it's a surprise to me that I'm still able to function." You brushed it off with a shrug, realizing only now how much you had told him about yourself in the past hours. And how much he had told you. It felt like you'd known him for such a long time, it was ridiculous. But something had just clicked with you and Loki and you could feel a serious crush developing. You were not sure if you minded it though, as he seemed to be quite enamored as well.

The two of you were still a block away from your apartment and yet you already felt sad. You didn't want to leave him just yet, but it was getting rather difficult to keep your eyes open.

"Do you want to come in? I… I could make you coffee or…" You turned to him once you stood in front of your building, hope all over your face.

Loki shot you his amazing smile in return. "I would love to, but I think that wouldn't be very appropriate."

You looked down to your feet. He was standing so close to you, you could feel his warmth on your skin and even smell his cologne and it all made you want to just lean against him and let yourself dwell in his sweet embrace. But you didn't dare to just hug him, so you slowly reached out and first touched his hand with a single finger, gently brushing against his thumb. He got the sign and took your hand in his, interlacing your fingers and gently brushing over your knuckles.

"Do you… do you still want to?" You asked in a breath.

"Pardon?"

"Do you still want to see the… the drawings?"

He nodded in return and you let go of his hand to find the book in your bag and place it in his hands.

He looked into your eyes once more and you nodded, so he flipped the book open on page one.

Slowly, one by one, he looked at every single page and all the while remained standing mere inches away from you. You didn't dare to look at his face, fearing to see a reaction you weren't ready to cope with. Time seemed to stand still for you; you heard nothing but his breathing and the flipping of pages.

When he reached the last page there was utter silence. The electricity and tension in the air finally made you look back up again.

He was watching you with huge eyes, with an intensity you had yet to comprehend.

Gently, you took the book out of his hands and placed it back inside your bag without breaking eye contact.

"So…" You breathed. "What do you think of the…"

You were cut off by his chilled lips crashing against your own, passionate and capturing.

There was nothing you could think, nothing you could do but kiss him back and let him push you against the wall behind you.

This was right. So so right and you didn't doubt it for a second. The kiss was gentle, yet passionate and oh so sweet. His soul was reaching out to yours and worshipping it in every way possible.

"Y/N…" He growled when you broke apart, not daring to open your eyes for you feared this dream would come to an end. "How… how did you do it?"

You frowned against his forehead, which rested against yours. "How did I do what?"

"You… you captured their soul. Every living thing you drew, it was just… as if you had taken their very essence and poured it onto the pages. The drawing you did of me, it's… I have never seen something like it. It's not mere beauty, it's the soul that…"

You cut him off with another gentle kiss. "I dearly promise: your soul is safe with me."

___________

Tags:

@its-remy-not-ratatouille

(fyi this is my other account besides @nightrose64 )

#loki fanfic #sketchbook #avengers #tom hiddleston fanfiction #loki x reader #loki imagine #coffeeshop au #loki #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel #loki laufeyson #loki love #loki odinson #loki (marvel)

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