#this sketch page had a kiss but I didn’t wanna ink it

[eggs-can-draw]

Mmmmmmmmmm sketch dump

[kingofthe-egirls]

FOX TALES: LUFFY asks to be your boyfriend (+ bonding time with ROBIN)

fox tales

(Part ??? Of my arctic fox kistune fic, based off a lot of russian folk lore lol. Scroll through my tag and read in whatever order you want, you’ll get the gist 😅)

(cw: food, violence, kissing, sfw)

“Vasya”

***

“I think I wanna change my name,” you start, slowly flipping through the pages of an antique book Robin had handed you. There’s gold filigree on the paper edges, and it’s written in a script you have to scrunch your eyes to read.

“Oh?” The archeologist asks. She looks up from over the rim of her teacup, sipping gently. Her blue eyes are lighter than Sanji’s: hers more teal, rather than his lapis lazuli. Robin and you haven’t connected much, but it’s nice to spend some time with her. And you didn’t know if anyone else would understand this sort of thing.

“To Vasya,” you continue, nodding down at your book. “I read it in a story once.”

Robin sips her drink. “What was it about?” Her voice is quiet, and lilting. You tilt your ears, wondering if she knew she spoke in lullabies.

“It was about this girl,” you say, folding your hands atop the book, vellum pages spread open in front of you. You scratch at some of the ink. “She was a witch, sorta. She could see nature spirits. And the king of winter wanted to take her for his bride. He actually fell in love with her,” you recall, “Instead of the mortal man she was betrothed to. So she ran away into the woods with him, and eventually learns to fight. She helps her country win a war, actually.” You grin, “There were some really cool fight scenes.”

“Oh?” Robin hums, closing her book on her lap. The two of you had been reading in the library together, until you’d spoken out of nowhere about your name change. “That’s interesting.”

“Mhmm,” you agree, sipping your own sugary tea Sanji had prepared for you. He knew you liked it sweet.

You plop another sugar cube into the china cup, stirring it with the silver spoon that came with the rest of the tea set. It had a lily emblazoned on the handle.

“And her name was Vasya?”

“Yes,” you say, nodding, “Short for Vasilisa. But I like Vasya best.”

“Well then,” Robin smiles, a thin flutter of pleasure dancing around her lips. “Nice to meet you, Vasya.”

You grin, and take a big sip of tea.

“Thanks, Robin. Nice to meet you, too.”

***

“The wings of the pirate king?” You giggle after Robin had told you Sanji’s title.

“Mm,” she hums, pleased, “Zoro is his right arm. And you are the painter, I presume?” She nods toward the set of colored pencils you’d brought along into the room. The library was one of your favorite places on the ship to draw (minus the stern’s railing, which was your favorite spot). Sketches of the aquarium fish dotted your notebook every few pages. Luffy and his stupid grin took up most of the rest.

You couldn’t stop drawing him, much to your chagrin.

“I like using colored pencils, mostly,” you prop your chin on your hand. Munch on a cookie Sanji had brought, the white china plate dotted with pink frills. It was vanilla, with lemon-icing sugar on top. Your eyes flutter closed at the taste of it.

“Melts in your mouth, doesn’t it?” Robin brings her own cookie up to her lips, and takes a dainty bite. She’s so polite, you think. Way better manners than you, or even anyone else on the crew. Nami came close, but not really. Sanji was better mannered than her (at least to you, although he yelled at Mosshead quite a lot). You hadn’t gotten to really meet Zoro, yet.

“Mm,” you agree, taking another bite.

“You’re the archeologist, right? A historian, of sorts.” You hadn’t known what that word meant, until Chopper told you. He was your best friend, on the ship. Well, besides Luffy…

But Luffy was special.

“That’s right,” she inclines her head, the sharp edge of her raven hair skimming the top of her shoulder. Her collarbone dipped behind a violet collar, sharp and angular just like the rest of her.

Plus she was so tall.

“What do you like about it?” It was easy for you to make friends, you had realized. Especially with this crew. They had all been so welcoming to you, the day Luffy reappeared through a portal with you on his hip. He’d been gone for three months, stuck at the cottage with you. That’s how you’d met him, how you’d gotten to know him, and how he asked you to be on his crew.

He’d been impressed with your portal fruit, and had found you to be excessively pretty, to boot. You blush at the memory, the first time he’d called you cute.

***

“You’re pretty, kitty.” Luffy bends down his head so he’s looking at you from upside down. You’re sitting on a tree stump, sketchbook in hand. You’d been drawing Luffy himself, enthralled by his athleticism as he trained on your cottage-green lawn.

“Y-You are!” You blurt, having never been called pretty before. You could use your body to flirt with men, sure, but somehow Luffy’s complement hit differently than theirs. Your cheeks flush.

You wonder why.

“You’re welcome,” he says, grinning, and steps away to sit down across the firepit from you. Last night’s embers still smoke, chalk-like wisps still curling through the air.

“But you’re supposed to say ‘thank you’ first,” he stretches his legs out, leaning back on his hands. His fingers are thick and calloused from where they curl into the grass.

“Thank you,” you mumble, closing your sketchbook stealthily. He’s seen your portraits of him, the ones you dared to show him. But those were less…ogling than this last one had been.

Listen, he’s hot when he trains, okay?

“You’re really pretty,” he says again, and you realize there’s a sudden dusting of rose across his face. He’s blushing, you think with a shock.

“Th-thanks…,” you say again, sitting on your hands. You knock your feet together, bare and dirty from the grass. You curl them up, and scrunch your nose. “What…what makes you say so?”

Luffy tips his head to one side, gray eyes sliding up toward the sky. “Hmm…just felt like saying it, I guess. I like watching you draw.”

You bite your lip, your own cheeks heating. “I like watching you train,” you quietly counter. Luffy stills, going calm in that way you’d seen for the first time last night, when he’d fought off a whole town of angry farmers for you. They’d been trying to chase you, torches and all, and he had just. Knocked them down like bowling pins.

He’d been angrier than you’d ever seen him, then.

After, when there were only groaning bodies left twitching on the ground, he’d wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Let’s go home, Kit,” he had said, and you opened a portal for the both of you to step through.

Now, he stares at you with guileless, unblinking eyes. You’ve never trusted someone so implicitly before. Luffy never lies.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” He asks, and the question catches you off guard. You’re still a little shaken, from the fight.

You regard him, leveling an artist’s eye at his muscular frame. His body is tanned, weather-worn and battle-hardened. His hair is fluffy and dark, like a raven’s ruffled feathers. He has the best smile you’ve ever seen in your life, and it’s not long before you’re nodding emphatically.

“Yes.”

He grins, eyes crinkling up into little half moons. “Good! I like you,” he hums, turning his head to stare at the tree line surrounding your yard. The pine trees are tall and indigo, shivering in the cool, twilight breeze.

“I like you too,” you hedge, not sure what he means. Did he…y’know…like you? Like that?

“I mean, I really like you,” he repeats. He’s staring at you fully now, and your pulse quickens.

“I really like you, too.” You couldn’t hope, you couldn’t possibly, but—

“Can I kiss you?”

He asks it plainly, simply, with a subtle tilt to his head. His hair is ruffled in the wind, and you can see a flicker of conquerer’s haki around his shoulder blades. Like the mantle of a king.

You answer without words, crawling forward off your tree stump over to where he sits with his legs splayed out. Your sketchbook is forgotten, discarded in the grass. You sit in his lap, hovering with your face and your hips barely a breath away from his.

Your eyes flick to his lips, and you can see that he’s trembling. He looks up at you, a question asked still paused in his throat. You slide your fingers into his hair, and pull.

He gasps, but you devour it with a kiss.

“Fuck—,” he whispers, in between hot crashes of your lips, “I like kissing you.”

You moan out a little sound, something satisfied and warm, and sink down onto his lap proper. His arms snake around your waist, pulling you in tighter. Your hands are raking through his fluffy hair.

“I like you,” you growl again, pursing your lips at his temple. You wonder if he’s ever been kissed.

“Good,” he says again, peppering small kisses along your jawbone. “Will you be mine?”

“Hmm,” you tap your fingers against the base of his skull. “What does that mean? I don’t like being trapped,” you lean up, haughty, your arms around his neck.

He shakes his head, fiercely. “Never trapped,” he tightens his hold around your hips, “Not with me.”

“Okay,” you chirp, bending down to nip at his bottom lip, “I’m yours, then.”

Luffy laughs, loud and clear, and tumbles you both onto the grass together. You giggle, enjoying the weight of your now-boyfriend pressing against you in the dirt. He’s so warm, and he smells like fresh logs.

You reach up to kiss his chin. He beams down at you with pride.

“My Kit,” he says, effectively claiming you as his own. He kisses the tip of your nose.

“My Luffy,” you say, grinning almost as wide as him (though you don’t think that’d ever be possible). “My pirate captain,” you stroke his hair lovingly, and he leans into the touch.

“Your pirate king,” he corrects, and swoops down to claim your lips once again.

[mendesblurb]

Imagine Shawn having a secret diary and reader who happens to be his best friend found out and turns out all the writings are for her.

I want you like that

Shawn Mendes x female reader

Warning: fluff & SMUT, maybe grammar error and maybe some punctuation errors.

Note: Anon, I honestly have no idea how I did for your request. Anyway, happy reading! Feedback and comments will always be appreciated :)

Even Shawn would gladly admit that he probably shouldn’t have left it sitting in the living room.

Shawn couldn’t even be that mad about it because, again, he did leave it in a vulnerable area. That still didn’t stop him from getting red in the face and almost melting into a puddle on the spot.

“Y/N…”

Before he can grab the notebook back, you dance out of reach until the kitchen island separates you, eyes blazing across the page as you skim his paragraphs. He edges around the counter toward you, and you only proceed to retreat slowly, turning your gaze back to his words, "Wait, these scribbles are nice. When did you write them?"

Shawn sighed in defeat. Not willing to answer, his hands reached again for the notebook but you just hugged them closer to your chest.

"I'm asking you a question, Shawn. It’ll be rude to not answer.”

"I’m Sorry, I just don't wanna answer. Just give back my notebook.."

You flip open the notebook again and manage to make out a rough sketch of a lip, pair of eyes and a girl. You continue to flip through other pages, circling the island to avoid his outstretched hand. Your eyes continue to land on a few more of his scribbles.

"But seriously, I liked them. All the lyrics and sketches, huh? Who were they for?"

"No one in mind,” Shawn shrugged, which you can clearly see that he is lying, “I was just bored.”

"I'm not letting you go until you tell me who this wonderful girl is."

”You know it could be for anyone."

"I don’t believe you. C'mon Shawnie, tell me. I promise I won't tease. I swear.”

Your relationship with Shawn was a little complicated. You weren’t dating, but you were best friends and both definitely had romantic tension that nobody could deny. You had even shared a meaningful kiss in a passionate moment. You were most definitely crazy about each other, but just too blind to see it. His diary, on the other hand, contained every thought and deep hidden feelings that he correlated to you. Which is why he was so distraught when you read through it.

But the moment has come. This is it. He must take the plunge of bravery, it might tease his pride a bit and his heart ached at the possibility of losing his best friend. But here goes nothing, “Read the last paragraph on the last page.”

“You know you could have just said a- -.” Oh. it’s for you, you stood there re-reading that last paragraph, fingers tracing the dried ink, “n-name.” You gulped.

At the end of the day…after every song, at every show and at every crowd. My eyes would still wonder, searching and hoping for her. Y/N Y/L/N, my inspiration, my muse, and truly the one girl I still and forever will love.

Your eyes slowly and hesitantly look up, only to be met by Shawn’s gaze. You stare at each other, a heavy, heated silence hovering between you, and you know instinctively that a single move will change everything.

You proceed to set the notebook on the counter and saunter over, watching Shawn’s eyes dip to drink in your frame. As you stop just in front of him, you lower your voice to a sultry whisper, “You know, actions speak louder than any words ever could.”

His eyes instantly darken with want, and his hand finds the back of your waist, pulling you even closer until you’re chest to chest, you could feel the warmth of his body. His lips graze yours as he whispers, “Oh yeah?” His nose was already touching yours as he looked for any sign of your approval.

Your lips curve up to a smile as you utter your reply, “Yeah.” He chuckled upon hearing your words and with just the slightest tilt, his soft lips met with yours as you moved your hands up and around his neck, “Am I getting there?”

His arms were quick to wrap themselves around your lower back and heaved you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist as he lifted you in his arms, depositing you on the counter, and attacking your jaw and the edge of your neckline with his lips.

“You’re getting there.” Groaning in pleasure, you arch and writhe in his arms as his hot wet mouth continues to trail along the sensitive skin of your throat, “Good.” He whispers back.

His lips meet yours again. Hands fumbling desperately at your clothes, tugging at them as if they’re suffocating you or him or both. Your hands are equally urgent, pulling at the fabric of his shirt, fingers fumbling the buttons.

As soon as your clothes and his shirt are cast aside, he’s on you again. Kissing your lips, “Guide me.” He says. “Teach me.” Another kiss on your cheek and your throat, “Teach me how to love you.” He finallys as he leave one finall kiss at the curve of your chest.

“Gladly.” You mumble in the kiss, guiding one of his hands down beneath the hem of your underwear. You feel your hips bucking as he moves his finger in a circle over your sensitive nub. “Ugh, Shawn,” You moan. He removes your underwear to the side and fingers instantly find your already dripping core.

His fingers move in smooth, tight circles over your nub. Your eyes flutter closed, yearning for him to come closer with every swift touch. You felt his face brushing against your forehead as he nibbled your ear, your arms wrapped over his back. Your nails dug into him as he pleasured you. He pulled away, leaving you feeling empty.

He went on to unbutton his pants and slid them down. You feel a feral desire growing inside you, seeing his exposed sight in front of you. So you lean forward to peel his boxers roughly over his form, exposing him completely to your gaze, “Damn, Mendes.”

Shawn just chuckles, hearing those words come out of you. But, it quickly becomes a groan as you are unable to control yourself any longer and you wrap your hand around him, clasping him gently.

“Ohhh Y/N.” He closes his eyes and hisses in pleasure as you stroke his entire length, savouring the heat of him in your hand. Biting your lip, you add your other hand, working him and building his need with every touch, every caress. Shawn continues to groan and growls from the sensation, “Oh god…Y/N..if you keep going, I think I’m going to…”

“Would that be so bad?”

“No but, I want to taste you too.” He runs his hands up your bare thighs, and you shiver slightly from the contact. He kneels between your legs, eyes intent on your most intimate area. His lips lean forward, and you gasp, your hands reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair, body leaning back on the counter, fully surrendering yourself to his mouth that works expertly against your body.

“Shawn…you’re so good…oh!” You feel yourself beginning to crest, the sensations intense and wonderful.. but you don’t want to peak without him. “Shawn, slow down. I’m going to…I want to feel all of you in me when..”

“Would that be so bad?” He came back up, hovering over your figure as you grabbed a hold of his waist. He was towering over you, his breathing low as he focused on you. “No, but I want you inside me.” You whispered, looking up into his gaze.

“Say no more, Baby.”

He pulled you into him and kissed you gently then he’s on you, in you, between your thighs, and you can only groan and arch against him, welcoming the wonderful raw sensation of pleasure, the feeling of his body slowly moving against yours.

“Ooh, Shawn…”

“Y/N… you feel so good..” he doesn’t stop, doesn't hesitate and doesn't even pause. His hips moving in a slow and steady rhythm as he gazes intently into your eyes. Moaning in pleasure, you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his back, fingers scratching his skin again in excitement as he moves deeper, “S-Shawn don’t stop.”

“Never..” he moves faster again, and you can only cry out, lifting your hips against him. Squeezing him tighter with your thighs, helping him even move faster and faster. Everything seems to be blurry and time stops ticking as the only thing you could do was grip on the counter, holding on for dear life as his rhythm got faster and deeper in you, “oh god.. can’t hold on much longer..”

“Let go Y/N, I’m here for you.”

Fingernails clenching around the countertop for purchase as you scream in pleasure, “Shawn…I’m..I’m… oohhhh!” You continue to scream as you finally hit your peak, the ache cresting and crashing in your body as you explode in sensation.

The arching of your body, the snap of your hips and his hips, brought Shawn to his peak too as he roars and thrusts one more time, “Y/N!”

It feels as if fireworks consume you both, bodies bucking and writhing with each other while both mind white out. Until at last, he picked you up and laid down on the couch, pulling you onto his chest. Pulling a blanket over both your bodies before holding you, both of your chests going up and down rapidly. He kissed your forehead and you could feel his fingers running through your hair.

“Were you ever gonna tell me?”

He looks down at you, smiling widely. He kissed your forehead and stared at you before uttering his reply, “Of course. I had doubts but I knew I had to tell you eventually how I feel.”

Then there was another moment or two of silence as your fingers traced patterns through his chest, both of you simply enjoying each other’s company and still a little stunned about the events that lead to this very moment. You’re about to doze off when, unexpectedly, he sighs,”Shawn are you alright?”

“Oh, more than alright. That was..incredible, I just feel like I dreamt and played out a bunch of scenarios in my head about how today would unfold. But the reality of tonight is so much better than any of my fantasies.”

“I wouldn’t change a thing about how tonight played out.” You replied, pressing your palm flat against his bare chest, leaning in closer to his face, nose touching and lips only a couple of inches from each other, “Me too.” Shawn says as he brushed his lips against yours softly, and his hand snaked its way around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ɢᴜʏꜱ... ꜰᴇᴇʟ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴋᴇ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢ, ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴍʏ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ, ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍʏ ᴄʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ᴄʜᴀᴛꜱ ᴏʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ... ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ꜱɪɴɢʟᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ... ❤️

Taglist (open) : @monikamendes @holland-styles @bvttercupbby @lonelyreputation @badreputationlove @shawn-is-my-giant-jellybean @benito-mi-vida @swiftmendeshoran @yournameoneverypage @shawn-is-bruh @mendesbhraanth @perfectlywrongsm @imaginashawnns @smendes-forever @nervousmendes @whenyoureadyholland @shawn-youth @myboyshawn @camilalewiss @camilalewisss @theregoesmyherojd @nanijaac1 @shawnieeboyy @silverswallow @inlovewithmendes @mendeslol @mendesx123 @23kofmendes @jellyloml @chipofmendes @poohmendes @wutheringmendes

[hangovercurse]

Blind Date (continued)

You invite Colson in after your blind date

Request: “I loved this so much! If you get the chance and are up to it, I’d love a second part!” ”I would like to read a second part of it”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: cursing

A/N: Have I edited this? No. Did I even look back over this after I wrote it? Also no

Word Count: 1974

Your hand touched the handle before you turned around, finding Colson in the same situation at his car door, still looking at you. “Do you maybe wanna… come in?” You asked, biting your lip. His face lit up, a smirk highlighting his features.

“I would love that.”

The man’s lanky figure strutted over to your front door as you opened it, pausing as he entered to take in the smell of your house that screamed you. He let his eyes wander around the place as he stepped further in, taking off his coat and shoes at the front entryway.

You moved into the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of red wine while he made his way into the space. You found a note on the counter from your best friend and roommate.

Staying at Eric’s tonight in case you and your date need the place to yourself <3

You rolled your eyes at the note, chuckling as you tossed it in the trash. You rustled through your drawers to grab a corkscrew, fiddling with the bottle as Colson shuffled into the room, standing behind you to encase you in his arms.

He took the corkscrew from your hands and opened the bottle with ease. “I was getting there,” you whined jokingly.

He chuckled, “I could see that.” You turned around and allowed your lower back to rest against the counter, squeezed between the surface and Colson. His arms rested on the countertop on either side of you, his figure leaning to be level with you.

You couldn’t help but admire his features, his bright blue eyes and the stubble on his jaw sparking your artistic mind. “I wish I could sketch you right now,” you murmured your thoughts aloud.

He smirked, leaning closer into you, your lips almost meeting, “why don’t you?”

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before softly speaking, “you would get bored being my model.”

He pulled away from you, fingers running across your waist until they found your hands, intertwining your fingers. “I would be honored to be your model.”

You perked an eyebrow, “seriously?”

He shrugged, “I’ve done it before for cameras, and you are much more interesting than photographers.” He pulled you away from the counter, “go get your stuff and I’ll pour wine.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked towards your art room, which was really just your bedroom, “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

When you returned, he was wandering your small living area, a glass of wine in his hands and one on the small coffee table. His eyes danced along the picture frames you and your roommate had placed around the house when you first moved in, which you honestly hadn’t looked at since.

You stepped into the room with your sketchbook and pencils, making your presence known. His gaze drifted to you with a smile, watching you settle onto the couch, “so, is this your roommate?” He motioned towards one of the pictures.

You glanced up, smiling at the goofy picture you two had taken at graduation, “yep, that’s us.” You turned your head back to your book, flipping to the next blank page as he continued asking about your pictures.

“Who’s in this one?” He asked, pointing to a photo of your roommate and her boyfriend, Eric.

You chuckled at the image of them pulling funny faces in the front seat of a car while you sat in the background looking bored, “that’s Eric, her boyfriend. We went on this huge road trip and they swore I wouldn’t have to third wheel, but I obviously did.”

Colson let out a small laugh, taking a sip of his wine, “and who is that?”

You had honestly forgotten about the picture he was pointing to, but seeing it made your stomach fill with unease. “Oh, I forgot that was still up,” you sighed at Colson’s curious expression, “that’s me and my ex, TJ. We broke up months ago, I thought I’d gotten everything of his out of here.”

Colson could see the discomfort in your expression, sitting down on the armchair next to your couch, throwing his legs over the side and posing dramatically. “Bad ex, huh?” You nodded, not wanting to make him uncomfortable with the conversation, though you wanted nothing more than to open up to him. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

You rolled your eyes, turning so you could face him, “of all the poses, that’s what you pick?”

He smiled innocently, “yep.” A chuckle fell from your lips as you looked down at your sketchbook, pressing your pencil to the paper. “Fine, I’ll go first,” he began, “can’t really get to know each other if we don’t get at least a little bit of trauma out of the way.”

You looked up at him and giggled, “you got me there.”

He sighed, taking a sip of his wine, “Baze told me not to talk about it, but the look on your face when I asked you about him tells me you might be able to relate.” You raised an eyebrow but kept drawing, giving him a silent signal to continue. “I was dating this girl for a while, you’ve probably heard of her, Megan Fox.”

Your eyes went wide at the name, looking up at him in shock, “yeah, because that’s not an intimidating act to follow at all!”

Colson waved you off, “you’re doing great so far, don’t even worry about it.” You gave him a stern look, but he only continued with his story, “anyways, we were together for a while and she told me all the time she thought we were soulmates, and I believed her, you know?” You bit your lip, starting to feel slightly intimidated as he spoke about the woman. “But then she cheated on me after, like, 9 months. And I realized after we broke up how wrong we were for each other and how much she manipulated me.”

You frowned as he spoke, his tone getting sadder with each word. “That’s so shitty. I don’t understand why people cheat in long term relationships, especially after you’ve given them so much hope and trust. Like someone convinces you that they love you and then they go around and pull that shit. It’s evil.”

He nodded, a slight smile on his face, “I’m over it now though, in case you were worried. Came to the realization about a month or two later that I was better without her.”

You held the pencil in your hands still, trying to find the words you needed to say. “I, uh, I was dating that guy, TJ. We had been friends for a while and he asked me out and I said yes. Everything was great, you know? And then like almost a year end he starts acting all weird and possessive. Like just because we had been together for so long means he doesn’t have to treat me like his girlfriend anymore. He would make me feel like shit in front of our friends and just all around was being a shitty boyfriend.” Colson stared at you intensely with a frown on his face, eyebrows furrowed.

“A guy should never do that shit to his girl. You don’t deserve that shit, no one does.”

You nodded sadly, “yeah, well, then I found out like 4 months into all of this that he had cheated on me and gotten the girl pregnant so… I ended things real quick.” You let out a sad huff, turning your attention back to the book and continuing your sketch of the beautiful man in front of you. “I was really upset at first but now I’m just kind of angry. Dude was a dick.”

Colson let out a dry laugh as you took a long sip of wine, “sounds like it. I’m sorry you went through that shit.”

You shrugged, smiling up at him, “if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here.”

He chuckled, biting his lip, “guess something good came out of it.”

A blush spread across your cheeks, “oh yeah, the food was amazing.” Your words were full of sarcasm, yet the pout on his face still made you giggle, “I’m joking, loser.”

“You better be miss second-date.” You giggled but didn’t respond, turning back to draw him. It was quiet for a few moments, your pencil tracing along the paper.

He shifted, at which you glared up at him, “I told you you’d get bored.”

With a chuckle he said, “I’m not bored. I get to look at you while you draw, it’s far from boring.” You tried to look annoyed at him but failed miserably at his flattering words. “I was thinking though, since it’s my picture and all, I should get to make some executive decisions.”

You scoffed, “you chose your pose, what else would you like oh great model Colson?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, stretching his arm out to set his glass on the table. “Well, I mentioned that I have some tattoos,” he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up, “you should draw them.”

Once his shirt was fully removed from his body, you couldn’t help but gawk just a little. His entire chest was covered in ink, designs beautifully engraved into his skin. “I was gonna make a joke about this only being our first date but holy shit, these are beautiful.”

He blushed, looking down shyly, ”I was honestly scared you weren’t gonna like them.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, “Seriously? This is so cool. I’m an artist, you really think I’m not gonna like tattoos? Its an art form in itself.”

Colson shrugged, moving back to his pose, expecting you to continue your drawing. Instead, your eyes wandered his torso, taking in every detail of the work. “If you’re lucky,” he commented slyly, “one day I might show you all of them.”

You rolled your eyes with a scoff, moving back into drawing position, “you think you’re so cool.”

A breathy laugh fell from his lips, “I do, actually.”

The two of you continued banter-laced conversation while you drew him, his likeness coming to life on your page. At some point it turned into 3 am, and you were struggling to keep your eyes opened, but you were finished.

“Here.” You turned the book to him, letting him take in your work. He didn’t speak for a few moments, causing worry to build in you. “I mean, it’s no Mona Lisa but-“

“That is fucking amazing.” He cut you off with a wide smile, “you make me look hot.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin, “I’m not going to feed your ego by saying something super lame like “that’s just what you look like,” but I’m glad you like it.” He chuckled at your response, climbing off of the chair to stand in front of you.

“Damn, I was really hoping to get my ego fed tonight.” He grabbed the sketchbook from you and threw it onto the couch next to you before grabbing your hands and pulling you up to stand.

You smiled to yourself, chest shaking with silent laughter, “does the sketch not feed it enough?”

He shook his head, “I need the approval of a really pretty girl to satisfy its hunger.”

Rolling your eyes, you leaned up into him, “you gotta work harder than that, Rockstar.” Your words came out breathy against his lips as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

His mouth connected to yours, the kiss deep and passionate. His soft lips meshed perfectly with yours, his hands pulling you up to stand on your tiptoes. Once you pulled away you stayed close to him, breathing in his intoxicating scent. He whispered, “I never thought a blind date could turn out so well.”

[taetaespeaches]

“Wait, I’m nervous.”

taehyung x reader (or oc) genre: fluff word count: 1.9K

a/n: Ok, lovelies, here is just pure wholesome fluff with Tae and Peaches. They are in their own little world again, of course, and they are just feeling real in love at this point lol. Very loosely based on ‘invisible string’ by taylor swift. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))

p.s. if you want the playlist Tae makes in this, here you are. 

HIS hands were gorgeous as he dragged the pen across the page, etching lines to form an abstract piece straight from his vibrant mind to the drawing pad. The diner, one you were well acquainted with, was relatively empty, only a few other patrons besides you and your boyfriend as you awaited your best friends’ arrival.

Jimin and his girlfriend were unsurprisingly late, and as you waited, Taehyung suddenly stopped drawing, reaching for his phone that was attached to a set of earbuds from his pocket. Holding the left bud out to you, he positioned the right one into his ear.

“I made you a playlist,” he smiled softly, a tinge of bashfulness evident in his features. Your lips curving up happily, you eagerly put the earbud into place.

“Show me,” you told him in excitement, Taehyung chuckling as he started the first song, ‘Make Out in My Car’ by Moses Sumney and Sufjan Stevens. Your boyfriend leaned over to you, leaving a sweet kiss to your shoulder before sitting back upright, returning to the drawing pad.

As you took in the lyrics, Taehyung continued sketching the simple but interesting image, you watching ever stroke of the ink. The lyrics entering your mind reminded you of the shift in yours and Taehyung’s relationship, as you skirted the lines of friendship and romance, fighting yourselves, trying not to fall in love with each other despite desperately wanting to love one another fully.

I’m not trying to go to bed with you

I just wanna make out in my car

And though I’m dying to fall in love with you

I just wanna make out in my car.

Despite the public setting, as you sat with your boyfriend listening to the music only you two could hear, it felt as though you and Taehyung were sitting in a moment of time separate from reality, isolated from the other patrons and kitchen staff. A space that was made for you.

When Taehyung entered your life, he came unannounced, all his youthful vibrancy interrupting your daily routine and changing everything forever. He was eccentric, radiating an array of colors that everyone saw, and you fell in love with them easily. If someone were to ask you what your favorite color was, you’d reply with whatever color is shining from him today. The inner-child within Taehyung inspired you, reminding you of the little girl inside yourself.

As the days turned into weeks, building up to months and accumulating into years, Taehyung was still by your side. You’d watched each other grow up, make mistakes, achieve goals. It’s not that Taehyung completed you, or you him, but life, within your little world, just seemed a little less worth living without him in it.

The song ending, Frank Ocean’s version of ‘Moon River’ started playing, you resting your head on Tae’s shoulder as you allowed the music to penetrate your heart.

My dream maker, my heartbreaker

Wherever you’re goin’, I’m goin’ the same.

How true that was. The man beside you was the one person who could both make your dreams come true, but held all the power to shatter your heart, but regardless, you were going with him wherever he went.

The song had a slow fade out, providing a nice transition into the next tune, ‘Early’ by Joy Crookes and Jafaris. The lyrics portrayed a relationship that is either doomed or is meant to be and meant to last. Much like how you and Taehyung viewed your relationship. The fear of failing as a unit plagued you for years until you and Taehyung mutually decided to take the risk.

I’m crossing borders of this friendship

You’re turning water into wine

I can’t believe it

Because, what if it works? You recalled asking him that very questioning, both of you choosing to throw caution into the wind, telling yourselves you were destined. You were either going to last forever, or it was going to crumble in front of your eyes, and you were both still aware of the risk that came with giving into your feelings. But you both decided it was worth the risk. He was worth it.

My ride or die

And I cross my heart

This is where we start when you walk my way

Left the baggage on the floor

You want us and we want more

Don’t you know I open door when you walk my way?

Lifting your head from Taehyung’s shoulder, his eyes drifted from the sketch to you, you smiling softly, matching his fond grin. “Is it ok?” He asked.

“The drawing or the playlist?” You asked, bringing your hand to his face to stroke his cheek with your knuckles.

“Uh,” he looked at the drawing for a split second before lifting his eyes to you again. “Both.”

“Both are great, baby,” you complimented. “You know what you’re doing,” you grinned, Taehyung chuckling.

“With the playlist?” He asked knowingly, both of you understanding the storyline of the songs he chose. You nodded, leaning toward Taehyung, the man dropping his head to gently rest his forehead against yours. “I can’t believe it,” he sang along with the song, moving his head a little bit to go along with the groove, you giggling at the cute action.

“Out of all the places I could have been that day,” you commented, Taehyung’s eyebrows raising as he pulled back a bit to allow his eyes to travel your face. “We could have so easily missed each other.”

“That’s crazy to think about,” he let out a breathy chuckle, his eyes falling to your hand that was resting atop his thigh. “I mean, I guess everyone we come across happens by chance, but not everyone ends up meaning so much,” he noted thoughtfully, you smiling at the comment.

As the song came to an end, Bruno Major’s ‘Easily’ starting, Taehyung wrapped his hand gently around your wrist. “If either of us had been walking by there just a few minutes, or maybe even seconds later or earlier, we would have missed each other completely,” your boyfriend realized, setting your hand on the tabletop.

Coming and going

Inside out and back to front

Oh, tangled and messy

That’s how we’ve always been and we’ll always be

And that’s alright with me

Just because it won’t come easily

Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.

The song added to the story line, bringing you back to the fights and the jealousy, the falling out and ignoring each other, only to always end up back together. You couldn’t quit each other, and you didn’t want to. Taehyung was the easiest yet most complicated relationship you’d ever had, and he probably always would be.

Bringing the pen to your skin, you watched as Taehyung drew a little heart on the inner edge of your wrist. “You’re cute,” you smiled, Taehyung flashing you his stunning boxy beam. The smile you’d never tire of seeing.

“Don’t look,” he told you as he prepared to add to his drawing. “I mean it,” he smiled wider, you mimicking the expression as you covered your eyes with your free hand.

Anticipating the touch of the pen against your skin, you spread your fingers apart, finding a glaring Taehyung staring at you through the slits between your digits.

“No peeking,” he whined with a giggle, you chuckling as you apologized.

“Ok, I’m sorry, I won’t peek, do your thing,” you told him recovering your eyes.

“I knew you’d do that,” he complained as the pen touched your wrist, moving over your veins.

“I promise I won’t again,” you giggled, Tae letting out a huff of feigned frustration. When ‘Easily’ ended, Ella Fitzgerald’s voice soothed through the earbud, singing ‘In A Sentimental Mood’. Your lips formed into a soft smile at the song, swaying your body gently as Taehyung completed his work on your arm.

“You can look now,” he told you, you tentatively pulling your hand from your face, looking into Tae’s warm brown orbs.

“Yeah?” You asked, not wanting to jump the gun and ruin his surprise. The man immediately turned your hand over so your wrist was against the table, you frowning at him.

“Wait,” he smiled bashfully, “I’m nervous.”

“Nervous?” You asked in surprise, smiling at him. “Why? What did you draw on me?”

Taehyung giggled cutely, his eyes shaped in crescents, his smile wide and boyish, the man looking adorable as ever. “Nothing,” he said with the innocence only your boyfriend could convey.  

“Why are you nervous, Dearest?” You asked again, nearly cooing at how cute he was. Just as you were preparing to turn your wrist over, a knock on the outside of the window next to your booth startled you both, you and Taehyung jumping as your eyes darted to the noise, spotting your best friend standing with Jimin as they waved dorkily at you.

“Jesus,” you huffed, clutching your racing heart, Taehyung immediately letting out a noise of complaint. “I forgot they were even coming,” you commented, Tae letting out a low chuckle at the comment.

The surprise intrusion made you forget the ink on your wrist for a moment until you re-registered the song humming in your ear.

Rose petals seem to fall

It’s all I could dream to call you mine

My heart’s a lighter thing

Since you made this night a thing divine

The lyrics resonated so deeply with how you felt toward Taehyung, you found yourself rotating your arm to view the addition on your wrist, the air leaving your lungs for a moment as your heart skipped a beat, then pounding several times quickly to catch up.

Next to the heart he drew were the words, I’m in love with you.

Taehyung’s lips appeared near your ear, their soft plumpness just barely grazing your skin. “It’s true, Peaches,” he told you, making you turn to face him as Ella Fitzgerald continued to sing to you both, the song coming to a close.

In a sentimental mood

I’m within a world so heavenly

For I never dreamt that you’d

Be loving sentimental me.

Leaning toward Taehyung, you kissed him with intent and passion and love. So much love. It wasn’t the first time he had told you he loved you, or you him, but it was the first I’m in love with you, and it was definitely the first since the terms of your relationship had changed. You were both very careful in skirting around the word “love” since you crossed the line of friendship.

Your hands were on both sides of his face, his gripping your wrists as his thumb brushed over the confession he scribbled on your skin.

“I’m in love with you,” you mumbled against his lips. “I’m so in love with you,” you told him again before falling back into the kiss, though Tae’s widening smile, which caused you to smile, made the kiss a bit harder to maintain.

“Jeez, you two, we’re in a public restaurant,” your friend suddenly spoke as she scooted into the booth, Jimin following behind her. Separating from Tae, you rested the top of your head against his chin, your boyfriend wrapping his arms around your body, holding you to him as he placed a kiss to your hair.

“Whatever, we’re in love,” Taehyung dismissed the girl, Jimin smiling widely at the scene.

In love. You were. And you couldn’t help but be beyond thankful that you decided to take the leap of faith with Taehyung. Because in that moment, it was absolutely the right decision. You were meant to find Tae, and love him with all of you. Your paths weren’t simply meant to cross. They were meant to meet and become one. You had no doubts. And you were in love.

[whumpingcrow]

Ink Poisoning - Chapter 11

The Art of the Crash

CW: bbu and everything in relation to that, drugs/alcohol (explicit), noncon drug use, aftermath of drug use, vomit mention, food mention, discussion of noncon, dubcon kissing, conditioned/trained responses from whumpee, brief mention of suicide (vague), dehumanizing language/themes (let me know if I missed anything!)

Gio slept well into the afternoon the next day. Nicko let him, he knew from experience with Rory that there was an inevitable crash that followed the highs, and he'd spent quite a few days ignoring her sleeping body on his bed, usually it ended in her getting up only to vomit and then cry to Nicko about how shitty life was. So this time, with Gio, he waited in the bedroom with him until that happened. He finished the painting he'd started the night before. He had to refrain himself from waking Gio up to see it. Then he sat on the floor and sketched more, using Gio's face pressed against his dark pillow case and the dull light of sun through snow clouds dancing across his face as inspiration. He didn't draw the bruises or the hickeys, found himself strangely jealous over them both. He kept the tattoos, because those belonged to him, and Giovanni's adorable crooked tooth, and his messy, wavy hair that splayed out across the pillow and his face. Nicko couldn't wait for him to wake up so he could draw him with bed head.

When Gio finally woke up, it wasn't to throw up or to complain about the nightmare of his life crumbling around him, not that Nicko would've blamed him, but to the sound of some music that Nicko had put on quietly to help him focus, deciding to work on some long put off art assignments. Nicko didn't notice that he woke up, and Gio rubbed his eyes just a little and glanced over Nicko's shoulder to see the bright array of colors across his page, dark marker scribbling purposefully against the paper. He was enthralled for a moment, then he turned his focus up to the large canvas he'd caught a darkened glimpse of last night, and he gasped sharply.

Nicko swiveled around to look at him, eyes blown wide like seeing Gio conscious was jarring. It made him wonder how long he'd been out. "Oh. You're awake."

Gio glanced at him for a second, then turned his attention back to the painting. The painting of him, sleeping in bed, lost in a world of blankets. He pushed himself up to his elbows with a wince. "Is...is that me?" He whispered.

Nicko looked back at the painting in question, smiling bashfully to himself. "Uh, yeah. Yeah you were just...you look nice in my bed." He fought the blush creeping up his cheeks, the embarrassment was uncomfortably new. He didn't know why he was embarrassed, just that suddenly he was the one who couldn't make eye contact with Gio. The switch in dynamic was painfully tangible to both of them, with Nicko on the ground, cheeks rosy and face turned away, and Gio sitting on the bed, looking down at him. With a yawn, Gio pushed the blankets off of him and stood up.

Nicko watched him closely, surprised that he hadn't hurled already. Then, as if on queue, he closed his eyes and swayed forward, bringing his hands up to his head with a groan. Before he can tip over, Nicko is up on his feet next to him, placing strong hands on his shoulders to hold him steady. "Are you ok?"

Gio dropped his hands, blinking a few times before squinting up at Nicko. "Dizzy." He looked a little dazed, his face pale, and Nicko crouched down on the floor, gently pulling him down with him. Gio easily knelt, body soft and easily movable, as always. Once Gio was all the way on the floor, hunched over just a little to make himself smaller, as if he wasn't already pathetically tiny already, Nicko ran his hand up his neck, across his jaw.

"I'm gonna go make you something to eat. Ok? You wait right here."

Gio nodded eagerly, towards Nicko's hand, his huge vacant doe eyes gazing up at him through his curtain of hair. Nicko had been right, his curly hair was framing his head in a dark halo, and he had a sudden sense of urgency to get some food in him so he could draw him. Nicko smiled at him, patting his head softly as he stood straight.

Salem was in the kitchen when Nicko came out, and they both froze awkwardly in their places when they saw each other. Nicko nodded at him as he passed, opening the fridge and grabbing a bowl of fruit and a protein shake, then deciding last minute to also palm a bottle of water. When Nicko shut the fridge, Salem was standing a couple feet away watching him.

"He woke up?" Salem asked.

"Yeah. I think he's ok, just hungry." Nicko hesitated, they both looked at each other, then away, then Nicko sighed. "You wanna come? I think he'd like to see you."

Salem lit up just a little, straightening his posture and smiling to himself. "Sure."

When the door opened, Gio flinched upright from where he'd been leaning over just a little, looking at Nicko's sketchbook, at the cartoonish portrait of a woman he had been drawing. He turned to see Nicko standing in the doorway, Salem a couple steps behind him. Gio couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

They both came in and joined him on the floor. Nicko opened the bowl of fruit and set it in front of Gio, but he wasn't paying much attention, watching Nicko's face apprehensively. He knew from observing that Salem and Nicko weren't particularly fond of each other, he'd heard them fighting before, and he was a little worried to show any attention to Salem in case it came across as disloyal. He couldn't afford anymore mistakes, when it came to Nicko.

Nicko sensed it, and opened the water bottle and forced it into Gio's hand as he said, "Salem was waiting for you to wake up like a kid on Christmas. He missed you."

Salem laughed awkwardly, shifting where he sat. "Yeah. It sucked not having anyone to show my lame music to."

Gio was grinning ear to ear at them both, but he said nothing. Truthfully, he didn't really understand what they were talking about, didn't remember what Christmas or lame meant, but he was happy to have them speaking to him anyway. Salem only stayed for a few minutes, then he told them he had to get to class. When he said goodbye to Gio, he gave him a soft pat on the top of the head, like Nicko kept doing, and Gio smiled up at him as he left. Nicko wondered why Salem wasn't Gio's favorite. He was at least nice.

Once he was gone, Nicko picked up a block of fruit, mango maybe, and gently coaxed it into Gio's mouth since he hadn't eaten any yet. Then he reached for his sketch book and his pencils, moving so he was squared up to Gio, who looked a little nervous when Nicko's pencil started scratching across the paper.

"So you were with Rory, huh?" Nicko asked. He kept his tone light, he knew that Gio was anxious enough around him already, could see his face get a little more horrified every time Nicko's voice was a little too loud, too harsh.

He nodded stiffly, only once, then moved very slowly to eat a strawberry. He knew Nicko was drawing him, he was trying to be as still as he could be. He was too cute.

"And how was that?"

Nicko thought he heard Giovanni huff in disdain at the question, and he looked up to see his face screwed up in a tight frown, like it pained him to think about. Nicko sighed, then kept drawing.

"You can tell me as much or as little as you want, Gio. It's just...you don't look too good. I just want to know how she hurt you so I can help." His pencil froze on the paper when Gio reached up and covered his eyes for a second, then he hastily dropped them back to his lap like he remembered he was supposed to be sitting still.

"She told me she was gonna bring me back," he whispered, voice trembling painfully as he thought back to that day, how stupid he was, "she wouldn't tell me where we were going, but she just kept saying she would bring me back before anyone noticed I was gone."

"Ben called me right after you left, I think."

Gio frowned at him. The entire time he'd been wishing that Ben would come out and stop Rory from taking him, and he had called Nicko right after he left? Why did he wait? Gio bit back his frustrated tears, then continued on.

"We went to this guys house. Oscar." Gio flinched as the name passed his lips, then shook his head to himself. "The entire time we were driving she was drinking and smoking, and so I was too. I tripped at some point and made my nose bleed, so he let us in so Rory could clean me off. Then she was talking about...about buying something. From Oscar."

Nicko knew the name, he'd met him only once before, but he knew that he was huge and even more of an asshole than Nicko was. He was the one Rory always went to for her hard shit, which Nicko hated so he hadn't accompanied her after the first time. He stopped drawing altogether, setting his sketchbook down and moving closer to Gio, who was now shaking all over.

"She didn't have enough money, I guess, and uh...um." He couldn't look at Nicko anymore, turning his head away from him completely. He couldn't bare to see Nicko's face when he admitted to the horrible, unfaithful things he did. Giovanni knew he belonged to Nicko and only Nicko, and he was absolutely disgusted in himself for having allowed Oscar or Rory or the motel owner or any of the others to do what they did to him. "He wanted her t-to pay a different way."

"Oh, shit, Gio."

"Only she didn't want to," he continued, "and she was scared, and I didn't want her to be scared so...so when she asked me to do it instead, I-I did."

Nicko was stunned into silence, eyes instinctively dropping to the mess of hickeys all over Gio's frail neck. It was heartbreaking, thinking of Gio feeling the need to protect Rory like that, especially when he was the one that needed protection. It was even more heartbreaking to think of him under Oscar, who Nicko had no doubt had ripped Gio to shreds with their size difference.

Gio was only more frightened at Nicko's lack of reply. Silence meant anger, silence meant that Master was thinking very hard, something Gio was too stupid to do, and more often than not, silence meant brutal, meticulously planned punishment. So Gio did what he was best at: he started to beg.

"Sir, I'm so sorry, I know I'm yours, I shouldn't have ever let them touch m-me." He looked up at Nicko, then his composure broke and he let out a tiny whimper before crawling over to him. "L-Let me make it up to you, sir. Please, use me, let m-me be good for you. Please le-let me-"

"Gio, stop." Nicko was flustered by Gio crawling right up between his legs, trailing his trembling fingers over Nicko's leg suggestively. But all of it was happening rather quickly, too quickly for Nicko to react well, and Gio was freaking out, for whatever reason, so all he could do was sit still. And what was this "them" that Gio was talking about? Had it not just been Oscar that Rory handed the box boy over to? He wanted to ask, but he couldn't form the words, not when Gio was on his knees inbetween Nicko's legs.

"P-please! Please, sir. Wan-wanna be useful." Now his hand was brushing tentatively at his belt, over his zipper, and then Nicko reached down and snatched his wrist up tightly in his hand before he went any lower. Gio gasped, snapping his head up to look at Nicko. He was closer than either of them had realized, now that they were face to face they were inches apart. Gio's eyes were glazed over with something Nicko hadn't ever seen before, something that made them soft and dulled down more so than usual, but simultaneously had a sad glimmer of tears over it. Nicko had thought the huge, spaced out gaze Gio did at him sometimes was his version of puppy dog eyes, but that paled in comparison to the way he was looking at him now. Nicko would never admit it out loud, but it drove him absolutely crazy, to have someone looking at him with such gentle desperation.

"Stop calling me sir." Nicko instructed after a moment of silence. Gio didn't break his gaze, he only blinked a few times, and then he nodded. "I want you to say my name, when you beg like that. Alright?"

Giovanni melted in Nicko's grip, leaning forward just a little closer. "Nicko..." he breathed, and that was all it took. Nicko dropped his wrist and took his face in both of his hands, drawing a small whimper from him.

"I don't want to take your clothes off or use you, or anything like that." He whispered, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead against Gio's. "I just want to...try something. For one second. Ok, Giovanni?"

"Please, Nicko."

Gio held his breath right before Nicko kissed him, focusing on keeping himself still and soft and good for Nicko, but it all went out the window once their lips were actually pressed together. Gio had been burning for this since the first time Nicko had kissed him, but he was too afraid to ask and Gio always seemed to make him regret it anyways, so he didn't think there was much use hoping for it. And here he was, with Nicko holding him close, kissing him, just kissing him, and he was so nervous he was going to mess it up and not be good enough at it to make Nicko want him.

Nicko pulled away from him after only a couple of seconds, he laughed when Gio huffed in obvious displeasure. But he was calmer now, not panicking and calling him "sir" and saying all of those...other...disturbing things. So Nicko was satisfied.

"I seriously think you should eat, darling." He trailed his fingertips over Gio's jaw as he spoke, slowly pulling his hands away. "I'm worried you're gonna blow away if we go outside."

Gio sank back to sit down where he had been, picking up the bowl of fruit again and watching his hands tremble as he picked up another piece of the sweet orange-ish fruit Nicko gave him earlier. He couldn't force himself to put it in his mouth, knew he wouldn't be able to chew and swallow over the huge lump in his throat. Why didn't Nicko want him? Why wasn't Gio good enough for him? Maybe it was arrogant of him to think he was good enough, he should be humble, he should just keep trying harder until he actually was. But truthfully it wasn't hurtful because he thought he felt deserving, it was hurtful because he was scared. He wasn't good enough for his old master, he wasn't good enough for Rory, he wasn't even good enough to keep his old life. And he loved Nicko so, so, painfully much, he had finally found somewhere mostly safe and his master was perfect and if he wasn't good enough again then maybe Rory was right, and he should just give up, find a way out, like she said.

Nicko got a little freaked out at the way he could physically see Gio's crash start, he was a little unnerved to see his posture sink in a little, his throat bobbing up and down as he tried not to cry. He could see his thoughts spiraling, realizing that, damn, life kind of sucks, and it kind of always has and what if always does? By now, Rory would be a blubbering mess.

As if reading Nicko's mind, Gio started to sniffle, trying again to press the fruit to his lips, still unable to bite. If he opened his mouth, he might make a noise, and he just wanted to stop messing up already. But then, Nicko was sitting in front of him, gently grabbing his hand and taking the mango away from him, setting it back in the bowl for him. Then he grabbed Gio and pulled him into his lap, holding him close.

"You're ok, Gio." He told him. "I know, it hurts, I know, but I'm here, I've got you."

Giovanni let out a soft mewl, trying without much strength to squirm out of the comforting arms. He was terrified of the gentleness he so obviously didn't deserve, knew it could easily be used against him later. "I was so soft with you earlier," the warm body would say, "Don't you want me to do that again? I will, if you do this for me."

But this wasn't just a warm body, it wasn't his old Master, it wasn't the couple of guards who would visit his cold, concrete cell late at night long after training was over, it was Nicko. And Nicko didn't even want him in that way. Why didn't Nicko want him that way? "Nicko, please please u-use me. I-"

"Shh, Gio. I don't want to do that to you."

"Why?!" He sobbed out, fingers tightening into tight fists around Nicko's shirt. "Why d-don't you w-wa-want me?!"

Nicko gasped at his outburst, reflexively tightening his grip around him just a little. "Giovanni...I...shit. It's not about what I want, it's just that it would be, uh, different, with you. Like it wouldn't be the same as sex with a regular person cause you're uh...trained for it."

Just like that, the boy grew rigid and stopped shaking, leaning away from Nicko as much as he could. He just had to be reminded of his place, that was all. Nicko didn't want him because Nicko was a person, and Gio wasn't. Maybe Nicko just wanted him as something to practice art on, whether it be with the tattoo gun or painting him on a canvas or sketching him in his little notebook. As much as that hurt Gio, to know that he wasn't human enough for Nicko to want him back, he could live with being useful in that way for him.

"I'm sorry," Gio looked away from Nicko and up at the huge painting of him a few feet away. Nicko had done a wonderful job on it, he made Gio look small and pale and broken, like he was and felt he always would be. But Nicko had also done a good job of showcasing Gio as alone, swimming in an ocean of black fabric, isolated and untouched and useless. Like he was, and felt he always would be. "That was...out of line. I'm sorry."

"Gio, c'mon. Don't... Don't be all sad now. I do like you, I really do. I think you're the cutest thing ever." He reached out and grabbed onto a piece of his hair, twisting it somewhat playfully. "And you're a real good kisser, too. Honestly." Gio looked up at him, and Nicko grinned at him, trying to elicit some sort of positive reaction. Finally, Gio cracked a small, halfhearted smile, dropping his shoulders from how tense he was. "But I don't want to have sex with you cause it...you know, it means something different to us. You understand?"

Gio nodded slowly, forcing himself to take a deep, ragged breath. "Yeah, I understand."

Nicko leaned forward just a little and placed a soft kiss into his hair. "Good boy," he mumbled, "now eat your fruit so I can finish drawing you, yeah?"

The smile on Gio's face was genuine that time around, and he sat a little straighter. "Yes, Nicko." So Gio sat still, he watched Nicko scribble against his paper while glancing up at him every so often, and he ate his fruit. It wasn't what he wanted to do, but that didn't matter, he did it because he was told to, because Nicko wanted him to. Gio had once been told, in training, that as long as his master is happy, he should be to. He was seriously starting to wonder if he was broken, because it was seeming like he couldn't be happy at all, even as Nicko smiled at him over his notebook.

[random-mha-thoughts]

Sketch (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Anon requested: “Hi, I LOVE LOVE LOVE the way you write Bakugou. I always blush when reading one of your stories. Can you write one with Bakugou where they go to his room and they see like a journal of his or artwork of his that has poems or drawings of her? And he walks in and sees her reading/looking at what his work, and he gets embarrassed, but the reader absolutely loves it, and showers him with love? Pretty please with a cherry on top, and thank you!!”

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1,643

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak​

a/n: Anon, you’re so lovely, why would I say no to you?  Thank you for requesting this!  I had a lot of fun writing it!  I have another Baku headcanon request coming tomorrow so look forward to that.  I hope you all enjoy reading this, and thank you again for 900 followers~ I really need to think about a 1k special event hhh idk what I’m gonna do, does anyone have suggestions?

"You didn't make it too spicy, did you?" I tease, eyeing the plates Bakugou sets the table with.

My boyfriend smirks at me.  "No, I know how much of a baby you are."  He sets down a glass jar of orange-red paste at his place setting.  "I'll just add my own spice on the side."

"Hey, I can take a little spice, I'm not totally hopeless!" I jut my lip out in a slight pout.

Another few small bowls of side dishes are placed in the middle of the table, one of them being kimchi.  "If we're gonna be together for a while, you better get used to it."  

The thought of dating Bakugou for a long time down the line warms me up, and I find myself smiling as he fetches the large serving bowl of our main course and sets it down in the middle of the table.

"And dinner is served!"  A proud grin stretches across his face when he plops down in his seat.  "Let's eat!"

Like the gentleman he is, the blond scoops out the spicy udon soup onto my bowl first before filling his own.  The broth isn't too thick, but what slightly scares me is the orange color.  I take a spoonful before Bakugou has the chance to poke fun at me being a coward.  While the spice dances on my tongue, it mingles with the rich, slightly sweet flavor to provide a happy balance that makes the heat bearable.

"Mm, Bakugou this is amazing-"

I cut myself off when I spot the boy across from me dumping a heaping spoonful of his red paste into the broth, watching in horror as the orange color of the broth turns into an angry scarlet as he mixes the paste in. He glances up at my gawking and chuckles, "Yeah, this is how spicy I like my food, babe."

My eye twitches.  "You're a monster."

He just winks in response.  "I'm your monster."

I flop back into my seat with a groan.  "I can't tell if I'm full or I'm overwhelmed."

Bakugou throws his head back and laughs at my running nose and flushed face.  "You can't handle spiciness babe, I'm sorry.  Just look at you!"  He hands me another napkin.

"Hey, at least I'm not crying."  I gladly take it from him and swipe under my nose.  But my tongue might be burning for a while.  I tried to pace myself on the water so it doesn't look like I'm struggling too much, but I ended up drinking at least 3 cups the entire meal, and this jerk across from me is relishing my pain.

"If you had another bowl, I'm sure you would have," he unsuccessfully chokes back his chuckles.

I'm aware of the swelling in my lips and the thin sheen of sweat on the back of my neck and my hairline.  "It's not funny," I pant out a whine.  But he might not be wrong.  I gulp down the rest of my fourth cup of water and rise from my seat to help clean up.

I clear the dishes from the table and bring them to the sink, where my devilish boyfriend started soaking the dishes and the bowl.  I wrap my arms around him from behind and lean my head on his shoulder.  "Babe, do you mind if I spend the night?  I didn't bring clothes though."

He shuts off the sink and turns around to hug me at the waist properly.  "You can take one of my shirts and my shorts if you wanna spend the night."  Calloused fingers stroke my cheek before cupping my chin and bringing his lips down to mine.  Surprisingly, the few kisses he places there are quick, desperate, before he nips my bottom lip, earning a yelps out of me.  He smirks at the sound.  "Your lips are so swollen, it's like they're calling me to kiss them."

An intense blush coats my cheeks and I push away from him.  "I-I'm going to look for your clothes," I stutter and scurry off to his bedroom.

"Second drawer from the bottom," he cackles after me.

I duck into his room, patting my cheeks to calm myself.  I find his drawer and pick out an oversized black tee and red basketball shorts.  When the shirt's on, it already goes down to my thigh.  I hold the shorts in my hand, debating if I should even wear them, but I err on the side of modesty.  Bakugou's already riled up seeing me eat spicy food, I don't want to push it.

"Silly, hormonal boy," I shake my head, slipping the shorts up my legs and tying off one side of the shirt to shorten it.

Somehow, my eyes meet directly with it, the sharp corner peeking out from a slightly lifted corner of his mattress.  Being the curious - and slightly nosy - person I am, I pull the object out to find that it's a thin, paper notebook.  The cover is void of any labels; I would think it was empty if there wasn't a pen hooked into it, the clip bookmarking a page in the middle.  Without another thought, I open up to the page only to stare wide-eyed at it.

Inked onto the unlined page is a half body sketch of me smiling.  The crinkles of my eyes, the out of place hairs, the smile lines, the contours of my face and neck; every detail I didn't know someone would recognize just by looking at me is inked before me in loving care.  I flip to the previous page to see a full body drawing of me gazing absently out a nearby window, the same attention to detail paid.  More flipping showed more candid moments of me drawn onto the page.  Weightlessness blooms in my chest as I scan every inch of the notebook.

It dawned on me so suddenly that tears fill my eyes in a whiplash of emotion.  Bakugou not only watches me from a distance when he thinks I'm not looking to paint this memory into his mind, but he takes the time to lovingly sketch it out into this notebook every night because he wants to look back on it.

"Babe, you-"

I snap my head towards the doorway, the ash blond frozen there as he glances at the object in my hand.  His eyes widen into saucers.  "Where did you find that?"  His voice goes half an octave higher.

"Katsuki."  That's all I can manage in my shaky voice.  A million overwhelming thoughts and emotions tumble inside me that I don't know how to start.

"You weren't supposed to see that!"  His cheeks turn scarlet as he stumbles towards me, hand outstretched to snatch the book out of my hand.

I shut it and hug it to my chest, protecting it as I examine the boy in front of me.  It hasn't been terribly long since Bakugou and I started dating, we just crossed 6 months a few weeks ago.  There are still times when I'm unsure of his feelings towards me, an insecure side of me that I can't help.  But now that I've seen this silent gesture of his affection, I see our relationship in a new light.

Bakugou groans out.  "Shit, I never wanted you to see it-!"

I throw my arms around him to shut him up.  "You idiot, I love it.  It's not creepy or weird or anything like that.  I didn't even know you saw me like this, you big lovable dork."

"Wait wait," he pulls me away by my shoulders, "You're okay with it?"

"Katsuki, you're too sweet," I laugh wholeheartedly and start peppering kisses all over his face.  "This is the most flattering thing someone's done for me, why would I hate it?"

His face turns a deeper shade of red.  "I dunno...  I don't do this for everyone, just you, I didn't know how you would react."

"Well now you know."  I let go of him to stare at another page, my chest comfortably full.  "Look how much love you put into this, I can't believe you hid this from me."

Bakugou scratches the back of his head.  "You...wanna know which one's my favorite?"

My eyes widen as he takes the book out of my hands and flips through, landing on one page near the beginning and shows it to me.  "It's rough, but it's one of my favorite memories of you."

I didn't think my heart could swell more than it already has, but it did with this one.  My head rests facing up on Bakugou's lap, my eyes closed and a lazy smile gracing my features.  One of his large hands rests on my cheek like it's softly caressing the skin.

"Say something at least," my boyfriend grumbles after a few moments of my awed silence.

I decide not to, opting to plant a kiss on his lips instead.  "I don't know how you manage to make me look more attractive than I actually am, thank you."

"Dumbass, of course you're actually this attractive."

I lean back against his chest, admiring his line work.  It's not the most artistic, but it still manages to bring out the beauty and love in the image.  "Maybe you should draw one of us together."

His eyebrows furrow together.  "No way, I did this for you, not me."

"But it would make me really happy if you did one of us together.  It makes your love look one sided when you know that's not true."

He wraps his arm around me and kisses the top of my head.  "Fine, I'll do it for you, babe."  His calloused hand reaches up to brush my face.  "But just so you know, I'm totally drawing you all flushed over spicy food because I really liked seeing you that way."

"Pervert!"

[hotpinkhoshi]

kiss it better | prologue

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: age gap (nine years), cursing, explicit sex, slow burn

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

✩ index here ✩

Your favorite thing about living on your own, hands down, was having the freedom to eat ice cream whenever you pleased. 

It had been a hot summer in Seoul, hot enough that you couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out without being painfully aware of the sweat on the back of your neck and the space where your thighs touched each other.

Today was hotter than yesterday had been. Sticky and humid, like it needed to rain. You’d gone out with your new friend, Yiren, to shop for some new records. Well, she shopped for records—you bought a cheap ice cream bar from the convenience store around the corner. 

While waiting outside of the record store for Yiren to check out, you leaned against the side of a bench while taking in the area. 

You’d moved to Seoul at the start of the summer, and you still felt like a little fish in a big pond. The big, wide world awaited you, and you were desperate to see every inch of it. 

A couple giggled outside of a bakery next to you. You tried not to stare as the boy, tall and gangly, wrapped his arms around the female and pulled her into his chest. You wondered how it felt to be held like that. 

Across the road, a stark contrast to the pale pink and yellow scheme of the bakery, sat a tattoo shop. Paradise Tattoo, the sign read, in neon blue. A dark haired man, maybe your age or a little older, sat on the steps drinking an iced coffee while bobbing his head to whatever was playing on his earbuds. Even from afar you could make out the sleeve on his left arm, made up of swirls and lines of black ink. 

He lifted his head from his phone and caught your eye. You blinked and quickly looked away, gasping when your sudden movement caused the top scoop of your ice cream to topple onto the street.

“Noooooo,” you whined, a full pout forming on your lips. You’d barely even gotten to take a full bite. 

“Sucks,” you heard Yiren say from behind you. She had a plastic bag of records, so full you were honestly surprised she could carry it. 

You sighed, tossing the empty cone into the trash can next to you. “And I thought today would be a good day.”

Yiren laughed as she bounded up to you, linking her free arm through yours. “It is a good day. You got paid today, remember? What do you wanna do with all your cash?”

You snorted, fully prepared to make a comment about how you needed to save for a security deposit on an apartment. Your eyes drifted back to the tattoo shop, but the man sitting there was gone. You chewed your lip and glanced back at Yiren, nodding towards the shop. 

“I’ve never been in a tattoo shop before. Want to check it out?”

Yiren, as usual whenever you expressed one more thing you’d never done before, gasped dramatically. “You what?! I swear, Y/N, you should be in a museum. You’re so cute.”

When she moved to pinch your cheeks, you swatted her hands away. “Gah. Let’s just go.” 

You dragged her across the street and up the few steps that lead to the front door of the shop. You heard a ding once the door was halfway opened, signaling your entrance. The cool air of the shop comforted you immediately, offering you some relief from the sticky air outside.

It sort of looked how you’d imagined it, but brighter. There was hard metal blasting on the speakers above you, with framed drawings of all sorts of tattoo styles adorning the deep red walls. 

Doubling as a desk, on your left side was a glass jewelry display case with different earrings and bars that were used for piercings in various body parts. Sitting behind this desk was a girl with bright green hair and thick framed glasses. 

“Hi! Do you have an appointment?” she asked cheerily, her tone the complete opposite of what you’d expected. You’d never seen anyone with a neck tattoo, but she had hers proudly displayed—a snake traveling from her chest and around towards the nape of her neck, the head appearing on the other side. 

“Um,” you said, glancing towards Yiren. 

She jumped in. “No. Do you talk walk ins? My friend was thinking about getting a tattoo.” 

“I-” you started, your eyes widening at Yiren. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The girl behind the counter nodded and turned around in her swivel chair, reaching for a big black binder that was sitting upon a shelf behind her. 

“Here, we have some photos and drawings of previous tattoos our artists have done. We have five artists. Youngjae, Jackson, Mark, and Yugyeom. And me, but I mostly do piercings. Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?” 

You flipped open the binder, greeted on the first page by a portrait of a very voluptuous, very naked woman that had been tattooed onto someone’s leg. It took a conscious effort not to show your shock, simply because you didn’t need Yiren cooing at you again. 

“Well, I like…” you thought about it as you continued flipping the next few pages, until you came upon a drawing of a rose, a soft pink color that reminded you of the bakery across the street. There was a series of pages full of drawings of flowers, different types and shades of the rainbow. “Who did these? These are beautiful.” 

“Ah,” the girl nodded, leaning her chin upon her hand. “That would be Mark. He’s great at flowers, they’re sort of his specialty. Youngjae does beautiful portraits. Jackson’s shading is unbelievable. And Yugyeom is new, but his lines are incredible.” 

Yiren snickered next to you. “It must be great working with all these guys.” 

The girl raised her eyebrows, an amused smirk on her lips. “Please. They’re not exactly my type.”

Just as Yiren opened her mouth for a follow up question, a male voice called from the direction of the hallway to your left. 

“Dahyun, did you get any napkins from the coffee shop? Yugyeom spilled his shit all over-” 

Looking up, you saw a guy walking towards you. Perfectly styled hair, a chiseled jawline, and tattoos covering both of his very toned arms. He stopped in his tracks, then gave you an apologetic bow.

“Sorry, I didn’t know we had a customer.”

Dahyun rolled her eyes and grabbed for a stack of napkins next to her. “Here. And tell Yugyeom he’s on mop duty tonight.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” The guy saluted Dahyun, then turned on his heel and jogged back down the hallway to one of the rooms. 

“Anyway,” Dahyun continued. “We do take walk ins. It’s been slow today, honestly, so if you wanted to get a smaller piece we could probably make it work. Youngjae’s tattooing someone right now, but other than that, it’s wide open.”

You gulped. Now that it was real, you were feeling a bit panicked. But you were drawn to the image of the pale lilac flower on the page in front of you, as if it was calling to you. As silly as it sounded, just looking at it brought you a sense of calm. 

“Could I… could I get this?” you asked meekly. 

Dahyun turned her head to view the picture, then nodded her head. “Of course. Do you know where you want it?”

You looked at Yiren, a question in your eyes. It had to be somewhere you could hide it. Your parents strongly disapproved of tattoos. To be fair, they disapproved of every aspect of your life already, so how much worse could it get? Still, you wanted the option to cover it up if you needed to. 

“You could get it on your ribs, maybe?”

Dahyun inhaled sharply. “Ah, I wouldn’t recommend that. Hurts like a bitch. Shoulders and hips are pretty painless though, that’s where a lot of newbies get their first.” 

Worrying at your lower lip, you stared down at the flower once more, then up at Dahyun. “The back of my shoulder, would that be okay?” 

“It’s your party, princess. It shouldn’t hurt too much, and if you get it small enough it’ll be over before you know it.” 

Dahyun went ahead and printed out the sketch after you told her just how big you wanted it, and modified the color to a deeper purple. She went back to talk to the artist, Mark, then returned a few minutes later and told you to follow her back. 

“He’s ready for you. We’ll go over all the aftercare and fun stuff once it’s all done, okay?” she said as she led the two of you back to Mark’s room. You stuffed your shaking hands into the pockets of your shorts, not wanting him to see how nervous you were. 

Once you came to the threshold of the room, you first noticed all of the drawings on the walls. Not just flowers, but trees, portraits, still life sketches… all of it. Apparently flowers weren’t the only thing this guy could draw. 

Mark had his back to you, sifting through a box full of colored ink bottles. You realized without even seeing his face that this was the guy you’d seen on the steps of the shop earlier. Up close, you could see more of his sleeve. Right on the back of his arm was a large tattoo of a lion’s face, jaw wide open in a roar. 

“Sorry, go ahead and sit-” he started as he turned towards you, his jaw dropping once he made eye contact. “Y/N?”

It took you a long moment to realize where you knew him from, and it wasn’t just because you’d seen him across the road earlier. You hadn’t seen him in at least six years, but you knew him right away. How could you not have recognized him before? 

You’d practically grown up with him. He’d eaten countless dinners at your family table while your mom fawned over him and pinched his cheeks, asking why your older brother couldn’t be more like him. 

The last time you’d seen him was Taehyung’s going away party just before he left for his year-long backpacking experience in Europe. You’d only been sixteen at the time, but Mark was nine years older than you. 

Besides the sleeve of tattoos and the deep red hair he was sporting, he hadn’t changed much since then.

“Mark?”

full chapter one to be posted march 17th, 7pm est

[beautifultypewriter]

Fooled Around and Fell in Love ~ Sir Gwaine

Requested: Yes / by Anonymous

Warnings: Needles (Reader is a tattoo artist) and mentions of blood

Word Count: 1,938 (I am so so sorry. This got so out of hand)

Pairing: Sir Gwaine x reader

Summary: It’s a modern AU! Percival takes Gwaine to his favorite tattoo artist so the man can get his first tattoo. Gwaine definitely did not count on the artist being this cute and he definitely did not count on catching real feelings.

A/N: This is a little bit inspired by Miranda Lambert’s cover of Fooled Around and Fell in Love (Originally by Elvin Bishop). I didn’t describe Gwaine’s tattoo because I really don’t know what he would get. Like I thought about it, but I couldn’t come up with anything.

You were at the front counter, working on a design for one of your clients while you waited for your next appointment. A regular of yours, Percival, was bringing in one of his buddies for his first tattoo. You always loved doing first tattoos because more often than not, you saw that person again and again. It was like once you got one, you caught some kind of tattoo fever. That’s how Percival became one of your regulars. He had come in for his first tattoo and you warned him about the fever, but he had only laughed and dismissed your claim. Then he was back at the shop a week later with an idea for his second tattoo and you were laughing out your ‘I told you so.’

 The bell above the door rang and you stopped what you were doing to look up at the two men who entered. The first you recognized as Percival, the same big smile on his face that he always had. The man behind him must have been his friend. This man was a bit shorter than Percival with long, dark hair and though he tried to hide it behind his smile, you could tell that he was a little bit nervous. Percival strolled over to the counter, leaned across it and kissed your cheek quickly.

 You smiled at him, “Hey, Perce.” He nodded to you and you looked behind him, holding your hand out to the other man, “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

 He stepped forward, taking your hand in his, “Gwaine.”

 You nodded, “Percival tells me that this is your first tattoo?”

 Gwaine nodded as he looked around the shop, “Yep.” He looked back at you, his eyes trailing down your body and back up again.

 He grinned at you as you nodded to the couches across the room, “Shall we?” Percival leaned against the counter as he pushed Gwaine towards the couch. You gave him a look, but he only smiled back. Grabbing your sketchbook and pencil, you made your way over to the couch, turning to a clean page and sitting beside Gwaine. You looked at him, “So what were you thinking?” Gwaine launched into all the details he wanted to put into his tattoo and where he wanted it. You nodded along as you made notes in your book and started some first sketches.

 When Gwaine was done speaking, he contented himself to just watch you as you worked. Your pencil scratched against the paper as you started a new design before quickly scratching it out and moving to an open space to start a third design. Gwaine watched you shake your head and start a new design, smiling when he noticed your tongue poke out slightly, your eyes squinted in concentration. Soon you had an entire page filled with various designs that all incorporated what Gwaine was looking for. You handed him the sketchbook, “What do you think? Anything jumping out at you?” He took the book from you, his eyes scanning every one of your designs, nodding at some and moving quickly over others.

 He pointed to one of the designs in the middle of the page, “Oh that’s it right there.”

 You looked over at the one he had chosen, “Yeah? Did you want to make any changes?”

 Gwaine shook his head as he handed you the book, “Nope, it’s perfect.” He grinned at you, leaning slightly closer to you. You leaned into him before quickly standing from the couch.

 “Great. I’ll get the stencil ready.” You heard Percival snort as you turned and headed back to the counter to gather your necessary supplies. The couch creaked as Gwaine stood to follow you. Smiling to yourself, you got started on the stencil. When you had finished, you looked up at the clock on the wall before turning to the two men, “Alright, so did you want to schedule an appointment to get this done or did you wanna do it right now?” You raised an eyebrow at Gwaine.

 He stared back, his own eyebrow quirking up, “I’ve got the time now.”

 You smiled as you grabbed the stencil and moved from behind the counter, “Perfect.” You motioned for Gwaine to follow you and led him to the back where several chairs were set up. You motioned to your chair and Gwaine sat down. Percival sat in a nearby chair and the two whispered quietly among themselves as you gathered everything you were going to need. Walking back to the pair, you nodded at Gwaine, “Alright, shirt off.”

 The man smirked at you, “In a rush to get my clothes off?”

 You smirked back, “Only so I can get you done and out of my shop.” Percival laughed and you winked at Gwaine. He only shook his head as he peeled his shirt off and folded it in his lap. You sat on your stool and wheeled yourself as close to Gwaine as you could get. You set the stencil on his chest and after a few adjustments, you were ready. Gwaine looked down at you as you fired up the tattoo gun and dipped it in the ink. Turning back, you looked up at him, “Ready, pretty boy?”

 He smirked at you, “Oh, so you think I’m pretty?”

 You placed your free hand on his chest as you leaned close to his body, “For now.” You glanced up at him, “You won’t be in a minute though.”

 He chuckled, “Why do you say that?”

 You smirked as you turned back to the task at hand, “No one ever is.” Then you pressed the needle to his skin, seeing him grimace out of the corner of your eye. Percival laughed loudly as you chuckled quietly to yourself. You followed every line with precision, occasionally getting more ink or stopping to wipe the excess and the blood off.

 Gwaine had insisted that it didn’t hurt, but you could see him wince every now and again and he looked more than relieved when you pulled back and announced that he was done. You bandaged him up and went through the care instructions with him, giving him the same package you gave to all your clients with written instructions, extra bandages, a bottle of antimicrobial soap, and a tube of anitbacterial ointment. You had even warned him about the tattoo fever, joking that you would see him again soon. After you settled up and made sure he had no other questions, you sent him on his way, sure he would be calling for another appointment soon.

 Sure enough, Gwaine had returned to the shop shortly after his first tattoo, but it was not for more ink. It was to flirt with you and to ask you on a date. You had been a bit hesitant about getting involved with him, but you figured one date wouldn’t hurt, so you agreed.

 You were wrong though. One date could hurt a lot and it currently did. You had thought that things had gone well, but it had been five days since what you thought was a wonderful night and you still hadn’t heard anything from Gwaine. Not even a single text. It seemed Gwaine had not shared in your feelings and that was hurting you more than you thought it would.

 The bell above the door rang and you looked up to see Percival walking up to the counter. You smiled at him, “Hey. Ready to finish that up?” You gestured to his arm and he nodded, following you into the back. He sat in the chair as you got everything ready. You worked in silence, concentrating on filling in the last of his large bicep tattoo.

 When you finished, Percival looked over your work, “Thanks, Y/N, this is really amazing.”

 You looked away from your tools, “Yeah, it came out really nice.” You smiled at him, “I’ll see you later?” He nodded and stood up, walking towards the front of the shop.

 Then he stopped and walked back over to you, “Actually, Y/N, can you do me a favor?”

 You looked up at him, “Sure, what do you need?”

 Percival sighed, “Don’t write Gwaine off yet.” Shaking your head, you scoffed. Percival held his hand out, “Please, just listen to me-”

 You turned away from him, “I don’t want to talk about Gwaine, Perce.” You finished cleaning your station and then just sat with your hands in your lap. You really didn’t want to talk about Gwaine and especially not with his best friend.

 Percival sighed, “Please, Y/N. He’s an idiot, but… just please.”

 You spun around to look at him, “My mind is open.” You held your arms out to the side as you sighed.

 Percival smiled, “Thank you.” He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before waving and leaving the shop. You went back to cleaning everything up, making sure all of the equipment was properly sanitized and everything was back in its place. At some point during your sweep of the shop, your coworkers called out their goodbyes and left.

 You were alone at the counter, working on a few sketches when you had some peace and quiet. Then the bell above the door rang. Strange, you thought you had locked it. Shaking your head, you looked up, “I’m sorry, but we’re closed for the day.” Your eyes met Gwaine’s and you frowned. He moved further into the shop, letting the door fall shut behind him.

 He smiled at you, “You have a minute to talk?” You grabbed all of your papers, pushing them into a messy pile and picking them up.

 You moved around the counter, heading for your bag, “Go on, I guess.” You refused to look at him as you packed up your stuff and slung your jacket over your shoulders.

 Gwaine sighed, “I’m sorry that I didn’t call you when I said I was going to.”

 You turned sharply, “Oh, you’re sorry?” You let out one humorless laugh, “Well that changes everything.”

 Gwaine looked down to his boots, “I know you’re upset, and I deserve all of what you want to dish out,” you nodded and he moved closer, “but I really am sorry and I’m not gonna stand here and give you excuses because there are no excuses for what I did. I’m just gonna say that I felt something real for you and I wasn’t prepared for it.” He looked up at you, “I handled it all wrong and I’m hoping against all hope that you’d be willing to give me a second chance even though I don’t deserve it.”

 You crossed your arms over your chest, staring at the nervous man in front of you, “No, you don’t.” He winced as he looked past you at the shop’s wall. You sighed, “I felt something real for you too, Gwaine.” His eyes snapped back to you, hope building in them. You sighed again, dropping your hands to your sides, “And it hurt when you blew me off.” His eyes turned sad again and he frowned. It was quiet for a few minutes as neither of you could look at the other. Finally, you stepped over to him and placed your hand on his arm, “I appreciate your apology and you’re forgiven.” Gwaine stared at your hand as a small smile broke out on his face. Your hand slid down to grip his and he looked at you. You smiled, “Do you want to go for a coffee?”

 He nodded, “Yes.” Your smile widened as you nodded to the door and the two of you left the shop.

[cakesunflower]

No Need Convincing Me: Maybe Elodie finally gives in to getting a tattoo from Calum, or maybe he gets Luke to do it so he can support her? I just imagine it being complete fluff. Like the whole build up to her thinking about it, Calum sketching ideas for her, then actually going and getting it? Ngl I just miss Cal and Elodie, they're one of my favourite couples in your masterlist 🥺

           Honestly, it was a moment he’d seen coming. Maybe because he knew Elodie too well, or she just wasn’t good at hiding it. But he knew her interest in one day getting a tattoo increased every time she walked into his shop. He’d see it in the way she’d peer at the many designs on the walls and in the booklets with a bit more attention than usual, how he’d catch her absently flicking through his sketchbook full of designs, tracing his tattoos more often than not.

           Calum never said anything about it though, never wanted to push her. Getting a tattoo was a big commitment, he should know, and if Elodie decided she wanted to ink her skin permanently, he wanted her to reach that decision on her own without any influence from him.

           Until one day they were having lunch in the café across the street from his shop, and after Elodie took a sip of her drink, she carefully stated, “I think I want a tattoo.”

           Calum swallowed his bite of his spinach pasta, eyebrows shooting up. He tried to quell his excitement as he wiped his mouth with a napkin before asking, “Really?”

           He apparently didn’t do too good of a job in hiding his anticipation because Elodie was chuckling in amusement. “I’m not surprised you’re more excited than I am.” Calum shot her an almost sheepish smile. “But yeah, really.” Arms folded on top of the table, she leaned forward and asked, “Know any good tattoo shops?”

           He shot her a bemused look, which only widened her pretty smile. “Do you know what you wanna get?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

           Elodie nodded, running her fingers through her light brown hair. “Yeah,” she answered, her shy smile returning. She hesitated for a moment, but Calum remained quietly patient until she spoke up once more. “You did that sketch of a dove; I saw it in your book. I was thinking of getting that.”

           Calum knew what she was talking about. It had been a hasty, quick sketch he’d done absently without really thinking about it. Elodie, Calum knew, admired all of his sketches, whether they were minimalistic or greatly detailed, and Calum loved her for it. “Why a dove?” Calum asked, tilting his head. He asked his customers this often, always wondering what their reasoning behind a tattoo was, making sure he never treaded on territory that was too personal. Of course, because it was Elodie, his curiosity was both professional and personal.

           She rolled her lips into her mouth, her gaze meeting his, and she offered a gentle chuckle. “It symbolizes a fresh start, right?” she said, smiling slightly. “I feel like a new person, a better version of myself. I feel like after everything that’s happened, I got a fresh start I didn’t know I needed. I got it after leaving Nathan and having a more active role in my family’s foundation and I got it—” Her smile turned shy once more, cheeks pink, shrugging gently as she finished, “I got it with you, too.”

           Calum gazed at her, feeling his chest swell and air rush into his lungs. He’d heard similar explanations from the few people he’d tattooed various forms of doves on, but Elodie’s explanation—it resonated with him the most, for obvious reasons. He couldn’t fight the smile off his face, watching as Elodie returned the smile. “Do you wanna get it today?”

           She nodded, and soon enough, the two were back in the tattoo shop. Calum didn’t have another client for a while, and so when he told Sierra he was using his station, Dominique, who’d been sitting next to her, eyed him and Elodie suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

           As Calum shrugged off his leather jacket, he watched as Elodie shot Dominique a smile, a combination of excitement and anxiety. “I’m finally getting a tattoo.”

           Dominique’s eyes widened, immediately on her feet. “No way! Are you serious?” she asked, the thrill heavy in her voice as her gaze flickered between Elodie and Calum. Then she narrowed her eyes at the tattoo artist, pointing her finger and demanding, “You didn’t talk her into it, did you?”

           Calum shot her a look, insulted she even had to ask that, and Elodie laughed lightly. “No, no, he didn’t. It was all me.” Then, with a hopeful smile, asked Dominique, “Can you sit with me? I’m definitely gonna need a hand to hold, and obviously Calum can’t do it.”

           He fought the smirk that wanted to curl at his lips. He loved that it wasn’t even a question that he would be the one giving Elodie her first tattoo. Luke could just as easily do it, but Calum loved that from the get-go, Elodie wanted it from him. It was a big deal, getting a tattoo, and knowing she had that much trust in him—not only to give her the tattoo but to also use one of his own designs—had Calum falling a little more in love with her.

           “Hell yes,” Dominique agreed before the two women followed Calum into the station.

           He could hear their conversation as Dominique asked Elodie what she was getting, and Calum kept himself busy by getting prepared, pulling out his sketchbook and flipping to the page where he’d sketched the design. Soon enough, Elodie was on the same chair she’d been on to get her nose pierced, Dominique sitting to her left to hold her hand while Calum sat to Elodie’s right so he could tattoo the spot below the inside of her elbow.

           Calum worked meticulously, as always, gloves on before sterilizing the area. He worked almost mechanically, going through all of the steps he always went through before the act of actually inking on the tattoo, forgetting in those moments that he was working up to marking his girlfriend’s skin with tiny needles. He looked at her, voice gentler than it was with any other client, as he asked, “You ready, El?”

           Her gaze met his and although Calum saw the nervousness, he also noticed her confidence in getting the tattoo—her confidence in him. She nodded, smiling slightly, left hand holding Dominique’s as she said, “Go for it.”

           He heard Elodie let out a quiet, controlled whimper at the first touch of the needles, and despite his desire to make sure she was okay, he continued his work. Calum owed it to her to keep his focus on the job at hand, so he left the job of comforting Elodie and attempting to get her mind off the pain to Dominique, who stepped up right away by striking up conversation with Elodie.

           When it was done, Calum sat back and watched as Elodie eyed the ink on her skin, still freshly raw and red, and he was surprised at the nerves knotting his stomach. He desperately hoped she liked it, hoped it was exactly on her skin as the way she pictured it in her head. Calum was never anxious like this after tattooing someone, was more than confident in his skills. But it was different giving his own girlfriend her first tattoo. Approval from his customers was always something Calum gratefully accepted; approval from Elodie felt far greater.

           “I love it,” Elodie breathed, the awe coloring her tone as she peered at it. She let out a soft scoff of disbelief. “It’s perfect, Cal. Thank you.”

           Calum’s eyes met hers and he found himself smiling at the delight in her eyes, feeling satisfied and relieved at the same time. Dominique, who’d been eyeing the new ink as well, hummed. “Perfect first tattoo for you,” she agreed. With a smirk, she added, “Proud of you, El. You didn’t even squeeze my hand that hard!”

           Elodie laughed at that and Calum smirked as well. “That’s my girl,” he praised, before reaching for his tray, getting ready to wrap it up.

           Now that any pain inflicting on Elodie was over, Dominique left the station to give the two of them a moment. And as Calum began gently cleaning the tattooed area, he said, “I’d tell you the aftercare process but since we live together—”

           She grinned, cheeks pink. “Perks of dating a tattoo artist,” she giggled lightly.

           He smirked. He was still going to tell her how to take care of it, though, despite her having some idea of it. It was his professional duty to do so. Once Calum finished wrapping it up, he sat back on the stool, hands on his knees and grin on his face. “There you go. One new tattoo, free of charge.”

           Elodie, who was now sitting up, facing him, scoffed. “Oh, come on—I’m sure we can think of some way for me to pay you,” she hummed, the teasing tone slipping into her voice as she leaned forward, mindful of her arm.

           Calum’s smirk returned, never one to be tired of this side of her. He leaned forward too because who was he to deny Elodie’s kisses?

[mwdders]

Tattoo

You draw Harry a tattoo and he add’s something a little special to it.

Word count: 2K

Warnings: none I don’t think

Enjoy!

— —

“Love, come here would ya?” You look up and see Harry sat at a table a few feet away from where you were sat drawing.

“What is it?” You walk over to Harry and put your hands on his shoulders as you stand behind him, chin resting on his shoulder. He leans up, placing his head on your chest, “Will ya draw me something?” He questions, “Like what?” He pulls your hands from where they lie on his shoulders, drawing them into him, and they’re now crossed over his chest.

“A tattoo.” You cough as he speaks, “A ta-tattoo?” He nods, leaning his head back to look up at you, his hair tickling your chin. “You’re the best drawer I know and to have you draw me a tattoo would be amazing.” You move and slip out of his grip to sit on the table in front of him, placing your feet on the chair in the gap between his legs, “What do you have in mind?” He smiles, shuffling his chair closer, placing a hand either side of you.

“I want an anchor with a ships wheel somehow intertwined with it.” You nod as he explains, “And where do you want it?” He stands up, pulling his jacket off then lifting his shirt, “I was thinking here?” His chest already had a few tattoos on but there was a space just to the right of his belly button. “That could work.” You picture ideas in your head, as you think about the space you have to work with. “I’ll draw a few and see what you think yeah?” He nods, letting his shirt go before leaning in to kiss you. “I trust you with whatever you come up with.” He says as you pull away, “I hope so.”

You tap his shoulder and he moves so you can stand down from the table, “Is there anything else you want to be on it?” As you stand up, he grabs your hips pulling you into him, “Can’t think of anything.” He places a light kiss on your forehead before saying, “Unless you want to draw your face too.” You roll your eyes and hit his chest, “No Harry, I don’t.” He laughs and you move out of his arms, “I’ll get started.” You walk over to the booth you where hiding in and turn to a fresh page in your sketchbook.

— —

Putting your pencil down, you were happy with what you had drawn, you just hoped Harry was too.

You sigh before picking up the book and walking through the chip shop and out onto the shop to find him, the wood creaking under your weight, the ship swaying with the choppy waters and the flag whistling in the wind, there was no one else around and you were about to look elsewhere until, “Hey sugar plum, finish my drawing?” You turn your head slightly unsure as to where his voice was coming from. “Up here.” You peer up and see Harry sat in the crow’s nest. “I did.” You wave your book in the air, “Come down and I’ll show you.” Harry smirks before shaking his head, “I canny come down, I’m on look out.” He watches as you roll your eyes causing him to chuckle, “You’ll have to come up here.”

You hated going up to the crow’s nest, it was the worst part of the ship because of how high up it was, but nonetheless, you climb on the mast and up to the net ladder, proceeding to the top. “Ay, fancy seein’ you here.” Harry jokes as you shuffle your body into the small space next to him. “Never again.” You mumble as you get comfortable although that was hard with how much the ship was swaying. “Let’s see it then.” You open your book and flick to the right page, showing him the sketch.

He runs his fingers across the drawing, admiring all the little details, “Darling I love it.” A sigh of relief leaves your lips as he smiles. “I love the way you’ve done tentacles to weave them together. It’s amazing.”

“I was so worried you wouldn’t.” You whisper, pulling a strand of your hair to tuck behind your ear as it blew in the wind. “You’re so talented, no matter what you’d of drawn, I’d of fallen in love with.” He sits closer to you, wrapping an arm around you, “I can’t wait to get this done later.”

You relax into his side, listening to his heartbeat, as you look out into the horizon, the brightly lit Auradon castle coming into view.

“We’ll get there one day.” Harry says and you sigh, looking down at your hands, “What if they don’t want us?” His body tenses and he places his hand under your chin, lifting your face so you’re looking up at him, “Who wouldn’t want you my queen?” You blush and close your eyes, appreciating the moment, “I just want a better life.” You mumble, “I know,” Harry sighs, pulling you even closer to him so your legs were across his knee’s, his hands resting on your thighs. “I want to be free, I want to be free with you and Uma and Gil, and do what ever we want.” He sighs, his jaw tightening as he keeps his gaze out to sea. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t talk about what we can’t have.”

Harry turns his head quickly to you, “Love don’t, we will have that one day. I promise you.” He draws patterns with his thumbs in a comforting manner, as you both sit in comfortable silence, “I’m gonna go and see if Darty is about to do my tattoo, do ya wanna come with me?” Harry breaks the silence and you shake your head, “I’ll meet you at the chip shop.” He nods before standing up and helping you to your feet as well.

Harry goes down the ladder first, insisting to catch you if you were to fall, “I got you.” He puts his hands under your hips as you reach the bottom, helping you jump down from the mast. “Thanks gorgeous.” He blushes at the nickname you call him, grabbing your hand as you walk side by side off the deck. “Meet you in a few hours?” He lets your hand go, before placing a light kiss on your cheek, “Can’t wait to see it.” You hand him your sketch book and he walks off in the direction of Darty’s.

You walk down the stairs and into the chip shop through the back, in hopes of seeing Uma. You and Harry had been together for a year now and it definitely felt like longer, you were hoping to talk to Uma and ask her advice on telling Harry that you love him, she was his best friend after all.

“Uma?” You call as you enter her room, it was dark but you could hear something coming from her office. “In here.” Her voice startles you slightly, but you walk over to the other door and open it.

“Hi buttercup.” You roll your eyes at her nickname, “Take a seat.” She points to an old chair that had more splinters in it than you’d ever seen. “I want to ask you something.” She peers over her shoulder before putting down her pencil and swivelling around in her chair. “I’m all ears.” You make eye contact with her and sigh, “I think,” you stop and take a deep breath, “I think I’m ready to tell Harry that I love him.”

Her expression is unreadable before a smirk appears on her lips, “About damn time.” She chuckles, “Do ya know how long he’s wanted to tell you he loves you but been too scared you might not say it back?” You gasp, “Re-really?” You stutter and she nods, “Baby yes. He’s head over heels for you.” You smile widely, “I’m head over heels for him too.” She nods, “I know, I see the way you look at each other and I didn’t believe in love before, but the way you care for one another and how I know you’d both put your lives on the line to save the other, that’s love.” You giggle, “How do I tell him?”

You suddenly become very nervous and feel the need to fidget, “Just say it, it doesn’t need to be a big thing just casually slip it into conversation, you don’t have to worry or be scared.” Uma stands up, sitting next to you, “Where is he right now? Just find him and tell him.”

Turning your head you stare at her, “He’s gone to get a new tattoo, he should be back soon.” She then stands again, hooking her arm under yours and pulling you up, “Well off you go, wait for him in the chip shop and tell him as soon as he gets back.”

Uma opens the door pushing you out, “Do it or you’ll be on deck cleaning duty for a month.” She sarcastically waves before shutting the door, you stand there bewildered for a second before making your way down to the chip shop, unbeknownst to you, Uma had a front row seat, to witness it all, she was sat above the shop looking through a hole in the wall she’d made to keep an eye on proceedings, thank fully it came in handy for times like this too.

You take a deep breath as you sit at a table and wait for Harry, you only had to wait about 10 minutes before he came sauntering through the door but it felt like forever.

“Alright darlin’” he walks over to you, leaning across the table to place a kiss on your lips before sitting in the chair next to you. “Well? Let me see it!” You ask, forgetting for a second why you were so nervous. “Hold on beautiful.” He smirks before taking his jacket off, he’s about to lift his shirt when he says, “You’re gonna wanna get a real close look.” He pats his lap signalling for you to sit, you raise an eyebrow at him before shrugging, you sit on his thighs, holding onto his shoulders so you don’t fall.

“Voila.” He takes his shirt exposing his chest, the fresh ink taking up the majority of his abdomen, “Oh my gosh.” You gasp, it was amazing. “Harry.” You rub your fingers across his skin and that’s when you notice, your fingers stop and your heart beats faster, “Is that-“ He nods and you run your fingers across where your initials lie in the middle of the ships wheel, small but not small enough to not be seen, “You,” you look up at him still in shock, “I-“ Harry stops you, and kisses you slow, his hands resting on your hips yours behind his neck, “I love you.” You mumble, you feel his body tense and he pulls back, “Y-you do?” You nod, a strand of hair falling over your face, the smile on his face is from ear to ear, “I love you too.”

You giggle as you kiss him again, pulling him closer to you with the hand you had behind his neck, “I can’t believe you did that.” You chuckle, resting your forehead on his, “I did it, because I love you, and I was so scared to tell you, I thought that maybe this would of been a way for me to show it.” You run your fingers through his hair, “Hold on, Harry Hook, scared of something?” He rolls his eyes, “You do know how to ruin a good moment don’t you lass?” He chuckles wrapping his arms around your waist holding you tight to him, “I do try, I do try.” You joke, “That’s why I love you.” You kiss his shoulder as you relax into his arms, his body heat engulfing you, “You’re mine forever.” You whisper into his neck, placing a kiss just below his ear, “As are you mine darling.”

— —

The drawing the tattoo is based off.

— —

@hook-harry @descendants-hooked @umaisgay @harryy-hookk @descendantofthesparrow @descendants3iscoming @descendantsxreader @umaxxhook @eviegrimhildes @umasuggestions

@wishiwasanavenger @wicked-imagines @auradon-prep @harry-hook-me @disneydescendants-headcanons @damndescendants

(Random Descendants tags)

[gerudospiriit]

Mistletoe Mission

[After all that angst, I felt like I needed to write something silly, cheesy, and totally cliche! 

A little Chrimbus gift for the bae, @maryarkham, have a little DantexLady silly holiday shenanigans!

I hope you like it, bebe! <3]

Dante watched the front door expectantly through the gap between his boots, the sprig of mistletoe taped over it. With only three days until Christmas, this had to work, and it had to work soon. Otherwise, he lost the element of surprise; mistletoe still decorating a home after Christmas just looked desperate. He expected his prey to kick open those doors any second now…

The rumble of a motor out front alerted him of her arrival, the engine cut seconds later. Heightened sense of hearing heard her boots stomp up the stairs to the front doors. Dante stood up and prepared to pounce.

The doors flew open, and Dante stepped out from behind his desk to meet Lady at the front door. Unfortunately, he miscalculated her frustration. Like a spurned cat tossed in a puddle, Lady cleared the space between the helf devil and the door, her bicolor eyes blazing. Out of range of the mistletoe. Damn it.

“Dante, what the hell is this?!” she demanded, shoving a piece of paper in his face. “Do you think this sort of thing is funny?”

Though he knew what was on the page, surprise knit his snowy brows together. “What’s wrong with it, Lady?” His lips twitched at the corners as he gazed down at his handiwork. In order to piss her off and ensure she would pay a visit to Devil May Cry, Dante had sketched a crude drawing of her with a few exaggerated features and wearing nothing but a Santa hat and taped it to her front door. At the bottom, he had written in red ink, “Have a rockin’ Christmas, Lady. Feel free to show up dressed like this next time you come to the shop. XOXO Dante.”

“What, you don’t like your Christmas card? It took me at least an hour to draw that!”

Lady snatched the drawing back from him and tore it to little bits. “Try another stunt like this and I’ll add interest to your debt, asshole.” She tossed the bits of paper in his face and stormed out of the office, leaving Dante amused but unsuccessful in his mission.

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

It took Lady two days to finally cool off and pick up her phone when he called. Perhaps Christmas Eve had softened her up or she realized his card was actually funny after all. He guessed it was the former, but either way, he convinced her to help him wrap some presents, claiming he wanted to “do it the right way” this year, instead of stuffing gifts into bags or folding newspaper shoddily around it. Claiming his lack of wrapping skills really had gotten old, Lady agreed to help him out.

Opting for a new strategy, Dante hung the mistletoe over the kitchen doorway. The perfect place to employ a sneak attack that she would never see coming. He had just finished taping it up when he heard her motorcycle’s engine from down the street. Moments later, Lady entered the shop balancing a stack of boxed gifts in her hands. One threatened to topple from the top, and Dante leaped across the shop to catch. 

“Show off,” Lady mumbled, dumping the packages in his arms. “You did buy wrapping paper, right?”

Dante carried her gifts over to the couch and laid them out on the coffee table. “Give me a little credit, Lady. I don’t always mess things up.” He grinned and nodded toward the multicolored tubes of paper leaning against the side of the couch. “I didn’t know what kind to get, so I just got your basic reds and greens with snowflakes and Santas. Festive shit.”

Moving back over to his desk, he started rummaging around, as if trying to locate tape and pins and anything else they needed to wrap presents. Lady peeled off her gloves and started for the couch. His moment. “Oh, hey, wait a sec. We gotta do this right.” The huntress paused, a dark brow raised in question. “There’s eggnog in the kitchen. You wanna go get us some while I get my gifts out?”

He was sure she was going to tell him to do it himself, snark him about how he has legs and if he wants eggnog, he can go get it himself. Finally, she rolled her eyes. “For future reference, I prefer hot cocoa.” 

Dante waited for the sound of clinking glasses before making a swift and silent move to station himself outside of the kitchen door, just out of view. He listened to her hum “Carol of the Bells” as she poured eggnog for both of them. Her footsteps reverberated off the linoleum, closer, closer, one more step…

He slid from his hiding place into the doorway, ready to pull his fellow devil hunter into a festive smooch...but he didn’t calculate that the element of surprise might work a little too well. Lady gasped at his sudden appearance and jolted backward. Eggnog spilled from the glasses and soaked the front of her shirt, pooling on the floor at her feet.

“Dante! Ugh!” 

She stomped back into the kitchen, Dante following close on her heels feeling like a guilty canine. “I didn’t mean to, Lady! Honest!” He grabbed up a hand towel. Ice blue eyes drifted to the stain, a smirk curling his lips as he extended the towel toward her soaked bosom.

“Give me that!” She snatched the towel out of his hand before he could make contact and angrily mopped up her front. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re acting more like an idiot than usual!”

Dante rubbed the back of his neck, his smirk melting away. He really sucked at this surprise kiss business. He would probably have a better chance of landing a kiss if he just asked her for it at this point.

She sighed. “I’m going to have to go home and change. Throw this in the washer before it stains.”

“What? Aw, no don’t do that!” He caught the towel when she threw it to him. “I can get you one of my t-shirts and wash your shirt for you. It’s the least I can do.”

She eyed him, searching his face for anything that suggested he meant to further humiliate her. When she found only sincerity, she huffed. “Fine. Nothing red if that’s possible.” She pushed passed him and headed back out to the living room.

Without wasting any more time, Dante dashed up the stairs two at a time and dug through his drawers. Much of what he owned did fall into the category of some shade of red or another, but he managed to find a clean black v-neck t-shirt for her buried beneath the array of crimson shirts. He pushed away thoughts of Lady dressed in only his shirt and shoved the drawer closed. For once, he opted to keep his mouth shut and not suggest that to her; he had probably done enough damage for one holiday.

He headed back down to the main floor and found Lady waiting at the foot of the stairs, arms crossed and a disgruntled expression on her face. He extended the shirt to her and managed a small smile. “It was a tough search, but I think I found you something suitable.”

Lady took the shirt and turned it over in her hands with a thoughtful hum. “It’ll do.”

With a nod, Dante turned to head to the couch and actually wrap gifts like he promised Lady. At least she didn’t have her pistol on her in that moment. He would likely be walking swiss cheese if she did. Maybe next year he would be more successful. He could start rigging up some sort of mechanism where the mistletoe followed her around, meaning she was always underneath it when she was at the shop.

“Hey, Dante.”

He turned around only for Lady to tug him down by the collar of his shirt. Her soft lips meshed with his. He slid his arm low around her waist, coaxing her body flush against his and deepening the kiss. He relished the warmth of her and the naturally sweet taste of her lips. All too soon, she pulled away, releasing his collar and taking a step back. Her cheeks were tinted a rosy pink, but she wore a shit eating grin on her lips.

“If you wanted a kiss so bad,” she jerked her thumb back toward the mistletoe dangling over the kitchen door. “All you had to do was ask.”

[forasecondtherewedwon]

25 for spideychelle prompt? we loveeee a feminist intellectual MJ

Thanks for the prompt, yous twos! Enjoy!

Margins in Their LivesPairing: Peter x Michelle (Spideychelle)Rating: GWord count: 1391

25. “I could tell it was your favourite book because of all the notes you wrote in the margins.”

His eyes went to her, reading on the bench, every chance theyhad: catching glimpses between the squares of rope while he raced Ned up thenet, wondering if she heard the echo of his thundering footsteps across themetal floor of the jungle gym, maybe trying to impress her while he walked therungs of the monkey bars with his arms outstretched until his aunt noticed and freaked, yelling for him to come down.

Peter was nine, with hair static-y from the enclosed tube ofthe red, plastic slide and Lego bricks zipped into the pocket of his cargopants, and it was love at first sight.

He didn’t notice when she left the bench, but he saw itempty and panicked, flew across the tiny pebbles of the playground at astaggering run. All that remained in the girl’s place was a book, which Peterpicked up. It wanted to fall open in his hands, naturally floppy from what musthave been a lot of rereading. (This dazzled Peter, who didn’t read very muchhimself.) His eyes lit up as he scanned the pages; there was as much written inpencil as had been typed in ink. This was amazing.He didn’t know you could do that with a book, fill it up with your own ideasand opinions. Something you could find your identity in, where you couldnegotiate yourself into existence from cover to cover.

Peter looked up after a minute, paperback in hand, andglanced around frantically. The playground was part of a larger park thatextended into a soccer pitch, and when he held his hand above his eyes, hecould see the girl walking away.

“What’s that?” Ned asked, coming up next to him and lookingcuriously at the book.

“Something important,” Peter said, certain. “I’ll tell youabout it in a minute. Tell May I’ll be right back!”

They’d been putting the playground equipment through itspaces this afternoon, but Peter found his energy reserves, pumping his skinnyarms as he sprinted across the field.

“Hey!” he called out. “You left this!”

The girl turned around as he approached, just as pretty asshe’d been from a distance, sitting on the bench. She wore a white t-shirt (Maywould never trust Peter in one of those) and had her thumbs hooked through the lowestpart of the straps on her backpack. He figured she must have a bunch of booksin there. That was how she could’ve forgotten the one currently in his hand. Italso explained how she was so smart.

“You left this,” he said again, winded, thrusting the bookforward and staring as it passed from his hand to hers. He felt like he’d justhanded over Excalibur, something massively significant.

“Thanks,” she said. She swung her backpack off one arm in avery no-nonsense way and tucked the book inside.

“I didn’t want you to lose it,” Peter explained. “I couldtell it was your favourite book because of all the notes you wrote in themargins.”

The dirtied soles on the toes of their sneakers lined up, acouple feet between them.

“What is it anyway?” he asked, following her backpack withhis eyes as she settled it back in place.

“You didn’t look?” The girl was smiling like she was aboutto laugh at him, but she didn’t. “It’s LittleWomen.”

“Wow,” said Peter. “It looks really long.”

“It is,” she confirmed.

“What were you―”

His aunt shouted his name and he turned around to look. Shewaved her arm, gesturing for him to return so that they could head home.

“Looks like I gotta go,” Peter said. The golden light oflate afternoon was hitting them sideways, getting in their eyes and making himdramatic, treading water in his own gravitas. “I’m Peter.” He stuck out hishand and stared, like he had with the book, as hers slipped into it.

“Michelle.”

He spent all night wondering if he should have swept herinto his arms and kissed her. Aunt May said he watched too many epic movies.

―

MJ let the spiral-bound notebook flap against her leg as shetrailed Peter at a leisurely pace down the science hall at Midtown Tech. Shewondered how long it would take him to notice.

It wasn’t exactly a high-speed chase, but her heartrate wasaccelerating, her breaths coming faster. He halted for a minute to say hi toBetty; keeping a furtive eye on him, MJ flipped the notebook open and uncappedthe pen he’d fed into the coil binding. She leaned into the recess next todrinking fountain, working fast. By the time he resumed walking, she was morethan ready.

Peter didn’t get ten steps before MJ saw his back stiffendramatically and hurried up behind him.

“Forget something?” she asked casually as he spun around tosee her standing there. She lifted her eyebrows.

His mouth fell open, leading the charge for the puzzledexpression that overtook his face. MJ held the notebook behind her and smackedit impatiently against her back.

“Yes, I did,” Peter decided. She loved that moment when heswitched from clueless to confident―it was like someone had just entered thepassword to enable the use of his brain.

Her dork frequently tried to fib his way out of circumstanceswhere he’d been caught, but MJ had never seen him use this precise techniquebefore, which was smiling, stepping close to her, and sliding his hand alongher jaw as he kissed her. She might have felt wrong-footed, if she could feelher legs; mostly, she was aware of her face heating up and her limbs feelingsort of woozy.

Pulling back, Peter beamed in accomplishment. It was a goodcover, but she knew he was still missing something, because she had it in herhand. MJ stood in front of him with a closed-lipped smile and waited for herboyfriend to admit that kissing her wasn’t the thing he’d forgotten.

“I’ll see you at lunch, ok? I have to, uh, get to, uh, gym.”

She nodded easily and let him brush by her, back the waythey’d both come from. Gave him four foolish steps before calling out, “Thegym’s actually in the other direction.”

Peter turned and laughed weakly.

“Right.”

He headed past her again with a little head shake like hewas asking himself what he’d been thinking. It was all very cute, this act hewas putting on. The fact that he still thought he could fool her. MJ strodeafter him and reached her arm over his shoulder to waggle the notebook in frontof his face.

“You left something in the lab,” she informed him.

“Crap.” He stopped in his tracks and snatched it out of herhand while she contained her laughter.

“Wouldn’t wanna leave this one behind,” MJ cautioned. Shefolded her arms on his shoulder and propped her chin on top. “I could tell itwas your favourite book because of all the notes you wrote in the margins.Don’t get me wrong, your organic chemistry notes were interesting too, but whatreally grabbed my attention was the stuff labelled ‘web fluid.’”

Peter turned his head to stare at her in horror. What aloser. If he’d just admit he was Spider-Man, MJ could stop putting him in thesesituations. She’d given him at least a dozen chances to fess up, but he kept holdingstubbornly to something he was so bad at hiding. MJ anticipated that hiseventual confession would be paired with a plea for help concealing hissuper-status.

Side-eyeing her, Peter thumbed through the pages and, bingo,found the one she’d improved. Beneath the ‘web fluid’ heading was a sketch ofSpider-Man’s mask. Uh oh, he was shocked again, wide eyes going from thecartoon to his girlfriend’s face. MJ gave him a proud grin.

“This is, uh… it doesn’t really say ‘web fluid,’ it says,um…”

“I have to get to class. Try to be more careful with yoursecrets, ok?”

MJ slid her arms from her boyfriend’s shoulder and gave hima swift peck on the cheek.

She received a text from him five minutes later,saying he had something important to tell her after school.

Oh, Peter, she thought, rolling hereyes, it’s about time.

[ciarawritesmarvel]

unwanted letters - steve rogers x reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k (I said it’d be longer!)

Warnings: Now, this is kind of angsty but more in a hurt/comfort way if that makes sense, it’s all set around Infinity War, NO ENDGAME REFERENCES

A/N: Day Three of Hello Spring by @ibwhellospring! This one is a little different, containing some letters, some sort of angst, some IW realness and some bittersweetness. I hope you enjoy, I think I might quite like this one for once! Please do let me know what you think, my loves :)

Prompt: Goodbye Letters

masterlist is in my bio, tags will be in a reblog. please drop me an ask to be tagged in bucky, steve or all hello spring pieces! enjoy! <3

---

You sat on your bed. You were cold, you noticed vaguely, but it was hardly something to worry about. Your feet were planted firmly on the floor and every now and then a thought would come and go and your hands would fist themselves in the blankets on the bed before relaxing again like it had never happened. Your eyes were trained on the wall, your focus hazy, your senses dimmed.

This was it. This was it.

“Y/N?”

You didn’t jump at the intrusion. You slowly brought your focus back as best you could and turned your head to face Steve. He looked...beaten down. But not beaten. Not yet. As long as he wasn’t beaten, you weren’t either, and you cradled that thought to your chest as if it were something precious.

“Hi Steve.”

“Hi.”

A silence, and though you and Steve had many of those in your time together this one was uncomfortable. Any time with one’s thoughts now was a bad time. You needed to save him from his thoughts, and you from yours.

“Is everyone ready?”

“I wouldn’t say they’re ready,” he admitted, wandering up to the bed and sitting down on it next to you, “But they’re still here. That’s all I could ask, and even that’s too much.”

“Don’t put this on yourself. This one’s on all of us.”

He nodded. It was clear he knew you were right but whether that would help his brain out was a different question entirely. He brought his gaze up from the floor to you and you held it, not backing down.

“I had a thought,” he said suddenly and you worried about that. Thoughts were dangerous now, that you’d already established. Still, you kept your face calm for him. Always for him.

“Hm?”

“I just-“ he paused and took a moment and you reached over and grasped his hand in yours, an unspoken source of comfort. He instantly began tracing familiar patterns into the back of your hand, the lines he’d walked so many times, the lines carved into your skin. It was a comfort to you both and enough for him to continue, albeit with a lump in his throat, “I just don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. And I don’t wanna talk about it. So I thought maybe, we could write letters? To each other. In case-“

He trailed off and you were glad. The words he was about to say were some that you were ready to hear. But his idea was sweet and thoughtful and a perfect way to express everything that could not be said in words today without tears and broken promises.

You could see the worry in his eyes, the self conscious spark that told him what he’d just said was a stupid idea, that he’d made a terrible suggestion. You squeezed his hand tighter.

“I’d love that, Steve,” you said, soft and loving, “I can’t say it either.”

He let out a shaky breath that you took as one of relief, relief that you were both in the same place right now. That you couldn’t say it. However much you both wanted to say everything, tell each other everything, you couldn’t. And that was okay.

“We have paper,” he said, standing from the bed and reaching into the cupboard, your hands dropping from each other’s and your own dropping back onto the bed with a grounding thud, “We should do it now.”

We don’t have much time.

The unspoken sentence that hung in the air as if it had been said nonetheless. You nodded in agreement, taking paper from him and one of the pens too.

When you were last in Wakanda, it had been a visit to see Bucky and you and Steve had stayed in this very same room. The three of you had talked until the early hours of the morning, walked through the busy streets, sat and ate in the peaceful fields.

One morning, Steve had woken up first, but far earlier than usual. It was the day you were due to say goodbye to Bucky and head back to a life of constant running and so he was keen to take this morning slowly, to savour it. He took in your form slowly too. Hair splayed out across the pillow, mouth hanging slightly open, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He smiled. Fell a little more in love.

He searched the room for something to do and found a cupboard full of random items, some unfamiliar board games, some coffee mugs, some files. But more intriguing to Steve was the wad of paper on the top shelf and the pot of pens and pencils standing beside it. Without much thinking, he had stolen a pencil and a few pieces of paper, settled himself in the corner armchair and began to draw you with a painstaking attention to detail. His eyes flickered between you and his page and the corners of his lips drifted upwards in a subconscious smile.

You’d woken around two hours later, blinking rapidly to adjust to the sunlight that streamed through the translucent curtains. Finding Steve sketching you had been a delightful surprise and you agreed to say in the same position until he’d finished. It had been a small moment, but one that had stuck with the both of you ever since.

It was for this reason that Steve had known exactly where the paper and pens were.

He stood up from the bed and walked almost past you, but as he was in front of you he stopped and leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head that had you closing your eyes, his hand pressed against your cheek. When you opened your eyes, he had gone, clearly deciding to write elsewhere which a part of you couldn’t help but be glad about.

You shuffled over to the desk by the window and placed down the paper, slumping into the chair with a muffled sigh. Beginning to think of possibilities of how to write the words scarred onto your heart, you stopped yourself. This wasn’t a time for thinking.

My Steve,

For the majority of my life, I firmly believed that I would end up alone, that I would never find anyone to spend my life with, to have, hold, love and cherish. It was only as soon as I accepted that it was okay to be on my own that I found you. I’m sorry I didn’t accept that sooner. Maybe we would’ve had more time. You’d tell me not to think like that, I know, but I have to say it. You have to know how much time I wish we’d had.

If you’re reading this and I’m not sat beside you then...pretend I am. I’m always beside you anyway. You’ll cry, I know, but don’t cry for too long. Lean on the others. Let them lean on you. I always think you heal the best when you’re focused on helping other people. You’re so damn selfless. It’s one of the only things I don’t like about you. You’re not careful enough with yourself.

I’m still beside you, so now imagine me punching you on the arm. Hard. A reminder not to beat yourself up if I’m gone. It won’t be your fault. I know you’ll do everything in your incredible power to make sure I get out of this and I’ll be doing the same for you so nothing will be your fault. Nothing. Never think any differently.

Steven Grant Rogers. I love you. I love you more than any other in this or any universe. You mean everything to me. You always have. Ever since you showed up on that helicarrier in your brown leather jacket and your checkered blue shirt and your fresh baby face. When you shook my hand with that tiny smile that told me we were going to get along. You meant everything to me when we stayed up all night talking about our pasts. You meant everything to me when you started bringing me my cuppa every morning without a word. You meant everything to me when I kissed you. When you kissed me back. When we finally, actually got together. When you told me you loved me. When you asked me to marry you. When we actually got married.

You mean everything to me now and forever.

But if I’m not there, then don’t let me mean everything to you forever. You must push on. Fight on. It’s one of the main things I so love about you. One of so many things.

In conclusion: I love you, I love you, I love you.

Be selfish,

Your Y/N

By the time you had finished, some of the ink had been smudged by the tears that had dropped onto the page but the writing was legible enough and without rethinking or rewording what had come from your very core, you folded up the paper and wrote Steve’s name on the front in your best cursive. You blinked back your remaining tears, breathing deeply through your nose to slow the overwhelming emotion down.

It wasn’t long, a mere hour, before you and Steve were stood side by side on the peaceful fields that were now minutes away from becoming a bloody battlefield. You reached into a concealed pocket in your suit and handed Steve your letter to which he retrieved his own and handed it to you. You wanted to say something but it seemed like he did too and still he didn’t have the words. You pushed yourself up using a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek, his beard scratching ever so slightly. When you pulled away and saw his eyes closed you felt a wave of peace roll over you unexpectedly.

You could fight now.

And for Steve? You’d sure as hell win.

---

Dearest Y/N,

Sometimes I’m not the best with words, as you know, and I struggle to articulate how I feel. Not right now. The emotion, the feelings that I have repressed for so long, I can feel them again, bubbling ominously up to the surface. You bring it out in me. I’ve never known if it was a good or bad thing.

In the spirit of sharing feelings, here’s another: I’m scared. As I write this my hand is shaking with a vigour I’ve never known. I’m scared of dying, I’m scared of leaving you, I’m scared of never building the life we’ve talked about for so long and will never build anyway. More than any of these though, I am terrified of losing you. I can’t imagine moving on, recovering. But you have to now, if you’re reading this. Which sounds hypocritical. But you just do. I feel like you’ll be cry-laughing right now.

You have always grounded me. When I was completely lost in a new world, you grounded me. I know you still talk about my leather jacket from when we met, tell people how lost I looked in it, how old I looked. I still remember your pencil skirt and jacket, still remember completely underestimating you, another suit with no real experience. But then I became infatuated with you on the battlefield and fell in love with you in the quiet moments in between.

If I’m not there, then that’s okay. You’ll be fine. I’m an old man now, sweetheart, and it had to happen someday. As long as you are safe and warm and living and breathing then I have done my job. I will have done my duty. And I won’t have any regrets.

I came out of the ice a broken man who didn’t know he was broken. I met you and my world changed. Not instantly, but slowly, as your influence seeping into every aspect of my life and every part of me as a person. You have made me stronger, wiser, tougher, better. And because you’ve made me so strong and so wise, I am wise enough now to know that you will be just as strong without me as you are with me. I’ll be holding your hand and tracing my fingers along your veins for as long as you will let me, there or not.

I love you, baby. So much.

Be strong,

Steve

Your tears were unstoppable, trailing down your cheeks and leaving ugly streaks in their wake as you hiccuped and covered your mouth with your hand, wiping your nose and face and trying to stay as quiet as possible, your breathing stuttered and laboured. Steve never spoke like this. He was loving, yes, but never sentimental as such. He struggled to put it into words.

But this? This was beautiful. Hence the tears.

You were sat up in your double bed in Wakanda, alone. It was the middle of the night, maybe 3am, you weren’t sure anymore. The past two months of time had blended into minute after minute, second after second of pain, regret and an overwhelming sadness. They’d lost. What else was left?

With half the population of the universe gone, just like that, so easy and so simple, everyone was left in different states. Jaded. Devastated. Bitter. Angry. Lost.

You thought you were currently in the numb stage. Nothing seemed to matter, sleep evaded you and you could stay awake for hours and hours just staring at the ceiling and thinking about...nothing. Like there was nothing to think about anymore.

Apparently, reading this letter had broken whatever dam of emotion you had created, you thought, as you sniffled and blinked rapidly to unstick your sodden lashes.

You heard footsteps, soft but still there, outside your room coming towards it and your eyes widened in fear, desperately trying to rid yourself of any sign of your tears, of your sorrow. The door opened slowly after a few seconds and he tiptoed in, closing the door as quietly as he could. He stopped when he turned and saw you sat up, paper in hand, face puffy and eyes bloodshot.

“Y/N?” Steve said, and it was a question but one that he already knew the answer of. It was too much. Your sobs started anew, your face contorting in a new kind of pain and Steve was quick to run to your side, climbing into bed and tugging you into his arms as you wept. You’d held him more times than you could count over the past few months as he cried and cried and cried. He thought it was wrong that he was grateful to be able to return the favour.

He whispered soothing words into your ear and stroked your hair back from your face and held you fiercely, without question. It took minutes upon minutes for you to slowly calm down, for your breathing to even out as your head rested on his chest.

“You read the letter?” he said, and it came out hoarse to which you reared back from him to see that he had been crying too. You wiped his eyes with shaking hands.

“I was looking for your sleeping pills,” you said in a whisper, not trusting your voice to be any louder, “It was in your dressing table. I couldn’t...I just wanted to...”

Steve placed both his hands on either side of your face, holding you gently.

“It’s okay,” he said sincerely, eyes flicking between both your eyes, “It’s okay.”

“We got so lucky, Steve,” you say tentatively, hands coming up to cover his own that still held your face, “But I don’t feel lucky. We still lost.”

To anyone else, that may have been taken the wrong way, but Steve knew exactly what you were saying, as usual. Of course, you were beyond glad that the both of you had survived, were together, could go to bed at night and sleep in each others’ arms. But you couldn’t. Because neither of you could even sleep.

“I don’t either,” he admitted solemnly, “But I think...one day we might. Feel lucky.”

“Yeah,” you breathed, leaning forward until your forehead was resting against his chest, “One day.”

He rested his chin on top of your head, arms wrapping around your shoulders, as yours clung around his waist.

Now wasn’t the time to worry about one day. Just now, holding each other’s broken pieces together was enough to worry about. It was a job you both took very seriously. It was a job you were determined to do right.

“I love you,” Steve said suddenly, full of meaning and weight and promises. Those three words were all the two of you really had left now.

“I love you too, Steve.”

[aboysbestfriendishismum]

Chapter 55 - Wine, puzzles and spoonmen (Part One)

In the previous chapter: Eddie and Angie woke up at her apartment. It's the third time in a row they sleep together but, although Eddie is constantly teasing her, they haven't had sex yet. Angie starts to get worried about this too and believes something's wrong. Eddie, Stone and Mike go to Roxy's on that same morning, right during Angie's shift at the diner. Eddie cheekily jokes, teases her, sends her subliminal love messages through juke box songs, then follows her in the back and kisses her; she thinks he's doing it on purpose so that their friends will find out about their relationship. The two of them have a brief argument but they soon make it up. Meg tells Angie about her new project: becoming a tattoo artist. She also understands Angie's worried about something and has her friend spill the beans. Angie confesses she has doubts about Eddie's physical attraction towards her. Meg tries to talk some sense into her and suggests her to set up a romantic night for Eddie and her at their apartment.

***

“Ian, can you come here a sec?” I call my coworker as I look through the sketchbook my roommate has just slipped on the counter top together with her purchases.

“What's up?” I hear him answer from afar.

“I need your help”

“Can't you do it by yourself? That guy who dropped the jarred Bolognese sauce made a mess!”

“Umph if that's Bolognese sauce, then I'm Julia Roberts!” I comment right when Hannigan comes back from the storage room, probably because of the commotion he heard.

“ANGIE?” he gives me a nasty look and I'd want to sink into the ground.

“Err I meant that it's a sauce produced in our beloved America! Healthy American food, tasty and nutritious... which gets inspiration from an Italian recipe to... to...” I try and make up for that as I address my audience, that is basically Meg, looking at me as if she could burst into laughing any minute, my boss and two perplexed customers, a young man and a fifty-something woman.

“To give a new interpretation of it?” the guy suggests from the snacks department.

“EXACTLY! A new interpretation. Different from the original”

“But as valid as the original” the boss adds.

“Very valid!” I say through my teeth.

“She's half Italian.” Meg explains to the customers “She'll be fucking fussing about everything but the sauce is good” the guy snickers and the lady shakes her head and walks towards the frozen foods.

“I'd have liked for you not to use the F word but you perfectly summed up my thinking” Hannigan's face relaxes and maybe I still have a job.

“Anyway it's all Ian's fault” I point out as soon as I see my colleague show up behind the back of the boss.

“What did I do?”

“I called you and you didn't came”

“Well, now I'm here, what's wrong?”

“Now Hannigan's here, I don't need you anymore”

“Can you please explain what the fuck's happening? I didn't understand a fucking thing!” the boss blurts out in the middle of our quarrel.

“I thought you couldn't say the F word here” Meg chimes in raising her hand as if she was at school.

“Not to custumers, but to employees...  yes”

“Meg needs to buy some wine” I point at my roommate and the bottle she's placed on the counter.

“So what? Your shift ends at 13:00, you still have 10 minutes” Ian gives me a glazed look and right now I'd stick my thumbs into his eyes.

“It's not for the timing, it's that I can't sell alcohol...”

“Oh right! Well, you'll take care of that, right?” he asks to our boss.

“Yeah, sure Ian! I'll take care of that, I'm already here! By the way why should I have my paid personnel work when I can do everything by myself, right?”

“Uhm... ok, I'll go and put some more sawdust on that stain” Ian walks away and Meg can't resist this time and explodes laughing.

“Haha he's so dumb! Anyway isn't it funny that you cannot sell me wine, considering you're the one who'll drink it?” my friend remarks while Hannigan's ringing her items: red wine bottle, sliced bread, salmon, cheese, butter, various snacks.

“You're kind of dumb too, you know” I hide my face behind my palms.

“You could avoid telling me, at least...” mutters the boss and shakes his head.

“Who? Telling you what? I didn't say a word! Oops, I forgot the dessert, wait a minute!” Meg realizes the shit she just did and plays dumb, walking away towards the sweets section.

“She was just kidding anyway hehe” I say and I hope he doesn't notice I'm sweating.

“Of course”

**

“They're great!”

“Thank you Meg for grocery shopping for me and bringing all the bags up for four floors for me... that's what you just said, right?” my friend is putting everything into the fridge as I keep looking through her sketchbook.

“Exactly”

“Anyway you don't have to tell me you like them only to make me happy, I want a honest opinion”

“I am honest! I must say I like the ones in black and white better”

“Right? I'm not confident with colors yet. I mean, it's not like I can't draw stuff in colors. It's just, whenever I draw something and color it and I think it'd be supposed to end on someone's skin, everything seems shit to me. I did very few drawings in color”

“The flowers series is perfect, also the one with the animals” she's really good at drawing, I've always known that.

“They're just doodles to get started, to try some themes and styles”

“They're not doodles... what about this?” I focus on something drawn on a separated sheet of paper, folded and stuck in the middle of the book, which falls down to the floor as I turn the pages.

“Which one?” Meg distractedly turns around then closes the fridge door shut and runs up to me, snatching the paper from my hand as soon as she sees what it is “Oh this? This is nothing, this... I did it last night at the salon, during downtime, it sucks”

It's a page made entirely of pieces of a puzzle, they're all different in shape and shade but don't create any image. They're all blank and fill the whole sheet of paper except for a small space, a missing piece. Instead of the missing piece, in the layer underneath, you can see something that looks like live flesh and muscle tissue, and it's the only colored part of the drawing.

“It's simple but of immediate effect. This could really become a tattoo”

“Do you think so?”

“Yeah, it also seems very realistic. It's disturbing but in a positive sense, I like it!”

“Oh, well, thank you”

“What does it mean?”

“That I thank you for your compliment?”

“Haha no, what does the tattoo mean?”

“Ah”

“There's always a meaning behind, right? What would such a tattoo mean?”

“Well but... but this is not a tattoo is just an excercise, there's no reason behind”

“No?”

“No! Ok, now that you make me think about it, it could represent, I don't know, a missing piece in someone's life? I mean, everybody has their own void inside, right? Nobody feels 100% complete, there's always a piece of the puzzle we can't find or that we lost in the way. And it can be very different things: a person, a passion, a goal in life. What do you think?”

“I think it'd be the perfect matching tattoo for a couple”

“A couple? Hahaha I didn't know you were so romantic!”

“Not necessarily a romantic couple. Also between two big friends. Or brothers. Think about it, one person can have the incomplete puzzle tattoed and the other one can have the missing piece, which fits in it perfectly”

“That's an idea. It should represent a strong bond. Between brothers... or a parent and a child”

“Sure, also” the latter not necessarily being a strong bond...

“A mother... a mother could get this one, with one or more missing pieces depending on how many children she's got.And the children will be the missing pieces” and what if the missing parts are the parents instead?

“And they you'll inject ink in those chubby baby arms of theirs!”

“Hahahah shut up! They can have it done when they're grown up. OR... you can draw the missing pieces in the same tattoo, a little further” Meg takes the sketchbook from my hands and starts drawing as she speaks, taken from sudden inspiration.

“You can also put the name in it. Or initials”

“Which name?”

“Of the child. Inside the puzzle piece”

“Sure, if I knew the name”

“What do you mean? Haha how can a mother not know the name?”

Meg gives me a weird look, then smiles: “I meant, if only you could give me a name to have a try”

“Try with Angie” I smirk.

“A random one”

“Totally random”

“Don't even try, I'm not gonna get matching tattoos with you, forget it” she shakes her head as she starts sketching a cursive A inside the drawing.

“SHUT UP! I'm scared of getting my earlobes pierced, do you think I'd get a tattoo?! You're crazy”

“Oh, I see, you wanna get one with Eddie?”

“Come on, hurry up, we need to go shopping”

“Hahaha this enthusiasm from you surprises me, abstinence can be powerful”

“MEG!”

**

“Do you really think we can find a slutty nightgown in a thrift shop?” Meg doesn't watch her tone as we stop in front of Rummage Hall.

“Shhhhhh! I don't wanna buy a slutty nightgown, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“You don't want to? We went out exactly for that”

“You said I should wear something nice but not too much. I don't wanna go too far or Eddie will understand...”

“Excuse me, isn't that the purpose of the whole thing? Make him understand?”

“Yes but...”

“Well, slutty it is, then!” Meg enters the shop and I tag along.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhh”

“Anyway we're not gonna find shit in here” my friend takes long strides towards the clothing section.

“Where did you want to go? Nancy Meyer? I've got no money for that stuff”

“No, but Fantasy Unlimited is a short walk away”

“BUT THAT- ehm... that is an adult shop” I raise my voice too without noticing, then shush myself up.

“And you're an adult, aren't you? Anyway they've got very cute things, I bought a lot of stuff there, that for the record I use also to go to clubs. Well, now only to go to clubs” she shrugs as she's examining a satin-like robe and then puts it back.

“You just need two triangles of fabric to be dressed and look nice, Meg, but for me it's slightly different”

“You just need triangles a little bigger, what's the problem?”

“The problem is there are no triangles big enough for me”

“Shut up!”

“And I don't know if Eddie would like that, I mean, I don't know his preferences” maybe he doesn't like this kind of seduction artifices, maybe he prefers a simpler style, a more natural approach. Why the fuck am I not naturally hot?

“He's a guy and he's heterosexual, what would his preferences ever be? The more skin he sees, the happier he is” it's Meg's very easy answer.

“My skin?”

“Yes, why?”

“There's too much skin in my case, maybe I'd better hide it” who am I kidding? You don't just put something cute on and turn into an attractive girl. You must be able to carry it around and feel confident in those clothes. I don't even feel comfortable now that I have a coat on. I'm never comfortable, except sometimes, with Eddie. Why ruin everything? I'll just show up like this, with a coat on. Or my fleece robe, I mean, he's used at my shitty outfits, this would be nothing new.

“Angie, what the fuck are you talking about?? He wants to see your skin because he likes you, I thought that had been already established by now”

“He likes me, altogether”

“No, fuck altogether, fuck mind, personality and all the other bullshit”

“Bullshit?”

“Angie, he likes your body, you turn him on, he wants you”

“He wants me so much than I gotta dress slutty to have him notice me?”

“The point is not having him notice you, that's what you got totally wrong. He already noticed you, you're with him basically! The point is letting him know you're ready for the next step. And stimulate him a little, warming up the atmosphere”

“If you say so” warming up, uh?

“Fuck, Angie, you're gonna give me a nervous breakdown sooner or later!” Meg pinches the bridge of her nose and I'm afraid she's really about to explode.

“Don't yell! There's people here” I complain looking around in embarrassment and hoping no one is listening to our conversation.

“Listen, when you're together... don't you ever notice anything in him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Whenever you kiss or hug... I mean, when you make out and stuff”

“Well, he looks... invested, focused on me and always gives me those looks that-”

“Ok ok, the look of love. But apart from that? Nothing else? Can't you feel anything?”

“What am I supposed to feel?”

“You know, since you also sleep together... and stuff”

“Stuff and stuff... Couldn't you be more clear?”

“Have you ever felt... something knocking?”

“Knocking?”

“Hasn't mini-Eddie ever popped up to say hi?”

“Mini... MEG WHAT THE FUCK??”

“Does he get hard? You must have noticed”

“DID YOU LOSE YOUR FUCKING MIND?!”

“Shhh stop yelling, there's people here” Meg chuckles and I'd kick her ass.

“You're to lock up” I grab her from the sleeve of her jacket and try to drag her out of the shop with me but she pushes me towards the books section.

“Jeez, you're such a prude”

“I'm not a prude, I'm just... discreet”

“Ok so have you ever discreetly checked if he gets a boner or not when he's with you?”

“Apart from the fact that it doesn't mean anything”

“Sure, now Eddie gets random boners with no reason, after all he's in his full pubescent phase”

“You're joking but it's true. Erections are not necessarily linked to sexual arousal only. Do you know men can get erections at the point of death too under certain circumstances?”

“Oh really? And how many times did Eddie die recently?” she smirks.

“Anyway, that said... it's none of your business” I turn the other way trying to look upset and as I look towards the clothing section, where we were until five minutes ago, I spot something I hadn't noticed before.

“I already know anyway!” Meg yells behind my back as I walk away towards the object of my interest, then she catches up with me “Come on, don't be mad. I'm sorry. I just wanted to prove my point! And tease you a little”

“What do you think about this?” I turn around showing the item I've just taken from the line.

“I think that... well, considering it's Eddie, we would never find something better to stimulate him, not ever at Fantasy Unlimited. Buy it!”

******************************************************************************************************************************************

I'm halfway between the first and the second floor when I realize I took the stairs instead of the elevator. I stop for a second, contemplating how stupid I am and trying to remember the moment I put autopilot on. I probably lost some lucidity once I parked outside Angie's condo. Was the doorway open? I think so, 'cause I don't remember buzzing and I'd remember if I had heard her voice, even through that shitty croaky buzzer. It looks like spending more time together hasn't changed the effect that the idea of seeing her has on me. I hope it'll never change. I shake my head and start walking up the stairs, two steps at a time, to arrive sooner. I didn't exactly run but when I get to the fourth floor I feel flushed. I take a deep breath, pull up my backpack and walk down the hallway to Angie's apartment. The first weird thing I notice is a sound: the sound of a saxophone, which becomes louder and louder as I get closer. The second weird thing shows up as soon as I turn down the corner and see something's wrong in Angie's door. As I come closer I realize the hallway lamp casts a narrow beam of light on the floor inside the apartment and from that I notice that the door is half-closed. As far as I know Angie double locks herself up even in her bathroom when she's home alone, she'd never let the apartment door open. I walk up slowly and in the meantime I open my backpack and stick my hand in it to find something I could use as a weapon. I don't really wanna waste some good wine crashing the bottle on the head of an elusive burglar. But I also doubt the videotape of Harold and Maude would have the same effect. I grab the bottle from the neck as I push the door open and cautiously enter the apartment. And I immediately notice two things. First of all I see there's something on the floor and at first they seem parts of a colorful object that broke into pieces. But as I lean down to see better, I take some of these fragments in my hand and figure out it's nothing but flowers, abandoned on the floor. I grope my way looking for water or glass pieces of a fallen and then shattered vase but I can't find anything. Now that I think about it, there was no vase of flowers here, at least not until this morning. Almost at the same time, I realize it's not really flowers but only petals and they seem to form a path towards the living room. In that moment I figure out I can follow the path of the blue and red petals on the floor with my eyes because the entrance is not lit only by the external hallway light but also by some burning candles placed on the phone table and on the shoe cabinet.

Oh.

I quickly stand up, feeling stupid for mistaking a romantic setting for a crime scene. I finally close the door behind me and follow the way led by the flowers, walking towards the living room and imagining the different scenes I could find, which have all the same main character. But she's the one missing when I get in the room, all that I find is more candles, the small table laden with delicious food and further away, between the two couches, a basket with a composition of blue and red flowers, just like the petals on the floor. Your love is king sings Sade in the background, that is not exactly background, since the volume is pretty loud. And I'm just standing here, wine still in my hand, waiting for Angie to magically show up, maybe with a little ambush behind my back, covering my eyes with her hands or in any other way she came up with. But that doesn't happen. Suddenly I think I hear a sound, more sounds, actually an almost regular sequence of sounds. I go and turn down the music a little and the series of dull thuds sounds clearer. Maybe a romantic setting doesn't exclude a crime scene... what the fuck is happening?

“Angie?” I call her and get no answer.

The noise comes from the kitchen and that's where I go, quickly but with caution. At first I slowly open the door to peep in, then I fling it open when I see Angie at the window, leaning outside, basically perched on the windowsill.

“Angie!” I call her again but she can't hear me. So I put the wine bottle on the table and reach out for her, shaking her by her shoulder “Angie what th-”

“AAH! Oh shit, Y'ALL WATCH OUT DOWN THERE!” Angie jumps and starts yelling outside the window, then I can hear a sharp noise, like something shattered into pieces and that's when I look out too to see what's happening.

What's happening is that there a small group of people on the pavement just outside the condo, standing in a sort of circle around a red expanding stain, while a guy curses and gives the middle finger in our direction.

“Angie... what did you do? What does it mean?” I ask as we both stuck our heads back inside the apartment.

“I've just lost a bottle of red wine and a boot” Angie sighs and replies as if it's the most normal thing, finally turning to face me.

And I finally focus for a moment and see what's in front of me: Angie, dressed in just a black The Who t-shirt that leaves her legs almost entirely uncovered, eye liner or whatever it is on her eyes, with those little wings on the sides pointing upwards that make her look more like a kitty, a glossy lipstick on her lips, vanilla scent. Maybe the burglar hit and killed me and this is heaven.

“Well, I can make up for the wine because I brought some too...” I walk backwards towards the table without taking my eyes off her, pointing at the place where I must have put the bottle “and I can go out and get back your shoe in no time. So, you see? Everything has a solution hehe, don't worry” why the fuck am I laughing? Do I think I'm funny? And why am I sweating?

“I'm sorry you have to go, you've just arrived” she replies with an irresistible pout, moving away from the window and breaking eye contact looking down.

“No problem, I'll be back in a minute.” I'm about to leave the kitchen, then I come back in “Oh wait, I can't”

“Oh ok... why? I mean, it doesn't matter Eddie, don't... don't worry” she starts stuttering and I smirk inside, trying to look cool.

“I forgot I have to do something first”

“What?” she asks puzzled before I get close and take her face between my hands to kiss her.

“This. I'll be right back, ok?” I whisper right after.

“Ok” she smiles and I kiss her again.

“And just so you know, when I'm back I got a bunch of questions about all this to ask you”

“Ok” her smiles widens and I kiss her once more.

“I'm telling you in advance so I won't catch you unprepared”

“Ok...” she repeats and I'm about to kiss her once again but she holds me back with her hands against my chest “Now go though”

“Uh is that so?” I try and get my kiss but she pushes me harder away.

“Hurry up”

“I'm going, I'm going. So bossy...” I let go of her and leave the kitchen, only to show up on the doorway a second later, only for a moment “I like it”

**

It takes me a while to find the boots, I mean, the boot, Angie's brown one, cause it rolled down the sidewalk under a parked car. When I find it, I instinctively look up, as if I'm expecting to see her still there, at the window, with her colorful hair fluttering in the night breeze. But she's not there and  I immediately go back inside. And during the whole way, this time using the elevator, I try and figure out the connection between wine and boot and the dynamics that brought them both out of the window. I walk up to the apartment and Sade is still singing.

“Thank you, Eddie. Do you want some?” I turn around the corner in the hallway and Angie's on the doorway with a bowl of chips in her hands and she holds it out to me as I get closer.

I want you I'd tell her but I just give her the boot and take the bowl and bury my hand in it.

“Anytime” I watch her quickly walking away into her room, quickly walking on her naked legs... GET IT TOGETHER MAN, YOU'RE SWEATING.

“Why are you standing there like that? Come in” Angie comes back and I'm still here at the door eating chips.

“I was waiting for you” I shrug and follow the flower path and her steps once again into the living room.

“So?” she asks when we're in front of the couch and I put the bowl of chips down on the small wooden table, since I believe we're about to sit down. Yet she keeps standing and smiles at me, with the tip of her canine popping up and diggin into her lower lip for a second as usual.

“So?” I repeat getting closer till my face is inches from hers, but without hugging her or kissing her, as if there's a game, a challenge between us, a challenge I'll surely fail.

“The bunch of questions... “ she looks down and, tugging the hem of her t-shirt down, she quickly takes a seat and I'm sure she's blushing even though she's not looking at me.

“Ok... Sade?” I point at the record player and sit down beside her, as I take off my jacket and throw it on the other couch.

“Hahaha of all this mess, the strangest thing to you is Sade's record?”

“No. But it's the first thing I thought of now”

“Don't you like it? It's... it's a good album” she turns towards me and subtly closes the distance between us on the couch at the same time.

“She's very good, it's just I didn't think you liked her. Can I ask the second question?”

“Sure”

“What the hell were you doing at the window with a bottle and a boot?” Angie's grin widens again.

“I was trying to open the wine bottle” she shrugs as if this is the most obvious explanation.

“By kicking it?”

“Hahaha more or less. My dad taught me”

“I sense a memorable anecdote is coming, I'm all ears”

Angie tells me about that time when she went on a camping trip with her parents to Lake Payette, her father's idea to celebrate his and his wife's birthdays, that I guess must be very close. On night one Ray pulled out a bottle of wine he had brought for the occasion but realized he forgot the corkscrew. He pounced on the cork with a knife but it seemed he couldn't open the bottle. Janis wanted to postpone the toast to the following evening, after going to the nearby shop and buying the bottle opener. There was no way to convince Ray though. So Angie's dad, as nothing happened, took off his boot in front of them, stuck the fuckin' bottle in it and, without saying a word, walked clumsily on a single boot up to the closest ponderosa pine and started slamming the bottle, protected by his shoe, against the trunk.

“You know, the pressure inside the bottle pushes the cork out, until you can grab it and take it off with your hands. My mom and I were doubled over in laughter” as she tells the story, Angie crosses her legs and moves on the couch and this makes her shirt go up little by little. I notice that and feel kind of an asshole.

“But it worked”

“And that was the first time I tasted wine: I was 11. It was good, although it had been shaken for 15 minutes”

“This means you got no corkscrew here at home?”

“Yeah... I mean, actually we had one, but I can't find it anymore. I guess someone took it at my birthday party or Matt or Chris borrowed it and haven't returned it yet. Sure it didn't seem wise to go there and ask them now, you know...” yes, I know, you didn't ask them because they'd have asked questions you don't wanna answer, at least by now.

“And you decided to use the Pacifico technique”

“And since I don't have any tree here, the only way to do it was beating the bottle against the wall. But I didn't want to risk getting the kitchen dirty so...”

“Hehe so you figured you'd do it out of the window?” I adore this woman.

“Yep. And it was working fine, until a certain someone scared me and made me drop everything. And I made a mess” she gives me a playful nasty look and scoots away from me.

“You're right, it's all my fault.” I scoot over on the couch to sit back close to her “But I know how to make you forgive me” ok, more than close basically glued to her.

“How?” she looks up at me amused, basically batting her eyelids against mine.

“Opening the other bottle” I stand up out of the blue and I leave her there, maybe a little disappointed? I go into the kitchen, take the bottle and open the window.

“With the Pacifico technique?” she asks as she shows up at the kitchen door.

“Nuh, with the Vedder one” I peer outside, remove the wrapper, pull out my lighter and start heating the end of the bottle neck with the flame.

“Isn't this dangerous?” I feel one arm circling my hip and for a minute there the red wine bottle was about to end the same way as Angie's one.

“No, I did it so many times” I answer as I rotate the bottle.

“Hey, it's coming out!” Angie exclaims behind my back while the cork starts moving.

At that point I tilt the bottle slightly as to prevent the cork from exploding like a bullet inside the apartment or into somebody else's window. Finally the corks pops out and falls into the street, where it looks like he doesn't hit anyone. Wine is safe too.

“See! Hot air expands inside the bottle and pushes the cork.” I close the window and triumphantly show the uncorked bottle to Angie, who arches her eyebrow at me “What? I can do science too, you know”

“So you also know you could have caused an explosion and get hurt?” she rolls her eyes and by the way is still hugging me.

“Not if you know how to do it and and to be careful. So, am I forgiven?” I ask, raising the bottle at her as if it was a toast.

“Sure!” she chuckles and looks at me in silence for a while. And I'm expecting a kiss but instead, she lets go of me and exits the kitchen, but not before addressing me again “Let's go taste you boiled wine”

The wine is not boiled at all and it's not bad. Angie and I are at the second round and, as I'm stuffing my face with chips and sandwiches, I realize it's getting hot in here. I mean, I can't be this heated for two glasses of wine. And neither for the half nakedness of Angie. Even though... And this is the moment I figure out my usually chilly girlfriend is dressed only in a t-shirt and I can't hear her teeth chatter for the cold, so there must be something going on here.

“My bunch of questions aren't over anyway...” I say and Angie makes herself comfortable on the couch, half laid and leaning on the armrest.

“Shoot”

“It's fucking hot in here, isn't it?” I ask as I take off my flannel and she starts laughing uncomfortably and, as she tries to sit up, her feet get closer, touch my legs and push against me a little to leverage. But I don't move an inch.

“Hahaha yeah, you're right... as you can see, tonight's really the perfect night: just one disaster after another”

“Why? What happened?” I throw the shirt there were my jacket is.

“I don't know, it must... the heating system must be broken, and that's not unusual. The new thing is... this time, I don't know... they kind of broke the other way round and it's been heating non stop at full power since this afternoon”

“Do you want me to check your radiators?”

“No point trying, it's not just here, the whole building is burning basically”

“Do you want me to go down and check the boiler room?”

“NO!” Angie basically kicks me, then regains her composure “Err no, no worries. And then, I mean, the apartment manager is the one who's supposes to take care of this stuff and call technicians, that's what he's paid for! He'll do the work”

“Ok”

“And what if you can't solve the problem and maybe no one can and they blame you because you put your hand in there...”

“Alright”

“And by the way, at least it's not freezing, for a change”

“Well, yeah, still better than freezing but...”

“I know. Shitty building. Anyway, now you know the... ehm, you know why I'm dressed like... this” Angie goes on and pulls down her t-shirt again to cover her thighs.

“I wouldn't call it a disaster then” I smirk and rub the back of my hand softly against her leg, from her ankle to her knee. She stares at me in the eyes and for a moment I'm sure she's about to throw herself over me and kiss me, but I'm wrong again.

“So? Which movie do we watch first? Mine or yours?” she asks out of the blue.

“You decide” actually I even forgot about the movies, the heat, the wine, about where we are and maybe what year we are as well.

“No, come on, you tell me” my hand is still going up and down.

“It's the same for me, Angie”

“Same for me too”

“You're the host, you choose”

“You're my guest, so it's up to you” of course, as always: it's up to me.

“Uhm... alright! Let's watch yours first then”

“Ok! The tape is there under the tv, would you put it on? I'll get some water” in a fraction of a second Angie sneaks away into the kitchen and I find myself alone. I turn off the stereo then crawl in front of the tv to get the Goodfellas tape and as I do I think about one thing. Well, actually two. One worse than the other. The first thing is that I'd rather have gone to get the water instead of Angie, so I could come back here and see her on hands and knees as she fumbles with the videorecorder, and that it'd have made for a very nice view. My second thought is that the tv looked much better in Angie's room and it'd have been much more enjoyable to watch it with her from her bed.

Disgusting thoughts indeed.

“Did you find it?” Angie's question startles me as if I was caught red handed doing something illicit.

“Yep” I press Play, stand up and try to get back on the couch before her. I do and sit right in the middle of it. So she won't be able to sit far from me. I gloat for my smar idea.

“If you want to be more comfortable, just lay down. I'm gonna sit there. Hehe we have one couch each if we want to” is Angie even aware of her endless power? The power to leave me totally speechless with such statements?

“Actually... I don't want to”

“Are you sure?” well, I don't know... WHAT DO YOU THINK?

“Very sure, I don't want a whole couch for me, I wanna share it with you” I hold my arms out and grab her by her waist, pulling her gently towards me until I finally take her back on this couch. And I hold her and kiss her and touch her, pushing her delicately towards the armrest on her side. And at some point I feel her hand moving right under my body. I think I know what she's about to do and I feel euphoric all of a sudden. But Angie is able to surprise me again, because even if I don't see her doing it, I can clearly feel her gesture of grasping at the hem of her t-shirt and pulling it down for the umpteenth time. I internally laugh at my stupid X-rated delusions, although on the other hand I'm sorry Angie doesn't feel comfortable with me yet. I don't wanna hurry, really, I'd just like to know what the problem is. I give her one last peck on her lips and back away so we can both sit up properly.

“Ok. Let's fastforward all the commercials and advisories. Where's the remote? Oh there it is!” Angie, the one who was about to abandon me all by myself on this couch, the one who was coy and bashful during my approach like two minutes ago, it's the same girl that basically climbs on me to jump over on the opposite side and stretch out to take the remote on the other armrest. And then does the same thing backwards to get back to her place. And I'm not complaining at all.

**

We're almost at the end of my movie and this is the situation: we finished the wine I don't even remember when, as for food only a few snacks and two small chocolate cakes are left; I'm in my t-shirt and boxers because it's really hot, although we opened the window in the living room; Angie's smoking a cigarette, resting on the couch with her legs over mine and I've been genty stroking them for literal HOURS, something that contributes in heating the atmosphere even more. And I also feel kind of guilty, because Harold has just rushed to the hospital with Maude and I already know what's about to happen and the ending breaks my heart every time... and I'm here, basking in the softness and smoothness of Angie's skin under my fingers.

“It's so sad. But also beautiful at the same time” she remarks during the credits.

“Yeah. You really haven't seen it before?”

“Never. And now I see why you like it”

“Hehe right, Cat Stevens has something to do with it” I reply since I think she's referring to the soundtrack.

“Uhm yeah but that's not what I meant. What I wanted to say is that... well, this movie is like you” she takes one long last hit of smoke, then puts out her cigarette in the ashtray she placed on the floor. And she's amazing. Not because she's smoking but... I know it's not nice to say, and it's also unhealthy, a bad bad habit, but... there are times, particular times in which, maybe fuelled by excessive domestic heating and subsequent nudity, I see something extremely sexy in a woman who's smoking.

“Absurd?”

“Absurd, eccentric, thoughtful, bitter and sweet...” Angie slowly counts the adjectives on her fingertips and I can't say she didn't get them right. This means she knows there's something bitter, and dark inside me. Maybe that's why she doesn't trust me completely yet.

“Eccentric uh?” a devilish grin appears on my face.

“Oh well...”

“Said the girl who tried to open a bottle with a shoe outside the window”

“Ok this is gonna be another of those recurring jokes you're gonna use to take the piss out of me for the rest of my life, isn't it?”

“Yes... after all, I can't make fun of you for your nights out with Meg to pick up guys anymore, I have to find a substitute”

“Really? And why?” she adjust herself better on the couch to sit up and for a minute I'm afraid I'll lose touch with her legs, but she still keeps them over mine.

“Because you're not having those anymore” I hold her by the hips as she puts her hands on my shoulders.

“Are you sure?”

“You don't need to”

“So can I hang up my infallible pick up techniques now?”

“Sure, now that you picked me up”

“How I made it is still unknown...”

“With your infallible pick up techniques, of course”

“That are? Not doing absolutely anything?” as if she needed to do something to have me fall for her. I lay down on the couch and pull her with me.

“Being yourself and not doing absolutely anything, the best way”

“If you say so...” she mutters and she tries to sit back up but I hold her tight and prevent her from sneaking away. At this point, also not to slip and fall off the couch, she has to more or less straddle me.

“It worked with me, can't you see that?” I grab her as she tries to wriggle free, I hold her tighter and slip my hand under her t-shirt, to caress her back.

“Eddie! Come on, let me sit up...”

“Why?”

“Because I'm hurting you...”

“Shut up!”

“It's true and you know it”

“You can't crush me, I can feel you got all the weight on your knees and arms”

“Because I wanna spare you asphyxiation?”

“Cut.The.Crap.” I decide I'm gonna do this the hard way and my hand sneaks across her back towards her armpit so I can tickle her, but she gives up long before I get there. Mental note: Angie is very ticklish “Oh, that's better!”

“Hahaha stop it!”

“Much better” I repeat when we find ourselves basically nose to nose and then I stop torturing her, close my eyes and breathe in silence with her for five minutes, I think, waiting for something... that never comes. Angie removes her hands from my hair, where she had casually buried them in the heat of the moment. Then she holds on to the pillows, pulls herself up and backs away from me.

“I'll turn off the tv” Angie stretches out her hand to get the remote from the table where I put, then sits back down at my feet. I take a deep breath and sit up too.

“I'd better go” I'm about to stand up but Angie, with a quick move, grabs me by the arm and pulls me back down on the couch.

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”

“Home, so I'll let you sleep” I pinch her cheek and try to stand up again but Angie doesn't let me.

“But I don't wanna sleep! Well, I mean... you can sleep with me, you know, you can crash at my place”

“Even tonight?”

“Yes, why? Don't you want to?” Angie's torturing the hemline of her t-shirt again and if she tugs at it some more, it'll become a tunic.

“Sure I want to. I thought that it may be a problem”

“A problem about what?”

“I don't know, because of Meg?”

“Meg won't be here, she's sleeping over at her friend's”

“But she'll be back tomorrow morning, right? What if she sees me again? What will she think?” I'm saying it for her, not for me. If she sees me and does the math, I'll be nothing but happy.

“What will she think? Nothing. Anyway, I already told her”

“You told her?” I ask, suddenly interested and full of hope. Did she really tell someone we're a couple?

“Yeah, I told her you'd come over tonight. And that maybe you'd sleep here” hope destroyed in ten seconds. Maybe.

“And what did she say?”

“She said ok” Angie shrugs and takes the last two cakes left from the table, biting on one and handing me the other one.

“Ok? Only ok?” I take a bite too.

“Sure, what were you expecting?”

“Nothing. But... I think Meg knows then”

“Sure she knows, I've just told you! Why all these problems all of a sudden?”

“No, I mean she knows... about us...” a second bite and no more cake.

“NO! I... I didn't tell her anything”

“Angie... it's the 4th time we sleep together in a week, I don't think you need to tell her. If she's not stupid, she'll understand by herself.

“She knows we sleep together but she doesn't know... what... ehm... what we do” Angie eats the rest of her chocholate cake and pours herself half a glass of water to swallow it better.

“She can assume it, I guess” seriously, Meg's assumptions surely go well beyond what actually happens between Angie and I in reality.

“Meg has no trouble to say what she thinks: if she had suspects, she'd have openly told me”

“You should do it”

“What?”

“Openly tell her, about us”

“WHAT? WHY?” why the hell is she so scared?

“'Cause she's a friend to you and you have to start somewhere, don't you?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Listen, we already talked about it, do you wanna keep it secret? Ok, I'm in. But you could take things gradually, with no big collective announcements, just by telling it to one single person. And why not your best friend?”

“I don't know, maybe because she's totally incapable of keeping a secret?” Angie looks at me as if I was stupid and rolls her eyes.

“Well, that's so much better, isn't it. We only need to tell Meg, then she'll get the word out for us” I try and hug her and she slaps my chest in response.

“Fuck you, Eddie”

“Let's go to bed?”

“Mmm... ok”

[alkhale]

modern au ace modeling???? PLEASE????

you caught me in an ace kinda mood, anon, u sneaky u

“You know it’s four hours, right?”

Ace’s cocky little satisfied grin settled over his lips. Hoku snorted in amusement, setting up her work station.

The art room toward the west wing of the high school building was fairly spacious enough. Windows lined the outer wall of the room, curtains pulled up for privacy in particular to today’s focus of study. Her fellow classmates and club members were somewhat acting in usual fashion, the few unaffected by the new presence helping to hand out easels and boards, sharpening their pencils and getting ready for the four hour anatomy study.

The rest however, were lost.

Majority of the girls in Hoku’s art club–majority of which had been the ones always eager to rifle through her sketchbooks and swoon and sigh over her choices of drawings–she did join in when it was the occasional Shanks though–were gathered in clusters around the room. They watched with adoring eyes, fixing their skirts and their hair, whispering and chirping back and forth to each other as they watched today’s focus of study.

Who, clad only in a red satin silk robe that actually complimented the sun kissed tan of his body ridiculously well and also revealed the muscular ridges of his chest and the toned muscle of his arms and calves and that he was naked as the day as he was born under there–

Portgas D. Ace.

Her–metaphorical brother? Friend? Housemate? Kin? Very important person. One of the very important people in her life she happened to somehow manage the hassle of living with.

Ace scratched his neck. The robe shifted, revealing torso and abs and more Ace.

A few of her classmates swooned, cheeks flushing and one flustered boy rushed from the room.

“Your teacher’s paying me twenty bucks an hour for this,” Ace said, lips curling as he crowded her station and Hoku continued setting up all her stuff and getting comfortable. “With a break and food–this is the easiest job ever!”

“And you’re fine with the fact that you’re only getting a sheet up there, right?” Hoku added, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. Ace’s hands instantly went up in grabby motions. She sighed through her nose, relenting and handing him her hairtie. Ace shuffled behind her, gathering up her hair with long, larger fingers carding through bright white locks.

“I always wear the same at home–”

“That’s right, dumb question, you’re an exhibitionist at heart.”

Hoku squawked when he pulled back on her ponytail a little harder. She reached to smack his arm, but Ace simply grinned, the constellation dusting of freckles along his cheeks and nose more prominent. “Come on, you love having me here! Isn’t it a nice change of pace? You’re always drawing us at home anyway, now you get the real deal.”

“I’m foaming at the mouth,” Hoku said. Ace pulled at her cheeks. She swatted his hands away. “I only told you about the request cause they kept asking and you could make some cash, try not to fall asleep, yeah?”

“Sure, sure,” Ace drawled. He finally relented with one last tug to her ponytail–Hoku hissed at him and he grinned, crossing his arms behind his head as he sauntered off to the platform like one big cat. “Get my good side, shooting star.”

Hoku mimicked him behind his back. Her teacher came up, explaining to him the different types of poses he could consider. One of her classmates took a seat down beside her, finally in place.

“He’s so hot,” she whispered, face flushed.

Try not to get mauled by the high school girls. Hoku considered mouthing to him. Instead she laughed, shaking her head at her classmate.

“He’s the biggest, narcoleptic dork you could ever meet.”

“But he’s so hot.”

Hoku shrugged.

She tried.

Ace was an absolute bastard.

And she was absolutely going to get back at him when this was all over.

It had all started the way it normally should. Ace took position on the platform. Their teacher explained today’s assignment, four hours, four different poses meant to be captured, an hour for each. Hoku settled that she could probably finish them sooner or try something new while she was at it since she’d drawn Ace plenty of times as it was.

Their teacher gave him free reign of his choice of poses, saying to do whatever made him the most comfortable.

Ace had scratched the back of his head, looking around curiously while the entire class watched with avid, waiting eyes. He finally shrugged, grabbing the folded bedsheet and holding it up to his waist.

Ace let the satin red robe fall to his feet with a flourish, pooling around him like a ring of fire.

People swooned.

Hoku adjusted her easel, waiting for him to pick a pose. There was a bit of shuffling on the platform until Ace finally settled down. Hoku looked up.

Charcoal black irises smoldered right back at her. Straight at her.

Hoku blinked once. Twice.

Ace had one hand tangled in the thick mess of ink black locks, fingers propping up his head. He’d stretched out along the platform like a large jungle cat soaking up sun, bed sheet pooling dangerously over the sharp dips of his his, following a defined ridge line and teasing anything else. People positioned behind him were furiously working at the line of back muscles presented before them and Hoku stared back in disbelief.

Ace continued to stare.

Right fucking at her with that ridiculous face and those stupid hooded eyes while he was butt ass naked because he knew she’d get pissed off and–

You’re so stupid. She mouthed at him.

Ace merely winked, keeping still, looking absolutely content with himself.

An hour had passed since then–Ace had switched positions as asked, seating himself on a chair and turning it around so his legs hung on either side of the back, the chair’s back the only thing shielding his very naked front while he propped his arms on the top of the chair, leaning his head on them and dogging her down. His eyes smoldered mischievously, watching her intently and refusing to look anywhere else.

Hoku was almost certain the girl beside her was about to pass out. Or lose blood. Or both.

Stupid Ace with his stupid jokes and his stupid fucking staring. Hoku grumbled.  Knows I hate being stared at for no good reason, asshole. Hoku glanced back to where chips of coal kept watching her and she almost groaned something ugly aloud, turning a page.

She’d drawn four of the ugliest figures she could possibly manage at first out of sheer pettiness. She contemplated drawing a ridiculous, gross caricature of Ace to top it off, but she had to turn something in and…

Hoku frowned at the blank paper in front of her. She glanced back to Ace.

He waggled his brows briefly, obvious grin hidden behind his arms before he returned to his intense, stoic staring.

Her eyes flickered to the potted flowers in the corner of the room. Hoku sat there for a moment, playing with the worn down pencil in her hand before she sighed through her nose, setting to work.

She might as well try something new out then.

She’d just tell Sabo on him later.

“C’mon, lemme see, how’d they turn out?”

Hoku ignored Ace, shoving her supplies back into her backpack.  

A break–where many of her classmates rushed to Ace offering to bring him food and water and he promptly fell asleep three times before responding (he fell asleep four times during the modeling)–and two more hours later, they’d finally finished.

Ace had promptly chosen a cross-arms-behind-the-back look as his third pose, flexing a line of muscles and ridged abs from all the hard work he poured outside into all his jobs. The sheet had almost come undone until the teacher hastily rushed to reknot it (to some of her peers’ disappointment and her uncontrollable laughter). His final pose had been a simple one, sitting down with his legs spread–and the sheet over his hips to cover–and his arms resting on his knees. A comfortable position he fell asleep in until someone managed to wake him up.

And he’d never stopped staring at her.

Fucking once.

“Come ooooonnnnn,” Ace wheedled, crowding in her space. Hoku searched the room for a moment before crossing past him to her designated spot. Ace trailed behind her, sheet trailing behind him like a long train. “What’s it look like? Did ya like the angle I gave ya? What’d you draw–”

Hoku shoved his discarded clothes at him. Majority of the class had already dispersed, eagerly thanking Ace and graciously declaring that he had to come back and model for them. 

“Put some clothes on, you dork,” Hoku said. “I’m hungry, so let’s get going.”

“Hoooookkkkuuuu,” Ace whined. “I wanna seeeeeee.”

Hoku reached for her sketchbook. Her stomach demanded retribution, reminding her that Sabo was making hamburger steak tonight and Luffy would be home before them.

Ace’s eyes lit up like an excited puppy, crowding even closer. She shoved at his chest, rolling her eyes and flipping the page he could see.

A stick figure with a triangle as the bedsheet and a stupid smile stared back.

Ace stared at it for a minute before tipping it down so he could peer at her over the top. Puppy eyes flashed at her as his lip wobbled, a pout on his face.

“You’re stupid,” Hoku said mercilessly. “I can’t believe you got paid just to be a naked idiot.”

“All bark no bite,” Ace teased. He played with the edge of her sketchbook, peeling back the next page. Hoku didn’t fight him, humoring him this time as she leaned back onto a desk and Ace turned it fully so he could see.

Ace stopped. 

The other paper hovered in the air, blocking his face from her view.

“I draw you guys a lot,” Hoku said, only a bit sheepish. “I figured I might as well try exploring with something new with it. Your poses were pretty unoriginal.”

Hoku had sketched out with soft shading, Ace’s grinning, laughing face. The rounded curve of the wrinkles around his eyes when he laughed because he could only laugh fully and heartedly–just his kind of laugh. His head was half turned, eyes half peering back as though to talk to someone who’d just said something to make him that happy.

Ace turned the page.

His lips pursed into a sort of pout, head tipping to the side as though in deep thought. He looked dumb. Stupid. Arms crossed over his chest and–

Ace turned.

Several sketches of his face–different versions of himself perhaps from her imagination of what he might look like older. Different angles and grins and his older visage laughing about something and the future and the last one–

Ace stared at the drawing. A heartbeat. Two. He quietly lowered the paper.

Hoku was already turned around, shoving the rest of her supplies in. Her shoulders were relaxed, face content.

“C’mon,” she said. “I’m starving–”

“Hoku, c’mere.”

“I’m going to get–huh? Why?”

Ace set her sketchbook down. He stretched his hands out, fingers curling in grabbing motions. His face was set in utter determination, facing her down.

“C’mere.”

“No,” Hoku said suspiciously. “What the hell do ya want–I swear if you–”

“I really need to freaking touch you right now or I’m going to explode.”

“No! You’re making a gross face–no! Ace–no! Put some fucking clothes on first, I swear to god–ACE IF YOU COME ANY CLOSER I’M CALLING SABO!”

“JUST LEMME–”

“ACE–”

Ace laughing, in the last drawing, lips pulled wide, eyes shut from the force of it. His head was tipping forward a bit, hair curling all around him, hugging his chin and brushing wild and wavy like it always did. He looked alive and bright and full, full, full of life and–

Hoku had sketched a flower to tuck itself behind his ear. She’d started inking it in with red and pink ink, not quite finishing.

Bonus:

“Sabo, I have to thank you again for getting your friend to come in last minute for this shoot–it’ll only take a second! It’s for the midnight summer line and her tan is just like Ace’s, so she’ll compliment the color really nice with her eyes and–”

“It’s no problem,” Sabo laughed, walking into the shooting floor with his clipboard in hand. A pencil was tucked behind his ear–one of Hoku’s left lying around and she’d found it recently and thrown it at him to hold on so she wouldn’t lose it again but forgot to get back from him, so it was his now–white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and a dark, navy blue tie knotted impeccably around his neck. “She said she could use the spare cash anyway.”

Hoku had also come rushing to him from the dressing room–wearing a bunch of clothes with curlers still in her hair where hair dressers rushed out after her, frantic about how to make her white hair look right–freaking out and gushing about the free cakes on the table outside and ah, Hoku.

“When you smile like that, it worries me,” Koala said absently, checking her own clipboard before glancing to the photo shoot set up. “Alright, let’s get started everyone! Is Hoku ready?”

“All dressed!” a worker shouted.

“Good to go,” the photographer for today said, fixing his lens.

Sabo heard Hoku’s muffled voice, asking something about a to-go box. He chuckled, turning on his heel as the door opened and she stepped out and–

Sabo blinked.

Satin white silk draped around Hoku’s bare arms. A few thin scars peeked through. Soft, thin straps of fabric looped around her neck like a halter, cropping short dangerously and loosely below the curve of her chest. Bare, smooth stomach showed for what seemed to be miles on end. Finally a pair of silk shorts hugged her hips, riding dangerously low and stopping just a short–thin straps started where the shorts ended, tight to her thighs before they stopped above her knees in thinly laced–wasn’t that basically a garter belt? Wasn’t that a–

The entire outfit, little that was there, was colored entirely in dark, satiny navy blue and–didn’t he love that color? 

Sabo stared.

Hoku turned. She met his gaze and offered a lazy wave. Her eyes brightened and she pointed to the snack table in the back.

“Try raising your arms over your head,” the photographer suggested.

Hoku promptly raised her hands up as though she’d been ordered by a cop to do so.

Her top inched up.

“No, no, like behind your head, cross ‘em, hun.”

Crack!

The clipboard in Sabo’s hands snapped in half.

“Sabo? Oh my gosh, Sabo! What the heck–” Koala started, turning wildly. “Someone get some water and a tissue–Sabo’s finally cracked!”

- :)