#I do NOT like drawing motorbikes but oh well
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I forgot that Tara the thunderbeast has Thor-powers, and she managed to single-handedly send the pigskin bandits fleeing for their lives.
Not before they'd got a few hits in, though, and on the way back home...
... Vasso had a cut on his leg that got infected. By the time we got back to Monster's Basin, the infection was at 98%, and his immunity was only at 72%. So, sadly...
... He matches Socks now. I suppose you could say they're "all right", but you wouldn't because that would be in poor taste.
Then we got some Mechanoids causing trouble, and considering M.M. and Tara did such a good job with the pigskins, we sent them to deal with it alongside Poison the bionic thrumbo and Buckeye with her newly-unlocked psycaster abilities.
An eventful trip that ended in no more toxic fallout and also a new relationship in the cult! Hooray!
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#rimworld#gracie plays#The Children of Ecthuctu#art#my art#traditional art#rimworld art#unpolished art#tw blood#I love Tara she's such a good girl#best lightning doggo ever#I do NOT like drawing motorbikes but oh well#We've got Euclid researching bionics now#so hopefully someday Vasso and Socks will get cool bionic legs instead of basic prosthetic ones#I'm glad M.M. and Buckeye got together#But because Buckeye is asexual I don't think they're going to have any kids sadly#unless we research fertility proceedures...#Now there's an idea#Anyway that's a thought for another day#have an awesome week!!! <3
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losers | remus lupin
“Please.”
“Please?” he says back, mirroring your soft tone. “You think you need to say please?” His pinky bumps under the waistband of your trousers. There isn’t much give. He traces the lining to your zipper, fiddling with the small piece of metal as your eyes darken. “I should be the one saying it.” His voice keeps dropping, an utterance in the shell of your ear, his words for you and you alone. “I’m at your mercy, dove. Don’t say please with me. Okay?”
you find remus’ number on an abandoned motorbike. things snowball from there. [10k words]
fem!reader, fluff, first date, smut mdni, implied inexperienced!reader, almost rockstar!remus, mentioned that remus takes painkillers, muggle!au, early 2000’s au
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
There’s a motorbike outside of the cafe.
It’s huge. Too heavy for you to move. Technically, you hadn’t found it at all, it was left there in the dead of night a few days ago and hasn’t budged since. It’s illegally parked, a fact that your manager won't stop muttering about while she’s elbow deep in latte foam and coffee cakes.
“I’m getting the bastard thing towed,” she grumbles that morning. “Let the police deal with it.”
That seems rather harsh to you. It isn’t necessarily in the way, and it looks well loved. Perhaps whoever left it can’t remember where they left it, having stumbled home on inebriated footing after one too many at the pub across the street. You think about how much it must cost to get your stuff back after it’s been towed, and though you aren’t sure of the specifics, you know it can’t be cheap. So, when your manager falls into conversation with a regular and your break begins, you creep outside to do some investigating.
It’s a hulking thing made of more black than silver. There are stickers across the left side of the body, weathered and peeling, though one is newer than the others and immediately draws your eye.
A phone number.
If lost, please call.
You take your phone out of your pocket, a flip phone with one dangling charm in the shape of a star. You click each faded button slowly. You're scared to talk to someone you don’t know, but relieved to maybe save the day.
It goes for ages.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” you say, dropping your voice into its sweetest tones, though nerves make you too soft, and you worry you’re hard to hear. “Hey, um, sorry to bother you. I work at The Mill, it’s a– a cafe in the city centre… Are you missing a bike, by any chance? A motorbike?”
“Oh, thank you. Yeah, it’s my friend’s. He can be… forgetful.” The voice that speaks is both smooth and gritty, impossibly, like whoever it is that’s talking smoked half a pack of cigarettes before he answered the phone. He clears his throat. “I hope it hasn’t been an imposition for you.”
“Actually, uh, my manager wants to have it towed. Like, now. I can try to fend her off but honestly she’s like, that physics law, um, unstoppable force? Uh,” —you’re stuttering, making it worse, because his voice is surprisingly handsome and you’re an idiot through and through— “yeah, so could you come and get it?”
“Yes! Yeah, absolutely, we’re on our way. Thank you.”
“Sure. Of course.”
You hear something not meant for you, the tail end of, “Sirius, get up. You better call Marl and—”
Phone back in your pocket, you take a quick glance around the street before reaching out to run your finger over the cracked leather of the motorbike seat. You’ve never ridden one before. You’ve never wanted to. The level of fearlessness one needs for it isn’t one you possess.
You’re the opposite of fearless.
The sun hides behind a wave of clouds. Your skin chills near immediately, your prim slacks and apron a worthless defence against the cold. It’s an average day here, grey and quiet. Occasionally a couple will pass you, hand in hand as they traverse the worn pavement. You smile at an elderly man and his dog as they shuffle across the street and into the cafe. Your smile fades as you tune into the fierce tones of your manager, demanding to know where you’ve gone. If your absence is what distracts her from calling the police, so be it.
You’re considering getting your phone back out to play Snake when a passing car slows beside you. You straighten up and out, feeling your spine click in more places than it should as the passenger door opens and an insanely attractive man throws himself out of it.
“My angel!” he cries, heading straight for you.
You take a panicked step backward. The man dives for his motorbike. You flinch, mystified by his enthusiasm and his opposite appearance. Short sleeves reveal arms full of dark tattoos, with one side marred by a brutally long scar from his elbow to the back of a ring-laden hand. You tear your eyes from him as a second door closes across the street, and feel all the air rush from your chest as a second man approaches.
He’s very pretty. It might be redundant to say it to yourself, presented as you are with an undeniable truth, but you think it anyway. Sandy brown hair, pale skin, and in enough layers to make up for his friends lack thereof, the second man ignores any dramatics and meets you head on.
“Hi,” he says, holding out his hand, “you’re the one who called?”
Closer now, you can see the scars on his face. They stretch over the ridge of his nose and into his eyebrow. A smaller one tugs as he talks against his top lip.
You take his hand and shake it limply. “Yeah, that was me.”
If he’s concerned with your nervousness he doesn’t show it. His smile doesn’t move. “He wants to say thank you. He will, once he gets over himself.”
“Thank you!” the dark-haired man calls. “She’s my everything. I’ve been sick with worry.”
“Have you?” the man in front of you asks, his voice steady, almost intimidating in its impassiveness.
“Yes, Moons, I have been… not that you’d know.”
“Some of us have real problems,” Moons snips, though he quickly looks at you like he’s embarrassed. “Sorry. He brings out the worst in me.”
“You must be good friends.”
You don’t know why you say it. He only smiles.
“We must be.”
The first man stands up from checking over his motorbike and beams at you. You suspect it’s an expression that works in his favour more often than not. “What can I give you, doll?”
“No, nothing. Please. I’ll just be glad to hear the end of it.”
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, really."
Your manager calls your name, clear as day despite the thick pane of glass and brick walls separating you.
"That's you?" Moons asks.
"That's me. Sorry."
"No, don't be. Thanks so much for calling."
You nod hurriedly, throwing them both a 'nice to meet you, I'm sorry for leaving so fast' kind of smile and head back inside.
You take a sneaky look back when you're behind the counter again. They’ve turned their backs to you, Moons' friend ruffling his hair roughly. After a minute or two, Moons gets back in his car, and the motorbike pulls away like it was never there to begin with.
What sort of name is Moons? you ask yourself. It's a question that stays with you for a few days. You find yourself hoping you'll see him again, or that his friend's motorbike will turn up outside of the cafe for a few long days and give you an excuse to call him. His number stays unsaved in your recent calls menu for a while. Eventually, you forget about him altogether; the motorbike, the call, the gentle wave of his hair.
You're hard-pressed to forget his voice, though. There'd been something familiar about it.
"Nice highscore."
You jump hard and wince as the metallic taste of blood hits your taste buds. To make it worse, you slam your phone up into the counter it was hiding under in shock. It makes a fatal crunching sound.
You shove it into your pocket and look up. Standing there, in all his handsome weariness, is Moons, sans friend. He's wearing nice clothes, clean and clearly ironed. You're immediately aware of your ratty uniform and your unkempt hair.
"Shit," you say, which is so fucking embarrassing, honestly, you could fall through the floor and stay there, "Sorry. What can I get you?"
His eyebrows inch up his forehead. "What's the easiest thing to make?"
That's not a question you get often. "Uh, regular black coffee, or tea, or, the uh– the hot chocolate's not that hard. But you should order whatever you like, of course."
Moons smiles at you. You're starting to understand the nickname (assuming it is a nickname). He has this odd but enticing presence about him, like that awestruck feeling of looking up at night and seeing all the teeny tiny stars and the moonlight that comes down with them, bright and somewhat daunting.
"Sure you don't mind?"
"I'm paid not to mind."
"Can I get the biggest cup of tea you can make? Milk and two sugars, please."
"Absolutely." You sidestep to the register and click a bunch of the wrong buttons. You're unprofessionally flustered. "Uh, three sixty five?"
He passes you a five pound note. Your tip cup is for the more generous type, and he has no trouble dropping his palmful of change into it. He barely looks. You're expecting him to take a seat but he stays standing, one arm pressed to the counter, the other held up. He scratches behind his ear absentmindedly, as though he has nowhere else to be.
"Are you in a hurry?" you ask, confused.
He stays quiet for enough time to shit you up. You're tipping milk over your hand and hoping he hasn't seen it when he says, "No rush. I'm here to see you."
You look over your shoulder at him. You can't help it. "To see me."
"Yeah."
You spin back to his tea. The counter is covered in spills and sugar, cup tops and wooden stirrers. You take them all in with wide eyes. Nobody ever comes to see you. Not your friends, not family (unless they want something). Especially not boys you met once for two minutes.
"Is there something wrong?" you ask.
You clip the lid onto his big tea and wrap it in napkins so it doesn't burn his hands.
"Nothing's wrong," he says kindly. "I wanted to apologise. Your boss was upset with you. It was Sirius' fault. We owe you for it."
"You really don't have to say sorry. She wasn’t that mad. No harm, no foul."
You put his cup of tea down in front of him and try to smile like girls do in the movies. Soft doe eyes, not too bright, not too awkward. You give up after a second and feel it twist into something regrettable.
His long silence makes you squirm.
"A thank you, then.”
He offers you an envelope. You take it.
The paper is crisp and thick. Your fingers are clumsy, and it takes you too many seconds to fold the envelope's lip and pull out the card stock inside.
You look up in shock. "I can't–"
He's not there. You look to the door, catching what might've been his hand as he walks out of view.
He's left you two concert tickets. You don't go to concerts. You might have, when you were younger, and had friends to follow. As it stands he's given you two seated tickets for a show in the Pointer Arena not far from where you work, for a band you've never heard of. The price on each is a solid £20, which is way too much repayment for ringing a number from a sticker. Worse, you're not sure you have somebody who can use the second one.
You hope he'll come back for clarification alone, and a little to see him, but he doesn't, and soon the date on the ticket matches the date on your calendar and you're standing outside of the venue with no clue how to hold yourself.
You stand in line for a while. It's a very long line made up of mostly younger women. You listen for the calling of a reseller and spot a group of young girls trying to haggle with them, reluctantly leaving your place in line.
"Hi," you say quietly to the one furthest from the epicentre. "I'm sorry if this is weird. I have an extra ticket tonight, and I was wondering if you'd like it? I know it's seated, but maybe you could use it to get in and then, uh, not sit? Or just sit." You could writhe around on the ground in shame. You hold out the spare ticket. "If you want it."
"Are you kidding?"
"No, seriously."
She takes the ticket and you walk away before she can try and give it back to you. Whether she uses it or not, it's no longer your problem to deal with. The lady who'd been standing behind you lets you back in line, for which you're extremely grateful, and you shiver your way to the front with nerves churning your stomach.
You've imagined being turned away twenty times by the time they usher you through the doors. The air is buzzing with excitement, enough of it to ramp up your nerves, and you smile weakly at the people who pass you on the way up to the seating area you've been designated. The Pointer Arena is a smaller venue with much more standing than seating capacity available. The seats are at the sides and back of the second floor, looking down at the pit with a safety barrier in front.
You slide into your seat and peer down at the crowd as it fills up one ant of a person at a time. You can't distinguish one person from another after a while. It’s a moving sea of dark clothes.
It takes a long time for the opening act to come on. You're not having much fun. You'd tried to use the computer in the cafe to research the bands playing tonight but the dial up hadn't been working and your manager hates when you take long breaks, so you aren't sure you'll even enjoy yourself. You're not sure why you came here — is it sad, to come here alone? It looks sad, you think, pathetic, but it doesn't feel sad. You're not very good at talking, anyways. It's so difficult. Or maybe you just make it that way.
This is why you regret coming. Any time spent by yourself is time to think. You hate thinking, but it's all you seem to be able to do. Think and think and think. Your mind runs in the same circles. Things you've done, things you wish you did, things you want to do so badly it makes you feel sick. You can't stand it.
The crowd begins to rise in volume. Cheers echo against the atrium ceiling, and you push yourself to the edge of your seat to see what's making them all so excited.
The opening band. They're too far away to see clearly. First on stage is a man with brown skin and a head of black curls, a guitar swinging from his neck, the body barely held as he waves to the masses. Next comes a paler man with hair tied up in a bun who sits down behind the drum kit and doesn't move much after that. A girl practically sprints to centre stage, scooping up a waiting guitar (or bass?) and strumming down the body appreciatively. She has purple hair, bright and choppy, particularly abrasive against the alabaster white of her skin.
And last on stage… last on stage is Moons.
You move forward suddenly, smacking your face against the plexiglass barrier and biting your cheek for the second time in a week. Used to your mistreatment, the poorly healed skin wastes no time splitting, and the metallic taste of blood makes you cringe.
That's Moons. There are two huge screens either side of the stage that magnify him. First his hand on the microphone, a scar coiling up from his wrist to his thumb purple against his skin. Then his face. You wouldn't forget what he looks like so soon, not when you've half obsessed over him for days with could-be's because he'd wanted to see you and you have a bad habit of inventing future's with people you don't know, but even if you did it wouldn't matter. You've never met anyone else with three scars as he has across his face, taking centre stage.
You hadn't realised the tickets were to see his band. It makes sense, now, why your seat is in such a quiet area, and why the people sitting close by aren't firecracker happy at the sight of them. They must've received their tickets in the same way, gifts or thank yous for small favours.
Your mouth dries as they begin to play. It's not what you're expecting. Of course, you haven't really had time to expect anything, and yet you're shocked when they start to play a slow song. He doesn't really look like a rockstar, but a heartthrob? You can see it easily. The long lengths of his lashes, and the dark honey of his eyes. His smile, so small but somehow piercing.
His voice is careful. He doesn't sing anything impressive —there's no belting or high notes— but you still find yourself wringing your hands together, entranced by his confidence. He dances around the melodies and fills up every space he can find between the beat of the drums and the searing guitar riffs that follow.
They only play five songs. By the time they've finished you're feeling sick to your stomach, and you can't get your heart to calm down. You hadn't known a word of the lyrics, but you'd felt them.
They're good.
Like, too good to be openers for long.
The crowd echoes your sentiment. They clap and scream and wolf whistle. The noise vibrates in the depth of your stomach. The cheering doubles when the headlining band’s techies emerge. The lights go down. Equipment begins to roll out.
You scrounge through your purse for a lip balm and think about heading downstairs to the concession stands for an overpriced bottle of water to wash away the unfortunate tang of blood. It aches to pay, but if you don't soon you might get nauseous, and that would be a real disaster, throwing up here of all places.
You hear his voice before you see him. He's laughing, talking to somebody about the set.
"It was great!" compliments a feminine voice. "I don't know what you were so worried about, Remus, you're really great. And if you weren't, Marl would've saved the day anyways with her gorgeous showmanship."
"Thanks, baby," says a second voice. Marl.
"Thanks, Mary," Moons says.
What had Mary called him? Remus? Odd, not quite as strange as Moons.
You try not to tense as footsteps approach.
"Can I sit?" he asks.
You look up too fast. He's a little damp, the hair closest to his face curled with it, but he smells good as he sits down. He must've washed up.
"I– I've been calling you Moons in my head," you admit, not sure what to say.
He's intimidating. You don't imagine he knows it. He sits in the chair without any fanfare, setting his forearm on the rest between your two seats and turning his face to you completely, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, almost like he doesn't want to smile but can't help himself. His eyes are the slightest bit lidded, emphasising the brilliance (and unfairness) of his lashes, so thick and dark you wonder if he's wearing makeup.
"You can call me whatever you want to, but my name's Remus. I should've told you that before. I was… distracted."
He isn't being coy, you realise. He easily could be if he wanted to, but he was genuinely lost for words for a second.
"I didn't really tell you mine," you say, hoping to ease his gentle confusion.
He says your name like it's easy. Like he enjoys the sound of it. "Y/N. Do you like music?"
Is that a trick question? His eyes trace up to your eyebrows as they pinch together, but he doesn't amend his question. Not a trick, then.
"I like music,” you say.
"I realise it's brave to ask someone to come and see you on stage. And that I look like a tosser sometimes with the stage lights and makeup."
"No," you say quickly, "you don't. You looked just fine. You looked good. I bet it's hard getting on stage like that, and in front of this many people. And singing. You have a really nice voice."
His eyes soften. "Thank you. Do you wanna go get a drink with me? There's a bar. It's quiet."
Your elbow brushes against his long sleeve. "Yeah." You're not breathless enough to embarrass yourself, but it's a close call.
Remus leads you up and out of the seats. The venue is large in that it has just as many hallways and back rooms as it has places to watch the show. Remus’ warm hand catches your elbow, a friendly touch that guides you around the barrier and through a dimly lit hallway that takes you to the bar.
The bar overlooks the stage, but the sound of the band and the crowd is dampened severely, making for a sorely needed respite. VIP's mill around the room on plush leather sofas and cushy bar stools sipping from sweating glass bottles. Remus' hand moves up to your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as a familiar face waves you over.
"Hey, it's you!"
You smile at Remus' motorbike friend. You're a hundred percent sure his name is Sirius, but you won't say it aloud in case you're wrong. Beside him sits the other man you'd seen on stage with them, the guitarist with brown skin and a head full of thick hair. You look between the three of them in secret shock, wondering if handsome attracts handsome or if it's just dumb luck that they ended up together.
"James, this is the babe that found Stacia," Sirius says.
James wrinkles his nose. "Hi," he says, in a voice that sounds deeply apologetic, years of it like the rings of a tree. "How are you?"
"I'm good. Um, and you?"
"I'm good! Thanks, I'm good, it's nice of you to come see us. Did you like the show?"
"Yeah, I did. I had no idea you guys were musicians."
He splits his attention between you and his jacket. He pulls a glasses case out of his pocket, clicks it open, and straightens out a pair of wire frames.
"Couldn't tell from our baby boy's general demeanour?" he asks. "Hey, that's better, I can see you now."
"Sirius is the youngest," Remus says.
"And the handsomest."
"No, Marl's clearly the handsome one," James says lightly.
Sirius takes the rebuttal in good jest and brandishes his drink toward you like a toast. "Want a beer?"
"I'm getting her one," Remus says, "come on, give me a minute here."
Everybody laughs. You laugh too, turning your face into your shoulder to smother the sound.
"Well, come and sit with us, make yourself comfortable," James says, moving his jacket off of the chair in front of you.
Remus makes a small, apprehensive sound. "Drinks first." He looks to you for confirmation. "Yeah. We'll be back."
You follow him to the bar. Your shoes, a pair of dirty converse you wish you'd swapped for heels or something sophisticated, squeal against the hardwood floor. How were you supposed to know you'd see him again tonight? In what world does stuff like this happen to scruffy waitresses? You're starting to think he might be somebody.
Not that it matters if he is or isn't.
But if he is… This is embarrassing, right? Not knowing who he is.
There must be a couple thousand people here tonight. Then again, his band were the opening act, so it doesn't necessarily mean they're all famous or anything.
"Hey," Remus says softly, stopping your thoughts cold. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Sorry. I've never been in here before, anywhere that's like it,” you say.
"Venues are all different but the bars don't change," he says. "What do you like?"
"I'm not a big drinker."
"That's okay. I just wanted an excuse to be alone with you." He doesn't even give you time to recover. "Truth is, I wanted to ask you out. But between shows I couldn't find time, and next week I'm in San Marino."
What you mean to say is, you wanted to ask me out? But instead, you choke, "You're going to Italy?"
Remus pushes a seat out for you, helping you up with a solid hand, and, while your fingers are still warm from his touch, he says, "San Marino isn't Italy. I didn't know that 'til a few months ago. But pretty much."
"What's in San Marino?"
"A wedding." He climbs into the seat next to you, smiling.
The tan colour of his long-sleeves contrasts his pale hands. Your eyes flash to his ring finger. Not his wedding.
Remus isn’t easy to talk to. It's not wholly his fault. He doesn't force conversation, leaving you awkwardly searching for something to say. You're not the best conversationalist either. He clearly doesn't mind it.
You're in the midst of a clumsy retelling of a shitty customer service moment when he tips his head to the left just a touch.
"Maybe we can go on an actual date when I'm home,” he says.
He says it like he's talking about the weather. You'd be worried he was messing with you, but then he smiles again, flicking his index finger against your wrist mildly. "You don't have to answer me now. Finish telling your story."
"It was pretty much finished. And– and I'd like to. Go on a real date. I've never been out of the country, so you'll have to forgive me if I want to know everything about San Marino."
He looks at your lips. Says, "Good," and doesn't give any indication that he's noticed how nervous you are. That is, until he covers your trembling hand with his and presses it flat to the bar.
"You're really pretty," he murmurs. He takes a moment, and he smiles. "Come with me? If I don't give Sirius some attention soon he'll start showing off."
—
James is starting to wonder if he should invite you to San Marino. He's not that stupid; it would be a huge pain if you were standing in the middle of all his wedding photos and you and Remus don't work out. But, while he's certainly and majorly jumping the gun, he has a suspicion he’ll be seeing you again.
James has never seen Remus like this before.
His friend is usually quiet, quipping every now and then perhaps at Sirius' insufferable antagonism but otherwise brooding. He hasn't seen him smile this much, ever.
James is under no illusions — he knows Remus loves him very much. He knows Remus is happy, and not always healthy but managing. He knows Remus is pleased with their lives and ecstatic to have their music take off. But he also knows Remus won't let himself have a good thing, not really. Maybe that's why he's asked you out now, when in a week they'll be in San Marino, and a week after that they'll be in Cardiff to officially start the new tour.
He knows Remus, sweetheart, kind hearted, miraculous Remus, tends to let people down. He's a stickler for asking people out and cancelling the day before. It's how it always goes. James will ask how the date went and Remus will shake his head and say, "it didn’t work out."
He knows Remus doesn't mean to hurt anybody. He just… can't get close.
But he's trying, with you. A glass of cordial in one hand, the other behind your chair, Remus tells you one of his more embarrassing stories about how he'd taken a bad fall and ended up in A&E with half of an eyebrow. He doesn't mention the painkillers that made him woozy.
You've relaxed considerably since sitting down. James would be happy to report that you're having a good time. You have your own drink in hand, and your eyes are bright, with a receding space between your face and Remus' as the story goes on. It's like watching two magnets fight to hold themselves apart.
Matter of time, James thinks to himself smugly.
—
Honesty is important. You admit to yourself that you and Remus aren't exactly a perfect match. Both quiet, both not quite social butterflies, your conversations had occasionally been stilted and slow, but you've only met twice. Things don't have to be perfect, and more than that — there's a spark there. A twinge of a possibility. He'd liked what little he knew about you enough to ask to see you again, and you'd like what little you knew about him in turn to say yes.
It doesn't have to be perfect, you insist to yourself, a bundle of nerves. Nothing does.
He looks pretty perfect. Base of his palm pressed to the brick wall of the cafe, hand angled down as his fingers grasp the neck of a bouquet whose flowers have been shedding petals onto the damp pavement below. He holds his other hand against his chest, clicking buttons on his phone.
You approach from the left and watch him play a game of Snake.
"You play Snake?" you ask.
"Doesn't everybody?" he asks back, his smile softening what might otherwise feel like a chastisement. He doesn't look up from his phone.
"Woah, how long have you been out here?" you ask, eyeing his weirdly long snake.
Remus guides the snake into a wall on purpose. It dies, his high score flashes across the screen, and he aims an apologetic look your way. "Sorry, that was rude." He doesn't try to hide that he's looking over your face. "Thanks for coming."
He leans in and kisses your cheek. Delighted warmth curls in your stomach, worse when he passes you the bouquet of flowers. They've mostly survived his poor treatment, and there's a lot of them. He's left the price tag on and you're not sure if he's noticed. You pretend not to see it.
"Thank you…” You look away from the flowers, all whites and reds and baby’s breath, to ogle him as subtly as you can manage. “Wow, you've caught the sun. Was it lovely in San Marino?"
"I'll tell you all about it over dinner,” he says. “I thought we'd walk, it's not far." He holds out his hand. You wipe your palm against your side before you take it, worried you'll have clammy hands. He must guess, because he says, "Don't be nervous."
"I am," you say hopelessly. "I've never been on a date before."
"This is your first date?"
You feel a hot flush coming on. "I– yeah. That's embarrassing, I shouldn't have told you that."
"No, it's a good thing. Now I know it has to be extra special."
"It doesn't," you say.
"I was hoping it would be." He pulls you down the pavement and further into the city centre toward the main high street. "San Marino. It was beautiful, and I took a couple of photos but I didn't have room on my phone. Well, I could've deleted Snake–"
"Why would you?" you joke, grinning.
He laughs, and squeezes your hand slightly. "Exactly. I have priorities. It's a long flight, and looking over the photos can only take up so much time. No, but it really was… it was beautiful. I'd never given much thought to a destination wedding. They make sense, right? It's the best day of your life, why would you have it here?"
He tilts his chin toward the grey sky. You look up with him, feeling the cold wind kiss the sides of your face and pull through your hair.
"Come on, Remus, it's not that bad. If it's sun you're after, you could just wait for British summer time. You know, the whole three days of it."
He laughs — you've made him laugh twice already. This is going okay. Laughing while looking at one another, a bouquet in one hand and his hand in the other, you feel that curl of delight begin to bloom. It fills your insides up, has you smiling until your eyelashes brush in the corners.
"It was James' wedding. Do you remember which one that was?"
He asks so kindly. You don't doubt for a second that he wouldn't care if you forgot. It's refreshing, even if it's something you'd expect.
"I remember. I didn't realise he was getting married."
"Don't ever say that in front of him, he'll put himself on the cross." He swings your hand as you turn a corner. The Italian restaurant you'd agreed on winks from a distance.
"He's devoted," you guess.
"He's insane. He was worse when we were younger. His girlfriend– his wife," he amends, "Lily, she's really something else. Warm and funny, but she's been keeping him on his toes for years. She has family in San Marino, hence the wedding."
You listen to him talk eagerly. His voice is as handsome as his face, and the more he says the less stilted he becomes. There had been a strained quality to it before (strained, or restrained? something he wasn't saying) that's all but disappeared.
"It was like a movie. White linen, sand, crying."
"Did you cry?" you ask, expecting a puffed up chest.
"So much. Too much, maybe. I was half of the best man."
"Half?"
"We had to share, me and Sirius. They've always been…" Remus slows his steps. "Am I being boring? I'm talking too much about me."
"We have time. I want to hear it. I'd like to hear it," you say.
James and Sirius are brothers. Remus sees your surprised look and doesn't condemn you for it. Sirius is unofficially adopted. The Potter's fostered him from ages thirteen until he aged out, and though they tried to adopt him, Sirius was reluctant. Remus doesn't get into the reasons beyond that, and you don't ask. You suspect he's only telling you about it to drive home how much the Potter's love Sirius. How much James does.
Remus had been Sirius' friend from their very first year of comprehensive school. Sirius moved in with the Potter's, and, adoring as they were, they let him have friends over whenever he liked. James, Sirius, and Remus spent the next decade together like that, hiding in Sirius' room. Best friends, entirely inseparable, and all fiercely protective of each other.
"They've always been like brothers."
"But not…"
He understands what you're worried to say. "I think it would've been weird… I had a candle burning for James. For a long time."
Your jaw drops a little. "And you just had to watch him have the most romantic wedding ever," you whisper sympathetically. You're joking: it's clear the candle isn't burning now.
"Told you I cried," he says. "No, but you've seen him. He's a supermodel. It's awful."
"Remus, I think you might be underestimating how handsome you are," you say. You bite your lip and look at his chin rather than his eyes.
He's generous. He gives your wrist a tug and chuckles warmly. "I'm glad you think so. Tonight might have been awkward, otherwise."
You duck together inside of the restaurant, hands falling apart as Remus gives his last name for the reservation. Lupin. Your face has a mind of its own.
"Charming, isn't it?"
"It is," you say emphatically, denying his sarcasm. "I've never heard anything like that. Lupine, like a fox?"
"Wolf."
A server shows you to your table and hands you two leather covered menus. Leather, not plastic, a sign that tonight is going to be classy. You've dressed for the occasion in a smart blouse and slacks, too terrified of wearing a dress. Remus seems to have done the same as you, reaching for smart but dodging the mark in a button down and a casual jacket. When he takes off his coat, he looks perfect. He fits right in.
"Could we get a glass?" he asks the server. "For the flowers? If it's not too much trouble."
"No trouble at all."
You run your hand across the silken tablecloth and the space between you both feels somehow smaller than when you'd been holding hands. Outside, you could let your gaze drift to the pavement, the fenced in trees, the couples that passed you by. Here, you're forced to watch one another.
It's not so bad. It's agonising.
"This is weird," you say. You flinch when you hear yourself. "Sorry, not that you're weird! I'm weird. I've never ever done this."
"No, I know," he says, almost murmuring, "it's okay."
"I just blurted out what I was thinking–"
"I know." He sits back in his chair. His head tilts down, his eyelashes kissing the skin above his brows as he fixes you with a look. It has the intended effect, tension easing from your rigid spine and tight shoulders. "This is weird. But it's still early. It could get weirder."
You like that he says it as if it's a good thing.
You order the same thing he does, and you don't turn down his offer to get a bottle of wine, though it feels too grown up. You keep forgetting you're an adult, and that your life isn't on hold. Things can happen to you at any time.
"I want to address the elephant in the room," he says.
Not promising. "Okay."
"Are we having dessert?" Remus leans forward on both forearms. Hair falls in his eyes. He's dressed nicely and he's handsome but there's something homespun about him, something golden. You can't help looking at him and thinking impossibly forward thoughts, cheesy waffle from the films. He's familiar. "Nobody ever wants to get dessert with me. It's actually a real issue for me."
"I'll get dessert with you." A smoother you with more confidence, who wore the dress and asked him to go to the Thai restaurant instead, would've said something more suave. We're having whatever you want, handsome.
Remus flips the menu to the very last page and reads the desserts aloud. For himself, it seems, half-muttered and apprehensive. "Chocolate cake from places like this will either be the nicest thing we've ever eaten or burnt in the microwave. And it's childish that I want chocolate cake. I should be spoon feeding you creme brulee. Or whipped cream and strawberries."
He tips his head back and rubs his eyes. It's a charade of feigned self loathing that makes you laugh.
"I'm a child," he laments, thumb and index finger pressed into his eyes. He checks to see if you're watching before doubling down.
"I like cake," you say, and you'd lie if you thought it was what he wanted to hear. Handsome, kind, and funny. Not to mention talented. He needs smart for the sweep.
Remus falls out of his dramatics. You mourn the loss, beggy a good look on him, but forget all about it when he slides his chair around the table to share the menu with you, your heads inclined as you read it together again. He smells woody. You hope he likes the jasmine of your perfume.
"It all sounds really nice," you confide, afraid to disturb the comfortable hush. "I haven't had gelato since I was a kid. Oh, did they have real gelato in San Marino?"
“They had a lot of stuff in San Marino… I want to hear about you.”
“What do you want to hear?”
The questions start and don’t stop. Where did you grow up? That’s the easy part. What did you study in school? Were you in sports? The art club? And what do you do now, when you aren’t working in the cafe? The more he asks, the easier it is to answer. He doesn’t slow when the waiter brings a glass for your bouquet, simply stands and places them inside with exceedingly gentle hands, smiling at you from between the stems. You eat slowly when the food arrives — you're busy talking.
It feels fucking amazing. To have someone want to know anything about you. And unless he’s an actor of the highest regard, he’s obviously enjoying your conversations, though they wilt and wane and wind around one another. You lose track of time and thread as the night goes on, distracted by the near unnoticeable asymmetry of his smile, and the way he laughs when you laugh, like an echo.
You get cake like he wanted. Triple fudge cake with buttercream thick but melting from the heat. It looks straight from the pages of a magazine, glossy and dusted with sugar powder, but he doesn’t seem to like it. He takes a couple of bites and leaves it alone. You don’t want to look greedy, so you do the same.
The date is suddenly over.
“Could I walk you home?” he asks, when you’ve both put your coats back on, and the damp roots of your flowers are leaving an imprint on your chest.
You nod rather than answer.
Things are good, not perfect. That’s what you keep thinking. There’s something he isn’t saying. Or, horrifyingly, something he doesn’t like about you. Still, the sky is velvet black and the air is crisp. Stars like needlepoints dot the air. Street lights work to hide them, casting a warm yellow glow over the pavements and your meandering shoes.
A brisk wind whips past you. You shiver and press your lips together hard, hands quick to rigidity. Remus looks at you sideways, and breaks the quiet. “Are you cold?”
“A little.” No point in lying when he can see you trembling.
“Do you want my coat?”
“No, no, it’s alright–“ You cut off as he steps in front of you, his hand vying for yours.
He tucks the flowers under his arm and sandwiches your fingers between his. He has short fingernails, and another scar down one pinky finger. How’d you get that one? you want to ask. How’d you get any of them?
His breath clouds the air. “I should’ve thought about the cold.”
“This is better,” you say. Than a warm taxi home. His thumbs brushing down the backs of your hands.
You walk to your flat building and hesitate at the foyer door. The potential for a kiss goodnight has flayed your thoughts. The image of his hands climbing your arms, holding you still, plays like a flickering film. You have no idea if he’s going to do it.
“How will you get home?” you ask quietly.
“I parked by the cafe, it isn’t far.”
“Oh…” The lights from your building paint him the faintest shade of pink. Your breath fogs out in front of you, as does his, and the warmth of walking will soon fade. “I–“
“Here,” he says, handing you the flowers again.
“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
“Fits the recipient.”
It takes a second for you to get it. Oh, you think. You can hardly feel the cold now. Your heart hurts, and you’re begging him to want to take a step toward you. The silence goes for too long.
“I– I’d love to see you again,” you say. Love comes out funny. Maybe because you can feel his rejection coming.
“I won’t be here next week. Not for a long time. We’re touring properly, now.” He scratches the side of his face.
“Right. Right, of course you are. Um, good luck with that. And thank you for tonight, for dinner.” You wave your flowers weakly.
He looks at you. He takes a half step toward you. You can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.
“You really are pretty,” he says finally. “Goodnight.”
He smiles quick and turns quicker. You watch him walk a few steps but ultimately can’t face it, pushing into the foyer of your building with a hardset frown. Your hands shake, minute abstractions of the sharp rejection panging in your chest. Your ears roar and then go quiet. What did I do wrong? you think, shocked and upset and trying to rationalise. He doesn’t have to kiss you. He asked you out on a maybe, and now whatever question he had is answered.
The door creaks open. You spin on your heel, too wrapped up to think about hiding your expression. Remus stands in the doorway of the porch, his arm pressed to the glass panel, the other held out to you.
"Come here," he says quietly. It isn't a question, but he's asking.
You step into his reach, letting him pull you by the waist against his chest. He leans down until his nose glances against ýours, and he starts to say something. You push your chin up in your eagerness and he doesn't try again. He kisses you, once, contrite, and he pulls back and his hand clasps your arm tight as he ducks in for another. His lips are fast to lose the cold of the weather, but his tongue is a hot shock at the seam of your own.
You go weak in his arms. The flowers between you crunch and smother themselves. You can’t think about it. Your hands are numb. He takes over every one of your senses until you’re more kiss than thought, reciprocating his slow, deep searching. You run out of breath.
He eases you backward, cupping the side of your head in his big palm.
“I want to see you again,” he says hoarsely. “But I– I don’t know when I’ll be back.” His hand adjusts against your cheek, like he’s worried you’re slipping out of his hold. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I can wait,” you say.
“I couldn’t ask you to.”
You rub your buzzing lips together, each heaven of your chest marked by the crinkling sound of cellophane.
“Do you want to come upstairs?” you ask.
He strokes the edge of your mouth with his thumb. “Are you sure?”
You kiss him. You don’t know if this will work, any of it, the broad stroke or this one night, but you want him.
—
Remus doesn’t know what he’s doing. He knows how to fuck somebody, that isn’t the problem. He doesn’t know what he’s doing with you. The same thing that made him walk away had pulled him right back in, had him skipping steps on the staircase up to your flat, drinking in the back of your head and roll of your shoulders as you’d made apologies for the mess inside.
He doesn’t feel like himself when he’s with you. He thinks of it like this — what he is, his pain, his wants, that’s all set in stone. Any change is an erosion, and little by little over the years he’s managed to whittle himself down into the smallest, cleanest version of himself. Then suddenly the band’s making money, people are listening to his voice on the radio in countries all over the world, and he can’t hide anymore. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to, after all. What else inspires a performer into the spotlight? The music, he thinks desperately, knowing it’s half a lie.
Isn’t it why he’d asked you to the show? Come and watch me sing. See me at my most impressive. My most curated.
And now he’s following you into your bedroom after one date, about to strip it all away.
“You didn’t have too much wine, did you?” he asks. You hadn’t really finished your first glass, but it won’t hurt to make sure.
You peel your jacket off and drop it over the back of a wide armchair. “I don’t think so. Did you?”
“No.” His head has never been this clear.
He thinks about what you said. This is your first date, and he’s not clueless enough to assume that never going on a date means never having sex, but he wants to be careful with you anyway. He wants this to last beyond a dinner date.
Which means he has to get out of his head.
Beyond all of his own mess, he really does think you're pretty. More than pretty. You’re beautiful, and your voice…
He wants to see what other sounds you make.
Remus gets his hands on you. Soft touches, his hands coasting from your elbows to your warming hands. He squeezes your fingers, leaning in for a quick kiss. He rests his nose against the skin beneath your eye. “Tell me if it’s too much?” he asks, a murmur of hot air.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll go slowly.”
“Okay.” Your voice is barely audible.
He pulls away to make sure you’re alright, and is surprised to see a glassy sheen in your eyes. He holds your face in both hands and works your lips open against his, guiding you backwards into the plush of your poorly made bed. He’s all sweet touches and eager kisses, cautious not to hurt you, or let too much of his weight press against your soft torso. His kisses follow to the corner of your mouth, the tip of his nose tender against your cheek. “You’re so quiet,” he says. He isn’t complaining, but he wants to hear your voice.
“I’m a bit preoccupied.”
He laughs into your skin, kissing down to your jaw. “You’re right,” he says, revelling in the goosebumps that rise under his hands.
Your shaking inhales cleave a pit in his stomach. He mouths at the side of your neck, half-kisses, tiny warning nips before he thumbs open the first button of your shirt. He meanders, dropping a path crescent moon kisses into your front until the fabric of your bra gets in the way. The soft hill of your breast staggers to a halt beneath him. He can tell that you’re holding deliberately still.
Kisses. You need more kisses, an absolution from any lingering nervousness. Your hands thread into his hair gently, your fingers raking wavy strands behind his ears as you give in. You melt into your sheets, your legs parting from the pressure of his hips.
Your hands fall from his hair to needle between your two bodies and undo the rest of your buttons. The fabric falls aside, your chest and tummy his to catalogue. He drops his hand against your stomach, smoothing a line down to your slacks. His lips ache against yours as he asks, “Can I?”
“Please.”
“Please?” he says back, mirroring your soft tone. “You think you need to say please?” His pinky bumps under the waistband of your trousers. There isn’t much give. He traces the lining to your zipper, fiddling with the small piece of metal as your eyes darken. “I should be the one saying it.” His voice keeps dropping, an utterance in the shell of your ear, his words for you and you alone. “I’m at your mercy, dove. Don’t say please with me. Okay?”
He smiles at your daunted expression. “Can I take these off?” he asks you, his fingertip running under the edge of your underwear. “Please?” he teases.
Your skin is a furnace, hot hot hot everywhere he touches as you nod your permission and Remus undresses you, one piece of clothing at a time. Your trousers, your shirt. Your bra, your underwear. His fingers slip in his ardency as he tears out of his own button down.
Your thumb traces a scar.
He looks up from your chest, startled, but you aren’t giving him anything he doesn’t want. There’s no pity in your gaze, no curiosity, no sadness. Just lust, your trembling hands pulling his slacks down the lengths of his thighs.
He pulls the condom from his wallet in his pocket and lets it fall to the floor.
Remus hooks his hands under your arms and urges you back against the headboard, a pillow behind your head, your thighs tipping open as his hand runs down between them. He grabs at them greedily, handfuls of fat that have his mouth dry as a bone.
“Has anyone ever done this to you before?” he asks. He needs to know.
You squeeze your eyes closed and shake your head.
Fuck. “Hey, look at me,” he says, waiting for your eyes to meet before continuing. “I just want to make you feel good. If I don’t, you let me know.”
He waits for you to answer aloud. “I will,” you say, your hand behind his back and urging him forward. “Please.”
“What did I say?” he jokes gently, letting his weight bear down on you again.
He closes his eyes, his lips in what feels like a new home at the juncture of your neck. His hands skirt dangerously close to your heat.
He’s gentle. He rubs a sweeping line against your cunt with the front of his fingers, heart hammering fast as a mouse’s when he finds the little button of your clit. You shiver and shudder and squirm as he toys with you, your fingers steadfast against the plane of his back while he opens you up. His lips part in tandem, not nearly as kind as his hands. His teeth scratch against your throat.
Your soft moans move through him as he hickeys over your pulse, chasing each capering thud of blood. He winds you up. You’re snug around his fingers, fluttering, and he knows he’s probed something sweet when your breath catches and you whine.
“Was that alright?” he asks.
You nod, heavy headed, and lick your lips as he tears open the condom and eases it onto his cock, one measured roll at a time.
“Can you– I want you to–” You turn your face from him, the line of your jaw kissed by the lamplight outside, and the rest hidden.
He drags you down to lay flat on your back and holds himself over you, nudging his nose against yours until you lift your head. Face to face, he gives himself time to adore the shape and colour of your eyes, the side of his hand brushing along your cheek. “Do you think you’re ready?” he asks sincerely. The slickness between your legs is obvious, but he doesn’t want to blindside you. “It will feel…”
You nod, saving him the explanation. It will feel weird. Good, but foreign. “Will you kiss me again?” you ask feebly.
He can’t stop himself. He kisses your lips sore, his hand behind the crook of your knee pushing your leg up toward your stomach as he slides into the space he’s made there. He breaks the kiss to listen to your breathing as he pushes forward.
Remus hadn’t been lying — he wants it to feel good. He takes it slow, his thrusting almost languid as you get to grips with the feeling. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, struggling to smother the moan that escapes him as he feels you clench around him. You gasp, your arms tightening around his waist, destroying any semblance of space between your sweat-damp bodies as you hold him tight. He murmurs praises in your ear, his forearms tucked beneath your shoulder blades, hands gripping your shoulders a touch too hard. He can’t remember the last time he was this close to somebody, can’t remember ever feeling so maddeningly lost, like he’s one good push from hurtling over the edge.
He kisses your cheek, calling you all the things he’d been too scared to say before. “Lovely girl,” he pants, “how’s that feel?” And, when you answer, “Yeah, you’re taking it so well, dove. Think you can take a little more?”
All that nervousness and desperation shrinks down to dust, and the smiling girl he’d been with at dinner comes to the forefront. There’s no mistaking it. You giggle something awful and turn your face into his, kissing him between sounds, dizzying him with the tender scratch of your nails down his back as he starts to move.
“There she is,” he says lightly, almost smirking. “Feel good?”
“Feels– oh,” —you shiver violently, filled all the way up— “feels good.”
Remus let’s his forehead fall to your chin, his eyes closed in pleasure, his cock to the hilt. Every move he makes evokes a near sinful sound from you, mewling, silvery whimpers and pleased little laughs when he angles his hips right. He’s a mess, desperate to cum from the second you touched him and running on stolen time as he presses you deep into your mattress. One of your hands flies backward into the pillows and scrunches up into a ball, the look on your face too tempting to ignore.
The first time you fuck someone — it’s never timed right. Remus knows he hasn’t quite figured you out, but he knows enough to get you where he wants you. He slides his hand between your bodies and your soft cunt to draw circles into your clit, entranced by your twitching lashes as the pleasure builds. You chase him with your hips, and he grabs your hand at the last second to stop you from covering your mouth, holding it above your head as you come apart.
He cooes at you. The sound you make — the breathless little cry that leaves you, your hips jutting up to meet him. He’s at your mercy, just like he said.
Remus fucks into the extra tightness, drawing your climax out for as long as he can. You’re smiling as you shove his arm away, a playful chastisement that wanes when you see the look on his face. “Are you close?” you ask, brushing a curled strand of hair from his eyes.
Close? Remus is fucked.
“You can go faster,” you say, “rougher, whatever you want.”
“Shit,” he hisses, leaning back.
His rutting hips slap the backs of your thighs. He squeezes your waist, his eyes fixed on your cunt as it pulls him in. One last wavering, “Oh, fuck,” from you is all it takes for Remus to lose it. White hot pleasure tightens his whole body, his abdomen aflame. You scramble to gather him back into your arms. You kiss him, swallowing his resulting string of moans.
He has to catch his breath afterward. You comb the hair back from his face, your eyes droopy with pleasure.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks, voice stringy.
“Of course not.” You’re quickly losing your confidence. Remus hates it, but he understands. This vulnerability can only stretch so far.
“Let me clean you up,” he says.
“You look like you’re gonna fall over if you stand.”
He strokes your face with the back of his ring finger, his nail ghosting along the highest point of your cheek. “Funny,” he says dryly.
He gets confused in your bathroom, and you won’t let him towel you off, but when he lies down beside you with his boxers back in place you don’t push him away. You drop your face into his chest and curl up.
He drags the quilt over your naked back.
Was that okay? he wants to ask. “Sore?” he worries instead.
“Don’t think so.”
He chews his cheek. “You’re alright?”
You stir, looking up at him through your lashes. He thinks you’re the kind of pretty people might not always see. You’re clearly beautiful, but there’s something else to it. The way you move, maybe. The way your eyes smile before your lips can catch up.
“I’m fine. I’m good… Can I…”
He hums. “What?”
“Could I kiss you again?”
You speak so quietly, he hears the vibration in your throat more than the sound of your voice. It’s endearingly timid. He feels his attraction for you flare violently.
He wants to ask you to come with him to Cardiff. He knows he can’t. It’s yards too soon, but for a second he entertains the thought.
“Wait for me to come home,” he says. He’s still asking for more than he should. “I want to see you again. You can kiss me as much as you want, if you say you’ll wait.”
You nod immediately. Not a flicker of reluctance to be seen.
You lift your chin and kiss him. He tries to make it the kind of kiss worth waiting for.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging cos it helps more than you might think <3
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★- Tokyo revengers
- cute, little, not so subtle things they do to show that they like you
featuring: kazutora, chifuyu, Baji, Inui, rindou
-honestly some of these aren't even hints they're just straight up green flags-
°- kazutora hanemiya
• he'd innocently tap his fingers or pat his hands on you to a certain beat of a song, on your shoulders, head, knees or arms. he'd do it out of nowhere and without a warning and it'd last between a few seconds to a minute
• sometimes he'd tease you with small annoying acts, that could go from from taking your pens and pencils and holding onto them in his grasp as you try to take them off from him but fail, or taking your work sheets that you need and making little origami boats all with a mischievous smile.
• he'd do anything with you, but only if it's just the two of you and he'd make that clear. you only have to ask once if he wants to join you in something or if you need help with anything, but if you ask while you're in your group he'd be reluctant and always make an excuse for it to just be you two
• when you're both doing something mischievous in school like cheating or going in places you shouldn't be, if you both get caught kazutora takes the fault and would try to get you out of detention, (despite him blaming others for certain things if it revolves around actual punishment he doesn't point to someone) though if your still dragged into detention then kazutora would throw a little note at you and try to humor the situation
• his love language is physical touch and quality time
°- chifuyu matsuno
• he'd hand write little sweet notes while you're there and watching chifuyu write and pass it towards the corner of your desk but then act like he didn't do that, "oh what's that?" "hm, who's that's from?" all with a good poker face
• he'd ask the question "if I were a worm would you still love me?"
• whenever you mention that you were out late at night he'd become a little protective and insist that next time when your alone at night to message him and he'd accompany you, that's exactly what happened. every time you're out and it's late he'd comes over to the location that you sent on his motorbike to safely take you home - like Baji though he'd use that as a slight advantage to feel a hug from you but he won't admit it
• when you'd talk about manga he'd slip up a little about "that character reminds me of you" and then the character is the most gorgeous, most likable and so like you that you hadn't even thought of comparing yourself to them until chifuyu mentioned it that sometimes it got you thinking into how well he takes notice of some things about you.
• his love language is acts of service and words of affirmation
°- Baji Keisuke
• whenever he walks past you in hallways or even if you're both in your separate groups and accidentally meet in public, he would bring his hand up to pat the top of your head once while walking past ya and not say anything about it but hold a grin
• he'd always try to bring you out on his motorbike just so you could wrap your arms around him and he's admitted to that before, "I just like it when you hug me" he said that with a small shrug and a confident smile. sometimes when the road is all clear he purposely speeds up just so he can feel your grasp get a little tighter and become closer
• in lesson or if you're trying to help Baji with some work he'd lean over to your page and do a quick little drawing. one of them was of the two of you as stick figures, holding hands above your heads. other drawings he'd done is wonky, unsymmetrical stars and flowers, very rare occasions mainly at the end of the lesson he's quickly do a tiny little heart at the very bottom corner but only if you weren't paying attention.
• whenever Baji comes across a cat, either a stray or an outdoor cat he'd take a picture of it and send it to you with a text, sometimes you'd be compared to the cat, "you if you were a cat" "it has your eye colour" "the cat has the same personality as you" "I bet you both would get along great"
• his love language is quality time and physical touch
°- Inui seishu
• he would straight up stare at you, without saying anything he'd shamelessly look at you and admire you, a lot of the time with a small smile and if you catch onto him and ask him about it he just shrugs and carries on looking at you
• out of nowhere, rarely, when hes behind you he'd be holding your favourite snack and hold it behind the back of your head until you turn around to notice it, sometimes if you take too long he'd crinkle the package to make you notice
• he'd fix up your hair for you, if the wind blew it and made your hair to be a little off than how you want it to be then he'd move the strands for you without saying anything
• he'd observe you and remember everything, not once did he forget any little detail about you, your temporary favourite colour for the week, what you ate last Thursday at 2:37pm, that one scene in an episode of a series that you mentioned last month that inui was so far behind in watching but then brought it up that he got up to that part, it's as if he keeps note of everything
• his love language is acts of service and quality time, a bit of gifting
°- rindou haitani
• whenever you're both together, for even a brief moment, if he sees a flower outside in the grass, concrete, over someone's garden fence or even on someone's private property he will pick a singular flower and then pass it to you (he expects you to keep it until you both part) and it'd be a large variety wherever you both go out, it's hardly ever be the same flower and he makes sure of that
• at some point he let you try on his white gloves that he uses to fight people with and someone else saw that and asked him if they could also try it on and rindou went, "no fuck off" with no hesitation whatso ever, even his mood switched up a little but then immediately went back to smiling at how the gloves were a little bit too big on you
• if you're both together and walk past a group of guys he'd place his arm around your shoulders and keep you close, his reasoning was so that they don't try to hit on you knowing damn well your a single and a free person (someone's protective?)
• he loves to braid your hair, long or short doesn't matter. he's braided his brother's hair before and even though it took him a few tries to get it right he wouldn't miss a perfect opportunity to try and braid yours if it means to get close to you
• his love language is acts of service and gifting
♡---
#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers headcanons#kazutora hanemiya#kazutora#baji keisuke#baji x reader#kazutora x reader#chifuyu x reader#matsuno chifuyu#chifuyu#rindou#rindou x reader#inui seishu#inui x reader#rindou haitani#inupi
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Prompt 11 - Map
@jegulus-microfic February 11 Word count 924
Previous part First part
“I have a proposition for you,” Dumbledore said, his voice still quiet. Regulus knew whatever it was, he wasn’t going to like it, but it would probably be preferable to Azkaban.
“What do you want me to do?”
“You will turn spy for the Order. Whatever information you gather will be sent directly to us. It will, of course, be highly dangerous. I do hope your occlumency skills are well practised.” Regulus felt his blood run cold. In the back of his mind, he knew this was what would be asked of him.
He looked into Dumbledore’s steady eyes and knew he was just another piece to be used to win this giant game of chess the old wizard and Voldemort were playing. What Regulus needed to figure out was if he was a pawn or a piece of higher value.
“If you want me dead, Dumbledore, why not let your dog finish me off?” He pointed his chin in the direction of Moody.
“Because Mr Black, alive, you are useful.”
And that’s where he found himself, a spy for the order. He was no longer confined to the cellar, but he was still confined to the house while they came up with a plan.
“We could glamour him with bruises. That way, it’ll look like he escaped,” Sirius suggested.
“No, they’ll see right through that. The second he walks back through the door, they’ll finite him, and he’ll go back to normal.”
James and Sirius had been spitballing for hours about how to get Regulus back into Voldemort’s inner circle with the least amount of fuss.
“They need to be real. I’ll punch him if you want?” Remus put in, winking at Regulus.
“That’s actually not a bad idea.” Sirius nodded thoughtfully. Regulus had had enough.
“Oh, yeah, Sirius. Get your boyfriend to beat your brother up. That’s real nice.” James put a hand on his shoulder.
“Remus is strong and good at hitting just right. You’ll be well bruised, but he won’t waste a blow. You’d only need about three for enough bad bruising. Someone else that could give you ten and hardly leave a bruise.” Regulus mulled this over.
“Can you really do that?” He asked Remus. “Make it look good with that few strikes?” Remus shrugged.
“I’m good with my hands.”
“Yeah, he is.” Sirius felt the need to add his eyebrows wiggling to get the point across. Regulus, James and Remus all groaned at him.
“What? It’s true.” Sirius said innocently. “You’re the ones who took it the wrong way.”
“Only because you made sure we did.” Regulus and Sirius bickered back and forth until Remus stepped in.
“Right, so we’ve got his appearance down. We still have your robes, and they are ripped to shit where Mad-Eye got them. So, nothing to do there.” They all nodded along as Remus continued. “We need to sort out if Regulus makes a miraculous escape or if we set it up so he’s rescued. But if we go down the escape path. We could possibly use Sirius in this. You know, helping your brother escape. Or—” Regulus could see the quick calculations zipping behind Remus’s eyes. “Or, I do it. We use it as an in for me as well. They know I’m a werewolf, and they’ve been trying to get me for years. Greyback would welcome me with open arms. And then there would be two of us instead of just Regulus.” All excitement and joy left Sirius’s face, and Regulus watched his brother crumple before him in a way even Walburga had never managed to do.
“No,” His voice was hoarse. “No. I won’t let you. They’ll destroy you, Remus. I won’t let you.” Sirius grabbed Remus’s shoulders and shook him. “They’ll swallow you up, Remus. I can’t lose you.” Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius and slowly walked him out of the kitchen, leaving Regulus alone with James.
They stood silently for a while, waiting to see if Sirius and Remus were coming back. But when they heard Sirius’s motorbike fire up, they knew they wouldn’t be back for a while at least.
“Shall we finish going over those maps then?” James asked, breaking the silence. Regulus let out a sigh but pulled a map he’d been drawing towards himself.
There were three. Grimmauld Place, Malfoy Manor and Castle Lestrange. Regulus had spent hours walking around those houses in his youth, and since he’d left Hogwarts, waiting for others or on instructions. Sirius had helped where he could, mainly with Grimmauld Place, but Regulus knew more about the others, such as one of the many secret passages in Malfoy Manor that led from the library to the servant’s quarters. Even Mad-Eye had been impressed. The maps were going to be used to stage rescues and raids when Voldemort attacked the Ministry. Apparently, they had enough people to pull it off. They’d had to include Grimmauld Place, as that was a major meeting place for Voldemort supporters.
Sirius and Remus didn’t reappear until they were ordered to a few days later. Regulus had a feeling Sirius had been keeping Remus away to stop any more talk of him getting in with the werewolves and turning spy for the Order.
They sat around the kitchen table. Regulus, James, Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, Mad-Eye and Frank.
“So,” Dumbledore started the meeting. “Have you come up with a plan?” The four young men looked between themselves. Regulus looked up and met Dumbledore’s pale eyes, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.
“Yes.”
Next part
#February 11#jegulus#jegulus microfic#jegulus fanfiction#jegulus fic#regulus black#james potter#regulus arcturus black#james fleamont potter#sirius black#remus lupin#albus dumbledore#mad eye moody#regulus and james#james potter x regulus black#james and regulus#james x regulus#regulus x james#dead gay wizards#map
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Secret's Out-JJ Maybank
A/n: I know it's been so long, but I'm back for now! This is part two of a one-shot I did a while ago, so please enjoy.
-Samantha
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JJ's POV
It's been about a week since John B caught on to my slip up. Now all the pogues have been begging me to let them meet Y/n. I've just been so scared of their reactions especially Kie's since she didn't have the best reaction to John B dating Sarah.
" Jay, when are you bringing her over?" John B asked
I sighed before answering. " I would love for you guys to meet her, but I'm a little worried about Kie's reaction."
He let out a chuckle. " What are you afraid of?" He stopped laughing and turned around. " Oh, man you're actually serious about this."
I nodded and started messing with my hands. He placed a hand on my shoulder for comfort. " Hey, I'm sure Kie will like her."
" Thanks man." I said getting up
He hummed in response while heading back to his room. I smiled to myself while making my way outside to my motorbike.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I knocked on Y/n's door waiting for it to open. I didn't have to wait too long cause I saw her standing on the other side in such a beautiful sundress.
" JJ!" she screamed
I wasn't prepared for her to leap into me which made me lose my balance, but before we both hit the floor I caught myself. I held her up by her thighs while walking through the door. She then got down gently before wrapping her arms around my neck to pull me into a heated kiss. I let out a small groan because of how sweet her lips tasted. I pulled away so I could talk, but she kept trying to chase after my lips. I let out a quick chuckle while saying...
" Baby, hold on. I just want to ask you a question."
She pulled away with a cute pout. I gave her a smirk. " I promise we can go back to that after this."
She smiled and nodded before pulling me away from the door to her bedroom.
Your POV
I was on my bed facing JJ who was also on my bed. He was just sitting there just admiring me, which made me smile. I tilted my head in question. " What did you want to tell me?"
He smiled and grabbed both of my hands. I then started messing with his rings to give me something to do. " So you know how I said the secret was out the last time I came over." He paused
I let out a quick hum before he continued. " All of them want to meet you." I glanced up with excitement. " Wait really!"
He nodded with a small chuckle. " So, what do you say?"
" Um, obviously I want to meet them. When?" I questioned him
" Well, we can either do it right now or tomorrow, but personally I'm leaning more for tomorrow." He said right about an inch from my lips. I smiled and kissed his lips. " Tomorrows good." I said against his lips.
He let out a chuckle before wrapping his arms around my waist to pull me down on him.
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The next morning I woke up to the sun beaming in through my windows. I let out a small groan and moved so my head was in-between JJ's shoulder and neck. He moved and pulled me closer to him. He placed a gentle kiss on my temple which made me smile.
" So you ready to see them today?" Jay asked in his morning voice
I let out a nervous sigh. I then lifted my head up so it was easy for him to hear me better. " Yea, I'm super excited to see your friends."
He raised an eyebrow. " Are you sure?"
I looked down and started drawing random shapes on his chest. I felt him lift my chin. " Babe, they are going to love you. I promise." He softly said
I smiled and nodded. We both got up out of the comfort of my bed to get ready.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was holding on to JJ's waist and I wasn't letting go. He chuckled before saying...
" Babe, they are going to adore you. And I'll be there the entire time."
I pressed a quick kiss to his shoulder in response. We both then got off his bike and started walking to the back of the house where we heard voices . I grabbed his hand to help my nerves which he gladly took and gave my hand a squeeze.
" Hey guys!" Jj said
They all shouted something, but I couldn't understand due to my brain going all over the place.
JJ's POV
I could tell she was getting overwhelmed, so I started rubbing small circles on her hand. She turned and gave me a small smile. "This is my girlfriend Y/n. Y/n these are my friends. " I stated
She gave them all a wave. They all looked super shocked which made Y/n nervous. " Wow! You're super pretty." Sarah said
She blushed and whispered a Thank you. I mentally thanked Sarah. " This is getting awkward. How about we start a fire to ease the tension. " Pope said
We all shouted except Y/n/n. She eventually started warming up to everyone and Kie even liked her. I think she could tell I was watching her cause she turned and gave me a peck before going back to talking to the girls. The last thing I did was just wrap my arm around her before chatting with the guys.
" She's a real charm Jay, don't lose her. " John B whispered to me
I smiled and quickly glanced at her. " I don't plan on it man."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This was super fun to write. I really hope you like it just as much as I do. I miss writing for JJ, I should do more of him. Feel free to request anytime. It might take me a while, but I always try my best to get them out to you guys.
#jj outer banks#jj maybank x reader#outer banks imagine#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank x you#fluff#mine#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank fluff#jj Maybank x#jj maybank x kook!reader#obx
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DID SOMEONE SAY PROMPTS? 👁️👅👁️
Here's a soft one cause I'm sick and I need softness for my sick body.
Dancing in the rain with Luis sounds cute. Especially if the reader is kinda bad at dancing and Luis initiates it even though it's not the time or place for it (but that's okay cause it's Luis). <3
Summary: "These small moments are what heaven is made of".
Note: AAAAAAAAAAA MERI THIS IS SUCH A CUTE AND FLUFFY IDEAAA. Bless your brain tbh SFADFASDSA. ALSO pls get better soon, get plenty o' rest and some warm soup AAAA.
This is gonna be real short but the sweetness is condensed (I hope).
Also ALSO, I HC Luchi owns a motorbike, cuz you can't tell me he doesn't live for the thrill of speed, he deffo has the vibes LMAO (That's only briefly mentioned but I still wanted to explain it ASFADSA--). Plus, y'know, romantic bike rides at night and watching the stars on the highway anyoneee???
WARNINGS/Tags: GN!Reader. Luis being a tease and literally pulling the reader out of their lazy morning, but that's just how he is. My shit English, not beta'd and terrible writing are a must.
WORDS: 861
(dios i wanna bite him)
You've taken to draw little patterns and shapes on the window, from little hearts to your favorite animals, all sprawled and cozy on your old couch where the window sat at; there wasn't much to do after all, with the sudden storm ruining your plans for the day.
Although, if you were honest, it's not like you really cared. Who in their right mind would complain about rain, when it gifted you lazy Saturday mornings like these? A warm cup of your favorite morning beverage on the coffee table, draped in all the spare blankets you could find, still wearing your pajamas despite it being well into the afternoon, while the water drops raced each other to reach the windowsill outside.
These small moments are what heaven is made of.
—So no mall trip, I guess?
His voice woke you from your daydreaming.
Leaning on the doorway was that goofball you called a boyfriend. Hair already brushed, and already dressed in that particular sense of fashion of him; all of the things you were not. Clearly he'd been up for a while; how didn't you hear him walk around the apartment before? You must have been really deep into watching the rain to not notice him.
—Under the rain? Yeah, no thank you—, you answered with a chuckle, emphasizing your point with pulling the blankets closer to yourself, almost making a fortress out of it, that protected you from having to face the day with normalcy. Luis rolled his eyes teasingly as he made his way to the couch, urging you to move your feet as he invited himself to the opposite side.
—Why not?— He whined with a pout, —it'd be fun! And romantic—. He added the last part with a wink, tickling your calf with his ringer fingers over the covers, all teasing as always. At seeing you kick your legs in retaliation, he chuckled softly.
—I mean, I guess? But we'd get wet, even if we go on your bike.
—And?— Luis answered quickly, arching an eyebrow, with that toothy smile of his he only gave you when he had an idea.
—And we'll get sick?
—¡Oh, por favor!
In a second, the Spaniard was on his feet, pulling the covers off of you in a fluid movement, trying his best to appear serious (and miserably failing).
—Wait, Luis!— Your own laughter betrayed you, too, despite your initial reluctance to do anything this morning. As your man helped you off the couch, his hands on yours as a support, the two of you found your way through the small house to the front door, while your laughter filled the living room with happy colors.
As you shoved your feet into your rainboots, and Luis threw a coat over your shoulders, he slid his own hood on and pushed the door open, running with your hand in his to the middle of street.
The rain, much gentler now that you were outside, patted you relentlessly on the shoulders as you yelled: —What are you doing?!
—Enseñándote a divertirte, that's what I'm doing!
Care and worries out the window, the horrible weather seemed to not matter anymore as you started a slow dance under the rain, sliding across your lawn without a care in the world. Not even the thought of the neighbors seeing you in your pajama pants retained you at this point; although it would be best to ignore that for now. Right now, it didn't matter who you were or where you met him, no scars that left a mark or haunting nightmares you had every night; no thoughts that someone may come and take Luis away from you.
No, not now, in this very moment. As you stared into his exotic gray eyes, forehead with forehead; and felt your body perfectly molded into his, almost as if made to be together, your soul warmed, and healed the tiniest bit. Your heart beat a little faster; your mind only focused on him and the gentle lullaby of the rain surrounding you.
These, these are the small moments heaven is made of. You, him, and the peace you longed for, for so, so long.
Your feet betrayed you at some point, whether thanks to the slippery concrete or your poor dancing skills. If it wasn't for his shoulders being there to be held onto, or Luis' arms quickly catching you, you might have fallen straight to the ground. Who knows if your pride would recover from that.
—I don't know how to dance...— You whispered. He didn't seem to care, tho; if the scoff and gentle smirk he gave you, pulling your body closer by the waist, were anything to go off.
—You don't need to know how. Not when you're with me.
At this, you chuckled. His thumb, wet and somehow still warm, wiped a lone raindrop falling down your cheek, and traced the soft curves of your face while he was at it.
—Because you'll love me anyway?
Another one of his sweet, loving smirks.
—Por supuesto, mi amor. Don't doubt it for a second.
¡Oh, por favor! = Oh, please!
Enseñándote a divertirse, that's what I'm doing = Teaching you to have fun, that's what I'm doing
Por supuesto, mi amor = Of course, my love
#I'm sorry for the wait#I'm constantly in a writers block but I pushed through to get this out#I apologize if it isn't the best but I tried!#Hope you like it tho and it makes you feel a lil' better!#re4#re4 remake#re4make#resident evil#resident evil 4#resident evil 4 remake#luis sera#luis serra#luis sera x reader#luis serra x reader#angi writes filth
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👹 Baki Headcanons 👹
Here's the second part :3
Wanted to add Alai Jr and Guevaru but I'm drawing a blank on them ┐(´ー｀)┌
But overall, I'm happy you liked the previous one 🥰
School Subjects (part 2)
Katsumi
- PE, PE, and lots of PE;
- "Oi, guys, are you tired already?? Oh, teacher, you're also...";
- But apart from it he liked club activities;
- Drama club kid ✨;
- Actually wanted to go to a karate club, parents said no;
- "Oh, guess I'm good at something else then karate... I mean, I'm good at everything! Who just said I suck? Come here, coward!";
- Didn't like bullies for bullying and their victims for being weak;
- Overall had bearable grades;
- Was a popular kid, so Katsumi pretty much liked going to school (despite the fact he had less time for his training in dojo 😔).
Kureha
- Biology and chemistry! The iconic pair;
- "Is perfect body real? It'd be cool to create one";
- Experimented on small animals and insects;
- Had friends in a chemistry club;
- Once poisoned his brother's lunch (poor Kosho 😔);
- You could always find him in a library;
- Liked watching other students playing sport games in the schoolyard;
- "Well, actually- 🤓☝🏽" (I'm sorry, I had to..);
- Always had pills, bandages and plasters.. and a scalpel(?) in his backpack;
- Didn't pay much attention to other subjects, so graduated with bearable grades.
Katou
- Surprisingly had an interest in crafts since he wanted to have a motorbike and be able to repair it (then realised that this subject won't help him with it);
- Liked physics (but only those topics that were about pistons, engines and etc.);
- "Can it help with repairing vehicles? If not, bye, I'm out 🙄";
- Was also good at PE;
- Street smart;
- Somehow had bearable grades;
- "Wow, your homework looks lame. The formula isn't right... I'm not trying to help you, dumbass!";
- Didn't like school, went there only for fun: to mock, to bully and to spend time with his classmates or acquaintances.
Sikorsky
- School who?;
- "I can read, I can write, I can count, I can stand for myself. What else do I need to learn? 🤔";
- Sometimes went to school (mother forced him to);
- Wasn't bored on crafts;
- Enjoyed knitting and beadwork;
- Teachers and other students hated him;
- Liked to play his classic guitar and one day took it with him to school;
- "There is something cool about these strings. You need to be strong enough to play even a simple song";
- Used schoolyard's horizontal bars to straighten his gripping power;
- Dropped out.
Bonus:
Kozue
- The English language master ✨;
- Has barely no accent;
- Likes geography and foreign languages;
- "Why didn't you bring me any souvenirs? :( "
- When someone mispronounces a word she'll correct them and try to help with pronunciation;
- Talked to Alai Jr a lot in order to improve her English;
- Enjoys learning about different cultures and countries;
- Plans to travel the world with Baki;
- "Have you seen how huge Yiwu Market is?? It's like another city in a city!";
- Also attends a judo club (sometimes asks Baki and his friends for some advice ).
#kozue matsumoto#sikorsky#baki the grappler#baki son of ogre#katsumi orochi#kiyosumi katou#kureha shinogi#baki headcanons
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Hey Gorgeous Daisy! 🌼
Loving the headcanons, especially modern Az! I couldn't make my mind up between my two headcanons asks.
1. Batboys growing up - I love when we get all three boys together and how we have heard about some of their antics growing up, and I do hope we learn more, but what did they get up to after Windhaven, what havoc did they wreck upon Velaris and the rest of the Night Court?
2. Adult Modern Nyx - This headcanons ask is a bit left field but your modern Az got me thinking...??
Please don't feel you need to do both, or either if they don't speak to you. Hope you have had a lovely day. 💗💗
hiiiiiiii, oh I love both. here we go
batboys growing up headcanons
boy, did they get drunk many times, completely shit-faced toppling over each other on their way home from Rita's
"you stepped on my fucking foot, Az."
"you hit my fricking arm, Cass"
and Rhys throwing up over the bridge somewhere in the background
crushing on the same girl, sorry but I can so see them spotting one pretty girl and all deciding that they want to be her boyfriend
and they would make complete fools out of themselves
Rhys would try to make his charm work, saying the cringiest things
"your eyes are like the sun burning down on us, like flames, you know. fire."
Cass would be flexing his muscles, removing his shirt when she is around, just because
and Az, would steal shy glances at her, and then quickly look away, blushing bright red
also I think they would be quite competitive, who can fly the widest? the highest? for the longest?
wingspan measuring
"you are cheating, Cass."
"am no, just because mine is the biggest."
"isn't, now hold your wings still"
Azriel cackling in the background
that is probably for earlier but those three had terrible voice cracks when in puberty, this is a fact
of course they were playboys
and remember that line in acosf – they did it in one room
not their finest moment, but they were closer after this than ever before haha
Cass and Az annoying and distracting Rhys when he had to study for becoming a high lord
they would mock him constantly "look at the little geek, bent over his books the whole day."
"so cute, little high lord, Rhysie."
the two idiots would also playfully poke him with his sword until he has enough, slams his books shut and joins them
at the same time the would also help and support Rhys all the way
and many nights they would spend with him, bent over books
and obviously, they would help him control his powers
letting him take out his anger when everything gets to much on them, sparring with him until the early morning hours
modern adult! Nyx
that is such an interesting request tbh
he would be a little cocky
even in a modern world Rhys and Feyre would be like majors of big cities and quite influential and obviously that make young Nyx a little arrogant at times
but he has inherited his good heart from his parents, so sometimes he just needs a reminder to be humble and then he is grounded
Nyx would be the one who immediately wants a car and motorbike like Az when he is old enough
"look at how cool, uncle Az is!"
so this is what he will get for his eighteenth birthday
and Nyx speeds and Feyre is worried as hell, Rhys as well
but he is also careful
he becomes a social media influencer, yes, posting about art and clothing
family before everything – even when no longer living with his parents he would still spend time with them most days of the week
a very close relationship with his whole family
having a hard time finding a girlfriend, because who really loves him and who just wants him for fame and attention
going to sports games with Cass, watching basketball or hockey
painting and drawing a lot in his free time, hoping to one day be able to sell his art
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JJ Maybank x Older Maybank sister
Summary: JJ's older sister calling him to fix her crappy car...featuring a kook. (I know nothing about cars so I looked up the basics but still this won't be accurate). 1024words
The car jutted, smoke curling out from under the bonnet, a cloud escaping with it when she opened it to look at the engine. She stood over the car, hands on her hips and sighed. The sun glared down on her, her bare shoulders feeling the burn.
She glanced around the quiet back road, the sound of birds and wind rustling through the long grass the only thing she could hear over the sizzling car.
As much as she hated asking for JJ's help, anything with an engine was his domain. She did not have a clue on what was what and how to fix it. She opened her flip phone and dialled her brothers number.
"Hey, Jayj." She bit her lip, his mumbled voice filtering through the speaker, "sorry did I wake you? Cars smoking can you come look at please."
He rolled off a load of questions. "I don't know it just started smoking, I'm on the back roads you can't miss me." The beeping of her phone cut her off, screen turning black before she could say anymore.
She left the bonnet up and opened the trunk to create some shade for herself and sit on the back. Now she just had to wait for her brother to come before she melted away. The downside of driving on the weekend in the early mornings, no one driving past for a while.
A beep startled her, she grabbed the side of the car to stop herself falling into the trunk. Rounding the car she came face to face with Topper Thornton, Kook. She raised her sunglasses and rested them on top of her head.
"Oh Maybank." Topper fell back a step as she came closer and glanced to him and the bonnet he was close to. "You need a hand?" He scratched the back of his neck, bicep bulging. He dropped his arm and leant it on the front of her car.
"No, no that's really alright." She pulled him by his elbow before he could touch anything, one thing she learnt from JJ was never touch the engine when hot.
He stilled at the touch and looked down to her hand on him.
She jerked back as if burnt, hand retreating from him. "My, brother's actually on his way. He won't be long." She peered over her shoulder hoping to see him and his motorbike down the road.
Topper nodded, but turned back to the engine and examined the contents under bonnet. "That's cool, do you need a ride anywhere?" He wiped the sweat from his forehead and stood back from the car.
"I'm sorry what?" She stumbled over her words, brows furrowing at his kindness. "Why do you care?" She scoffed.
He released a breath and rubbed the faint stubble on his chin, bloody knuckles catching her attention. The sight drawing her attention to the bruise on his jawline.
"Well you can't drive that and you're on your own on the back roads. It's not safe to be out here on your own." He said crossing his arms over his chest. Short sleeves clinging to his muscular arms.
Shaking the wandering thoughts from her head, she was reminded of who he was. A Kook and her brothers enemy. "You're the last person I'd get in a car with." She rushed to the drivers side and swung the door open. Toppers hand shot out and slammed it shut, chest brushing the back of head.
"Can't drive it like this." He shouted leaning his weight against it so she couldn't open the door.
She turned around and press her back up against the car, chest rising up and down as she looked up to him. "Back off!" She shoved him and he fell back a step.
Topper huffed in annoyance, his gaze going to the clear sky before landing back on her. "It's dangerous."
"The only dangerous thing will be my brother if you're still here when he gets here." She smiled, lips faltering as it pulled on the cut on her lip.
Without thinking Topper brushed the pad of his thumb across her chin and tipped her head to look back up at him. "What happened to your face?" His eyes narrowed at the gash, frown lines settling on his forehead.
"What happened to yours?" She spat back. Her boots felt like they were anchored to the spot, unable to move in his gentle hold. A unfamiliar gesture for her.
She didn't hear the wheels on gravel or the motorbike zipping down the road. Topper's body ripped away from her.
"What the hell man." JJ yelled, his fist crashing into Toppers cheek.
Topper swayed back and wiped the blood from his nose, eyes blinking. "I was just trying to help!"
Wincing at the sickening crack, she tried to move forwards and check on Topper, but JJ yanked her back by her wrist shaking his head.
"Yeah course you were."
"Just leave it JJ." She grabbed the back of his t-shirt dragging him away from the Kook. She wasn't quite what happened, the moment fuzzy now that she had some space between him.
JJ glared over his shoulder to his older sister, his eyes wandering her face. He waited for the jeep to disappear before he relaxed, shoulders dropping and fists unclenching. "What the hell was that?"
She avoided his gaze and shrugged her shoulders. Her mind wandered back to Topper, his presence today confusing her. She couldn't understand why he'd stopped to help.
"You know what I don't want to know." JJ mumbled to himself as he examined the engine. "Should have told him to keep driving." He continued muttering to himself whilst he busied himself with the car.
"Needs a tow."
Passing a bottle of warm water to JJ, she thanked him. She gathered her bag from the seat and locked the car.
"Don't worry you couldn't pay someone to steal that junk." He hooked his arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer.
"Shut up." She laughed trying to escape from his headlock, palms slapping his arm for him to release his hold on.
"F..cking Kooks man."
✨ Older sister and younger brother JJ. Hope you enjoyed, not editted. A fun small fic :) - Yiiyii
#jj maybank#jj maybank sister#jj maybank fanfiction#obx fanfiction#maybank!sister#obx fic#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks fic#jj maybank x sister#jj maybank x sister reader#jj maybank fic#jj maybank prompt
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Idk if i sent you this request because memories shit but,
Do you know tc2? Typical colors 2, its the roblox and i was wondering if you could draw any of the funny tc2 mercs- *autism eyes*
never sent this to me yet ^_^
[i.d.: a digital drawing of the typical colors 2 cast in a group ensemble, in yellow (neutral colour) uniform. from left to right: flanker, trooper, arsonist, annihilator, brute, mechanic, doctor, marksman, agent. /end i.d.]
some sketches + headcanons below read more, lower quality than my usual but blehhh :P
[i.d.: two sketches. agent, her hand on flanker's shoulder with a distant expression: "Bravo… son." flanker, pulling a face: "What." agent: "She hasn't told you yet?"
agent kisses flanker's mom, captioned: "new stepmom." /end i.d.]
these characters are so young, what do you mean 18-25 age range between flanker and agent?? scary, i have not drawn someone under age thirty (if not forty!) in a while
agent may not be flankers mom but thats not stopping her from traveling to new york for reasons other than business :P
well ! off to visit your mother !
flankers mom design is roughly based off his unused female design
[i.d.: three sketches. marksman, pointing to his scarred eye: "This eye? Gone. Plain can't see out of it." he holds his rifle scope to the scarred eye: "Anyways."
doctor bundles up his coat to staunch mechanic's wound. mechanic ogles doctor's exposed stocky build, captioned "oh wow muscles."
arsonist (captioned "AAC board user"): "Dominated. Scrub." /end i.d.]
i read the domination line. i see others making fun of marksman for being blind. his eye is scarred?? he cannot see out his eye????? the one he puts up to his scope??????
you know i actually played tc2 . for research purposes . and wow mechanics voice is very piercing(?) especially when you play doctor (compare to the softer spoken arsonist and doctor) so its very easy to have him on the mind
i think its good to subvert expectations when you can, soft intellectual doctor with a muscular build thats largely obscured by his clothing
i actually think of the doctor as with russian heritage if only because of his older voice lines :)
is arsonist a robot??? i saw word going around but didnt see anything necessarily canon about it? is this head canon or canon?
interpreted them as an aac user (and a human), i think it would work well with the nature of voice lines in games
[i.d.: two sketches. agent and doctor are glaring at each other and quoting their domination lines for one another. agent, holding a gun to doctor's chest : "Vulnerable. Weak. Easy." doctor, bent over to be glaring up at her: "You're annoying, you're weak, and you're an absolute failure."
brute, talking, captioned: "my friend, infodumping about motorbikes" marksman, smiling at him, captioned: "me, knowing it's my turn to infodump about fishing next"
mechanic has his hand on the flanker's shoulder: "Well son back in my day--" flanker cuts him off, looking skeptical: "My MOM is older than you???" /end i.d.]
i think trying to build off team fortress dynamics for typical colors isnt my thing :( cmon we gotta take these characters by the horns and make our own dynamics and characterizations i believe in us!!!
personally think doctor and agent have something going on . they hate each other they kill each other they kiss with tongue . they have funny domination lines .
mechanic using "son" is funny, this guy cannot be older than agent and yall know shes only 20-25
what do you mean he has a phd. flanker told him that a more useful education for mechanic was in political science, that was absolutely brutal to read
also finding him following engineer team fortress (a texan) in tonal inflection and slang as a western usamerican (not texan) funny . yeeaboo :)
i think the oldest characters would be like . brute and marksman in their 30s . maybe doctor too
i think brute and marksman could get along :) they contrast in a way that i think would play off nicely, someone who is outgoing and upbeat drawing someone more reserved out of their shell
#tc2#typical colors 2#my art#flanker tc2#trooper tc2#arsonist tc2#annihilator tc2#brute tc2#mechanic tc2#doctor tc2#marksman tc2#agent tc2#agentdoctor
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I'm sorry could I ask for a tonny x reader where they basically just.act like an old married couple because tonny's a literal peepaw..
PEE-
PEEPAW
OH MY GOD
not you already calling him peepaw bro.
Anyways-
Not me having to look up what old married couples do☠
---
Tonny and you acting like an old married couple :]
Since the circus was running on a vehicle, you guys travelled a lot
like, a lot lot
so, you learned many new languages or the basics of them to communicate with the people
as you guys travelled pretty much around the globe, it was still fascinating to see what each new generation was able to create
from bicycles to motorbikes to real cars and also trams...
you bought some jewellr- ok no, Anthonn bought you some jewellry
Tonny purchased a camera
and let me tell you, he took more pictures of you than any other place
what can he say? You're the center of his universe
and that being said, Tonny likes to go with the flow, while you like to do it in the traditional way
you paint
and while he was busy photographing you, you were drawing him
(I think I spelled this wrong⤴)
it was also on those nice and warm summer places, where you guys were on a field, and just...enjoyed everything
away from the drawing, and forward to the culinaries!
with each country and new formed/founded city, you guys were always amazed by all the new food that you got to taste wherever you guys were
to the normal mortals, you guys looked like teenagers who were on a date
but well, since Tonny was a PEEPAW and you were a granny, you guys took your time enjoying things in blissfull slowlyness
whenever you guys would eat breakfast other than the circus, the 'adults' would scold you for coming late to school
you and Tonny had to stifle your laughter one too many times
with each new recipe which you and Tonny would try to replicate in the circus' kitchen, a new memory got made
you were actually surprised that you, nor Tonny or anybody else got Alzheimer's yet
it was truly amazing
you guys also like to go on walks????
why didn't I think of this sooner???
like, just hand in hand, relishing the moment of nature, or watching the real teens run around
poking at each other when you guys saw some fresh couples act shy around each other, reminding you of your earlier days
ah yes, wonderful memories
but you had pity with the children
you had all the time in the world while theirs ended by the drop of a needle
but, you did your best to give them as much advice as possible, even when you got weird looks from them
Tonny frowned sadly upon you consoling a heartbroken girl, a poor man, a child that lost its parents...
he also felt like it wasn't fair
I mean, you guys could live forever in fun and party and doing some acrobatic tricks-
no, he didn't want to think about it
(and i don't want to make this any more angsty)
back to the now, where you and Tonny look at some of the pictures you guys took!
and you were laughing again, something Anthonn cherished very much
"Remember when you fell from the well? Gosh, you were soaked with turf water!"
"...yea...", cue to him looking at you lovingly while you cracked up like a hyena-
and you guys give each other new types of flowers???
everywhere you guys go, and you see a flower shop, it turns into a competition of who can gist the other one a new species of flowers
it's still a draw, after all these decades/or centuries?
(what do old people do else besides that?)
---
Alrighty, let's stop here! I really have no idea what old couples do, cuz all i see them do is go to cafés and walk around?, nothing more.
Anyways, I hope you liked it!
Read you guys in my next post!
#marionetta webtoon#marionetta x reader#marionetta x you#marionetta#tonny x reader#tonny x you#anthonn x reader#“tonny's a literal peepaw...”#seriously how could you
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Prongsfoot Week 2023 - Day 7
Day 7: Write/Draw/anything for this ship.
ONE HOT SUMMER
After Sirius goes to live with James and his parents, James struggles with wanting to be with him and feeling like Sirius would only say yes because he has no other options and nowhere to go.
A03
***
James couldn't be happier this summer since Sirius came to visit them. He's finally safe from his family and James can spend every minute with him. Including sharing his bed with him since he and Sirius are used to sharing everything.
Of course, that was before James realized how hot Sirius is. Before he started having feelings for Sirius, dreaming of naughty things he’d like to do with Sirius, and waking up hard cuddled up next to Sirius.
The fact is that James wanted nothing more than to ask Sirius out. The two of them together would be like magic, but unfortunately, he felt like it wouldn’t be fair to Sirius since Sirius would probably feel some sort of obligation to be with him given that he had nowhere else to go. Thus, James needs to keep these feelings to himself.
He wouldn’t want to pressure Sirius after all…
***
Sirius doesn’t get it. He knows that he’s attractive – all those birds that constantly ask him out are proof of that – so, why is it so hard to get James to ask him out? Why is James suddenly so shy about who he wants to be with?
Sirius isn’t being cocky here, he knows that without a doubt James is attracted to him – muttering in his sleep about Sirius, waking up to a wet spot or a hard James nestled into his arse … it was obvious.
Given that James already knew that Sirius could fly either way, it’s not like he should be worried about Sirius not being game for getting together. So, it brings him back to why. Why isn’t James asking him out or making a move? Is there something that he needs to do to get his attention?
He could certainly think of a few things…
***
James is sure that Sirius is trying to torture him. It’s probably unintentional since he doesn’t know about James’ feelings, but torturing him, nonetheless. The way he was extra affectionate, the way he was dressed in muggle shorts and nothing else, and the way he kept teasing about different blokes in their year that he could possibly date now that he’s out of his suffocating family home… all of it just had James wanting to confess – me, date me! But no, he couldn’t, it wouldn’t be right.
So, instead, he suffers in silence as Sirius, practically laying on him, goes on and on about the freedom of being who is and getting to be with anyone he wants. From the sounds of it, Sirius pretty much wants to date the entire school, and all James can think about that is that … why can’t Sirius be into him? It would make this so much easier.
“You know, maybe we should talk about our summer work?”
“You want to talk about homework?” Sirius asks, incredulously. “We don’t even know what our O.W.L.s are yet.”
“Oh please, like we didn’t get all Os,” James counters. “We’re not exactly going to struggle to get into the classes of our choices.”
Sirius shrugs. “I suppose, but it’s summer – shouldn’t we do something more fun?”
“Like what?”
“Well, your parents helped me buy my motorbike, maybe we could test her out?”
“Test her out?”
“Yeah, like take her for a ride.”
James shrugs. Nothing sexy about a bike, right? “I suppose.”
“Great!”
***
This was it; Sirius was sure. A ride on the bike, pressed up against him, a romantic picnic under the stars... the perfect recipe to get James to admit his feelings. Effie and Fleamont had been quite sure it would be exactly what James would need to get him to admit that he wants to be with Sirius.
It’s going to work … it has to.
He smiles when James comes out to join him on the bike.
“Ready to go?” Sirius questions.
“Er, how am I supposed to… get on.”
“Just swing your leg over behind me and hold onto my middle.”
It doesn’t seem that hard to Sirius, but James looks hesitant.
“What’s wrong?”
“I – I can’t do this,” James states, before turning around and heading for the door.
Surprised, but always quick on his feet. Sirius goes chasing after him. He reaches him in seconds and grabs his hand, which James quickly takes back. Jarred by the suddenness, Sirius asks, “What’s the matter with you?”
“I – I can’t do this anymore, Sirius.”
“Do what?”
James is looking so embarrassed. “I – it’s hard to be… close to you.”
“Since when?”
James opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water and just sits on the steps of their porch. “I’ve been trying to be good, you know? I don’t want to take advantage of you, but Merlin, you aren’t making this fancy of you any easier.”
Sirius can’t help his confusion. Where did taking advantage come into play?
“Did you ever think that maybe the reason it’s been so difficult to fancy me is because you should absolutely be enjoying your fancy of me? And you know, tell me you fancy me?”
“I’ve wanted to, but – but it wouldn’t be right.”
“Why not?”
“Because you wouldn’t have anywhere to go – it would be like taking advantage of you because you can’t leave and – and would have nowhere to go if I mess this up.”
Sirius chuckles. “James, I would never be with you just because I have nowhere else to go and I wouldn’t have to because I know your parents wouldn’t kick me out. We already talked about it.”
James looks completely confused. “What?”
“Yeah, see, I figured you had a thing for me, and I have a thing for you so I sort of asked your parents their thoughts because I was worried that they might kick me out, and they told me that they would never do that and that they’re thrilled or would be if we got together. They even helped me plan a date.”
“A – a date?” James questions. “You – wait, you – you fancy me?”
Sirius can’t hide his laugh. “Of course I do. Why do you think I’ve strutting around half-naked and all over you all the time?”
James huffs. “So, you were torturing me?”
“I wouldn’t call it torture.”
“What would you call it, then?”
“I’d call it blatantly trying to get my best mate to realize that he should ask me out because I’m hot and he knows it,” Sirius replies. “Unfortunately, you’re very dense, therefore, James, would you like to go out with me?”
James hums and looks him up and down. “You just called me dense in the same sentence that you’re asking me out?”
“Maybe.”
Sirius gives him a grin, waiting for the inevitable yes.
Rather than answer verbally, James pulls him forward and gives him a kiss. He tastes like honey and tea, and it’s absolutely delightful.
Unfortunately, it ends too soon.
James leans back and puts his forehead against Sirius’ forehead. “I suppose I should say yes, but I kind of make you suffer a bit.”
Sirius laughs. “That’s as good as a yes.”
“I suppose it is.” James smiles. “Now, tell me about this date you planned with my parents.”
Sirius hums. “Why don’t I show you instead? It’ll be our first date.”
“Sounds brilliant.”
“Good.”
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Into, Across and Beyond! Scripting: An Adventurous Date
The evening after the ceremony had passed, OMT!Tails was getting ready to settle down in his room, listening to some music and not noticing things floating around his room.
"Hey, Tails?"
He looked up, seeing OMT!Mina up on his roof with a bright smile.
OMT!Tails: Mina? How did you-?
She leapt down and quickly enveloped him in a gentle hug as SS!Amy came into the room too.
OMT!Tails: Hehe, hey! How have you been?
OMT!Mina: Been great! Is this the room you grew up in?
OMT!Tails: Uh, yeah. My dorm room at school is more grown-up, of course.
OMT!Mina: Oh, cool! I used to play with stuff like this when I was younger.
She found a boxed figure set of Peni Parker and SP//dr (their Into variants).
OMT!Tails: Uh, that's a collectible-.
SS!Amy: Oh! I remember Peni Parker!
OMT!Mina: Yeah! I used to have this figure pack!
OMT!Tails: Well, that's an extremely rare, highly sought after-.
SS!Amy (confused): Wait, why is it still in the packaging?
She ripped open the package as OMT!Tails muffled out a scream, before putting it on the shelf and giving the Peni figure an affectionate finger pat.
OMT!Tails: Okay, okay. That's fine.
But no time to mope about it, because...
OMT!Mina: Woah! Are these your drawings?
OMT!Tails: Oh, uh...
Yep. She's got her hands on the sketchbook.
SS!Amy: Heh, they look so good!
OMT!Mina: Wow, there's... so many of myself. Heh, I missed you too, Tails.
OMT!Tails: So, what are you two doing here? I mean, we've nothing major going on in this dimension, but-.
SS!Amy: Wanna have a dash around town?
OMT!Tails: Oh! Sure thing!
They headed outside and began their run around the island.
OMT!Tails: So, let me get this straight. There's an entire society with the multiverse's best heroes in it?
OMT!Mina: Yep! So, there's this lady, Tekno, she drives a motorbike...
OMT!Tails: A motorbike?
OMT!Mina: Oh my gosh! I've learned LOADS from her, Stella and AmRou!
OMT!Tails: Mhm! I've gotten even better at my game throughout our past few adventures together!
SS!Amy: Let's give it a shot, then. Thread the needle!
They did so, diving past a couple of trucks, with Tails barely avoiding a THIRD one. Cripes!
OMT!Tails: Heh, easy!
OMT!Mina: And the Sonic from the Errorverse? The whole thing was his idea! "LM" Sonic's been good staffing, too...
OMT!Tails: Huh? LM?
OMT!Mina: He's like a rough-and-tumble Sonic, but a good guy?
OMT!Tails: Like... a vampire hero? I'd pay good money to see that.
OMT!Mina and SS!Amy dinged a water tower, while OMT!Tails donged it. They were playing a super-speed game of H.O.R.S.E.
OMT!Tails: So how long ago did they invite you?
OMT!Mina: Well, before we met for the first time, in all honesty.
SS!Amy: And me? Just a couple of months ago after our last adventure.
OMT!Mina: Okay, this one counts for two!
The girls ran across two buildings and leapt over an antenna. And this time, OMT!Tails mimicked the combo flawlessly!
OMT!Mina: Woo! Look at you!
OMT!Tails: Heh! I'm getting even better at this!
They grab a couple of chilli dogs from a street vendor, dropping some rings off on the way as the fee.
OMT!Tails: Keep the change! (to the girls) So, about this club...
OMT!Mina: Oh, look at that dumb-dumb over there. Guy in the stripes, ten points!
She spotted a purse thief making a run for it, prompting the trio to quickly sort him out together.
OMT!Tails: ...What kinda stuff do you do there?
OMT!Mina: We're continuing to try and keep the entire multiverse safe from danger.
OMT!Tails: I mean, we did that three times already, heh.
OMT!Mina finished by webbing the crook to a lamppost for the S.I.G.U. to get later.
SS!Amy: Just last week, me and Trip were on a mission to some kind of popcorn factory themed around Sonic.
OMT!Mina: And yesterday, I had this mission at a Shakespeare dimension. And Pana and I are just like-.
OMT!Tails: Pana?
OMT!Mina: Oh my gosh, you'd love him! He's been letting me crash in his dimension in the past.
OMT!Tails: What does that mean? You stay at his dimension as your current home, or...?
But she flew off. So light and happy, it seemed... evasive? Like she's using her new friends to forget about her old life?
OMT!Tails: So, why'd you come here if you seem to be working for these guys now?
They were casually standing on the side of a moving subway, and Tails caught sight of a kid who wouldn't stop licking the window.
OMT!Tails: (grossed out) Don't- Don't do that. (to Mina) Hey, uh... Mina?
He found her and Amy a block or two away under the tracks as SS!Amy got into a ready position on the roof.
OMT!Tails: Oh, there you are! Whatcha doing?
OMT!Mina (playful): Waiting for you, hehe!
She led him away, leaving SS!Amy to get ready to deal with something on lower ground; a familiar hedgehog carrying some stuff towards an apartment block.
SS!Amy (through a communicator): Got the target in my sights now. I'll make it as quick as I can!
Back at the south end of the island, OMT!Tails and OMT!Mina finished over at a small forest close to Aquatic Ruin.
OMT!Mina: This is a cool thinking spot!
OMT!Tails: Right? I mean, who needs uneven bars when you have all these trees by Aquatic Ruin?
He sat down as they looked out at the view together.
OMT!Tails: So... You and Ash... You still hadn't talked things out?
OMT!Mina: What exactly would we talk about? "Hey, Ash! How've the last couple of years been? You still think I murdered my best friends?"
OMT!Tails: I mean, I don't know... Maybe if I discussed more about things to the wider world-?
OMT!Mina: Don't. Trust me on that.
OMT!Tails: Well... maybe some of these things are supposed to be just for us.
OMT!Mina: Yeah, that's a nice way to think about it.
She sat down, thankful that the branch was very strong.
OMT!Tails: I'm just a really emotionally intelligent kid. Beyond my years!
Mina laughed softly. Those two had each other's number!
OMT!Mina: It's always so great when I'm talking to you.
OMT!Tails: Yeah?
OMT!Mina: Yeah. I mean, how many people can you talk to about this stuff?
They both feel it. Something between attraction and kinship. She wanted to say something, but wasn't sure she could.
OMT!Tails: You okay, Mina?
OMT!Mina: Yeah. You're one of the very few friends I've truly made since my Sonic and Tails's deaths.
OMT!Tails (playful): Aside from the Blur Gang and Pana, right?
OMT!Mina: That's different.
OMT!Tails: Yeah? How's that?
OMT!Mina: Well, I don't know... You and me, it's...
OMT!Tails: We're the same. In the important ways, y'know?
He nailed it. It was something more than attraction, and there was an inevitability to them both. They could feel it.
OMT!Mina: In a few other universes, Mina Mongoose falls for Sonic or Tails. And in those same universes, it doesn't end well...
OMT!Tails: Well... there's a first time for everything, right?
She brightened up. Around him, everything seemed possible. She leaned against his shoulder with a smile, and they lingered where they were for a bit, a good view of the island from where they were at. Who would ever want a moment like this to end?
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What if TFP Airachnid reminds Autobot Starscream, that he destroyed Cliffjumper + is hiding the truth from Arcee... Airachnid tells Starscream that he’s still no better than Megatron or Airachnid herself (since she destroyed Tailgate, Arcee’s other partner)... Starscream then cries in guilt/shame, because he thinks that Airachnid is right + Airachnid happily drinks Starscream’s tears! :’(
Oh… angst… :') who's going to cry again? It's me (TvT)… Thanks for your request sweety anon ^^!
~~~
Starscream had pursued Arcee, after the latter went after Airachnid. The motorbike was still impulsive, and the Seeker wondered if it would kill her to call for reinforcements.
The jet had ended up losing sight of them through the trees, and had to continue on foot. He used his energon radar to track them down, and stopped in front of a cave. Of course it had to be a cave!
The flyer lowered his wings, and thought about the fact that he might call for reinforcements. It was then that Starscream detected a large dose of energon in the cavern, and easily recognized Arcee's signal.
The Seeker sent coordinates to Optimus, before heading deeper into the cave, putting aside his claustrophobia. The jet went as fast as he could, before drawing his blasters, ready to take down that damned spider.
The flyer froze when he saw Arcee lying on the ground, with a huge gash on her side. There was no doubt that it was the work of Airachnid. Starscream swore, then knelt beside her, before compressing the wound as best he could.
The motorbike was barely conscious, and couldn't hide a certain surprise when she saw the Seeker. She wanted to say something, but the jet stopped her, saying:
“No, save your energy.
- N- No… stammered the warrior. Behind you…"
The flyer's radar suddenly activated, sounding like an alarm in his head. Starscream grabbed Arcee, and narrowly dodged a blow from one of the Techno-organic's sharp paws.
The Seeker fired a blaster at the spider, which avoided the attack. The two ended up facing each other, and the jet was wings high and defensive. He put the motorbike on the ground, and stood in front of her, in a protective position.
The cave was shrouded in darkness, the only glow being Arcee's energon on the flyer and Airachnid. The Triple-changer was hidden in the dark, but that was no problem for Starscream, who activated his night vision.
He stopped an attack from the spider just in time, and retaliated by kicking her in the plexus, sending her flying into a wall. The Techno-organic soon got to her feet, laughing. She gave the Seeker a slightly disdainful look, as if she had already won, then said:
“Come on, move. My target is Arcee, not you."
The jet scowled, and didn't move, staying in front of the warrior. Airachnid tilted her head, looking curious, before mocking:
"Oh? You protect her? You?
- Go away! Or I'll kick your aft! threatened the flyer.
- Hmm… I'd be surprised, but hey… It's funny, I thought you'd be the type to kill her, now that she's on the ground.
- I'm not like you!"
The Triple Changer shrugged amusedly, then asked:
"Tell me, do you think Arcee and the other Autobots would do the same for you?"
- …?
- Would protect you if you were in danger I mean.
- Much more than the Decepticons…!
- Do you think they would, if they knew what you did?
- …?!
- Hm… Really, I'm curious.
- What are you playing at?!"
Starscream couldn't hide his anger, failing to see where Airachnid was trying to get to, or what were her intentions behind those questions.
"Hey, do you know why Arcee hates me so much?
- …
- No wait! First question! Do you know who Tailgate is?"
Why was she telling him about this robot all of a sudden? He was supposed to know him? He really didn't tell him anything. But hey, really, he didn't care. Let Airachnid waste time with riddles if it suited her, reinforcements were coming soon!
“Given your expression, I would say no. Well, no more guessing, I tell you! It was Arcee's old partner!
- …?!
- You don't see where I'm coming from, do you?
- …
- I've known you more insightful."
Starscream was really tired of this conversation… When were the reinforcements going to decide to come?! Now that would be perfect, really!
"Okay, I'm telling you! Airachnid smiled wickedly. If she hates me so much, it's because I killed Tailgate!"
The Seeker couldn't hide his shock, but he, like the Techno-organic, knew it wasn't the act of killing someone that horrified him so much. It was the fact that...
“So, are you really different from me?!" laughed the spider.
Airachnid took the opportunity to web the jet against one of the cave walls, away from Arcee. The flyer cried out in surprise, and spat in pain, from the impact. Starscream was slightly stunned, and didn't see the spider coming towards him, before she completely invaded his personal space.
"You killed someone dear to her, like me! Oooh, poor Cliffjumper. He must be mad, seeing you befriending the Autobots after what you did to him!
- S- Shut up! cried out the Seeker.
- How do you think Arcee would react, if she learned the truth? Do you think she would still like you? You lie to them shamelessly, as you are so good at doing. I wonder which of us is the worst.
- Shut up!!
- Even if you do everything possible for not being like him, you look a lot like Megatron I think. Say, did you enjoy killing him? When you felt his Spark go out between your claws, did you laugh?
- …”
The view of the jet blurred, without his understanding its origin. Arcee's energon on his hands suddenly became so bright, and the smell was so strong that he wanted to purge.
“You are a monster, like us! No one will say otherwise! Airachnid scoffed. As soon as they find out what you did, they'll get rid of you!"
Starscream couldn't hold back his tears any longer, as the Techno-Organic's words hit him like a dagger, soaked in the poison of truth.
“You'll never have anywhere to go, because there's no place for monsters. Try telling them the truth to see, I'm curious. Who do you think will kill you first? Will they do it at the same time, like the family they are, and you'll never be a part of? Or one by one? If so, I think they'll leave that privilege to Arcee."
Airachnid grabbed the Seeker's chin to look at her, gloating, and hissed:
“The only person who will mourn you is yourself, and no one else. Nobody cries for robots like you, no, they laugh, they dance. When the death you deserve comes for you they will be happy to finally be rid of you!"
The spider released the jet, which lowered his head in shame and grief.
"You killed someone dear to them! A friend, a member of their family! How can you think you deserve to be with them?! You don't deserve anything! Monster!"
The airman made no reply to all this, knowing that he would never be able to deny Airachnid's words. She was right… she was right and it hurt horribly to know… Starscream realized that he had been misguided for too long, enjoying something he didn't deserve, never deserved.
Footsteps were heard in the cave, and the two knew perfectly well that it was the Autobots. The Techno-organic released Starscream from her webs, and gave her an evil smile, before declaring:
"What do you think they'll think when they see you with injured Arcee?
- …!
- They'll think you tried to kill her! Because that's what a monster would do! Look, you already have his energon on your hands, why not have his death on your conscience?!"
The spider began to wander off into the darkness, and scoffed:
"You can't fool them forever!"
Airachnid disappeared from Starscream's vision as he dug a hole in the ground, but the Seeker could still hear her laughter, and her razor-sharp words tearing at his Spark.
The jet froze in fear as he faced the others, who were horrified upon seeing Arcee's condition. Everyone ended up looking at the flyer, who was simply unable to see the concern in their eyes, seeing only hatred and contempt.
"What happened?!" Bulkhead exclaimed, stepping closer as Bumblebee called Ratchet for a ground bridge.
Starscream suddenly stood up, wings high and optics wide in fear, before suddenly fleeing, much to the surprise of the others. The Seeker knew he had nowhere to run, but he couldn't help but try. He didn't want to receive the punishment he deserved.
The jet couldn't suppress a cry of fear when he felt a firm grip on his arm, and struggled as best he could, before seeing that he was being held back by the waist. Even in the dark he recognized Optimus' color scheme, which heightened his panic.
"No! No! I'm sorry!"
The Prime released his grip on the flyer, who fell to the ground, before putting his arms out in front of him for protection. He ventilated erratically, then looked at the Autobots leader, who had his hands raised, indicating no hostility.
“It's alright, Starscream, we're here now. tried to reassure Optimus.
- A- Arcee, she…!
- She'll be fine, don't worry."
He knelt in front of the Seeker, and held out his arms towards him, before hugging him. The jet couldn't hold back his tears, as the Prime's sweet words burned like acid on his wounded Spark. Starscream closed his optics hard, cursing himself for being so weak, and taking advantage of the Autobots' goodness...
"Come on, let's go home.
- …”
The Seeker followed Optimus with lowered wings, knowing full well that where he was going was not at all home. He was doomed to wear a mask until the end of his days, to hide the monster behind… He didn't deserve to live among them… He didn't deserve to live anywhere… In fact, the jet realized that he just didn't deserve to live... Starscream knew Airachnid was right, and it hurt terribly...
#tfp#transformers prime#starscream#transformers#maccadam#tfp starscream#airachnid tfp#airachnid#arcee#tfp arcee#autobots#optimus prime#optimus tfp#angst#hurt no comfort#what if#story request#thanks lovely anon
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Alphabet Ask
Hunter Bradley/Dustin Brooks
A, F, I,K, M, P, U, V, X
(Now I retreat into the shadows)
A: Aftercare
Dustin believes every form of sex should include at least half an hour to an hour of cuddle time. He could stay in bed all day anyway, but after sex? Hunter is lucky to get him off of him long enough for them to get to the bathroom to clean up. He's beyond clingy, but Hunter enjoys it and uses the time to assure his lover (and himself) that what they have is strong.
---
F: Favorite Position
Hunter loves to be above Dustin, overpowering him. And Dustin eats it up. On his back, on his belly, on his knees -- he doesn't mind; as long as Hunter is all around him.
---
I: Intimacy
Once these two became a couple, no one knew how they were ever not a couple. They never leave the other's side. They are constantly touching. It's not even creepy or controlling; it's just intimate. It's familiar. The two ground each other.
---
K: Kink
These boys are always sporting marks, bites, scratches, ink drawings, etc. on each other. Both of them, but especially Hunter, love showing the world that their partner is for them alone.
Dustin loves being spoiled. And Hunter would end the world if Dustin asked it of him. From random gifts, acts of service like pushing Dustin's motorbike for him, to holding Dustin during a rough debriefing, and even fucking him as hard as he wishes after a tough battle, no matter how much he might beg to stop (safewords previously discussed, obviously).
---
M: Motivation
Both are turned on by teasing, by a good joke, by the right look. These boys read each other so well that they could have each other right where they wanted in an instant.
---
P: Pace
Oh god, two motorheads that don't know how to slow down if their life depended on it -- they both like it fast and rough and rarely slow it down, unless the situation calls for it and the vibes are right.
---
U: Unfair
Both of them tease the shit out of the other, but Dustin has come the closest to almost causing Hunter to crack and fuck in right in front of Blake and Tori. When the teasing gets to be too much, the threats come out, and Hunter's willing to take risks he otherwise normally wouldn't - like sticking his hand in Dustin's pants and fingering him just around the corner of the Ninja Ops, or fucking him out by the waterfall, barely hidden behind the water.
It's Dustin's own fault for being a brat, of course.
---
V: Volume
Hunter has started carrying a bandana around with him specifically to use as a gag for Dustin because the yellow is so damn loud anytime they fuck. From frantic whimpers to repetitive begging, Dustin can't shut up.
---
X: X-ray
Hunter is ripped, and everyone knows it from the way he fights. He's not afraid to show off his body, either, leaving little to the imagination.
Dustin, however, is a smaller build, and, though not always, typically hides under a layer or two of yellow shirts. He's always padded up in his motor gear, too, which leaves a lot to the imagination.
Hunter knows Dustin isn't lacking at all in muscle, though. As a ranger and as a civilian, Dustin can hold his own and look mighty fine doing it. He's full of lean muscle that Hunter loves to admire when they were alone.
AU: Trans!Dustin. That is all <3
---
Thanks so much @regaliasonata <3 I love my boys!
#power rangers#power rangers ninja storm#dustin brooks#hunter bradley#smut prompts#fanfiction#mutuals
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The Handsome Artist. 3
(Daniel Ricciardo)
Mark your skin. Abigail finally gets her ivy.
MASTERLIST. Moodboards and Playlist
Previous part: Just checking.
Notes: things will start getting interesting, I promise. Finally, the tattoo chapter. We could say everything starts here.
Warning: mentions of needles.
I had been there for ten minutes. Molly said she would show up. But she didn't. I had my phone in hand and my foot was taping the floor. I was feeling something on my chest. Nerves? Anxiety?
I heard the door opening on my right and a deep voice laughing. With Daniel, a broad tall man, who look like the leader of a weird cult, was laughing hard with his arm covered in plastic. That was the big piece he had before me.
On Friday morning, he had already texted me.
Daniel Ricciardo: I have some free time for you on Tuesday. Does 17.50 fit?
It had brought a smile to my face. I wanted the tattoo already. I couldn't wait to see it.
Me: wow, so fast. It's perfect. Thanks xx.
And there I was. His eyes fell on me and he smiled.
"Give me a second, okay?"
You nodded with a shy smile.
"So you are going to see Daniel. Half naked?"
"That's why I need you there, Molls"
"I will go. But don't expect me to be there every time you get naked in front of a guy."
And she hadn't arrived yet. The nerves were getting bigger on my belly.
I saw how the weird man payed Daniel, how they chatted for a bit and talked about how the big man should take care of the tattoo.
"See you, mate. If you have any problem, you know where to find me!"
Daniel walked the man to the door and then locked it.
"You should have heard him whimper" He chuckled.
"It doesn't help" I whispered with a smile.
"Don't worry, Abi. I'll be careful"
Abi, Abi, Abi.
My heart was beating fast but I didn't even know why.
"Come with me."
I got up and followed him, texting Molly at the same time.
Me: you are the worst.
She was obsessed with Daniel. She wanted me to marry him and I was sure she had missed this on purpose.
Daniel closed the door when I came in and set the lock.
"Nobody will come uncalled." He gave me a smile. "Leave your stuff whenever you like, feel free".
I let my things next to the helmet in the table, which made me think. A motorbike. What kind? Was he one of those guys with fast bikes who passed you on the road? Or was he in one of those bands?
"Lady, sit here. Let's have a chat."
I sat where he told me and our knees touched.
"Are you nervous?" He said chuckling.
"Yeah" I smiled.
"Well, it's normal. Really. Just trust me. We can stop whenever you feel like."
I nodded. I was playing with my fingers.
Daniel showed me the drawing
"I'm gonna start with the lines. I will make the branch first and then the leaves. Only the shape of them. It will take a while and it's your first so... We will take it slow."
I swallowed.
"Then the color. It hurts less. I promise. It's a different kind of needle and the pain is not as intense. Same thing. We can stop. Also... If I finish the lines and you want to stop for today, it's okay too"
I bit my lip. Was he always like this? Had he told the big man the same thing?
"Tell me, are you still 100% sure?"
I laughed a bit and dried my palms on my trousers.
"Definitely. I'm excited"
"That's what I want to hear."
He patted my knee.
"Let's get to it then."
I bit my lip. What was I supposed to do?
He got up and walked around, grabbing stuff from drawers before sitting in front of me.
"Well, Abigail. Privacy is something we respect in Ham&Avo. This is for you. I can't work on this if you keep your bra on. But I don't want you to feel uncomfortable,okay? This things are like stickers, completely healthy and clean. Just for you to cover yourself with them."
"Oh" I had wonder how we would do it. He had the answer there. "That's nice."
He laughed a bit and passed me the two envelopes.
"Thank you... Um..." I looked around. I had seen a toilet signal outside, should I go there?
"Upstairs." He pointed at the stairs. "Just close the curtain and get changed in there."
"Okay."
I climbed the stairs slowly under his gaze and he gave thumbs up before I closed the curtain. It was a tiny room, it only had a chair and shelves with books and folders, all tattoo ralated. There was also a metallic door, closed with a lock and with a Private Area sign. I wonder what was behind.
"Lady?" He asked from downstairs.
"Yes?"
"Rock folk for today?"
"Perfect!"
I bit down a smile. It was nice to find someone with the same taste of music as me. Molly and I were opposite.
I took my shirt and bra off and looked at the tiny mirror hanging in a wall. I took a deep breath. It had been a while since someone saw me like this.
It will be fine. He is doing his job. He seems to be a nice guy. He only had good words about this. You heard him.
I put those things over my nipples, leaving them completely covered. My breast were still naked, though. And I still felt a bit insecure.
I walked down with my shirt over my chest. He was cleaning the chair and had set a little cart next to it. He had everything ready.
"I'm back"
He looked up and smile.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah" I kind of lied my knees were shaking.
He moved around without getting up, pushing his stool with his feet. He took a paper and told me to get closer to him.
"I need you to uncover yourself, Abi"
I bit my lip.
"Yeah, obviously. Yeah."
He patiently waited for the long seconds it took me to decided.
Used to hungry and disgusting looks from men when I was in this state or similar, it hit hard when Daniel politely kept his eyes away from my chest.
"Come closer."
He had black gloves on and a bottle.
I wasn't ready for it. I almost pant when he pressed his hand on my skin. He was so careful and respectful. Really, it was unbelievable. His big hand moved around my breast with slow strokes.
"I'm cleaning the skin. It's important because the needle will open it. It would leave open wounds. The coolest, though. But it's important to clean it first."
"Okay..."
I put my hands behind my back and looked down. My bare chest was right in front the most attractive guy ever and I was on the verge of fainting.
"Abi..."
"Mhm"
"Don't be nervous" He laughed.
"Easy to say"
"You will love it. It's addictive"
He turned around and grabbed another bottle before putting the content on his fingers.
"This will help with the drawing. To plaster it in your skin."
I nodded.
He put the cold cream on me and massaged it softly.
"Good?" He asked looking up at me. Fuck...
I nodded with a smile and he turned again, taking the drawing.
"Okay. Ready? Let's see how this beauty looks on you."
"I'm ready"
The pressed the paper on my skin and made sure it was perfectly positioned. I stopped breathing when he gently pulled the paper.
"Fuck, yes. It's beautiful, Abigail" He gasped put of breath. "Turn around"
With his big hands on my hips, he made me turn and check myself on the mirror. I looked at my chest. He was right. The leaves curled around my breast and it was perfect.
"What do you say?" He said peeking from behind me. His warm hands were still on my hips and somehow they felt perfect on me.
"You are so talented, Daniel."
"Just wait and see the real thing" He gave me a cheeky smile that made me blush.
Soon I was laying on the chair, completely reclined. It was more like a bed now. He was on my side, my arm was weirdly hanging on one side, trapped between his chest and the leather. I was looking at the ceiling because he was way to close to look at him now and I was to nervous.
"Okay. Let's make a line and see how you feel"
The buzzing sound filled the room.
"3..2...1..."
I felt the needle on my skin and the vibrations on my ribcage. It burned.
"Fuck"
"Too bad?"
I shook my head.
"It's fine. I can take it"
"Brave girl. Just tell me if you need to stop"
"Understood"
I tried to get my mind of the feeling. I tried to pay more attention to his fingers than the needle. He was softly humming alongside some Mumford and Sons song.
"You have good skin"
I laughed a bit, trying to not move too much.
"That's weird"
He laughed too.
"Yeah, you are right. You just make the job easy." He said shooting a quick glance to my face.
"I'm glad"
Minutes passed and I was so deep in my thoughts that I didn't hear him.
"I've done the circle. Let's get with the leaves."
I bit my lip. It was going fast.
"How would you describe the pain?"
"A scratch. A very deep one. Like when -ah" I closed my eyes and bit my lips. Suddenly, something had hurt more than before. "Fuck, that hurted" I whispered.
"Sorry. The angle I suppose. There is bone here" He gently tapped my ribs and when I looked down at him he was blushing. Cute.
"It's okay. I was caught off guard"
"Ready?"
"Go on"
He kept tattooing and humming with the music. He was so close I could see. The freckles on his nose, the softness of his curls, the bridge of his nose... He was beautiful.
"I can't do my job if you look at me like that, Abi"
I blushed and looked away, mh heart pounding on my chest. I was like a little girl.
"Relax..." He stroked my arm with his hand and then cleaned the ink from the tattoo.
"Yeah, sorry"
It tried to stay still, to not look at him and make him uncomfortable. He was just doing his job after all.
"You are behaving well. I like you, you are a good client" He muttered.
I was only able to nod, his words having a bigger effect than they should.
Time went by, the pain became a dull soreness, as if the skin had gone numb.
"How are you feeling?" He asked.
"I'm good."
"You wanna stay here a bit more so I can add color?"
I bit my lip and nodded. His eyes darted to my mouth for a second before he looked away.
Danny POV.
Unfair. That's what it was. She had those brown eyes, big brown eyes. Her nose was straight and she had those perfect lips. Then she bit them and I almost scream.
Her body was warm under may hands, her skin was so perfect. Not only for working. She had little marks here and there, moles everywhere... It was the most difficult job I had done, not for the tattoo itself, but for Abigail, calm and breathing slowly, biting his finger once in a while. She was behaving perfectly, of course. But she was giving me those eyes. She was there half naked in my studio, being all cute and beautiful.
I looked at the work in front of me. The leaves curled perfectly and followed the curve of her breast. It looked really good on her. Just perfect.
"Okay... Last leaf."
She muttered a yes. She was nervous. I had caught her staring and I had to force myself to not react. To not lean and press my mouth on hers.
I made it carefully, not wanting to fuck up now. Not that I used to.
"Okay, Abi. I'm done with this. Do you trust me or want to check it before?"
"It's not like if your erase it if there was something wrong" She whispered half laughing.
Even her laugh was beautiful.
"Well, you are right. So... Let's get to it"
She was looking at the ceiling when I pressed the needle with the green ink. I felt her twich a bit and her hand fell to my shoulder.
Abigail POV.
I grabbed his shoulder hard.
"You said it hurts less"
"It usually does." He said stoping. "Is it really bad?"
I looked at him. It had been a bit worst. But I could take it, right?
"I-I think I can do it"
"Of course you do, you are doing well" Those praising words, accompanied by a little touch on my belly, mande my heart miss a beat.
He resumed his work and I tried to not flinch. It turns out that it took you longer with this. I saw him working with colors, checking the drawing and different images. At some point, he was so close, his whole forearm was on me. He felt warm and and let me grab his shoulder.
"You are doing so well. We are almost there... Last touches."
I closed my eyes. Yep, Jennifer needs to know about this.
Therapy was a way to recover from the last few years. Jennifer was helping me to be the old Abigail, or a new one. But a different Abigail than the one Arnie created. I didn't want to be scared anymore. I wanted to take my own decision, to do things I could have never imagined. So that's why I was here. I was getting a tattoo with the most handsome tattoo artist ever. He was making me dizzy and I didn't know if I was ready for all of this.
"Abi?"
I looked at him.
"I said we are done" He was trying to not laugh, his lips were pressed in a thin line. "Where were you, lady?"
I chuckled. "Not thinking about the pain"
"Oh honey, nothing of that. You did so good." He patted my tummy and leaned back on the chair. "Get up and check it"
I sat and looked down gasping when I saw what he had done.
"Oh God, Daniel."
"Let me help you"
I tried to ignore the fact that he had a hand on my waist to help me.
I was in front of the mirror, he was behind me and I was completely stunned. He had made it perfectly. Daniel Ricciardo was a fantastic tattoo artist.
"Oh Daniel, I love it"
He laughed. He was so happy he laughed and his smile was like the sun.
"I do like it a lot too. Thank you for choosing me"
"It wasn't me, it was Molly"
"Thank her for me please"
I laughed a bit and looked back at the tattoo.
"It's perfect."
"You were brave. I know it's painful. You did it well"
"You made it easy" I whispered and looked at him through the mirror.
"Let me clean it" He said with a tiny smile.
Like before, he sat on the stool and made me stand in front of him. He was even more careful than before. He put cream and cleaned it before talking a picture.
"With your permission, I will post it on Instagram"
"Okay" I smiled. He was proud of his work and it showed. So why would I take that from him.
"Let me cover and I will let you get dressed."
He covered it with plastic and was as careful as before. I was so surprised of his work, of the respect and how in any moment he made me felt like a piece of meat or something. Not even the doctor had treated me this well.
"Fine. I'll let you get dressed."
Soon I was behind the curtain, taking deep breath I got dressed. I had gotten a tattoo. And wow. What a experience.
When I came down, the door was opened and I heard Daniel outside. He was talking to Lewis in whispers.
"Oh, hey." Lewis saw me. "Daniel showed me. It's beautiful. Congratulations".
I smiled and walked to them.
"I did nothing. I just waited there"
"Abi, the guy before you almost cried." Daniel touched my shoulder.
"I'll let you guys"
Lweis went back to the studio and Daniel leaned on the counter.
"Well, miss Abi" He claped his hands. "It has been a pleasure to work for you. Really. I love the tattoo, you made it easy, you worked with me... So... For real and from the bottom of my heart. Ham&Avo's door will always be opened for you. I hope you come and let me mark your skin again."
I blushed at his little speach, walking a bit closer.
"Wow. Thank you, really. I was really comfortable the whole time. Painful but not as much as I thought. And really. You are amazing. It's beautiful."
He smiled and pulled a lollipop from a drawer.
"Wash the tattoo three times a day and... This cream. Please, no sun, no beach, no pool. Not until it's healed. Count a couple of weeks. Maybe three. Anything, any doubt, just come by or text."
He wave me the cream and the lollipop.
"Well... Now. The funny part." He laughed a bit and I rolled my eyes. "150 for you"
"For me? Tell me what it really is"
"200, but I won't take more than one fifty, lady."
"Daniel..." He couldn't do this, he didn't know me.
"No. I don't want to hear anything about it"
I sighed and looked at him. He was giving me his best puppy eyes.
"Okay..."
I paid him and he walked me to the door.
"Enjoy your new piece. You look beautiful on it"
"Thank you, really"
And for the third time, I left the parlor with a big smile on my face. He was different. A bit of a cliché, but I hadn't met anyone like him.
It was when I was cleaning the tattoo that night when Molly texted me.
Molly: someone was happy to work today.
A link to Instagram came with the message. I opened it.
@.ham&avotattoo: our last piece today, beautiful Argelian ivy for a woman of herself. Thank you for the patience, three appointments and two hours of laying in the studio. Enjoy it as much as Ric enjoyed working on it.
↪️@.mollyalberts: amazing, you are welcome Ric. I convinced her.
↪️@.hopper_abigail: thank you guys, Daniel is an amazing artist.
And third part done!! Hope you liked it!! All the love is appreciated, don't be shy and tell me what you think about this fic!
Also, all the pics are taken from pinterest, you can find them on the mood board.
Next part: Deep thinking.
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