#meet ugly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellecdc · 2 months

Text

Things You Can Say in a Swim Lesson & Also in Bed

meet cute/ugly - swim instructor!marauders + fem!reader

CW: learning to swim/fear of drowning, sexual innuendos, swearing (you know what to expect from me by now)

You were excited. Really, you were.

Your best friend in the entire world was getting married, and she wanted to be married in the Maldives. So, that’s where you were going.

It didn’t matter if you might need to take out a small loan to afford the trip and time off, and it doesn’t matter that all of the events happening before the event were just as expensive.

This was your best friend, dammit! And you were happy for her.

There was only one problem.

You can’t swim.

But that was going to change today! Or...at least in the next few weeks starting today because you were officially taking swimming lessons.

You were not going to fly to the most beautiful beaches and islands in the world and be the fall risk on bridges, docks, and boats. And for fuck’s sake, you were going to swim with the dolphins whether it killed you (literally) or not.

So, you signed up to take swimming lessons. You felt ridiculous.

You felt even more ridiculous as you stood in the changeroom of a very posh country club that your best friend’s fiancé’s parents own, in a one-piece swimsuit you bought just for these lessons (the only swimsuit’s you owned her two pieces because their main use was for tanning).

You tried to find the most modest swimsuit you could, which was very difficult and still not quite as modest as you’d like because for fuck’s sake why won’t the bum cover your entire arse cheek!?

The people leaving behind you were all middle-aged to senior couples who obviously worked in ‘the business’ whatever the fuck that meant because they can clearly afford the membership fees this place obviously charges per month if their gold and crystal chandeliers in the bathroom stalls meant anything.

You tried to readjust your poor swimsuit one last time before grabbing your towel and making your way to the pool. You just hoped you didn’t flash your tits to the other children likely attending swimming lessons.

Except...you got to the pool and there was no one else there.

Well, that’s not entirely true. There was one sexy looking lifeguard covered in various tattoos which stood out brilliantly against his fair skin. His black hair rivaled the ink of his tattoos and was long enough to be pulled back into a messy bun behind his head – though a few stray locks seemed determined to keep their place next to his sharp jawline.

You were jealous of strands of hair.

There was also another lifeguard on the other end of the pool putting away various life rings, flutter boards and lane dividers. He was just as striking as the first lifeguard for nearly opposite reasons. His skin was a deep tan colour, and he wasn’t built like a swimmer – rather, he was built quite like a body builder. His arms and torso were lined with hard defined muscle and his thighs...

For fuck’s sake, stop staring at the man’s thighs.

He had a mop of curly dark hair and a pair of glasses that seemed foggy with the humidity of the room; he seemed no less happy about his current surroundings because of it, however.

You awkwardly looked behind you into the changeroom to see if the rest of your class was coming out. Maybe you should text your friend? Ask her to confirm with her fiancé that you got the times right?

“Here for the swim lessons, love?” a deep, lilting voice startled you from your pondering.

You turned towards the voice and were accosted by the view of a third beautiful man.

Is it, like, a requirement to be hot as hell to work here!?

The man had honey blonde curls and eyes to match that screamed trouble, but the kind of trouble you’d far too willingly find yourself immersed in. Unlike his tanned, spectacled friend, this man was built like a swimmer; he was all long limbs and long muscles, and unfairly tall. You forgot how to speak.

“I’m Remus, I’ll be the instructor tonight. What’s your name?” He asked you like he didn’t have it in front of him on his damp clipboard.

You cleared your throat and offered it to him, and he smiled at your shyness. The smile pulled at a scar that ran through the right side of his lip, and you noticed that he had a few more scattered across his face. They didn’t make him any less handsome, however. Damn him.

“Alright, Y/N. What has motivated you to learn to swim?”

You furrowed your brows at him and looked behind yourself again. “Shouldn’t we wait for the rest of the class?”

His smile faltered as his brows furrowed to match yours. “Class?”

“Private lessons, Dollface.” The tattooed man drawled as he made his way over to you.

“You’ve got the pool to yourself tonight.” He added with a wink.

“This is a private class.” Remus clarified.

“Jesus Christ.” You muttered. You were startled by a bark of a laugh from the tattooed man and immediately flushed to realize you’d said that out loud.

“How did you not know you booked a private class?” Remus asked with a bemused smile.

You sighed, face feeling like it was about to melt off from sheer embarrassment. “I didn’t book it. My uhm, my friend’s fiancé’s family owns this place and said he’d set it up for me. I thought it was going to be a group thing.”

You felt awfully foolish as the two men nodded. “What made you want to learn?” Remus asked again.

“Uhm, that same friend – her wedding is this spring, and it’s a destination wedding.” But the tattooed man started nodding before you’d even finished.

“You wanna swim with the fishes, but not in the mobster way. Got it.” He said as he clapped his hands together.

“Sirius.” Remus gently chided the man. “That’s fair, well, you’ve given yourself a lot of time to learn. I figured we’d start by finding out how much you already know.”

You grimaced.

“Well, that’ll be easy, seeing as I know nothing.”

“Nothing?” Remus asked.

“Nothing.” You confirmed.

Sirius and Remus shared a glance before turning back to you with matching smiles.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”

“Prongs! We got a firstie!” The tattooed man – Sirius – shouted to the tanned man across the pool as he confidently made his way to the edge of the pool. You opted to skirt around the edge – widely.

The tanned man gasped (far more dramatically than you felt the situation called for) and immediately dropped everything that had been in his arms.

“No.” He bellowed. “Can I help?!”

Great, now you were going to be inhaling pool water whilst three of the hottest men on earth watched – no big deal.

“That’s up to our swimmer.” Remus said as he looked towards you for an answer.

“I’d relax on the use of that title until you see me in the water.” You muttered.

Sirius barked another laugh, which made the corners of your mouth lift in comradery. He had a way of making you feel funnier than you likely were, just by enjoying your banter.

“What do you think? Me and James here can be the rest of the class you thought you would be a part of.” He offered with a smirk.

“Class?” James asked, “I thought this was a private session.”

“It is.” Remus answered with a slight edge, clearly used to the other two men getting off topic. “She had the lessons booked for her – she didn’t realize.”

“Gotcha” James said with a clap of his hands. “Okay, I’m all caught up, lets swim!” and with that, he jumped sideways and made a large splash as he landed in the water.

“You’re welcome to use the stairs like a civilized person.” Remus said to you kindly as Sirius cannonballed himself into the pool behind him. Upon hearing the splash, Remus closed his eyes in exasperation.

You took his advice and used the stairs, wading into the pool until the water hit around your waist.

“So, you’ve never been in a pool before?” Remus asked as he placed his clipboard on a flutter board and mindlessly sent it sailing to Sirius.

“No, not like this.”

“Okay. Do you know how to float?” He continued

You shook your head and looked down to the water.

“That’s alright. That’s perfect, that’s where we’ll start, alright?” He offered you, bending to try and catch your eyes. He was smiling kindly at you and his eyes oozed empathy.

“Here, Jamie and Sirius will demonstrate what we’ll do.”

Without a second though, James threw himself onto his back and brought his feet up, so he was floating on top of the water in a star-fished position.

Sirius smiled down at him like he was the sun and placed his arm just below him to ‘support his weight’ – though you were well aware that part was just for show.

“Now, we’ll do it right here where you are now; you can touch the bottom, so even if you feel like you’re going to sink, you can just stand up.” Remus encouraged you.

Your heart fell at the ‘sink’ part.

“You also have three certified lifeguards here.” James offered sympathetically.

Yeah, three real Adonis’ here to watch me drown.

“Nothing will happen, love.” Sirius offered in the softest tone you’ve heard him speak since you met him, apparently your trepidation made itself known on your face.

“I’ll help you get into position, okay? Lean back... atta girl, just like that.” Remus coached you as he supported your back, and one of the other men grabbed your ankles to ease them up. The hands near your feet surprised you and you breathed in a gasp, which was mistaken for anxiety.

“Hey, you’re alright, okay?” Remus said as he paused all movements, “I will not let anything happen to you.”

Jesus Christ, he was going to put you into cardiac arrest.

“Okay.” You offered instead of swearing at him and continued to lean back with his support.

Suddenly, you were suspended above the water as the hands (apparently, they were James’) let go of your ankles. Your instinct was to start kicking and tense up.

“No, you’re alright, keep your legs up and relax.” Sirius coached you from your other side.

Things you can say in a swim lesson and also in bed.

“I’ve still got you.” Remus reminded you as you tried to do what you were told.

Your legs kept wanting to sink to the bottom, but you did your best to will them upward.

“Try to take in a breath – the more air you have in your chest, the more buoyant you’ll be.” Remus told you.

You did as you were told, and your ears sunk just below the water.

“You can keep breathing, dollface.” Sirius said, and you felt your cheeks flush as you let out the breath you were apparently holding.

You listened to the sound of the water lapping against your head and the edge of the pool and timed seemed to slow.

This was actually quite nice – floating. You like floating, you decide. You’d like to do more of it; maybe this will be how you would spend your time at the beach in the Maldives and oh my god where is he going get back here you son of a bitch.

Remus’ hand began to sneak away from you, and in your panic to correct yourself without his assistance, you overcompensated and ended up below the water line.

Gentle hands grabbed your forearms and hauled you above the surface again and you made terribly embarrassing choking and gasping sounds as you wrapped your arms and legs around the being like a newborn koala bear.

“Easy, easy. Hey, you’re okay! You almost had it! You did so well, look at you.” James said brightly as he pushed some of your wet hair away from your face with careful fingers, apparently unaffected by your attaching yourself to him.

Between the men, their flustering you, and the water up your nose – you decided you’ll just spend your vacation at the beach side bar.

572 notes · View notes

realtsceline · 14 days

Text

would u believe me if i told u i had a dick?...dm at telegram for hookup if you're interested:

204 notes · View notes

wangxianficrecs · 11 days

Text

💙 Caught in 4k by KizuKatana

🔒💙 Caught in 4k

by KizuKatana (@kizukatana)

E, Series, WIP, 184k, Wangxian

Summary: A night-hunt goes wrong, and Wei Wuxian is scapegoated for the death of the Jiang Sect Leader and the destroyed core of the Jiang Sect Heir. As punishment, his core is taken and given to Jiang Cheng, and he is stripped of his cultivation credentials and expelled from the sect. What everyone forgot was that Wei Wuxian was wearing the standard issue body camera that each cultivator wore on training missions and high-risk night-hunts. Struggling to make ends meet, Wei Wuxian finds his way to Caiyi Town with the doctor who performed the surgery, a partial core still secretly in place. His application to work at Cloud Recesses is summarily rejected by the hard-edged Second Jade of Lan after an unfortunate initial encounter. But things change when someone hacks into the Jiang systems and releases the footage of what happened. Kay's comments: The series is still a WIP, but the main story is complete! I am so weak for Kizu's modern AUs with cultivation, they are great. Especially the world building and how the cultivation society might function in a modern AU shines in this story. Definitely not a story for fans of the Jiang family, but a story for everyone who wants to see some retribution for the things Wei Wuxian went through. Here, Jiang Fengmian dies during a night-hunt accident where Jiang Cheng's golden core gets destroyed and Madam Yu makes Wei Wuxian give his golden core to him, unfortunately for her, his body-cam is still filming everything. Wei Wuxian finds himself taken in by Wen Qing and her family and we get the sweetest found family and Dadxian vibes here and then meets Lan Wangji as well, who's highly judgemental at first but soon finds himself drawn to Wei Wuxian as well. This story really got it all, the drama, the horny, the softness, the restitution & humor. Excerpt: Still Wei Wuxian forced himself to at least try one last time. “You could also interview me. Have me talk to your best talisman experts,” Wei Wuxian said, forcing himself to keep the desperation out of his voice. “Interviews are scheduled based on receipt of proper credentials and references.” “I don’t have any, at least not right now. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be a great teacher.” “No references, no interview.” “Come on. Look, ask me anything about talismans. You’re an experienced cultivator, right? So you must know enough to at least interview me to see if I know what I’m talking about.” “Simply ‘knowing about something’ is not sufficient. Our lecturers are renown cultivators, and masters in their fields. No references, no interview.” Wei Wuxian felt frustration well up in him, especially at the reminder that Lan Wangji didn’t see him as a cultivator. No one would, in his current condition. Why would they? He didn’t have a functional core, which was the main scale against which all cultivation efforts were measured. He thought he had done a good job of not getting his hopes up about the teaching position, but the suffocating feeling constricting his chest was calling him out for being a liar. He should have known better. Why did he never learn? Some people had luck on their said, but Wei Wuxian had never been one of them. “Right. Of course. Because it would be impossible for someone who wasn’t born to the fucking clan nobility to ever actually be good at something, and the cost of taking the mastery test makes sure that other people can’t do it!” Lan Wangji’s lips parted slightly, like he might say something, but his expression was as opaque and emotionless as before. Wei Wuxian didn’t need to sit around and listen to him defend the clan system. “Good to know that the Lan are just the same as all the other sects,” Wei Wuxian continued, his lips twisting into a sarcastic smile. “Thanks for making that clear.”

pov alternating, modern setting, modern with magic, yu ziyuan being an asshole, dysfunctional jiang family, jiang family bashing, canon divergence, golden core reveal, burial mounds ensemble as family, golden core transfer, golden core transfer fix-it, top lan wangji/bottom wei wuxian, dual cultivation, strangers to lovers, misunderstandings, meet ugly, families of choice, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

136 notes · View notes

scifrey · 4 months

Text

NINE-TENTHS

Oh my gosh, the book is now officially out! This is the first original novel I've published since 2018 and I am very excited and very nervous to share it.

☕♥️🐉

➡️ You can read it here. ⬅️

Chapters drop Wednesdays and Saturdays, and if you're worried, the story is already finished and fully uploaded. This is not a WIP that I will abandon later--it's totally complete.

About the book:

Twenty-four is one year too young for a quarter-life crisis, but hey, Colin's always been an overachiever. He's got a degree in Sustainable Tourism, which his family says he's wasting as a barista, an annoying anxiety disorder, and no freaking idea what to do with his life. The only thing going his way is the cute coffee shop regular, a homo draconis named Dav (who, in his humanshape, is a total hottie.) Still, it'd be easier if Dav didn't have a habit of accidentally setting things on fire when he's startled. Like the café kitchen.

When Dav breaks draconic taboo and volunteers as a replacement bean-roaster to apologize for the inferno meet-ugly, sparks really fly. Everything's finally happening for Colin, until he learns that hooking up with Dav means that under dragon law, Colin is absorbed into Dav's hoard.

Possession may be nine-tenths of the law, but becoming his boyfriend's property does not make this whole identity crisis thing easier. Especially now that Colin must navigate politics, paparazzi, and legal questions about his personhood. Colin's still angling for his Happily Ever After, but the growing scrutiny on his relationship with Dav threatens their budding romance. And if he's not careful, Colin's fight for agency may just destroy symbiotic human/dragon relationships worldwide.

Beautiful cover art by @seancefemme

201 notes · View notes

fuctacles · 4 months

Text

Steve has barely started college and he's running late again. But this time he passes the ridiculously long line by the cafe and runs straight to the lecture ball. He can do it without a coffee. Or rather, he can charm his way into someone else's cup.

He makes it just in time and runs down the rows of seats looking for a target. Skips the white girl lattes and gym bros protein shakes. If only he could find a half-alive artist type or...

Bingo!

He slides smoothly into the empty space next to a guy dressed all in black. He has long hair, multitute of rings and tattoos. The whole package. Even the mug in his hand was black with a skull.

Steve turns on his charm as he leans in.

"Hey, man. Hate to be so forward but may I have a sip? Couldn't make it to the cafe today." He gives the man his best puppy dog eyes. Sometimes it even works on Robin so he knows it's good.

The man studies him for a second and seems to be an even tougher opponent than his bestie, but then he just shrugs.

"Have at it," he says and pushes the mug in Steve's direction.

"Thank's you're a saviour." Steve smiles brightly at him and revels in the warmth of the metallic travel mug. The warmth in his mouth and seeping into his bones.

And the completely wrong taste.

He bristles, gulps down what has already hit his tongue, and starts coughing.

The guy just watches him without much of a reaction. The professor eyes them and turns out to be more sympathetic.

"Everything alright there?"

"Yeah," he calls back, eyes on Steve. "Went down the wrong pipe."

Steve feels like stranglig him. He looks up with watery eyes.

"Are you drinking hot chocolate? At 9 in the morning?!" He barely manages to keep it a whisper. At least now he's feeling fully awake.

"What? Read one too many "i like my coffe black like my soul" text posts?" The guy raises an eyebrow and Steve is not going to blush at being called out like that. He did totally judge him based on his look alone. "Besides, it has espresso in it. I'm not a complete freak," he adds, sipping his coffeinated chocolate abomination.

Steve sees it as a spark of hope.

"Sorry," he whispers, straightening in his seat to start paying attention to the lecture. "I'm Steve, by the way."

Shouls have probably started with his name, but first impressions are already ruined, thrown in the garbage disposal and on their way to the sewers. Might as well try and not make his first enemy in a new city.

It takes long enough for the guy to respond, but the quirk of his mouth makes not-enemy turn into possible-ally.

"Eddie."

masterpost

#steddie #mine #college au #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #ff #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet #meet ugly #st #stranger things 4 #steddie idea

241 notes · View notes

italiansteebie · 10 months

Text

steve was expecting a nice vacation.

a nice vacation, with rob and nance, and the kids tagged along too.

but three am rolls around and someone is in his house, singing, and wailing and generally acting a fool. and what a wonder that anyone would do this since they know super girl is way crabby when she's woken up. especially at three am.

so he hauls himself out of bed and trudges to the kitchen where the ruckus has traveled.

"dude."

there's a man stumbling around his kitchen, eating his left over pizza, and drinking his fucking coors light.

if he wasn't so pissed at this guy making himself at home, he'd think he was kinda cute. he had long hair, and chains and leather. and forget 'kinda' this guy is downright delicious, but the bottom line is, he broke into steve's house.

"get the fuck out of my house."

the guy drops the pizza and whirls around, "what?" the guy sounds properly devastated. "get out of my house, dude!" steve yells.

"wh- why? i- im here with the- the band?" the guy is stumbling around, slurring his words and looks like he's seconds from dropping. steve sighs, "alright man. just- cmon. lay down on the couch, i'll get you a blanket." steve leads him to the couch, turning him on his side, making sure he doesn't choke on his vomit.

he scrubs a hand over his face, just his luck that some drunk guy wanders his way into the house, has no idea where he is, eats his pizza, and he's gonna let the guy pass out on his couch. whatever.

he'll deal with it in the morning.

---

when eddie wakes, he's got a major headache, and he thanks his lucky stars that one of the guys put a trash can in front of his because he would NOT have made it to the bathroom.

once he's right side up, he takes in his surroundings.

shit.

this is not the labels beach house they put them up in.

"good to see you in the land of the living."

his head turns to meet the voice, and shit. he's gone and broke into hercules' house.

"uh- what?" he says, ever so eloquently.

the guy sits down next to him. "you broke into my house last night. well- not exactly, someone left the door unlocked but. you walked in and ate my pizza. and i didn't feel comfortable sending you back out because you had no idea where you were. you slept on my couch."

eddie nodded dumbly, "s-sorry. i- im here with my band, right down the road. uh- i'm. i think im still drunk and you're very pretty."

the guy laughed, and damn, if eddie wasn't already in love, he was now.

"im steve, i can walk you back to your place when you're ready. there's some sandwiches on the counter over there if you're hungry." the guy- steve, says, before standing.

"sandwiches for breakfast?"

"it's 2pm, dude."

o h.

"do you wanna... i mean. you wanna have like, lunch or something?"

"are you hitting on me?"

"if i say yes, do i still get a sandwich?"

steve laughs again, "yeah," eddie raises his eyebrows at this. "yes to the sandwich or yes to the date?" he asks, smiling cheekily.

"hmm. what kind of food are we gonna have?" steve inquires, leaning closer to eddie. eddie smiles again, "what's your favorite?" steve pretends to think, making a whole show of it.

he's just about to respond when.

"steve! are you really flirting with the criminal?"

"robin!" steve groans, waving his hands at said person. eddie turns, "you think im a criminal?"

"well, technically...." robin trails.

"rob get outta here. i was about to land a date." steve whines, shooing her out. she saunters out with a grin on her face, "he like italian food" she singsongs before walking out the door.

"so. the pizza place? tomorrow at 1?" eddie asks, eyes flicking down to steve's lips, "sounds good," he breathes. it's only a matter of time before their lips meet in a feverish kiss, eddie's hands tangled in steve's hair.

they pull away, "we should- we should get you back so your friends don't freak out." steve says, breathing deeply. eddie nods, chest heaving, "cant say i'm not disappointed, though." steve sighs, raising a hand to cup eddie's face. "there's always tomorrow."

---

when eddie finally gets back to the right house, gareth is all over him. "where the hell have you been, man?!"

"oh, okay. so. i broke into someone's house accidentally, and then scored a date. now i'm here." he shrugs, before plopping down on the couch.

gareth sighs, "only you, ed."

#steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #meet ugly #steddie meet cute #steddie #steddie get together #best friend robin #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #steve x eddie

800 notes · View notes

addsalwayssick · 4 months

Text

Sirius walked into work that morning with a smile on his face. He was an intern for a company a man named Lyall Lupin owned for wolf rehabilitation. “Ah, Hello Sirius!” He said, jolly.

“Hi Mr. Lupin!” He smiled.

Lyall spun around from his chair, turning to face him. “So I was thinking you would be absolutely grand for my daughter!”

Sirius laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, I’m gay.”

Lyall’s face brightened even more. “Come to think of it, you wouldn’t just be grand for my son, you’d be perfect for him!”

Sirius smiled politely. “Yeah sure.”

The next morning, he came in with another smile. “Hello, Sirius!” Lyall’s voice rang out.

“Hey Mr. Lupin.” He said.

Lyall took of his reading glasses to look at Sirius. “You know, my son has a pair of these.”

Sirius still smiled, but he was groaning internally. “That’s nice.”

Lyall hummed. “Yes, quite. He’s always reading.”

Sirius just thought, that maybe he’d have to go on one date and say that they weren’t right for each other and Lyall would be happy.

Lyall looked him up and down. “He has quite a different style than you. He wears sweaters a lot. Like his grandfather wore them before.” Lyall laughed at his own joke.

Sirius politely laughed along, already dreading the date Lyall was bound to set them on.

A few days pass, and Sirius comes in with a smile on every one of them. He walks in around a week later from his last interaction with a smile. It drops when he hears a second voice in the closed office door. It was deep, and he wasn’t going to lie, madly attractive.

“Nope.” The voice said.

“You havent even met him!” Lyall argued.

“I don’t need to, I-“

Sirius knocked on the door, just to hear Lyall say “Come in, Sirius!”

Sirius walked in with his bag, looking immediately to the man that must have the other voice.

He was tall. Like tall. He had chestnut colored hair, hazel eyes, and was wearing a grandpa sweaters. He had scars running along his face.

But Sirius could not deny, he was extremely handsome.

Lyall cleared his throat. “Remus, this is Sirius, Sirius, this is Remus.

Remus stepped forwards and held out his hand for Sirius to shake.

It enveloped Sirius’s hand by quite a bit.

“I’ve got a dinner reservation for you guys at 6 tonight.” Lyall told them.

They both turned to look at him. “What?” Remus asked.

“Just one!”

__________

Sirius walked into work with a smile. He walked out of work with a smile. He walked inside his house with a smile. He jumped on Remus with a smile.

“Hey love, how was work?” Remus asked in all of his reading glasses, grandpa sweater, book in hand glory.

“Good. I missed you.” Sirius said, nuzzling his way into cuddling Remus’s chest.

“I missed you too.” Remus said, kissing his forehead.

208 notes · View notes

cult-of-the-eye · 4 months

Text

Meet ugly idea specifically for jmart: Jon is living with Georgie and she has tasked him with trying to cancel one of her TV subscriptions and Jon is like sure how hard could it be, cue 5 hours later where he's trying not to scream at a very apologetic, soft voiced customer service person (Martin) who's adamant that he shouldn't leave this service.

#georgie comes home like did you do it #and hes like bad news...no #but good news...i did get a cute guys number #bonus points if this is like S3 jon and he doesnt realise its Martin #although i guess its not a first meeting #anyway #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin k blackwood #jmart #meet ugly #jonmartin #georgie barker #tma aus

149 notes · View notes

aespades · 1 year

Text

And a close up of Marinette.

Alternative sayings for Dingo:

"Time to take out find the competition. "

"I'm gonna go steal her box"

"Good thing you have me to wingman"

@verfound

#drawing #my art #my comic #art #luka couffaine #miraculous ladybug #lukanette #marinette dupen chang #verfounds oc: dingo king #dingo king #comics #my attempt at funny #Marinette was just minding her own business #she saved the box at least #meet cute?#meet ugly #but luka doesn't care #he loves the disaster human anyway #aespades art

758 notes · View notes

sarahowritesostucky · 2 months

Text

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 2637

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

7. Strawberry Cream Puffs

Mary

Mary doesn’t realize what she’s hearing at first. If she did, she’d hightail it right back out the front door, phone be damned. But the sound of Bucky and Steve talking is muffled and indistinct from the distance of their bedroom, and Mary hurries around the apartment, checking for her phone by the coffee maker in the kitchen and then in the couch cushions after that. “Fucking fuck,” she hisses, annoyed. She doesn’t have time for this! She has to get back to work.

It’s only when she walks down the hall to check in her bedroom and is passing the door to Bucky and Steve’s room that she figures it out.

"Bucky!"

"That’s it, Princess, just like that. You’re almost there."

Mary freezes, whole body tensing as she realizes that Bucky and Steve are not just “talking.” Her face flushes, arousal swirling hard and sudden in her core at the sounds.

“Fuck, fuck … unhshit."

That’s Steve moaning. He sounds totally gone for whatever Bucky’s doing to him (God, Mary wishes she could see what Bucky’s doing to him). Against all common decency, she takes a step closer, putting her ear millimeters from the door. She can hear their heavy breathing, can hear the wet sounds of them fucking. Steve is making all sorts of obscene sounds, and Bucky’s talking to him, encouraging him in a dark, goading voice that Mary’s only ever heard the barest hint of.

"Ride Daddy’s hand, thaat’s it. Fuck back on it. Good girl."

Oh. my. god. Mary’s eyes go wide and her panties are suddenly, horribly wet. She forces herself to step away, then hears Steve wailing and grunting like he’s coming. Maybe he is, she doesn’t stay to find out.

Her face is flaming hot as she hurries into her room. And of-fucking-course: there’s her phone, still sitting plugged into the nightstand. She scowls at it, as if it’s the phone’s fault that she’s just witnessed what she has.

Wet panties don’t feel great, so she shucks her leggings off and changes, then grabs her phone and cautiously makes her way back out into the hall. Bucky and Steve are still in their room—she can hear them talking in there (this time only talking). But Mary knows they both have freakishly good hearing, so she’s dreadfully careful as she sneaks back out of the apartment. If they catch her now, the jig’ll be up. There’s no way in hell Bucky won’t take one look at her face and know. Then he’ll tell Steve, of course, because those two freaking live in each other’s skin. And then Mary’ll have to face them every day with the common knowledge between the three of them that she knows Bucky calls Steve a “good girl” in bed.

She makes it out of the apartment unnoticed, goes back to work, and spends most of her shift in a distracted daze, messing up more than one coffee order as she contemplates why she finds it so hot.

Bucky

It’s the weekend, so after Bucky’s done “teaching” his husband in bed that morning, they both get dressed and head out for their usual Saturday routine of going to the gym together.

Bucky’s not as obsessed with lifting as Steve is, so he finishes first and sits by the overpriced juice bar, entertaining himself with a little sample cup of some green apple-kale concoction and the view of his sweaty husband’s backside as he does weighted squats. “Looking good, Cap!” he calls out, loud enough for Steve to hear. Steve shoots him a peevish glance from across the way, which Bucky knows means Shut the fuck up. You’re so embarrassing. Bucky snickers and brings his green juice up for another sip.

“Been discharged for over a decade and you’re still using that,” Steve grumps at him when he’s finished and they’re walking out of the gym.

Bucky hums and kisses him on the cheek. “It suits you.” They join hands and start off down the sidewalk. Their Saturday morning routine is to get coffee after a workout—Bucky’s iced, Steve’s with whatever horrifically sugary additives he can think up. “My baby made Captain at twenty-five. That’s fucking hot.” He sees Steve’s blush and feels accomplished. “Plus, I know you like it.”

“Don’t hear me calling you Sergeant.”

“That’s cause I’m higher rank than you and you know it,” Bucky quips, and the two of them share a saucy grin that kind of makes Bucky want to shove Steve up against the nearest building and “teach” him something else. He refrains. “Have you told her we served?” he asks, referring to Mary. He’s steering them in the direction of the café where she works, rather than their usual place, and he’s sure Steve notices.

“No. But we haven’t gotten much into the details about anything.” Steve’s tone is slightly disapproving. “You let her avoid us with too much streaming."

Steve’s not wrong. They are halfway through the third season of Game of Thrones. Bucky squeezes Steve’s right hand with his left, indicating the metal arm. “She hasn’t asked about this.”

“S’probably just trying to be polite.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Bucky’s arm is StarkTech, so even though he’s a veteran with an amputation, he doesn’t come off that way to strangers at first glance. He gets passed over for the usual silent deference. And when people do clock the arm, he’s more likely to get stares and questions, rather than pity. He’s noticed Mary looking a few times, but she hasn’t said anything.

“You’re in long sleeves all the time, Babe,” Steve says. “She’ll ask when the weather warms up, I bet.”

“Yeah.” Bucky remembers why he likes winter so much. “… You think she’ll be with us that long?”

Steve looks over at him. “Honestly? Yeah. I do. She’s got a lot of issues, Buck. Have you noticed her eating habits?”

Bucky frowns. “I mean, she’s picky …”

“She restricts,” Steve corrects. “Her counselor called the other day and recommended we file a petition to extend the custody order.”

“Really? We’re not even halfway through it yet.”

“I know.” Steve twists his lips unhappily, looking down at the pavement as the walk. “Linda said we should try and talk to her about it now, rather than later. Try and frame it in a positive way.”

Bucky scoffs. “She’s gonna throw a fit!” (She does about most things.) “It’d be better if you or Linda brought it up,” he grumbles. “She hates me.”

“Hey.” Steve stops walking, stilling Bucky with a hand to his shoulder. “Hey. She does not. She’s just reacting to you cause you don’t pull any punches. I mean imagine how scary it must be, what we’re asking of her.”

Bucky frowns as he thinks about it. “I guess.”

��We bring her in, telling her she’s an incapable mess and that her life’s a shambles, and then she’s supposed to just one hundred percent trust us?”

"Well when you put it like that,” Bucky grumps. Not like they haven’t been doing absolutely everything in their power to show this woman that they’re not pervert serial killers, or whatever.

“Plus, she’s embarrassed about it. About what she needs.”

Bucky grunts, thinking back to how he’d felt when he was a kid and got placed on the spectrum. “You think evenings are helping?” he asks, looking to Steve for reassurance. “I’ve been trying to keep it as light as I know how …"

“Babe, aw. C’mere.” Steve pulls him in for a big hug and presses his face against Bucky’s neck. “Of course evenings are helping.”

“Steeve! Gross! Get off me, you’re all—"

“Shuddup,” Steve scolds quietly. He kisses his cheek, then pulls back with smiling eyes. “You’re a good Dom, Buck. Even a normie like me can tell that.”

Bucky’s insides warm at the praise, but he masks it with a theatrical scowl and a shove to Steve’s chest. “You’re all sweaty.”

“So are you, Jerk.” Steve takes his hand again and pulls him along. “It’s slow going, but it’s going. We just gotta give it time.”

Bucky grumbles quietly. They both know that giving anything time is not his forte. A few shops down, the café comes into sight, and Steve gives his hand a squeeze. “You know, she did tell me the other day that she thinks you’re cute when you’re frustrated.”

“She said that?” Bucky blurts before he can catch himself. Steve’s smirk widens and Bucky drops his hand. “Punk,” he huffs, pushing past him to open the café’s door and hold it for his husband.

The smell assaults them as soon as they step inside. It smells like heaven; like coffee beans and yeast, warm spices and flaky pastries. Bucky looks for Mary at the service counter, but when he doesn’t immediately see her he joins Steve in front of the pastry case to drool over said pastries.

“Oh my God,” Steve moans. “How’m I gonna choose?”

“How is my BMI not gonna go up with this chick?” Bucky agrees.

The case is stocked full for the Saturday brunch rush. Bucky’s eyes flit between the shiny-glazed doughnuts, the already-crumbling scones, the sugar-crusted muffins, and the cheese-stuffed Danish. “Fuuck,” he breathes, imagining a mouthful of cream cheese and dough. Steve makes a similar sound right next to him.

“Hey,” a sharp voice cuts in. “No jerking off to the baked goods. This is a family establishment."

Bucky’s eyes shoot up at the sound of Mary’s voice, then he grins as her words register. This is the first time he’s ever heard her use sexual innuendo. “Well I dunno …” he drawls. “That cream filling really gets Steve going.” Steve shoots him a dirty glare and Bucky thrills a little at the blush he can see creeping up the big lunk’s neck. So fucking easy. He looks back to Mary: She’s got her hair up in a sporty ponytail today, and there’s something shiny on her lips that makes them look extra plump. “How’s your shift going?” he asks, tearing his eyes away from her mouth.

“Good.” She offers him a little smile for asking, which is something she wouldn’t have done two weeks ago. She’s been resentful up until recently, of Bucky and Steve keeping such close tabs on her. Bucky’s hopeful though, because lately it seems like she’s taking to it. Maybe even mellowing out. “You guys look like you’ve been working out,” she says. The way her eyes sweep over them is appreciative, lingering on their chests and arms.

Bucky can’t help it; he swells a little with ego. “Worked up an appetite,” he agrees. “Stevie and I usually go to a coffee shop that closer to the gym, but ever since we discovered this place …” Since we discovered you, he wants to say. “Well, let’s just say it doesn’t hold a candle to here. This place’s got better pastries—cuter baristas, too.” He winks at her and watches in satisfaction as she flusters and looks away, unable to keep from smiling just a little bit. As a Dom, Bucky’s always been drawn to that kinda thing. A girl who can’t take a compliment is damn tempting. It’s that shy little blushing smile that does it; it makes him want to tie her down in his bed, take her apart bit by bit while he forces her to cum and take compliments over and over again.

Bucky shakes himself out of it when he hears Steve asking Mary what she recommends from the case that morning.”Oh! Well, let me see…” She gives the pastry case some consideration. The way her lips purse in a thoughtful moue as she thinks seriously about it is very cute. “Hm, maybe the frangipane mousseline … no! Oh, no, get the cream puffs. I made strawberry and raspberry ones today!”

Her enthusiasm is infectious, and Bucky but help and smile back at her. “Right. Two of those, then. And our usual coffee order.” He pays for the order and she starts flitting around making their drinks. On the other side of the counter, Bucky glances over to Steve. “Gotta get that cream filling,” he murmurs, and Steve rolls his eyes and tells him he’s a lousy human being.

Later on, Bucky goes to meet Mary after her shift ends. It’s been unseasonably cold for October and it had sleeted a bit during the afternoon earlier in the day. There’s a slick patch of sidewalk just outside the café’s front doors, which Bucky avoids but Mary doesn’t. It catches her off guard and her feet go out from under her in a flash. Bucky doesn’t think, he just reacts, catching her in his arms and yanking her in against his body. She gasps and grabs onto him, and once they’ve caught their footing, they’re just left standing there on the sidewalk, pressed as close together as they’ve ever been. Mary’s cheeks color so prettily, and her lips are parted, and they’ve still got some of that shiny whatever-it-is smeared on them, making them look vulnerable and kissable … Bucky’s struck hard by the sudden urge to take.

For once, he gives in to his urges.

Her reaction is a tightening of fingers on his jacket and a tiny gasp against his mouth. Bucky moves his lips against hers, urging her to respond. He’s kind of expecting her to push away, so he’s pleasantly surprised when she makes a sweet little noise in her throat and starts kissing back.

The shiny stuff, it turns out, is strawberry, and he’s not sure if he knows that more through taste or smell. Mary’s lips are so soft and so goddamned plush, her mouth incredibly yielding under his. It’s been years since Bucky’s kissed a woman, and he thrills with how small she is in his arms, how smooth the skin of her face is where it touches his. Everything about the way she opens up to him makes him think about how easy it’d be to take her apart in other ways. She whimpers against his mouth again, and that’s what it is about women that he misses, Bucky thinks. They’re such easy prey. The predator in Bucky likes that. He tries to remember to tell Steve that later. When he dares to swipe out with his tongue, she looses the tiniest little sigh and lets him in.

Dominant satisfaction at the small victory zips through him, and he moves his hands on her, down to her waist and around to the small of her back. He pulls her against him, just a firm tug into where they’re already pretty much pressed together. She whimpers and pants into his mouth and rubs against him needily, and Bucky has to pull back at the way that reaction makes blood rush from his head to other places.

He doesn’t want to be a creep, after all, but a submissive woman whimpering into his mouth and rubbing up on him like that can really only make one thing happen.

They’re left standing only inches apart, panting into each other’s faces. Bucky’s still holding her steady but she manages to find her footing. He pulls his hands back to himself.

Mary’s flushed and her lips are still parted. The way she’s looking up at him makes it very hard for Bucky not to just grab her again. He manages not to, offering her a crooked smile. “Well. That was … unexpected.”

“Yeah,” she breathes. Absently, she licks her lips, almost as if she’s trying to taste what just happened. “Yeah it was.”

They lock eyes, and Bucky knows from that look that he doesn’t have to bother asking if it was okay that he kissed her. She liked it.

They wind up walking home holding hands, Bucky pushing back a grin the entire time like a goddamn virgin.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

🍵Consider tipping your friendly neighborhood starving artist smut author!

✍🏻Commissions: reach out via Tumblr DM or contact here

112 notes · View notes

en-mode-autopilote · 3 months

Text

food as the love language prompts, part 2

this one is actually some meet-cute/meet ugly for your characters (can be romantic or platonic), enjoy this one as well <3 no credit necessary, just like or rb if you want to use it!

they meet at a baking/cooking show competition

character a is the chef and character b is their sous-chef

character a is a barista at a café and character b is a recurring customer

character a is the private chef for character b

while being at the grocery store, they both reach for the same item... which happens to be the last on the shelf

character a and character b are always in competition because they have their restaurants are next to the other

character a needs a cake and they go to character's b bakery for it

character a and character b always run into each other at the farmer's market because they are both farmers for different farms

the characters are working in a coffee shop to pay their studies

they meet at a food convention

character a always makes extra food althought they are living alone and they give their their leftovers to character b who lives in the same building

character a owns a restaurant and character b is their main provider for their ingredients

character a is working at the cinema as the popcorn maker and character b spots them because they are in a very bad date

character a and character b are eating alone in the same restaurant but they end up ordering the same thing and they decide to chat more after that

character a attends a wedding and tunrs out the character b is the chef preparing the food

character b owns a farm and they go to market where character a is a recurring customer

character a shares their recipes online and character b always leaves comments under their blog

character a is the chef and character b is a food critic

character a owns the restaurant and character h is their regular customer

character a makes the delivery services and somehow always ends up delivering some food at character b's appartment

#prompts #writing prompts #writing prompt #meet cute #prompts list #prompt list #otp prompts #imagine your otp #food is my love language #meet ugly #writing inspiration #sorry for any typos i wrote this from my phone #writers on tumblr

127 notes · View notes

stardust948 · 2 months

Text

Half Off Chocolate

Prompt: They fight over discounted Valentine's Day chocolate while arguing over who had it worse.

Katara didn’t know why she didn’t just go home.

Her makeup was smeared from crying, dress wrinkled, and hair slipping out of its neat bun. She was a messed and felt even worse inside. Maybe that is why she stopped at the nearest convenient store for some well deserved and frankly overdue, sweets.

The store was a ghost town. Scattered pink and red merchandise laid abandoned on the floor and nearly empty shelves. Of course. Though it was still Valentine’s Day, the hour was late and most of the good stuff was long gone.

Katara wandered to the candy section, feeling like a lost spirit herself; haunting the remains of a once beautiful dwelling now succumbed to ruin. The candy ail was picked clean, as expected. Even the less popular treats were gone. Nothing left except a lone heart shaped red box. An ugly orange sticker slapped hastily on read the box was 50% off due to damage.

‘How fitting. A damaged heart for a damaged heart.’ Katara thought to herself.

A bitter half smile grew on her face as she reached out to pick it up. She did not notice the other hand reaching at the same time until they both grabbed the box. Katara gasped, more out of annoyance than surprise.

The person was a Fire Nation man about her age. He wore a fancy suit with the neck tie partly undone and had long black hair that spilled onto his face. Bits of red peaked under the hair on his left side, probably from a rash or blemish he was trying to hide. Despite this, he was admittedly attractive in his own way.

Katara glared. He must have forgotten what day it was, hastily threw on the fancy outfit and rushed to the store to buy sweets for his disappointed partner. Well too bad! Katara needed it more!

“Excuse you.” Katara said coldly. “I had that first.”

“What? No I did.”

“You’re wrong.” Katara yanked it, but the man held firm. “Let go!”

“I had it first! You let go!”

“No you!”

They yelled and tugged on the chocolate box like a couple of kids fighting on the playground.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?!” Katara spat. “I’ve earned that chocolate!”

“Earned?! I need it more!!!”

“It’s not my fault you forgot Valentines’ Day and had to last minute shopping!”

“I didn’t forget! My girlfriend dumped me today of all days!”

“Oh boohoo! My long term boyfriend proposed today-“

“Well congratulations!” His voice dripped in sarcasm.

“After I caught him cheating, you prick!” Katara snapped. “He didn’t even apologize! Just pulled out a ring and thought that would fix everything!”

“You think that’s bad?! My ex dumped me by bringing the guy she was cheating on me with for the past 2 years!”

“My ex brought his fangirls to the proposal! The very ones who treated me like a maid and constantly threatened me just because I was dating him!”

“My ex threw a glass bottle at my head just for dating another girl while we were on break!”

“My ex threw a lit candle at me because I didn’t want to kiss him right then!”

“My ex did kiss me just to shut me up from talking about confused emotions!”

“My ex purposefully kept me away from my family and constantly belittled my culture!”

“My ex insulted me just for having different opinions from her!”

“My ex compared my grief of my mom’s murder to losing his pet! Then scolded me for giving a witness report against the murder in trail!!!”

“My ex told my sister where I was knowing she’ll tell my abusive father!!!”

The box ripped in half, sending them flying back and pelting them with chocolate. The two stared at each other in stunned silence before the owner came storming up and kicked them out. The slammed door echoed across the bare parking lot as the two continued to stand there awkwardly.

“Did she really do those things?” Katara asked in a hushed tone.

“Yeah.” The man rasped. There was no hiding the sadness in his voice. “Yours’s?”

Katara nodded. “Yeah…”

“Sounds like a really crappy person.”

“Yours’s too.”

There was another brief silence before he spoke again.

“We’re better off without them.”

“Are we?” Katara asked. “We were just fighting over discounted chocolate 5 minutes ago.”

“Okay, maybe not tonight specifically… But in the long run, we’re better off.”

Katara rubbed her necklace as tears formed. She wanted to agree but a large part of her life was tied to that relationship. Tied to him. Katara shook her head. The stranger was right.

“We are better off.”

“Sorry about…” He gestured to the store behind them. ”That.”

“I’m sorry too.” Katara undid her messy bun, letting her hair fall free, then extended her hand. “I’m Katara.”

He accepted with a firm grip. “Zuko.”

#ficlet #atla #atla au #zutara #zutara au #katara #zuko #valentine's day #meet ugly #anti kataang #anti maiko #anti aang #anti mai #to be safe #star's writing

63 notes · View notes

damedechance · 4 months

Text

seek&destroy

read pt1 on ao3 || listen to the playlist

You're telling me I got to talk with @foundress0fnothing for the past few weeks (my favorite person) and write about Gwynriel (my two favorite idiots)? I have seriously enjoyed getting to know my precious giftee a little bit more during this event and I am so so so excited to finally share part of what I've been working on!!! Em, I hope you know how cherished you are in this little fandom community, and I hope this fic can bring you even just the littlest spark of joy! Love you endlessly, Santa 🌟

Pairing: Gwynriel

Parts: 1 of 5

Rating: Explicit (for eventual smut)

Summary: Those with a link to a realm long gone now live in secret, and Gwyneth Berdara is one of them. After a horrific tragedy rends her life apart, Gwyn finds herself in good company with her fellow Valkyries, a group of vigilantes who work to restore the forgotten relics of a land called 'Prythian.' When Gwyn's work brings her to an illustrious museum, her own world collides with that of the mysterious Shadowsinger--an encounter that leads to her vowing to bring him to his untimely end. [[FOR @acotargiftexchange]]

Read below for all of Chapter One:

CHAPTER ONE

Too. Many. Legs.

There were just too many legs, Gwyn thought, as she stared in open-mouthed horror at the projector screen. Just as she swallowed down a gag at the sight of the ghastly images before her, the presenter gestured passionately towards the slides, his tall frame and abhorrent posture giving the illusion of the rounded shell of a beetle. So uncanny was his resemblance to the subject of his own presentation, the species he’d apparently devoted his entire career to–the cerambycid beetle. Gwyn fought back a shiver. Or a scream of terror.

Not that she wasn’t sympathetic to his cause. A glance at the pamphlet in front of her revealed that he held a PhD in entomology–a degree she knew from personal experience was all but impossible if you didn’t feel truly dedicated to your work. He was probably a sweet old man, she struggled to convince herself. Someone like her, a person so entirely enamored with their subject of study that the less attractive facets of the field were of no consequence. In fact, she admired that sort of devotion.

Still, the clearly impassioned man wasn’t exactly persuading her to actually take up an interest in the study of insects. Gwyn suspected that the sight of those beetles was the primary driving force in that decision. Especially since she still couldn’t keep her eyes open for more than five minutes at a time, and was currently squeezing them shut as she counted out her deep, steadying breaths. Just a few moments of relief from the images on the screen was all she needed.

When she opened her eyes again, the presenter had switched to the next slide, which revealed a close-up view of the beetle’s segmented underbelly. Heaving, Gwyn bit down on her tongue as she felt the blood drain from her face. To distract herself from the urge to evacuate the contents of her stomach, Gwyn allowed her eyes to drift aimlessly about the room.

For not the first time, she was grateful that she’d been able to secure a seat for herself in the back of the auditorium. The badge hanging from the bright red lanyard across her neck proclaimed her a professor of entomology at the Dunmere College of Arts and Sciences, but she imagined that if any of the other conference attendees saw how green her face was, that title would prove itself somewhat implausible.

If nothing else, Gwyn needed to be sure that her act was flawless tonight. By the end of the Annual Entomology Society Conference, she wanted to have every single person in this room reasonably convinced that she was an ardent scholar of…bugs. Or, at the very least, she needed to not raise anyone’s suspicions to the contrary.

Perhaps if she simply kept sitting in the back, then.

Sighing quietly, Gwyn shifted down in her seat and allowed her legs to spread out in front of her. If she were to be stuck here, listening to the keynote speaker for the next–she checked the clock hanging above the door–five minutes, she should at least get comfortable. She crossed her arms over her chest, fingers tapping impatiently across her biceps, and stared unseeingly at the screen.

The minutes passed excruciatingly slowly. More legs, more antennae, more larvae, and by the end of the time Gwyn was biting on the insides of her cheeks to prevent herself from screaming in abject horror at each new, impossibly grotesque image. Until finally, the presenter reached the end of his slides, and only a blank screen appeared above his head.

“Right,” the bug doctor said. He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose, and began shuffling his papers over the podium. “Thank you all for such a thrilling discussion of cerambycid communities and their impact as an invasive species.”

Thrilling. Gwyn snorted to herself, and when more than a few heads turned in her direction, she quickly masked it as a sneeze.

“I will be available for a Q&A session later this afternoon,” the presenter continued, his finger prodding one of the papers on the top of his stack, as if pointing to a time. “Until then, I suggest perusing the rest of the museum for the insect nursery, where I am told some cerambycid beetle larvae are on display. Do take note of the well-progressed sclerotisation of the mouth parts, and if you find yourself peckish, I hear the cafe has an excellent gelato stand.”

That the presenter could possibly utter the words sclerotisation and gelato in the same sentence only served to confirm for Gwyn that she needed to get out of that room as soon as possible. Eagerly standing up, she shoved her notebook full of fake notes into her bag, and began to walk down the auditorium steps with the rest of the meager audience. Entomology was not a popular field apparently, and Gwyn could hazard a guess as to why.

As she approached the stage where the bug doctor still stood at the podium, politely accepting words of praise from some of the other attendees, Gwyn thought she hear the words antennal sockets and low tubercles, and immediately quickened her pace, slipping past others to ensure that she was towards the middle of the pack, instead of at the very end.

Sighing in relief as soon as she stepped out of the auditorium and into one of the connecting halls outside of the exhibits, Gwyn followed the flow of the crowd. She slipped her phone out of her pocket, pretending to be texting so that none of the bug enthusiasts would attempt to engage her in some conversation about pupation. Only looking up occasionally from her notes app where she just repeatedly typed the words ew ew ew, Gwyn nearly yelped when she heard a voice in her ear.

“You missed your turn,” Emerie said, her voice slightly crackling through the earpiece hidden behind Gwyn’s hair.

She cleared her notes app, quickly typing the words, I know. And Sorry.

A tinny sigh in her ear. “That’s okay, just don’t attract attention. Pretend to look interested in the exhibit.”

Gwyn locked her phone, slipping it back into her bag as she lifted her head. Immediately regretting the action, once she came face to face with hundred of wiggling, nasty looking larvae.

This time, Gwyn couldn’t hold back her yelp, though she did manage to close her mouth in time to capture the sound, so that it didn’t disrupt the group of people that had gathered to marvel at the nasty little things. Pointing out some fascinating detail of another, as they crowded around the glass window into the bug nursery. In hindsight, Gwyn really should have expected that following the crowd of conference attendees would have led her here.

Carefully controlling her breathing rate so that she wouldn’t alert the others, Gwyn took several steps backwards from the case before turning and walking in the direction of the entrance to the next exhibit. One glance around the room revealed to her that the rest of the entomologists were already deeply engrossed with the contents of the many cases around them, and so Gwyn was able to easily slip out of the room without attracting notice.

The adjoining exhibit, a hall of various bones and skeletons, was relatively less crowded, and Gwyn was just as easily able to weave her way in and out of the gathered bodies. She allowed her head to swivel around, if only to appear as any other mildly interested patron, but stayed resolute in her path towards the exhibit that she’d originally missed.

“Slow down,” Emerie hissed in her ear. “Or at least pretend to be looking for the bathroom.”

Gwyn huffed, shoulders sagging as she forced herself to slow down somewhere in the middle of the ocean exhibit. Above her, the lights illuminated the room in slowly shifting shades of blue, casting the impression of walking along the ocean floor. She ran a hand over her face, and continued walking at a much more deliberate pace.

Admittedly, the museum was rather impressive and on any other day, Gwyn would have been among all of the other patrons, staring wide-eyed at the displays and devotedly reading each and every plaque.

But she wasn’t here to admire the museum. The entomology conference had only been an excuse for Gwyn to come to the Helion Museum of Natural History. If she had simply attended as a regular patron, without a purpose for ambling through the halls other than pure entertainment, she wouldn’t have been granted a keycard that allowed her access to some of the more restricted sections of the museum.

She’d already taken advantage of that privilege the previous day, when she and the other conference attendees took a tour of the research wings, where the archivists and conservationists worked. Their guide had taken them through room upon room of lovingly organized samples stacked in neat rows upon the shelves or spread across tables as researchers gently worked to clean and preserve them. The ultimate purpose of the tour had been to view the yet unveiling showing of moths as the archivists carefully pinned and labeled them, but Gwyn had conveniently slipped out under the guise of a bathroom break before that ever happened. That night, she returned home to Nesta and Emerie with a neatly drawn map of nearly the entire research wing.

Now, as Gwyn ambled through the ocean exhibit, the brilliant displays of coral and skeletons of various sea creatures rose up around her. She walked slowly, arms crossed over her badge so that anyone passing her wouldn’t note that she’d wandered off from the rest of the entomologists. Emerie gently murmured her approval in Gwyn’s ear, just as she crossed the threshold into the next exhibit, a sign above it advertising the Space and Astronomy hall.

The entrance was a long, dark tunnel with white swirling lights on the rounded ceilings and walls. Not resembling stars, but instead pulsing from one end to another like a portal. Gwyn was the only one walking through it, and belatedly she realized that this was a relatively slow day and hour for the museum. She hadn’t seen many other patrons, except for the rest of the bug crew, and as she walked out of the tunnel and into the dimly lit chamber that was the space exhibit, she realized that she was the only one there, save for the security guard currently leaning against a wall and staring at the toe of his boot.

Gwyn adjusted her glasses, slowly winding around case after case of space memorabilia. Some artifacts collected from the surface of the moon, and hundreds of chunks of rock from meteorites that had crashed to earth. She paused at a few signs for good measure, but her gaze was drawn to the ceiling above, which was a careful recreation of the constellations in the night sky.

As she made her way to the end of the hall, Gwyn nearly tripped over a small pedestal that appeared to rise up out of nowhere. She stumbled back, staring dumbfounded at the small, square case that shone more brightly than any of the others in the entire museum thus far.

Just a small, glass box atop a narrow pedestal at the center of the corridor, right before the entrance to the next exhibit. And she was so close, Emerie was murmuring in her ear a list of reminders of what to take note of as soon as she entered the next room–but Gwyn couldn’t resist. That one lone box, that felt like it had been waiting for her.

Slowly, she approached, carefully leaning over the glass case to observe the contents, only to see that it was a single glass tube, stoppered at the end with a metal cap.

Gwyn sucked in a sharp breath, holding it as if letting it out would disturb the little granules safely behind several layers of glass. She admired it, this fine powdery substance within the tube that almost looked like glitter, it was so reflective. She didn’t know what it was, only that it was beautiful, catching the light in this oddly mesmerizing way, and there was so little of it. A pinch, really.

Her eyes flashed to the small sign below the display, and read the label: Presolar Grains.

Lips parted in awe, Gwyn looked back to the small tube, and recognized the particles inside as actual stardust. The dust from stars formed billions of years ago, before the sun even existed. She reached out, her five fingers spread across the glass as she crouched to get on eye level with it.

How something so outstanding could be kept in a place as unassuming as this–just perched on a small pedestal in a vacant section of the museum–was a wonder to her. There should have been hundreds of people crowding around this very case, craning their necks for a chance to see it, this evidence that something had existed before the sun.

“What is it?”

Gwyn jumped as soon as the voice sounded behind her, whirling around with her arm out in front of her with the impulse to shove the person away. With Emerie berating her in her ear, Gwyn managed to suppress her instincts just in time, her eyes widening as they trailed up a man’s chest to his face.

She was met with easily the most gorgeous eyes she’d ever seen. Like molten bronze, these fluent pools of amber and hints of green, and she staggered back, catching herself with a hand atop the case behind her.

“Careful,” the man said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he took half a step forward. Either to catch her, or peel her hand off the case, she couldn’t tell. “The guards might think you’re trying to steal something.”

Gwyn tore her hand off the case as if she’d been burned, hastily stepping aside to put as much distance between herself and the display as she could. She had the strangest feeling, that his eyes had tunneled straight through her, and could somehow see her true intentions as if they’d been written out just as plainly as any other sign in the museum–there was no other reason. He knew why she was there.

But as her heart hammered in her chest at the prospect of her cover being blown, the man only gave her a small smile, really just a fleeting jump at the corner of his mouth, before stepping forward and leaning over the case.

“What are you doing?” Emerie was screeching in her ear. “Leave, geology is in the next room.”

But so perplexed was Gwyn by the man in front of her, that she felt rooted to the spot. Her head cocked slightly to the side as she studied him. How he silently mouthed the words as he read them on the sign, how the slight hook of his nose caught the light emanating from the case, sending an elongated shadow across his face, carving out his cheekbone. Those eyes that were framed by long arching eyelashes and hair that was so dark it seemed to absorb and devour all of the light.

Something about him bothered her.

Suddenly, his head turned, an amused smile already melting over his face as he looked at her. Gwyn jumped, eyes going wide as she pretended like she’d been doing anything other than assessing him. But the man straightened, stepping away from the case to stand slightly in front of her.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his eyes slowly traveling down to the badge around her neck before she could answer.

Gwyn hurried to cover it with a hand, some deeply ingrained instinct of self preservation telling her that she couldn’t trust him despite his friendly smile or Emerie’s pleas for her to just act normal.

He lifted a brow at her, his gaze snapping back to her face.

“Is it a secret?” he said.

“Diana,” she blurted, forcing her hand to lift away from the badge. “Diana Bishop.”

He simply stared at her for a moment, before letting out a short, caustic laugh.

“Okay.”

Gwyn narrowed her eyes, her hands turning into fists as she studied him. Gorgeous face aside, he looked absolutely normal. Black shirt tucked into immaculately pressed and tailored trousers. Stylish, attractive even–but decidedly normal.

Why, then, couldn’t she smother the feeling that he knew all of her deepest and darkest secrets?

“What was that?” she asked, flinching slightly when her voice came out slightly more accusatory than she supposed it should have. She could at least keep up the appearance that she didn’t suspect him of anything.

“Just let it go,” Emerie hissed in her ear. “Apologize and walk away.”

Apologize. For being her best friend, Emerie apparently didn’t know her at all, because instead of walking out, Gwyn took a step forward, invading the man’s space, crossing her arms over her chest so that they bumped against him. And when she looked up to his face, where she expected to see reproach, instead she saw eagerness.

“Nothing,” he practically purred. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Diana.”

Gwyn frowned, her eyes roving over his face for any sort of tell. Reason told her that he couldn’t have been like her. He was tall, and built like a damn soldier with those broad shoulders and muscles pulling the fabric of his shirt taut over his chest, but there was no way he was dangerous. He had to be normal.

And then there was that gut feeling. Like electricity arcing over her skin, sirens blaring in her ears. He had come out of nowhere.

“And what’s your name?” Gwyn said derisively.

“Fine,” Emerie sighed, resigned, into her ear. “If you won’t listen to me, fine, but when Nesta comes back–”

Irritated, Gwyn jerkily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, hooking her finger into the clear cord of her earpiece and tucking the entire thing into her palm in one movement so that he couldn’t see.

“Azriel,” he said, reaching his hand out. She noticed scars running up the lengths of his fingers towards his wrist, and she stared at the nearly mesmerizing patterns for far too long before she realized that she was meant to shake it, and she still had the earpiece in her palm.

“I have to go,” Gwyn said slowly, backing away and angling her body towards the entrance to the next exhibit.

She put Azriel at her back as she paced towards the short corridor leading to the gems and minerals exhibit, her steps quickening as she passed by the security guard she’d spotted earlier.

Azriel wouldn’t follow her, she assured herself as she crossed into the gems and minerals exhibit, where there were countless glittering gems winking at her beneath the lights. He wouldn’t follow her, because she had been so off putting and strange, he wouldn’t deem her worthy of the effort.

Placated for now, Gwyn adjusted her glasses over her nose, and swiveled her head about the room so that the camera hidden in the frames could capture the overall layout of the exhibit. It was a rushed job, not nearly as meticulous as it would have been if she wasn’t so paranoid that Azriel would jump out of nowhere with twenty armed guards ready to escort her to some secret dungeon in an underground government bunker.

Been there, done that.

She considered popping her earpiece back in, but just as she rounded the first display case at the center of the hall, a mother and child came bounding down the aisle, stopping right next to her to admire a row of amethyst.

She backed up, allowing the little boy some space, and was about to continue her walk around the rest of the room, when she ran into something hard, all of the air whooshing out of her lungs.

“Ugh,” Gwyn grunted, as hands wrapped around her upper arms and steadied her.

“Sorry,” the same voice from before said, helping her to turn around. Of course he’d followed her. She’d been off putting and strange, and he was definitely not normal.

Gwyn glared up at him, all pretenses of being some bookish bug enthusiast easily forgotten. He had found her out, she was sure of it, and she now dedicated all of her efforts towards thinking of a way to get rid of him. Collecting footage of the display cases so Emerie could catalog the contents for later was secondary, because clearly he was a threat to the mission.

Belatedly, she wished she hadn’t taken out the earpiece.

“What do you want?” Gwyn said, a hushed whisper so that the family behind her wouldn’t pick up on the thinly veiled hostility.

Azriel furrowed his brows. So he was going to pretend to be confused, then.

“You left in a hurry,” he explained. “I thought you might be in some sort of trouble, so I came to ask if you needed help. I didn’t mean to run into you.”

Gwyn scoffed. “Yeah, sure. Look, I really should be getting back.”

He hummed thoughtfully, his eyes drifting down to her badge again.

“To the… bugs?”

“Screw you,” Gwyn blurted.

She whirled away, stalking down the aisle as the mother gasped and clapped her hands over her son’s ears. Gwyn didn’t even bother with trying to capture more footage. Her cover was blown, and all she needed to do now was lose her tail without attracting anymore attention.

Unfortunately, that also meant it was rather easy for her pursuer to catch up to her.

She supposed she could kill him, if it came down to it.

“Did I insult your profession somehow?” He asked, jogging up beside her. “Was I not supposed to call them bugs?”

He came in front of her, trying to capture her gaze, which forced her to halt right beside a large tower of some type of quartz. She knew, not because she bothered to look at it, but because the reflection of it glimmered in his eyes.

“Get out of the way,” Gwyn said through her teeth as she rolled the earpiece within her palm. She glanced around him, eyes noting the camera wedged up against the ceiling. Murder was out, then.

He only smirked down at her, and just the sight of that gentle arch of his mouth was enough to convince her that he was privy to her homicidal intent, somehow. Any normal person would have walked away by now. He was staring her down like an adversary.

“Sure,” he said easily, stepping out of her way, and then waiting. Like he expected her to walk with him. “Maybe you could show me around? I had a bug phase as a kid, you know.”

Gwyn pushed ahead for the exit, struggling to ignore him as he easily matched her pace. If she could just lead him into an empty stairwell, she would be able to lose him. Knock him unconscious, and then leave him there for some poor museum employee to find. She could do it.

She tried to ignore him, and failed because then he started rambling about egg sacs, and Gwyn couldn’t take it anymore.

“Shut up,” she said. On an impulse, she grabbed his arm and pulled him with her towards a door marked Staff Only in a secluded vestibule off of the gem and mineral exhibit.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Gwyn immediately regretted her decision. Chest heaving, she looked around to see that she’d brought them into a storage room. Small, but not as tight as a closet, even with the towering stacks of clearly labeled bins around them. There were no windows, and the only lights were the strips of LEDs along the floor marking the narrow aisles.

“Diana,” Azriel said slowly, letting out a low breath as he glanced around the room. “This is all very flattering, but are you sure you want to do this here?”

“What?” Gwyn shrieked, her hands balling into fists. She backed up towards the door, where she thought she saw a broom, and considered using it to knock him out.

He was crowding her, slowly walking into her until her shoulders pressed against the door. She had been so sure, before bringing him in here, that he wanted to capture her, and with each vanishing inch between them, her mind was thrown into further disarray.

She had to get rid of him.

“I’ll admit,” he said, “There’s clearly something between us.”

Gwyn shook her head, trying to order her thoughts before she looked back up at him. “What are you talking about?”

“But don’t you think it’s a bit too soon for clandestine meetings in dark rooms?” he said.

His hands came up on either side of her head to cage her in. He leaned down, leveling her stare with one of his own, and she watched as his gaze drifted to her mouth.

“What were you thinking we would do?” he murmured. “When you led me in here?”

“Don’t play with me,” Gwyn said, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She reached out a hand, groping for the door handle.

“No?” he said, face angling to the side. Like he might try to kiss her, and the thought of it was no more terrifying than her realization that she wouldn’t have minded it.

And again, like he could hear every one of his thoughts, his mouth curved into a smile.

“Then what should I do with you?” he asked.

“Look,” Gwyn said, her fingers finally landing on the handle. She pressed herself flush against the door as he stepped closer, so that his chest wouldn’t brush against hers. “Just let me go, and I promise–”

“Let you go?” Azriel murmured, smirking at her.

“Yes,” Gwyn said flatly. She stared resolutely back at him, unwilling to allow him to see even a shred of nervousness. She could do this. She could knock him down right now, if she wanted.

So why wasn’t she?

“Let you go,” he repeated, humming as if he was turning the idea over in his mind. Considering it. His face dipped to the side, his lips somewhere near her ear when he whispered, “Why? Have you done something you shouldn’t have?”

Gwyn’s mouth fell open, her eyes roving restlessly up and down the side of his face as she tried to reconcile the part of her that desperately wanted to see him lying across the floor as she smacked him repeatedly with the broom handle–with the part of her that wanted to see him lying across the floor as she crawled over him and pressed her tongue to his neck.

Her fingers slipped off of the door handle, and were reaching for his shirt collar to do something, when the door suddenly opened behind her, knocking her into his arms. She scrambled for a moment, her hands peeling his off of her waist as he tried to steady her.

Above them, the overhead light flashed on, and she squinted against the harsh light as she turned to face the person who had walked in.

“What are you doing in here?” one of the security guards frowned at them.

Gwyn’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to come up with a reasonable excuse as Azriel scrubbed his hand over his mouth beside her, trying to hide a grin. She had just landed on I got lost, when the security guard groaned, stepping to the side to let them pass.

“They don’t pay me enough to deal with this,” he muttered to himself. He looked up at the ceiling, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’d think adults would behave with some decency.”

Gwyn glared at the security guard, brushing past him and out the door. She expected Azriel to be right behind her, but once she’d gotten over her indignation at having someone assume she’d been doing indecent things with him in public, she turned to look behind her.

Only to see the back of his head.

He was going in the opposite direction.

Stunned, Gwyn tore the lanyard off over her head and chucked it into the nearest trash can. She headed straight for the main staircase at the end of the vestibule, where she knew she could reach the museum atrium and eventually the exit. She needed to get out of there, needed to get lost in a crowd so she could rid herself of the feeling of being watched.

He had let her go.

It didn’t make sense, Gwyn thought as she hurried down the steps. He’d clearly been onto her, had clearly recognized that she was up to something. Any reasonable person wouldn’t have let her go, especially not if she had been his target in the first place. Gwyn wouldn’t have let him go, if the roles were reversed, and if she wasn’t so concerned with getting out of the damn building, she would have been right on his heels.

There was something wrong, Gwyn knew. And she would have to head back to Emerie and Nesta and tell them.

Tell them they needed to call this mission off.

#acotar secret santa #acotar gift exchange 2023 #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel x gwyn #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #modern au #museum heist #enemies to lovers #meet ugly

69 notes · View notes