i did sketch tails so i guess he will be coloured

Letters II

for the first chapter- read here

@immobulusmalfoy @philthepegacorn @perksofeatingbacon

It all starts when she first sees him alone. No friends. No enemies. Just him, a sketchbook, and two birds in a nest. Its the loneliness that strikes her, not like lightning, but a match. She doesn’t swoon, or fawn, or even crack a grin. Its a tiny flame of interest permeating in her thoughts. When she sees him shove a first year in the halls, or snicker idly with bad influences, her thoughts will flash to the simple boy on the edge of the forest, humming Chopin and drawing the trees.
Her friends all know she’s taken a liking to him. Specifically, Luna. Her ‘inner eye’ can sense the romance brewing. Or, perhaps, she simply spoke with Theo. Its no lie that Theodore fancies Lovegood. If you look closely, you’ll see them wade in the lake just past midnight.
Its a Friday night when Blaise and Draco finally manage to decode their notes. They trudge into the dormitory, moods covered in molasses. He has a faint smile of relief, knowing the weekend will be no trouble at all, until something odd catches his eye. It isn’t a mess. There isn’t anything. His desk is empty.
A bubbling feeling of lava boils inside his gut, threatening to regurgitate his morning tea all over the new sheets. He spins around, platinum eyes trained onto Theo’s sleeping back.
‘YOU RAT!’ With the strength of a magnet, he hurls Theodore out of his sleep, tossing him onto the messy, boy’s dormitory carpet. ‘Draco, what-’ ‘MY LETTERS, NOTT!’ Blaise looks over, unamused. ‘Look, I-I don’t, I, we-your, Macbeth, he-’
Cool. Calm. Collected.
That’s all he has to be right now. He crouched down, back straight, expression solid. There’s nothing more terrifying than peace before the storm.
‘Theodore-’ He lifts a hand, brushing away the fallen tendril of charcoal. ‘What did you do?’ ‘I was just sitting, doing my work, and then your bird, Macbeth, the Malfoy owl, the one that you trained, that’s been serving your family since your father came to Hogwarts, Macbeth, he just flew in, and then, since I had a rat’s tail, from Potions, the class we’ve been in together since year one, I gave it to him and he really liked it, so then I pet his head, and he was delivering a package, that I might have eaten a bit of, and then I told Macbeth about your letters, and how you’d never get the courage to send them, and then he just flew off.’ Silence. Draco lowered his gaze, collecting his rage, meeting his gaze, leaning in until their noses brushed. ‘That was a bad decision, Nott.’ A gulp added to the tension. ‘By tomorrow morning, Loony won’t even be able to look at you.’ Theo was finally a dead man.
When she hears a rapping at her window, she knows someone is terribly wrong.  Its like an omen at the beginning of a horror film, or the waves pulling back before the tsunami. Hesitantly, she flicks her wand towards the knobs, letting an unknown owl enter the room. It spins its head towards her, giant golden eyes peering into hers’, as if judging whether or not she deserved its message. Apparently she did, since Macbeth left without a hoot or stack of letters. Y/n swallowed an uneasy lump in her throat, her mind arguing with her judgement. Judgement lost.
Her nimble fingers flicked to a letter with the earliest date. The wind blew into her lungs, as she opened the first of a series of stories.

Dearest Y/n,

It seems as though my days are monotonous. Every hour, every minute, and every second I’m swallowed into a world of grey and black. I feel trapped in an earth with no colour or love or meaning. I felt that way, at least. That was until I first saw you. I was out by my thinking tree, completely barren of idea or wonder, when I noticed a young girl weeping. Suddenly, the grey turned into pastel blue, and the black, a willowing taupe. It was muted, but it was colour. I picked up my charcoal and began sketching. My hands were moving all on their own, since I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Your hair was wild and your robes were wrinkled. Every bit of you screamed out to me, and I wanted nothing more than to pull you into my arms and sing you to sleep. But fate is not kind. Your tears diminished and your sobs stopped reaching my ears. You left the field and left my sketchbook, a half drawn girl still crying in my pages.


Draco L. Malfoy

She couldn’t know what to think. Draco Malfoy. The boy in her potions class. He’s mean, and arrogant, and an artist. He’s a gory film you want to look away from yet won’t find the strength, because your gut is disgusted but your eyes are astonished, and you can’t seem to pull away.
She opens the next letter.

Dearest Y/n,

I won the quidditch game today! Slytherin verses Gryffindor, and I caught the snitch! I couldn’t help but look into the stands to see if you were there, and guess what? I found you! You don’t know how much it meant, seeing you cheer for me. I felt like puking up glitter and sinking into a pool of chocolate syrup. I wanted to fly loop-de-loops and scream until my lungs ached. Instead, I smiled at you, and hoped you’d notice.
I want to take you flying one day. I’d be a bastard, too, and make sure to take deep dives and sharp turns, just to feel your hands clench around me. God, what I would give to feel you hold me. I’d cut off my hand if it meant getting to hold yours for eternity. If I lost my voice, I’d want to tell you I love you just one time before becoming mute for the rest of my days. Yet, the only words I’ve ever said to you were ‘thank you,’ after you passed me a lacewing fly.
I don’t think I’ll ever be brave enough to speak to you a full sentence, or ever be brave enough to love you, but years from now, when we’re both divorced, I hope to run into you at Diagon Alley, and maybe say three words instead of two.

Truly and Unconditionally Yours,

Draco L. Malfoy

Lowering the letter, her lungs began to contract.
Love- a word more powerful than any spell.
She could hear her heart beating out of her ears as she began tearing the envelopes apart.









Words began popping out of the pages, letters of longing and praying and lusting and wanting surrounding her conscious like flies to a meal. As she dissected a half written letter dated on February 14th, an alarming knock shook her out of thought.
‘Y/n? There’s someone here to see you. Says he’s got a wrong to make right.’
She didn’t have to guess who it was.
The second she opened the door, her eyes met an anxious boy, lips red with bight marks and brows furrowed in fear.
He can’t help but feel honored that she knows his name. At the same time, its met with paralleled trepidation.
‘Have you-er-gottten, or um, received-’
‘I’ve read your letters.’
It’s a breath of release and a choked gag of horror. She knows. Is it a horrible fate that she realizes his affections, or a blessing in disguise?
‘You have.’ She lifts her gaze to him, digesting his disheveled appearance. He looks like he walked through a hurricane to make it to her door. His hair is a nest from pulling too hard on his locks, and his tie hangs limp after having tightened and loosened far too many times. For a moment, he doesn’t look like Malfoy: the bully, the bad guy, the hopeless, but instead, looks like the boy she watched sketch in the evening, with the gentle soul and kind smile.
‘Go to your tree next Friday at five, after class. I’ll have something waiting for you.’ With a soft click, her door closes, and he’s met with every horrible and remarkable emotion, flooding his ribcage all at once.
He can’t know what to feel. All day, his right leg has been racing, jumping up and down in anticipation for what’s to come. When Trelawney bids the class a happy weekend, he flies out the door, legs tumbling down the castle and towards the forest. He’s surprised to find she isn’t there. No Y/n. No sign of her presence. Instead, as he makes his way to the towering oak, he finds sixty two letters, nailed to the bark. He rips them off, finding each page with different messages. His heart stops as he unfolds the first.

Dear Draco,

I read your first letter today. I could feel my lungs decompress every ounce of air once I realized your deepest desires. I can’t help but feel the same. You’re a magical human being, and the world would be dull without you. It would simply be..monotonous. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to go through your sketchbook sometime. Say, right now?
If you want to draw a girl smiling and kissing a handsome artist, go to the Room of Requirement.
Just wish for me.

Always Yours,

Y/n L/n

Marichat Day 10: What If...

*Waves hands in the general direction of this story*

I don’t know what this is. I’m sorry. I was supposed to be writing the Marichat Day 11 prompt, but was immediately inspired by Day 10 instead so… Oops? Also, this has been 0% edited because its 1:30 am and I could wait until tomorrow to edit/ post but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

It’s accidentally almost 2k lol oops ,,

What If…

“What if I told you to come back next week, same time?” She asked softly, trying to read the bright green eyes staring back at her. She isn’t sure what compelled her to ask, what made her want him to return. But it was there, and she had been biting back the question all night. Maybe it was because he looked lonely, she thought. Maybe it’s because his ears were drooped and his tail was limp when she caught him sitting out on her balcony. Maybe it was the way he seemed to come to life when she made him laugh, when she snuck him some cookies, when she talked about her new designs. Maybe it was the way his smile made her feel light inside. She isn’t sure exactly what it is, but she’s drawn to him in a way she can’t explain.

“Well, I guess I’d see you next week,” He says, a small but pleased smile on his lips.

“Maybe I’ll have some warm croissants saved for you, just in case you do come by.” She says, and watches the way his smile brightens even more, his eyes almost actually look happy.

“Maybe I won’t be able to wait until next week then,” He says with a chuckle, and Marinette beams. He leaves a short while later, and Marinette almost wishes she could have asked him to stay a little longer.


“What if I told you to never come back?” Marinette asked softly, avoiding his eyes. She can’t look at him, not when his eyes are so easy to read. He wears his expressions so openly with her, it’s like she has a front row seat to his soul. It’s amazing and awe-inspiring and heartbreaking all at once. Because it’s too much.

He came back every week, the same night, the same time. They smiled and laughed and shared treats. She showed him her sketches, he sat and watched her sow, she drew pictures of him. They coloured on magazine pictures together, sitting on the balcony and watching the sun set. They played video games while sitting shoulder to shoulder. They laid on their backs and counted stars together, and he told her that she shined brighter than every star in the universe. He napped in her lap while she played with his hair, listening to music softly. They sang to goofy songs together, making up the words when they forgot them.

She got so used to seeing him, to him landing on her balcony and knocking on her door, to him smiling at her with those soulful green eyes that always seemed to be sincerely happy to see her. She got so used to his smile and his laugh and his voice and his arms around her and when did she get so used to this? When did this become something she wasn’t sure she could live without? When did she fall in love with Chat Noir?

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. But the more she thought about it, the more she knew for certain that she was in love with him. The way her stomach swooped when he smiled. How she anxiously waited for him to come visit, sitting on her balcony in joyful anticipation. How she examined herself in the mirror before he arrived, adding a little colour to her lips, hoping he’ll notice. She was in love with him. And she felt horrible.

How could she ever really love him? After she had spurred him away as Ladybug? After she had rejected him time and time again? And what about Adrien? Her heart still longed for the other blonde boy in her life. How could she love them both at the same time? It wasn’t fair to either of them.

Chat Noir was quiet for a long time, and Marinette caved in and looked into those green, green eyes. She expected to see confusion, heartbreak, anger, something. But he was closed off. And that hurt even more than any other emotion he could’ve shown. He was never closed off with her, not even after a stressful day. He was always so sincere and honest with every look. She never had to wonder how he felt or if he was being authentic. But not tonight. Because Marinette had slammed the book shut.

“Well,” He said, turning away to lean against the balcony banister. He stared off at the starry night for a long moment, contemplating what he was going to say. “If that’s what you wanted Princess, I’d never come back.”

Marinette’s eyes filled with tears, no matter how much she willed them away. How dare this boy still be sweet when she was nothing but unfair and cruel?

“I don’t want you to stay away.” She said softly, her voice weak and strained. She didn’t want to cry in front of him. It wasn’t another burden she could bear to put on his back.

“Then I’ll come back. I’ll do whatever you need me to do Marinette.” The sincerity was back, but Marinette didn’t dare to look up and see.

They spent a long moment in silence, before Marinette took a deep breath. She couldn’t look at the super hero, so instead she spoke to the night sky. “It’s getting late, you should probably go.” Her voice sounded much colder than she wanted it to. Chat Noir shifted, and Marinette was filled with panic. Was he leaving? Was he angry? Did he hate her? Would he leave and never come back? She reached out for him, grasping his hand but still refusing to look at him. She found herself at a loss for words.

“Same time next week?” He asked softly, and all Marinette could do was nod. Chat hummed beside her, before leaning over and gently kissing her forehead. He squeezed her hand once and then was gone, disappearing into the night sky. Marinette felt her heart breaking more as he got farther away.


“What if I asked you to never leave?”

Was that a selfish thing to ask, she asks to herself? It’s too late to take the words back now, but she can’t help but wish she could grab the words and shove them back where they came from. Now that they’re spoken out loud though, Marinette desperately needs to know the answer. She had been wondering ever since the kiss. What would happen if he just stayed?

It had taken Marinette a long time to sort her feelings out. She felt horrible for taking her emotions out on Chat, for putting more of her emotional baggage in his hands. She apologized to him the next week, when he returned without fail. She had baked hi special kitty cookies to make up for being a horrible friend the week prior. He assures her that his feelings were purrfectly intact, but Marinette still couldn’t shake the image of Chat closing his walls on her. Not that she blamed him, of course. She had attacked him with her question out of the blue. How was he supposed to know she was having an emotional crisis?

In the end, it had taken a few weeks for her to really sort her feelings out. Should she beat herself up for having feelings for two different boys? Tikki assured her that it was completely normal for humans to have romantic affection for many people at once, and even her mother had assuaged the young girl’s guilt. She cared for Adrien very deeply, maybe even loved him. But she didn’t even know him, not really. Chat Noir had opened up for her in a way that no one else could, and there was no denying the love she held for her superhero partner.

It had taken weeks after that before she had the guts to kiss him. The thought had been there, in the back of her mind every time he came to visit. The moonlight would shine on his face in the perfect way and she’d just think kiss him. Kiss him now. But she never did. She made a lame joke that made him laugh so hard he fell off his chair, and she internally crooned kiss him you idiot. But she didn’t. She made a pun and watched his face light up with pure, unadulterated joy, and she practically screamed at herself to just bloody kiss him already! But still, she resisted. It wasn’t until they were sitting at her computer playing video games that she actually decided that tonight would be the night that she kissed him. If he wanted to, at least.

And she did. She had been so distracted during their video game match that Chat Noir had actually managed to get the upper hand and win the game. He hooted with joy at the victory and was about to turn and playfully rub it in Marinette’s face. Except Marinette’s face was a lot closer than he was expecting.

“A victory kiss,” She breathed, and watched the way Chat Noir’s eyes flicked to her lips, the way his tongue darted out to wet his own, and she leaned in, pressing her lips against his. It was sweet, innocent, and yet they were both completely out of breath by the time they parted.

“God I’ve been wanted to do that for so long now,” He breathed, and Marinette felt her heart swell.

She wanted to ask them there, then, if he could stay. Never leave, just… stay there, with her. But she couldn’t find the words and even if she could, it was too soon to say them. In the end he had to leave, because it was late and a school night. But he promised to return the next night, and every night after that if she wanted.

They’ve kissed a few more times since then, at least once per visit, but they haven’t talked about what it meant. Marinette wonders if he’s hesitating for the same reason she is. If they decide to take this further than just innocent kisses, it would mean everything would change, forever. There’s no way Marinette could date the boy without telling him that she’s Ladybug first. And Chat Noir wouldn’t want to date her if he couldn’t do it as a civilian. And while Marinette wanted nothing more than to be able to love Chat Noir in all forms… Were either of them really ready for that?

In the end, it hadn’t mattered if they were ready or not. Not when Ladybug accidentally witnessed Chat Noir detransforming after one long, draining akuma attack, upon which she discovered that the blond superhero she was in love with was also the blond super model she was in love with. Of course Marinette decided the best course of action was to wait for Chat on her balcony that night transformed as Ladybug, so that all secrets were on the table. That led to one very long, very late conversation, which leads to…

“Well my lady, I guess I’d have to build myself a fort here on your balcony and stay forever,” He mused, pulling Marinette in closer. They were standing on the balcony, leaning against the railing and staring at the Eiffel Tower, enjoying each other’s company.

“You know what I mean, kitty.” She said with a soft chuckle, entwining her hand with her boyfriend’s.

“I’m all yours Marinette,” He murmured, kissing her temple. “I’ll be here for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever it is then,” She said, turning to face him, reaching up on her tiptoes and sealing the deal with a kiss.

Oxymoron(ic) (1/4)

Summary: “Hey I have to photograph someone for class will you be my model?”
 ((In which Dan hates contrast and Phil is a walking oxymoron))

Genre:  fluff and traces of angst (probably who knows these days)

Warning: swearing and some mentions of self hatred/self criticizing 

Words: 8k

A/N: i worked rlly hard on this jesus christ almighty heaven aboVE. SHOUT OUT TO hcwell for beta'ing 4 me and howlterdil for forcing me 2 write a plan i love u guyz. Still dyslexic btw so if something isn’t making sense just hmu and i’ll fix is ASAP!!

Dan sighed as he skimmed over the assessment sheet he’d received several moments beforehand, attempting to read while not bumping intoanyone in the halls of the sixth form college. Dan hated photography, he really did. He didn’t mind the whole camera part and the actual class, but his teacher was absolutely awful. She was old and kind, truly, and Dan felt bad speaking badly of her, but she couldn’t teach, and when she did, she taught the syllabus that was drafted in stone by Neanderthals and wasn’t nearly close to the standard of the modern syllabus.

Keep reading

Bright - Luke Hemmings

In which Luke is a struggling tattoo artist

Word count: 3.1k
Rating: PG-13

Written by Madalyn x ( @razorblade-hemmings )

As a kid, I had dreamed of having my art in a gallery for everyone to see.
All my drawings and paintings displayed all around a huge room to be admired and sought after.

Flash forward six years and I find myself wondering how the fuck I had ended up like this; 18 years old and so busy with university and working at some shitty little art and craft store in some bullshit mall.

I didn’t even draw like I used to anymore.
My greatest passion in life simply withered away under the stress of growing up, buried under mountains of homework and textbooks.

There was only one little thing that made coming into that cramped and damp smelling nest of misery every damn day.
One blonde asshole covered in tattoos that were probably a mistake if the only job he could get was at some shitty art and craft store.
He was a musician, and from what I had seen, his bandmates were about the same as him. One of his best mates, Calum, always came in after his shift at JayJays, constantly complaining about the amount of twelve year old girls and little twats who constantly swamped into his store.
Should have seen it coming, though. JayJays is twice as bad as Hot Topic.

Looking up from my book sitting on the counter of the, as always, empty store, I spotted a familiar head of curly hair bounding into the store and down the aisles towards the counter.
He plonked a plastic bag down on my counter before I could say anything and I knew exactly what it was.

“Oh my fucking god. I love you so much.” I told him, earning a chuckle from the tall blonde.

“Don’t tell my boss. If he finds out I keep stealing food for you and shitdick at the end of my shift I’ll get fired. Again. Where is he, anyway?” He asked, pulling himself up to sit on the counter and open the bag.

“Probably in the back drawing again. Either that or he’s sleeping. He’s been working at that tattoo place for the last month. Don’t know when he has time to sleep. I’ll just go make sure he hasn’t passed out.”

I turned tail and headed down the aisles to the closed door hidden behind a rack of coloured cardboard and magic markers, marked as ‘Staff Only’ and sure enough, there he was, propped up against the wall in his own little world with his sketch book on his lap as he scribbled away.

Seeing him like that was definitely one of the better parts of my job. He just looked so calm when he was working on his art, whether it was a new tattoo or just some little doodle, it was his element and he owned it.

“Hey, Luke. Ashton’s here. He brought stolen KFC and Pepsi with him.” I called from the doorway after watching him for at least two minutes.

He didn’t look up, but he did let out a small chuckle.

“Why didn’t you tell me that when you walked in instead of just standing there like a dickhead for that long?” He asked, a hint of laughter in his tired voice.

I rolled my eyes, leaning back against the doorway before walking down and sitting beside him.

“What’re you working on that’s so much more important than eating shitty chicken?” I asked, looking down at the detailed drawing on the page. “Whatever its for, it’s incredible..”

He shrugged, finally looking up at me with tired and dark eyes.

“A friend of mine wanted me to design a tattoo for them, and I have no appointments so if I get it done I’ll be able to do it tonight. Maybe it’ll keep me from falling asleep where I stand, yanno?”

His voice was as exhausted as his face looked, and he cut himself off with a yawn.

I let out a soft sigh, taking his sketchbook and closing it, ignoring his protests.

“Get up, dickhead. Go eat something. You’re keeping your friend waiting.” I chuckled, standing up and taking his hand to pull his half asleep frame from the position it had been in for the last three hours at least.

I found that he was basically dragging his feet as he walked, reminding me of an inky zombie.

“You don’t look too good, dude. You okay?” Ashton asked through a mouthful of food as I pulled him through the brightly coloured aisles back to the counter, where the curly haired blonde was sitting, stuffing his face with chicken.

“Just a bit tired. I’m all good.” Luke assured his best friend, chuckling a little at him tearing into the drumstick like a madman.

Rolling my eyes, I sat up on my chair behind the counter while Luke sat up next to his best friend on the counter, pulling the last two boxes out of the plastic bag and handing me one before opening his own.

“Are you two, like, together yet? Because It should happen.”

An almost synchronised choking noise escaped both Luke and I’s mouth and rang out the room, leaving us both trying to cough up the bit of chicken we had collectively inhaled.

“What?!” Luke choked, smacking his chest and coughing while Ashton just laughed his ass off.

“Uh, No, were not. I don’t think were even friends.” I said, taking a sip from my Pepsi to try and calm myself.
“I wouldn’t go that far. I think were friends. What makes you think we’re not friends?” Luke asked, looking up from his food, finished choking and now looking a little hurt that I had said that.

I shrugged, knowing I had just fucked up big time.
Wow, good job.

“We never hang out outta of work and all you do is draw, yanno?” I said, playing it off casually. “I hardly know anything about you.”

At this point, Ashton decided to interject.

“Well, you two finish your shift at the same time. Why don’t you take her to the tattoo place and show her around, Luke? You like tattoos don’t you, Y/N?” he asked, trying to salvage this conversation.

Luke nodded, a small smile appearing on his pink lips.

“I’d love to if you’re down. You’ve been talking about getting a tattoo for months now. Someone who wasn’t your friend wouldn’t know that.” He told me, standing up and finishing his food, downing the rest of his Pepsi before disappearing down into the supply closet again, back down to his cave for the rest of his shift just like every other day.

Ashton and I just looked at each other, shaking our head.

“I’d say his head is up his ass but clearly it’s in that fuckin’ sketchbook, huh?” He joked and I chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The rest of my shift went by slowly and painfully.

Just as I had suspected, Luke didn’t reappear once, until I heard an alarm from the closet to let him know that his shift was over and that they had to close up.

“We still on for tonight?” He asked, surprising me as I locked the register and covered up the models in the front window.

“We what now?” I asked, making him laugh at my confused expression.

“Tonight? You were gonna come with me to work, remember?” he asked and a lightbulb clicked on in my head.

“Oh! You were being serious about that, huh?” I asked and I could have sworn he went slightly pale, but it was hard to tell under the gorgeous pictures covering the skin right up to his chin.

“Uh, yeah. But I mean, like, If you don’t wanna… that’s cool. It was just a suggestion to keep Ash off our back, yanno?” He said quickly, trying to defend himself and bringing a hand to scratch the back of his neck anxiously.

I chuckled, shaking my head at his anxiety.

“Of course I wanna go. You were right about the tattoo thing. Maybe I’ll get it tonight. Pick me up on the way?” I asked, winking at him and he just nodded, unable to find a response.

I wrote down my number and my address on a bit of paper for him, giving him a short hug before I headed out to my car, leaving him standing star stuck in the store.


About an hour later, I got a text from him letting me know that he would be at mine in an hour and I bit my lip. I hadn’t even began to get ready.

I mean, I’ve never really dressed for a guy.  I’m perfectly fine with going on a date in sweats and my cat shirt that’s like six sizes too big, but something about being alone with Luke made me wanna at least try and make a good impression.

I threw myself in the shower, brushing off the Dorito crumbs after I had just assumed my after-workdefault position: curled up in bed eating a whole bag of nacho cheese Doritos.  I probably have a permanent cheese odour.

After pulling on some skinny jeans and a decent t-shirt, there was a knock on my door.
Ah fuck. He was early.

Throwing my hair into a crappy ponytail, I ran down the stairs, tripping on the last one and landing on the floor with a loud bang and an even louder screech of “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK”

Í swung open the front door of my house with a groan and hair flying everywhere as I attempted to tame it once again.
“Uhhhh, hi?”
“You’re, uh, you’re early.” I stuttered, trying to act casual as I retied my hair again.
“Yeah.. Sorry. My manager called and said I had a client come in early so I have to get down there, like, now…” He looked pretty embarrassed. “I did text you but I guess you didn’t get it.”

I let out a groan, knowing I should have checked my phone as soon as I got out of the shower.
“Just let me throw some shoes on and we’ll go. Sorry… Didn’t even think to check.”

I rushed into my bedroom, grabbing my phone and taking a deep breath. Jesus, tonight wasn’t going well. I quickly pulled on my sneakers and hurried back downstairs, following Luke out to his car. We hardly spoke the whole ride, but the music that was playing made it less awkward. At least he had good taste in music.

“you look really pretty by the way.” He told me sheepishly as we walked into the brightly lit store, smiling to himself and making me snicker.
“You kidding? I literally fell down the stairs twenty minutes ago.” I told him and I heard him let out a chuckle.
“Ahh, that was probably my fault. Sorry.” He said, looking down at he walked and shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Eh. Don’t beat yourself up.” I told him, following him inside.

I was instantly star stuck. The art covering the walls was beautiful. They all had different signatures on them, but there was one wall with drawings that I recognized, and a signature that I knew.
“Did you draw all these?” I asked, turning to him as he shrugged off his jacket.

“What do you think I do at work all the time? I sure as fuck don’t work.” he laughed, walking over to me. “The customer gave me permission to let you watch so you can come with me if you want.”

Although the sound of the needle was daunting, I couldn’t take my eyes off his hands.
The way they worked was so smooth and natural, it was like he was made to do that.
His face was masked with a look of concentration as he worked, taking extra care not to hurt the person any more than he already was, and to make sure he did it right.

The end result was something I had never seen before, and I gave the woman he had been tattooing a bug thumbs up as she left to pay for her new body art.

“You’re incredible at that. Wow.” I told him, turning to the tattooed blonde who was cleaning up his needles and ink.
He shrugged off my compliment.
“It’s just something I’ve been interested in since I was a kid and when I tried it for the first time, I fell in love with it. I’ve had a fair bit of practice.” He told me, sitting back in the chair that his client had been sitting in minutes ago.

Biting at my bottom lip, I watched him leaned back and close his eyes. He looked pretty peaceful. He looked happiest here.  I knew I was ready for this as soon as I saw how natural it looked for him, and I pulled out my wallet, finding a folded up piece of paper.

Opening it, I handed it to him and put my wallet away, watching him for a reaction.
“What’s this?” he asked, sitting up and looking over it. “It’s gorgeous.”
“That’s my tattoo. That’s what I want.” I told him, making him look up.
“And you want me to do it for you? Are you sure you wanna do that?” He asked and I nodded.
“I wouldn’t want anyone else to do it.” I told him, and I swore I saw a small blush spread across his cheeks.
“Well, I’d be happy to do it.”


I took in a deep breath, nerves flaring up as I laid shirtless on my side in the chair. I knew it was gonna hurt but it was only now I was considering how much it would actually hurt.

His fingers on my skin offered a little comforting, though. Drawing out the stencil and cleaning the skin had somehow managed to calm me down a bit, my burst of courage well and truly gone.
“It’s not as bad as you think. I promise. It’ll be over before you know it.” He told me and I flinched, hearing the buzz of the needle.

I closed my eyes tightly as I first felt it pierce my skin, and I was right, it fucking hurt. He must have sensed my pain, or at least heard the whimper I surely let out because I felt the needle fall away from my skin, and one hand on my shoulder.
“Are you sure you really wanna do this? Are you absolutely certain?” he asked and I rolled my eyes, laughing at him.
“Luke, yes, now hurry up and start it.” I told him and he shot me a concerned look before starting again.

Although it hurt, it was manageable, and a few hours later he had finished it, helping me stand up and look at my new tattoo.
“Do you like it? I feel like I did it wrong…” He muttered, looking at it carefully and chewing t the black ring through his lip. I shook my head at his anxiety and chuckled.
“Luke, stop. I love it. I really love it. Thank you so much.”  I told him, bringing him to face me again, a smile clear on my face.

He seemed to calm slightly, but only slightly.
“Oi, Luke! I’m closing up early. You and your girlfriend can head home if you want.” I heard his manager call from the other room, making me blush.

“She’s not my girlfriend, Michael!” He called back, seeming a little on edge and defensive. It was quite cute actually.
“Oh, I thought I was! That’s so mean. You’re so mean to me!” I said, loud enough for his manager to hear, earning a chuckle from him.
“He’s never gonna leave me alone now, you know.” He told me, crossing his arms.

Oh, hello there confidence. Where have you been? Welcome home.
I rolled my eyes at him, grabbing onto one of his arms and pulling his body to mine, making him gasp.

“Don’t be so sensitive then, Blondie.” I smirked, standing on my toes to press my lips to his in a simple peck, meaning to pull away, but before I could he caught me and pulled me in for a deeper kiss.

My eyes widened a little, expecting to be rejected but now pleasantly surprised. His arms uncrossed and wrapped around my waist, bringing me even closer. I felt him smiling against my lips, and I couldn’t stop myself doing the same.

“Not my girlfriend my ass.”

I pulled away and turned just to see a set of keys hit the back of Luke’s head, making him let out a noise of disapproval and me a giggle.
“Come on. I’m cold. Take me home.” I told him and he just nodded, eyes slightly wide and his cheeks red, hot under the collar of his leather jacket.
“Uhh, yep! Okay.” he murmured as if trying to work out what happened.  Rolling my eyes for the umpteenth time, I walked out into the main waiting room and began turning off the lights while he just stood there dumbstruck by my actions.

“I better get paid for doing your damn job, Hemmings.” I called, pulling him out of his trance.
“How about I take you to dinner? Friday. I’ll pay.” he said, walking into the room with paler cheeks.
“Sounds like fun. Ill consider it.” I winked and he shook his head, smiling a bit and leading me out the door, locking it, and then taking me out to his car.

Once again, the drive home was quiet apart from the radio, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it was more comfortable than any conversation could be.

It wasn’t far, and the drive was over far too soon.  "So, I’ll see you at work tomorrow yeah?“ I asked, turning to see him staring at me.
"Of course. I’ll be counting down the hours.” He winked, making me laugh.
I leaned over and pressed my lips to his, hand resting on his smooth cheek and tilting my head a little bit.

Slowly pulling back, I chewed at my bottom lip and opened the door.

“Goodnight, Luke.”
“Goodnight, Y/N.”

I stepped out and closed the door behind me, waving to him and shooting him a little smile before turning and heading up the path to my front door, grin planted on my face and with no future plans of moving.

Guess Ashton was right, huh?

The Clabbert Sketcher

Request: “Hello! Could you write NewtxMuggle!artist? She is sitting in some public place (park/cafe/etc) sketching in her notebook. One of the creatures gets existed and goes to see what’s she doing. Or any other plot, really)) Thank you, have a nice day c:”

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader

Word Count: 1255

Warnings: None

A/n: kinda wavered from the original “public place” setting, but I wanted to introduce an unfamiliar creature and have Newt be cute about it and yeah :) this is short and shitty n i’m sorry bc i’m sick affffffffffffff

“Now be sure to drink lots of water, folks. Hottest day of the year!”

You grumbled, switching the radio off. You stood from your bed, deciding that being cooped up in your tiny apartment with nearly no windows was to suffer a fate worse than burning at the stake. The small, stiff windows provided little airflow, and even though you had set up 3 fans around your bedroom, you could almost hear the paint melting off the walls. You collected your small sketchbook and pencils, throwing them carelessly into your bag, heading out the door with a huff.

You walked out onto the somewhat quiet streets of New Orleans, eyes peering curiously through the many windows that were flung open, watching people red from the uncomfortable heat fanning themselves desperately. It didn’t help that the area you currently lived in was near a large swamp, and in this type of heat, it wasn’t unusual to see an alligator bathing in the running fountains in town square.

You decided to take this opportunity, of quiet and stillness, to try to find some wildlife to draw. It seemed like a good idea, since when the temperature was soaring it was a lot easier to find the wild fauna taking a dip in the cool swamp water. You only hoped that you wouldn’t come across an alligator.

You trudged through the dense mud, the humidity of the swamp making you extremely light headed. But you wanted so desperately to sketch out the likeness of all the brilliant creatures, since a camera in this day and age was far too expensive for a young person like yourself. You sighed, taking a break to sit down on a fallen log, wiping the condensation from your forehead. You jumped slightly when an unfamiliar croak chimed.

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A/N: Heeeeeeeeeeeeey well this got longer than expected. And with more soft core smut / hardcore make out put behind purity marks! New character, and tons of information! Very filled chapter lol, with a fun little ending :P

Natsu Dragneel is just an ordinary 21 year old trying to get by on his craft’s business, keep his landlady off his ass, and grow his friendship with his new weird neighbour Lucy. Without revealing that he’s a witch. Or his cat can fly and talk. So maybe Natsu isn’t that normal. Things take a serious left turn for him when people from his past start showing up, and he and Lucy as well as some new -and old- friends travel across Fiore trying to find some answers. But the question is, will they be happy with what they find?

Wiccan!Natsu AU

Pairings: Nalu, Fairy Tail

Words: 7965

Rating: M

Part: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven,Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen,Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty, Part Twenty One, Part Twenty Two, Part Twenty Three

“Are you sure?”

“Yes Natsu, I’m sure. You said the reason my plant hated me was because there was a very angry sprite that lived in it and choose me for some reason,”.

“But Lushiiiiiiii, she’s scary. She smells like fish but she’s not one and it’s confusing!”

Happy’s loud wail made Natsu and Lucy share a look, Natsu agreeing with Happy and Lucy telling him that if he agreed with his cat there would be no more kissing today. Which Natsu could not live with.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine buddy. Somehow…” Natsu tried to placate, but his own unease was noticeable in his voice and Lucy rolled her eyes at the two.

“Ok, so how exactly do I… summon her? I guess?” Lucy asked, looking questioningly between the two. Lucy and Natsu were sitting on the sofa, Lucy sinking into the space made by Natsu’s legs as he sat cross legged in the center. Happy flew around their heads anxiously, unable to sit still, or maybe staying ready for a speedy getaway. Either way Natsu couldn’t blame him. He eyed the plant warily again, the glass bowl sitting harmlessly on the coffee table in front of them.

“Just ask her to come out. She will, if she wants to that is,” Natsu explained in her ear, resting his chin on the shoulder that her braided hair didn’t fall over. He nuzzled the soft wool on her shoulder as she took a deep breath, a soft grin cracking his worry-pinched lips as Lucy mumbled about his dramatics. She settled more into his lap, and Natsu gave her an encouraging squeeze to her hips as way of support.

“Okay… Aquarius, would you please come out?” Lucy asked, voice wavering slightly from her nerves. She had taken the news that her plant housed an other worldly sprite surprisingly well, but Natsu guessed that even Lucy had her limits, amazing as she was. A soft gasp made Natsu pull away from his fawning over the girl snuggled in his lap, her already large brown eyes growing wider as she stared at the flower before them.

A bloom of golden light was rising from the center of the flower, sparkling transparent petals unfurling until a soft burst of light similar to Happy’s wings disappearing rained golden sparkles that dissolved into the air around the glass bowl. But the shower of magic dust was only barely noticed, as Lucy was left gaping at the figure floating before her. The image of a mermaid with a blue tail and aquamarine hair floated in the air, finned tail twitching in annoyance as Lucy continued to stare at her.

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Pairing: NaLu.
AU: Artist/Model.
Dedication: lucysenpaii.

A/N: I’m pretty sure it’s midnight there, right? Making it May 3rd! Happy Birthday Martina! I hope you have a wonderful day. <3

;Loving him is like trying to change your mind once you’re already flying through the free fall. Like the colours in autumn, so bright just before they lose it all.

“Y-you want me to what?” 

Natsu assessed every inch of her frame as he began preparing his paints. She watched him fill the pallets and prepare colours he thought ‘suitable’ for her skin tone, her eyes, her hair. She felt naked.

An ironic sentiment, really.

“Strip,” he raised his thumb and gestured to the bed, “And sit over there.”

“T-this is what you meant by ‘modelling’?!” she squeaked.

“You don’t want to be my model?” he blinked, seemingly confused as to why she’d feel shy about taking off her clothes. 

She should have known – he wasn’t interested in seeing her body; not even a little. He was only interested in his art. It was strange, really, that he’d asked her to be his model in the first place. He’d said it was urgent, though. That his muse was drifting. That she was his inspiration. She’d fallen for those words more than once, but never before had he requested she model. That’s not to say he hadn’t drawn her before. He had. But he’d always been watching from afar, observing in the quiet – when he wasn’t arguing with Gray or making a mess of the school grounds with chalk. Salamander, they called him. That was his signature. 

“You don’t have to take everything off,” he told her then. “Just your clothes.”

Her face was burning. “Do I have to?”

“No, I guess not,” he shrugged. “I can just imagine it, in my head.”

Lucy threw both arms up in defeat. “T-that’s no better.”

Natsu searched the room for a moment, his eyes wandering the mess he liked to call ‘comfortable living’. She’d stumbled over more items than she could count walking down the hall to his bedroom.

“You can hold something,” he explained, “Something to cover yourself a little, if you want. Don’t worry, Luce. I know you’ve gained a few pounds but I won’t make you look fat.”

She threw her coat at him first, frustration and embarrassment painting her features. He let out a laugh to show her he was joking, but the thump of her heart would not cease its painful rhythm. 

“Fine,” she turned to unbutton her shirt first. “But don’t look until I’m ready.”

“I promise.”

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Harry Styles | One Shot | Change

Harry Styles | One Shot | Change

This is a request of sorts that was semi-fulfilled.
This lovely lady sent me a prompt of sorts a while back, and it’s been sticking in my head. I’m sure she probably wanted it much smuttier than I made it, but I kind of just liked it this way.



He passed the shoppe every-so-often; at least once a week while he was home and needed to run to the organic market for his sister. It’s a small parlor, but the work coming from it was so unrefined and spectacular. He has a few mates that’d gotten large pieces drawn and inked there, so he had no doubt that his small cover-up would be executed stunningly.

It stood small between two larger buildings, the brick was crumbling, but the neon signs that flickered through the windows were a distraction from the rotting outside. He was excited, he hadn’t made an appointment but no one ever did. The parlor seemed to be a very well kept secret thus far, and he was looking forward to talking to the artist. Looking forward to getting into his mind and looking at his sketches. He knew what he wanted for the night, but he was keen on finding a new larger piece for his arm to ink at a later date.

She sat in her chair, leaned back, her boots crossed over the desk and her sketchpad rested against her thighs. It’d been another slow day but she was content. Only an hour until she could close up and head home and she was relaxed – she knew the time would pass easily as she sat and sketched her soul out.

She was so into detailing the paper in front of her, when the bell rang overhead as someone walked in, she never heard it; her pen imbedded deep into the ridges of the paper, her thoughts along with it.

He walked around the small space admiring all the art and drawings. He’d never seen so much immaculate work sprawled upon one wall. So entranced by the colour, he didn’t notice his clumsy feet so close to the small table and bumped into it, knocking a file of business card to the floor.

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