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arikihalloween · 4 months

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Pantheon AU

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Aka, Welcome to me making up deity designs because why the hell not

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It started with this drawing I made of a Julie that I call Moon Deity

And people on twitter have been eating that up so I've felt some motivation to continue working on it

Today I'm sharing the 4 first deities I've finished

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Julie Joyful

Deity of the moon and oceans. Do not be fooled by her elegant and beautiful appearance, for she's an energic goddess that will bend bodies of water to her emotional will.

The moon is often associated to calmness, feminity, such things, but I decided to go with an other approach. The moon is small and fast. She turns around the earth every day of the year, and is responsible for the tides. The closer she is, the bigger the tide ! That doesn't sound that much calm to me. In this AU Julie appears calm only because Sally insist that she has to dress "regal" for their very important deity jobs. Isn't that silly ?

Julie will have alternate outfits depending on the activity she wants to do at any given moment, switching from pants to dress !

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Sally Starlet

Deity of the Sun, stars and fire, she is the calm one, most of the time. Warm, but also a little stuck up sometimes, Sally likes when things are in order and go her way. She sees their deity roles as important ! The fiery goddess also gives her blessings in the arts, especially theater art which she favors

The sun doesn't move as much as the moon, but it is big and powerful and at the center of our solar system. I like the idea of reversing roles a little, having the sun being the calm one for once

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Home

The deity of death is a kind and compassionate fellow. He doesn't talk much, but listens very well, and will help souls pass to their afterlife with all the compassion in the world. He is also the patron of living spaces, as he wants to make sure beings live well, safe, sound and happy, before he comes to take them away.

I like it when death deities aren't cruel but instead very kind and comforting. Home will have a lot of little helpers ! Although, note that Home is the deity of death as in he's the reaper. There is other deities ruling over the concept of death ! Home is more of a psychopomp in this AU ( psychopomps are the "reaper" deities. It includes Valkyries, Ankous, Shinigamis, Grim Reaper, etc)

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Wally Darling

The deity of life ! He creates and gives in abondance, whenever he can. He may not be particularly smart, or doesn't pay that much attention to his creations past their conception and first breath, but he means well and is still learning. He's a fairly new deity, replacing the previous one. Home is there to kindly help guide him to his new duties, along with Barnaby.

He's just a silly trying his best with great powers. Life is pretty mysterious, and not easy. The path is long and full of hardships, after all... but I don't think what gives the first breath of life is cruel for it. Life is still beautiful and should be cherished

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Bonus Appleblossom sketch because this is my self indulgent au so I will put in my ocs, headcanons and fav ships !

#welcome home #welcomehome #welcome home art #julie joyful #julie welcome home #welcome home au #wally darling #wally welcome home #fanart #pantheon au #home welcome home #sally welcome home #sally starlet #wally x julie #julie x wally #wally au #julie au #I'm actually pretty fond of this au #i like making up pretty designs #feel free to insert your oc in there !#i only ask that you don't take major powers/elements like wind/earth/sky/night/dreams/knowledge cause those are taken by the other cast hah #the aesthetic is mainly art nouveau !#or something close to it ig #i make shit up and am inspired from way to many things so don't try to extrapolate symbolism from other mythologies just ask questions #otherwise we'll all be lost #yes Nyxie will be in this au too btw #as well as three other ocs #because I finally have an excuse to use my creativity goddess #she's so back

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danielfosseyart · 3 months

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Daniel Watches She-Ra & The Princesses Of Power

-S1E2- 'The Sword Part 2'

Today's She-Ra Watchthrough Art: Another Messy Glimmer Sketch

Okay so, it's safe to say as of episode 2:

Glimmer is my favorite by a wide fuckin' mile she's so real.

I don't know if it's been made obvious to anyone, but in case you haven't noticed yet. I have a huge soft spot for characters that fit under a very specific aesthetic. Glimmer most certainly fits it.

"But Daniel, what kind of aesthetic is it that you speak of?" I hear you ask?

The Best Kind.

(I don't even like MHA but I do love Mina, wish the show was good)

I find it really funny that when Adora turns into She-Ra she just is like, bigger. Like one of She-Ra's superpowers is being fucking tall.

Like being tall is one of her magical abilities.

I really liked the moment Glimmer actually started sounding like she was about to cry. Phenomenal voice acting right there, that alone says so much.

Just hearing Glimmers' voice breaking & hearing her struggling to hold back crying in the middle of her rant.

It just makes everything she's been saying feel a lot more impactful now. Seeing that it had this much of an affect on her.

She doesn't even specify how many people were lost. Like, fuck she might mean it's not just a few, it's not a thousand it's probably like millions.

Like, they didn't have to flashback or explain it, just that one moment made me go "Oh shit." It tells you more than enough to understand what kind of horrible shit she's been through. Amazing voice acting right there. I love it.

Shadow Weaver is still a cunt. Fuck you shadow weaver.

Hope your pillow is warm on both sides you wizard bitch.

Also Bow was literally the best this episode he was just like so endearing & every time he spoke I had a big goofy smile on my face. He's so fucking joyful. His optimism is infectious.

What else happened uhhhhh.....

Cat-Ra is angry because idk she's lesbian or something & she's decided to make it everyone elses' problem.

Like geez, Cat-Ra was throwing a real HISSY fit at the end there.

(please laugh i'm fucking desperate here)

Also I see they kept Swiftwind in this reboot.

Please.....

PLEASE TELL ME THEY KEPT HIS FUCKING WEIRD POPEYE GRUFF CHAINSMOKER VOICE.

LIKE IN THE ORIGINAL SHOW HE JUST SOUNDS LIKE THE NARRATOR FROM DOOM 2016. IT'S SO FUCKING FUNNY.

WHY DOES THE MAGIC SPARKLE PEGASUS SOUND LIKE HE'S ABOUT TO TURN TO ADORA & THEN JUST:

"IN THE FIRST AGE, IN THE FIRST BATTLE..."

I really fucking hope he still sounds like that because it's the funniest thing ever & I adore it.

So anyways, new ship dropped.

I ship these two & they are canon & nobody can fucking stop me.

If they don't kiss I'm going to burn down a church.

Don't be surprised if most of the she-ra watchalong art is just them.

Also Hordak showed up. He seems like he's a better villain in this one but he's still not even close to Skeletor levels yet.

YAWN.

You're gonna have to wow me a lot more than that, Mr. Whore-Dak.

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a-certain-romance · 1 year

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Won’t you stay for a little longer? Pt2

Characters/Ships: Milf!Arlecchino x Fem!reader

Synopsis: Following your artistic passions has left you scrambling for money. So, you decide to take up babysitting as a side gig. You were supposed to leave once you get your pay, but won’t you indulge them for a little longer?

Warnings: Smut written by a minor, dominance, some dirty talk, age difference (reader24/character34), power imbalance

Link to Pt1

A/N: The first attempt at posting this wasn’t in the tags so here we go again

Work in the Fatui is known to be extremely dangerous and sometimes requires travel to other nations. While these trips are far and few, Arlecchino doesn’t have many to call upon for child care. Taking her two children with her is too big of a risk, yet leaving them in the hands of her even her most trusted subordinates leaves her just as uneasy.

It took weeks of background checks, private interviews and one-on-one meetings before she actually let you babysit. She wasn’t about to hand her kids over to a potential threat, yet the three of you seemed to get along quite well on your first meeting.

Her kids are very skilled when it comes to combat and other physical activities. You also find that they have a strong sense of ambition to become as “cool” as their mother. You help them practice stances and basic hand-to-hand combat (safely) while she’s away and you in turn have a lot more references for anatomy practice. When Arlecchino gets back from her trips, the kids excitedly show her how much they’ve improved since she’s last saw them. Once they’ve settled and dispersed, you pull Arlecchino away for a moment alone and handed her some of the drawings you’ve made. “You‘ve captured them beautifully” she mused. Letting her eyes travel off the papers and instead to you, “I’d like to commission you for a portrait. Tonight, if you have the time, how does 500,000 mora sound?”.

You came back later that night with minimal supplies. Wanting the finished piece to be perfect, you were only there for a fought sketch of what she wanted. When you knocked on the door to her estate you weren’t expecting her to be in a crimson robe, and upon further investigation only a robe. She’s attractive as hell but isn’t she cold? you think as she walks you to her chambers. She explains how the only portraits of her that exist only showed the hardened side of her, seeing that you have a prowess for art she entrusts you to paint something more…intimate. You try your best to listen attentively and keep your eyes at eye-level. “Thank you for agreeing to a simple outline for now, seeing as its late you can make the official one at a later date”

Time flies as you try to draw all her glory, only for her to say: “Do it again. Your shading is lacking, perhaps you need a more hands-on approach?”. That wouldn’t be the last night you slept with her.

Arlecchino is one of the most powerful harbingers in the Fatui and she makes sure you remember that in bed. You’re never on top, and even if you’re servicing her the tight grip in your hair reminds you that you’re below her. Her show of dominance never fails to make you shudder, one “get on your knees” and you’re putty in her hands as you sink to the floor. But despite the rough hours, Arlecchino gives you such great aftercare, drawing warm baths and massaging you once she’s satisfied.

During the times Arlecchino is in Snezhnaya, you take your work to the orphanage. While the purpose of running the orphanage is to prepare kids for a life in the Fatui, Arlecchino sees no reason why there shouldn’t be more color in their lives. Arlecchino pays you for the weekly “craft nights” you host at The House of the Hearth and every time you stop by she feels her icy exterior thaw more and more. Seeing the way you assist her kids and the ones here makes her wonder if you’d ever want to play a more permanent role in her and her kid’s lives. Maybe if she makes you scream a bit more she’ll have her answer.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #arlecchino smut #fatui arlecchino #arlechinno x reader #arlecchino #fatui smut #fatui harbinger x reader #💋#🫀

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circusgoth-dotcom · 2 months

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Artists In The Sun

Ship: Hannibal Lecter x John Citta

Word Count: 874

Summary: Hannibal discovers that John also enjoys drawing and employs a cheeky tactic to improve his skills. CWs for romantic patient/doctor relationship, non-sexual nudity, brief food mentions, suggestive ending if you squint.

Tag List: @canongf @futurewife

John and Hannibal had been living together for a few months, though they had been seeing each other for longer than that- two years at John’s last count. They had met when Hannibal had been recommended as a psychiatrist for John, despite Dr. Lecter being a forensics psychiatrist and not your day-to-day therapist or psychologist, which is likely what John truly needed… still, Hannibal agreed to see him. Agreed to listen to him. And despite both knowing better, they fell in love. Luckily for John, Hannibal was very good at keeping secrets. Hannibal kept his job, relationship, and patient, all in one carefully planned swoop, while John worked at a record shop, content to turn a blind eye.

John was setting the dining table when Hannibal returned home from work, wasting no time in coming to his side and taking him in his arms, a soft and warm kiss passed between the two men.

“How was work?” John asked as Hannibal stroked the back of his hair, his maroon eyes full of adoration. He clucked his tongue.

“You know that’s nothing to discuss before dinner. But if you must know, no mishaps.”

John smiled. “That’s good.”

“How was your day?” Hannibal turned slightly and found his gaze captured by a set of papers on the tablecloth.

“I’d say the same as you. The usual.”

Hannibal picked up the papers, observing the graphite sketches tentatively. “Did you draw these, paukščiukas?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” John nodded, “when I had some downtime at work.”

A smile teased Hannibal’s features. “They’re me, I presume.”

John blushed and nodded again. Hannibal squeezed him and kissed his temple. “I’ve never seen any of your drawings. You’re very good.”

John waved his hand dismissively. “They’re just sketches… I’m more comfortable with digital art.” He wrinkled his nose as he looked at the drawings once more. “I hardly did you justice.”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Hannibal touched his chin gently. “But if you insist on being humble, perhaps you would appreciate some pointers?”

John’s blush deepened. “Oh, Hanni, you already do so much for me. Don’t add arts tutoring to the list!”

Hannibal bent and kissed his hand gracefully. “It would be my highest pleasure, my darling. We’ll do a still life in the sunroom this weekend, if you would attend.”

“How could I refuse?” His stomach then growled and he covered his mouth behind his fingers, giggling in slight embarrassment.

“Ah, but first we must attend to our empty tenders.”

On Sunday, Hannibal arranged a canvas and easel in his sunroom, as well as the scene he wanted John to study. What he hadn’t told his boyfriend was that he planned for them to draw him, nude. It was both cheeky and well-meaning of him, to say the least.

“Come in, mein Schatz.”

John entered, wearing a loose-fitting, short-sleeved buttondown and houndstooth-patterned trousers. He approached the easel and gave Hannibal’s appearance an inquiring eyebrow raise. It wasn’t often that the doctor wore only his silken robe around the house. “Taking a casual day, Hanni?”

He smirked knowingly and began to loosen the robe’s simple belt. “I’ve deduced that the best first lesson I could give you was…” He elegantly removed the robe, revealing his soft but muscular body and a smattering of dark brunette body hair, streaked with somewhat premature grey. “Figure drawing.”

John briefly gasped, flushing instantly despite his intimate familiarity with Hannibal’s body. He could not draw his grey eyes away as Hannibal went to poise himself on the loveseat, picking up a book from the coffee table to quietly peruse as John worked. When no pencil was placed against the canvas, Hannibal gently cleared his throat. “Is there something wrong, John?”

John shook his head furiously, his blush creeping into his ears and neck. “Oh! Uhm, no, no, I was just a bit surprised, is all. Yes. Figure drawing. I could use a brush up on my anatomy.” He swallowed and returned his attention to the canvas. Amusement sparkled in Hannibal’s eyes. As he got over the initial shock, John’s lines began to flow smoothly. Hannibal had even lent him his good charcoal pencils. The minutes ticked by. At the hour mark, John excused himself and returned with glasses of water and a tin of cookies for them both. Another hour passed before John let his partner see the product, a shaded, loving depiction of such a dangerous man.

“I already see improvement from those initial sketches. Well done, darling.”

“You think so?” John’s eyes glittered expectantly. Hannibal chuckled, kissing his cheek.

“You are such a precious thing, John. Let’s put it in my office.” Hannibal put on his robe and the two of them moved the canvas to his home office. John spied his initial sketches on Hannibal’s desk.

“You’re keeping them?”

“Of course I am. Everything your hand touches is holy to me.”

John could have swooned. He held Hannibal’s face in his hands. “You are too much.”

“But its what you deserve. Would you like to see my recent drawings?”

“Of course.”

Hannibal led him to the desk, opening a top drawer. John had scarcely to look at them before passionately entwining with his lover. He already knew what was there on the pages.

#self shipping #self shipping community #safeshipping #self insert #self insert x canon #self x canon #self insert oc #oc x canon #gay self ship #trans self ship #circus scripts #🍽️Ella et Porcus🍽️#📼🦌.s/i

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theamityelf · 1 month

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Understandable. Though I still think it can be very fun to explore romantic relationships between them and Ultimates. Especially in Nagito's case.

Like I have this one alternate idea for how Nagito could have figured out who Imposter really is. Where he starts to notice that there's a quality gap in the sketches Ryota does in class and the ones he brings from his dorm. They're good, but look like ones drawn by a relative newcomer to animation. And moreover he's shocked when he does a background check and finds that Ryota Mitarai has been chronically underweight his whole life. With the last photo of him taken months before Hope's Peak reflecting that. Which leads to Nagito confronting Imposter to ask who they are and where the real Ryota Mitarai is.

Imposter is actually somewhat relieved when they realize the confrontation comes out of concern for Ryota, and quickly calms Nagito by showing that he's perfectly safe. And then Nagito gets very excited upon realizing he's stumbled upon the class' secret Ultimate with a talent that fooled everyone. And it lead to some weirdly heartwarming bonding where they slowly work on building up a sense of self-worth in each other.

With Nagito volunteering to help Imposter perfect their Nagito Komaeda impersonation. Helping them to appreciate just how incredible it really is that they can so flawlessly mimic the mannerisms and even skills of himself and their classmates. And with Imposter in turn taking the time to observe that there's one thing about Nagito that they just can't nail. The crazy luck. They've become a decent animator, they've learned some first aid, and they even feel confident enough that they could pass themselves off as a mechanic or team manager. But all of their test runs at replicating Nagito's luck through stuff like coin flips all turn out to be busts. And despite how frustrating that luck can be to Nagito, he does still have something quite special that can't be imitated. Even by someone that Nagito now considers one of the most talented Ultimates at Hope's Peak.

Also I think there's some fun to be had with Nagito and Mahiru's talent. Like what makes hers interesting is that her particular subject of focus in photography is actually right up Nagito's alley taste-wise. Mahiru and others might think that her work doesn't quite stack up to the famous war photography of her mother. But the idea of focusing on people at their brightest and happiest is like peak art for Nagito. And I think he's one of the few people in the class who could give her the detailed critique that she craves in her FTEs.

The fact that she herself is a relatively normal person compared to most at Hope's Peak adds to that. Like it makes her one of the people that would make it easiest for Nagito to come to terms with not putting Ultimates on a pedestal. She'd probably be one who would actually be fully onboard with renouncing the title she was given. Which I think could lead to its own heartwarming interaction.

Nagito: "Is it okay if I keep thinking of you as the Ultimate Photographer? Not as like a position or anything. But...just for me? Because even if there are a hundred more skilled photographers out there, none of their photos would make me feel as warm as yours do."

Mahiru: "...Okay. Just for you and me. As long as I get to think of you as my Ultimate Luckster. Because I feel very lucky to have known you."

I definitely agree that all of those scenarios are a lot of fun, and I do love Nagito having deep and meaningful relationships with Imposter and Mahiru. Like I kind of mentioned briefly in that one post, I think the issue is mainly that I also kind of have some hangups around the need to be empirically, competitively good at things, and I find it more comforting if the characters I like aren't focused on that.

So while, on a sheer character basis, I love a lot of the potential in those ships and can enjoy content about them, the ships I draw the most comfort from are the ones that are saying, "Don't worry, you don't have to be the best at anything; just try your best."

#danganronpa #twomaeda #komazumi

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everlastiingiimmortals · 2 months

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he shouldn't be here.

despite his technical 'freedom' aboard the luofu - he still shouldn't be here. blade was an abomination after all - a blight of mara and abundance that the ten lords commission would stop at nothing to eradicate. and they had tried. multiple times - only to be met with the familiar weight of his sword - broken limbs and broken minds, a trail of carnage. and on the one occasion a killing blow had been achieved - well... he'd just come back, hadn't he? curse. blight. plague. that was his existence to the luofu. and for him... for him it was simply filled with memory upon memory upon memory. any extended period of time upon the ship without kafka was almost guaranteed to send him into a flare of the mara - unless... unless his instincts could focus on something else.

despite all the fractured memories that came with jing yuan - so to, did warm comforts. so to, did a settled mind. whether it be because he could relax in the privacy of just them, or because the instinct of mutual hunters latched upon each other... blade did not know, nor did he care. he sought him out when he desired to, and now was no different.

blade had prowled the halls of his home in the dead of night, the ephemeral glow of borisin and mara made crimson eyes a giveaway to the self-same hunt he'd cast himself upon. he was like a strange beast - one that needed enrichment to stay focused, and seeking jing yuan out provided just the right amount of stimulation to keep the mara at bay. familiar scent - the pitter-patter of his heartbeat to his sensitive ears, all things that drove the stellaron hunter to seek and seek and seek - until he's cornered jing yuan, until the hunt has become a stalemate - when two great predators lock jaws, until-

he lounges now, half leaned against the dozing general in a way that belies comfort that hadn't existed prior to the encounter with jingliu. indeed, there are sketch pages scattered about - pulled from a pad that he had squirrelled away in jing yuan's home like some kind of animal - only to produce on his random visits when hunt turned to rest and his mind still needed to stay busy. still - he remembers yingxing's artful creations - the ease with which he'd both invented and drew his friends, jing yuan's likeness recounted through the years in a way that blade couldn't possibly begin to recreate. it would hit him in waves of frustration as well as cramps in destroyed hands, but his distress was only made visible in the elevation of his heart rate, or the way his jaw would tense in displeasure.

blade said nothing. he simply drew on. a diting - garbed in a cloud knight uniform. such a strange, ridiculous drawing, pulled from the depths of his memory. the hunter does not look up as he eases charcoal along thin lines - still creating a masterpiece, even now, thought it would never match what yingxing had done. eventually, he finds the words stirring in his throat, brilliant carmine (once such soft, vibrant indigo) meeting jing yuan's own gaze. " you are not afraid of me. " he states matter-of-factly, as if he were comment on the weather, " and out of everyone - i remember you the best. " for jing yuan was not warped by the shadows of dan feng's sin, of shuhu's malevolent whispers - a shining beacon of sunlight, in the darkest of yingxing's memories.

he says nothing more on the matter - content to let the revelation hang between them. the hunter shifts against jing yuan's side - picking up his charcoal once more - only to let loose a sharp grunt as his hand spasms, and the delicate utensil shatters in his grip from the shock of pain. and in that moment, one might say his gaze is briefly melancholy, as he perceives the ruination of that silly, painstaking drawing. " damn... "

Unprompted. Always Accepting! @karmawind

Blade is not supposed to be here, but there is a rare solace in his presence all the same; two souls, one whole, one broken, both left behind in different ways, but at least in moments like these they could find a momentary peace.

The hunt had become a twisted game to them, almost ritualistic and certainly ironic in its preface to the rest that follows. What little shame remains in Jing Yuan's heart after so many centuries of reigning over the Luofu coils briefly in his chest, chiding him for finding enjoyment in the anticipation and danger in the pursuit. Surely anyone catching him voluntarily housing the Stellaron Hunter would spell disaster for him -- but Jing Yuan has weathered many years of criticism and threats to his reputation. This is no different. Plus, if Blade is a predator, so, too, is he -- and he's been terribly, terribly bored.

So he lets Blade come, lets Blade 'break in,' lets him prowl the cold and empty halls of his home, and when they draw, lets him settle against his side. He rests his own head atop Blade's hair, eyes closed in a half-slumber befitting his nickname. It is only when Blade stirs that he does as well, blearily cracking open his visible eye.

You are not afraid of me.

"I have no reason to be," he rumbles in response, voice slightly hoarse with drowsiness. It is an inherently false statement, given what plagues Blade's nature, as well as his position with respect to the Luofu. And yet it is honest all the same, unabashedly so. A wolf still is a wild animal no matter how tame it may seem, but in knowing that wolf and its permission for one to be in its presence, there is security. He cannot deny the comfort the revelation brings, and is content to lay his cheek against Blade's head once more -- when Blade's arm seizes against his side as his hand spasms, and the painful sound of shattering charcoal, loud in the relative silence, almost echoes throughout the room.

Jing Yuan's noise of dismay is perhaps louder than Blade's own as he carefully plucks the fragments from the page and the Hunter's hand, then brushes his hand free from dust and pulls up his sleeve enough to expose his inner wrist. From gentle fingertips against Blade's scarred skin flows light current, stimulating and soothing in its rhythm until the tension in his muscles starts to subside.

"That silly Diting," he murmurs softly, once he finally looks to the ruined page. "I'm surprised you remember it."

#//an answer sought; (ASK)#karmawind #//everlasting; (IC)#//the dozing general; (JING YUAN)#CRIES INTO MY HANDS THE DITING EASTER EGG KILLED MEEEE #also dw abt the scuffed formatting ik mobile's a bitch sometimes

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sylphidine · 4 months

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[Fic Excerpt] Stars

I come bearing Yuletide gifts, gentle readers!

Have a winter-themed chapter of a longer Swatchton fic previously posted on AO3. The premise is based on Penbwl's Spamsician AU and set in the future in Castle Town. Swatch and Spamton are both elderly; the younger Swatchlings have taken over the Color Cafe. Swatch is free to create art to their heart's content. Spamton in this AU glitches in song lyrics rather than in ads and l33tspeak; he still plays piano and sings, but he's getting a bit arthritic.

Enjoy!

++++++++++++++

One of the drawbacks of being married to a visual artist was that they sometimes dragged their partner into situations that weren't always comfortable, just so they could "soak up inspiration".

Fortunately for Spamton, that drawback was negated by the fact that the visual artist he was married to was Swatch, who also happened to be a textile artist.

And one of the many benefits to having Swatch as a partner was that there seemed to be a never-ending supply of knitted goods in the apartment they shared. This never-ending supply stood Spamton in good stead on this cold winter night as he and Swatch sat together in the porch swing set up on the balcony outside Swatch’s studio. They were both swaddled in sweaters, scarves, hats, and afghans, with two tasques and a phearrette snuggled up on their laps. Meta4 and SimiLee each had their own sweaters in dark blue and white stripes; Slinky had a solid sweater in periwinkle stretching over the pneumatic tube that was her middle, leaving her back legs and her wire-coil tail swinging free and dangling off the edge of the swing cushion.

The sky above Castle Town was awash with the starscape that changed so slowly it seemed to never change at all, other than some lights varying their sparke. The warm lamp-glow spilling from the studio through the sliding glass doors was apparently enough for Swatch to see by, because the pencil in their hand was virtually flying over the pad of paper balanced on the knee that was not claimed by a trilling SimiLee.

Spamton loved watching Swatch work on their art; it was so different from what he did while he was composing at the piano or performing on stage. Spamton’s music burst out of him, pulled out of his bones and blood; Swatch’s paintings seemed to take form from the quiet introspective center of their mind. That wasn’t to say that Spamton’s music didn’t have moments of sweetness and delicacy, or that Swatch’s canvases didn’t have great splashes of fierceness and flamboyance. But the sheer focus that Swatch put into their creation looked to Spamton as though his husband had to go inward rather than outward to express themself.

Tonight Swatch was sketching the sky above them, and then adding great swirls of stars and clouds. Spamton looked forward to seeing the colours Swatch would use when they transformed the sketch into paint. Silver? Gold? Blue? Purple? Probably all of those colours and more.

Without consciously intending to do so, he started to sing a Lightner song under his breath, “Now the starlight which has found me/Lost for a million years/Tries to linger as it fills my eyes/'Tll it disappears/Could it be that somebody else is/Looking into my mind/Some other place/Somewhere/Some other time.’

Swatch turned their head slightly toward Spamton when some of the words caught their attention, but they still continued to draw as they asked their husband, “Do you ever think that there might be other worlds out there, not just the Lightners’ world? Worlds where there could be a different you and a different me?”

“Different how?”

“Hmmmm. If each one of those stars has a world around it, how different would you and I be? Is there a world where you’re a tasque and I’m a maus? Is there a world where we’re two pirate captains on one ship? Is there a world where I’m a prince like Ralsei and you’re the rose I keep under glass? Is there a world where you’re the butler and I’m the salesman? Is there..” Swatch trailed off, lost in thought, and their pencil slowed.

Spamton didn’t have to think long before answering. “[[We may be planetary, but it's time we had some suns.]] If there are lots of other yous and lots of other mes, I’d hope they’re all [[so happy together]] as we are.” He gently took the pencil out of Swatch’s hand and leaned over to kiss his husband on the side of their beak.

The painting, when it was completed a few weeks later, showed shapes in the star patterns, shapes that resembled a multitude of Swatches and an equal multitude of Spamtons, each reaching out to one another across the vastness of the night sky.

Full fic here...

#swatchton #spamsician au #thank you penbwl #make the yuletide gay #sylph writes

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artemiseamoon · 2 years

Note

Hey, Arte! Can I request “wishing” and “diary” with Zach Wellison? I don’t have a preference about f! or GN!reader, but some romance would be lovely 💚 thank you

Coffee & Journal entries

Zach Wellison x GN reader

An: I am more than happy to create a romantic drabble for you 💕 enjoy (ps: I miss Zach so this is perfect)

Words: 726

Warnings: none

Prompts: wishing + diary

When you think about journals or diaries, you think about your youth. It’s a habit that gave you comfort for many years and fell to the side in adulthood.

A year ago when you met Zach, you started jotting down things in a notebook again; making it some sort of adult version of a diary. You’d fill it with little poems, observations, sketches and other things that popped into your mind.

This little notebook, with its hard cover and soft ribbon soon became one of your key accessories. And for the first time since high school, you wrote about a boy, you wrote about Zach Wellison.

Working the early morning shift at the coffee shop wasn't ideal, but it worked best for your schedule at the time. Each Monday, Wednesday and Thursday, you’d wake at the same time, take the same commute, and serve familiar faces.

Then one day, toward the end of your shift, he walked in. The very cute, quiet, kind of broody guy in a flannel shirt. The moment his soft brown eyes landed on you, you felt butterflies in your stomach. Your cheeks warmed instantly.

“Good morning, what would you like?” You asked.

“Coffee. Black.” He looked around the cafe, you can tell he was a little anxious. The afternoon sunlight streaming from the window casts a spotlight on him, and you could see his hair is a nice shade of chocolate brown.

“Sure, what size?”

He looked at you for a moment, like he’s thinking about what you said. “Smallest you have.”

“Coming right up, what’s your name?”

“Uh, Zach.” he shifted his backpack to his other shoulder.

Zach stood off to the side and waited for his coffee. You noticed how observant he remained, watching everything. When you handed him his coffee, Zach thanked you and left the cafe.

That was just the first of many interactions. It took time, but over a few weeks, Zach began talking to you a little more and more. He even mentioned one time how you had a friendly smile and calming energy. His ‘hi’s’and ‘thanks yous’ soon turned to ‘hey, how are you’ and brief chats about little things.

What you didn’t know at the time was Zach only came in when you were working, even if he wanted coffee on the other days. He could give or take the coffee, he was only coming there for you.

After everything he’s gone through, it's been so long since he’s had something so comforting in his life. He liked talking to you, seeing your smile, hearing your voice. Though he was very thankful for his new job and getting a change to work, you were the highlight of his week.

It wasn’t until three months later, after your first encounter, that Zach worked up the confidence to ask you out. Even the way he asked, it was almost like he expected a no. When you said yes, his beautiful brown eyes lit up and his face brightened with a heart warming smile.

That's how it started. You and Zach.

Long before he walked into the cafe you were wishing for love, for companionship, to find your person; and Zach is it. Now, a year later, you've made a warm home with each other and love him more and more each day. You still work at the cafe but instead of waking up alone you wake up with him next to you, looking angelic in his sleep.

In the mornings you now find premade meals for your day and little notes on the containers. Some days, you and Zach are like passing ships in the night, especially as he’s moved up the ranks in the restaurant. But Zach is attentive, loving, doting. And he always tried to make up for lost time with dates, home cooked meals and more.

You know one day you’ll leave the coffee shop. But even when that day comes, you’ll always be thankful it gave your Zach. You’ll always remember it as the place where cupid finally remembered your wish.

You’ll remember it as the place that inspired you to scribble a boy's name on paper like a teen would; a dreamy spell on paper. Your wish came true, and you barely use the dairy anymore, but you keep in a safe place and think back on it fondly.

More Zach

More GN / reader unspecified works

More June Drabbles

#zach wellison #GN reader #Zach Wellison x GN reader #Zach Wellison fluff #artes june drabbles

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causeimanartist · 5 years

Text

I know somewhere deep in my inbox an anon asked about deaged Clark and Diana

#batman #wonder woman #superman #bruce wayne #clark kent #diana prince #dc #dc trinity #my art #causeimanartist #doodle #i feel bad for the spam so heres a sketch ill never finish since i dont like how it turned out #baby d is confused about seeing a man and b isnt being all that helpful #but they both warm up to him quickly #no ship tags since they are children obv

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natowe · 6 years

Photo

Shhh, don’t interrupt them - they’re on a date.

Warm-up sketch! Just some esper boys (mob psycho 100) sporting cool outfits™, right @one-trash-man?

#terumob #salt n vinegar ship #mp100 #teruki hanazawa #shigeo kageyama #mob psycho 100 #my boys!!!#why all of my warm up sketches turn out into 1h drawings #sigh #it's nice to have time for drawing #fan art #my art #natart

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wish-i-wasnt-a-coward · 3 years

Text

Family Cuddle Pile

a/n: I actually wrote this a while ago but it was perfect for the request. Theirs like, no content for this ship an I love it so much! Thank you for reading :) @arodynamic-enby

Pairings: romantic Anxceitmus and kid!Patton also super background Logince

Warnings: tattoos, less than ideal parent mentions, food mention, and light cursing

Word count: 1,844

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

Remus flopped out of bed, throwing his body carelessly across the room. He hastily threw on his clothes. Short shorts, ripped fishnets, a vest that was more patches than original material, really big clunky shoes, and a ripped up band-t. He also hooked his favorite bone earrings in his tattered earlobes.

He stomped into his apartment’s kitchen. He grabbed a stale piece of bread he soaked it in coffee. Yawned and grabbed his bag, racing out the door.

His brother was waiting for him at the tattoo shop, sketching a new idea. Unlike him, Roman only had a few tattoos, including not one, not two, not three… but three Disney quotes, a frog on a mushroom, a rose on his arm, and a constellation. Most of his tattoos were covered by tasteful burgundy overalls and a white button-down shirt.

Remus’ tattoos were also mostly covered by his clothes. But he had a tattoo sleeve depicting the garden of Eden, a matching frog on a mushroom, a quote from one of Roman’s books, medically accurate bone structures on his hand, a realistic spider on his neck, and a snake wrapping around his non-sleeved arm. And those were just the visible ones.

Suffice to say, the twins were very different.

Remus threw his bag onto the floor in the backroom, “Ro, when’s the first appointment!!” he yelled. “Your’s? At 11. FYI, Jan n’ Pat are coming over at 12, for motivation” Remus smiled, fuckin’ superb.

He busied himself in collecting the ink and preparing the tattoo gun. The client wanted a fucking orange on their wrist, it should only take an hour or two but Remus was not excited to do a frickin’ orange circle.

The prissy orange bitch came in and Remus got to work. They didn’t move much and only cried a little bit when the needle started jabbing at their skin. Remus liked this part of the process, stabbing people consensually was his favorite thing ever… also the art part but stabbing people!

Almost exactly an hour later the door jingled open. “Dada!!” a tiny voice called back into the store. “I’ll be there in a minute patty-cake” Remus called from his spot hunched over the client's arm.

He added the final touches to the fruit and helped the orange bitch off the chair. Roman swept the client away, Remus practically ran to greet his partner and son.

Janus wore a leather corset over a black collared shirt and baggy pants, their long platinum hair framed their face under their signature hat. They were holding hands with a toddler wearing mostly pink and blue, his blond hair (that matched Janus’) was a mop of curls barely held together by a few butterfly clips.

“Dada, Dada!!! I got you a flower” the little boy cried, letting go of Janus’ hand and stumbling towards the tall man who scooped him up. Patton giggled and held out a sweaty flower clenched in his chubby fist.

Remus accepted the flower with a gasp, ”this is really for me?” he said joyfully. Adjusting the small boy in his arms Remus turned towards Janus who was looking at the pair with a disgustingly sappy expression.

“What are you lookin’ at hot stuff?” Remus teased. “Shut it you,” Janus said, pressing a kiss to Remus’ check. Patton made a noise, “icky” he said pushing Janus away. They laughed, “yes darling, we’re very icky”.

“When’s verge-“

“he’ll be home at 4”

“Dope”

“Stop by the Sleepy Café before you bring Pat to the apartment?”

“Can do scootal-lo!”

Remus turned back to the little boy in his arms, “looks like you're stuck with me squirt”. Patton beamed and snuggled into Remus’ chest. Janus smiled again, “I’ll see you, boys, at dinner,” they said, ruffling Pat's hair and peaking Remus on the lips quickly so as to not upset the toddler. “Bye-bye Janny!!” Patton called after Janus as they left for work.

“Righty-o,” Remus said, carrying Patton into the back room. “I know Ro’s got a couple coloring books, wanna do those for a bit?” Patton nodded and reached towards the ground to be put down. Remus plopped Patton on the couch and pulled out the book and pens as well as a sketchbook off his own. They sat together coloring and drawing until Roman came back to hug Patton.

“Ah, my favorite nephew!” Roman said, scooping up the little boy. Patton laughed and pulled Roman’s hair. “Roro, can I color your arm pictures??” he asked, pointing to Roman’s rose tattoo. Roman plopped the toddler back down on the couch and handed him a pen.

Patton went to work on the rose, scribbling reds and pinks and greens across his arm. Roman gave him complements each time Patton paused, and each time Patton shushed him and went back to work. Remus finished up his sketch, adding it to the pile of tattoo ideas they were eventually going to put up-front, and sat next to the toddler.

“That’s really good pat-”

“Shhhhhhhh”

Remus nodded and mimed zipping his lips. He liked spending time with the kid. They weren’t biologically related but who gives a fuck about blood, unless it’s outside of your body, then it’s fun.

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

“I don’ wanna” Patton wined his dad sighed “I know bubbles but we gotta go home to Papa and Janny, isn’t that fun” Patton considered this, “but Roro’s pretty arm picture” he argued. Remus scratched the back of his neck, “Pffffff- Ummm, how about this, we go home now and I’ll take you back to the shop tomorrow after pre-school”

Patton brightened considerably, “ok” he chirped. “up please” the toddler’s chubby hands reached towards Remus who obediently scooped him up with a coo. After all who was he to say no to uppy hands.

“See ya tomorrow, have fun on your date with the nerd” Remus sang as he snatched his bag juggling the still fussy Patton in his other arm. “Fu- Frick off Re. Say hi to your partners for me,” Romans said affectionately and waved as his twin left the building.

Remus happily trotted out into the road. The tattoo shop was located on a quaint little street in the more commercial segment of their town only a short walk from Janus’ job.

A light drizzle floated around them and the air was warm and comforting. Patton squealed as a large drop of water hit him in the head, prompting a laugh from Remus.

A jingle sounded through the peaceful cafe, the brown room was illuminated by those cool old fashion lights and a lovely array of pastries made the air smell of chocolate and blueberry scones. But the scones, as delicious as they were, weren’t the snack Remus was here for

“Hey babe- Remus why are you soaking wet”

“Puddle” Patton screeched.

“Kid’s right, Puddle.”

Janus pinched their eyebrows, “ya know what, I’m not even surprised anymore. Just make sure Patton doesn’t catch a cold” they scolded.

Remus nodded and saluted in mock seriousness, “yes captain” he said and pressed a kiss to Janus’ face over the cash register, “I’ll see ya in a bit” Remus grinned and led Patton back out of the cafe.

Janus sighed lovingly as they watched their boyfriend and son turn to cross the street, Patton’s hand clasped around Remus’ happily. “Stop looking so happy, you're scaring the customers” Remy teased from across the counter. “Ha, Ha,” Janus glared and went back to work”

Janus’ apartment was a cute two-bedroom space on the fourth floor of the building. The furniture was an interesting combo of vintage and things from the side of the road. The vintage parts came from their parent’s house, their father had died two years after Janus’ had run away and hadn’t thought to write them out of the will.

The three of them had made a date out of customizing the few pieces that Janus wanted to keep. The customization mainly included darkening everything and adding more gothic touches. Virgil had done the fabrics, Remus the painting, and Janus moral support/ director.

The three partners had also painted the kitchen/dining room/living room black with one yellow wall. Janus and Virgil’s room was dark purple instead of black with highlights in the same yellow. Patton’s room was the only one that didn’t look marginally like a cave.

The walls were a cream-yellow that lit up in the morning sunlight. After Janus announced that they were going to have a baby Remus had spent three hours painting the grey ceiling with white fluffy clouds. It was one of his favorite projects.

Patton of course had no regard for the work put into the entirety of his home and was the usual menace of a toddler. And today a toddler with cheerios, truly a sight even god would tremble before.

Remus plopped down next to Patton who was pushing cheerios around his highchair tray with an intense focus. He smiled at the little boy and flicked on the tv, “got any requests pip-squeak?” Remus asked. Patton looked thoughtful, “dead lady!!” he cried excitedly hitting the tray with his fists, cheerios flew everywhere. Remus nodded, understanding, “Corpse bride coming up!” he picked a few cheerios from the couch “you really are Verge’s kid”

When Janus got home Patton was curled up on Remus’s chest. Both slept soundly despite the dead folk on the screen in front of them singing about the wedding.

Janus smiled, their family was fucking adorable. They slipped off their shoes and snuggled up into Remus who hummed happily and pulled Janus into the hug still asleep.

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

Three hours later Virgil trudged up the four flights of stairs huffing indignantly with each step. Of course, he could take the elevator… but it might break down and he would be stuck for hours. Or someone could get into the elevator with him and he would have to interact with a stranger. So stairs it was.

He rummaged around his baggy hoodie, running his fingers through his dark purple hair in annoyance when he couldn’t find the key. Once he found it Virgil carefully (as he did everything) opened the apartment door. His combat books clunked satisfyingly against the hardwood floors as he entered his house. Virgil felt the tension leave his muscles, he was home. He glanced across the room, looking for his family.

Virgil’s face lit up like a god damned Christmas tree.

Across the room, both his partners and his son were curled up sleeping happily. Drool covered Remus’ face and Janus was snoring, they were the most precious thing Virgil had seen all freakin day.

The three of them woke as Virgil wrapped his arms around them, Patton squealed in excitement. “Hello, darling” Janus mumbled sleepily into Virgil’s arm. Remus just groaned and nestled into the hug. The toddler wriggled between his dads squealing profusely. “Shhh, s’ sleepy time” Remus mumbled, rolling deeper into the cuddle pile and shutting Patton up.

Virgil smiled and pressed a kiss to his partner’s cheek. “Mmm, love you” they purred. “Love you too Jan,” Virgil said, nestling his face in their neck. Virgil knew he would have to start dinner soon but that could wait, for now, cuddles.

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dearkusuo · 3 years

Text

Unchanging

Synopsis: He was content with the simplicities life had to offer, while you sought out the world.

Pairing: Saiki Kusuo x artist!reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Word Count: 3.6k

You first heard of him back in your second year of high school. There was nothing about Saiki Kusuo that stood out to you, but your good friend, Yumehara Chiyo, thought otherwise.

“Don’t you think Saiki looks like a prince? He’s so dreamy that I can’t keep my eyes off of him. He’s so cool and mysterious,” your friend blabbered. If by cool and mysterious, she meant cold and aloof, then you completely agreed.

Even the popular pretty girl, Teruhashi Kokomi, seemed enraptured by him, despite Saiki’s unwillingness to shower her any attention like every guy in school. She never told you about her crush on him, but it was obvious through her body language alone that she was smitten by the pink-haired boy.

You didn’t understand their fleeting infatuation for someone they hardly knew - never experienced the feeling of falling hard for someone from the depths of your soul that they were the only person you could think about. And you were perfectly content with that. You had bigger dreams to achieve than a small high school romance that wasn’t guaranteed to last long anyway.

The Okinawa school trip was an outing that all the second years in PK Academy were looking forward to, you included. Although you had a feeling that your friends, Chiyo and Kokomi, had different intentions for tagging along.

They must have been so elated that the three of you ended up in the same group with the boy they liked.

You carried on disregarding Kokomi and Chiyo’s painfully obvious antics to spend time with their beloved prince charming until later that evening when you decided to take a walk outside the hotel alone. You convinced yourself that a late-night stroll would be an enjoyable pastime, but really, you wanted to get away from the love-struck fantasies of your two friends who were oblivious of the fact that they were both pursuing the same boy.

You don’t know how long you’ve been wandering around, but by the time you returned, the hotel had disappeared from your sight. Two recognizable figures stood by a large hole torn on the ground. A battered ship had risen from the gap where the building used to be.

Toritsuka Reita from Class 2-2 stood next to your pink-haired group member while Saiki had a hand directed at the ship, indicating that he was the one causing it to float midair. Your jaw dropped in disbelief at the sight before you.

Saiki turned his head in your direction as if he knew you were there all along. He kept his usual blank composure, although you could recognize the wary look in his eyes as he stared at you. Toritsuka panicked upon the realization that you were there to witness the whole scene.

You didn’t know how you should've reacted when the two boys told you of their psychic powers.

“I won’t tell a soul,” you promised.

‘I know,’ Saiki’s voice echoed into your mind.

The rest of the trip went by smoothly after that incident. Kokomi subsequently spoke out about the crush she had on Saiki, and Chiyo announced that she had fallen for Kaidou Shun.

You shook your head in wonder at the orange-haired girl. It was astonishing how quickly she was able to abandon her feelings for one boy and move on to someone else so quickly.

You realized that love was brief and ever-changing like the ticking seconds on a clock. There was no point in wasting time on such a fickle emotion when the only thing you would devote yourself to were your ambitions for the future.

Nevertheless, a subconscious bond had been formed between you and Saiki after you learned his secret.

You shared a glance with the psychic from afar as Kokomi relayed to you the dream she had of the boy she liked.

He was kinder and a lot less indifferent than you originally thought. Saiki wouldn’t admit it, but you would notice the subtle acts he performed to help out a troubled stranger and the small deeds he initiated to prevent harm from coming across the people around him.

You finally acknowledged Saiki as a friend after he deliberately shared his umbrella with you during a particularly rainy day.

‘Good grief. I was feeling generous today, so this is nothing. Just make sure to come to school prepared next time,’ he had told you after you first rejected his help in worry of troubling him.

You found out much later that he could have stopped the rain with his abilities.

The empty café was tranquil save for the scratching of your pencil as you scribbled on your sketchbook. Saiki sat across from you, paying you no attention just as you did to him. His usual stoic expression was abandoned as he blissfully devoured his coffee jelly.

“I have a dream. After high school, I’ll travel around the world for a bit. I’ll join a bunch of art competitions and win a bunch of awards. Then eventually, I’ll go to an art school in New York so I can major in Illustration. And maybe I might even make a best-seller manga one day,” you mused.

‘Isn’t it a little too early for us to think about the future?’ Saiki retorted.

“Maybe. But I’ve had this dream for as long as I can remember.”

Art class was the subject you looked forward to the most in school. Not only because you excelled in many art mediums, but also because you took pride in the techniques you honed over the years of endless practice.

For the day’s lesson, you were to pair up with one person in the class and draw each other’s portraits. You casually looked around the room in search of anyone available.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Kokomi rushing up to Saiki with an excited smile as she called out, “Saiki, do you want to-” a majority of the boys in class crowded around her before she could say her piece. Saiki walked up to you instead, asking if you wanted to pair up with him.

You glanced briefly at Kokomi, feeling a tad bit guilty for stealing her choice of partner while she was being surrounded by her group of fans hoping that she would choose one of them. But you couldn’t bring yourself to reject the pink-haired boy’s request.

Taking a seat from across each other, you adjusted your easel so you could get a better view of Saiki’s face. Despite the red tint dusting your cheeks from the intimacy of his peering gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. You perceived for the first time that Saiki was actually quite good looking.

You looked down at your page so you could sketch his appearance: the antennae on his head, his green glasses, soft pink hair, slender neck, smooth lips, chiselled face, sharp eyes. You looked up to take a quick peek at him again.

The constant blinking on his impassive face made your eyes widen in amusement and you frantically placed a hand over your mouth to prevent a snort from escaping.

‘Why are you laughing?’

“Because you’re blinking so much that it looks ridiculous,” you explained with a chuckle.

‘I have to keep on blinking so my x-ray vision resets. I’m trying to get a look at your face.’

You let out another coy giggle despite the heat rushing to the tips of your ears. He looked down at his paper to continue his piece with a warm smile barely present on his face.

You concentrated on your own illustration, marking down his affectionate expression before Saiki could return to his blank face, and showing it off as soon as you finished.

‘Not bad. Now take a look at mine.’

He flipped his paper over, exhibiting an intricate and beautiful portrait. The focused expression he depicted on your face while you drew him looked so alluring. You almost didn’t recognize it as your own, even though it was practically a mirror image.

"This looks way too realistic for someone who's trying not to stand out."

'It should be fine if it's you.'

You didn't understand what he meant, but his words caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

‘I need your help,’ A familiar voice spoke in your mind.

You jumped in surprise at the unexpected appearance of the pink-haired boy you had grown fond of. Your sketchbook flew out of your lap, falling right at your feet.

“How did you know I was here?” You asked with a huff.

‘In case you forgot, I can hear your thoughts. I know that sometimes you like to come here to the school rooftop during lunch.’

“Oh,” you uttered. “Well, since you came all this way to see me, what can I do for you?” You raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

'I need you to help me reject Teruhashi.'

You pursed your lips in uncertainty.

"Kokomi is my friend, and as her friend, you can't expect me to hurt her feelings."

'As my friend, you can't expect me to lead her on when I don't ever intend on returning her feelings. She'll get hurt either way. All I'm asking is for you to help me avoid her so she'll get over me.’

You knew he was right, but you were still unsure of meddling in a situation you weren't a part of, especially when it involved the feelings of your close friend. You looked out the window in contemplation.

“Why are you asking me? Mikoto would be a better choice.”

‘I trust you more, so it has to be you.’

You ignored the churning in your stomach as you casually threw your hands up, giving in to his request.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

‘Thank you.’

Saiki bent down on one knee, reaching out to grab your fallen sketchbook.

“I can pick that up myself, you know, or you if you wanted to help me that badly, you could’ve done that levitation thing you always do.”

‘I know.’

He held the book out, watching you through his glasses while he knelt by your feet. A saying Chiyo once told you a long time ago reverberated at the back of your mind: “Don’t you think Saiki looks like a prince?”

You gripped the sketchbook in his hand. Saiki’s gaze burned on your orbs as your image reflected off his green lenses. Neither one of you let go, even when your fingertips brushed against one another.

“What colour are your eyes?” You wondered.

‘Violet.’

“Major in Economics at Sayftee University and major in Literature at both Komman University and Ahvraj University,” you read out Saiki's school survey. “These are all surprisingly in character for you, but do you really have no dreams beyond living an ordinary life?”

‘I’m too busy thinking of ways to stop the volcano eruption to worry about my future.’

“You have a point there. Any luck with that?” you inquired.

Saiki shook his head.

“I guess that means we’ll be second years again.”

You didn’t keep track of how long time had been looping, and you found that you didn’t really care since you were already accustomed to the familiarity of your seemingly endless high school life. You were happy, even if it meant that the dreams you’ve been chasing for so long were slipping farther away from your grasp with every day that passed.

‘No, it’s about time I put an end to this.’

Saiki’s determined expression was embedded in your mind.

Your screams of disbelief were muffled by the pillow you held against your face.

You had vowed to yourself since you were young that you wouldn’t grow attached to anyone. After all these years, you had to go back on your word just when you were about to leave.

Now was not the time. Not here. Not with him.

Kokomi and Chiyo took it upon themselves to pay you a visit after you skipped school for five days without notice. The dark circles under your eyes and your sunken face visibly worried them.

“I’m in love with Saiki,” you murmured, gazing sullenly at your blue-haired friend. “I’m sorry.”

Kokomi’s face fell, but she showed no signs of surprise.

“I already knew that. It was obvious with the way you always look at him,” she lamented. Kokomi cupped your balled fists in her hands and looked at you wistfully. “He rejected me a few days ago, so you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings. I think you two would look good together.”

You felt tears threatening to spill over your eyes. Whether it was from relief that Kokomi accepted you so easily or pain from your unfortunate situation, you didn’t know.

“I’m leaving Japan after we graduate,” you disclosed.

A dejected silence fell upon you three until Chiyo spoke up, “For how long?”

“An indefinite amount of time.”

“Are you ever coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

Their glum faces only worsened your mood.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

You tensed at the accusing tone directed at you. Saiki’s piercing gaze was pointed at your shrinking figure.

No matter how much time had passed since the loss of his abilities, you doubted that you would ever get used to the sound of his voice resonating out loud, or the enchanting shade of his eyes, even if they looked dangerously menacing at the moment.

“I wasn’t avoiding you. I was just busy studying for exams and doing other stuff,” you explained weakly.

Saiki’s deadpan expression indicated that he didn’t believe your lie.

After a few minutes of squirming underneath his scrutinizing gaze, you gave in and told him your worries, “I’m leaving the country soon. I think we should stop talking to each other so that it won’t be so hard for us to say goodbye.”

You pushed past him. You didn’t know where your feet planned on dragging you, but you figured anywhere was fine so long as you could get away from him.

The familiar warmth of Saiki’s hand wrapped around your own, stopping you from taking another step away. You didn’t dare turn around as you felt your heart thumping wildly.

“I won’t ever ask this of anyone else, so I’m begging you not to push me away,” he pleaded. He placed your hand over his chest, giving away the heavy pulsing of his heartbeat.

You could never say no to him.

Memories of the last few years ran through your mind as you smiled at the nostalgia. You took one final glance at your high school building before turning your back on it, striding towards the exit.

You stopped at the sight of a familiar figure standing under the shade of a cherry blossom tree. Saiki must have known that you were staying much later after the graduation ceremony, all thanks to his restored powers.

‘Good grief. Were you really planning on leaving without saying goodbye?’ His voice resounded in your head.

You didn’t respond as you watched the wind blow through his hair, the sun illuminating the affectionate smile on his face, the violet obscured by his green glasses, and the petals dancing around the two of you as they fell to the ground. The timing was right. The mood was right. Everything was right.

He rubbed the back of your hand while you reached out to intertwine your fingers with his. The warmth that radiated off his skin felt like home.

He knew, and you knew that he did. After all, you could never hide your secrets from a psychic, no matter how hard you tried. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him how you felt.

“Goodbye,” you pulled away from Saiki.

What was the point of confessing your feelings to someone you would never see again?

Paris, France was one of your destinations out of many. Most people romanticized the capital as the City of Love, but the only reason you were even there in the first place was to visit the Louvre, the world’s largest art museum.

Influenced by the art and the romantic ambience, you sketched out the scenery around you, deliberating how you could embody the city on paper. If you were to draw a picture of love, what would you envision?

Maybe, it would look like pink locks tousled by the spring breeze, or the reflection of your eyes searching for violet orbs through tinted green glass. It might have been the lingering warmth on the fingertips of someone who trusted you enough to share their deepest secret, or the gentle smile that was reserved only for you during the most intimate of moments.

Your love was constant and unchanging. You realized that now. No matter how much time had passed or how many countries you visited, you always found yourself thinking about home.

Ever since you were a young student in junior high, you had hated the thought of giving up on your dreams to pursue a flighty, insignificant relationship. Six years ago, you threw away your chance at love to focus on your aspirations. There was no point in thinking back on what might have been. You shouldn’t have.

You made a name for yourself through the many art competitions you joined, winning a few awards here and there. A while back, you finished your Bachelor's Degree in Illustration at a famous art school in New York. Things were coming together quite nicely.

Your high school days almost seemed like a lifetime ago. The memories that used to be the center of your universe, the laughter you shared with your friends, and a not so ordinary boy with psychic powers were at the back of your mind. Everyday life without the only person you've ever loved became the norm for you.

You recently got a job offer from a famous publishing company in Japan after you posted a short comic that blew up in popularity. The editor in chief sealed the deal with you after you sent him a promising draft for a manga you had planned out.

It had been years since you’ve been to the country, but your return and the nostalgic surroundings brought back old recollections that made you feel like you were a teenager again.

The chief took it upon himself to give you a tour around the company, showing you the work environment and the employees. He guided you through the different floor levels, offices and workrooms, and acquainted you with the higher-ups. But he had yet to introduce the editor you would be working with.

"There he is."

The chief led you towards the figure of a man who had his back turned to you. The pink tuft of hair on his head and the silly-looking antennae shaped into joysticks poking out of his scalp were noticeably familiar. But you couldn’t believe it.

He turned around, green-tinted eyes boring into yours with the same neutral expression you used to see every day. Even when you had anticipated who it was, you couldn’t help the breathless gasp that escaped your lips.

"This is Saiki Kusuo. He will be the editor in charge of overseeing your work,” the chief introduced to you.

You took the hand Saiki held out for you, shaking it courteously. His blank expression didn’t fade, but his eyes softened under your gaze. The warmth on his grip was just as comforting as you remembered, like the welcoming embrace for a loved one returning home.

Neither one of you let go.

"Well, since it's already after work hours, you guys should grab dinner and get to know each other. You'll be working closely for a while, after all," the chief suggested before leaving you and Saiki alone.

A hushed silence washed over both of you as the world disappeared before your sight. The image of a cherry blossom tree on a sunny spring day was evoked in your mind.

He sat next to you in a secluded booth of the café you used to frequent, away from prying eyes.

"What happened to majoring in Economics and Literature?" you asked.

Your body was angled in his direction while you engaged him in conversation. Despite the many years apart, you and Saiki had fallen back to the easygoing relationship you once shared.

'I finally had time to think about my future, and I realized that this is what I wanted.'

“You wanted to be a manga editor like your dad?” you prompted.

‘Not quite.’

Saiki was composed as usual as he turned to face you.

'I have a dream. After you accomplished your goals, we would find each other again and spend the rest of our lives together. And maybe we might even make a best-seller manga one day,’ he mused.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest. The words you couldn’t bring yourself to say on the day of your graduation poured out unthinkingly from your throat.

“I love you.”

He placed a hand on the back of your neck, closing the distance between you.

‘I know.’

Your lips crashed into his, moulding perfectly as they moved against one another. You gripped his shoulders, pulling him in as he snuck an arm around your waist. Your eyelids fluttered shut, relishing in the sweet sensation of his taste.

You only pulled away minutes after to catch your breath. His forehead leaned against yours, the tip of your noses barely skimming each other. The look of adoration in his eyes revealed that he felt the same way.

No matter how long he waited, your love for each other was unchanging.

#saiki x reader #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki #saiki k #saiki kusuo #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #saiki kusuo no ψ nan #the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki no psi nan

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10-porgs-in-a-trenchcoat · 3 years

Text

What I See

Pairing: Clone Medic Kix x GN Medic Reader

Premise: My musings here resulted in this. You're a medic in the 501st who works closely with Kix. At first you think the crush you have on him is one-sided, until one day you look through his sketchbook and are surprised by a portrait he drew.

Word Count: ~2.2k

Rating: G

Other notes: gender neutral reader, no pronouns, no use of Y/N, no beta we die like clones

AO3

Being an army medic had its ups and downs, its slower periods and bursts of intense stressful activity. You wouldn’t trade it for anything though. The pay was better than what you earned as a civilian medical worker, your patients were much more agreeable (even though there was the occasional trooper who insisted he was fighting fit when he was still far from being so) and your coworkers were professional and easy to get along with. One coworker in particular was your favorite, and you looked forward to the shifts you shared with him.

When you first met Kix, you admired him for the love and care he showed his fellow clones and commanding officers. The two of you quickly developed a rapport; he always laughed at the bad jokes you made, and you liked to challenge him to competitions to see who could restock supply shelves in the med bay the fastest … he always won, but every time you’d stick your tongue out at him and say “I’ll get you next time!” and he would only respond with a knowing smirk.

During down time, when there were no patients and paperwork was handled, Kix would sit at his desk with a leather-bound book and a pencil. It was an odd at first, seeing the rich brown leather and sheets of paper in an austerely sterile all-white setting filled with holopads and technology, but it also looked right in his hands. Without meaning to, you’d sometimes watch as he focused intensely on whatever he was scribbling into the book, brow furrowed in concentration as he worked.

“Jesse teases me and tells me I should just take pictures,” he explained one day as he showed you some drawings in his book, “but I find this relaxing.” He flipped to a sketch of a grassy plain with mountains in the background. You marveled at the details: the colors and shading on the mountains looked like sunlight glistening off their stony faces, the grass looked so realistically textured you thought it would feel like the real thing if you touched it, and he even added some wildflowers as well.

After seeing the meticulous designs he shaved into his hair, it was no surprise that Kix was an artist.

“Looks like it could be a picture,” you commented.

“Fives said something similar once, when we were down on Felucia he caught me drawing this-“ he flipped through the book to show you a drawing of a wide-trunked tree with large drooping leaves. “I just draw what I see,” he added with a shrug.

“You’re really talented though, the best I can draw is a stick figure.”

Kix cracked a small smile. “That was once the best I could do too,” he said.

The way his lips curved in his smile, the way his eyes shone as he looked at you - in that moment you realized just how beautiful he was. Sure, he was good-looking – all the clones were – but he stood out to you.

There was no use denying it, you had a crush on him.

Before there was a chance for your thoughts to betray you in any way, Kix’s comm beeped. “Duty calls,” he said, closing his sketchbook and stashing it in a drawer under his desk. He then stood up and made his way to his station, and you followed suit. Whatever was about to come into the med bay, it would keep you busy enough to distract yourself … so you hoped.

It had to be strictly professional between yourself and Kix, you reminded yourself as the first wave of injured troopers came into the medbay. Besides, given how quickly he could turn on a heel from artist to medic like that demonstrated how dedicated he was to his work, you knew he would never let anything get in the way of his duty.

Four rotations went by. Kix went on a mission with the rest of Torrent Company, leaving you to manage the med bay on your own during your shift. It was more of the same, really … but you thought about him more than you would care to admit. Of course, you always thought about him when he went on missions, you told yourself. Everyone worried about their coworkers, right? Especially if there was a chance they might not come back?

He always came back, you told yourself. This time wouldn’t be any different.

Only it was both more of the same and different. You were working on paperwork when the med bay doors suddenly flew open, and troopers began pouring in. As soon as you commed some off-duty medics to report to the med bay, you manned the triage station so you could tend to the more critically injured troopers first. It was hectic, a flurry of stressful activity, making sure everyone who needed a bed had one and every wound and scrape was patched up. It wasn’t until everything quieted down that you found Kix in one of the beds.

Your heart dropped into your stomach when you saw him. He was asleep, undressed from the waist up with bandages and bacta patches affixed to spots on his shoulder and the side of his head, and his lower half covered with a blanket. Nodes attached to pulse points on his inner arm connected to a machine by his bed that recorded his vital signs, and everything looked normal at first glance. His chart reported a direct blaster hit to his shoulder and a graze on his head, with an expectation of a full recovery, signed off by one of the medics you called in to help. You owed that medic big time, you thought.

A glance at the nearest chronometer revealed that your shift ended three hours ago, but you couldn’t leave. You didn’t want to leave. So you grabbed a chair and pulled it over to Kix’s bed so you could sit by him. Someone had to keep an eye on him after all. It was professional courtesy, you told yourself, that was all. Besides, even though your body ached and felt heavy with exhaustion, your mind was too active and on edge for sleep.

On the floor by his bed were his things: his armor, neatly stacked and organized, next to his medical pack. Inside his pack you found his sketchbook, and you figured you could pass the time by looking at his drawings again. You found the sketch of the plain and the mountain again and took a few more minutes to admire the detail. Then the tree on Felucia, and then a tooka cat, and when you turned the page you nearly dropped the book in surprise.

Kix had drawn you. In the picture you looked off in the distance, chin propped up on your hand. The detail was incredible: the shape of your nose, your mouth, your eyebrows, all rendered with magnificent accuracy. You wondered if he drew it from memory, or used a picture as a reference, or sketched you one day on duty when you weren’t paying attention.

It had to be a picture, you decided. What you saw before you … it was an idealized version of yourself. Better-looking than anything you ever saw in the mirror.

Before you could dwell on it any longer, you heard a weak drowsy voice calling your name. You looked up and saw that Kix had woken up, his head turned towards you and his half-lidded eyes meeting yours.

“Oh- you’re awake!” you stammered, your cheeks flushing with heat as you slammed the sketchbook shut. You sprang to your feet and came to his bedside – to tend to him as a medical professional, you reminded yourself.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

“My job,” you answered plainly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot,” he answered glibly. “But I meant, what are you doing with that?” he nodded his head best he could and glanced to the sketchbook that was still in your hand.

“Oh-“ You froze for a second. “I- sorry, I just really like your ….” Your sentence trailed off as you saw apprehension flash across his face.

“It’s fine,” Kix murmured as he averted his gaze away from you.

“I … I saw you drew me.”

“Yeah … drew that when I was away … was missing you.”

Oh. Maybe he was crushing on you too … the idea was equal parts exciting and scary.

“Missed you too,” you returned, reaching down to give his wrist a gentle squeeze. “And it’s a really good drawing of me too. Did you use a picture for reference or something?”

“Memory,” Kix said plainly.

“Wow …” You opened up the sketchbook again to your drawing and gave it another lookover. “And you made me look better than I actually do.”

“No. I told you before, I draw what I see.”

Your mouth fell open slightly in surprise, and you looked up to meet Kix’s gaze again. Tired as he was, he looked at you with a soft admiration, as if he was appreciating a fine work of art standing directly in front of him. Your mind was both full and blank at the same time, feeling flattered and treasured but at the same time unsure of how to respond to him.

“I … I’ve been putting off telling you how I feel about you,” he continued, “because –“

“Your duty comes first, I understand,” you cut him off as you sat down on the edge of the bed, turning your torso to better face him and setting the sketchbook down by his head.

“No, not that. Well, it has to, but – but that doesn’t mean I can’t want more out of life.” Kix paused. He raised his hand and reached it towards you. You responded by raising up your own hand, taking his in yours, and holding it in your lap. Your other hand came to rest on his wrist. He was so warm under your touch, soft and solid and steady. You knew that you would eventually have to let go, but you didn’t want to.

“My favorite part of the day is when I get to see you, whether it’s here or in passing somewhere on the ship,” he continued, “and on the battlefield after I got shot, as I was lying there, all I could think about was how I might never see you again.”

“Kix, I-“

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupted you. “Except, if- if after the war’s over you wanted to give it a shot? You and me?”

“Yes.” The words immediately fell from your lips as your mouth widened into a smile. You didn’t even have to think about it, and the potential consequences that the higher-ups in the GAR might inflict upon the both of you for even entertaining the idea didn’t matter. It just felt right, the idea of you and him. You couldn’t begin to explain it.

Kix returned your smile. You raised his hand to your mouth and softly kissed the back of it before lowering it back down to your lap. Before you could disentangle your hands from his, he returned that gesture as well, pulling your hand that was intertwined with his to his mouth and pressing little kisses into your knuckles. The feeling of his lips on your hand sent pleasant little tingles through your skin.

“Let’s talk about it some more after you’ve recovered,” you suggested.

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed absentmindedly. He shifted slightly in bed but suddenly stopped and froze in place, his face twisting into a pained grimace and a hiss escaping through his teeth.

“You okay?” You asked, pulling your hand back to you and scanning his body for any other signs of distress.

“Yeah, just hurts is all.”

“Let me get you some painkillers.”

“No need, I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Kix, I insist.” You told him in the sternest voice you could muster.

“I have the right to refuse treatment, especially if the treatment is better spent on my brothers who are in worse shape than I am.”

He was right, he did have the right to refuse treatment. But you couldn’t bear the idea of him being in pain.

“Okay … how about a sleeping aid then? Or some water? Can I get you anything?”

“If you want to do something for me, go get some rest. I’ll still be here when you report for your next shift.”

“Ugh, fine. You drive a hard bargain.”

“Ah come on, you know you love me.” Kix said teasingly, punctuating his statement with a smirk and a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Giving him a small laugh and a half-hearted eye roll, you pushed yourself up onto your feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Before you turned to leave, you took his hand in yours again, and took a moment to gaze in his eyes. It took everything in you to not immediately start imagining a life with him after the war. There wasn’t even any guarantee there was going to be a life after the war – the cruiser you were on might be destroyed tomorrow by the Separatists for all you knew – but the idea still filled you with hope and joy. Something to look forward to with him. Something else to fight for.

#kix x reader #kix x you #clone medic kix x reader #clone medic kix #clone trooper #clone wars #star wars #my writing

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mcfreakin-bxtch · 4 years

Note

Hello! I hope you're doing okay over there. Are your requests open? If so, could you do a Din x reader with the reader sketching him (the child and their special moments together) when she thinks he isn't looking, but one day he finds the sketchbook? If they're closed just ignore the request but hold on tight to the wishes of good furtune and health ♥ Stay safe!

I’m hanging in there sweet anon and I hope you’re doing okay too (okay but this is so cute omg).

Warnings: It’s really just two dorks and good ole fluff. Some of this is unedited as well

*Reminder that the forum for my taglist is still up and pinned!

__________________________________________

If he would turn slightly to the left, you’d be able to get the perfect angle you need to finish the sketch.

The helmet reflects the glare of the stars, illuminating a bright shine around the top of the beskar and stinging your eyes just a little when you look up at it. You can’t help but do it anyway. The Child is asleep, a day of actually getting to use those little feet of his wore him out - you love the little one, but you and Din have exhausted yourselves keeping up with finding him his home and protecting him at the same time; this peace and quiet right now is highly overdue.

The pencil glides easily against the paper, connecting every line to another, creating another favorite of yours; the perfect piece of art that’s sitting in front of you, unaware of the stacks of sketches that you’ve drawn silently in the whatever corner you can lurk in. To be honest, with as attentive as he is, you’re surprised he hasn’t caught on to you yet.

You’re so lost in finishing the shades that you don’t notice the Mandalorian turning slightly towards you in his seat. He watches your brows furrow in deep concentration, the light scratching in the air a comfort to him since the months of hearing it. He’s never actually seen any of your drawings, however, and he knows that one day the curiosity will get the better of him and he’ll ask... eventually.

Truth is he’s not all the sure on why he hasn’t asked you yet, despite the growing and gnawing interest with teeth that grows sharper and longer as more time goes on. And it’s not like you’ve ever brought it up, either. It’s been this unspoken thing between the two of you - a dance that’s familiar in any language; of scared love and child-like curiosity that seeps into something deeper.

That’s exactly what he’s afraid of.

It’s in this moment of sensing a pair of eyes on you - the pair of eyes you can’t see, but imagine they must be green, or brown more than anything. For a moment, you’re almost afraid to find out.

With a small intake of air you will your head to tilt up. The visor spins away so quick that it’s almost comical, and you bite your lip to suppress the giggle bubbling in your chest.

“Din,” you call his name teasingly. “Is there something you wanted?”

It’s almost too hard to hide the laughter when his helmet jolts towards you, like he’s surprised that you called him out on it.

“I -” You think you hear a gulp through the statics of the vocoder. “- I was... I was just wondering what you were drawing. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.”

Your heart skips a beat at the sincerity of his apology, and the fact that he was watching you, which has you wondering if this is a reoccurrence you’ve been blind to this entire time.

“It doesn’t,” you voice croaks. “It’s-it’s nothing really. Just the ship, whatever I see throughout the day.” You sit up, still clutching the book to your chest. “I’m going to check on the kid. Call for me if you need anything.”

When the hell did the air get so thick like this? You feel bad, so bad, and a part of you wants to desperately show him this simple thing that he just wants to look at, but... but he’ll know. One look and he’ll know.

“Okay,” the modulator cracks - you wonder what it’s masking right now, what you can’t hear through the robotic statics. “You can rest too while you’re at it. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

You nod and awkwardly wave your departure, climbing down on wobbly legs to the hull and the cot the Child is asleep on; you’re relieved to see that he’s still bundled in his blanket, a peaceful expression gracing his features.

It’s here you feel the fatigue settling on your shoulders. The dull beating You sigh and settle inside the small space, careful of your weight and making yourself as comfortable as you can get. With the book and pencil still in hand, you decide to finish the little details of his belt.

***

Mando sighs as thoughts of you plague his mind once more.

That, and the fact that he needs to sleep at least an hour before the landing at the next destination.

He keens his ears for any sings of movements down in the hull, but when he hears nothing he climbs down to ladder in quiet, graceful strokes.

The dim light does absolute injustice to your features in his opinion. It’s the first thing he notices, not the Child is gurgling over your open sketchbook that’s sprawled out on your lap as you sleep.

“Kriff,” he curses under his breath and rushes as quietly as he can towards the bunk. He tries to keep his eyes averted of the drawings, but he can’t help it, especially when the Child pouts and slaps against the page when his hand clasps around it.

It’s... well, it’s him. He’s leaning against the wall of what he can tell is the Razor Crest based off the small details you made sure to put in - he really admires that. Down at his feet is the little one, grinning up at him. Beneath the helmet that’s shielded him from the rest of the world for almost all his life, he smiles back; orange caresses the rough paper, imagining that he can actually feel it through the lead and gloves.

The next page is of a planet he cannot name off the top of his head, but he can’t shake the feeling that it’s of home.

Each page is filled with memories; past and present etched and filled with the kind of skill and warmth that can never be replaced; promises of mystery tied in like a piece of string. Most of them towards the end are of him and the Child. Small moments, mostly, like when he fell asleep with the kid secured to his armored-less chest, and moments when it’s him, sitting in the pilot’s seat or his cape flowing behind him as he walks away to a new bounty or clue to the Child’s powers.

He recognizes them with a deep fondness that makes his head swirl with all types of emotions. Din knows what they mean, but it’s the fear. Yet each drawing - he’s on the one from hours ago - scolds each inch of doubt within him, and in this he finds a type of bravery he’s hasn’t faced much before; it makes it more terrifying to him.

“I like to draw what makes me happy.”

Your voice startles him from his thoughts. He’s never frozen up like this before - at least long ago - but now it feels like your stare alone is the only thing keeping him grounded to this spot. The doe like expression on your face the guilt that started to creep within his chest dissipates.

“I’m sorry,” he says, because he still feels that he needs to apologize. “The kid had it and I... he likes the one where he found that flower.”

You smile widely at that, looking down at the child in question as you sit up. Din silently watches you climb out from the bunk and takes a few steps back to let you lean against the cold interior.

“That’s one of my favorites, too,” you say; proudly, Din thinks. “And the one where you fell asleep in the pilot’s chair... you were so tired that day and I kept trying to get you to rest and let me take over, but you can be so stubborn sometimes, you know that?”

His chuckle radiates the room, and fuck it, it could radiate the entire galaxy. Yours join in with ease, but it quickly dies down, though not awkwardly or uncomfortably; it feels natural among the countless other laughs you’ve shared over the years.

“I um - “ you clear your throat nervously, battling with the endless fluttering of butterflies in your stomach and the shakiness in your voice. “- I guess this is a good time to say that I really like you, Din. And I’ve been drawing these sketches of as many of these moments as I can because they’re so precious to me.” You take a deep breath. “Just like the Child is. Just like you are.”

You finish with a light scoff. It’s quiet, you have to pee, and you hope to the Maker above that this isn’t how your journey with Din ends; you should really open your eyes and at least do something if he’s just going to keep standing there.

“I like you, too.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when those words reach your ears. It feels like your heart just stopped beating, your body frozen, and your thoughts bouncing wildly around like a blaster; that crackled laugh (that you know somehow is soft) brings you back to your body, back to the man standing closer to you know and slowly reaching his hand out.

You glance at it before tracing your eyes over the worn out boots that’s seen better days, the scratched and scraped armor that you have shared more than enough time cleaning and polishing, the signet that the Mandalorian never fails to honor proudly, even in his own quiet ways; and now the helmet, the t-shaped visor that shields him.

In this you find no fear. The weight of his hand in yours settles you and the soft link of his pinky with yours brings a stinging to your eyes.

“I can’t do this alone,” he says. “And I want this to work. The Creed -”

“I know,” you interject quietly. “It’s not always going to be easy. But we got this, just like always, don’t we?”

“At least one of us has to.”

His heart warms when the loudest snort he’s ever heard you make jolts the Child from his sleep, blinking those big eyes wearily as your muffled laugher continues against your fingers. “You should get some sleep now,” you tell him. “I got this one.”

It feels very natural to lean down and pick the Child up and smile at Din with assurance; he feels the air in his lungs draw out of him until he literally starts to feel breathless, and his lips stretch in a smile - it’s small and shy; hopeful.

After he makes sure that the hull is closed off and lays his helmet by the plates of his armor (one of the rare times he actually can), settling onto the unforgiving but familiar cot, he imagines you’ll make a fuss about the scar on his nose with a pencil and book in your hands.

Tags: @talesfromtheguild, @absurdthirst, @chews-erotically, @hiwelcometochillys, @legally-a-bastard, @bluengrayfox, @pascaliprincess, @oloreaa, @thisis-theway, @jaynoellef, @ben-is-a-hoe, @hayley-the-comet, @pascalisthepunkest, @kenedyybrooklin, @garrshep, @paintmekala, @marian, @fit-fierce-gamer, @altersw, @hoodedbirdie

#this was so sweet i can't #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #fanfic #request #pedro pascal #anon #i have a little cold and finished this a little loopy *jazz music plays in the background*#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you

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