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#but a doodle since i have gotten to draw in a bit

ozzgin · 4 months

Note

I can't get your yakuza headcanons out of my mind, Daitou's got me in a chokehold and I'm not complaining, like--

in regards to that doodle you made to show height difference between reader and the boys [I love your art btw (●♡∀♡)] - I can't picture myself in reader's style, I'm currently going through my goth phase in my 20s lmao; picture a big bitch with tattoos and messy hair who's listening to nothing but 2000s hits and screamo bands - so I'd like to request a headcanon of how Daitou would react to a gender-neutral reader like this :D I also like to incorporate the idea of them once being in a famous band that he's a fan of! (sorry if this seems like a lot, I have a huge imagination hehe)

but if he's more into the cute and helpless type, I'll just walk my ass out the door and yeehaw my way into another yandere's arms ✌😔

That's on me for not drawing the reader inserts as cartoonish cinder blocks :') In truth I'm a little bit embarrassed seeing how many likes that doodle has gotten, it was something I put together in a hurry and the clothing was meant to be baggy, shapeless, with not too many folds for the sake of simplicity. I myself am more of a pilgrim goth, just to emphasize the randomness of the choice.

Drawing reader inserts always leaves me a little anxious. If I use a light shade of gray, will people think I'm excluding poc? Will plus sized readers feel like they've been disregarded? What about masculine readers? As someone who's demiromantic I always struggle taking appearance or gender into consideration, because to me it has no influence whatsoever. Which is hard to express when you want to offer blank slate visuals as an extra to the story.

What I'm trying to say is that all of my characters would like you for who you are. Sure, they find your looks cute, but it's not the defining reason. Maybe you have similar traits to them, maybe you're the complete opposite and they find it intriguing. You could be a buff man and Daitou would be just as grateful to have someone who isn't afraid of him. I usually stick to a female reader for bigger stories to avoid messing it up long term, but in the grand scheme of things it makes no difference. I always imagine reader to be a shapeless blob that provides the dialogue I need for the story mood. There's no concrete preference or type for any of my OCs. I mean, ideally you'd like them back and not hang them upside down above a BBQ pit but I feel these are sensible requirements (?).

And now for the actual headcanons since my ramble is over.

First encounter is comically awkward but for reasons you’re unaware of yet. You’re obviously used to people staring at you (more so in a country like Japan), so you were expecting the curious glance every now and then. On the other hand, being under scrutiny, from a man even more unusual looking than you at that, is odd. Mildly uncomfortable. You’re shifting yourself from one leg to another, hoping to be done with the introductions soon.

On his end, Daitou is anxiously fidgeting and trying his best to focus. He’s seen this face before and he can’t shake off the familiar feeling. Where the hell…He obviously can’t downright gawk at you, and he isn’t sure how to politely formulate a question. After several sheepish peeks, it finally dawns on him: weren’t you part of that band he really likes? No, what would the chances be? Then again, how many people out there would look exactly like you? Is it rude to ask? He has no idea. He resumes his mumbled description of the apartment and hands you the papers to be signed.

Back at his place, he finally digs through his merch and sprawls out the available clues. “I didn’t know you were into this kind of music”, Kazuya comments as he looks over the man’s shoulder. He’d come over to ask about the new tenant. “I’m pretty sure it’s them.” He concludes, confidently placing his index over a CD cover. “Huh? Who? The tenant?” Kazuya holds back his chuckle. “Why would a celebrity show up for a shady apartment offer? You’re tripping, man.”

“I’m sorry, this is getting ridiculous.” You finally exclaim, annoyed by the persistent stares of the now two men facing you. You’re standing in front of the apartment building, arms crossed, huffing at the tall scarred man and his blonde friend. “No, I’m sure of it. Even the tattoo is the same.” Daitou turns to whisper to Kazuya, oblivious to your complaints. In turn, Kazuya lightly elbows him, mouthing something about being rude. “Just ask them, man.” He adds, this time louder. “Ask me what??” You groan. “W-were you…um…in this band by any chance?” Daitou manages to blurt out, searching his pocket for the CD case and ceremoniously laying it under your eyes.

Ah. It finally clicks and you exhale, relieved. You confirm their suspicions and show them some backstage photos to solidify your claim. You ask Daitou if he wants an autograph or something, then swiftly scribble your signature on a piece of paper and hand it out to him. He holds it with a wide, childish grin. “You’re a weird one, you know? You could’ve just asked. I guess I didn’t expect to find a fan in the wild, especially here.” Daitou carefully folds the souvenir, eyes lidded with nostalgia. “Oh yes, it’s great. Drowns out the screams.”

#yandere yakuza #yakuza x reader #daitou

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saeist · 1 year

Text

nagi was sleeping in class again

it's not much of a surprise that he does that. he's literally the talk of the class because he just sleeps all day. even earning the title 'the thousand year netero' just because he literally sleeps all morning

you just so happen to be desk mates with the said 'thousand year netero'

you've gotten a handful of comments from your classmates that luck was not on your side as you were nagi's designated desk mate. they even ask if you've ever seen him awake or if you've ever talked to him

the reply was always the same. it was just a simple, "yeah" because frankly, you have seen him awake and you have talked to him multiple times throughout the semester

nagi never fails to greet you good morning and offer you his bread when he walks in through your classroom door every morning. it was basically the only time he talks to you before falling asleep on his desk for the rest of the day

until recently, nagi has been talking to you way more than he usually does

and that's because you've developed a new hobby with your desk mate. you've been doodling on his exposed arm as he sleeps soundly beside you.

i mean, the opportunity was there. nagi, who was knocked out cold and you were bored out of your mind. you see his sleeve hunched up and you had a pen in hand. it was only a matter of time you started doodling your heart's content on his arm

nagi first noticed when reo pointed out that he had some scribbles on his arm and that he should go wash it off. nagi noticed your familiar handwriting and confronted you about it the next day

nagi will never forget how your cheeks turned into a bright shade of pink and mumbled apologies as you were caught in the act. nagi simply assures you it was nothing and he thought it was "pretty neat"

ever since then, it became your thing to doodle on each other's arms like it was nothing

as time went on, nagi could reference the doodles you'd doodle on his arm. that's when he noticed that you two had way more things in common.

slowly, he finds himself awake in class more often. he wanted to see you in the act as you doodle away on his arm. may it be song lyrics in bubble letters, or random characters you draw on the top of your head, nagi wanted to see you do it

one day in class, you were surprised to see him paying attention for once. usually at this time of the day, he'd be sprawled out next to you with a textbook merely covering his face so he wouldn't be caught sleeping.

nagi feels your curious gaze and shrugs. he then extends his arm and pushes his sleeve up to his forearm. he motions you to start doodling on his exposed skin.

you don't know why but you feel yourself blush. maybe because this was your first interaction that didn't involve nagi sleeping next to you as you doodle.

you felt shy in front of nagi for the first time. you were a bit skeptical to even start to draw on his skin.

"just pretend i'm sleeping" nagi says, now opening his palm, giving you even more space to draw on.

the bell rings, indicating that classes were over. your classmates all stand up and start packing their things to go home after the long day but nagi was still seated, watching you with his eyes, waiting for you to mark him for the day

in the end, you just doodled your name in kanji

you ended up leaving before nagi. nagi sits there in his seat with a small smile on his face, staring at your name you just doodled on his wrist.

the next day rolls in and you find nagi awake in class. wind blows through your class windows and nagi's paper flies away. he goes to pick it up and you can see his sleeve moved up a bit

there you see, your name still written on his wrist

#ads writing for nagi?? thats a first #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #nagi imagines #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro imagines #nagi seishiro x reader #WE'RE EXPANDING THE ROSTER YALL LETS ALL WELCOME NAGI TO MY MASTERLIST

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tarjapearce · 9 months

Note

Lips anon! Reader and Miguel deciding to go spend some time together without the kids so they asked the crew to watch Gabby and baby Benji, but only to return home to see the house a complete wreck (resending becuz I don't think Tumblr sent it the last time)

For some reason Tumblr have been eating asks, notifications??? Anyways ~

"No."

"Why not?"

"Just no, mi amor. I'll tell Peter."

"Miguel, we can't always rely on Peter to take care of our kids! That's... just invasive and kinds pushy. Plus I'm sure he has enough as it is with Mayday in her teething stage."

He groaned and took your hands.

"Mi amor. You know I love you, right?" You deadpanned, "But trusting a bunch of teenagers to take care of our children..."

"Give them a chance. You're always encouraging Gabi to do things on her own, what's the difference in a group of older kids? Besides Hobie seems the one that has a much more developed sense of responsibility, Gabi adores them! Benji loves Miles!"

"Still, no."

"Miguel!" He tensed and closed his eyes at your tone.

"It's been months since we had a date, the reservation is done, if anything happens Hobie has our phone. I'm gonna get ready, and so will you. Got it?"

"Okay, okay. No hay que alterarnos. Los llamaré, de acuerdo?" (Let's calm down. I'll call them, ok?)

"Good boy." You smooched his cheek and went to shower. He sighed as his ears felt warm

-----

"Don't worry Mrs. O'Hara, Benji will be safe with us. Miles brought some drawings for Gabriela to paint with him." Gwen spoke as Hobie held Benjamin, the toddler too enraptured in the different shiny textured bracelets on Hobie's wrist.

"Bye Solecito , You'll call me or Miguel if anything, alright? Benjamin's formula is in the counter, no sugar past 7 for Gabi, make sure she is asleep by 9."

"Gotcha." Gwen nodded

"Go on, mate. Missus awaits." You kissed Gabi and Benjamin on the forehead. You heard the ma ma from Benjamin.

"We'll be back soon." You went to the car. Miguel watched the three of them.

"Don't screw this up." Hobie just sniffed with a nod.

"Aye, aye. Go on."

Miguel soon joined you and sighed

"I have a bad feeling of this"

"I think Imma start calling you Miguel Angustias." (Worrywart Miguel).

He chuckled and took your hand in his, to then kiss it. You went for the date. Not that Miguel didn't trust them, he knew they were not ready for such things.

He was already savoring the 'I told you' he had in store for you later.

------

So far the only call you both had was from Miles to ask if Gabi had a soccer game as well so he would help her get her stuff ready.

But when you got home, you couldn't help but be both surprised and horrified Hobie held Benjamin on his chest, a bit of puke on his shirt, Gwen was curled next to Hobie, sandwiched between a doodle faces Miles, all craned up in the seatless couch, the removable seats piled up under some blankets. They had tried to build not one but two forts.

Stepping in further, you covered your mouth at the kitchen. Bowls piled up with gooey batter, the counter and the stand mixer coated in a dusty layer of flour, some dishes, scattered around the breakfast island, Pavitr asleep in one of the forts. When he had gotten in you had no idea.

Miguel just stared at you with a deadpan.

"I told you so." He shrugged casually and slammed the door loud enough to make em awake after you had taken Benjamin from Hobie's chest and put him to sleep after wiping his mouth and face.

The youngest jolted awake as Hobie just stirred awake. Miguel removed his feet from the coffee table. Gabi was asleep in the floor, in the opposite fort as Pavitr. Gwen's face was smeared in glittery makeup.

"You had one job." Miles rubbed his eyes sleepily.

"Uh... Tío, tu casa está embrujada." (Man, your house is hunted)

"Lo embrujada no le va a quitar lo sucia. A limpiar." (The haunted won't clean it up. Move it.)

"What did you say?" Gwen giggled at Miles chewed spanish.

"I told him that his house is hunted."

"Oh, definitely. Like... the bulbs were all poltergeist and then the porch's bulb just exploded."

"Told Pavitr to not tell scary stories, he didn't listen."

Miguel just sighed, ignoring them as he picked up Gabi. You approached

"I'm sorry for the mess, Mrs. O'Hara we just got too carried away. Benjamin loves Hobie's guitar though."

You couldn't help but chuckle at Gwen's face. She smiled sheepishly.

"Gabi wanted to do some makeup."

"It's alright, Thanks for taking care of them. Was Benjamin fussy?"

"At all, Hobie's great with kids. Pavitr as well. We had to call Margo to give us some advice on kids show."

"You should've asked me!" You chuckled, "I have some makeup remover wipes in the bathroom."

"Thanks. We'll clean up, promise."

------

They all left after leaving the house pristine. Miguel made sure of it.

"Go on, say it."

"I told you so." You pulled him closer and hooked a leg on his waist. It was your turn to be the big spoon.

"But they did it though. Mess aside. They helped Gabi out with her stuff, Benji was quite easy tonight, just were a bit messier and we finally had our date."

He nodded tiredly with drooping eyes.

To his dismay, you might call them again.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #💋 anon #atsv miguel #t writes✨#asks and replies #soccer family ⚽🕷️

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falloutkeiji · 2 years

Text

4 times eddie calls you sweetheart + 1 time he actually means it

words: 1.7k

characters: eddie munson x gn! reader

warnings: mentions of drug use (weed), light drinking, cursing, use of the nickname “sweetheart,” implied panic attack, the tiniest bit of angst

notes: this is my first fic pls be gentle w/ me. this is a play on the fic trend from a while ago that was like 4 + 1 things. anyway. hope u enjoy my blorbo writing

pt. 2

✰ the first time ✰

the smell of weed, tobacco, and incense hit your nose as you crossed the threshold into eddie’s room.

he plopped himself on his bed with a grin and flipped his black lunchbox open with a flourish.

“so…” he starts, drawing out the vowels way longer than he needs to. “what can i do for ya on this fine day?” he says in a faux professional voice.

the smirk on his face is playful, and he waves his hands in front of the dingy lunchbox as if he’s showing it off.

you play along with his bit, standing up straighter and pretending to be in deep thought. “i’ll take your finest product, sir. the best herbs you have on the market,” you reply.

eddie throws his head back with a raucous laugh, his hair falling behind his shoulders with the motion. you watch as his eyes squint shut and his mouth falls open as he shakes with the laughter. you really didn’t think what you said was all that funny, but the thought fades away as you watch him laugh unabashedly.

as his laughter dies down into small snorts, he grabs a small baggie of prerolled joints.

you stare at the bag in his hand, not making any motion to grab it. “what’s this? this isn’t what i’ve gotten from you the last like, 4 times.”

eddie’s grin grows on one side, and he waves the bag back and forth in the space between you two. “oh, you know. just wanted to make things easier, since you can’t roll for shit, sweetheart.”

it’s obvious he’s just trying to irritate you, but the knowledge doesn’t stop the flush from rising up your neck. you snatch the bag from him, muttering “asshole” under your breath, but you’re secretly thankful he went through the work of rolling your weed for you.

✰ the second time ✰

“welcome to music and more!”

eddie’s bored voice echoes through the empty store. he’s bent over the counter at the front, hair falling in front of his face as he writes quickly in a notebook.

it’s evident that he only heard the bell ring at your entrance and hasn’t seen you come in, so you stroll quietly up to the counter.

standing directly in front of him now, you can see his eyelashes fan over his cheekbones as he doodles characters for his next campaign. the action is so endearing that you want to scream and cry, but you watch him silently for a minute before clearing your throat.

“ahem, sir. i would like to speak to the manager.”

eddie’s head shoots up, a look of annoyance quickly fading into relief when he sees that it’s you standing there. “oh, thank fucking god. you scared the shit out of me there for a second.”

“whatcha drawing, munson? something nerdy, i presume?”

he glares at you before snatching his notebook away. “anyway,” he shouts, fixing the store lanyard that hangs around his neck. “why are you here?” he says suspiciously.

you gasp at him, hand against your chest in offense. “so rude, eddie. so rude. how dare you speak to a paying customer like that? i should have you fired for this.”

he grins at you, leaning up against the counter before replying. “i think you’re actually here because you can’t resist my epic salesman charisma, sweetheart.”

the flush returns to your face at that stupid fucking pet name, and you reach over the counter to punch him in the arm.

the conversation is dropped when, in typical eddie fashion, he collapses in a fit of dramatics onto the floor.

✰ the third time ✰

the awakening truly happens the third time he calls you sweetheart.

you’re packed into a dingy bar, surrounded by your small group of tipsy friends and a larger group of older, drunker men.

you’re stuck at a sticky barstool, waiting for the person you came for to get their ass on the stage. but, as is to be expected, the man of the hour is late.

30 minutes past their listed starting time, eddie and his band strut onto the stage.

for the next 30 minutes, your jaw is on the (beer-covered) floor.

you’d seen eddie practice before, had seen him singing and playing in his room and had even seen him practice with the rest of corroded coffin, but this was different.

eddie was up on that stage, hair teased up and eyes lined in black. his energy was electric as he played his guitar and banged his head to the song that you were, frankly, not even listening to.

the entire set passed in a daze, and you barely snapped out of it when eddie came bounding up to you after the show.

he was all giddy with excitement, bouncing on the balls of his feet. his hair was all over the place, and his eyeliner was smudged due to sweat, but you thought he had never looked prettier.

his excited grin turned teasing when he saw your awestruck expression. “seems like you enjoyed the show, sweetheart.”

if your face burned up, it could be blamed on the alcohol.

✰ the fourth time ✰

you had been avoiding eddie.

it had just become too much.

it was the one too many “sweethearts” that he so casually threw at you, but it was also, like, everything about him.

it was the fact that he was such a nerd and so passionate about his interests that he didn’t care. it was the fact that despite his flair for the dramatics, he was so sweet all the time, especially to you. it was the fact of his beautiful, stupid fucking hair and his pretty, stupid fucking smile and his hot, stupid fucking rings.

it was a wonder that you hadn’t fallen for him already in the years that you two had been friends. but now, you were at a complete loss.

you couldn’t do this to him. you were one of eddie’s only loyal, unconditional friends. you couldn’t put yourself in a place where you were lying to him and expecting more from him than what he could give you.

despite your better judgment and the churning nausea in the pit of your stomach, you grabbed your house phone and dialed a number you’d known by heart for years.

“hi, thank you for calling the munson residence! you kill ‘em, we grill ‘em! this is eddie speaking, how may i be of assistance to you?”

the anxiety you felt couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your throat at eddie’s greeting. it was a running joke for eddie to answer the phone with a different, equally ridiculous greeting each time.

“hi eddie. it’s me,” you speak quietly.

“oh hello! i should’ve recognized your laugh anywhere. to what do i owe the pleasure today, sweetheart?”

there it was again. that stupid fucking nickname. the reason that you had to make this call in the first place. the reason that your heart was racing and you felt bile rising up your throat.

and it wasn’t just the nickname. his casual tone caught you off guard and made you want to hang up the phone and forget this ever happened. you had expected him to be mad at your week-long avoidance, but his tone made it seem like he didn’t notice, or simply didn’t care. how was he still fucking flirting?

after an awkwardly long pause, you remembered that he had asked a question and was definitely still expecting an answer. “um. can we- can i come over?”

✰ + the first time he means it ✰

being in his room makes things like exponentially worse.

you’re surrounded by eddie. his entire soul is bared across the small room, with his band and movie posters, with his band shirts strewn across the room, with his notebooks filled with drawings and lyrics, with his guitar, with him.

“so….” he starts, twirling his hair around his finger and holding it to his face. “what did ya wanna talk about?”

he’s visibly nervous, if the hair twirling and leg shaking is anything to go by. you feel bad for making him nervous, but your own nerves are making it impossible to say what you need to say.

after a good minute of silence, he opens his mouth again. “swee-“

“that,” you cut him off.

he drops his hair, moving his fingers to play with his rings. “what?” he asks, his eyebrows raising up into his bangs in confusion.

“that. that fucking word, eddie. stop calling me that.”

“sweetheart?”

“yes, eddie, fuck.”

he looks at you for a while before speaking. he seems hesitant, not knowing exactly how to react to your outburst. “i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable. i really am. that was never my intention. i was just messing with you.”

frustrated tears fill your eyes. “that’s the problem, eds. that’s the fucking problem. that you’re just “messing” with me. i don’t want you to just be messing with me. i really, really like you. i didn’t realize it until you started calling me sweetheart and it made me so flustered and i didn’t know why it made me so flustered but it’s because i fucking really like you and i’m sorry and i really didn’t want to ruin our friendship so if you don’t wanna speak to me again that’s fine i just can’t handle it anymore and i just had to tell you. i’m sorry.”

at this point, the tears are fully streaming down your face. your breathing is labored, both from the anxiety and the long-winded rambling. you shut your eyes so hard you see colors because you can’t stand to see eddie’s reaction.

you flinch when you feel a warm pressure wipe away the tears on your cheeks. “breathe for me. in and out, you got it,” he says quietly, gently resting his hand on your shoulder.

it’s after a few minutes of his coaxing that you finally relax. once he feels you stop hyperventilating, he leans back to look at you. “so… if i tell you that i’m not just messing with you, can i start calling you sweetheart again?” despite the casual air of his words, he is back to twirling his hair and avoiding your gaze.

you glare at him half-heartedly. “and what is that supposed to mean?”

“it means that i like you too, dumbass.” despite this brash confession, eddie’s face is flushed with color as he grabs your hand in his. he kisses your palm, and you pretend not to shiver when he whispers “sweetheart” into your skin.

🏷: @pupkou

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #gn!reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x gn reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fluff #tw drugs #drugs tw #tw drinking #drinking tw

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darkbluekies · 1 year

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hi hi how have you been if it's no trouble and if you are taking requests can I request your ocs with an artist reader that gives them a painted picture of themselves, If it's too difficult pls ignore this. Thanks and have a great day/night♡

(sorry if my grammar is bad)

A/N: I'm so sorry, there might have been some translation error in my brain that said that yn gave the yanderes a picture of themselves, not of yn! I'm still not 100% sure what you mean, but I wrote this. I hope you'll like it even if it's the wrong interpretation :(♡

Warnings: a bit suggestive parts in Edmund's and Silas’s

Silas:

You’re quietly coming into his office with something behind your back. Silas looks curious, asking you what you want since you never come down to his office. Youquickly give the paper over to him and attempts to run, but he lets his men lock the doors before you have the time to reach them.

“Now, now, don’t run. Let’s see what you’ve given me … wow, baby, this is magnificent. You drew me? Why haven’t you told me that you have such a talent, little thing? Now, don’t get all shy now. I really like it. I’ll keep it right here on my desk. Come here now so I can give you a kiss.”

Dr Kry:

He can tell that you’ve been drawing something for over an hour by now, but you haven’t let him see it. Everytime he comes close you pull the paper away. He’s growing curious, he can’t deny that. By lunchtime, you give him your artwork. He scans it with a small smile on his face.

“You made this of me? How sweet of you. I will cherish this dearly, I promise. Do you like to draw? Do you want me to buy you some supplies?”

King Edmund:

He has hundreds of portraits from all ages. Every year there's a new portrait of him (and you) hung in the throne room. But when you give him a messy sketch of him that you made while waiting for him to finish a meeting, he's mesmerized. You've caught something that the other painters haven't. There's something real about your sketch. Something human that has gotten erased in the official portraits.

"This is so beautiful, my jewel. You have a wonderful talent. I want you to paint my next portrait. And I'll do whatever pose you want, wearing whatever you want."

Jerry:

She likes to make some sketches too. But nothing professional. Just some doodles when she's bored. She has let you borrowed her sketchbook while she's gone in a warehouse to retrieve stuff you want nothing to do with. You draw her from memory and when she returns you hand the book back. She catches a glimpse of the small cartoonish sketch you've made of her.

"Is this supposed to be me? Why did you make my face so round? I have a jawline, you know. I'm just teasing, I know it's an art style. It's stupidly cute somehow. I'll make one of you later and then we'll keep them in our phonecases, got it?"

Hedwig:

You're not paying attention in class again. It's okay, though! Hedwig will give you her notes. You're leaning against the wall, doodling. You start to draw your girlfriend, picturing her side profile magnificently.

"Y/N, we'll work in pairs now- … oh, is that me? Wow, you're amazing! You have to show me more later, I didn't know you had such good talent! Can I keep it? Thank you, I'll hang it in my locker and get reminded of you every time I open it!"

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere fics #yandere mafia #yandere oc x you #yandere headcanon #yandere reactions #yandere ocs x reader #yandere ocs #yandere oc x reader #yandere doctor #yandere king #yandere female #yandere x darling

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arthvrmvrgan · 6 months

Text

Arthur Morgan x Male!Reader Hcs

Hey!! I wanted to make another hc list cuz the last one did so well! I made this an x male!reader because as a gay trans guy, there really isn’t too much when it comes to male readers. I just wanna make other people who feel the same and myself feel happy and represented!

Also to add Arthur is autistic in this

Warnings: Mention of vomit

Though he maybe aversive to touch with others, arthur is SUCH a cuddle bug with his partner. When they first start out he’s shy and will hold your hand or wrap his arm around your shoulders.

but once it’s long term arthur gives you big bear hugs, hands around your waist, holding you close by the fire, and of course those soft kisses <3

When he’s drunk, he pulls you onto his lap, smothers your face in kisses, and yells about how much he loves you.

Arthur also gets shy when it comes to talking about his interests. If you mention something like drawing or horses, he’d make a small comment or addition to the conversation. But once he’s comfortable enough, he’ll infodump for hours about horses to you!

Just hold him close, let his head rest on your chest while you pet his hair and he infodumps, and he’s in heaven!

Some pet names he’d call you would include: “Darlin, Sweetheart, My prince, My man, Hun, and Sunshine” :3 When you call him any pet name, his heart melts and his legs feel like jelly

He loves giving and receiving praise! He’ll whisper in your ear “good boy” just to mess with you cuz he know it makes you BLUSH! But he’ll also be like “atta boy!” or “yup, that’s my boy.”

The first time you praised him, it felt really odd for him. He hadn’t been praised like that ever since he’d been with Mary. It felt so foreign but so…good.

His big ol’ heart skips a beat when you tell him how proud you are of him, or how he looks so handsome in that new shirt you got him. He feels like the happiest man on earth

Now unfortunately, times weren’t as accepting as they are now. You and Arthur knew it had to be kept secret for fear of what might happen. You two don’t feel any embarrassment at all, just a need for a safety. The gang knows about you two, most of them accepting you with welcome arms!

You also help Arthur out more with errands, jobs, and chores. Ever since an incident were Arthur worked his way up to illness like vomiting, you’ve made it your duty to lay off the weight on Arthur’s shoulders.

If he needs help with the hay bales, you’ll be right next to him holding one. If he’s going out on a stage job from alden, you ask if you can tag along!

Arthur has gotten better with accepting help or rest, but not so much asking for it. You still encourage Arthur to request help if he needs it, and how he’s not weak for doing so.

There have even been times where you’d yell at Dutch and Strauss to leave Arthur be for a bit.

He’ll sometimes doodle little drawings of you in his journal as well as writing lovey dovey passages about you and putting “A<3Y/N” with a big heart too. He’ll even just doodle random hearts while spacing out and thinking about you..

He gets so excited to see you, even if you can’t tell. The way his eyes light up like a big puppy dog’s as he speed walks over to your horse to greet you and give you a welcome back kiss

He also penguin pebbles and finds random stuff that reminds him of you!! Whether it be a cigarette card, a flower, or even some artifact or object he found…he WILL give it to you!

That’s all for now! If y’all wanna send in your arthur or just any other rdr hcs, feel free! I also wouldnt mind writing more arthur hcs so please feel free to send me rqs!

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan headcanons #rdr2 headcanons #autistic arthur morgan #arthur morgan x male reader

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sparkingcircuits · 1 month

Text

some doodles i made of my silly little au i had thought about + some extra thoughts under the cut

we’ve got a drawing of Kieranpon in his Ogerpon form and a Full body drawing of Pecharunt Kieran

first off: pecharunt kieran (who i really need a better name for..)

since pecharunt kieran is working with scraps of their identity, their human form is… off putting, to say the least.

since in their human form they don’t have a special place to store their poison, it just kind of ends up naturally explelling itself, like through the tears and saliva. the poison also causes their human form to be extra weak, which is why the chains are there for support. (it’s also because his human form is just. unstable in general but like. yknow)

in terms of memories, pecharunt kieran’s memories are split between pecharunt’s memories before the merge, the fragments of memories from kieran before the split, and the weird mishmash after the split. Pecharunt kieran is the only merged entity that has knowledge of the previous timeline, although the MC sometimes has strange dreams about it.. but this is about our pecha boy not the MC

due to the weird mishmash of memories and the poisonous saliva, Pecharunt Kieran can’t really speak normally. They talk in broken sentences, as Pecharunt could not speak any human language beforehand, and there’s only a little bit of Kieran we can work with here

in terms of personality and emotions, Pecharunt Kieran feels very envious of their counterpart. Kieranpon got most of their memories and personality and such, and is mostly stable in terms of appearance. Pecharunt Kieran feels as if they should have gotten those attributes, and believes that Kieranpon stole those qualities from them. so they DEFINITELY will end up fighting. and while Pecharunt Kieran’s human body isn’t very strong, the chains are. (i mean just LOOK at them)

SPEAKING OF THIS AU’s KIERANPON

this is mostly just gonna be about his Ogerpon form, and how it is different from his sisters (i haven’t drawn her ogerpon form yet

in terms of what parts of Kieranpon got compared to his sister, he got more of the true parts of Ogerpon, instead of the parts the signboards talk about. They both did, but in terms of symbolism Kieran is more “true” to the original Ogerpon. Kieran and Carmine both look very similar, but there are some differences.

While Kieran’s horns, curve up, Carmine’s horns curve more downwards and back almost. Carmine is also taller and has more sharper features in general, but in terms of strength, both are about the same with their masks

SPEAKING OF THE MASKS, there is only 1 copy of each mask! so they have to share. Kieran tends to use the Teal and Wellspring Masks, while Carmine favors the Hearthflame and Cornerstone Masks. They both have their own cudgels, though.

Both Kieran and Carmine can understand what Pokémon are saying, but Kieran specifically seems to have the easiest time understanding them by the way! technically ALL of them can but like.. yknow

#kieran pokemon #pokemon #pokemon kieran #kieranpon au #pokemon au #pokemon carmine #ogerpon #pecharunt

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sualne · 8 months

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Sorry if you're already working on this but with Luffy in Croc dad what's his hobby?? Like he's the biggest ball of energy and I think if wasn't fighting wild animals as a kid he would vibrate into another dimension from lack of stimulation. Does he draw and develop his art skills, has he taken up music or is he invested with the void century with Robin? Croc wants to keep him inside and safe so what did he think would be best to entertain him or does he buy a new thing every week that Luffy says he suddenly wants to do. Yes he looks at books but is that it. Also sorry if you answered this before and I've missed waht you said, I am pretty sure I've seen all your comics on this but I haven't seen all your ask answering questions.

i hadn't gotten these questions and im so glad you ask!! :D

so! luffy doesn't have one specific hobby and croc does end up giving him whatever he wants when he suddenly gets a new obsession, one of the reason he's so excited with finding the jewelry box and getting a dagger is because it's finally something new! after that he gets really into rings and knives until it gets bored of it and switch to something else again.

about him and learning about the void century with robin i actually got a comic later for that so i won't say anything here!

im going to make this a list and explain how it goes, under read more:

Fighting: this luffy doesn't know how to fight, but he still love the concept! he gets really excited hearing stories of fights, duels, martial arts and all the rest! In practice though, since he's been so sheltered and only ever saw one real fight that ended up with people being killed in front of him as a kid, if (haha) he were to witness another real fight he wouldn't be as giddy about it as when he hears stories. he does also learn the tiniest bit of kenpo from bonclay!

Dancing: luffy in canon loves dancing (and partying), here too! he doesn't know/master any specific styles but likes to drag people into dancing with him, if no one is around he'll grab some of the smaller bananawani instead.

Singing: he's still very bad at it.

Music: croc noticed how he'd taps on thing and tried to get him to learn some percussion, unfortunately for him, luffy doesn't care about music theory and just does whatever makes him happy. he also love loud noises and croc has to find a way to stop him from making a racket at any hours of the day, it gets worse when luffy loses some of his hearing and needs to make everything even louder. eventually he gets bored of it too.

Cooking: him and croc cooks together pretty often, if no one is there to supervise him luffy will ignore recipes and common sense, making all kind of abominations. it's a miracle he never set the kitchen on fire.

Bugs: he loves them! he collect them! alive. croc is horrified one day when he finds out baby luffy has been letting some food to rot so he could observes flies and larvae going through their little bug lives cycle. later croc gives him those pinned dead bugs collection boxes thinking luffy will like it, he doesnt.

Board&Cards Games: he mostly has to play them by himself, he doesn't like being alone so he'll often ends up playing it "with" the banawanis. after he loses a few too many times against the banawanis and can't get croc to join in for the millionth time he gives up on them. even when robin joins baroques works he still expect her to be too busy to play with him and doesn't ask (she would have accepted if he had asked).

Art&Craft: he tries a bit of everything, doing it his own way meaning most of it is kind of hideous or about to fall apart, canon luffy is completely fine with that, au luffy though, he's having ton of fun at first but when he gets old enough to see that his dad cant quite fake his enthusiasm or interest towards his disastrous creations he gets frustrated and stops for a while. later, robin finds an old drawing of his and thinks its cute so he start doodling a little again for her.

basically, he struggles keeping a hobby, some like fighting, dancing, bugs and staring at pictures in geography books he keeps through his life but mostly, he's very lonely and bored out of his mind, he's depressed, that's not something that can be helped for as long as he's isolated.

when robin becomes a part of his life everything gets better for him! she spends time with him, read stories for him, helps him get out more often, they even meet bonclay and for a few years he's genuinely happy.

#crocau ask #crocodad au #<- this one gets in the main tag cause this is important lore #i probably wont be able to show all of that in comic form so im glad i get to rant about it here!! it also turned out sadder than i expecte

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sidsinning · 3 months

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OMG SIDSINNING?!?! POOKIE THAT REALLY YOU?? OMG. YOU JUST APPEARED ON MY DASHBOARD WHA- YOU CARRIED OUT MY WHOLE MIRACULOUS HYPERFIXATION OMG!!! Dude this is soooo cool!! I'm obsessing over hazbin hotel and your art just appeared and I was like "OMG IT'S MY FAVORITE MIRACULOUS ARTIST" Dude I just wanna thank you!! You have just played a major role in my past obsession with miraculous ladybug and I wanted to thank you for all the memories you gave me. You art really made an inpact on me about three years back and are one of the reasons I started to draw fanart. And since I began drawing fanart due to consuming so many miraculous comics I actually ended up learning how to draw!! So thanks for being one of the reasons I got into drawing in the first place!! Oh my gosh I have liked your art for ages and just never knew you had a tumblr! This is like the best day ever. Your art has inspired me so much. It has inspired me over and over to get better in the past just to reach a certian level. So I just wanna thank you for having been my inspiration for a long time. I stopped watching Miraculous about almost a year or a couple of months now. (when season five started airing) But I will never ever forget the impact you left on my artist journey and how much your art meant to me when I was still a teensy bit cringe and was obsessing over the kids show. Thank you so so so so much. Your awesome. Like never stop drawing. -Michael/Mod mike (or as on my blogs ADHD!!)

HELLO!!!! THIS MIGHT BE THE SWEETEST MESSAGE I'VE EVER GOTTEN HERE LIKE EVER!!!

Thank you so much for enjoying my posts and art all this time, truly I have never thought I'd have a deeply personal effect on anyone with my silly doodles and comics here! So it makes me really happy to hear I had such a positive affect on you!!! In such a profound way!!!

I really don't know what to say other than I am super flattered and overwhelmed by how candy sweet this message is (IN A GOOD WAY OFC)!!! And it got me emotional reading this!!!

So thank you again!!!!

#ask

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toournextadventure · 1 year

Text

everyone but her pt.15

Summary: Detention can't keep you down, but Yoko certainly wants to give you a piece of her mind. When you're finally free and you stand Wednesday up again, she decides to investigate and learns a bit more than she was prepared for.

Word Count: 6.0k Warnings: swearing, making out (so slightly suggestive themes), slight description of injuries Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @n0p35 @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @asters-abditory @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @parkersmyth @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn

Larissa was on the verge of separating you and Miss Addams to opposite ends of the room.

It was her own fault for having assumed you and Miss Addams, of all people, would have behaved in detention. You were naturally nothing but trouble, and Miss Addams had been stirring the pot ever since she had been accepted into Nevermore. Yes, you had gotten slightly better since admitting your feelings for Miss Addams, but she should have known better.

“Pass one more note,” Larissa said without looking up; she heard all movement in the room halt, “and you shall be separated.”

You groaned, and Larissa looked up in time to see you put the note on your desk and get back to your excessive late homework. You should have done them earlier, she thought, but she knew better. It was getting closer to your birthday; you wouldn’t be able to properly finish your work until it had passed.

She leaned back in her chair and watched you doodle aimlessly on your work. Thankfully it was your right arm that was stabilised; your handwriting would’ve been illegible if your left had been injured. Two weeks of stabilisation had done little for the cut under your eye or your broken nose, but at least you were almost cleared to have a little more mobility. Maybe you could finally sleep and ease the bags under your eyes.

“Principle Weems?” Mister Ottinger asked, drawing Larissa’s attention to him. “May I go take care of the hive?”

“Of course you may,” she said with a smile. “As a bonus, we will consider this your last day of detention.”

His face lit up as he gave a quick “thank you” and gathered his things. She had to admit, he was a sweet kid, she understood why you had gone to keep him safe in the woods. It did not excuse your recklessness, but she understood your intentions.

“Principle Weems.” She sighed. “May I go help with the bees?”

“No you may not,” she answered without hesitation.

“Oh come on,” you huffed, “I’m an integral part of the Hive Society.”

“You most certainly are not,” Larissa shot back once she saw the defiance in your eyes. “Besides, if anyone needs to serve out the entirety of their detention, it’s you.”

“Well that’s just rude,” you mumbled, but she saw the way your shoulder relaxed slightly.

“Since we’re on the topic,” Miss Sinclair voiced, “may I go too?”

“Yes you may,” she said with another smile and a pointed look at you. “We will consider this your last day as well.”

“See you later, Wednesday,” Miss Sinclair called out as she very quickly left the office.

And the delinquents were down to two. Of course it was the two most troublesome ones as well, Larissa shouldn’t have been surprised. Miss Addams would never dare to ask to leave early, and she would never give the option. But you, no, she wanted you to stay longer than necessary. You had been avoiding her since you had gotten back from Spring Break, and she was determined to find out why.

Paper rustled just enough to become suspicious. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as you handed Thing - she had long since gotten used to his presence around Nevermore - a folded piece of paper. He in turn crawled across the floor until hopping up on the desk and handing the paper to Miss Addams. The ghost of a smile appears on her lips as she reads it before writing one back, and the cycle continues.

“Miss Addams,” Larissa said once it hit 7 in the evening, “you are free to go.”

She didn’t say anything before grabbing her things and leaving. Your eyes followed her until the door closed and she was officially out of view. It almost made Larissa chuckle when you slunk further into your chair now that you were the only one left in the office.

“This isn’t fair,” you said, apparently feeling free enough to speak your mind now that everyone was gone.

“You were the one who put yourself in direct danger,” Larissa said, finally putting all of her work down to focus on you. “If anything, you should have gotten a worse punishment than simple detention.”

“If keeping someone safe gets me punished, then I’ll just mind my own business next time,” you threw back at her.

“You know that’s not what I mean.” It was difficult to see you this way; injured, frustrated, defiant. In pain. “Are you going to tell me what this recklessness is really about?”

You sighed, twirling the chewed up pencil between your fingers. A nervous habit that, truthfully, Larissa hadn’t seen you do in a few months. It brought a sharp pain to her chest as she watched your eyes focus on the pencil, eventually glazing over before you dropped it and it brought you back to the present.

“Marcus called a few weeks ago,” you said so softly, so tearfully. “He wants to cut Nicky off.”

Oh. Now that. That would explain things.

“He can’t just do that.” Your bottom lip quivered as you looked down at the papers in front of you. “He can’t. Nicky will wake up, he just needs a bit more time.”

“Darling-”

“-he promised.” A single look into Larissa’s eyes. “He promised, and Marcus can’t just do that.”

Larissa barely had time to rush to you before you leaned into her and held her with your one good arm. Tears soaked her blouse but she couldn’t care less. It wasn’t often that you allowed yourself to feel, and she wasn’t going to stop you for something as inconsequential as a wet blouse. No, she just held you tight, letting you cry.

It broke her heart, and there was nothing she could do about it. Deep down she knew this wouldn’t help you very much; you never allowed yourself to feel long enough to make a difference. But it was better than nothing, and she would be damned if she didn’t give you the space and comfort you so desperately needed.

Larissa held you until your cries turned into hiccups, and those hiccups turned into the occasional sniffle. Your fingers still kept their death grip on her blouse as you pulled her closer, and her own hands rubbed your back as gently as she could. The bandages under your shirt were still prominent, and she was doing her best not to touch the injured wing, but she didn’t stop until you finally pulled back.

Do you feel better, she thought, please talk to me. But she didn’t say anything to you at all. Not a single word as you wiped your nose with the sleeve of your sweater and let out a long, shaky breath. Another tear fell silently before being harshly wiped off with that same sleeve. Your bottom lip quivered.

“Am I done for tonight?” You asked in a shaky breath.

No, Larissa thought, we’re staying here until you feel better. There was no undoing the damage you were trying to process all on your own. She also knew, was painfully aware of the fact, that you wouldn’t talk to anyone about it. You wouldn’t let her know you were hurting, wouldn’t let her know how to help, wouldn’t agree to receiving help.

She had tried. Oh yes she had tried, time and time again, from the time you had first arrived to just this past year. No one had gotten through to you. You would let your tears fall for a minute before picking yourself back up, dusting yourself off, and going about your day with a smile.

“Yes,” Larissa said softly. She pushed a strand of hair out of your face and felt her heart ache when you leaned into her touch with a sigh. “You’re done for tonight.”

You pulled away and took a deep breath in before releasing it, and just like that you were back. With puffy red eyes and a tired smile, it was you.

“Is this my last day too?” You asked hopefully.

“Absolutely not,” Larissa shook her head, “I might just add another week for the note passing.”

“Come on, Mama Weems, please?” You asked, sticking your bottom lip out to pout in the way you knew she couldn’t resist. Oh, you were using the big guns, and for a moment she considered letting you win.

But only for a moment.

“I will definitely add another week for the note passing,” she answered. Your pout immediately turned into a frown and a huff.

“Worth a try,” you mumbled, followed immediately by another sniffle.

At this rate, you would be in detention for the rest of your life.

—---

You had only a few days left of detention, but Yoko was convinced she was going to murder you before then. She was already mad at you for luring Enid out during a full moon, but now you were just getting on her nerves. If she didn’t love you so much, she would’ve beat you to death a few weeks ago.

“I told you it wasn’t her fault,” Enid said when Yoko let out a loud sigh as Thing brought another note to Wednesday.

“She says otherwise and I believe her,” Yoko said simply. “She’s an idiot, but she’s not stupid.”

“She’s both,” Wednesday said from across the room. She was writing her own note that she handed to Thing, who grabbed it and left out the door once again.

“Then she’s a stupid idiot who could have gotten you all killed,” Yoko finished with another sigh.

She loved you, she did. If put in the same position, she would kill and die for you. There was no denying you were probably her closest friend, her greatest confidant, her partner in crime. Through thick and thin, she would defend you with her life. Hold you when you needed that small bit of comfort, remind you that everything would be okay. She loved you.

But if you ever put her girlfriend in any sort of risk again, she was going to kill you. Yoko knew you had a lot going on, especially right now, she understood. And she most definitely understood how reckless you could get when you were stuck in your own head. If that’s what you needed then she would let you do it and help patch you up afterwards (before Wednesday came along, at least).

She drew the line at you risking other peoples’ well being. Whether it was Enid, Wednesday, Xavier, anyone, she didn’t care. Some lines had to be drawn and shouldn’t be crossed, and this was one of them. There was no doubt in her mind that you hadn’t intended to get anyone hurt, but intention didn’t matter when the outcome could have been so very horrific.

“Give her a break,” Divina said softly. “She’s been stuck with Weems for nearly a month, I think that’s punishment enough.”

Yoko supposed that was true. Not that you didn’t love Weems, but you certainly didn’t love detention. Which was funny considering how often you were in it. And when Thing marched into the room with another note, Yoko realised that yeah, maybe it was a decent punishment.

“Is she surviving?” Enid called out to Wednesday as she read the note.

“She says, and I quote,” Wednesday started, “I’m starving, bored, and Weems won’t quit fussing over my shoulder.”

“Oh poor thing,” Yoko taunted. Divina elbowed her in the side.

“Behave,” she whispered.

“Maybe we should sneak her some snacks,” Enid chimed in, far too cheery. “She’s been in there for ages.”

“We aren’t doing anything,” Yoko said quickly, “otherwise we will get detention. Again.”

Thing tapped on Wednesday’s desk and started doing his weird faux sign language thing. Yoko still had yet to understand what he was saying, but Enid and Wednesday just nodded along. Thankfully Divina wasn’t even attempting to pay attention either. Made her feel a little less out of the loop.

“Won’t that get her in more trouble?” Enid asked. Thing signed again.

“Fine,” Wednesday huffed. She leaned over and pulled something out of her desk drawer and handed it to him. “This should suffice for now.” He scuffled off quickly.

“Since when do you keep protein bars in your desk?” Enid asked, thankfully just as confused as Yoko and Divina were.

“Since I discovered our little bird gets extremely agitated when hungry,” Wednesday explained with a shrug as she turned back to her desk.

Ah, there was that hint of softness Enid had told them about. Just that tiny bit of consideration Wednesday had for almost exclusively you. If she didn’t think the goth girl would’ve killed her, she would’ve laughed. Laughed aloud at how you of all people had wormed your way into her cold heart. Leave it to you to break down those walls, huh?

On second thought, maybe you being with Wednesday was punishment enough for the rest of your life. She would certainly keep you in line.

—---

For one reason or another, you were becoming particularly adept at driving Wednesday to the edge of insanity. The worst part of it all? It wasn’t even on purpose. There was just something in your genetic code that gave you the natural talent of dancing on her last nerve.

You had been granted your freedom from detention two days ago, on a Thursday of all days. That same night you had come by her dorm, asking her to finally go to coffee on Saturday morning. Of course she had agreed, though maybe with a bit too much enthusiasm, and you had smiled that nauseatingly attractive smile before running off; heaven forbid you got caught after curfew and had your detention extended. Again.

But now it was well past noon and you were still nowhere to be found. Wednesday had waited a reasonable time (until 10am, to be exact) before searching. She had checked your dorm first, knowing that you had been guilty of sleeping in far more often nowadays. Then the library, the greenhouse, the hives, and even Ajax’s dorm. No one had seen you.

“Check her climbing gym,” Yoko said when she passed Wednesday in the quad. “It’s where she hides away when she’s upset.”

Upset? Why would you be upset? You had just gotten out of detention, surely that would have been a good thing. There had been plenty of excitement in your voice when you had asked her to coffee. Had something happened?

She could feel her heart in her throat as she quickly made her way to your gym. Her brain was filled with ceaseless theories of what had caused you to be so upset. Was it her? Had she done something to upset you? The leaves and sticks on the ground cracked underneath her shoes as she got closer.

Muffled music could be heard echoing in the forest before Wednesday could even see the building. It increased in volume as she got nearer and nearly deafened her when she opened the doors. Some horrific sort of music, far too loud and screaming and heavy on the drums. An assault on her ears, is what it truly was.

And in the midst of it all, you were nowhere to be found. But your presence, she noted, was scattered around the room in various ways. It was found in the boots and uniform pieces that were tossed haphazardly near the doors. Or the numerous thermoses sitting on the table closest to what you had called the “challenge wall.” And, most obviously, it was in the music that was continuing to blare so loud Wednesday felt she would go deaf before the day was up.

You’re here somewhere, Wednesday thought, her own feet carrying her through the gym. Under the arches, in the makeshift caves, everywhere you could possibly be. She found your harness at the base of one of the formations but that was all. There was nothing, not the slightest hint of where you could be-

-there. A shadow on the ground.

Wednesday stepped out of the makeshift cave just enough to see you sitting at the top, your legs dangling off the side. She knew the nurse had given you a bit of freedom to move around, but there was no way you had been cleared to climb or fly. How had you even gotten up there?

There was only a split second of hesitation before Wednesday bent down to unlace her own shoes. Then her jacket until she was left in just her pants and sweater. She paced around to find the easiest path up to where you were and braced herself. I can do this, she thought as she grabbed the first hold and started making her way up.

It took her far longer than she would ever openly admit. The holds were rough on her bare feet and she could feel the cramping starting in her calves and forearms. She purposefully ignored the stinging in her hands. If she focused on the music then it was easier to keep going. Maybe that was why you had it so loud.

Every muscle in her body ached by the time she pulled herself up onto the top of the structure. Her feet, her hands, her back, everything. It didn’t help that now she was out of breath and a little bit dizzy. Adrenaline had certainly kept her going, but now that it was wearing off she felt a crash coming on.

Now that she was atop the structure, she trudged to where you were sitting. Your wings drooped pathetically, the right one looking a little stiff. With no shirt in the way she could see the shine of scars littering your back. The wounds from the attack were almost healed but there was still a bit of scabbing left.

Just from the hunch of your shoulders, you looked… sad.

You flinched when she put her hand on your shoulder. If she had thought you could hear her, she would’ve called out to you. For a moment she was worried you were going to fall off the edge when you spun around. Your eyes went wide when you saw her.

The music drowned out whatever you were trying to say. Sure, your mouth was moving, but the only thing Wednesday could hear was the deep bass of whatever new song had just come on. You rolled your eyes and shook your head before pushing her to sit down and holding your hand out to her.

Stay. She knew that one.

Almost immediately after Wednesday nodded once, you slipped over the edge and disappeared. She hoped you had climbed down, but she knew not to expect too much from you. The music fell to little more than a thrum that settled into the base of her skull. It was only another minute or two later before your head popped back up and you pulled yourself onto the top.

With one hand, Wednesday didn’t fail to notice.

You let a bag roll off your shoulder onto the structure in front of her. The clang echoed through the now-quiet gym, reaching her ears again by the time you sat down. What usual gentleness was in your hands was gone as you reached over and pulled her hands closer, inspecting the new wounds she had received on the climb to the top.

“You shouldn’t have come up this high without help,” you said as you let her hands go. “What are you even doing here?”

The bite in your words didn’t go unnoticed.

“It’s Saturday,” Wednesday said.

“So?” You were digging in the bag for something, completely focused. Or possibly avoiding her eyes. Either was a very real possibility.

“We were going to get coffee.”

Every muscle in your body tensed up and your jaw clenched impossibly tight as your hands stopped moving in the bag. An almost inaudible exhale through your nose while your eyes slipped shut. Wednesday had seen you with that look only a handful of times. It was more often than not accompanied by guilt.

“Shit,” you whispered, your eyes squeezing shut even tighter.

As your eyes opened and Wednesday noticed the slightest shimmer of tears, she felt lost. She didn’t know what to say to you. It wasn’t like she could tell you otherwise, you had missed coffee with her. Intentionally? Most likely not, though that didn’t change the fact. But she hadn’t expected you to react this way.

“Fucked up again,” you mumbled around a humourless chuckle. “I’ll make it up to you.”

You don’t have to, Wednesday thought, but she didn’t say it aloud. Her mouth wouldn’t form any words as she watched with bated breath as you started moving again. The muscles in your shoulders were still tense, but at least you were moving around.

“Come here.”

A disgusting little squeak fell from her lips as you grabbed her by the arms and pulled until she was sitting in your lap. Your lap. Her back was pressed against your chest and your arms wrapped around her to mess with her hands and your breath was fanning across her neck. Instinct told her to pull her hands back to her lap; you stopped her.

“Quit moving,” you said softly as your arms tightened around her, “I need to clean them or they’ll get infected.”

Wednesday watched your movements as you started cleaning the new raw spots on her hands. If you hadn’t pointed them out, she never would have noticed. Well, surely she would have known eventually, but you had picked up on it immediately. The alcohol wipe you used stung, but Wednesday refused to let you see her wince. You cleaned and started bandaging them as if you had done it a million times before.

“You know what you’re doing,” Wednesday said when you effortlessly taped one of her fingers.

“My brother taught me,” you said, your face now leaning over her shoulder to get a better look. “Used to tear my hands up all the time.” Delicate fingers wrapped tape on another wound. “Eventually he got tired of patching me up and taught me how to do it instead.”

“Which one?” Wednesday asked, recalling all the names she had seen on the paper in her novel.

“Nicky,” you said; she felt your chin rest on her shoulder. “He’s my big brother.”

Ah. Wednesday had heard others mention that name before, and now she could at least figure out the relation. She wanted to ask you more, find out who he was, if he had gone to Nevermore. But judging by the slightest shake of your chin, she kept her mouth shut.

“He taught you well,” was what she said instead when you finished wrapping the last of her wounds. Her hands looked like a mummy’s with all the tape and bandaging.

“He was actually pretty shit at it,” you said quickly with what almost sounded like a small laugh. “Couldn’t clean worth a damn.”

Wednesday could feel you pull her closer, your wings moving into her peripheral almost as if to keep you cocooned. Your hands rested palm up, and she couldn’t help but place her own hands on top of them. Slowly, your fingers linked through hers until you were holding her hands. Snug, but not too tight. Comfortable.

Just ask.

“Yoko said you were upset,” Wednesday said. You squeezed her hands.

“Yoko needs to mind her own fucking business,” you said with what was akin to a growl.

“Are you?” She asked anyway. You shifted underneath her before holding her closer once again. Your wings continued to encroach upon her peripheral.

“Yes,” you said so softly she could barely hear it. “I am.”

Wednesday wracked her brain trying to think of what else to say. She had talked with Enid numerous times to work on keeping up this kind of communication, but that didn’t mean she was adept at it just yet. What would Enid say?

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked. That was the proper response. Right?

“Not today,” you said. "I'd rather be distracted."

How could you not already be distracted in such a giant building? Your music was still in the background, you had hundreds of feet of climbing walls, and you had that obnoxious phone of yours sitting off to the side. What else could you possibly need to be-

-she froze when she felt your lips brush against the skin behind her ear.

"Relax, Addams," you chuckled, your breath tickling her neck, "I don’t plan on defiling you in a gym." That was not what she was concerned with. "But I do have a question for you."

You were really going to ask her a question while you littered the softest of kisses behind her ear? When your hands were pulling her closer until she could feel your heart racing against her back? When you could undoubtedly feel her erratic pulse underneath your lips? Now was the time to ask a question?

She nodded once for you to continue anyway.

"Be my girlfriend." Odd, that didn't sound like a question. No, it sounded like a statement.

A rather bold statement that created a fog in Wednesday's brain that she couldn't clear. You wanted her to be your girlfriend? It was preposterous, really. More than once she had let you know she wasn't relationship material. If anything, she was barely even friend material, she was only going to hurt you or use you for her own personal gain.

But as your lips trailed kisses down to the back of her neck, she started to reconsider. After all, you had stuck with her for this long, hadn't you? Through all of her attempts to push you away, her insistence that you were merely acquaintances, her poor excuses to be near you. Her family had taken a shine to you, you had defended her brother, and you had done everything she asked without question.

She shifted in your lap, turning herself around until she could put her legs on either side of your hips. Even sitting you were significantly taller. Looking down at her with slightly puffy red eyes, blown pupils, and a soft smile. Your hands felt so incredibly warm on her waist.

In this moment, you were vulnerable. Vulnerable in that you were still recovering from injuries that still clearly pained you. Vulnerable in the fact she could feel the bare skin of your stomach under her fingers. Vulnerable in that all she had to do was tell you "no," and your entire world would come crashing down.

Against all odds, you were baring yourself to possible devastation.

She had an idea.

"No," Wednesday said.

"I knew- what?" You asked, your cocky grin instantly dropping. "No?"

"No," she repeated. Your stomach tensed underneath her fingers.

"Wha- why not?" You asked; pouted, essentially. It was almost adorable.

"I have standards," Wednesday said, doing her best not to laugh as your mouth fell open in indignation.

"Don't be fucking rude-"

"-ask me again when we're not in your disgusting gym," she interrupted, and the offended look on your face turned to confusion, then understanding.

"Then will you say yes?" You asked with furrowed brows.

“Ask me later and find out,” Wednesday told you. You huffed and rolled your eyes.

But she noticed the way your eyes then fell to her lips; the way your tongue darted out to lick your bottom lip. She was becoming particularly skilled in knowing when you wanted something. No, scratch that, when you wanted something particular. And in that moment, with your soft skin under her fingers and your slightly parted lips, who was she to deny you?

Your fingers gripped her tightly when she leaned up to kiss you. Somehow your body always tensed up for the smallest moment before relaxing completely under her touch. She could feel your hands pull her closer, trying to eliminate whatever space was left between you; not that there was much to begin with.

In a surprise twist, your lips aren’t chapped today. No, they’re much softer even though you’re kissing her as if your life depends on it. They even taste different; unlike the usual sour taste from your energy drinks, you taste sweet. Fruity. And when she dares to lick your bottom lip, the specific taste hits her; cherry.

Her fingers scratch lightly against your stomach and she can’t help but smile when you inhale sharply through your nose. She can feel your own smile against her lips before you lean down to deepen the kiss. Oh, the reactions she could get out of you if she only dared to try.

“You’re a dick,” you mumble against her lips before pulling away.

In a shameful twist of fate, Wednesday was the one leaning forward to kiss you one more time. But you pull further away and she’s left there in your lap with a smile that, for the life of her, she can’t get rid of. How had you turned her so soft? She felt like nothing more than a fool, falling deeper into the trap that you had unwittingly dug for her.

You, with your kiss swollen lips and wings that were now completely encompassing the both of you as if to create a safe haven that only you knew about. For a moment, Wednesday reconsidered telling you no. In this position, in this very point in time, she wanted nothing more than to tell you yes. Yes, she would allow you to call her yours and vice versa.

She leaned forward again, trying to recapture your lips but your hands pushed down on her hips until she couldn’t move. With a furrow of her brows, she locked eyes with you. Those blown pupils of yours had gone back to normal and were now replaced by the slightest little crinkle that made Wednesday’s stomach flip.

“I only kiss my girlfriend,” you said with a shrug and the tiniest shake of your head. “And you’re not her.”

“What?”

With an ease that would normally get her heart racing, you pushed Wednesday until she was off your lap and you could stand up. From her position on the ground she looked up at you like some kind of worshiper at the feet of her god. You looked far too smug about it.

“I’ll see you on Monday, Addams,” you said.

She watched in absolute shock as you winked at her before starting your climb back down to the ground. You were really going to just leave her there? On top of the structure that took her far too long to get up on? Now you were going to expect her to climb down all on her own? No, that wasn’t acceptable.

“You’re going to regret this,” Wednesday called over the ledge. You were already halfway down.

“No, I don’t think I will,” you replied with a smile.

If she ever managed to get down, she was going to kill you.

The next two weeks were insufferable. Even after her threat that you would regret things, she was being proven wrong time and time again. No, you weren’t regretting a single thing. She was the one with the regrets.

It had started at lunch on Monday, and you hadn’t brought the two mugs of coffee that you usually carried with you. There was only the one chipped mug that you kept with you at all times. Wednesday knew there were times you would just share with her, so she did what she usually did on those days; she reached over to take a drink.

And you slapped her hand away.

“I only share coffee with my girlfriend,” you said with a raised brow and a smile hidden behind the mug. Everyone else at the table looked at you both in complete shock but wisely kept their mouths shut.

That was all it took for Wednesday to learn what game you were playing, and she was not happy about it. The nerve, the audacity you had to pull this type of nonsense. She shouldn’t have been surprised, you were known for making plenty of bad decisions in your life, but you had yet to make them where she was involved. Well, she supposed that wasn’t true, you made plenty of poor decisions where she was involved.

And you continued to make them over the next two weeks.

“Sorry, I only shoot things when my girlfriend is around,” you said with a shrug when Wednesday asked if you wanted to go to the archery range.

“Can’t, only my girlfriend knows how to teach me math,” you retorted when Wednesday pointed out you had missed tutoring.

“I’d love to, but I only really let my girlfriend in my room, sorry,” you said when Wednesday attempted to meet up with you in your dorm to talk about a project.

“I only give my girlfriend the other half of my snacks,” you told her with a frown while you handed a piece of your orange to Yoko. Who proceeded to then not take the orange slice when she saw the death glare Wednesday sent her way.

Each time you told her no, you would have to turn your head to hide a smile. Everyone knew you were smiling, everyone - even Wednesday - could see it and could see the shake of your shoulders in silent laughter before you quickly excused yourself. It was infuriating that you were getting so much joy out of this preposterous situation.

She knew what you were doing. It wouldn’t work. Wednesday would rather be cut down before becoming something great than let you win such a ridiculous little game that you had started. There was no way in hell she was going to let you win. Pride be damned, now this was personal.

“Sorry, I can’t talk, I’m waiting for my girlfriend,” you said when you saw Wednesday standing at the door to your room.

She pushed against your chest until you were both in your room and she could shut the door behind her. Now that you were (mostly) officially cleared, your nest had gone back to normal and your things were as chaotically organised as ever. There were a few new shiny things on the shelf, but it was normal. It was you.

“Do you make it a habit of barging into someone’s room when you know they have a girlfriend?” You asked.

Your incessant, obsessive, intolerable overuse of the word “girlfriend” was starting to grate on Wednesday’s nerves. She understood, she got your point. But as you smirked down at her with those eyes that were sparkling with mischief…

Oh, fuck it.

“It’s pretty ru-” you came to a full stop when Wednesday pushed against your chest again and you fell backwards onto your nest.

Your mouth snapped shut when she walked over and climbed on top of you, her knees on either side of your hips. That mischief in your eyes was long gone, now dulled into something comparable to hunger. But your smirk grew when your eyes trailed down her body and back up.

There was that vulnerability again; you were splayed out before her, underneath her, and it gave Wednesday a sense of power. Sitting there on top of you, she held your heart in her hands. She knew you were smiling, but she could feel how tense you were. It was understandable; her own heart was racing at the aspect and that familiar nausea was settling in her stomach.

And then you opened your mouth to speak.

Oh no, Wednesday thought, not this time. She reached out to firmly grip your jaw, holding your face still and stopping you from saying whatever nonsense you were planning. You had talked plenty over the past two weeks, it was her turn.

“I will be your girlfriend,” Wednesday said. There was no room for debate.

“Knew you would cave-”

“-just shut up.”

She didn’t give you a chance to keep the bickering going. Instead just falling forward until she could kiss you, her hand still keeping your face still. Your warm hands rested on her hip and the back of her head, pulling her closer as you let out a dreamy sigh.

Maybe she was okay with letting you win. Just this once.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine #everyone but her au

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kairiscorner · 9 months

Text

ok i have yet to listen to the taylor swift song (i'm sorry) but imagine miles gifting you these :))

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings. – miles 1610 x reader

bored in class and missing you dearly, miles sighs to himself as he fiddles with a loose notebook page he tore from the notebook itself earlier–having leant you his favorite mechanical pencil, he can't really find the motivation to doodle, the back of his notebook already filled to the brim with sketches since he left his sketchbook at his locker.

he sighed again as the words of his teacher entered one ear and exited out of the other. he kept trying to focus, but he ended up fidgeting with the corners of the notebook page he tore–folding it here and there, creasing it in the process. he made a paper boat at first, then a crane, then with another piece of paper, he folded it into a horizontal sheet repeatedly and rolled it up. it crudely resembled a ring to him, and he smiled, remembering a line from a song you really like, and he kept unfolding the paper and refolding it until he found the right design.

he somehow was able to make an amateur paper ring without any tutorial, with just his hands and creativity to work with; it had a small, creased-looking heart on it that he kept trying to give shape to, which he thought to draw the kaomoji you always got reminded of him by. after class, he had wondered whether to give it to you or not, he was anxious if you'd even accept it since it looked pretty messy and amateurish–but nonetheless, what mattered was that he tried, he tried to put all his love for you in this small, trinket of a gift he made for you.

he approached you by the lockers and when you handed him his mechanical pencil back, he smiled and told you that it was a little funny you gave it back now, because now, he has something else to give to you. he shyly showed you the paper ring he made and, with a grin, told you that he tried to make out from scratch. he got a bit sheepish when he asked you if you'd take it, which worsened when you smiled back up at him and told him it was beautiful.

"put it on me?" you asked him in a soft voice as you showed him the back of your hand, almost as if he were to slide that ring on you like it was gonna be your wedding day. that caught miles off guard and his eyes gotten even bigger, with his smile growing broader as his fluster caught up to him. he chuckled and nodded. "ah, sure, sure." he said as he took your hand in his and gently slid it on your middle finger by accident. you laughed aloud as miles fumbled to put it on the conventional ring finger, but you insisted on keeping it there.

"it's my favorite finger, if anyone's gonna ask me if i want anyone else..." you said as you jokingly tried to show him your adorable flip off with your ringed finger as miles stopped you and held your hand in his own with a chuckle. "oh, how adorable. a bit rude, but adorable." he said while you leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, shutting him up and soon making him stutter out something incoherent as you thanked him for the paper ring.

"n-no problem..." he said with a lopsided grin and a flustered face as you took his hand in yours and accompanied him through the bustling halls to his next class, feeling so lucky to have a guy who's expressive with his love for you in such innovative, creative ways that make you fall for him more and more.

tags !! @ii01vq @toneystank-3000 @luvstarrstruck @fiannee @popeheywardssecretgf @onginlove @meowmoraless @solecitoszn @maxoloqy @lovefrominaya @conitagray

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