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thebest-medicine · 7 months

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Day 23: Incoherent

Tickletober 2023 - Critical Role - C2 Mighty Nein - lee!Fjord, brief lee!Jester

[see my other tickletober 2023 fics]

A/N: Fjorester my beloved. I need their silly energy in my life. Little snippet of Jester tickling Fjord and then asking him to do the same to her (a lil fluff, a little sexy, whatever ya feel *eyebrow waggle*)

Words: 1,050

—

“Ah. Oh no. No- no Jessie- ahaHAWAIT!” Fjord squealed before descending into giddy laughter.

“Wait? What do you want me to wait for?” Jester asked innocently — her fingers, on the other hand, were quite guilty of the quick, nimble scribbling they’d begun inflicting on Fjord’s sides.

His head shook side to side against the pillow beneath it, occasionally bumping into his elbows on either side. His arms twitched and pulled against the silks tethering them to their bed above his head. Jester’s fingers sent electric tingles up his bared torso everywhere they touched. They plucked at his sides and then began spidering wildly over his belly.

“Aha- I can’t- I hehehehe- AHAHAHA AHH NOHOHOHO- THAHAT TICKLES! THAT TICKLES HAHA- AHAHA JESS!”

“Well, duh, Fjord! It’s supposed to tickle!”

The next few minutes were hazy — fuzzy in the best sort of way. Jester was smiling at him, tickling and teasing him to bits. She brought out so much in him that he hadn’t expected, and she had so many silly, wonderful ideas for expressing affection. In the midst of one, she squeezed at his hips a few times, getting a yelp for her efforts.

“I can’t believe how cute you are when you’re getting tickled Fjord! Your face is so cute! I have to draw it for you some time.”

“NOHOHOHO!” Fjord cried through his cackles.

Jester’s grin widened as she got an idea. A few more quick squeezes to Fjord’s abdomen and she pushed up, hauling herself off of his hips and running over to her sketch book.

Fjord took a few deep breaths, some broken up with lingering laughter, and stared at the ceiling as he happily accepted the short break. “Wh- what are you planning now?” He asked — sounding a little teasing and giddy, and a lot nervous.

Jester spun around, a smirk on her face as she wiggled her eyebrows at him. In her hand, she held up her sketching pencil.

Fjord swallowed, watching her. His giggling started back up again.

Jester perched atop him, eyes hungry. He felt his stomach twist with anticipation, excitement, and nerves. She took the pencil in her hand as though to start a lovely drawing, except that she had the pointy end up.

Fjord shook his head. Jester nodded encouragingly, the hand not holding her pencil grabbed at the top of his underwear and pulled the waistband down a bit. She lightly drug the back of the pencil back and forth over his hip. Fjord gasped and burst into giggles. His legs kicked out on the bed behind Jester.

“Ahaha no- nonono!” Fjord whined.

“Yes yes yes!” Jester chirped in response. She drew figures and circles and whimsical patterns all over the lower section of his tummy, the front of his ribs and chest, his sides, and even up into his armpits and along his neck.

Tracing the pencil along each rib on one side as she made her way back down to his sides, Jester started wiggling and pinching along the other side of his torso with her free hand.

Fjord’s laughter grew louder as he wriggled side to side at her two fronted assault. His smile could cause bones to melt, but his laugh was like a cannonball of delight. It was the sort of gut-deep, boisterous sound that ricocheted off the walls of the ship like thunder - and it was impossible for Jester not to grin in the middle of the storm.

Dropping her pencil, she made a sound of delight and started scribbling up his sides. Fjord wheezed and cackled, his eyes squeezed shut with tears in the corners of them.

Fjord was already pretty far gone, but he still reacted viscerally to the sound of Jester sucking in a deep breath. “NO- NAHAHAHA NOOO NAHAHOT THAT!” He pleaded.

“Aww, are you too ticklish?”

“STAHAHAHOP HAHA NO- JES DON’T DO IHIHIHIT!” Fjord wailed.

“Oh alright… I’ll just give you a couple raspberries. Let me know if it tickles too much, okay Fjord?”

Her fingers continued to scribble and crawl their way from his hips to his armpits, which would have had him in plenty of hysterics on its own. Her lips, adding poison to the dagger, pressed down softly on the middle of his belly before she let out a loud, ticklish vibration against his abs.

Fjord pretended to ignore the shriek that fell from his lips when she started, and each additional squealing wail that followed when she continued.

“NAHA- STAH- I CAN’T AHHH HAHA AHAHAA-” His thundering cackles quickly devolved into shouts and gasps between wails of desperate laughter.

It wasn’t until her nails began to scratch unbearably under both of his arms and she decided to blow her next raspberry on his side that Fjord cried out “SP-SPRINKLE!” between hoarse booms of laughter.

Jester withdrew with a grin, sitting upright over him and taking in his exasperated, ravaged state. “Wow, you did really good Fjord! I was pretty mean..” She winked.

Fjord felt a blush rise to his cheeks in spite of his already warm face. “Heh, thanks.”

“Okay.” Jester leaned in, peppering his cheeks with kisses as she untied the silks from his wrists, leaving the restraints hooked up to the bed. “Okay, okay! Me next!!”

Blissed out smile on his face, Fjord took his jelly arms and wrapped them around Jester’s wiggling form, pulling her in close for a cuddle. “You’re too good at that.” He mumbled as he pulled her in to be the little spoon, both of them still giggling. “I’m so tired now, I need to nap first.” He sighed dramatically, closing his eyes as his legs wrapped around Jester’s.

He pretended to start snoring, exaggerated and loud, and Jester squealed adorably. Then, “sleep-walking” fingers began to trace ticklish paths around Jester’s ribs and sides, over to her stomach, down near her hips.

“Ah ehehe Fjord!” Jester squeaked out as she giggled harder.

A loud snoring sound, and then Fjord mumbled. “Fjord’s sleeping.”

“Nohohoho he’s nohot! Fjord’s tickling!”

Another fake snore. “No he’s not. He’s sleeping.” Jester felt him take a deep breath, chest rising to press further into her back. A long, exaggerated snore. “But when he wakes up. He’s really gonna get you.”

“Hehe hehehee oh nohoho-”

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marchsfreakshow · 9 months

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Sculpting Something More {Jimmy Darling x Reader}

You're a sculptor. Recently you've lost all inspiration, but you hear that Jupiter Florida has a Freakshow. Perfect inspiration.

No A/Ns this time

Your Perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

I pulled my car up by the entrance to the Freakshow. It was a chilly evening, and the sun was setting behind the clown-like door. If it was a door. It loomed over everyone, and I felt slightly intimidated as I held my sketchpad and pencil. Silently, I hoped the freaks would be an inspiration for my creations.

Excited murmurs surrounded me as I walked amongst the crowd. Creaky chairs were sat on, and I found my place at the back. If I stayed at the back, it would look less creepy as I drew. Soon enough, the lights turned off, and a spotlight turned onto a lady with a beard. Wonderful and pretty, but not enough. The show started.

Pinheads. I sketched them in the dark, taking in their facial expressions. Innocence and pure happiness in their smiles. I was sure they would make beautiful sculptures. But my thought-riddled kind didn't think it was enough, I needed something more. Whether it was a dwarf or not.

A voice started singing after a legless lady and a dwarf did an act. I looked up from my doodles to see Elsa Mars. Her voice was shaky tonight, and it was noticed in the crowd. People whispered things to each other. Boos were thrown, as well as the food people bought. It hurt to see honestly. Miss Mars was an extraordinary talent, and I was worried something might have happened backstage.

So as I drew, I sneaked out of the tent. No one noticed thankfully. It seemed they were all too busy hating Elsa. I snuck around to the back of the big tent and saw about 10 tents and caravans. Each one had a unique design and the name of the person who lived there. Perfect. "Hey pretty lady, what are you doing back here?" A voice asked. I looked up as I quickly slammed my notebook shut. It was dark, I couldn't see his face.

"I...um..it was a bit overwhelming in there, and I didn't want to be part of a crowd that hates Miss Elsa Mars. She's a wonderful singer." I chuckled awkwardly. I did feel bad for Elsa. The man took my hand and led me to a small light. His hands felt odd, two...oh, it was Jimmy. The lobster boy. "I can't see you in the dark, but, are you Jimmy?"

"Obvious by my hands." He grinned. "I'm glad you're not scared."

"I come here all the time," I smirked at Jimmy, before opening up a spot in the big tent and watching the Tattler Twins perform. People looked more entranced with them than they did with Elsa. So I opened up my book and sketched their faces quick. "Everyone who performs here is my new inspiration."

"Inspiration?"

"Yeah." I turned back around and pulled out a Polaroid from my pocket. It was small, but it had a picture of a sculpture. The sculpture was of a clown. Dully painted and it looked like it had a mask on. The Polaroid made it look tiny, whereas, in reality, it was just as tall as a bottle. A water bottle maybe.

Jimmy took it and stared at it eagerly. "Did you make that?" I just nodded, still a bit shy of my work.

"I'm hoping to make a bigger one, maybe sell it somewhere. I was going to use one of my sketches of your acts as a way to get people interested. No one seems to like clowns anymore. Not the one I made anyway." I just shrugged, nonchalantly flipping through my notebook and the sketches. But soon enough Jimmy gave me back the picture, and I stuffed it in my pocket once again. Nearly everything had been done, so I was wondering why Jimmy hadn't performed yet. "Are you not doing it tonight?"

"Huh? Oh, na. Ma said to take a break, so I'm watching today. But it seems I got distracted by a pretty face." He winked my way, and I just smiled at him with confidence. Such a smooth talker. I decided to head back, however, I wanted to go back home since I had grabbed all the inspiration I had.

"Well thank you for the conversation, Jimmy. I didn't plan to stay long, so I should be getting home now." We reached my car quite swiftly. In the short silence, he handed me a little slip of paper. A number, like I could make so many calls to this man, and the address of the place. The freakshow had an address? No matter what I thought, I gracefully took it and smiled at him still. Whoops and claps surrounded the area, the show must have ended. "Uh, bye..!" I quickly said to the man as I got in my car and just as swiftly drove off.

"Um...Okay then." I heard him say as I drove off. It felt embarrassing, but I knew I was going to start asking him stupid questions otherwise. To distract myself from my own thoughts, I turned on the radio. Simple songs played, but it was nice as I got myself back home in almost record time.

Once I got home, I rushed myself inside and ran straight up to the studio. It was a small loft, and plenty of shelves engulfed the walls. The light was dim and only made a small difference to the light that the window brought in. In the middle of the room, a table, with a bowl of water on top of it, and a chair scooted next to it. There were plenty of additions to the table and the shelves. A place for my food, and drink. One table opposite my work table, in which I always placed my notebook. The notebook not only held my inspirations but also my final sketched-out piece of work that I would slowly craft.

Once I got everything ready, I settled the Notebook down. It was a finished drawing of Jimmy and Ma Petite. He was sitting down and smiling towards the lovely woman. And she stood on a wood stump, with a doll's crown on her head. Both are beautiful people. Both are hard work. As I sat down in front of the clay, I just stared at the drawing.

I started for what felt like hours and hours, focusing on the details of Jimmy's face that I drew. Almost like a distraction from my work, and what I was meant to be doing. His face, and his build. The way he talked, the way he walked. Everything I thought about took me further into a fantasy. The only way I left the sweet fantasy was by feeling the clay sinking into my elbow. "Shit.." I muttered, getting up quickly and cleaning off the damp clay. Probably a sign I should have started the sculpture already.

Either way, I got started and got myself into my work faster than ever.

The box slightly clattered around the trunk as I drove. Every time I heard the noise, I cringed, hoping the bumpy road wouldn't break the sculpture. But since the road was getting more bumpy, and less careful, I knew I was close. The other reason I knew was because I saw the Seal Boy with Amazon Eve, taking down a poster. Confused, I stopped my car and walked up to the seal boy. "Um, hello. I was wondering why you were taking Ethel's poster down. Is she retiring?" I asked innocently. He just shook his head, almost seeming guilty.

"Ethel passed away recently. Elsa told us to take it down as soon as possible. And poor Jimmy's heartbroken..."

"Oh. Oh, that's dreadful. I was going up to the freakshow to give Jimmy something actually. Maybe it will help him?" I shrugged my shoulders as Eve came down from the footstool.

"What is it?" She asked, crossing her arms. As soon as she said that, I opened the car's trunk, and pulled the box out, opening it as I walked back towards them.

"It's him and Ma Petie. They were good inspiration, and, Jimmy is handsome."

Eve and Seal Boy looked at it endearingly. I put the box down and took out the sculpture. It was the size of both of my palms, so it fit perfectly. "I do hope he and Ma Petite like it. This is one of my bigger projects."

"It looks wonderful! Jimmy'll love it." Eve said. Happy with the response, I put it back in the box and in the trunk.

"Indeed. Will you guys be okay getting back or would you like me to ride you the rest of the way?" They looked at each other, before nodding. I led them to the car, and we all got in. Silence filled the car's journey, but soon enough we got to the back of the freakshow. "Where should I park?"

"Anywhere will be okay." Seal Boy smiled, so I parked by the Ferris wheel, and let the two of them get out. After that, I went to the trunk and took the box out. "Let's take you to Jimmy." He smiled, putting a hand on my shoulder. I nodded, and we walked to Jimmy's trailer. He was sat outside, staring at the ground.

"Jimmy. You have a guest." He said, before walking off. Jimmy looked up at me, and a smile enlightened his face.

"It's you."

"It's me, Jimmy! Also, Y/N. That's my name. I'm sorry I didn't throw it the other night. I was so caught up in my thoughts, and what I could do, I completely forgot."

"It's.. It's fine. I'm glad I get to see you again. Where did you meet Paul?"

I smiled at Jimmy, completely ignoring his question, and focusing on his eyes again. The images from the fantasy came back to me. But I internally shook them off and just placed the box in his lap. "I came across him and Eve while driving here. I decided to drive them back here. I'm sorry about Ethel."

"It's okay. What's in this box by the way?" Jimmy asked, staring at it in confusion.

"Open it and you will find out." I grinned, taking a chair and sitting beside him. He glanced at me before opening the box and taking out the figure. In shock, he dropped the box, thank god. But he kept a grip on the figure. The painted shadows, Ma Petite in her wonderful pink sari. Jimmy in his leather jacket, sitting by the wood stump. "I hope you like it, and that Ma Petite-" I got cut off as he hugged me closely. I quickly returned the hug, seeming that he liked it.

"It's wonderful Y/N. Thank you." He whispered, still not letting me go, but was happily accepted.

"I'm so glad you like it, Jimmy."

"I love it. I really do." He let the hug go and held onto my hands. "Let's show it to Ma Petite, and then maybe get some lunch? I'd like to return the favour." He winked again at me, and I felt like I was going to faint. But I nodded and squeezed his wrist.

"I'd love that Jimmy."

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

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rxgueone · 1 year

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SEEN

Word count: 4,999

Summary: Austin, who strongly dislikes the oc. Eventually falls for her, and isn’t afraid to admit it.

Warnings: fluff, cursing, enemies to lover trope, arguing, emotional cheating, all I can think of.

Tags: none.

Note: I don’t know what’s been up with Tumblr lately. But this app has been duplicating and deleting paragraphs. So if this story is a bit messed up. I apologize. This is also based off of something that happened to me with the chic I’ve been seeing. We’re about to hit two years so rad. This story is based off of mainly her perspective and to what she’s told me when dealing with her friends who use to constantly judge not only our relationship but as well as me as a person so that’s also rad. But yeah. Story based off of mainly how she sees me and why she loves me etc etc. I love her sm. She’s genuinely perfect. So… I guess you could say this is technically just a super long love letter to my girl. So if she sees this. I love you.

MASTERLIST

—

The blonde sat down in silence. His body hunched over the bench he was sitting, legs crossed, with a pen and sketchbook. He was constantly glancing at the reference photo of Venom that was on his phone. Sketching out some sort of figure of the Marvel Villain.

Behind him was a girl in black pantyhose, a black skirt and black shirt. She had raven colored hair, that was long. However compared to him she was quite little and petite. He hadn’t noticed her presence as he was quietly sketching.

The girl recognized him. He was Austin Butler, the most outspoken guy at the campus. A man who she had hated greatly, and she knew he felt the same way over her. The pair had gotten into several heated debates about controversial topics. He was never afraid to stand up for what he believed in. When she had met him, he was dating a girl named Ana. Who was very short compared to him.

She never understood how Ana could put up with Austin. A brash and blunt man who never seemed to know how to shut up. But, this was the first time he looked at his lonesome. And she watched him draw in his sketchbook.

He never had many friends either. He always looked to be alone ever since he and Ana broke up. He had such a cold expression on his face, he was emotionally unavailable most of the time. And he had changed since the breakup, still outspoken but less or more so.

She cleared her throat, wanting to compliment the drawing. “That’s a nice drawing you got there.”

The pencil stopped moving as he turned to face her. “Oh,” he blankly looked at her. Looking at his drawing again, then at her, “appreciate that. It’s Venom.” He had a simple tone. His voice was raspy, but it had a husky twist to it. Almost seemed unreal how deep someone’s voice really was. She forgot how deep it was in all honesty, even despite of their heated debates.

“Oh… Venom.” She whispered. “Mind if I sit with you to watch?” She asked quietly. She was expecting him to reject the offer, considering their deep dislike towards each other- or, so she thought.

“Yeah, go ahead.” He flicked his head, motioning her to the empty spot. She blinked, taken aback by this. But nonetheless, she had offered, he took it, so she should go through. She sat down at his side, close to him to watch the pencil move against the paper.

She said nothing for some time, not wanting to disturb him. During this time, Austin’s eyes would sometimes wonder off to her face. She was prettier than he remembered. In fact, he never thought she was pretty, purely cause they were typically yelling at each other. He figured he’d spark up a conversation. “You know anything about Marvel?”

“No.” She answered, glancing at his face. “I dunno much about Marvel.”

“Me neither,” he admitted casually, “I just like drawing.” Once the sketch was finished. He began to tighten up the drawing so it could look more of an actual figure instead of just circles and messy squiggles. “More of a Star Wars guy.”

“You like Star Wars?” Her eyes were now focused on his face.

“Yes.” His tone remained monotonous.

“I’ve never watched it.”

“Would you like me to tell you about it?”

“Sure. I’d love to hear about it.” She shrugged. Her brown eyes had remained on him. As he continued to sketch Venom, she listened intently to his words as he talked about the love he had for the series. He sounded passionate, and she couldn’t lie, it was interesting and attractive how someone could talk so passionately about something they felt fondly for.

Her head was slightly tilted the whole time as she listened. She couldn’t believe that she was sitting with Austin, casually talking to him. She thought he’d be mean or hostile towards her. But he seemed so casual and chill, like they had never once argued a day in their life. For some reason, this too charmed her.

She blinked, thinking it’d be awkward to mention it. But she decided to anyways. “I thought you’d be meaner.” She said once he finished his monologue about how great Star Wars was. Austin looked at her with half sleepy eyes. His face was unreadable but she assumed he was confused. “Cause well- y’know, you and I use to go at it.” She chuckled nervously.

“Oh.” He looked away for a moment. “Yeah well,” he started, “I know how to properly loathe people. You were debating with me because that’s the whole point of English Literature. You debate about topics and stupid shit like that. You were only doing it to get the A. I was doing the same. Nothin deep about it.” He shrugged it off. “It was professional, not personal.”

She was surprised by his laid back response. “But I mean— I would ignore you and everything too after that.”

“So?” He smirked. “Don’t matter does it? You’re talkin to me now.” This man was full of surprises. He was laid back. Incredibly so that it seemed unreal. But on his face was a smirk, a smirk that showed friendliness. “We’re still friends. You may not consider me one. But I consider you one. So, I’ll wait for you to talk to me. I’m like a dog.”

“You shouldn’t compare yourself to a dog.” She was taken back from how low he saw himself. Never has she seen someone refer to themself as a dog, and for some reason he didn’t seem too bothered by it. He just looked back at the sketchbook.

“It isn’t an insult to myself.” Beginning to shade in the parts of Venom’s body. “It’s not an insult if it’s true. I’m like a dog. I wait and wait. My ex girlfriend ignored me for a total of six months, and I waited for her.”

“Ana?” Scooting closer to him until their knees were touching. He gave a nod. She looked at what he was wearing. Black jeans, a white shirt underneath his Vans hoodie, with a pair of Vans sneakers. “She ignored you for that long?”

“Like I said Lyra,” he looked at her eyes now. She saw nothing but empty gray orbs. As if he was use to being treated that way. With a blank expression, “I’m a dog.” He returned back to sketching. “You hated me. Your friends hated me too. Most people on this campus hated me. Even my girlfriend ignored me. So… y’know you gotta wait till you’re actually used or some shit.”

“But… nobody should be treated that way.” She spoke softly.

“Oh? When I debated with your whole entire friend group. One of your buddies made a whole post about it on Instagram. Then I got attacked for it.” He scoffed, his tone still showing no range of emotion. He didn’t seemed annoyed, he didn’t seem sad, he didn’t show anything.

“We did that?” Not even being able to recall the event. Austin couldn’t help but chuckle when she answered him. He gave a nod once more, his brows raised in amusement. “Oh- I’m sorry about that. That was incredibly immature of us.”

“Yeah. It was.” He began drawing in the background of the sketch. “But I don’t blame you. It was him. Not you.”

“But I’m friends with him?”

“But, you’re not him.” He put the sketchbook away now. Closing it shut to put it beside him with the pencil on top. “So… I look at you differently. Like I said. I know how to loathe people. I never had the privilege to really loathe someone properly.” Their eyes locked with each other. They were sitting incredibly close.

Maybe she didn’t hate him. Now that she was actually talking to him. He seemed chill, interesting with the way he thought. Yeah, maybe she didn’t hate him. Maybe she believed she did because her other friends hated him, but her? No.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that.” She murmured, realizing that he was much different than she first perceived. He chuckled lowly once more, shaking his head. “Well- I don’t hate you either.” This caught his attention. Their eyes were still locked with each other. He had been listening to her intently, his arm over the bench, leaning back on it. With her hands underneath her thighs, with their bodies turned towards each other.

“You don’t?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I thought I did honestly. But now that I get to know you… you’re super chill.” Her hands pulled out from underneath her thighs, nervously twiddling with her fingers.

“Then I’ll see you here tomorrow, huh?” As if he was suggesting the idea to become actual friends. She had nodded her head in agreement. Not wanting to treat him like a dog, like the way he saw herself.

From that day on. The pair would meet up with each other on that bench every day. He’d probably bring some snickers, for himself mainly cause she didn’t like chocolate. But they had began to grow closer to each other as the days pressed on.

Lyra’s priority was always her friend group, and Austin wasn’t the priority. She cared more about her friend group than she cared about him. But at times, she would often catch herself talking about him.

“What’re you so focused on?” One of her friends asked. Noticing that she had been on her phone more, as if she was expecting a text message.

“Oh- a text from that guy I was talking about earlier.” She revealed to them. They quirked up their brows, surprised by the answers.

“You seem more interested in him.”

“Oh, well y’know he’s cool.” She brushed it off as if they weren’t even there. They had laughed at her new interest in him, going back to talking about whatever they were talking about. She had known that if they found out if she was talking to Austin Butler they would have made fun of him.

But for some reason, she began to prioritize him slowly. Slowly he was chipping away at her heart. At times when he would meet with her, they would just sit at the bench at talk. Get to know each other more. With his arm around her shoulder, and her leaning against him.

He was learning more about her. And the more he learned. The more he realized she wasn’t really a good girl like the front she put up for the audience. She wasn’t innocent nor pure like the front she put up. She was mean but she was also kind to him, she would listen to him talk about random things he enjoyed, or would vent to her about how the storage room flooded again at work.

She learned that he was a person filled with anger. He grew up in a culture where he was taught to never show emotion. So he was mostly monotonous with everyone he met. The only time he would actually show emotion was when debating with someone, but that emotion was usually annoyance, nothing more, nothing less. She learned he was impulsive and battled with his demons often. That he needed someone stable there to keep him calm, he needed someone who was patient and understanding. He needed that.

She learned that he was also a handyman. For some reason she found him to be the coolest in the room. He had revealed that he could weld, fix motorcycles, he knew how to cook, he had so many things about him that were surprising. Such as how his favorite color was pastel pink. She found this to be especially shocking due to the fact he was such a burly dude. Tall and blunt with no emotion, who really loved puppies and loved the color pink. When she needed him to help her with something, he was there. Always.

She learned that he would cope with himself by writing. His stories were always different in her eyes. With a world filled with nothing but hate, with a world that is constantly tearing itself apart, writing stories can help put it back together. Making up a poem on the dime for her just like that. She had figured that he’d write about her, about their friendship, about everything.

And so, she had came to the realization that she was slowly falling for him. For a man who was blunt, honest, unemotional, but that was fine for her. Due to the reality of him being an immature sweetheart.

—

At the time he had been talking to a girl for awhile. He would often vent to Lyra about the girl. About how she would belittle him and tell him how nobody would love him as much as she did, why Ana left him, why people treat him like a dog, etc etc. she would just go on with belittling him.

It was eventually so bad that Austin simply told Lyra. ‘I just want to be a good man.’ He would whisper in such a weak and soft tone, exposing his vulnerability to her.

Never before had a man expressed such a genuine desire to be good. Was he belittled so much that he genuinely saw himself as a bad person? To this. She would simply answer with: You are a good person.

And he was. He wouldn’t hurt a fly if he could. It was if he was afraid of hurting people. With his background, he didn’t want to hurt anymore people. He would always listen to Lyra, and she could be herself around him. Sometimes she would twirl, with his hand holding hers to help. Something she was embarrassed about but loved doing due to the skirts she wore.

He admitted to liking her skirts. He admitted to liking everything about her. Saying that she was kind and patient, which meant she was perfect to him. But she never believed him, however he believed his words with everything he had. He had fallen for her, and promised to protect her while they were friends. He had vowed his loyalty to her even as friends. So she could tell him anything she couldn’t tell her friends.

One day by the park, they had been sitting beside each other. She was eating ice cream that he bought for her. “You alright?” He asked.

“Yep! Vanilla is an awesome flavor!” She smiled up at him. A crack of a smile plastered on his face as he kept watching her eat quietly.

Austin had gotten a hint that maybe Lyra felt the same way he felt for her. He saw her as the most beautiful woman in the world. She wasn’t what he first thought of her. She wasn’t a bitch. She was kind, gentle, and understanding. She was whiney and bratty, but she cared deeply for him, he knew. She would listen to how he felt. She would listen. Which was all that mattered to him. Nobody, not even the girl he was seeing could even do that for him.

To him, Lyra was the most perfect woman in the universe. The way she would skip or sometimes ramble about stuff was what made her so perfect. The fact that she would comfortably lean on his shoulder without judging him. The fact that she wasn’t shy to smile. The fact that she was able to sit down with him. To look at him. It was all he could ever ask for from her. The way she would just wrap him up in all her love, the way she would touch his hair to make sure it was okay and not messy. Sometimes he’d just walk around in ripped up clothes due to how old they were and the fact he couldn’t afford anything, she never judged him for that.

He wanted to show her the world. He wanted to show her how grateful he was. Even with the girl he had been currently talking with, how he felt miserable. But with Lyra she would make him smile. Cupping his face as she spoke, gathering and stealing all his attention. Twirling to show off her skirts. For a short while, he thought he could never love again, not after that girl he had been actively talking to, not after the girl that made him feel miserable. But then Lyra found him that one faithful evening.

In all his misery, her calm and gentle smile, her soothing voice was there to save him. When he felt the most lost. She was there for him. She was his Juliet to his Romeo.

So on that day when he gathered up all his courage. He figured he would shoot his shot. “Do you like anyone?”

“Huh?” She gulped down, licking her lips. “You asked me this already.” Her tone showed genuine confusion. Puzzled why he would ask her this while she was eating ice cream.

“I was just curious. I hear things.” He shrugged. “So…?”

“I got a crush.” Revealing only that to him. “What about you?”

“Yeah I got a crush too.” Blinking his dazed eyes, she perked up a brow. Austin? Liking somebody? When he was seeing a girl? Of course he likes someone. Maybe he just wants to amuse himself.

She chuckled to herself. “Yeah? Is it the girl you’re seeing?” Continuing off the assumption that he wanted some entertainment.

“No.” With a shake of his head, he hunched forward off the bench. With his elbows on his thighs, pushing his lengthy figure up.

“Oh-“ she blinked, now she was curious. If it wasn’t her. Then who. “Alright then who do you like?”

“You.”

“What?”

“You.” He reiterated. “I like you.” With eyes staring at hers. She had froze in place. She couldn’t believe how casual he was about this. As if confessing wasn’t nerve wrecking. The bastard even had an arrogant smile on his face. Amusing himself with how shy she had evidently gotten. Her face flushed a light shade of pink, her knees rubbed against each other.

Hurriedly eating the rest of the waffle cone. “Well-“ she gulped down the last of it, wiping her lips with a napkin he gave her, “-I admittedly like you too.”

“I know.” He shrugged. “You don’t do a good job at hiding around me.” Leaning back on the bench. He stared into the sky as if this was an average Tuesday.

“How can you be so casual about this?” Lyra had gotten multiple confessions in her life. All of them were hosted with boys who had their heart pumping in their chest.

Austin shrugged, thinking about it. “I guess… because I’ve accepted that if I get rejected then that’s too bad for me.”

Now that she had known Austin returned those feelings. She wanted him. She wanted him all to herself. But, how could she even admit that. How could she even say she wanted him. Austin had let out a sigh, a disappointed sigh. Which then again caught her attention. Now with his body turned to her. “May I kiss you?”

“What-“ she was still having trouble that the man she use to spite was now a man who liked her, and the fact that she even reciprocated those feelings for him was more surprising.

“May I kiss you.” He didn’t lose his calm tone. Knowing that she was incredibly nervous. “I know you just ate ice cream but my heart is about to explode.” Even with half opened eyes and a relaxed tone, he was nervous.

“Okay.” She nodded, and she watched as his face inched closer to hers. Until she felt their breathing against each other.

“Close your eyes.” He instructed. And she did. He smiled a bit. She’s cute. Tilting his head, their lips now against each other. His arms snaked around her hips to bring her closer. Instinctively, she had her arms around his neck. With her hands going up to his hair. It was soft.

Pulling away from her, he pressed his forehead against hers before finally pulling away enough to get a good look at her. She blinked up at him, and for some reason he was reminded of a doe. He couldn’t help but slightly smile at how cute she had looked. As if she was processing she had just kissed him. “Not bad, huh.”

“Yeah…” she admitted. “Not bad at all.” Seeming breathless by him. A low chuckle that resonated deep within his chest was his only response to how breathless she was.

—

However with the girl getting in the way, he and Lyra couldn’t be together. Without Austin’s knowledge, she had been seeing another man, and eventually that man confessed to her. To which, she had accepted his feelings. And when he had found out, he grew furious.

“You’re dating him? Darcel?” He had his arms folded across his chest. Standing in front of her, with his eyes narrowed down to her. “That goober?”

“You did not just say goober, Austin.” She was trying to take him serious but with the word Goober. She couldn’t. She saw him as a childish guy. “Austin, I don’t even know why you care so much! You’ve been refusing to date me for the last two weeks!” She was sitting on the couch in the middle of his living room at his apartment.

“Okay who gives a fuck, Lyra! I want you. Be with me!” He shouted out of frustration. She blinked, surprised by how randomly he had just asked her out. “Just- who gives a fuck about her, yeah? Just be with me.”

“Oh well that’s a bit too late now. I’m not gonna leave Darcel for you.” She was calm, her legs crossed, folded arms.

He sat beside her now, staring at her eyes, frustrated. Gulping down his anger, he inhaled deeply to calm down. “Tell me this honestly. Do you love him?”

“Scuse me?”

“It’s a simple question Lyra, do you love the guy or not.”

“That’s rather rude of you.”

“Why can’t you just answer the question?” He scoffed, leaning back against the couch with his body turned to face hers.

“I-…” she trailed off, twiddling with her fingers again.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “So you’re playing him.” He muttered. Watching her hand reach out for his, he allowed her to hold his hand in hers. She looked down at his piano fingers, playing with them.

“Well y’know…” she began, “I just- I dunno. I love you. Not him.”

“So then be with me. Why play a dude.” He seemed to have calmed down now. She looked up at his gray eyes. Like usual, dazed and half awake. Proving it.

“Well, Austin. There won’t be an us. It’s over, between us.” She clarified for him. Wanting to make sure that he understood she wouldn’t leave Darcel for him.

“Well, might be over for you. But not for me.” He grabbed the remote of the TV on the coffee table, switching the TV on. She looked at him up and down. He’s got balls. She thought to herself. Something that she loved about him.

—

Darcel had seemed to get the idea that Austin had feelings for Lyra. He had spotted Austin standing uncomfortably close to her at a party the three of them had attended. With his head leaned down close to her face, from what Darcel saw. Austin’s eyes were so focused on her face, clearly listening to her words.

He had his hands on her hips to hold her. She seemed to be casually talking to him. Not noticing the gestures. She wasn’t even pushing him away. At one point, Darcel had overheard Austin telling her that he loved her.

“God Lyra, I love you. Y’know that?” His eyes looked her up and down. She was wearing his flannel jacket, underneath was a black shirt that showed a bit of her cleavage, and a pair of jeans. “You look pretty as hell.” He whispered.

“Yes. I love you too. Now hush down before people hear you.” She hissed.

“Darcel ain’t gonna know.” He shrugged casually. His eyes wandered across the party. Locking with Darcel’s who had been standing there was a cup of beer in his hand. His black hair slicked back. Austin had smirked at Darcel, flicking his head before Lyra had grabbed Austin’s face to force him to look at her, missing his attention.

“What’re you even lookin’ at? You’re making me whine again.”

“Sorry princess.” He wouldn’t kiss her. Even though he wanted to.

Eventually, Darcel and Lyra had gotten into an argument. He had yelled at her to cut Austin off. But due to her love for him, she had rejected the offer to cut Austin off. They would bicker multiple times about it.

He had enough of her now. He had dumped her there and then. “You stay away from him you hear!” He snapped, wanting the last word. “He’s in love with you.” Before slamming the door shut.

She stood there for a moment. Rolling her eyes, she had known that Austin was just a phone call away. To which, she took that phone call.

Just as she wanted. He had came over to her place. They were sitting side by side, her arms had been wrapped around his neck. He had smiled against the kiss, and she had finally understood that he was growing more comfortable with her. So comfortable that he had an actual smile on his face. He loved her. He did.

“So he dumped you.” He wanted to clarify. Even in spite of his blunt tone. She could tell it was a question. “Why?”

“Thought you had feelings for me and didn’t trust me because I refused to dump you.” She shrugged.

“Ah, I see.” He nodded understandably. “Well, guess you’re mine for the taking now.” He leaned down again to kiss her once more. Her hands digging into his blonde hair, with his arms tightly wrapped around her hips.

“Yeah, I guess so.” She smiled.

“How you gonna tell your friends that you’re with me?” Austin had known that Lyra’s friends hated him.

She shrugged. “I’ll figure out a way.”

“Rad.” He grumbled, scratching the back of his head. His brows raised as he sighed.

—

Lyra sat with her friends. All of them surrounded her. The eldest one had glared down at her. “You’re dating Austin Butler? The douche who is opinionated as fuck and doesn’t listen to anybody for shit?”

“You haven’t seen him.” She had a calm tone.

“We all talked with him!”

“Talking isn’t debating.” Not wanting any of this to get to her. She shrugged it off. “You haven’t seen my man.” Looking at them all. “He loves me and I love him, we decided to date. You haven’t seen him. You haven’t seen how he treats me. How he kisses me. How he looks at me.”

She believed that fully. His eyes would always soften when he looked at her. Leaning his head down close, or just leaning in her general direction so he could clearly hear her. The way he’d sometimes crack a smile from something silly she’d do. Or how he would teach her how to dance.

She would step on his Vans, and he’d hold her hand in his, with one hand on her waist. Showing her the steps to a dance.

The way he held her, with his arms propped up on her hips. Sometimes she’d straddle his lap, with her head on his chest. He would keep his arms around her hips, caressing them as he spoke to her in a soft tone. She would lay there, listening to how his heart would race whenever she told him she loved him deeply. But when they laid together. That to her was heavenly.

With her head laid on his chest, her arms around his surprisingly small waist with their legs tangled. She would listen to the beat of his heart, watching as her head would rise then fall in sync with his breathing. How deeply he breathed whenever he was asleep, he had looked like a relaxed baby.

How protective he was over her. How he would always hold the door open for her. Always holding her hand whenever they were out for a stroll around the city. She loved him, and he loved her. He was never afraid to show his love to her, he would sit with her and tell her; I love you, forever and always, with my heart and my soul. You have my heart. I love you Lyra. I love you forever.

None of them had seen her man. None of them had seen him. Seen him for who he truly was. You haven’t seen my man.

#austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler angst #austin butler x oc #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fluff

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aleksandracoffan · 2 months

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Ok since you drew Gai incredibly soft i couldn't take my eyes from your drawings. But today was the last bit of me holding myself back from showering you with praise. The way you draw the hands is beautiful, and oh you've created a amazing face drawing style for yourself. The facial expressions you drew really reflect the emotions of the characters very well. Not to mention the bodies. Ok... Yeah well, no need to give you headache with my talking-

But please let me ask. Did you practice drawing each body part individually, or did you just go over your favorite characters and let your drawing style settle on its own? I ask this because every time I take a break from drawing, the way I draw the characters' faces changes and I can't get the consistency I want. The same goes for the body and hands, how many hands did you have to draw to be able to draw hands that soft and good :')

And lastly, can I ask which brush you used in PS? Yes, I'm sorry to bother you with my questions, but as I said, I couldn't stop myself after seeing your sketch and lineart comparison today.

Disclaimer: I use a translator, so if there are errors in the text, please excuse me in advance! I'm glad to hear praise in any form, and if you really want to please me with it - don't hold back, haha! I am very pleased that you like my style and you ask questions - I will be happy to answer them! In fact, I always drew a character, not a separate body part. Once my great-grandfather told me that hands and even eyes, apart from the whole body, are able to convey the emotions of a character better than words, and this left its imprint in my subconscious. I always drew the way I wanted myself, how I felt the character and felt the slightest changes in the perception of the drawing when I changed the positions of my hands or slightly covered the eyes of the character in the drawing. This is a kind of magic that arises through experience and work. But I must be really crazy if I haven't practiced drawing my hands separately from my body, haha! Only if the composition and the idea required it. Even in manga, my favorite things to draw are hands, hair, and eyes. And to be honest, I had to draw A LOT OF hands. And it also seems to me that you should not worry that your hands or face did not turn out as you expected from yourself. Drawing is still hard work and you know it perfectly well, but you probably see progress in your abilities even after so much time without a conditional pencil in your hands. I'm going to sound corny, but you can definitely do it if you just enjoy drawing and practice a lot. Lee taught us not to give up haha! You will definitely succeed! And yes, this is the most common brush in PS, I originally had it among the main brushes after downloading the program itself. It's hard for me to say the exact name, because I have a program with Russian, but the closest brush in appearance is KYLE Ultimate - Mr. natural or Rough Inker 3 I will be glad if I have the courage to answer your questions and you will ask more! Thanks!

#Answers to your questions #Thanks for the question!#art #manga #PS

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bosskie · 2 months

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Molluck in Leather

Man, I don't know how long I have been thinking about drawing Molluck in leather but it's probably been over a year... And I just had to draw it now. I started this at night and ruined my sleep rhythm, again... Just had to force myself stop drawing and I finished this later today. It was that leather jacket that took me so many hours... I have no idea how to draw leather, so it was like 'trial and error' like stuff... I wish to draw a proper version of this in colour, so this was a practice sketch thing. I got new colour pencils now since I didn't have proper ones for black paper. I haven't tested them yet but I got plenty of drawing ideas inside my head.

I do call pretty much everything a sketch that ain't rendered in a detailed and 'proper' way. A sketch can take me 5 hours but if I did a full piece out of it, it could take 10-20 hours more, so it probably makes sense why it's a sketch for me. Man, I used to do so detailed line art, shade with doing those little dots, do patterns... I kinda just couldn't stand my line art without much details, though it's still like that... I could give that style a try with fineliners. I wish that I had more time to draw since I kinda don't have time to draw but I wanna draw so badly and it makes me feel better. I basically started to draw this to calm down, gather my thoughts; drawing helps me to clear my mind.

But yes, I have just been thinking that black leather would suit Molluck. I'm not sure about his necklace but I wanted to try it out. I also thought that he could have his chest visible since he got nothing to hide there! I know that there are some flaws still but I tried my best. It felt like I l still earned new thing about Molluck's shapes while drawing this... His head is full of fine details! His expression is pretty random, didn't feel like redoing it. Oh, and now thinking this more, a leather jacket could make sense since maybe there could be some use for the skins of the animals/creatures butchered at his farm.

I don't know if there is more to say. I have been just having so many doubts related to myself and my stuff... I kinda also started drawing this to check if I can (still) really draw... Sometimes, it can just feel like maybe my skills have disappeared, maybe I have forgotten everything, because I don't really trust my own skills, don't even feel like I draw well... Man, mind can be so odd and twist things into so absurd thoughts... But they still feel real, even if I knew that it was just my mind's trick again...

And yeah, I don't feel like submitting anything to that OWI's 'fan celebration' thing since I feel like I got nothing proper to submit, been just doing mainly sketches and I'm not a fan of my 'proper' pieces... My whole blog is 'an Oddworld creation' I could submit but well, just too much stuff for them to check out. I wouldn't also feel good if they did a video about my stuff... I would just love to hear Lorne talking about Molluck but everything else... It just gives me anxiety and my impostor syndrome would bloom...

I just tend to feel embarrassed of my own skills... I have so much to learn, been drawing too little... I drew much more about a decade ago. Only if I had more time but this is a good start already since I barely drew anything last year; I have already drawn more this year! It has been also a big step to finally start using those unused art supplies I have had for so many years... Still got some more recently, like an eraser pencil. It's been very useful, something I really wanted to find! I should try to use some proper graphite pencils and stuff too since I have been doing these pencil sketches with a mechanical pencil and erasers. Just so much stuff to try out, man... I got like two packs of graphite stuff; yeah, should put them in use too...

Oh, and I'm sorry for the quality of these traditional things. Sometimes, I get a better picture but sometimes, it's just terrible... But I try to edit these as well as I can, and yes, sometimes I also like to add some colours digitally or do some fixes.

#molluck #oddworld molluck #molluck the glukkon #oddworld #art like a bosskie

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ennaku-sirri-da · 1 year

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i thought this time

this time, I'm gonna make it

why I thought so, I really don't know

maybe something in his eyes just told me so

tell me lies, and i'll come runnin'

[ ID: Traditional fanart of Kamal Bora and Dr. Habit from Smile For Me the game. The style is semi-realistic.

In the artist’s redesign, Habit has a gaunt face with protruding furry cheeks, cotton-stuffed ears, then red fur-ruffles under his makeup-applied eyes, then a thin pencil stache with surrounding hair on the chin and neck. He is balding on one side of the head. On the neck is a visible Adams apple. He has a X-like scar near his mouth, and stitches on his neck, scars on his ball-jointed, wrinkled hands. He has on purple eyeshadow and red claws plus lipstick. All his hair is in shades of rose-pink. Habit wears a fur-like blue coat with rougher yet still soft material for teal sleeves. A rose is kept in a stitched-in chest pocket.

Kamal meanwhile looks mostly the same except for a more aged appearance-- wrinkly face and white streaks in grayish hair. Some acne and sharp stubble, hair on fingers, gaptooth is visible. He sports a single gold earring. His full sleeve shirt is red.

They are colored somewhat roughly with a mixture of colored pencils and sketches. From the front view, Habit has his arms around the other, bending down and touching Kamal's hair. His own hair surrounds the both of them. Kamal rests one hand in the other's, the palm of which is soft, patched cotton. His other hand is held up to one side of his face which bears a weary, pained expression. Eyes closed, tears escape. Habit smiles( he has broken teeth) in a way that's taking strain. He too weeps in much the same way.

BG is a messily painted vivid deep yellow overlaid with many ribbons of red swaying through. Habit and Kamal are below the top of the BG, mostly encircled on the outer lines by encroaching red paint. Lyrics to a mashup of Viva la Vida and Pompeii read, in slightly different fonts and colors( blue pen, black and purple sketches)--

I used to rule the world

Seas would rise when I gave the word

Now in the morning I sleep alone

I was left to my own devices

Many days fell away with nothing to show

And the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love

I hear Jerusalem bells a-ringin'

Roman cavalry choirs are singing

But if you close your eyes

DOES it almost feel like NOTHING changed at all?

Above the two is a line from Habit- " Trust me, trust me tomorrow is the day. " end ID]

Oh uh talk under the cut!

People, I'll admit, if I haven't before-- and if I have, then I request pardon, because my memory isn't that great-- I worry about posting stuff like this. I worry I'm being too emotional, too attached, too personal, just weird....

But I must be the one to tell my story and share it. Take it or leave it. I'm just another face in this crowd with my own trifles. If you'll listen to my passing songs, all is good and well just the same as when you don't.

Well I guess I can start with how I'm amazed that I've drawn this. This is nearly 10 years of improvement. I'm proud!

And OK, yeah, this was drawn for my birthday. But it has more of a New Years feeling in my head. Something like..." oh my god, we survived ". Something like a beginning but not a wholly new one; the road you have tread so far is still behind you. Strewn with all manners of things. How I think about it. The days were there when I think and think about them and forget to go forward. And sometimes it will all catch up to me and break away the forward path.

It's incredibly painful.

I won't go too much into that but imagine my mind when I heard a soft, sweet acoustic cover of Pompeii by Bastille. It's a song I've previously associated with those bottomless pit-like emotions. So this was like a sign from God himself--not even exaggerating. It felt like a glimpse into when everything could be over.

When Heaven is real, and the angels have said, " Your journey is over, now rest."

But still I am on Earth. The moment is brief and finite, however long. Happiness after pain and then pain to continue.

Here that is. I have painted it for myself.

Words are hard...

It had begun again. You don't mind.

That's what friends are for.

---

youtube

#my art #fanart #s4m #smile for me game #kamal bora #dr habit #roseverse #s4m au #habismal #personal

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good-beanswrites · 2 years

Text

I wrote some context/drabble for my mermay art! This started as legit drabble and by the end it devolved into indulgent trio loving hours with minimal editing so I’m sorry asdhfsjdf

Python crept through the small house. He peered in rooms and out windows, but there was no one here at this hour of the night. He took out a small key for the door, thanking the goddess that his father still hadn’t questioned the newly installed lock.

“Hey,” he gave a gentle knock, before entering, “I’m back.”

Were the circumstances different, Python would have been thrilled at the romantic atmosphere. The bedroom glowed in dim candlelight. The curtains had been pulled tight to deter anyone from peeking inside. The most gorgeous man Python had ever laid eyes on was lounging in the center, bare-chested and smiling. The only catch: he sat inside a sloshing tub of water and was far from human on closer inspection.

As Python locked the door behind, the merman leaned over the side of the frame, water pooling from him. Reflective scales flickered across his skin. In the daylight, the red could almost be mistaken for a freckled complexion, but the way they glinted in this lighting appeared much more magical.

“How’d you hold up in here?” Python asked. “I promise I’ll get you out in the sun in a day or two, once all this craziness dies down.”

“It is no trouble at all,” Lukas replied. “I have remained occupied all day.” He gestured to the stack of books Python had scrounged up for him. They were placed a distance away, each perfectly dry. He had seemed the careful type.

“You liked ‘em?”

“Very much. We have plays and poems, but I’ve never before read a book.” His smile seemed more genuine than the apprehensive expressions from recent days.

“Well, there’s plenty more where that came from. I’ll grab you some more tomorrow.” Python grabbed a few things off his desk before sitting beside the basin. “For the rest of the night, though, you’re the one who’s gonna be telling stories.”

Lukas shifted in the small space, trying not to splash too much onto the floorboards. He let his rose-red tail hang from the rim. Python felt guilty for the squeeze, but there weren’t many other options. After what had gone down on the beach, the townsfolk had been scouring the water for any sign of other merfolk. They would certainly notice if a massive basin appeared behind Python’s cottage. There had already been a few inquiries about strange happenings in his house, but he could dismiss those easily enough by convincing people it was nothing more than his father’s drunken ramblings. After all, only a man deep in his drink could actually believe there was an actual mermaid in their tub, right…?

“Yes, I suppose I owe you that much.”

“You don’t owe me anything, I’m just a nosy bastard,” Python smirked. He brought out his pencil and started scratching something in his book. Lukas angled his head, but he continued, “and anyway, I think that makes us even now. Seeing as you dragged my poor ass out of the water that time I fell off the pier, and all.”

“Lifting someone effortlessly from danger is different than willingly stepping into a risky confrontation for a stranger.”

The man brushed the compliment away with a wave. He gave another sly look. “Nah, I would’a done the same for any other gorgeous man in need of my assistance.”

Lukas’s eyebrows shot up. He seemed unimpressed (which wasn’t a surprise, given Python’s record of picking up tavern-goers).

After a moment, he nodded to the work in Python’s hands.

“You never told me you were an artist.”

“Huh? Oh, this… nah. Pops is a carpenter, and someday I’ll take over for him. Most things are pretty basic, but I found I’ve got a knack for drawing up some fresh ideas.” He flashed the page, revealing a detailed sketch for a modified wooden cart.

“May I?” Lukas pointed to it, then dried his hands.

Python eyed the merman for a moment. After an awkward moment of contemplation, he handed it over. Lukas was careful to keep it away from the water as he flipped through. There were plans for strengthening stables and chicken coops, reinforcing walls, and even some designs for bows and arrow shafts. On the most recent page he studied a model of a cart. It was the kind typically used to support weakened legs, but built to accommodate a fish tail. There were several different designs, each with its own notes and scribbles.

“These are impressive indeed.” He said at length. “From what I have learned, at least. Do others agree?”

Python rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, uh, I’ve never shown anyone that book, except a friend of mine.” He chuckled. “Although with him, every compliment was paired with a lecture that I haven’t actually built any of my good ideas.”

“Why not?”

“Eh, just don’t feel like it,” he shrugged. “I got enough work each day, why go out of my way to do all that heavy lifting? Now,” he took the book back, unsure if he should have let it go in the first place. “Your turn.”

Lukas settled in the tub once more, leaning his back against the rim of the basin. Python knew he’d drive himself mad cooped up in a small space like that, but the merman seemed content keeping himself nicely tucked together. “Of course.”

He began recounting his tale.

Python leaned his forearms on the far side as he listened. He tried to keep his thoughts on the story, but couldn’t help his eyes from flicking down to the man’s chest. (It wasn’t his fault it was so distracting.)

Lukas told him of his home, and of his life. He talked of his ambitions and interests. He spoke quickly and simply, never giving more than the necessary details about his private life. Python kept quiet despite sensing there was a lot being left out. Lukas explained how his pursuit of human knowledge and culture resulted in his fleeting appearances beneath the pier. In the end, it had landed him in that fishing net, slashing at every sailor who came near.

Python huffed. “Yeah, that’s another reason you don’t owe me. Pretty sure I actually rescued those other guys from you, not the other way around…” It had been the greatest challenge for his smooth tongue to talk himself in and out of that whole mess.

Lukas smiled. “Well, I thank you for intervening regardless.”

Avoiding his sincere gaze, Python muttered a response. The room went silent with Lukas’s story coming to its conclusion.

Python dipped a finger in the tub’s water, swirling it around. “Now let’s see, you should totally tell me more about your family or something.”

Lukas narrowed his eyes. Perhaps his family was a touchy subject.

“Or anything, really. I’m sure there’s some juicy stories you’ve been dying to tell someone.”

“And why would you want to hear that?”

“I wasn’t kidding, I’m nosy as hell! I’ve gotten the dirt on every single thing in this little town, but I’ll never get another chance to know mermaid gossip! There have got to be some jaw-dropping underwater scandals.”

Tipping his head back, the merman let out a gentle laugh. Reclining against the side of the tub, he looked so different from the creature tangled up in the fishing net, lashing out with fiery eyes. At long last, he appeared relaxed.

It took all of Python’s willpower to cool the blush rising to his cheeks. He may have remained on dry ground this whole time, but he was in deep…

#i was like ‘oh this will be cool to think about mermaid aus’#and by the end i was just like ‘and guess WHAT he was a MERMAID and he was BEAUTIFUL’#ill tag this properly later but maybe its trio loving hours for someone else too 👍

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branw3lls · 2 years

Photo

quick lil rockwell redraw watercolor but make it golden years fairchilds

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luveline · 3 years

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you know, I'm coming right back [Fred Weasley x Reader]

summary: you're a lonely artist and Fred is your adoring model

word count: 2.4k

tags: reader insert, lonely reader, artist reader, seventh year, kids in love, first kiss, getting together, pining, fluff, friends-to-lovers

It was easy for you, usually, to act fine. To feel fine. Any loneliness that clouded your life was pushed firmly into the depths of your thoughts. You tried to focus on the things that mattered, essays and charms and your art.

You loved to draw. You had sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches, some half finished, others coloured and lined. You drew everything, though you struggled to bring anything from your memory. Everything you drew had to be done right there, right then, with unsuspecting models. You sketched students eating their dinner, scribbled side profiles when you managed a spare minute in class. But you're most impressive artwork was done in the library, where nothing moved. Everyone was silent. You had pages and pages of bored, tired looking students. When exams approached, you hurriedly copied down the expressions of people on the edge of depression and panic.

You had friends, ish. You knew people. You'd had intense friendships that somehow always ended in awkward drifting aparts. Well, you thought. There must be something wrong with me. They liked me before they didn't, so the fault must've been mine.

You huffed out a sigh, pressing your face deep into the textured page of your sketch book, breathing in the smell of charcoal. You were sketching the illusive Fred Weasley, who you'd never truly drawn before. Maybe you had scraps from your second or third year when you'd still attempted to draw moving objects before getting comfortable and accepting that still life was your forte.

He was maddeningly good lucking when his eyebrows puckered in concentration. He seemed to actually be studying for once, sat at a table with his brother, George, and housemates Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

You were sat by yourself, and couldn't help listening to his lilting voice as he bantered with his friends. They were talking about Umbridge (the current victim of the Hogwarts' student body hate train), and quidditch, and their recent ban from quidditch. You'd never played.

"Watch out, dolly fell asleep," said one of the girls.

You bit your lip. You'd been nicknamed dolly by the girls in your dorm because of your porcelain doll you'd had since childhood. Even though this year was your last, you still hadn't felt the need to hide her away. She made you feel much less anxious and alone.

The whole school knew, naturally.

"Don't get any funny ideas," said Angelina, to the twins.

"Come on Angie, you think so little of us?" said George.

"Yesterday I watched you trick a group of forth years into taking puking pastilles." Angelina said.

"It was hardly a trick. We told them they were multi-faceted," said George.

You could hear your heartbeat if you focused. It was in your ears. It bump, bump, bumped.

Bump bump. You flinched, a hand settled on your shoulder quickly moved.

"Wake up, dolly. Library's closing."

You squinted up into Fred's face, head halo'd by candlelight. Lifting your head from the wooden table, you stretched your neck to the left. It clicked.

"Uh..."

"Hmm?" You prompted him, smoothing your hair behind your ears.

"You have - dirt. On your face. Here-" He said, reaching forward. You closed your eyes as he gently wiped the skin above your eyebrow.

"It's charcoal."

"What?"

"It's not dirt," you said, peaking at him through your eyelashes. "It's charcoal."

He looked mildly surprised. You shifted, hoping to cover your sketch before he caught sight of it.

It didn't matter.

"It's me. My gorgeous dolly, you've created quite the masterpiece right there, haven't you? I look vexingly handsome, of course. Thought if that's a consequence of your skill or my handsomeness is anyones guess."

You were lost for words. "Uh, quite."

"Yes, yes, quite. Say, could I keep it?"

"... You want the drawing?"

"I'd love it, if that's okay."

"I," you quickly dug your thumbnail into the paper, tearing carefully at the centre. The paper came away a little ragged and smudged. "Of course. It's yours."

He handled it with care.

The librarian jingled her little bell again.

"Thank you. So, see you?"

"Yep," you agreed.

He nodded his head and bowed out with his friends. You tried not to feel paranoid at their laughter.

You were curled up in a hidden alcove, though it was hardly hidden. Most students knew where to seek privacy in the castle. You just so happened to get there first that evening.

You were trying to sketch Fred again. It felt weird to be missing a page from your book, and weirder still that you couldn't remember his face when he wasn't right in front of you. You tried, but it kept going wrong.

When you finally managed one you liked well enough, you had accidentally ruined it with a heavy hand and the wrong shade of brown.

He looked much too brunette.

You carefully rolled your coloured pencils back up, securing the leather ties tightly so as to keep every pencil confined.

Sighing morosely, you flipped to a new page. Things got so complicated sometimes, it made you agitated. You doodled a little sad face in the corner of your page. When the one thing that you enjoyed in life started to go wrong, it set off your whole mood.

Your birthday was coming up. It had been on your mind a lot lately. You'd spend it alone. That's what you figured. Nobody would know it was your birthday, or if they did, you weren't friends now, so...

You began with an arching circle, bisecting the lines appropriately. Feeling out the familiar lines of your own face came easy, the slight upper tilt of your brows, your hair and your pursed mouth. You always looked sad in the mirror, and it showed, dotted here and there when the only thing to draw was your own face.

The rudimentary outline of a birthday cake took form. The candles were unlit.

In a fit of unhappiness, you scratched out your mouth. It was never smiling.

"What did that piece of paper ever do to you?" said a voice.

You jumped. Fred was peering down at you curiously, wringing his hands. You put your pencil between the soft cover and smashed it flat, closed.

"Hi, dolly."

"Weasley."

"Oh, not even a first name?"

"You neglected mine first," you reasoned, rolling the words. He smiled at your joking tone.

"How rude of me. Hi, Y/N," he corrected himself.

"Hi, Weasley."

He smirked.

"Anymore of me in that blessed vessel?"

"Nah. You never stand still."

"If I pose for it?" He asked. You patted the ground in front of you.

He was a lovely model. He stayed infinitely still, more still than you imagined possible for him. He sat at a 3/4ths angle, chin up but not too far, mouth tilted and eyes open.

His eyes were the one thing he couldn't keep still. You tried not to flame in the cheeks everything you'd catch his gaze on you.

You sketched fast, choosing to hatch rather than render, big swooping lines to give the illusion of a depth that wasn't really there. You would've loved to do a full render, maybe even a colour portrait, but he was beginning to look a little antsy.

You set the book on the floor to face him and pushed it into his eyesight softlt. He turned. He looked nice like that, face bent, hair falling into his eyes.

After a moment, he began scrounging through his robe pockets. He set down a box, a lighter, a pair of gloves.

Finally, he set a galleon onto the floor close to your crossed legs.

"For you," he said, smiling at your inquisitive look. "For the drawing."

"Oh, I can't accept that. And I'd like to keep this one, if it's alright."

Fred thought for a moment. "Alright, you keep it. And the galleon, too, for the one you gave me the other day."

You bit back a smile. "I can't take your money, Fred."

"I can't keep having you draw me for free. It's as valuable a service as anything else. Plus, I'm not sure if you know, but I run a lucrative business these days."

You picked up the coin, rubbing your thumb against the engravings thoughtfully. "It's hardly a service."

"A talent, then. A skill. You're very good."

You're neck almost snapped as you looked into his face, wanting to assess his expression for genuineness. He looked earnest, and kind. You blinked away the gathering heat behind your eyes.

"Thank you."

He waved a hand at you. "Think nothing of it."

"Really-" you cleared your throat, "-you're doing me a favour. I'm not good at drawing things that move."

"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said.

You shook your head, smiling smiling smiling.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Fred weighed the box in his hands. It was soft at the corners, like a simple jewelry box that you had in your trunk. He offered it to you. You opened it carefully, the lid sliding free with a shhhhh sound. Inside was an evil looking fruit pastille, a match stick and a dried up flower petal.

It felt like a very private thing to see, suddenly. Such an eclectic collection of items couldn't be random.

"The first puking pastille George and I made. Or rather, the second - the first was forcibly fed to Lee Jordan in our third year. The match stick is from my Uncle's matchbox. I never met him. And the flower was from Ginny, when she was 9." He sounded nervous.

"It's a memory box."

"I- yes. It is. Things are sometimes so miserable now, with Umbridge and you-know-who. Scary, even. I look at them when I feel like it won't ever end."

You took them in for a little while longer and then placed the lid onto the box with nimble fingers. You scratched the lid with a fingernail.

"It's nice. You're right. Things are so awful right now, it's good to have reminders of why we keep going."

"Exaclty. Dolly, can I interest you in a fruit pastille?"

"Not on your life."

"They're perfectly edible!"

"Sure, Fred."

The honest conversation you'd shared with Fred was a catalyst between you. He often came to find you, each time whining and nagging you to just sit in the library like most people do.

"What, so your housemates can throw paper balls at me?"

"They thought you were sleeping!"

A likely story, you thought. He sometimes asked you to draw him, posing with the elegance of a natural born model. It was great for you personally, you felt that you were really getting a feel for his face. Eventually, you were able to draw his face from memory, the details of his nose coming to your fingers as easily as a first year spell.

It became about capturing emotion. You could capture his likeness now without a second thought, but his emotions were much more complicated. How would you show his veiled frustration the day Umbridge kicked him off the quidditch team? Through the clenching of his jaw? The shy veins in his forehead? How did you showcase the fear when he'd come back to Hogwarts after Christmas break, through his eyes, downturned and squinting just a little?

Today, it was poorly hidden elation. "How come you're so happy?" You asked, pencil between your teeth. He grinned. You measured his face with your thumb in the air, forming an L.

"Is it a prank?"

"You're thinking too small."

"A new product?"

"Still need to go bigger!"

"Hmmm," you hummed. Measure twice, cut once. Or in your case, sketch once.

"George and I, we're gonna open a shop."

"A section at Zonko's isn't enough for you?" You asked, casually, though you were very very happy for him.

"It's going to be amazing. We're going to run it, just the two of us, and you won't catch me in these scrappy long sleeves anymore. The next time you see me, I'll be in a full suit and tie."

"The next time? Is that not tomorrow?"

Fred closed his mouth, realising his mistake. He had revealed something he hadn't intended to. "We're leaving," he confessed. "We were going to wait for our NEWTs but... Well, we won't need them. This is going to work."

"So. You're leaving today?" You asked, crestfallen.

"Hey," Fred said, rubbing a placating hand over the curve of your shoulder. "Tomorrow. During the DADA OWL. We have a plan."

"This is goodbye?"

"No! No. Not if you don't want it to be. Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, and maybe now isn't the best time, I had this whole letter planned and I didn't want to distract you from your exams and-"

"What do you want to ask me?"

Fred straightened. "I wanted to ask - will you go out with me? Not, you don't have to be my girlfriend if it's too soon, I'd love to take you for food someplace, I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but when the shop officially became ours, the plans changed so fast and I didn't know if you'd still want-" you cut off his rambling.

"I'll be your girlfriend," you said.

"You will?"

"Sure, if you'll be my boyfriend," you murmured.

Fred moved the arm that had been on your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "That's a dealbreaker," he said, leaning in.

He kissed you chastely on the lips first and then pulled back to look into your face. You chased him, a moment of bravery, and opened your mouth to taste him. He was sweet, like sugar. Your sketch pad crinkled beneath you both as he pressed forward. Your chests touched, heaving.

"You're not gonna be my boyfriend?" You asked against his mouth, breathing hard.

"I'm gonna be much more than that, dolly," he said heatedly.

Your mouth was tingling. "Kiss me again?"

You gasped at the force of him, laughing. He laughed too against your lips, and the sound tickled. He gave you a multitude of short and sweet kisses before pulling away again.

He wiped the wetness from your lip with his pinky finger. "Godric, you're cute. Look how flushed you are! You're insane."

Something churned in your stomach. The butterflies had acquired a trampoline. You felt happier than you had in a very long time. "You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley."

#listened to boyfriend by big time rush while writing hahaha #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley #fred #fred weasly x reader #sad reader #reader insert #artist reader #fred weasley fluff #sorry for the big blocks of text tumblr has a 250 paragraph limit #why woukd they do that

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eremiie · 3 years

Text

study session, sex songs

❥ armin x reader | nsfw | 2.3k words

❥ content: semi public sex, vaginal fingering, a sex tape

❥ a/n; an ask i got that i took an ss of and then tumblr deleted my asks, but i HAD to do this🙄!!!

you were bored.

you were so bored that the sound of the rain drops hitting the window next to you was almost a form of entertainment, or maybe the shuffling of people trading books on the shelf.

at this point anything was better than the piece of paper and book in front of you. you had been staring at the words so long that they were all the same. you were rereading the same sentence over and over again, and aimlessly sketching small drawings on the paper in front of you.

studying wasn't your strong pursuit, especially with your boyfriend next to you, who seemed to love it. at the thought of him, your eyes glanced over— a sight for sore eyes when you had been staring at chemistry notes for the past half hour.

a pencil was dancing on paper in between his slender fingers, jumping with every lift of his hand and coming back down to the white sheet like a figure skater on ice. he wore glasses to study, large frames sitting on the bridge of his nose, his hair so close to touching them. those same blonde locks almost hid the earphones that were snug in both ears, and you wondered if whatever he was listening to is what helped him study so diligently. his tongue stuck out just a little bit in concentration, while his eyes flit back and forth between the paper in front of him and the book above it.

he must've been watching you watch him, his attention turning towards you and the mechanical pencil coming to a quick halt mid sentence. he set it down to the table gently, and you lifted yourself off of the surface to balance your head on the palm of your hand. "armin." a whine of his name, clear discontent laced in your voice.

"yeah?" his reply was so simple, so innocent. as if he didn't drag you to the library with him, practically pleading for you to just sit down and study with you knowing you hated studying, especially in the atmosphere of a library. there were too many distractions and you weren't comfortable. not to mention the fact that you were clad in a skirt.

"i can't study, can we just go?" his expression didn't change at the sound of your complaints, eyes still calm and lips still together in a line. you didn't want to come in the first place, he should at least give you the liberty of leaving when you asked— especially considering how long you had been in the quiet library.

"do you think listening to something will help?" armin's eyebrows came together as his hand came to point at the earphones in his ear. you really didn't want to stay, but when you thought about the focus your boyfriend was in that you broke you did feel a little bad.

your legs shifted from under the table and you sat back in your seat, crossing your arms in your lap and letting out a sigh, eyes traveling around the vast library. when they landed back on armin the earbud was already sitting pretty between his fingertips. it was glaring at you and you were glaring at it, but nevertheless you leaned forward and plucked it from armin's fingers, his lips upturning when you did.

he slipped his hands in his pockets to fumble with his phone and you picked up the pencil in front of you to try and get back to studying, checking to see what page armin was on while you waited for the music to play in your ears. what music was armin into anyways? the last thing you could remember him listening to being a spotify playlist full of lo-fi beats.

only... it wasn't lo-fi beats that began to play.

or music.

your body went rigid, pencil in your hand beginning to feel heavy, leaving you to wonder how it hasn't clattered to the table yet. a chill ran down your spine because what you were listening to was all too familiar— from the wet sounds that happily made its way into your ear, to a moan of armin's name that sounded much too like your own voice.

it was your voice, because when you heard another moan it was armin's cry of your name.

it took you a minute to turn your head towards armin, his eyebrows raising over his eyes in question of what you could possibly want now. he hummed a small "hm?" to figure it out, as if it wasn't obvious. that look of innocence was played by him again, blue eyes twirling with curiosity as if there was anything to be curious about. as if your sex tape wasn't a reason for you to look at him funny— eyes blown and mouth agape.

when you didn't respond— only still staring at him dumbfounded, he shrugged his shoulders and continued to scribble on his stupidly neat paper.

were you hearing things right?

your eyes flashed, brows knit as you shoved armin's shoulder, his pencil flying off the paper and messing up the "e" he was in the midst of writing. "you messed up my paper." he grumbled, and oh, was he a little too good at this game he was playing with you.

"what is this?" you questioned, disregarding the flimsy sheet of paper he was writing on because that was clearly the least of his issues.

armin used his pencil to point to your book, confusion taking over the once curious look he had just moments ago. "...a study session i would assume." he wasn't letting up, and your lip twitched at his response.

"no— i mean what am i listening to?"

"well, out of everybody you should know." your body stiffened again, a slow blink at his response that came out almost too smoothly, words sliding off his tongue like silk. you had to pull your gaze away from him as he only did just what he did earlier, going right back to studying like there wasn't anything off about the moment you were sharing.

if he wanted to play with you, you'd just have to join in his game.

so with a huff of breath, and the lewd noises that were still playing in your ear you turned your body back towards your notes in front of you and tried to read them over again. your name was the only thing comprehendible on the sheet, every word below it a jumbled mess.

"light wave... light waves, diffraction pattern..." you spoke slowly, reading as if you were back in the first grade.

your hands moved down from the textbook and to the paper in front of you, nimble fingers forming words on the paper that you could only hope would make sense when you'd read them back.

diffraction pattern - occurs only

"only who?"

"only you fuck me like this, armin, please!"

the tail of your y went a little too low, and your legs turned to jello, squeezing together when you heard your voice swim through your ears. blood was rushing to your cheeks, and you leaned closer to your book, burying your nose in it despite not actually reading what was on the pages— at least well. with a suck of breath you continued to write,

diffraction pattern - occurs only you fu

your eyes shot open mid sentence, and you scrambled to spin the pencil around until the eraser met the paper, erasing what you had written furiously, and you swore you heard a small chuckle leave armin's lips, you biting your own and scrunching your nose up at your pitiful mistake.

your hands came up to rub at your temple, the sound of a moan armin drawled from you a couple nights ago was what you heard next, and it might’ve sounded nice those nights ago, but now it was embarrassing.

you squeezed your eyes shut, much like your legs and as flustered as you were you couldn’t help but feel... aroused.

it was something about hearing armin fuck into you so nice. the way that even though there was no visual for you to look at, you could visualize the moment so clearly— so vividly, because the more you listened the more you could remember making the tape, remembering what happened during the tape.

armin’s hands had slid up your back, a handful of your hair being grasped by his hand, a sinful arch being created by your back, and you let out a choked whimper, that you didn’t even realize you reciprocated in real life.

armin’s head slowly turned to you and his lips were forming a sick grin, and you would’ve been mad if you didn’t want him so bad, if you didn’t want every moment you could hear to stop being the past and become the present, the very moment that was playing in your ear to play out in front of you.

a whine, a pleading look on your face; eyebrows turned upwards and your hips grinding down into the chair below you.

armin could’ve almost laughed if he wanted to, and he almost did when your hand slid into his lap to grab his and pull it to the hem of your skirt, the fabric brushing lightly against his fingertips, but he didn’t push forward.

“armin,” his name never sounded so nice on your tongue, never sounded so desperate. your grip on his wrist tightened and urged him forward, and so he let them slip under the soft fabric of your skirt, and even past the band of your underwear, and the closer he inched towards your aching cunt the wider your legs spread for him.

his finger felt cold against your clit when he touched it, rubbing small circles right away, and your face looked like it was melting at his touch, your body was melting at his touch.

and he was being kinder than expected— letting his fingers dip down further until your slick allowed for him to enter into you, your body shivering at his touch, at the stretch.

your head fell forward onto the table with a louder than expected bang, and it caused both you and armin to jolt, the people around you stirring a bit.

you didn’t care too much, but armin did, his fingers stilling and his eyes going back to his textbook, eyes darting back and forth between the words as if he was really reading them, and you wanted to give him a prize for best actor right then and there.

“shh.” he said without looking your way, but his fingers began to move again, and you tried your best to not let out a moan. “gotta be quiet if you want me to fuck you with my fingers... this is what you want right?”

the sound in your ears were practically drowned out by your thoughts, by the squelches of your juices being moved around by armin’s middle finger, by the sounds that only you could hear— and maybe armin if he listened enough.

“yeah... i want it.” the small pants that were leaving your parted lips, and they only increased when armin inserted a second finger, his hand making itself comfortable in your underwear, fabric harshly rubbing against his pale hand with every thrust of his digits into your pussy. “want it so bad.”

you looked like a dog, a puppy in its heat, pushing your hips forward to get him deeper into you, but it just wasn’t enough.

you were needy and needed more, so your own hand smoothed down to your clit and you began to rub circles, whimpering at the sensation, the pleasure flooding through your lower half, almost making you dizzy.

hell, you were dizzy— drunk even; drunk on the lust that was twirling in your pretty head, and drunk on armin’s fingers— it was like the way his hand moved when he wrote notes, moving precisely and ease.

his fingers fucked up into you, curling when they were deep enough, and making your body lurch forward. “again.” you needed to feel that again. the fingers on your clit went a little faster, because you knew you were close. “again.”

and he did it again, hitting that spot that made you clench around him, and he kept doing it, and your fingers kept moving, you were progressively getting louder, but it didn’t matter as you were getting closer to coming as well.

and you did, body tensing up and every nerve in your body pinching, mouth dropped open and eyes rolling to the back of your head as your hand came to hover just over your mouth just in case any sound left you.

you slumped over onto the table, pulsing around armin’s fingers but your own slipping out of your skirt and onto the space of the chair your legs made.

armin finally let out a stupid small laugh, his soaked fingers finally leaving your sloppy cunt and entering his mouth, tongue twirling around your release. it was a shame you weren’t looking.

you could hear it though, the obnoxiously loud slurping sounds he made and the hum of content he made before popping his fingers out his mouth. what you couldn’t hear was the tape. it must’ve stopped in the middle of armin fingering you.

and you also heard the slide of armin’s chair against the floor of the library, the sound of a book cover meeting it’s back, and the shoving of books into a bag.

armin looked over his shoulder with a bored expression, one that was eerily similar to the look you had given him just earlier when you were bored of studying.

your eyes met his; eyes still calm and lips in a line once more... “i can’t study anymore. let’s just go.”

#armin arlert x reader #armin x reader smut #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader smut #armin aot #armin arlert #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #armin arlert x you #armin x you #armin arlert x y/n #armin x y/n

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Return to Me

Characters: Albedo, Scaramouche, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,538

Warnings: Violence, Minor villain death

Premise: What is it like when the one you most adore becomes a stranger? And how’re you supposed to pick up the pieces?

In which the reader loses their memory.

Author’s Note: Just a note that this is not how actual amnesia works, and if you’re experiencing memory loss please contact your doctor.

That being said the amnesia is really good for angst and pining so how could I resist? It’s one of those guilty pleasure tropes I like to read and think of so I hope I did it justice.

Albedo

Albedo loved two things in this world, alchemy and you. They were what kept him centered, what kept him sharp and curious and full of life. So how could it be that one of those things should cause him such great unhappiness, and that said unhappiness should be the other’s suffering?

It had been a dangerous experiment, from the beginning Albedo was well aware of that. Testing whether or not elemental energy contained traces of elements via water could yield incredibly useful results about magic’s interaction with the ordinary world. But it could also backfire massively. Noxious gases, explosions, anything was possible.

But he’d thought he was prepared. After all you two had hiked all the way to the edges of Windrise specifically so no one would be around, and Albedo had even put up a barrier with the express intention of keeping anyone from getting hurt. It should’ve been fine, everything should’ve been fine, and yet when the Electro Slime condensate hit the water and the explosion knocked you both off your feet, slamming into the ground three meters from where you’d originated, he could only wonder how things had gone so wrong.

Picking himself up after a few agonizing seconds, every bone and muscle in his body stiff and aching from the sudden impact, Albedo crawled over to where you lay. To his horror you appeared to have hit a rock, and your head was bleeding slightly. Cupping your face in his hands the alchemist rasped out your name. The relief he felt when you opened your eyes was only momentary, replaced by shock and a sense of utter emptiness when you made out a groggy: “Who are you?”

Electro slime elements appear to contain no small amount of Chlorine, which, combined with only the hydrogen as a result of the electricity splitting the water molecules apart, caused an explosion. Although normally Albedo might’ve been thrilled by the discovery of an element only found mixed in the natural world, now he could only look upon that experiment with a raw sort of hatred that he hadn’t known he’d possessed. The ice around the alchemist’s heart had been burned away, and now all that remained was a burnt and shriveled up little thing, determined to make up for the lack of emotions by throwing its owner into the pits of despair.

Albedo spent all his time at first in the hospital and then in the apartment you two shared. You’d made an offhanded remark about how empty it looked, and Albedo had smiled awkwardly, not having the heart to tell you he could barely look at a piece of science equipment without a deep sense of loss. The doctors had said the effects should fade with time, but Albedo knew that there had been magic in the air, and a sick, twisted part of himself jeered that he was holding onto false hope.

It didn’t help that Albedo had been absolutely unprepared for the reality in which you couldn’t remember a thing about him, or your relationship. Never again would you rush up to him as you had before, excitement in your eyes and questions in your head. Memories of gathering crystal flies in the sunset and staying up all night, notes on old ruins swapped with sweet kisses and phrases that meant nothing at all, the beach where Albedo had sketched you for the first time and you had given him your first gift, all that was nothing to you, the stories of a stranger told by another.

“The first gift you gave me was a flower preserved in a solution of Cryo.” You said, words awkward and unsure in your mouth. Albedo knew that you weren’t really remembering it.

“That’s right,” he replied, voice light and calm, trying desperately to keep the despair from showing on his face. “It was a Cecilia. You said that it looked as if it was made of snow.”

“It sounds beautiful,” you replied, speaking more to yourself than to him, “I wish I could remember it.”

“You will someday, I’m sure of it.” He smiled, but the movement felt like too much effort to keep up and soon his face collapsed once more into an expression of melancholy. As if noticing this you smiled slightly in turn.

“Does it still exist?”

“Yes,” Albedo gazed out the window that faced you two. Beyond the buildings, only a few streets away lay his laboratory, locked away and gathering dust, “it does, but I cannot get it right now.”

“Oh,” you seemed at a loss for words, glancing down towards your hands, “that’s alright. I’d rather remember it on my own anyways.”

Albedo said nothing to this. Moving to place his hand on yours he paused. He was a stranger to you. This little act of comfort, all the little gestures he’d gotten so used to were now impossible. Dropping his hand to his side he moved to get you a glass of water, desperately trying to ignore the pain burning in his chest and in his heart.

_____

“Are these yours?”

Albedo placed the bag of groceries he’d just gotten on the floor. Moving over to where you were sitting, you were taking a break from adventuring until you remembered more, a decision made by the doctors for fear you��d forgotten how to control your vision. You had recently moved on from mostly sleeping to exploring your once familiar home, and now you sat curled on the couch; in your lap was a familiar book. Leaning over Albedo glanced at the page you were on.

“Yes, they’re mine. I like to sketch in my free time.”

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, running your hand reverently over the slightly stained page, “I can see the different shades in the mountain, even if it’s only a pencil drawing.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Albedo smiled to himself, the memory of that day offering him some solace, “it was quite a difficult thing to draw.”

“It had an odd name.” You scrunched your nose slightly in concentration, an expression so cute Albedo could help but let out a huff of bittersweet laughter.

“Dragonspine. That’s the name of the mountain.” Turning to put the groceries away he paused when you spoke once more.

“No. That wasn’t it. It was something else. V-Vida something.” Albedo watched, incoherent thoughts and emotions clouding his mind as you retraced the circles you’d been making on the page beforehand. Suddenly your fingers stopped and you looked up. “Vindagnyr, yes that’s it! There’s a fortress up there, a, what did you tell me they were called, a domain. And that’s the name of it.” You closed your eyes once more. “Something happened there, something to do with you. I can’t remember it, if I was there or if you told me about it before, but something’s there. Something important.”

Albedo felt as if he must’ve been dreaming. The same sort of emptiness that had filled him at the beginning of this catastrophe was there, but this time there was something else, the bitter feeling of a hope that he couldn’t be sure of filling his lungs and his mouth. He turned back towards you, teetering forward as he tried to grasp the situation.

“Yes. That’s right. Vindagnyr. The name it had before it was essentially destroyed by Durin. I met the Traveler there, a week before I met you.” He sat down on the chair adjacent to where you were sitting, memories filling his mind. “It was also the first place we performed an experiment together.”

“I’d like to go there again then.” Your face was one of open triumph and excitement, and there was something in your eyes that Albedo thought he might never see again, a sort of recognition that he thought had been lost, “I know you haven’t been to your work once. I suppose it would make sense, considering what happened, but would you take me there?”

“Of course.” Albedo’s voice was sure and solid.

“Even though I might not remember more.”

“Even then.”

You reached your hand out to the alchemist, and after a second Albedo took it. He ran his thumb over the back of your hand slightly, and you made no move to withdraw, instead squeezing his palm slightly.

You had remembered something. It wasn’t everything of course, and there was no guarantee that there wouldn’t be heartbreak up ahead, wouldn’t be frustration and sorrow and moments when hope seemed very far away. But as long as moments like this existed, Albedo could hang on. The anger and despair that had burned inside him remained, but now something stronger resided there.

And that was hope.

Scaramouche

“Do you see them?” You whispered, raising your head slightly above the rock you were hiding under. Scowling Scaramouche made a cutting gesture with his hand.

“Yes I see them. And get back down!”

Although his tone of voice was harsher than usual you smiled a smile of understanding as you lowered yourself once more out of sight. Scarmouche took a deep breath in response, trying to control the coiling tension that sat in his stomach. Today’s mission was an unenviable one, made only worse by your presence, for Scaramouche knew these were no ordinary enemies, and though you could take care of yourself just fine there was a nagging in his head that refused to be silenced.

Your targets sat encamped up ahead, completely nondescript in appearance, although that was hardly surprising of deserters of the Fatui, especially ones of such high caliber as them.

Scaramouche’s expression twisted into a scowl of concentration once more as he thought about the moment when you two had received your orders to get rid of those who knew of the dealings of the army of the Tsaritsa, and who were certainly willing to dispose of said secrets for the right price. Although they were no doubt traitors of the worst sort and worth less than dirt, there was still something unpleasant about fighting people who had once been comrades. You’d mused it was because of the bonds of mutual struggle and culture, but Scaramouche suspected for himself it was more the annoyance of fighting people who were at least somewhat trained.

Scaramouche gave the signal and you crept once more out from behind your hiding spot. Manifesting your polearm Scaramouche could already see the well worn metal steaming. This battle was going to be bloody.

At first everything had gone well enough, being hidden on a ledge about the camp you’d managed to do a great deal of damage, made easier by their surprise and ill planned position. However things quickly began to turn sour. The ex-Fatui might not’ve had the equipment of their army days, but they retained the ruthlessness that had once made them so efficient and now made them so dangerous.

There was an odd smell running through the valley, the smell of electricity and something burning. Scaramouche stood in front of a man who had certainly once been a vanguard and a woman who appeared to have been a Cryo mage. Sweat coated their faces but Scarmouche felt cold with the thrill of battle. Electricity crackled to life in his hands and already bits of electricity were dancing on the charred and dinky armor of his enemies. What were they thinking sending a Harbinger against a pathetic group such as this? It was laughable, really.

“Such a pity that members of such an elite force are going to die like dogs.” He drawled. The woman in front of him gritted her teeth, summoning a trail of icicles which Scaramouche easily leapt over. “Is that truly your worth?” He laughed, before the calm that always came with killing washed over him. “Your best is hardly worth my worst.” Gathering electricity, Scaramouche prepared for the final, searing strike.

The man in front of him smiled a sickening sort of smile, the kind that one made only when they knew that it was the end, and then it all went wrong.

The sound of your voice was muffled by the energy approaching Scaramouche from behind, as the outline of a transparent sort of figure clipped his vision. Quickly whirling around Scaramouche was unprepared for the third ex-Fatui member, an agent who had apparently learned his skills well, bearing down on him. Raising his hands, the Harbinger was suddenly thrown aside by an unknown force. Fire made contact with lightning and the ground exploded.

Fighting to retain consciousness Scaramouche was aware of the sickly smell of burning flesh. Blinking away the confusion he glanced at the carnage around him. The agent lay haphazardly, face half obscured by a mass of flesh that must’ve once made him up but now seemed out of place. Behind him the other agents had hardly feared better, and the charred visage of mangled flesh replace what had once been arms, legs, necks. It was an unsettling view, and though Scaramouche couldn’t say it was the worst thing he’d ever seen it still left a vile taste in his mouth. How quickly a fragile little human could come undone, made into that which was unrecognizable.

Finally he fixed his gaze towards you, relieved to find that there was no apparent wounds, although that perspective shifted slightly when viewing your hands, which were covered with welts. Your fire must’ve mixed with his electricity, causing an overload of energy, and you two lying in the eye of the storm. Scaramouche looked at his own hands, and realized they were similarly reddened. Ignoring the pain he shook your shoulder. “Get up.” He let out when you finally opened your eyes.

However it was apparent very quickly that something was wrong. You eyes held no recognition in them, instead they seemed as blank and transparent as a mirror. Looking at him you furrowed your brow slightly.

“Where…” your gaze drifted towards the scraps of humanity around you and then there was nothing but screaming and a wetness on Scaramouche’s cheeks that felt suspiciously like tears.

“You need to get back to work.” Signora’s voice betrayed no sense of pity. Scaramouche was glad for it, he wouldn’t’ve been able to forgive her if there had been.

“I doubt those imbeciles need me for something as simple as the daily regime. If they do it’s their fault, not mine. I owe them nothing.”

“You owe them your work, it’s your duty as a Harbinger,” Signora’s eyes narrowed, “or have you forgotten that in your folly.”

“I’ve forgotten nothing!” Scaramouche snapped, eyes boring into those across from him. “I am well aware of what my obligations are and what they aren’t. As I said there is nothing of importance fir me right now, and I don’t wish to waste away my time with trivial matters.”

“What would our dear Tsarina think of such words,” Signora let out a dramatic sigh. Raising the glass she was drinking from to your lips she paused, “you best be careful. I cannot shelter you from your folly forever. Either you learn how to deal with this… unfortunate incident and your work, or I shall have that person thrown out into the snow.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Scaramouche’s tone was like acid and he felt for the moment as if letting go of himself wasn’t such a crime, for now there was no one to chastise him about it anymore.

“I’m warning you. Don’t forget what happens to those who cannot fulfill their duty to the Tsarina,” Signora paused, a cruel smile gracing her face, “or have you forgotten who caused this in the first place.”

It was all Scaramouche could do not to set the tent ablaze.

“Get. Out.” He commanded. Signora sighed, shaking her head and downing her drink in one go before walking out and leaving Scaramouche with the feeling of falling apart.

_______

“Do you sing?”

Scaramouche lifted his head at the sound of your voice, surprised by the question. You hadn’t said much since the aftermath of the incident, and Scaramouche hadn’t forced you to. After all it was one of the things he’d first appreciated in regards to you, you’d never forced him to talk when he didn’t want to. Now he felt the need to afford you the same courtesy, knowing that intelligence still lay behind those eyes even if recognition had disappeared. Now he put down the document he was reading, smiling wryly and shaking his head.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Because that’s what you’re called isn’t it? Your name, one of your names. The… the Balladeer?” You said it as if it was a question, and perhaps it was. Scaramouche couldn’t think however, couldn’t think over the rushing in his ears.

“Where did you hear that?”

“I don’t know. I just heard it. Or I remembered it. But that’s who you are, isn’t it?” You smiled, and for a moment Scaramouche could almost imagine life was as it was before. “Can you sing for me?”

“No.” This conversation had happened before.

“Fine,” you shook your head, “but one day I want you to sing for me, when I remember everything, then I want you to sing for me.”

“Fine.” Scaramouche managed to get out, afraid of the rising emotions he felt, afraid they might break through his voice.

“You’re missing work, aren’t you.” You continued on, gaze piercing through him. “I can tell, I can hear people whispering about it when I go out. I’m not supposed to be here, and you’re supposed to be working. If what you told me really is what happened, you should work.”

“Ridiculous,” Scaramouche scoffed, “I can manage my own affairs. Besides,” his voice grew softer, as if he didn’t want to reveal himself to you. You were too familiar, but still a stranger, and a part of him hid behind the walls he built up around everyone else, the walls only you could climb over. “Besides, who would look after you.”

“I can look after myself.” Your answer was as confident as it had always been. “I have to, since I trust what you’ve told me about myself, about this work, this world.”

“It was you not looking after yourself that lost you your memory!” He was shouting by now, he was shouting but he couldn’t stop because if he stopped shouting he’d be crying.

“Perhaps. But it’s not looking after me to end up like the people we fought. So go to your work. And maybe one day when you come back, I’ll remember.”

He couldn’t say no to you, eventually you won. It had been that way since the beginning, you tearing down his bluffing and his empty promises. Perhaps it was what he appreciated most about you.

Every moment Scaramouche was away from you felt like he was betraying a part of himself, a part he had hid for so long. But you were right, just like before, and just like before you’d won him over with your honesty, your refusal to back down, and your view of the Harbinger for what he truly was, someone who was deep down truly afraid. That part of you remained, somehow without memory and without certainty it remained.

And if that part of you remained, well maybe some day the rest would return.

Xiao

“Xiao look!” You let out a cry of delight as you threw yourself off the tall stone mountain, glider unfurling in a vibrant waves of color as you began circling in the air. Xiao scowled from the tree in which he was perched, unwilling to humor you in your folly.

“You’re going to be injured.” Although he hadn’t meant for you to hear that you still laughed at the comment, shaking your head as you once more carved shapes into the sky.

“It’s a lovely day for gliding! The air is so fresh and the breeze is just enough to keep you upright!”

“It’s too windy.” Xiao’s voice was flat. This was foolish, what you were doing was foolish. He could feel the currents, feel their laughter, their excitement. They were surely up to no good.

But you weren’t paying attention to that, instead you were gliding about as if you were born to fly. It was a beautiful sight, Xiao had to admit. The beauty of those immersed in what they loved. And what Xiao loved was you.

“Come on Xiao!” You called out. “Come fly with me!”

“No.”

“Oh c’mon, I know you can do it!” Screwing your face into a pout when the adeptus once more shook his head you shrugged. “Your loss.”

Xiao knew you were disappointed, but he couldn’t help it. It seemed somehow out of place for him to join you in whatever you were doing. Besides, he needed to keep track of the currents, just in case.

You dove down for a moment, and Xiao felt his stomach clench, knowing full well what you were doing, but unable to keep the worry out of his mind. And yet then you were flying up, up, up, up and though Xiao wanted to scold you, wanted to tell you to come down once more, he was rapt, in awe. You were too beautiful, and it stole his breath away.

A gust of wind came blowing through the stone monoliths and as your wings buckled and you plummeted towards the ground Xiao found that he was truly unable to breathe at all.

Perhaps it was a blessing that you were unconscious. Then you didn’t have to feel the way Xiao held onto your shoulders as if he’d never let you go, the way he gasped for the air he was supposed to be in charge of, the way his eyes were devoid of everything but fear. You hadn’t fallen so far, he told himself, you hadn’t fallen so far it was fatal. You were breathing, you were going to be fine. But he found himself unable to believe those words. If you had said them he would’ve, but there you were, a crumpled mess and he barely able to process the world around him.

Crashing onto the Inn balcony, not caring about the odd looks thrown his way, Xiao made his way upstairs. You were going to be fine. You were.

If only he could believe himself.

“They’re out of danger now.” Verr Goldet’s voice was calm, unnaturally so, and Xiao only softened a little at the knowledge, sure something had gone wrong. “But…” the innkeeper continued, confirming all of the fears Xiao had been secretly nursing.

“But.”

“But there seems to be a problem with their memory. They were very confused at first, unable to remember things such as Liyue, their duty as adventurer, this place, things like that. At first we thought it would clear, but now it seems that isn’t so. Their memory might be affected for quite a while.”

“I want to see them.” Xiao brushed past Goldet, determined to help you if this was to be your fate. But Goldet’s next words stopped him in his tracks.

“Xiao, they can’t remember you.”

At first there was the feeling of falling. And then, as Xiao vanished, there was nothing.

______

At first Xiao was determined to stay away completely. It hurt too much, hurt to think about what had happened. At first he’d managed to survive on anger, anger at the world, at you not listening to him, at himself for letting it happen. But quickly the anger faded and what replaced it was a loneliness so vast he couldn’t believe that he had managed to survive in such a way before he met you.

Still he didn’t want to go, didn’t want to see you as you were now, unaware of him and perhaps destined to remain so. How cruel fate was. It took everything he knew from him and just when he began to live again it took that to. It took away your memory, your livelihood, and for what? To punish him? It seemed unfair, so unfair.

So he’d stayed away, afraid that something would happened again to you if he were to show himself again. But the knowledge of such emotions as love is something that doesn’t fade, and Xiao found himself unable to continue on as before, finding the pain too great. He had to see you. At least to say goodbye, he had to see you. It would be unfair not to do so.

The moon was full, casting a silvery light on the landscape. Xiao drifted over towards the roof of the Inn, thankful that he was invisible, so as to not have to experience the moment your eyes reached him but you didn’t.

Your silhouette appeared quickly enough in the darkness. You seemed somewhat preoccupied, and yet there was a purpose to your step, made all the more evident by the Qingxin grasped firmly in your hand, a brethren of the other flowers which lay scattered on the railing.

“I know you’re there.” At first Xiao jumped, thinking perhaps you’d somehow managed to sense him. However he calmed down once you continued, it appeared you weren’t truly talking to him.

“I know you’re there. And I wish you’d come back,” You continued, gazing out on the landscape around you. “I don’t remember your name you see. They told me your name of course, but I wish they hadn’t, I wanted to remember it myself. It must be why you left, of course you didn’t want to see me like this. If what they said was true…” you shook your head, “I know it was true. I know that it had to have been true, that I cared for you, that you cared for me. I know because I miss you.” Xiao felt his heart pound in his chest, so loud he could barely hear you.

“I miss you so much. Isn’t that odd? I don’t know you anymore and yet I miss you. It’s as if something is missing. I mean, of course something is missing but it’s more than just the memories themselves. It’s the feeling. Like going outside without a coat on. I miss you, even if I can’t miss you because I can’t remember you I do, I miss you dearly.”

You paused, placing the flower on the railing next to the rest.

“I hope you see the flowers before they fade,” you called out softly to the dark, “and I hope one day I can look at you again. I remember you had such lovely eyes. I’d like to see them again to be sure.”

For a moment Xiao didn’t move, frozen by all he’d heard. But the minute you turned to leave he was already there, bound by the feelings he had for you, by the knowledge that continuing as he had been would kill him, would only hurt you.

“Do you remember me?” It was a silly question to ask, but he had nothing else to say. You turned towards him and smiled softly. It was true, your eyes didn’t recognize him. But there was something in your gaze nonetheless.

“Xiao.” You whispered, and the yaksha knew that he’d never be able to leave again.

#Don’t ask me why Albedo is mixing hydrogen with something that contains a halogen he and I are both just stupid like that #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #requested #albedo #scaramouche #xiao #albedo x reader #scaramouche x reader #xiao x reader #scenarios #mine

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rezzyromance · 3 years

Note

Imagine reader having a bad day. She just rants and raves and doesn’t shut the hell up.

Karl is busy trying to work and reader is starting to get on his nerves because he can’t concentrate (while finding her rants low-key cute).

In a moment of madness + frustration, he pushes back his chair, storms over to her and kisses her. He’ll say he did it to shut you up but the really he’s been wanting to do that for a long time.

Need me a guy like this.

You had been ranting for who knows how long. Today, it felt like everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong. And, sadly, the only person who was available for you to vent to was Karl. Beloved Karl. It wasn't often he let you interrupt his work so you can talk, let alone complain about things he found rather silly. He felt bad for you due to the frustrated state you were in which is why he agreed in the first place. Now, he's barely gotten any work done as you both sat in his office space.

"And then, this lady at the village looked at me weird. She just kept staring and she scrunched her nose at me as if she was looking at something revolting!", you had been pacing back in forth during the whole rant. Karl was trying to draw out some blueprints, but seeing you pace around back and forth in the corner of his eye kept interrupting. It wasn't as distracting as your words though. You were so flustered and aggravated. While he was growing aggravated as well, he began to find your anger cute.

"And guess what? When I went to the Duke today, HE DIDN'T HAVE WHAT I WAS LOOKING FOR! CAN YOU BEIEVE IT?", you threw your arms up in disbelief. "Nope.", he responds with a sigh as he made a tiny adjustment to his barely progressed work. "I was looking for some specific berries. Luckily, the book Donna gave me about the local wildlife said I could find them on bushes. I found the bushes, but there weren't any berries! They're out of season!", you continued to complain, not even checking to see if he was a actively listening. You just kept on until it was all finally of your chest.

"And after that, I tried to fix that chair with the broken leg in the bedroom, and I broke it more! How did I even do that!?', your pacing began to pick up speed. "No clue.", he says bluntly. The pencil he was holding in his hand was about to snap under the pressure he was gripping it with. His other hand was place on his head, propping it up as he rested his elbow on his desk with a growing pissed expression.

"And one of the lycans had a bad cut, so I tried to give it some bandages and the damn thing nearly bit my hand off! I thought you trained those things!", the image of you trying to help an injured lycan and failing drifted around in his head. It was almost as funny as it was distracting. He was fighting a smile that was creeping up on his face. While he found your efforts to help the creature cute, he was still frustrated that his time was seemingly being wasted.

He sat up straight and took a good hard look at the blueprint in front of him. The first picture was barely sketched out. It was covered in eraser shavings from the amount of times he messed up. And, upon further inspection, he could see where he was writing a description for something and accidentally began to write down things that you were saying as he struggled to multitask. The sight of this made his brow furrow and his jaw clench. All of his efforts for his work for the past unknown amount of time were useless.

"And Donna invited me to another tea party, but I can't deal with Angie. I mean I know Donna loves her, but that piece of plastic is fucking nuts and it makes me so uncomfortable.", you continued to rant about the doll. He didn't know if he wanted to correct you and tell you that she's porcelain and not plastic. All he knew is how much he missed the silence of his office now. Although, there was something about you running around in circles while wildly throwing your hands up in frustrated fits of rage that he found adorable.

Finally, he knew he had enough. He knew he had to do something if he wanted to finish his work. He sighed and put down the pencil he was using to draw out some blueprints. He looks over, preparing to tell you to shut up, but he couldn't help but get distracted. You were talking with your hands. And, you kept running your hands through your hair, making messier and messier as your pointless ranting went on and on.

He didn't even notice he was staring until you made eye contact with him and stopped. 'Are you listening to me?" "Yes.", he lies. And with that, your pacing continues as you spout more and more bullshit. His feelings confused him. You were keeping him from being productive and nothing you were upset about had any real long term meaning, but you just looked so cute when you're all riled up. His work laid on his desk, practically screaming to be finished.

"Oh right...", he turned back to his work in hopes to finish it. "And Alcina said I need to think more about what I wear because I care more about how comfortable my clothes are compared to how they look. Isn't that just bitchy?" "Mhm." The mentioning of her caused his eyes to roll. "Please just stop please just stop please just stop please just stop", repeated through his head as he wished for peace and quiet. He accidentally broke his pencil in his tense and clutched hands.

Finally, he had had enough. He threw the broken pencil pieces to the ground and stood up, shoving his chair to the side before marching over towards you. You didn't even notice until his fingers were tangled in your hair, turning your face towards his. He then pulls you into a kiss that lasts a couple of seconds. Enough for him to release some of his energy in a not so aggressive way while also getting you to be quiet for a bit.

You were speechless when he pulled away and he was thankful. "What was that for?', you ask as you smile and grab him by the coat sleeve, tugging on it. He pulls it out of your grasp, but not too aggressively. "Just wanted to shut you up for a goddamn second." "Oh yeah? Well what if I keep talking?" A mischievous smile spreads on your face as he looks back at you with a growing frustrated expression, but you could spot a small smile curling upwards from the corners of his mouth. "Nope.", he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you out the door. Once you're out the door, he puts you down. "Don't interrupt my works again. And, for the love of god, stop caring so much about what other people think. " You open your mouth to object to his decision on kicking you out, but he kisses you again. This time, you can feel him smile into it. He truly just wanted to kiss you again. "Now, leave me alone for a second. When I'm finished, you can tell me about all the other pointless bullshit from your day." And with that, he closes the door. While having you away is less distracting, he still can't help but think of you as he works, the taste of you still lingering on his lips. "Better get this done fast."

#re8 #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg headcanons #karl heisenberg headcanon #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg fanfic #karl heisenburg x reader #k

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therealvalkyrie · 3 years

Text

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 6

sketch

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: fluff, romantic vegetable chopping, the chapter of realizing things

AN: Well, it’s been six fucking months, but it’s finally here!! It’s a little shorter than I’d prefer, and took a lot of iterations to get here, but I’m very satisfied:) Thanks, as always, to my lovely @doinmybesthere for editing and encouraging. I hope you all enjoy! I think there’re maybe 1 or 2 parts left in this story, that’ll hopefully be out more quickly than I managed this one. Please let me know what you think! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

—

(read chapter 5 here)

Finals week passes in a slow blur, barely leaving enough time for you to breathe between essays, exams, and one presentation that you think takes at least a year off the end of your life. It’s much the same for everyone else, as well — you barely see Levi, not counting the nights you spend alternating between your bed and his, and you don’t see Hange at all. Consequently, there’s no opportunity to break apart what happened on Saturday. No chance to peel back its layers and find how you really feel. Although, to her credit, Annie doesn’t appear again, so you’re able to shove it into a corner of your mind for the time being.

Saturday brings with it both a new winter storm and an overwhelming sense of relief. You let it fill you completely as you sit and watch snow swirl outside. The street below your kitchen window is bustling with students trying to outrun the storm to get home for vacation. But you have nowhere to be, nothing to do. It’s nice.

The door opens, bringing with it the stomping of Levi’s boots. You turn to watch him shake snow from his hair, sinking deeper into the reassurance of knowing that everything you need is here under your roof. Safe.

Hmm. What the fuck?

You choke on the next sip of your tea as the realization of what you just felt hits you square in the chest. Through your coughing and hacking, you reach again for that fleeting sense of home. Childish, content, warm.

“Are you okay?” Levi calls from the entrance, looking at you with pinched brows halfway through hanging up his jacket.

“Fine,” you cough out, pushing back from the table to hunch over and catch your breath. “I’m okay.”

It takes a moment for you to stop breathing hard, though when you do, your heart rate doesn’t return to normal, instead pushing blood to your face and neck and making your body feel light. Levi doesn’t help when he finally joins you in the kitchen, all floppy hair and bright cheeks from the snow. All leisurely about the way he stretches his lean body to take his favorite blend of Earl Grey from the top of the fridge.

“I was thinking about dinner,” he starts, completely oblivious to the way you’ve started sweating under your cardigan. “We shouldn’t order because of the snow, so I brought home stuff to make soup.”

“What kind?” It’s a miracle the words come out normally.

“Chicken noodle.” He turns to face you. “My mom’s recipe.”

—

“I don’t get why guys are always so uppity about kitchen knives,” you say, picking up what Levi’s told you is a utility knife. “Like, it’s just a knife. I’m not about to stab myself with it.” Your finger drags along its sharp edge for only a split second when Levi’s slim fingers are suddenly around your wrist.

“Don’t. Touch. The knives,” he growls, taking the utility knife gently from your other hand and placing it back on the counter. “I just sharpened them last week, you could’ve seriously cut yourself.”

His steel eyes hold yours for another long moment until you nod your head mutely. You haven’t been able to shake the knot of hyperawareness that’s been settled in your belly since your what the fuck moment, and it only twists tighter when he’s so close to you. His hair is dry now, curling slightly because he hasn’t bothered to comb it since he got home. You have to actively resist the urge to twist a particularly enthusiastic curl around your finger in the split second before he backs away again.

Muttering under his breath, he returns to the simmering pot on the stove that he claims has turned into stock, though you hardly believe it. Growing up, you’d never been taught kitchen skills, let alone anything close to actual labor.

For a while, you’re content to watch, sitting at the table and nursing both the ache in your chest and a fresh cup of chamomile, but the urge to join him in his quiet work overwhelms you as he’s washing the vegetables.

“Levi, please, can I help?” Your tone edges on whining, prompting him to huff and shift on his feet. “I promise I won’t touch the knives! There, just, must be something I can do.”

You see him roll his eyes, swear under his breath, then turn towards you with a glower.

“No talking, no questions, and go wash your hands.”

“Yes!” you cheer and stand up with a bounce.

The scent of the bar of soap as you lather and wash cuts pleasantly through the spices and thick scents already filling the kitchen. It’s not something you’ve experienced often, and you relish in what you realize must be home comfort, your grin settling from enthused to contented.

Levi is arranging carrots, celery, and onions next to the cutting board when you join him again.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to touch the knives?”

“You’re not, until I show you how to do it without chopping off your fingers.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” you tease, but nevertheless settle in beside him to watch as he lines up a carrot and picks up the utility knife.

“We’re generally going for even pieces, though it doesn’t matter much because it’s a soup. Put your fingers like this,” you lean over a bit to see how he’s arranged his left hand holding the carrot, the tips of his fingers just barely tucked under the knuckles, “so that you can chop like this—“ he begins slicing, knife guided by his knuckles “—and not lose your fingers. Always point the blade away from yourself and others, and never hold the handle like you’re going to stab something. That’s not effective, anyway. If you have to use this as a weapon, it’s much more effective to slash rather than stab, considering bone density—“

“Uhh,” you cut in, “pause. Are we slicing carrots or fending off home invaders?”

He stops chopping. “What did I say about asking questions?”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Anyway. Considering bone density, you’ll have better luck aiming to cut big veins than forcing through ribs.”

He’s done with the first carrot, now, lithe fingers flipping the knife so the blade is up.

“Never drag the blade along the surface sideways. Flip it over and use the blunt edge to move food.” He demonstrates, moving the little pile of carrot slices to a corner of the cutting board. “Your turn.”

And then, like it’s nothing, he’s offering you the handle with a flat expression.

“Uhm.” You press your lips together and eye it for a long pause. “Are you sure?”

“It’s just a carrot. You’ll be fine.” He lets another unsure moment slide into being, then sighs and reaches out to wrap your hand around the handle. “Here, like this.”

And like you’ve suddenly stepped into a poorly-written romcom, he’s guiding your hands under his to the next waiting carrot, curling your fingers exactly like he showed you before, and scooting over to let you stand in his place. You just let yourself go along with it, hoping desperately that he won’t feel your hands grow clammy or see the way your chin has tucked itself shyly to your chest so you can watch.

Fucking shit carrots, useless goddamn root vegetable, can’t chop itself, has to make me do all the work—

Your aggressive inner monologue takes you all the way through the second carrot, then his hands are leaving yours and he’s placing a third under your waiting blade. Time to fly solo.

—

When you fall asleep in the armchair that night, sated and full of comfort food, Levi sketches in pencil on scrap paper. He sketches his hands over yours in the kitchen and he sketches the steam rising from the pot on the stove. He sketches you sitting with a bowl of soup in your lap, face illuminated by the TV and he sketches your sleeping body curled up, hair in your mouth. He sketches a close-up of your face, with special attention to the curve of your bottom lip, and he considers it practice for finishing the painting in his room.

Levi doesn’t think about how if he doesn’t do something soon, all of this will change. About how you’ll get over your heartbreak and move out at the end of the year and he won’t see you every day and every night. And he definitely doesn’t think about how he’ll have to adjust back to sleeping without your soft body tangled in his, and he doesn’t wonder how he ever slept before you.

No, instead of thinking, he just cracks his knuckles and gently scoops you from the chair and into his arms.

It’s as he’s climbing into his side of your bed that you stir and snort and blink sleepy eyes open.

“What time is it?”

“Ten forty,” he whispers, “go back to sleep.”

You hum and turn on your side to face him, face half hidden by the squish of your pillow. He settles more comfortably in, tucks your head under his chin even though you’re taller than he is, and drapes his free arm around the curve of your waist.

Quiet breathing is the only thing that fills the room for a long while, and he finally thinks you’ve drifted back off, when:

“Hey, Levi?”

“Hmm?”

“I... I’ve been thinking a lot, and...”

The tone of your voice is odd and it makes Levi’s throat seize up for a moment while you hesitate. He swallows deliberately.

“And?”

Your next words are more confident, like you have really been thinking a lot, your voice not sleepy in the slightest. It’s matter-of-fact and soft and lovely.

“And you make me feel really safe. Just, like, all the time. And I’m glad I met you. You make me feel, um...,” a small sniffle, “You make me feel held.”

Levi tightens his arm around you and swallows again. It feels like he’s balancing on the head of a pin, and a thousand angels are swirling around him, and it’s taking all he has not to get pushed off.

“Well, I am holding you.”

“Psssssht,” you wriggle slightly back so you can look at his face. You look simultaneously exasperated and vulnerable in the shadows of your bedroom. “You know what I mean.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Well, I guess...”

You pause to think for a moment, eyes flicking away from Levi’s face for a split second. Then, they’re back on his and he can feel the vulnerable honesty already spilling from you.

“I’ve never really, um, gotten a lot of physical affection? From people in my life? And, uh, it’s not just that, it’s that you’re so... so— so familiar, and not just because I know you, godimnotmakingalickofsense, but because it feels like I’ve always known you?” It’s said like a question, like you want to know if he feels the same. “And you just make me feel held.”

You pause on a shaky inhale of breath, then cover your face with your hands and roll onto your back away from him.

“God, I’m sorry, that doesn’t make any sense at all, I’ll just—“

“Stop,” Levi cuts you off, pushing up to lean over you and grasp your wrists in one hand and cover your mouth with the other, a mirror of the pair of you in the kitchen weeks earlier. “It makes sense. I get it.”

Your doe eyes stare up at him just like they did then and he selfishly indulges in an extra second of staring back before he releases you and slides back to rest on an elbow. Your hands stay demurely tucked by your chest where he put them and your tongue flicks out to lick at your lips as your eyes follow him.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I get it.”

“Okay. Good.”

Suddenly, Levi doesn’t feel like going to bed. He feels like running for miles or painting until his hands ache or hitting something, anything to distract him from doing something incredibly stupid right now. The mattress sinks as he sits up and spins his legs out of bed, muttering something about tea and not tired yet, and he almost doesn’t catch the sensation of you sitting up behind him.

He turns halfway back to tell you to go back to sleep, but your fingers catch his chin and he’s abruptly out of breath.

The curve of your bottom lip is perfectly, exactly the way he sketched it in the semi-dark. It’s slightly chapped.

When you kiss him, soft and certain, he topples off the pinhead and back into his body just in time to do something incredibly stupid and kiss you back.

—

(read part 7 here)

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi x fem!reader #aot fanfic #attack on titan fanfic #snk fanfic #shingeki no kiyojin fanfic #female!reader #levi ackerman #fluff #swearing #painter's hands and guatemalan coffee #valkyrie writes

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

The Wrong Lifetime – Five // Wanda Maximoff

chapter four | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter six

author’s note: dying of cramps but didn’t wanna leave y’all hanging, so enjoy! x

Taking Wanda to Blackpool was something I couldn't stop thinking about for the past three days.

I kept telling myself that I had to remain calm, not make her feel uncomfortable with my obvious attraction to her, and to give her the best day out considering she'd never been before. It wasn't anything more than a girl spending time with her soon-to-be sister-in-law, and I had to keep reminding myself that whenever I'd feel a stir of desire in my chest at the thought her pretty smile or intoxicating gaze.

My family were thrilled when they heard of my plans with Wanda. My parents were glad I was actually making an effort to get on with her, whilst my brother was excited I was becoming 'best friends', as he put it, with his fiancé. That one stung a little, the guilt pricking my insides, but I convinced myself that that was exactly what I was doing. It wasn't wrong if I didn't think of Wanda in any way but what she was. Right?

The weekend came around quickly enough, and on Saturday morning, I met with Wanda at the train station where she waiting for me with an enthusiastic smile.

"I brought my watercolours and sketchbook so I can paint what's there," she explained as we boarded the train. "I also bought a lot of pencils in case some snap. I'm gonna draw everything I see so I don't forget a single thing."

We slid into our seats and I smiled with admiration as she continued to ramble about all of the things she wanted to do today. She looked so lively when she spoke, her hands moving about frantically to express her excitement, and her lips permanently etched into a smile when she wittered on. I didn't mean to stare, but God, she looked beautiful.

"Thank you again for doing this," she finished, head turning to mine.

Now, I'd read and written many clichés of someone falling for someone else, particularly the moment they knew they were too far gone. It was hard to believe if they were true depictions of liking someone, but I liked reading and writing them.

It was now that I learnt that they were no exaggeration, for when she looked my way with a beaming smile and glowing green eyes, I knew it was too late. There was no going back for my attraction to Wanda.

"No need to thank me," I spoke slowly, surprised I could speak at all since she'd knocked the breath from my lungs. "I'm glad you're excited."

The journey was a few hours long and we made conversation the whole way. It was the longest I'd spent alone with her since meeting her and I was intrigued by everything she had to say, hanging onto every word with all of my attention. If that wasn't enough, her accent only made everything she said sound so much better. She was naturally soft-spoken, but syllables rolled off her tongue in a silky, raspy way with her accent entwined in her words. I loved it.

At one point, the topic of our families came up and I felt like my brother came up in almost every conversation I'd had with anyone who discussed family, so I took this as my opportunity to get to know hers instead.

"What's it like to have a twin?" I asked, leaning on my elbow as I watched her attentively.

She mirrored my action playfully, though answered my question. "It's just like having a normal sibling, except they're way more annoying."

I smiled, imaging just how annoying Pietro could be as a sibling.

"I love Pietro, but he's very frustrating at times," she spoke with a hint of endearment. "He constantly throws it in my face that's he's older than me by twelve minutes. As if that makes a difference."

A chuckle flew from my lips as she pouted at her own words.

"But he's also my best friend," she said with a sigh, like that fact was irritating in itself. "He knows me better than anyone and he's the easiest person for me to talk to. I don't have to hide anything from him." She paused, glancing upwards in thought. "Well, almost anything."

Pursing my lips, I wondered what she meant as she mumbled the last part, but didn't question it. Everyone was entitled to their secrets.

"So, you and your family moved to England when you were kids, right?" I tried to recall what my parents had told me of them. "From Sokovia."

"Yes, we were about..." She scrunched up her nose as she tried to remember. "Eight years old, I think?"

"Wow, that's young," I realised.

She hummed in agreement, smile fading as her eyes fell to her hands. "Yeah... I don't remember much, but there was a lot of unrest at the time. A war. It was dangerous for everyone and my parents were lucky to get us out when they did."

I frowned, knowing some of this already, but it was sadder to hear when it was coming from Wanda herself.

"Our extended family didn't make it out," she continued to explain, voice quieter. "I didn't know them much, my parents' siblings, so it's not that sad for me. Pietro, too. But it's strange to think, you know? Especially when all of your family are around with this wedding and–" She sighed, shaking her head and looking to me with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring the mood down."

I straightened up, reassuring her instantly. "Wanda, you don't need to apologise. It's okay. I... I didn't know any of that. I'm glad you told me."

She nodded, though the regret was still present in her gaze.

"I'm sorry all of that happened," I expressed honestly, not looking away. "But I'm glad you're here, if it makes a difference. You– your family are good people."

A small, appreciative smile graced her lips. "Thank you."

I shrugged, trying to brush it off so she wouldn't notice the heat rising up my neck. "It's nothing... so Sokovia. You speak Russian and English. That's pretty bloody cool."

She laughed wholeheartedly and any hint of sadness disappeared from her face, reassuring me completely. I didn't like to see her sad, especially when there was nothing I could do to make her feel better that I knew of.

"I promise to teach you some Russian today," she said with amusement. "A few words, just to diversify your vocabulary."

"Gee, thanks."

Another laugh escaped her and I chewed on my lip to contain my grin. I could get used to that sound.

—

When we reached Blackpool, Wanda was radiating with excitement. We couldn't make it two steps anywhere before she whipped out her sketchbook and began to sketch. She wasn't kidding when she said she was going to capture everything she saw.

I was patient, since the reason we came was for her, and watched as she worked. It was cute, seeing her concentrate and trying to stop dancing around with excitement every time I showed her something new.

We walked along the promenade and dipped in and out of the shops, looking at the gifts and clothes they sold. We bought a few things to commemorate the trip, but then Wanda was quick to drag me back outside so she could sketch the view of the beach from where we were stood. The grin on her face was convincing enough for me to let her drag me wherever she wanted. She looked so happy and I didn't care about anything else.

Eventually, around lunchtime, we headed to a café to have a break from all the excitement. Or rather, a break from running around. For Wanda, it was a better opportunity to sit still and sketch some more.

"So, you're drinking what, Y/N?" she asked, not looking up from her sketches as she worked.

I looked at my tea and lowered the cup. "Er, tea?"

"In Russian," she instructed.

"Oh." I cleared my throat, remembering what she taught me earlier. "Chay."

"And what's in the chay?" she asked, lifting her eyes to meet mine patiently. "The milk?"

"Moloko," I remembered, and the proud smile on her face reassured me I was correct. My shoulders relaxed as I returned her smile. "Thanks."

"You're a natural," she assured me, before looking back to her sketchbook. "I only taught you the words. You remembered it yourself. And before you know it, ty budesh' govorit' polnymi predlozheniyami na russkom."

My mouth opened with confusion, not knowing what she said. She seemed to realise as she chuckled at my expression.

"Never mind, milaya (darling)," she said with humoured eyes, before resuming her sketching.

I breathed out, taking another sip of my tea before grabbing a fork to dig into my pasta. As I chewed, I watched Wanda move her pencil effortlessly, creating lines that somehow resulted in a perfect drawing of the horizon.

"Do you only draw and paint landscapes?" I asked curiously.

"I can do portraits, too," she answered with a nod, glancing at me. "But they're never as good."

I gave her a knowing look. "I doubt that."

She merely smiled in response, eyes meeting mine for a moment, before shaking her head with amusement and looking back to her sketches. I chuckled, leaving her to it as I enjoyed my lunch and read the newspaper.

It was nice to just sit and enjoy each other's company as we did our own thing. I'd occasionally glance up to see Wanda focused on her drawing and smile, allowing myself to appreciate the sight, before looking back down to the paper and enjoying my pasta.

By the time I finished my food, as had Wanda, she straightened up and tore a page from her sketchbook. The noise pulled me from my reading and I looked up to see her holding the paper towards me.

I quirked a brow, but she simply shook the paper, signalling for me to take it. With confusion, I took it and became speechless when I saw what she'd drawn. It was me reading the paper, the exact view she must have had from being sat opposite me. It looked exactly like me, probably better since I knew I didn't look that good, and I was amazed at her talent all over again.

"You did this just now?" I asked with disbelief, looking up at her.

She shrugged and distracted herself with her pencil. "Yeah, it's not much. It's not my specialty."

I scoffed. "You're kidding. Wanda, this is amazing!"

Bashful smile on her lips, she glanced up at me. "Maybe it's the best portrait I've done. But I think that's down to my subject."

Even when she was embarrassed, she was still capable of turning the tables on me, leaving me a flustered mess. It was like her superpower. A very annoyingly cute superpower.

"That's what you look like y'know," she continued, nodding to the paper in my hand. "When you're focused on reading. You chew your lip with thought. And you get this little crease–" she pointed between her brows with a laugh, "–right here, and you seem to forget that anything else exists."

A sweet smile spread on her face as she tilted her head, watching me with intimidating eyes, very much aware of the effect her words had on me.

"You're very observant," I said, trying not to stutter, her gaze making me nervous. "Perfect skill for an artist."

She hummed in agreement, though didn't look away. "Mere artistic observation, right?"

My heart was hammering in her chest the longer she stared, especially when her words dawned on me. I'd said the exact same thing after she confronted me about picking her ring. I wondered if she could hear my heart pounding in my ears.

Just like the first time I saw her, I was at a loss for words and couldn't look away. She was compelling, beautiful and remarkable all at once.

—

"Nebo," I said, hoping it was the correct word for 'sky' in Russian, as Wanda had taught me.

She grinned. "Yes! And horizon?"

I pulled a face as I thought carefully. "Er...gorizont?"

"The student is soon to become the master," she said, and I rolled my eyes, knowing that was anything but the truth. I appreciated her encouragement though.

"Okay, before we head to the beach, we have to buy some rock," I told her, leading her to the stall on the promenade. "I got it last time and it's so good."

She furrowed her brows. "What's that?"

I smiled at her expression. "It's a sweet. Kind of like boiled sugar that's formed into a stick of, well, rock."

She didn't seem convinced. "If you say it's good, I trust you, I guess..."

I laughed, grabbing her hand and tugging her to the stall. "You'll love it."

After getting two sticks of rock for Wanda and I, we began to walk to the sand. I glanced at the brunette, wanting to see her reaction. She eyed the hard candy before attempting to bite it, a small piece breaking off at the top. Crunching on it, she scrunched her nose up.

"It's hard," she noted, swallowing the piece. "Tasty, though."

"It's better if you suck on it, love," I let her know with a hidden smile. "Tastes much better."

She did as I said, beginning to suck on the top, and seemed to enjoy it more. Giving me a thumbs up as she sucked it, I couldn't help but laugh again. She looked adorable, so I left her to it and did the same as we walked along the sand and towards the benches in the distance.

Like a child experiencing something for the first time, she began to point excitedly at Blackpool Tower and the ferris wheel in the distance and I just kept nodding along, letting her get excited because it made my heart skip a beat every time she flashed me a smile.

When we reached the benches, I was glad that today wasn't a busy day. It wasn't exactly tourist season, so the beach was scarce of anyone but residents of the town. And even then, our side of the beach was pretty empty, giving us first dibs on a bench that wasn't broken or uncomfortable.

Settling on it, Wanda pulled her legs up and sat cross-legged so she could lean on them and pull out her watercolours. I sat beside her and leaned back, inhaling the salty air and exhaling peacefully. I never had much reason to visit here apart from when my parents took my brother and I on the occasional trip, but it was nice to appreciate the sound of the ocean washing over the sand and the seagulls squawking in the sky. A big difference compared to back home.

Another silence formed between us as she painted the water ahead, and I couldn't help but glance her way, watching her pucker her lips with concentration. All she'd wanted was this and I was glad I could finally give it to her.

So she wouldn't notice, I looked away and stared out at the blue expanse of ocean before me. I should have been appreciating its beauty, but all I could think about was how it was no contest to the girl sat beside me.

"I'm really glad you brought me here today," she said out of the blue after a while, "but I wouldn't have said yes if I'd known you would be bored."

I looked to her and saw she was still preoccupied by her painting. "I'm not bored. We came here so you could see the water and find some new subjects to paint. And that's exactly what we're doing."

She sighed, looking up at me with a questioning glance.

Smiling reassuringly, I said, "I like the quiet. And I like watching you work. You look happy. It's good to see."

She tensed her jaw, stifling a smile, but her eyes said it all. She was grateful. Of course, her eyes were also very easy to get lost in, even if she didn't mean for me to. And right now, under the sun, I found myself drowning in pools of blue.

"What are you thinking?" she asked quietly, a hint of a smile on her face.

Stupidly, I felt compelled to tell her the truth. "I'm thinking about how you have really pretty eyes."

Attempting to make me flustered yet again, her favourite hobby by now I was guessing, she raised a brow teasingly. "Oh, really?"

It didn't bother me this time though, as I maintained eye contact and felt my heart swelling with adoration. "Yes. It's like you hold all the elements in a single gaze."

Her smile faded and that's when I realised what I'd said, my heart dropping to my stomach in an instant. Swallowing hard, I looked away and shook my head. An apology was waiting on the tip of my tongue when she spoke with realisation.

"It was you."

I glanced her way nervously. "What was?"

She was staring like her mind was working something out and I was the missing piece. "The letter that Y/B/N gave me last week. He wrote the exact same thing. What you just said."

My brows knitted together with confusion, then it hit me. The love letter Y/B/N wrote. The one he assured me was for his own eyes. He'd given it to her. And I'd just gone and said the exact thing he'd written on it, no doubt passing it off as is his own words.

"Th–that wasn't me," I got out, shaking my head slowly. "I didn't even know he gave you a letter, Wanda."

She continued to watch me, eyes squinting with scepticism. I swallowed hard under her gaze, trying to think of how I could come back from this. But apparently I didn't have to, because she suddenly leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine.

My mind was foggy when her fingers rested behind my neck, tugging me closer. I closed my eyes, melting at her touch, and began to kiss her back, moving my lips against hers. She was slow and gentle with me, her lips as soft as they looked and sending the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. I could have kissed her forever and been content, but my brain finally caught up to my actions and I reluctantly pulled away, stunned.

Glancing around to make sure nobody saw us – there was literally nobody here – I caught my breath and looked back to Wanda. Her eyes were drawn to my lips before they flickered to meet mine, darkened with desire.

"Why did you do that?" was all I could think to ask, and I was acutely aware of her fingers still grasping my neck, the skin burning where her tips grazed.

She licked her swollen lips, expression softening. "I think I've been falling for the wrong Y/L/N."

My lips pressed together, missing the feeling of hers against them. Never in a million years did I expect her to say something like that. I thought she'd been teasing me this whole time, but now, maybe there was truth to her actions.

"Did you really mean what you said?" she asked apprehensively.

"What?"

She swallowed. "What you said about my eyes. Did you mean it?"

Well, she'd kissed me, so there was no going back now.

I nodded, noticing the hesitance in her eyes. "Yes... you're beautiful, Wanda."

She didn't say anything and the silence was deafening. I almost wanted to run back home and pretend this never happened, but that was the cowardly side of me. The other side, the disbelieving side, wanted to stay here with her and keep living in this little bubble we'd created.

"Can I kiss you again?" she finally spoke, eyes flickering between mine for confirmation.

Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded slowly, and she didn't waste another second as she leaned in once again. This time, I wasn't so surprised, so I kissed her back quickly, trying not to think about how wrong this was. How I'd been taught that this was wrong. Because I refused to believe this was wrong, that it was a sin, when it felt so damn right.

Wanda felt right.

—

When I got home later that afternoon, I couldn't stop myself from smiling.

Wanda was all that was on my mind. Everything about her was floating around up there – the contagiousness of her smile, the brightness of her eyes, the taste of her lips. When I left this morning, I wasn't expecting to return with– well, I wasn't sure what we were, but we'd decided to give whatever this was a go.

Of course, she was still engaged to my brother, but I tried not to think about that. She made me happy and maybe in a different lifetime we could have been together, but this was the wrong lifetime which meant I'd have to make some wrong decisions, this possibly being one of them.

The guilt was still present, but the adoration I had for Wanda overpowered it. The fact that she actually liked me back was too thrilling for me to even concern myself with the lack of future this relationship would have. I just wanted to enjoy what we had whilst we had it, even if it meant being together in secret.

"So, how did your trip go?" my mum asked me when I returned, looking up from her knitting.

I stifled my grin the best I could. "It was fun. Wanda loved the seaside."

My mother seemed pleased as she smiled my way. "Y/N, that's great. You know, I'm really proud of you for making an effort with her. It means a lot to everyone."

"Mhm."

"She's going to be your sister-in-law after all," she continued knowingly, "so it's good you're spending time with her. Maybe you could do it more."

I hummed in agreement, my heart fluttering at the possibility of spending more time with Wanda. "Yeah, that could be good."

"Go on upstairs, you must be tired from the travelling," she said after a moment, noticing my distant headspace. "I'm glad you had fun today."

Wanda's smile appeared in my mind again, her lips ghosting my own. I sighed contently.

"Me, too."

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen #marvel #marvel imagine

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h2bakugou · 3 years

Note

hello! May I please have a Dabi x fem reader in the lov who likes to draw? I think she finds his scars and stuff to be a work of art in itself and is like (oh heck I gotta sketch this). He glances at what she’s drawing and she gets all flustered! Maybe he even takes his shirt off at one point which can lead to some other things~ (I like smut but if you think fluff fits the prompt better that’s alright with me!) Thank you and I love your writing!

a/n: hii! of course love! this is super sweet omg i love dabi, i feel like i dont capture his character very well but imma try like hell😩😩this is probably ooc for him but it’s sappy and i love it

summary: dabi’s hard to read, but that doesn’t stop you from sketching him. you find beauty in his flaws, entranced by his scars, so much so that dabi can’t help but be interested in you.

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff, sappy romance bc i love this man, some spicy themes, one mention of a slight(possible? idrk what counts) manga spoiler (e.g. dabi’s past/history) (manga spoilers in tags!!)

wordcount: 2k

;cut due to suggestive themes;

»»————-　★　————-««

It’s never been a really big secret that you liked drawing. But when it comes to working for the league, specifically, the League of Villains, your line of work doesn’t allow for very much downtime unless you’re in the midst of planning some sort of attack or rebellion.

Whether or not the league keeps hopping from rendezvous spot to rendezvous spot isn’t up to you, but you never fail to get a little used to the eerily calming silence that falls upon the league during the first twenty-four hours of the new four walls that seem to keep you safe for the time being.

With a barely sharpened pencil in your hand, a small drawing pad in the other, you’re staring at Dabi as you sketch him.

It started as a bit of a joke, maybe just teasing him since he liked to tease you about being into him since you were the only one he was really super close, if you could call being the first one he spoke to every time he saw you or the one you sought out to be paired up with during missions, ‘super close.’

But now, it was something you enjoyed.

Dabi was one among the very interesting members of the league. Something about his scars just seemed to entrance you. Pulling you in further and further down a rabbit hole of questions that you had but never let leave past your lips.

It felt wrong to ask, not that it was a bad thing to be curious, but because Dabi was just so mysterious. No one knew anything about him, or about who he was, his past, even his real name was a mystery.

It felt wrong to disturb the unnerving peace that was Dabi. The resting expression on his features balancing on a thin cable between anger and poor personal resilience.

Dabi’s scars were the highlight of your sketches, always standing out. What the others may have thought to be ugly, or unattractive, you thought were beautiful, and emotional.

There was a story behind them, one you wanted to know, one you wanted to uncover and read, page by page, line by line, and word for word, discovering just how truly deep Dabi’s past was. But only Dabi could show you that, only Dabi could open that book for you. And you were willing to wait. You’d wait an eternity if you had too.

His rough raven hair is messy and strewn about as you scribble down his facial features, the groggy lighting making it just a tad difficult to see as you lead the pencil over the warm white paper littered with graphite covered fingerprints.

His arms are positioned on a counter, the art work resembling how he was sitting sloped against the kitchen table, elbows pressed against the dark mahogany wood, hands resting by his mouth as his cerulean eyes peer off at the cracked cement wall in front of him, occasionally glancing back at you.

The other members of the league were scattered about but it didn’t bother you. Toga asked you a couple of questions, wondering what you were doing, if you were excited about the new plans and such.

You replied quietly as to not disturb the peace.

But soon some of the members left, going off to go eat or find something to do. And soon you were among the few left behind, along with Dabi, Shigaraki and Mr. Compress.

Having almost finally finished your current sketch, you were stopped by a pair of hands picking up your drawing pad. Rough and calloused fingers drew your pad away and your attention away.

“Hey I’m not finished.” You glanced up at Dabi. Dabi just admired the talent poured into the sketch. Dabi couldn’t wrap his head around why you drew him so often, but he didn’t mind. It was kind of touching in a way.

“Is that really what I look like?” Dabi joked, handing you back your sketch pad.

“You have looked in a mirror once before, right?” You titled your head to the side, adding a bit more detail to his scars as you began to draw again.

“A few times. But I’d rather look at you, doll.” Dabi’s hands reached down again, this time pulling at your hands. Leading you out of the room where the other two members sat, finding a way to entertain themselves, Dabi lead you up some stairs in questionable condition.

Picking a random room, he sat down on the rickety bed and waited for you to sit down.

“Why’s that?” You tease, returning to drawing, looking up at him every few seconds to reference. And to admire him.

“You’re easy on the eyes, beautiful and-”

“Are you saying you’re not beautiful, Dabi?” You stopped him, not pausing to look at him.

“I’m not beautiful, I’m gorgeous.” Dabi chuckled, shaking his head jokingly as he laid back against the bed, his head dangling off the opposite end.

“You are.” You confirm. Finally finishing up your sketch. You get up and walk over to him, handing him the finished sketch.

“You add so much detail to my scars. They’re just scars.” The tips of Dabi’s ears flush as heat floods to his face. He’s flustered but he won’t admit it. He can’t understand why you think he’s so beautiful.

You don’t speak. For the first time, you’re speechless. You sit down beside Dabi, and now that he’s sitting up, he faces you.

You reach your hands out and gently lift one of his arms, holding one of his hands in your own. You run your fingers across the scarred flesh, gently caressing his skin.

His hands are cold compared to your warm fingers. He’s getting chills all down his spine as you touch him. It’s not meant to be anything out of the ordinary, but he’s still shocked that he’s letting you touch him.

“Your scars are beautiful. I’m sure there’s a story, something about them that might make you hate them, but I love them, and I think they make you that much more beautiful. You are a masterpiece, every scar a carefully calculated brushstroke on a beautiful canvas.” Your words finally come out, overflowing with love. You can’t sit quietly anymore.

“Dabi you are beautiful.” Your eyes lock with his, and you can tell he’s unsure of what to do.

Dabi no longer felt he had the ability to cry, but if he’d let himself, he would’ve done it in that moment. Being so open and vulnerable around you just happened. It came too easily, and he hated it, but he loved you.

Pulling his arm away form your warm touch, he tossed his jacket off and to the side before tearing his shirt away from his body, allowing you to see his chest, and more of his scar covered skin.

Sitting quietly with a faint blush on your cheeks, you couldn’t look away. trying to avoid staring directly at his toned chest and his nipples, you raised your hand and allowed your fingers to sink down across his sternum.

Soon your fingers were met with his abs, which the heat on your face noticed far too well.

“Say it again.” Dabi mumbled. You lifted your head to look into his eyes again, your hand still resting against his chest.

“You are beautiful-” The moment the words left your lips, Dabi’s own lips were pressed against yours. Kissing you roughly, more than he intended too, his hands mangled into yours, pushing your arms over your head.

His heart was pounding and it felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest onto yours. Pulling away for a few seconds, Dabi’s hair covered his eyes as he looked down, finding interest in the collar of your shirt.

“I want you.” Dabi’s words were simple, but they didn’t have to be complex. You knew what he meant, and you knew what he wanted. You wanted it too. A chance to see him in a different light, with deeper meaning.

A chance to connect with him, one on one.

“Then take me.” Your fingers intertwined with his, your arms still resting above your head. It didn’t take long for his lips to magnetize back to yours, sticking to them like glue.

When Dabi thought about sex, he didn’t come anywhere close to making love. There wasn’t that sort of option when it came to him. He didn’t think he was at all capable of love, let alone a relationship that was going to have any sort of emotional connection strong enough to make him feel stable.

But you, you were so vastly different from anyone he’d ever fucked. So different from an excuse to get his dick wet, to get his mind off of league business or heaven forbid, his past.

But you, you were what he needed, what he wanted. It was far from therapy, but it’d work. Having you around was like a drug, addicting, and he’d be going through withdrawals if he couldn’t have you.

Feeling you, touching you, fucking you, kissing you, it was fuel to his fire. He was damaged goods, broken and shattered, impossible to put together, but you were doing your best, working on the smallest parts, exercising precautions, and opening your heart to him.

Hearing his name in the form of your moans as he rutted into you, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips drove him wild, much like the way your hands tangled into his hair, forcing his head into your chest where he kissed and sucked on your skin, leaving marks.

Your moans and his own grunts of pleasure were spewing from the locked room. Dabi didn’t care if the others heard, he was enjoying the moment.

Every part of it. Every part of you, every part of your body, your words, your love. And before he knew, Dabi was at his highest, his face flush against your naked chest, breathing heavily as he inhaled your scent.

Still inside you, he didn’t move, allowing the two of you to catch your breath. It was in this moment, if Dabi allowed himself to cry, he would’ve cried a second time. He was so infatuated with you, so attached.

“I love you.” Your words scared him, causing his cerulean eyes to peak at you through locks of his noir hair.

“That’s stupid.” Dabi kissed your sternum, kissing up your chest, stopping at your neck to leave a little mark, only to meet at your lips in the end.

“How?” You ask softly, your hands massaging his scalp as his lips hover over yours.

“I can’t explain it, it just is.” Dabi frowned, trying to understand what your eyes were saying as they clouded with emotion.

“Love is complex, and I think that maybe you’ve never really had good experiences with it. If you’d let me, I could show you just how beautiful it can be.” You offer, a small smile on your lips.

“If you feel the need-”

“I do. I love you, and I want you to know love.” You kissed his forehead. Dabi eventually pulled out, not minding the mess, he’d clean up later.

“I want you to know why I love you.” You whispered, hugging him closer to you.

“Why I love your scars, your hands, your strength, the rasp in your voice, all of it. I love.” Dabi’s arms are strung over your waist as he lays, face nuzzled in your neck. It’s a bit of a stretch for him, and he feels out of place, but it’s oddly comfortable.

The next couple of times you draw Dabi, you ask to see him shirtless again. And with every new sketch, there’s something new to be learned, for Dabi. He’s learning about love, and loving you.

He finds that you still draw him incredibly cute, and though he won’t admit it, he loves when you draw him. He’ll pose for you if you ever ask, and you always tease him a little about how it was like he was born to be a model.

It’s a long road ahead of you, but it’s one you’re willing to take, to show Dabi just how important love is.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

#dabi #dabi x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #touya #touya x reader

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