#looked through the sketchbook I almost finished and there's a bunch of sketches where I was also too scared to mess something up

[ricoka]

I wish I wasn't so afraid of fucking every art piece up and just went to town on them with colours instead

It can only get better right

[mundoperla]

Vincent Sinclair with a shy S/O

One day a bunch of teenage boys come and there openly flirting with her, while she did the job for Bo since there was no females to flirt with.

She came back to Vincent aggressively painting nude paintings of her in explicit positions something he’d never do because he was too shy. Catching her watching him, he finally did what he wanted to do out of anger

Sorry if it’s too much you don’t have to do nsfw if you don’t want too <3

HEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEGI

𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.🔞

Vincent Sinclair x shy Fem!Reader

•

— Despite your reserved shy nature, you’ve got someone who’s the exact same eating that act up behind the scenes.

⚠️‼️tws;; creepy ass dudes saying creepy ass things, brief mentions of violence, vinny boy having indecent thoughts abt you, p in v SEX👺, fingering kind of??, overstimulation, basement sex too ig u could call it

i want him so bad

Lester hand already let you and his brothers know another group was being directed to Ambrose so guests were expected at some point in the day. Bo had asked you to stay at the station while he went back to the house to retrieve a few things, you understood what to do and what to say, how to be even just the smallest bit comforting despite being aware of what was to come to the unfortunate few who were to step foot into the town.

The loud honking of a car horn had startled you from the mindless scrolling you were doing on your phone, looking up through the glass doors to see a group of boys roughly around college age in the vehicle. Two of them had gotten out and walked into the shop, the usual ask of a fan belt was brought up and you got to your fake search for one.

“ Are all the girls around here as fine as you are? “ one of them whistled at you, you could feel your stomach drop in disgust but you merely laughed it off and continued to stay on the subject of the fan belt they needed. Reluctantly trying to swerve into a different conversation just so that the comment could be forgotten.

“ Hey come on now, he asked you a question and you’re not gonna answer ? How ‘bout once we finish up fixin’ our car you come out with us ? ” The second one stood straight behind you, his eyes were glued to you which made your anxiety worse.

“ I don’t think so. There isn’t a fan belt here it looks like.. try the house further up the road, not that far of a walk from down here. Bo should have spares up there. ” at this point you just said fuck it to trying to remain calm, you were screaming on the inside looking for every excuse in the book to get these fuckers to piss off.

Despite your efforts, they kept insisting that you leave the town with them to go who knows where. The last three guys in the vehicle outside poking their heads out to gawk at you like the pair inside. You were exhausted, tired, and you wanted more than anything for them to leave.

But most importantly, you wanted to see Vincent.

You weren’t too sure where he was or what he was doing, you naturally felt too afraid to bother him whilst he could be working. But god damn did you need to see him right now.

Luckily for your sake, Bo had came back. He could tell by your body language that you were uncomfortable, giving you a look of what could almost be described as worried.

“ You can head out, Vincent’s probably in his lil’ cave. I’ll take it from here.”

• • •

Vincent’s hands trembled as he hastily sketched onto the sketchbook he had flat on his desk. He felt sick at the thought of any of those men eyeing you down.

He wasn’t upset at you for anything that had transpired, he was upset that your timidness was turning him in at the most inconvenient time.

Bo had buzzed in to let Vincent know what had happened, to which Vincent was furious for but he also wanted to be there for you while it happened.

But of course, his mind wandered.

Would you cower if he made a bold comment towards you? Would you stutter on your words if he called you gorgeous? Would you do all of these while he made you writhe on his-

This was dirty.

Your shyness was always adorable to him, one of his favorite things about you to be exact. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you any of these raunchy thoughts so instead he uses his own abilities to get as close as possible to seeing you in your most vulnerable.

His head could only be filled with mental images of you in positions he couldn’t even name. His hands merely transfering it onto the paper in front of him, ripping each page of his sketchbook out onto the floor to later shove in a folder somewhere where nobody could ever see but him.

For fucks sake, now was an inappropriate time to be aroused. Yet his own desires persisted leaving him more frustrated than before. HE deserves you, HE’S the only one who should make you flustered and leave you stuttering. You understand this too dont you?

Would you still be shy if he had you stripped entirely for him on his bed? when he had you bent over his lap as he curled his fingers inside of you? Jesus the mess you’d make on him would drive him bat shit crazy. He’d completely shatter you in fromt of all of those men to show who you belonged to. He can’t stop this, god he needs you so terribly bad it hurts. Won’t you-

“ Vincent? ”

His head snapped to his left where you were standing. He didn’t hear you come down.

You picked up some of the sketches from the floor and stared at them, the same familiar blush creeping up on your cheeks the more you looked as well as scanning the page he was almost completed with. Vincent was relatively open with you about many things, but never with sexual topics out of fear you’d be disgusted.

All he could do was look at you, unsure of how to react by being caught drawing his own set of ‘material’ of just you. You’re equally as flustered as he is, however you’d be lying if you said you weren’t as turned on as he was.

You open your mouth to speak again but you’re immediately cut off as Vincent slams his sketchbook onto the floor and tosses you up on his table, hurrily moving his mask up to reveal only his lips to clash into your own. His calloused fingers are roaming your legs and all along your torso, everything is moving so fast you’re completely left with no room to cower. His mouth moves down from your jawline to your neck, further down as he begins to practically rip apart the shirt you were wearing, coincidentally it being one of his own.

“ Hey- H-hey Vincent! ”

Your words go through one of his ears and out the other one, he needs you now and he’s tired of waiting. He’s still pissed off from earlier, he needs to mark you, leave your brain scrambled so you can only think of him, let you and everyone else know who exactly it is you belong to. His long black hair drapes over his masked face, pooling through your fingers as you grab a handful of it whilst he continues to rip apart your clothing, leaving you completely bare on his table.

He’s struggling with his jeans to get them off him all whilst trying to scoot you closer to the edge. Once he’s fully put of his own garments he wastes no time inserting himself into you.

Vincent wont wait for you to adjust to his size, he’s rutting into you like a man possessed. His hands are squeezing your hips tightly, leaving deep purple bruises in their place. The mask still left his lips uncovered, enough for him to bite and kiss at your chest and shoulders.

It felt like the tip was battering the inside of your cervix, with every thrust it felt as if he was fucking all the air out of your lungs. There was only so much you could do in this position — let out one pathetic whine after the other as your boyfriend completely obliterated you.

Where can he cum first? your face? your stomach? your back? in your mouth? keep squeezing him the way you’re doing now and he’ll fill up your cunt with his load until he’s completely run dry.

Vincent purposely edges himself, he won’t let himself have his own release until he feels like you’ve had enough of your own.

You’ve came for him more times than you can count, your pussy feels so sensitive the more he rips another orgasm out of you. You’re well aware he’s enjoying the sight of his pelvis and his thighs covered in your juices.

All the pretty sounds you let out are his notion to keep going, flipping you on your stomach to have you bent over for him, one hand still firm on your hip whilst the other lands occasional slaps onto your ass. You’re gonna stay down here until he’s done.

Or at least until another buzz of the radio comes in.

“ Three on their way to you, last two’re at the house with me now. Be ready. ”

You can feel Vincent squeeze you ince more before pulling himself out of you begrudgingly. The sudden feeling of emptiness causing you to whine.

He wasn’t done yet. He had more to do with you.

Your hands manage to reach out to grab the sleeve of his jacket, pulling him in for another kiss. Despite his previous behavior this is what flustered him the most.

Putting your semi-torn clothing back onto you, he carries you over to the mattress he had settled in the corner of his workspace. He began to walk to tbe stairs to handle the guests that would be arriving soon, just before leaving he hears the ting of your voice;

“ When you get back let’s continue where we left off! ”

•••

[thepenultimateword]

Heya it's me again!! May I request a continuation to 'Villain x Werewolf hero'! I just finished reading and I'm in love...

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Hero must have been truly massive.

Of course, Villain always knew they were a big guy, the permanent crick in their neck from all their fights was proof of that, but when the clothes they wore were as large as they were, the size thing didn't really make an impact. Now, standing in the entrance to the living room with Villain’s brand new extra-large hoodie stretched taught across their shoulders, it really sank in just how monstrous they were.

At least the hoodie sort of passed; it could probably barely be excused as something that had shrunk in the wash, but the sweats... Last time, the tightness of the t-shirt paired with the tightness of the sweats had looked cohesive, but now with an almost-fitting item to contrast them, they looked smaller than ever.

Hero tugged awkwardly on one leg with their heel, but it refused to move any lower than mid-calf.

"Next time, I'll bring a change of clothes," they said. It was more statement than question, as if this 'next time' was a given. Villain gave them a pass this time because of their tail-between-their-legs expression, but in the future, they were fighting it.

Hero padded toward the kitchen, taking in the scratches in the hardwood floor and a few shreds where the sofa was losing its filling. Luckily, Villain had cleaned up all the broken and spilled items fast, so the room looked more unkempt than torn apart by a raging werewolf.

As Hero settled down at the table, they glanced toward Villain's spot at the stove, making fleeting eye contact. Villain quickly focused on stirring the oatmeal, not really optional now since it turned out their two boxes of cereal, amongst many other things, had been knocked from the counter last night, scattering choco puffs and mini marshmallows all over the ground.

"Can I see?" Hero asked, a little quiet but as blatant as ever.

Villain peeked over their shoulder to see the hero pointing at their sketchbook, one of the only completely unharmed items left on the tabletop.

"No!" Villain slammed the oatmeal pot onto a separate burner a little too hard and strode toward the table to snatch the sketchbook safely into their arms. "This top secret stuff. Why would I show you?"

Hero rested their chin on their knees with a pout. "I'm sad."

Vlllain could only bear their big, round eyes for a few moments, maybe because there actually was something terribly sad within them.

"Ugh, fine." Villain gave the sketchbook a quick flip through, tearing out any of the plans they hadn't used yet, and tossed it back onto the table. "Here. It's just a bunch of nonsense."

They folded the loose pages into fours and stuffed them into their pocket before pulling a pair of bowls from the cupboard and piling the mush of steaming hot oats between them.

"Milk and brown sugar?" Villain said holding up Hero's bowl.

Despite being engrossed to a humiliating degree in Villain's drawing's Hero managed to give an affirming thumbs up.

"And cinnamon?"

Another thumbs up.

Villain sighed, but filled both bowls nearly to the brim and began dousing the milky surface with generous helpings of sweetness and spice. There. That was breakfast. Villain actually wasn't sure what the next step after a werewolf attack should be. They knew even less about how to fix Hero's problems. But getting through breakfast and calming down a bit seemed like a good first step.

"Oh, what's this?"

Hero turned the sketchbook around just as Villain set the oatmeal on the table, revealing a page full of yesterday's sketches of Hero. One ate a cracker, another slumped back on the couch and looked up at the ceiling, and yet another existed only as a highly detailed side profile. A smattering of others existed in vague, half-formed glory.

"That's not what it looks like!" Villain yelped, lurching across the table.

Hero held the book just out of reach. "Really? Because even I'm not sure what this looks like." They smirked, seeming truly like their normal self for the first time that morning. "Is this a plan? Or am I just too good a model to pass up? Or maybe… Could this be a crush?"

"Ugh!" Villain gagged, "No! Never! Don't flatter yourself!"

They were speaking way louder than was necessary, which only made Hero smirk wider.

"Y-you were in my house, and it was weird!" Villain said defensively. "I couldn't think! It's not like I was consciously pining over you!"

"Just a little unconsciously."

"Shut up!" Villan said. "In spite of what you might think, you're not all that. There are many, many people who don't find you charming. For instance, me! I think you’re too big, you’re hair’s too messy, and you smell like dog!”

Hero held up their hands defensively. “Ok, ok, I get it. No need to make it personal.” They paused. “All I’m saying is I’m not the one who tenderly hugged someone this morning.”

Villain shoved the hero’s bowl of oatmeal harshly in front of them. “Eat.”

Hero had the intelligence to obey.

Of course it was strange to have a pageful of drawings of one’s nemesis. They knew that. But there really wasn’t a reason for it. And Hero assuming there was was just so…so…Hero. They couldn’t believe they’d actually let themselves go soft for them earlier.

Silence stretched over the room like a thin fog, the only sound the clink of their spoons in their bowls. Villain was suddenly conscious of the blood still crusting their brow and pulling the little hair tight. They hadn’t looked in a mirror yet, but they could only imagine what they looked like. Dark circles, gashed face, wild hair: a walking horror show victim. Unlike Hero who, even with the messy hair and stretched clothing, always remained warm and burnished. Not quite so appealing with a mouthful of snapping fangs though.

They shuddered.

Hero flicked their eyes up, catching Villain staring.

"You're not going to tell anyone I tried to kill you, right?” they said. “Like, ruin my reputation so I can't be a hero anymore?"

"Oh, drat, you discovered my master plan," Villain said dryly. "I suppose you figured out that I'm the one who made you go rabid."

Hero's eyes widened a fraction. "Wait, is that true?"

"No!" Villain cried. "And I'm not telling on you either. You're such a jerk."

"I'm a jerk? You're the villain!"

"The villain who isn't constantly assuming bad things about people before they've done anything."

“You assumed I was making fun of you for the drawings.”

“Weren’t you?”

Hero paused. “Sort of. But I was also flattered.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

Hero leaned back in their chair and spread their long, long legs in front of them. “Because you think I’m unattractive. Right.”

Villain wished they didn’t make that sound like such an impossibility. Even if they did—in some other universe where they had oatmeal for brains—like Hero, that wasn’t because it was inevitable. People could actually live their lives without the grace of the hero’s stupid face. No, if Villain did like Hero, it would be for a good reason.

“Exactly,” Villain said. “So why don’t we focus on something we can fix.”

Despite their confident tone, their insides were already worming with doubts. They’d only just learned about werewolves. How were they supposed to help tame one?

“You said you’ve felt weird lately? That’s why you came to me? Can you connect that weird feeling to anything specific?”

Hero had all but inhaled their entire breakfast, but they suddenly became very busy scraping down left over clumps of sugar pasted along the sides of their bowl. “I don’t know. I can’t think of anything in particular.”

“You only transform on full moons, right?”

“Right.”

“Did you feel the strangeness last month?”

“Nope.”

“Well what about other blue moons? Could it be that?”

Hero’s spoon scraped even harder at the ceramic. “No. I’ve been through lots of blue moons, they’re no different from a regular full moon.”

Well that wasn’t very helpful. Those had been Villain’s top questions. Where else could they get werewolf information if Hero didn’t know themself? They didn’t exactly trust Google on this one. Hero said Superhero knew about them, but they hadn’t made it sound like the other hero was a part of the supernatural community. Perhaps it didn’t hurt to at least ask.

Something warm and heavy settled over Villain’s hand, causing them to flinch violently. No matter how many times they blinked, the sight didn’t grow any clearer. Somehow Hero's big hand had found its way into their own average-sized one.

"I'm scared,” Hero said. And they were. All that pomp and teasing and accusing commentary and they were really scared. It lurked in the wide whites of their eyes and the rigid way they held their muscles.

I don’t like you. The only reason for any of this is because I feel bad for you.

That’s what Villain wanted to say, but what they really said was, “Is this the first time its happened?”

“I…think so?” Hero said.

How convincing.

“I don’t know!” Hero cried, reading their dry expression. “I don’t have memories of what the wolf does! As far as I know, they’re not aggressive unless threatened, but that doesn’t mean something didn’t happen. Especially back in the beginning when I was under watch.”

Villain scrunched up their face in confusion . “Watch?”

“Sort of a…supernatural clean up crew for young werewolves. Whether you’ve been bit or born a wolf, the initial change is messy. Usually one can trust their inner wolf to be a smart decision maker, they become in tune with their other side, not doing things that their human self wouldn’t. But the young wolf is impulsive and hungry, so the Watch keeps them in check, cleaning their messes from the public eye and stopping them from doing too much damage.”

“And we could talk to these Watch people?” Villain said. “See if they know anything?”

Hero’s hand jerked away. “I’m not going there.”

“Going where?”

“Wherever they are. I cut myself off from that world a long time ago. I’m a regular hero in a regular city full of regular people. I even have a regular nemesis.”

“I’ll choose not to take that as an insult.”

“Look, Villain, I’m settled here. Why would I go digging up old bones? Besides, I’ve been fine for years. Obviously whatever’s wrong with me isn’t something they saw in me before.”

What was up with them? Maybe their Hero had slipped out the back for a stroll because they didn’t recognize this one. The jerk was usually too big-headed to back down from anything challenging and too prideful to be discomforted. That monstrously oversized ego was one of their defining traits, and even if it made them an unpleasant person to fight, it certainly never got in the way of them doing the quote-on-quote “right thing.”

“But maybe they’ve seen it in someone else,” Villain said. “Are you seriously going to give up a chance to crack this because you have issues with home?”

“Not my home.”

Villain ignored them. “Where else do you expect to find an answer? The internet? Me? Because I don’t know the first thing about werewolves.”

“I’ll find another way,” Hero insisted.

“And In the meantime you’ll just be a raging monster, tearing people apart and drawing attention to yourself? You’ll tarnish you own reputation at that rate.”

Monster was a harsh word, and it wasn’t one Villain had thought even while running for their life, but it definitely did it’s job jolting Hero out of their stubborn stupor.

Hero sat motionless, arms hung tiredly at their sides. The only sign of life was their eyes as they flickered around the apartments remaining damage.

“Fiiiine,” they practically growled. “We can go. But we’ll need a mask and some of my clothes. And a lot of a citrus.”

“We?”

“Well, I’m sure not going alone.”

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @yulanlavender @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @appleejuice @psychiclibrariesquotestoad @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378

Meh. This part felt a little meh to me. 😓 a little dialogue heavy, and maybe not so we’ll paced, but oh well

[dearkusuo]

Unchanging

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

Pairing: Saiki Kusuo x artist!reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Word Count: 3.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t tell a soul,” you promised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Why are you laughing?’

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

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

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

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

‘Not bad. Now take a look at mine.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'I need you to help me reject Teruhashi.'

You pursed your lips in uncertainty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll see what I can do.”

‘Thank you.’

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

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

‘I know.’

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

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

“What colour are your eyes?” You wondered.

‘Violet.’

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

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

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

Saiki shook his head.

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

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

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

Saiki’s determined expression was embedded in your mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“An indefinite amount of time.”

“Are you ever coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

Their glum faces only worsened your mood.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could never say no to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodbye,” you pulled away from Saiki.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"There he is."

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

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

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

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

Neither one of you let go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Not quite.’

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

‘I know.’

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

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

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

[anobscurename]

ocean eyes – chris evans

PART I | PART II

concept: a collection of happenings, the little moments with him. there will be many more parts. this is the first non-date of many.

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 1,8k

warnings: none.

author's note: welcome to the third part of like... twenty. i already have a bunch of them written, so now i'm just going through and reading and editing. hope you enjoy :)

He hadn't noticed you yet, and it was becoming almost laughable.

You weren't hidden away, by any means. You were there, in the café, as arranged. Your very first premeditated and arranged meeting with Chris.

You'd be lying if you said that you hadn't rethought your outfit at least twelve times. You had started in simple jeans and a tee, upgraded to a skirt and tank, fucked it all with a summer dress, and now – after several iterations of similar outfits – you were sporting something in between. A tank top with the same jeans and a slouchy cardigan.

Honestly, you didn't know why you were so in your head about it.

Maybe it was because he'd seen you at your best, and then again in your work ensemble which was as close to your best as possible. Looking good meant more tips at the club, and VIPs tipped quite well if you didn't care too much about the degradation of having to flaunt yourself for it.

You knew it wasn't because he was famous – you didn't care much with that sort of thing, given your work leading to so many interactions with these perceived "betters" that the "starstruckness" of it all had long since worn down from a galaxy to merely a scatter of glitter. So what was it then?

Another five minutes passed, and he still hadn't seen you.

You glanced down at the sketchbook propped against your knee. You were seated in one of the unforgivably comfortable armchairs towards the front of the café, surrounded by college students buried in their notes or typing furiously away on laptops. You fit in quite seamlessly with them, you realised, managing to unintentionally chameleon yourself into their aesthetic. You had one leg tucked underneath you, the other curled to your chest, sketchbook close to you so no one could see what you were drawing. It was a very personal thing for you, your art.

Also mildly embarrassing, considering you had been drawing him.

You had no intention of finishing the sketch – you had started it the moment he entered the café and sat down, and continued in hopes that he would see and acknowledge you – effectively halting the process and leaving it alongside the so many other unfinished projects you'd accumulated over the years – so the meeting could begin.

You called it a meeting, because if it wasn't a meeting, it was a date. And you weren't going to be presumptuous enough to assume the latter, so you decidedly chose to believe the former. You were there to discuss the terms of your new and exciting job of looking after Dodger after all. If it was a date, however, it would explain the sudden apprehension you felt, and the numerous outfit changes, and the goddamn butterflies that sought to tear your stomach apart.

You'd met him before, this wasn't some new occurence. Hell, he'd even asked you to move in after just happening to run into eachother twice... Why the sudden nerves?

The longer time drew on in the café, the more it became a little game to you. How long would it be before he saw you? And how far into the sketch would you be when he finally did?

You had already finished most of his face, and were now working on his lips.

His eyes had been the hardest to capture at the time, because you'd spent so long staring into them in the past – during long conversations and across packed and busy bars – and it was as if you knew them too well to put on paper.

With his lips, the situation was almost entirely reversed. You hadn't paid them much attention at all and it was almost as if you'd forgotten what lips looked like in general. You glanced up from your work to see him talking to a waiter, ordering a cup of coffee – and you decided to watch his lips.

His lips were practically highlighted by the shadow of scruff on his strong jaw. How you'd never noticed them as prominently as you did now, you didn't know.

One thing about them, was that they looked soft. They looked soft, like they could kiss the breath out of you, leave you dizzy. And they stretched so easily into a thankful smile when the waiter returned with his order that it was impossible not to smile too.

The pencil moved easily on the parchment paper as you began to get to work, the gentle curve of the cupid's bow, to the small little upturn at the corners of his mouth, even in their natural position. You almost wished you'd brought colours with you, but you knew that no shade of pink would be a perfect match.

Another ten minutes passed, ten minutes of him checking his watch, his phone, sipping his coffee, tapping on the table... Ten minutes of you realizing what a total creep you were being.

But there was something so beautiful about him. Even in the small movements, it was entrancing to watch. You were outright staring, sketch pushed aside and finished, as good as it was going to get. It was one of your best, you admitted reluctantly. The attention to detail was bordering on mirror like, and you didn't know if that made you a stalker or if it made you a romantic. Not that you were considering romance with your future roommate, but you'd be a liar if you didn't admit the thought had briefly crossed your mind. Specifically in the "meeting or date" debate – one which you'd shut down with the agreement to yourself that it was a meeting, nothing more.

You decided then that this had gone on long enough, and if he hadn't noticed you by now, he never was going to. The last thing you wanted him to think was that you'd stood him up. Considering how you'd both met, and the message you'd sent to the person guilty of that particular crime, it wouldn't be the best look for you. Not to mention it was a fucking dick thing to do, in any case.

You unfurled yourself from the position you'd held on the couch, your muscles screaming at you in discomfort.

The foot you'd sat on was dead asleep, and wiggling it brought the onset of pins and needles. Groaning in annoyance, you rose unsteadily, sketchbook in hand.

The idea that struck you just then was a stupid one, but given the fact that all rationality of yours had been poisoned since you'd met Chris – you were still struggling to comprehend how he'd managed to convince you to move in with him so easily – you resolved yourself. It'll be funny, you told yourself.

Pulling your pencil out from where it was tucked behind your ear, you scribbled a quick note on the bottom corner, before tearing the sketch free from the pad. You moved around the café, making sure to keep out of Chris' eyeline. Not a difficult feat by any means, his focus shifted between his coffee and the door at almost perfectly timed intervals. You could feel his impatience growing – his brow furrowed, muscle in his jaw ticking. But also a familiar look you recognized from the other night: concern.

You reached the table at which he sat, but he didn't pay you any mind. His attention was elsewhere. You slid the sketch onto the table – as close to him as you dared – before disappearing to the counter to place an order, perfectly hidden behind a wall of strangers, but able to see his every reaction.

Your order was being made by the time he noticed the paper on his table.

He stared at it for the longest time – the sketch of him sitting at that exact table, wearing what he was wearing, frozen in graphite in his most revisited position of being utterly engrossed with all the newcomers slipping into the café, searching for the one face he was expecting. His shoulders stiffened – and then he saw the note hurriedly written at the bottom corner, and all tension dissipated.

The face he gets when he's looking for another cab to steal from some unsuspecting girl

You stifled a laugh when his brow furrowed – that adorable crease forming immediately – and realization the dawned on him that you were there, and had been for a while if you'd managed to get that sketch done and as perfected as it was. Your coffee was handed to you, and as you watched him swivel his head in confusion, you decided to put him out of his misery.

You walked deliberately and confidently into his eyeline, gently blowing on the hot liquid you clutched before giving him a charming – if not teasing – smile.

"Mr Evans, cab thief extraordinaire," you joked, sliding onto the seat in front of him. You placed the sketchpad you had tucked under your arm onto the table, sliding the pencil back out from behind your ear to place it on top in case it fell. You set your coffee down, lacing your fingers together before resting them on the table.

"Miss {your last name}, stalker sketch artist," he retorted, his mouth already forming a lopsided grin. Your attention was immediately drawn to his lips...

Stop it.

"Hey, it's not my fault you didn't see me. I needed something to pass the time while you were sat there being utterly oblivious."

He opened his mouth to respond, but words seemed to fail him. Chuckling, he looked down at the drawing again. When he spoke, his voice had taken on a sincere gentleness, one that stirred something in the pit of your belly. "It's really good."

"I had a lot of time," you shrugged the compliment off, like you did many you received before. You were accused of being too humble at times – if that were even a thing – and it annoyed some of the people around you.

"But you know," he leaned closer to you, almost conspiratorially. "A normal person would've just told me they were here."

There was a joking glint in his eye, and although he had tried to fight it, he found himself grinning again. There was something about being around you – it rendered him practically incapable of doing anything other than smile.

"Mr Evans," you paused to sip your coffee. "I am anything but normal."

"What exactly are you, then?" You tried not to falter at the sight of his tongue darting out to wet those perfect lips as he awaited your response.

"I, Captain, am fun. Something which you look like you need a lot more of."

He laughed, the sound warm and welcoming. "Is that so?"

You shrugged non-chalantly. "It is."

"I can hardly wait."

[mxtcha-tea]

Lines.

✎desc; how I would rate haikyuu character's drawing.

✎team[s]; fukurodani, inarizaki

✎genre; crack

✎language[s]; english

✎chef note; okay, first off, I'm not a professional drawer but I can still rate drawings. This idea just came to me like a minute ago and I had to do it now, so enjoy :)

fukurodani.

Bokuto

Aight, I see that we started off greatly.

In all honesty, he have no idea how to draw,

And of course his drawing would look,,,, quite terrible i'm so sorry bokuto lovers

He's that kid in art class where's when the teacher already told them what to draw,

Bokuto sat there on his chair, staring at the canvas

Like, what is he suppose to do? Draw?

Well, yeah technically but what???

I can totally see him frustratingly erase the sketch if it can be called as a sketch

And then proceed to try to copy other people's work

Keyword; try

It's bad but at least he had an effort to finish it

4/10, there I said it

Akaashi

His drawings are not that professional but it's pretty

Have you ever seen a drawing that you wanted to stare at it for hours until you're satisfied?

That what's his drawing are like

Not typically an art kid so he's fine when student's from his art class asked him to draw for them

And is feeling pretty neutral with his talent (he actually won't call it a talent but more like a hobby or sum)

And just say 'thanks' if peoples compliments his drawing

Let say his drawing is, a good 8/10

A decent drawer in conclusion :)

Konoha

Not a bad drawer but he rather keep it basic

Konoha's prolly too lazy to draw something over the top so he's just gonna draw flower or something ksndnzkj

Sometimes sleep during art class and had to ask what they had to draw

Proceeds to decently draws a scenery

He's totally not the creative kid so whenever the teach tell them to draw something, he'll always go with basket of fruits, like,

Man, I appreciated the drawing but at least put some effort on thinking what to draw

The art teacher also kept telling him that he have raw talent and should enhance the skill more,

But that never happened, no

"Sorry ma'am, I'll just stick to volleyball, thank you,"

One part of the art room has a section of konoha's basket of fruits drawings but in different mediums

Rating is 7/10

Washio

IS actually an art kid and you cannot convince me otherwise

Has a small sketchbook with him and he'll always doodle when he's bored or in a middle of a lecture (while taking notes of course)

His main skill in drawing tho is painting

The colors blends in so well with one another and he's good at picking color palettes

Also, he doesn't really get that annoyed if some kids from his class ask him to teach them how to draw

Or even look through his sketchbook

He'll just nod and hand it to them without a second thought

Ajsjdhsijsi Washio get so blushy when someone compliments his drawing,,,,

I’ll give a 10/10 :), congrats

Sarukui

The best that he can do is doodles of owls and other shits but other than that, he cannot do

But the doodles are kinda cute doe ngl

He’ll have his moment where he’s in class and have no idea what to do, and just doodles a bunch of stuff

Once he draw his whole teammate including his coach and himself, he thought to himself,

“Huh, this looks good,”

And then take a picture of it for memories (cause he might throw the book he’s doodling in away)

Speaking of that, he doesn’t have an official book for drawing and just draws in his english or math’s textbook or sum

His juniors eyes are blessed when they got his textbook

Sarukui just vibes in during art class, draws and that’s pretty much it

The drawings,,,,,eh,,,, not that good, he only specialize in doodling as I said

so in conclusion,

drawing? 2/10

doodling? I’ll give a solid 5/10, good job

Komi

I’m gonna say this and I’m prolly gonna say it again

He hates art class

Like, even with him trying his best to draw, it’ll always gonna look strange than what he planned

mf cannot draw a straight line in art class

This dood can draw a nice straight line in any other class whether it’s for a graph or others,

And then proceed to shakily draw a straight line during art session

Totally not an art kid and will never be one

His drawings,,,,

I’m so sorry but it looks so bad

It’ll prolly look a lot better if he put more effort, but it’ll still look bad no matter what

Komi hates art class and can’t draw even a decent doodle so unfortunately, I’ll have to rate it 0/10, sorry :(

Anahori

His drawings are eh

It’s not good but also not bad?

Sometimes you’ll just stare at his drawing for a good minute and be like, what did he just draw just now?

What I’m saying is that his drawing’s are unexplainable

Maybe if you stare at it a little bit longer then it’ll make sense and you can see the beauty in it

But honestly I can’t really see anything, not in a bad way, but like, literally nothing

You’ll be staring at his canvas as the mario kart rainbow road music started playing inside your head

But Anahori is always proud of his drawings no manner what

So, I’ll rate confusion/10

Onaga

Just like Komi, he sorta hates art class too

But lemme tell ya, his sketches are GODLY, like, have you seen those pinterest hand sketches?

That’s what his sketch would look like

It’s so yummy to look at what

But he sucks at lineart so JAHGSDSHD

Onaga cannot properly hold the black pen and do the lineart, it’ll always turn wonky and he had to throw it away

Like, if he spend even hours tryna outline it all, and then erase it

It’ll look so trash

And he’ll just stare at it for a couple of minutes before crumpling the paper

He’ll also suck at coloring

Mans cannot understand how the color blend in together

And I think I’ll rate,,,,,6/10 just cause he suck at coloring and lineart lmao don’t worry i suck at coloring too

Kaori

Another decent drawer and her drawings are almost the same as Akaashi’s

But instead of it looking pretty, it looks cute

I have a headcanon that Kaori have a journal and does journaling so that’s prolly the reason why her drawings are cute af

But honestly, her drawings sometimes depends on her mood,

If she’s mad or frustrated, her drawing would look kinda rough and not that cute anymore

If she’s feeling happy tho, It’ll look so nice and cuddly does that even make any sense

Isn’t necessarily an art kid but would love to try be one

And she totally have drawing sessions with Washio aaaaaa,

Just imagine both of them sketching in the same sketchbook while talking about the volleyball club or anything else

She’s getting an 9/10 just cause her sketchs looks clean <33

Yukie

She doesn’t draw at all

Like, you’ll never see her drawing at any kind of time so you have no idea what it looks like

Yukie would still attend art class,

But never draws

She said that she’s pretty lazy to draw it and said to draw it at her home later

But no one even saw that drawing after that

Yukie doesn’t show her drawings nor EVEN draw for once

So I technically can’t rate :/

inarizaki.

Ginjima

LISTEN

The only reason why I started with Gin is because he have some amazing drawing skills

He admit that he’s not an art kid but draws godly as if he had been thought since he was a kid,

Well, actually yes

I think Ginjima actually wanted to be a drawer when he was still a little kid way before he started his 3rd year of middle school

So he practiced a few and became a nice drawer since then,

But he kinda quit being a drawer and decided to go with volleyball

And guess what?

His drawing talent is still there

He totally specialize in pencil drawing cause that’s the first thing he started learning

The lines are smooth and the shading are so yummy what is wrong with me

The Miya twins and Suna are so sh00ked when he saw his drawing during art class

ngl he’s pretty smug about it too but doesn’t brag about it

I’ll give this boy 12/10, mwuaah

Suna

I hate this man for this sole reason

Suna is too LAZY to draw so he doesn’t give any effort in his drawing

I can guarantee myself that I’ll get an eye strain when I saw his drawing

And...

*wipes away tears*

He draws too many dick

–2/10

Don’t come for my head Suna lovers

Atsumu

OMFG

OKAY, OKAY, I KNOW THAT ATSUMU MIGHT PUT ON SOME EFFORT IN HIS DRAWINGS,

BUT WHY IS IT STILL SO BAD?????

He’ll prolly think his drawing would look good but no, it’s not

No matter on what perspective you look his drawings at, It’ll still look bad

AND HE DOESN’T EVEN NOTICE IT

Osamu laughs a lot at his drawing and they started fighting for that only reason smh

Atsumu, I appreciate your effort so SO much,

But please, just stick to volleyball

–10+/10

I put a plus there because of his effort and because of pity

Osamu

He draws in ms paint, with a mouse

But he can draw some foods tho

But all of it looks wonky af

1/10

Akagi

A pretty decent drawer

Akagi always draw happy and cute drawings so you’ll also get happy when you saw his drawings

Puts on a big smile when people compliments his drawing and shyly scratches the back of his neck

“Nah, this just look normal!”

But he draws oddly thick lines sometimes

Sometimes it looks good in some drawing

And sometimes it looks, bizzare in others...

But I think his drawing would look nice <3

Overall, I’ll give a,,, 7.5/10, keep up the good work

Oomimi

He’s from class 7 AND I really think that he’ll be good at drawing

Well, he can draw a few things but he struggles drawing other things he never accustomed to

But!

Oomimi is that kid who’s good at drawing scenery

He knows basic color palettes and which is cold and hot colors

So the scenery drawing would always look good

He get a lot of compliments for the drawing (50% of it from Akagi)

I think he doesn’t have that many time to relax and draw freely but when he does have it, it’ll just be small and simple doodles

um, let’s go with 8/10 <3

Aran

I truly believe that Aran can draw peoples face but in a pretty decent amount

He’s also good with anatomy teach me your ways king

But as much as he’s good at that, he kinda sucks at drawing any kind of background drawings

Mans can’t draw a scenery I’m telling you

As if the background doesn’t even exist in his mind lolol I’m sorry Aran lovers, I didn’t mean that in a bad way

Mainly uses copic markers to color and color pencils to shade

The first time he use the copic marker, he got really frustrated that the marker stain the other pages lmao

And he never uses digital drawing applications or softwares

Aran just doesn’t

I think I’ll rate him, 8.5/10

Kita

Okay, I know that Kita’s a top student and never fails in anything

But he’s not typically a good drawer that much

His drawing still got good marks but when you look at it, it just looks normal

I just know that the Kita lovers gonna get me after this

It’s not that bad and not that good, just a nice balance in between

I personally think Kita’s not that godly in drawing but rather a neutral drawer

He draw what he can and does shading and coloring when it’s needed

The colors are all basic colors, no pastel, no neon

And the shadings are pretty basic

Just a normal drawer here

Ya’ll gonna fight me for this but I’ll give Kita’s point,

7/10

[svnflowervol666]

Hey!! Could you write an imagine where the reader is an artist and wakes up early, Harry is sleeping next to her and for a few minutes she's there watching him and then decides to draw him while he sleeps and when she's finishing Harry wakes up? Thank you so much ♥️

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of smut

Author’s Note: Thank you for the request! Like always, if you’re interested, let me know what you’d like for me to write next. Take care and tpwk.

Y/N wasn’t very sure how she’d managed to wake up before Harry considering how hard they partied last night. Her head pounded in her ears and she felt an overwhelming sense of dehydration in her throat. The events of the evening were somewhat blurry after Harry handed her a shot of something wretched and led her immediately to the dancefloor to work up a sweat. She knew judging from the fact that she was stark naked in the bed she shared with Harry and the fact that she could see her dress from the night before shimmering in the sunlight off in the corner of the room haphazardly that they’d at least made love to each other when they got home. Aside from that, her mind was drawing a blank.

Seeing as the blinding light from the harsh, early morning sun made it impossible to go back to sleep, she carefully removed the limp, ringed hand that was draped around her waist and wriggled her way over to her nightstand to grab her phone. Fuck, she thought to herself. Her battery was dead and she couldn’t be arsed to lean all of the way down to the ground to reach for her charger. After lying there for a moment and contemplating how to proceed with the morning, in which she decided she certainly would not be getting out of bed to start the day just yet, she reached a bit further past her phone for the sketchbook and pencil that Harry had gotten her for her birthday last year.

It was almost completely full of her drawings and doodles, something she prided herself in. Often times, she’d lose her sketchbook or spill her coffee on it before she could finish drawing in all of the pages. Maybe it was the fact that Harry had gotten this one for her which meant it was special, or maybe it was just luck, but she’d managed to hold on to this one almost down to the very last page. 

In an attempt to soothe her hangover without getting out of bed, she began drawing away. She started by finishing up the flower she had started the other day after saw the most beautiful bunch of daisies while on her daily walk with Harry. Sure, they were technically an invasive weed that took over greenery like wildfire, but Y/N always thought they were beautiful. 

When she’d perfected that one enough to her liking, she flipped the page and started another drawing. This one was also unfinished, and it was a landscape portrait of the bungalow she shared with Harry while on their vacation to Bora Bora last year. She’d been on many vacations and stayed in many nice houses since that trip, but this bungalow she’d never forget. It was where Harry took her to tell her that he loved her, though she hadn’t known that at the time. They had been having the time of their lives, drinking sugary, alcoholic beverages all throughout the day and lounging lazily by the ocean. Harry finally told her while they watched the sunset on their third night there. It slipped out faster and not as smoothly as Harry had imagined the moment in his head, but the overwhelming, swooning sensation he felt in his chest whenever he looked at Y/N made it impossible for the words to not spew from his lips. She’d never forgotten that trip because it was where she fell significantly more in love with Harry than she already had been.

There wasn’t much that needed to be done on the portrait of the bungalow, just some shading on the roof and a bit more detail on the waves that surrounded the structure. She finished that one fairly quickly then moved on to her next blank page. This one, she fucked up. What she had tried to draw one of her old pets from memory, but for some reason, it wasn’t looking right. She quickly scrapped the piece of paper and moved on to the next page, which was coincidentally the final page in her sketchbook.

She pondered for a moment on what idea in her head would earn the final spot in her book of drawings. She could try to draw her pet again? No, she shook her head softly to herself. Hers and Harry’s favorite table at the coffee shop that was down the block from their London apartment? No, she’d need to get a better look at the place before she attempted something like that. She looked around the now bright and sunny space of their bedroom, trying to find something that would shoot a spark in her brain and cause her to think of the perfect thing to draw. As she turned her head towards the sleeping, seemingly unconscious body that burrowed itself into the gigantic, down comforter beside her, it struck her.

Y/N propped herself up on her side so she could get a better look at the scene in front of her. Harry was sleeping the morning away, though she couldn’t say she blamed him since she didn’t even remember coming home last night (or was it technically this morning?). His face was completely covered by the huge down comforter that he’d hogged from her, but she didn’t mind. All that was visible of Harry was the top of his head, adorned with messy, chocolate-colored waves, and the outstretched palm of his left hand. That was it. His hand.

Her hangover had more or less subsided by now without the need of a greasy diner breakfast or a handful of headache medicine, so she was able to work diligently on her newest and final sketch. She traced over every crease and dip of his long, slender fingers, making sure no detail went unnoticed. Every ring, including the large, gold ‘H’ and ‘S’ rings on his ring and pinky fingers got their own moment in the spotlight. His bright yellow nail polish, the color that she’d picked out for him last week, was slightly chipped at the corners, but it only added to the uniqueness of the piece. Each knuckle she shaded with the closest attention. Unlike her old pet or the table at the cafe, she was almost certain she could draw this from memory, but a little reinforcement never hurt. Plus, she felt like she could stare at Harry’s hands for days on end without growing tired of them.

Harry’s hands were miracle workers for her. They’d held her through both her darkest and brightest days. They’d made her feel safe in times when she’d never felt so alone, and during big moments when she couldn’t be sad even if she tried. Harry’s hands cooked her breakfast on Sunday mornings, carried her to bed when she’d fallen asleep watching Netflix in the living room, massaged her tired feet after a long day of work, brushed her hair out of her eyes before kissing her goodnight each night, made her see stars as he pleasured her over and over again with his skillful fingers. So many times people overlook what hands do in a relationship, but not Y/N. 

It was right when she was shading the corner of Harry’s cross tattoo that was barely visible from beyond the comforter she felt the bed sheets rustle and the sweet creature beside her come to. The peaceful silence of Y/N doodling away was broken when Harry moved his hand, the one she had been drawing, towards his face to rub harshly at his emerald green eyes.

“Wha’ ‘re you doin awake? ‘ts so early,” she heard his groggy, morning voice pierce the walls of the room.

“It’s almost noon, Harry,” she responded softly, letting the sketchbook fall gently into her lap.

“Oh, shit,” the lanky brunette chuckled, “Wha’ did we do last night?”

“I was actually hoping you could tell me.”

“‘ve got no idea, princess,” Harry groaned before reaching over to pat her thigh, feeling the hard material of her sketchbook instead.

“You drawin’? Lemme see.”

He plucked the open notepad from her lap to examine what she’d been drawing while he was asleep. She didn’t feel embarrassed or like she needed to snatch the book away from him before he could see that she’d been drawing his hands whilst he slept. That was another thing Y/N loved about Harry, how she never felt shy or that she needed to hide her art from him. He always praised her work whenever he crossed paths with it, so she was always willing to share her latest masterpiece.

“M’ hand? You drew my hand while I was asleep?” Harry was still delirious from a combination of his hazy, half-asleep half-awake state.

“I love your hands,” she stated firmly but softly, “plus, it was the last page in my sketchbook so I wanted it to be of something important.”

“Hmm,” Harry pondered as he cased over the drawing once more, “I like this one, but I think I much rather prefer the one you drew of my co-”

“Yeah, I’m sure you do,” Y/N interrupted his sentence and yanked the sketchbook from his grasp before placing it back on its home on the nightstand.

She took her rightful half of the comforter back from Harry and nestled herself back into bed, making sure to cozy right up into Harry’s warm, bare chest so they could have a proper, conscious cuddle before dreadfully starting their day. The two of them were adults now and while they were still granted the privilege of being able to party, they couldn’t stay in bed and waste the day away after a long night of drinking like they used to.

Harry traced soft circles on Y/N’s back with the same hand that she was drawing just minutes ago, almost lulling her back to sleep. He watched as her breathing evened out and her eyes began to droop despite her awareness that they had a late lunch planned with Anne and Gemma in a few hours. 

“Baby,” Harry beckoned her back to consciousness.

Her eyes blinked open quickly, unaware of how she’d almost went right back to sleep in Harry’s arms.

“Yeah?”

“We’ve got to meet up wi’ mum and Gem soon. ‘Need to get up.”

“Ten more minutes.”

This made Harry chuckle, seeing how she was acting like a grumpy teenager who refused to wake up for school in the morning. God, how he loved her.

“How about I show you just how important my hands are to you and then we hop in the shower, yeah? Sound like a plan?”

She opened one eye just slightly enough to see that Harry was giving her his iconic smirk that caused one of his dimples to shine through. Leave it to Harry to squeeze in a shag before lunch with his own mum.

She supposed she really couldn’t say no to that.

[zacc-attacc]

Nature: A Javid Oneshot

A/N: My first ever oneshot on this website! I hope y’all enjoy!

Word Count- 1.2k

Jack loved the open sky. He loved the stars, the sounds of nature, and everything in between. But, more than anything, it calmed him, something that not many things were able to do. As a kid, he had always dreamed of falling asleep under the stars every single night. And when he was bounced around in foster care, the night sky had been the one common variable. Always there, like a blanket. Luckily for Jack, Some of the Newsies had put together a camping trip in the woods near campus. They had tents (from the Dollar Tree, probably), a bunch of marshmallows, some hotdogs, and a whole lot of energy. And Jack? Jack an invite and a limited will to live. At least Davey would be there, which, to be honest, had its ups and downs.

Ups, because Davey was single-handedly the sweetest human alive and a fun dude to hang out with. And downs, because Davey was Mom Friend Supreme™ and also had an annoying tendency to make Jack’s normally stoic heart do a tap dance in his chest. Which really was inconvenient because Jack’s last relationship had ended only four weeks ago. It wasn’t a nasty breakup, he and Katherine were actually still friends, but the boys still expected him to be depressed about it. But Jack didn’t like to linger. He was upset for a few days, but now he was over it. Katherine obviously was as well, since she was seen going on a few coffee dates with some girl. 

But tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, he could be whoever he wanted to be because that’s just how it was with the Newsies.

Tonight, he could eat bargain hot dogs and s’ mores, and avoid the fact that he was hopelessly in love with the only man he couldn’t have; because god forbid David Jacobs dated a mess like him. 

Jack knew exactly where he lay in David’s mind. He was a close friend, maybe a sort of Uncle to his future children with his perfect little life with his husband in the suburbs. David liked him well enough, but he would likely never love him. And Jack had tried to accept that, even though, thus far, it had only made it much worse.

“Ay! Jack! You packed?” Crutchie yelled from his lower bunk. Jack was stretched out on the top bunk, staring at a half-finished political cartoon for his class. 

“Yeah… What time’d the guys say to be there?” Jack sat up, hitting his head on the low ceiling. He wasn’t even that tall and it managed to injure him on a daily basis. 

“...In five minutes.”

“Shit-” Jack muttered, scrambling to jump down the bunk, only succeeding in hitting his head yet again on the ceiling. After hitting the floor in the heap, all Jack could hear was Crutchie’s cackles. 

“Just kidding, It’s actually in 20- I just wanted to see your reaction,” Crutchie wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. 

“Yeah, real funny, Crutch,” Jack mumbled, rolling his eyes and smiling. As much as he loved his little brother, he, unfortunately, knew exactly how to get Jack riled up quite easily, which normally ended in Jack running into a wall or stabbing himself in the arm with a pen in a panic.

“S’funny to me,” Crutchie choked out, still laughing. Jack pushed himself to his feet, brushing off the assorted chip crumbs that had migrated from the shitty shag carpeting of his dorm onto his shirt.

“I know, I know,” Jack muttered, grabbing Crutchie’s crutch from the wall and handing them to him. Looking at his laughing face, Jack couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

“Alright, let’s get a move on… You ready?” Jack shook his head while still grinning, snatching his duffle bag and Crutchie’s backpack from beside the door. 

“Ay! I can carry that!" Crutchie protested, making a grab at the bag. 

“Wow, brother dearest, won’t even let me carry a bag,” Jack joked, sticking out his tongue and popping into a dead sprint down the hallway. 

“NOW THAT’S JUST UNCALLED FOR!” Crutchie yelled from the hallway. 

“LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU, STUPID HEAD!” Jack shouted back, slamming open the door for the stairs and sliding onto the railings down the flights. Once he reached the bottom, he pulled out his phone.

“Text RaceyBoi.” 

“What would you like to say?” that stupid automated voice asked back, not fully human or robotic. 

“‘Can you go walk Crutchie to the campsite? Left him for CPS reasons.’” CPS was not, in fact, Child Protective Services, but instead Crutchie Protection Squad.

Smiling to himself, Jack started walking towards the woods on the outskirts of campus. He thought he saw Kid Blink and Spot at one point, Heely-ing towards the woods. He couldn’t help but wonder how the wheels would hold up amongst all the vegetation, and quietly hoped he wouldn’t have to call an ambulance tonight. 

“Hey, Jack!” came a familiar voice from behind him. His heart automatically deciding to kick into overdrive, Jack turned around to see none other than David Jacobs, grinning and clutching a duffle bag. 

“Whaddup, Dave,” Jack grinned back, clapping the taller boy on the shoulder. Seriously, who gave him the right to be this tall? He was like a noodle with a head and arms. 

“You heading down to the campsite?” Davey asked, falling into step with Jack. 

“That’s the plan. Race is taking Crutchie so that idiot won’t try to carry his backpack again.” 

“...You realize he can carry it perfectly fine, right?” Davey said, looking slightly confused.

“Yeah, but I just feel like doin’ something nice for him, y’ know?” 

“You may be stupid at times, but you are a good brother, Jack Kelly,” Davey chuckled, taking off his hat and flipping it backward. 

“Ey, now don’t get to tellin’ the boys that, I have a reputation as a jerk to keep,” Jack couldn’t stop smiling. Why couldn’t he stop smiling? He felt like someone had turned him into the fucking sun from the Teletubbies. 

“I don’t think you could pass as a jerk if you tried,” Davey shrugged, looking into Jack’s eyes so he could get the point across. God, his eyes were brown. Beautiful, chocolatey, perfect brown. 

“You would be surprised,” Jack said, tearing his eyes away. 

Don’t let yourself get attached, dammit. 

“Hey,” Davey stopped. Jack stopped too, staring at him. He put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. 

“Don’t… Don’t talk like that. I know you, Jackie. Okay? And you aren’t an asshole.” 

“Jeez, David, only a few minutes into the trip and you’re already on the late-night talks-” Jack turned away, hoping Davey couldn’t see that he was blushing. 

“I need to hear you say it, okay?” He turned Jack around, forcing him yet again to look into his eyes. 

“Fine. I… I ain’t an asshole. Ya happy?” Jack bit his tongue forcefully. That almost physically pained him to say. 

“Yeah. I… I’m sorry Jack,” Davey said. Jack still wasn’t looking at him. 

“Don’t apologize for caring, Davey.” 

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

It was late. The shitty fire that had taken them almost a full hour to make was burning low, and Jack had to keep prodding it with a random stick to keep it lit. Most of the boys had already retired to their tents and sleeping bags, and Davey was fast asleep on his chair. Race was the only one still out. 

“Do you think we should wake him up?” Race said, tossing the remains of his s’more into the fire. 

“What? Oh, nah, I’ll wake him up when I head in. Poor kid, being a pre-med student probably never sleeps,” Jack pointed out. 

“How long do you think you’ll be staying out?” Race asked, standing up and stretching. 

“‘Till I get tired,” Jack prodded the fire again, before throwing in another stick. 

“Then he’ll be out here all night,” Race joked, cracking a smile.

“I’ll wake him up before then. Wouldn’t want him to get hypothermia or some shit.” 

“It’s the middle of April, I highly doubt he’ll get hypothermia, Jack.” 

“...Did Racetrack Higgins seriously just say an educated statement?”

“Goodnight-” Race turned away suddenly, seeming intent on changing the subject. 

“YOU CAN’T CHANGE IT NOW, WE KNOW YOU’RE SMART,” Jack whisper-shouted, not wanting to wake any of the boys up (especially not Davey). 

Race replied with his silence. 

Sighing, Jack sat back in his chair. Not having any will to sleep, and nothing more to do, he grabbed out his sketchbook. Nature was always good for inspiration. 

Well, it could’ve been nature, or it could’ve been Davey. Because, without even realizing it, Jack had started to sketch the sleeping boy’s figure. His right fist was supporting his cheek, his hat was half-tipped onto his face, shading it slightly. His legs were crossed, and his left arm was set on top of them. 

Behind him was a backdrop of pine trees, and, even though that wasn’t the actual view, a full moon, and stars. So many stars. All spelling out little words of love in Spanish, Jack’s first language. 

Precioso. Bonita. Perfecto. 

His hair was mostly tucked under his cap. His eyes were softer when he slept. A ghost of a smile played at his lips. 

Increíble. 

Perfect. 

Just as Jack was signing his name and dating the piece, Davey began to stir. 

Quickly shutting the book, Jack simply stared up at the stars he could see despite the light pollution and thick trees. 

“Hey, Jack, saw you drawing there,” Davey said, quietly. 

“Oh- uh- yeah, just… lookin’ through some old pieces,” Jack stammered. 

“Can I see?” 

“Uh- no, this isn’t my graded stuff, it’s all just sketches-“

“Y’know, for an art student, you really don’t like showing your art.” 

“Uh- Fine.” Jack gave up and strode across the fire to hand him the book. It was mostly drawings of the boys, maybe he wouldn’t look that far. 

...Spoiler alert, he looked that far. 

“...Is this me? Right back then, when I was sleeping?” 

“Uh-“

“You really made me look better than I’ve ever seen myself.” 

“Well, that’s how I see you,” Jack said before he could think about his words. Y’know, like a normal person who is trying to hide a massive crush that could end one of his best friendships. 

“Th-that’s… how you see me?” Davey was blushing now. Blushing. Not disgusted. 

“Uh… yeah. Y’see here, th-the moon behind ya, the way it… it focuses on you.” Jack said, kneeling by his chair and pointing to it. 

You are digging your own grave, Jack Kelly. 

“Jack, I… that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Davey was still blushing. He turned his face to Jack’s. He was so close… 

“Well… I draw what I think, Dave, ‘cause words… they ain’t my strong suit,” Jack chuckled, pulling back. But Davey leaned forward. 

“Your drawings don’t need words, Jack. But the artist of them… That is a man that deserves millions of words said about him.” 

“D-Davey… Don’t. Please, don’t do this,” Jack shook his head, standing back up. 

“Did I make you uncomfortable? I- I’m sorry, I thought that we-“ 

“No, David. You didn’t. That’s the exact issue! D-d’ya really think I want to end up breaking your heart? We… We can’t do this, ‘cause it’ll end with me hurting you just like I have a million people! And you don’t deserve that fate! You’re too good for me, David,” Jack might’ve been crying. He wasn’t sure. But he sure as hell was ranting. 

“Jack-“ 

“Don’t Jack me, don’t try to act like it could be any different. We know exactly how this is going to end, and I- I can’t stand losing you, Dave.” 

There was a moment of silence. It was obvious Davey was picking his next words carefully. 

“You won’t.” 

“How could you possibly know that?” 

“You won’t because I won’t let it, Jack Kelly. I won’t let you lose me as a friend, ever. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.” 

“Da-“ 

In two strides, Davey crossed the circle of chairs and shut Jack up with a kiss, half-crushing him with how tightly he was holding him. 

He did this… this thing that made it obvious this wasn’t his first kiss. The way he moved his head up and down just a little bit. The way he seemed all in but ready to pull away if they needed to at any second. 

But more than anything, there was a definitive Davey-ness to him that made it all perfect. 

So Jack had found one more reason to like nature. It was where he shared his first-ever kiss with his boyfriend, David Jacobs.

[thegalleonsnest]

Wiggle’s Muse - Short Excerpt turned into a FanFic

Yo, so, I wanted to share a small snippet of a future project I’m working on (while also delaying my current art projects). What I’ve written out here in this post was originally in a format not meant for professional writing purposes, but I said “eh, why the hell not,” and written it out in sort of a short fanfic format for you guys to read. This project btw, is not a fanfic (had to make that clear). What I am working on is a very large scale project for myself and is still in the blocking out/rough draft phases. This right here is probably my most fleshed out scene I’ve written out, and feels pretty complete as it’s own thing. Honestly, I’d appreciate the feedback if any of ya’ll found this interesting! 

Also I’m putting this in a tumblr post because I don’t have an AO3 or fanfiction account, and this is already too short for it anyway. Read the excerpt below

In front of the camera lenses, multiple grumpuses walk back and forth discussing a matter of topics but most importantly, where was Wiggle?

"Has anyone gotten ahold of Wiggle yet? She was supposed to be here hours ago,” a gruff voice coming from out of frame says. “We’ve tried calling her for over an hour, but we got nothing,” says another off camera, “do you think we should reschedule-” before they could finish, the studio doors bust open with a loud thud echoing the studio room. A tall, short armed grumpus with a boa stumbles along the room carrying an oddly shaped banjo.

“There she is,” said the gruff voiced grump, “Wiggle, whatever you got going on, you better do it now cause we got a meeting with investors in half an hour!” From the blurry view of a slightly out of frame Wiggle, she barely registered what the grump said. In a stumble, she walks to the center of the camera’s view & shakes her head, almost slurring her words, “Doooon’t worry, Darling, we’ll get you a new vest later.” “What, no, wait, that’s not what I-” before another word could be said, Wiggle readies her banjo and strikes a quick pose before strumming the strings like her life depended on it.

It didn’t take longer than a few seconds before the crew sprung into action, setting the proper lightning, mics and cameras around her. Her rhythm and measures became a lot more stable, catchy even, and then she broke into song. The next set of lyrics would become an instant, regrettable classic. 

It’s not long before the VHS tape stutters and stops, showing mostly static. A magenta furred Grumpus with some hair covering a part of eye, hits the eject button, takes out the tape and turns off the tv. “Girl, you were a right mess there!” She said with a giggle. “Tell me about it, Vrittany...” Wiggle said frustratingly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And you’re telling me you can’t come up with anything better than that? Come on now!” “I wish I was lying, but I’m not. No matter what I come up with, nothing is topping whatever the heck my walking coma came up with instead!” Wiggle grabs her mug of coffee and takes a longing sip.

The two sit across from one another at the coffee bar. The aroma of that day’s set of cocoa beans waft through the cafe as most of the outside lamps fill out the darker spots inside. The place is nearly empty besides them, and a single muted green furred occupant sitting at a booth at the opposite end of the cafe, drawing away in his sketchpad.

“So, whatcha gonna do?” Vrittany asked sarcastically, “Stay awake for another week? Get inspired again? Hehe.” Wiggle sets her mug down, and answers, “I did try that again, but in style I fell asleep comfortably on a couch in the lobby”. Vrittany looked a bit stunned. “You’re kidding?! You’re crazy!” “Not crazy, Vrittany,” she takes another sip of her coffee before striking a pose in her high stool seat, bellowing out her voice. “Just creatiiiivly driveeeen~” “Whatever you say, darling,” Vrittany says before turning around to her bar’s sink. She cleans several mugs and glasses with gusto while preparing one last pot of coffee, enough for a single cup for later.

Vrittany takes off her apron and hangs it on the wayside of the counter as she walks around to take a seat next to Wiggle. After situating herself, she puts a paw on Wiggle’s shoulder. “Listen, pretty sure this is just a rut you’re stuck in right now,” she says. “Doesn’t every artist go through that every now and then?” Wiggle turns her head toward Vrittany, “Well..yeah, but this is different,” she desperately says. “I can’t let a song I made in my sleep be the best thing I’ve ever made! I know I can make something that’ll shake the world more than whatever ‘Do The Wiggle’ was.” 

Vrittany pulls back her paw from Wiggle to put on her best thinking cap. As deeply in thought as she was, her face immediately relaxes into a deadpan expression, “Have ya tried singing from the heart?” Wiggle cracks a smile, “HA, if only that’s how it works! It takes a musical genius to write a hit song in show biz, not just some field day with my feelings.” “Eh, worth a shot. Got any other plans?” “I’m still trying to figure that out. I need some kind of inspiration...almost like a-”

Before she could finish her thought, they both caught a glance at the muted green furred grump who walked up to them. He mustered up the words and said, “E-excuse me, you’re Miss Wiggle, right?” Wiggle turned in her seat to get a better look at the young Grumpus. She could tell he was nervous, clutching his sketchbook in his arms rather tightly. She quickly put on a more relaxed front to help calm things down, while also still showing off a bit of her excited side. “Why yes I am, Darling,” she said enthusiastically. “And I can tell you must be a fan of mine.” “Y-yeah...!” The green grump looked a little more relaxed, but still stiff in the shoulders. “Hey now, no need to be so nervous. I always got time for my fans.” “Thank you, Miss Wiggle. Um…” “No need to finish that thought, Darling, I know what you’re about to ask and I’m happy to oblige!”

Before the young man could stop to say something, Wiggle pulls out one of her many professional hand out photos that she has, and quickly signs with her autograph before handing it to him. “O-Oh, thank you, Miss, but that’s not what I was going to s-say.” he sheepishly says. “Really? Not an autograph,” Wiggle says surprisingly. “It’s usually the first thing fans ask of me.” “Sorry, I just...I wanted to show you this sketch I made…” 

The nervous grumpus slowly turns his sketchbook around to reveal a fully sketched art piece depicting a stylized Wiggle singing her heart out at the bar with Vrittany hanging out in the background cheering her on. He hands it to Wiggle to give them a closer look. It was still somewhat messy, showing a few guidelines and early roughed out shapes, but for what it was, it was still impressive to the two girls.

“Woah, that’s pretty rad!” Vrittany yelled out, leaning out from her seat trying to get a closer look. Wiggle was pretty stun, gasping at the sight of such a piece of artwork. “Darling, you drew this?! Just now,” Wiggle asked in awe. “Yeah! I was listening to some of your music and then you came in and sat down. It made me wanna draw you as fast as I could,” the green grumps says excitedly before rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry if it’s still a little messy looking though…” “Don’t be, because it is beeeaautifuuul~” “T-thank you so much, Miss Wiggle! T-that means a lot to m-me!” the grumpus says while his face lights up red from the praise. “You’re like an inspiration to me.” “Really now? Like a muse? All I do is sing the night away, Darling. You draw little masterpieces like this from me?”

As Wiggle continues to be enthralled by the young man and his work, Vrittany notices the coffee pot had finished brewing. She gets up from her seat and go back behind the counter to finish her last cup for the night. Wiggle and the green grump continue their conversation.

“W-well kind of,” says the grump, “it’s a bunch of music that inspires me when I draw. A lot of your stuff is so upbeat and fun, it gives me lots of different ideas to pump out!” Wiggle looks back, almost flabbergasted. “I’m...honestly a bit stunned that I had that kind of impact on you, Darling,” she says, almost with a melancholy tone, “...heh, kind of forget sometimes I do make some kind of impression on grumps like you.” She looks back down at the sketchbook, entranced by the creativity that sparked in the moment. That dazzling moment where it all clicked...where could she find that, when someone else can find it in her?

After an awkward minute of silence, the young grump spoke up and said, “If you like, you can keep the sketch page, Miss Wiggle?” Wiggle snapped her head back up from the sketchbook to the green fuzzball. “W-wait really? Are you sure you wanna give up this piece of art?” said Wiggle worryingly. “It’s no problem at all,” said the green grump proudly. “I already took a picture of it to save for later. I’m gonna make a painted version of it online later! Besides, it’ll make me happy if you kept it, since I was going to give it to you anyway.” “Oh Darling, you’re nothing more than a sweet one now, aren’t you? I’ll gladly keep it!” “Thank you so much, Miss Wiggle!”

Wiggle hands the sketchbook back to the green grumpus and he tears out the sketch. “No, Darling, thank you,” Wiggle says ecstatically. Vrittany returns from behind the bar with a to-go cup in hand, saying “Here’s your order, kid.”  “Oh, thank you, Vrittany. How much was it again,” the green grump asked. “Eh, don’t worry about it. Don’t feel like counting change. It’s on the house.” “O-oh you sure?” “You wanna change my mind?” “Don’t think I can, so thank you!” The green grump turns back to Wiggle and says “It was so nice meeting you in person, Miss Wiggle!”

“The pleasure is all mine, Dar-,” Wiggle catches herself before she realizes something. “Actually, what was your name?” “It’s Grite, Grite Tillsland!” Wiggle lets a genuine soft smile grow on her face. She felt a lot more at ease and happier knowing her new friend was much more relax and happy overall. She reached out her paw for a handshake, and Grite reciprocated.

“The pleasure’s mine, Grite, Darling.”

[mrsdobrik]

My Name Jeff - Chapter 5

“Please tell me again, why am I letting you do this?” David sighed, trying to stay still. The light was pouring in from the window in Y/n’s dorm room, filtered only by the thin white curtain, and illuminating David’s features as, across the room, Y/n sat with her legs crossed and a big sketch book, tracing the way his jawline curved at his chin.

“Well, Jeff, we are doing this because you want to get into my pants and you know the only way you’ll be able to do that is if I pass this class. Therefore, you are letting me sketch you so we can both be happy.” She smiled behind the sketchbook, her pencil not leaving the paper.

“Fine” David squinted his eyes “But, I want to see your paintings once we are done”

Y/n thought about it for a long moment, no one had ever seen her work, not even her closest friends. It just always felt too personal. She sighed and said “Fine, we’ve got a deal. Now stop moving.”

As she observed him he took the time to closely observe her. Her hair was up in a lopsided bun that had strands of hair and pencils poking out. He smiled internally at the way she stuck her tongue out as she focused on the drawing. His attention then shifted to her lips and the way she would bite on them when she was unsure about how a certain detail was turning out. Finally his eyes dropped to her legs and he admired how they seemed to curve softly. At that point she said “I’m drawing you, what’s your excuse?” as she noticed his obvious stare. He could see her cheeks were flushed slightly as he focused back on her face.

“I’m sorry.” He chuckled, guiltily and a bit embarrassed of being caught. “Go on, draw me like one of your french girls” He quoted, making them both laugh. “Can we answer some questions while we are at it?”

“Sure, go for it” She giggled.

“We were on question 18. What is your most terrible memory?”

David watched as her eyes darkened and the pencil almost fell off her hand. Her lip quivered slightly, she closed her eyes and sighed before replying. “One… one of the times my sister was hospitalized, it must have been like the third or fourth time. It was pretty ruthless. We didn’t know if she was going to make it… my parents cried for days and days straight. My youngest sister was too young… she had no idea what was going on. Definitely not a time I like reliving.”

The room went quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for your entire family.” David whispered.

“It was. What’s yours?” She said wanting to change the subject. “Probably the same as my most treasured one. Flying here on my own.” He replied before asking. “If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?”

“I don’t think so. I would like to keep doing what I love, which is making art, learning and reading a lot. I would also not want to be a burden on my family and I would want to help with their debt as much as possible so I wouldn’t quit working. If anything I would try to spend more time with my loved ones and maybe try to show my work at a gallery or something. What about you?”

“Hmm… I don’t know. I think I would want to just spend time with my family, my hometown friends. I really don’t know…. Question 20: What does friendship mean to you?”

“Friendship means everything with the right people and nothing with the wrong people. I can have great chemistry with someone but if they’ll bail on me when I need them the most then they aren’t real friends. I think valuable friendships are rare and that people use the word too lightly. What about you?”

“I would be nowhere without my friends. I think friendships are a huge part of my life and I’ve had the same friends since high school and I know we would all be there for each other if something were to happen.”

“That is so cool that you have such great friends! I wish I was still friends with people from high school, sometimes life just stands in the way of that” She shrugged. “What’s next?”

“What roles do love and affection play in your life?”

“Hmmm… let’s maybe find that one out later” She said with a wink, lightly biting on her lower lip.

“Sure” David’s voice broke, making Y/n giggle. He cleared his throat before asking “Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items.”

“So… Jeff, I like how funny you are, I like how attentive you are, I like your hands… a lot actually, I like your smile and above all I love how honest and true you are as we answer this questions”

David felt that familiar pang of guilt stinging at the base of his stomach, even more noticeable than ever before. He looked down embarrassed.

“Oh, come on don’t act humble now. I know you have a huge ego and you are breaking your pose” Y/n chuckled.

“Sorry” David said, going back to his pose. “Wait, that is not it.” Y/n crawled across the room to where David was sitting. Her soft hands quickly adjusted the way his head was tilted. Then she focused on making his hair look like she wanted it for the portrait. As she finished she looked into his eyes for a moment, making sure every detail was right. “Perfect” She let out in a breath before leaning in and softly kissing his lips. “Now don’t move”

She crawled back to her sketchbook and said “You still owe me five compliments.” as she got back to work.

“Right,” David agreed with a smile. “Y/n, I like your lips and the million ways they seem to change with every expression your face makes, I like your eyes, I like how thoughtful and caring you are, I like how straight forward you are and I like how every hour I spend with you seems to last a minute and yet I feel like I could stay here with you for days just talking and looking at you.” The whole scene seemed very intimate, Y/n’s eyes left the sketch before her and focused on his, trying to read whether he was being honest, she felt her lips curve up into a small smile and the heat rising up to her cheeks.

They were silent like that for a moment until David cleared her throat and said “Right, next question, How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people’s?”

Y/n looked down and kept sketching. “The short version, yes we are very close and no, I feel like my childhood was average. Lots of good things and some bad things. You?”

“I feel like I could be closer with my family and… I feel like my childhood was great but not necessarily happier than most.” He shrugged “How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?”

“Pretty solid, she is like my best friend” Y/n smiled. “And you?”

“I love her. I should probably tell her that more, but she is great.

“I’m nearly done. One more question?”

“Make three true “we” statements each. For instance, “We are both in this room feeling …””

“Okay. We… are both kind, we both like romcoms and we both like fast food way too much” Y/n giggled.

“We are both feeling comfortable with each other” Y/n nodded. “We both like spending time together.” She smiled and nodded again. “And we are both falling for each other” David said, making it sound more like a question. Y/n smiled for a long moment and then nodded, a little sparkle lighting up her eye. “It’s.. it’s done” She said a moment later. David crawled to her side and looked at the picture. He loved the way she had captured the light coming from the window and his expression as he smiled carelessly. It looked like a really good candid photograph. She was definitely very talented.

“This is amazing! I want to see the others” He exclaimed excitedly. Y/n sighed, bracing herself and showed David a bunch of sketch books and full on paintings she had stashed under the bed.

David looked through them, at the way she captured lightning, at how the portraits showed emotion and thought at how it seemed like every single brush stroke had a purpose. “These are all amazing, like gallery levels of amazing. You should be proud of this, you should be showing them somewhere.”

Y/n smiled and looked down “You have to say that because you care about my feelings. I’m not ready for the kind of criticism that comes with that kind of exposure. They feel too personal”

“I get that. Putting your stuff out there can feel… scary. And people aren’t always nice… but you are really talented. You shouldn’t feel nervous about what others will say. Art is subjective, isn’t it? The right people will know to appreciate it.”

Y/n smiled up at him. “Thank you, Jeff. For everything. I have a hard time opening up to people and I with you it just feels… easy”

David leaned down to kiss her but as he did he could taste the poisonous guilt on her lips.

Later that night as she swooned about him to her sisters he tossed and turned knowing that the truth might set him free but it would also make him lose the girl he was falling for.  

[lov3nerdstuff]

could you please make a loki x reader where he finds out how good she is at drawing/ art and it’s all just fluff?

Imagine: You just wanted to draw a beautiful stranger in a coffeeshop when suddenly everything goes pearshaped.

A.N.: Thank you @marvel-ous-buckyy for being the first one to request something! I did my best to put this prompt into action and I really hope you like it! It kinda turned into a coffeeshop AU but only a little bit :) let me know what you think!

Beautiful stranger

You were sitting in a small coffee shop downtown, shortly after 10pm, with a nice hot cup of steaming brew in front of you. It was your favorite spot in the whole city, all kinds of people came in for their daily caffeine fix. Some even came into the shop more than once a day. Especially this late at night, people came here more frequently than one might expect. As usual, you were sat on a small table in the middle of the room, your sketchbook in front of you along with a couple pencils and watercolors. No eraser, as you didn't believe in erasing when sketching. Whatever came out of your hand and onto the paper was worth to be kept or worked around. Other than that, there were hardly any huge mistakes in your drawing anyway. You had practiced your art all your life and nothing filled you with greater joy than sitting in public, drawing strangers or nature. 

Today was no different. You sat in your usual spot and after a few warm-up sketches you decided it was time for a larger and more detailed piece. So you looked around yourself, taking in the surroundings while taking a sip of your coffee. It was too hot still and burned your tongue, but the smell it emitted was just too delicious to resist.

Your eyes wandered from the seemingly daily-changing staff to the customers. Most just ordered to go and were out and about again at this time of night, but then your eyes fell upon a tall man with raven hair who was sitting on the opposite side of the shop. You blinked a couple times, trying to get your eyes to fully focus after having stared at your sketchpad for an hour. 

He was astonishingly gorgeous, almost surreal in his appearance. You coughed, awkwardly trying to swallow your own breath. Had you seen him here before? You were sure you'd had remembered seeing him.

You could see a little more than his profile from where you were sat. He looked down onto a journal he held in his hands. Blinking a few more times, you noticed how graceful and elegant his hands were, his whole physique. He looked out of this world, even if he wore a casual dark grey suit and a green dress shirt like most business people working late. His raven hair hung loosely around his beautiful face, framing it perfectly. 

What was a person like him doing at such an ungodly hour in a coffee shop? Well, you were also sitting here, touche, but for the sole reason that you wouldn't be able to sleep at home anyway. If the heavy insomnia you suffered from kept you up all night, at least you could use the time to draw in peace and be happy for once. 

Back to the beautiful stranger. The energy he radiated seemed to draw you in like he had his own gravity, only working on you. He was so focused on his journal, he didn't seem to notice your staring. His high cheekbones and sharp jawline were just screaming at you to draw them. 

So you started with delicate but certain lines, making sure to capture every detail of his being. Drawing the hair, you suppressed the urge to just walk over and run your hands through the black locks. It looked so soft… you tried to do it justice in your work.

Exactly there lay the problem you saw in your drawings. You wanted to capture the most magnificent and the most beautiful the world had to offer, but in your eyes you often failed to truly reflect their outer beauty. Instead, it turned into both, a structural and aesthetic representation of the emotions they conveyed. This time… there was so much sadness radiating off this man, but also so much passion and the pure intensity of it made your skin crawl with excitement. This drawing would turn out a masterpiece, you just knew it!

For a little more than an hour you drew and sketched, only then wondering why on earth he hadn't finished his coffee yet and left. Maybe he was here for something different after all? You didn't know and as long as he remained sitting in this same position for you to draw, you also didn't care why he was here. 

Once you finished the rough sketch, you went on to inking your work. Why hadn't he left yet? Usually the people you drew only remained sitting still for no more than the time it took them to finish their coffee or maybe the news feed on their phones. He was so different…

You finished inking a while later and he still hadn't moved. Not believing your luck, you went on to color the drawing, keeping everything in cool tones and rough textures. Except for his face. That, you drew with the utmost care and delicacy. Just as you were about to finish the piece, time seemed to stop for you, as a bulky and seemingly drunk man stumbled against your table and poured the contents of his to go cup all over your sketchbook. Immediately the ink and the colors started running together and off the page, replaced by black hot liquid. You let out a yelp, jumping up from your chair and knocking it over in the process. No, this couldn't be happening… It had taken you months to fill this sketchbook and now the whole thing was ruined. After a second of utter shock, you jumped into action and grabbed the first thing available to try to save what you could from the mess. 

"S-ssorry…" The man slurred, bumping into you on his way to the door, fleeing from the situation without another word. 

Using the hem of your shirt, you gently patted the book dry, but it was by far too late. A young barista came rushing to your side with a bunch of napkins, cleaning the table and offering some to you. Only now did you notice that your jeans were drenched as well as your shirt. But you simply stared at the heavily smudged, crinkling book in your hands. All these memories kept in there, all the emotions you could never have explained outside of their colorful visual representations. Gone. You felt tears stinging in your eyes and your vision became blurry as you suppressed a sob. The barista finished cleaning your tabe and apologized for the hundredth time to you, but you were lost in your own mind, tears running down your face even though you willed them not to. You hated crying, hated emotions and most definitely hated people in this very moment. Without any more care for your surroundings you slumped down on your damp chair again, starting to slowly gather your drenched supplies. You just wanted to leave, go back to your tiny apartment and cry in the shower until there wouldn't be any more tears left. 

Grabbing your bag, you pushed the chair back under the table and bid the staff goodbye. Outside, the cold but fresh air hit your face and you felt a little calmer. The night just happened to have this effect on you. 

Just as you were about to saunter down the street, a smooth voice addressed you from behind.

"Excuse me, Miss, but I believe you forgot your book." 

The voice made you shiver slightly, it was deep and calming, yet very in control. 

"It's a sketchbook, but it's of no use anymore. Some douche emptied his…" You stopped mid-sentence once you turned around and saw who the voice belonged to. The beautiful stranger stood so close to you that your breath hitched and you took a step backwards out of instinct. 

He was even more intriguing from up close. Your gaze shot to his face. He had green eyes that could've swallowed your soul if you kept looking at them. To your surprise, he seemed just as taken aback when he looked into your own orbs. 

A blush crept up to you cheeks in no time and you quickly looked down to the book he held out to you. It looked nothing like the drenched and wrinkled thing you had just thrown into the trash. Instead, it looked almost like new. 

Frowning, you took it from him. "This can't be mine, mine is all damaged…" 

You flipped it open in the middle, staring at one of your drawings from a few weeks back. Completely and utterly intact and beautiful as ever. Incredulous, you flipped back and forth, but every drawing in the large book seemed to be completely fine as it had been a few hours ago. 

"What…?" You breathed, your gaze shooting up to meet his once more. "How did you do that?" 

A slow smirk played on his lips as he watched your irritation with great amusement. 

"I noticed that you were drawing me." He simply said in this incredibly soothing and yet dangerous voice.

You blushed an even deeper shade of red. "When did you notice?"

"Oh, just about right when you ogled me for the first time." He grinned, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "When that guy dropped his coffee on your book, I was quite furious."

"And why is that?" You asked, gaining control of your body once more. Something told you to stay away from this man and something else, something much stronger, told you to learn everything you could about him.

"Well, I wanted to see how your drawing turned out. If you got the best angle, you know…" He winked at you, making you chuckle slightly. 

You took another look at the book and twisted it in every direction in your hands. "But how did you restore it completely, I mean, all the ink had started running and…"

You were cut off once more when, with a slight wave of his hand, the moisture and stains in your clothing started to simply float out of the fabric, before vanishing into thin air. Your eyes widened and you stared at him open mouthed. "Who are you?" You finally managed to ask.

"My name is Loki. Of Asgard. Or of Jotunheim. Depends on my mood, really. It's a pleasure to meet you, my dearest." He grinned at you, his hands in the pockets of his pants.

You snapped out of your awe rather quickly. He was the infamous Loki, a literal god?! That explains the magic. You hadn't heard all that much about him other than that he was the brother of one of the Avengers and capable of magic

You smiled at him. "I'm Y/N. Thank you so much for saving my book! It means a lot to me, really. Can I buy you a coffee or something as a thank you?"

He let out a small laugh. "Oh dear, I had so much coffee while waiting for you to finish your drawing, I don't think I can take another cup." His smile turned into a grin once more. "But you could let me take a look at your drawings. If they are only half as intriguing as you, then they'd be very much worth saving."

You let out a shy laugh. "You don't need to flatter me to take a look." But then, when you were about to hand the book over to him once more, you felt insecure. It contained so many memories and emotions you hadn't ever shared with anyone. And now you'd show them to a beautiful stranger? YES, part of your mind screamed. So you let him take it out of your hand and simply hoped for the best. 

He noticed the shift in your mood immediately and kept the book closed in his hands. There was something in your eyes that reminded him of his own and he felt the sudden urge to comfort you. That was new… he never really cared about the people he met and so he would always put on the charming facade everyone seemed to expect of him. With you however, he suddenly felt like he could try something new, something… true.

"If you are not comfortable showing these drawings to me, you don't have to, you know..." He said quietly.

"It's silly, I just… feel so vulnerable showing this real life imprint of my soul to a stranger." You laughed nervously and looked into his eyes once more. There was no trace of his previously cocky expression left and all you could see was sincere worry and… hope? Hope for what?

"Maybe… would you…" He seemed rather introverted now, as if someone had switched his personality for a different one. "Would you like to take a walk with me?"

You smiled, a real and happy smile this time. This man right in front of you, this version of Loki, you liked much better than the previous one. It just felt more real fo you. 

"I would love to." You answered gently and the two of you took off down the street. 

For what felt like hours the two of you wandered the streets of your city, talking about everything and nothing. You warmed up to him quicker than you could believe for yourself and you felt like he opened up to you too, if only just a little for now. 

It was already about sunrise when you yawned. That hadn't happened in a long time.

"I'm sorry I kept you up all night." Loki apologized with a small laugh.

"Nah, it's fine. I suffer from insomnia almost every night, it's a surprise to me that I'm still able to function." You brushed it off with a shrug, realizing only now how much you had told him about yourself in the past hours. And how much he had told you. It felt like you'd known him for such a long time, it was ridiculous. But something had just clicked with you and Loki and you could feel a serious crush developing. You were not sure if you minded it though, as he seemed to be quite enamored as well.

The two of you were still a block away from your apartment and yet you already felt sad. You didn't want to leave him just yet, but it was getting rather difficult to keep your eyes open.

"Do you want to come in? I… I could make you coffee or…" You turned to him once you stood in front of your building, hope all over your face.

Loki shot you his amazing smile in return. "I would love to, but I think that wouldn't be very appropriate." 

You looked down to your feet. He was standing so close to you, you could feel his warmth on your skin and even smell his cologne and it all made you want to just lean against him and let yourself dwell in his sweet embrace. But you didn't dare to just hug him, so you slowly reached out and first touched his hand with a single finger, gently brushing against his thumb. He got the sign and took your hand in his, interlacing your fingers and gently brushing over your knuckles.

"Do you… do you still want to?" You asked in a breath.

"Pardon?"

"Do you still want to see the… the drawings?" 

He nodded in return and you let go of his hand to find the book in your bag and place it in his hands. 

He looked into your eyes once more and you nodded, so he flipped the book open on page one. 

Slowly, one by one, he looked at every single page and all the while remained standing mere inches away from you. You didn't dare to look at his face, fearing to see a reaction you weren't ready to cope with. Time seemed to stand still for you; you heard nothing but his breathing and the flipping of pages. 

When he reached the last page there was utter silence. The electricity and tension in the air finally made you look back up again.

He was watching you with huge eyes, with an intensity you had yet to comprehend. 

Gently, you took the book out of his hands and placed it back inside your bag without breaking eye contact. 

"So…" You breathed. "What do you think of the…"

You were cut off by his chilled lips crashing against your own, passionate and capturing. 

There was nothing you could think, nothing you could do but kiss him back and let him push you against the wall behind you. 

This was right. So so right and you didn't doubt it for a second. The kiss was gentle, yet passionate and oh so sweet. His soul was reaching out to yours and worshipping it in every way possible.

"Y/N…" He growled when you broke apart, not daring to open your eyes for you feared this dream would come to an end. "How… how did you do it?"

You frowned against his forehead, which rested against yours. "How did I do what?" 

"You… you captured their soul. Every living thing you drew, it was just… as if you had taken their very essence and poured it onto the pages. The drawing you did of me, it's… I have never seen something like it. It's not mere beauty, it's the soul that…" 

You cut him off with another gentle kiss. "I dearly promise: your soul is safe with me."

___________

Tags:

@its-remy-not-ratatouille

(fyi this is my other account besides @nightrose64 )

[barb610]

@earthquakeofideas​ asked - pls may my lonely ass have a ship 🥺 i’m a girl w brown hair + blue eyes, glasses, and im kinda thicc and short. i rly like all things horror even tho i’m a huge chicken. i love to draw, and i also love indie music, and fashion. i’m also a vegetarian :-) i love reptiles and dogs. also, i’m a very empathetic person uwu! thank u bro 💕💗🥺🥰

Of course you can!  I am so sorry that this took so, so long!  Remote learning had really messed up my schedule (not that I really had one to begin with).  

I ship you with... 

Horace Somnusson!

I know this might sound strange, and I know that he is one of the younger wards of the loop, but let’s just assume that he’s a few years older!  I got a little carried away, so there’s a LOT of stuff under the cut

So you work at a small family owned boutique in a no-name town in Florida, it was one of those “My friend’s aunt who knows this lady, who’s sister-in-law owns this” kinda things

On one particular day, business was very slow, so you decided to listen to your own music through your earbuds instead of whatever trending pop music was playing over the intercom of the boutique today

You’re jamming out, folding some nice sweater, and hanging up dress on the “Sale! 10% Off” rack, so you don’t notice the bunch of people that walk in

You finally realize that they had walked into the store when you get a tap on your shoulder

You turn around to see a beautiful blond boy with impeccable fashion sense

I’d like to think that Horace gets quite a bit taller as he gets older so he’d kind of be staring down at you 

Hi miss!  Do you happen to have this dress shirt in a smaller size?  Wonderful blouse you have on there, truly quality craftsmanship.  Maybe a medium?  Or do you have any slimmer styles?

You were in awe of the style he had and the fact he had an elegant British accent, something very unusual for no-name town in Florida

Most guys that came in here were sent in by their girlfriend or wife with a picture of what they needed

This guy wore beautiful leather oxfords, exquisitely tailored slacks, and a button up that was probably nicer than a lot of the shirts in here

You had to look up at him to see his face (and he had a pretty nice one)

Oh, yeah, we actually have a few slimmer ones, they’re behind that display over there.

Responding to him makes you realize the group of people he’s with

There’s another boy older than the one you just helped, and one other boy that looks around the same age, he had almost cartoon-like bags under his eyes

There were two girls, one practically had fire in here eyes and one wore a quite tomboy outfit

Thanks, love!

“Love?” You thought to yourself, who calls someone they just met “Love”?  Is it a British thing?

You watched him walk over to the other side of the store and later helped him and his friends check out at the counter

You had an interesting conversation about cashmere versus alpaca wool while him and his friends payed for the clothes they picked out

The rest of the day, you kept the strange interaction in the back of your mind, wishing you had gotten his name

Once you had finished up closing the shop, you walked out, holding your sketchbook along with your other belongings and began locking the front door of the boutique

There was the sound of expensive shoes slapping against the pavement, but you didn’t think of it because there was always a bunch of rich kids running around this neighborhood

You turned around, only to see the boy from earlier running towards you and slam into you sending your sketchbook flying, papers floating in the air

They settled in the ground revealing your drawings of outfits and cute little reptiles

Oh my, oh dear, I am so sorry, so unbelievably sorry.  Let me help you pick these up, love

“Love? again?” you thought

He bent down and started to gather the pages that were strewn out all over the sidewalk

As the boy helped you pick up your sketches, he began to admire your sketches

These are quite superb!  I love this chameleon you have here!

You weren’t too sure on how to respond, you don’t even know why he ran into you in the first place!  Let alone his name!

Oh, you must be confused a bit on why I ran into you like a madman.  I truly am sorry, I was trying to get here before you closed the shop because, well, this must sound absurd, but I wanted to get your name.  I’m Horace by the way.  I just wanted to talk to you a bit more.

You were a little shocked, but you introduced yourself and the rest is history

You two started going out on the town as friends and it quickly evolved into something else

It wasn’t a surprise when he asked you to go on a real date with him

After a wonderfully planned date, he was walking you home when you both noticed that you were being followed

Millard, I know that you’re following us!  Please come out of the bushes so I can introduce you to her.  I figured this was going to happen sooner than later.  

When nothing stepped out of the bushes even though you heard the sound of rustling leaves

Horace introduced you to Millard, briefly going over the fact that he was invisible, something that seemed a lot more important to you than Horace apparently

I suppose I should explain the rest to you now shouldn’t I?

He took you to a large expensive house on the other side of town, where you were introduced to the rest of the gang

He explained the peculiardom to you, and told you what he could do

You were a little skeptical at first, but quickly realized that he wasn’t joking around

You guys were hanging out at your place when he fell asleep on the couch

This was after a mutual agreement to stop a horror film you guys were watching because of the antagonists’ mutated animal that would have given you both nightmares if you continued

At first Horace was just squirming a bit

Then he started to whimper and cry out for someone that you didn’t know

But you really understood what he was talking about when he shot up from the couch, eyes wide open and glossed over, not really focusing on anything

Oceans will rise to claim what was stolen from them, ashes will fall from the skies to punish the destructive, cities will burn in the name of greed,  after the fog lifts the only remnants will be of those who tried, we will be no longer, six-legged wings will devour us in the end

When he first started talking his voice sounded almost dreamy, but by the time he finished, he was shouting, his limbs flying everywhere, it was as if he was in physical pain, but it was only a dream

As soon as he stopped spewing out apocalyptic riddles, he slipped back into a restless sleep

You were so freaked out that you didn’t let him sleep for long, you woke him up and asked him what that whole thing was about

He told you that he didn’t remember anything he saw or said, and the ones he can’t remember barely every come true

You trusted Horace, so you relaxed and decided to put that horror film you stopped

It took a few scenes to remember why you had shut it off in the first place

Horace started taking a lot of naps at your place, he usually didn’t get a lot of sleep when he went to bed at night due to his visions

You weren’t aware how little sleep he was getting, oh the wonders of concealer 

Sleeping somewhere else didn’t stop the visions of seeing people he didn’t even know get in car accidents, get shot in a back ally, and many other worse things

He wanted to sleep wherever you were because when he would wake up in a cold sweat, he didn’t want to have to explain what he saw to Miss P, or answer Millard’s endless questions, or have to endure Enoch’s rude comments

He wanted to be with you

You would be there for him, if he wanted to talk, you would listen, if he wanted to just sit and think, you would be right next to him

He’d absolutely love your glasses!

He’d love picking out new frames with you

He’d search the whole store to find the perfect pair

And Horace would love to go shopping with you because let’s be real here, Horace is the only peculiar with any fashion sense whatsoever

Do you know happy he would be to have a conversation about fashion with someone who knows what he’s talking about

He would totally buy you outfits at completely random times for absolutely no reason

I just saw this and I knew that you would look spectacular in it, even though you look spectacular in everything under the sky, love

Did I mention that he calls you “love” all the time?

Well, he does and refuses to call you anything else

He has you in his phone (assuming he gets one when he’s out of the loop) as Love

Just Love

When he finds out that you’re vegetarian, he goes on a vegetarian kick himself

He learns a bunch of vegetarian recipes to cook for you guys

And the dishes he cooks taste so  g o o d

Horace totally revamps his own diet to match yours and is the most supportive boyfriend ever

Enoch makes fun of him a lot for it

Horace is would be an amazing boyfriend

I didn’t realize how long I made this!! I hope that you like them and I am so sorry that it took me so long to get to this!  I hope that it was worth the wait!

[hopiewrites]

Nobody - OHSHC

pairing - host club x reader

ongoing series, chapter 2

word count - 4,595

chapter 1 & 3 up now!

-> back to masterlist

02

Windows to the Soul

The school is so peaceful at sunrise.

Walking down the empty halls of Ouran academy, the tired female got to soak in it’s quiet beauty; the soft yellows and pinks of the early morning sun lied beautifully on the white of the large window sills, casting everything in shades of pinks. She smiled softly to herself.

Tired as she may be, the sight of the clear sky, the stars still dotted sparsely across the expanse, she couldn’t help but feel in awe of it’s effortlessness; the red cardinals that floated in the air bid her good morning. Her light footsteps echoed down the hallway, along with the song she was humming as she walked.

Opening the door to the host club, she pulled all the curtains back and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, admiring the now bright turquoise of the sky before walking into the kitchen area - where a mountain of dirty dishes awaited her. She sighed at the sight, pulling on the blue rubber gloves that was left out for her - along with a grocery list from Kyoya - and got to work.

She decided that, maybe, it wouldn’t be as bad doing this as she thought it’d be. If its always this serene, maybe she’ll even come a bit earlier so she can just sit and watch the sunrise from the roof; she’d heard that there was a garden up there, but, she doubted that any of the plants would be in bloom at this time of year.

“(Y/N)?”

Her daydreaming came to a halt at the sound of a warm voice, honey like in it’s sticky sweet nature. She stopped the water and turned, removing the gloves and rolling down the sleeves of the dusty light blue mock-neck she was wearing, and peered at the male who somehow made it all the way to the kitchen without making a sound.

For some reason, her voice was soft - as if not to disturb the wistful feeling of the chilled air. “Oh, Tamaki, right? What are you doing here so early this morning?”

The male beamed when she said his name, a smile playing on his lips as he fully entered the room - the door closing with a soft click behind him. He took few steps nearer, and she noticed how sleepy he looked - and how the natural light that flooded the room made him glow, the golden of his messy hair nearly blinded her by how it shined. His eyes were smiling, warm in just what they were, in what they are; shimmers of blues and reds and violets made his iris the most beautiful shade of plum.

She noticed herself staring, and his smile growing - blushing, she averted her gaze towards the window. Tamaki kept his eyes on her.

The girls (S/C) skin seemed to sparkle in the light - the small acne scar on her face was highlighted, and oddly enough, he found it cute, how it sat on the apple of her cheek. The rich (E/C) of her iris’ was hidden from him by her bashfulness, but he found himself drawn to her, wanting to just look, to just see, because she keeps hiding herself away behind her eyelids and hunched shoulders - it was then, in that moment that he realized he wants to witness the beauty that hid herself away.

He realized he’d been silent, and a slight blush dusted his cheeks. “I just wanted to make sure you found everything okay, and to see if you needed help with anything. I mean, since it is your first day and all!”

The still air began to dance with Tamaki’s words; his breath twirling with the  once stagnant atmosphere.

For some reason, his words touched her. Maybe it was because she’s tired, or just in a sentimental mood, but she found herself thinking of how kind he was for going out of his way for something so small like that. She slipped into a smile with ease.

He beamed once again; like a puppy who got a treat.

“Aww, you didn’t have to do that. Thank you, though. I’m just finishing up the dishes, then I planned to go get the ingredients at lunch break since the shops aren’t open right now.”

Tamaki frowned, “then when are you going to eat?” He placed his hands on his hips, scolding the girl, “a lady can’t skip her meals,”

“Well, this lady can and will ,” she replied - a playful grin adorning her features; in truth, she was just going to drink some milk on the way, and she was fine with it. She can eat later. Maybe it was the blessing of the sun that made her relax in his presence.

Though, he was persistent. “At least make yourself something when you come to put the groceries away.”

She sighed, nodding hesitantly, “that’s okay, right? Like, I won’t have to pay for it?”

“Nope! Don’t worry about it. You have to eat well if you expect to be our errand girl, after all!”

There he goes, hiding away behind his obnoxious front again.

“Okay. But, we should be getting to class, now. Don’t wanna be late,”

Tamaki nodded, and opened the door for the girl - who scrambled out quickly - a thank you falling from her lips.

- nobody -

For some reason, she couldn’t stop thinking about those eyes of plum; how they looked in the sun, how bright and warm they were. How kind they seemed. But, then again, maybe she’s reading in too much of what they really were - merely eyes. She often read people well, purely out of either boredom or of curiosity - or sometimes, just because she felt drawn to them, just like she did in that moment, bathed in the beams of light through the open window.

The teacher was going in depth of color schemes and how different colors have been used, what they’ve signified throughout history.

purple, the color of royalty, ambiguity, wealth and magic.

In her sketchbook, beside the little coloms of notes she’d bothered taking, she began sketching the eyes of a male who’d managed to edge his way into the front of her usual fleeting thoughts. Unusual , is the word she settled on describing him as, with his obnoxiously over the top personality and his rose colored view of life. She’d only known Tamaki for a little over a week, and yet he’s already charmed his way into her subconscious.

Maybe she can understand why all those girls seem head-over-heels for him, now - though, she’s nowhere near that yet. Just, sketching a few pictures of his eyes, of his lips. Nothing more.

- nobody -

By the time lunch break rolled around, plenty more than just a few pages in her sketchbook was full of drawings of him, and none of them she was satisfied by. None of them reflected what she saw in them perfectly, and she’s scared she’ll forget if she doesn’t have something to remember it by.

Pulling the grocery list out from the back pocket of her black jeans, she headed out to the shops with a head full of cotton; mind too busy floating around the stars to be considered conscious.

The shops weren’t as busy as she imagined they’d be; only a few people mingling  around, much like herself. Tossing items one by one into the basket that hung on the crook of her arm, she thought of how bizarre it was for her to be doing this - doing errands for a host club, lest one made up of men she barely knew.

What were the chances of meeting them like the way she did? If they’d met a different way, she wondered if they would’ve even bothered to talk to someone as invisible as herself - because from her assumptions, people like them have no interest in wilting wallflowers like her.

It was lonely, feeling like nothing more than gum stuck to the bottom of peoples shoes.

Checking out the abnormal amount of overpriced groceries, she sighed as she speed walked her way back to the large campus of Ouran, promising herself a sandwich once she returns.

- nobody -

On the counter, haphazardly sat paper bags with a note in messy handwriting;

hi hosts,

sorry about the mess. ill come put these away + clean up after the guests etc. after classes end. i was running a bit late today :)

-(Y/N)

Kyoya’s clenched jaw relaxed at the for a moment while reading the small note. He stuffed it in his pocket with half a mind, and went to help prepare everything before their guests arrive - Haruhi preparing the tea and coffee, as well as pulling the premade sandwiches made by their new helper out of the fridge to place on plates, along with different kinds of cake, hand picked by Mitsukuni himself.

Haruhi was thankful for the new found speed of getting prepared, she now not having to stay late after school to make what seems like hundreds of sandwiches - the brunette still cringes thinking about the cramps she’d always get in her fingers afterwards.

Cracking her knuckles with a sigh, Haruhi made her way out to position herself for the opening of the doors; welcoming the ladies in an over dramatic fashion as always. She really couldn’t bring herself to dislike what she was doing - even if she used to attempt to convince herself otherwise, she rather liked getting to see the smiles on the girls faces, and getting to spend time with her unlikely bunch of friends made her warm inside - even if it was a bit awkward for the introverted girl. She charmed her guests, making them swoon, just as usual.

It felt like time had flown by before the guests had bid their goodbyes, and (Y/N) peeked her head through the door, eyes landing on the other females chocolate hues. “Hi, (Y/N)-san.”

The meek girl smiled small at the greeting, walking her way into the room, messenger bag slung over her shoulder and hair now pulled out of her face with a bobby pin on the top of her head.

“Hello Haruhi-san. I’m just here to help with clean up-”

“(N/N)-chan~!” She stumbled at the force of the impact of the 3rd year, arms locked around her waist in a tight hold, Honey’s grinning face shining up at the startled girl. “Um, hi, senpai.”

Haruhi chuckled at the sight, finding the timid nature of (Y/N) clashing with the clingy-as-ever Honey, amusing.

“Oh, Look who’s here!” Tamaki’s loud voice played off the walls, still as chirpy as ever - he took long strides towards the girl, still tied up in her elders embrace.

The host club was almost empty, save for the aforementioned blonds, the silent Takashi, Kyoya, who was in the back room going through the host’s profits today, and Haruhi, who mingled about with nothing better to do.

Well, maybe they wanted to get to see their little errand girl - not that they’d say that out loud, at least.

Honey squeezed her one last time, before letting go and trotting back over to Mori, who only mumbled his name in response. She was tense at the contact, it being unexpected; and understandably so, because a greeting like that for anyone who didn’t know Honey would be weird. She brushed it off as something she’d just have to get used to.

“Our dear little kitten, you’ve come to visit me, haven’t you?”

“So, (Y/N), do you want me to stay and help with clean up? I don’t have anything to do, so…” Haruhi trailed off, more as a statement, honestly, as she started wiping down tables.

“Um, okay! Thanks, Haruhi-san..” She paused, glancing over at the sulking Tamaki, who was being laughed at by Honey who sat happily in Mori’s arms - what a strange bunch.

After retreating the necessities, and bidding Mori and Honey a quick goodbye - kendo practice, mumbled the stoic with a nod of his head. he had a voice as deep as the ocean itself, she noticed, thick and dark blue, lulling itself through his chest. It was comforting to her, to say the least.

And that left the two girls, busying themselves with small tasks, and Tamaki, who, oddly enough, sat and observed them; his typically expressional features unreadable from the sparse glances the questioning girl was able to give him. Haruhi seemed happy enough, nonchalant smile on her pretty face as she packed up, sending a wave towards the girl cutely.

“Um, Tamaki-Senpai?”

Said male jumped at that, snapping his head towards the soft voice; “what’re you still doing here? Haruhi just finished up and tried to bid goodbye, but you didn’t even hear her.”

His eyebrows shot up - did he really not? He glanced around the now vacant room, not spotting his princess anywhere - only (Y/N), who awkwardly hovered by the armrest of the couch.

It wasn’t quite sunset yet, but the dandelion yellows that began to leak into the blue hues of the sky served as its near coming. She noticed how innocent he looked when caught off guard.

Her inquiring stare made him feel vulnerable - in his mind he grasped at something, anything, to turn the focus back onto the girl beside him - he wasn’t use to being the one flustered; something in her stare felt like it was boring into him, picking apart his brain and looking into his soul, it made chills raise on his arms and pink to grow on his porcelain cheeks.

On the other hand, she did this completely unintentionally; she was taking in as much of his eyes as she could possibly manage, caught up in her own need to know what lurked within those eyes of his, reading into him like a book she couldn’t get enough of.

It was only the two of them, in an empty room flooded by the waltzing sunlight of late afternoon - but if you looked closely enough, felt deeply enough - you could see the array of colors that spilled themselves all over the walls, floor and high ceiling, being covered in the clashing of the beginnings of something new, something beautiful.

It was the flooding of warmth on a cold winters day.

It overwhelmed the both of them.

“D-Did I?”

“Yeah. Uh,”

A beat of silence.

“I have to hurry to my shift, so.. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Ye-Yeah! I’ll see you tomorrow. Good luck at work! Get home safe, Princess.”

The door closed gently after her leave, and Tamaki was left alone in her aftermath.

Firstly, he gave himself a pat on the back for picking himself up at the end of their small conversation - secondly, he couldn’t help but to feel like he just emerged from the under belly of the sea.

The piercing gravity of her gaze lingered with him the rest of the day.

- nobody -

“Hello! Did you find everything okay?”

“Yes, I did.”

“That’s good! Your total will be $27.93. Thank you, come again!”

That was, what seemed like, the millionth time she’d had that exact exchange. people came and went, some more troublesome than others - she had a lady in line, arms full of books, and a purse full of expired coupons, demanding every single one of them be applied - but other than those few bad apples, it was a pretty normal day at the bookstore. her coworker, Daiki, was out sick today so she offered to take his shift, which he was ever grateful for; that’s why she’s working so late tonight, having to close up shop and ride the 11 o'clock train, which she was dreading to do.

the cute barista who worked in the Starbucks at the far side of the store, a foreigner from Germany with a name she couldn’t even begin to pronounce, gave her a sympathetic smile as she clocked out and went home or the day. (Y/N) sighed, propping her head up on the counter.

Her manager chuckled, “Me too, kiddo.”

He was a man in his mid 50’s, with graying hair and the beginnings of crows feet forming around his eyes; he had a kind looking face, and it just lit up when talking about his favorite book and movies - all of which were in black and white. of course, she would know, having had an internship, then being hired when she was of legal age; she’s been here for what felt like her whole life.

The extroverted man has always been kind to her, passing the time by talking fondly of his daughter, who is now in college, and his husband, who’s come to visit work a few times, bringing his spouse his forgotten lunches or to bring staff his specialty homemade cookies - which everyone absolutely adored.

In all honesty, he was like a father to the girl. he would comfort her when she was caught crying in the breakroom - which has happened more than a few times - and he knew best of her home situation and life in general, offering advice and listening to her talk. she’d even given him a few drawings that she made for him, and he’d hung them up on his fridge at home. he made her feel safe, and loved - just like a father should.

“Long day at school?”

“Yeah,” she sighed out, “you know that club that I owe? the one I was telling you about? I had to go like 2 hours earlier to wash dishes and stuff. I swear I’ve been awake for too long.”

The older nodded, taking a sip out of his water bottle. “And at lunch I had to go get groceries. The whole list cost like, 3 paychecks worth of stuff. It was insane,”

He snorted at that. “so they gotcha on dish duty? And how long are ya gonna have to to this, again?”

“Um, this whole semester, I’m pretty sure. I don’t know how expensive those teacups were, but goddamn.”

“Language, missy.”

She rolled her eyes, genuine smile on her lips, “okay, dad.” He also cracked a smile.

“Why don’t you go ‘head and go home, alright? Like you said, you’ve been awake too long. Don’t want ya going crazy on me,”

Her eyes widened a bit, at the offer, but it was tempting. She felt her body disintegrating from the inside, and with all the coffee’s she had this shift, it’s not surprising. Her hands shook with a caffeine overdose, and every movement of her body felt like she was wading through water.

After that moment of contemplation, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you day after, okay, old man?”

“Sure thing, (Y/N). Get home safely, okay? You got that pepper spray I gave ya?”

She smiled at his concern, “don’t worry, I always keep it in my bag. I’ll make sure to text you when I get home.” he had gotten it for her one shift when she was talking about being followed one night on her way home, by a creepy man she didn’t know, and he had been worried sick for her - said he’d beat him up if he ever saw the bastard - she had only laughed fondly at his kindness.

“Okay. Have a goodnight, now.” he said, patting her shoulder.

She nodded, “You too.”

- nobody -

12:02 am

Quietly, she moved through the house, peeking her head in the mother’s room to see her resting peacefully. She then turned back to go the the bathroom just down the hallway, washing her face and changing into the freshly washed fuzzy pajamas she’s been excited to wear. Throwing herself into bed, it was an amazing feeling that washed over her - crawling under the blankets and wiggling her toes in efforts to warm up - she was sure that she’d be able to sleep well tonight.

2:17 am

And how wrong, she was. Hours of tossing and turning, her cat jumping on and off her bed constantly, flicking his tail in her face and howling just for the fun of it. She sighed heavily; every time her eyes closed, the image of Tamaki, bathed in the golden light of morning, sleepy plum eyes and lips pulled up in a grin, just wouldn’t go away. The colors of him wouldn’t leave her mind, no matter what else she tried to think about.

Her cat sat on the window sill, wading his sleek grey tail through the air, staring at her as she rubbed her eyes frustratedly.

4:10 am

Eraser shavings stuck to her sweater.

Pages and pages, the fronts and backs filled with attempts to get it right. Attempts to immortalize a moment that’s already dead - it’s faded memories windswept in her sketchbook.

She was embarrassed by her failures.

5:57 am

Already, it was time to leave - to make sandwiches for that stupid host club and those stupid boys and their stupid guests - well, she didn’t really feel that way - but rather, it was the lack of sleep that made her hate, well, most things. Already walking her way to school in clothes that she felt unsatisfied with wearing; the same pair of light washed jeans from days before, and a black sweatshirt she pulled over a cropped tank top, only because she was too lazy to take it off before hand.

She ate a hearty breakfast, consisting off a glass of almond milk - forgotten her lunch in the fridge at home, and only had 2 dollars, her sketch book and a squished fortune cookie in the bottom of her bag for the day. No pencils. No notebooks. Nothing.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, feeling the cold hands of winter holding her own; as if trying to comfort her.

She let it.

- nobody -

After the meals were made, wrapped up nicely in overpriced decorative napkins and sat in the fridge, she was winded by the effort. With half an hours time remaining until she needed to get seated in a classroom, the tired girl chose to sit on a chair at a table nearby the large windows that overlooked the campus; a fountain surrounded by patches of yellow grass sat pretty in her view, the cloudy periwinkle sky draped itself in the background gracefully.

She kicked off her old vans and pulled her legs up in a criss-cross position on the chair, stretching her arms and torso out on the cold tabletop with a huff. Her cheek was squished on her upper arm, drowsy eyes losing their ability to focus; her eyelids closed heavily, as her breathing turned soft and rhythmic - she couldn’t help but to bask in the filtered sunlight that fought through the cracks of the blankets of tear filled clouds.

She slept.

- nobody -

“Awwww (N/N)-chan is so cute when she’s sleeping!”

“Shhh Honey-senpai! You’ll wake her up!”

“Yeah, who would’ve thought she could look so peaceful,”

“Isn’t Princess (Y/N) so adorable!? Quick, someone get a photo!”

What’s going on?..

The sleeping girl stirred, causing everyone to pause, holding their breath.

She let out a yawn, scrunching her nose, and peeked one of her (E/C) eyes open, to the sight of the entire host club staring straight at her.

Her eyebrows knitted, still in a fuzzy, dream-like state, not processing anything at all. She scrunched her nose again.

The click of a camera could be heard, along with familiar mischievous giggles - that turned into hard laughing at the face she pulled.

It was priceless.

She sat up quickly, lips parting and wide eyes - face red as rose, all the way to the tips of her ears.

Even Mori let out a short laugh at that.

“What.. What- what time is it? How long have I been asleep for?”

Kyoya, with that ever present smirk plastered on his face, checked his watch, “I believe it’s 4:41.”

“I.. I don’t..”

The girl groaned, letting her head fall on the back of her hands, brushing off the feeling of watchful eyes felt on her back for the time being.

A hand landed itself on her shoulder.

“C'mon, (Y/N). You obviously needed the rest, so don’t be too upset about it.”

The girl sighed, fallen head rising from her hands as she gazed at the auburn boy, who smiled sympathetically at her through long eyelashes - one of the twins, though she couldn’t be sure of which one it was; if she had to guess, just by his thin voice, maybe it was Kaoru?

She nodded, sitting up right in her chair, “yeah, I guess you’re right. Thank you.. Kaoru?” It was more of a question than a statement, but it was confirmed as soon as she saw his widened eyes and shocked smile - I got it right!

She smiled, then cringed at the tightness of her muscles from being hunched over the table for so long.

She missed how Hikaru gave her a skeptical glare from aside.

“You okay, (Y/N)?”

She only gave a silent nod to the worried twin, rolling her head, unfurling her legs and stretching deeply - her knees popping at the action - and stood up, now looking around the room with her mind alert. It was then that she noticed Hikaru’s stern gaze, a camera held loosely in his grip; they made eye contact, sharply and only for a second, for the both of them to snap their heads the other way - as if they were stubborn children.

“Just a bit stiff is all. Wait, weren’t you guys gonna have guests coming in today? What happened?”

“Tamaki decided to cancel, and, in his own words, 'let the princess sleep,’. ” Kyoya replied.

Said male lit up red, hand raising to cover his mouth as he avoided eye contact, “Kyoya, I thought we agreed to not mention that…”

The ravenette smirked, “I remember no such deal.”

(Y/N) blushed lightly, sparing a look or two at the reddened male, awkwardly shifting in her spot. “Well, uh, I should probably head home,”

She slowly made her way across the room, biting her lip in an anxious habit.

“I like your socks, (N/N)-chan!”

… What?

Looking down, the feeling of horror that enveloped her was unexplainable.

She had forgotten to put her shoes back on, and there on her feet, were her pink sailor moon socks, on display for all to see, bright against the white marble floor.

Quickly she jumped over towards the table, hastily shoving her shoes on her feet and running back towards the door all in the span of 10 seconds - the lighthearted, teasing laughter of the hosts was all too much for her right now.

“Uh, bye guys, see you!”

It seems, nearly every time she leaves that room, she’s running away.

Tamaki and Kaoru both smiled fondly at the girls clumsy nature - while her absence left nothing but wary skepticism in Hikaru’s mind.

Kyoya was left asking, to nobody in particular, “That girl, what are we to do with her?”

- nobody -

“Hikaru, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, just… That girl. She rubs me the wrong way.”

Kaoru quirked a brow at his brother, “Who, (Y/N)? Why?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t she seem a bit..”

“A bit what?”

Hikaru huffed, averting his eyes towards the passing scenery outside the window of the limo they rode in - red velvet seats and mini T.V.’s hung on the back of the headrests in front of them. The yellowing grass and dead flower bushes passed by in flurries, clouds being left behind in the sky, the low hanging sun chasing after them.

“Slow, maybe? Dumb?”

“What makes you say that?”

“The way she acts, constantly embarrassed or running away. Like she’s scared of us, or something.”

The younger of the two furrowed his brows, thinking for a moment.

“And that makes you think she’s dumb…?”

Hikaru huffed again, scratching the side of his head, “No. I mean yes. I mean, I don’t know. It’s been over a week since she’s known us, right? By now even Haruhi was comfortable with everyone. I just don’t understand why she still acts so weird around us.”

Ah. It clicked for Kaoru.

“You can’t compare everyone to Haruhi, You know. She’ll warm up to everyone soon, she just needs time,”

Haruhi was the first person he ever let have a look inside - the first person he let care for him other than Kaoru - so it’s natural that he compares everyone to her. She’s what he’s used to, he knows her, he’s comfortable with her; he knows nothing and nobody else.

Hikaru wants to befriend the shy girl, but he doesn’t know how to - just as she doesn’t know how to let herself be befriended.

Kaoru, then, makes it his mission to make her open up to them - because he knows, better than anyone else, how lonely it is to be trapped inside your own world.

- nobody -

The clouds of yesterday hung heavily in the atmosphere, blanketing the moon and her stars, as tears of the gods and goddesses alike puddled on the ground. Yellow street lights were dimly lit along the sidewalk, pieces of stray plastic caught in the downwards flow of the rain water stream, disappearing under the rusted drains that sat dirty on the side of the road.

In her hands, was a cup of hot chocolate - warming her cold fingers through the brick red mug - staring out into the black of night through the curtains tied up from her spot, sitting on the floor. Her cat nudged the back of her head from behind her shoulders, jumping from the bed she leaned against to her lap with grace. The feline’s green eyes peered into her own, then flopping down and curling himself up on her legs.

She remained still, eyes glassy and distant, as if looking, but not seeing . There were no thoughts, not a pathway for her mind to walk on; she floats, lost and alone, in the void of her consciousness; searching for something she doesn’t even know is there. It is in the blanks of her pages that she turns to, trying to read, and read again, the words that aren’t there - that never was in the first place.

She is hollow.

Beyond her skin, behind her ribcage and somewhere in the depths of her heart lies that of a canvas which hasn’t been touched - an expanse of colorless nothing, frozen in the ice of time that never seems to melt - monochrome in its emptiness. It froze her from the inside out, for inside she was nothing but a cowering child at the hands of a world whose people were as merciless as they were unforgiving, even when staring into the faces of the helpless.

One thing she knows for certain is, that hell isn’t made of lava, nor of the raging fires of satan himself; but of a desolate void, where the ice freezes even your words before they have a chance to leave your mouth. Hell is where the abandoned go to weep tears of frost, to let the arms of a grand nothingness envelope them in a cold embrace of loss.

It was only when she choked on a sob did she noticed there were tears running down her face.

Sitting her now cold drink on the floor, she wiped her face with her sleeves - biting her tongue until it felt as numb as she did.

Even though she felt alone, the clouds listened to her cries; they, too, floated along, inevitably though an unending sky, together they shared the same nothingness.

Together, they cried.

[luciana-galvez]

A Night Of Surprises

Fandom: The Dirt

Words: 3.2k (i got carried away oops)

Pairing: nikki sixx x reader

Warnings: none i think

Notes: this doesn’t quite fulfill the last request but i hope you like it anyway anon. also if you want to be added to the taglist or be taken down for specific stories (because i get confused about who wants to be tagged in what haha) just let me know!

Request:  Anonymous Could you write an imagine for Nikki sixx where he falls in love with a girl who wears a lot of pink and is really girly and maybe not into the same scene that he’s into!? I like the soft-hard dynamic😂 I love your writing by the way and I’m so glad you’re writing for the dirt😭😭💖

@miserablecunt Can you write an imagine for Nikki?! Literally anything!! I just need more of him and I have no ideas😂

Anonymous  can u write something about nikki being with a girl who is actually quite girly and everyones like ?????? why ????? 💞

Backstage at a heavy metal concert was the last place you had pictured yourself ending up in. The more you thought about the, the more unlikely it became, but here you were, part of the team to get Mötley Crüe ready for their first American tour on a daily basis.

“Vince, where’s your choker?” you asked pointedly.

“What choker?” he retorted with a confused look.

“There’s a choker that goes with your outfit,” you said, already mentally going through the last hour to see where it might have become lost in the process.

The whole band was about to go on stage, and Vince had showed up late already, and now a piece of his outfit was missing, and the perfectionist in you was suffering. This whole rock and roll business really wasn’t for you.

“Give me two minutes,” you said as you already turned around and jogged back down the hallway, trying to check all the dressing rooms before they had to go up on stage.

When you had studied fashion and costume design, this really wasn’t what you thought you’d end up doing. You had pictured yourself working for a big designer, or even played with the idea of working for Hollywood, but designing costumes for a metal band hadn’t occurred to you even in your wildest dreams.

But then Tommy had offered for you to give it a try. You two had gone to high school together and kind of lost touch afterwards when you went off to university and he did whatever allowed him to rock and roll. His words, not yours.

And then a few months ago you had run into him again, and he had told you about this band he was in, and you had told him about finishing your degree, and he had ecstatically told you about how his band was looking for over-the-top costumes. You had laughed it off at first, but Tommy had been so persistent that you eventually agreed to at least meet the band.

You went into the meeting expecting to meet a rowdy bunch of guys that deemed themselves too cool for school and that you would part ways acknowledging on both sides that it wasn’t the right fit, but when you did meet them, things turned out differently.

Yes, it might not have been the right fit, especially when you showed up to the meeting in an outfit that was the exact opposite of what was considered metal. But when Mick and Nikki doubted your ability to make costumes for them so vehemently (“We’re not going to perform in pink fucking ruffles” you remembered Nikki saying), you were determined to prove them wrong.

And that’s how you ended up as Mötley Crüe’s official costume designer.  

Now, you were desperately rummaging through each of the dressing rooms in order to find Vince’s choker. Luckily, you eventually found it in Vince’s dressing room and cursed him out under your breath for being a slob. At some point they really had to start making your job easier.

You hurried back out of the room and jogged down the hallway until you found the band. They were standing at the stairs to the stage, ready to start their show any minute now.

“Okay, got it,” you announced and walked up to Vince, easily attaching the choker as he craned his neck.

“Let me have a look at you,” you said when you had finished, and the whole band stood up a bit straighter for you to inspect the outfits.

You tweaked at Tommy’s outfit, readjusted Mick’s harness, and eventually stopped in front of Nikki, searching your pockets for the black paint you knew you had in there somewhere.

“Your paint is smudged. Hold still,” you said and carefully held on to his chin so he wouldn’t move. “Hold still.”

You used your thumb to try to wipe away the smudged edges of the lines, but the paint didn’t come off. You sighed. “How did you already smudge this before the show even started?”

Nikki simply shrugged.

“Lick this,” you said, holding out your thumb to him.

“What?”

“I’d do it myself, but that’d be weird,” you said, and when he didn’t move, added “Just do it.”

He eventually licked your thumb hesitantly, and when you tried to get the smudges of this time, it worked without a problem.

“There we go,” you said more to yourself than to him. All that was left to do was reapply another layer of paint, and Nikki patiently let you.

“Alright,” you said, letting go of his chin and taking a step back to look at your finished work. “Try not to ruin your outfits tonight, will you, boys?”

“We don’t make promises we can’t keep,” Vince shrugged, and you rolled your eyes, but your gaze stuck to Nikki, who was looking at you with a peculiar expression.

“What?” you asked.

It looked like you had startled him out of his train of thought, because he simply shook his head in confusion and mumbled “Nothing.”

And then it was time for them to go onstage. You stayed long enough to watch them play Shout At The Devil and then retreated to one of the crew’s backstage rooms, which was now peacefully empty as most people were watching the concert.

You found your backpack in the corner, pulled out your sketchbook, and made yourself comfortable on the couch. You spend the next forty minutes playing with new ideas for costumes until the noise level outside started rising up again, which told you the show was over.

You went out into the hallway just in time for the band to turn the corner, and your eyes started scanning their outfits for damage.

“You guys listened to me,” you said in surprise as you noticed that they were, except for a few tears here and there, mostly intact.

“We have our moments,” Vince shrugged.

It was your job to make sure all the costumes were ready for every show, and on particularity bad nights it had happened that that you stay almost all night after a concert in order to fix the damage. Sure, they had multiple costumes and could afford to lose one or two, but if you wouldn’t spend so much time cleaning up after them, they would run out of outfits two weeks from now.

You waited until they had all changed out of the costumes and collected them to bring them to the bus. Seeing as they were in pretty good shape, you could take the night off and fix them up on the bus ride to the next stop tomorrow.

You knocked on Nikki’s door last and waited for him to let you in. Instead of his glamorous black costume, he was now in black leather pants, a white-and-black striped shirt, and a leather jacket. The paint on his face was still there, and you smiled as you saw that, naturally, it was smudged again.

“You’re staying to watch Ozzy?” he asked as he handed you his stage outfit and you threw it over your arm with the others.

“If I don’t watch your show, what makes you think I’d watch the prince of darkness?” you grinned.

“You don’t watch our show?”

You laughed. “Sorry. I watch bits of it, but it’s not quite my scene.”

He sat back down on his couch and gave you an inquiring look. “So, what kind of music do you listen to?”

You shrugged. “I like ABBA, Fleetwood Mac—”

“Evidently,” Nikki smirked and gestured towards your outfit. You were wearing your flowery jumpsuit with a pink belt that made you look particularly hippie.

“Evidently,” you agreed and pointed at it.

“So, what are you up to instead?”

“Now?”

“Mhhmh.”

“I’m gonna drop these,” you held up their outfits, “on the bus and then I’ll find a quiet diner and work on my sketches. And I’m starving, so I’ll head out now.” You started walking back to the door and added, “Enjoy the concert and your afterparty. Or strip club. Or wherever you end up today. Just don’t let it be jail,” you turned back around for a moment and gave him a playful wink.

“Actually,” Nikki started as you were halfway through the door. You stopped and looked back at him, and he looked like he was still contemplating what he was about to say.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he added after a moment.

You leaned your head to one side and narrowed your eyes, trying to figure out if he was fucking with you. The band was notorious for their wild afterparties, so that Nikki wanted to skip it and instead accompany you to a diner seemed entirely out of character.

“Okay,” you said, but it sounded more like a question.

He didn’t seem to notice. “Cool,” he said, took another swig from the whisky bottle that was standing on the coffee table in front of him, and then got up. “Ready.”

You lifted an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. When you left his dressing room, Tommy was excitedly jumping towards the two of you from the other side of the hallway.

“Dude Ozzy is about to start, let’s rock and roll!”

“We’re actually gonna head out to dinner,” Nikki said simply and Tommy’s expression turned to confusion for a moment. His gaze wandered from Nikki to you and back again, and then he broke out into a big grin and clapped Nikki on the shoulder. “Alright man, make sure to use protection.”

“Jesus Christ Tommy,” you uttered exasperatedly and he laughed, already skipping further down the hallway to get the others.

Nikki and you walked to the crew bus in silence, and he stood back and waited while you handled the outfits. Then, you were on your way. It didn’t take you long to find a diner that wasn’t too busy, and you sat down in a corner booth and ordered waffles while Nikki simply opted for a drink.

“Go ahead,” Nikki said as the waitress disappeared.

You simply looked at him questioningly.

“You said you’d come here to sketch,” he explained.

“You came with me to….watch me sketch?” you asked.

Nikki shrugged. “I’m curious to see what you have in store for us.”

You looked at him for a moment longer, trying to gauge what had gotten into him today, but then decided to go with it and pulled out your sketchbook.

“I don’t have anything finished but I’ve been playing with a few ideas,” you started as you flipped through the pages until you found the one you were looking for. “Like here,” you said and pushed the notebook over to Nikki, “I’ve been wanting to introduce a bit more color, so I thought something like this for Tommy. You’ve seen him sport leopard print pants, so I’m thinking to get a bit more pattern into his look.”

“And here,” you said and flipped the page over for him, “I really like Vince’s look with only the harness and no shirt, but I want to mix up the pants a bit. So instead of having him in plain black leather pants, I want to experiment with introducing the color scheme from the harness into the pants as well and get some red patches in there.”

You paused for a moment, but Nikki remained silent. “Like I said, none of these is finished and they’re just ideas I’ve been playing with…” you trailed off and looked up at him. He had a concentrated look on his face as he studied your sketches. You watched him start to flip through the pages and realized you were anxious to know what he was thinking. The longer he remained silent, the more you thought he hated them.

“What do you have in mind for me?” he asked eventually, looking up at you for the first time.

“I haven’t gotten to it yet, but I was thinking of puffy shoulder pieces.”

You could see that he was about to protest, so you quickly added, “No, not like you think!” You laughed. “Something like this,” you trailed off and pulled the notebook back to yourself and flipped to an empty page. You rummaged in your bag for a pencil and started sketching what you were thinking off.

“See, not like housewife-puffy-shoulders,” you continued while sketching, “but more like ‘Sydney-opera-house puffy. And then add some chains or studding.”

Nikki craned his neck to watch you sketch and nodded, contemplating. “Yeah, I like that.”

You smiled. “Good.”

It was another fifteen minutes before your food arrived, and you spent it in silence as you continued sketching and Nikki watched. When he had announced that he wanted to join, you had expected it to be awkward, but you were surprised how comfortable silence was with him.

When the waitress brought your food and his drink, you put your sketchbook away and hungrily started digging into your waffles.

“So, do you do this every night?” Nikki asked. “Go to a diner after the show and sketch?”

“Mostly,” you said between bites. “When I’m not stuck fixing your costumes I tend to look for a quiet place to be alone.”

“Why?” he asked, but there was genuine interest behind the question.

You thought for a moment. “Your lifestyle can be quite overwhelming,” you shrugged eventually, “sometimes I just need to get away from it for a while.”

“My lifestyle?”

“You know, sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll,” you smiled.

“It really isn’t your scene, is it?”

“Nope.”

“Then why did you agree to do it?”

“To prove that I could,” you replied honestly. “You were so disbelieving that a girl that likes pink can design costumes for you that I made it my mission to prove you wrong. I like a good challenge.”

Nikki grinned. “I can appreciate that.”

“So,” you leaned forward, “what turned you into the badass rockstar that you are?”

“An unfit mother, a non-existent father, and a revolving door of asshole stepfathers,” he shrugged it off, but you could tell there was real pain behind his act of not caring.

“Ah, the classic story,” you replied, not unkindly. “So you fill that hole with sex and drugs?”

“And I assume you are the cheerful girl that you are because you had a rosy childhood with a picket-fence garden and Sunday night family dinners,” he challenged you, but there was no hostility in his voice.

“Well, we didn’t have a picket-fence, but our Sunday night dinners were lovely,” you grinned and he laughed.

“No wonder everyone in your family is a saint.”

“Well, my bother used to live the rockstar life,” you said. “He wasn’t unlike you. Lots of alcohol. Lots of drugs. Lots of getting arrested.”

“Oh, and he didn’t manage to influence you and pull you to the dark side?” Nikki smirked.

“No,” you replied matter-of-factly, and your expression turned serious. “Because he overdosed and died.”

Nikki’s face fell. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Shit indeed.”

Nikki thought for a moment. “Then why would you agree to come on tour with us? And spend all day every day around people that constantly do drugs and party?”

You shrugged. “I stayed away from it for a long time, and cut everyone that did drugs out of my life. But to be honest,” you paused, trying to find the right words, “I don’t know, it just became easier to be around it? I know the warning signs of when it turns from normal partying into an actual issue. I couldn’t save him, but maybe I can save the next one.”

You were silent for a moment, contemplating on how to formulate your thoughts. “Listen, I know you think I’m this naïve, gold-hearted girl from the Valley without a worry in the world, but I know how dark life can get. I’ve been in a really fucking dark place after he died, and it took everything I had to crawl back out of it. I’m kind to people because I know what it’s like to wish you were dead every day.”

Nikki stared at you for a long time after that, with an expression you couldn’t quite read. Eventually, he cleared his throat. “You really have your shit together, don’t you?”

And with that, the tension was broken. “Not really,” you laughed.

You ended up spending five hours in the diner, talking about anything and everything. Nikki told you about trying to get his mother arrested, about running away from home without a place to go, about coming to LA and unsuccessfully trying to make it with a bunch of bands before he finally found Tommy, Mick, and Vince, and you told him about your family, about working two jobs when you were in college because you were determined to pay it off by yourself, and about your high-school prom where you ended up having to take care of your drunk date all night.

When you walked back to the hotel, Nikki gave you his jacket, and you gratefully wrapped yourself up in it. You could see that a bunch of people that passed you gave you curious looks, surprised by the miss-matched pair of a mean-looking rocker next to the girl in the flowery jump suit, and you had to smile at their irritation.

Nikki accompanied you all the way to your room, and when you got there, he was visibly unsure about what to do. If you were honest, you were absolutely enjoying seeing Nikki Sixx, who was usually so smooth with women, be nervous.

Apparently, when you didn’t make a move, Nikki decided not to push it and awkwardly took a step back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

You couldn’t supress a smile as you told him he would, and then you turned around, opened your door, and leaned against the doorway. Nikki had already turned around and was heading back to his room, you assumed. So he really was going to just leave, huh.

“Nikki,” you called after him and he turned around. You rolled your eyes playfully, pushed the door behind you open further, and made a gesture with your head towards your room. “Get in here,” you laughed.

Nikki was clearly surprised, and he dropped his head and smiled before making his way back to you. He stopped when he was opposite you in the doorway, and the proximity of your bodies made your heart beat a little faster. He was close enough that you had to glace up to look at him.

“Are you always that smooth with the ladies?” you grinned.

“Shut up,” he said and didn’t wait before pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss was intense and sloppy and wild, and you enjoyed it more that you had enjoyed anything in a long time. You were so entangled in each other that you stumbled into your room and almost took out a small side table and two lamps, and when you took of his shirt, you were grinning to both ears.

This night really was full of surprises.

tags: @supernaturalvikingwhore  @miserablecunt  @sighsophiia  @fandomshit6000  @flizaa @hi-my-name-is-riley  @electradestiny  @starlalove  @kingbouji3  @sweetshutter  @baiabouk 

[divineluce]

Ink About It || Remmy & Luce

Location: Ink Inc.

Notes: Remmy comes in to ease a burden that’s being weighing on their mind. Luce both helps and attempts to hurt. 

Remmy had a secret. It was nestled on the back of their left shoulder, and it was a simple tattoo. It listed the names of their squadmates, in order of rank. And their dog tag numbers, with a circle around them. Simple, easy. If one of us dies, we all get the name crossed out. It was a little morbid, really, but they’d all been young and dumb. And doing this had felt like it brought them closer together. It was supposed to motivate them to all stay safe. To remind them that they had people to look out for, other than themselves. And to carry their memories on their back, always, even if they were gone. But Remmy had never gone back to get it finished. The thought of getting all their names crossed out felt...too heavy. They wanted a better way to remember them, to commemorate them. To move on from their loss. But they couldn’t figure out what they wanted to do with it, the list of names on their shoulder. Like a laundry list of all the things they’d done wrong. All the people they’d let down. It was time to change that. Breathing in-- a still comforting gesture, despite the lack of need-- they went up to the parlor doors and pushed them open. The little bell ran as they entered and they glanced up, before looking back inside. They hadn’t really planned on coming here so abruptly, but acting on impulse was something Remmy was trying to do more of. It was time to get out of such a regimented lifestyle, stuck in military time. There was someone at the front desk, a woman, looking a little bored and a little distracted. “Um, hi,” Remmy said as they scooted up to the counter, “I um...I don’t have an appointment or anything, but like, I was hoping to maybe talk to someone about uh, an alteration. To an existing tattoo. If that’s, if like--” they paused, “if that’s okay.”

Rolling a pencil across her fingers, Luce looked at the clock. Fucking hell, it’d already been 40 minutes. She was calling it. “We gotta no show. Again.” She said, poking her head out of her room. Leave it to Dario to schedule another flake for her, christ. Which meant she’d come in for nothing. At least she’d had time to work on a few designs of her own, but this was getting frustrating. She was trying to make money here, and fewer asses in the chair meant less money in her wallet, simply speaking. At least she was gonna be making money off her cabin. Her sweet, amazing, beautiful cabin… that her mom had forced her to move out off. Resting her head on her hand, she looked at her sketchbook for a second, contemplating the design she’d been working on for the new girl to the coven. What was her name? M- something. Melissa? Mallory? Morga--Morgan. Yeah, that’s the one. As she worked on the preliminary sketches, the little bell over the door rang out and she heard someone talking nervously with the receptionist. Popping her head out the door, Luce walked out to the main area of the shop. “We take walk-ins. And it’s your lucky day. I’m Luce,” She stuck out a hand, “What are you looking to get done?” She asked.

Remmy startled slightly when someone came out of the back room and over to the front desk. “Oh, hi! Hello, I--” they paused, taking in her sight. She was oddly familiar. Long, dark hair, that looked almost as dark as the night outside. Piercing eyes. Tattoos up each arm. A tank top that dipped a little lower down her sides than usual, and pants that were...form fitting. Remmy felt their throat close up. “Ye-eah. Yup. I’m lucky! I mean-- I’m Remmy. I mean, I’m here for a tattoo. Well not a tattoo, I already have one. I want it like-- uh, altered? I need it-- yup. Altered. That’s what I’m here for. Right now. Um...Oh!” They finally reached out to take her hand, noticing that it was warmer-- kinda like Bea’s-- before stepping back a little. “Are you the artist? Do you like, um-- I...don’t really know how this works. Sorry.”

Eyebrow raising as the person began to stumble through their words, Luce nodded. Another nervous nellie. Which, given her own sister’s fear of needles, not an entirely inaccurate saying either. As they continued to ramble on, Luce realized that they were saying something that sounded familiar-- the whole, altering thing. Talking about it like tattoos were a jacket or something. “I think we might have talked about this online, actually. Good to meet you in person. And, you lucked out, Remmy. Because I’ve got a solid 4 hours free.” She said with a slight grimace. Fucking cancellations. She was willing to bet it was probably some guy who got too drunk last night and missed his appointment while nursing a hangover in Al’s. “I’m not the artist. That would be Ulfric, he owns this place. I’m one of the artists who works here consistently. Me and Rory, a handful of others. Come on, let’s talk shop in my workspace.” She said, gesturing for them to follow her back to her private room in the shop. It was a neat and organized place, with a few shelves that had a couple candles, a polished citrine crystal, and some of her artwork hanging on the walls. A pinboard with a bunch of pre-made design stencils filled one wall, the prices written on the corner. “So,” Luce said as she slid into her chair, opening her laptop, “What am I working with and what are you thinking?” 

“Oh! Yeah!” Remmy said, trying to recall the conversation. Their thoughts had jumbled that night, after learning about Blanche’s house exorcism gone wrong. But that was in the past and everything was okay now. They could take this time to focus on them, and just them. And not the very attractive person who was now saying things. Things Remmy should probably listen to. Tuning back in, Remmy nodded. “Right, yeah! Let’s-- yeah.” They followed Luce back to her station, eyes wandering. Landing on some of the charcoal drawings hung up on the walls. “Did you do these?” they asked, leaning in a bit closer, but keeping a good distance. They knew not to touch other peoples’ art. They looked almost like some of the things Remmy doodled. Lots of shapes and straight lines. Remmy liked drawing buildings and objects. Things that a calculated mind could easily recreate. They turned back to face her, unsure of where to sit, shuffling around. “Uh, it’s-- I can sh--” they started, but stopped. Showing her meant taking their sweater off. It meant showing someone their tattoo for the first time since they’d gotten back. It was usually always covered. “It’s on my back. It’s um...some names, in a circle. And uh, dog tag chains.” 

“I did. Clean lines and geometric work are kind of my thing.” Luce said, tilting her head to the stencils on the wall, “But, I’m also good at a lot of other styles. American traditional, Japanese traditional, black work, you name it, I can do it. I draw the line at new school. I don’t do bubbly graffiti art.” She grimaced. She hated that oversaturated shit. Watching as they looked over the art on her walls, Luce leaned back in her chair, amused. Maybe they were an artist too. Starving artist, by the looks of their clothes. But, that was how it went sometimes. Watching the way they fidgeted, Luce pointed at one of the chairs by the door. “Have a seat. Please.” She added. Maybe the politeness would help their nerves. As they described their tattoo to her, Luce fought to keep her expression neutral. But still... Dog tags. Luce wasn’t a stranger to doing military tattoos and if someone wanted a tattoo with names and dog tags altered? That meant some big shit must have gone down. “Mhm. Okay. What are you thinking about doing with them?”

“Wow, they’re really good,” Remmy said with a genuine awe. They always wondered how people could make such great things, out of their own minds. Glancing back at Luce, they nodded quickly. “Right, yeah. Sit. Okay.” And fell into the chair quickly, stumbling only a little. They looked at her, then down at their shoes. They should’ve worn nicer shoes. And nicer pants. And...not a weird baggy sweater. Remmy smoothed their palms down their thighs before looking up at her again. “Uh, oh. I mean...I don’t really know. What I want to do with it. Just that...I want it to feel better. Um-- sorry, that doesn’t make sense. I mean, I want it to not be...what it is. What it represents? I want it to be...a good thing. Not--” a representation of death. Remmy bit their bottom lip. “I was kinda hoping someone else could help like, figure it out? I’m not all that creative, really. Better with the like, looking at something and drawing it side. Like buildings! And cars.” 

“Thanks.” Luce said with a wry smile. Not that she doubted that Remmy meant it-- if anything, she had a feeling they were very serious in how they felt about her works. But, there were still flaw with her art, still discrepancies here and there. Crooked lines, pieces that didn’t fully work as a whole. She kept the art mainly as a reminder that there was always room for improvement. Swivelling in her chair to face her client, Luce listened as they rambled their way through their thoughts. And the way that they petered off at the end of their sentence confirmed her suspicions. This tattoo, it carried weight. It carried baggage. And this person literally had a burden that no one else could understand, weighing down on their shoulders. “Okay. So, what I want to know is, do you want it covered up? Or do you want it changed in a way that it’s still visible and still a part of you. Because those are very, very different things. People like to say that art is just art, but there’s more to it.” Luce said, pausing for a moment. “I’m not a therapist, won’t claim to be one either. But this is some heavy shit, I’m guessing. And I want to make sure you’re making the right decision, for present and future you, with this.”

“The second one,” Remmy said quickly, “definitely the...second one. I don’t want it covered up. I--” like it? No. That wasn’t quite the right word. Remmy had always been bad at finding the right words. “--need it.” Want it, even. They subconsciously reached back, fingers pressing where the names were under their sweater. Their eyes fell back to their shoes. They really needed new shoes. “It’s-- it’s not that big of a deal, really. It was just, like, stupid kids making a stupid promise to each other. And I...want to honor the like...thought behind it. Maybe not like, what it represents, what it came to be but like...what we wanted them to mean. What it should mean.” They dropped their hand, plucked at a loose string. “Sorry. I um...I’m really bad at explaining things.”

Oh boy. Luce hadn’t been wrong about this tattoo having a lot of baggage behind it, if they were this uncomfortable talking about it. Watching the way they averted their eyes, the way they reached for a spot on their shoulder, Luce folded her arms across her chest contemplatively. On the one hand, this seemed like something that might be out of her depth. On the other hand… she loved a challenge. And they seemed like a good person, just a bit lost. Nothing like getting an old piece refreshed to help the soul. “It’s all good. And hey. It’s something that’s got a lot of meaning to you clearly. Both then and now. So. Honoring the people you served with. I can get behind that.” She said, mulling over some ideas. It would all depend on the placement of the tattoo, of course. “I’m gonna close the door, give us some privacy so you can show me what you’ve got. I kinda need to know what I’m working with.” Luce explained.

“Oh, good, cool,” Remmy said, smacking themself internally for how stupid they sounded. “Now? You need to-- yeah. Okay. Um-- yeah. Okay! I can...do that.” They watched her close the door and shuffled in the chair a little. They waited until Luce was sitting again before tugging their sweater off, thankful they’d decided to put their binder on today instead of just using the wrap. “It’s uh,” putting the sweater aside, they turned so that their left shoulder was facing Luce better. “Back here,” pointed at the spot, “kinda covered, I can...move it.” Under the fabric was a simple tattoo: four names, each surrounded by the outline of a dog tag. Like a list, almost. Calvin Lancer, Lieutenant. Jeremy Andrews, Second Lieutenant. Ken Johnson, Private. Darius Mulberry, Combat Medic. All in a row down their shoulder, an almost mechanical tattoo. They glanced up at Luce, wondering what she could have thought about it. If it was savable.

Giving them space, Luce settled back down in her chair and politely waited for them to show her the tattoo. The flash of the binder wasn’t too surprising, they seemed pretty androgynous. But, never hurt to be clear. “Real quick-- preferred pronouns? And, if I’m down to do this tattoo, are you cool with me being your artist? We’ve got male tattoo artists as well, just putting that option out there.” She said. The worst thing a tattoo artist could do, besides fuck up a tattoo, was make their client uncomfortable and she didn’t want to do that at all. As she took in the very basic, nondescript tattoo, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. The implication of getting this altered was very, very real to her. “I see. And you’re looking to get something to honor them.” She said mulling the tattoo over. She could think of something already. Maybe adding chains that linked them together? Or some kind of decorative outline? “I know you said you’re not good at creative stuff-- I call bullshit on that, by the way. What kind of things do you like, visually, to look at? That could give me a good idea of what to do, what options I have.”

“Preferred--” Remmy started, confused, then stopped. They still weren’t used to the question and although it came as a surprise, it felt nice, too. To be seen this way. They gave a little shrug. “Uh, just...they. Um, thanks. No! You-- you’re fine. I prefer women.” Paused. “I mean like, for this!” Paused again. “But not that I don’t-- it’s, uh--” snapped their jaw shut. They were rambling again. “Sorry! Sorry. I get uh-- a little nervous.” They should’ve brought Moose, but they weren’t sure he’d like it here, with all the small noises. They watched Luce examine the tattoo, glancing down at their feet again, hands wringing together. “Oh, um, I’m-- I’m really not. Creative. Or like, good at it. Being creative. I just like, you know, looking at nature. And airplanes. I don’t know why, they always look cool to me. Like...I can’t believe someone built this. Of course it’s like a lot of someone’s, but like, someone saw it in their head and designed it and made it real. And like, mechanical things, I guess? I like um, shapes, you know? Like you were saying, that you do. Um...geometric stuff?”

Listening to the way they rambled on, Luce resisted the urge to smirk at them-- if they weren’t a client, she definitely would. But, they were probably just nervous at the prospect of the tattoo alteration. It was a big step, it seemed. And she was going to be here to help them through it. “Noted. On all accounts.” She said with a reassuring smile. “And don’t worry, everyone gets nervous, even if they don’t admit it.” As they began to talk about what things they liked to look at, the things that interested them, Luce pulled out a physical binder of her portfolio and handed it to them. “Why don’t you take a look through this while I do a rough sketch of what I’m thinking? See if anything catches your eye.” Her brain was already churning with ideas for how she could make this tattoo something that wasn’t just a burden, but something… commemorative. A legacy to the bonds of-- hm. That was an idea. Booting up her tablet, she began to do a rough sketch of the dog tags that already existed, and then began to add her own details. Chains, snaking from each tag, coming together, intertwining and then. She glanced over at her client, pursing her lips. It was worth a shot. Luce added another dog tag connected to the four other tags by the winding chains.

Remmy took the binder gratefully and started flipping through it, awed by all the designs she had in there. “You did all of these? They’re...incredible…” Looked up for a moment. “Oh, well, like-- I think I kinda get um-- extra nervous. Especially like, around, well...um.” Cleared their throat. “My friend keeps telling me I need to stop apologizing so much, too…” they trailed off, biting their bottom lip, looking at Luce, then back down at the binder. “Harder to do than it sounds.” After all, Remmy had been apologizing for their existence almost their whole life. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to know that...Sorry. Dammit.” Gave a half chuckle. “See?” They flipped the page and something jumped out to them. It was familiar, it looked sort of like the design they’d seen it on some of the memorabilia their uncle had back home. “Oh, hey-- I kinda like this? It looks kinda like um...that knot thing...celtic knots?” they said, raising the binder to try and show Luce. 

“Yup, I did. I’ve been tattooing for 5 years officially, so I’ve got a nice little collection of pieces to show off,” Luce said, eyes still focused on her draft. Mm. That line looked weird. And those chains were off. Switching between reference pictures, she began to add more detail to it, just to give a clearer idea of what she was going for. “Apologize, don’t apologize, all that matters is you’re true to yourself.” She said with a shrug. “But, you’re good. Consider this an apology free zone.” Luce said with a grin. Swiveling around in her chair, Luce looked over at the picture they were holding up. Celtic knots. “Good choice. Those are symbolic of friendship, love, eternity, depending on the one. There’s the Sailor’s Knot, which is more indicative of friendship and the bonds forged tightly. And there’s also the Shield Knot, which is one of enduring protection.” She said, pointing to the two different designs. “Which speaks to you more?”

Huh. That was a weird thought. Remmy nodded. Deirdre had said something like that, too-- just be true to yourself. It was hard, though, to act on that advice when Remmy didn’t know what their true self was, besides dead. They pushed the thought away. “Thanks,” was all they said, a little quieter, before setting the binder down, and looking at the two Luce had pointed out. “I think...the shield one. I like the sound of that one.” Enduring protection. Maybe they had failed their squadmates, but that didn’t mean their memories couldn’t stay to protect Remmy. To remind them that they were never alone. Yeah, that was it, wasn’t it? That’s what they needed. That reminder. It’d been the reason they’d gotten the tattoos, after all, in the first place. “Definitely the second one,” they said more confidently, finally looking Luce in the eyes. It only lasted a second, but they were able to give her a nod, before dropping their eyes back to the binder. 

“For sure. And I meant it, you know. Like, my whole job revolves around being true to yourself. Tattoos are reflective of the people who have them, no matter what they are.” Luce said with a firm nod. Her job had allowed her to find her own voice, to speak her mind, and be honest with who she was. And it had been a very long and difficult lesson to learn, but ultimately rewarding. “The shield should work well with what I’m thinking. Give me a bit and I’ll show you the rough draft of what I’ve got. Obviously, it’ll take me more time to get the final design done, but it shouldn’t take too long.” She said. When they looked up and met her gaze, Luce was pleasantly surprised by the determination that she saw there. “You’ve got great eyes, by the way.” She said as she turned back to her design, erasing the original entanglement of chains and pulling up a reference for the shield knot. “Just an artistic observation, that’s all.”

“Oh, yeah, that-that makes sense. I mean...I just kinda figured I’d do it cause it was like, a group thing, we all promised we’d do it,” Remmy said, their mouth once again getting ahead of their brain.”We were kinda young and dumb at the time, though. I don’t think any of us put much thought into it…” They slowed, stopped talking again. “Oh, that’s fine! Yeah, um...take your time. I know I kinda like, sprung this on you. Sorry about that.” They scratched the back of their head, feeling their cheeks grow hot a moment. “I-- great eyes? Do you mean like, for the knot? Cause, like, technically I just liked it cause my Uncle had it around his place a lot. Like, as a symbol? On pictures and like, letterheads. And-- that’s...that’s not important. Sorry.” 

“Even if you didn’t, it’s still representative of who you were at the time. Young and dumb isn’t how I’d classify it though,” Luce said as she filled in the intricate loops and connecting lines of the celtic symbol. “You all cared about each other enough to go all in on something like this. That says a lot.” In the brief lull of conversation, Luce began to erase some of her guidelines and added some chain detailing to the shield knot. “Don’t apologize, you’re giving me something to do. It’s my job.” She nodded. Leaning back from the screen, she looked at the draft, frowned, and then began to erase some of her lines. She didn’t like how the chains fed in, if she fixed it here… Better. “I meant you have great eyes. Very nice color.” She said, “No, keep talking. It’s interesting, gives backstory to the piece.”

Remmy didn’t comment on Luce’s observation. She was probably right, but Remmy didn’t want to think about all that right now. They’d just gotten through a big episode of grieving them, crying on Morgan, crying with Skylar, yelling at Blanche...they just didn’t want to think about it anymore. Blinking, Remmy looked up, trying to refocus on the conversation. “Huh? Oh, uh-- I mean...yeah, okay. If you say so.” They picked at a spot on their jeans again, cheeks turning warm. “I, uh-- oh. I do? I mean...thanks? Thanks. I mean thanks. You have nice eyes, too.” Oh, that was weird to say. “I mean pretty eyes! I mean, they look nice! Like...they’re also a nice color. They match your hair, too, and it’s, you-- kinda remind me of someone but like, you have a really pretty face.” Remmy clenched their jaw shut. “Fuck. Sorry. I ramble. So much. A lot. I say stupid things cause like my mouth gets ahead of my brain and I don’t think things through, um-- sorry. Anyway...yeah. My Uncle. He was Irish. So was my mom, I guess. But, like, my Uncle was really into the whole, heritage thing. Showed me what clan we were from and all that. Had our uh...special what it is, like...flag? Or um, crest? On some stuff. And a stamp of it. For letters and letterheads. He gave it to me, but I think I lost it in the move....”

“I do say so, yeah.” Luce said, leaning back to stare at the image for a moment before going back in to get the lines just how she wanted them. She wanted the new dog tag to stand out… Hm. Selecting the image, she rotated it ninety degrees so it was horizontal rather than vertical. Nice. That was more what she wanted. “Thanks. I like to think I’ve got a nice face.” She said, choosing to ignore the comment about her reminding them of someone. They probably meant Bea. Or Nell. Or even her mother. Ugh, not what she wanted to think about right now. “Like I said, talking gives background and meaning, so ramble away.” Listening to them as they talked about their family, Luce added in a few more lines until she was satisfied with the draft. “That’s cool that you’ve got that kind of family background. Who knows, you might find the stamp sometime. Now. How’s this look, just as a rough idea?” She asked, taking her laptop off the desk and bringing it over for Remmy to look at. 

Remmy watched Luce with curious eyes as she scratched away on her tablet. They’d never seen anyone use them before, and they’d always wondered how they worked. “Oh, uh, okay. Usually people tell me to stop talking. It’s a bad habit sometimes.” Finally, Luce finished and came over with the laptop. Remmy’s eyes lingered on it, but it didn’t entirely register until they saw the new tag Luce had added. It had their name on it. Intertwined with the knot and the other tags. Remmy didn’t know what to say for a moment. “I-It…” they stuttered a moment, “Yeah. I mean-- yes. Or, it looks great. Perfect. It’s…” they grew quiet. “Perfect.” 

“Most people are also assholes.” Luce said bluntly. “You can speak your mind, there’s nothing wrong with it.” She’d spent most of her childhood keeping her thoughts to herself, overshadowed by Bea at first and then by Nell. It had been easier to fade into the background, considering that Bea was the family’s pride and joy and Nell the on-going problem child. But, her job had shifted that perspective, made her realize her thoughts had merit. When Remmy gave their approval, she nodded once. “I’d hope it’s not perfect, this is just the first a draft. Give me a bit and I’ll get the finished product done and we can get to work. Just a heads up. You’ll have to have your binder off for this and you won’t be able to wear it for the rest of today. If that puts you in a bad headspace, we don’t have to do this. You can come back whenever you’re ready.” She said with a nod. “Just want to let you know.”

Remmy shrugged. “Oh, no, I-I don’t think they’re assholes, really. I...I can be a lot sometimes. I get that. Some people just can’t, like, handle it. It’s fine. I don’t mind.” They shifted in their chair as Luce explained the rest of what needed to happen. “Yeah, no-- of course. Not like, perfect perfect. But perfect as in like...perfect design? It-- it’s great. I could never-- I would’ve never been able to come up with something like that. It’s amazing, that could do that, just from, you know...me talking?” They looked down at their lap, hands wringing tightly. If they left, they knew they would never come back. Remmy shook their head. “No, I-- I’m okay. I’ll be okay. I wanna do it today. Let’s-- can we do it today?”

“Suit yourself.” She shrugged as she settled back into her chair, laptop back in place on her work table. Luce stretched her hand out for a moment before going back in on her tablet, making a new layer and beginning the cleaned up version. “Hope you don’t mind if I throw on some music, helps me focus.” She said, as she opened up Spotify and let some blues inspired rock and roll play in the room. The image began to flow from her fingertips, the lines appearing in time to the ebbs and flows of the music. The pounding bassline gave her the solid, clean lines of the new dog tag, the intricate guitar solo forming the celtic shield knot. Piece by piece, note by note, the tattoo came together. Erasing the last couple stray lines, Luce hit the preview button and walked back over to Remmy, flexing her hand slightly. “Anything you wanna change? Speak now or never.”

Remmy gave a nod. “No, that-- that’s fine.” They stayed sitting for the most part, as Luce began drawing up the final draft. They were impressed she was able to get into the zone so quickly, and that she could just...make something like that, from her mind. After a bit, they stood and shuffled around the room a little, looking at all the drawings she had hung up around. The intricate lines, the attention to details in each of the pictures, it made Remmy wish they could do something like that. The only person they’d ever shown their stuff to was Nate. He’d said it was good, but Remmy figured he was just being nice. Their stuff was just observational, they could never do anything like this. When Luce finally finished and came back over, Remmy turned to look at what she’d come up with. “Oh, woah! No way! That’s amazing! I love it. It’s perfect. Like, for real this time. Perfect perfect.” They paused. “Really.”

A genuine smile spread across Luce’s face as she watched Remmy take in the design. The way their face lit up, she knew she’d nailed it, even before they’d answered. Fuck yes. Nothing beat that kind of reaction. This, this was what she loved about her job. The art, yes, but seeing people love something new about themselves? That was special. Of course, she’d never tell anyone that. “Excellent. I’ll need you to take off your shirt and binder so I can get the stencil on there and then we’ll be ready to go.” She said, as she began to print out a couple different sizes of her design, just to see what would work best. While her printer began to spit out the stencils, she pulled out fresh needles for her machine, wiping down the leather of her chair with solution, and grabbing the ink she needed from her large rolling toolkit of supplies. With her back to Remmy, she spoke over her shoulder. “You can either lie down or stay standing while I put the stencil on. Your call.”

“Oh, uh-- I-I’ll lay down…” Remmy answered quickly, swallowing the lump in their throat. They tugged their shirt off and set it down on the chair they’d been sitting in before, folding it up neatly, military style-- It was a habit they still hadn’t been able to break-- before reaching down to remove their binder. Hands shook only slightly as they folded it up as well and set it on top of their shirt. It was somehow both terrifying and reassuring knowing that their body still looked the same, even after dying. Blocking the thought from going any further, Remmy went over to the work chair and sat. They were really doing this. Drawing in a soothing breath, Remmy closed their eyes a moment. This would help. This would help them move on. All of them. Letting the breath go, Remmy turned around and laid down. “Ready,” they said, only a tinge of nerves in their voice.

Luce waited until Remmy gave her the all clear before turning around. It took a few tries to get the stencils lined up properly-- that was the trick of altering a pre-existing tattoo. She had to make sure that everything looked cohesive and coherent, so that it didn’t look like two tattoos smashed together, but one complete image. Making sure all the chains lined up, she stepped back, getting a good look at it from a bit away. She wanted the tattoo to still be legible even from a distance. The spacing looked good, everything read well. Excellent. “Alright.” She said as she pulled on a pair of gloves and set up her machine, “We’re gonna get going, just let me know if you feel light headed or need a break. You can talk to me or just zone out, whatever helps you out.” She said, switching the tattoo machine on before dipping the tip in the ink and setting to work. 

Remmy kept quiet as Luce lined up the stencil. They could feel the paper against their back, the slight touch of her hands, and wondered if she had cold hands like them. Or maybe warm hands, like Nell and Bea. It was a weird thing to wonder, but Remmy noticed they’d started wondering that more about everyone they met. Finally, the needle flicked on and Luce sat beside them. Last time, Remmy remembered it hurting a little bit, but even back then, they’d been pretty good at withstanding pain. It was an old feeling, to them. “Oh, yeah...will do. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” they gave a thumbs up and a small smile. “I’m good with pain.” Didn’t even feel her start working. Didn’t even flinch.

Focusing on her work, Luce began to make the outlines, her strokes long and precise. She took care to apply even pressure, shifting with the slight curve of their shoulder as the machine hummed in her hair. But, after the first few brushstrokes, she could tell something was off. How could she not? As she wiped away excess ink with a paper towel, Luce was startled to see the skin she’d just tattooed looking… whole. Complete. As though the ink she’d just put underneath it had been there for at least a month, if not longer. “What--” She started to say, but quickly changed the words, “What made you decide to get this altered? It looks like you’ve had it for a while.” Luce said, making conversation as her eyes remained laser focused on the bizarre image before her. With every swipe of her machine, the buzzing hum, and wipe away, the image remained the same. A healed tattoo. What the fuck? Whatever Remmy was, they weren’t human, they couldn’t be.

Remmy stayed silent as Luce began her work. The thought that anything weird would happen didn’t even cross their mind. They could feel like buzz deep in their chest, but not the pain of the needle. Only the pen, drawing lines across their skin, like their skin was canvas made specifically to pain upon. Remmy had always loved drawing all over their arms as a kid, even their legs, even in school. Sitting bored and alone, they’d turn any piece of showing skin into a continuous line of doodles. Mostly just straight lines and zigzags, swirls and shapes. Luce paused a moment and Remmy stiffened. Was something wrong? “Wha-- oh, um...I’ve had it a couple years but I…” they tried to relax, hands unclenching. “It just felt right? It felt like it was time, I guess. To let them...to let it go.” 

As Remmy talked, Luce continued to tattoo their shoulder, still frowning. What the fuck was this person? Their skin felt normal, at least, as far as she could tell. Were they a hunter? Hunters healed quick, she knew that much. Or some other kind of weird creature. She knew just from hanging around Ulfric that werewolves healed quicker than most, but this was like an instant thing. Weird. Definitely weird. But, it honestly made her job a little more interesting, a little faster too. “Mhm. Makes sense. Give yourself closure, but honor them.” She said, as she continued to add base outlines. The lines were coming quick and easy, the ink taking to the skin without problem. And it really didn’t seem as though the tattoo was bothering them-- usually people would flinch a little bit, even if they tried to stay still. “What do you do around town, Remmy?” She asked, making conversation. 

“Yeah,” Remmy repeated quietly, “closure.” They knew that altering a tattoo wasn’t going to magically make everything okay, but it was a step in the right direction, right? It had to be. They knew if they could just put this all behind them, everything would be okay. If they could just stop thinking about what had happened. If they could just remember. “Oh, um-- I’m an overnight security guard, mostly. I help my friend around his office, too, for a little extra cash,” they said, remembering they needed to message Nate soon, see how he was doing in all this eternal night stuff. Hoped he was staying safe. “He owns his own architecture firm. It’s pretty neat! He’s a little nervous, though, so I take care of his chores and stuff around town and the office.”

“Night shift security guard and odd jobs? You must drink a lot of coffee.” Luce commented as she finished the last few outlines, completing the new dog tag that would be connected with the others. The shoulder wasn’t a spot that usually bothered people, but when you were working over and over, people tended to at least feel it. And Remmy wasn’t even reacting. Weird. Maybe they just had dead nerves or something? She’d tattooed over scars before, tattooed people who’d been through shit. Maybe that’s what this was. But, why the fuck were the lines healing over so quick? “Nice. Must be nice working for an architect, what with you saying you like buildings.” She said as she added some basic shading. 

“Well, the overnight thing is only part time,” Remmy commented. “Plus, I don’t really sleep a lot anyway...gotta do something with my time, right?” They almost shrugged, but stopped themselves. Moving was probably a bad idea. “Oh, yeah! It’s great. I like looking at his stuff. He does a lot of environmental and green design, it’s really neat to see. I never really knew that was a thing till he showed me.” They smiled at the thought. They loved looking at Nate’s stuff and could only wish they could do something like that. “I dunno. I guess I just really like, like..geometric things? Like shapes and lines and tessellations stuff. They just...make sense in my head.” 

“Got insomnia or something?” Luce asked, leaning back to take a good look at her handiwork. It was coming along a lot faster than she thought it would. Damn. “Hm. That’s pretty cool. I’m no architect, but I can respect environmental design.” She didn’t know shit about what went into designing a house like that, but it was cool that there was someone in White Crest who did. The designs would probably be really interesting to look at. “Makes sense to you? What do you mean by that?” She asked. The conversation was interesting, but she was mostly asking because it would allow her to be a bit… more intense with her work. She wanted to try something out. Picking a spot that needed to be darker, Luce pressed down, applying just a bit more pressure than she normally would and watched Remmy for a reaction. No matter how macho they were, this would get some kind of response. Most clients acclimatized to the pain and pressure, so if there was a change… they’d notice. 

“Something like that…” Remmy mumbled. That’s what the doctor’s had first told them when they’d been in the hospital, but now they were questioning everything about that year and a half alone, recovering. Was anything they’d said true? “It’s super neat! You should check it out sometime. There’s lots of stuff on Google about it.” They turned their head a bit to see if they could see Luce before looking back forward. “Oh, um-- it’s kinda hard to explain? But like...I can like, look at something and know how it all like, works together? Usually mechanical things, or like...um...infrastructure? Or, what do you call the insides of buildings? Uh...foundations! Building foundations. Things with like geometric volumes and stuff. Like I can look at most puzzle boxes and just....know how they work. It’s...I dunno. It just makes sense in my head.” They paused, feeling the increased pressure, but not moving or saying anything, not wanting to mess her up. “How, um-- how’s it going?” they asked after a moment.

“That sucks. I’m in the same boat. Not all the time, but sleeping is,” Luce let out a sigh as she wiped away more ink. “An elusive bitch sometimes.” And moving in with her sisters hadn’t made that any better. At least back in her cabin, she could wander around her house as much as she wanted. She didn’t want to poke her head out of her room and risk running into Nell or Bea in the middle of a fight, so she was stuck in her room most nights. “Don’t move.” She warned, pulling her hand back from their back before resuming once they’d turned in place. Listening to them continue to talk, she squinted in confusion. Was this some kind of supernatural thing? Or were they just super logical? When they didn’t react to the change in pressure, her expression of confusion only deepend. What the fuck. But, when they spoke up, she eased up. “Just had to do some deeper shading. It’s all good. Should be done soon, by the way.” She said

“Oh, I-- I’m sorry. It’s not fun, that’s for sure,” Remmy said back, letting out a little sigh. They’re fingers plucked at a loose thread on the chair. Pausing to hold perfectly still when Luce asked them to, making sure they didn’t mess anything up. They turned their head to rest their cheek against the rest of the chair. Tried to imagine the lines Luce was tracing into their skin, closing their eyes to try and feel the pressure more. Little prickles, but no pain. It felt more like someone was dragging a pencil down their skin. “Oh, uh,” they opened their eyes again, blinking, “no worries! I’m good. But yeah, cool, great! I can’t wait to see it.”

“That’s just how it goes sometimes.” Luce said, eyes focused on the tattoo. The rest of the session went by without any problem, though she still couldn’t figure out why the fuck they were healing so quickly. What the fuck kind of supernatural creature were they? Pushing the thoughts out of her mind, Luce finished up the shading work, kept her hand steady and her pressure nice and light as she got the details just right. And, for good measure, she added the same kind of shading around the original tattoo. She touched up the lines of the dog tags, went over the lettering, and added some depth to the image so it worked with the rest of the tattoo. Shutting off the machine, she wiped off the last bit of ink before standing up. “Alright, we’re all done. Take a look in the mirror and let me know what you think.” Luce said, turning to give them some privacy.

The minutes ticked by slowly, it felt, but in no time at all, Luce was declaring it done. Remmy’s mind had drifted during the lull, thinking back to when they’d all first gotten the tattoos. Darius was originally the most nervous one, and he’d only agreed after Remmy had said they could get theirs together. They’d even held hands during the process, wincing and clenching hands tightly. They were pretty sure he’d bruised their hand but it didn’t matter. They’d done it together. A silent promise. Remmy blinked when Luce finally spoke up again. Shifting slightly, they waited for Luce to turn around before wiping the tears that had gathered behind their eyes and heading over to the mirror, turning to look at it. If it was possible, their breath woulda caught. The intricacy of the design was something to behold. And the way it had turned something so...mechanical into something worth looking at, Remmy could only stare. More tears coming, but they quickly wiped them away again. Now wasn’t the time. “It’s...it’s amazing. You do amazing work,” they finally said, heading back over to their shirt and slipping it on, leaving the binder off for now. They remembered the last time the guy said to not wear anything that would rub for a few days. “I...thank you. So much.”

Luce waited patiently for Remmy to look at the tattoo, taking the opportunity to throw away her gloves and clean up her machine. Silent seconds ticked by, until they spoke up, letting her know that she could turn around. “No worries. Thanks for giving me a cool project to work on.” She said with a nod. It was a better use of her time than just sitting around aimlessly until her next appointment. And she still had time to grab something to eat before she had to get back to work. Grabbing a card and sharpie from her desk, she walked over to shake their hand. “If you ever decide to get another, here’s my card. It’s got a link to my portfolio for you to check out whenever.” Luce wrote down her cell number on the back. “And my number.” Whoever this person was, they were an interesting one. Talking to them outside of work might mean she could figure out what the fuck they were. “Anyways, the gal up front will ring you up, should be about $275.” She said frankly. At the end of the day, job’s a job. And she was getting paid for this.

Remmy took the car gratefully, giving a soft smile. “Thanks! This is great. I’ll definitely check it out and like...let my friends know about you.” They pocketed the card, making sure to keep it safe, looking at Luce. “Um-- thank you, again. It’s-- this was helpful.” They turned to leave again before stopping to look back at Luce. “I, uh-- it was nice to meet you. Really. I hope people stop cancelling on you, cause like, you’re pretty awesome.” They gave a crooked smile before turning to finally head out. “Promise I’ll leave a good tip!” And maybe this had been an impulse, but at least it had been their own decision this time. And maybe it was going to fix everything, but now, at least, it didn’t weigh so heavy on their shoulder anymore.

[verai-marcel]

Before This Dance Is Through (RDR2 Fanfic, Chapter 3 of 3, Arthur x Fem!Reader, 18+ ONLY)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

AO3 link is right here.

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Chapter 3 - Dance Into My Heart

He gave you his address and told you where the guest parking was at his apartment complex. When you got there, he was waiting for you, walking you up the stairs and letting you into his small studio apartment. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but you didn’t expect the photos of people on the walls, the rustic furniture, the vase of flowers on his table.

Walking up to one of the photos, you recognized Javier and Charles, standing with Arthur in front of some motorbikes. They all looked young, probably somewhere in their late teens. A man with a mustache and slicked back hair stood behind them with his arms crossed, like some kind of gang leader. Like a modern day Fagin and his pickpocketing orphans.

“Wow. Looks like you guys were a biker gang,” you said jokingly, glancing at him over your shoulder.

Arthur just shrugged, but didn’t comment. You made a mental note to ask him more later. Turning to face him, you smiled and stuck out your hip with your arms akimbo. “So, was there a reason you brought me here?” You winked.

“Did I need one?” He moseyed closer to you, his steps deliberate, heavy with purpose. He knew what he wanted, and he was coming to get it. Standing before you, he cupped your face in his warm hands and leaned in, his eyes watching you to see if you would back away.

You closed your eyes and parted your lips in an open invitation. He accepted, starting with a soft touch, gently coaxing a moan from you as the kiss grew like a wildfire, the passion burning between you two growing ever hotter. Hands wandering, you started to unbutton his vest.

“You sure, darlin’?”

“Yes, more than anything.”

Arthur hummed and helped you take off his vest, then his shirt. You let out a sound of utter need as you ran your hands over his shoulders, down his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his warm skin. He reached behind you and unzipped your dress, watching raptly as it slid down your body, revealing your sexy black bra and lace panties that you had worn just in case. You were glad you had, because he let out a shaky breath before he bent over to kiss your breasts, kneading them in his hands before he unhooked your bra and slid it off of you so he could lick your nipples, one after the other. 

Then you felt his hands on your waistband, sliding your panties down your hips, letting it fall down your legs, before he gently caressed your sex. You parted your legs for him, and he dipped a finger inside of you.

“Wet for me, sweetheart?”

You could only moan as he stroked you, pleasuring you with his hands as he kissed you. He slowly walked you backwards until you fell onto his bed with a surprised gasp and a shy giggle. Bending over to help you sit up, Arthur caressed your cheek as he stood up straight and slowly started to take off his belt. 

Watching him sexily strip his belt off, you smiled at the fact that you were at eye level with the top of his pants. You looked up at him and licked your lips as you undid his fly and tugged his jeans and his boxers down his hips.

His cock almost slapped you in the face as it bounced free, and you eagerly grabbed it and stroked it lovingly. God, he was so thick. And long. You felt your core pulsing with need as you opened your mouth and took him in, keeping your gaze locked onto his as you did so.

“Fuck,” was all he could utter as you sucked on him, swirling your tongue all around his sensitive skin and making sure that he felt as much pleasure as possible. You felt his hand fisting your hair but not forcing you to take more than you could. However, his hips bucked forward, making you pull back and cough softly. 

“Sorry darlin’,” he said, pulling out of your mouth. “Felt too good. Better we do somethin’ else before I completely lose control.”

He shed all of his clothes and maneuvered you further up the bed before climbing on top of you, rubbing his cock along your wet entrance. Then he backed away and you whimpered. He reached past you, searching his night stand.

“I need a condom.”

You stared at him, wanting him raw, but you didn’t really know his history. “Are… you… um…”

“I’m clean. But I don't want to risk you gettin' pregnant.”

You let out a breath. “It's okay, I'm clean too, and I'm on the pill.” You put a hand on his cheek, felt the stubble and watched him lean into your touch like a cat. "Take me raw."

"You sure?" 

"Yes. Do you not want to?" 

He kissed you as his answer as he started to push himself inside of you, taking you slowly so you could stretch around his thick length. You moaned, feeling so filled when he finally bottomed out.

Arthur buried his face in your neck and inhaled. “You feel so damn good. I never want to leave.” He started to roll his hips, starting slow and steady as he made love to you. Never rushing, almost languid in his movements until you wrapped your arms and legs around him and begged.

“Please, please Arthur, harder, faster! Fuck me, fuck me!”

Arthur immediately ramped up his thrusts, giving you exactly what you needed. He was a strong man, and he pounded you into the mattress, growling in your ear like an animal in heat that you had unleashed with your desire. 

“Yes, yes, use me!” you pleaded.

His hand wrapped around your throat and his other hand grabbed your hair. Feeling the pressure of his hands, the tug on your scalp, you almost came from it, crying out with joy as you kept begging for more.

Arthur sat back on his haunches and flipped you over onto your stomach. “Want it rough, darlin’?”

“Yes, please!”

He impaled you from behind, putting one hand on the small of your back to hold you down as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and fucked you into submission.

“Didn’t know you were like this,” he rumbled. “I like it.” He fell upon you, wrapping a beefy arm around your shoulders as he kept pulling your hair. “My girl, ain’t that right?”

“Oh, yes, Arthur, I’m yours, all yours!”

He moaned and rolled over, taking you with him as he fucked you from below. He was now able to stroke your clit as he pumped in and out of you, driving you to the edge. 

“Want my cum, sweetheart?”

“Yes, fuck yes!”

“Deep inside?”

“Yes, please!”

“Then be a good girl and come for me," he growled into your ear before laying open mouth kisses on your neck. 

You gasped as his strokes became more insistent, your pleasure reaching a peak and unleashing an avalanche within you, pure ecstasy radiating from your core out to the rest of your body. You writhed in his arms, sobbing from the euphoria coursing through your veins. 

Arthur couldn’t even form words as he gripped your hips so tightly that it bordered on pain. He pistoned into you, exploding inside of you with deep moans, his thick cock pumping every last drop into you.

As the two of you took a few moments to catch your breath, you lay on top of him on your back, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re a sex god.”

He chuckled softly. “That makes you a goddess.” He kissed your cheek before turning onto his side, taking you with him as he pulled you into his arms and spooned you.

“G’night, my darlin’.”

***

You woke up with Arthur’s arm still around your waist, your back against his chest. You didn’t want to leave, but you had to relieve yourself. Carefully extracting yourself from his arm, you went to use the bathroom.

Coming back to bed, you saw the sketchbook sitting on his table. Checking to make sure Arthur was asleep, your curiosity got the better of you. Tip-toeing to the table, you carefully flipped through the sketchbook, seeing some of the tattoo designs that you recognized from the finished versions on Instagram. You knew you should’ve stopped flipping through the pages, but each design was ethereal in its sketch form, each pencil stroke like the feather of a bird, having its place amongst the picture as a whole.

Then you flipped past a bunch of blank pages, thinking you had reached the end, until you turned to a page and stopped, your breath caught.

It was undoubtedly a sketch of you. Your hair was in its usual state after a long day at work, and the pose was clearly of you bending down to play with a cat, a pixie smile of your face. You were holding a feather above a cat’s head, as it reached up to bat at you; even with the few lines he used, you could tell it was Gaspar, the Russian blue cat that had been adopted months earlier.

Which meant… this sketch was from around the time when he had first met you. 

You flipped to the next few pages, and it was more of you, in different poses around the coffee shop, usually in motion, looking much more beautiful than you actually felt. The last sketch was of you dancing that morning, your body arcing and your arms flung out to the world, his pencil making sensual lines that almost looked like they were moving on their own.

“Whatchu lookin’ at?”

You whirled around. Arthur was on his elbow in bed, looking at you with an inquisitive gaze. The bedsheet was wrapped around his hip, keeping him decent, but barely. Your eyes roamed the line of his legs, his torso, his arms, up to his face. Feeling guilty, you looked down, but looked up again as you decided to just own your indiscretion.

“Sorry, I was too curious about your sketchbook.”

Arthur just nodded his head and got up, the sheet sliding from his body, revealing everything. Your mouth went dry as he padded towards you in all of his naked glory. Standing in front of you, not touching you though you so desperately wanted him to, he reached around to pick up his sketchbook and looked at which page you had left off.

“So I guess you figured out that I been watchin’ you fer a long time now.”

You nodded.

“That weird you out?”

You shook your head. “Your sketches make me look way more graceful than I am.”

He immediately set down the book and cupped your cheeks in both hands. “Darlin’, I draw what I see. And I see a graceful, beautiful woman that I want to get to know better.” He kissed your forehead. “That alright with you?”

“More than alright.” You smiled warmly at him. 

He returned a warm smile of his own. It felt like home.

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

End Notes: Title lovingly ripped off from a Beatles song…. “Before this dance is through, I think I’ll love you too…” So I left little bits of info, and in my head, there’s a backstory for everything: the vase is just something he picked up at a thrift store, because sometimes a customer will send him flowers as a thanks for the tattoo, which is the only thing he’ll personally post on his own Instagram (because Javi posts everything else), with a thank you note to the customer. By the way, he always has flowers in his apartment.