#Artist reader

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ooo you’re doing Pressure!!

May I request an artist reader who, throughout the journey found some paper, pencil and made a little makeshift sketchbook and when later bought Sebastian’s document decided to try and draw him? Like maybe both when human and current (and maybe the monsters)? 

Perhaps he saw them sketching, got curious and decided to look through it when reader left it somewhere or just straight up snatched it and held it out of their reach and sees those sketches of him. Could be hurt/comfort or angst/fluff.

Of course you’re free to change any of the details but please keep it platonic TwT

Aw love this idea! And it works considering all the paper and notebooks in the drawers of the blacksite.

............

"Great, [y/n]. One moment, you're doing some harmless graffiti on a brick wall nobody cares about. And the next, you're risking your life for a stupid crystal in hopes you'll get a federal pardon.."

Sighing, you held onto the overhead handles within the sleek black submarine, feeling it shake and rumble as it breached the water's surface. And after hearing the chime, the door hissed and opened up, the platform extending out onto the dock of a place already familiar to you: Hadal Blacksite.

'No place like home..' As you stepped out of the submarine, you could hear HQ over the PDA system informing you of your objective in reaching the crystal and collecting any "loose assets" you find along the way...

As if you needed any reminders of what you were doing here.

Immediately, you unlocked the first door with the keycard and began your journey to room 100. Along the way, you found a good handful of research data. Nothing too special aside from folders, USB drives, and a couple blue DNA vials.

Then after narrowly dodging the Angler in one area and avoiding Eyefestation's gaze in the next, you reached a room requiring yet another keycard to exit. You checked the nearby office cubicle, finding it in the first drawer you opened.

But that isn't what made your eyes light up. Rather, it's what was right next to the card that did:

A brand new pencil to go with the sketchbook you've been carrying with you.

Because you weren't given the luxury of doodling while sitting in jail for over 90 days, you felt your creativity flames being snuffed out, leaving you itching to draw something again.

Before all of this, you had a decent following on social media with your art skills, and you could imagine that they're worried sick over your sudden absence. But you hoped that, if you survive and succeed in this mission, you'll be able to come back and reassure them that you're very much alive.

And perhaps show them what Urbanshade has been hiding from the public...that is to say the sea monsters that have taken up residence in the Blacksite since its lockdown, freely roaming and haunting nearly every room you step into.

With the makeshift sketchbook you had (and somehow kept even after death), you've filled its pages with simple and detailed sketches of each creature you encountered.

But you doubt that they would let you leave with physical evidence of entities nobody else in the world should know about...unless you somehow convinced the guards that they were "original characters" that so-happened to look like them, but you had a feeling that excuse wouldn't fly.

Regardless, they've given you tons of artistic inspiration, despite your many close-calls with them in pursuit of studying their features from afar.

Thanks to the files Sebastian Solace has shown you, you've learned how to safely observe the Angler from a distance and better remember their details. They were merely a grotesque face surrounded by smoke, so you didn't have to worry about drawing any limbs or tails (assuming they had those).

You encountered their variants so many times that you could recall the little things that made each them unique--like how Pinkie had four pupils, how Blitz was missing pupils in one socket completely, how Froger was..well..a big frog with lots of needle-shaped teeth, and Chainsmoker was a sluggish blobfish through all that smoke.

Making eye contact with Pandemonium was a death sentence..as you've already learned after trying (and failing) to safely observe him through a glass window. So you draw him as you see him in his file.

The Squiddles' "intimidating" faces were scary in the dark when you least expected them, but they served as amazing inspiration. You even had a page full of what faces you'd think they make up to frighten others. It's too bad you couldn't show them, however, as that required you getting in their personal space.

Eyefestation, Good People, and the Wall Dwellers were quite..risky to observe, as they had ways of quickly and painfully sending you back to square one if you weren't careful. Even so, you made some pretty damn good sketches..and you wish you could show them off to them, too, especially to the shark who'd probably appreciate a human's drawing of herself.

Even the DiVine, who were always frozen in poses for some reason, joined your ever-growing list of muses. The oxygen gardens were a nice place for you to rest and appreciate the flora for a few moments--before an Angler came along, of course.

Then there was Sebastian.

While he was fully aware of your artistic passions, in the beginning he seemed a bit annoyed whenever you came into his shop just to sketch.....or if you took an unusually long time to reach him. He just assumes you've stopped to "doodle" and wonders if you really care about getting out of this place alive.

He'd remind you that HQ could get suspicious if you're off their radar for too long, but you've stayed in his shop for 10-20 minutes at a time and not once did your diving gear beep. So you reassured him not to fret.

It was kinda sweet that he worried over you, an expendable, although maybe that's because you actually treat him with decency..and don't take his snarky comments to heart whenever you died.

Aside from the occasional eyeroll whenever you brought out your sketchbook, he did inquire about some of the things you've drawn, and you'd show him, bearing a little pride in your work.

All you'd get in response was a "neato" or "wowie, that's how you see them?" and nothing more.

It wasn't insulting, so...you'll take that.

Obviously he was more concerned about how much research data you were willing to fork over in exchange for supplies, and how far that equipment will carry you before your next demise. So you'd eventually close the book and barter with him for whatever wares were on his tail.

Unbeknownst to him, you've actually started sketching him as of late. Now that you've met him dozens of times, it was easy for you to recall his features without needing to stare at him for reference every five seconds.

That would not only be rude, but very creepy.

Then one day, you showed up to Sebastian's shop with enough data to be able to afford his document, which described him as Z-13, "The Saboteur" who the company wanted "dead on sight" if he was spotted or trying to escape.

When you had time to read the file on your own, you learned some..pretty shocking things about how he caused the lockdown, went through torturous experiments, and was falsely accused of nine murders and was proven innocent far too late.

The most upsetting part was that he was never informed of this.

He learned that after presumably stealing his own document.

It made you feel sick to your stomach, knowing he's the reason you're being terrorized by those beasts, but you couldn't find it in your heart to be angry at him.

If anything you were angry at Urbanshade for their "guilty until proven innocent" system--or in his case, being proven innocent didn't matter.

His human mugshot was also included in the file, and even with the black censor bar covering his eyes, he still looked like quite a handsome fellow. You could make out some details, and ended up drawing him on a separate page, too, although part of you wishes you never started.

You doubt he would kill you or rip apart your book for drawing him, but considering how volatile and rude he could be at a moment's notice..you did your best to conceal the sketches when you visited his shop.

You didn't want him to be offended or reminded of his past..and make him resent the one person who he almost considered a genuine friend.

Unfortunately, you'd soon come to realize that your actions were only heightening his suspicions.

And that it was going to come to a head next time you entered his shop.

...............

"Okay, I'm going to bite...what're you really hiding in that little book?"

"Pardon?" Pausing mid-sketch, you looked up at Sebastian, wondering why he appeared so disgruntled. "I'm..uh...just doodling like I always-"

"No, don't give me that "like always" crap." He huffed, flicking the end of his tail as he crossed his two arms over his chest, staring down at you. "Last time, you couldn't stop showing me a stupid face you'd think one of those S-Qs would make...and now you won't even let me have a sneak peak of your next "masterpiece"." He spat the last word, voice dripping with disdain. "Are you really drawing something...or are you secretly writing intel to give to Urbanshade?"

"...wha.." You blinked in disbelief, wondering where he'd get that assumption from. "Why would I ever do that?"

"Oh I dunno, maaaybe because you have access to my file and know my location? I bet you're gonna sell me out to those scumbags once you reach the crystal." He gnashed his teeth. "Did they say you'd get extra cash for leaving tips on my whereabouts, huh?"

"Sebastian, there's no reason for this hostility. I'm not giving any intel to anyone-"

"Then you wouldn't mind me taking a look at this, would you? Yyyyyyoink!" His third arm was quick to snatch your sketchbook away, holding it out of your reach as you jumped up in panic.

You were already dreading his reaction.

This could very well be the end for you.

"Please give that back! You'll tear it!"

"You look frightened. So maybe I should, considering you're writing secrets about.....about...." But as Sebastian finally looked at the page, all he saw were sketches of his current self, and you began to see a shift in his expression.

It went from pure anger, to surprise and confusion, and then to....something unreadable.

"These are...all of me?" His voice became quieter as he flipped the page, only for his breath to hitch upon finding the drawings of his human form.

And for once, he was completely speechless.

The details were immaculate, everything from his hair style to the scar he used to have across his face--given to him from an angry cellmate who thought he really did kill those people and tried giving him a "taste of his own medicine".

But the way you made him look was...incredible.

That's him.

That's really him.

The man--the human--he was before...

Before...

"Yes." Your face was burning with embarrassment, and your heart was pounding with fear of both death and ridicule, now knowing that your fate laid in his hands now. "I-I'm sorry. I should've asked for your permission and I know the details aren't perfect but you didn't let me........huh?"

Ceasing your ramblings, you noticed the tears welling in his eyes, and you were stunned. Then his shaking hands closed the sketchbook and returned it to you. "Um..are you okay? I'm really sorry if-"

"I...a-almost forgot what I looked like before all of this.." He raised a claw to wipe at his watery eyes, sniffling. "They're...good drawings, friend. I'm sorry..I...I-I didn't mean to..." His voice cracked, and he forced himself to stop, bringing his hands to his face. "Why am I crying over something like..t-this..?"

He hated looking so weak in front of you, yet he couldn't help the tears that kept slipping down his cheeks. A certain sadness was weighing heavily on his heart, yet at the same time he felt...honored that you wanted to draw him, putting your heart and soul into every sketch--with him getting the most effort.

You didn't overexaggerate him as the hideous beast he and everyone else was convinced he was, but just him as, well, himself. His smiles when he realizes it's you coming through the vent again, his cheeky grins when you buy up all his supplies, and even the one time he pouted when you died to Pandemonium because you risked it all trying to draw the moldy fish-creature.

The human ones, as you could tell from the way he broke down, especially hit home for him. Just from a mugshot alone, you were able to create a near-accurate depiction of him.

It made him wonder if you two have met before any of this happened.

Sebastian sniffled, struggling to stop the tears and expecting you to make fun of him as he finally uncovered his face. But instead he saw you standing there with your arms opened up. "I feel like you could use one of these. It's okay. I know you miss being human."

".........."

"C'mon, big guy. My arms are kinda hurting--oh!"

Without warning, he accepted your embrace and squeezed you tightly in his hold. Of course he was careful not to crush your diving tanks, and you smiled in appreciation and patted his back. "It's okay, it's alright..I got you. I didn't mean to make you cry."

He sniffled a few times, but otherwise said nothing and tried making sure you weren't supporting all of his upper body weight.

Curse his size. He wishes he could experience a normal hug again.

This one will do, though.

"I-It's...it's fine. Don't worry.." He finally spoke after a few moments, calming down. "As long as you don't tell anyone about this."

"I'll take it to my grave." You chuckled, letting go and stepping away so he could straighten his back out. While he did that, you gently tore a few pages from your book, to which he blinked in confusion.

"What are you doing with-?"

"Keep them." You insisted. "In case this sketchbook falls into a pit or gets waterlogged, I want you to hold onto these. Besides, I can tell you appreciate them a lot. So...consider it a gift."

"Why..thank you." A smile appeared on his face as he took the pages carefully. "Rest assured, they'll be safe and sound." He gazed at them both one more time, feeling a tug on his heart.

But it wasn't as heavy as before.

After neatly folding and stowing them away into his pockets, he saw you already sitting in one of the chairs, your sketchbook opened to a brand new blank page.

"Sooooooo what are you going to draw this time?" He tilted his head, ear fins twitching with curiosity.

"Hm...I did see a vision of a white glowing man a few rooms back. I think he was from...the Mindscape? There was a file talking about him and some floating gears and a white ball."

"Ohh yeah, he's an interesting guy. I'd love to see your interpretation of him." Now Sebastian was 100% invested, as he curled his tail around himself, resting his upper body on it so he could see your book better. "But y'know you won't be able to leave this place with sketches of-"

"I'm well aware of that...I could always change a few things and turn them into OCs."

"Hah. You should."

"Maybe I will." You snickered, grateful that you didn't have anything to fear.

At least somebody in the Blacksite appreciated your art.

[aventurineswife]

Do you think you could write about an artist reader who reveals their latest works has had their crush as their muse as a roundabout way of confessing? Idk I had this vivid idea of love at first sight and only painting in the colors of their love, staying up for nights on end practically obsessed with capturing what they feel and see but keeping it hidden till it all bursts out.

Brushstrokes of a Hidden Heart

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Artist!Reader, Love at First Sight, Unrequited Love(?), Secret Admiration, Confession Through Art, Obsessive Love(?), Vulnerability, Slow Burn, Angst, Fluff.

Warnings: Mild angst, Self-doubt, Unspoken feelings, Emotional vulnerability, Possible unreciprocated feelings, Intense focus on personal emotions.

A/N: didn't know which fandom you wanted it from, so I did it for HSR 😕

Dan Heng sat in the dimly lit cabin of the Astral Express, the rhythmic hum of the train the only sound that accompanied his solitude. He had always found solace in the quiet, preferring it to the bustling noise of crowds or the endless chatter of others. Yet, tonight was different. His mind was clouded with thoughts of you, the artist who had been a silent but ever-present figure in his life since the day he met you.

The first time he laid eyes on you, it was nothing more than a fleeting moment—one he hadn't thought much of at the time. But it was strange, wasn't it? How that moment stayed with him, replaying in his mind like an image he couldn't shake. He had never been one to dwell on emotions, and yet something about you made him want to linger, if only in the shadows, far away from the spotlight.

Dan Heng didn't understand what had changed. He wasn't someone who sought out attention, let alone affection. And yet, as he watched you work from afar, sketching, painting, your every movement seemed to haunt him. His heart would beat just a little faster whenever you were near, though he could never bring himself to speak those words aloud.

He found himself drawn to your art. The way you captured the world around you, the strokes of your brush that seemed to tell stories even without words. There was a certain intensity in your work—an emotional rawness that he couldn't ignore. He often found himself admiring your paintings when you weren’t around, noticing how every canvas seemed to glow with your feelings.

It was late into the night when he stumbled upon your most recent piece. His heart skipped a beat as he studied it, entranced by the use of color—vibrant, soft hues blending together in ways that felt… familiar. It wasn’t just a painting. It was a confession, a revelation.

The subject of the piece was unmistakable. It was him.

You had painted him—his profile, his features, his soul—captured in every brushstroke. But it wasn’t just the image that left him breathless. It was the colors, the warmth that spilled from the canvas. The shades of blue, gold, and soft pinks spoke of longing, of something deeper than simple admiration. It was a language he understood but had never expected to see expressed so vividly.

He didn’t know what to feel. His initial instinct was to run, to distance himself from this vulnerability you had so willingly shared through your art. But something inside him stopped him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the painting, and he certainly couldn’t tear himself away from you.

The confession was out now, laid bare in the colors of your love. The quiet admiration, the unspoken feelings—it was all there, framed on the canvas in front of him.

Dan Heng sighed, a soft exhale of air escaping his lips as he stood before the painting. For the first time, he allowed himself to feel the weight of what he hadn’t dared to acknowledge. And maybe, just maybe, he could find the courage to speak those words too, to paint his own feelings for you.

But for now, he stood still, his gaze locked on the painting of the one person who had quietly captured his heart without him even realizing it.

Sunday sat in the quiet of his room, a flickering candle casting soft shadows across the walls. His fingers drummed lightly on the desk, a slight frown on his face as he looked at the painting in front of him. It was a recent creation of yours, the artist he had come to know and admire, even though he had never once admitted it aloud.

It had begun innocently enough—your work, a collection of serene landscapes, abstract expressions of peace and stillness. But as he continued to observe you, there was a shift. Your art had changed, taken on a more personal tone. It wasn’t just about capturing beauty anymore. It was about capturing something much deeper, something you didn’t quite show anyone else. The passion in your strokes had transformed, and Sunday couldn’t ignore it.

The latest piece was a reflection of his own face. His figure was painted in muted hues of silver and violet, colors that mirrored the ones that seemed to haunt him in his dreams. But it wasn’t the likeness that struck him the most; it was the emotion woven into every brushstroke. There was love in the way the colors swirled, an emotion so tangible it seemed to bleed from the canvas.

It was as if you had captured every fleeting moment of their encounters—the way he smiled at you with a hint of warmth, the way his gaze lingered a moment too long. You had woven all of it into this painting, turning their quiet moments into something that felt like poetry, like a love song without words.

For a long while, Sunday simply stared at the painting, his thoughts a whirl of confusion. He had always believed in the Sweetdream Paradise, a world where people could escape their pain. But this… this felt different. It felt real, like a dream he didn’t want to escape, one he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

Was this your way of confessing? The idea that someone could love him—the person who had always distanced himself from true connection, who had always preached the merit of a painless, perfect world—seemed impossible. And yet, there it was, in front of him.

The painting was more than just art. It was a message, a way of saying what neither of them had yet dared to speak aloud. You had used your work to tell him what was in your heart, and now, he had to decide if he could find the courage to do the same.

The weight of the moment hung in the air, heavy with unspoken words. As he reached out to touch the canvas, a sense of longing surged within him—something that hadn’t been there before. Perhaps, in this moment, the dream of escape no longer felt as appealing as the dream of something real. Something tangible. Something he could finally reach for.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to imagine a future where the colors of love—your love—were the only ones he ever saw.

Aventurine sat in his private study, the dim light of the lamps casting shadows on the room’s elegant furnishings. His fingers idly turned a deck of cards as he gazed at the newest painting displayed on the wall—a work of art that had both mesmerized and unsettled him. The colors, the brushstrokes, the way your soul seemed to be embedded in every layer of paint—he had seen many paintings in his time, but none like this.

The subject was unmistakable. It was him.

But this was not a simple portrait. No, this was far more. It was raw. It was a confession wrapped in the hues of the artist’s emotions. His face, framed by dark shades of green and gold, looked almost serene, yet there was something deeply intimate about it. The delicate touches of rose and violet reflected a softness that made his heart beat just a little faster.

He had always prided himself on being able to control everything—every move, every decision, every game he played. Life, to him, was a high-stakes gamble, a game of strategy and manipulation. But here, with this painting, everything felt out of his hands. This wasn’t a game. This was real.

Aventurine had always been surrounded by beauty, charm, and a sense of power, but there was something different about this. It wasn’t the typical adoration or fascination he was used to; no, this was love—true, unfiltered love. And somehow, it was aimed at him.

His gaze lingered on the painting, every brushstroke sending a jolt through his chest. He wondered if this was your way of confessing, of revealing the feelings you had hidden beneath the surface. He hadn’t expected this, not from someone like you, someone who had always remained so distant, so reserved. Yet here it was, in full view—a revelation he could no longer ignore.

He had been careful with his emotions, always keeping them locked away behind a facade of confidence and control. But this… this painting had cracked that facade wide open. He couldn’t deny it any longer. The truth was there, laid bare on the canvas, just as much as his own heart was.

Aventurine smiled, a rare, genuine smile that softened his usual playful demeanor. Maybe, just maybe, this was one game he wasn’t so keen on playing alone. Perhaps it was time to place his bet—not with cards, but with his heart.

And when the time came, he would show you that his feelings were not a gamble, but a certainty.

[jj0k3rs]

HALLOOOOO !!

can I request an aventurine and dr ratio (separate) x artist reader where reader keeps pressuring themselves to do good art and because of that, they see reader more down in the dumps and like less motivated than usual? THANK YOU SM!! Take your time as well <33

burnt out artist reader (hsr men x reader)

thank you so much for the request! this one hit hard as an artist so I hope you all enjoy!!

requests open in bio ♡

characters included: aventurine, dr ratio

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A/N: im slowly working through requests, so please be patient guys! 🫶

[kittencomicslol]

Gyutaro x Artist but gyutaro is their Main Muse and they just lobe drawing or sketching him!

Gyutaro x Artist! Reader headcanons :3

______

LOVEEEE THIS IDEA UGHHH I LOVE DRAWING HIM SO BAD HE IS SO COOL AND BEAUTIFUL ❤️❤️❤️

His body is so so cool and I love drawing it and writing about it gyah he’s so cool.. you will definitely hear my rambles and interest in his funky little critter body in this.

Only possible tw would be Gyutaro struggling w why anyone would find him pretty but that’s a given so yah

I’m so sorry this took me a long time to put out, I know I say this like every blue moon I post but my life is fr crazy 😭 it’s getting better tho. I just do these for fun and comfort and i appreciate prompts/requests for when I’m in the need to relax and write about my favorite little guy

•Gyutaro has not a single clue why you seem to be so infatuated with creating art of specifically him

“The entertainment district has so many unique pretty people in it, those who are leaps and bounds more handsome than he is. So why him?

•At first he was even angry to think you would try to gaze upon him in an artistic light before anyone else. He was hideous, he didn’t deserve to be drawn or painted.

•But you didn’t seem to think so

•He would never admit it and prefer to only display his annoyance, but he really was flattered the first few times.

•When you asked to draw him he laughed, because why would you want to do such a thing? He thought you were joking. You were in the entertainment district, a place with some of the most beautiful people in all of Japan!

•But yet.. you insisted on doting upon his hideous form and praising his appearance. showering him with gifts from your natural talent of creativity and your dedication to craft.

•Of course he was envious at first.. of course you were talented. beautiful, nice, and talented. He hated all of those things.

•But he didn’t hate you.

•Gyutaro would unconsciously be annoyed due to thinking your artistic ability is natural born talent. It wasn’t fair how so many humans were blessed with those gifts while he himself seemed to only be cursed with suffering and imperfections.

•Though, after watching you work and create so many different pieces even he himself was able to notice how subtly you improved or when you messed up.

•And of course he noticed because no matter if he would express it or not at first, he adored you making art of him.

•Gyutaro was naturally a very attentive demon. The man grew up on the streets racked with danger and disease. Such living conditions were a constant battle to survive and in order to do so, he needed to be aware of his surroundings.

•His nature to pick up on smaller things only intensified when Ume was born because now he was watching over her, and he deemed her life as bounds more valuable than his own.

•He loved seeing you fail or mess up at your art.. and it wasn’t in an exactly sadistic or crude way like he would feel when seeing others fail. With you, it felt like he was watching you learn and grow. He was witnessing your failure and proof that your talent wasn’t natural, You had to work for it. And something about that struck a chord in him.

•Embarrassment was always a very common emotion for him to express when you asked for a better look at him.

•’I want to see your back better, I need to see the way your spine curves.’

•‘Let me see you up close so I can get your birthmarks right’

•‘Can you show me your hand?’

•Every single little question you asked always gave him butterflies, both from nerves and him becoming flustered.

•But over time as you two bonded; he became much more comfortable with sharing his body with you.

•His small crude comments about how ‘pointless’ your art of him was gradually turned into quiet mumbles of appreciation or gentle praise.

•Sometimes, if you get lucky he will allow you to touch him. Trailing your hand down his odd protruding spine, or delicately brushing your fingers over his ribs that were barely covered by his skin.

•One time he even let you feel his stomach.. if you could even call it that, and where his abs were just to see how his strange anatomy worked. That interaction didn’t last for long as he got far too flustered and anxious to let you continue, but it was still fascinating nonetheless.

•Gyutaro was almost constantly put off but your compliments about the parts of his body he hated the most.

•His disgusting marks? They were pretty, and looked like paint on a canvas to you.

•His visible ribs? They were unique, a wonderful oddity.

•His crooked spine? One of your ‘favorite parts’ of him to draw

•His bloodshot down turned eyes? They looked like gemstones to you, sparkled like the stars.

•It was like any aspect he found repulsive about himself, you saw it the exact opposite.

•There was one small interaction Gyutaro didn’t think he would ever forget, something that touched him in a way he had never felt before

•It was common for you to show Gyutaro new drawings you made of him.. working as Daki’s artist you only had so much time to ever gift him with full pieces.

•Not that he cared, at this point if you gave him a stick figure and said it was him he would be grateful you even thought of him.

•Perhaps that was only because of your close bond.. if another human did that things probably wouldn’t go so sweetly.

•He wished he had a better place to keep such cherished things though all he had was the little cave where him and Daki stored food and skeletons.

•Nevertheless, you liked to doodle him a lot in quick sketches that you almost always displayed to him. Usually you came to sit with him when you would draw him to get reference for something about his ghoulish unnatural form, especially for his birthmarks. He had so many he was used to you coming in with near finished drawings that still needed reference for where his spots were.

•Eventually, you stopped asking for such things and it almost made him sad. Did you just loose interest?.. he wouldn’t blame you, he was hideous.

•Of course that was him being overly negative and unrealistic. You still frequently showed him art you created of him, so he had no reason to think that. But he usually wasn’t very logical when it came to thoughts about his own body..

•One night the two of you ended up in the same room together for a while, Gyutaro glancing over to you for a moment..

•”(Y/N)..”

•He croaked out your name in his broken voice that you never seemed to comment on. Almost instantly you raised your head and turned all of your attention onto Gyutaro

•“Hm?”

*The demon let out a small huff. He felt pathetic asking something like this. He was an upper moon demon, he shouldn’t care.

•“Why did.. why did you stop visiting me whenever you draw?”

• he forced out, letting out a small sigh as soon as he did. He had to use restraint to hold himself back from hiding his face in his palms

•But instead of ignoring him or saying you got sick of looking at his ugly face, you chuckled.

•”Taro, I’ve drawn you so many times I already know what you look like. I even have your marks memorized.”

•He went quiet, his face flushing a crimson hue from your response. There was just.. no way. You couldn’t be real. What had he done to deserve you?..

•”Oh..”

•Was all he was able to manage out, too flustered and dumbfounded to come up with a proper response.

•If he wasn’t in love with you enough before, he was far past head over heels by now.

•The concept of abstract art interested him as well, and he would always be very grateful whenever you would explain how some people found deep interest in things that looked.. less than appealing.

•One of Gyutaro’s favorite small details he always picked up on was in your doodles of him.

•Sometimes you liked to add something extra onto your work to make it more lively, and whenever you did that with him it would always be little hearts around him.

•Things so small yet so meaningful were things he had always loved, and this was definitely no exception.

•When you displayed your art to others you could never exactly display him.. though you sometimes added little details that you knew he would notice

•Little black splotches around the canvas akin to his marks, small Kanji for the number six sometimes appearing.

•He knew you couldn’t exactly ‘show him off’ and he knew you probably wouldn’t want to if you could.. but even so, seeing you do something that still counted as showing him off meant a lot.

•Even if nobody else noticed or knew, he did.

•He noticed all of the little details, the stray lines, the mistakes. Every little thing about your art he adored

•The same way he adored you.

————

WAAA!! I wrote most of this months ago at like 12AM and I am astounded that it actually held up and I didn’t have to completly re-write it. Just finished it up

[i-write-word]

Based on this ask from the minds of @blindmagdalena and @letthenerdsleep; I had to.

CONTENT WARNING: SWEARING, HOMELANDER

"I just don't get what's so damn brilliant about that green. It's just fucking green."

You pause in your coloring, damp paintbrush still in hand. You narrowed your eyes at John who was gazing outside the penthouse window at the horizon. He was slumped across the couch like an old Victorian painting as he waited somewhat patiently for you to pay attention to him.

You took a deep breath, knowing full well you would regret asking but you had to know. "...What?"

John huffed at you as if you were being unreasonable. "The green." He gestured vaguely to the paint tubes beside your palette. "What make it brilliant?" He asked as he folded his arms behind his head.

You blink at him, trying to process the question.

"And royal blue. What makes it royal? Like, royalty never had anything to do with blue. It'd make more sense if it was royal purple but what gives blue that title?" He mused.

You were gobsmocked, staring at the supe with your jaw open.

"Magenta too. Who lookaed at it and said, 'yeah, that's magenta.'" He floated up slightly off the couch so he could gesture the arc of his imaginary rainbow before settling back into his original position.

You set your paintbrush into the mug holding dirty paint water, your bottom lip folding over your teeth so you didn't burst out laughing. "John. Love of my life. My darling hero. Is this about the color thing again?"

The color thing, as you so eloquently put it, was about the time Homelander had decided to raid your collection of art supplies while he was bored and you were dedicating too much time to your hobby. He had combed through every pencil, paint tube and cake and even the forgotten box of crayons, reading each and every name before coming to you in a rage that he had no colors named after him.

He turned to you with blue eyes widened too innocently. "Look, I'm just saying! My name, as a color? That's brilliance right there." He turned his head to smirk up at the ceiling.

You shook your head fondly. "What color would you even be then?" You turned to face him now, crossing one leg over your knee. You drummed your fingertips against a blue splatter on your skin.

John blinked before sitting upright, hand to his chin as he carefully considered his options. "Hmmm, well.... I can't just be one color."

You snorted, regarding his Americana suit. "Obviously."

He grinned at you, that sweet little playful tilt of his lips that drew you in the first place. A soft puff of air escaped him as he realized you were playing along. "I can't even be two."

"Oooo, getting greedy"

He floated over to you as if he were magnetized. A daring hand rested on your knee. "I don't even know about three." He whispered conspiratorially, those sapphire blues sparkling with mischief.

You snorted again as you burst out laughing. "Oh, my God, you're impossible." You cupped his cheeks as you pulled him in closer. A warm smile had crossed your lips as you nuzzled your nose against his and John couldn't help but melt and bask in your joyous love.

"Yeah... but you like me best that way." He weaseled his way into your lap, careful to keep most of his weight off of you. He wrapped both arms around your neck and shoulders as you rested a hand on his waist.

A happy hum escaped him as you hugged him as tight as you could. "A man could get used to this." John sighed as he pressed his face against your neck.

You chuffed quietly as you rubbed your cheek against the top of his head, ruffling the dyed blond locks. "You're already spoiled enough." You teased before leaving a quick peck on his temple.

"You could spoil me more though." John rebuttled as he gave you his own gentle squeeze. "A whole lot more. Gimme allllll your love, sweetheart." He purred, as content as a cat in your lap.

You laughed louder at that and Homelander beamed at the sound. You both were well aware of how greedy he was, how starved he was for any affection you dared to give. He loved that you never grew tired of giving, no matter how demanding the supe became or how much time he consumed.

He hummed again as he pressed a kiss to your throat, feeling the thrum of your heartbeat through your jugular. He focused on the harmonies your body provided, from the percussion of your heart to the woodwind of your lungs. The soft gurgling of your digestive acids within your stomach accompanied your busy veins and arteries to provide the perfect background melody.

You struggled to keep him in your lap as John relaxed further into you, drunk on your sounds. "Geez, you'll fall asleep on me." You halfheartedly complained.

It wouldn't be the first time the hero had deemed you his napping place but he usually chose places more comfortable than your desk chair.

"You'll live." He mumbled against your skin, relishing in the jump of your heartbeat and the goosebumps raising the hair on your flesh.

You rolled your eyes and he snorted upon sensing your compliance.

"Juuuuust give in to me. You don't have to do anything else, lovely." He murmured as he started to drift off to sleep.

[imagine-darksiders]

Imagine the makers finding out you're a painter and begging you to show them your work. They're blown away by every one of your delicate brush strokes, murmuring to each other how they could never work with such fine tools.

[aloralika]

Main four X a insecure painter reader

English is not my first language!

Gon (⁠づ⁠｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡⁠)⁠づ

★Gon won't really be interested in your profession at first, he will probably ask you a few questions but that's it. But as you get closer he will become more and more curious, and then he noticed that he had never seen one of your works.

★So he naturally came to you and asked if you could show him one of your paintings or drawings.

★He was a little confused when you were so reluctant to show him your paintings/drawing.It's not like he would judge (he couldn't do better anyway) and he was sure your art was magnificent.

★So when you finally decided to show him he was really impressed and started complimenting you in every way he could. He doesn't really understand why you're so shy about it since for him it's beautiful, but from now on he will compliment you more and more on it.

Killua *⁠\⁠0⁠/⁠*

‡Another one who isn't really interested in your profession, he's just not really interested in art in general.

‡He won't really notice it at first, it's only when your relationship evolves that he notices, how come your paintings/drawings are an important part of your life but he's never seen you hold a brush or a pencil?

‡He always notices some paintbrushes, pencils and canvases here and there but he never sees you hold a pencil.

‡He won't really think about it much, but it's when he finally sees you painting that he will suddenly be curious about your talent.Like Gon he doesn't really understand why you're so insecure about it, it's objectively beautiful and he doesn't even say it to flatter you.

‡He won't give you as many compliments as Gon but he will tell you that he sincerely likes your painting and that you have nothing to envy of other artists

Kurapika (⁠✷⁠‿⁠✷⁠)

★From the start he would already be more interested than Gon and Killua, he will ask you if you went to an art school, if you sell your paintings..

★He watches you paint at every chance he gets, he loves seeing you exercise your passion with so much love. Even if at first you were REALLY hesitant. to let him attend your painting sessions.

★He tries to reassure you as best he can by telling you that your paintings are incredible and that you have nothing to envy of other people.

★He often offers you new painting materials, it's just that every time a material that you don't have catches his eye he can't get it out of his head until he gives it to you

Leorio (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

‡He tries to give you advice here and there but it's isn't very useful...

‡Would start screaming like crazy at everyone who makes fun of your painting or makes you insecure about it.

‡From time to time he will ask you if he could paint with you. Except that most of the time his paintings are not really.."artistic" compared to you. He keeps complaining about it, wondering how this can happen while he copies your movements as best he can.

‡Once he managed to make a pretty good painting! You could hear him yapping about it miles away...

[itsmepage]

When an Artist Loves Someone

Ekko x Artist! Reader || A lazy fic for Ekko because he deserves all the love like it’s criminal he doesn’t more fics. Anyways this not really proof read so I hope you enjoy! 

Summary: Ekko finds what you draw in you sketchbook while you were sleeping

Fluff

Warnings: Kissing w/o proper permission & mention of protesting

_✍︎︎

Your crush on Ekko was kept to yourself in the privacy of your sketchbook: which was an activity you were doing, actively avoiding your chores for the day.

You sat in your bed with your sketchbook in your lap, sketching down moments that your brain analyzed with Ekko. You captivated his smile when he laughed too hard at Scar’s jokes, his brown eyes when the sun hit them, and how cool he looked when flew with the junior firelights when they challenged him to a race. You highlighted his cocky attitude: sketching out the eyebrows and smiling at a certain angle. You played with the different locks that flowed freely in the wind, taking notice of the hair strings that crept out. You sketched out the sceneries best with memory; adding bits and pieces of your point of view.

Ekko was such a canvas and you illustrated every single thing you loved about, which was.. just him. You felt your heart pound very softly while at the same time feeling full as butterflies fluttered in your stomach. You pick up a colorpencil that sits next to you in the bed, first beginning to shade in the color of his skin. You put detail to his lips your mind wandering off on how they would see against your own, your skin. The blush grew as you thought, believing they would feel warm and soft like his hugs. You’ve moved on to his hands that are hidden inside the gloves he always wears. You’ve imagined they were rough and warm like a carpet you could fall asleep on. You disconnected from reality as you continued to color, your mind making up scenarios of your crush as you drew him. You lean in your pillow as you do, not realizing your cheeks are hurting from smiling until you yawn. After that, you’ve decided it was enough for now. You lazily set your pencils and colored pencils on your work-in-progress pages, using them as a bookmark. You carefully sat the book on the floor near your bed, before covering yourself with the cover and falling asleep, dreaming of Ekko being there next to you.

“Hey-“ Ekko knocked on your door hours later, calling for your name before opening it slowly with a plate of food in his hand. He looked around his surroundings. Ekko stopped in his tracks when he saw you already in bed, cuddling with an extra pillow you had. Ekko smiled and shook his head deciding to let you sleep and have the food later; just when he was about to turn, he noticed your sketchbook open in the corner of his eye, he looked down to see pictures of a character that looked exactly like him. Ekko gently places the food on your bedside table for now and picks up the book, being careful to not any pencils fall on the floor. A closer inspection made him realize it was him from his hair to his shoes. Ekko couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter at the doodles, almost completely flabbergasted that someone would take the time to draw, not just one page but several, and it wasn’t just from any artist it was you.

Of course, Ekko had many valid reasons to like you but one of them was your artwork. Ekko loved your pieces, very much actually. He believed you had a talent for bringing things to life: everything you ever painted always spoke to him, when you didn’t outside the firelights base, you painted. You spray-painted graffiti around the lanes including Piltover when you had the chance. Ekko could envision what thousands of words you were trying to say whenever he saw your works: you could say he was a bit of a fan, and right now he was silently fanboying.

Ekko's eyes glisten when he looks at the detail you put into him, already telling him how you see him, how you view him. It welded up tears in his eyes and serotonin in his heart he looked at your sleeping figure having a similar perspective on how you saw him. Ekko closed the book and slowly crouched down to your level, placing a small gentle kiss on your forehead without thinking. He wanted to do so much at that moment, tell how you mean to him, how much he loves you but instead, he took the sketchbook with the pencil inside and dropped it on your drawing desk that was found and fixed by him, it was covered with paint, people names and small doodles in pen and or pencil ink. Ekko borrowed a small sticky note and wrote a letter for you to read when you woke up, Taking the plate of food to store it for later glancing at you one last time before shutting off your lump light and leaving.

In the night, it seems that your body needs the fluid you didn’t give before clocking out. So you woke up: rubbing the sleepiness off your eyes. You’ve begun to sit up, reaching over to your sketchbook, only to feel your heart sink to your stomach when you see it’s not there. You looked around your room sighing in relief when you saw on the desk not even thinking how he got there until you got up to read Ekko’s note: “Hey, since you fell asleep during dinner again, it’s in the fridge waiting for you. Sincerely, Ekko.” You smiled at his note too busy gushing over his care for you than rather how your sketchbook got here.

You eventually got up to head over to the kitchen dragging your feet the way there before you stopped by the sound of music that was coming from Ekko’s room. You knocked but cracked the door open to see the Boy Savior himself. “Ekko?” You said in a concerned, manner. “Oh, Hey.” He said, turning his head to your direction, and taking off the goggles he used to keep his eyes safe. “Morning, sleep good?” He asked with humor in his voice. “Morning?” You asked, surprisingly. “Did you even sleep?” You asked sternly, crossing your arms at him. “Couldn’t.” He said. “I had to get this project done and..” he paused for a moment before continuing seeming, like he was trying to find words. “I was thinking… about you.” Ekko faced you when he said that, you gulped. “I’m okay-“ you tried to say. “I know you’re okay.” He chuckled, quickly reassuring you before getting up in your direction for better face-to-face conversation, your breath shortened at his action.

“I, uh..” he began to say. “I’d never meant to peek into your privacy, but I found out what you draw in that sketchbook.” Oh. So that explains it. Embarrassment crept up to your face as you tried to hide it and apologize profusely. “Oh my god- I am SO sorry-“ you apologized. “Don’t be sorry..” Ekko said with a smile, gently grabbing your wrists to see your flushed face. “I..” Ekko stuttered on his words. “I love your artwork,” your ears shut out the music when he said your name, taking in your hands as he spoke: “You know I do, and I loved that I got to see myself in it.” Ekko was trying to make a lovey-dovey speech, spoken straight from the heart and he was so sweet with his words; you’ve begun to tear up, squeezing his hands in the process, trying not to bail. “What I’m trying to say is.. I love you too.” Just with that, he placed another kiss on the forehead, the same place as you felt before in your sleep: and seeing his eyes light up and smile brightly made you slap your lips onto his, finally getting to feel their warmth and softness. You wrapped your arms over his head as he pulled you in his embrace, moving you in closer, feeling the butterflies in your stomach.

“I’m sorry..” You sighed in short breath when you pulled away. “I’ve just.. always wanted to kiss you..” You admitted shyly “I could tell.” He laughed in response, teasing you. “You did put a lot of detail into them.” Ekko teased again and all you could do was hug him to hide your flustered face, he laughed at your reaction. The two stood there in comfortable silence, soaking in each other’s warmth as Ekko gently moved the tips of his fingertips across your back like he was painting something: you hummed, forgetting the reason you came out of your room in the first place.

[ghibliwatcher]

If Kratos had a child who mostly draws | Kratos x teen reader (platonic)

God of War 4

He would always be curious to what you’re drawing, especially Mimir

Peers over your shoulder to see what you’re drawing this time (he’s praying that it would be him)

You would occasionally draw your family members every now and then, but you would mostly draw the environment surrounding you wherever you’re in

You and Atreus spend time with each other by drawing! (Literally just chilling at home and draw by the fire)

Atreus would try to draw you while you tried to do the same (he made you look goofy)

Whenever Kratos enters he would sometimes sees you and Atreus draw in silence

“[Name], Atreus, time for hunt—” Sees you and your brother drawing in your journals silently and looking focused

You would also draw Sindri, Brok, Mimir, and Freya too!

Sindri and Freya absolutely loves your work, while Brok huffs in pride that you drew him

Mimir will always be your number one model, since he can’t move around at all (it’s easy to sketch him too)

You also tried to draw your father smiling (which is a thing you can never look at ever again)

In short, Kratos enjoys seeing you draw. It brought comfort to him that you like to grasp the environment you’re in and settling that in your journal.

Whenever you’re sleeping, he sometimes steals your journal and looks at the sketches you’ve made

[thefandomsfervent]

Viktor x Reader Personal Pigments (Part 8) - Burnt Sienna

Mostly reader and Jayce perspective today! Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom. Thank you for reading <3

╔═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╗

It had been a couple days since your accidental nap. When you had come back that first night Jayce made you explain “what the hell beetle juice” was to him for the two hours you had spent there. Viktor had already heard your explanation but he listened again anyway, nodding along. The two of them asking questions about the process and noting things down. Viktor had shown Jayce a passage he had noted, something about human nature. Apparently it led them to some potential new use for Hextech although you had no idea how it was all connected. They had thanked you for talking with them, and thrown themselves back at their work.

It was sweet that they cared about what you were doing. And it was so good to see them get over their slump. It inspired you to do the same.

You hadn’t been to your studio much in these past weeks. Or. At all, really. You had been at the Institute for years, your old studio had a chaos that you loved and knew. It wasn’t wrong to assume that you missed it, you did. But it was more like you were scared of the provided one. This new one was daunting. All white walls, glass tables, furniture sets that had never seen paint a day in their lives.

Was it nice? Yes. Was the frivolousness of how they provided you with everything just rubbing you the wrong way? Also yes. You had no doubts that once your assignment here was done that they would throw it all out, not even donate it. But you had work to do. And it was work you didn’t want to commandeer the lab for. Building and stretching canvas was a tough job, and one you got embarrassingly loud in. You had enough funds set aside to buy a pre-built canvas. And you absolutely had in the past. Yet this project just demanded a fresh start. You wanted to use every skill set in your arsenal. “I mean, this thing is going to be sitting in an actual art hall.” Once it was built you’d move it to the lab, somehow.

So when early morning came you loaded up your coin purse with assorted cogs and set to the markets. You'd left a note on the lab door, today would be the first day you wouldn't be in at all. A faint blue light under the door and an electric buzzing in the air told you that someone,  likely Viktor, was still working.

You needed wood, a new mallet, and nails. Lots of nails. The last two on the list you got pretty easily. A mallet you could get at almost any craft stall, the nails at the same place, but the wood? You were picky.

The frame needed to be big. The Academy and Institute had given you a set of dimensions to choose from and of course you had gone with the biggest one. 60in x 50in. You needed a wood that was soft enough that you wouldn't be hammering in nails all day, and that would keep the canvas taught but not so tight it was bouncy. You needed a wood that was strong enough it wouldn't bow under pressure from stretching, but also wouldn't collapse on itself after years of display either. Another thing is that whoever sold it to you needed to be willing to cut and deliver it. 

You're at a Café enjoying a drink and going over your notes. You've hit four carpentry stalls today, six if you're counting the two arbor stalls, and you're realizing no one is going to cut it for you and deliver it. It would have to be one or the other. It wasn't that they didn't want to, but couldn't if you wanted them today. You were impatient. The idea of scheduling a pickup sets a dull throbbing behind your eyes. Especially if that meant dealing with Enforcers. Adding a saw to your list, you decide to just bite the bullet. You'll go back to the second stall. That one had the widest selection of wood, and something tells you that if you bring the older lady at the counter a treat she may give you a discount. Plan made, now you just had to buy the wood and have it delivered in time for lunch. It'd give you time to do the math at the very least.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Jayce is excited. He and Viktor have several new theories surrounding travel for Hextech. At the rate they were going they could present these to Heimerdinger by the end of the week for grants. He almost misses your note on his way in. The yank he gave the door makes the paper flutter.

"Best of luck in your studies ventures today,  I'll be on my own for a bit (maybe a couple days) putting together the canvas for the painting. If you guys need me for anything I'll be in my studio or my room.  Feel free to leave me a note back if you don't find me :D

P.S. if the pigment "beetle juice" looks FULLY dried please let me know!!

-y/n"

When he turns it over he sees that you've left instructions on how to find your studio and room. He didn't realize your writing was so emphatic. It makes him think of his own note taking, constantly scribbling out and pointing things in different directions to circle back on later. He tucks it in his pocket, he'll let Viktor see it later, after he's slept some. He's been as high strung as ever and Jayce wasn't sure what was going on. 

He takes a moment just to look at him. The fellow scientist was standing at a table, chalk in one hand, cane in the other. Viktor was making notes on the board, equations rubbed out and rewritten. His hair was tousled beyond belief. Jayce half wonders when he brushed it last. 

“Hey V.” He keeps his voice soft, slow. 

“Jayce, what do you think about these?” Waving his hand at the chalkboard, dust falling off his sleeve. Attention unwaveringly focused on the next correction he makes. 

“I think we can talk about them more later.” The wrong thing to say, apparently. Viktor doesn’t even turn to face him. His spine stiffens, finger tapping against the chalk. “After you’ve slept, is all.” He turns at that. A half-turn, that has his waist twisting, his face barely visible. Those amber eyes narrowed in annoyance, his nose scrunched, lips pursed. They were chapped. 

“You do not have time to review them now?” 

“I do, but if I do now we’ll get caught up and you won’t sleep.” Viktor faces him fully at that. Jayce does his best to hold his stance.

“Do you not want to get caught up with me?” He ignores the goosebumps on his arms at that. 

“Vik, please.” He gets a huff. “I’ll bring you a sweetmilk latte later if you go. 6 hours, you’ll be back here by noon and we can go over them then.” Viktor hums at that. He smiles. 

“5 hours.” He’s walking to the door, patting Jayce on the arm as he passes. “And one of those ginger crumbly things they sell too.” 

“If they have one, it's yours.”  Another hum, and the lab door is closing. 

“I’m working with a toddler that hates nap time.” Jayce is rubbing his face as he walks to the board. 

“That also expects results.” He’s pulling out his pen from his pocket, and he feels crinkling. Right. Your note. He pulls it out to look at it again. He should get you something too. It’s always Viktor bringing drinks and you bringing pastries. Smoothing out the paper, he makes a mental note to visit your studio soon. Maybe drag Viktor with him to get him out of the lab for more than just sleep. You’ve been watching them work for almost two months now, it only seems right to see what you get up to. 

╚═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╝

--------------.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ Part 7-.-Part 9.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .-----------------

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

[vrystalius]

The demon that is living inside my vase

(Gyokko x artist!reader, platonic)

A relative gifted you a very beautiful vase a while back. It depicted a beautiful mountain scenery with a river and some blossoming sakura trees. As an artist yourself, you cannot help but admire the handicraft of the artist. Every single stroke looked elegant and almost obsessively planned.

You never could’ve guessed that some demon was residing inside this vase. The first time you saw it, you were more fascinated by the facial structure instead of disgusted by the many baby hands growing on the sides of his body, or confused on what this thing even is.

“No, no! You should use the other paint brush! See? Your strokes will become much smoother like this!”

Gyokko, you learned, is a very artistic demon that can travel between his own pots and vases. He explained to you that he rearranged his own facial features to look and be more artistic. He melts when you compliment his face and art. It makes him incredibly happy and motivated to create even more!

Since you are a fellow artist as well, Gyokko loves to collaborate with you every now and then. His favourite activity is to make a vase with you and then paint it together. He would cherish it forever and would declare it to be his favourite and best art piece yet! He’ll make sure to use it as his main vase to travel around in.

Gyokko doesn’t want to eat you because of how beautiful your art is, he’s fascinated by it and even took inspiration from your works to make his own pieces. Also, he would not want to eat you because of how beautiful you actually are. He would love nothing more than to make you his muse and main model for all his future art works! Even though Gyokko very stingy and impatient regarding many things, he appreciates how hard you are trying to appease him and tolerate his outbursts.

“Yes! Just stay like that! Perfect. I’ll capture your whole beauty in this magnificent portrait! When I finish it, it will be the best piece of art ever created!!”

💠

Gyokko! I actually made two little clay figurines of him on my own because of how weird he looks. I lost the first little guy somewhere and made a second one, sich now is holding some of my earrings. I know this probably won’t pop off like the ofter “the demon that”, but idc. He’s silly and I love him.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

The demon that… (masterlist)

[platonic-writer]

I love your account so much, I want to cry every time I read smth with dadttore

Almost every fic with him includes !child reader with his interests and personality, basically his copy. But what about GN!Dottore's child reader who is opposite of him? Like, the scientist and his theater/art kid.

Imagine him trying to teach reader something, while they are like "Oh yeah, by the way I got lead role in school theater" or "Wow, that's great, but can I go sew/paint now?"

Omg opposite reader 🙏

You're Request has been made!! Im so sorry it took so long!!! I am drawing a lot these days because i entered an Art Competition!

OPPOSITE GN!CHILD READER & PLATONIC DOTTORE

○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○

Dottore doesen't know how Reader became the opposite of him-

He's a Scientist, he raised you to be one too!

How did you turn into his opposite!?

Since you were a child he tried making you into a Scientist like himself but it never did work

At the age of 3 you started running away whenever Dottore would take you to show you an experiment

You would hide behind a Box and secretly do whatever you desired

You learned how to sew, draw and even dance while hiding

At 5 years old you told Dottore with a presentation that you wanted nothing to do with Science

" My presentation is called 'How to let your child be themselves.' Dad! You have to Listen carefully!( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ)"-Reader

" ( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°) " -Dottore

It somehow worked...?

He now lets you go whenever he experiments and now you get to show him everything you do!

The drawings you gave him are displayed in his Laboratory

And he brags about them while he experiments on the victims💀

You and him have yap sessions

Every day either he or you yap

You talk about new books or what you painted today, and Dottore talks about what experiments he did and has to do

At the age of 8 you got your first Role in a Play!

"OHRHR DAD DAD! LOOK IM THE MAIN LEAD IN MY PLAY!!WAA IM SO HAPPY!!ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ"-Reader

"Thats great kiddo! I'll be sure to watch you in that play! Now, i have to tell you about this experime- " -Dottore

" nuh uh. (￢_￢;)" -Reader

Yep, reader walked away

As time went on Reader became more and more interested in the World

So whenever Dottore went to a Mission, Reader asked for different Items and so

Dottore always bought things that he thought reader would like back

He gave reader different Instruments whenever he came back

And now Reader plays lots of different Instruments in the Laboratory

The Drums are Reader's favorite Instrument because its so loud💪

You play it at the dead of the night or when Dottore is focused on something

Dottore hates that Instrument so much because of you

But he can't just destroy it! Its your favorite!

He bears with it for you😭💕

Summary: You may not be like Dottore, but he loves you for what you are . He loves your art and whenever you show him something New! You may not be a Scientist but you will always be his Partner in experiments! He tries to understand your view on things and will always listen to you whenever you yap about stuff!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Ty for reading! I hope you liked it. Check out my other works!σ(≧ε≦σ) ♡

[aventurineswife]

Thanks for answering my ask about comedic nudity!

So I ended up forgetting about the og idea I wanted to send because I didn’t write it down. 🙂‍↕️

But I do have another idea that involves Reader being a freak for art! If you’ve ever played (or watched someone play) Persona 5, Reader is a little bit like Yusuke, they love to draw and paint and all that fun stuff. They’re also a bit of a simp and have pages in their sketchbooks dedicated to drawing people they fancy.

So, not really nudity here, but one day while drinking, Reader gets so drunk off of their ass they finally dare to ask the question that’s been gnawing at the back of their mind:

“Hey, [muse]…D’ya wanna model naked for me?”

Bonus points if they’re trying to ask it to their muse in question, but they’re so drunk they don’t realize they’re facing someone else entirely.

Like, their muse could be Sunday and they’re trying to ask Sunday to model naked for them, but they’re facing Robin.

It can also be other combos!

Like, Muse:the person Reader is actually facing

So—

Gepard:Serval

Blade:Firefly

Dan Heng:Sushang

Lingsha:Yunli

Jing Yuan:Yanqing

These are just examples off the top of my head but basically pick any one or think of another pair yourself and make it as chaotic as you possible can. 🤣

If you make the title “Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls” istg—

Portraits of Desire

Tags: Sunday x Reader x Robin, Aventurine x Reader x Topaz, Artist!Reader, Fluff and Humor, Alcohol-Induced Shenanigans, Artistic Obsession, Mild Suggestive Themes, Confessions in Chaos, Playful Banter.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption and intoxication, Light innuendo, Embarrassing humorous situations.

A/N: sadly i already named a previous fic that, so I can't name this one the same title 😕💔

(Credits to @kakyoriya on Twitter/X)

The Charmony Festival's afterparty had always been a lively affair, filled with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. You, an artist swept into the chaos of Penacony’s surreal world, found yourself seated at a circular table with Sunday and Robin. Despite your initial plans to observe the Halovian pair discreetly, the generous flow of Halovian wine had turned those plans into a swirling mess.

Your sketchbook lay open on the table, pages flipping as a gust of laughter erupted around you. The pages showcased the delicate strokes of your pencil—portraits of Sunday, Robin, and various festival moments. They were all expertly rendered, but your fascination with Sunday was painfully obvious. His eyes seemed to pierce through the pages, and even his halo was meticulously detailed.

Robin chuckled softly, her hair shimmering under the festival lights. “You’ve truly captured his essence.” she remarked, pointing at one of your sketches.

You hiccupped, the wine adding a rosy hue to your cheeks. “Well, it’s ‘cause he’s so damn… inspiring!” you slurred.

Sunday, ever dignified, raised a brow but allowed a faint smile to curl his lips. “I see. I suppose I should thank you for the flattery.”

The room swayed as you turned, your intoxicated mind suddenly consumed by a thought you’d never dared voice. You reached out, grabbing Sunday’s gloved hand—or at least you thought it was Sunday’s.

“Hey… hey, you!” you stammered, squinting up at Robin instead. She tilted her head, bemused.

“Yes?” Robin replied, her voice lilting like a melody.

“I’ve been… thinking,” you began, leaning closer to her. “You’re… perfect. Your symmetry, your aura—it’s breathtaking!”

Robin’s brows knitted in surprise, her cheeks flushing faintly. Sunday, watching from across the table, cleared his throat. “They mean to ask me, Robin. I’ve noticed their fixation.”

But you, oblivious and unbothered, barreled forward. “Model for me. Naked. Just once!”

Robin sputtered, her elegance momentarily faltering. “I beg your pardon?”

Sunday, his eyes narrowing slightly, stepped in to steady you. “I believe you’re mistaking your audience.” he said, his tone carrying both humor and restraint.

You blinked, your intoxicated brain struggling to process the situation. Then, your gaze shifted, landing on Sunday’s halo. “Oh, right!” you exclaimed, jabbing a finger in his direction. “You! I meant you!”

Robin burst into laughter, her melodic voice echoing through the room. “Oh, this is priceless.”

Sunday, maintaining his composure, leaned down to meet your gaze. “While I appreciate your artistic passion,” he said smoothly, “I fear your request might be better suited for sober conversation.”

The IPC gala was a hub of high-stakes networking, dazzling lights, and endless champagne. You, an artist with an eye for detail, found yourself amidst the extravagance, clutching your sketchbook like a lifeline. Aventurine and Topaz had invited you along, each promising you’d find inspiration among the elite.

You had taken them at their word, sketching furiously as your muses moved through the crowd. Aventurine, with his flamboyant overcoat and peacock feather earring, exuded charisma that demanded attention. Topaz, on the other hand, carried herself with a composed confidence, her hair catching the gala’s light.

Hours later, you were drunk. Not tipsy, not buzzed—drunk. Your sketchbook was open to a page filled with Aventurine’s smirk and Topaz’s sharp gaze. The champagne had loosened your inhibitions, and you found yourself staring at Aventurine’s eyes.

“You’re like… a painting.” you slurred, pointing at him.

Aventurine, ever the gambler, leaned forward with an amused grin. “Am I now? Flatter me more.”

Topaz rolled her eyes, sipping her wine. “They’re drunk. Don’t encourage them.”

But you were already gesturing wildly. “I gotta ask. It’s important. Life-changing, even!” You turned—or at least thought you turned—to Aventurine, but your gaze locked on Topaz instead.

“Will you model naked for me?” you blurted.

Topaz choked on her drink, glaring at you with wide eyes. “Excuse me?!”

Aventurine burst into laughter, clapping a hand to his chest. “Oh, this is rich. I think they meant me, darling.”

You blinked, confused, before swiveling toward Aventurine. “Wait, yeah! You! You’re, like… perfection. I need to capture it!”

Topaz shook her head, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re impossible.”

Aventurine leaned closer, tilting your chin up with a gloved finger. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he purred. “But we’ll discuss terms when you’re sober.”

Topaz snorted. “You’re both ridiculous.”

And in your drunken haze, you could only laugh, thrilled by the chaotic charm of your muses.

[sakuralovespossums]

Pickles x Artist/Painter Reader

You two actually knew each other since high school and started off as strangers to unlikely friends to eventual lovers

Pickles, as much of a rebellious punk he was, couldn’t help but find your detailed artworks interesting and decided to ask you about them one day

“Ey dood, you the one behind all these paintings?”

“Uhh yeah, why?”

*Shyly shrugs his shoulders* “Cool if I like……take a look at how you make em?”

Fast forward to today and you guys are still together

Pickles is now the drummer for Dethklok, while you continue your passion of painting for money and love

You’ve also done a lot of artwork for the Dethklok albums

And Snakes n’ Barrels

It’s still a shock to everyone that you, a soft-spoken person who likes spouting poetic words, is with a stumbling short-tempered drunk like Pickles

But thats one of the reasons why he loves being with you. He likes listening to you share your philosophic words and questions as he drunkenly listens while resting his head on your lap

It calms his brain as lets himself get lost in your serene voice and deep words

He’ll often stop by while your working on a new canvas and plop his chin on your shoulder, asking what your painting this time

Pickles can be a reckless drunk, but he knows to be careful around your artworks and avoids your canvas room when he’s out of it

He also tries not to bother you when your really invested in your work but will occasionally wine for your attention outside the door

Seth has def tried to charm you into working for him but you rejected his offer with a kick to the groin

Pickles loves you even more for that

One of your paintings actually foreshadowed the events of army of the doom star, but nobody ever noticed

Pickles always makes sure your not overworking yourself and taking breaks

“Hey dood, cool stuff so far! Wanna get a sandwich?”

“Don’t forget yer water, babe.”

“You look kinda sleepy, babe. You need a nap? Dat paintings not goi’n anywhere.”

He finds your deep thinking and creative outlook so attractive

When he first mentioned you and your art profession to the band, he was so casual about it lol

“I guess my s/o can help us think of a cool album cover. Hm? Oh, yeah they’re an artist.”

[partnerlesspansexual]

Art block

(Hobie Brown x GN!Artist!Reader)

(Synopsis: Art block is a bitch)

It's a pleasant evening on Earth-138, East London to be specific. The sky is clear, the air is crisp, and Spiderpunk (or Hobie Brown as you know him) is returning to his flat after a long day of spidey-work. It's certainly been a busy day to say the least, and all Hobie wants to do is strip off his suit, slip into something more comfortable (or not slip into anything at all if you're lucky, *wink,wink*), and chillax with his baby.

The moment he steps foot into your shared flat, however, his spidey-senses can tell that the vibes are off. Way off. He pulls off his mask, setting his beautiful wicks free from their spandex prison, and looks around the living room in an attempt to locate you. But after a few moments, he gives up and decides to call out to you instead.

"Y/N! Where are you, love?"

He yells, his rich voice echoing through the flat. A moment of silence passes, and Hobie's about to call out to you again, but before he does, he hears a long, pained groan come from your study. He puzzles as to what the matter is, before wandering over to your current location, wondering what on earth he's going to see when he opens the door.

But, like the gentleman he is, he knocks on the door to make sure he doesn't startle you.

"*knock,knock* Babes? You alright in there? Can I pop in"

He asks, genuine concern in his voice. You offer a half arsed

"Yeah"

In response. He slowly opens the door to see you sat in your office, face down on your desk, paint smeared all over your hands (with some having made its way into your hair), with the main light off and the little lamp on your desk acting as your only source of light; the mug and plate on your windowsill giving Hobie the impression that you have in fact been in here all day. To get a better look at you, he flicks the main light on, to which you respond by covering your face with your hands and whining.

"Hobie! Turn that sodding light off, it's too bright!"

You groan in displeasure as Hobie chuckles at your dramatic overreaction. He walks up behind you and gently places his rough, calloused hands on your soft shoulders, gently massaging them in an attempt to calm your scrambled brain. Your tense shoulders noticeably lower as you welcome his gentle touch, relaxing into his loving hands.

"What's the matter, love? Talk to me, ey?"

Hobie speaks softly into your ear as he gently strokes your hair. You slowly lift your head to reveal your paint splattered face, your eyebags having noticeably darkened.

"Before you say anything, I'm fully aware of how atrocious I look"

You chuckle at yourself before massaging your temple with your fingers, trying to ease the tension. Hobie's expression softens and he crouches down next to and brushes a stray strand of hair out of your face, before gently kissing your cheek.

"What's up, babes? Tell spidey-man what the problem is?"

Your cheeks flush a warm shade of pink as a smile widens across your face, loving every second you're with this wonderful man. Then you sigh and manage to explain the reason for your frustration and exhaustion in two simple words.

"Art block"

Hobie sighs in relief, glad to know that nothing too serious has happened. This isn't the first time you've encountered art block (and it certainly won't be the last), so Hobie knows how frustrating this can be for you.

"I'm sorry, babes. I know you hate it when this happens. What is it that you've been trying to draw anyw-"

Hobie peeks over your shoulder and is able to see what you've been creating all day. Numerous paintings and drawings of him are strewn across your desk, entire sheets of paper that you've dedicated to things as little as getting the tone of his skin just right, refusing to settle for anything but perfection.

"Oh, love. These are bloody gorgeous! I'm quite flattered"

He coos, his cheeks flushing a dark shade of red as he gives your shoulders a gentle, but affirming squeeze. You cover your face with your hands to hide your embarrassment.

"But they're not perfect"

You respond, your voice muffled by your hands. Hobie rolls his eyes at your response, takes your hands in his and slowly removes them from your face before bringing his face closer to yours, your noses barely touching as he locks his soulful brown eyes onto yours.

"Neither am I. But you love me just the same anyway, right?"

He asks genuinely. You rest your forehead against his, taking pleasure in the warmth that radiates from his skin.

"Of course"

You say softly as Hobie cups your face with his hands. You lean into them, reveling in the safety and security you feel whenever you're together.

"Then love your art the same way you love me. Can you do that for me, babes?"

You sigh and close your eyes, before opening them and smiling softly.

"I'll try, love. I promise"

(I genuinely have art block right now (and a cold) and it's making me want to curl up into a ball and die)