#artists being nice to each other... drawin things for each other.. ITS ENOUGH TO MAKE YA CRY...

[bbeelzemon]

ARTFIGHT IS SO GOOD . I TRULY LOVE IT SO MUCH. HONESTLY THE BEST TIME OF THE YEAR

[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.

[trashboatprince]

Another little one-shot for Ink Spots (posted up here cause its so short and not plot-heavy), this time it takes place after the previous one where Boris finds them, now showing Henry awake in the safehouse.

Summery: Bendy is happy to see that Henry is awake after that nasty fall, but he doesn’t like the fact that he sees another strange, ink-based mark on his creator.

Luckily, this one wasn’t from the studio, and it has an interesting story to go along with it.

Warning: mentions of drinking and drunkenness, mentions of war, Henry made some silly choices during his time in the service, headcanons and the like, you know the drill

I even included little illustrations for this, sketches actually, cause I draw for the main story. Also I wanted to show Henry’s tattoo.

On with the fic!

--

A Different Kind of Ink

Ink Spots one-shot

--

Bendy yawned loudly as he stretched out on the cot, rolling over to cling to Henry like he had done the last time he rested. Only he realized that there was no Henry with him. He gasped and sat up, looking around, seeing no sign of his human anywhere.

The door to the small room was opened, and he could hear water running down the hall, along with Henry’s voice. “I’ll wash these after mine dry. Thanks for lettin’ me borrow ‘em.” There was a bit of silence before Henry continued.

“Nah, it’s fine, you have a lot of extra clothes here. Were there more people here?”

“…”

“I see. Well, thanks, Boris. I’ll be done soon, just gotta make some attempt at the ink on my clothes, heh.”

Bendy blinked before stepping into the hall, seeing Boris happily walking back to the main room from the bathroom. The little demon approached the bathroom, peeking in to see Henry sitting on a chair at the sink, scrubbing away at his pants with a cleaning brush and a bar of soup. He was happy to see that the other was awake and moving around, he had been a bit out of it for a while since the hall, suffering from a fever from what Bendy could tell through Boris’ pantomiming.

He was coherent earlier but was still recovering from the back injuries he got. Bendy smiled as he watched Henry moving about with ease, seeming to not be bothered by any major pain and aches. From what Bendy could see, Henry was in a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top, allowing him to see the bandaged-up areas on the human. Though something caught the demon’s attention on Henry’s person.

On his upper left arm, near the start of his shoulder, was a black mark. From what Bendy could see, it was shaped like his head, like the inky mark on Henry’s right hand, only this one seemed to have his face instead of being a solid black. Oh… oh no! Did he have a second mark?! Did something happen after all that nonsense they went through the other day!?

He let out a small whimper, which seemed to catch Henry’s attention. “Oh, hey there, bud. Is somethin’ wrong?”

Bendy shifted on his feet before quietly approaching. He looked at the mark when he stopped by Henry’s side, examining it. It was clearly his face, signature grin, pie cut eye, though the left one was closed because the image was winking. There were even a few little stars around the image, and his bowtie was under his head.

“Henry, when did you get marked again?”

“Marked again?” Henry asked, raising an eyebrow, before he noticed what Bendy was looking at. “Oh! Heh, that’s not a mark!”

“B-But it looks like it’s made of ink! It’s gotta be from here!”

Henry laughed a little, shaking his head. “No, bud, that’s not from here. That’s from Belgium.”

Bendy blinked, confused. “Belgium? What do ya mean?”

The animator smiled as he picked Bendy up, setting him down on the counter as he returned to scrubbing at the ink on his pants. “Back in the early forties, there was a war going on and I got drafted. Well, a bit into my service, not too long before I got some nasty wounds that got me sent home early,” he gestured to a few scars on his leg and even lifted up his tank top a bit to show some on his side and stomach,

“I was stationed in Belgium, near the French boarder. My troop found a town to stay in for a bit alongside another troop, a French one, and we all went to a tavern that was open and still serving beer. A bunch of Americans findin’ a bar with beer? Heh, turned into one heck of a night for all of us and the French troop.”

The little demon watched, listening with interest as Henry continued. “Well, while I was there, I brought my sketchbook with me, finally getting the chance to just sit down and draw, ya know? Well, this one French solider sat down next to me, needing a break from his friends and some of mine, and he saw me drawin’ you.

“Turns out, he was a huge fan of the show, sayin’ he always went to the theater to catch the newest one. Let me tell you, the grin on that guy’s face when I told him I was your creator would rival yours, heh. His name is Maurice and we got to talkin’. Turns out he was an artist himself, he even ran a book store with his wife and brother, still does, I think. Anyway, he said he did tattoos as a side job, something he picked up from his father who use to do it himself.”

“Tattoo?” Bendy asked as Henry tapped his arm.

“This is a tattoo, it’s a drawin’ on your skin that’s made with a special kind of ink. A lot of people have them, often of special images and words. Sometimes… they’re not good things, but I won’t go into that. Anyway, well, when he said he did tattoos, my drunken brain thought, ‘hey Henry! You should get one’, and wow, did I not even give that a second thought.”

The imp snickered a little. “You picked to have a drawin’ of my beautiful mug, eh?”

“Well, I was really drunk and wanted somethin’ fun and hilarious, Maurice jokingly asked if I wanted you on my arm, and of course I said yes! He quickly made up a makeshift tool, turns out he had tattooed a few of his friends while on break from the battlefields a few times, and he got to work. I even let him pick out one of your sketches from my sketchbook to draw, and he picked this one.”

Henry smiled, looking a bit embarrassed. “Next mornin’, woke up hungover and found the tattoo. One of my friends who wasn’t hungover told me the story, and now I remember it after havin’ a cleared mind, but man was it embarrassin’ at first. Then it became a little symbol for the troop. We called ourselves the Smiling Demons, Maurice was nice enough to give a bunch of us little stars to match the ones around you. Cheesy, I know, but it was a nice gesture.”

He set the scrub down and looked at Bendy. “I’m actually still in contact with Maurice, ya know? We exchanged addressed and wrote to each other all the time, just updates on life and such. Sometimes we even would draw pictures for each other. A few years ago, me and Linda went and visited Paris, we ran into him and his wife and had a nice time.”

He chuckled a little as he sat back in the old chair. “Oh man, Linda was so furious with me when I told her about the tattoo, until she saw it. Then she just laughed, thought it was the funniest thing to ever happen to me. Oh, yeah, she was worried about my injuries and stuff, but that smilin’ face of yours cheered her up. We told this to Maurice and he looked so proud of his work, what a great guy, still a big fan of yours.”

Bendy smiled a little, kicking his feet as he leaned back on his hands. “Heh, nice to have friends, eh? Hey, whose Linda?”

“Oh, she’s my wife.”

“You’re married?! I didn’t know dat! Where’s yer ring?”

Henry dug into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a silver band. “I took it off on instinct when I came to the studio. I use to keep it off when I worked cause I always hated getting ink on it. I always felt bad about it getting messy when I came home, but Linda never seemed to mind, still, instinct made me pocket it. I’m surprised it survived all of that stuff we went through.”

Bendy nodded. “Say, when we get out, do ya think I’ll get to meet her?”

“Heh, of course you will. I’ll take us home and you’ll get to meet her, and hopefully the rest of my family. Gonna be hard to explain everythin’ that’s happened to us and how you came to me, and, well, hopefully our eyes will be returned to normal by then. Hm, she’s gonna be mad about me being home later than expected, and I doubt there’s a workin’ phone here…”

“Well, I bet she’ll understand when we tell her everythin’! Besides, ya got me as proof that crazy stuff happened!” Bendy grinned, looking excited now. “Golly, I can’t wait to get outta here, see da world, meet yer family, an’ spend time wit’cha without the chance of death bein’ around every corner!”

Henry looked at him, smiling a little. “Yeah, that’ll be nice. I’d like for you to see what’s beyond the studio, bet you’d like what we’ve got nowadays.”

“Tell me! Heck, tell me more about’cha, Henry! I wanna know all sorts of stuff about my favorite human.” Bendy happily yelled, if he had a tail, it would probably be wagging.

Blinking, Henry looked at him before laughing lightly. “Alright, let’s see… ah, when I was younger, I used to be a prankster and a troublemaker, like you…”

Boris peeked in on the two, having heard a lot of chitter chatter from the main room. He watched and listened to Henry as he talked to Bendy about his time at the studio when it first opened, seeming so happy to talk about the good stuff that had happened here. The wolf smiled, deciding to let them be, he was sure both of them needed a moment of peace together.

END

--

Just a little thing, I was thinking about the idea of my Henry having a tattoo of Bendy on his person, but I wasn’t sure what a good reason for it would be. Then I thought about this, and here we go!

That, and I almost, ALMOST wanted to give him something super ridiculous that he’d be embarrassed about cause I was re-reading my copy of Journal 3 and read about Ford’s tattoo. But I decided on Bendy being the design, a simple one, instead of something really silly.

Also, this fanfic was an excuse to establish a few things: Henry got hurt in the war but obviously lived, him and Linda are married (have been since 1930 in my au), and he already had ink in him before getting his mark. I also love the idea that Henry has friends from his army days (and most are still around, they remember Henry the artist, his nickname was Bendy as a joke)

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!