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genshin-side-piece · 1 year ago

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The Hawk and The Sparrow

*Blows the dust bunnies off of this one* This one has been sitting for a minute and by a minute, I mean like the beginning of the Sumeru chapter. It's amazing what a week off of work does for the creative mind.

Characters: Alhaitham, Kaveh, GN reader (no pronouns or descriptions used for reader)

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+, Yandere themes, Yandere Behavior, Power Imbalance, Master/apprentice dynamic, Abuse of power, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Touching, Dark themes, not smut (sorry), angst My bad writing, Anything Else I Missed

“There you are, sparrow.” It took you a few seconds to react, but when you did, your entire body froze. While the intrusion of Alhaitham’s voice wasn’t a terrible surprise, you hadn’t expected it this soon. He had been away on business, with no word on when he might return. It had been your hope that when he returned he would be so exhausted from his weeks away that he would simply go home. As you had left the city this morning, your mind had conjured images of him standing at the city gates, impatiently tapping his foot as he waited for you to return or even him patrolling the border as you leered at it from a distance. You should have considered that he wouldn’t be satisfied with simply waiting. It was a foregone conclusion that upon his return to the city, one of the first people he would want to see would be you. If you weren’t where he expected you to be, then he was more than capable of finding you. “Thank you for making me spend most of my final day off searching half of Sumeru for you.” On instinct, you focused on the drawing in your lap. You knew better than to give him your full attention right away. Alhaitham’s acuity when it came to mind games was second to none. It was a talent few knew he possessed. For those that did, they were, well you were wary to enter into such a battle with him. It was easier to act coy or feign stupidity. At least then you would only have to endure a lecture versus accepting what Alhaitham felt were the full consequences of your actions. “A tad dramatic, don’t you think? Don’t tell me Kaveh is starting to rub off on you.” His low growl echoed across the small clearing, causing you to smirk. “Tell me, was your intention to press your luck today or are you merely interested in testing my lack of patience the instant I return?” Your smirk widened at the hint of irritation in his normally smooth voice. “Would you believe me if I said neither?” You briefly looked up from your sketch, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Since your return was open ended, I had no clue when I would see you again. I am merely enjoying the day.” Behind you, the soles of his ornate shoes brushed across the grass as he stepped further into the clearing. “Really?” There was a chuckle. “Does your enjoyment necessitate the need for no escort, no Akasha terminal, and no word to Kaveh as to your whereabouts?” He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Do you have an explanation for me or shall I just add it to the list of infractions that occurred in my absence?” You swallowed, your smirk softly falling. In your world, Alhaitham’s absence had been a blessing. Kaveh was far less observant when it came to what you did and who you spoke to. You had more than taken advantage of the lack of supervision when it came to getting a few things done. It was improbable that Alhaitham had found them all in such a short amount of time, but it wasn’t entirely impossible either. You had long suspected Alhaitham had put a second set of eyes on you before he left, just to ensure you were behaving as you should.

Since Alhaitham’s departure, there had been one too many instances of the same group of eremites being near you for it not to be the case. You briefly wondered exactly how many so-called infractions of his ridiculous rules had gotten back to him. Had there been daily reports or would that be too much? The trip to Port Ormos wasn’t too bad, but you doubted he was willing to pay someone or a set of someones to go back and forth everyday. Maybe every few days? It was hard for you to say. Still, a small worry began to creep its way up your spine. What did he know? What had he been told? As he said, there was a list. Your mind slowly began to spin at how long it could actually be. “The akasha shouldn’t be a terrible surprise. You know that silly thing hurts my ear if I wear it for too long. It does me no good outside of the city, so I left it behind.” The slight quiver in your voice nearly gave you away. You could see it in how his body shifted, his hips turning so he could block your only exit from view. “It’s a requirement of the Akademiya that you wear one.” You scoffed, trying to hide the unease that was washing over you. “Since when are you concerned about upholding the Akademiya’s mandates? I wonder how they would feel about your latest excursion.” You lazily drug the graphite across the page, acting like you still cared about your landscape. “My latest excursion was at their request.” Unlike yours, which was not. “I thought we discussed your little sketching trips the last time you tried this.” The discussion being that after you had successfully vanished from his sight for an entire day, Alhaitham informed you that you were not allowed to leave the city alone again. “I’m not a child, Haitham. I resent being treated like one.” You added a little bite to your tone in the vain hope that he might pick up on your displeasure. “I needed reference material for a project. Since I was refused a kamera, I decided the only way to get it was to make a few sketches.” You made the conscious choice to not elaborate beyond what you had already said. It was easier to let him admonish you for what he did know, versus adding to your troubles by telling him something he hadn’t discovered yet, which you doubted was very little. His thoroughness when it came to you knew no bounds. That’s why your efforts to keep your secrets hidden was an exhausting affair. “The distance is trivial, it shouldn’t require an escort. Even if it did, all your favorites have gotten outrageous with their fees. I can use a stick and get equal protection.” You heard him scoff at the suggestion. “As for Kaveh, he was nowhere to be found. I wasn’t interested in searching the entire city just to tell him I was going a stone’s throw away. Though if he really is that worried, he could have asked the forest rangers. I passed their lookout on my way here and told them where I was.” “I’m aware.” There was a long pause. You could feel his eyes on you; searching, scanning, and assessing your figure for anything he might find out of the ordinary. Much too what you imagined was his disappointment, there wasn’t anything egregious. Outside of your missing akasha terminal, you were as he preferred you. The only thing he could fuss about was the amount of sun your exposed neck, shoulders, and back had seen. Then again, he might also take it as a blessing. There was little doubt that Alhaitham would probably jump at the chance to rub aloe into your irritated flesh. “Your location is inconsequential. You’ve been found.” He grated that out in what you guessed was an effort to hide his apparent relief.

Alhaitham had been anxious about you using his extended trip as an excuse to vanish from Sumeru. There had been the less than ideal suggestion of you going with him, but he had rejected it at the last minute. Having you with him was a liability he couldn’t afford. Hence his need for curfews, boundaries, and you being left under Kaveh’s less than observant eye. The last thing Alhaitham wanted was to lose his precious control over your life and more importantly, you without having a say in the matter. You had already tried to leave his mastery and pursue other opportunities outside of Sumeru on more than one occasion. Each attempt had been met with a strict punishment and an ever tightening grip on your finances.

Because you were apprenticed to him, he had the right to take everything you made for himself. Much to your chagrin, it was a right he exercised often. There was always a long winded speech about your lack of responsibility or your foolish ways before he took your hard earned money from you. Anything he returned to you was the result of his so-called generosity. As your master, he was expected to provide for you. But your definition of being provided for was far different than his. He viewed your needs as requiring the basic essentials and nothing more. Anything extra had to be requested and in some cases begged for. If he granted your wish, then the item would be purchased for you rather than him giving you the money. He was well aware of the danger that came with handing you a bag of Mora and letting you galavant around with it. The one and only time he had done that, he had barely caught you at the docks before the ship had sailed.

“Though since you refuse to wear your Akasha Terminal as you’ve been asked to.” You flinched at how he drew out the word asked. “I may employ Kaveh’s suggestion of sewing little bells into your clothes or maybe I’ll just hang a large one around your neck.” Like he would a pet. The ridiculousness of that made you want to throw your sketch pad at him. You reviled that he kept tabs on you. His incessant need to hover over you was suffocating. Not wearing your accursed Akasha Terminal was one of the few ways you could insure some level of privacy from him, even if it was short lived.

“I think some would find that terribly disruptive. Most professors demand silence during the lectures. I doubt they would be welcoming of such a distraction, even if it came from the grand oiseau himself.” You heard an annoyed huff come from behind you. “Since I’m outside the city and the Akademiya, I doubt Kaveh’s precious bells would have proved useful.” Alhaitham grunted in response. “If anything, wouldn’t they draw danger to me?” “He also made mention of locking you in my study should I decide to go away again. He was quite vocal about how difficult you’ve been in my absence.” It was laughable to think you had been the difficult one. Despite your best effort to keep up appearances while going behind Alhaitham’s back, Kaveh made it especially challenging to do so. Visual contact had, at least in terms of him laying eyes on you, been impossible. If you could find him, he had been face down on Lambad’s bar or passed out on Alhaitham’s couch in a fit of exhaustion. In your desperation to not alert Alhaitham that something was amiss, you had been reduced to leaving notes in Kaveh’s hand as proof of your daily check-ins. The last thing you needed or wanted was for your keeper to come back early because he believed you had fled his ever present eye before you had actually done it. “Not that I feel it’s a reasonable solution, but why save that particular joy for your infrequent trips outside the city? You already watch me morning, noon, and night when I’m at the Akademiya. I’m surprised you haven’t insisted I enjoy that delight so you can observe me as I sleep.” Your sarcasm wasn’t lost on him. Nor did it do much to improve his mood. You could feel his eyes burning a hole in your back.

“If I thought it plausible, I might.” His voice had a tone you didn’t like. His normally condescending manner had degraded into a quiet outrage that sent a small shiver all over your body. The last time you had heard that tone, he had shown you exactly how much power he had over your life. It wasn’t an experience you wanted to repeat. “Regrettably, I lack a cage large enough to keep you confined for any real length of time.” He had moved closer, his cape swirling the air between you. “Kaveh is as tired of your shenanigans as I am. It seems whatever sympathy he had for you has run out. He mentioned that he was all too eager to design you something before I came searching for you. Maybe I’ll take him up on it.” A heavy silence fell between you. Your mind silently debated whether he was serious or not. Alhaitham wasn’t one to jest about punishment. His one insistence was the expectation of his rules being followed. But the notion that he would bring himself to completely confine you as a means of controlling you was a step too far, even for him. Allowing you your liberty, more importantly allowing you the chance to shine was a positive reflection on him and the Akademiya as a whole. Even if his reputation wasn’t entirely important to him, you doubted he wanted that to change, unless he had discovered your largest transgression before you had the chance to do anything about it.

A glance over your shoulder told you all you needed to know. His clenched jaw and stormy eyes were an indication of exactly how livid he was. His fury went beyond his previously listed reasons for being here. While not wearing your Akasha terminal, having no escort and the most egregious of all, failing to inform Kaveh of your whereabouts were simple infractions. They weren’t anything you hadn’t done before. They were behaviors that Alhaitham found at worst, annoying. He had tried to curb them, but generally speaking they brought little more than being restricted to spending your free time in his office for a few days. This was different. This was a level you hadn’t pushed him too before. This meant only one thing.

Silently, Alhaitham reached into a pocket that was concealed by his cloak, pulling out a wax sealed piece of parchment. Your eyes fixated on it, your entire body going cold when he held it in front of you. “Interestingly, this was waiting for me when I returned.” You felt your mouth go dry as you continued to stare at it, your heart sinking like a stone as he ran his fingers over the broken seal. “Kaveh told me it was delivered to the house this morning.” Of course it was. You closed your eyes, grinding your jaw for a moment. Word had reached you that it was being sent. You had thought that the Akademiya might be kind enough to send it to Alhaitham’s office. Then you would have had a chance to retrieve it before he ever got word of it, but fate had not been kind to you. Instead, it had been sent directly to Alhaitham’s home, likely because that would be the first place he would go once he returned. The confirmation that Kaveh had received it meant that Alhaitham had been alerted to it almost instantly. It was probably what triggered Alhaitham’s unexpected return and his confrontation with you now. “Here I thought we had buried the concept for good. Yet-” He let out a breathy chuckle. “You are always full of surprises, aren’t you?” You slowly opened your eyes at the sound of him shifting his weight. The light clinking of ornate embellishments of his outfit broke the silence between you filling the void. “Do you have any kind of defense?” Not that it would save you. He already had more than enough cause to punish you. The letter in his hand was just the icing on the proverbial cake.

You impassively shook your head while you continued to focus on the piece of paper in his hand. He had you. There wasn't a lie in the world that could save you from him. You knew what you had done. More so, you knew the lengths you had gone to get it. The document in question was the proverbial carrot that Alhaitham had dangled in front of you ever since he had taken you under his wing. Your freedom relied on it, your sanity depended on it. Your eyes focused on the stamped seal of approval from the Akademiya. They traced every bump, every dip of the wax. Even the break where it had been opened burned its way into your memory. How could it not? It wasn’t everyday one received a graduation letter from the Akademiya. It was even less likely for you, since your master and benefactor had denied you of it ever since you had come under his tutelage.

It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that your main roadblock to your future was Alhaitham himself. He had found you on one of your trips through Sumeru. You had set up a small stall in the streets of Port Ormos, peddling sketches and caricatures to tourists while you made a study of the port. You remembered it and him at first because he had spent nearly an hour looking over the pieces you had on offer. He had been especially engrossed with a study of the ruins near Ay-Khanoum. After three additional visits that same day, he deemed you worthy enough to speak to. His curiosity was mainly about how you had reached the ruins, but he also asked other questions; where had you learned, who you were apprenticed under, and the most damning of all, were you traveling with anyone? His reaction when you had answered no to his final question was something you should have been wary of. From that time until you were ready to leave Port Ormos, he had lingered close to your stall. Even after you had moved it to a more crowded area, he still found you. Patrons taking an interest in you wasn’t anything new. You’d had many offers to stay in the different villages and towns that you had visited. Alhaitham was not the first person to offer to keep you in comfort so you wouldn’t have to endure the life of a wandering artist. Even if that life was entirely your choice. To him, someone of your talent deserved to have their skill honed to the highest level. It was a privilege to study at the Akademiya. You should consider yourself fortunate that such a distinguished and respected figure within the Akademiya was willing to personally sponsor the next step in your education. Nevermind that it was a privilege that you had never wanted or asked for. It was enough that Alhaitham wanted it for you and whatever he wanted, he got. The mind games he so expertly played made sure of that.

Under the guidance of your darshan, your skill had grown exponentially. Some had even gone so far as to say your skill exceeded Alhaitham’s at his current age, nevermind his younger self. The man himself was pleased with your progression. At least, you thought he was pleased. Your overall academic progress never seemed to matter to him. He instead insisted on you following his ever increasing, ever suffocating list of rules. You had thought to leave when it all started. When he first began to tighten his hold on you. In the beginning, Alhaitham had been largely content to simply observe you. It hadn’t mattered if you were in the public spaces of the Akademiya or in the privacy of one of the many art studios, those of eyes of his seemed to follow you wherever you went. You had diverged on many occasions, trying your best to shake the oppressive presence of your sponsor. The result had been Alhaitham leaving his proverbial perch to track you down. Once back in his field of vision, he tightened his hold on you, slowly and steadily trapping you in his firm grip. By the time you realized what was going on, it was far too late to do anything about it. Instead your escape attempts were thwarted, your departure from the Akademiya refused.

It was hard to remember when his attention had changed from observational to physical. He wasn’t terribly affectionate, yet he always managed to let his fingers linger on yours whenever he would take the graphite from you to show you something. That escalated into those same fingers toying with the sensitive skin of your neck while he hovered over you in the evening. You had tried to minimize the unwanted contact by moving your studio time to earlier in the day. Your hope was to be back in your apartment before he finished work, but luck was not on your side. Like everything else in your life, Alhaitham held a specific level of control over both you and your schedule. Your class times had been optimized to fit with his schedule. The moment you had tried to adjust anything to suit yourself, it was mysteriously shifted back. When questioned why, the registrar merely shrugged. The only excuse that was offered was that the studios were a distracting place during the day. A student of your advanced capability deserved peace and quiet to work. That was why everyone was seemingly insistent that you take an evening slot. Nevermind that it gave Alhaitham all the privacy he could ever want when it came to you. In those moments, the main focus of his attention was your neck and shoulders. Delicate fingers would run along your nape and collar bones while he watched you sketch. A heavy hand often laid upon your shoulder while you practiced your writing. In the very late hours, when it was assured you were alone, his lips would find themselves behind your ear, softly pressing into your sensitive skin. You had tried to stop it, first by asking him, then by telling him, but he had refused. Instead, he got bolder. He exercised his authority over you, by commanding that you keep his favorite spots exposed for his pleasure. When you defied him by hiding them with scarves and other items, he retaliated. Your wardrobe was changed overnight. It was the first of many humiliations to come.

“I want to leave Haitham.” Your eyes didn’t falter from their fixation on the letter. Your voice didn’t even so much as tremble. Not when your freedom was in the palm of his hand. His continued control of your life had only cemented your resolve to be rid of him once and for all. The letter meant that upon your official graduation, you would be released from your apprenticeship to Alhaitham. According to the laws of the Akademiya it meant that in some aspects, namely the financial ones, he would have to yield his control of you. Once that happened, you would be able to trigger the final part of your plan. “I’m tired of this place.” You were tired of his demands. You were tired of being a possession. You were tired of him. “I want to travel again.” You wanted to put as much distance between you and him as was humanly possible. Even if it meant living on a boat in the middle of the ocean for the rest of your life, you were prepared to do so. Just to be rid of him. “And you believe I’ll allow any of that.” His tone was like acid, burning you word after word as he disregarded your reasons for wanting to get away. It wasn’t like he was blind to them. Alhaitham was all too aware of them. This wasn’t a new conversation for either of you. There had been numerous occasions where you had demanded he let you leave, only to be thwarted by the very piece of paper that was now in his hand. As long as you didn’t have it, he could keep you. “It doesn’t matter if you do or you don’t.” You finally tore your eyes away from the letter, craning your neck upward so you could stare into his malicious gaze. “That piece of paper severs your hold over me.” According to the Akademiya, you were free.

The news of that went over as well as you expected it too. Losing was not something Alhaitham was accustomed to, especially when the source of his defeat was someone he viewed as inferior. He had gone to great lengths to insure that you would never graduate. The fury that raged in his eyes when he realized you had gotten around all of them was akin to a hurricane. Menacing and swirling and desperate. He was dangerous when he was like this. You knew that, yet you stood firm in both your reasons and your actions. Any punishments incurred from here on out would fall under the purview of the law. You could bring his actions up to the Matra and they would be obligated to investigate. It was one of the many benefits your graduation had brought you. More so, he wouldn’t be able to prevent it. The letter meant everything had become official. Your graduation and your subsequent release from his care had been registered in the official records. If Alhaitham tried to deny you had graduated, all the matra needed to do to confirm it was check the lists. “No.” His hand tightened around the letter, crushing the piece of paper with almost no effort. “Have I not told you countless times that you are not ready to move forward, yet you are insistent on disobeying me.”

“If not now, when?” You stood up releasing some of the anger that had been pent up inside of you. “I know you think me stupid. I know you view me as blind.” You matched his harsh tone, spitting every word at him in the hope that they would hurt him as much as you wanted them too. “But I won’t be ensnared in your trap any longer.” You took a shallow breath, mentally steadying yourself. “I want my life back. I was fine before you tricked me into joining the Akademiya. I’ve been miserable since. I’ve had my fill of it. I don’t want anything more to do with it or you!” His lips curled into a sneer.

“Is that so?” He took a step forward, his grip tightening even further around the letter. “Did you ask for my blessing before you did this? Did I grant you my permission to do such a thing?” He reached for you and on instinct you leaned back, tossing the only weapon you had at him in the hope it would stop him.

“I have an offer.” It worked.

Alhaitham stopped where he stood, his eyes growing wide at that statement. His face shifted from anger to disbelief to something you didn’t recognize in a matter of seconds. He almost looked as if he hadn’t heard you correctly. But he had. You knew he had. The anger that practically radiated off his frame told you he had.

“I beg your pardon.” The tone of the statement cut right through your confidence. Admitting you had a way out had been a mistake. It had been your intention to never reveal it, at least not until you were well and truly away from him. The letter explaining your escape route, along with your packed bags were back at your apartment. Your intention was to leave the second you had your graduation letter, but that plan had been obviously foiled. Now you had realized Alhaitham’s worst fear for him, in the hope that it would deter him from pressing you any further. It was a foolish move on your part. One you would later come to regret. “I- have an- offer.” You tried to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat, but it was as persistent as his scowl. “The- the court of Fontaine. They wrote again-” The Palais Mermonia was in desperate need of a courtroom sketch artist. They had written months ago after one of your old sketches had ended up in the Palais. Alhaitham had insisted you turn it down, because he needed you here. Now they had written again, this time more urgently. They had even offered you an advance, just to tempt you with the concept of acceptance. “They increased their offer from before.” You couldn’t refuse. Not when the position and the money were your ticket out of Sumeru. “I want out, Haitham.” You said that with every ounce of force in your body, hoping to get your point across.

An extended silence passed between you two, one that was filled by the sound of the wind as it whipped around you.

“Fine.” That answer confounded you. Fine? After years of refusals and torments he finally agrees? It didn’t seem right. It didn’t feel right. Alhaitham wasn’t one to give up, nor did he readily accept defeat. Especially when he had been caught off guard. That meant one thing; there was a catch, somewhere. You knew Alhaitham well enough to know that if there was one plan, then there were at least seven back ups. The man didn’t breathe without a contingency in place. That’s why his sudden acquiescence, especially when he was still seething from your previous conversation, seemed out of sorts. Because it was. There was a trick up his nonexistent sleeve. “I’m sorry, what?” You furrowed your eyebrows at him, hesitant to show him the confusion that was radiating through your body. “You want out of the Akademiya? Fine.” His words were clipped and sharp, lacking any real sincerity. “I’ll grant that to you. You’re out. It saves me the trouble of purging the records once we return to the city.” You gently shook your head. “I want out of Sumeru, Haitham. I want my own life.” An odd, almost all knowing smirk crossed his lips. “I’ll give you that as well.” You blinked at him, your eyes as wide as saucers. For a brief moment you actually thought your brain had broken and your ears deceived you. He agreed? “If you do one thing for me.” There it was. You wanted to laugh at how predictable he could be sometimes. “From now, until you leave Sumeru, you will wear your Akasha terminal.” He reached around behind him, pulling the accursed thing from his pocket. He offered it to you, expectantly waiting for you to take it. You would not deny that it felt too good to be true. After everything had put you through, you could not shake the feeling that you were being deceived once again.

“That’s it?” Your eyes kept moving between his face and the terminal in his hand. “All I have to do is wear this until I leave and I’m free?” The smirk grew larger and with it, so did your hesitation. You didn’t want to trust it or him really. All you had to do was wear your akasha terminal until you left Sumeru and he would let you go free? The offer was too easy. Too simple. Two things Alhaitham never was. There was also the complete lack of a second option to consider. If you refused, what would happen? Would he drag you back to the city kicking and screaming? Would he purge your graduation as a means of keeping you? It was hard to say, hard to know. But that was the point. You were gambling on two unknowns; could you really trust him to do as he said or could you stand whatever punishment he deemed most appropriate? It didn’t matter. You were damned either way. “You’ll truly let me go?”

“Do as I ask and I will happily grant you the new life you seek.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You should’ve listened to your instincts. You should’ve run as fast as you could. You should’ve removed the akasha terminal before going to bed that night. If you had, you wouldn’t have had to face the horrific reality that greeted you when next woke.

A new life. That’s what he had said. Do as he asked and he would grant you a new life. You had been foolish enough to believe that Alhaitham would do the right thing and allow you the new life you had made for yourself. You weren’t to know that when he had sent you home that night, that the Akademiya would be running an experiment. That everyone wearing an Akasha terminal within a specific radius would be pulled into a deep slumber for an undetermined amount of time. Alhaitham though, through his privileged position at the Akademiya, had. It was why the deal he had offered had been so ungodly simple. All he needed was for you to be wearing the terminal while you slept. Once in the experiment’s hold, he could do as he liked to you, for as long as the experiment lasted. Which was what led you here.

It had been an odd sensation to wake up in the room or rather the cell you would be forced to call home. At the start, you couldn’t quite place it. The ornate woodwork that ran along the ceiling and the cushions beneath you were both entirely unfamiliar. Your apartment and your bed, both of which you firmly remembered falling asleep in, were much simpler. Alhaitham had refused the idea of allowing you anything remotely grand. If you wanted splendor, you could find it in his home. So you had long settled for the simplicity of your surroundings. That’s why the silks and the satins, the ornate carvings, and the gilded bars felt entirely out of place; because they weren’t yours. This was not your apartment. You thought them to be part of another dream. A bizarre image created by your mind due the stress of the last few days. Alhaitham had said he would let you go. He had promised it. Yet as the terror of reality slowly began creeping its way into your bones, you tried to lie and tell yourself this wasn’t real. He hadn’t. He couldn’t. No, you were leaving for Fontaine in the morning. Alhaitham was going to let you go. You kept telling yourself that, right up until you turned your head, finding the man himself staring back at you through the bars of your new gilded cage.

He didn’t speak to you. Not initially. He just stared, as he liked to do in the quieter moments. He allowed you the privilege of assessing your present circumstances on your own. Of letting you reach your own conclusion when it came to what they meant. He granted you the rare right to the blinding rage that filled you to the brim after the reality of your situation finally sunk in. He had lied to you. He had tricked you. He had trapped you. There would be no escape. He had finally acted on the overarching threat that had hung over your head like a blade waiting to strike. Alhaitham had made you his. “Haitham?” Your voice quivered as your barely maintained control of it. Gods above how you just wanted to scream at him. Even if it would be deemed unnecessary at this stage, you still wanted to. If nothing else than to release the emotions that were threatening to suffocate you. “You must have still been tired from all your exertions while I was away.” The flat calm of his voice incensed you further. The sheer audacity of the man to be unaffected by the looming consequences of his actions sent you to another level where your fury was concerned. Even if there was nothing you could physically do to him, Alhaitham could have had the good manners to sound somewhat remorseful for the fact that he had tricked you. “I took your akasha terminal off hours ago.” You tried to take a deep breath to calm yourself, knowing full well it would do nothing to help. The deep, stuttering quality of the release of it matched the wrath that was vibrating through your body. “Did you sleep well?” An absurd question all things considered. “What’s going on?” You sat up fully, using the cold metal bars as a means of support when you could finally manage to stand. “What have you done?”

He rose from his place on the sofa opposite the cage, taking one last moment to look you over before he closed the distance between you. It wasn’t a large gap, in fact, he closed in what felt like a second. To you though, it felt like an eternity. He was savoring his victory. The look of utter satisfaction he gave you when he stopped in front of you nearly made you take his face off. The only thing that stopped you was that it was well out of your reach. “I cannot admire you to my own satisfaction if you are in Fontaine, sparrow.” He confidently reached out, the pads of his fingers running down the column of your neck, daring to pause long enough at the base so he could brush his thumb over your exposed collarbone. “I shudder to think what could have happened to you had you slipped away.” You would be free. That’s what would have happened. You would be in Fontaine and completely free of him. “This is a much better arrangement, don’t you think?”

“How is this better?!” Hot tears began to stream down your face, burning your skin more with each drop that rolled across your cheeks. “I’m behind bars because of you!” The idea that he acted on his threat to confine you to this degree was not the worst part of this, but it was the most horrifying. Alhaitham always held himself to such a high standard of logic and reason. It was impossible to believe that he would go to such a barbaric level just to maintain his control over you. “I did warn you about the cage. What a pity that you didn’t listen.” Your fingers tightened around the bars. “All you had to do was behave and I would have left you at liberty.” He chuckled. “Such a shame you couldn’t even manage that.” Behave. He meant stay. The price of your liberty was staying in Sumeru until one of you died. Had you just done that, you would have woken up in your bed or at worst his. Instead, you had pressed the offer from Fontaine. You had demanded he let you go. You actually tried to leave. Now in his mind, you had to pay the price for your folly.

“HAITHAM” Your fingers released the bars long enough for you to slap them in pure frustration. “This isn’t fair- this isn’t legal!” He didn’t fight you on either point, he didn’t need to. You were correct on both counts, you knew you were. Confining you was not an ideal solution for him, but your disobedience had forced his hand. You had turned his worst fear into a reality and that was something Alhaitham wasn’t about to allow. “Let me out!” You hit the cage again, more for effect than anything else. “Or?” He retracted his hand from you, folding his arms in amusement, almost challenging you to threaten him. “You’ll scream?” He shrugged. “Go ahead, no one will hear you.” You swallowed, not liking the dangerous glint in his eyes.

“We’re in the middle of the city.” Your complete lack of confidence in that statement was all too apparent. The truth was, you didn’t know that for sure. It was an assumption that he had taken the route of least resistance and brought you to his home. But you had been unconscious when he had done so. The sobering reality was, you could be anywhere. Sumeru was rife with caves and ruins alike. There were any number of places where one could hide a person or themselves if they needed to. Places that the matra didn’t know of or places they didn’t care to go. Places that Alhaitham was prepared to take advantage of, should he need to. “Are we?” There was a small smirk. “Are you sure about that?” Your only response was to look away from him. Having to stare at his smug expression was making you sick. “Would you like a hint?”

“How is this even possible?” You turned back, fixing him with a glare, blatantly ignoring his question. “The last time we spoke, you told me you didn’t have this. The threat to lock me away was an idle one at best.”

“Didn’t I? Interesting that you know what may or may not be in my possession at any given time.” You shook your head in complete denial. He had only just forced you back from the woods yesterday. There was no way he could have gotten this in the span of a night. Either you had been asleep for a lot longer than you thought or something else was going on. “If you’re good, I’ll consider letting you out later to stretch your legs for a bit.” If not, he would keep you locked away for days, even weeks before he would consider letting you out again. Even with your exceptional capability to refuse him at nearly every turn, you could not deny that Alhaitham held all the cards. If you would not offer your compliance freely, then he could demand it in other ways. He could force it if it was absolutely necessary, but he would wear you down long before he ever got to that point. The burden of being held captive wasn’t resting on him. Alhaitham was free. He could do as he pleased and you knew it pleased him just to have you. Your presence was enough to satiate any desire he might have. He could easily lose himself in a book and be fine with forcing you to wait to the point that you were willing to beg him for a scrap of attention. Meanwhile, all you could do was stare at the door of your cell and pray that you didn’t descend into madness from the sheer boredom of it all. “I know it’s a foreign concept for you to behave yourself where I’m concerned, but perhaps you could practice it while I’m otherwise engaged today. It’s not like you have anything else to do.” The incredulous nature of his statement caused you to only be able to gape at him in horror.

Alhaitham’s expectation of you being good, was for you to be utterly compliant to his whims. He expected your gratitude and your adoration in equal measure. Your inability to express either frustrated him to no end. You supposed he felt your current situation would fix that. To achieve an ounce of freedom, you had to do what he wanted. You had to obey. There were no more second chances or mild infractions. Alhaitham’s intentions were all too clear. You become what he wanted you to be. Period. “Kaveh will be in to check on you once he gets back from his errands. Considering he’s as irritated as I am with you, I’m sure a little obedience would go a long way mending the proverbial fence with him.”

“Fuck off.” You spat that at him the hope that it would have some effect on him. It did, but only from the standpoint that it made Alhaitham angrier. You could see it in his eyes when they grew harder, glossing over with the cold apathy that he had mastered. “Language.” You went to say it again, this time louder, hopefully loud enough that someone would hear, but he cut you off. “Don’t doubt me when I tell you I have all that I need to correct your mistakes. Your language is one of them.” There was a brief pause. “I’ll give you a pass on that little outburst because you’re upset. Perhaps rightfully so. But don’t make the same mistake with your language again. If you choose to continue to scream obscenities at me, then you’ll do so from behind a gag until you know better. Am I clear?” You let out a slow breath, flaring your nostrils at him as you did. God you wanted to try him. You wanted to dare him to act on his threat, just to see if he would follow through on it. You half considered it, until you looked over the bars again. He had gone so far as to build you a cage. A gag or anything else he had squirreled away would be nothing in comparison. “Sparrow. Answer me, courteously.” “I hate you.” You weren’t about to give him the acquiescence he desired. Not today at any rate. “This isn’t even remotely close to fair.” Your hands came around the bars, gripping them with all you had. “It isn’t fair that you were going to sneak away either. Yet you still tried. Consider this your punishment.” He indicated the cage. “When you learn to stay as you should, then I might be persuaded to let you out for an extended period of time, with supervision.” Stay as you should, like a dog. Gods help you. Your previous fury, which hadn’t been subdued by his motives finally succeeded in escaping, launching itself at him with every ounce of strength you had in your body. The bars of the cage rattled in unison with your screams as you pounded against the door to your cell. Much like Alhaitham, it didn’t move. It held firm, keeping you exactly where he wanted you as he took in your tantrum. He watched you fail and cry and scream until you were reduced to a crumpled puddle at his feet, quietly sobbing out what was left of your rage. There was nothing more to do, there was nothing more to say. To your own horror you had to accept the truth, that despite all your careful planning, Alhaitham had still managed to find a way to win.

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Some time later, that was how Kaveh found you; crumpled against the cage in a broken heap. Enrant tears still fell as you couldn’t quite bring your emotions into check, but your sobbing had long ceased. The only reason it had, was because you had no more energy to do so. Whatever means Alhaitham and Kaveh had been using to keep you alive while you slept weren’t being employed now that you were awake. That meant you were reliant on them to supply you with what you needed to survive. Something you were sure would depend on your behavior and how obedient you choose to be. Knowing Alhaitham, the more you humiliated yourself for his benefit, the better. If you refused, he could starve the defiance right out of you.

“Paradisah?” You flinched at the sound of Kaveh’s voice. He had slipped in a while ago. Like Alhaitham, Kaveh was keen to observe as well. It was an annoying trait they both shared. You wished though, that like Alhaitham, Kaveh had remained silent. You weren’t ready for him. Your anger at Alhaitham, at least the first incarnation of it, had only just subsided. Kaveh didn’t necessarily deserve the tail end of it, simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Had you the energy for it, you would have given him the fresh anger he had earned all on his own. Instead you limply sat there, ignoring him. It was the only defense you could muster. “Darling-” He quickly moved closer, the metal details of his outfit clinking and clanking with every swift step. “Darling, are you alright?” Out of all the statements and questions you had heard today, that took the cake on being the stupidest. Were you alright? You had been abducted and told you would stay locked in some form of a cage for the rest of your life. Of course you weren’t alright. Why would he ask that? “I only just got here. Alhaitham left a note saying to check on you. He mentioned that you might be upset.” Might be. Might be.

You turned, your head tilting up in utter disbelief as your tired, red rimmed eyes found Kaveh’s. Might be upset. Things that might upset you were things like the coffee shop being out of your favorite blend or being denied art supplies that you needed for a project. Suggesting that you might be upset at your present circumstances was perhaps the understatement of the millenia. There was no might be about it. You had gone well past the point of upset and gone nuclear. The only thing that seemed to contain it was your own mental exhaustion. “Paradi, please don’t be like that. It’s-” He let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s not that bad. Truly it’s not.” For the first time, you were thankful for the bars that separated you from Kaveh. Had they not been there, then there was a very real chance you might have killed him where he stood. “Are you mad?” You didn’t bother to soften your tone for his benefit, not when he was acting like this was the most normal thing in the world. “I’m locked in a cage, Kaveh. A cage.” The anger you thought you didn’t have for him sparked, rapidly reigniting the ashes of the inferno that had been burning inside of you. “Why?” The question had been a rhetorical one, but the blonde scoffed, deciding it needed to be answered. “Because you gave him no other choice!” You watched as Kaveh planted his hands on his narrow hips. “Not to take his side in this, but you did it first! You-” He weakly gestured to you, letting his one hand fall back to his side. “You went behind his back! You went behind my back! By the way, Fontaine? Really?” Kaveh fixed you with a look of utter contempt. “And for so little too.” He shook his head in disgust. “You should at least get what you’re worth if you’re going to try something this stupid.” Like he was one to talk. Kaveh was Sumeru’s reigning king of foolish endeavors and stupid mistakes. The reason for his personal troubles were because he lacked the common sense he was born with. “I wanted my life back. I already live on a pittance, what’s the difference if I do it here or in Fontaine?” The difference was that Alhaitham and Kaveh wouldn’t be with you. While he tried to disguise it as pity or even empathy, Kaveh was every bit as bad as Alhaitham when it came to controlling your life. He didn’t use money or even his position to keep you where he wanted you. Instead, Kaveh’s violent mood swings often played a large role in getting you to do what he wanted. It was easier to comply with his poor pitiful me act than to deal with the outbursts that would follow should you refuse. “I didn’t think you would be one to lecture me about wanting to get away.” You fixed him with a hard look. “Aren’t you always going on about paying off your debts and getting away from him once and for all? Why am I any different? Why do I have to be the one that’s locked in the cage?” “Because you won’t listen!” The force in Kaveh’s voice temporarily silenced you. He stomped so hard his entire outfit rang in your ears. “All we want is to take care of you!” He took a deep breath, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Are you that ungrateful? You were sleeping in ruins and shady inns before you came here.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “We’ve offered you a life, a home. Sure Alhaitham is wretched and the whole mora thing is annoying, but does that alone constitute betrayal?” The word be slammed into you like a sack of bricks.

“Betrayal?” You could hardly voice the word. Did Kaveh really believe that? “Yes!” He pointed at you. “Betrayal. You have done nothing but lie to me for the last few weeks. Outside of one or two incidents, I thought we were getting along splendidly. I was ready to give him a glowing report so that he might cut you a little slack. Instead you betrayed me. You went behind my back multiple times to make arrangements for your new life in Fontaine. Then you scared the living daylights out of me when you took your little sketching trip into the woods. They delivered your graduation letter that morning and when I went to find you so we could talk about it, you were gone! I thought you had tried to run. I spent my day combing Sumeru City trying to find you!” You wanted to feel guilty about that, but you couldn’t quite manage it. Kaveh’s willing participation in this whole fiasco seemed to kill any remorse you tried to have. “Do you think so little of me that you would do that to me? After everything we’ve been through, you would just leave me behind to deal with his fury?” That you did feel slightly sorry about. You had from the beginning.

Kaveh was as much of a victim of Alhaitham as you were. While you had to deal with Alhaitham’s wandering hands and his incessant control, Kaveh had to endure endless rounds of verbal abuse that were hurled at him on a minute by minute basis when he and Alhaitham were together. Even if it was mostly brought on by Kaveh’s general attitude, Alhaitham almost always went for the jugular where Kaveh was concerned. There had been plenty of instances where Kaveh had limped away from a fight with Alhaitham, only to lick his wounds in the tavern. The difference between you and Kaveh though was Kaveh’s continued participation in Alhaitham’s scheme to keep you in Sumeru. That’s why you only felt slightly bad about your failed escape. Kaveh deserved many things, but the one thing he didn’t deserve was to face the brunt of Alhaitham’s anger when the truth of your escape finally came to light. That didn’t mean you hadn’t been prepared to force him to suffer for the sake of your freedom. If the consequences of you leaving forced Kaveh to realize his own hypocrisy at the hands of Alhaitham, then it was a price you were willing to pay. That at least would be some justice for what had happened to you. Now, there would be none.

“Right, because you’re the victim in this.” Kaveh managed to look a little wounded by that. “Do you think so little of your own ideals that you would cast them aside to imprison me?” The look he gave you was akin to being sucker punched. You could see the wheels spinning in his head. You watched the guilt work its way across his face as he finally took in your situation. “I- I didn’t want you to wake up in there.” Was that supposed to make you feel better? Were you supposed to thank him for his thoughtfulness despite the fact he willingly participated in your abduction? “Even with your betrayal, I advocated that you would be more comfortable out here.” Kaveh briefly gestured at the couch that sat along the wall closest to him. “We could always lock you in later, but I felt it would be better for you not to wake up behind bars. Alhaitham- he disagreed with me. He insisted that things had to remain as normal for us as possible. Nothing could look or feel amiss. I told him I would stay with you, but-” Kaveh shook his head. Obviously that suggestion hadn’t gone much further than that. “In the end, he’s right. We had to consider all that you had done, all you could do. You could hurt yourself, or something else could happen.” Like alert the matra and try to get away. “We both felt that this was better. Safer for everyone.” Safer. You wanted to laugh. You wanted to scream. Safer for who exactly? Them? You? “I know you’re upset.” He tried to sound gentle about it. Despite screaming at you only a few minutes prior, Kaveh was trying his best to be the good cop to Alhaitham’s bad cop. He was trying so desperately to add a silver lining to an abysmal situation. You wouldn’t accept it though. No amount of honeyed words would ever fool you again. “If you listen to him then it won’t be for long. He told me he might even let you out for a while later.” Fresh tears stung your eyes as you gripped the bars with all you had. “You’d like that right? To be out, to walk around? You were under for so long. I’m sure it would feel great just to stretch your legs. Oh! Just think, we could all have meals together, just like we used too.” Like some bastardized version of a family. Despite being famished, you nearly wretched at the thought. “Wouldn’t that be grand?” Kaveh offered you a genuine smile in an effort to disguise the fact that what he had just said was completely revolting. We could all have meals together, just like we used too. As if you hadn’t been forced to eat with them the first time. As if anything would ever be like it used too ever again. How could this meal or any others make up for the fact that your life had been stolen from you? Years of work, years of training, years of studying all made useless by the cold bars that held you in place. You had been reduced to no better than their pet. Something they were preparing to mold and train into a mindless thing. “Why don’t I make you some Pani Puri? You like that don’t you? I think we-” God you couldn’t stand him anymore. You couldn’t stand his incessant need to ignore the obvious. You hated him. You hated Alhaitham. You would rather be left to rot in the prison they had built for you before you would tolerate being in their presence for one more second. “Leave.” It took him a second to process what you said. Initially you thought he hadn’t heard you or that you had only said it in your mind based on the confusion that was written across his face. His expression changed a moment later, resembling that of a kicked puppy. “Darling, I -” He took a step towards you.

“I said-” You turned away from him, not wanting to see his face again. “Leave.” You tried to add some force to that, but it didn’t really work. The word came out as some weak, warbling thing that was barely discernible. Still though, he understood. You heard him take a breath, as if to say one last thing to you, but he refrained. Needless platitudes of encouragement or pleas for you to reconsider wouldn’t do him any good. You had already refused to hear them. Instead, the only sound you wanted to hear was the gentle clanking of Kaveh’s outfit as he slowly moved away. After what you guessed were a few minutes, he granted you that. Leaving you to the fate that Alhaitham had decided for you.

#yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin x reader #yandere alhaitham #yandere kaveh #yandere!genshin #yan genshin x reader #genshin alhaitham #genshin kaveh #kaveh genshin impact #genshin impact alhaitham #alhaitham genshin #alhaitham x reader x kaveh

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odoraful · 1 year ago

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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐅𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑

following a long trip in liyue, you return to mondstadt to reunite with a certain blonde alchemist.

content: albedo x gn!reader; established relationship; ~1k words a/n: speaking of characters who haven't shown up in a while (ﾉД`) i thought i'd write a reunion scene to manifest his return, hoyoverse, the people need him back! i hope you have a lovely day/night!

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A sudden breeze picked up as you walked up the rickety wooden steps of Stone Gate towards Mondstat. It felt cool on your skin, providing a needed respite against the midday sun. The wind tousled your hair before subsiding, leaving it laying at an awkward angle. You chuckled, brushing it out of your face. Must be telling me to hurry up, then. You thought. In the City of Wind, the breezes seemed to have agendas of their own. Interpreting this as their playful welcome to your arrival, you quickened your pace.

There was an invisible thread always drawing you back to this city, no matter how far you travelled. It was tied inextricably to the sense of comfort and warmth you associated with it. Leaning on the wooden railing lining the boardwalks of Stone Gate, you saw the very person who tugged at that tenderness in your heart. The blonde alchemist had his sketchpad out, glancing between the page and the railing opposite him. You saw a small bird perched on it. It flittered its wings every so often, and you saw his eyes widen at the movement. You slowed your gait, hoping to not scare it away. However, the bird turned its head at your arrival and flew upwards in your direction. Albedo’s eyes followed where it had flown, landing upon you.

Albedo had spent the weeks of your absence at his campsite. This was the first time that you weren't just a day's trip away in the city, or even by his side. In those early days following your departure, he swore he saw phantom images of you. Sucrose would notice Albedo’s eyes linger on empty spaces around the campsite. When she asked, he would reply that it was nothing and continue his work. However, in the corners of experimental notes, Sucrose curiously found sketches of you. She counted them. There was one with your arms folded, a playful expression on your face. Another was you taking a curious peek at an alchemical substance. She spotted one more of your side profile staring up at a twinkling sky. Although Albedo was used to setting distances between people, it was different with you. Alone without you felt… emptier. Idle moments when he drew his favourite expressions of you could only briefly fill that emptiness.

You covered your hands over your mouth. “I’m so sorry Albedo!” You rushed over to meet him.

Cocking his head to the side, he pouted a little. “I didn’t expect the first words I’d hear from you to be an apology. What for?”

“I made too much noise coming over to you and I scared the bird away,” you said, sheepishly.

Albedo shook his head, his expression remaining composed. “It’s alright. The bird had stayed its course and coincidentally flew away at the same moment as your arrival. Besides, I had already finished my sketches.”

He noticed the dejected look still on your face. This certainly wouldn’t do for your reunion; he had to find a way to cheer you up. He flipped through his sketchbook, opening to the most recent page. You peered over for a better look. The sketches were strikingly true to life. Albedo had even drawn sequences of the bird fluttering its wings which were overlaid on top of one another. The resulting effect gave the illusion that the bird was moving on the page.

“The bird is known as an emerald finch. It’s one of the rarer finch species, known for its blue-green coloured plumage, like a jewel.”

You inspected the drawing closer. “Ah! I thought it looked familiar. I always saw a few of these birds gathering in the plazas in Liyue.”

Albedo nodded. “Yes, emerald finches are predominantly found closer to Liyue Harbour. However,” he took up his charcoal once again to scribe the date down in the bottom corner of the page, “this little one happened to find its way to me.” He met your eyes and smiled. “It’s quite adorable, isn’t it?”

During your travels, you remained patient. You counted the days until your return, but never let your wish impede the work needed to be done in Liyue. You both made sure to write letters to each other each week, but despite the regular correspondence, it was only now you realised just how badly you missed him. Letters weren’t nearly enough. You couldn’t feel his calming presence, see that fond smile, hear him casually talk about, well, just about anything.

Not letting a second more waste, you threw your arms around his torso. The position was certainly a little awkward. You had hugged him on his side, himself still holding his sketchpad.

“Dearest, hold on.” Albedo murmured. He quickly tucked his sketchpad away in a pocket on the inside of his coat. Releasing your arms from him, he turned to face you properly and circled your arms around his waist once more. “There, that’s much better.”

You buried your face against him and he reached a hand to stroke your hair.

“I missed you.”

Your voice was muffled against his clothes. Albedo could still make out the slight waver in your tone. He breathed deeply. A wholeness surged within him as he heard those words, and felt you tangibly in his arms at last.

The winds had been still up to this moment. They knew well enough to respect the privacy between lovers.

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EPILOGUE

“Are these little drawings of... me?” You were flicking through his notes relating to his latest project when you saw sketches of, undoubtedly, yourself.

Albedo faced away from you, busying himself with collecting random papers on the table and putting them in a neat stack. The action held no practical purpose, but it did help to hide the bashful look on his face.

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#odorawrites #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin impact albedo #genshin albedo #albedo fluff #albedo x reader #albedo x y/n #albedo x you

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skaters-art-blog · 6 months ago

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What do you remember, hero?

This my final artwork for @mcytblraufest's summer au fest, a Breath of the Wild AU where Tommy is Link and Tubbo is Zelda! Please click/tap on the image for the best quality!

This was a new stretch to my art abilities that was super fun to work on! You can find the AMAZING fic that accompanies this artwork here and it is written by the AMAZING @jrancherart!!! Thank you so much for dealing with my perfectionism 😭I couldn't've asked for a better writer! It was such a joy!

Accompanying sketches and additional artwork and rambalings on my process and my thoughts on the AU under the cut!

I tried my best to emulate the Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom promotional art style, having big visible brush strokes and thin lineart with a lot of harsh lighting. I hope i was able to capture that well! I wanted to give Tommy his white streak since well, he died and came back to life just like in canon! I thought it would be fun detail to carry over from DSMP into this AU!

Here are some scattered sketches of the boys! Me and JRancher (my writer) talked a lot about various character assignments for this au, and there's even a possibility of them continuing to write more oneshots for this au, so please give their story lots of love!!!

Since I made the whole background for this artwork, and the vast majority is covered up but the characters, here is the background by itsself. I think it's one of the best I've ever done!! :D As well, I also have created a gif of the progress it took me to make this! Sorry for the terrible quality on that... Each snapshot is about a day or 2's worth of work!

You can briefly see in the sketch there (the 1st image in the progress GIF), I originally wanted the silhouette of Dueling peaks perfectly centered in the background, with the gap in the mountains shining light down the center of the image. I thought it would perfectly complement the vertical nature of the piece! Unfortunately as I discovered, the spot where the memory is in BotW is no where near the center of the mountains. I wanted to remain accurate to the game so decided not to go with that and still tried to captire the light between the peaks coming down and splitting the image in half anyway!

Here are the images I took of the game that I used as reference for the background

Additionally, this composition is something i've been wanting to do for AGES! Initially just in reference to Link and Zelda, but I thought this AU would be the perfect excuse to use it! For each of the memories featured i wanted it to from Links perspective. Or what his perspective would've been, vs how the in-game camera moved to make the shots cinematic. I actually sketched out every memory that had a basically "highlighting Zelda" shot and sketched that shot from Link's POV, and after much consideration, ended up on the ones I have!

Anyway, this artwork had tons of research and time put into it, i ended up redoing plenty of sections and working it 'til I got it just right! I'm really happy with the result and I hope you like it too! Thanks for reading my thoughts and explanations on the process of this work, I hope it was interesting!

#dream smp #mcyt #dsmp #art #botw #breath of the wild #the legend of zelda #tommyinnit #tubbo #clingyduo #clingy duo #mcytblr au fest 24

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askfallenroyalty · 1 year ago

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Okay so I'm going to be real with ya'll.

I got the sprites for DOWN mostly ready, outside character sprites for cutscenes and portraits (as I've decided to change how I do those)

I got it looking great! Just one problem.

I, for the life of me, cannot make this game.

I've been trying on/off for 5 months. I can't sit down and work on it. it's seriously got me like.

and i just????? on top of the all writing troubles i've been having and my roadblock on working on this i just...

i don't know. maybe Fallen Royalty was always too ambitious. i feel like i wasted years trying to remake this! i want to scream!

and i wrote myself in a hole -i do need Down to happen in some shape or form and it'd work best as a game because audio is a big component to what i wrote but i've changed engines when TML's engine briefly was dead (it got better) and so I've made that song half way twice

i just hate it i hate it i hate it

i can make sprite work for it cause that's medativative for me and i enjoy seeing it come to life

but sitting down, making cutscenes, having characters move around and talk? sounds like the worst thing ever. i'd rather do anything but that.

and drawing the comic?? i need to fix the story beats to make it. even chapter 2 took more work than it should cause i re-drew half the chapter and i'd sometimes just, make scenes that'd get tossed. i'm scared i'm going to try to sketch out the chapter, hate it and then resketch it. and yeah, that's why i've rewritten it so many times to prevent that, but i can't settle on a story i think works no matter what i do!

so uh.

long ramble aside i think I should put Fallen Royalty on indefinite hiatus. I DO SEE THE IRONY THIS IS EXACTLY WHERE I GAVE UP LAST TIME AND I'M SO ANGRY AT MYSELF FOR IT LMAO!!!!!!!

#ooc

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writingfics-passingtime · 2 months ago

Note

Look at you superpowering your way through that fic. I haven’t had time to read in sooo long but I’m definitely going to put some aside to read OTR parts 2 & 3 as I adored part 1. Anyway, here’s my prompt for the song request! The song is Hey Girl by Stephen Sanchez (my little sister’s wedding song apparently, though she’s also said that about a hundred other songs lol), & the character is Andrew’s Spiderman. Have fun!

Head in the Clouds

This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song Prompt: Hey Girl - Stephen Sanchez

Pairing: Peter Parker x female reader

Word Count: ~2000

CW: mentions of crime and death

Note: Cas, do forgive me for the fact that this took nearly two years. I hope it was at least a little bit worth the wait. Thank you for sharing this song with me, it is so sweet and tender and this idea flowed out of me. Hope you like it!

The subway car hummed with the rhythm of its own chaotic life. Peter sat slouched against the seat, his head low, the rim of his hood shadowing his face.

He didn’t want to see the city today.

Didn’t want to see the ghosts that lingered in the faces of strangers, or worse, the ones that followed him like a haunting memory. The night before replayed in loops that wouldn’t stop. The mugging. The panic. The older woman he couldn’t save.

He curled his fingers into fists inside his jacket pockets, the faint tremor in them making him nauseous. Every sound - the faint screech of the rails, the muffled conversations, the hiss of air brakes - rubbed raw against his frayed nerves.

Then you stepped onto the train.

Peter didn’t look up at first. He was too lost in the cavern of his thoughts. But something shifted in the air - subtle, like the faintest hint of a spring breeze brushing through a winter morning. A quiet presence, steady, unassuming. You sat across from him, balancing a sketchbook on your lap, pencil already in hand. He caught a glimpse of your headphones, wires trailing into the folds of your coat. Whatever you were listening to must’ve been good, because your lips tilted faintly upward, your expression soft and serene.

For a while, he didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare look too long, didn’t dare make himself known. But his gaze kept drifting toward you, a fragile kind of curiosity building in his chest. You weren’t just sitting there, zoning out like everyone else. You were drawing.

Peter watched the way your pencil glided across the page, your hand light but sure, creating shapes and shadows that looked effortless. You tilted your head, studying someone across the car - a man in a rumpled suit who looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Peter saw the way you captured him on the page, not cruelly, not mockingly, but with a surprising kind of reverence. You made him look… important. Worthwhile. Seen.

His chest tightened. How long had it been since he’d felt like that?

The train jostled, and you didn’t even flinch. Your hand adjusted, your lines precise. You worked quietly, invisibly to everyone else, but not to him. Peter watched the way your brow furrowed slightly in concentration, the way your lips twitched when you got a line just right. There was something almost magical about it - the way you turned the mundane into something remarkable.

The man you sketched got off at the next stop, and Peter thought maybe that would be it. Maybe you’d close the book and tuck it away. But you didn’t. Your gaze wandered briefly, settling somewhere near him, though not directly on him. He held his breath as you started to draw again.

Was it him?

Peter’s heart thudded. He resisted the urge to pull his hood tighter, to shrink into himself. Instead, he stayed perfectly still, letting the rattle of the subway mask the sound of his shallow breathing. He dared a glance down at your page. The lines were faint but unmistakable - long limbs, slouched shoulders, a figure weighed down by invisible burdens. You captured him, but not the way he saw himself. You didn’t draw the guilt, the failures, the shame. You didn’t draw Spider-Man. You drew Peter Parker - someone who was tired, yes, but still human. Still real.

Something inside him cracked.

Weeks and months passed, and Peter found himself noticing you more and more. He couldn’t explain it. The way you seemed to bring light to such an ordinary space felt like a balm to his fractured world.

if he was really lucky, he’d end up in the same train car as you once a week.

Still, every morning, he looked for you, his chest tightening each time he spotted your familiar frame, your sketchbook in hand. Sometimes, he’d catch glimpses of your work - portraits of subway performers, a mother holding her baby, a tired worker slumped against a pole. Every face told a story. Every face mattered.

One morning, Peter’s resolve crumbled entirely. He hadn’t slept. The weight of his failures clung to him like a second skin. He barely managed to drag himself onto the train, collapsing into a seat near the door. He pulled his hood low, resting his elbows on his knees, his head hanging in defeat. The last thing he wanted was to be seen.

But then you sat down next to him.

Peter froze. He didn’t dare turn his head, didn’t dare look at you directly. But he could feel you there, close enough that the faint smell of your shampoo reached him - a hint of something floral and clean. Your sketchbook was open again, your pencil moving with quiet purpose.

This time, he couldn’t resist. He risked a glance from the corner of his eye. You weren’t looking at him - your gaze was focused on a mother and her young son sitting a few seats away. The boy was clutching a balloon, his wide eyes full of wonder as he chattered about something Peter couldn’t hear. You smiled faintly as you worked, capturing the scene with the same delicate care as always.

Peter’s chest ached. How did you do it? How did you see the world this way, even when it was so often cruel and unforgiving? How did you find beauty in the cracks and crevices, in the quiet, unremarkable moments no one else noticed?

The train lurched, and your pencil slipped. You frowned, erasing the errant line with quick efficiency before continuing. Peter almost smiled at your determination. For the first time in days, the heaviness in his chest lifted, if only slightly.

And then, as if sensing his gaze, you turned. Your eyes met his, and Peter’s breath caught.

You didn’t say anything - your headphones still nestled in your ears - but your expression softened, your head tilting slightly in silent acknowledgment. Peter felt a lump rise in his throat. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words tangled up inside him. Instead, he gave you the faintest of nods.

You smiled, small but genuine, and turned back to your sketchbook. Peter let out a breath he’d been carefully holding. The train rattled on, the city blurring past the windows, but for once, he didn’t feel lost in the noise.

He watched you sketch, the quiet rhythm of your pencil grounding him, reminding him that there was still beauty in the world. Still hope.

Still something worth fighting for.

The next time Peter saw you, something was wrong.

The train doors slid open, their mechanical groan pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced up instinctively, eyes scanning the platform. And then there you were - only you weren’t quite you.

Your usual energy, that quiet, creative spark that seemed to light up the gray monotony of the subway, was missing. You stepped onto the train slowly, your shoulders slightly hunched. No sketchbook was tucked under your arm. No pencil rested behind your ear. Your hands clutched the straps of your bag, gripping them tightly as though they might anchor you to something solid.

Peter sat a few seats away, unnoticed. At first, he wasn’t sure it was really you. The vibrance he had grown accustomed to - seeing you sketch, lips sometimes moving faintly to the rhythm of your music - was gone. You sat down heavily, not directly across from him this time, but on the opposite side, a few spaces to his left, staring down at your lap.

You fiddled absently with your bag’s straps, the leather creaking under your restless fingers. The movement was almost hypnotic. You were present but not here, your gaze vacant and distant. Your headphones were in, the faintest buzz of music leaking out, but whatever song you were listening to clearly wasn’t helping.

Peter’s chest tightened. Seeing you like this felt like seeing a bird with its wings clipped, something small and free now tethered to the ground. He’d never spoken to you, but in the months he’d spent in your presence, you’d become a quiet constant, a beacon of life in his otherwise heavy days. You made the world look softer. Brighter. Now, you looked like the light inside you had been dimmed.

He couldn’t ignore it. He couldn’t just sit there.

Peter’s fingers twitched against his thighs. What could he do? He wasn’t sure what had happened to you - whether it was something big, or just the weight of a bad day. But the thought of you sitting there, carrying whatever invisible burden had settled on your shoulders, made him ache in a way he didn’t quite understand.

His eyes dropped to his backpack, slumped against his feet. An idea - reckless, impulsive - began to form. Slowly, as inconspicuously as he could manage, he unzipped the bag and rifled through it.

Books. Notes. Crumpled papers. Pens. He didn’t have much to work with, but he didn’t need much.

He found a scrap of paper tucked between the pages of his physics textbook - half an old assignment, blank on the back - and a cheap blue pen that was on the verge of running dry. He hesitated, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

You hadn’t moved. Your hands still toyed with the straps of your bag.

Peter straightened in his seat and pressed the paper against his knee, clicking the pen. His heart thudded as he bent over the makeshift canvas.

He wasn’t an artist. Not like you. His lines were awkward, shaky. The pen smudged slightly, leaving faint streaks on the page. But he kept going. He drew the way your hair framed your face, the slight downward tilt of your head, the way your hands gripped your bag. He tried to capture the quiet sadness in your posture without letting it define you, the same way you’d drawn others with tenderness and care.

It wasn’t good. It wasn’t even close to good. But it was something.

The train slowed, brakes screeching as it approached his stop. Peter hurried to finish, his fingers trembling slightly as he folded the paper in half. He shoved the pen back into his bag and slung the strap over his shoulder, standing as the train lurched to a halt.

His eyes flicked to you one last time. You still hadn’t looked up.

He didn’t think. He just moved.

As he stepped toward the doors, he passed your seat, hesitating for only a fraction of a second. Then he dropped the folded paper into your lap, the motion quick and deliberate, a secret passed between strangers.

You startled, your fingers freezing mid-fidget. Your gaze lifted briefly, confusion flickering across your face as you looked at him. But Peter didn’t stop. He kept walking, his heart pounding in his ears.

The doors slid open, and he stepped out onto the platform.

He didn’t look back.

Inside the train, you blinked, staring down at the folded paper in your lap. For a moment, you weren’t sure what to make of it. You glanced toward the doors, catching a glimpse of the guy in the hood as he disappeared into the crowd.

Curiosity tugged at you. Slowly, you unfolded the paper.

The drawing stared back at you - a clumsy but earnest portrait of yourself, captured in pen on a crumpled scrap of paper. The lines were uneven, the proportions a little off, but there was something in the image that stopped you cold.

The figure in the drawing looked… real. Recognizable. But there was more to it than that. He hadn’t just drawn you - he’d seen you. Even in the shaky lines and imperfect strokes, there was care. There was tenderness.

There was hope.

You pressed your lips together, your vision blurring slightly as your grip tightened on the page.

For the first time that day, something inside you felt lighter.

On the platform, Peter shoved his hands into his pockets, walking briskly toward the stairs. He didn’t know if you’d unfold the paper. He didn’t know if it would mean anything to you.

But he hoped it did.

And for the first time in a long while, Peter felt like maybe, just maybe, he’d done something right.

#answered #no y/n #marvel fanfiction #ag!peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x you #andrew garfield peter x reader #andrew garfield

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

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A New Life 1

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Steve Kemp

Summary: You have an unexpected encounter in the park.

Part of the Silverfox AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

There’s a hint of dampness in the flow of spring air. The breeze stirs the leaves and the scent of dirt along with the sprouting leaves. The season of renewal has arrived. You hope there’s a fresh start for more than the foliage.

You sit on a bench along the winding path that leads from the nearby park. You have your journal on your leg, knee hook over the other as you sketch the thin branches of a barren bramble. You cross hatch the dulling end of the pencil, the skitter of unseen critters and winging of birds brushing around you.

Another twenty minutes and you’ll go. You can feel the rain, see it bulging in the clouds looming above. You can’t be very disappointed, at least you got out of the house. You need to do more of that.

You hear footfalls down the path. Heavy and quick. Another jogger passing through. You don’t look over, focusing on adding the patchy grass around the twigs.

They get closer, looming as they bounce up the path, coming around the curve. This leg of the path isn’t as busy as the others. Many are deterred by the incline. You bend your neck as you raise the notebook slightly, trying to get the angle of the blades just right.

A huff as a shadow hangs over you. Someone claims the empty space next to you on the bench. You make yourself smaller as the jogger sits and bends over their lap, loudly catching their breath. You don’t own the bench, you can’t stop them, but there’s another further up the path.

“Nice day,” he comments as he raises his head, elbows on his legs as he stays hunched over his lap, “spring’s coming.”

You glance over. He’s older. His gray hair has a few lingering streaks of brown and his blue eyes meet yours briefly before you retreat back into your journal. You shrug and hum, “mhmm.”

“Good running weather, not too hot,” he remarks as he sits up, bending his elbow over the back of the bench.

You wouldn’t know. You don’t run. You’re surprised someone his age keeps up the habit.

“You’re an artist,” he points lazily with his hand to your journal.

You nod, “just doodles.”

“I can’t draw at all. Chicken scratch,” he sighs.

Your wall of silence slips into place. You don’t mean to be rude but you’re not overly fond of strangers. You hope he gets the hint.

“Sorry, hope I’m not disturbing you,” he chuckles, “you know, ever since my wife died, I just… spill all over.” He sits up and clears his throat, “like right now.”

You fidget and rest the pencil between the pages, closing the journal. “I’m sorry about your wife,” you eke out, a tremor of guilt tugging at your heart.

“That’s life, I guess,” he says, his other hand twiddling on his thigh, “can’t all be sunshine,” he looks up, “gotta rain sometime.” He stands and puts his hands on his hips, facing you, “probably soon, ya know? Wouldn’t want that pretty art to get ruined.”

“Uh, yeah,” you hug the book to your stomach, “thanks.”

“Er,” he reaches to rub his neck then drops his hand again, the front of his light zip-up straining across his shoulders, “I guess it’s been a while for me, I’m Steve.”

He offers his hand. You look at it. It isn’t the strangest encounter you’ve had but unexpected nonetheless. You left the house for some alone time. To get away from the stomping and hollering above your basement unit. Now you’re being pestered by this lonely widower.

That last thought once more fills you with guilt. You shouldn’t think like that. It’s selfish. You have your issues but you’re not mourning someone you love.

You relent and give your name as you reach for your hand. As you clutch it, you feel a strange prick against the heel of your palm. He clings to you, shifting oddly as the stabbing deepens in your hand. He holds onto you a strange sensation flows into your veins.

He lets you go as you recoil and hold up your hand. There’s a tink against the brickwork below the bench. You look down at the syringe as your journal slips out of your grasp. What the heck?

Panic erupts from your stomach and you try to scream but your voice catches in your throat. You set your feet and push yourself up, thinking only of fleeing. Who is this man? Why would he do this? What did he inject you with?

The horror courses through you the mysterious serum. Your vision hazes at the edges as you stumble on your wobbly legs, teetering back and forth. The man puts his arms out as you stagger and he brings you against him, hushing you as your head lolls back. Your eyes widen as he pets your forehead.

“Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he embraces you, “don’t fight it.”

You can only choke out a splintered moan. You hear more people. A group chattering as their footsteps echo up the path. He draws you into him, pushing your head forward to hide your face against his shoulder. He sways and coos as heaviness floods your limbs.

“Love you, baby,” he says loudly for the passing audience, kissing the top of your head.

You groan and try to fight him off. You only manage to lean harder into him. Your legs slacken as he’s the only thing holding you up. The group passes as they continue to talk about some party. You blink and your lashes stick together.

“Just breathe, it feels good once you let it happen,” he coaxes, “breathe, sweetheart.”

You take a breath, chest hammering, and let it out. Before you can expel all the air from your lungs, the world is black. You collapse into the void and the snare of this man.

#steve kemp #dark steve kemp #dark!steve kemp #steve kemp x reader #fresh #au #silverfox au #a new life #series #drabble

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keepsmagnetoaway · 2 months ago

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X-Men Origins: Sabretooth (February 2009)

Kieron Gillen/Dan Panosian

If it seems weird that Sabretooth, a villain, would get one of these issues when the rest of them are all for foundational X-Men heroes...well, that's because it's actually a Wolverine issue.

I mean, yeah, it's also a Sabretooth issue - we briefly see his origin sketched out, with him killing his family in some kind of vague 19th century pioneer context - but it's very much a Logan/Victor relationship issue. And when I say relationship, I mean gay.

Obviously there's nothing explicitly gay going on here but I think this is the first comic I've read for this project that is outright ship teasing, and honestly I'm here for it. The loose frame here is that Victor and Logan meet every year, for Logan's birthday, and beat the crap out of each other, allowing the comic to briefly visit each of them as they grow older, go through various secret government programs, blah bi blah.

All of this - as you can see - is quite lighthearted, with a jazzy, cheerful art style from Dan Panosian. The writing is by Kieron Gillen, and it's one of his first X-Men comics: but notably he would go on from this to write a lot of X-Men stuff, and is - I think - right now the writer for an ongoing X-Men book or two. Which is nice to see - someday, in like, twenty years I will read those books, and his writing here makes me look forward to it. Also, it's so, so gay.

All that said, and without wishing to do exhausting discourse, I can't not note that this issue also revolves heavily around a bit of very brutal fridging. I do not want to go into that whole debate, but it absolutely happens here - with a character called Silverfox, who as I understand it figures in a later Wolverine solo title. I think her appearances here are effectively just recaps of what happens to her there, so that reading this you go through a kind of accelerated fridging experience of a character who looks like this.

So, yes, fridging of a horrendously stereotyped woman of colour. As I say, I don't think this can all be laid at Gillen's door, and there's complicated weaving in here of this issue to Logan's already miserably convoluted backstory, but it is a sour note in what's otherwise a really good issue. Next up: fucking hell, Wolverine gets his own one of these too.

#x men comics #an xmen a day #xmen #wolverine #sabretooth

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stinkysam · 1 year ago

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Buggy the Clown - This is you.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : "Imagine if you will a scenario where a character finds out the reader is an artist (or has knowledge of it) and mentions it in passing or brags about it to everyone else. Then, per everyone's curiosity the reader is forced to pull the sketchbook out from his bag and is like "okay but I'll only show you the pages *I* like" before someone immediately wrestles it out from his grasp (and trust me I played tug-o-war for a good five seconds). Nothing too embarrassing was in it thank goodness but mayhaps there's a fluffy twist where it turns out the reader has numerous doodles or candid sketches of the person he likes in there? Cue a confession sequence lolol" - @intrepid-captain

Reader : gender neutral (you/yours)

You had briefly mentioned to Mohji you liked to draw in your spare time. He repeated it to Cabaji, who told Alvida you knew how to draw. And Alvida told the others she saw your drawings -she saw one from afar- and that they were the prettiest and most beautiful things.

And of course, it ended up falling in your captain's ears who now wanted to see them too.

But you did everything you could to hide your sketchbooks away from him.

Not because you weren't confident in your art, but because in all of your sketchbooks there was his face every few pages. If not on almost all of them.

You had clearly underestimated him. Or overestimated, as he sneaked into your room to rummage through your things.

"Captain !" You called out, making him jump. "There's a creep in my room ! Ah. No, it's just you." You joked as you watched him from the entrance of your tent.

"Eeeh !? Do I look like a creep !?" He stomped, his hands flying to your direction to shake you by the collar but you grabbed them first.

"We're holding hands !" You say, acting shy, but there's nothing shy about your sly smile. "What are you looking for ?" You ask, laughing a bit at his unamused expression, and get in, throwing him back his hands.

"Your sketchbook." He simply said and you froze as he went back to searching, looking under your pillow.

"Why ?" You smiled nervously.

"Can't I be interested in what my freaks do in their spare time ?"

"I… guess… ?"

"Well then ? Where it is ?"

"Uh… okay, but only the pages I want, okay ?"

He frowns and raises an eyebrow, not understanding why such a rule.

"Okay." He said, but you could tell he was lying.

"Turn around. I don't want you to see where I hide 'em."

He huffed, really not liking all those rules but accepted anyway, turning around and crossing his arms as his hands flew to hide his eyes.

"Fine."

Quickly you took the pillowcase from under your bed, opening it to reveal a bunch of sketchbooks. You chose the first one, the oldest, where you were still in denial of your feelings for him so there wasn't as much art of him as in nowadays' sketchbook and put back the others under your bed.

"Are you done yet ?" He grumbled, not wanting to wait any longer.

"Yeah." You say, opening it to a certain page.

He stared at it, grabbing the sketchbook while you still held it up. He said nothing, his eyes analyzing every little thing on your drawing. It was Mohji with a big lion. God it was beautiful. Alvida was right. And it reminded him he wanted that fucking lion.

He tried to turn the page but you stopped him, going to another page instead. He frowned, not understanding and not liking the restriction, clicking his tongue in distaste.

When he looked at you, you smiled as innocently as you could.

He watched your sketches this time, the Big Top from several angles. Like a plan.

"Fuck, you're even good at perspective ?" He said and you snorted.

He tried to turn the page once again but you turned it to another one. A realistic portrait of Alvida.

His eyes twitched. This was getting on his nerves. Not only he can't see everything but you draw "some other" captain ? And not even him ?

He began to pull on your sketchbook and quickly you did the same, followed by five good seconds of silent struggling before one of his hands let go of it to stab a finger in your side. Making you yelp and pull away, giving him free access to your drawings.

"Ahhh !" He laughed, his hands flying above your reach, turning pages and pages how he wanted. Until he stopped at a colored page. A red thing catching his eyes. His… nose.

More accurately, a watercolor work of his face.

He stared at it, bringing the sketchbook closer to his face as you hid yours with your clothes.

There was a silence as he admired himself. Why did he look so… good ?

He turned the page again and…

There were multiple portraits of himself. Sketches of his eyes, his nose, his lips, there even were comments on his make-up when he changed it. It was scribbled and hard to read but they were compliments. Compliments you never said to him.

His heart was beating loudly as he stared at himself and your pretty words.

He turned to you.

"Why did you never tell me this ?"

You finally looked at him and shrugged. Buggy closed the sketchbook.

"Can you… draw me. With… a normal nose ?" He asked quietly, looking into your eyes, hoping you'd say yes and let him see how he would be if he didn't have this atrocious and ridiculous nose. Would he look prettier ?

You stare back, a bit taken aback and you don't know how to answer for a moment.

"No." You finally say, but your tone sounds almost insulted.

He frowned immediately, not pleased by your answer.

"What, can't-"

"I like your nose." You say, ignoring him.

You stare at each other in silence, and you continue.

"I know you don't like your nose. Always thinking we're talking about it. But I like it." You step closer, and he looks at your face for any sign of lie, mockery. But there is none. "I don't want to change it. I don't want to change your face or anything about you."

His heart almost melts at your words. But he's still mad you won't grant him what he's asking. It's just one small drawing. What bad could it do ?

He opens his mouth to talk but you cut him off.

"No. I won't obey this order. I won't help you compare yourself to a drawing of someone who looks like you with a different nose. I'm not gonna help your insecurities."

He scoffs and reopens the sketchbook, pointing at drawings of him. Him ? Insecure ? Fine, let's use that word then.

"How can I not be insecure when you draw me like this !?"

"What ?" You stared at him, confused. "You think I add some sort of magic to make you look more handsome or prettier ? Buggy, that's how you look, I'm just putting it on paper. But thank you, I accept the compliment."

"No, you-"

"You are handsome. Buggy. You're the prettiest man I've ever laid my eyes on." You say, trying to ignore your heart beating crazily in your chest.

His was beating just as fast and loudly as he stared at you, your words slowly sinking in.

You grabbed the sketchbook, turning to another page of him.

"This is you."

You bent down, throwing it on the bed and grabbing the pillowcase with your other sketchbooks inside before pushing them into his arms.

"Here. Take these. You're in it too. You."

He looked at them, not daring to open them and looked back at you. Unsure of what to say.

"Keep them."

"No, they're-"

"I insist, captain."

"Why are you doing this ? Why are you being so…" He grimaced, unsure of how to finish his sentence.

You hesitated for a few seconds.

"Because I love you." You said with a shrug. "I thought that was obvious." You chuckled. "Or it'll be once you open these. It's a bit embarrassing how much you're in it."

He smiles.

"You could've just said you don't take commissions. No need to get sappy on me."

You snort.

"To never get paid ?"

"I would've paid you." He said, almost offended. "Can I really keep them ?"

"Yeah."

#male reader #m!reader #one piece #one piece live action #opla #one piece x male reader #one piece imagine #opla imagine #opla x male reader #opla buggy #buggy the clown #buggy the clown imagine #buggy the clown x male reader #buggy x reader

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ohgodthevoices · 10 days ago

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Save point °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

time skip kenma x f!reader

word count : 2117

note : this fanfic will be on my ao3 >here< it might be more organized and easier to keep up with it but i will still upload the chapters here <3

chapter 1/ chapter 2

Chapter 2

The dim light of your desk lamp cast a faint glow over your bed, where sketchbooks, reference images, and your tablet lay scattered in a chaotic sprawl. You sat cross-legged in the middle of it all, tablet in hand, stylus poised but unmoving.

You stared at the screen, your latest draft of the character staring back at you with redish tired eyes. The bold colors and intricate designs you had once loved now felt garish, too loud for the muted, broken world they were meant to inhabit.

“Too flashy,” Kenma’s voice echoed in your mind.

You sighed and dragged the stylus across the screen, dulling the bright reds and softening the sharp edges of the armor. But no matter how much you adjusted, it still didn’t feel right.

The weight of the project pressed down on you, each passing minute reminding you of the deadline looming just hours away. You had always thrived on creativity, but now it felt like a cage, every idea scrutinized under the harsh light of expectation.

Your hand hovered over the undo button for a moment before you let the stylus drop onto the blanket. Leaning back, you stared at the ceiling, trying to find inspiration in the cracks of the paint.

Your eyes drifted to the corner of the room where a half-finished canvas leaned against the wall. It was from a time before this job, before Tokyo—when you painted for yourself, not for approval.

You took a deep breath, cleared the layers, and started over. This time, you let instinct guide you. The character began to take shape again, their colors muted but purposeful, their design simpler yet still distinct.

For the first time that night, you felt a flicker of satisfaction. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress.

—--------------------------------------------

The morning air was crisp as you made your way into the office building, the faint hum of city life fading behind the sliding glass doors. The company’s open workspace was already alive with quiet chatter and the soft clicking of keyboards.

You headed to your desk, tucked near the corner of the art department. It wasn’t much—just a simple desk scattered with sketches, sticky notes, and a half-empty cup of pens—but it was yours. Your tablet and stylus sat waiting, and pinned to the corkboard above were references and concept art for the game.

Sliding into your chair, you exhaled, letting the familiar rhythm of the office ground you. Across the room, Kaori, your brightly-haired coworker, was animatedly chatting with someone from marketing. She caught your eye, waved, and mouthed, “Coffee later?” You nodded with a small smile before turning back to your screen.

The morning passed in a blur of sketches and minor tweaks. The art lead stopped by briefly to check in, giving a few notes on lighting and color palettes for one of your designs. “Looking good,” they said with a nod before moving on, leaving you with a small boost of confidence.

Alright! you can do it !

Around mid-morning, Kaori appeared at your desk, a takeout coffee in hand. She set it down with a grin, “You looked like you needed this,” she said, her tone light.

You chuckled softly, taking the cup. “Lifesaver.”

As she leaned against the edge of your desk, she glanced at your sketches. “So, what’s the verdict? Is mister happy with these yet?”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around the coffee cup. “Not exactly,” you admitted. “He thinks they’re too much. Wants me to tone it down.”

Kaori rolled her eyes. “Of course he does. That man has the emotional range of a brick wall. Don’t let him get to you, though. Your work is amazing.”

You smiled faintly, appreciating her support, even if it didn’t completely ease your nerves. “Thanks. I’ll figure it out.”

Kaori gave you a thumbs-up before heading back to her desk, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You stared at your tablet, the screen glowing with the latest revision of a character design.

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully, but the weight of the upcoming meeting with Kenma lingered in the back of your mind.

[5:00PM]

It was now time, and you found yourself standing in front of Kenma’s office door. Your palms were damp, and you rubbed them against your jeans, trying to steady your nerves.

With a deep breath, you knocked softly. The door clicked open almost immediately, and there he was—Kenma, leaning slightly against the doorframe, his golden eyes meeting yours with calm indifference.

“You’re on time,” he said, stepping aside to let you in.

As you entered, your anxiety momentarily gave way to surprise. His office wasn’t at all what you expected.

The walls were lined with shelves, each one packed with figures from games and anime. Some were small and intricately detailed, while others were large, commanding attention with their vibrant colors and dramatic poses. A few posters adorned the walls, depicting scenes from classic games, Youtube play buttons displayed next to them.

The desk was cluttered but in an organized way—headphones, a lit up gaming keyboard, high-end monitors, and a scattering of notebooks and pens ans oh— hey pudding

Warm, ambient lighting bathed the room, giving it a cozy, almost inviting atmosphere. It felt less like a CEO’s office and more like the sanctuary of someone deeply passionate about their craft.

“You can sit,” Kenma said, gesturing toward a chair across from his desk. His tone was neutral, but there was an ease in his movements, as if he was completely at home here.

You’d figure if he was to spend a lot of time here, he would make it feel like home.

You sat down, trying to focus on the task at hand, but your gaze kept drifting to the shelves. The room felt so personal, so distinctly him, that it was hard to reconcile it with the detached, analytical demeanor he usually displayed.

His office relaxed you in a way, maybe he wasnt so intimidating , maybe he was just a nerd who got to achieve his dreams.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” he said, his voice snapping you back to reality.

Kenma’s eyes scanned the designs on your tablet with the same detached focus he always seemed to have. You sat across from him, waiting for some sort of feedback—anything, really. But his expression remained unreadable, his golden eyes flicking from one sketch to the next without giving anything away.

Finally, he stopped on one of the character sketches, his head tilting ever so slightly. “This one,” he said, his voice flat. “What’s the story here?”

You straightened, feeling the pressure of the moment. “She’s a scavenger, specializes in hacking old tech. She’s trying to find something that could help restore the world—or at least give people a reason to keep going. She’s tough, independent, but… she’s also lonely. Doesn’t trust anyone. That’s her weakness.”

Kenma didn’t look up from the screen. “Hmm. It’s interesting,” he said, his tone dismissive. “But it’s too clean. Too polished for someone in a post-apocalyptic world.”

What? You almost pulled an all nighter for this, and he’s still not satisfying ?

Your brow furrowed. “Polished? She’s wearing patched-up clothes. Her gear is cobbled together from scraps—”

Kenma’s lips twisted into a faint, dismissive frown. “It’s obvious. You’re trying too hard to make her look scrappy. It’s forced. Players won’t buy it.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling your frustration bubble,you were too tired to deal with this... “So, what are you saying? That it’s not realistic enough? That I should make her blend into the background and be boring?”

Kenma’s eyes finally lifted from the screen, meeting yours with a cool, almost mocking expression. “I’m saying you’re overcompensating. Sometimes less is more.”

You crossed your arms, a bitter laugh escaping before you could stop it. “Less is more,” you echoed, the words tasting like acid. “It’s easy to say when you don’t have to make your characters stand out. Do you even care if they feel real, or are you just focused on making something that works on paper?”

The air between you thickened, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Pudding’s soft meow was the only sound, almost like she was caught in the tension too.

Kenma’s expression darkened, his fingers tapping on the desk in irritation. “I care about making a game people actually want to play,” he snapped, his voice cutting through the tension. “If the characters don’t fit into the world, it all falls apart. It’s not about you or your personal attachment to these designs. It’s about the bigger picture.” fuck his gaze is sharp…

frustration boiling over. “You think I’m too close to it? You think I don’t get it?” You said abruptly, “I’m trying to make something that matters. Not just something that’s easy to digest and forget. But I guess that’s what you want, isn’t it? Something simple and disposable.”

Kenma’s face was stone cold, but you could see the flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “You’re too emotional about this. It’s just a game. Stop acting like it’s some grand masterpiece.”

Your breath was coming in short bursts, your body tense with the urge to lash out. “It’s not just a game, Kenma. It’s art. Something that should mean something. But you wouldn’t get that, would you?”

The room seemed to close in around you, the air thick with anger and frustration. Pudding let out a soft, nervous meow, sensing the tension between the two of you.

Kenma leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. “You’ve got potential,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “But you’re too caught up in your own head. Step back. Take a breath. Look at the bigger picture for once.”

His words hit you like a slap, the final blow to your already frayed patience. You grabbed the tablet off the desk, your fingers gripping it tightly as you stared him down.

“You’re right,” you said, voice low and venomous. “I’ll step back. But maybe next time, you can try stepping into something real.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned and stormed out of the office, the door slamming behind you with a force that echoed down the hall. The weight of the argument lingered, but it was the quiet burn of his words that stayed with you, stoking the fire of anger deep in your chest.

—--------------------------------------------

The café next to the office was buzzing with life, as it always was during lunch hour. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air, mingling with the hum of conversations and the occasional clatter of dishes. You sat at a small table near the window with a couple coworkers you got close with.

A bagel, toasted to perfection, sat on a plate in front of you, paired with a steaming cup of coffee. The three of you were chatting and shared grumbles about deadlines making the stress of work feel a little less suffocating

You nearly choked on your bite when you spotted him, hunched over his phone like it held the secrets to the universe. A bento box sat neglected next to him, the chopsticks placed at its side untouched . He didn’t even glance up, completely absorbed in whatever he was doing.

A slow smirk tugged at your lips as you leaned back in your chair, crossing your legs. Of course he’s alone, you thought, twirling your fork in the air. Mr. Less-Is-More probably scared off anyone who dared to sit with him.

The mental image of Kenma in his office, delivering his blunt critiques to a group of coworkers, popped into your head. You could almost hear him now: “Your lunch choice is too flashy. It doesn’t fit the vibe.”

You stifled a laugh, glancing at him again. He looked so out of place in the lively place, like a cat accidentally dropped into a dog park. Everyone else was chatting, laughing, or scrolling through their phones in pairs or groups. And there he was, the great Kenma Kozume, all alone with his glowing screen and his resting bored face.

For a moment, you almost felt bad for him. ALMOST.

You took a bite of your bagel, feeling oddly triumphant. The sight of him sitting there, detached and isolated, felt like a small victory. So much for the all-knowing genius.

Still, your gaze lingered longer than you intended. He looked… tired. Not just in the way most people were tired after a long week, but in a way that seemed deeper, like it had settled into his bones.

You frowned, the smugness fading slightly. Whatever. Not my problem. He’s an asshole anyway

@miruac

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