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slowd1ving · 3 months ago

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KILLER ・゜゜MOZE NSFW

"All you are to me is a bleak obsession I am the mark intent on burning the street How many times can I ask you? How many days can I go without you?" Hǎoshì chéng shuāng. 好事成双. Good things come in pairs, even if the pair in question is a homicidal crow and a brokenhearted cryptologist. art by @ ma_mori74 on x!!! moze can we honestly e date? you’re so beautiful. You always make me laugh, you always make me smile. You literally make me want to become a better person I really enjoy every moment we spend together. My time has no value unless its spent with you. I tell everyone of my irls how awesome you are. Thank you for being you. (joke) (not really) this was kinda rushed so :3 errr consider this like part 3 of tales of a disgruntled corvid pairing: moze + male reader warnings: nsfw, male reader, mentions of blood/death/violence, alcohol consumption, jealousy wc: 4.5k

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Hǎoshì chéng shuāng. 好事成双. Good things come in pairs.

Fortune. It is a humorous concept for Moze: tasting of a fleeting childhood dream and the dregs of hope. Fortune, as some know it, comes in all forms. From gilt wealth and corruption, to finding a strale dropped on the street and getting to bed on time—everyone, it seems, tastes good fortune somewhere along their paltry lives.

Moze’s good luck surmounts to meagre things: not getting blood beneath his nails after a mission; evading the prying eyes of the Yaoqing as he slinks into the shadows; working by himself; and most of all, not running into you. Good luck equals a tidy house and leftovers in his fridge. Good luck equals not needing to stock up on the tools of his trade and knives that don’t need sharpening. Good luck equals a fresh steamed bun and a slow day perched on the roof of a building.

The point must be made. Moze does not experience auspicious encounters often.

Conversely, those afflicted by confirmation bias might say misfortune comes in threes. Misfortune, for Moze, is significantly easier to quantify—but to stratify it into threes grossly underestimates the cesspit of chance he’s been allotted.

One: being outside currently at Jiaoqiu’s food stall while rain drizzles down on him. It could be argued it’s only by his own volition that he’s slurping on steaming chilli-infused noodles as petrichor stains the air, yet that stupid fox decided this was the way to go in terms of conveying intelligence from Feixiao. This was the hell crafted by Jiaoqiu’s hands seeped green with pungent herbs.

Two: getting his apartment lease renewal rejected a week ago over a development project at his block. Though he had been planning on starting afresh—never one to stay in the same area for too long, just like the rest of the Shadow Guards—he quite liked the nondescript studio. It’s a tidy place: plain and unassuming. What a pity. He’s read the message from his landlord over and over: growing a tad bit more incensed each time.

Three: the sudden absence of suitable apartments in the districts that he sticks to. None of the flats he browsed were innocuous enough, and the ones that were perfect for his schedule and profession were in dismal condition.

Four: you purchasing a flat a month ago which perfectly fulfilled his conditions. Two-bedroom, in the lower districts of the Yaoqing, with reclusive neighbours and a walking distance of the Seat of Divine Foresight. Had he gotten the notice for his lease rejection earlier, it might’ve been him there.

Five: upon asking about his dilemma, Feixiao’s eyes gleaming bright. This was the indicator for certain disaster—an omen as ill as he ever saw. And unfortunately, her gaze next fell on the scripts you were working on, before flickering back up to you. Shit. That was the only thought running through his mind, before she pitched her idea to have him simply move in with you. Say no, he pleaded mentally, but alas—

“Sure,” you mutter, red ink spilling from your pen onto the parchment. Bold characters sign the form off and the letter is folded neatly onto a cycrane absent-mindedly; before you finally look up at the assassin who flinches as your eyes land on his. “S’long as he pays rent.”

Six: you agreeing to this stupid deal. Why? Why? It can’t possibly be the deep veneration for the Arbiter General. Surely your adoration of her cannot be deep enough to let this guy room in your house—an assassin, at that. You aren’t a follower of Qlipoth, but where the hell is your sense of preservation?

Seven: him not actually finding any fault in the building. Not in the surroundings, nor the modest room across from yours, nor the lazy grin on your face as you showed him around the apartment—still expecting him to vehemently shake his head.

He signed the damned contract, and that was that.

“What’s got you sighing?” Jiaoqiu eyes him from where he’s pulling noodles: sleeves rolled back to avoid dusting the salmon hues with flour. Fragrant red wafts from the pot on the stove, and he’s suddenly reminded of the crimson shirt you wore just this morning—rippling around the taut lines of sinew and muscle as you worked diligently on decrypting ancient alchemical texts. “I thought you found yourself a place to stay, so why the long face?”

Moze keeps his silence. Well, tries to—but it’s not like a singular word will make him any less laconic. Tapping his chopsticks against the rim of the blue-toned porcelain, he evades the question and focuses right on the middle of Jiaoqiu’s sentence. “Somehow.”

“Right! Your dearest partner—” Jiaoqiu drags the word out, characters stretched tight until they wind right against Moze’s eardrums. He glares: visibly annoyed, yet this only makes the man in his peripherals close his own eyes in satisfaction. “—took pity on you, didn’t he?”

“Maybe.” The assassin slams down the rest of the piquant broth: lips dripping with sanguine. His response is a question in itself—because why the hell did you agree to Feixiao’s request?

“Curious?” Of course he’s curious.

“It’s not much of a surprise, really,” the foxian sighs, twisting the strands into a neat circle and letting it drop into the boiling water. “Poor thing’s probably still in shock from his breakup. I think he would’ve agreed to pretty much anything coming out of Feixiao’s mouth at that point.”

The man can only stare incredulously. Every part of that sentence is laden with a bombshell.

“Wow, I thought you would’ve known. Guess what’s said at Qiu’er’s stays there too.” Jiaoqiu’s golden eyes gleam slightly at the mention of the downtown bar. No, Moze didn’t know. No, Moze isn’t currently outright staring at the man no longer in his peripherals. No, Moze cannot hear his chopsticks creaking beneath his grasp. “Woah, don’t break those.”

The fox eyes the crow warily. “Seriously. Cool it.”

Eight: you’re still not over your boyfriend cheating on you. In the drizzle beneath the canopy, this is how your new roommate diligently listens to how his work partner and resident cryptologist really can’t catch a break from bad men.

“That includes you, you know,” Jiaoqiu squints at an unusually contemplative Moze. Flickering amber lights and the buzz of cicadas makes the assassin seem even more shady than usual. “You don’t have a chance, so don’t even try.”

“The hell are you talking about?” For someone like Moze, his piece of good fortune is that his voice remains steady in almost any sort of situation. This means that anyone hearing this man speak right now would naturally presume he’s affronted at Jiaoqiu’s response out of its complete implausibility. But on the flip side, those who’ve known Moze longer have learnt to watch for other irritated tells of his rather than a wavering voice. The subconscious flex of long fingers. Minute shifts in the elbows propped up on the bar. Biting the inside of his lip, just enough that it’s unnoticeable. But these aren’t things the assassin really takes stock of.

For a brief moment, Jiaoqiu’s friendly smile drops and he peers at the man askance. Is he brain dead? “...Okay.”

And that is how the tall man—hunched over in the downpour to not let his noodles get too cold—first learns of matters of a more personal note of yours. In the rare grey skies that cast over the Yaoqing, it’s a chance to digest this information he’s learnt.

But he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t.

・゜゜

A painful month passes for Moze.

There’s nothing else to describe it—psychological torment is the only fitting description of your behaviour. Outwardly, nothing changes. He still hates you, and you still hate him—two arguing peas in a pod with a mutual dislike being the only thing in common between the two of you. Outwardly, behaviour-wise, nothing changes. Outwardly, appearance-wise, something does.

He first notices it about three weeks after that waterlogged conversation with Jiaoqiu. There’s a faint aroma of sweet-smelling smoke on you—a long cigarette holder between your fingers as you read a thick book on the couch. He’s never seen the thing before in all your months together. Sure, the Yaoqing tobacco scent fades quickly away to not linger in the case of a borisin’s especially sharp senses—but he’s never seen that sort of heavy-lidded expression on you before. When you glance at him, it’s usually irritatedly—not like this, where your glance is hazy and your lips are parted to blow plumes from your mouth.

Shit. He doesn’t quite know why his heart speeds up.

The second thing he notices is that every week or so, there’s a clinging perfume to your body: never your usual clean scent, one that clearly belongs to a different person. This is the same time he starts noticing you slipping on shirts with longer necks on missions—a darker imprint just about peeking above the material.

He’s not an idiot. He can put two and two together.

The third instance of misfortune is your habit of wandering around after a shower with nothing but a towel wrapped around your waist conservatively. Sure, the area from your hips to your knees is covered—but what about the rest? He finds himself growing more irritable during work hours. Marks not caused by injuries still bruise your skin; as you turn your back in the kitchen to make yourself a mug of tea, his eyes rove the dips and valleys of your back. Categorising each wound. Systematically detailing each little infringement on your skin.

He doesn’t particularly know why. Maybe his obsession with tidiness crosses over to people too.

・゜゜

It happens like this. Occasionally, a man as ill-fortuned as Moze receives gets a break.

There’s a tumbler of whiskey on the low coffee table in the living room. Polished chestnut—if you had to describe it—with the light shining through the amber liquid just so, until it reflects onto the varnished surface. A cube of ice sits dainty in the middle, clinking as you tip the glass this way and that.

“Don’t spill it,” the assassin murmurs. From behind the couch, breath ghosting just past your ear. You don’t shriek (perhaps he hoped you would)—you don’t even glance his way.

“I feel like that was a redundant warning,” you remark brusquely, taking a swill of the liquor. It’s sweeter than it would’ve been normally: courtesy of the saccharine pipe nestled betwixt your fingers and the smoke still lingering in your mouth. “Were you hoping I’d jump?”

“Yes.” Short. To the point. Laconic. That’s how those outside this home would describe the man currently leaning down, hands splayed on the backrest of the couch. “We’ve got a mission tomorrow, and you still haven’t done the dishes.”

“It’s your turn,” he adds, because he likes seeing how this man’s expression wrinkles in exasperation, likes that stupid cant of your head—for it means Moze has won this little encounter. It’s all because he strongly dislikes his roommate, no other reason.

“You suck.” Syrupy plumes ghost his face as you exhale into his face above—he doesn’t move back, even as the traces of burnt caramel become far more prominent, even as it feels like you’re blowing him a kiss more than anything.

“And you need to clean and go to sleep before you’re late,” he grits out, more annoyed than he was a moment ago. He’d say it was due to your lack of responsibility, but this angle allows the loose robe to expose your bitten collarbone—like some stupid fucking trophy. “Like you always are.”

“I’m never late, A-ze,” you enunciate each word in such a way that makes it clear you’re not drunk—so clearly the nickname is just to piss him off. A last-ditch middle finger; a threat that hasn’t worked for some time, one that makes his stomach churn uncomfortably but not enough to admit defeat. “You’re just up stupid early.”

He goes silent, in the way he does when you’re right. Instead of saying anything, he instead plucks the glass from your hand: downing the smooth alcohol from where you drank it, enjoying how for once your mouth closes just like his. The pipe in your hand tilts this way and that as you take a drag thoughtfully—recovering far too quickly for his liking.

“A-ze.” Like this, with wisps exiting your mouth and silk draped over you, you look good enough to eat. He freezes at the implication of his thoughts, freezes at the sound of the name blanketed in some gruesome replica of affection. He hates it; hates how his heart squeezes and a faint flush of red dusts his cheekbones. Aeons.

It is common knowledge to not toss a starving dog a bone before it hungers for more.

“What, you don’t hate it anymore? Here I was, hoping you’d turn tail and leave,” you sigh, theatrically despondent—much like you normally are. Too damn dramatic for your own good.

So desperate, drinking your sorrows away as if that’ll possibly work. He scoffs, striding the short distance over so he can tower over from the front.

“Maybe you just like calling me that,” he breathes. There’s a smile playing on his lips: the rare one he gets when he knows he’s got a point, knows when he’s right. It’s unconscious—he’s far too oblivious to notice it only occurs around you.

“I do,” you murmur. “Bet it warms your heart though. No one likes you enough to call you that.”

“So you like me?” There’s an odd buzz in his veins tonight. As the orange lights from the street blink into existence, and the room is no longer illuminated by ‘day’, he’s glad for the darkness that conceals the heat in his face. Your clothing rustles as you stand—practically nose to nose with the man in front of you.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Xiaoze,” you mutter, and the heated breath from your lips fans over his sensitive skin—mingling with the tobacco wisps and alcohol vapour. He swallows. “It’s pity.”

“Pity?” he sneers. “Like how you sleep around to get over your boyfriend? That’s not pitiful?”

“Like I said—” your tone becomes frigid as you shift closer: until his chest brushes up against yours, until he can count every lash that glows amber in the incandescent street lamps, until he can practically taste the rolling fury off your tongue. Warm. Scalding heat ebbs from your body and flows right into his own. “—don’t get ahead of yourself, Xiaoze.”

His breath comes in ragged waves. So close. When he stands so near to a human, it typically means he’s feeling life flow from them. Not like this; but he cannot bring himself to get away.

He’s never been more thankful for his unwavering voice.

“Don’t give bones to starving dogs,” he murmurs, mellifluous rather than jarringly annoying. “They’ll bite.”

Smoke wafts into his face as you survey his expression: flushed, brows knitted taut, lips still slick with liquor.

“So you’re a dog, now?” Your fingers graze his chin, canting his head this way and that as he makes no moves to evade your grasp: heart beating miserably in his chest. There’s a strange sort of hunger in your gaze.

He’s never seen it before.

“No, it was proverbial—” Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “—you know?”

“Just as desperate as one,” you mutter. Trailing your finger down until they graze his collarbones, it’s no wonder he flinches—and you stare at him, unimpressed. “If I tell people about this, your reputation would immediately disintegrate. How many years have you cultivated that stupid mysterious image?”

“Hah—who would believe you?” It’s true, not many people would—but alas, the important ones have already witnessed this man looking at you.

“Jiaoqiu, but I guess he already knows what a loser you are.” And you miss how when he lowers his head, he looks like a completely different person—flushed visage mired in shadow, like the assassin he truly is. He’s staring right at you, unblinking as he watches the cruel movement of your lips.

“Don’t talk about him right now.”

And so, you don’t.

・゜゜

This is the prelude leading up to this particularly humiliating scene.

Humiliating, because propping himself up on his elbows on your bed isn’t a position he thought he’d ever find himself in. Humiliating, because he never gets drunk, so why the hell is his head spinning? Humiliating, because for once the mellow deep of his voice is pitched a note higher—larynx taut with suppressed groans. Unsteady, in a way his voice has never been.

You taste like the pipe still tipping in your fingers: candy-sweet and saccharic. But there’s also the heavy aroma of liquor on your breath, mingling bittersweet with the plumes of smoke wafting from your fingers. Beneath that, blood from a scrape on your lip—acrid and metallic. That is what he knows, so your lips moving gently against his feels so utterly foreign: and not just in the way they taste.

When you pull back for air, his eyes are blown wide in surprise; his mouth has only ever been used to bite, after all. You seem to instinctively know this as you take a long drag from the stick, blowing the curls of vapour into his mouth when you pull back in: to induce a slight tingle into him presumably (but Lan knows he doesn’t need aid to feel that buzz).

Languorous. That’s how he’d describe it—for it seems you only ever work lazily. There’s no hurry as you lick past the seam of his lips. There’s no hurry as both your scalding mouth and your arid fingertips trail downwards, past the vales of his tense abdomen. There’s no hurry—but Aeons he wishes there was, for your hand slipping under his shirt and against his stiffened nipples are much too damn slow.

“Do you—do you even know what you’re doing?” he mocks, like he isn’t currently jolting as you roll the pink flesh between searing fingers. You raise a brow: lucid against the otherwise irritated thoughts.

“Do I?” you copy his broken whine, gripping the fat of his tits coarsely while the rise and fall of his chest becomes ever so slightly more shallow. If only he could see himself right now: jarred at every turn, pupils blown out, and the residual sheen on his lips. Every damn hue of purple littering his neck and collarbone. And if only you could see better in this darkness—spot that obsessive fervour in his gaze, one neither of you are quite aware of.

“Do you have any experiences to compare it to?” you counter, twisting your hand while he glares at you heatedly. Nothing. Quiet as a corpse when you make an irrefutable point.

No, that’s right, you grin sardonically as you slip the long cigarette back into its place on your nightstand. Syrup drips from your mouth as you twine your free hand in his hair, tugging until he groans into your lips with his own in that mellifluous cadence.

You’re harsh as winter.

No, cruel.

Cruel, as you trail your hand from his chest to his waistband—palming him roughly through his pants. Cruel, as you pinion his hips against your bed to prevent them from bucking into your hand—fingers digging desperately against your sheets as you grind against him. Cruel, as you swallow each whine with your warm mouth: so sweet, so gentle even as you wrench your hand into sinew, flesh and everything beyond. He can taste the arid heartbeat through your mouth, and he’s sure you can feel his own—pulsing hotly as he yields his worries to you, just for a moment.

Or two.

He’s inexperienced, but even he knows what the tension in his abdomen signifies. The distinct tremors in his legs, the pain as he digs his nails into your thigh, the tightness coiling his body into rigidity. Puppet-like beneath your machinations: manipulated this way and that way with strings unseen.

Fucking his hand has never felt like this.

As he writhes, he greedily swallows you whole. Taking everything, including your bloodied lips, including the faint caramel tracing your tongue, including the strangled gasp as he grasps your nape with burning urgency. Aeons. He’s breathless; judged human lust far too soon. Against your brutal palm, the fabric of his trousers is slick with his release—wet patch a testament to his sin.

Yet still you rock against him as he rides out the mind-numbing pleasure: limbs infinitely heavier from the tension suddenly all releasing.

But he forgets how cruel you are.

One final sweet kiss later—nails raking past his scalp and the other hand warmly pressed against his cheek—and you pull away with a lazy smile.

“Go to sleep.” The directive jolts him awake, like a bucket of ice-cold water breaking apart a dream. Dissolved like candy, like the damn fluid in Penacony connecting the conscious and unconscious. “We’ve got a mission tomorrow, remember?”

Like the cat that got the cream, you smile Cheshire-bright. A fucking riddle on your lips. “And I still have to do the dishes, remember?”

He’s left stupefied: numb lips, a reeling head, and an impercipient body. Once more, the shower he douses himself in is frigid—but nothing could be as cold as what just occurred.

What the hell?

He presses his palm to the lower half of his face in shock.

What the hell?

Seriously, there’s something wrong with you. And as he glances down, he realises with utmost horror that his problem has not yet died down yet.

What the hell?

Important things must be said thrice. Duplicitous in nature, Moze’s fate both turns for the worse and better simultaneously.

The bone has been tossed. What will the starving dog do?

・゜゜

All actions have consequences.

That is a proverb universally recognised by all walks of life: trodden on by kings, revered by alchemists, and vowed by the weak. You reap what you sow. What goes around comes around. Equivalent exchange.

The natural outcome from that night is mutual silence. You don’t speak of that evening, and neither does he—face flush with implication, yet unwilling to actually divulge his thoughts on the matter. Sure, he finds himself with his hand attempting to recreate your rough friction (teeth clenched around his shirt as he paws at his lean chest)—but it never quite works, and all of his colleagues are privy to his especially curt mood.

Joint missions with you are now a thing painful. Tense.

The strings that bind him to you are taut with the feeling. Constricting, tightening, until he can sense their imminent breakage.

This leads this unusual pair to this scenario. You, fresh out a shower and post the nth mission of this month. It’s only been three weeks since that night, and watching you meander about the kitchen with only a towel slung low on your hips is giving him heart palpitations. Steam curls from your body; each time you shift, he’s excruciatingly aware of how it appears just like that smoke from that night.

“A-ze. What do you want?”

That’s the golden question—what snaps him out of the trance—and makes him realise he’s practically pressed up against you from the back. No, scratch practically. His arms are on either side of the counter, pinning you in position as you continue stirring the fragrant drink. Feeling that damned sear of your skin is driving him into the throes of madness.

He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and not heeding the rivulets that seep into his clothes. So warm, he wants to murmur—but talking is for those who want to speak, and he does not want to. Not in this moment, where he’s appreciating the soap you used, the lotion spread onto damp skin, the inherent smell of you.

His teeth graze the vulnerable juncture. You turn, and he can see your eyes waver, feel the rapid thrum of your pulse as you become aware of just how desperate he is. “A-ze.” And your hands roam his waist, tracing the taut muscles betraying his anticipation.

His lips are heated as he leans into you: a snarling mess. Trembling fingers trace the expanse of your soft body, like you’ll ghost away just like the wisps you smoke.

“Need you.” It’s not a plea��the rough deep of his voice makes him sound demanding, as arrogant as ever. “Haven’t I behaved?”

He’s so damn desperate as he grasps your body: bruising and fatal. He’s desperate as he kisses you heatedly, desperate while your hands brush past the feverish skin of his stomach, desperate as you push him against the couch—too hasty for the bedroom. Now, he chokes out. Now, now, now. Please.

Pliant beneath your hands, it’s not exactly the longest time until he’s gasping beneath you. So tight, you may have commented: drunk on the sensation of him fluttering around your probing fingers. Aeons.

He’s so malleable: arching into you as soon as you line yourself up. It almost makes you feel bad for him: feeling him flinch whenever you brushed past him, watching his face bloom scarlet as he saw the marks on his neck in the hallway mirror. Almost.

It’s because he’s so cute like this: drooling amidst all the broken noises as you slam into him. You’ve never quite seen him this dishevelled, not even during that night. Hungrily, he’s sucking you right in—paying no heed to suppressing the almost-pained moans dribbling past his open lips.

What a mess.

Physically, it can only be described as such. White globs decorate his flushed skin messily: pearlescent in the dim lights of the living room. He can’t even begin to count how many times his weeping tip has stiffened, not when you’re so damn insistent that he forgets how to speak properly. It’s not like you’re any better; each time you look down there’s that frothy ring that strings you two together.

Emotionally, it’s also quite the mayhem. You don’t particularly know where to look when his eyes have that gleam in them—a sort of fervour that one rarely ever sees. Even now—pupils hazed with lust and eyelids lowered heavily—he’s staring right up at you, content as can be whilst you drill mercilessly into him.

Fuck.

“Come on, you—ah—can do better than that,” he taunts. As though he doesn’t look completely fucked-out, as though there aren’t tears leaking from his foggy eyes. You’re not sure where he gets his audaciousness from.

He’s beautiful.

“This is why no one likes you,” you hiss, sharply tugging his hair back to hear his surprised whines. Supplicantly, he does exactly what you expect. Loser. Aeons, he sucks.

“Yeah?” he grins. “What does that say about you?”

“That I’m a no one from the Intelligenstia Guild,” you answer against his neck, feeling his throat constrict as he swallows. Though it’s only minutely, his nails dig somewhat deeper into the flesh of your back—marking you up just as much as you’ve marked him. An acknowledgement of your words.

Well.

You suppose you’ve always been drawn to the pathetic ones.

・゜゜

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meanbossart · 10 months ago

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i just need to take a second to gush about how much i love durge drow and astarion, they feel so fleshed out and perfectly written together in their fucked up wretched ways. They really inspire me to write more for my own tavs, hopefully one day ill be able to say im as happy with my own work as i get when seeing yours. I have to ask though, do you have any tips on drawing head shapes and faces? or maybe about wrinkles? i find i really struggle with that stuff when drawing and i adore how expressive and grungey all your art looks!

First of all thank you so much, I love hearing what people think of the two of them together 😭

Honestly you've hit on something that's quite near and dear to my heart, I love developing and figuring how to draw and stylize different faces to get the most unique, interesting looking results - everything about the details is highly rewarding to me. What does x type of nose look like from this angle? In this style? How can this eyeshape best translate to my art? How different does a face look when its making this expression? What does that MOUTH DO? etc etc.

In fact you kind of inspired me to put a little tutorial/guide together the last hour lmao and what a blessing it is that the two current subjects of this blog serve as great models here, being that their faces are basically polar opposites!

When it comes to heads, you've probably heard it a dozen times before that you want to think of them in terms of geometry and facets; my process to drawing them is pretty conventional so I won't spend too much time on it, but it goes something like this:

Obviously I don't do every single one of these steps most of the time, which is just something that comes from practice/developing muscle memory, but it is helpful to start off this way for two main reasons:

By making these guide lines and splitting a head into pieces like this, you'll have an easier time seeing and understanding it as a multidimensional object, and in turn, facilitate It for you when you venture out into doing wacky angles and lighting.

Making different headshapes starts HERE. notice how Astarion's "face" slate is narrower and longer, how my durge's jaw pieces sit lower on the head, how all of the same pieces came together in the same way but we ended up with one real pointy elf and a real brick of a drow - making characters look different successfully begins very early in the sketching process.

The next thing you want to do branches out into every day life: start noticing yours and other people's facial features. How does an upturned nose look from a high angle? How does the size of someone's cheekbones affect what they look like when they smile? How about when the light hits them a certain way? Does someone's lip shape changes when they pout? When they laugh? How does a person's hairline change the shape of their face? You do NOT need to creepily sketch every stranger you see on the bus, but get into the habit of actually noticing what people look like when you talk to them - when you look at pictures, when you watch movies - make a mental list of interesting ways mouths, noses, and eyes can come together in a variety of different proportions to make completely distinct looking mugs, and how they change depending on how you are looking at them.

Light and shadow play a HUGE role in how faces look, too, basically as crucial as actual bone structure does. As you see up there I tried to rough out how natural, head on, and underhead light would look on these two very different looking guys, and while we can see definite patterns, there are small differences that come to be because of the sizes and shapes of their features.

Here is a very, very basic look at how some of these features come to look the way they do, how they interact with one another, and how they compare between a blocky, rather conventionally "masculine" head and one that's much softer and slimmer.

Note please that it is not one or two characteristics that give a chaarcter their "look"; you can reduce a face to eyes, mouth, and nose through stylization and still have them be recognizable, but if you want to do more than that, you have to consider the whole package! Chin, cheeks, brows, direction of the jaw, slope and size of the forehead, depth of eyes, ridge of the nose, etc - I know this is probably far more than you bargained for, but if you start making note of a FEW of these things now and slowly add on, this will eventually become second nature to you.

Similarly, understanding how these characteristics come together will help you with rendering light and shadow in a realistic way, and predicting what their facial expressions may look like - if no two people are alike, neither are their smiles. :)

Lastly, remember that I'm no expert - I have developed my own methods and semiotics and yours may look slightly (or vastly) different, and that's fine! I hope only that by sharing this it has given you a base to work off of.

Anyways, I HOPE this has been helpful and not just the unsolicited ramblings of a face pervert.

#ask #art #advice #tutorial #astarion #DU drow

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cherry-leclerc · 1 year ago

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about you ☆ cl16

genre: yearning, humor, pwp (smuttt, perhaps a bit dirtier than I intended, yikes), glimpse of fluff!

word count: 5.8k

Where Charles reminisces on his first love, where for a while, you were all his. First loves are portrayed as something you never want to forget or in this case, forgive. And it all started with a painting.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, doggy style, spit, squirting, teary eyes, teasing, polaroids (ha!), slightly mean/teasing charles

inspired by this and this !

“What about you?”

The group had settled into quite a comfortable spot, gossiping about first loves, if you really care about that type of thing, and spilling secrets. Seeing as it was late November everyone either had a cup of coffee or hot chocolate, courtesy of Lily.

“I don’t really like to talk about her anymore.” The room grows silent as Charles tries to play off the sudden shift. At times like these he almost envied the cold. The cold never once got questioned of why it was like that, but he knew the same wouldn’t go for him.

“Uh uh,” Daniel clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “We all went around sharing, it's only protocol you do the same.”

If anyone felt Charles grow uncomfortable, they chose to ignore it. He can’t be too upset, before this he was enjoying his time, up until the attention turned to him. If it were anything else, he’d give it a go, but he knows too well that he can’t get out of this one.

“I’ll make it easier for you,” Lewis tries to ease the Monegasque. “How did you meet her?”

He feels quite sad that it takes him a while to remember, but eventually he recalls it all.

“I met her in LA.”

Staring up at the blazing sun you spill out dirty curses. You had been frolicking in the shops trying to find a decent vegan restaurant for your boss to enjoy. Digging out a hair tie from your tote bag has you even more irritated than you ever thought possible.

Stepping inside a small art gallery, you decide to refuge there for a bit. The cool AC instantly has you shutting your eyes in pleasure.

“How much for this piece?”

You pop an eye open before deciding not to spare a glance. “I don’t work here.”

The man lets out an awkward cough before excusing himself. “Sorry, I just thought…my mistake.” Feeling bad you turn your head.

“It’s alright, I should apologize as well.” Catching a first glimpse makes you hate yourself just a tiny bit for acting like a bossy LA girl. Didn’t help that he also had the nicest eyes humanly possible.

“I’m Charles.”

Mutually, you both spend some time walking around. He lets you know he’s only visiting as he is a foreigner. You let out a small sigh. “Lucky you didn’t grow up in LA. Extremely tiring, I can tell you that much.”

“Tiring how?” He glances at you for a split second before looking at the nearest canvas. You hum.

“You eventually grow tired of being someone you’re not.”

The stranger seems to feel bad enough based on his facial expression, but he understood what you were saying. A single ring expands into the air as you bite down on your lip.

“Shit, my boss.” Completely enthralled into your conversation time had completely slipped your mind. “I have to get going, but it was nice to meet you…”

“Charles,” he reminds you as you share an embarrassed nod. Something inside of him tells him to ask for your number, though it really wouldn’t be wise enough to do, he’s not even from here or a regular visitor. It wouldn’t make sense.

“...264,” you finish telling him as he quickly types in your phone number.

“Great. I’ll see you later for dinner.”

“Since when do you visit LA?” Pierre’s voice is filled with betrayal. Charles rolls his eyes at his friend. “Mate, you know I’ve always wanted to go there for Nobu!”

“Yeah, well no need to worry I’ll leave LA all to you now.” The definite confirmation in Charles’ voice has everyone wondering how bad things could have gotten between their friend and the unnamed girl he had once been hung up on, though he would never admit it.

“How did the dinner go?” Alex curiously questions, trying to dig in deeper. He knew he wanted to get the best version since Lily had practically begged him to fill her in on the drive back home.

“It was the best date I’ve ever had.”

“Your reservation doesn’t exist.” The waiter was starting to grow annoyed at the 25 year old who insisted he had called on the phone. I can look for my own name on the list, Charles offers though the man quickly raises his hand. “I’m sorry, but the restaurant has grown full. You can try again tomorrow.”

Sitting down on the sidewalk he tries to think of ways to break the news to you. All of them had him cringing. A yellow cab pulls up in front of him and you step out smelling like a garden in Italy.

“Charles!” you exclaim as you run clumsily with heels undone. Finishing up your shift you had quickly dashed home to try to get here one time. Being a few minutes late isn’t all that bad.

“Hey…” He rises up as you’re sitting down. Sheepishly he sits back down once again. “So you might hate me…”

“Why’s that?” you hum as your clip on your heels. Once you are done you stare up at him. Your eyes have him tongue tied as he tries to remember the last time he’s felt like this. Seeing you dressed so pretty makes him upset and he knows he can’t mess this up with admitting his mistake.

“Someone got our table.” Frowning you peek over at the hostess who is taking in more names and clients. “Yeah they just swooped in and stole it.”

“No way!” Feistiness paints your eyes as you stand up, hands on your waist. He realizes he doesn’t completely hate this look on you. Clearing his throat he stands as he pats his hands against his pants.

“Don’t worry though I’m sure we can find some place else.”

“That’s not fair though,” you point out as you start to make your way over. His eyes grow wide as he runs alongside you.

“It’s okay! I swear I’ll find you an even better restaurant where you can dine and display your pretty dress!” You look beautiful by the way, he adds and you quickly turn to him with a smile and blush painting your cheeks.

“I’m sure you could but still, we should say something.” He doesn’t have a chance to stop you as you reach the hostess.

“Hi,” you chirp as you grin kindly. The older man turned his attention with a bored expression.

“How can I help you?”

“Well, um, my date,” you turn and point at Charles who stands there with a blank stare. “He made a reservation for two and it seems you gave our table away.” The man, John, shakes his head.

“You must be mistaken - or have been lied to - but your table wasn’t given away because your date here never made a reservation, as I already informed him.” You both turn your attention to the Monegasque as he begins his act.

“Uhhh…”

Shaking your head you face John once again. “If he told me he made a reservation then he made a reservation.” Raising an eyebrow you stare back at him expectantly.

“As I already told you, no he didn’t.”

Growing more nervous Charles tries to convince you to let it go. I just looked it up and there’s a better restaurant just 2 hours away! “No,” you finalize as he nibbles on his bottom lip. “We are getting our table back.”

“Then I guess you’re just going to have to keep waiting because we are most definitely not going to serve you today.” You roll your eyes.

“Thank you, John.” Making your way over you sit on a bench for waiting guests, Charles follows. “Which table did you reserve?”

“29.” Narrowing your eyes over at John you nod. “Alright. So here’s what we’re gonna do…”

“Are you sure about this?” He lifts you up toward an open window as you grab on, trying to stay secure.

“Just…yes. Just don’t drop me!” His hands placed on your body have him hard and he tries to play it off. This would not make him look good on a first date.

“Okay let me go now!” You screech as you climb over. He watches as you carefully place your Dior covered feet onto the ground. Clapping you shoot a thumbs up on your side of the glass. “Now it’s your turn.”

Rolling up his sleeves he slips into a small pep talk. You got this. You got this. Climbing up towards the window quite evenly has you standing there impressed. Pretty good, you congratulate as he looks down at your figure.

“Than-” Slipping he crashes onto the polished floors.

“Yikes.”

Rubbing his arm he follows you around the dimly lit restaurant. Lots of twists and turns. “I’m starting to get dizzy, how do you know this place so well?”

“I’ve made a few reservations for my boss and her colleagues to have private meetings, now hush and try not to catch anyone's attention!”

“Fuck! You’re Charles Leclerc!” A group of guys stand up in a hurry as you both stop dead in your tracks. You’re confused as to how they know your date's name but as soon as you catch a glimpse of their table’s number, your curiosity flows away.

“Oh so you guys stole our table!” You march over to them as they stare back confused. Charles immediately follows you.

“What are you talking about? We didn’t steal anything.” Tilting your head a bit you stare at them accusingly.

“Yes. Table 29. He reserved it.” You point over at Charles who is busy signing a few autographs in order for them to shut up and not get your attention. Dazed, you pull your eyes away from him as he stands there like a deer in headlights.

The guy ignores you as he pushes past you. Scoffing, you cross your arms over your chest as you begin to glare. He begs for Charles to sign his shoe. Standing your ground you walk over to the now open seat. As the group starts to thank Charles for taking pictures and signing their belongings, which still doesn’t make much sense, they return to their table.

“Move.” The guy crosses his arms and begins to tap his fancy glossed shoes.

“No. This is our table.”

He turns to his friends who urge him. Others say, Leave it. She’s hot. Though as much as you're holding on to this stupid table, he is too. “Get up or I’ll have to call security.” Charles starts to stroll over to where you’re sitting to intervene with the situation but you let out a mocking laugh.

“You think a silly little trust fund baby like you scares me?” Licking your red lips you lean your arms over the dinner table. “Cause you don’t.”

His face starts to boil red as he tries to keep his cool. “Listen, this is our table. So get your filthy ass up and leave,” he spits out. Her ass is pretty nice, his friends confirm as Charles tries to restrain himself from going in for a sucker punch.

“It’s okay, jolie fille, I’ll buy you an even better dinner.” You push his hands away as your glare remains on the man in front of you.

“Quit acting like you’re the shit because you’re not. Has anyone taught you manners? Has anyone tamed the doggy?” You pout, poking his ego as he reaches out to drag you by the arm.

“Mate, there’s no need for that-” Charles begins before he catches a glimpse of a flying arm.

“Don’t touch me!” You yell out as you spare a solid uppercut, and as it was unexpected, he flew back where his friends all tackled to not let him fall.

A few guests gasp and others murmur. Charles sends a small dimpled smile before grabbing you, making sure you weren’t going in for more. “Crap. That shit hurt,” you moan as you massage your knuckles. Fondly, and a bit amazed, he smiles.

“I think we should leave,” he advises as you nod.

“Yeah. Go ahead and listen to your owner…doggy.” Turning around, Charles barely has a chance to grab you before you go in for another hit.

“You bitch!”

He stands up, not before his friends hold him back. You kick as Charles lifts you by your waist, carrying you away.

“Let go! I’m going to mess up his botox face!” You dig your nails, not intentionally, into his skin as he hisses.

As you continue screeching in his arms a now concerned and confused John stares, jaw on the floor.

“Don’t worry, Johnny, we’re leaving.”

“Holy shit!” Pierre stares, eyes wide. “That’s so cool! Why didn’t Kika and I do that on our first date?” Everyone agrees. Charles hums at the memory he had not reminisced on for quite a while.

“So you had a fun date and then what? You just let her go?” Lando shakes his head in disapproval, claiming he wouldn’t have messed up in that way.

“No, we still continued seeing each other.” He smiles. “You don’t get it. I was completely captivated by her.”

Apologizing over the last date you both had was pretty easy.

“Don’t worry. That was the most fun I’ve had in a while.” You laugh at his response as you take a sip of your lemonade. Glossy lips wrap around the straw before biting down. He had to stop staring.

“How did they know your name?” Fiddling with your cup you squint at him underneath your sunglasses. He stiffens.

“You see, I’m…I… I drive.”

You scrunch your nose like a bunny as you let out a muffled laugh. He shakes his head as he tries again.

“A Formula 1 car. I drive in Formula 1.” Nodding you twiddle with the straw.

“What’s that?”

Shocked, he finds himself asking, seriously? You shrug. “Care to explain, Mr. Leclerc.”

He spends the next 2 hours walking you through it all, taking his time. He learns that you had no idea of his status and career in F1 since it appeared that it isn’t as popular in California as it is in Europe, though it’s getting there.

“Nice. So I’m dealing with a celebrity,” you whisper jokingly as you raise your purse to cover you both. “Don’t wanna get paparazzied.”

“I’m not a celebrity,” he laughs as you giggle, bringing your purse down.

“Of course not,” you agree. “You’re Charles.”

For some reason, that makes him feel more seen than he has in years.

“Seriously, how long was this trip and why wasn’t I invited?”

“He just didn’t want you bugging him like you are now,” Max croaks as Pierre flips him off.

“I was only there to buy this one portrait, but as soon as I met her, it’s almost as if that was a reason to stay. I wanted to stay.” Charles stands up to serve himself another cup of hot chocolate, he adds almost half of the bag of marshmallows.

“Leave some for the rest of us,” George cries out.

“Look! He’s getting chocolate drunk, this is a real problem,” Lando pokes fun as Carlos laughs next to him.

“I want to know more about this mysterious girl. What was she like?”

The green eyed boy thinks about it. Then he thinks about it some more. “I don’t know…What I do know is that I’ve never met someone like her.”

“It’s a staple here in LA. You have to go.”

It’s 5pm and you both sit in your old Chevy your grandpa had passed down to you. Here you were, trying to convince Charles to go to the Griffith Observatory.

“I’m not sure…What if someone noticed me?” You tap his nose before you dig into your bag. You pull out two bucket hats.

“I survived LA?” he reads as you nod.

“Bucket hats like these are also a staple, now put it on.” You hand him a pair of Ray Bans as you begin to drive to your destination.

“I feel like Jessica Olsen,” you squeal as you skip a bit, Keds and tube socks scratching along the pavement.

“Jessica who?”

“I forgot you’re all oh la laaa,” you tease as he laughs. You bump your hip against his waist. “It’s a movie. Starstruck. It’s about a girl who ends up meeting this international superstar and they go on all these crazy adventures.” You purposely leave out the fact where they fall in love. “He betrays her by saying he doesn’t know of her on national television!”

Your wounded reaction has him playing along. He gasps. “No wayyy!” Rolling your eyes you pinch his bicep.

“Don’t be a Christopher Wilde and betray me, got it?”

“Christopher Wi-”

“He was the superstar, Charles,” you sigh. “You ought to watch the movie.”

“This is so cool.” He finds himself walking ahead of you as he grows more and more excited with the cosmos.

Behind him you say, “It is, but it sucks you can see more city lights than actual stars.”

He finds you pouting and he wishes for nothing more than to kiss you.

“City lights are cool too.”

“You went to the Observatory as well!” Pierre groans into a pillow.

“Get over it already,” Yuki grunts.

Charles had forgotten how much he enjoyed his time with you. Back in Los Angeles you had said people there pretended to be something they’re not. In Europe, he felt the same. Coincidentally, when you were together, you both were the truest versions of yourselves. Something you both wished you were able to keep.

“Damn. This is pretty cute,” Lewis admits. “How long did you stay there?”

“1 month.” Everyone gasps.

“Oh you were into her into her,” Alex whistles. Growing a bit embarrassed Charles finds himself looking for any excuse to stop talking about you.

“Tell us more! Tell us more!” Daniel chants as he drums his hands against the wall. He shifts a bit before leaning his head up against the warm couch.

“I met her family.”

“God, what did I do to deserve this?” your dad yells as he stares up at the open sky, backyard lit with fairy lights.

“Calm down before you scare him away!” You had invited Charles over for homemade burgers, but you moved out a long time ago, you had no idea your dad was a recent Formula 1 fan. Specifically, Ferrari.

“Of course. I can act cool.”

Breathing hard, Charles finds you carrying your sister's baby. “Hey.” His voice cracks and you laugh.

“Cute. What’s up?”

Fixing his collared shirt he pushes his hair back a bit. “You’re dad is amazing. I mean it, but I need a little break.” Looking over, you find your dad already staring, foolishly sending two thumbs up.

“Ha! I get it. You can stick with me and Macy.” You coo at your niece as she drools down onto her bib. Instantly, you wipe her face. “Macy!” you screech as you softly pinch her chubby cheek.

Charles finds himself staring, admiring, and he never wants an excuse to look away. He’s never been the kind to envision his future with someone, but in that moment, he could. He saw you both living somewhere small, and cozy, somewhere where he could stupidly - and greedily - just enjoy you for himself. He could see you both having a few kids to fill in family portraits. Sundays at the Observatory.

“She’s cute.” Smiling you nod as you press a few kisses on the baby's cheeks and damn it, he won’t admit it, but he was just the tiniest bit jealous. Lucky, he thinks.

“Do you want to carry her?”

Too afraid he steps back, creating distance. “I would just drop her.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t,” you say as you hand Macy over to him. “Just make sure to support her head, please.” He does as instructed, but as soon as Macy lets out a little kick he almost finds himself purposefully letting go.

“She doesn’t like me, it’s fine!” Maybe he was a little afraid.

“She was only getting comfortable. Weren’t you Macy?” Your baby voice has him feeling more for you than humanly possible. Finally settling down, Charles and Macy grow into a comfortable position. Slowly, she begins to fall asleep.

“Thank you God!” you sister whisper-shouts as she lays a warm pat on Charles’ shoulder. “She doesn’t fall asleep with anyone, she must like you.”

“Really?” This makes him happier than he’d like to admit. Maybe he could do the whole dad-thing one day. His eyes travel towards you.

Frowning you whisper to the baby, “I see how it is.”

As the night grows darker, you both, along with Macy, sit next to the bonfire. “Seriously, a fire during summer?” you groan as you lay against Charles' shoulder. He could do this.

“It’s quite nice.” You let out a small snort as you fiddle with the baby blankie. “Thank you for inviting me.” The shyness in his voice is enough to make your heart swell.

“Of course.”

You take Macy to change her diaper and you disappear when your sister walks up to him. Pulling out a chair for her she thanks him. “You must really like her.” Despite his better judgment, he doesn’t answer. “But it also seems she likes you. You both are very cute. How long have you been together?”

“Uh, I’ve only known her for a week.”

Her eyes grow wide as she lets out a grin.

“Oh she really likes you.”

“Meeting the parents after a week and getting approval? 10/10,” George says as he claps.

“This isn’t daycare, Georgie,” Lewis teases. His teammate immediately stops clapping. More questions are thrown his way but one makes his heart stop for a split second.

“Did you fall in love?”

And he doesn’t have to think about it, because he knows he did.

“Sucks that you won’t be here forever,” you whisper. Amidst of summer, you both decided to go to your nearest farmers market. Picking out some plums he pauses and hands you one. Wiping it a bit, you bite down and let out a soft moan.

“Very good, Charles,” you commend as he smiles softly.

“Thank you, maman,” he highlights. “My mom showed us how to pick good fruit.”

“Do you miss her? Home?” Helping now to fill the small paper bag he thinks about it.

“Oddly enough, no. I mean I do miss my mom, but not home. Not half as what I thought I would.” Handing the lady money, you thank her.

“How’s that?” As much as you sometimes grew tired of Los Angeles you knew deep inside that you would grow homesick.

“You’ve made it pretty easy not to miss.”

Kicking a nearby rock you focus on the old man singing. “Very sweet for you to inflate my ego,” tossing the plum seed into the trash can you turn back around to face him. “I know you’re lying.”

He shrugs. “I mean it, but if you choose to ignore the truth…” Winking, he grabs the paper bag from you. “Hey, do you mind taking care of this?” The group of little boys sitting criss cross look up from their game.

“Sure?”

Grabbing your hand he takes you to the middle, where mostly elderly couples are dancing. “Spare me a dance?” Giggling you nod as you fit the small of your hand into his warm palm. Electricity shoots through you and if it weren’t for Charles flinching as well you would have sworn it was all a part of your imagination.

With his hands on your hips and your own lazily spilling over his shoulders you both sway. It's a rare focus of pure devotion, one that you’ve never felt. One he hasn’t either.

“Not too shabby.” Throwing a playful scowl he spins you before dipping you, hair flying as you let out a yelp.

“You’re going to crack her neck!” The small lady scolds as she looks over to where you giggle. “You’re lucky she’s alive. I’ve been dropped by that move,” she snaps as her husband holds her back.

“It was one time!”

Nodding, Charles brings you back towards him, delicately running his thumb against your cheek. “Didn’t snap your neck, did I?” The way he smiles is enough for you to lean into his touch.

“Nope.”

“So darling!” The old lady squeals as she places her hand over her heart.

After a few songs you both make your way to where the little boys were sitting. “Charles, they stole our plums!” you screech when you find out the group is long gone.

“Fuck. I paid them too.”

That night he invited you over to his hotel. “You can’t drive. Summer rain,” he insists as he points out the window of his room. Loud drops hit the glass.

“I would have been fine but alright,” you shrug as you jump onto his bed. “So what do you want to do? Pillow fight? Prank calls? Ouija board?”

“You’re sick.” He cracks a smile when you shrug.

“Well I’m not tired so you better think of something!”

Boy did he think. He imagined. He grew lustful, but no.

“I know how to shag.” The blush that creeps onto your cheeks makes him choke. “Shag as in the dance! The dance. My mom taught my brothers and I. I could teach you…” You nod.

Spending time in a tight hotel room with a low tune and feet stepping over one another has to be the highlight of his life.

“I thought you knew!”

“I do! I swear!”

You groan as you drop against the bed. “Time out,” you say as you cross your arms as an X, to display your break.

“Fine.” Since you both had not eaten much he decided to order room service. As you wait you both lay down watching old races of his. “Why this?”

“I want to learn more,” you explain as you hush him. The camera pans to a slightly older guy, extremely tan and extremely handsome. As soon as you catch a glimpse that he wears the same race suit as Charles you pause the screen. “That beautiful man is your teammate? The one you were talking about?” The tone of your voice has him groaning.

“Yes?”

“Wow,” you murmur as you softly touch the screen, eyes shining. Slapping the computer shut you turn to him with a sour face. “Why!”

“It’s weird,” he tries to reason.

“So if I reacted like that to you it would be ‘weird’ too?” His voice hitches at your interpretation. Growing shy you look away.

“I guess I would be flattered to be noticed by someone like you.” In a single moment he leans in and kisses you and it's almost as if any other kiss he’s had would never compare. You feel it too, the way he lets you meet his lips as if he’s been waiting for this, as if he’s been craving you.

A soft whine is released as he towers over you, purposefully making you lean against his soft bed. Wrapping your legs around his waist, your skirt hikes up allowing him to grip your thighs. He groans when you begin to rub yourself against him. He can feel just how wet you are and it takes all of him to not flip you to take you from behind.

The door chimes. “Food delivery!”

“You knew when you first danced with her? I knew I loved Kika when she picked up my socks.”

“It sounds like you really loved her,” Lando says. Love, Charles wants to correct, because only an idiot would ever stop, but he bites his tongue.

“What I don’t understand is why we never knew of her before this. Why didn’t you make it work?” Carlos says as everyone nods, sharing the same question.

“It was never going to,” Charles confesses. He wishes it would, he really wishes it still could, but it won’t. “That’s just the way it had to be I suppose.”

“Fuck, fuck,” you moan out as Charles wraps his hand into your messy hair.

“You can take it,” he reassures you. I can, you cry out, mainly to convince yourself, but he’s just too big. Leaning back he spanks your ass before rubbing it.

“Did I hurt you?” he teases as you shake your head against the sheets. “Answer me.”

“No!” With all your power you rise up to your elbows before turning around to look at him with teary eyes. The picture you see is too much; snapping his hips against you he slips in and out in the most sinister way. Sweat covering his face but to you he was glowing. You squeal when he reaches over to push two fingers into your mouth. You gag around his long digits.

This makes you clench around him and he almost stops his pace to catch a break but the way you're moaning, whining, gives him all the strength to continue. You cough as you try to spit his fingers out.

“You weren’t choking on my cock earlier, how is it that you are around my fingers?” His voice is nothing but the opposite of sympathetic and you love it. You shut your eyes as you force yourself to start to suck on them. “That’s it, baby,” he swoons as you take him just the way he knew you could.

Retracting his finger you find yourself missing them. He makes up for it when he pinches your nipples in a certain way that has you pushing your hips back towards him.

“So fucking beautiful.” He mostly says this to himself, but it has you squirming underneath his touch. “You drive me so so fucking crazy, y’know? ‘Twas supposed to be here only for a couple of days, but fuck, it’s almost going to be a month.” You let out a pornographic moan when he slaps your ass before going in much deeper. You find yourself drooling by how good this all was. “You’re so fucking addicting.”

Harder, you wail as you reach up behind you for his hand. He lets out a deep laugh as he hands you a polaroid he took of you a couple of days ago. One where he’s fingering you in front of his hotel mirror.

In it you’re mid-moan, head thrown against his shoulder. It’s almost embarrassing the way you could see your juices shimmer in the picture. You snatch the photo before throwing it across the room.

He tsks his tongue as he flips you onto your back, swiftly pulling your legs up to his shoulders, the angle almost causing you to be completely smushed up against your thighs. “You didn’t like the picture, darling?

“I do,” you pant, trying to catch your breath as you are now face to face with him. “It’s just too much all at the same time.” You bite down on your lip when his mouth forms an O, brows drawn together as he tries his best to appear intact, but the clear sight of having you underneath him is enough to cancel his acting debut.

Reaching out, he grabs your polaroid camera. “Guess I’ll just have to take another.” He smirks when you gasp when he holds onto your legs with the other arm, glistening muscles shining. You flinch at the cold jewelry that covers his beautiful fingers before settling back into a string of whimpers and pleas.

His grip is the perfect amount and you swear you are filled with pure adrenaline that you’ve never felt with anyone. In the most professional manner he spits right into your pussy, only adding more friction than there already was. The warmth has you squeezing your legs around his shoulders, feeling his collar bones underneath. Your core grows tight.

“Shit, don’t do that,” he moans, eyes shut for the briefest moment.

“I can’t, I’m gonna…” You’re cut off when a sudden flash goes through. Wickedly, you find out he took a picture of your tits covered with his cum from earlier activities.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get prettier,” he murmurs as he gazes at the photo, his rhythm only growing faster, harder. He throws the photo - vowing to look for it later - before wrapping his hands around your calves. “You’re going to what?”

Cruel, you think, he’s being cruel. But you don’t give a single fuck, not even when he smirks.

“I’m going to cum-”

“Go on then baby.”

Letting out the loudest cry you throw your head back as you gush around him, him following, and in the most unexpected manner he rubs your clit. This only adds to your pleasure as you are controlled with an unfamiliar feeling. You squirt all around him.

“Fuckkk,” he groans as he snaps a picture of you midst squirting and moaning. Quickly, he places the photo on the nightstand before slowly pulling away, mixed cum oozing out. He brings his fingers to gather some before licking it.

“No more,” you weakly plead. He nods as he brings your legs down, leaning up to kiss your cheek before he kisses your lips. You sigh against him.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says when you kiss his nose. He feels your soft breath fanning him, he inhales your perfume, one that he could never forget.

“Ditto.”

“Would you have given up racing just to stay there with her?” Pierre questions when he notices just how serious his friend was about you. He tries to recall the last time he saw him like this but there was nothing that ever compared. It almost scared him, but he was mostly sad. Sad that his friend was yearning for something that was never going to happen.

“Yes.”

“What stopped you?” Lewis asks as he leans against his knees. The room has grown more serious, suddenly filled with gloominess.

“It came to the point where she didn’t want me anymore.” His friends all frown at his response, growing more curious as to what happened, where did you mess up? “I get it though.”

A glimpse of the art piece he first saw when he met you is hung on the wall, a reminder of what once was. That single piece of art was the only reason he even visited LA, if not, there wouldn’t be anything to tell. In a certain way, he’s thankful for the way things flowed because at least he had the pleasure of getting to know someone like you.

“Are you telling them the story of your month trip for my favorite painting?” Charlotte jokes as she enters the room with Lily. “You guys, he waited so long just to buy it for me, it was the most romantic thing ever.” She swoons as Lily smiles, unknowing of the truth behind the painting.

The guys instantly spring their attention back to Charles where he sits silently. He stands up, walking over and places a kiss on her forehead.

“I would do it all over again.”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1

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heretherebeturtles-comic · 2 months ago

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Hello! Many people have said this but ill say it too, I LOVE YOUR COMIC SO MUCH ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

I really wanted to ask you about how you do the backgrounds? (Something i struggle with) whats the process? Like from start to finish, also, to do the rise backgrounds do you use reference from the show and generally real photo of ny? Or do you come up with them? And last question- The shadow and light on the background- Like HOW

i know it’s a lot of questions but i’m just so curious qwq and wanna learn to be better, thank you again in case you read this and respond, in case you don’t, i hope you have a nice day and a wonderful life uwu keep up the great work! (≧◡≦) ♡

Backgrounds are a really broad subject and I'm always a little overwhelmed when asked this question. Just like drawing the human body, backgrounds take time, repetition, and practice!

My answer got a bit long, so it's going under a read more :) but if you digest info better in video format I found this on youtube

youtube

It pretty much goes over everything I wanted to say, but in a much better way. I wish I had found it before writing all this out lol

ok, first of all, I'm not a teacher nor was I built to be one of those cool helpful art tutorial people who do a full coloured tutorial filled with illustrations. This is just going to be a messy "how I do backgrounds / environment layouts from start to finish." kinda thing.

... lets start with a sight tangent.

Sketch from Life!!!

If you want to get better at backgrounds I recommend doing some sketching out in the real world!

When I was first getting into doing backgrounds I went to cafes and parks to just sketch the buildings and objects. Sketch rocks, flowers, clumps of grass, garbage cans, bottles, tables, street signs, etc. If you are drawing a tree observe how the trunks twist, how the bark flows, or how the leaves are bunched.

If you can't leave the house the same still applies! Sketch the interiors of your house, the walls, or common objects like chairs and bookshelves. How are objects stacked? items on the floor?

If you aren't comfortable with drawing outside or in public you can take some photos to draw from! They are good for practice and you can use them again as references later. Alternatively you can find pictures online of buildings and objects to sketch as practice.

All spaces have objects in them, it becomes easier to draw those kinds of spaces when you already have spent time observing and sketching them.

ALSO! They don't have to be good sketches! It's just to build out your mental catalogue and strengthen your perception of perspective.

now the actual thing...

BACKGROUNDS

(the pictures used for this are my own. I dug them out of my 2022 folder)

Backgrounds have slightly different rules based on what you are making them for. Videogame Environment Concept Art vs Animation Layouts vs Comic Backgrounds vs Illustration backgrounds.

They all follow the same basics, which I will go over here, but the intention and function of those designs are going to be different. It's all about how you set up the scene and what it's purpose is!

Brainstorming and Thumbnailing

I like to think about a location as though it is a character. An abandoned old house with creaky sagging floorboards is very different from a futuristic space ship with sharp metal floor panels. A gas station has a very different feeling from a library.

I usually start by asking what is this location's story? Why was it built and for what purpose? What kinds of things does this room need to fulfill that purpose? You don’t need solid answers, but its good to be thinking about it while you are working.

Next, sketch some ideas for how this place is going to look. For me, this usually involves drawing the idea from multiple angles and then making lists & small sketches of the objects I think should be filling the space.

Example: The main character of my original work is a Wanderer. They collect a lot of things on their travels, but those items have to be small enough to be easily carried in a backpack. I wanted his room to be in the corner of an attic, walled off by curtains, and filled with trinkets. You can see some of my brainstorming above.

References

I only look for references after I've done some sketching and planning; this is to solidify my idea first so that I don't accidentally copy anyone else's work. I will make a moodboard with pictures of lighting, colours, items, rooms with specific ceiling beams, old chairs, etc. basically whatever I feel fits the vibe.

Honestly, I don't use references as much as I should. For ROTTMNT fanart I look at backgrounds and screenshots from the series to study the style. I also reference actual photos of NYC to get a feel for how Rise condenses the visual information.

In general, it's good to have references of real life objects/locations, because there are so many details like cracks in pavement, stickers on polls, crowning on buildings, fancy fencing, weird chair legs, etc. that you might not think of. It's the imperfect details that can make a location feel more alive.

Perspective

Once you have your chosen sketch we move to.... the infamous perspective boxes. Doing backgrounds is just learning to be comfortable drawing So Many boxes and carving items out of them.

Many better artists than myself have made videos on perspective, vanishing points, and all the technical bits. Videos like THIS ONE and THIS ONE are helpful (this post is great too!!). There are probably a lot of classes to be found on Skillshare or Schoolism. I learned a lot of this in my college art course, so I can't give you a specific video which helped me.

You can get by and be a good artist without learning this stuff. There are quite a few successful artists who have admitted they never bothered to learn perspective (one of these people even made a whole graphic novel series).

I personally avoided properly learning this stuff until I was in my 20s because I thought it would be boring and difficult to do. tbh I really wish I had learned it earlier because it's so much fun to make those silly little boxes imo. It looks scary and complicated but, just like drawing humans, it just takes time, repetition, and practice to develop the knowledge and skills.

Cleanup

You have your boxes and lines! Cool! Now to make a scene out of it. Fill in the details, get everything placed were you want it! Generally, the lines of each item will point back towards the horizon line, but they can have different perspective points.

Generally you would want to clean it up and get your room completely sketched before doing the lineart. I tend to combine the steps (not recommended)

Lineart

I've mentioned how I do this before. Closer objects have thicker lines and more detailed inside. Further objects have thinner lines and less detail. I didn't quite achieve that balance with the image below, but it's close enough.

Colours and Shading will have to be a separate post. In the meantime, I highly recommend the book "Color and Light" by James Gurney. I used to borrow it from my local library and a good chunk of my knowledge was learned from it :)

#Artist's Comic Rambles #asks #art related asks #thank you for the ask!! I'm glad to hear you enjoy the comc :D #i hope this was somewhat helpful...#i get overwhelmed by broad questions very easily haha #if you would me to elaborate on something specific I mentioned feel free to ask #i wrote this all out weeks ago and then forgot about it... I just added a link or two but yeah here it is

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0cta9on · 9 months ago

Text

Masterpiece

length: +5k words

Genre: Fluff

Kiss Of Life Julie x Male Reader

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

The art club room was quiet, as it usually was on most afternoons. It was your only source of relief from the stress of grades, your parents, and daily life in general. Last year, when you were a junior, it used to be bustling with life, but after all your seniors graduated and your failure to recruit new members thanks to your social ineptitude, you were the art club’s sole member this year. It’s not like you minded - painting was easier when it was quiet and you practically never ran out of supplies since you were the only one using them.

You set up your canvas atop an easel and grabbed a tube for every paint color in case you needed it. The light of the sun shone through the window, inviting you to look outside for inspiration. With a deep breath and a clear mind, you gaze through the window pane in search of your next subject. A couple seconds of gazing turns into a minute. One minute turns into two. Two minutes turns into five. Five minutes turns into half an hour. Nothing. Looking out of that window five days a week for more than a year has completely drained the view of any inspiration. The wooded area beyond the school grounds has remained unchanged, and the school’s soccer field wasn’t exactly an enticing subject to paint. With a disappointed sigh, you decide to pack it in early tonight and head home. However, right as you start to pack up, you hear the door open abruptly.

“Oh, sorry, is this the wrong r- Woah.” The prettiest girl you have ever laid eyes on steps through the door, examining the various paintings adorning the walls of the art room with awe. “Oh my god, these are beautiful. Did you paint these?” she asks, directing her attention towards you.

You flinch, startled by the sudden question. “U-uh, a couple of them…” you manage to murmur out. Painting was one of the things you considered yourself to be good at. For others, it was studying or sports. For you, it was skillfully using a brush to fill a blank canvas with what you considered art. However, none of your pieces could even compare to the beauty of the girl standing before you.

“Wow, you’re really talented,” she says, flashing a wide grin at you that makes your heart skip a beat. “My name’s Julie, I just moved here recently.” She extends a welcoming hand towards you, which you ungracefully accept with a shaky hand.

“Th-thanks… I-I’m Choi Woohyuk. U-um, what are you doing here?” you ask her, silently praying that she is here to join the art club.

“Oh right, I was trying to find the room for the hip-hop club, but I guess I got lost.” Julie chuckles cutely at her mistake. Your heart sank a little, but her warm smile lifted your spirits instantly. A warm blush graces your cheeks as you mentally trace every detail of her face, afraid that she would disappear forever the second you blinked. Her silky auburn hair perfectly framed her face, the glistening pink hue of her lip gloss coated her plump lips which curled into a smile that made your heart soar, and the slight puffiness of her eyes made her look endearing, like a cat that just woke up from a nap.

“Uhh, Woohyuk? Are you alright?” she asks with a worried expression. You shake your head, embarrassed that you were caught staring.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. The hip-hop club is two doors down,” you answer, averting your gaze for fear of getting caught in another trance.

“That’s so close! I should stop by here every once in a while, this place is cool,” Julie giggles as she backs up towards the door, never breaking eye contact with you. “Thanks, Woohyuk! I’ll see you around!” she waves before shutting the door.

You stand there in silence, taking in the brief yet memorable interaction. Without hesitation, you set up your canvas and your paints once again, reinvigorated with a new passion.

______________________________________________________________

You end up getting home an hour later than usual. Your parents had some stern words for you upon entering the door, but they believed the lie you told them about helping out a teacher after the art club ended. Truthfully, you lost track of time trying to paint Julie, but no amount of skill or experience could truly capture her essence. Was it creepy to try and paint a girl you just met? Maybe. Definitely. But this was the first time in a while that you felt truly inspired to paint, and with the school festival right around the corner, you needed something breathtaking to display amongst your other mundane pieces.

That night, you stared at the dark ceiling of your room, finding it impossible to sleep. The shadows began to shift, morphing into indecipherable shapes like different shades of black and navy spilled on a blank canvas. The splotches took a familiar form until you saw Julie’s magnificent face staring back at you. You couldn’t help but laugh as you contemplated whether or not you’d gone insane. No artist is ever fully sane, you thought before succumbing to the exhaustion and drifting gently into a peaceful slumber.

______________________________________________________________

As usual, you find yourself in the art club room after a particularly rough day of classes. If you weren’t daydreaming about Julie, you were dozing off in class and dreaming about her instead. To make matters worse, nearly all of your teachers called you out for not paying attention, adding another layer of embarrassment. You set up your equipment, hoping you’ll be able to forget about everything once you start painting.

Just before the paint touches the canvas, you hesitate, glancing at the door with bated breath. As stupid as it was, you strained your mind, half convinced Julie would walk through the door if you willed hard enough. You get your hopes up as you hear footsteps walk by, but ultimately, you’re met with silence and disappointment as the door stares back at you as if taunting you with its stillness. A mix of emotions goes through your head as you look back to your blank canvas.

She wasn’t coming back, and you felt like an idiot for getting so attached after one meeting. Rather than sitting around moping, you decide to cut yourself some slack - you would be surprised if someone didn’t fall in love after one look at her. With a sigh, you bring your brush back to the canvas, this time letting your heart do all the work instead of your head. Your arm moves with a mind of its own, tracing invisible lines and painting with pure intuition. This was the feeling you loved most while painting: Letting yourself get lost in the process without worrying about the final form. No planning, no second guessing, no expectations. In your heart, you knew that no matter how it looked, this would be your masterpiece.

Before you knew it, you were done. You straighten your spine, the pain in your lower back a sign of hard work. Looking back at your now-filled canvas, you see a pair of eyes you hadn’t noticed before. Then, you see lips, shining as if they were coated with lip gloss made out of stars. Then, it’s strands of auburn hair, cascading down like a waterfall of reddish brown.

A face. You made a face. More specifically, it’s Julie’s face. And it was beautiful.

“Is that me?”

A voice from behind you makes you jump, inadvertently knocking over your mini table full of supplies. Blotches of paint spray all over the tile floor and onto your pants. You look up at the source of the voice only to see the same familiar face on your canvas: Julie Han.

“I-I-I… U-um, i-it’s not…” You struggle to explain yourself, not a single eligible word escapes your lips. Somehow, Julie had managed to come into the art room without you knowing. You didn’t know how long she was there, but it was obvious she had seen your painting. There was no use hiding it.

During the commotion, paint had sprayed all over Julie’s legs and her shoes. You quickly grab a pack of wet wipes from the cupboard and offer it to her, your eyes glued to the floor.

“S-sorry…” you utter under your breath. Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited for her to yell at you or call you a creep. The weight of the wet wipes left your hand, leaving you isolated with nothing to support you. You could do nothing but wait as your vision of the tiles on the floor began to blur together, creating an ugly blotch of black that glared at you with the sting of disapproval.

Like a ray of light in a dark tunnel, Julie’s voice shot through your worries. “That’s an amazing painting, Woohyuk.” You jerked your head up and saw her gazing at the canvas with deep admiration, too busy enjoying your work to care about the paint on her.

“R-really? Y-you don’t think it’s… creepy?” you ask. At this point, your heart stopped beating and you wondered if your mind was playing tricks on you before you faded into the afterlife.

“Creepy? Not at all, this is really cute. No one has ever painted me before. It’s really flattering.” Her eyes twinkled as she winked at you. Whether it was a trick of the light or just your imagination, it didn’t matter. “Sorry for startling you, I wanted to stop by after hip-hop club since I didn’t get the chance earlier.”

You took a deep breath, letting the familiar scent of the art room fill your lungs to help you calm down. “I-it’s fine. Sorry about your shoes…” you murmur with an apologetic look on your face. Julie glances down at her once-white shoes, now covered in a misshapen rainbow of color.

“It’s cool, I kinda like them better this way,” Julie says. “Why don’t you sign them?”

“W-what?” you asked, completely bewildered by her request.

“Don’t artists sign their paintings? It’s just like that, except I get to wear them every day.” She flashed you a bright smile that you just couldn’t say no to (Not that you would ever say no to her in the first place). You sheepishly grabbed a paintbrush and a tube of black paint, nodding at her. Julie stamps her foot on the stool you were using, and your neck immediately snaps to the side in an attempt to avoid accidentally looking up her skirt, eliciting a hearty laugh from her that rang through your ears.

“I’m wearing shorts underneath, silly,” she says, chuckling at you. With a careful glance, you see that she is in fact wearing black shorts underneath her skirt. A wave of embarrassment turns your cheeks pink as you dip your brush into the black paint. The closer your hand got to her shoe, the more you began to tremble, making it impossible for you to produce an eligible signature.

“Am I making you nervous?” Julie teased with her sweet voice. You could only awkwardly chuckle in response, resorting to grabbing your wrist with your free hand and settling for a subpar signature. It certainly wasn’t your best work by any means, but the smile on her face as she looked down at her paint-splattered shoes made it all worth it.

“Thanks, Woohyuk! I gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow!” She gave you one final wink before disappearing behind the closed door, leaving you stunned for the second day in a row. To you, Julie Han is an enigma. Not only was she absolutely gorgeous, but she was also eccentric, optimistic, and kind. How could someone so perfect appear in your life all of a sudden? Was this compensation for the years of suffering you have endured until now? It was simple - you were completely and utterly infatuated with her. As you cleaned the rest of the paint mess on the ground, you couldn’t help but contemplate whether you should be delighted at the prospect of seeing her again or terrified of the uncertainty surrounding the future.

______________________________________________________________

The math teacher’s unexpected illness and the lax attitude of the substitute gave you the perfect opportunity to sketch out your next piece during class. Sure, the painting of Julie you created yesterday was amazing, but you needed more than a single painting to showcase at the school festival next week. Unfortunately, it was difficult trying to capture her solely through memory and the sub doing nothing to control the now rowdy classroom only added to the difficulty. Suddenly, your notebook was forcefully torn away from you.

“Yah, Choi Woohyuk, what are you drawing?” Oh Yechan, the jerk who had been bullying you all throughout high school, chuckled as he gawked at your sketch with his stupid friends. “Isn’t this that new girl, Julie? What the fuck bro, are you stalking her or something?”

You felt the heat creeping up your neck with anger and embarrassment as the rest of the class started to pay attention to what was happening. The substitute had earbuds in, completely oblivious to the scene unfolding before him. All you could do was clench your fist and pray for a miracle.

“Not gonna lie, she is kinda hot though,” Yechan says, snickering. “We’re in the hip-hop club together, I might consider asking her out at the next meeting.”

His words only make you angrier as your jaw clenches and your fingernails start to dig into your palm. “G-give me my notebook back…” You try your best to sound confident, but all that comes out of your mouth is a frightened stutter. Yechan smacks you in the head with your notebook, causing it to fall on the floor next to you. The sketch of Julie was crumpled and torn just like your self-esteem at this moment.

“You wanna say that again, you little shit?” He growls into your ear, spewing his hot breath in your face. You gulped, wanting to shrink and disappear forever.

“He said to give him his notebook back, asshole.”

A hush fell over the room as a sweet yet stern voice was heard from the doorway. You glance over and see Julie, glaring angrily at Yechan as she stomps toward him.

“J-Julie, what are you doing he-” Yechan’s words are cut short with a smack to the face, courtesy of Julie’s hand. A chorus of “Ooohs” escaped everyone’s lips, and even the substitute became invested in this scene of petty high school drama. You could only sit there and watch, both relieved and embarrassed by Julie’s intervention.

“As if I would ever date some asshole like you,” she spewed before turning to you with a concerned look. “Are you okay, Woohyuk?” The caramel tones of her voice made you feel at ease as if nothing bad could ever happen when you were with her. Like a guardian angel arriving at the most dire times, Julie always found a way to make everything better. At that moment, you knew you wanted to be with her, to spend more time with her and get to know everything about her, but a voice in the back of your mind was telling you that you were inadequate. You couldn’t even protect yourself from one bully, what good could you do as her boyfriend?

Julie grabbed your notebook off the ground and handed it to you. “I’m sorry about your drawing. It still looks really good though, you even got my eye shape and everything,” she compliments, giggling. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as a warm blush coats your cheeks.

“I-it’s just a sketch-”

“YOU BITCH!!” Yechan suddenly reels his arm back and you instinctively stand up in front of Julie, protecting her from the punch. The last thing you feel is a sharp shock to the jaw before your vision fades to black.

______________________________________________________________

As your eyes creep open, you are greeted by an abstract silhouette of colors. Reds, browns, and creams were lazily pushed together against a background of bland gray to resemble some sort of human form. Confusion hit you first, but as your vision began to clear, the colors and shapes became less fuzzy and more recognizable until you could make out a vivid picture of Julie looking down at you. Her face was close enough for you to see your reflection in her eyes and the smooth texture of her skin.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Julie chuckles. “You had me worried there for a second.”

“Where am I?” You ask her as you sit up. A shooting pain hits your jaw, reminding you of the events that occurred before you blacked out, and your gaze falls to the floor as a wave of embarrassment hits you.

“You’re in the nurse’s office. The sub and I dragged you here after he sent Yechan to the Principal’s office. I heard he’s gonna get a month-long suspension,” she explained. You couldn’t help but feel slightly irked as this whole thing could have been avoided if the sub had done his job in the first place.

“A month isn’t long enough,” you commented, earning a small chuckle from Julie. Suddenly, she took your hand in hers, lazily caressing the back of your hand with her thumb. You felt your breath catch in your throat and you had to mentally remind yourself to breathe before you blacked out again.

“You were really brave back there,” she said, flashing you a smile of admiration. “Thank you.”

“I-I didn’t really do anything. You were the brave one,” you pointed out. Getting punched in the face wasn’t exactly an act of bravery in your book. Julie, ever the optimist, saw things differently.

“Well then, I guess we make a great team,” she jokes. The two of you share a laugh, alone in the nurse’s office of all places, sharing this intimate moment. You would gladly spend the rest of eternity in this small room if it meant getting to spend every second of it close to her like this. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end as the nurse walks through the door.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” she says nonchalantly. “If the both of you are fine, then you two are free to head back to class.” The urge to lie and tell her that you were still feeling a little dizzy just so you could spend a little more time with Julie was strong, but Julie had already started walking to the door.

“Sorry Woohyuk, I have a test next period that I really don’t want to make up. I’ll see you after school, I promise!” With a bright smile so big that it makes her eyes look closed, she waves goodbye to you before shutting the door behind her. You admired how she smiled so freely and so fully as if nothing bad could ever happen to her. It became a precious gesture that you wanted to protect by any means necessary.

But what could you do? You were just a socially awkward painter, and she was everything. All you were good for was becoming a human punching bag for others. It was obvious how this story would end - your one-sided feelings would stay hidden and Julie would go on to date some other guy that could give her everything she could ever want. It was painful, but it was the truth.

Or so you thought.

______________________________________________________________

Thankfully, the rest of the day went by without any further incidents, and you were once again walking the familiar route to the art club room. Suddenly, a voice from behind you echoes through the hallway.

“Choi Woohyuk!” You turn around to see Julie skipping towards you with a childlike giddiness. “Let’s walk together!”

‘S-sure,” you utter, trying to mask your enthusiasm. As the two of you walk side by side, Julie links arms with you, sending a shockwave through your body, which she notices and giggles at.

“I’m not making you uncomfortable am I?” She asks teasingly.

“N-not at all.” While you were happy with the contact, you weren’t sure what to make of it. Was this just a friendly gesture she did with all of her friends? Not wanting to get your hopes up, you decide to change the subject. “Soooo, you heading to the hip-hop club today?”

“Actually, I think I’m gonna quit the hip-hop club.”

Bewildered, you turn to her. “W-what, why?”

“I’d rather not be in the same club as that jerk Yechan,” she cringed. “Besides, I think it’s time that I try something new. Like painting.”

Her last words stopped you dead in your tracks. “W-what do you mean?”

Julie giggled cutely at your confused expression. “I wanna join the art club, and I want you to teach me how to paint.”

It felt too good to be true. On the outside, you were completely frozen, but on the inside, you were screaming and jumping for joy. “W-why?” You ask, attempting to stifle a grin.

“I don’t know, I just think it would be fun,” she answers simply. “I thought you would be happier since you’re basically obsessed with me.”

“I am not-” The warm blush that spread across your cheeks was answer enough; you were in fact obsessed with her. Julie grabs your hand and starts pulling you towards the art club room.

“What are you waiting for? Let’s go, Woohyuk!” Hand in hand, the two of you run through the hallways, your laughter echoing against the walls. You received some looks from students and teachers passing by, but you didn’t care. Instead of suppressing your smile like you usually do, you allowed yourself to smile as freely as the girl whose hand you were holding. The girl who showed up out of nowhere like a bolt from the blue. The girl who you were in love with.

______________________________________________________________

In the week leading up to the school festival, you and Julie spent practically every second together. You would meet up during the passing period just to talk for five minutes, and during class, you hid your phone underneath books just to send her a quick text. After school, you would give Julie painting lessons while working on your own pieces for the festival. To others, her work could be considered elementary or sloppy, but to you, they were masterpieces that deserved to be displayed at art museums for the whole world to see. Some days, Julie would be your muse and pose for you, giving you new ideas and teasing you if you stared at her for too long. On one particular day, Julie was uncharacteristically quiet as she was completely focused on painting a vase of flowers you set in front of her. You found the way her eyebrows furrowed to be particularly adorable.

On the weekend, you even went on a little museum “date” with her to help familiarize her with famous pieces and techniques. While you insisted that it was purely educational, Julie didn’t cease to poke fun at you when she caught you looking at her instead of the paintings. On the day of the school festival, the two of you had successfully made enough paintings for an exhibit. While you were extremely proud of the pieces you and Julie made, you couldn’t help but feel nervous as you waited for people to stop by the art club room.

Julie noticed you being quieter than usual and gave you a worried expression. “Are you okay, Woohyuk? You don’t look so hot.”

“I-I’m fine,” you reassured her, but she wasn’t convinced. She led you to a nearby chair for you to sit on.

“You can talk to me, y’know. I’m here for you,” she said in a soothing tone. Her voice had a way of calming you down even in the worst of times.

“I’m just… nervous, I guess. What if no one shows up? We worked so hard this whole time, but if no one shows up, it’ll be such a waste.” Your head falls into your hands as you let out a deep sigh. Julie runs her hand gently through your hair in an attempt to provide you comfort.

“It’s not a waste at all. We had a lot of fun, and you taught me a lot about painting,” she explains before pausing in contemplation for a moment. Suddenly, her cheeks became tinged with a light shade of pink as she turned to you. “L-look, I was gonna give this to you later, but I think you need it now. Close your eyes.”

You raise an eyebrow at her in bewilderment. “What?”

“Just close them, Woohyuk!” She exclaimed.

“O-okay…” You decide to do as you're told instead of arguing. A couple seconds of nothing passes until the unthinkable happens: a soft warmth grazes against the flesh of your cheek, gentle and fleeting. The feeling lasts for less than a second, but the sensation lingers on your skin. You open your eyes and turn to Julie, whose light pink cheeks evolved into the red of a ripe tomato.

“J-Julie, did you just-”

Your words are interrupted as a couple walks through the doors.

“Hello, are you guys open?”

Julie jumps up from her seat, almost too eager to leave your side. “Yes, hello! Welcome to the art club, please have a look around!”

Slowly but steadily, the room starts to fill with more and more people, a larger crowd than you anticipated. For the next few hours, you and Julie would go around to each person, answering their questions and explaining your works of art. It was nerve-wracking given your track record with social interactions, but Julie’s presence alone was enough to keep you afloat. While you were happy so many people were there to check out your paintings, you weren’t able to ask Julie about what happened earlier.

Once the crowd died down a little bit, you went up to Julie to talk to her, but a girl with long black hair beat you to her.

“Julie!!!” She exclaimed as she embraced her. The two girls excitedly jumped up and down, squealing with excitement.

“Oh my god, I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow!” Julie beamed.

“I wasn’t about to miss my best friend’s first ever art exhibition! I can’t believe you made all of these, they’re so good!”

“Actually, I didn’t make all of them.” Julie beckons you over, flashing a wide smile at you. “Woohyuk, this is Natty, my best friend from my old school. Natty, this is Woohyuk, my art teacher and my… friend.” You noticed a small hesitation before she said “friend”, but the conversation moved on before you could dwell on it for too long.

“Oh, Woohyuk? So this is the boy you’ve been talking about, Julie. Not bad,” Natty says, winking at Julie. In response, Julie slaps her friend on the shoulder, eliciting heavy laughter from her. You could only stand there awkwardly, confused and out of the loop.

“A-anyways,” Julie interjected, blushing profusely. “I’m gonna give Natty a tour of the school, are you okay being here by yourself?”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something first,” you utter nervously.

Julie looks at you with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, is it okay if we talk later? I promise I’ll be back within an hour.”

The urge to ask her about what happened earlier was strong, but it was impossible to say no to her, especially when she gave you that look. “O-okay, I’ll see you in an hour then. Go have fun,” you reassure her, trying to hide your disappointment. Julie gives you one last look before exiting the room with Natty, leaving you alone with the few remaining visitors left.

______________________________________________________________

Moonlight casts abstract shadows against the floor of the art club room. Everyone else had gone to watch the performances from the various music-related clubs, yet here you were, sitting on the floor of the art club room, waiting for the girl of your dreams to walk through the door. You had been waiting exactly two hours, 43 minutes, and 12 seconds for her to come back (you started counting ever since she stepped out of the doorway). You weren’t mad that she took longer than she said she would, nor were you sad that she isn’t there yet. You were just… waiting.

The silence gave your thoughts the space to roam freely in your mind, yet you were only focused on one thing. It hadn’t left your mind ever since people started entering your art exhibition. You so desperately wanted to know what it meant. More specifically, you wanted to know what it meant for the future. Was it a chance at a new beginning? Or was it just a mistake? Negativity and doubt began to seep through your brain like ink spilled on a blank sheet of paper. Were you meant to live the rest of your life in this unrequited love?

“Woohyuk!” Julie bursts through the door and runs to you, kneeling beside you. “I am so so sorry, Natty started talking to these boys from the rock club, and I couldn’t just leave her alone y’know, and then the concert started and I was gonna leave but Natty forced me to stay, and I’m so sorry Woohyuk, and-”

Without hesitation, you gently grabbed the back of Julie’s head and pulled her closer, planting your lips against hers. The rest of the world fades into oblivion, leaving the two of you suspended in this intimate moment. If Heaven was real, it existed in the way her soft lips felt against yours, perfectly gentle like a brush gliding effortlessly against the canvas. Every fiber of your being was focused on this silent exchange of love. As you finally pull away, breathless and invigorated, Julie stares back at you with stars in her eyes.

“Julie. I like you. I’ve liked you ever since I laid eyes on you. I like the way nothing ever seems to bother you. I like the way you’re so eager to learn and try new things. I like the way your eyebrows furrow when you’re focusing on a painting. I like the way you smile so freely. I know I’m not that strong or brave, but I want to be the one to protect that smile. You are so precious to me, and you have made my life so much better just by existing. I want to be with you and go on more museum dates and create more art with you. I really, really like you, Julie.”

An eternity passed as you waited for a response from her. The darkness made it hard to clearly decipher the expression on her face, but you could still see the universe reflected in her irises. Rather than embarrassment or anxiety, you were filled with determination. You weren’t going to waste your time anymore - if there was ever a time to confess, it was now.

Julie’s answer came in the form of a warm embrace, her arms tightly wrapped around your neck. “What took you so long?” She cried, her voice muffled by your neck.

The confidence you felt just seconds before was quickly replaced with worry. “J-Julie, are you crying?!”

She pulls away from you, revealing her teary eyes and a cute frown. “I was waiting for so long for you to confess, I thought maybe you didn’t like me anymore,” she pouted. You gently cup her face in your hands, wiping away her tears with your thumbs.

“I was worried you didn’t like me at all.” Laughter filled the room as both of your worries quickly melted away. You give Julie one little peck on the lips to seal the deal, reiterating your feelings towards her. She sinks into your arms, resting her head on your chest, your heartbeats syncing into a singular rhythm. The moonlight casts its silver glow down on Julie’s shoes, painted and signed by you.

#kiss of life #julie han #kiss of life julie #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #julie x male oc #kiss of life julie x male oc #julie x male reader #kiss of life julie x male reader #fluff #julie fluff #kiss of life julie fluff

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hyperballart · 3 months ago

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something something premature ejaculation something something art donaldson

seeing this as best friend art. you’ve been attached to the hip since childhood, his grandma is very fond of you and you practically live at their house based on how much you’re over. it’s the summer before college and you’re hanging out with art in his attic. he sits with his legs crossed in front of you sipping on a can of sprite. you joke and banter until it leads to a playful wrestling match.

this isn’t abnormal, you both tussle on the floor until he’s got you pinned down digging his fingers into your sides. you squeal and try to push him off while he mocks your cries. your pleas aren’t taken seriously as loud laughs escape you with tears running down your eyes. in an attempt to make him stop, you weakly kick under him until one of your thighs accidentally brushes upwards between his own. he groans and hunches over you panting and letting out a quiet, oh fuck.

you quickly regain composure and ask him if you hurt him to which he replies with a curt, no m’fine. things get quiet for a beat but you find your chance to build up strength and flip you both over once again, this time his back thumps against the floor and you’re straddling him. you pin his hands above his head and for a moment he’s got a drunk look in his eye until he swallows, “heyyy, that’s not fair.”

your grip on his hands tighten and you smile breathlessly, “c’mon artie, don’t be a sore loser.”

he breaks out of that grip and starts his tickling again, this time with you on top of him beginning to squirm around and accidentally swiveling down on his lap. this snaps him out of it and makes him let out a whine, “oh my god, what—“

you feel he has grown hard under his shorts and stop. the air feels a bit awkward now, which is an unusual occurrence with you two. you know neither of you have much sexual experience, maybe a kiss or two at a school dance but not much beyond that. you suppose it’s normal for him to grow aroused at contact from a girl, you don’t want him to be embarrassed. and in all honesty, you’re curious about how good he can make you feel.

“hey it’s okay, it’s normal,” his eyes are glossy and his cheeks burn pink. he mumbles out a sorry and is about to push you off until you sit fully on his lap again. “what are you—hnngh,” you give a slow grind of your hips and feel him slide through your folds through your tiny shorts.

he falls back on the floor, his eyes close and he’s whining out chopped sentences while you start humping him in a frenzy pace. “artie, oh my god, it feels good,” he nods dumbly up at you and you watch as he’s shoving a hand down his boxers to fix his cock to lay straight. you notice that he did this so you’re able to glide yourself up and down easier and moan out.

you’re going at it for about five minutes, art’s hands rub shakily in a trail from your waist to your thighs. he sounds like he’s crying, you’d be more worried if it weren’t for the occasional twitches of his dick underneath you. “let’s take pants off, feels good but i need more,” and art bites down on his lip hard before doing so. you’re amazed at how natural this feels, this was here for you all these years to take and that thought alone is enough to gush out more in your panties.

the sounds of slick are loud paired with hard breathing and soft mewls, you only get to about two more minutes of humping each other in your underwear before art groans, “wait—fuck please wait, i’m sorry—feels too good,” his back arches from the ground and he looks down to where youre connected, “you’re so wet baby, oh please—“

in a bold decision, you slide your panties to the side just to show how much. his eyes go cross and you press your bare pussy on his clothed head a milisecond before he bursts. he’s shaking and soaking his boxers fully, tons of cum bleeding through the fabric and darkening it. all throughout his orgasm he apologized i’m sorry, i’m sorry i can’t help it it’s so good and you helped him come down while his body fell limp. if ten minutes was what it took to have him like this, you’d keep getting more.

#sorry my beloved anon this took me forever ive been busy all day #this is sooo long omfg i cant cut anything down for shit #art donalson x reader #art donaldson smut #bestfriend!art #art donaldson fic #ask #my writing

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butteronabun · 4 months ago

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Learning new things is supposedly a daily experience, someone had said to you back then, and you’d taken that advice to heart. That’s why even if you don’t like what you’re studying as of the moment, you’re sure it’ll be of great benefit in the far, far future.

After all, knowledge is power!

“If you’ve mastered the Art of Tying A Knot, you can finally get married,” one of the maids tease, and you pout while struggling to hone in making a Windsor knot to yourself. Inside of Dawn Winery’s guest rooms, you find yourself staring at your grumpy reflection in one of the biggest mirrors you’ve ever seen, while the maids behind you are whispering and giggling. “And we all know that the Master likes wearing ties, so. . .”

They’re all horrible, really. Horrible people.

This all started earlier that morning when Diluc was running late for work, and you were the one to locate him in the living room to give him his tie. He seemed thankful, and a bit bashful — you assumed that he was probably being like this because this was one of the first times you’d caught him forget something — before inching closer to you and raising his chin. However, when you grew confused and asked what he was doing, the man froze, before quickly averting his gaze.

“I – I thought—“

“Hm?”

“Nevermind. Thank you, my love.” Diluc politely coughed with his fist and took the tie.

You were literally a huge question mark when your lover left after kissing you on the cheek. Thankfully, the maids, especially Adelinde, who witnessed the spectacle, decided to rescue their future lady from spiraling.

You felt like an idiot after they informed you that Diluc wanted you to tie his tie for him. Even more so when you told them that you didn’t realize and didn’t know how to tie ties. And now, failing lots of times for a simple task such as tying a knot in front of these “experts” isn’t in your to–do list today, and you desperately wish the ground to swallow you up from the humiliation.

“Ooh, she’s improving, girls, she’s improving!”

Hope forms inside of you as you look down. “Really?!”

More giggling. “Nope!”

You groan, before loosing the tie, and trying again. Horrible people. “Why should I make a Windsor knot? There are other easier knots!”

You hear them chuckle. “Oh, she doesn’t know it yet. . .”

“Poor thing.”

“Shut it, just tell me already!”

Adelinde hushes them. The woman of the hour. “Ladies, that’s enough. She’s trying her best.” You almost whimper when she begins approaching you and teaching you the basics again. You recall how she has returned to your spot five times now, and you can’t help but be grateful her for her patience.

“You see, our dearest, a lot of married men in Mondstadt prefer this knot. Do you know the reason?”

“Why? So their wives can suffer every morning?” You huff sarcastically.

“Because it’s the easiest knot to undo,” She corrects you with a wink. “If you catch my drift.”

#diluc x female reader #diluc x reader #butter.spread #based on irl events #my friends and i were talking about our uniforms #and they teased me about not knowing how to tie a tie #specifically “what about you future hubby???#and i’m like PWEH #anyway #yes let us learn how to tie a tie for our beloved diluc

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icantdothistodaybruh · 3 months ago

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[[Tumblr ate another Anon's ask about my way of drawing\painting I can't with this app😭😭😭 If half a year later this ask mysteriously reappears in my notes like previous I'll edit screenshot of it up here, other then that I just hope you'll still see this post, dear Anon🕯🥀]]

Hello Anon!

I made a quick timelapse of one of my old-ish work for you, under the cut I'll go into more details about the process! I hope it'll be of use to you, but don't expect some crazy insights, I'm a messy artist ahjkakhj

So, step one! When the sketch is clean enough for me, I go in with plain colours to block out objects that I'll be refining on separate layers later. At the same time it helps me take a step back from details and break down the image into bigger, simpler shapes, so it's easier to find better composition and proportions.

Step two (actual colouring) Usually my brain shuts down on me on that part too, Anon… Basically I use a very limited palette at the start and gradually build up more hues and contrasts as I go. Sometimes I do a gray scale drawing first to get my values right, but this one is simple and was more of a vent&relax piece for me so there is none of that haha Also, since I tend to work on as little layers as possible and merge sketch layer and colour layer together at literally the first opportunity I get, most of the times I have a copy of my sketch saved on a separate hidden layer in case I overdo the painting part and need some roughness back.

Step three, Details! And when I say details I mean

D E T A I L S .

There is simply something magical in squiggly lines and dots… I can never fight them…

There is not much of advise I can really give you here, just do what feels right to you, what looks beautiful to you. Make your art finished in the way you see it finished, take another step back and ask yourself "what's missing? what feels undone? empty?". Combine styles, find new patterns and brushes, most importantly HAVE FUN!!!

Sooner or later you'll find the perfect algorithm for painting and drawing, only to 5, 20, 50 works down the line realize that's something in your own style doesn't sit right with you anymore and feels rather routinish and start that journey anew.

Never stop your searching, chase after your own definition of beauty because without you there will be nobody to show it to others.

#damn I took that personally with last couple of paragraphs #sorry anon couldn't help myself #IT IS STILL A GREAT ADVISE THOUGH #ask #kuroshitsuji #black butler #ciel phantomhive #my art #timelapse #tutorial #??

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gremlinmodetweeker · 4 months ago

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König Rarely Gets Sick, But When He Does...

Inspired by this ask that I was given earlier.

Okay so let's be clear, König grew up in a great home, as mentioned before in this post. He also hated school. So König grew up to absolutely master the art of pretending to be sick. He did the whole 'making fake vomit with oatmeal and orange juice' trick at 5am just to place it around his bed for his mother to find when she woke him up the next morning. I just want to point this out, as one kid with anxiety to another, if you could get out of school as a kid you did (or at least I did because I was a wuss). So, if König just didn't feel up to school on that particular day, he'd pretend to be sick and spend the day being doted upon by his sweet, oblivious and ever-loving mother. He was such a little shit as a kid.

But when König is actually sick, it's a mess. Oh my lord is it ever a mess. He's disgusting. He's a snot and/or vomit factory (almost always both). He refuses to shower or bathe so he gets sweaty and gross and he'll lay in one spot all day, and when you peel him out of it, he leaves a damp patch behind as an unpleasant reminder of his sickness. He's genuinely terrible.

But he's your terrible mess and you need to care for him.

Read below the cut for a more detailed explanation of what König is like when sick.

The worst part of dealing with König is that he can't pretend he's not sick. He used to pretend to be sick, now he tries to pretend he's not and it fails miserably. When König actually gets sick there's no hiding it.

See, König doesn't get the common cold. What he gets are fevers. Bad fevers. There's been a few times that he's had to go to hospital to get his temperatures in check. He's gotten dangerously close to getting seizures because he was so determined to not take care of himself. Thankfully, this only happens at most once a year (two or three if you have kids in preschool) but other than that, he's healthy as a horse.

The thing is, while he's being gross and smelly and awful, he's a big suck for you. He's no longer a man when he gets a fever, he becomes little more than a big wet cat. Absolutely, genuinely terrible. He will flop all over the place like a wet fish and moan terribly. He gets grumpy and angry over nothing, but instead of being in his right mind and having the sense to properly communicate himself, he'll just make bitter comments and curse under his breath as though he never left the barracks. Not at you, mostly at himself. He gets incredibly upset about falling ill and needing the support of others. You'll have to work to keep up his self esteem when he gets sick.

He's a belligerent little bug all the way through. He'll avoid moving like the plague because he knows if he tries to stand that the room will start spinning. He also knows that he can't ask you for everything, so he'll sulk miserably for hours before asking for your help to get up. He is absolutely horrible about asking for your help. At this rate, you'll need to frequently check in on him or else he'll be writhing under the covers when you next check on him. He really doesn't want to overwhelm you, but he takes this to an extreme. He just wants to make things easier for you. He hates being a burden, or at the very least, he hates being weak.

He appreciates the frequent check-ins because he always has something he wants. Maybe a glass of water, maybe a new bucket, maybe even a new book to read. He's a needy man sometimes. Out in the field he has to do everything himself, so having someone there to look after him means the world to him. He'll never be able to thank you enough for what you do for him.

He's a big fan of Vick's Vaporub and slathers himself in Tiger Balm like he's trying to slide through a straw (and yes it's that disgustingly awful). He will often ask for you to apply these balms to him if you can. He also will often put a bit of vaporub under his nose to help keep his nose from chaffing. He absolutely hates how he needs so many tissues. You'll find him sniveling in the middle of the night, covered by a mountain of crumpled tissues piled over empty boxes.

König often ends up making a nest wherever he plops down. If he needs to go somewhere, he's draped in a blanket, carrying his sick bucket, hauling a box of tissues under one arm along with a book, his phone, and anything else he thinks he might possibly need. He leaves a bit of a snail trail of discarded tissues and dropped items wherever he goes. He is a little bit of a pig, really. But you can't be mad at him. If he bends over, the vertigo might make him fall over. He does try to stay neat, but when he's this sick it's hard to be clean.

In the end, the main thing that helps König is you being there. If you're there to keep him clean, change his sheets, feed him broth soups and light meals, he'll be happy. Dote on him with kisses on his forehead and tuck him in when he sleeps. If he's really sick, maybe you can read that history book he's reading for him. If you can do his chores for a few days, he'll pay you back when he can. He cannot possibly express how much he appreciates all you do for him.

He'll give you space if you want it. If you get disgusted by being around sick people, he won't force you to care for him or do something you can't manage, but if you're willing to hold him he'll be elated. He loves being close to you. He loves being pampered by you, and he'll remember these moments fondly. The last time someone treated him so well was when he was sick as a little boy. Having you here and caring for him makes him feel safe in a way he hasn't felt in decades.

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rosescarlette · 4 months ago

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-> Zhongli with a strong s/o.

Being the geo archon has its price. Both disadvantages and advantages at his hands. He didn't mind much. Every quality he had he would treasure them equally.

That was until you came along.

Mortals in his eyes are quite fragile. You let them go once, they're gone forever. So he cares for every mortal equally.

Nevertheless his strength was indomitable. Surpassing mortals by A LOT. He doesn't mind much.

When he stepped down and later met you. That's when he started being proud of his indomitable strength.

"Li can you help me carry these?"

Hearing you ask for help, he'll always be happy. Proud that he's stronger than you. In a silly way of course. Even to just renovate things you'd ask him for help.

It doesn't bother him much really. He quite likes having to lift.. nothing. So yes large objects are nothing to him. So he would happily do the things you've asked. It also gives him quite the advantage that he could always lift you up with ease.

But one day good knows how busy he was. Work didn't quite help it. And at home you need to move a few things around but he wasn't there. He isn't home yet because he's busy at work. So you decided to do it yourself.

Immediately rushing the work and completed he would immediately try to reach home. That's always going to be his number one priority. Reach home and see you.

But today was different. When he came home.. he was shocked.

Shocked to find you lifting a heavy object all by yourself. No help needed or anything. You were too focused to hear him come in anyways.

"Darling?"

As you heard the voice, you immediately looked at the direction and your face brightened immediately.

"Oh hello!!"

"What are.. you.. doing exactly..?

"Just moving some stuff around why?"

He was stunned. Stunned you were able to lift up that thing with ease.

"You.. don't feel anything?"

"Other than a bit heavy not really.. why?"

Still stunned that his beloved was able to move stuff around easily.

However he felt a bit hurt. That he wouldn't be able to get all the compliments now, that he wouldn't be able to feel his ego boost up again.

"And.. you.. never asked for help?"

"Eh no why?"

That was the final straw for him. Later that night poor zhongli was sad that his s/o won't ever ask his help for anything. Well it took you a lot of effort to comfort him and say it was okay and that you'll need his help later.

But zhongli just wanted to help you and not let you do any work.. :(

---------------------------------------------------

-> Note :

Am so sorry for not posting for a while😭😭 my mental health was currently not good and neither is my physical health right now.. academics doesn't make it any easier for me :( But am really glad you were all patient for me :D I really want to thank you guys.

Also sorry if this was trash btw I am having writer's block along with art block rip. Again thank you again all!! Have a great day :D

#zhongli #genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x y/n #zhongli x you #genshin characters x you #genshin morax #rex lapis x you #zhongli fluff #genshin impact #rosescarlette's diary #rosescarlette #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #fluff

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enzenwriting · 4 months ago

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7 days-without a week pt3 (2.3k words!)

Jake sim x reader. #childhood friends #angst #fluff

If someone said the days came easy to you, they’d be wrong. so wrong.

your days started with Jake and ended with Jake, so when your mind and heart finally decided to let go, filtering Jake out was almost impossible.

you almost walked to Jake’s car, you almost yelled for him across the street, you almost messaged him, and you almost always wanted to stray towards him.

Ah. How embarrassing. Maybe you were clinging to him too much for a best friend only.

the argument and his words still felt very raw as if it’s the only memory you have with Jake.

“I was really being too much for a best friend huh. Now I see it and I don’t blame him for making me realise”

“Don’t be stupid y/n. Anyone would kill for a best friend like you. He’d wish he would’ve realise it sooner” euijoo

but you wish that soon never arrives. You’d rather be caught drinkjng expired milk than to be how embarassing you used to be.

“Well, there’s no point on that now. It’s time to focus my energy somewhere else. I’d get rid of this feelings for him so I can be good best friend again someday”

euijoo hated how hard you were to yourself 😔

you were initially hurt because of the rejection and then embarrassment settled.

Each emotions was a rollercoaster everyday :(((

the second week was going a lot easier, you’re attending the art club for help to busy yourself from Jake.

YOU THOUGHTTT

only to find him walking inside the classroom too????????

Jake’s eyes found and focused on yours ONLY, and suddenly he’s sitting next to you. He doesn’t even hear his friends call him

because jake was going to finally fix things with u

after he’s done shaking internally

Jake sees you concentrates back on painting. He realises it had been a while since he’s watched you in serenity.

Ah Adorable.

But he’s got to do something than stare like a creep

“uhm... so are we supposed to just colour this anyway we like?” Jake felt SICK and nervous speaking to you

and you’re no better. first his voice surprised you, then nervous settled because he was speaking to you as if nothing had or is happening between you two

You only hum and nodded, returning back to your work

awkward 🐦‍⬛

He felt awkward. He longs to talk to you and spend more time with you without having this awkward tension. Jake just wants to talk to you about anything and hear you rant about absolutely anything and everything.

So he tries again

“can… can we share paint? They didn’t give me any”

“Sure... Or you can have mine. I can ask euijoo to share with me instead” he missed your voice but the ugly mention of the male’s name struck a bullet.

just when you’re about to stand, he holds your wrist, stopping you from moving.

Ah… he should’ve done this when you first walked away he thinks.

He should’ve followed those kdrama moment

“No, we can share instead right?” his hold on your wrist loosen but his eyes on yours are still strong

“and you know I don’t like sharing what’s mine with other people” he mumbles, maybe without a thought to his words.

Uh? Did he mean you? The audacity

“This isn’t about the paint anymore… right?”

“Y/n, I’m really sorry about that day.”

“I was… I was really annoyed that day. I know it’s not an excuse, and I should’ve spoken to you about it maturely but I- um... AHHH”

Jake sim is frustrated at himself

“Look, what I’m trying to say is. I’m so sorry for all the shitty things I’ve said and done. I just- I miss you. I honestly really miss you and I just want my best friend back. Can we start over?”

What? To start over? “What does that even mean?”

“I think I- no, I like you too y/n.” He bites his lips “and I really miss you-“

Ahh. So that’s what it was about.

“You don’t like me Jake. You’re only saying that because I’m no longer around you. You’re only feeling guilty and you’re mistaking it for something else”

“Y/n no-“

“I don’t want to start over.” To start the embarrassment all over again? no. you don’t want that

“You’re mean y/n. You don’t get to decide whether I like you or not”

“I’m mean? If I’m mean, then what were you that day? Just give up on this Jake”

“Look, I’m already apologising for that. I’m sorry again but I won’t give up. I can’t give up” he knows it sounds desperate and embarrassing but he can’t give up

“ I’m saying it nicely Jake. I don’t want to start again”

“That’s unfair. You didn’t give up for years, aren’t you being a hypocrite?” oh that shouldn’t have slipped out

“I’ve given up now. You should too-“

“Nope! I’m not giving up y/n. I’ll show you it’s real, be prepared for it!” and he’s off, leaving a half painted bear.

Sim Jake stuck to his word.

“The turn have now tabled” Riki laugh, watching Jake run towards your direction with a hot chocolate in hand early in the morning.

“He really isn’t giving up huh” Sunghoon laughs but is impressed at how much effort their friend is giving

Jake had been going strong in his pursuit for 4 days. Greeting you every morning, asking if you want a ride, messaging you, trying to talking to you, and is always gravitating towards you.

You’re afraid to say Jake had also been acting beyond the boundaries of friendship.

One day, you’re wearing a short sleeve when a cool breeze took over the afternoon. Heeseung saw you shiver and offered his blazer. Jake stood up, threw the clothing on the floor and zipped his hoodie on you instead.

rip Heeseung’s blazer💔

Another one was when he joined yours and euijoo’s walk to the shop just outside of the campus. He noticed you’re walking towards the road, so he jogs next to you, shielding you from an incoming slow vehicle.

The one which stuck out to everyone was that time after one late lecture. Jake who happened to be waiting for you outside of your class, instantly saw it wasn’t your day when you walked out.

His heart broke for you :( (his bby is stressed) so without a word, he walked up and engulfed you in a hug amidst the crowd. His hands covered your ears preventing you from hearing the whispers until everyone dispersed

that day , you followed as he took you to his car and sat you on the back seat. He wrapped you with his spare blanket (he’s always had for you) and played your playlist to calm you down. He never left your side until you were calm enough to go home (driving you home too ofc)

“I can’t believe not only you rejected him, but also not giving in when he makes moves on you. I’m kinda impressed but also confuse” euijoo comments.

“He’s returning your feelings and showing he’s determined, but you still haven’t changed your mind?”

“What if it’s only temporary joojoo? Jake can be easily influenced sometimes and I’m scared this is one of those times”

“Well, i think this influence might a good thing this time and if it’s coming from the right people like Jay, heeseung and the rest? I don’t think it’s anything to be scared of. You trust them too right?”

You do. but you’re still scared

even if your heart does little flips each time he’s around you

“day 5 of Sim Jaeyun being a total simp!” Riki laughed.

“My guy is going strong but y/n isn’t changing her mind still” Heeseung joined “rightfully so”

“Stop, I can’t think of anymore ways to tell her I actually do like her, and I feel like each day I lose her” Jake slumps on his friend’s bed

“Is she going to the match this Sunday? You can totally ask Press Yang to come up with a plan. He’d be totally down for it. That guy loves drama”

Oh! That’s it.

“Hey, I have to go. Just thought of something” Jake is already rushing out of the door; the the way all his friends wave him off except Jay, busying himself on his phone.

On the 6th day, you find Sim Jaeyun outside of the library after your study session.

He waits for the crowd to disappear before he speaks.

“can i- can i try one last time?” you’re confused

“One last time y/n. I’m showing you I’m serious about you and us this time. And if- if you still want me to give up after, I’ll respect that”

“what do you mean”

“We have a match tomorrow in the school court and I’d like it if you came.”

“Oh! But it’s totally up to you, but it would be cool if you came… um because it felts empty not seeing you there- I mean. Oh my god, this isn’t part of what I practised”

There’s your awkward first year highschool Sim Jaeyun

“Here too. It’s not much and there’s a note inside for you too. Don’t read it now before I leave so” you take the folded fabric and watch as Jake makes a run for it

The boy literally pulled lighting fucking mcqueen🏃🏻‍♂️

His antics makes you chuckle. Brings you back to first yesr uni

you reach for the note inside and pocket it before unfolding the piece of cloth.

It’s his jersey with his name and your favourite number

You don’t remember Jake having this number on the back of his uniform. It had always been his lucky no.5

You reach for his note and read it.

“Hey yn, I know this isn’t much but, as you can see, I changed my jersey to your lucky number. It might seem cheesy but, I realise I’ve always been lucky with and by your existence around me. You’re my lucky charm. I was a little stupid to realise that a bit too late. I’m sorry. Initially, I felt embarrassed planning on this, but then I felt happy and excited to do this for you. I understand why you like to gift me things now :)”

Jake sim is a silly silly boy

“I don’t know if you can tell yet but I actually really like you. And I really want this to work for us if you’re willing to trust me again. I would try my best not to fuck it up.

I know this probably isn’t going to make up for all the damage I’ve done but this is my best for now. If you decide not to come, I totally understand and I’ll stick to my words. I miss you. I miss my best friend and Layla’s adopted mom. I’m sorry that it took this much for me to realise how important you are”

Silly boy. Your heart hadn’t really changed huh

Jake Sim feels sick once again. He’s in the court with his new number on the back. The game starts is a couple of minute…

BUT HE CANT FIND YOU.

He knows it was up to you at the end of the day but it doesn’t stop his heart break when the whistle blows and the game starts without his lucky charm.

Jake is now alone by his locker. He refused celebration invites by his team member after a huge win.

He didn’t feel like he won at all because he lost you.

He understands now. He understands how you felt at that moment when he said those words 2 weeks ago. He knows how it felt to be abandoned by your own best friend. The pinky promise you both made not to leave each other at the age 10 doesn’t matter.

All because he broke it first

Jake felt the tears come down and he can’t blame anyone but himself. He’ll have to live with it.

Jake Sim is ready to face his new reality. He walks out of the court towards his car-

to find you leaning on it.

shivering in the evening breeze with his jersey on your body

Is he dreaming? Is he hallucinating again? But you weren’t in the court?

“Oh! Congrats Mr. MVP! You played well there. was it the lucky charm on your back?” you grinned “had to sit somewhere else today. You’re too popular”

Jake feels his knee wobble, and wobble they did until he’s kneeling with a tear rolling down again.

Oh so that’s why you weren’t in your seat

You were there. You’re in front of him now.

His breath is shaky but a release of relief comes out.

You jog towards him, sitting down to his level, wiping his tears. “Why are you crying? You literally won”

“You?”

You nod

Jake Sim really won. In a quick swift, he lifts you in a tight hug, spinning on the spot.

“I promise I won’t hurt you again. I promise I’ll be your best friend. I promise I’ll be your soulmate. I promise I won’t make you leave like that again”

“You’re my best friend. I won’t let you”

“And as your boyfriend I promise I’ll keep my promises”

“And as your girlfriend. I keep reminding you”

7 days a week, what did they mean to each other.

ׄ 　۪ 𓂃 ੭୧ 𓂃　۪ ׄ

an: that’s allllll for me! I hope you also found the Easter egg in there🤭

lots of love🥰

7 days masterlist / main masterlist

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