#like i looked through my sketchbook and found a page of eyes and was like…… 12 year old me would shit if they knew we could draw like that

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi! :) mayhaps can i request your HC's for viktor x an artist reader. 👉👈 ur angst drabbles have been sustaining my life since season 2

There’s a saying that if an artist loves you or falls in love with you, you can never die.

A saying that Viktor didn’t give much thought until it was very clear that he was your forever muse, your reason to keeping your passion alive through experimenting art styles to maximise the effect you wanted your art to have; almost in the exact same way a scientist would conduct experiments in order to understand how something works and how to properly utilise it.

However each and every one of your art works came out looking like masterpieces that should and probably would be studied by future artists themselves one day, given how beautiful they were.

But also because they all included a man with amber eyes and soft chocolate hair hard at work with his own projects as blue sparks are captured liked shooting stars flying past his beautiful face. He truly was a once in a lifetime experience that you wanted to eternally capture within the pages of your sketchbook.

It literally didn’t matter what he did, whether it was tinkering, experimenting with the hexcore or just simply existing, you wanted to capture as much of Viktor as you possibly can whenever you can.

Viktor, in your eyes, was the kind of man people would kill to create sculptures of and artworks that would be seen in grand museums, within a beautifully intricate frame that only added emphasise to his importance to the artist in question. The artist being you of course.

So needless to say whenever you were with Viktor you made sure to have your sketchbook and pencils in hand as you knew that you’d end up wanting to sketch him for the millionth time that day.

However your favourite sketch of him came when you made him smile, genuinely smile.

The image of his bright and handsome smile was all you could see for hours on end as you found yourself absentmindedly sketching his face, his smile, the wrinkles near his eyes and his wind ruffled hair to perfection.

You then found yourself staring at it as though reliving the moment where you heard his laugh reach your ears like a harmonious melody, swept upon the wind that ruffled his hair and into your ears and your ears only.

To be loved by an artist was to be seen and you saw Viktor in a way that nobody else could, not even himself, and it showed in your work as you made him look like an angel disguised as a human given how frequently you used the colour gold whenever you drew him. From his eyes, to his clothes, everything with Viktor had hints of gold to it.

So much so that you had to get more colouring pencils of the exact same shade of gold so frequently that the manger of the art shop knew your name and the muse of your latest works at this point.

‘Drawing Viktor again I see?’ They’d teasingly ask as you’d shrug your shoulders.

‘Guilty as charged.’ You would reply before taking your things and leaving.

Viktor didn’t pry into your sketchbook, it was your belonging and he didn’t feel it was necessary for him to pry into it, but his curiosity didn’t help him one day as he found himself drawn to the sketchbook that you seemed to had left in his lab.

The first few pages were merely parts of the academy that you frequently visited, from the gardens, to the library, to even the lab he was stood in. Each one was increasingly more impressive than the last with how lifelike you made each one as though he could fall into the scene you had created; a true testament to your talent, creativity and insane attention to detail.

However the further the sketchbook went, he could easily see a decline in inspiration in your art. only for it to pick back up again when you had started drawing him doing the most mundane of things -at least in his mind he thought so- as simple sketches to portraits solely done by oil pastels or only colouring pencils. All just to emphasise his features and the concentrated furrows of his brows, a large variation of colours you’ve used so effortlessly to make up his face in a way that he could never imagine.

And yet Viktor found that there was more artworks of yours regarding him, artworks that seemingly continued endlessly and were just as hyper detailed and colourful as the more of himself that he saw, each one touching his heart in a way that made him realise that this was how you genuinely saw him; an angel in human skin as the way you depicted him was either simply human or an ethereal being coated in various shades of gold.

Through the eyes of an artist, through the eyes of you, Viktor knew that you only conveyed what you believed to be true and the fact that you saw him in such a way was enough to have him struggling to breath, but in the best way possible.

You way you saw him transcended beyond the person he saw each and every day in the mirror. You saw him as a man of infinite beauty, wisdom and strength in a multitude of ways while never shying away when it came to his leg nor disease.

If anything you made those parts of him stand out the most in a way that told him that you found these parts of him a strength and perfection in your eyes. Telling him that you didn’t wish him to be anything other then himself, for he was perfect and so much much that only your art could help describe.

Viktor; a man on borrowed time became a man immortalised within the pages of his artist lover.

He even seen the sketches of him fast asleep against his workbench you’ve done and even then you took your time making it look like he was staring into a mirror of himself.

You’d catch him flicking through your sketchbook but you couldn’t say anything against it as the way his eyes light up and soft smiles upon looking at your latest works, looks that only made you want to draw Viktor even more if it meant this sight becoming more common with the passage of time.

‘You like them?’ You’d ask from the doorway.

‘I love them my dear.’ He replies softly as he presses his forehead against your own, making you smile fondly. ‘But was the drawing of me sleeping necessary?’ He adds playfully as you chuckled.

‘Oh it was very necessary my muse.’ You replied with equal playfulness as you kissed his nose. ‘I saw an opportunity and couldn’t let it pass me by without at least drawing it first,’ Viktor scoffs but the smile upon his lips remained, ‘and besides you looked really peaceful and relaxed that I wanted it to be something I remember. Hoping I get to experience more moments like that to be my muse for my future drawings.’ You finished.

‘I’m glad the to could do that for you my dear.’ Viktor closed his eyes and rested his head further against yours, wanting nothing then to capture this moment within his mind forever, secretly hoping to continue to be the muse of your art projects as your artistic range grew.

‘You’ve always been my muse,’ you said, closing your eyes, ‘you will always will be my muse.’

[0uroboring]

.

[heartcereql]

heaven is a place on earth with you

art donaldson x fem!reader || soft moments in your fresh new home

cw: smoking, minor cursing, no use of y/n (1240 words) a/n: writing about my sweet baby art during finals bc why not

you swore you could have stayed like this forever. tangled in silky bedsheets, soft rays of light that tingled on your face, body pressed against art's. one of those moments you wished you could pause and settle in for an eternity.

the mattress was on the floor, and cardboard boxes were scattered all around your apartment. your apartment. it felt blissful to say it. a life awaited you there, between the beige and baby blue walls that screamed for another hand of paint. it was far from the ideal, but it was perfect because it was yours. art's and your world. didn't it sound so pretty?

you looked over at him. eyes closed, lips slightly parted, his head a blond mess of curls and his skin warm despite the moring breeze that slipped inside the room through the opened balcony. art looked otherworldly. he always did, in your eyes. and you felt like the luckiest woman on earth with him, because he looked at you, because he touched you, because he loved you. because he felt for you what you felt with him.

and you two were fucking living together. the thought was enough to bloom a grin on your lips. a pure, joyful smile that made you want to jump and dance all around. pressing a feather-like kiss to his temple, you sat up, careful to untangle yourself from his arms and slinging over one of his standford t-shirts.

you reached over to your bedside table- well, the brown leather suitcase on which you had left some stuff. a provisional nightstand, let's leave it at that. you took a cigarette out of the box, holding it between your lips as you grabbed the lighter and your sketchbook and pencil.

the cool air of the early morning greeted you as you stepped out onto the balcony, goosebumps appearing all over your skin. you lit the cigarette with the pink lighter art had gifted you on your fourth date, all that time ago, when you mentioned you kept losing all your lighters. it was safe to say you'd kept this one. it had fake rhinestones forming your initial on one side. you recalled thanking art with a very excited hug and an even more excited peck.

"you made it?" you had ask him, the glint in your big eyes almost matching the glimmer of the rhinestones under the streetlamp. when art nodded, you gushed, hugging him again. "it's beautiful, art, i love it."

"i'm so glad," he smiled. you looked ethereal, all the eagerness painted on your face, cheeks rosy from the cold, babbling about how sweet you found it.

"hey, do you have any more rhinestones left?" you asked.

"yeah, yeah, here," he handed you the stickers, watching you start putting some more on the other side of the lighter. "what are you-"

but he was shut as he guessed the shape of his own initial, a very shimmering 'A'. once finished, you showed it to him proudly.

you both broke into laughter, cheeks flushed and hurting from the smiles, but it didn't matter. not when you felt so safe around him. and certainly not when he pulled you in for a kiss.

taking another drag of the cigarette, you traced your fingertips against the initials on the lighter. call it luck or fate or whatever, but none of the rhinestones had ever unstuck from where you both had originally placed them.

you sat on the beach chair that you'd placed on the balcony last night, before getting trapped between art's arms and lips, and getting lost in him. tipping the ashes off of the end of the cigarette, you opened the sketchbook. it was actually another of art's little thoughtful gifts that he loved to give you, and you loved to receive.

on the first page of it was a sweet little dedication art had written.

'for my angel girl, so you can be an artist and carry me always with you (get it? because i'm ART and you're an ARTist? so funny, i know.) love you forever baby <3'

it always made you smile when you read it, and reach over to kiss him for no apparent reason, leaving him a curious, flushed mess.

on the page you were currently at, there were some seashell doodles from your last trip to the beach. art had picked them out for you, and peered through the whole process with his head resting on your shoulder. beneath the collection of seashells was a watercolor drawing of art's beautiful, dual colored eyes, and a little sketch of a couple of figs.

looking over, your eyes settled on the pastel colored laundry your neighbors in front had hanging and swaying lightly with the dawning breeze.

your traces were fast but precise. soon, the laundry was replicated under your pencil. shirts and pants and socks and even a bra. the cigarette dangled from your lip, forgotten amidst your concentration.

you were so absorbed in drawing little daisies on the socks you didn't hear the sheets rustling as art stirred awake, or his soft footsteps as he approached you. thus, when you heard his voice, you were startled for a second.

"hey, artist."

you turned to him, eyes big. the movement was so sudden the cigarette fell to the floor.

"hey, art," you smiled, setting down the sketchbook and pencil and standing up to greet him.

his hands were on your waist in no time, pulling you in for a kiss. you nuzzled your head onto the warmth of his chest, running your hands on his back.

"morning," you looked up to him. art smiled. god, that smile. it drove you crazy, made you weak at the knees. your soft fingertips drove up to trace his smile lines, trailing down to his jaw in no time.

he tucked some strand of hair behind your ears, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "were you drawing?" art asked, spinning you around so you both faced the view, his arms around your waist.

the sky was not fully blue yet; pink and purple hues shining over the horizon.

"mhm," you hummed. "i want to colour it later, will you help me?"

"of course, baby," he mumbled, pressing kisses to your cheek.

it was something silly you two did sometimes. after pouring you both some coffee (you made it for art the way he liked, as he prepared yours as he'd learnt from several coffee dates), you'd pull out some colour pencils or sharpies and paint the little doodles you had drawn.

"hey," art whispered. "we live together."

you smiled. "yeah, we do. it's perfect."

art huffed at that. "the walls are on the verge of falling apart. and the people from the bar downstairs were noisy as fuck. and the shower-"

"shut up," you playfully hit his arm, rolling around again to face him once more. "it's you and i. sounds perfect to me."

he gifted you another smile. "you're right. it's ours. that's more than enough."

was this your own personal heaven? you found yourself thinking that often, as you got lost in his always tender eyes, or the sound of your laughters together, or the tingles he left on your skin, or the way you loved each other. as he lifted you up and carried you inside for your first breakfast at your place, you were sure of the answer. yeah, of fucking course it was.

© heartcereql, 2024 || thank you for reading ! 𓆩 ♱ 𓆪

[dollyhyuckii]

ASKING THE DREAMIES (NCT DREAM) TO GO OUT

hyung nct dream! x fem reader!⋆୨୧˚ word count-over 2.k words ⋆୨୧˚

summary-asking nct dream if you can go out⋆୨୧˚

cw- this is part 1!, part 2 is here!, everything is lower case on purpose ⋆୨୧˚

an- hii, this is my series of nct dream scenarios!, jaemin, chenle and jisung are in my part two!, theme inspiration and prompt credits go too-@ohmygs-blog, requests for this series are always open,

MARK⋆୨୧˚

the soft hum of a melody drifted through the apartment as you approached mark. he was seated at his desk, a notebook open in front of him, pencil twirling lazily in his fingers. the guitar resting on his knee had clearly been abandoned for the moment, though the occasional strum suggested he was still thinking about his song.

you hesitated in the doorway, chewing your lip. interrupting mark when he was deep in his creative flow always made you nervous, even though he’d never once complained. as if sensing your presence, he glanced over his shoulder and smiled, his dimples making your heart melt.

“hey, baby,” he said, setting the guitar down and turning his chair to face you fully. “what’s up? you’ve got that look like you’re about to ask me for a big favor.”

you laughed nervously and stepped into the room, playing with the hem of your sweater. “it’s not a big favor. I just… wanted to ask if it’s okay if i go out tonight. the girls invited me, but i don’t have to go if you want me to stay.”

mark blinked at you, his expression softening with a mix of amusement and affection. “why do you always ask like you need my permission? of course, you can go, baby. you don’t have to check in with me.”

“i know, i know,” you replied quickly. “i just feel bad leaving you here by yourself.”

he chuckled, standing up and crossing the room to you. “you’re not leaving me stranded on a deserted island, babe. you’re going out for a few hours. besides,” he added, pulling you into his arms, “i think you deserve a night out baby. you’ve been working so hard lately.”

you melted into his embrace, the tension leaving your shoulders. “are you sure? i don’t want you to feel like i’m ditching you.”

mark leaned back slightly, tilting your chin up so your eyes met his. “i’m sure. the only thing I’ll feel bad about is if my pretty baby doesn’t send me a selfie before she leave. you always look so pretty when you dress up, and i don’t want to miss out.”

you laughed, swatting lightly at his chest. “fine, i’ll send you a picture. but don’t complain if I take too long deciding what to wear.”

“i’d never complain,” he said with a wink. “though if you want some advice, you should wear that little black dress. you know the one.”

“oh, so now you’re giving fashion advice?” you teased.

“just trying to be helpful,” he shot back with a grin. he stepped back, grabbing his guitar again but pausing before sitting. “seriously, though. go out and have fun, okay? don’t overthink it. just text me when you’re there so i know you’re safe.”

you nodded, smiling as warmth spread through your chest. “thanks, markie. you’re the best.”

“i know,” he said, plucking a playful chord on his guitar. “but I’ll be even better if you bring me back dessert.”

“noted,” you replied with a laugh, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead before heading to get ready.

RENJUN⋆୨୧˚

renjun was stretched out on the couch when you found him, a sketchbook balanced on his knees and a pencil in hand. his brows furrowed in concentration as his hand moved deftly across the page. the soft sounds of music floated from the speaker, blending perfectly with the calm atmosphere of your shared space.

you stood there for a moment, just watching him. he looked so peaceful, his focus entirely on the details of his drawing. but you had plans to go out tonight, and you didn’t want to leave without checking in with him.

clearing your throat gently, you walked over and perched on the armrest beside him. renjun glanced up at you, his sharp eyes softening the moment he saw your face.

“my pretty girl,” he smiled as he greeted you, his lips quirking into a small smile. “what’s up? you look like you’re about to ask me something.”

you bit your lip, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sweater. “i, uh… i wanted to ask if it’s okay if i go out tonight. the girls invited me, and i figured i’d go, but i don’t want you to feel like i’m leaving you here by yourself.”

renjun tilted his head, a teasing glint in his eyes. “since when do you need my permission to go out pretty?”

you rolled your eyes, a blush creeping up your cheeks. “i don’t need permission, renjun. i just want to make sure you’re okay with it.”

he chuckled softly, setting his sketchbook and pencil aside before turning his full attention to you. “why wouldn’t i be okay with it? you should go have fun with your friends. it’s not like i’ll be sitting here waiting for you to come back,” he added, though the playful smirk on his lips betrayed him.

“uh-huh,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “i know you, renjun. you’ll act all cool and indifferent, but then you’ll text me a hundred times to make sure i’m safe.”

“first of all,” he replied, feigning offense, “i’d text maybe five times, max. and second, can you blame me for caring about my pretty girl?”

you laughed, leaning down to rest your forehead against his. “no, i can’t. and i love that about you. but seriously, are you sure you’re okay with it? i don’t have to go if you want me to stay.”

renjun sighed, his hands finding their way to yours. “you always do this. you act like i’m some overprotective boyfriend who doesn’t want you to have a life outside of me.”

“because sometimes you are,” you teased, earning a mock glare from him.

“okay, fair,” he admitted with a grin. “but this time, i mean it. go out, have fun, and don’t worry about me. i’ll be fine. besides,” he added, leaning back against the couch, “this just gives me more time to work on my art without distractions.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “distractions?”

“the cute kind,” he clarified quickly, pulling you down into his lap with a laugh. “you’re my favorite distraction, but even i need a break sometimes.”

you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “fine. I’ll go. but you better not forget to text me back when i send you updates.”

“deal,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “and don’t forget to send me a picture before you leave. i like knowing what you’re wearing so i can tell you how stunning you look.”

“you’re so cheesy,” you said, though your heart fluttered at his words.

“only for my pretty girl,” he replied, his voice warm and sincere.

with a final kiss, you slipped off his lap and headed to your room to get ready, feeling lighter and more loved than ever.

JENO⋆୨୧˚

the sound of the game controller clicking filled the room as jeno sat cross-legged on the floor, fully engrossed in the match playing out on the tv screen. his posture was relaxed, but his focus was razor sharp, his fingers moving swiftly as he worked to defeat whatever opponent was on the other side of the screen.

you stood by the doorway for a moment, debating how to bring up your plans for the night. jeno wasn’t the type to get overly possessive or upset, but you always liked to check in with him before going out. it wasn’t about asking for permission, it was about the comfort of knowing you were both on the same page.

“hey,” you called softly, stepping into the living room.

jeno paused the game immediately, turning to you with that warm, easy smile of his. “hey baby, what’s up?”

you folded your arms, feeling a little shy under his gaze. “i was just wondering… the girls invited me out tonight, and i think i’m gonna go. is that okay with you?”

his smile didn’t falter, but his head tilted slightly in curiosity. “why wouldn’t it be okay? you don’t need to ask me for stuff like that.”

“i know,” you said quickly, walking over to sit beside him on the floor. “i just, i like to check in with you. make sure you don’t feel like i’m ditching you or anything.”

jeno let out a soft laugh, reaching over to take your hand in his. “you’re so thoughtful, you know that baby? but no, babe, i don’t feel ditched. i want you to have fun.”

“are you sure?” you asked, leaning into his shoulder. “because i can stay if you want me to. we could watch a movie or something instead.”

he shook his head, his hand squeezing yours gently. “no, really, i’m good. besides,” he added, glancing toward the TV, “this is a rematch night with the guys. you know how competitive they get.”

“ah, so you’re busy, too,” you teased, poking his side.

“exactly,” he said, grinning. “so go. have fun with your friends. you deserve a night out.”

you smiled, feeling a wave of warmth spread through you at his easygoing support. “you’re the best, you know that?”

“of course i know that,” he said, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips. “but you should still remind me more often.”

laughing, you got to your feet, tugging him up with you. “well, since you’re so perfect, can i ask for one more favor?”

“anything baby,” he said, his expression immediately softening.

“help me pick out what to wear?”

jeno raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a playful smirk. “oh, you’re really giving me that kind of power, huh?”

“i trust you,” you replied, pulling him toward your room.

he followed you willingly, sitting on the edge of the bed as you started pulling options from your closet. as you held up each outfit,

jeno gave his honest opinion, sometimes teasing, sometimes serious, but always considerate.

when you finally settled on a look, he gave an approving nod. “that one. you look amazing, but not like you’re trying too hard. just… perfect.”

you blushed under his gaze, smoothing your hands over the fabric. “thanks, jeno. i’ll send you a picture before i leave, okay?”

“you better,” he said, pulling you close for another kiss. “and don’t forget to text me when you’re there, when you leave, and when you’re on your way back.”

“anything else, dad?” you teased, though the care in his voice made your heart melt.

he laughed, tapping your nose. “just stay safe, okay baby? i’ll be here when you get back.”

as you grabbed your bag and got ready to head out, you glanced back at jeno one last time. he waved you off with a grin, already settling back into his game.

HAECHAN⋆୨୧˚

the late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow across the room as you leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping on a glass of iced tea. haechan sat at the table, lazily scrolling through his phone, occasionally humming some tune that was stuck in his head. he looked up at you with a smile when he noticed you were watching him.

“what?” he asked, his tone teasing. “you can’t take your eyes off me, huh?”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “something like that,” you replied, setting your glass down.

he raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “okay, what do you want? that’s your i’m about to ask for something face.”

laughing, you shook your head. “can’t i just look at my boyfriend without an ulterior motive?”

“not when you’re making that face baby,” he quipped, tapping his fingers on the table. “alright, spill it. what’s up?”

you hesitated for a moment, suddenly unsure of how he’d react. “so… the girls are going out tonight, and they want me to come. i thought i’d check in with you first, see how you feel about it.”

haechan blinked, leaning back in his chair as a slow grin spread across his face. “you thought you’d check in with me? what, do i look like the jealous type to you?”

“no,” you said quickly. “but, you know, i just want to make sure you’re cool with it. i don’t want to make you feel like i’m ditching you or anything.”

“ditching me?” he placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “baby, if anything, you’re giving me the perfect opportunity to miss you.”

you laughed, shaking your head at his dramatic response. “so, you’re okay with it?”

“of course i’m okay with it,” he said, standing up and walking over to you. he leaned against the counter beside you, his hand brushing yours. “but there’s a condition.”

“uh-oh,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “what’s the catch?”

“you have to wear that dress,” he said, his tone playful but his eyes warm. “you know, the one i love. and before you go, you have to come show me how stunning you look.”

you raised an eyebrow at him. “oh, is that all?”

“for now,” he said with a wink.

“alright, deal,” you said, crossing your arms. “but i get to make a condition, too.”

“oh, this should be good,” he said, leaning closer. “hit me with it baby.”

“you have to promise to actually eat dinner while i’m gone,” you said, poking his chest. “no skipping meals just because i’m not here to make sure you’re fed.”

haechan pretended to gasp, his hand flying to his chest again. “what do you take me for? i’m a grown man! i can feed myself.”

“uh-huh,” you said, not convinced. “i’ll believe it when i see it.”

he laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “alright, deal. i’ll send you a picture of my dinner to prove it, and you send me a picture of you looking like the queen you are before you leave. sound fair?”

“fair,” you agreed, resting your hands on his chest.

“and don’t forget to text me when you get there, okay?” he said, his tone softening. “i know i joke around a lot sunshine, but i worry about you when you’re out.”

“i will,” you promised, touched by his sincerity. “And i’ll text you when i’m heading home, too.”

“good,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “now go get ready. you’re about to be the most beautiful girl at that place, and i need to brag to myself about how lucky i am.”

shaking your head at his antics, you pulled away to get dressed. as you left the room, you heard him call out, “don’t forget the dress! it’s non-negotiable!”

you laughed to yourself, feeling a mix of excitement and comfort in knowing that haechan would always have your back, no matter what.

dreamies masterlist here⋆୨୧˚

[milfloveer]

Hello! Good morning, good afternoon, or good evening! I’d like to know if you accept fanfic suggestions. If so, I’d love to request a fanfic of Lilia Calderu x Female Reader, where the reader is drawing, and Lilia approaches to take a look and asks if she can see the drawing. However, while flipping through some pages, Lilia ends up finding several drawings of herself. It would be similar to that scene from Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, when Gwen picks up Miles’ sketchbook and sees several drawings of her. (I imagine Lilia’s reaction would be the cutest ever (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)).

Drawings of you

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

Prompt: (request)

Warnings: scars and history about them (reader has whip scars)

A/n: Hiiii!!! Thank you so much for the request!! Hope this is what you've asked for, please tell me what y'all think cause I think I've wandered a little 👉🏻👈🏻 Also I added some more plot hope it didn't ruin it tho.

As we finished the second trial, Alice's trial, and made sure Teen was alright we settled down and made a fire so we could rest for the night.

We sat by the fire and were currently sharing our battle scars, Lilia pointed out to her neck pulling her shirt aside making me shift on my seat "Check this out." we all reached a little closer to see better, my cheeks painted with a soft pink and then Jen asked what we were all thinking "What is that?" and Lilia, still showing it says "Vampire bite. Right before I knock out his other tooth." she says making all of us laugh.

Alice then turns to me "What about you, y/n? Do you have any battle scars?" she asks innocently, I couldn't hide my sudden face drop as my body tenses, my eyes fall to Rio cause she knows what my scars are about, her expression unreadable and then my eyes fall to Lilia's, her eyes curious about what I have to show and so I sigh "I do have them, yes. But they're really ugly and how I got them... Well, let's say it's not as funny as Lilia's." I say softly, preparing them to see my scars. I turn around, my back now facing them, and I lift my shirt, they gasp and an 'Oh gods' left Lilia's mouth.

When I turn around they all have a shocking and scared face, I look down at my intertwined hands as I could not bear their gazes directed at me "It all happened when I was in Salem, I was held captive by a powerful man... Not by power tho, but by money and other things, he was well known and respected by the people. So one day he found out I was a witch and how powerful I was, all because of a stupid mistake I've made." I said sighing in frustration memories of that haunting me "All those years he held me captive he made me do things for him, like cure people, read their fortune and if needed I would do some potions and cast some spells.... Curses even. If not or if I did it wrong he would whipp me over and over again until I had no skin left. It was that or burning in a stake." I tell as they all share a look "Dead almost caught me that time." I scoff taking a glance at Rio. Lilia shifts in her seat, her mouth opens to say something, but Agatha arrives and sits down next to Rio, so Lilia stays silent, but her eyes remain in my figure like she's trying to read me just like a book.

To take the tension out and to divert the attention from me I turn to Agatha "Agatha, do you have any battle scars?" I ask and she smirks pulling her sleeve up, Rio makes a snort knowing full well what she was going to show. Her scar is in the elbow "Knitting needle to the elbow." she says while showing it around as we all made a disgusted face "Ever heard of the daughters of liberty?" she asked and we all answered with 'no' while shaking our heads "Exactly." she says making all of us laugh.

And then, out of the blue, Rio says "I've got a scar." as Agatha quickly replies "No you don't." that makes me raise an eyebrow "Yes, I do." Rio reinforces taking a look at Agatha as she keeps explaining "A long time ago I loved someone. And I had to do something I did not wanna do... Even though it was my job. And it hurt them... She is my scar." she finishes and looks directly at Agatha, not even trying to hide who it was. Agatha then gets up saying she needs to stretch her legs and Rio follows her, leaving us four at the fire.

We all look at each other and shrug, I mean we all knew they had an history, it was clear as water, so we didn't bother. It's not like they're gonna tell us anyway.

I take a glance at the three witches "Y'all get some rest, I'll take the first watch." I tell them and they all nod, Jen and Alice got comfortable against the rock they were, Lilia did the same.

To pass time I conjured my sketchbook and pencil so I could draw something and by something I mean the elder wise witch sleeping a couple of feet in front of me. I couldn't take her out of my mind since the first day I saw her at Agatha's house, her curly hair, her curved nose, her soft looking lips, oh how I would love to kiss them, those dark irises I could drown in a matter of seconds, her angelic voice, the whole of her, I could not stop thinking about her and only her. And I couldn't stop drawing her since, my sketchbook was full of her images, profile, full body, different expressions, her hands, her necklace, I couldn't stop, I won't stop.

I now started to draw her sleeping figure, how her body was curled in as she lays on her side facing me, her hands next to her chest in a protective way. She was in a deep sleep as her now relaxed body only moved with her soft breathing. I lost myself in the lines drawing efficiently every detail of her, capturing her essence as she sleeps... But the pencil started to weigh too much and so did my eyelids, I didn't even realise when I fell asleep, sliding into a deep slumber myself.

The shaking of my body and a soft voice is what makes me aware of my sleeping state and so I jump awake "Whoa, calm down, darling, it's just me." Lilia whispers as the rest of the coven is still sleeping, I frown "What's wrong?" I ask confused, she smiles softly "Nothing, dear, I only wanted to put you in a more comfortable position as you were not looking rather comfortable in that one." she says chuckling lightly, she then looks next to me where my sketchbook fell and she reaches for it "Oh, No-" I say trying to stop her but she's quicker than me "I always wondered what you spend so much time drawing about." she says teasingly and opens the book "Oh-" she says as she flips through the pages.

My face turns red, red as a tomato, as a strawberry, as her lipstick "Lilia-" I breathe out, but she looks at me tenderly "These are amazing, darling. But why me?" she asks innocently and I am left with no words, mouth agape as staring embarrassed at her "Have you seen yourself?" I ask, my voice lower than a whisper. She chuckles and shakes her head "No need to be shy now, dear." and my only reaction is to hide my face behind my hands with embarrassment.

Lilia's soft hands grab mine and put them down, her face really close to mine "I really appreciate it." she says and I almost choke with the air on my throat as she leans in and gives me a tender kiss on my cheek. Well if I wasn't red before, now certainly I was, my heart was ready to jump out of my chest as my head was ready to explode "Now, try to rest, dear, I'll take the next watch." she says laughing softly as she backs up to her previous spot.

How am I gonna sleep after this?!

[demonmarker]

Beautiful with you

Regina x Reader (Masc. Lesbian)

Chapter 1

Regina George. The Queen B of North Shore High, known for her dominance and the fact that anything she does is always for her self-gain, and you have absolutely nothing to do with her. Never had, never will, so you thought.

Like any other day you sat by yourself in the cafeteria at lunch, drawing in your sketchbook like you always did with your Doc Martin feet kicked up on the table, earbuds in with Bad Omens playing in your ear as you work on your latest idea for a new tattoo on the back of your neck when at the corner of your eye you see movement and… pink? You glance in the direction of the movement and see none other than THE Regina George clicking her fingers at you to get your attention. You had a small hallway crush on Regina. But who doesn't? You even have a realism drawing of her in your sketchbook, but you didn’t bother drooling over her or even bother trying to talk to her. You tried doing the whole friends thing when you were a kid and you were always left crying and humiliated, so it was a loner life for you and your sketchbook was the only friend you needed. Curiosity getting the best of you, you pulled out one of your ear buds showing she got your attention, “Regina” your voice low and husky since you never really talked much at school. “Oh my god finally,” your eyes narrow, not impressed by her opening line. “Come sit with us”, waving a beaconing hand. You lift one of your eyebrows up in suspicion, “Me? The tattooed lesbian loner freak? Sitting at the Plastics table? With the most popular and beautiful girls in the whole school? Yeah, I can see a red flag when I see it so… I’m going to pass.” Regina stuck her chest out proudly with a matching smile, “You think I’m beautiful?” You rolled your eyes and put your earbud back in your ear signalling that that was the end of their conversation. At the corner of your eye you see Regina get out of her seat and walk off, guessing you did the trick, no way was she really wanting to hang with you, like every other time it would probably have ended in a cruel prank that everyone but you found hilarious. Without warning your sketchbook was ripped out of your hands by the familiar blond using your book to swat your feet off the table, sitting where they once were. “Hey! What the fuck?!” Regina just held up her hand to silence you, and it. Fucking. Worked. The abruptness took you off guard. Queen B started flipping through your drawings, your cheeks going red knowing that the drawing you did of her is in there. “Hey, that’s private!” you tried snatching your art diary back but she was quicker, moving it out of your reach. “I don’t know why, these are surprisingly good. I was expecting stick figures at best, look you even coloured inside the lines.” Ignoring the insult your leg starts anxiously bobbing up and down rapidly from the anticipation of her discovering the drawing of herself, in that moment you’d rather defuse a bomb. Flicking another page Regina stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening and her mouth agape. The feeling of being so helpless to stop the inevitable made your anger rise, flashbacks of people laughing and humiliating you start running through your head. It wasn’t fair! This keeps happening again and again. Your anger gets the better of you and you abruptly get up from the table and storm off.

Getting to your locker, you attempt to enter the code into the lock but of course in you fit of rage you missed a number and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back as you smash your fist into the metal door “Fuck!”, removing your bloody fist from the now red dent in the locker door, you pinch the bridge of your nose as you feel a migraine coming on. “My god, you are such a drama queen!” the familiar voice of the cause of your anger exclaimed from behind. Your head snaps to see the blond beauty again, her eyes go to the bloody fist print you dented into your locker “Got it all out?” her eyebrows raised, seeing the blood, her eyes darted to your bloody knuckles hanging by your side. She gave an exaggerated sigh and grabbed you by the sleeve of your dark red leather jacket, “Come with me”, not like you had an option.

Pulling you out to the car park and to her red jeep she opened the passenger door and then the glove box grabbing a small first aid kit out, she held her hand out for your injured one and all you could do was watch in stunned silence as this woman–who everyone saw as the Queen Bitch herself–delicately cleaned and bandaged your injury. She glanced up at your confused expression “Stop looking at me like that you dork.” Being called out made your cheeks go red, instantly reacting you let out a “Sorry” like you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar. “Wait, why am I apologizing? You started this, give me back my sketchbook!” tying the bandage’s knot she raised her hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t tell you to chuck a hissy fit and punch your locker now did I dummy? Say please and I’ll give you the sketchbook,” she grinned. Your eyebrows scrunched “No!” you snapped back. Lifting an eyebrow with a mischievous grin, she took a step closer to you while pulling your face down to hers, your faces barely inches apart, “Say. Please.” Your cheeks went beat red, being so close to the beautiful goddess you could smell her perfume and feel her breath on your face, all making you want to give into her, the want to obey your submissive side was almost overwhelming, “P-please”. Her grin grew, her hand still holding your collar pulled you the rest of the way to her lips. Those lips. Those soft, plump, intoxicating lips. You completely lose yourself, never wanting the kiss to end. She wraps her arm around your neck, her hand gently caressing the back of your head under your tied up black hair where your undercut is shaved almost to the skin. When you let a moan escape your throat you feel her something flat being pushed against your chest which you instinctively grab blindly. Pulling back, Regina ended the kiss by pulling on your lower lip with her teeth which you automatically moaned to. She put her forehead against yours reaching up she wipes her lipstick from your lips, softly whispering to your lips “Good girl”.

When you come down from cloud nine you see her already walking back to the main school building, Fuck, what just happened? You look down to the object in your hands and find your sketchbook with one page dog eared. You turn to the marked page which was the drawing of Regina, a message written in the open space of the page “You're kinda hot, come to my place after school today. Meet me by my car.” You couldn’t stop your heart from racing, Regina George just kissed you! And she wants to meet up with you again! The rational side of your brain kicked in and made you question if this was all some sort of trick, telling you to keep your walls up, scenarios like this don’t happen to loners like you. It’s not like you could hang out after school anyway.

Trying to get through all the scattering people at the end of school was always a nightmare but you manage to make your way to Regina’s jeep, the blond standing against the bright red car in waiting. Seeing you approach she straightens up “Hey Loser, you ready to go?” you roll your eyes at the nickname. “I’m sorry I can’t today.” She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And why not?” “I-“ you start but you hesitate, you look off into the distance as you argue with yourself whether to tell her the truth and let her in, no one knows what really goes on in your life and you liked that way it kept everyone safe. Or should you just brush it off and leave it at that? You release a sigh, “Would you be up to letting me show you?” Regina narrowed her eyes wondering if she should trust you or not “You’re not going to take me to some creepy warehouse and murder me are you? The pretty blond always dies first and you got the whole broody, loner killer vibe going on” she gestured to your whole person. You roll your eyes “Do you want to or not?” Chucking her hands up in defeat “Argh fine”, she walked to the passenger side of her car as you got in the drivers. Once comfortable you get a confused look on your face as you look at the dash, Regina looking at you with her own look of confusion, “Remind me again which one is the brake and which one is the accelerator”

The look of disbelief she gave you was priceless, “You can’t be serious” You cackle from her reaction, “I’m joking” you continue to laugh as she slaps your arm, already feeling at ease around her. “Don’t worry I’ve got my full license, your baby is safe with me.” “She fucking better be” she mumbled.

Ch.02 Ch.03

[cholondry]

So, I recently watched the pilot for "The art of murder", an indie animated murder mystery show that just released it's pilot, and I have a theory on who did it. (Also if you haven't already: please watch the video, it is really amazing)

First off, I'm going to rule out Pip herself. I know it would be the easy anwer, but she didn't rip out the page the first night. This leads me to believe that she would not do it the second night either. Also, which artist rips out a page and leaves it so messy that you see where it was?

Now let's go to a round of motive, opportunity and will. We know that everyone has a motive, so we can't cross off anyone that way. And based on the evidence so far, anyone could have had the opportunity by waking up first. But who is the one that is the most determined and strong-willed, actually going through with it?

In my opinion, it's Albie. The first thing suspicious about her is that she isn't covered in anything after waking up, despite Winn and Sousuke being stained. She was on the same page as Winn and when opened, the sketchbook shows both Albie and Sousuke. When Winn got covered in water, the liquid could have gone through the pages and soaked her as well. If the book was open normally, there would be a high possibility that the mud that got on Sousuke could have hit Albie as well. But she's completely clean, leading me to believe that she was outside of the book when both staining incidents happened. Georgio was on a whole different page, so it makes sense that he stayed clean.

Then we have her willpower. We already know that Albie is very determined in her goals of entrepreneurship and that she is'nt and doesn't want to be a damsel in distress. If she really feared for her existence, she is the one that is really going to do whatever she thinks is necessary. But interestingly, after they discover the missing page, she says that she can't be a murderer, and that princesses are more likely to be killed. And this despite her prior attempts to clearly differentiate herself from other princesses and highlight her strength and independence.

Then there are the visual and behavioural clues.

When they were only meeting OC, she was already looking wary in the background. She doesn't smile and you can't see her eyes, meanwhile everyone around her is in an upbeat mood. She could have already realised by then what OC's existence could mean for her. Furthermore, Albie calls him "Not a real character", which sounds really suspicious, as OC clearly has personality traits and "character" is literally in his name. It could be nothing, but it does sound suspicious.

Then there is how involved she is in the investigation. She draws the conclusion, that the first to wake up would be the prime suspect. And when Georgio is about to investigate, she tries to say something about it. Everyone is involved in the case, but she is actively participating in the investigation process, which could be because she's nervous or tries to throw Georgio off. The other characters (outside of the literal detective) aren't as involved as Albie, so her behaviour sticks out.

Then there is the biggest clue so far: The dog was somehow involved, and the mud from his paws can be found on Sousuke. I can't make much sense of it currently, but it circles back to Albie somehow being clean when her page neighbours aren't.

But that's just a theory from someone who's currently watching too many detective shows.

[idleoblivion]

"A Dangerous Muse" Jade Leech x GN Reader

Synopsis: You found him so pretty, it was hard not to get inspired. Still, it felt a little creepy to sketch him without permission. But it’s fine as long as he doesn’t find out, right?

Word Count: ~1.5k

A/N: This was supposed to be like maybe 500 words idk what happened

Warnings: Lots of teasing (I mean, it's Jade), brief Floyd cameo

Your secret wasn’t a particularly bad one, it was mostly just embarrassing. When he sat with his brother and Azul at lunch, when you could catch him during his shift at the lounge, and if you just happened to spot him at random around campus, you would take almost any chance to draw Jade in your sketchbook. They were usually just sketches of him looking poised and gentlemanly as he did whatever task he had taken up at the time. Occasionally though, you caught him being slightly more expressive, smiling in a way that showed his pointed teeth and made his eyes wrinkle. You were more than a little embarrassed of how well you had learned the details of his face, and by the dozen or more pages you’d already filled up with drawings of him. Something about him just felt naturally alluring and intriguing to you, he made the perfect muse.

Right now, you’re sitting at a table in the lounge trying to look like you're studying and not waiting for the appearance of a certain eel. You picked a seat off to the side by yourself like usual to not draw any attention. You were pretty sure you had overheard him in the halls earlier say he was working this afternoon, so it was odd to you that he hadn’t shown up yet. You pull your sketchbook out while you wait and look through some of your previous works. You sigh looking at one of them where you were especially proud of how you captured the mischievous look that he had been wearing, with a predatory glint in his mismatched eyes that-

…Was incredibly similar to the way he was looking at you right now.

You hadn’t seen him enter from the front door or kitchen, he seemingly materialized out of thin air. But he was there now, walking past the other patrons at their tables and headed towards your own. You hurriedly shut your sketchbook and try your best to act casual.

“Oya, what a surprise seeing you here, prefect. Are you here to try our new menu?” His eyes still have a dangerous look to them, and he not so subtly steals a few glances at your sketchbook.

“No actually, I just got done studying. I was getting ready to leave.” You try to grab your sketchbook and leave before he has time to question you further, but his hand reaches out and sits on top of it first.

“Oh, you’re already done? Are you sure? I could take a look at what you’ve been working on and assist you if you need.” He has a knowing smirk on his face that immediately increases your anxiety. His hand is still resting on top of the sketchbook.

“Uh, that won’t be necessary. I can’t afford to be making deals right now and-”

“Why, who said anything about a deal? Can’t I want to help you simply out of the goodness of my heart?” He feigns an innocent expression that you don’t trust in the slightest.

Before you can retort, he grabs the sketchbook off the table and moves to open it. You nearly lunge out of your seat to try and grab it from him but he seems to anticipate it and holds it behind his back, out of your reach. He smiles again at your panicky face.

“Oya, what’s this? Is there something private in this book of yours? I thought you were supposed to be just studying?” 

“I-I was, I just don’t want you doing anything to my notes, I worked hard on them.” His eyes narrow but his smile widens. “Yes, I’m sure you did. I promise I won’t compromise your work, I only intend to look.”

He pulls the sketchbook in front of him again, and you have to resist the urge to attempt to snatch it immediately. He steps forward until he’s too close, in your personal space. You try to back up only to find he has you caught between him and the table. He really leans in, his face only a few inches from you and you feel your cheeks heating up at the unexpected proximity.

“You’re sure all I’m going to find in here is notes, hm?”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to find another excuse to get you out of this. Him being so close to you certainly isn’t helping you get your thoughts together. He takes advantage of your shocked state and finally opens it to the page you’d been on.

“W-wait, Jade you can’t-”

“My, what’s all this~?”

He holds the book out of your reach again while he flips through the pages. You don’t even move to stop him this time, accepting your humiliating fate. You look away from him in your shame, which makes you miss the way his eyes light up as he skims over your work.

“...You’re certainly a skilled artist, I’ll give you that.” You force yourself to look back at him and gauge how upset at you he is, but his demeanor offers you no clues to what his mood really is. “I’m no critic, but I can appreciate how detailed your drawings are. You must have studied me very intently, no?”

“I…um, I guess? I just draw you whenever I see you around. I’m sorry, I know that’s-” “Why me?” You’re caught off guard by that question, and he repeats, “Why me? There are a plethora of other students you could draw, but as far as I saw, I appear to be your only subject. Why is that?”

Well, there’s no point in lying to him, and you were already so mortified, what’s a little more humiliation?

“You’re really pretty.”

For the very first time, you see Jade look almost dumbstruck. Only for a brief moment though, as his face almost immediately changes to something much more intense. You almost think he’s upset until you realize he’s looking at you with the same face he made at his terrariums, or when he cultivated a new species of mushroom. He was intrigued, you had his full attention and interest and the weight of it was becoming overwhelming the longer he stared at you.

“You…” he trails off for a second then leans in close to you again. “It’s impressive how often you manage to surprise me.”

“I’m sorry, I still should’ve asked. I can stop, really, I will. I’m so sorry.” You spoke fast and quietly, still wishing for nothing more than a way out of this situation.

“Now, there’s no need for that. Artists need to practice regularly to improve their skills, yes? I would hate to take that away from you.” “Huh? So…you want me to keep sketching you?” “Unfortunately, Azul would have a fit if he found out I was offering you a service and not charging anything.” Of course, nothing comes for free in Octavinelle. 

“Well, what would you charge then? Madol? Would I have to wait tables here?” He laughs lightly under his breath.“No, nothing like that. I believe our little deal should be well thought out and discussed, not impulsively decided right here and now. Why don’t you meet me back here this weekend, and we’ll work something out? Just you and I of course, I’m sure we don’t need Azul to mediate. Maybe I could even have you sample some dishes from our new menu during our discussion. There would be no charge for that of course, since you’d be doing me a favor by agreeing.” 

As you look at his face to decipher his intentions, you're left even more confused. Why is he looking at you almost…fondly? And he wants to meet with you completely alone? And he’d offer you food for free? What did he mean by you meeting with him being a favor to him? Was this…a date? What exactly was he implying? He just continued watching you, with his polite and courteous persona that you can never truly read put back on. Still a bit flustered, you try and rationalize why you should or shouldn’t go, before he interrupts your thoughts one last time.

“Oh, and you’re very pretty as well.”

Your face is burning after that. You swallow the lump in your throat before you meekly respond.

“Oh, t-thanks. Um, yeah, this weekend sounds great.” He smiles with his teeth on display again. “I look forward to it, prefect.” He grabs your hand and places a chaste kiss to the back of it before offering you your sketchbook back. You take it without a word, brain completely short circuiting.

Then just as suddenly as he appeared, he was gone. He left you by yourself with your own racing thoughts and heart and headed towards Azul’s office. You quickly gather yourself and get ready to leave. On your way out the door, you suddenly spot Floyd watching you with an amused smirk. He makes some kissy faces and noises at you teasingly and points toward the office where Jade is. Your face gets hot all over again and you rush out of the lounge, hearing Floyd cackle at you as you hurry away.

[chaos-in-deepspace]

L&DS Rafayel: Pouty Portraits | Drabble

So @la-spooky ended up inspiring me to make this little drabble of the fish on accident. You know, when inspiration hits, you go with it. Now personally I can't draw at all, my artistic talents ends at being able to string words into pretty stories, but I hope you artists out there enjoy this. Even if you don't consider yourself an artist and just doodle, this is for you.

Pairing: Rafayel x Reader Warning: N/A Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Rafayel

Art was something of a guilty pleasure. You wouldn’t say you were an expert at it, especially not when compared to your boyfriend, Rafayel, but you certainly weren’t bad at it by any means. It was just something you couldn’t do often; you had your career to think about, which would always come first. It was something you had to sacrifice in order to stay focused on your mission, even if it was painful.

Still, as you relaxed in the studio, bored out of your mind, you couldn’t help but want to go back to those days where you’d laze about your room with a sketchpad and some music to keep you company. You looked over at your boyfriend who was promptly passed out on the couch after having pulled another all nighter. He had invited you over for a date, but by the time you arrived exhaustion had already taken him.

You hadn’t the heart to wake him up, so you did your best to entertain yourself until he woke up. Originally you had taken to playing on your phone, a few mobile apps and social media was enough to catch your attention for a while. The longer you sat around though, the more tempted you had gotten.

Rafayel had his studio littered with sketchbooks in every corner so he’d never have to worry about looking for one when inspiration hit. You were certain he wouldn’t notice a few pages going missing after you ripped them out.

With that in mind, you grabbed hold of one of the sketchbooks that had been teasing you, and some pencils to sketch with. You flipped open the pages, your heart blooming with affection at the gorgeous sketches that were in the book. You finally found a blank page and sighed. It almost felt like you were committing a crime, drawing in a sketchbook like this. His artwork was flawless, and you…well you could draw at least.

You sighed and grabbed your phone, popping in some headphones and listening to music. You took one more glance at your sleeping boyfriend before deciding to just draw him. So you did, mainly just several headshots to help you get into the groove of making art.

You didn’t even know how much time had passed as you moved to the third page, ready to draw your sleeping boyfriend since he was right there. Your eyes went upwards to where he was…or had been. You blinked in confusion, noticing Rafayel was noticeably not on the couch anymore.

Your head swiveled for a moment before suddenly you were staring directly into those sunset eyes. Your own widened in surprise and your brain buffered before you let out a shrill scream. You clutched the book close to your chest as you backed up. You could hear Rafayel's jovial laughing through your headphones, which you promptly ripped out to scold him.

“Raf, what the fuck, when did you wake up?” You said, glaring at him. Amusement swam in those beautiful eyes of his as he reached over and took the sketchbook out of your hands.

“Were you drawing me?” He said, looking at the pages of headshot sketches you had done. You felt a small blush creeping up your cheeks as you tried to be stern with him.

“Answering my question with a totally off topic question isn’t what I wanted, you know.” You huffed, going to take the book back, but he pulled it closer to him.

“These are really good, you captured my essence perfectly…why didn’t you ever tell me you could draw?” Rafayel said, never looking up from the sketches. You groaned and looked away, feeling bashful as a true, recognized artist looked at your crude warm up pieces.

“It’s just an old pastime of mine, nothing more.” You said, “Sorry I used your stuff, I should’ve asked.” You admitted.

“What’s mine is yours.” He said offhandedly, “Still, can I keep these? I really like them.” He said and you looked confused for a moment before nodding.

“If you really want to, I guess you can. They’re in your sketchbook after all.” You shrugged, “Why would you want them anyway? You could do a way better self portrait.”

“I don’t want a self portrait made by me…although I have to ask why did you draw this expression on me?” He said, pointing at all of your sketches having a similar theme.

“Your pouting face was…inspiring.” You settled on; Rafayel didn’t look amused by this, in turn showing you that adorable pout. He looked away for a moment before getting an idea. A smile gracing his pretty face.

“Well how about you do a proper drawing of me.” He started, leaning close with a sly grin, “You can draw me from reference. I’ll sit however you want, just make sure to get my good angle…wait never mind, that would be all my angles.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you fought your inner emotional turmoil, “Okay, but it won’t look good, you know?” You pointed out. Rafayel's eyes furrowed in a confused expression, his hand cupping your chin to make you look at him.

“Anything you make is breathtaking.” He said, “I wouldn’t ask anyone to draw me. I’m very selective. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Cocky bastard.” You said, but didn’t bother to slap his hand away, “But fine…I’ll sketch you but on one condition.”

Rafayel smirked, “And what would that be?”

“Later you…need to give me a drawing lesson or two.” You said and his eyes widened in surprise before taking a soft turn.

“Sure, but why are you suddenly so interested in drawing when you said it was just a pastime…unless you deceived me earlier.” He said, trying to lighten the mood. He could see the unsure expression on your face as you stared off to the side.

“Because drawing like this again reminded me how much I enjoyed it.” Even though you knew you needed to focus on being a good hunter and a steller bodyguard…perhaps you can give yourself some enjoyment in your life again. Art was freeing and you had dearly missed it.

Rafayel's hand was still on your chin as he forced your eyes back on him. He pressed his forehead against your own and stared into your eyes, “Anytime you want to relax and draw, just let me know.” He said, clearly realizing just how stressed you had been.

You smiled, relaxing into his touch, “Fine…shall we get started? Things are getting a bit too depressing in here.” You joked. Rafayel's grin seemed to spread once more.

“Sure…so did you want to do a nude sketch ooooor?”

“Oh my god Raf, just lay on the damn couch…clothes on.”

Hope y'all enjoyed this one! It was fun to write, and honestly I think formatting this took longer than the actual writing lol.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could I request Jason Todd with an s/o who enjoys making art of him? Sketches, paintings, etc.

Jason never saw himself as ever being a muse for someone else’s art, their reason to immeditly rush to their sketch pads or canvas and let the ideas flow out and take form however that maybe.

It was a reality he had came to accept until you came along and happily challenged this view he had on himself, and without fail you’ve proven him wrong again and again on multiple occasions.

Finally he had became a muse to somebody and he couldn’t help but be touched and feel extremely loved and appreciated whenever you shown him a simple sketch of him doing something mundane, whether that be making dinner for you both or reading a book, you just had a way of showing him how you see him through your art.

‘It’s a simple sketch I made this morning, nothing fancy.’ You’d shrug as Jason looked over your drawings of him and smiled.

‘If this is what you call a simple sketch then I’m all out of luck in ever attempting to take up drawing, this is amazing sweetheart!’ He’d say as he peppered your face with sweet, thankful kisses before moving away to look at the drawing once more, taking note on how much attention to detail there was in what you claimed was a simple sketch.

You drew him with such love for everything that made him in his entirety. You took extra care in drawing his every scar that littered his body, big and small. From the largest scar running from his collarbones and down his entire upper body, to the various scars scattered on his neck, forearms, hands and back.

You didn’t try to hide his impurities and instead actively chose to emphasise them in a way that he never thought existed. You didn’t try to make him look palatable nor tried to draw/paint him in anyway that wasn’t true to his character and he loved it. He loved the fact that you saw him for who he was and found him worth spending hours upon hours of drawing for.

‘I’m sure you’ll pick it up jay bird, besides I like drawling you.’ You admit.

‘Why?’ He asks softly.

‘What?’

‘Why do you like drawing me? What is it about me that worth immortalising on a canvas or in the pages of a sketchbook?’ Jason says as he looks at other sketches/paintings you’ve done of him in your spare time and felt his heart grow bigger with each and every one he came across.

You even sketched him in that stupid bunny onesie that Dick got him after loosing a bet, much to his dismay and the rest of his family’s amusement. Once upon a time he would’ve been ashamed at that his most embarrassing moment had been sketched out onto paper, but now he just shrugs and laughs it off, finally finding it funny as everyone else did at the time.

‘Because everything about you is worth immortalising, whether it be as a sketch or as a painting, you -Jason Todd- are worth remembering well into the future.’ You tell him as you took the sketchbook out of his grasp and settled it aside to hold his face in your hands, smiling upon seeing him melt deeper into your touch. ‘I didn’t feel like portraying you in any way that wasn’t true to who you are, at least in my eyes.’ You add.

‘And what do I look like in your eyes?’ Jason speaks barely above a whisper as he looks at you with storm grey eyes, a stark difference to the bright cobalt blue of his youth.

‘Perfectly imperfect.’ You kiss his forehead. ‘A Human with a heart of pure gold despite everything you’ve been through.’ You press another kiss to his nose. ‘A true protector of Gotham who bares the scars to prove it every night.’ You finished praising him by place a soft kiss to his plush, slightly chapped lips and pressing your forehead against his. ‘You’re Jason Todd. My muse.’

[writingficsanddaydreams]

His Eyes

Mihawk x gn!reader

Summary: you may dislike eye contact, but that doesn’t make his eyes any less mesmerizing

Content: some fluff, a little romance. They’re on a mission. Reader is autistic.

A/N: this is a shorter piece, just a snippet of an idea really, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So now I’m making you all think about it too! Like all my stories, Mihawk is based on a mix of his live action personality, and the little bit I know from watching some of the anime and reading the manga quite literally years ago.

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Dracule Mihawk. A great warlord of sea. A man so powerful that his very presence makes others stop and step back wherever he goes, who can freeze a person in place with just his intense, piercing gaze.

You love his gaze.

You love the color of his eyes, the way that lantern light plays across the striking yellow, bringing out those hints of gold. You love the shape of them, the way his eyebrows furrow, that little line that forms above his nose when he’s so focused. You love how he can seem to command a room with his gaze alone.

His eyes are mesmerizing.

“How is it you can stare at me, yet request I avoid the same?”

His words send a shiver through you, one that strengthens as he turns that gaze briefly your way. His arm is is draped carefully across the back of the tavern booth, his fingers just brushing your shoulder.

You shrug and smile—just a little smile, the one you practiced because you know it secretly makes him pleased, even if smiling doesn’t come naturally to you.

“It’s not like I command you,” you tease, even as you draw your knees closer to your chest to better balance your sketchbook and lean slightly into him. You like sitting like this, both because it lets you naturally look away when he does decide to stare at you, and because you love the feeling of his nearness as you lean slightly into his side.

“Hmm.” He turns his gaze away. You quickly peak up at him and are pleased to see the slightest twitch to his own lips, a hint of his own smile.

He’ll never show it, not here in this tavern where every other person subtly watches him. But it’s there, and you’ve enjoyed drawing it out of him since you started working together as temporary partners. Especially since you started to be something more…

You turn back to your own work, drawing your fountain pen across the thick sketchbook paper.

A line here. A small adjustment there. You let yourself fall into the art, even as you listen to the conversations murmuring around you.

The din of voices can be overwhelming at times, painful even when so many noises echo together, but useful. You’ve learned ways to manage it, found tools to let you block out the sound when it’s too much and learned how to sort through the sounds when you do have the energy for it.  Now you sit and listen, letting your art pull you slightly away from it all, even as snippets of conversation come and go.

“…can’t believe that seller cheated me! I…”

“…Mihawk here…?”

“…will drink you under the table…”

“…think Garp sent him? Does he know we…”

You still your pen, glancing only slightly up from the page. That conversation was from not too far away. The targets.

“You noticed them too,” comments Mihawk, in that eternally bored, yet oh so confident tone.

“What now?” you ask, turning your gaze back to your sketchbook. “Capture them here or flush them out?”

If you were working alone, you would probably wait for them to leave on their own, then follow them and complete the mission once away from all the noise and bustle of the tavern. But it’s fun to work Mihawk’s way as well, to see just what it is that makes him so simultaneously feared and respected. You find it fascinating how he toys with his targets at times, as if a job is simply a game to him. 

“It has been quiet lately. A chase might be entertaining.”

You grin, even as you carefully try to capture a slight shimmer of light in your sketch. 

This is the part you find so fascinating.

The way he can inspire or horrify people with just a glance. The way he moves so carefully and intentionally through his work, even as he sometimes treats it as a way to relieve the boredom of being truly the best. The way he knows how good he is, knows his power and wears it like a cloak.

You know the moment he turns his gaze from a casual analysis of the room to a hunter spotting its prey. 

It’s in the slight gasps as that muted conversation staggers to a halt. The sharp sense of fear that drifts through the tavern. The way Mihawk’s intense gaze cuts straight through the crowded tables and towards the targets, even as everyone else breathes in relief that it’s not aimed at them.

You’ve done this just enough times now to know that soon your targets will try to leave, try to flee.

Then it will be time to act.

For now though, you enjoy leaning into your warlord, carefully drawing your pen across a sketchbook page as you capture the dangerous beauty of his vivid eyes.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

It’s Not A Camera

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: You make Daryl regret bringing you back a gift from a run. This technically takes place in the same universe as my other fics “Your Fault” and “Meet Cute,” but it can be read as stand alone.

Tropes: Fluff, Established Relationship

Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan

Warnings: I mean, I don't think there's any? Daryl being super hot, working on his motorcycle, and being in love with you? Flirting? Honestly, if I’ve missed anything please let me know. ❤️

Note: This is written in a dialect style with Daryl's accent in mind so the misspellings are intentional. There is minimal use of (y/n). If any? Any references to the reader besides the (y/n) is done using "your" or "you". I tried to proofread the best I could, nobody's perfect. If you don't like, don't read, but if you do like you're my favorite!

Internal monologue is done in italics and is in first person.

A/N: Just felt like doing a little bit of Daryl fluff on this fine Thursday morning.

Main Masterlist

Walking Dead Masterlist

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"Alright, could you give me a more engaging pose?" You ask tracing the outlining shapes of the scene in front of you in a worn sketchbook that Daryl found for you out on a run last week.

"Wha are ya doin?" Daryl turns from the motorcycle rubbing his hands against the red oil stained rag that hangs from his back pocket.

"Capturing Daryl Dixon in his natural habitat." You stand up and move to sit next to him, crossing your legs underneath you as you go. "And now I'm getting a close up."

"s'not a camera." He shakes his head at you, but you can see a smile twitch on the end of his mouth before it fades. A reminder that he might act annoyed, but deep down you know he’d be lost without you.

"You can only blame yourself- you're the one that brought this back for me." You tease.

"Because ya begged me to bring something back for ya like a damn toddler."

"No no no. I think secretly you wanted me to capture just how sexy you are for prosperity." Your pencil scratches against the paper, tracing the smooth line of Daryl's strong jaw against the page.

Daryl huffs, but continues to tinker with the motorcycle with red tipped ears.

The sun was just beginning to set in the west, barely seen through the thin slats in the large metal fences that protected Alexandria from the outside world. A cool wind blew from the east, but it wasn't enough to wick the sweat that gathered on the back of your neck and soaked into your collar.

You sit in silence for a few moments together, your shoulder leaning into his arm, while you draw a cartoonized version of him holding a wrench leaning forward to fix a motorcycle that will never be finished, but it's nothing like the real thing.

Daryl lets out a sigh every few minutes adjusting and cleaning, adjusting and cleaning, adjusting and cleaning-

But he makes it look so good.

You think to yourself with a smile.

"Daryl?"

"Mhmm?"

"I love you."

He stops working to glance at you, quirking the end of his lips. "Wha’ did you do?"

"Nothing. I just realized I didn't get to say it to you this morning when we woke up. We were both in a hurry and I wanted you to know." You reach up with the eraser end of the pencil and push some of his dark hair out of his deep blue eyes that always seem to see beyond what everyone else does.

Daryl's hand comes to gently curve round your waist and land on the small of your back, bringing you closer to him. "I love you too.”

"Well I'm glad because if we’ve been together this long and you didn't-"

His lips brush against yours stopping you mid-sentence with a soft sigh as you feel yourself melt into him.

"But at least after all this time, you know how to shut me up." You mutter against his lips.

"Had tah learn pretty quick."

“You think you’re so clever Dixon.”

“Naw.” Daryl nudges his nose against yours with the same soft smile that always makes you weak in the knees. “I’m just happy.”

“Happy that no matter how hard you work on this motorcycle it never seems to get fixed?” You raise an eyebrow.

“No.” He chuckles, raising an oil stained hand to your cheek. “Just happy.”

You lean into the gentle touch of the man you love with all your heart tracing the familiar lines of his worn face and feeling the roughness of his fingertips against the smooth skin of your cheek. The hands that had done so much, both good and bad, and yet were only gentle to you and touched you only with love and care.

“Me too.”

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Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this fic please feel free to read the other two in the same universe:

Meet Cute: How the reader and Daryl met

Your Fault: Daryl and the reader navigate a delicate situation.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Hi 👋

I've been loving the fics you've been putting out and I saw you wanted some ideas for Nightcrawler? I love my blue child lol

How about this:

The reader is a shy artist that is a student at the x mansion. She carries a sketchbook with her everywhere to sketch new pieces, but she doesn't show her work to people unless it's to Rogue or Jubilee.

She and Nightcrawler become friends and slowly develop feelings for one another, but they won't say anything to each other because they think that the other wouldn't want them. Until Nightcrawler finds her sketchbook by accident and finds the book is filled with sketches of him. Nightcrawler confronts her about it, but she's a stuttering mess, and they end up confessing to each other. And please make it extra fluffy. Maybe throw in a kiss or a makeout session. Your choice lol.

Drawn to you

The halls of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters were bustling with energy, filled with students whose powers ranged from the awe-inspiring to the whimsical. Among them, you navigated the day-to-day with your head down, your ever-present sketchbook tucked securely under your arm like a shield. The thick, well-worn pages held a piece of your soul, capturing the world around you in lines and shades. But only two people had ever seen what you created within those pages: Rogue and Jubilee, your closest friends who shared in your quiet passion for art.

You were content to let the world flow around you, observing and sketching, but always from a distance. There was safety in your shyness, a barrier that protected your heart from the complicated emotions of growing up among mutants. However, that all started to change the day you met Kurt Wagner.

Kurt had a presence that was impossible to ignore. His vibrant personality, infectious laugh, and the way he moved through space with the grace of a performer left an indelible mark on you. His tales of life in the circus, the bright lights, and cheering crowds filled you with images you couldn’t help but capture in your sketchbook. You were drawn to him, fascinated by the blend of joy and melancholy that seemed to radiate from him in equal measure.

The two of you quickly became friends. Kurt would teleport beside you in the middle of your walks, flashing a playful grin that made your heart skip a beat. He’d talk, and you’d listen, sketching all the while, though never letting him peek at what you were drawing. You cherished these moments, but the more time you spent with him, the harder it became to ignore the feelings that had begun to bloom in your chest. Feelings that you were certain were one-sided.

After all, why would someone as incredible as Kurt be interested in someone like you?

So you kept your distance emotionally, hiding your growing affection within the pages of your sketchbook, where countless drawings of him lay hidden—his gentle smile, the playful glint in his eyes, the way he moved with a fluid elegance that never ceased to amaze you. Each sketch was a small piece of your heart, poured out on paper in the only way you knew how.

One afternoon, after a long day of classes, you found a quiet spot in the garden to sit and draw. The sun was setting, casting a warm golden light over the mansion grounds, and you lost yourself in the peaceful moment. You didn’t notice when your sketchbook slipped from your lap as you stretched, falling to the ground behind you. It wasn’t until you heard a familiar voice that you realized it was no longer in your grasp.

“Was ist das?” Kurt’s voice was filled with curiosity, and when you spun around, your heart dropped. There he was, holding your sketchbook in his hands, flipping through the pages with wide eyes.

“K-Kurt!” you stammered, scrambling to your feet, your face flushing with embarrassment. “Please, don’t—”

But it was too late. His expression softened as he realized what he was looking at. Each page was filled with drawings of him, capturing moments both big and small, from his bright laughter to the way his tail curled when he was deep in thought.

“Is this… me?” he asked, his voice quieter now, filled with something you couldn’t quite place.

You nodded, unable to speak as you felt your cheeks burn with mortification. The urge to run, to hide, was overwhelming, but your feet refused to move.

Kurt looked up from the sketchbook, his golden eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You tried to form a response, but all that came out was a string of nervous, stuttering syllables. “I-I didn’t think you’d… I mean, I didn’t know if… I just—”

He stepped closer, closing the sketchbook carefully and holding it out to you. “You didn’t think I’d what? Like it? Or… like you?”

Your eyes widened at his words, and you could only shake your head, feeling tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I thought you wouldn’t want me,” you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

Kurt’s gaze softened further, and he took another step closer, closing the distance between you. “I thought the same thing,” he admitted, his voice gentle. “That you wouldn’t want me, that you might be afraid of what I am.”

You shook your head more fiercely now, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “No, Kurt, I could never be afraid of you. You’re… you’re incredible. You’re kind, and brave, and so full of life. I… I’ve liked you for so long, but I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Kurt’s expression lit up with a mix of relief and happiness, and before you could say anything else, he pulled you into a hug, his strong arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that melted away all your fears. You buried your face in his shoulder, breathing in the comforting scent of him, feeling the warmth of his embrace.

“I’ve liked you, too,” he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your eyes meeting his, and in that moment, everything else seemed to fade away. The shyness that had always held you back melted under the warmth of his gaze.

“Kurt…” you started, but before you could finish, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a gentle, lingering kiss.

Your heart soared as you kissed him back, the world around you disappearing as you focused on the feel of his lips against yours, the way his hands cradled your face with such care. The kiss deepened, and you felt a surge of warmth spread through your chest, your hands clutching at his shirt as if he might vanish if you let go.

When you finally parted, you were both breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you shared a quiet moment of bliss.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Kurt murmured, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

You giggled softly, feeling a wave of joy and relief wash over you. “Me too,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He pressed another kiss to your forehead, his tail curling around your waist in a tender gesture. “I’m glad I found your sketchbook,” he teased lightly, earning a soft laugh from you.

“Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing after all,” you replied, your voice filled with newfound confidence.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the worries and fears that had once kept you apart now nothing more than distant memories. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a gentle twilight over the garden, you felt a sense of peace settle over you—a peace that came from knowing that you were no longer alone in your feelings.

[gaybatmanenthusiast]

heeey, can i req arthur morgan

THE ARTIST, AND THE OUTLAW (oneshot)

(ARTHUR MORGAN X GN! READER)

⋆★ word count : 1,112

⋆★ warnings : n/a

⋆★ summary : arthur meets the reader sketching the landscape, intrigued by their talent and he approaches them, asking for a portrait of someone important to him.

⋆★ extra : wrote this with a friend in mind once again, praying shes the one that requested this orrr someone has been waiting for their request for a hot minute …

Arthur hadn’t expected to see anyone out here, let alone someone so intently focused on sketching the open plains. He paused, just watching for a moment, leaning against his horse as the sun dipped low over the distant hills, casting warm light across the land and across the lone figure on the ledge.

The artist—a stranger whose name he didn’t know—hadn’t noticed him yet. They were too absorbed in capturing the scene before them, their hand working swiftly over a sketchbook balanced on their knee. From his distance, Arthur could barely make out their features, but he didn’t need to. It was the energy in their movements, the quiet reverence in how they observed the landscape, that held his attention.

Finally, he cleared his throat and took a few steps closer, boots scuffing over the dry earth. “Hope I ain’t interruptin’ anything important,” he called, voice rough but softened by curiosity.

They looked up, blinking in surprise, though they didn’t seem startled. Instead, they offered a slight smile, as if strangers showing up in the middle of nowhere was just part of the day. “Not interrupting. Just trying to get the light right,” they replied, glancing back at the scene before them with a quiet determination.

Arthur nodded, a little more intrigued. “S’pose you come out here often?”

“Anywhere I can find something worth sketching,” they replied, holding up the book as if it answered everything. “There’s just… too much beauty out here to let it pass by unrecorded.”

Arthur studied their sketch from a distance. Though it was unfinished, he could already see the skill behind it—the way they captured shadows and the contours of the land with a precision that felt both raw and alive. The sight stirred something in him, an odd mixture of nostalgia and longing he hadn’t expected.

“Mind if I take a look?” he asked, nodding toward the book.

They hesitated only a moment, then passed it over. Arthur took it gently, scanning the pages. There were sketches of wildlife, mountain ranges, campfires, and even little moments—a flower caught in the breeze, a lone bird perched on a fence post. Each drawing held an attentiveness that felt almost sacred.

“You got a way with things,” he murmured, still focused on the pages. “Ain’t many folks out here would even notice half of what you put down.”

They shrugged, though there was a flicker of pride in their eyes. “Guess I like to see the world for what it is, not just what people want it to be.”

He nodded slowly, feeling the weight of their words settle in his mind. For a while, they sat in a comfortable silence, he by his horse, and they back to their sketching. Arthur watched, noting the way they glanced up every now and then, catching little details with an intensity he envied. It was as if they saw the world through a different lens, one that softened the rough edges he was so used to.

After a while, he found himself speaking up again. “You, uh… ever think about doin’ a portrait? You got the skill for it.”

They glanced over, brow raised in mild curiosity. “I’ve done a few, but it depends on the person.” Their eyes lingered on him, considering. “Why? Got someone in mind?”

Arthur shifted, uncertain for a moment. “Yeah… my ma, actually. She’s been gone a long time, but… you got a way of makin’ things feel alive.” He almost regretted the admission, but the words had come unbidden.

The artist’s expression softened, a gentle understanding in their gaze. “I’d be honoured,” they said quietly. “Tell me about her.”

He hesitated, caught off-guard by the tenderness in their tone. But as the words spilled out, he found himself recounting little things he hadn’t thought of in years—the sound of his mother’s laugh, the kindness in her eyes, the way she’d held him close when he was small and scared. The artist listened, not interrupting, letting him speak in his own time. And when he was finished, they simply nodded, already starting to sketch.

Over the following days, Arthur returned to the spot by the ledge, finding them there nearly every afternoon, waiting patiently with sketchbook in hand. With each meeting, they asked small questions, drawing more stories from him, little by little. He spoke about his ma, then his old life before the gang, and even the first time he’d ridden a horse on his own. Each story felt like an offering, as if he were putting pieces of himself down on paper through their hands.

As he spoke, he started asking about their life, too—where they’d come from, what had brought them to this place. They answered with quiet honesty, sharing tales of a life spent moving from place to place, driven not by restlessness but by a love for the land and the people within it. They talked about the way different skies looked at dawn, about quiet moments in bustling towns, about the simple peace that came from just sitting under an open sky.

Arthur began to see the world differently through them. The mountains seemed taller, the rivers gentler, and even the dusty roads they walked on felt more alive. For the first time, he wondered if there might be more to his own story than just the guns and blood he’d left in his wake.

One evening, as they were finishing up the day’s work, they turned to him, a small, contemplative smile on their lips. “Arthur… you ever think about what you’ll leave behind?”

He blinked, surprised. “Ain’t never thought much of it.”

“Well,” they said softly, looking down at the nearly completed portrait. “Even outlaws deserve to be remembered for more than just the dust they kick up.”

Their words struck a chord, one he hadn’t expected to feel. There was an ache in his chest, something that felt like hope, and it unsettled him. But as he looked at them, at the quiet sincerity in their gaze, he felt that maybe, just maybe, there was something worth holding onto.

They reached out, a light touch on his hand, fingers brushing his calloused knuckles. The gesture was simple, yet it felt electric, a silent promise that there was more to life than he’d known. He held their gaze, feeling the faint stirrings of something unfamiliar, something that felt like warmth and light all at once.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice rough, barely audible. And in the quiet that followed, they just smiled, a hint of something fond and knowing in their expression—a look that told him they saw him, the real him, and they still cared.

[randoms-fandoms]

Hi I had a request for Scott from twisters x reader

She’s an artist that works for Tyler’s team and she likes to sketch everything any anything she finds interesting and she ends up sketching Scott and the team seems to notice and someone (Tyler Boone Kate etc) let it slip to Scott who thought his feelings were unrequited leading to him to awkwardly confess his feelings to her :)

Sorry this took a minute! I’ve also been working on my longer ao3 twisters fics lol :P anyway!

Just a little warning for swearing lol

Relationship: Scott x Female! Reader

Contrary to what many casual storm chasers may assume about the Wranglers, they held no contempt for career chasers. Folks who were on business, got payed good money for risking their lives— StormPAR, of course, being this year’s friendly competition.

Scott would never admit it, but he was grateful for this. As much as he liked to roll his eyes and shake his head at their loud music, obnoxious streams, hordes of fans— there was one thing he really, really liked about the Tornado Wranglers. Well, one person.

You. You were one of three young women chasing alongside Tyler— of course he thought you were gorgeous, and absolutely brilliant when it came to storm chasing, but what he really admired about you was your appreciation for beauty.

As an artist, you knew how to find something worthwhile in every location you found yourself in. Every time he saw you, you had your sketchbook in hand, capturing the way an anvil was billowing on the horizon, or the delicate shape of a dandelion popping up on the edge of a parking lot. It was almost aloof, how you politely excused yourself from crowds of fans to instead sit in the grass nearby, or perched in the bed of Tyler’s truck, all by yourself, lost in your own world— and it was absolutely magnetic to him.

Scott was watching you now, sat cross-legged in the grass outside of a small diner, through the grimy window as he boredly listened to Javi talk business with Riggs. He wished he could just go talk to you, but there was no way he could do that… he sighed, thinking back to the first time he saw you.

He’d only grown aware of you maybe a week ago, when Javi convinced him to watch one of the Tornado Wranglers YouTube videos— but he fell fast.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Javi had said. “I like the aerial shots, really gives you an idea of the scale.”

Scott blinked. “Our PAR shit is cooler,” he replied after a moment— he wasn’t paying attention to any of the actual tornado chasing content, now that you were on screen, proudly showing off a page in your sketchbook. It was an impressive drawing of the twister, perfectly illustrating the movement and power of the thing.

Your smile was distracting though, he thought as he watched your lips pull upwards, your eyes warm ever so slightly, gazing into the camera— it was like you were looking at him. He felt his face warm with a self conscious blush, and he turned off his iPad.

“Whatever.” He said, as if he wasn’t committing your name to memory. The Wranglers are chasing in Oklahoma this season, Scott recalled. I wonder if we’ll see them. Guiltily, he hoped.

Days passed, and you and your team had made the long road trip from Little Rock, Arkansas to middle-of-nowhere Oklahoma. Lily hated being in the car for too long, but you didn’t mind it as long as you had your art supplies with you. She’d put on some music and the two of you would talk and laugh while you sketched the landscape, the buildings, the sky— anything that caught your eye.

But after six hours in the car and an exciting stream, even you were feeling a little weary— still, as the sun went down in the parking lot of that night’s motel, you wanted to enjoy the moment. The air was warm but not too hot, humid but not unpleasantly so, and the sound of crickets and distant fireside singing put you in a good mood.

You were sat in your camp chair beside the Ram, listening to Dexter explain to Ben about how Doppler machines work, absentmindedly gazing up at the thousands of stars— that’s when you saw movement out of the corner of your eye.

It was a man, hastily leaving his motel room. “Yeah, I’ll be back in a minute, I just gotta check my email— the wifi in here is so slow, I gotta head to the front.” You heard his voice float across the parking lot as he spoke over his shoulder, closing the door. He pulled out his phone and headed in the direction of the reception area of the motel, but he paused before he got there and just sat on the curb.

He was cute, you decided. Neat dark hair, nice jawline, prominent dimples appearing as he pursed his lips— even glaring down at his phone in annoyance, he was handsome.

Absentmindedly, glancing back and forth between him and your page with a smile on your face, you began to map out the features of his face.

The man started typing on his phone, frowning and leaning forward more, resting his arms on his knees. He didn’t fit in at all with the rest of the crowd in the parking lot, in his tidy white polo shirt and slacks.

You continued sketching out the lines and shapes of his build— muscular arms, long legs, broad shoulders— as you shaded in his brown hair, you came to a bothersome realization.

If he’s with StormPAR, he probably wouldn’t want to talk to me. It was no secret that StormPAR liked to keep their distance from the crowd you rolled with, groups who chased storms as a hobby. You frowned, tracing over the lines of his eyebrows again. I wish I could just talk to him… Oh well. you sighed, closing your sketchbook and standing up to head to the room you were sharing with Lily and Dani.

“Night,” Boone said. You glanced back, bidding him goodnight, attributing his playful smile to the beer he’d been drinking— you didn’t see that he’d been watching over your shoulder as you drew, after all.

The next morning, Boone had a plan. Maybe it was a bad idea, and maybe Tyler had discouraged him, but it was just too good to pass up.

Scott, meanwhile, was busy feeling sorry for himself, cornered in a booth with an investor.

“Heya, StormPAR.” Came a friendly voice from behind him. He and Javi both turned to look.

“We’re busy, Boone.” Javi said. Scott was surprised by the familiarity of it— are they friends? He wondered if maybe that meant that he could befriend you.

“I’ll get outta your hair, I just gotta talk to Scott for a sec’. It’s real important.” He grinned, and Scott raised his eyebrows. Riggs frowned.

Eager to just speed things along, Javi turned to Scott. “Do you mind?”

Scott didn’t. “No, it’s cool, I’ll catch up with you two later.” Javi stood, and Scott scooted out of the bench to follow Boone outside. The other man took a long sip of his hot cocoa.

“What is it?” Scott asked, adjusting his cap to shield from the bright sun as he squinted down at Boone.

“Are you single?”

That caught Scott entirely off guard. He felt his face warming up with a self conscious blush, glancing around to make sure nobody was around them. “The hell are you asking that for?” He asked, voice lowered.

Boone shrugged, smiling. “I know someone who likes you, that’s all.”

Scott sighed. “It’s not you, is it?”

“Nope, I’m already spoken for.” He winked. “My friend over there, though—“ he nodded in your direction. “She thinks you’re cute.”

Scott felt a funny feeling in his chest, nervous and shy and unfamiliar— it had been a long time since he’d felt like that. “…How do you know?” He whispered, all petty hostility abandoned.

“She’s an artist, y’see— an’ every time we talk about, every time I ask her ‘bout her inspiration and shit, she always says the same thing.” He shook his head contentedly. “‘I just draw what catches my eye,’” he said, giving an impression of your voice.

“And she…”

“Last night, she was drawin’ a picture of you.” Boone looked up at Scott with a smile. “Ain’t that cute?”

Scott didn’t know what to say. Of course it is, he thought, but he could never say that out loud, not to Boone of all people. So he just nodded. “I’m going to go talk to her,” he said decisively.

You always got so stuck in your head while drawing, focusing on nothing but the subject and your page. It took you a moment to realize someone was calling your name, but when you did, you startled and hurried to stand up.

“Sorry, I was—“ You paused when you turned around, realizing exactly who was talking to you. It’s the guy from last night! “I was just drawing, I didn’t hear you.” You said with a smile, showing him the picture. It was of a crow that had been pecking at the grass, but had flown away when you stood up. That’s okay, it was pretty much done.

“It looks good,” he said, eyes trained on the paper. Either he thought your drawing was really interesting, or he was feeling too shy to make eye contact. Maybe both.

“Um… anyway,” You folded your sketchbook closed. “Can I help you?”

He blinked, looking up to your face. Am I imagining it, or is he nervous? You smiled, trying your best to be friendly, and a rosy pink blush tinted his face as he looked away.

“My name’s Scott. I’m also a storm chaser.” He awkwardly held out his hand for you to shake, nodding politely. “I’m— I’m really interested in your, um, work.” He gestured to your sketchbook. “And I—“ he looked away again, laughing nervously. “I really like you, too.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Is he being serious?

“Um, would you maybe… want to go out sometime? I’m working today, but maybe tonight we could get something to eat.” He gave a smile, sincere and shy and vulnerable, and you thought he was just adorable.

“Yeah, sure!” You replied. Not wanting the conversation to be over, you were just about to offer to show him more of your drawings when somebody called his name from across the parking lot.

“Scott, we gotta go!”

At the same time, Dani jogged over to you in her cowboy boots. “Come on, we’re headin’ out.”

You and Scott looked at each other, and you both couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ll see you out there,” he said with a smile.

You smiled right back, face warming in a blush. “Only if you can keep up!”

A/N: hope you liked this! Scott is a cutie I wish there was more content for him ^_^

[bunnies-and-blues]

Hello gorgeous, I hope life has been treating you well! Can I request mitsui, miyagi, sendo, and maki with a reader who likes to draw and often goes to their practice to draw them? If not or it’s too many that ok! Thank you for your consideration!🫶

─꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱─ slam dunk : my muse ! ☆

⸝⸝ tl;dr : sd boys with their artist partner ! involves hisashi mitsui + ryota miyagi, akira sendoh, and shinichi maki !

⸝⸝ note : i took a bit of liberty and made the reader their partner, i hope that's okay ! idm making a seperate post wherein reader is their friend / admirer if ever :DD

hisashi mitsui + ryota miyagi . . . seperately !

the moment you and mitsui/miyagi became a thing he just became the cockiest person in the world . like, genuinely . it was really cute and endearing at first but eventually everyone's just pissed at him t-t

even more so when he's at practice ... all of a sudden he's extra energetic and his form is beyond perfect (not that akagi's complaining; if you get them to play well then that's all for the better)

he knows that you like to draw —its even one of the reason why he likes you so much ! — and the moment he found out that you drew him during his practices ... oh my god, ego to the roof !! /pos

mitsui flashes you a devilish grin, his eyes gazing upon the quick sketches you've made of his form. "i look great," he states. he winks as he walks back towards the ring, aiming for a three-pointer. "make sure to get my good side, yeah?"

look, mitsui's all cocky and arrogant when he's in front of the others (much to their chagrin), but in private — that's a whole different story . he's consistently sending kogure and akagi photos of your art, pretty much showing them off !!

and he makes sure to thank you for all of your efforts ; he'll buy you all the art supplies you want ! (and he'll try to draw you as well, but he's not the best at it ... )

miyagi is speechless when you show him your sketchbook. across the pages are drawings of him, each pose dynamic and vivacious. he could practically feel the energy radiating from your sketches. "this is amazing," he murmurs, heart-eyed. he looks up at you. "you're amazing."

much like mitsui, he'll show your art off — but he'll show it off to everyone. the basketball team, ayako, his classmates, his family- you name it !

what can i say ? he loves you !

akira sendoh . . .

"woahh!" sendoh exclaims, his eyes alight with glee when you show him your sketchbook. he takes it in his hands, holding it as if it was the most precious thing to exist. he traces the outline of his sketched-out form with a delicate finger, his grin spreading ear-to-ear. he looks at you with crinkled eyes, his smile as bright and warm as summer sun. "these are really good ! maybe you should teach me how to draw !"

sendoh is all smiles when he saw your drawings of him . he can't help it ! believe it or not, he's seen fanart of himself alongside the countless fanmail he's received, but never before has he had someone draw him so ..

he can't describe it, really . but all he knows is that it's the best art he's ever seen ! your art was warm, each pencil stroke filled with love and care, your affection for him reflected tenderly in the careful way you drew his features.

like with mitsui and miyagi, he'll gladly show off your art to the basketball team ! and before you know it, you'll have a line of the team members asking for you to draw them as well .

shinichi maki . . .

maki stares at the compilation of sketches in his hand. admittedly, he had felt a bit downhearted when he saw that you've been drawing during their practices, feeling as if you haven't been paying him attention, but he couldn't have been more wrong. he caresses the paper with a gentle hand, then pulls you in for an embrace. "thank you, my darling," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. "these are wonderful."

a gentleman through and through, maki makes sure to show his affections after receiving such a gift (even if you didn't mean it to be a gift in the first place) .

he starts giving back, taking you out on art dates and offering to buy you any art supply you want . even if you ask for just a simple pencil, he'll ensure that you get only the best quality !

unlike the other three, he'd want to keep your art of him for his eyes only . not that he's not proud of it or anything, but he just prefers for your art of him to be seen by only him ... not that it works (kiyota would find a way to snatch them from him when he's not working lmao)