#i also need to Improve. like the other art from a week or so ago there are parts i like and parts i don't. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 5 months

Text

Life drawing

Nude model!reader x art student!Zoro.

Modern AU. Sequel to The art model.

This fic is dedicated to @star-yawnznn.

*****

Zoro grins when, opening the house door, he finds himself face to face with a bag of delicious chocolate cookies, courtesy of your mother's bakery, that you're offering him with your arms raised, like a celebrant sacrificing to the Gods.

"You know, there's no need for you to bring something every time you come; you're already doing me a favour."

You shrug as you walk inside, letting him close the door behind you. "Even though he doesn't put on weight, eating so much can't be good for Luffy's health." you point out "And I know you like them."

"Well, they are good..."

You share a smile as you follow him towards the kitchen (like the rest of the house a spacious room, perfectly clean and tidy) where, without even bothering to ask, Zoro uses the enormous coffee machine on the counter to prepare a drink like he knows you like it.

Six months have passed since your first meeting with Zoro at the East Blue Art School, six months since you accepted his request to pose for him privately at home as well as in Shanks' class - your home, at first, since he needed to keep his interest in drawing and art, not to mention the fact he hasn't stopped attending the school years ago, a secret from his father. Unfortunately, last month your landlord has decided to host his niece in the flat's spare room, while she searches for a more stable accommodation. Even more regrettably, your new, temporary flatmate is an aspiring metal guitarist, who told you she needs to practice at least six hours a day if she wants to join one of the best bands in town, which means the place has not known a moment of silence ever since she put down her luggage, as well as her guitar, in the hallway.

Which is why in the last four weeks you have been the one going to Zoro's, instead of the other way around. It's a temporary solution, you have assured him, feeling guilty for the nuisance even though nothing of it was your fault, and hoping you will soon have the whole flat to yourself once more, even though your landlord's niece has not been as industrious in looking for a new place to stay as she has been in preparing for her musical career. You know how important his drawing classes are to Zoro, but he assured you it wouldn't be a problem: his father, a business broker who also manages a fencing school, has recently landed an important client that keeps him at work every day until late.

And so, your already familiar arrangement has changed, the location of your private modelling session shifting from your flat to Zoro's home. You don't mind - you actually like it, and not just because it allows you to get away from your flatmate's guitar for a while. You like going to Zoro's; you like Zoro himself, you have come to realize, and while you do not yet feel ready to confess your feelings, you enjoy spending time with him, and helping him to improve as an artist.

"How was your day? You had a double shift today, if I'm not mistaken." you point out as you accept the coffee Zoro is offering you, and listen as he tells you about his day at work, at the bookstore owned by his friend Kuina's father "You know, I'd be curious to see the shop one day, after you've told me so much about it..."

"You can come whenever you want; I can give you a discount, if Koushirou is not there." he offers, and winks at you; he's wearing a black shirt that makes the green of his hair stand out even more than usual, his three earrings dangling gently when he moves.

"Well, there was a book I was thinking about buying..."

Chocolate cookies, you both agree, go splendidly with coffee. You enjoy your break in silence, at ease next to each other in the kitchen lit up by the soft sunset glow; according to Luffy, Zoro doesn't make friends easily, and you are pretty proud you are now part of that narrow group - or at least, that he doesn't appear to mind you coming to his house.

"Shall we?" you propose in the end; as much as you enjoy his company, the time at your disposal is limited, since you still have work to do for your classes tomorrow "You want to continue with what we were doing last time? I was lying on one side with a book in my hands..."

"Actually..."

"Yes?"

Suddenly tense, Zoro rubs the back of his head, hesitating for a moment as if not knowing how to broach a delicate subject. "I was wondering if this time we could do something a bit different."

Your sessions with Zoro, whether at his place or yours, usually follow the same pattern. Every two times, he asks you to assume a new pose: standing, sitting (on a kitchen chair, on a stool, on the floor...) or lying on the sofa, sometimes with an object in your hands but usually in a way that allows you to read or review your notes. Once you are comfortable, Zoro makes sure the room is well-lit, places a comfortable chair in front of you, retrieves his sketchbook and pencils from the suitcase he keeps them hidden in together with his art school books to make sure his father doesn't find them, and gets to work, drawing diligently for an hour and a half.

It is, in the end, more or less what happens during your classes at the art school; after all Zoro's drawing sessions are the reason you meet, the reason why he asked you to pose for him. You expected to do the same today as well, just like the many times you have met before; you didn't expect him to propose a change... and, you will reflect later on, you have no idea what this day has in store for you.

"What d'you mean?"

Zoro has turned his back to you, focused on the cups you used for your coffee and that he is now washing in the sink "Well... I was thinking today you could pose like you do in class."

"As in...?"

"Naked, yes. Unless, that... bothers you..."

It shouldn't, of course. After all, you have been an art model for six months, and by now you like to think you are quite good at it, since Shanks no longer needs to correct your posture and you can keep the most uncomfortable pose for a long time without complaining, even though the job is more tiring than it looks and in the end your muscles beg for mercy. Besides the fact that it helps you pay rent (you expected your landlord to lower it until his niece found another place to stay, since your apartment is not fully yours anymore, but the thought must have slipped his mind) and your bills, posing is probably the best job you have ever had.

You enjoy it, a lot, in a way you can't properly explain to someone who has never been in your place, and by now you are completely accustomed to pose naked, like you have done from the very first day. Shanks was right, there is nothing sexual, or inappropriate, in being an art model, nothing you should feel guilt or embarrassment for; if the students look at your breast, it is simply to make sure they are correctly drawing it, which is not always easy, and when a couple of months ago, Nami asked you whether you had put on a little weight (you had, no doubt, because of all the treats your mother brings you back from the bakery!) she assured you she only wanted to know because the shape of your belly and thighs had changed marginally and she really wanted to portray you as faithfully as she could. In the end, for the students it wouldn't make much difference if on the stool at the center of their semicircle Shanks had placed a potted plant or a teddy-bear, instead of asking you to sit there, apart from the fact that the human form has been the most popular art subject since time immemorial, and any artist must be capable to competently reproduce it.

You expected your sessions with Zoro to go the same way, which would have been even easier for you, since you would have been in your own home. Instead, the first time he came to your place he said you could keep your clothes on, because the naked body was harder to draw and he, unfortunately, still had to learn to correctly portray clothed people. He had no preference regarding the clothes you wore, and didn't mind to choose poses that allowed you to read or revise your notes during the sessions.

And now this. You should have imagined he would ask you sooner or later, you relect; Zoro's figure drawings have improved since you started posing for him privately, and by now he must feel capable of moving to something more challenging, which means that it is time for you to take your panties off for him - so to speak.

"Of course, if that makes you... uncomfortable, or if you'd rather have someone present..."

"Of course not; it's... all right." you hurry to answer after a moment of uncertainty; after six months of private sessions you had gotten used to posing with your clothes on, but after all it is nothing you haven't done a hundred times already "I didn't bring my night-gown, though."

Zoro gives you this ("It is clean, I swear.") and invites you to leave your clothes in the bathroom near the living room, while he prepares his things.

"I will be just a minute."

"Take your time. Just..." he hesitates, once more as if unsure of what to say, which strikes you as odd - Zoro is not a blabbermouth, but in six months since you met him you never had the impression he was too shy, or afraid, to say what is on his mind. By now you are, if not exactly friends, at least good acquaintances, and you never had troubles finding something to talk about; why does he seem so awkward all of a sudden? What delicate matter is he afraid to broach...? "Listen, you know I'm Luffy friend, do you?"

Considering that your friend's crew has practically adopted you ever since you started posing for their class, so much that you are routinely invited to hang out with them and they all came to your birthday party two months ago, the question sounds unexpected, and weird, at your ears.

"Of course. Why is that relevant now?"

"Nothing. Just... I'll wait for you here, ok?"

Still a little perplexed, you move to the bathroom, where you leave your clothes in a neat pile and refresh yourself; there is nothing more unpleasant than body odour when one is posing, naked or otherwise. Zoro's night-gown is, predictably, not exactly the right fit for you, which shouldn't be a problem, since you are going to take it off in less than a minute, but wearing it feels strange all the same... intimate, in a way. You had never worn a man's clothes before, or rather, no man had ever given you his clothes to wear, and having Zoro do it, even just to avoid having you walk buck naked around his house...

You chide yourself for those naive, childish thoughts, especially towards a man on whom you can no longer deny having a crush, and whose company you genuinely enjoy; you don't want Zoro to think he made you uncomfortable. You are here to pose for him, and pose for him you will, like the professional model you are; everything else doesn't matter... even though you have to admit, you like being alone with Zoro, having his attention focused on you. A secret, innocent joy you allow yourself to indulge in.

You wash away what is left of the make-up you had applied earlier, before heading to work, remain for a moment still, staring at your reflection and reminding yourself you are an adult and ought to behave accordingly, and then leave the bathroom.

Zoro is preparing your station in the living room, with a lamp near the sofa, on which you have already posed lying many times... after taking off your shoes, and nothing else. His sketchbook and pencils are placed on a little table near his favourite chair, retrieved from their hiding spot in the suitcase; propped against the chair's armrest are Zoro's three swords. He doesn't carry them around when he is at home, but, he told you, he always keeps them close, as if expecting to be attacked at any moment, even in the safety of his own home: it is a not uncommon habit among swordsmen, that his master (and father) accustomed him to since he was a child.

He turns, startled a little, when he hears you approach, and when he sees you wearing his night-gown he seems to have troubles swallowing for a moment. "So, uhm, everything ok?"

You wonder whether he expected you to have troubles taking your clothes off. "Sure. So... how do you want me?" you ask back; then, suddenly realizing how that question, that you must have posed a hundred times before, might sound differently from how you had intended it, you hurry to rephrase: "What pose do you want me to assume?"

Zoro asks you to lie in profile, propped on one elbow, with one leg stretched and the other partially bent towards your belly; the pose is similar to one Shanks asked you to assume for a class at the Art School last month, which leads you to suspect Zoro was not satisfied of his work of that day. He looks away, seemingly embarrassed, when he sees you take off his night-gown, even though he saw you do the same at the school a hundred times already.

You don't find it weird. In fact, it might be because you're doing it in a new place for the first time, but for a moment you feel awkward as well, almost as if that gesture had a different meaning, almost as if it mattered...

The night-gown passes from your hand to his; while your gazes don't meet, your hands brush against each other.

"Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem."

A moment later you are lying on the sofa, easily settling in the same position as a few weeks ago.

"Are you comfortable?" Zoro asks you, and you nod, by now used to the slight inconvenience of an unnatural pose, since no one, especially not at your age, has ever died from a stiff arm or a sore leg, and by now Shanks' class has drawn you in positions that wouldn't be out of place in the experts' section of a yoga manual.

"Yeah, don't worry. Can you take my book from my bag, please? I have an exam next week..."

A minute later Zoro is already sitting at his place, the sketchbook balanced on his knee, the by now familiar whisper of the pencil rubbing on the paper filling the room. As usual you remain still as a statue, face lowered on the pages of your book... even though your eyes keep rising to the young man in front of you; at times your gazes meet, and you could swear Zoro's eyes are smiling even though his expression remains serious.

You like this, you have realized for a while, this weird menage you have built together, the chaste intimacy of posing for a single artist and the innocent flattery of having his full attention focused on you - if only because Zoro wants to makes sure he draws the angle of your shoulder as faithfully as he can. You have no idea how long he will need your help for, or if he will ever decide he can do without your private sessions, but you are determined to enjoy it as long as it lasts, and to pose for him every time he asks you to, even if it means sacrificing the little free time school and work leave you; it is a very unexpected sort of relationship, perhaps an anomalous one, intimate and at the same time strictly professional, but you treasure it all the same. Zoro is not a particularly personable man, you have come to suspect, but you know he is fond of you, and appreciates you as a model and a person.

You can't help wanting more. But at the same time you are happy with what you have, and you hope it lasts.

Zoro draws in complete silence for a while, while you revise two chapters of your book, trying to make sense of your own notes.

"You are not cold?" he asks after a while, and you assure him you are all right; you have already noticed Zoro has turned the heating on, no doubt more for your benefit than his, since you are the one who can't simply put a sweater on if she gets chilly. You'll have to thank him.

"My father knows about you, you know." he adds, almost absentmindedly, and your are immediately alarmed.

"What?! He knows...?"

"Not that you pose for me, and I still attend the East Blue; he... he knows I had a girl over, that's it." Zoro explains, face momentarily hidden behind his sketchbook "Last time... I forgot to wash the coffee cups, and he noticed there was a trace of lipstick on the border of one."

"Oh, God, Zoro, I'm sorry..."

"That's ok." he assures you, while a sudden grin blossoms on his lips "He didn't mind, and I doubt he could ever imagine what we do. He just thought... you know..."

You force yourself not to smile. "... that you have a girlfriend?" you finish for him "And that you had taken advantage of his absence to invite her over?"

"Something like that, yes. I... I didn't correct him, I hope you don't mind."

You don't. "I don't." At all. Another small, innocent pleasure, part of a little fantasy you're probably too old for but that in the end doesn't hurt anyone; and truth to be told, you are happy to help Zoro, since you know how much attending the drawing school means to him. You return your attention to your book, but try as you might you really can't focus, let alone memorize the notions on the page in front of you, your eyes simply skimming the text without retaing any information.

And the fault is his. Well, it is yours, to be honest, since you are by now an expert model, not to mention a veteran student and an adult woman, and you should be able to ignore the presence of a man, no matter how handsome, and concentrate on something as important as an imminent exam. For God's sake, Zoro has never skipped a class at the art school, which means that you have taken off your clothes in front of him two times a week for six months! By now he knows your naked body so well he could draw it by heart, and he does need a model, even though his life drawings have improved, it isn't simply a ruse to... meet you in a more private setting and... and... and why are you fantasizing about that, now?!

Oh, God. You do like him, you realize suddenly, much more than you had imagined or allowed yourself to think until today. He is handsome, and athletic, and he has a beautiful smile, but in six months since you first met you have learnt to know Zoro, and to appreciate and respect him as a man and as a friend as well; you like how protective he is of his friends (and of you, given that time that a drunk man approached you as he was walking you back at the bus stop after a drawing session; Zoro drew the Wado Ichimonji and threatened to amputate any part of his body the man would touch you with) and steadfast in the pursuit of his dream, and kind-hearted towards those who suffer or endure injustice, even though those who know him less well wrongly consider him cold and selfish. You are attracted to him, and while you already enjoy being his model and friend, you do wish your relationship would develop beyond that... you wish to be important for him, to feel his gaze brush against your skin and know he is not simply wondering whether he drew your arm faithfully enough or he should start over.

"Shanks is very pleased with your progress." you mention after a while; unlike what happens during class at the art school, where silence is religiously kept from the beginning to the end of the class, Zoro told you he doesn't mind chatting a bit while he draws, and he is exactly the sort of conversationalist you prefer: no interest in small talk, and has always something interesting to say "I heard him saying that at the end of your last class."

Zoro is pleased, even smug, as he smiles and tilts his head to one side, as if to observe you from a marginally different perspective. "He did say I got better at life drawing, even though I shouldn't focus on that and neglect my other classes."

"I'm sure that won't happen."

"I hope not... and in any case, if I improved I also owe it to you. I haven't forgotten how much you're doing for me, (name)."

"I'm doing nothing, just staying still."

"You know what I mean. I know you'd have many better things to do with your time, and you're not even letting me pay you..."

"Zoro... we are friends." you point out, completely serious; you are now looking straight at him, so engrossed in your conversation to notice you have broken the first, cardinal rule for all art models: never change pose mid-session "You know I could never ask you money. I am happy to help you, since I know how much this matters to you."

Zoro looks at you; he has stopped drawing, even through you couldn't say exactly when. "We weren't friends when you accepted to pose for free."

"No, but you were Luffy's friend, which is equally important. Would you have accepted to be paid, if you were in my place?"

"Maybe I would have."

"No, you wouldn't have."

"No, I wouldn't have." he admits, and smiles at you, and you have never wanted to kiss anyone so much in your life "Anyway, I owe you, truly. Thank you."

You assure him you are happy to be his model, and you really are, so much that you hope your sessions will continue even now that his life drawings have improved; truth to be told, you'll happily spend the evenings of the rest of your life posing for Zoro... unless, of course, one of the two decides, or in your case finds the courage, to ask the other out.

"I think you changed position."

"Yeah, sorry." you admit as you lower your gaze once more.

"No, it's your arm."

"My arm?" you repeat, perplexed, since you hadn't noticed you had moved it "Are you sure?"

"Yes, you moved it when you used your hand to turn the page. Wait..."

Zoro stands, crossing the living room floor in a quick stride until he's keeling in front of the sofa; not looking at you (accurately not looking at you) he lifts your wrist with his fingers and moves your arm a few inches to the left. It's a completely innocent gesture, but you choose that very moment to unthinkingly move on the cushion, searching for a more comfortable position... and inadvertently pressing your chest against Zoro's hand.

His fingers are warm against the skin of your breast, the sensation clear, almost painfully so, despite the contact lasting less than a second. You gasp, more out of surprise than alarm, but that is nothing compared to Zoro's reaction: he jumps, retracting his hand as if he had burned himself, and his face has burst into flames as well, his usually tan complexion turning a bright red.

"Oh my God...!!"

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Zoro almost shouts; he moves back so quickly he almost trips on his own feet "I didn't do it on purpose, I swear..."

"It's ok; I'm sorry, it was my fault, I moved... in the least appropriate moment." you admit, feeling yourself blush as well; you have never felt so embarrassed, and so naked, in your life, not even during your first session with Shanks' class "Zoro, forgive me, I made you... uncomfortable..."

He sighs, unable to look you in the eyes, his face still bright red as he covers it with his hand, standing five paces from you. "No, the fault is mine. Shanks always says an artist should never approach a model without asking for permission, let alone touch them... especially if they are naked."

He lowers his hand, gazing at it as if he could read his future in the lines of the palm; that is the hand he touched you with.

"I shouldn't have asked you to pose nude; I'm sorry."

"I'm perfectly used to it, as you very well know." you insist, desperately trying to ease the tension.

"Yes, at the school; I thought... it would be different now that you're here..."

Silence falls on the room, and between the two of you, for the first time since you met an uncomfortable, somewhat charged silence that you don't quite know how to interpret... as if you were standing over the edge of a precipice.

"I thought... you wanted to practice drawing clothed people, because it was easier..."

"I did." Zoro admits, as he retreats to his chair; he picks up the scabbard of the Wado Ichimonji, his fingers idly fiddling with the strap "At first. To be honest, I have felt ready to shift to nude drawing for a while, but I didn't want..."

"You didn't want...?"

"Oh, hell!" Zoro exclaims, finally turning to look at you; he seems angry, even though not necessarily at you "I didn't want you to think I wanted to look at you naked! I know you trust me because I'm Luffy's friend, and that posing naked is the rule, but I was afraid you would think that I had... designs on you and would take advantage of our drawing sessions to... to..."

He stops mid-sentence, but he doesn't need to continue; he has said enough, more than enough, to make your heart skip a beat - or four.

"... listen, let's just forget it, all right? You can get dresses, I can start over..."

"And you do?"

"... sorry?"

"You have designs on me?" you quietly ask as you slowly change position once more, sit on the sofa and then stand, only partially using your arm to cover your chest "Not that you would take advantage of me, or try to hurt me in any way; I know you are not that sort of man. But... did you ever consider having me naked in your house, while we are alone, could change things between us?"

"I... I..."

"That something might... develop?"

Zoro's face is still burning; he is stuttering, something almost unimaginable for a usually collected, self-assured man, but it is sweet seeing him like this... and you would lie if you said discovering you can have this effect on him is not exciting.

"I would not blame you for it; the heart has rules of its own, like my mother always says, and it's not like I'm the woman of your best friend or your step-sister. Also, I must confess... I would be flattered. And very happy."

A few more moments of silence follow, as you let Zoro fully grasp the meaning of your words, and he seemingly gives you time to recant them or elaborate with limits and conditions - something you have no intention of doing. You have known Zoro for six months; too little to speak of love, perhaps, or to make plans for the future, but more than enough to know that you like and care for him, sincerely and well beyond his undeniable physical beauty. You want to be more than a model for him... and you want him to do more than simply look at you, studing the shape of your hipbone or the position of your elbow.

Much more.

You are so engrossed in each other neither hears the sound of the house door opening. Zoro turns towards you, delicately placing his sword back against his chair's armrest; he is in full control of himself once more, not smiling and still five paces away, but the intensity of his gaze, the barely controlled desire in his brown eyes, makes you feel as if you could already feel his hands (warm, elegant, used to both wield a sword and hold a pencil, capable of being both gentle and strong) brushing against your skin, caressing it, worshipping...

"Are you sure?" he asks in the end, taking a single step towards you "Because I'd really like to..."

"Zoro, are you home?"

The voice coming from the corridor outside the living room is masculine, refined and more mature than that of the young man in front of you; it expressed a simple question, the tone relaxed and devoid of tension, but both of you react as if a known criminal had just threatened to make the house blow up.

"My father." Zoro whispers, suddenly panicking; he looks back at the chair on which his sketchbook and pencils are still placed, close enough to the door anyone coming into the room would see them for sure. And if that someone is Zoro's father, the man who has no idea he is still attending the art school, years after demanding he withdraw, you don't even want to know what could happen... "Oh, God... cover yourself, quick!"

Zoro quickly grabs his night-gown, that he had left on the back of the sofa, and passes it to you; you take it, look at him, need just half a second to assess your priorities, and throw the night-gown on his chair, where it neatly falls covering his drawing tools.

"What...?"

A moment later the door opens. "Zoro, are you here? I just need... oh."

Until today you had only seen Zoro's father in pictures, like the one of the two of them at the fencing school hanging from the living room's wall, and you doubt Zoro had even told him about you, even just as a friend, at least until his father had noticed a trace of your lipstick on a coffee cup; therefore, this is your first meeting and God, you couldn't imagine a worst possible situation... nor, it must be acknowledged, a more memorable one.

Dracule Mihawk is a tall, very attractive man in his forties, with dark hair, a neatly trimmed bear, and beautiful bird-like eyes that earned him the sobriquet he is mostly known under. Zoro, who deeply respects him even though he still sees the older man more like a mentor and a future adversary than a father, told you he is gifted with an almost preternatural self-control, never letting himself be carried away by his emotions and very rarely reacting with joy, surprise or sadness when something unexpected happens.

You should perhaps be proud of yourself, then, since your presence in his house, and especially your state of undress, leaves the strongest swordsman in the world completely speechless.

"Zoro... what is happening?" he asks in the end, turning to look at his son "Who is this girl? Why is she... oh." he adds after a moment, averting his eyes "I see I'm interrupting."

Zoro quickly steps in front of you, who are staring at your feet as you desperately try to cover your most intimate parts with your hands. "She... she is my friend (name)."

"I see. I'll leave the you alone, I just needed to take some papers. I... apologize for disturbing you."

He nods at Zoro and then at you (who force yourself to reciprocate, fully aware that you must be red as a beetroot), turns, not noticing or perhaps not pay attention to the night-gown on the chair, and leaves, closing the door behind him.

For a whole minute both you and Zoro remain still as statues - or as models posing. "Do you think he suspected something?" you finally ask in a whisper, fearing your quick thinking was not enough to keep Mihawk in the dark. On the other hand, findinga naked girl in his home is technically not something the tutor of a young man should feel suspicious about...

"I... don't think so." Zoro answers slowly as he turns towards you; he is close enough you can feel the warmth of his body on yours, so close you could kiss him without having to move... "You... covered my drawing things instead of yourself."

"I did. Believe me, that was the most embarrassing moment of my life, but... I know how important it is for you to keep attending the art school, and that you don't want to disappoint your father, so I thought..."

Zoro grins as he takes your head in his hands; the purest affection shines in his brown eyes. He kisses you on the forehead and "I just want to make sure everything's all right." he quickly explains "He wouldn't take it out on you, he's not that sort of man, just... give me a minute, ok?"

"Of course. Can I take your night-gown if I hide...?"

"No."

You smile. "All right." you answer, and Zoro winks at you before following Mihawk out of the room. A couple of minutes, and pressing your ear against the door allows you to listen to the conversation between father and son.

"If you wanted to have the house to yourself for an evening you could have told me, Zoro. You're an adult, I would have had nothing against it."

"I know, just... I didn't really expect it to happen. And you're usually not at home at this hour."

"As I said, I had forgotten a few documents I had to look over with my new client. She's the girl you told me about, the one of the lipstick? Is she your girlfriend or...?"

A few moments pass before Zoro's answer; suddenly, you wonder whether he suspects you are listening. "Not yet; but I was planning on asking her tonight."

"Good. I don't mind if she stays the night, but if she doesn't, make sure your friend gets home safely."

Zoro promises he will. A minute later, the house door opens and closes, and soon after, Zoro returns to you, looking relieved but somewhat gloomy.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, just..." Zoro smiles as he takes you in, still completely naked, clearly appreciating the view way beyond simply as a good subject for a portrait, but a moment later he sighs "I... don't like lying to him. I know he never wanted children, but he took good care of me for years; he deserves better."

"You're old enough to decide how to live your life, Zoro. I know your father is a swordsman, and I don't doubt he only wants what's best for you, but what's so wrong with liking to draw?"

Zoro tells you that for people like him and Mihawk, the sword is much more than a hobby or an interest, no matter how passionately one practices it - it is a call, a way of life, a purpose one has to focus all their energies and willpower on, and that leaves no space for anything else. "Truth to be told, the sword is my real passion; as much as I like drawing, that's what I have decided to dedicate my life to, the thing I would choose if I had to pick one. It's just..."

"Just...?"

"My parents could draw. They were illustrators, for books and advertising and other things; they taught me, and then since I liked it, they sent me to the school. I know I'm not as good an artist as I am a swordsman, probably not good enough to earn my living with that, but I do like it, and... and drawing makes me feel close to them. You know, as if they were still with me."

Zoro looks at you, vaguely apologetic as if he felt guilty for ruining the intimate moment you were about to share with his sad musings. You don't mind; if anything, you have discovered a new part of him, the insecure, uncertain heart of a young man torn between his dreams and obligations, between the devotion to his birth parents and the loyalty to the man who has taken care of him. A part of him Zoro probably does his best to keep hidden, because he is that sort of man, but that you have discovered, and you can't help loving it.

"What are you smiling about?" Zoro wonders as he rests his hands on your naked hips, his touch relatively chaste but possessive enough to make you shiver pleasantly.

"I was just thinking how happy I am Luffy convinced me to come pose at the school." you muse "I found a new job I really enjoy, some great new friends, and..."

"... and you met me? Is this what you were going to say?"

"Hmm, perhaps..."

You laugh; Zoro laughs with you. "I'd really like to kiss you now." he murmurs in the end; in the well-lit room, you can see he has blushed, just a little "If that's all right for you, that is."

"Of course it is."

Zoro's lips are hot against yours. You waste no time before kissing him back, messy and awkward at first, but soon your mouths learn to know each other, they find a rhythm to follow and pursue together, a wild, unrestrained dance that you feel already addicted to a minute later, and soon your tongue finds Zoro's in his mouth, and his moan of pleasure reverberates through your body.

"(name)... fuck..."

His hands are still grasping at your hips, his whole body tense; he's still restraining himself, not wanting to take more than you are willing to give, but the time for qualms is over, and you want Zoro to know that while this is not how you expected your relationship to begin, you don't regret it, far from it, and you have never desired anything and anyone like him, and his hands on your skin.

"Touch me, Zoro." you whisper, your lips still pressed against his "Please, I need you to touch me..."

He moans again, fierce and avid and hungry, as he takes your face in his hands and then lets an arm snake around your waist, pressing your body flush against his; Zoro is still clothed, but you can feel the effect your nudity has had on him through the fabric of his jeans. You roll your hips against his erection, just as his free hand descends to squeeze your ass, and you both whimper.

"Let's go to my room." he proposes in a whisper, and you eagerly nod. Zoro quickly retrieves his swords, while you hold his sketchbook and pencils against your chest, then offers you his free hand, and you let him guide you towards the corridor.

"In here."

The room is large but sparsely furnished, which you expected; the bed is the sort with the mattress, covered by a duvet, directly placed on the floor. "Nice." you comment as Zoro, whose hands are shaking slightly, retrieves the suitcase, to hide his drawing tools, from the closet. He turns, and grins - no, he smiles at you.

"I changed the bedding this morning."

"Which has nothing to do with the fact you wanted to ask me to pose naked, I'm sure..."

He doesn't deny it, but he laughs - an unexpected, happy sound that fills your heart with tenderness, and the desire to hear it again. Zoro places his swords next to the bed, to be grabbed at a moment's notice; you want to ask him whether he expects an assault during the night, but a moment later Zoro has started undressing, and it would be physically impossible for you to focus on anything else.

As you expected, he has the body of an athlete, without an ounce of fat, well-muscled shoulders and arms, a flat stomach... and a large scar marring his chest, clearly old but still evident enough to make you pause.

"Oh, God... who did this to you?" you murmur, your fingers brushing against the edge of the wound as you try to imagine how painful it must have been "Was it... during a competition...?"

"Not exactly. It was my father."

"What?! Zoro, he could have killed you!" you cry, appalled; he doesn't deny it, but looks distinctly blasé about it, as he explains he had officially challenged Mihawk, foolishly thinking he had even just a single chance of winning, and his teacher had to show him how tremendously wrong he had been.

"That seems... cruel... I mean, towards any students, and especially his own son..."

Zoro shrugs, as if he really didn't care, or perhaps challenges and duels between swordsmen followed rules you cannot understand. "I'm not saying it was pleasant; but it taught me a lot, and from that day, I have promised myself I would never be defeated again."

"Well, if you're happy..."

Zoro takes your hands in his. For a moment all you can do is look at each other, and while you are the one who had never seen the other naked before, you can see awe, and desire, in the brown eyes of the man who has seen you unclothed a hundred times already. He kisses you once more before accompanying you down on the bed, and from there your hands start moving, hungrily searching, caressing, stimulating, and a sensual symphony of moans fills the air. His lips close around your nipple, and you instantly forget how to breathe; your heart is pounding, a fire burning down in your belly, and you have no words to describe how much you want him, which means that you'll have to show him...

Zoro's erection is beautiful, heavy and proudly erect, soft green hair descending from his navel in a thin strip and surrounding the base; you look at him in the eyes as you play with it, your hand moving up and down around the thick column. Zoro sighs, a lazy and happy smile on his lips, as he bucks his hips. "Oh, God, (name)..."

"You like this?"

"I love this... oh, this is even better than I had imagined..."

He has to ask you to stop after a few minutes, and takes your hand in his. "I don't have anything to put on." he confesses, which startles you a bit.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry, I... never really needed them." he admits, as he rubs the back of his head, like you have already seen him do when embarrassed "I can... go buy some; there's a pharmacy across the street."

You reflect on it for a moment. "No; if you don't mind, I'd like you to stay." you answer in the end as you turn on one side, scooting even closer to him "We can... cuddle, that'd be nice as well."

Your idea is approved. In the next two hours you do much more than simply cuddle, exploring each other's body and exchanging your pleasure; you talk a lot, play, joke, and simply enjoy that intimacy and closeness you both want to experience together. Part of you is deeply disappointed you didn't get to have sex with Zoro, especially given you are almost embarrassingly wet and the touch of his hands is addictive, especially when you see his fingers disappear between your legs, but the evening is lovely all the same, your body and Zoro's locked in an embrace. You didn't revise for your imminent exam like you had planned, but given what you have spent the last two hours doing, you feel physically unable to care.

"I really like you, you know." he whispers in the end; he has found a pizza in the kitchen's freezer and now you're eating together on the bed, still naked like the day you were born, and it may be the company, but you feel as if you had never had a better meal. After all, you did tell him he could buy you a pizza as payment for your posing sessions... "Not just because I think you are beautiful."

There is a spot of tomato sauce on his lip; you smile as you clean it with your thumb. "You do?"

"Of course. And I think you're kind, and generous, and you care about your friends, and... what I'm trying to say..." he sighs, and then mumbles something unintelligible, but you don't mind, because you are confident you know already what he wants, because you heard him talk about it with his father, and you want it as well.

"I'd like that." you answer as you place the empty pizza plate on the floor next to the table and then lay next to him once more; it's not exactly the grand declaration of love you had hoped to receive sooner or later, but it is very Zoro, and because of this it is perfect "I'd like that very much."

"Are you sure?"

"Zoro, I don't know what else I could do to show you I like you as well. Now, I can't stay the night because I have class early tomorrow. What about we cuddle some more before I have to go back?"

Zoro happily takes you in his arms, smiling as you rest your cheek against his shoulder. "You know, a lot of artists are jealous of their models." he mentions, his fingers delicately playing with your hair "So I hope you won't let anyone else draw you, at least like this... and that you'll pose for me again."

"You don't have to worry." you whisper back as you turn in his arms; his hips press against yours, making you shiver pleasantly "I'll be your model, and only yours, as long as you want me to."

#One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #Roronoa Zoro #Roronoa Zoro x reader #Mackenyu #Bellona's stuff

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spicerackofblorbos · 4 months

Text

Chapter 2: December

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!mute!Reader (she/her pronouns), set in a modern semi-fictional world

☾ Summary ➼ Due to childhood trauma, you find yourself an adult without the ability to speak. After years of working on it, you have found ways to live without a voice. Now here in your late 20s, you are 5 months in getting used to a new town. On a fateful day in late November, you and your adopted sister visit a local bookstore-café, unaware of the friendships about to blossom. Throughout the months, one friendship in particular develops into something more.

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, oblivious feelings, angst, mention of minor character deaths, trauma, illness, adoption, mentions of fire, disabilities, alcohol use, very light nsfw mentions (to be continued as writing is ongoing)

☾ Author's note ➼ Hey guys! Here's the next chapter, I hope you like it. If you missed the first chapter, you can check it out here! The last one was pretty long but that's because it had to set up a lot of stuff, so this one is a little shorter. The interactions with Levi are short (heh) but I promise the next chapter will have a lot more. Buckle up buttercups.

☾ Word Count ➼ ~5.6k

The town of Jinae started out as a cute crossroads village of sorts. It held only the bare necessities for those traveling from one major city to the next. That meant that small motels, dinky diners, and two-pump gas stations peppered the main road going in and out. A modest residential zone paired with an all-in-one school rounded out the town. Jinae’s purpose was clear; providing the needs to those just passing through.

However, Jinae saw an enormous growth in just the span of 25 years. A pharmaceutical company called Titan LLC sought to place roots in this small village, building a research facility in the hills 10 minutes away from the downtown area. With the prospect of new jobs came more people and more people meant an inevitable expansion to create space for them. Thus, the little village turned into a quaint, bustling town. It was also this company that brought you and Hange into small-town life.

Hange often joked about making zombies, but part of you wondered how much of her statement was a joke and how much of it was wishful thinking. But then she had been given a promotion to head-researcher and they requested that she be relocated to the facility in Jinae. Hange was quick to accept.

Unfortunately for you, their new position is the reason why you found yourself cursing at the intricate filigree mask that dug into your face. It made any attempt to look down at the spread of auction items before you difficult. You glide your fingers across an informational plaque pertaining to an art piece that sat behind it, not really minding what the art piece really was. Your mind wandered to the argument you and your sister had a couple weeks ago.

For context, Jinae hosts a winter gala every year as a way to boost community through the networking of big and small businesses alike. All proceeds from the gala’s events, tickets included, would go into improving the town. But, in more recent years Titan had become one of the town’s biggest benefactors and subsequently the gala’s biggest sponsor. Hange was pretty wishy-washy with the details, but they mentioned that part of the proceeds now goes into Titan as funds for their future projects. Of course, it made you suspicious, but it was not the reason why you were so upset at the time.

This was the first Christmas Eve that you were not home with your family. Generally, by this time you would be lounging around with your other siblings, drinking hot cocoa and watching silly little holiday movies. Hange was upset about that too but with her new position, their attendance at the gala was mandatory. Titan had mentioned something about making the company personable and being a part of the community. You understood for the most part, but you were still frustrated that you were not wearing soft pajamas and were instead tripping over a dark, floor length evening gown.

The thought of the previous conversation makes you huff as you continuously make your way through the auction items, again not really taking note of the piece before moving on to the next. You’ve heard of silent auctions before but have never seen one in person. It was quite strange to you, but you quickly find it’s an interesting concept as no one really had to interact with anyone else. After about the 20th display, your eyes start to glaze over. You think maybe your time would be better spent elsewhere, but then your eyes catch a familiar donor’s name on a plaque card.

Were they here?

You lean over to take a closer look at the small text on the card.

“To You, 2000 Years From Now: A History of Ymir” - First Edition - Author: Frieda Reiss Graciously donated by No Regrets Café

You peek at the item behind it. It’s a light blue hardcover book, no more than maybe 300 pages. The cover was canvas with gilded text. In the center sat an embossed trunk with several branches shooting off in a myriad of directions. It reminded you of a leafless tree. You were not very familiar with the goddess Ymir due to the lack of religious background your home had growing up. But you did pick up bits and pieces as you got older, so you at least recognized the name.

Lost in thought, you straighten up and take a step back. As you do, you’re knocked forward as you collide with something behind you. A cold liquid splashes down your exposed back making you gasp in surprise. When you turn around, you’re faced with a very angry man dabbing a cloth at his wine-stained dress shirt. He stares at you furiously and you feel your face heat up in embarrassment.

“Can you watch where you’re going?! This is a very expensive shirt!” He screeches at you. His sudden volume startles you, causing you to flinch. Hands shaking, you attempt to unclasp your clutch to reach for your phone.

“I don’t want your money! I want an apology! Do you know how long this will take to get out?!” His round spectacles flash at you as he scowls. He jerks towards you with his hand up in an accusatory point at your chest.

You manage to fish out your phone but your tremoring, sweaty hands cause your phone to slip out and hit the ground with a loud ‘thwap’. At this point, everyone around is staring at the loud scene and whispering to each other. You look back up at the man, frustrated tears threatening to brim over. With no way to communicate, you’re reminded of the times when you were a child. You ball your fists in an effort to hold yourself together, nails digging into your skin.

Suddenly you see someone bending down in front of you and picking up your phone. Standing up, they peer up at you with familiar sharp, gray eyes. A breath hitches in your throat as you immediately recognize him. He wore a half mask covering his scarred side, but you knew instantly it was him. He observes your face intently and you’re not certain if he recognizes you.

“Excuse me, sir. I’m in the middle of something. Would you kindly move?” The man sneers. Levi narrows his eyes at the voice and spins around to face the tall stranger.

“No, I don’t think I will. Apologize to the lady.” Levi’s voice is dry and devoid of emotion.

“I beg your pardon?” The man’s face contorts in bewilderment.

“Then beg.” Levi folds his arms across his chest and glowers hard. When he’s only given a shocked silence in return, he continues, “Apologize to the lady, I won’t ask again.” His voice is now icy.

“Well, I never...” Blanching, the man mumbles a ‘sorry’ before stumbling away.

“Oi! Hydrogen peroxide and cold water on that stain immediately!” Levi calls out to the man. Without checking to see if the man heard him, he rounds on you. Your mouth sat agape as you stared down at him. His gaze is still hard as he inspects your face. When your tears start spilling over and you choke on a sob, his eyes widen in surprise. He steps forward right as you pull back, holding your arms up to stop him.

Through blurry eyes, you spot the French doors separating the ballroom from the rest of the convention center and rush towards them for a quick escape. You run through and down a few hallways, a loud bang resonating behind you as the heavy doors close. You almost don’t notice the hurried heavy set of footsteps following you.

You slump down on the first bench you see, curling up on yourself against the wall. You notice how badly you're shaking, and your tears come even faster. Clenching your dress in fists, you attempt to take deep breaths as you hang your head low, staring at the floor. The bench shifts as Levi sits next to you. He hands out your phone as well as a white handkerchief for you to take. You do so without giving him a second glance, taking the cloth to dab the wetness from your eyes before shoving it right back into his hand. You note the black coloration staining the white from your makeup.

How unbelievably embarrassing this is for you. You’re not able to speak up for yourself, then you’re humiliated by all the criticizing stares. And now you’re practically falling apart in front of someone you still hardly know. You didn’t want Levi to see you like this and it made you angry at how pathetic you felt. You open your notes app and type out a quick message.

‘I didn’t need your help.’ You don’t even look up as you hand him your phone. He quietly scoffs at you.

“Huh? What do you mean you didn’t need help? You were visibly distressed. And that asshole would not leave you alone.” He places your phone back in your open, awaiting hand. You snatch the phone from his grip before he lets go of it, your fingertips brushing across his causing him to flinch.

‘I’m not some damsel in distress for you to save. It wasn’t your place, and you don’t get to decide what you think I need or want.’ Frustration flares in your chest as hot tears threatened to fall yet again. You turn your head away in case they do. He digests your message in silence, the only things heard were the muffled sounds of the orchestra and your sniffles. What you don’t notice is the shot of pain that flashes across his face before falling back into his neutral expression.

“Tch, I don’t know why you’re acting so defensive; I was just trying to help. Maybe show some gratitude, brat.” He snaps back.

Your head whips up to glare at him. Levi’s posture was much more closed off and defensive than before. His hair is slicked back, and he wore a simple black suit with a white cravat in place of the usual bowtie. He's scowling at you, unamused. The audacity makes that same frustration in your chest bloom into a fiery blaze.

‘Are you being serious right now?’ You practically throw your phone at him, your anger now evident on your face.

“As a matter of fact, I am. I’m not the one who can’t communicate. Why are you even here?” His eyebrows furrow into a knot to match your furious expression, voice icy again. He shoves your phone back into your palms and you’re already typing away.

‘I can communicate just fine, asshole. I’m not about to thank you for something I did not need. And for the record, I didn’t even want to be here!’

“Why did you even come then?!”

‘Why did you?’ Your phone skids across the floor from the excessive throwing of your phone, you’re not sure who threw it.

You bolt to your feet at the same time as him, frosty expressions aimed at each other. The tension is so thick it could be cut with a knife. You hear waves crashing in your ears as your pulse races from the heated argument, chests rise and fall with heavy breathing. The past month, you two had gotten along, but now it felt as if you wanted to strangle him.

“My little strawberry!! Where oh where did you run off to??” the shrill voice of your sister comes echoing down the hallway. Without giving Levi a second thought, you turn on your heel and start heading towards where the voice came from, picking your phone up from the floor as you go. You clutch your dress in both hands and pull it up to keep yourself from tripping on it, not caring that your worn-out combat boots were peeking out. There were definitely a few tears escaping from your eyes, rolling down your face and onto the floor as you stalked through the halls.

Who did Levi think he was, scolding you like that. You two barely knew each other, so how could he assume that you needed help. He never took time to ask anything about you, save for those few questions at the bar a few weeks ago. You’ve only seen him a handful of times since then; It became the new normal to see you and Hange hanging out with the co-owners of the ‘No Regrets’ café after hours. Even then, Levi continued to be the man of few words. He’d offer grunts or scoffs in return for conversation in between sips of tea. And truly it never bothered you. But that also meant you and Levi had never had a real conversation. You knew nothing about him, and he knew nothing about you.

You almost run headlong into a wall of a human as you round the corner, completely lost in thought. They catch you before you tumble backwards and fueled by the argument mere moments ago, you slap their hand away. You stare up at sky-blue eyes boring into yours and instantly regret it. You sign a quick apology, looking away from Erwin’s piercing gaze. He only examines you with silent consideration.

‘If you’re looking for your ass of a friend, he’s back there.’ You sign to him stiffly.

“Oh, well, I was actually looking for you. Hange needs you for something... are you okay?” Erwin asks softly. You wipe at your tears with the back of your hand, continuing to avert your gaze. As if that was answer enough, he says nothing else. Leading the way, he starts walking in what you could assume to be Hange’s direction. You follow close behind, staring at the back of his shoes as you went. You both walk in silence, and you mentally thank him for it. Once you step back into the ballroom, you spot a familiar frazzled brunette conversing with one of her coworkers.

“Hange!” Erwin waves them over and they hold up a finger. After a few minutes they bound over and wrap you in a tight hug.

“Oh my lovely, I heard about what happened and when I tried to find you, I couldn’t! Where were you?” She pulls away from the hug and studies your face. Their look of relief is suddenly replaced with a look of deep concern.

‘Can we go home now?’ You sign to them before they can say anything, pleading with your eyes.

“Well, I need to make a few more rounds but, I suppose we can leave. Give me about 15 minutes and then we can head out, okay?” They grab your hand and squeeze it reassuringly. With a reluctant nod they run off, leaving you with Erwin. You wrap your arms around yourself, and a heavy sigh escapes your lips. A couple moments of silence pass until his deep voice breaks it.

“I don’t know what happened but try not to be too harsh on Levi.” You glance up at him but he’s not facing you, instead he’s surveying the crowd. He continues, “Levi has a rough demeanor. He may not always know how to handle emotions properly, his included, so I would caution you not to take it personally. In truth, he did not want to be here. I’m the one who dragged him out to make pleasantries with other businesses.”

You don’t really know what to say to that, so you don’t. You still felt inklings of anger lingering in your body; you weren’t ready to let it go. To be and feel so humiliated in front of Levi was too much and you hadn’t had time to process it. Your heart squeezes as you remember the way Levi looked at you before you ran out of the ballroom. Something had startled him. Did your emotional reactions disturb him in a way he wasn't expecting? It could explain why he was so brusque with you.

You glance up at him as he turns to you. You explore his face while you attempt to figure out what it is you wanted to say. Erwin’s eyes were bright and inquisitive, and it struck you how much of an antithesis he was to Levi. Erwin’s warm, soft nature clashed heavily with Levi’s cool, blunt personality. While Erwin was a summer breeze, Levi was a brewing storm. Whereas Erwin felt like a radiant sun warming you through the bone, Levi felt like a raging bonfire with flames threatening to lick at your skin and leave burns. Levi was not welcoming in any capacity and yet you were drawn to him like a magnet.

‘He’s very stubborn, isn’t he?’ You sign at him finally. The blonde man chortles at your deadpan expression.

“He very much is and based off what I know about you in the short time I’ve known you, I would say you’re the same.” He winks at you with a grin. You huff as you fold your arms across your chest in defiance.

You wonder if that was an insult or compliment. You haven’t given much thought to the possible similarities and differences you both had, though you didn’t expect to be so explosive together. Whether it was just bad timing or you two just didn't get along as well as you thought, you didn't know. But what you did know was that you wanted to be home as soon as possible and out of this suffocating gown. Your eyes wander around the ballroom to try and find where your sister went off to. The only sights you see are people mingling and laughing, the dancing all but forgotten. Levi hadn't come back yet, and you felt your heart tug at the thought of him again. How frustrating he was to you.

Finally, you spot Hange coming towards you with a wide smile, her jacket already pulled on with yours in hand. She must have stopped by the dinner table to grab yours on the way back. You step in to meet them halfway, shrugging on your coat the second she hands it off to you.

"Well Erwin, I'm afraid we must part ways again. Keep me updated on your travels tomorrow, yes? I'd hate to find out you went out in blaze of glory by sliding off the highway." Your sister jokes as she walks past to give Erwin a playful punch on the arm.

Travels?

You spin around and raise your eyebrows at him as you sign, 'You're going out of town too?'

"I am, I'm going to visit my family for the holidays. I hear you will be doing the same as well. So, you," Erwin pats Hange's head with fondness and continues, "better let me know when you both arrive safely to your destination. And I will do my best to do the same." He flashes you one of his glittering smiles.

'What does Levi have planned for tomorrow?' You can't help but ask. You internally kick yourself for your curiosity.

"As usual, he's planning to open the cafe for a little bit in the morning and then he's going to visit his - someone close to him." Erwin shoots you an inquisitive glance, the corners of his mouth twitching as he responds.

Levi working on Christmas seemed a little excessive to you and you speculate that those dark circles under his eyes were due to a workaholic nature. But the last part bothered you more than you cared to let on; Who is it that he had plans to see?

"I know it's only been a month but that sounds like such a Levi thing to do. I think since the cafe will be open, we'll stop in to get a boost of caffeine before heading out. What do you say, my darling?" Hange wraps her arm around your shoulders and pulls you close. The thought of being near Levi again after what just transpired makes your stomach flip. In an effort to conceal your discomfort at the idea, you just roll your eyes and nudge your sister with your elbow.

"It won't be a long stop I promise, then we can get to mom and dads in no time!" It seemed to work on Hange because she took your annoyance as taking too long to get home.

After quick goodbyes and safe travel wishes, you find yourself staring out in the winter night as Hange drives down well-lit streets. The lamps flash on your face every other second as you pass them, your arm is propped up against the door’s console with your hand cradling your chin while you stare out. It's silent between the two of you for a while until Hange pipes up at a red light.

"So, what happened between you and Levi?"

Your head whips around so fast that you hit it against the window and your sister guffaws. You wince as you rub at the sore spot. She's staring straight at you with a sparkle in their eyes. Their enthusiasm makes you think she's looking for a specific answer, but you won't play that game. Turning to face them so they can see you clearly, you do the biggest eye roll you can muster.

'It's nothing.'

"It doesn't seem like nothing. You were crying before Erwin brought you to me. Plus, Erwin texted me what he thought happened. I just want to know your side."

'It's nothing.' You repeat more forcefully.

"Well alright then, missy." Hange teases, dropping the conversation. The light turns green, and the car starts off again on the wet pavement. You notice it had started to snow, that big fluffy kind of snow that stuck to the windows where you could see the little snowflakes if you looked close enough before they melted away.

You turn back in your seat and huff. You were not as angry as you were before, but irritation still scratched at you. You were tired of thinking about Levi tonight. The only thing you wanted on your mind was the warm bed waiting for you just 20 minutes away. But you should have known that getting that silver-eyed man out of your brain was futile. It didn't matter that other people kept bringing him up, all you could see was him.

"Erwin told me it's his birthday tomorrow." Hange mumbles quietly, causing your ears to twitch as they pick up what was being said.

You only glance at them through a side eye, afraid your face would give away any indication of that statement bothering you. You bite your cheek and look back out the window at the passing assortment of buildings. Would he be alone on not only Christmas but on his birthday as well? You then remember Erwin mentioning something about him going to see someone close to him; was it a girlfriend? At least he wouldn't be alone. But that just bothered you even more.

'God, he is so frustrating.' You think. You press your forehead against the cool glass, relishing how it felt against your warm skin.

When what felt like the 100th customer had asked him why he was working today instead of spending time with his loved ones, Levi's eye twitched. Like with all the others, he slid their order to them and turned around without so much of a scoff. Today's traffic was busier than he anticipated, and it made him antsy. He only planned to be open for a couple of hours but with him being the only one in the shop he didn't have a chance to flip the signs off quick enough. Luckily the clientele didn't stick around, opting to take their orders to go before they travelled wherever the hell they were going to.

He was in the middle of steaming milk when Hange walked in with a small box and a huge smile. For once there wasn't a line, so they leant up against the register while he worked on the lattes for the couple waiting at the end of the bar. Not a single word was said as she just stared holes into his skull.

"If you're just going to sit there and say nothing, will you at least go unplug the open sign for me. I'm closing." Levi requests as he shoves the cups to the couple. They mumble a ‘happy holidays’ to Levi before shuffling out the door, Hange locking it behind them.

"Well Merry Christmas to you too, Shorty." They tease as they slide up to the register again. Their eyes were shining brightly behind their glasses as they beamed a smile down to him.

"What do you want, Four Eyes?"

"Well for starters, I'd like a sugary English breakfast tea latte and the boldest coffee you have. Both mediums please! Aaaaand," she pulls out the small box she came in with out from behind her in a dramatic flourish. "This is for you." She places the box gently out on the counter and slides it forward.

"What the hell is that?" he asks unamused as he rings up the orders. Breakfast Tea? Does that mean you're out in the car right now?

"It's a box!"

"Well obviously, why is it here?"

"It's for you, dumbass. And before you say anything, no it's not from me."

There's a deafening silence as Levi processes what Hange says. ‘Not from them’ meant logically it would have had to come from you. That very thought makes his stomach somersault. Hange starts rifling through their bag as Levi takes the box and places it behind him on another counter.

"Don't worry about it, it's on the house." Levi mutters as he walks away to start on the drinks, his mind wandering as he went into autopilot again. If this box was really from you, did that mean you weren't mad at him anymore? Especially after last night, you bestowing him a gift was the last thing Levi expected. He felt a pang of guilt, not a lot but enough to make him regret some of the words he chose to spit at you. But then he remembers that defiant stubbornness of yours. It really grated on him, and it made him want to fly out of that door to confront you right then and there. He shakes his head at the thought.

Levi finishes pouring a heap of sugar in the tea in front of him, making sure to be precise with the amount. His mind flits to the memory of your first visit to the café so long ago. Sliding on the heat guard, he then places it next to Hange’s steaming coffee.

“Thanks, Shorty.” Hange picks up both cups and gives Levi a wink.

“Tch, just get out of my café, will you? I have somewhere to be.” Levi pulls off his apron and hangs it up on the hook by the back wall. With his back turned, he hears Hange shuffling behind him. “What now?”

“Nothing. It’s just,” they pause. “You two are just so alike, it’s scary. Stubborn and too proud to ask for help.” When Levi doesn’t say anything back, the doorbell rings then he’s left with silence again.

After stepping over quickly to lock the door, he wipes his hands on a towel and saunters over to the box shining in the afternoon sun. It was a navy-blue rectangular container, about 6 inches in height. Golden constellations wrap around the whole thing, ones he could make out easily. On top sat a tule bow and a note.

Thanks.

Nothing else.

Levi clicks his tongue and pops the lid off carefully. Inside sat something small and metal. He gently pulls it out with just his fingertips and upon a closer inspection, he’s shocked to find it’s a can of loose-leaf tea. Specifically, an herbal blend that’s supposed to help with relaxation and sleep. A sudden explosion of emotions came crashing down on him. Levi places the can back into the box and sets it back down before leaning against the counter behind him to steady himself. Something you had said to him a month ago reverberates in his head.

‘Words are not always needed to convey intent.’

What was your intention with this, Levi contemplates to himself.

He wonders if you like the tea.

Half an hour later, Levi pulls up in the parking lot of the town’s general hospital. The lot was sparse, so he was able to get a good spot right at the front. He grabs the bouquet that rested gently in the passenger seat then sets out into the cold wind, heading for the visitor entrance.

“Ah, Mr. Ackerman, welcome back and Merry Christmas.” the receptionist calls out to Levi as he steps in the sliding doors. Levi just nods in acknowledgment as he approaches the counter, doing his usual routine of signing in and taking a visitor tag.

“How is she doing today?”

“She’s coherent and very much looking forward to seeing you.” She smiles up at him. Levi just hums and starts in the direction he’s traveled many times before. An elevator and a maze of hallways later, he stops in front of a familiar door and raps softly against the wood.

“Come in!” an airy voice calls out. With that, he opens the door gently and enters the room. The curtains were wide open which let in warm rays of sunshine. The whites in the room were illuminated by it, giving a very angelic glow to everything. A pallid woman sat in a bed, propped up with many pillows, and she stares lovingly to the raven-haired man standing with her favorite flowers.

“Levi.”

“Hi mom, Merry Christmas.” He shuts the door behind him and limps over to the chair by her bed. He places the bouquet on her lap in which she scoops them up right away to sniff them. She sighs in contentment at the sweet smell. She places them on the table next to her, promising to get a vase for them when he leaves. Then she turns back to her son and pulls one of his hands into her own and cradles it softly.

“It’s good to see you. How are you doing today?” She squeezes his hand gently, and he stares up into eyes that match his own.

“I’m fine. I just saw you a couple days ago, you know.” Levi rolls his eyes at her, but a genuine smile breaks out on his face. “But how are you?”

“It’s a good day today, I think. Your uncle came by earlier but had to run off for something work related.” She waves her hand towards a large stuffed dog that sat in the corner. It had a red hat flopping in its smiling face.

“Tch, of course he did.”

“Don’t be so hard on him, Levi. Besides, he helped me get this for you.” She pulls away from Levi’s hand then reaches for one of her bedside tables. She pulls out a small, gift-wrapped package from a drawer and hands it to her exasperated son.

“Mom, I said I didn’t want anything.”

“I know but it’s your birthday and I’m your mom, so open it.”

Levi rolls his eyes again and unwraps the paper with precision, opting to pull at the tape instead of ripping it off in one go. It’s a silver metal frame with sparrows flying around the border, a picture of his mom and him when he was just a toddler inlaid in the middle. A moment of them laughing with each other as she squeezed him in a bear hug, frozen in time. He grips the frame in both hands with care.

“Kenny helped you with this, huh?” Levi swallows down his feelings, holding the frame close.

“Well, the picture is mine, but he helped with the frame. Who knew that man had taste?” she chuckles softly.

“Thanks mom, I’ll put it somewhere special.” Levi unzips his messenger bag and carefully places it in a secure pocket. Then he grabs a thermos he prepared before leaving the café, full of fresh black tea. He pulls out two teacups as well and pours the tea in each before handing them off.

“You’re too sweet to this old lady.”

“Tch, you’re not that old.”

“Either way, I love you, my little Levi.” She takes a delicate sip from her cup as she settles back into her pillows.

“Yeah, yeah.” Levi does the same with his teacup, staring out into the winter landscape through the window. It had started snowing again. He didn’t realize it, but his eyebrows furrowed as his mind wandered back to you. Were you safe?

“Did something happen?” Her question breaks Levi out his reverie. He almost chokes on his tea, but he straightens himself up and clears his throat.

“No. Not really. Just trying to figure someone out. They remind me of her.” Kuchel just hums in response. He continues quickly, “I brought some books, but I also have a couple of movies with me too. What do you want to do tonight?”

Kuchel places the now empty teacup on her lap and thinks for a minute before relaxing back into the bed with her eyes closed.

“Will you read to me?”

Levi nods and reaches down to pull out a book about a mystical land with complex creatures and a band of misfits finding a family in one another. A small smile tugs at Levi’s lips as he curls up in the chair and starts reading, feeling at home.

☾ Previous Chapter: November ☾ Next Chapter: January

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striderl · 3 months

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I have a general art-related question, if that's okay. I admire how _quickly_ you seem to be able to produce art -- whenever someone sends you a character-based ask, you seem to always answer it with a nice little picture (not just a scribble or something) with lineart and often colouring too! Do you have any advice for acquiring art stamina like that? I used to enjoy drawing, but got burnt out on it because every piece felt like so much WORK and it drained the enjoyment for me. I absolutely could not match the output you do!

Thanks for the compliment, lensman! Your drawings are equally cool too! I'm engrossed in the textures especially. And yes, sometimes I’m even amazed by the many asks I’m able to answer in a single week. Usually, I answer them within 3 days, in rare occasions, it may take me 2 weeks or so to answer them.

As for insights, there you go.

#1: Practice is the key. To not get art block, you need to be constantly practicing, like doing scribbles on your sketchbook when you have time. It can be anything, from basic shapes to “whatever you can spy with your little eye”. Also, improve your speed while doing it, and limit your time to finish an acceptable rough draft, so you won’t lose the motivation to finish the entire drawing.

#2: Mastery. READ THE MANUAL AND INSTRUCTION of whatever platform you are using to make art, and master the tools, so you won’t drag on too long on a single project. Personally, I use a mixture of Procreate and ibisPaint X to make art and comics. And the skills don’t come for free, you need to constantly learn new features in order to keep up the pace and limit the time you spend on each project. Honestly, I think I spend more time on Youtube, Pinterest, and Instagram scavenging art tips and resources than doing other things with them. The result is rather rewarding, the knowledge I gained about the color wheel, anatomy, and platform features like multiply and overlay are really helpful.

#3: Reference. I always have available anatomy or art references on my side, usually from Pinterest, so I don’t need to waste time speculating what the result would look like. I also collect references I’m interested in whenever I have time, so I’m well prepared whenever I want to start a new project.

If you want to check it out, this is the cover I made for Foley’s playlist, which I finished within 3 hours.

#4: Motivation. You need to truly enjoy the process of producing art in order to not get an art block. I think I never get a single art block period so far. Why? It’s the only way I get to relieve my anxiety. College can be really harsh sometimes, I have a really small social circle, and on top of that I need to deal with stress which most of my peers don’t even need to worry about, like managing an apartment, doing accounting on my own, taking care of electric bills, and more. What’s worse is that people can be massive suckers sometimes, and I just turned 18 a few months ago. I know I can’t just throw a tantrum or jump off a building whenever I feel stressed, so I just move on and focus my attention on doing better in art. If people want to insult me, I just insult them back with my talent.

Also, I mentioned this in my reblog to your Skibidi Toilet anniversary post. My parents don’t approve of me doing art like this, because it’s “unrealistic” and basically “useless”, I just want some space where I can express my creativity. Ironically, defiance can be a motivation sometimes.

Plus, I just purely enjoy the feeling of sitting in my room, listening to my favorite playlist, and sipping on a cup of hazelnut matcha, while doing art. And I always, ALWAYS appreciate people putting comments in their reblogs, it’s like an accomplishment, and it shows that people really check out my content and READ IT, instead of “wow, cool art”.

If I don't feel like doing art, I'll just go for a 5 miles run instead. Physical health is still important : }

#Ask #lensman-arms-race #Art advice

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dailycharacteroption · 2 months

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Jistkan Artificer (Magus Archetype)

(art by Daniewise on DeviantArt)

Two weeks ago when I did the entry on the iron-ring striker, I swore I remembered there being a second unarmed strike-focused archetype for the magus, but I couldn’t remember what it was called, and now by a miracle of list placement, I have been reminded of it again tonight.

In Pathfinder, the Jistka Imperium was the first nation to arise in the Inner Sea region after Earthfall, and was well-known for their mastery of magic and technology, particularly the art of construct-crafting, particularly golems, though perhaps their most lasting legacy was the automatons, constructs with the souls of Jistka’s finest.

While Jistka is long gone, defeated by Ancient Osirian and the Tekritanin League, the relics of their advancements remain in the form of sleeping constructs, wandering automatons, and those who carry their knowledge forward into the future.

One group of these remnants and historians is a group of warrior-mage artisans that seek to perfect their combat magic by combining it with golemcraft. They do this by replacing one of their limbs, most commonly an arm, with a constructed prosthetic animated by the same elemental forces used to power and give will to golems and other similar constructs.

Whether they deliberately replaced their limb or simply decided to turn their need for ordinary prosthesis into a focus of their power, these warriors can bring their foes down with a literal iron fist (or whatever they decide to build it out of)

These warriors start with their first golem arm, but they can rebuild it later made out of any special materials they might desire, though tooling the parts makes it more expensive. Even still, the result is a powerful limb with a surprising amount of striking power and which they can focus their arcane power into to strike down foes with raw enchantment or various elements. However, their focus on learning how to animate and control this limb does mean their spellcasting knowledge flags slightly behind compared to other magi.

As they grow in mastery, they improve the magical forces of their limb to sport better and better enchantment as a baseline, making it that much more effective.

Naturally, they also learn how to channel their touch spells through the arm as well.

This archetype also comes with a selection of new magus arcana tied to it. The first of which lets them take advantage of the antimagic properties of golem animation, letting them block ranged attacks from spells as long as they have the time to react and the arcane energy to make their limb flare with power.

Whether it be greater training, magical speed, or mechanical improvements, one such arcana lets them strike faster as a monk might, though they can only strike twice with this method. (This may need some clarification, as it seems… underwhelming for an arcana you need to be mid-level to take)

Others learn to equip their arm with a blade so they can stab or slash foes, as well as boost the weapon with enchantments to improve their chance of dealing grievous wounds or cause extreme bleeding.

Others, however, learn to use their arm as a shield to block more mundane blows.

Since the golem arm is both an unarmed strike and a manufactured weapon, there are all sorts of fun ways to use spells and the like. Unlike the iron ring striker, this archetype is less focused on touch spells, but as usual, spellstrike invites their use. The fact you can use the arm both offensively and defensively, as well as how it slowly enchants on it’s own (but is separate from actually enchanting it yourself) means you’ve got some fun options as both attacker and defender. Overall it doesn’t really change the function of the magus, but it does grant a fun and flavorful way of attacking with some good progressive enhancements.

It's tempting to try and apply cyberpunk themes to an archetype like this, but unless your setting draws heavily upon the themes of the genre, they don’t really apply well to the tone that the archetype presents. These prosthesis are, after all, custom-built by the character themselves, so there’s no worry about corporations repossessing your body parts or claiming ownership over your body.

However, what is a good theme to explore here is transhumanism as well as empowering the disabled, the former seeking the strength of the machine and exploring what it means to be human and whether that can be maintained without a human form, while the latter explores what it means to have a disability and not only counter but surpass those limitations. Of course, the latter works best if you roleplay moments of dealing with the disability. Tinkering with the arm with one hand, having to put it on every morning, the struggle if it gets stolen… et cetera.

Industry in the city of Whitestar is notorious for the death and dismemberment of the laborers on the ground level. The consortiums offer magitech limbs to restore functionality, but they cost so much as to put the recipients even further into debt for essentially the rest of their lives. However, there are those that fight against this exploitation, creating limbs free of the bindings of those provided by the companies, and give the most proficient wielders the power to fight back.

Though a mere human, Vekus competes in the Gorromak Arena alongside orc and troll warriors, using his enchanted wooden leg to great effect to even the odds as a martial artist. With it and his magic, he has a chance to rise to the top, but those on high would rather he be sent careening back down.

The pixies and other fey of Allenfor are in a state of paranoia and fear. Those who can calm them long enough to ask learn that a dark figure with an iron fist of cold iron has been hunting the fey, destroying all they find with spell and lethal strikes. Who this person is and what their vendetta against the fey is not known, but they must be stopped.

#pathfinder #archetype #magus #jistkan artificer #human #pixie #Blood of the Ancients

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bhryn-art · 7 days

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SHE LIIIIIIVES

Okay so there's been some time since I last used my Tumblr, and I guess we'd better chat - HI, how are ya? This will be a decent chat, I'll do us all a favour and pop it behind a careful little barrier so you can read at your leisure. Before that! WHERE AM I? Find me at these places: TWITTER/X: Bhryn BSKY: It's still Bhryn CARA: Take a wild guess - Bhryn Ao3 (it's ALL Fire Emblem not sorry!): Bhryn Astairre What's happening with Bhryn/Ferai? Well...

It's been a long time coming, but I think almost anyone who had been close to me has known this was going to turn up one day. And hey, I had a good long run. I never finished Endwalker. I got to around level 77? I think? And I just... didn't feel it anymore. I told myself I'd go back when my interest picked up. It never did. I instead became a lot more invested in other things, and took a huge break from everything to try dealing with my declining health. To that end; thank you, for all the wonderful friends I made on FFXIV, for the fun times we had. But it's time I moved on. I have no immediate or long term plans to return to FFXIV, and I wish everyone who still plays a great, fun time with the game going forward. I won't say for certain that I'm leaving, but I know for now, it's far back on the shelf for me. A large part in this is my decline in health. I'm currently bedbound - I wasn't a couple of years ago, but times change! You just have to roll with the punches. One of these is having a frankly rubbish laptop that wheezes when I play Content Warning and Lethal Company. I dread to think how on fire it would be if I tried even loading the FFXIV benchmark! I also made the choice to get a Steamdeck rather than a new laptop. This laptop still runs my art programmes and lets me write and talk to friends, so I don't need the upgrade badly (I say, side-eyeing the loud and grating noises it keeps making on waking up from sleep with nervousness). The other big punch is the worsening of my hands. Years ago I mentioned to my friends and followers that my EDS was never going to settle for just being a pain in my hip, knees, neck... any joint basically. EDS was always going to be a slow progression. I fought hard against it, and I'm still fighting! To the best of my abilities! But there came a point when finishing off a piece of work for a client, that I realised I simply didn't have the physical stamina or the dexterity in my hands/fingers to do long term brief work anymore. This loss of skillful motion has affected me playing games. I used to joke about having 'old lady reflexes' but honestly, I really do have them now! So I stripped back artwork to be 'just for me, just for fun'. The same for games. Anything that I cannot play well on a controller? Not worth it. I can play Ninja in ffxiv on a controller, but we come back to my Craptop Self Immolating if I tried. So what happens now to me? Now, I try and relax best I can (I caught the Rona four weeks ago, I'm still sore throat and itching in my chest/wheezing/terrible crackling in my chest) and work on my surroundings to give myself the best chance going forward to improve my life. This tumblr, when I made it, it was for me to play my FFXIV character. I have a couple of choices open to me, but I think I would like to change it completely over to an art and writing blog, just in general. To do that, I would have to go and take my username from my old blog and put it on this one. OR, I let this stay as an idle blog and dust off my old tumblr and move ahead with that. I'm still undecided! But, whatever I choose, I want you to remember; You're great. Be kind, do kind things, leave the world better than how you found it. You got this. You always did. With love; Me xxx

#ferai caolann #bhryn #tumblr changes #going forward #ffxiv #art #writing #where to find me #update #love you all #thanks for all the fish

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starhvney · 2 months

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any tips for us beginner writers? :3

honestly this sounds super cliche, but practice! i’ve improved in my writing skills just from a few weeks ago because i’ve been posting so much. writing is a skill kind of like art.

although that’s cliche, here’s a few resources i use to improve my writing:

☆ pinterest | i have a board full of character descriptions, prompts, word substitutions, world building tips for realism, etc. that i reference all. the. time. look up writing tips on pinterest and you’ll find millions of suggestions. i’ve scrolled for hours on there.

☆ plan | have a general idea of where you want the story to go, even if it’s for a short story. if you don’t know that you want your character to end up from point A to point B by the end of the story (because you don’t even know what point B is), then you’re writing can become drawn out and pointless.

☆ online dictionary/thesaurus | sometimes i end up reusing a word too many times, but still want to convey the same idea. look up that same word and find a synonym for it that works!

☆ grammarly | sometimes checking my own spelling is too time consuming and i don’t want to do it. gradually it’s useful for pointing out places with spell checks (but don’t always take its advice if it wants to shorten or reword a sentence, it’s not always right for creative writing)

☆ walk away | if you feel like you’re just not in the creative headspace and you’re getting frustrated, or you’re not sure of what you wrote is good, get up and do something else for a bit! once you’ve cleared your mind, come back to it and look at your work with fresh eyes to correct any mistakes or think of new ideas.

☆ listen to music, ambience, or even asmr | i do this a lot! i find a playlist of mine that fits the vibe of what i’m trying to write, and it helps me focus on the story. for instance, if i want to write a scary scene i listen to film soundtracks that are intense and eery, or listen to an ambience from a horror game. if i want to write something peaceful, i listen to soft music or a spring morning ambience. this really helps if you struggle to get in the writing zone like i do.

☆ shut off your left brain | sometimes when we write or draw, our focus and thoughts become too critical of our work, and we stunt ourselves or get frustrated and completely give up. you have to switch over into the creative side of your brain, and not care if you make mistakes as you write! you can edit it later, but just focus on getting the story and thought out of your head. i do this by daydreaming the situation first, and then writing it out while listening to music.

☆ study other artists! | similar to art, you need to study others works to develop your own style. look at the works of a fan fiction writer who’s really good, or a popular book that made it big. when do they break off their paragraphs? how do they change scenes? how do they form their sentences and describe the scenery and characters?

i’ll also say that i did grow up with an english teacher mom and much older sisters who also became teachers and had an extensive vocabulary, so writing came easier to me than others because of that. BUT! even still my writing was awful a couple of years ago. it took a lot of practice and trashing my old work to get to this point.

i’m not that great of a teacher myself, but i hope this advice helps! best of luck to anyone who wants to try writing, don’t be scared to start!!! i believe in you :)

#☆ star's inbox!

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chaotic-on-main · 1 year

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Chapter 2: December

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!mute!Reader (she/her pronouns), set in a modern semi-fictional world

☾ Word Count ➼ ~5.6k

Hange had been a part of Titan’s company for a few years, working in a facility in your hometown. Because Titan was privatized medicine, you were not allowed to know much of what her job entailed. All you knew was that she was a lab technician and spent most of her time studying and working with viruses. Hange often joked about making zombies, but part of you wondered how much of her statement was a joke and how much of it was wishful thinking. But then she had been given a promotion to head-researcher and they requested that she be relocated to the facility in Jinae. Hange was quick to accept.

Were they here?

You lean over to take a closer look at the small text on the card.

“To You, 2000 Years From Now: A History of Ymir”

- First Edition

-Author: Frieda Reiss

Graciously donated by No Regrets Café