#felt like it was colored sketch time.... nice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonlinos · 3 months

Text

Call my bluff, call you ‘babe’

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Childhood friends to lovers, fluff

♡ CW: Implied smut, alcohol consumption. Twenty solid seconds of angst, but it doesn’t even really count. It’s just tooth-rotting fluff.

♡ Word count: 5.5k

♡ Synopsis: Minho has been your best friend since you two could barely form coherent sentences. He was there when your last baby tooth fell, he was there when you failed your high school exams, and he was there as you walked down the aisle.

♡ A/N: This was going to be just word-vomit fluff to make me cry, but I couldn’t control myself and before I knew it there were… so many words.

You were four years old when you met Minho. It was the first day of kindergarten, and you were assigned seats together. The entire day was spent with you chatting to every kid you could reach from your seat while Minho quietly sat painting and doodling by your side. You vaguely remember thinking he was odd and whining to your mom about how your seatmate was boring, and that was why he was the only kid in class you didn’t talk to. She smiled and told you maybe you should make an effort to talk to him. That same day, you racked your little brain for a reason why your seatmate might be so quiet and promptly decided that he was too shy to start a conversation himself. You then asked your mom if the fact that you didn’t talk to him might have made him sad, to which she hesitated, and that was enough to have your bottom lip wobbling.

You remember tears streaming down your cheeks as you frantically sobbed, inconsolable at the fact that your seatmate was sad and that it was partially because of you.

The next day, you asked if Minho would like to use your special glitter pens — you even told him you wouldn’t mind if he used your favorite colors. That was really all that was needed to plant the bud of friendship between you two.

Ever since that day, you two slowly became inseparable.

You attended the same elementary school after begging your parents, writing a very concise list of reasons why you two could not possibly be separated. Reasons such as the fact that Minho still didn’t know how to tie his shoelaces, so it would be dangerous for him to be alone in a new school. Or the fact that you were always losing your gloves, and Minho always carried an extra pair in his backpack just for you, so you would surely catch a cold if you didn’t have him beside you during winter.

All extremely valid reasons.

Minho began walking you home from school when you were both nine years old. He was often left alone due to his parents’ work schedules, which made him become the most street-smart kid in your class. You had to beg your mom for a week, but she ultimately caved in.

Your favorite thing to do on your way home was to stop randomly and doodle on the sidewalk with chalk, with Minho joining you in no time. You even had your favorite little sketching spot — right in front of a nice old lady’s flower shop, where you two would spend far too much time decorating her entrance pavement with flowers, rainbows, and smiley faces. She would later introduce herself to you, Ms. Kim, and would always thank you both with a flower of your choice. You always picked tulips, and Minho always picked daisies.

On one hazy winter day, you and Minho were eager to adorn the flower shop’s entrance with a new set of doodles since the ones you had done just yesterday got covered in snow. As you two did your best to dig through the piled-up snow with your gloved hands, you suddenly felt something hard slide down your throat. Your hands stilled, and you turned to look at Minho with wide eyes.

“What happened?” He asked. “Did you lose your glove in the snow this time?”

You shook your head frantically, careful not to swallow. “Teeth,” you simply said.

Minho looked at you like you were crazy, squinting his eyes as he studied your face. “What?”

You felt tears well up, and he immediately abandoned his mission of shuffling through the snow before pulling you into a big hug.

“Why are you crying? Don’t cry. I hate when you cry, I feel weird when you cry,” He said, but no tears left his worried eyes. Minho never cried, that was something you had learned a while back.

You, however, cried until Ms. Kim noticed you two from the window, cooing as she approached you two with a gentle smile. You tried your best to explain your predicament. Minho sat with you behind the wooden counter, holding your hand in his, the smell of flowers making everything feel less catastrophic than it did ten minutes earlier.

Ms. Kim explained that you had no reason to cry, as it was normal for kids to swallow their baby teeth. And you remember harshly shaking your head and explaining with a trembling voice that you hadn’t cried because of that. You had cried because that was your last baby tooth, which meant you were officially a grown-up. You didn’t want to be a grown-up. Minho wasn’t a grown-up yet, with his last baby tooth still holding on proudly in his gums. You didn’t want to be a grown-up all alone; it would be terrible and sad.

That afternoon, you two went home together in silence, your respective flowers clutched in your hands. Minho was never good with words. Sadness engulfed him because he couldn’t do enough to make his best friend smile again. What was the point of a best friend if they didn’t make you laugh when you were crying?

Minho walked into school the next day with a proud smile on his face before placing his last baby tooth on your desk. You eyed it curiously, brows furrowed.

“There, I took it off last night,” He simply said. “Now we’re gonna be grown-ups together.”

At eleven years old, your daily after-school video game appointments began.

You had just cut your hair short; a bob you thought looked cute on your favorite singer turned out to be cataclysmically unflattering on you. And, at eleven years old, it was earth-shattering and definitely the end of your life (despite what your mother told you).

You spent every second out in public with your hair hidden by a beanie, hoping it would distract people from your disastrous haircut.

Except it had the opposite effect.

One particular day at school, a boy came up to you simply to inform you that your head looked like a mushroom before running away, laughing with his friends. They were foolish words spoken by a foolish boy, but you were eleven. Once again, earth-shattering and the end of your life.

You avoided everyone the entire day — including Minho, whom you always talked to no matter your mood. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid him for much longer, seeing as he walked you home every day, so you simply prayed he wouldn’t notice your puffy eyes or that he at least hadn’t heard any of the other kids making unfunny jokes about your haircut.

After school, Minho sighed in feigned annoyance when you told him you had lost your gloves again before retrieving a pair from his backpack. Like a habit, you asked if he wanted to hang out at your house, although the answer was always unchanging.

“My mom’s baking a cake,” you told him. “We can play video games and then eat it together.”

Minho hummed in agreement, adjusting his backpack before grabbing your hand as you two began your daily walk to your house. It was something you always did, never walking anywhere without your hands clasped together. These past few months, however, this once ordinary gesture had begun making your heart beat faster. You didn’t understand why, and you would rather not think about it because every time you did, the words from your other friends would echo inside your head. Their stories about how they felt their hearts racing when their crush had hugged them or even looked their way, making you question if maybe…

But it couldn’t be. Minho was your best friend. How could he be your crush?

It was another one of those afternoons, your mom busily making you two sandwiches as you and Minho played New Super Mario Bros on your Wii under the blanket fort you always meticulously built. Minho had been acting weird all day — even weirder than you, who had to endure all the asinine jokes and hurtful words from your peers. As you completed the last level for the umpteenth time, saving Princess Peach, Minho all but threw his controller to the side. You turned to shoot him a questioning look, which went ignored as he rummaged through his backpack.

He retrieved a crumpled-up piece of paper, which he promptly gave to you.

You cocked your head, awaiting some sort of explanation, but Minho simply picked up his controller once more and hit play on the game.

Unfolding the paper, words greeted you in Minho’s messy handwriting.

YOUR HAIR LOOKS CUTE. STOP HIDING IT.

Your lips parted slightly, but before you could say anything to him, Minho reached out and snatched your beanie from your head. Your short hair and bangs cascaded onto your face, partially obscuring your view. But you could still make out his side profile, where a faint smile appeared on his lips.

After that, you two were silent for the rest of the day, eventually dozing off under the tent lulled by the sound of your mother’s hand mixer and Mario’s theme song. The sun eventually set outside the window, and you woke up to two plates of your mother’s cake waiting for you on the coffee table.

From that point on, your beanie was left forgotten inside your drawer.

You were fifteen when you realized that perhaps your feelings for Minho weren’t all that platonic after all.

It all started with a letter on Minho’s desk on a rainy Friday. October 25th, Minho’s birthday.

Minho’s quiet nature hadn’t changed one bit since you first sat beside him at four years old. He would rather die than start a conversation, rarely went out to the movies with your friend group and, most importantly, hated being the center of attention. That was why he told no one about his birthday since you two began high school this year. It was the subject of much debate among your little group of friends, with some bribing Minho with his favorite snacks or promising to do his assignments until college just for some sort of clue; a day, month, even the day of the week he was born.

But Minho never budged.

So, seeing a letter on his desk on the day of his birthday was odd, to say the least.

You arrived back to the classroom late after chatting to your friend from another class in the hallway, catching as Minho sat down with a puzzled look on his face and an open letter in his hands.

“What’s up?” You asked, sitting on the desk in front of him.

He looked up, thick glasses crooked from a dodgeball incident earlier that week. “Yumi found out it’s my birthday today,” He informed you, a bit too nonchalantly. “She organized a birthday party at her house tomorrow with our friends.”

You immediately took the letter, reading it and blanching at the words written in the girl’s pretty handwriting. She had found out Minho’s birthday by snooping around Facebook until she found his mother, who had a plethora of pictures of Minho on his previous birthdays. Not only that, the letter ended with a paragraph where she confessed her feelings to him — with all the clichés and dramatics only an adolescent crush could provide.

You still remember your first thoughts upon learning that information: Oh, Yumi. Of course a girl like her would do something like this.

You cringe at your words now, but at fifteen, you deemed no girl worthy of your best friend. Especially ‘girls like Yumi,’ who in your eyes all but threw herself at him. At the time, you thought you were looking out for the boy who was practically your brother. Now, you understand you were simply an insecure fifteen-year-old who allowed ugly, misogynistic thoughts to brew inside your mind out of fear of losing Minho. For your immature brain, every girl interested in Minho was an enemy because they could easily take him away from you.

And Minho had never reciprocated any girl’s feelings, always politely turning down the few confessions he had gotten during middle school. You were ready to berate Yumi, your brows immediately furrowing as your face contorted, but Minho beat you to it, speaking before you could utter a word.

“I know I should be mad, but isn’t it a little… cute?”

You couldn’t help but scoff, the sound escaping your lips like a burst of disbelief. You also couldn’t help how your hands began to tremble as your heart shot up to your throat.

“Cute?” You asked with the strongest voice you could muster. “You think her invading your privacy is cute?”

And Minho simply shrugged, tapping his fingers on his desk. “A little bit. I know you don’t really like her, but she’s part of our friend group,” He said, taking the letter from your shaky hands. “Plus, she’s always been nice to me, and she is cute.”

That was all you could physically bear to hear, excusing yourself from the conversation with the lie that your friend had called you from the classroom window before sprinting out into the hallway. As you continued walking, your palms grew clammy and your heart weighed heavily in your chest.

You felt tears well up in your eyes once you reached the stairs. Sitting on the steps, you cried into the cardigan of your ugly school uniform. You didn’t care that you would be scolded for skipping class; all you cared about was that your best friend was going to be taken from you.

After school, as you and Minho were about to exit the school gates — your hands tightly clasped together as they always were — Yumi appeared carrying a cake, the rest of your friends behind her as they all sang happy birthday.

Minho blew out the candles and made a wish. Everyone cheered as his best friend, Chan, shoved his face into the cake. Minho yelled at him, grumbling with glasses covered in white frosting, but ultimately laughing along. Yumi was quick to clean his face with a napkin, earning her a smile from Minho before he released your hand to gently squeeze her rosy cheeks.

You remained quiet, forcing out a smile and looking up at the sky every now and then so your tears wouldn’t fall.

All because Minho had let go of your hand.

Minho’s fifteenth birthday — that was the day you learned you could fool everyone else, but never yourself.

Your seventeenth summer was a drag.

Minho had just been broken up with a couple of months before, Yumi crying as she explained her parents wanted her to focus on her studies, and having a boyfriend was simply a distraction she couldn’t afford if she wanted to be a doctor someday. An unwilling participant in the entire situation, you sat awkwardly at the bus stop as she spoke.

You were ready to witness Minho cry for the first time in your life, maybe yell about how unfair her parents were being, but he simply pressed a kiss to her forehead just as your bus arrived.

Not much had changed when he began dating Yumi, with you learning that suppressing how you truly felt was worryingly easy. You still hung out with them, battling through their cuddles and kisses like a soldier on the front lines of a war. Never unscathed, but always strong. Nobody needed to know about how you cried into your mother’s arms almost every night before falling asleep.

The only change had been you and Minho’s daily gaming appointments. You two had since outgrown your video game phase, both now interested in diverging things that made it impossible for you to enjoy them together. You discovered your love for flowers went beyond doodling on the sidewalk in front of a flower shop, but Minho complained that growing flowers was too time-consuming, and he loved dancing, which you were far too uncoordinated and lazy to even try doing.

And so, you two settled for simply hanging out together at your house. Your room had easy access to the roof, which you two took full advantage of, setting up a permanent blanket fort where you would snuggle up with pillows and talk for hours after school.

That summer was no different, with Minho stretched out across the old mattress, watching the light pink sky slowly fade away as night set in while you two busied yourselves talking.

That was the day you finally gathered the courage to ask Minho about his breakup, desperate to understand why he had appeared so unfazed. After the one-year milestone of their relationship in February, you had begun to make peace with the fact that she would probably be around for a while.

Minho shrugged at your question, hands resting on his stomach while he gnawed on his bottom lip. He explained he was sure that he liked her, but it turned out he valued her as a friend much more than as a girlfriend.

You couldn’t help but scoff at the answer. You knew Minho better than you knew yourself at times, which was why you knew he was lying through his teeth.

“Why did you stay so long with her, then?” You questioned, the resentful lilt in your voice a bit too obvious. You cleared your throat before adding, “I mean, you surely didn’t act as just friends.”

“I guess I felt lonely before,” He explained. “I was selfish for staying with her, but I enjoyed having someone. Was especially nice after…” Minho trailed off, dismissively shaking his head, and you remember being close to throwing him off that roof as he kept being so damn enigmatic.

“After what?” You prodded, “Minho, I’m your best friend. What’s the point of us talking if you’re not gonna tell me the truth?”

He turned his head to look up at you, the darkening sky making his eyes gleam as if they held an entire galaxy of stars. You felt that familiar nervousness return.

“It was nice to not be so alone after so many years of pining after someone.”

You cocked your head to the side, and Minho had the gall to chuckle at your puzzled expression. You shook your head, mumbling to yourself that your conversation was pointless if he wouldn’t tell you the whole truth.

Lying next to him on the mattress with a sigh, you could feel the weight of Minho’s gaze on you. You couldn’t bring yourself to move.

You remember the moon was already high in the sky by the time one of you finally moved — Minho, who slowly inched his hand closer to yours before clasping it tightly in his. Despite your racing heart, you thought nothing of it. He was now single, so it wouldn’t be ludicrous to assume a habit you two had cultivated for many years would naturally return.

However, after some beats from your erratically racing heart, Minho’s fingers intertwined with yours. You had never done that before, always holding hands in a way that all but screamed platonic.

That night, with his thumb caressing your skin and his hand squeezing yours, Minho finally spoke the truth after so long.

“It’s you,” He said, tone nonchalant but voice audibly shaky. “Think I’ve been pining after you since I was nine and ripped my tooth out ‘cause I thought that’d make you stop being sad.”

You remember gasping quietly and his hand tightening around yours as the clock ticked and your silence remained. You remember finally mustering up the courage to turn to look at him and being met by an expression you had rarely seen on Minho’s face in the thirteen years you had known him — he was scared, wide eyes dancing around your face as if he looked for an answer in your features, his chapped lips parted slightly as if he was ready to backtrack the moment he saw any hint of doubt in your eyes.

You remember smiling at him and how his expression shifted into pure confusion. All it took was for him to finally have the nerve to hold your hand in the way he’d always wanted to, and for you to use his courage as a catalyst for your own. You remember how you closed the distance between you two and pressed your lips to his. You remember it feeling weird because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

But you also remember it feeling right because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

Your transition from being best friends to being in a relationship was easier than you had ever thought it would be — it was also slower than you could have ever imagined.

Minho never asked you out or confessed his feelings beyond what was said on the roof, and neither did you. It was a shared knowledge between you, a silent agreement that didn’t need words — at least for now. The little gestures and subtle changes left no doubt in your minds that you two were, in fact, no longer just friends — like how you began to always intertwine your fingers while holding hands, or how Minho would pull you onto his lap when you hung out with your friends, or how you would rest your head on his shoulder as he played with your hair during lunch break.

Your friends certainly had questions, the confusion written all over their faces easy to read like a book, but you both knew they also understood your relationship without you needing to make a big deal out of it.

You picked him up from dance class every weekend, sometimes arriving earlier just to catch a glimpse of him through the glass door, as Minho insisted he was too embarrassed to dance in front of you.

One day, thoroughly unprompted, he reached into his backpack as you two exited his dance academy and pulled out a yellow tulip. You had furrowed your brows at the sudden gesture, and Minho nonchalantly told you that planting your favorite flower was surprisingly easy. Since becoming teenagers, you had stopped going to Ms. Kim’s flower shop, and you had long forgotten about how you two used to have your own respective flowers back in the day.

It seemed Minho hadn’t forgotten.

That was one thing you had come to know about him only after you began dating. Although he seemed cold and distant on the outside — rarely communicating his feelings through words — Minho secretly kept a mental note of every little detail about the people he cared about, and he unfailingly found a way to communicate his feelings through actions. Such as promptly handing you a brand-new flower he had picked before you even had the chance to mourn your tulip as it began to wilt.

You, on the other hand, had always been the type of person to communicate through words; spoken, written, or read, which is how you began saving your best daisies from the small garden you created in your backyard and practicing your flower arrangement skills exclusively by making pretty bouquets you could gift to Minho (always with little notes hidden among the flowers).

Your once explicitly platonic roof dates also left no room for doubt, as making out under your usual tent became a hard-to-break habit. In fact, that was how your family found out about your relationship. You were eighteen, with graduation just around the corner, when your mother caught Minho kissing you as tears welled up in your eyes at the thought of having to be apart from him during college (although you both knew that would never be the case, as you always moved mountains simply to stay together).

Everything was slow-paced, and neither of you had any desire to rush anything. Once, Minho told you he had waited eight years to finally kiss you, and somehow, that anticipation was what had made it all the more special.

And so, your first proper date only happened six months after your first kiss, and your first fight only happened a year and a half into your relationship. Not to mention your first I love you, which had been a slip-up that happened only in your first year of college after a drunken night with Chan and Minho. Your head on his lap, your tulip nestled among his daisies in a pretty vase on the coffee table as Chan hummed along to some song that came from his phone. You felt as if your entire being was filled with pure gratitude at that moment, and the liquid courage that flowed through your veins only helped you mutter out how much you loved Minho.

He looked down at you, hands cupping your cheeks with a silly smile adorning his face, and simply answered, “Well, I love you more.”

Your carefree attitude toward your relationship was almost a contrast to the one you had with your friendship. You and Minho had met so young that you could never truly pinpoint when you had become such close friends. You always wondered if that was what led you two to be so easygoing with what most people rush into. Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

You remember one of Minho’s new friends, Changbin, asking something about your sex life at some party during freshman year, and you two nonchalantly answering that you didn’t really have one. Your friends’ shock was understandable, but you and Minho only laughed.

Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

It was Minho’s 21st birthday, when your flowers were no longer in bloom, but your love remained blossoming like it was mid-spring. He had, as always, vetoed any and every plan of a celebration suggested by your friends. He opted to stay in with you, cuddling under a blanket fort like you had been doing for so many years. Chan graciously offered to sleep at a friend’s dorm, leaving your small shared apartment just for you and Minho.

He hadn’t planned for anything to happen, and neither had you. You were simply lying together, watching the flickering of the candles you had set up around the coffee table, recounting the innumerable memories you shared when you suddenly felt the earnest, all-consuming need to have Minho as close as possible.

It was clumsy, both of you inexperienced and nervous. Your teeth crashed together and your hands gripped each other tightly, the realization of the intensity of your yearning becoming undeniable. At some point, the entire tent collapsed on top of you, and laughter filled the room for a brief moment before being replaced by your sighs and whispered moans.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was you and Minho.

Graduation day was a blur in your mind.

It had all started with Minho and Chan drunk at eleven a.m., offering you the awful-tasting omelet they had cooked in your cramped kitchen. They then went on to zone out for most of the ceremony after stumbling out of your apartment.

You approached Minho after he was done taking pictures and getting scolded by his family for being drunk on his graduation day, his mother giving you an apologetic look as you whisked him away.

“You’re stressed,” you pointed out.

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” you replied with a sigh, resting against a large tree far enough away from the hustle and bustle of recently graduated students and crying families. “So is Chan. Don’t think I’ve seen him this drunk since Jisung’s birthday party last year.”

Minho chuckled, shifting on his feet and toying with the fabric of his gown. You furrowed your brows; he only ever got fidgety when hiding something. You learned that for the first time when you were thirteen and he had to wait until your birthday to tell you he’d gotten you two tickets to see your favorite band, and again when he had to keep Chan’s then-girlfriend’s plans of asking him to move in together a secret.

“You’re not nervous ‘cause of graduation, are you?”

You remember the way he stilled almost immediately.

“We always tell each other the truth, right?” He asked.

You remember the way your whole world spun as he pulled out a small box from his pocket and how everything seemed to fade into a white mist that surrounded Minho like a spotlight as he proposed to you.

Your wedding was small — both because that was how you had wanted it to be and because of your lack of money for a proper party.

After graduating, Minho became a dance teacher at the academy he attended as a teen, teaching little kids who he said always reminded him of you two. You used the money your parents had saved for you to travel after college to buy the old flower shop that held so many memories from your childhood. Neither of you used your degrees, and neither of you made a lot of money, but you were overflowing with an infatuation for life and a love for each other so great that it made up for any silly inconvenience that dared to come up.

The ceremony was held at a local church — although neither of you was particularly religious, that was the cheapest place available. You opted to walk down the aisle together; hands clasped the way you used to do for many years while walking home from school. Minho held onto a daisy bouquet you made, while you held the single tulip he had picked out for you that day.

“I’m not good with words,” was how Minho began his vows, the glow of the fairy lights and candles adorning the church rendering his attempt at hiding his tears futile. That was the first time you had ever seen him cry in the twenty-one years you’d known him. “But I think that never mattered with you. You know me better than I know myself. Most times, I don’t even have to say a word, and you’ll still understand me. It’s been this way since we were four, and you understood why I was so quiet, and you still chose to be my friend. Thank you for understanding me, and thank you for allowing me to love you. Loving you is what I do best and look how lucky I am; I’ve been able to do it for my whole life.” He then shot you a grin, the back of his hand wiping away your tears. He ended his speech with a line that was so very Minho, thought up with sincerity but spoken primarily to make you smile. “You’ve always felt like home, and I can’t wait to feel that way until we’re both food for the worms to eat.”

You had never cried so much as you did on the day of your wedding — which was remarkable, seeing as you’d been a crier your whole life. You remember the irony of it all; Minho, who had never been good with words, telling you about his love with words that came from his heart and spilled from his lips without any rehearsal, while you were rendered speechless and too emotional to even attempt to form a coherent sentence.

Your wedding vow was a simple, choked-up, “Thank you for being my best friend, Minho.”

Minho carried you home from the church, with your cheeks flushing pink and his smile beaming as your friends made rice cascade around the two of you like snow. It turned out the boy who hated attention didn’t mind the spotlight so long as it meant showing off his love for you.

Your honeymoon was spent in your small house above your flower shop — which you named Daisy’s Tulips — where you cuddled under a blanket fort the entire day, only leaving the comfort of the pillows and fluffy covers well after midnight to adorn the sidewalk in front of your house in a brand new chalk drawing.

“Can you imagine if we never said anything?” Minho suddenly wondered aloud, his chuckle echoing through the quiet street. “We were both pretty good at hiding our feelings for so long.”

And you simply shook your head, painting a daisy with white chalk on the sidewalk. “Minho, I know you. You wouldn’t have let me keep pretending after finding out I liked you too.”

“Who says I would have found out?”

“You said it yourself,” you explained, “I know you better than you know yourself, and that’s reciprocal. You would’ve found out ‘cause I can never hide anything from you.”

And Minho smiled, taking your hand in his just as you were done with your drawing. Your gaze shifted toward him, and you admired the man he had become. From the shy little boy who sat beside you to the quiet teenager with thick glasses to the man he had grown into; you loved every version of Minho you had the privilege to meet throughout your life, and you were certain you would love every new version of him you came to know in the future as well.

“Of course you can’t,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I’m your best friend, aren’t I?” He asked with a grin, and you nodded. He then added, “Thank you for being my best friend.”

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist

1K notes · View notes

pockwashereart · 1 year

Text

Flaming Gavle Goat Ornament Tutorial

You Will Need:

Craft felt in light brown or 'straw' color of choice, red, yellow and orange

Red ribbon in 2 widths

Thread- I used red and yellow; brown, orange or white would give different effects

scissors

Needle for hand sewing

pins or quilter's clips

polyfill stuffing or fabric scraps

a poking implement

a lighter or Fray check glue

paper and pencil

patience / approx 2 hours to waste making a meme for the holidays

To start, I drew a rectangle approx 3.25 in wide by 4 in high and sketched out a geometric goat shape. You could go a bit larger, but if you go much smaller it will be difficult to stuff. Remember that the sewing and stuffing will eat up some of your edges.

Cut out your goat template and trace it on your light brown felt. I used chalk, marker may work depending on how neatly you cut.

(I'll add a nice vectored template to this tutorial later, but I'll have to fight with the scanner first. )

Cut 2 of your goat. It doesn't matter if they're not exactly the same, as you can fudge the edges a little when you sew. If your felt has a front and back you can tell apart, you'll need to pick a "right" side of the fabric and mirror one of the goat base pieces.

I cut my ribbon decorations in advance, wrapping it around the stacked bases to check the length - remember you'll be stuffing this later so you may need to add a tiny bit more to accomodate.

Out of the wider ribbon, you'll need one for each leg, one for the tummy and one for the bridle. The thin ribbon will be to hang the ornament with and to wrap the horns- I did not pre-measure the horn wrapping because I wasn't sure how long it would need to be. Finish the cut edges of the ribbon as you like- I used a lighter to heat seal them but fray check or white glue will work. Glue will be more difficult to sew through.

Start sewing the goat bases together. I used red thread and a basic whip stitch, but you could get a couple different effects by using white or brown thread, or by sewing a blanket stitch.

Here's where I made life difficult for myself- stop when you get to the legs and wrap the ribbon in place, tucking the ends in between the layers. This secures them and hides the edges but is fiddly to pin and sew. You can also wait until you have sewn most of the way around and tack or glue the ribbons on top if you're less fussy about the ends showing.

Continue sewing around the legs and body, catching the ribbons in your stitches and repeating for the bridle ribbon. Stop at the base of the horns so you have room to stuff.

I'm working with modern plastic materials, so sadly (or not) this goat isn't terribly flammable, just meltable. If you want to be eco friendly you can stuff him with scrap fabrics. I'm using polyfill.

Use a chopstick, paintbrush handle or empty mechanical pencil to poke your stuffing into place. Smaller lumps of fluff are better and more maneuverable.

For firmer limbs stuff chopped up bits of your felt into the legs and head and follow it up with the polyfill.

My original plan for the removable flame was to do clever things with magnets, so if you want to give that a try this would be the point to toss one in before you close up the body. I was on a roll and didn't remember until I was working on the horns. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Remember you still need to put the tummy ribbon on and curse your clumsy giant fingers!! Getting everything situated and laying nicely may take a couple attempts. Once you've stabbed yourself with the pins a couple times, sew up the inner curve from the base of the horns on the neck to where the horns meet up again on the butt.

Be careful of where your thread tail goes and the direction of your stitches, it's easy to accidentally loop around the whole body or catch the horns.

There should still be a bitty opening at the base of the horns and at the butt (giggle here), if you flattened your stuffing during the last step and need to poke a teensy bit more in.

Tie your length of hanging ribbon into a loop and set aside.

This is another step where my need to hide the edges made life stupid and fiddly. Tuck the edge of a length of the thin ribbon between the layers on the bottom of the horns and wrap it around, and tack in place with a couple stitches. Loop it a couple of times until you get to the point you want to hang the ornament: I chose dead center, you may want him at a jaunty angle.

Fiddle with bendy felt, slippery ribbon and pins until your hanging ribbon's knot is sandwiched between the 2 layers of the horns and continue wrapping with the loose long piece, securing with pins or clips as needed and hopefully not making a big tangled mess of ribbon.

When you get to the end wrap it around a couple times and cut off any extra length, seal your ribbon and pin or clip into place.

Sew along remaining curves of the horn, making sure not to yank the hanging ribbon out of place and to catch the wrapping ribbon as you go. Accept there's no good way to tuck in this !$@!%%^$ slippery 1/8th BS ribbon and tack the butt end down with a few extra stitches.

Alternately, tack the hanging ribbon in place between the layers, sew the edges and then wrap and secure the horn ribbon with stitches or glue at either end. You could also skip sewing the edges of the horns together before wrapping them, but it will be more sturdy and secure with them sewn.

The fun part! fold some paper in half and draw your flames on the fold. Mine were a little over 2 in tall, and they should be a little smaller than the back of your goat at the base in order to fit in place. Cut out your fire and use it as a template for your felt.

The base layer will need to be on cut on the fold but the rest can be separate. Use as many or as few layers and colors as you like, it doesn't have to match exactly on both sides. You'll be folding this up so that you have 2 decorative sides facing out and a plain inside, so you'll be making two mirrored flames while it's still flat: one pointing up and one pointing down. Sew or glue the layers together.

I used a hidden stitch about a third of the way up from the bottom on the inside of the flame to pinch the sides together and pull it up into a V shape. This can be tucked up into the gap between the body and the horns and will hold itself in place pretty well if you have thick felt.

For more security/ shaping you could sew a loop of craft wire or an opened paperclip to the back side of the flame, or as previously mentioned do clever things with magnets.

Hang him on the tree with or without flames and enjoy!

Options for enjoying your handcrafted goat:

Pin the Flame on the Goat: Hide goat ornament on tree and give your participant (s) the flame (s), first to put them together wins.

Art Imitates Goat: Keep the flames to the side until/ if the real goat burns, and then apply to ornament. Celebrate with hot cocoa or warm winter drink of choice.

Voodoo Goat: Real Gavlebocken hasn't burned yet? Summon the flames by setting your ornament on felt fire! Celebrate with hot cocoa or warm winter drink of choice.

#holiday craft #gavle goat #gavlebocken #christmas ornament #tutorial #hand sewing #also please show me your goats if you make one!

1K notes · View notes

sergeantwoods · 3 days

Text

soap needed some time - some time to rewind. after missions, depending on how they were, he'd feel... overwhelmed. mind reeling, going over everything that had happened. he needed his journal to write down what he felt, how he felt, what had happened, so that he wouldn't have to remember it after. it was nice.

and he'd draw too, if he was feeling the urge to sketch something down.

and it was fucking gorgeous right now. they were in al mazrah, some in and out mission to gather intel. it was just the four of them, just soap, ghost, price and gaz. he (personally) liked those missions the most.

laswell set up this safehouse for them, just for the night, because tomorrow morning, exfil would come and pick them up. they each had their own rooms, small with a twin sized bed that was probably too small for any of them - but that was fine, soap probably wasn't going to sleep in a while. he'd go back to his room when he felt like it.

his gazed swept over the desert, the sun slowly sinking over the belt of amber sand in the distance. everything was lit in an ethereal orange glow, his already tan skin practically glowing. (he wasn't saying that to make himself feel pretty, no sir.)

he had his journal in one hand, pen twirling idly in his fingers of the other as he watched the sunset. he had written down everything in his journal about the mission, and now, with this view - he wanted to draw.

but - he felt as though he couldn't capture it. the otherworldly beauty couldn't be caught on paper. he had two pens - one thick, one thin - but that didn't matter really. the colors, the colors are what he wanted to draw.

fuckin' hell, he'd die for some pencils or markers even watercolor, but he isn't bringing any of that to a mission. that's bordering childish. it's nice to be childlike every once in a while, no?

he leaned back onto the roof, shutting his eyes and letting out a small breath. it's nice. pretty, and the weather is perfect. he'd stay here for the rest of his life, if he could.

the almost silent padding of feet approaching him made him open one eye to glance scornfully at the intruder. he immediately softened, though, seeing ghost.

leaning forward, soap patted the spot next to him, uncrossing his legs and letting them swing off the edge of the building. ghost came to stand beside soap, slowly crouching down to sit next to him.

they just sit there. quiet, excluding the shuffles of ghost shifting his weight around and soap sketching on paper.

soap pulls away from his paper, turning to stare at ghost.

the man was bathed in a tawny light, white mask basking in beige-ish cream sunlight. he turned to look at soap, tilting his head slightly as if asking, what's on your mind?

"did you know, after death the human brain lives on for seven minutes?" soap asked, quietly. his gaze slid away from ghosts, settling on focusing again on his paper before adding with a shrug, "to replay it's best memories,"

he felt ghost press closer to soap slightly, then murmured back, "yeah? that's cool to think about."

"aye."

it's quiet for a few seconds before soap continues.

"you'd be my seven minutes."

i saw something about this and i had to write it but ghoap

but yay, yippee, zoinks ,,,!!! the writings bad because i didnt care!!!

take some fucking ghoap you loser /j

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #cod #soapghost #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #sarges blurbs

103 notes · View notes

writingoddess1125 · 7 months

Text

Boardwalk Artist

Finally used my limited drawing skills for this little story!

Support me on Ko-Fi

No warnings. Fluff-tastic!!

It had been a fairly good day on the boardwalk- Plenty of ships stopping by which allowed you to get some minor work done. Any money was good for you, especially as a artist which wasn't a common or appreciated trade in the East Blue.

Most your work came from low time pirates wanting a better drawing of themselves instead of the unflattering photo from their Bounty's. However the little Berry you got was enough to eat, keep a roof over your head and buy more supplies.

Speaking of supplies-

You sigh as you realize this is the last page of this pack of paper- better make it worth it. Maybe a landscape or the sky or..

However something red and blue catches your eye- spotting a stranger walking down the boardwalk past you.

Your eyes focus on the stranger, noticing the scowl on his face and the clear distaste he had that lingered on his aura. However despite the scowl he was unique looking and at least to you attractive. Strong jawline, pretty blue eyes, wonderful cyan hair and the cheaply painted over 5 o'clock shadow adding a rugged look to his appearance. Defiently your type in some way.

So you begin to sketch him, The last paper being filled up by this odd clown stranger walking past. It was almost muscle memory at this point as you captured him to your finest abilties.

He must have felt you staring as he turns to give you a passing glare-

So you waved him over, he glanced around himself like he was expecting forr you to call for someone else- till you pointed directly at him and waved him over again which lead him stepping forward. The pocey of circus people carrying weapons behind him also staring at you in question at your odd actions-

You finish the sketch with ease and smile at the odd man as he got within a few feet of your little set up.

"Here you go. Last paper of the day is free" You said kindly ripping the last peice of paper from your board and handed it to him as you stood up to pack up your things.

He opened his mouth clearly to say something snarky and rude but paused as he looked at what you handed him.

He stared at the paper, it was a pretty okay drawing of him from the side mainly charcoal with some light white, red and blue chalk were his nose, makeup and hair was which made them pop nicely. In the corner was a scribbled signature and note saying 'You look cool, Thanks!'

He looked up at your surprised as you finished packing the last of your supplies of the day.

"Er- Uh thanks?" He said in a confused tone, Clearly not used to stuff like this. Which was normal for most customers you got anyway.

"No problem, Should thank ya for the nice look" You say cheerfully putting on your backpack and tucking the cheap wooden easel under your arm.

"Oh by the way your nose looks really pretty with your hair color. Complimentary colors and all" You say with a wave and smile. Walking away leaving the Captian standing there bewildered and unable to process what just happened.

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy thoughts #buggy x GNreader #x gender neutral reader #gn reader #buggytober

207 notes · View notes

sonder-paradise · 9 months

Text

𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 & 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫 — 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢

◊ characters. mitsuya takashi, gn!reader

◊ wc. 1k

➺ 𝘪𝘮·𝘱𝘶𝘭·𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘫. 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵

𝘔𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘶𝘺𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵.

Mitsuya doesn’t consider himself impulsive.

He’s calm, collected, passive even. He thinks through his movements, his actions, everything. He plans and double checks. It's out of habit mostly. Years of being an older brother, a mentor, a designer, have crafted him into a precise and composed person.

And then you came along.

“Hey, I’m your new neighbor,” you said with a grin, hand outstretched as you offered him a simple handshake. Mitsuya flashes you that signature smile of his and takes your hand in his. You’re warm. His hands are chilly in comparison. Having been lost in his current project, his hands had grown cold from the open window.

“Mitsuya Takashi. It’s nice to meet you.”

And then you smiled and he felt his stomach warp and flip. He wished you wouldn’t let go of his hand just so he could feel your warmth a little longer.

“You as well. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mitsuya.”

His eyes follow you down the hall. He counts the doors carefully till you reach the first, second, then third—no—fourth door. Mitsuya shuts the door behind him, hand reaching up to settle above his eyes before dragging down to cover his mouth. An exhale leaves him before he heads back to his work area to continue his project.

He leans back against his chair, rocking against it before glancing out the window. It’s been a while since he moved out of the apartment with his sisters and mother. In moments like these, when it’s quiet and the word seems so distant, he wonders if it’s a good thing. He stares at the light fabric in his hands. Fingers running through it before he looks back at his initial design sketched out on the notepad next to him.

It didn’t look right.

It didn’t feel right.

This sketch had been too rushed, too…

The word alluded him as he reached over to turn the notepad over. As he did so, the mug of coffee next to it tumbled over and onto the light-colored fabric he had been working on. A string of curses fell from his lips. He immediately went to his feet, wiping down the coffee and eventually assessing the large and visible stain on his newest project.

It seemed unsalvageable now. He handled the fabric slowly, scanning for any other stains or abnormalities. Eventually, he let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair and grabbing his keys. Maybe a good wash would fix it up.

The laundry room under his apartment complex was always poorly lit and filled with a puddle or two. He was used to this sort of environment. He used to take Luna and Mana to a laundromat just like this when he was still in high school. There was one other person in the room. Mitsuya blinked a couple times before spotting you leaning against the washer, scrolling on your phone.

“We meet again,” he said, hand in his pocket while his free one cradled his project.

You looked up, pulling out one of your ear pieces to look at him. Then a grin sprouted on your face. “Mitsuya, right? What brings you down here to the lint-filled dungeons?”

He raises the white fabric with the obvious coffee stain on it.

“I had a little spill.”

You stood a little straighter, moving closer to look at the bundle of fabric in his arms. He offered it to you and you held it so delicately he could have sworn you already knew of its importance to him.

“Is this your girlfriend’s or something?”

As you unraveled the coffee-stained project, it unfolded to reveal the rough beginning of a dress. He placed a curious look on his face before realizing.

“Oh, no!” he said, a light snort escaping him as he looked down for a moment, “It’s just a design I was working on this morning.”

Your eyes widened a moment as you handed it back to him. “Wow, you’re a designer? That’s impressive.”

“Not as impressive as you’d think, honestly,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m still trying to get my name out there. This… was supposed to be for a show I managed to get in. But I’m thinking of just trashing it.”

He stared at the dress, a frown creasing on his features as he traced his fingers over the coffee-stain. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all that on you,” he said quickly, flashing you an awkward smile.

You shake your head. “Nah, you’re fine. I’m always happy to listen to someone who needs an ear.” Mitsuya watches as you motion towards the project in his arms. “I’m no fashion connoisseur, but… I think you should give it another shot. This one already looks really well-done.”

Mitsuya feels his stomach flip-flop again when you flash him another smile.

“Besides,” you continued, “it looks like you put a lot of work into it already.”

The lavender-haired man laughed, shaking his head. “Quite the opposite actually. I drew up the sketch for this one too… impulsively.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” you shrugged, a smile still strung upon your lips, “Maybe get to know the design a little more.”

Mitsuya stared down at the design. He thought about the notepad upstairs and the rough outlines he’d so hurriedly gone over while commuting to work. He chuckled, tilting his head slightly as locked eyes with you.

“Maybe you’re right… Though, it doesn’t change the fact there’s coffee all over it right now.”

You rolled your eyes, patting his arm heartily as your dryer pinged to alert them of its completion. “I got the perfect cleaning solution for you. Let me grab my laundry and I’ll show you the miracles of detergent and white vinegar.”

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲

#[✒️] writing #[🎧] impulse: the series #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya x you #mitsuya x y/n #mitsuya takashi #tokyorev mitsuya #takashi mitsuya #mitsuya takashi x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokyorev x you #mitsuya fluff

231 notes · View notes

simplylatte · 7 months

Text

☆ Your Darling ☆

Nutcracker AU by @sketchquill

Idea: Inspired by Sketch's recent art for their Nutcracker AU! You and Wally are out in the spring fields, simply enjoying your time together with one another. As you spend more time with him, you come to the realization that just perhaps, you are catching feelings for him.

Just a lighthearted, happy indulging fanfic <33 Warning for insane amounts of fluff and love!!

I know nothing about the Nutcracker, but enjoy!!

♡------------♡

Somewhere out there laid a beautiful piece of land that had yet to be touched by civilization. There was perfect weather; it's not too hot, not too cold, just right. There was a gentle breeze that would occasionally flow by, but even then, it felt nice and refreshing. No wonder why the spring fairies here adored this part of the world. You could even say it was perfect. No- it was perfect. But what made it even better, however, was having your friend accompany you.

"It's quite beautiful out, isn't it?" Wally spoke to you, smiling as he saw that you were still admiring the view in front of you.

"Oh, absolutely. It's nothing like I've ever seen."

You took a few steps in front of you, glancing around the trees that had colorful green leaves. You had mixed feelings. It was unfortunate that you never got to see nature at its full bloom, and yet, you were thankful that parts of the world like here were left untouched. You tried not to dwell on it and instead admire what was in front of you. You felt Wally take your hand into his. You turn your attention to him, seeing his signature smile that always left you breathless.

"I just remembered, there was something I wanted to show you."

You grew curious at what Wally wanted to show you. Was it a surprise, perhaps?

"Oh? Was is it?" You asked, tilting your head. Wally shook his head.

"It's a surprise! Close your eyes..."

Oh, of course. He wants you to close your eyes. Not that you minded, of course, but it was only driving your curiosity crazy. You closed your eyes, smiling as you grew excited. Although you couldn't help but notice that his grip on your hand grew a little bit tighter. You heard his faint laughter as he took you somewhere. You kept your eyes closed, but you only wondered what could the surprise be. Perhaps it was baked goods? Oh, how delicious that would be. But you don't smell any sweets nearby. Hm.

Wally stopped in his tracks, making you stop as well. He lets go of your hand and takes a step aside.

"Alright, Y/N, you may now open your eyes."

With permission granted, you opened your eyes.

..This was possibly the best surprise you could've asked for.

What stood in front of you was an open area that was surrounded by varies types of flowers. They ranged from sunflowers to daises, all up to roses and marigold. How he knew about your interest in flowers was beyond you. How could you ever repay him for such a generous gift?

"Wally, they're beautiful... did you plant these yourself?" You asked with great curiosity as you turned your head to him. Wally shook his head and chuckled.

"No, but she did." He reached his hand out in front of him. You grew confused for a moment, but you were quick to meet a spring fairy that swooped down from the tree above. She landed on Wally's hand, smiling brightly as she took a bow.

"Why, of course it was me! Who else could plant such beautiful flowers other than I, Sally Starlet?" Sally spoke with pride. You chuckled softly as you approached Sally, being careful to not startle her with your approach. She looked up at you as she stood in Wally's palm, it seemed as if she was examining you.

"Hmm... you look awfully a lot like someone who Wally's been talking about." She blurted, which both surprised you and Wally. Your eyes widened as Wally quickly turned his head away.

"Huh? Wally has been talking about me?" How can you process something like this? Not that you were taking it the wrong way, but it definitely caught you off guard. But for some reason, your heart fluttered from her words.

"Indeed, he has! I must say, fellow stranger, you are one lucky friend." Sally beamed with happiness. She took a step forward towards you with her fluttering wings.

"I'd love to chat more, but I have other plans to attend to. Until then, I hope to see your shining smile!"

Sally flew out of Wally's hand and towards your direction. To your surprise, she flew a few circles around you, heading up as she did so. You laughed happily as some of her pixie dust stuck to your pajamas. You watched as Sally flew away to the right of you, possibly headed to grow more plants.

Once Sally left, you looked over at Wally, seeing that he was still looking away from you. You tilted your head with a bit of confusion, yet you still smiled.

"Are you alright, Wally?" You asked him in curiosity. He looks back at you. He smiled back, but you couldn't help but notice a little bit of color on his cheeks.

"Fine as I'll ever be, Y/N. I was just in deep thought is all."

You both stared at each other for a moment. You wanted to say something, but there was just something about him. You didn't know what it was, but you couldn't look away. You both just gazed at each other, staring into each other's eyes. You felt your heart flutter, the heat forming on your face was quickly becoming noticeable. Wally placed a hand on his cheek as he gazed at you. He let out a content sigh as his smile grew. Your heart couldn't stay still, what was happening? You never felt this way before. It felt strange yet familiar.

Familiar because this wasn't the first time you felt this way for him, but strange because it is something you never felt for anyone else but him.

The longer you stared, the more flustered you became. After a few moments, you turned your head from Wally and chuckled nervously.

"I, uhm..." You tried to speak, but you were left a stuttering mess. You heard Wally laugh a bit, he took your hand into his and held it. Stop it, heart, stay still. But it disobeyed, leaving you with a fluttering heart and a sense of... comfort.

"The flowers weren't your only surprise," Wally told you.

"Wait, what?" Your eyes widened a bit. You felt the grasp he had on your hand tighten a little bit, making your face heat up a bit more.

Wally took a deep breath as he took a small step closer to you.

"I would like to dance with you, Y/N," he spoke with an excited tone.

You didn't know how to quite process it. You wanted to dance with him, you really did. But you were unsure. You have never danced before.

"Wally, wait. I don't know how to dance," You responded with a small frown.

"That's okay, I will teach you!" Wally smiled brightly at you.

You were still unsure, but that smile... You couldn't bring yourself to reject such an offer. With a sigh, you smiled nervously and nodded. Wally giggled happily, he was quite overjoyed to be dancing with you!

"Alright, we'll take it slow. Just follow my lead, Y/N." He spoke softly.

Wally let go of your hand and gently turned you around. After turning you around, he gently took both your hands and raised your arms up. You glanced over at him, locking eye contact with him again. Wally smiled softly at you.

"You're doing wonderful so far," he said happily to you. Oh, how nervous but excited you were. Wally lifted one arm up. You stood on your toes, slowly lifting one of your legs up.

"I think I get it, now," you whispered to yourself. As if on cue, Wally twirled you around slowly. You twirled for a short moment, giggling with joy. You placed your raised leg down and stopped twirling, now being side to side to him with his hand on your upper waist. You extended your right arm out for him, to which he took your hand softly. He extended his arm out, keeping your hand held. You had your other hand on his shoulder. You weren't as nervous as you were before, but now that nervous feeling was replaced with the feeling of butterflies in your stomach. Wally had a huge smile curled up on his face as he lead the slow dance. The both of you slowly spun each other around.

As you both danced, you couldn't help but look into his eyes. Wally laughed softly, being so happy that he was dancing with you.

"Awh, Y/N, you have no idea how much this means to me!" Wally sounded like he was geniunely happy to be given the opportunity to dance with you. Seeing his smile, hearing his joy, it made you feel more butterflies.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Stutters again, when will they ever go away? It was okay, however. Wally understood, he wasn't judging. He was just happy to spend time with you. The way he held onto you, being so caring and gentle. The dance lasted for a few more minutes before you both parted. Despite being unsure earlier, you were glad to be able to have this dance with Wally.

"Thank you for the dance, Wally," You spoke.

"Not a problem, Y/N. I am always happy to teach you!"

You couldn't help but smile, the fuzzy feeling only escalating. Your heart fluttered, your face flushed, you couldn't help but feel like this. You and Wally end up gazing into each other's eyes once more, the obvious tension in the air that you were oblivious to. You watched as his face turned brighter in color, was he blushing? You thought it was adorable to witness.

"Did you, uhm... enjoy the dance, Y/N?" Wally looked away, asking in a nervous tone.

"I did, actually. It was very... very nice." You replied, chuckling softly.

It was at that moment that you realized that maybe, just maybe, you liked Wally more than just as a friend. Had you been that oblivious, or were you just too shy to admit it? Probably both. And unfortunately, it became awkward between the two of you. You weren't sure why, but-

"Y/N, there is something I have been meaning to tell you," Wally spoke quickly, you could hear him taking a deep breath.

"I think I have something to tell you, too, actually," You responded, becoming more flushed. Were you wanting to confess just after a moment of realizing your crush on Wally? Yes, absolutely.

Wally looked back at you, a bit stunned by your response. He smiled softly, evident that he was nervous, but wished to hear you first.

"Go on, Y/N. What is it that you want to tell me?" Wally took a small step forward to you, which made you more flustered.

"O-Oh, uhm... Well, it's kind of hard to find the right words..." You stammered, looking away for a moment. You were so nervous to admit your feelings.

"It's okay, Y/N. Please, take your time," He spoke gently, taking your hand into his to comfort you. You looked back at Wally with a flustered look. He saw your expression, thinking he might've made you uncomfortable. He was about to let go of your hand, but you gently gripped his hand from letting go. Wally looked down at your intertwined hands, a smile curled up on his lips. He let out a gentle sigh, content with the situation.

However, you couldn't keep it in any longer.

"Wally, I really like you,"

"Y/N, I really like you,"

You... both confessed to each other. At the same time? How was that possible? You and Wally both looked at each other, eyes widened with surprise.

"Wally, what did you say...?" You asked softly, taking a step closer to him. Wally tripped over his words for a moment, but he found the courage to speak it up again.

"Y/N, I... I really like you," He spoke quietly. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't bring himself to.

You felt tears in your eyes, and your heart swelled with joy. You wanted to cry just from how happy you were. You couldn't help it, you ran up to Wally and threw your arms around him in a tight embrace. Wally was caught off guard but was quick to embrace you, cradling you in his arms.

"Y/N-"

"I love you, Wally," You whispered, hugging him tighter, but not too tight to avoid accidentally hurting him. Wally stood quiet for a moment, his eyes widened as he tried to process what you just said.

He finally said, "I love you, too, Y/N... so, so much."

You both held onto each other for what felt like hours. You didn't want to let go, but you knew at some point that you had to let go. You both enjoyed each other's embrace before slowly pulling away. You looked at Wally in the eyes, admiring him without the need to hide it. Wally's smile only grew larger. He placed his hand on your cheek, caressing it gently. You leaned into his touch. You felt your heart skip a beat when Wally leaned in to kiss you on the forehead.

And in return, you grinned and leaned in to kiss him on the lips. Wally was caught by surprise, but closed his eyes and happily kissed you back. You both held onto each other, enjoying the moment as you kissed each other dizzy. After a few moments, you both pulled away, as flustered as you've ever been.

Then you heard his laugh. Oh, his laughter... It was like music to your ears. You couldn't help but laugh along with him. You took his hand into yours, holding it. You felt him gently squeeze your hand.

This was your special place, now. And the best part was that you had Wally by your side.

Your loving, adoring Wally Darling.

♡------------♡

HEHEHEHEHEHHE <333 I HOPE you all enjoy this writing I did :> Wally loves you!!

also posting this in school lol hi

#welcome home #wally darling #wally welcome home #wally darling x reader #wally darling x y/n #wally loves you #nutcracker au #welcome home au

151 notes · View notes

erooca · 9 months

Text

daycare pt. 2

ellie williams x reader

description: ellie williams is forced to work at a daycare. in part two, she gets more comfortable with her new job and with you. 2.5k words

omg im so happy a lot of people liked the first one!!! i hope u guys like this one too. i love writing ab ellie and am open to any suggestions you may have!!

part one: https://www.tumblr.com/erooca/724971592933834752/daycare

ever since you met ellie, you started seeing her more around your campus. every once in a while, y’all would go study together or maybe grab a coffee, but she’s never invited you back to her dorm before, at least not until right now.

like the gentleman she is, she held the door open and you walked in, instantly getting hit with the scent of ellie. specifically a nice, light scent of tobacco vanilla, which felt very on point for the freckled girl.

her dorm was small, smaller than yours since she had one to herself, while you shared with roommates. all that was in here was a bed, a desk, a mini fridge, storage, and a door leading to a bathroom.

her back wall was filled with little sketches everywhere. you knew she liked to draw, but you had no idea it meant this much to her. you took in all the drawings, examining them one by one. you see sketches of horses, dinosaurs (no surprise there), sunsets and just a lot of landscapes in general, and you see a few of an older looking man. you assume it’s her father.

ellie is watching you nervously as you examine all her drawings. she was scared as shit that you were finally in her dorm, but she also had a tingling feeling in her heart because you were surrounded completely by her and only her at the moment. she could get used to this.

it had been two weeks since her first day at the daycare. for two whole weeks, her thoughts have been plagued by you. she was loving it. she loved spending a full eight hour shift with you. just to see you, she would even come in five or ten minutes early.

she wasn’t very secretive about her crush on you. she did a lot of things for you. if you went on break earlier than her, she’d pick you up something to eat and would forbid you from paying her back. she would also buy things you had mentioned you needed for the classroom. one time, she even brought you a candy bar since she noticed you weren’t as energetic as your usual self.

even after all these gracious gifts, you were oblivious. it drove ellie insane. she really didn’t want to have to confess it out loud to you. she was really hoping you’d just take the hint and ask her out yourself. ellie has a bit of a hard time with rejection and she can’t imagine pouring out her feelings to you just for you to tell her you didn’t feel the same about her.

“hey.. is this one of king’s drawings?” you said, pointing at a colorful and bright picture. it had two stick figures with a hell of a lot of scribbles.

“oh yeah, he said he drew it for me,” ellie smiled, reliving the memory. king had told her it was a drawing of her and him hanging out together. ellie asked if she could keep the drawing and of course king said yes.

“that’s so sweet,” you smiled brightly. you were so happy ellie already made a strong connection with one of the students. the best part about working with kids is seeing the way you influence them and make them better humans.

ellie nodded.

“so, did ya’ wanna order pizza and watch a movie?” ellie asked.

“that sounds like a perfect way to relax after a week of working.”

you guys settle onto ellie’s bed (since there’s no couch) watching a random movie on netflix waiting for the pizza.

it was a really good night. you wish you could spend every night like this.

the next monday, you were eagerly waiting for ellie to enter the classroom door. you were so excited to see her. you guys had such a great time on saturday, and you couldn’t wait to be in ellie’s presence again.

when the door opened, all the children screamed out ellie’s name, getting up to go give her a hug.

“ellie!! guess what my mom did this weekend!!” a blonde girl named charlie asked.

“i went to the park yesterday ellie!!” pippa told her.

“hey! hey! ellie!” another kid called for attention.

ellie laughed and listened to each of the kids one by one. it warmed your heart so much seeing your students gathered around ellie, telling her stories and giving her hugs. you felt like you could burst from the warmth that spread throughout your body.

when she was finished, she got up and locked eyes with you. she greeted you and that was when you noticed two starbucks cups in her hands. she sheepishly handed one of them out to you.

“ellie, you shouldn’t have done this,” you said, taking the cup from her even though it contradicted your words.

“gotta get a coffee for my favorite coworker,” her lips rose into a half smile.

you brought the drink up to your lips and sipped. you’ve had starbucks countless times, but this one tasted different. it tasted amazing and you know it’s because it was ellie who bought it for her. you thanked her.

the day continued on as usual. while you were outside, you watched as the kids ganged up on ellie to chase her and take her to “jail”. you watched her run, taking the game a little too seriously. it made you think how she’d probably survive a zombie apocalypse, if it ever happened.

she easily got cornered and king tugged her hand, leading her to the fence. some of the other kids did a locking motion, acting as though ellie was chained to the fence.

“don’t get out!!!” one of the boys, william, said.

you made your way over, innocently.

“how’s jail?” you ask.

“oh, ha ha,” she said sarcastically, then her eyes lit up, as if she had a great idea, “hey.. unlock me!” she said, glancing at her hands.

“you do realize you aren’t actually locked in, right?” you ask, laughing.

ellie scoffs. you follow through with her request anyway, motioning an unlocking gesture. then ellie bolted.

“HEY! they let ellie out! get both of them!” one of the kids yelled.

now both of you were running for your lives from a big group of three year olds.

once you guys came inside, you had lunch, and then nap time. when the kids woke up, you opted to do floor toys and just keep them all on the colorful alphabet rug.

you sat with the children, watching them build with the duplo legos. they were each having you look at what they made. you praised them each time, suggesting they add a different colored block or make it taller. soon, you felt a bit tired so you laid down onto the carpet.

this turned out to be a bad idea when half of your students rolled on top of you, leaving you no room to even move. all you could hear was the sounds of your three year olds giggling, as they tortured you.

you called out for help from ellie but was met with the response of laughter coming from her.

wow. your own friend. you thought up your revenge plan quickly, “everyone!!!” you shouted, catching their attentions, “go give ellie a kiss!!”

“what? no- no,” but it was too late. the kids ran up to her, giving her kisses on her arms and hands. a few even gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“payback,” you smirk at her, watching as she’s trying to control the kids now.

“oh you’re evil,” she responds, playfully narrowing her eyes at you.

the rest of the day went by fast, but this time ellie wasn’t leaving when you got down to less kids. maria had asked that you go through all the cleaning duties with her that are required for closing. you agreed, obviously excited to spend even more with her. you decided to wait until all the children were gone to start teaching it. it would allow you to give ellie your full focus.

all the kids were called to leave one by one and soon it was 6:00 and all the kids had went home. it was just ellie and you in the room. you could already feel the intense butterflies moving through you. god, your crush had gotten bad.

ignoring the feeling in your stomach that was so extreme it almost hurt, you showed ellie the closet.

“so we keep the vacuum and broom in here, and all of the cleaning chemicals. there’s bleach water, soapy water, floor spray, and a bathroom cleaner,” you explain to ellie.

you went inside to pull out the vacuum but with a mighty tug, the vacuum wouldn’t come loose. it was stuck in between the children’s mats. you said a naughty word but kept trying.

“here, let me help,” ellie said from outside the closet, stepping inside.

“wait! don’t let the door—“

click

“shut..”

“oh fuck. did i just lock us in here?” ellie asked, wide eyed as soon as she heard the click of the lock.

“uhh.. yeah. you did. it’s alright, i’m sure someone will find us soon,” you said, hopeful.

the closet wasn’t super tight, but it definitely wasn’t spacious. you were a little too close to ellie for comfort. you could already feel your heart racing. someone better find you guys soon, or you might have a heart attack.

“i’m gonna see if maybe i can like.. jam the door open,” you said, trying to switch spots with ellie so you were closer to the door. you couldn’t ignore the way your skin touched hers in an effort to get across.

you started wiggling the handle with all your might, trying to move it up, down, and side to side. it wasn’t budging.

“try moving it like this,” ellie had found her way right behind you. she rested her hand on the door handle where yours was. your pinkies overlapped and ellie started jiggling the handle too.

you looked to your side and noticed she had her other hand resting on the door, for support, to the right of your head. she was basically leaning over you, trapping you within her arms.

“yeah we’re not getting out of this any time soon,” ellie states, letting her hand rest on the door knob.

you finally turned around to face her and it both hit you how close you both had gotten. your back was against the door and she was right in front of you, only maybe a foot away.

ellie felt a dust of pink wash over her cheeks as she realized how close she was to you. she hadn’t meant to position you like this, but she wasn’t complaining.

ellie was keeping her eyes locked with yours and neither of you guys made an attempt to move. you could hear as her breath was moving more rigid.

it was becoming too much for you, and you glanced down, forcing your head to look at the ground. you tried to relax your heart that seemed as though it was clawing out of your chest.

a soft hand rose to the bottom of your chin, and pulled it upwards, forcing you to look back at ellie.

“don’t.” ellie whispered, not taking her eyes off of you.

you don’t think you’ve ever desired someone as much as you desired ellie right now. you were so close to grabbing her face, giving her as many kisses as she deserved, but instead you stood still, frozen under ellie’s dominant position.

ellie took the hand from your chin and moved it to gently tuck a wisp of hair behind your ear, “wanna see your pretty face…” she let her hand rest on her cheek.

your whole face turned a blushy color at her words. how was this girl you met only a few weeks ago making you sink into a puddle?

“ellie..” you breathed out, scanning her face, trying to decipher any thought she might have. from up this close, you could see how irregular her pattern of freckles were. how they were different shades of the same color. you could count them all from this position, and you happily would.

“can i please kiss you?” ellie asked, in almost a puppy dog voice.

you didn’t trust yourself with your voice right now (hell, you’d probably accidentally propose to her), so you gave a sweet nod.

she took a step closer to you, bodies mere inches from colliding, she watched your eyes and glanced to your lips.

“are you sure?” she asked, wanting to confirm that this is genuinely what you wanted. her eyes went back up to yours and she searched them.

instead of answering, you moved forward closing the gap. your soft lips met with her chapped ones. ellie made a noise of surprise at your sudden movement, but easily got comfortable, kissing you back.

she pulled back after a moment, but stayed close to your face.

“holy fuck,” she breathed out, trying to regain any sense of herself she had previously.

before you had a chance to say anything, she reconnected her lips with yours. she placed her hands on your hips, pulling you in closer. you crossed your hands around her neck. you don’t ever think you’ve felt this kind of rush before. all you knew was that you wanted ellie closer. you wanted to be surrounded by her completely. now that you’ve kissed her once, you don’t think you’ll ever be able to stop kissing her.

she slowly started kissing along your jawline, and then trailing her lips down your neck. you giggling at the sensation from the way it tickled your skin.

ellie liked the way your throat felt under her mouth. she continued to leave soft kisses all on you. you could feel your hunger for her grow stronger and stronger.

just then the door swung open, leaving you to fall on the ground, and ellie tumbling over you. you both groaned in pain.

maria stood in front of you two’s lying bodies. she cleared her throat awkwardly. it was obvious she saw what you guys were doing before you fell.

“i’m not gonna talk about what i just saw, but how many times have i told you not to let that door shut??” maria said, only acting angry to wash away the awkward feeling of walking in on her (basically) niece making out with one of her best workers.

“it was my fault, maria. i let the door close,” ellie said, taking the blame. she stood up from the ground, and then held out a hand to you. you gladly took it and she pulled you up.

maria sighed in frustration, “don’t let it happen again, and get this room clean. we lock up in 15 minutes.”

as soon as she leaves the room, you erupt in giggles, thinking of how shocked maria’s face was. ellie joined your laughter, just now realizing how silly the situation had become.

knowing there wasn’t any time left to dilly-dally, you two sped cleaned the room.

you hoped the next couple days would be full of more closet kisses, more of those loving looks ellie had given you today, or even wishful touches throughout the hours.

unknown to your knowledge, ellie was planning on giving you every single one of those for the rest of her life.

#ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie x you #the last of us #tlou x reader #tlou2 ellie #ellie the last of us #tlou fic #tlou part 2 #tlou fanfiction #ellie tlou #tlou 2 ellie #ellie x fem reader

218 notes · View notes

sixosix · 9 months

Text

IT WAS ALL BY DESIGN | KAVEH

tags second chance, angst and fluff, time-skips, DARK HUMOR, lovers to exes to lovers again, profanity

written for art @aanobrain, who i made a bloodpact with saying that if i were to write this they’d write me xiao, so here we are. hope u like it art

a/n wc 4K kaveh lore spoilers but i didn’t follow the canon timeline. kaveh meets al-haitham BEFORE the palace of alcazarzaray. also this has two parts

next part

kaveh first saw you when he was presenting his nth draft proposal to his fellow group members.

it’s stressful, it’s a mess, kaveh is lost, and so, so tired. this group is certainly the worst one he’s had yet, but he’s too far deep to back out now.

tamara sighs deeply, like a tired mother, and kaveh’s temper flares, “i understand your need to express your love for aesthetics, but don’t you think that it’s unwise to sacrifice practicality?”

kaveh’s jaw ticks. “sacrifice? i’ve already explained that i’ve thought of every detail to consider. give me something to work on, actual criticism, without just slandering my ideals.”

tamara enjoys insulting his beliefs because she is nothing like kaveh. or maybe it’s because he is nothing like her.

it always is like this. snobs treat his proposals—bursting at the seams with unique ideas yet never neglecting quality—like a joke, and they never get past getting called drafts. he never gets past calling any of his first proposals a success.

“the outside world wouldn’t be as lenient as we had been to your designs, you know,” another of them says. one of his mentors. “tamara is right. we don’t have to get too detailed. here, listen, what if you just change up the strange curve of this wall? and this pillar you…”

outside world, kaveh thinks bitterly. he had already dealt enough with the outside world, but keeping him cornered against a wall he had been building against them was far worse than that.

yet he can’t say this. he’s said enough already. if tamara’s face were to get any redder, he’d lose the opportunity for the materials collectively funded by these people.

kaveh sighs, defeated. “i know. i’m sorry i snapped. i’ll take in your suggestions. what did you say must be removed first?”

“hold on,” one of his group mates speaks up. anis leans her chair over to another table, tapping the shoulder of someone kaveh is sure he’s never damn seen before. “hey, what do you think?”

you squint at kaveh’s work, unfazed by anis interrupting your studies. kaveh doesn’t want to, but he can’t look away. “i don’t understand some of it, but it’s nice. this building would look beautiful in the jungle.”

anis returns the front of her char’s legs on the floor. “ahh, you think?” she muses, handing the paper over to you. “well, an outside perspective is just as important.”

with a pen in your grip, you point at somewhere kaveh can’t quite see, blocked off by the back of the paper. it’s blocked off your face, too. “could use a bit more ornamental flora. too little over here if you’re going to already add it. life doesn’t just come from bright colors, but other forms of life as well.”

“spoken like a true amurta darshan.”

you huff proudly, lowering the paper and revealing your smile. kaveh stares, and stares.

knowing how to appreciate beauty as he does is a trait he has always admired. he secretly takes your suggestions to heart, planning to pull another all-nighter for a few sketches. this is the beauty of the akademiya; why he never gave up as soon as he was first brought down—he learns so much every day.

his heart races just at the thought of it. it’s been days since he felt this.

kaveh wonders if he’ll see you again and doesn’t get much time to think about it again when he’s pulled back to reality, back to yet another proposal that’s been erased so many times, it looks more like a smudge of ink than something kaveh would proudly call his.

kaveh sees you again in the house of daena hunched over a book with your face pinched, sitting next to someone, and he thinks that might’ve been when he fell in love.

but no, that can’t be right. that’s not how love works. it takes time, courage, long nights, restless mornings—this is just him a few feet away from someone whose words he admired.

this must be more like passing by a picture that caught his interest. this must be more fleeting, more like what he deserves, like how the yolk is shaped perfectly on his breakfast for the first time in weeks, how the weather is perfect for smooth construction without disaster, or how his mother did not at least cry too much in a day.

he had only been trying to pass by and continue annotating the book he promised himself to get back to, which happened to be slotted on the shelf in front of your table. it’s sheer luck. and he might’ve taken advantage of it.

the student next to you is speaking. cyno, kaveh recognizes belatedly. “do you get it? because wave could refer to the motion of your hands, but it could also refer to an ocean’s wave, or what is the result of the wind blowing over the surface of—”

you clutch your head. with your eyes off the books scattered across the desk, kaveh sees this as a sign to turn away, a small smile on his face as he listens to your voice. it’s pleasant, much more than the ones he hears all the time around him. “please, cyno, have some respect for your senior and have mercy on the bags under my eyes.”

“i am,” cyno says sternly. “i am cheering you up. perhaps it’s because you aren’t under-sand-ing my jokes.”

when kaveh risks a glance, you throw a crumbled paper onto cyno, which he catches with unblinking ease.

“don’t make me call tighnari here,” you threaten, holding a pen to his face.

“is he going to give me pun-ishment?”

“cyno…”

kaveh gets his wits about him again and realizes that he had been picking more books than he needed, just in time to hear more of cyno, unfortunately.

“did you not understand? you see, the word punishment has pun in it, which is what i’m—”

“that’s it.” the sound of a chair sliding across the smooth floor echoes in the quiet halls. “you sit there alone. think about your actions; i’m going to get lunch without you.”

kaveh takes a step forward, you do so backward, and you catch each other’s eyes from the synchronized movement.

somehow, meeting your eyes makes his heart jump to his throat. he can’t tell if this is better or worse than when you were just at a different table and he didn’t have the chance to speak with you.

it becomes a moment too long: kaveh gets nervous, spinning around on his heels and pretending to look for more books. this is unlike him. his head aches trying to think about it.

once you leave, kaveh approaches cyno.

“cyno,” kaveh says with a smile.

“kaveh,” cyno acknowledges. “why were you just watching us? was there something wrong?”

kaveh’s blood drains from his face. “was it that obvious? was it?”

cyno nods. “you’re terrible at acting casual.”

kaveh sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ugh—whatever. cyno, hey, listen. that person you were with…”

“y/n?” he tilts his head. “did you need anything?”

“no, no.” kaveh repeats your name in his head, and files it away for later. “do you want to get lunch?” he asks, which he later realizes is an unspoken invitation for a new side of cyno he wishes he didn’t know. the puns hurt his head more than frustrating clients.

kaveh sits by himself in lambad’s tavern, lazily rocking his glass back and forth.

he’s made friends. plenty. but he’s not sure if he can confide in them if he were to go to them in this state.

he thought could consider al-haitham as one, but that blew over on his own face some time ago. it was a mess. kaveh’s not sure which hurt more: when he felt his own spite with how he trembled in spitting al-haitham’s name, or the fact that someone he almost considered a best friend seemed unfazed at all when they both knew that they wouldn’t talk to each other the next day.

al-haitham removed his name from the thesis, and kaveh tore up the copy he had of it. but unlike al-haitham, kaveh couldn’t bear the guilt and pieced them back together.

now they haven’t spoken for a while.

and he sits here, frustrated to the point of near tears.

he’s never felt as lonely as he feels right now, burdened by the stress accumulated from all those years with no one to tell him that he’s doing something right, that he’s going in the right direction. it feels childish, but when he closes his eyes, he can vividly imagine someone patting his shoulder, telling him he’s proud to call him his son, or someone pulling him close, kissing his forehead, telling him that she’d come back for him.

kaveh picks up the glass and takes a long sip.

“are you even allowed to drink?” someone says, too close to him.

kaveh inhales sharply, unfortunately breathing his drink along with it. he chokes on it, and some dribbled past his lips as he turns to the sound of the familiar voice.

you quirk an eyebrow. kaveh wants to gape.

“it’s coffee, and i’m allowed,” kaveh mutters hoarsely, flustered. how long have you been there? were you just watching him?

“but you’re pretending it is alcohol?”

kaveh looks away. he was hoping that no one would notice his dramatics.

“it’s funny,” you tell him. kaveh wasn’t really hoping to appear funny in his sorry state.

you call for lambad and tell him you want your usual. when lambad returns, he hands you a half-full glass of what kaveh could smell as alcohol. maybe he should’ve done the same, but his goal was to feel awake enough to finish his due project, not intoxicated and slurring his words together.

“well?” you turn to him, your cheek against your palm as your arm rests against the counter. “are you gonna act like it and bemoan your regrets?”

students of the akademiya have started to become familiar with the fact that kaveh is a one-of-a-kind genius. names like light of kshahrewar started to circle the halls loud enough for kaveh to hear it from rumors and to his face when they asked to collaborate with him or when they ask for too much of his time.

he was expecting you to do the same. he wouldn’t even blame you if you tried because he wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. yes, yes, i want to.

there is no liquid courage here, just the presence of you and his muddled mind finding it far too comfortable.

“my mother remarried,” he says.

you blink, pausing mid-way through drinking your fill. “oh…?”

“i’m happy for her,” kaveh says, confident, firm.

“here’s to that.” you clink your glass against his.

you weren’t taking it as a happy statement. he doesn’t want sympathy, but he knows that whatever you’re thinking is the irrefutable truth. perhaps you were mourning with him because he, too, knows that there’s nothing content about him when he has to reassure himself out loud.

kaveh wants to ask so many questions. he wants to pull out the stacks of papers shoved in his briefcase, ask you what you think of it, listen to you tell him that you understand its beauty, but it’d be more beautiful if he weren’t so afraid and confined in someone else’s ideals. he needs to hear you say it because he knows you’d say the exact same thing as he wants.

instead, he sits quietly, watching you from the corner of his eyes, entranced.

and kaveh—he’s longing. or maybe he’s just starting to feel loneliness.

“so, what happened between you and al-haitham’s group project?” you ask, wearing a smile that spells out you know exactly what you’re getting into.

“oh, don’t even get me started,” kaveh groans.

the night ends with his heart a little lighter than it was before. (this is still fleeting, right?)

it seems like after that, you’re just everywhere and always by his side. kaveh loves it. especially when he’s too caught up with the world and needs someone to distract him enough to remember that the world is splendid.

despite his desperate attempt at drowning himself in coffee in hopes of being able to remodel at least three rejected drafts, he doesn’t get anything done at all.

he knows that giving in and offering to help out everyone who asks him for it isn’t healthy. he knows it, and he sees the effects on his face, the paleness of his skin, and the mess of his hair.

when kaveh stares his paper down, he can almost see himself on it. not a reflection, but a shadow. it looks like a bird’s nest. he might as well get feathers to go with his hair and complete the look.

someone taps his shoulder, and kaveh somehow doesn’t feel like reacting accordingly. “kaveh, is that you? are you kaveh?” the stranger asks, all in one breath.

it takes him a few seconds. breathing in and out deeply. he turns around, hopes the eyebags on his face aren’t as heavy as they feel, and smiles.

“yes?”

“ah!” he recognizes the student. a few years younger than him. he can’t quite come up with a name right now. “thank goodness. they told me that you could help me with this, i knew you wouldn’t disappoint.”

“oh,” kaveh says, quiet.

if any of his friends were here, they’d glare him down, tell him that he’s going to bleed himself dry if he even thinks about saying anything aside from no. but they aren’t, and kaveh’s heart is bleeding out instead.

“what is it?”

“kaveh!”

you come stumbling in between him and the younger student, whose eyes bulge out of his eyes. he seems to be shaking, if kaveh were to look any closer.

without warning, you throw an arm over kaveh’s shoulder, leaning down to press your chest against his shoulder blade. kaveh’s breath hitches.

you tilt your head to appraise the cowering junior. “oh,” you say, as if not realizing he had been there all along. “daneh. did you need anything?”

“no. no, no, i don’t,” daneh splutters. “i’ll take my leave, i think— i think i should— please excuse me.”

while daneh runs off, kaveh tries to recall his breakfast and the procedure he did in his head to calm down and give himself the boldness to meet your eyes. what is happening to him?

dried fish fillet pan-fried until crispy, served in creamy, white sauce, sprinkled with mint—

“kaveh,” you say. your voice is too close to his ears, which he is sure is turning red.

—kaveh, kaveh, kaveh.

“y/n,” kaveh says, defeated, the grip on his quill faltering. “what was that about?”

he thinks he can feel a grin, and he badly wants to see what it would look like on your face. “i don’t remember telling you my name.”

curiosity wins. kaveh can’t help but smile along with you when he sees it. “you did it on purpose?” then, “cyno told me.”

“you asked around about me?”

“yes, i did,” he says, almost petulantly.

the way your mouth tips to one side more makes your beam come off more smug. “is that so?” you say, and kaveh feels like he’s bared himself to the world. “what’s this?”

kaveh follows where you’re pointing. it’s a mindless sketch he was practicing with; he doesn’t remember drawing half of it. “i was… oh, i don’t know, i just needed a break.”

“this is what you do on your break?” your fingers hover over the page as you trace the curved columns and drooping roof. “green. they look like leaves,” you tell him quietly.

kaveh’s smile turns softer at your sincere awe. “i know.” he wonders what’s going on in your head, then wonders if he’s worth knowing. “what do you think’s missing?”

“i’m no architect, but it could use a bit more of a… splash, you know? color. maybe some—”

“ornamental flora?” kaveh finishes for you. “you’re right. there’s no need to worry about this, though. i must have been on autopilot creating this.”

“straight to the bin it goes? what a shame. it’s stunning.” there’s a seat right there, yet you insist on being pressed against him, bent over, still too close to his ear. you talk about beauty, and kaveh asks himself if you’ve looked at yourself. “i suppose i don’t understand how geniuses work. you are one of a kind, light of kshahrewar.”

then he is suddenly so aware of your hand having trailed upwards, resting on his nape. as you move, your skin rubs absentmindedly on where the hair fades. he shivers.

he hates that title. he feels like he doesn’t deserve any praise he receives at all. yet when you say it—

“you blush a lot,” you point out. kaveh wants to dig a hole and lay there forever. “it’s cute. your expressiveness is charming.”

“don’t—just say that.” his face is so, so red.

al-haitham finds him alone at the same table that night, unable to focus on anything but his racing thoughts. something is wrong with him, he’s sure. he’ll have to pay tighnari a visit and retrace if he’d picked the wrong mushroom.

al-haitham—and kaveh doesn’t know how he’s managed to figure it out so easily—makes a face that would be the closest thing to a smile. “i like y/n,” al-haitham says, out of the blue.

“what,” kaveh says flatly, coiled up like a cat prepared to pounce.

“smart enough to pull you back down and smart enough to make you listen.”

“it’s—” kaveh wants to say it’s not like that, but he goes silent thinking about it. “fuck off. you wouldn’t get it.”

al-haitham tilts his head to the side. “you’re the one not ‘getting it’.”

thankfully, al-haitham leaves him be. they are still on awkward terms, after all.

“oh,” kaveh says intelligently one morning. oh, no.

tighnari’s ear twitches. “the star of the show is here, finally.”

“everyone,” kaveh starts solemnly as the door slams shut behind him. the wind blows, and kaveh’s hair flutters, looking like he came straight out of those films.

“how has dealing with your recent client been looking?” tighnari asks with a smile. cyno and al-haitham nod because they probably didn’t think of even asking that. it’s why tighnari is kaveh’s favorite.

but he is not here to talk about that.

kaveh slams his briefcase on the table, rattling their glasses. “i’m going to confess.”

al-haitham makes a face. “who are we confessing to?”

“not we, al-haitham. stay out of this,” kaveh says. al-haitham’s expression doesn’t change. “i’m going to confess, and it’s going to be so romantic. no one can say no.”

“i would say no.”

kaveh glares, snatching his glass. “al-haitham, just be quiet. the adults are talking. this isn’t about you.”

“you invited us out here,” al-haitham points out.

cyno tilts his head. “to y/n, right?”

“about time,” tighnari sighs.

“yes, to y/n. and what do you mean about—” kaveh huffs, getting red in the face, flustered. “hey, aren’t you guys going to stop me? tell me this is a bad idea and that i’m going to ruin this meaningful friendship i have with y/n?”

“everyone wants you to confess already,” al-haitham says, as if kaveh is stupid for not realizing that. maybe he is.

cyno hums thoughtfully. “if i stop you, i think y/n will murder me with bare hands.”

“oh,” kaveh says, pleased. whatever that means. “alright, then, thank you.” he downs the glass of water—it was al-haitham’s, most likely, judging by the incensed expression on his face—and grabs his briefcase again.

“where are you going— kaveh, hey, where do you think you’re—” tighnari smacks his hand on the table, yelling after kaveh, who’s already by the door.

kaveh’s confession is messy, quick, and probably not as romantic as he had hoped, stumbling over his words and feeling as brave as an infatuated schoolgirl.

“pinning me against the shelf like this is quite the move, kaveh,” you say, and kaveh snaps back to reality. “why are we hiding?”

“sorry,” he splutters, backing off a bit but not enough to have you far from touching him. “i don’t want—someone could see us.”

“now, why are you afraid of that?” you grin, sly enough to make kaveh comprehend that you know exactly what he’s called you over here for. you do the—the thing again, where you trace shapes on his nape, and he shivers helplessly.

“i like you too much,” kaveh says, his face too red to be passed off as sunburnt.

suddenly, all the confidence he thought he had when he left the tavern dissipated. “you know what i mean. can you—no, will you… ugh, i’m not doing it right—”

you meet his gaze, and you don’t look away, the long silence starting to grow distressing for kaveh.

“kaveh,” you say softly, and that’s when kaveh’s expression crumbles. it could be because of how you said it, carving his name with your mouth so tenderly, but really, it’s because he feels like you wouldn’t look at him the same way ever again.

“yes.”

…wait.

you cup his cheek, pulling him closer to you by his hips. “yes, yes.”

“wait,” kaveh says, “really?”

you bristle, tilting your head down. are you embarrassed? kaveh feels a thrill run down his spine. “yes. about time—we finally did something about the unbearable tension between us. so, if you’re willing to have me…”

“yes, yes,” kaveh says, to all of that. “god, yes.”

embarrassed, you bury your face on his shoulder. kaveh can’t hide how fast his heart is beating when you’re directly on top of it. when you’re in it. “but listen, kaveh, i don’t know if i can stay here in sumeru forever. and i know it will be hard. so if you aren’t—”

kaveh is too happy to think too hard about that.

“no,” kaveh says, “no, i still want to try. please, let’s try.”

“okay,” you breathe, smiling brightly. “kiss me already, will you?”

kaveh prays and prays and thanks their archon that this isn’t fleeting. don’t let it be, not when he has you, and he has already found out your lips meld perfectly with his.

lord sangemah bay commissions him.

in the first few minutes after dori told him that she could care less about what he wanted to do with the place, kaveh didn’t know what to do with himself. he wanted to do everything, but when all of it comes rushing at once, he’s frozen in place instead.

he takes a step in the direction of the house of daena, then another, and another, until he’s sprinting and his heart is racing enough to have a smile crack across his face.

he spends the night in there. he feels crazy; other students can sense madness in his eyes. they all leave him be, as if they know that once they ask, kaveh will never stop talking.

kaveh feels his wrist sore, but he can’t stop. he wouldn’t be able to if he even tried, not when he thinks of a sinking leaf for a roof, windows shaped like petals, and your words—

kaveh pauses, glancing at the clock that has definitely been spinning faster than he remembered.

it’s sunrise. he gets back to work.

“you’re grinning ear-to-ear,” you say, poking kaveh’s cheek. “you’re not telling me something.”

kaveh isn’t. but only on purpose. he takes your hand and uses it to kiss the back of your palm as he blinks up at you, the embodiment of innocence. “what are you talking about? i told you about it. dori commissioned me, and she said that i’ll be in charge of the approval of the design and the construction process…”

while kaveh explains all this, gesturing wildly with his hands, he trails off when realizing you had just been staring at him fondly. his heart skips a beat or two.

“why—why are you just staring like that?”

“it’s hard not to.”

he kisses you square on the mouth, the blueprint of the palace of alcazarzaray hidden beneath his palms, and he thinks he’s never been happier.

(and under the same stars, the withering slithers in, and everything crashes down faster than kaveh could even say please, no.)

a/n art if you’re reading this i didn’t tell you but this is actually a second chance fic cus i remember you saying it’s one of your favorite tropes 🤧 but anyway ty for reading!

#606:GENSHIN #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you

237 notes · View notes

drewadoodle · 3 months

Text

Hello, I'm selling off my paintings. I've got a ton that I need to get rid of, but these rose to the top as art I felt could probably be hung on a wall if you wanted.

Why are you getting rid of them?: I don't like to keep more than one drawer full of work, I typically have a nice little bonfire once in awhile. These are really nice though and I'd like to give people a chance to pick these up.

Why aren't you just mailing them for shipping only?: I did put a bit of work into them and though they're destined to leave my hands one way or another, it comes down to the fact that I am disabled, don't have a job, and would like to afford to buy something nice for myself or my girlfriend or family.

Prices are based off material costs and time spent. Photos here are to provide context for the candid color of the art. I often do a little color correct/contrast when scanning before I post; posts will be linked on the entry to provide further context on details.

Shipping is not included in the prices. Within the United States shipping is $10, and international is $35 with the shipping restrictions to specific countries found here.

Painting sizes are 12inches x 9inches. Materials are ink, watercolor, and a little acrylic.

Mitsuki (Ikemen Vampire) - $50usd

William Shakespeare (Ikemen Vampire) - $50usd

Napoleon Bonaparte (Ikemen Vampire) - $50usd

Arthur Conan Doyle (Ikemen Vampire) - $50usd

taken

Mai (Ikemen Sengoku) - $50usd

Clavis Lelouch (Ikemen Prince) - $40usd

taken

Keith Howell (Ikemen Prince) - $50usd

Gin Ichimaru (Bleach) - $50usd

The sketch is dual sided.

Ukitake Juishiro (Bleach) - $50usd

This is for the painting originals, NOT prints!!! It will come WITH the working sketches pictured, which I feel add a certain extra charm to the work. Shipping tracking will be provided.

If you are interested in a different painting not pictured below, please let me know so I can provide the details! Interested parties can DM or ask or reply here.

I reserve the right to refuse a sale, yadda yadda.

#ikemen fanart #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #bleach #keith howell #clavis lelouch #napoleon bonaparte #arthur conan doyle #william shakespeare #jushiro ukitake #gin ichimaru

81 notes · View notes

sstarlessstay · 1 year

Text

braiding huynjin's hair

can i do something cute? you asked, caressing hyunjin‘s face gently. he opened his eyes and looked at you. he was lying on your lap while you two listened to music in his room. it was such a magical moment as windows of his room were accepting the sunshine and causing different colors appear on the walls. it was so bright and safe.

what is it? he asked curiously, looking at you from below.

i cant tell you yet, but you will need to stand up. you chuckled caressing his hair.

suspicious, but i will agree. he smiled but a few moments later he sat on the side of the bed against the sun, so that it won't blind you and him.

not at all suspicious. you said watching him get comfy. he buttoned his shirt, not fully but just covering his chest.

can i move? hyunjin looked at the mirror and saw your reflection. he chuckled.

not at any circumstances. you giggled and placed your hands on his shoulders. he laughed and leaned to get his sketch book.

the power you hold over me is complete. be gentle, please. he gave you a quick peck on lips and chuckled opening his sketchbook.

you grinned and gently ruffled his white hair. it was soft yet a little damaged it was nice to use your fingers to comb it. you slowly and gently braided his hair into two messy braids on the left side and on the right side, fixing both on the back of his head. after finishing you run your hands over his warm shoulders and leaned to grab the mirror. all that time, huynjin was busily sketching something.

and how do i look? he asked before looking in the mirror.

like a chalk prince. you said looking at him with a warm smile on your face, he looked so etheral and bright.

a chalk prince? hyunjin frowned.

yes, a character from a game that i play with felix. you smiled and he looked at his reflection. smile started to glow on his face as he looked in the mirror and tapped his braids gently.

do you like it? you asked.

yes, it is pretty. he smiled closing his eyes. come here

hyunjin locked you in his embrace but it simply made both of you fall on bed. he was looking at you from the top and smiling, studying your eyes and lips. sunbeams slightly played on his face and made him look so unreal, as if someone from the fairy tale.

i love you so much. he whispered and you ran your hand over his shirt up to the neck to pull him closer. with short giggle you felt his lips gently kissing yours.

#stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagine #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin fluff #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n

578 notes · View notes

anamelessfool · 8 days

Text

1975

WIP Chapter from my Secondo fic "Crossroads" that's being developed alongside my current major Primo-centered work. Yes, smut is nice but more and more I'm fascinated by the brothers' relationship. I had these little doodles and I was like let's spend thirty minutes coloring them and then throwing a photo manip of a photo I took of the Ministry as the background.

Jun-19-75 11:35 AM Courtyard Cumulus clouds, med cover curled wisps. Winds southeastern location. Approx. 18C, up since AM. Rain predicted evening.

Secondo began his sketch of the cloud shape and chose to ignore the rustling in the tree behind him. Some small body was struggling to climb up the side of the ornamental pear tree, perhaps to spy on his work.

“What are you doing?” Terzo’s voice came from the tree. A not unusual occurrence. Neither was his persistent desire to get immediately in Secondo's business.

Secondo’s obvious posturing to ignore him was futile. Terzo repeated the question two more times, the leaves trembling as he adjusted his weight on a branch. Secondo frowned deeply and finally relented, looking up at the small curled-up form and twinkling raccoon eyes of his younger brother.

“You’re going to break your arm.”

Terzo squinted at the sky, kicking his legs. “What are you doing?”

“Recording clouds. I need to keep records of clouds six times a day for a year and a day. And then Sister will train me.”

“Do you even know what the clouds mean?”

“No, but I will. In time.”

Terzo swung his body backwards, his legs hooked on the branch so he could hang upside down. He squinted at Secondo. “That’s fucking boring.”

“What are you even doing up there?”

Terzo decided to continue talking to his brother upside down, perhaps to annoy him further. It was working. His voice was wistful. “There's a bird building a nest on the roof. I'm trying to figure out how to get up there.” Terzo grinned. “Maybe it's a falcon. Then I could take a chick and train it and be a falconer. That's how they do it.”

“Terzo. Come down. You'll break your arm.” Primo appeared from under the stone arcade, the ghoul Edelweiss slinking behind him.

Primo had rejoined the Ministry only three years prior, and already he was in Sister’s inner circle. His arrival started a change in his younger half-brothers’ behavior. Primo was tall, athletic and confident. People enjoyed being around him. He had big responsibilities and beautiful companions. He was an adult.

The two younger brothers may not have realized it, but his presence gave them a goal to work towards. Secondo immediately pulled his shoulders back, gave Primo a hopefully impassive look and returned to his journaling.

“Nice weather, yeah?” Primo chanced a grin. Primo was fine…when he wasn't telling Secondo what to do.

There was a creak, a snap, and Terzo stared wide-eyed at them both midair for a moment before he fell to the ground in a sickening thump. He immediately began to whine, then scream. Secondo stared at him, snorting. He closed his journal with a snap. Served him right.

“Criminy, Terzo,” huffed Primo as he walked towards the writhing boy in the grass. He knelt down and gently touched his shoulder, ran his fingers down his arm. Terzo screamed again, his face a blubbering mess. “Perfect timing. What did I tell you, hm?” He glanced over to his ghoul, throwing a few rapid hand signs towards him. Edelweiss Ghoul hurried back to the arcade and through the doors.

“Alright, Terzo, let's get you up hold on—” Primo soothed through the screams and wails. The small boy fit easily in his arms and Primo turned towards Secondo, his face fixed with an amused half-smile. “Help me to the doors?”

“Where you taking him?”

“The Sanctum. Broke his arm, can you believe it?”

All at once Secondo felt the urgent need to assist. A rare, rushing thrill rose across his body as he held the doors for Primo, ignored his younger brother’s shouts of pain. The Sanctum. That meant…

Sister Imperator, the Dark Mother, was waiting there for them at the grand doors, Edelweiss Ghoul behind her. Her head was perched atop her customary tunic of swirling polyester colors, a viper among the flowers.

He wanted to say something, wanted to share with her what he had been working on but he knew his dopey eagerness to please would be ignored. But that was the weird unexplainable thrill of it all, anyway.

Sister knew things were running perfectly, just as she knew water flowed underground below her feet. Her indifference towards him was perfection. Was a sign of a job well done. So Secondo swallowed the lump in his throat and repeated a mantra to calm the hammering of his heart.

Terzo’s cries took on more of a theatrical whine as Primo transferred him into the arms of the Ghoul. “It'll be done in a second!” Primo reassured him over his sobs. Secondo didn't want to be here. Didn't want to be associated with the two of them while Sister was near, looking bored already with the childish blubbering.

Sister gripped Terzo’s chin to silence his sobs. Terzo froze, blinking furiously in the ghoul’s arms. “Hush,” she hissed, then gestured to Primo to draw near. Primo lifted his brother’s head, gently wrapping a black silk blindfold over his eyes. “You take this off, you die. Do you understand, child?”

Terzo’s heavy sobs could not be suppressed for long. Sister’s red nails dug deeper into the boy’s chin. “Words. Now.”

“I…I understand,” Terzo whimpered.

“Good.”

With a friendly nod, Edelweiss Ghoul carried the boy into the Sanctum, Sister locking the doors behind them. The heavy slam echoed in the stone hallway. And so they waited for the ritual to be done.

Secondo steeled himself as Primo started to shift uncomfortably on his feet, tossing his head as if already in a conversation. His brother was a man who could not leave a single moment of air empty. It was as if silence was something he could drown in.

His mercurial expressions and small eager eyes seemed too close to their father Nihil’s mannerisms for Secondo to ever take him seriously.

“Listen will you just be nice to him? For once?” Primo ejected an exasperated huff of air that ruffled Secondo’s hair but not much else. “He's your brother.”

“He never learns.”

“Because nobody ever—” Primo grumbled under his breath, searching for what to say next. “When I was growing up I wanted a brother so badly…” His confession was met with stony silence. “He's got nobody, Secondo. And I can't be there for him like you can.”

“What does that even mean?” To Secondo it meant that Primo was passing a buck. Saddling him with caring for a person who barely cared for himself. Who was too stupid to assess even the most basic of dangers. Secondo was rising, ever rising from the efforts of his own sweat and will. Terzo’s foolishness would just hold him back.

“He's the loneliest person I've ever met,” Primo confessed. “And he's only nine. Don't you find that…sad?”

Secondo refused to budge. All his life he chose his words, his actions carefully. And that urge for correctness was a deafening roar in him at fourteen. Sidestepping the question was the best course of action. Questions were just traps, after all.

“I need to be left alone.”

Primo opened his mouth, but then thought otherwise. He made a show of shaking his head, crossing his arms. Secondo observed Primo’s eyebrows furrow and shift, choosing to continue his brotherly rant inside his own mind.

Victory.

Short lived. “So, uh…what are you going to do for your summer vacation?” Primo attempted a different route at a bond. “My friends and I would pack a canoe with old tarps and our fishing rods and beer and—”

The heavy door unbolted and opened once more. Sister emerged, breath trailing out of her mouth in unusual wisps. Terzo followed wide-eyed and stunned, gripping Edelweiss Ghoul by the hand. He was released with a soft pat on his head.

“Secondo,” said Sister with a small nod.

Secondo straightened up to full height immediately. Terzo ambled over to stand beside him, clutching his newly healed arm.

“Don't let him put weight on it for a few days,” Sister ordered Primo, then cast the full intensity of her stare directly into Terzo’s eyes. Her subject properly cowed, she turned on her heel towards the direction of her office and was gone.

Sister had spent a fraction of a second regarding Secondo but that single glance would be in his thoughts for some time after.

“We can go? No one is going to be climbing trees once we turn our backs?” Primo tousled Terzo’s hair, exchanging smiles. “And Secondo—” Primo shrugged at Secondo directly, gesturing subtly towards the youngest with a rough hand. Remember.

The ghoul Edelweiss threw out some quick hand gestures, winking. “Haha, right, exactly,” chuckled Primo and then they too left the kids alone in front of the Sanctum doors.

Terzo continued to shiver in place in the center of the hallway, his eyes darting to Secondo. Secondo was lost now staring into the elaborate archway carvings of the Sanctum doors. Masks of ghouls nested amongst delicately carved cinquefoil. Thorned branches encircling howling wolves. Hands pierced and bloodied, pointing to the sky, pointing to the earth. The archway always mystified him and he often took time to examine it whenever he walked past.

And beyond those doors? The Altarpiece, the knobs tied shut with red silken cords. In his mind’s eye he imagined Sister’s clawed hands slip the knot loose, tease the door to Hell open. Reaching into the infinite, pulling out strands of arcane energy. She had seemingly unlimited power at her carefully manicured fingertips. Her hands laid upon Terzo’s body and soothed torn muscles, knitted bone. A healing touch that could also kill in an instant.

“What was it like?” Secondo spat out the question in an attempt to disguise his true enthusiasm. Terzo blinked stupidly at him, taken aback by the sudden show of interest.

“Hm?”

“When the Altarpiece opened.”

Terzo shook his head. “Howling…voices but not really voices. A cold wind that wasn't cold. Like…when your foot falls asleep. Yeah. That's what it's dreaming about, yanno.”

“You felt it?”

“Felt what?”

“The Void.” Secondo had forgotten his aloof act as he stared wide-eyed, waiting for a scrap of anything.

Terzo's tear-stained face stretched into a grin. “You want to know so badly, doncha. You're dying to know.”

Secondo felt that rushing sensation of blood in his ears. No one taught him but one day he'd know it was the feeling of shame, of getting caught in a moment of vulnerability.

Terzo’s toothy maw widened and he wiggled his fingers into Secondo’s face. “Break your arm and find out,” he laughed.

My Fic List | My AO3

#papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus iii #ghost band fic #domestic fic #my art

47 notes · View notes

captain-mj · 10 months

Text

Vampire Part 4

The plot thickens and Ghost takes off his mask

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Soap had a hard time sleeping after getting all of his housework done. All he could think about was Alejandro’s offer and the way the two men looked intertwined. He thought of what it might be like to be between them. Threesomes had never been high on his fantasy list, usually it was bumped down by the numerous fantasies about vampires. Being bitten, biting, being picked up, being fucked in front of a mirror. Blasphemy and heresy in equal measures.

But a threesome just climbed higher on his list. His little crush on Ghost also just got a lot worse. He had never seen Ghost’s mouth not soaked in blood before. His lips were so red. His fangs poked into his bottom lip and he was so pale. More than that though, his throat had recent bite marks. Meaning Alejandro or someone else bit him often.

Soap’s heart fluttered in his chest and he ended up sitting up, needing to do something with his hands. He grabbed one of his sketchbooks and started to draw Ghost again. This time, he managed to get more of his face. Connecting it with the eyes he knew so well, he tried to piece him together.

He put music in and made sure his alarm was set. He tried his best to sleep most days but sometimes his circadian rhythm just wouldn’t let him. Between that and the adrenaline from earlier, he knew it was likely a losing battle.

Soap drew those fangs dripping in blood, his to be specific but you couldn’t tell from the sketch, and then tried to figure out what Ghost’s nose looked like.

Turns out even adrenaline wears off because he woke up to his alarm while drooling all over the sketch. He sat up slowly and his neck cracked.

“Fucking hell.” Soap stretched and wandered up around the house. He checked that there was a party nearby that the vampires could snatch people from before going up to his Ghost. In the morning, he’d go to the pack house to meet up with Farah, but for now, he’d hang out with Ghost. Like every night.

Soap smiled. When he became a familiar, he didn’t realize he would be a paid friend.

The door was locked.

The door was never locked.

“Ghost?”

“Go away.” Ghost sounded strained, like he was in pain.

Soap panicked. “Sir, are you okay? Is something wrong?”

Ghost didn’t respond.

“Sir, please.”

“Johnny.” Ghost said coldly and sternly. “I am fine. Just… come back later, please.”

Soap sighed. “Okay…” This was the second night this week that Ghost didn’t spend with him. It was selfish of him. But Soap was getting worried that Ghost had gotten… bored with him. He was immortal but he had long learned that didn’t mean much. They grew tired and bored of things quickly if they weren’t just right to catch their fancy.

In the room, Ghost felt like he was dying. His body ached all over. His ears kept ringing. His mouth had been stuffed full of cotton. Ghost hadn’t needed to breath in so long but he needed to right now.

The ski mask Soap had given him was ripped to shreds on the floor as Ghost gulped for air, but it just… wouldn’t go into his lungs. Nothing he did gave him relief from the suffocating feeling.

Something seared in his chest and there was a sharp pain growing.

Bloody tears ran down his face until his vision was red.

It didn’t stop until midnight and Ghost reluctantly knew when it was. His birthday. Technically, the day he turned but he didn’t know what his actual birthday was anymore. These days were always awful but never this bad. Usually there was just an uncomfortable feeling so he had no clue why his body decided to remind him what pain was.

He slowly ran his hands through his hair, feeling… something.

No.

NO.

His denial could only do so much though. His ears were pointed. And from the way it felt, rather long. Even if his mask wasn’t destroyed, there was no way it would cover them. Ghost looked at his nails, noticing they were longer and sharper, as well as a nice obsidian color. He’d be glad he no longer had to paint his nails if not for the growing hate in his soul.

Sometimes, when he was selfish or lonely or sad, he’d pretend he was human. Just… for a bit. It was easy if he didn’t look in mirrors or run his tongue over his teeth.

But the hands in front of him were not human. The way the hair tickled the tips of his ears was not human. Even his fangs fit differently in his mouth.

Ghost scratched at the flesh on his wrists, watching the darkened blood cover his nails. He felt sick. He’d need to eat soon. Soap had gotten him used to nightly feedings but… he couldn’t stomach going outside.

Rudy, the fucking psychic Ghost swore, knocked. “Simon, are you pouting about your lover again?”

Ghost tensed. “Don’t come in.” Mist was already pouring through the door as Rudy appeared in front of him. His face fell.

“Simon. It’s nice to see you again.”

Ghost looked away. “I can’t let Soap see me like this. Please don’t let him see me like this.”

Rudy sighed and knelt in front of him. “He’s into vampires you know. I don’t think he’d care if you look a little less human.”

“I don’t want to be less human. I feel like I’m pretty inhuman as it is.” Ghost let Rudy take his wrists. “New nails.”

Rudy hissed and shook his head. “You’re not healing thanks to the little transformation you decided to have. Used everything you got.”

Ghost didn’t like the implication that it was on purpose but he let it slide. “I’m not going out there. I don’t have my mask. And Soa-”

Rudy covered Ghost’s mouth to quiet him. “I know. I get it. Look, I just came back okay? You can have a nibble off me and then we’ll figure it out.”

Ghost relaxed and mumbled.

“What was that?” He mumbled again.

“Simon.”

“I said thank you… Also stop calling you that.”

“Would you prefer batling?”

“Nevermind.” Ghost pulled Rudy in his lap easily and nosed at his throat. He took a deep breath. All vampires smelled a little too sweet and Rudy was no exception, but he could also smell fresh running blood under his skin. He sank his teeth into Rudy, feeling him tangle his fingers in his hair. His eyes closed as he drank, holding his body even closer.

A simple tap on his shoulder and he pulled away, swallowing. Rudy leaned in and kissed him before licking the blood off his lips. “Not as good the second time around.”

Ghost nodded and kissed him back, feeling slightly less terrible. “How can I hide this?”

“You could just… not hide it? There’s no reason too.”

Ghost didn’t understand what Rudy meant. He was covered in scarring. He looked like the dead.

“You’re handsome.” Rudy smiled. “Even if you look a little older now.”

Ghost cupped Rudy’s face, examining him. He was perfect. Everything a vampire should be. A perfect predator.

Ghost was that when his mask was on. When no one could see.

Rudy pulled away and lightly kissed his cheek. “Do you need anything, handsome?”

Ghost laughed softly and smiled, his new fangs biting into his lip a little. “I’m fine.”

Rudy paused and softened a little. “You have a nice smile. You really should let people see it more. I know Soap would love it.” He teased but it was good natured. Gentle. Like he knew just how fragile Ghost was in this moment. His hand ran through Ghost’s hair. It was long and went to his shoulders, a nice soft ginger.

“Thinking of bleaching it.”

“Why?”

“It’s going to have to be seen more. I don’t know. Just think it might be smart.”

Rudy patted his head. “I’m liking the implications. Think you’d make a cute blond.”

Ghost was glad he was not well fed enough to blush. Rudy would tease him “Just… give me a little time.”

“Not too much though, you understand?” Rudy glared. “I don’t want you to get lost in your own head again. Does no good for anyone.” He did leave him alone though.

Interviewer: So why did you come back?

Price: Well, I know Simon’s birthday of course! This is the year when he goes through some changes. You’d think this stuff is gradual since we live forever but our bodies change fast, just spread out.

Interviewer: Interesting. Like phases?

Price: Precisely. First year, a vampire is a fledgling. They require a lot of care in those states. Especially if they were like him and unhappy about the change. You have to keep them fed, keep them from going into the sun, teach them what they need to survive. Then, when you reach a century, some vampires get gifts. Turn into a cat, turn invisible, stuff like that. Extra things that don’t always come with the package. And today. His 800th birthday. When your ears come in. He’ll finally be a grown up.

Interviewer: Did you warn him?

Price: I was going to but it seems I was a tad late. Didn’t want to interrupt him.

Interviewer: Right… Well, what was Ghost like as a fledgeling?

Price: This interview is over.

Soap was on the other side of the house, stressing about this decision. He finally decided yes, he did want to take Alejandro’s deal. So he found him.

Alejandro was lounging on the couch, clearly waiting for something. Soap was pretty sure it was Rudy.

“Alejandro, sir.”

“Yes?” He sounded mildly irritated to be interrupted in his lounging but he sat up anyway.

Soap sat next to him. “I… Your deal.”

Alejandro looked intrigued. “Yeah. The deal. You keep quiet and if you want, I show you what Ghost kisses like.”

“I want to know.” Soap said softly. Despite everything else he had done, sleep with Rudy, get felt up by Alejandro, watch Alejandro and Ghost do… things, for some reason, this made him nervous. It was just kissing.

Alejandro touched his face carefully and had him face him. He held him so tight Soap could barely move. Soap parted his lips to speak and Alejandro leaned in, kissing him softly. His eyes stayed open and so did Soap’s. It felt too intimate. Too much. Soap quickly closed his eyes. The kiss was… gentle. Not really what Soap had been expecting. He couldn’t lean into it thanks to the hands stopping him.

Alejandro pulled away too soon. “I’m rooting for you, little buddy. I think you two could be good for each other.” He smiled.

Soap was out of breath and flustered. “Thank you…”

Alejandro shook his head. “You’re cute. It’s endearing.” He stood up. “Rudy and Ghost seem to be busy. I’m bored.”

Soap hummed. “I had a party invite? It was so you guys could grab something but you could go there?”

Alejandro nodded. “Thanks Soap. Bat.” He turned into a bat and flitted off before Soap could respond.

Soap checked the time and since it was only a little bit after midnight but no one needed him, he caught up on the sleep he missed. It felt weird, but he decided that was better than trying to find out what Ghost and Rudy were doing together.

Gaz woke him up at 5:30 sharp. “You still going to the pack house?”

“Your boyfriend tell you?”

“Yes. I’m going to tell them I had you run errands for me so they don’t want to know where you’ve gone.”

Soap stretched and caught Gaz up on what little he knew about Ghost refusing to let him in or leave his room. Gaz looked a bit concerned. “I’ll talk to him. He has a soft spot for me.”

Soap knew that to be true. He had seen Ghost pick Gaz’s sides in house arguments he wasn’t even involved in and terrorize half of Gaz’s boyfriends. They acted more like siblings than roommates half the time. Made sense Gaz had Price as his adopted Dad. “Thanks, Gaz. I just… worry, ya know?”

Gaz was clearly trying not to make a face. “Sorry, your worry is just really sour and bitter. Trying not to breath too much.”

Soap laughed and got up. “Let me figure out what these werewolves want, yeah?” He fist bumped him and followed the directions to their house.

It was nice. A little smaller but with an actual car and a giant backyard. Three dogs were running about in it.

Soap knocked and all three dogs stood up.

Oh. Not dogs. Definitely not dogs.

They walked on their hindlegs over to him and he tried to not let the intense feeling of uncanny valley and nausea distract him.

Now that they were closer he could see their size and could pick out Alex. Alex waited until his front paws were on the fence to shift back. It meant Soap wouldn’t see him naked. Well… His lower half at least.

“Hey there!” Alex smiled. “Glad you could come.”

The other two werewolves grabbed blankets to wrap around themselves before joining. One was an older lady with blond hair and the other was Farah.

Farah rushed forward, careful to keep the blanket around here. “You’re early!” She smiled. “So here’s the deal. I need your help rescuing someone from a vampire. Once it’s sunrise, we’re going to sneak in and steal her.”

“And you need me why?”

“In case the vampire shows up of course! You’re The Ghost’s familiar. None of them are going to touch you.”

Soap hummed. He supposed there was a sliver of truth to that. But anyone who knew Ghost well enough, knew that Soap was not something he’d kill for. He liked the vote of confidence though. “Alright. I’ll come with you.”

Farah smiled. “Thank you so much. This really means a lot to me.” She went inside, presumably to get dressed. The other lady had switched to a robe while he was distracted.

“My name is Kate, but most people call me Laswell. It’s nice to meet you.” She shook his hand and smiled. “Farah has been really worried about her girlfriend.”

Alex leaned in. “Just friend. Hasn’t asked her out yet.”

Laswell frowned. “Seriously?? Still? Jesus.”

Soap blinked at the word, pavloved into expecting a hiss or sizzling sound from one of his companions. There was nothing.

He missed his vampires all of sudden.

God, maybe he did need to get out more.

Farah came out and started to lead the way, ironically towards his house meaning they could’ve met up at his house and saved Soap walking at 6 in the morning but whatever. The other werewolves didn’t come with.

“So. This friend.”

“Her name is Malika. She’s been being controlled for who knows how long!”

Soap noticed she wore a choker around her neck. It looked odd with the rest of her outfit. It was plain, not made to draw attention but then she had black… lace? Satin? He didn’t know fabric. But it covered most of her skin.

“I have scarring.”

Soap quickly looked forward. “Oh. Sorry, didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s cool. Better than when a vampire asked if I liked being collared. Or you just asking. But yeah, I have scarring.”

“What from?”

“I just said I didn’t like being asked.” Farah huffed, but there was a lot more bark than bite to the words. “I didn’t always have a pack and people are cruel.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You got anything like that?”

Soap sighed. “Growing up Scottish in Britain was certainly not ideal. Neither was being gay. Can’t say I have any scars from it. Least not physically.” He grinned at her.

“Must have a ton of mental ones if you want to be a bat.”

“Hey, they’re cool. Live forever. Turn into a bat and fly.”

“Watch everyone you love die. Kill people nightly.”

Soap hummed. “Only bad people.”

“You think every vampire follows that?”

“Mine do.” When Soap was the one in control, but he didn’t let that slip. That night at the bar was different.

Farah didn’t seem to buy it. “Right. Well, we’re here.”

The house was disheveled and held together by tape. The windows were boarded up and Soap didn’t see how anyone, let alone a vampire lived there. They tended to be high maintenance with high standards.

“You sure?”

“Yep! Malika is in there and I have to save her and you’re going to help me.”

Soap sighed. “Yeah, alright.” He grabbed one of the wooden stakes that marked the fence and handed it to Farah before grabbing his own. He checked the sun to see it was well over the horizon. “Alright, they should be sleeping. If Malika is injured or anything, do you have medical supplies at your house?”

“Basic stuff for when we shift.”

“Okay, good. My house is closer but we’ll only go there if there’s an emergency okay? My vampires may also be asleep but its better if we can just bring her straight to your house.”

Farah nodded. “Agreed.”

They both snuck into the home through the front door. It was weird, not needing an invitation. Or having to invite them in behind him.

All these years had started to fuck with his brain and Soap was just now putting together how much it was. When he got irritated, his first instinct was to hiss. When he smiled, he rarely showed off all of his teeth anymore, as if he himself had a pair of fangs to hide.

It was occurring to him now that if for any reason Ghost changed his mind and refused to turn him, Soap would still be very different. Not only because a good chunk of his life would have been waisted on a pipe dream, but such deeply ingrained habits would haunt him.

How could he live as a human when open windows give him anxiety because what if sunlight comes in? When he knew what the wind through his hair from over a 100 feet in the air felt like?

Soap wandered further into the house. It was incredibly dark which not a good sign. The vampire may be a light sleeper.

Farah sniffed the air and started to lead again. She stayed quiet and moved slowly so Soap could keep up even in the pitch black areas. Soap felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he started to reach for Farah. But Farah gasped and rushed forward just as his hand touched her shirt.

“Malika.”

The lady was pretty, but that wasn’t the focus. The focus was the wound on her throat. Several bite marks, none of which were healed. Barely any blood dribbled out and she was so pale.

Farah scooped her up gently.

“My place.” Soap whispered. “Trust me, i-”

Something grabbed him by the back of his hoodie and yanked him off the ground. He felt weightless right before he smashed into the floor. The wooden stake slid towards Farah but she had her hands full with Malika.

“Just go.” Soap yelled before managing to get up and start running in the opposite direction. He made it down the hall before he felt it grab his feet and start to drag him further down.

It was big and clearly old. Very, very old. Soap wondered how many children it had. How many of those children had children. Poor thing, living like this. A vampire this old should have help.

Soap kicked it in its nose though because his survival comes first. He scrambled further away and it gave chase.

“Ghost! I’m Ghost’s familiar!”

It didn’t even understand him. It just kept coming.

Soap couldn’t find the exit. Every room looked the same. Luckily there was nothing else there.

He saw a loose board covering a window and yanked. The sunlight would keep it at bay long enough for him to get it open and get out.

“Ha. Bitch.” Soap grinned right before it lunged straight at him.

Straight into the light.

He watched it set alight. Watched it burn alive.

He didn’t want it to die.

Soap quickly tried to push it out of the light but it was too late. It hit the floor and shattered like porcelain. He stood there, frozen for a while.

“Oh no. Oh no no no.”

Soap reached into the dust, hoping to find something. Anything. A way to know its name.

He’d have to ask Malika. Hopefully the poor thing had enough intellect to tell her.

Soap wanted to cry. It had been an accident. He swore it was just an accident.

He started to head home quickly, wanting to leave what he had done behind. Maybe Ghost would be up. Maybe he could just ask him to sit with him while he buried his head in the blankets and pretended this never ever happened.

Soap closed the door behind him.

“Will you just shut up and let me help?” Alejandro hissed behind him.

Farah growled. “I’m not letting you feed off her.”

Rodolfo sighed and it was clear this was an ongoing argument. Soap wondered once again how long he had been out there. “Our saliva has healing abilities. She’ll bleed out at this rate.”

“It’s true.” Soap backed them up.

“Oh. Thought you were dead.” Alejandro said it so flippantly. Like it really didn’t matter.

Soap wanted to cry again and he blamed it on the already emotional day he was having.

“Glad you’re not?” Alejandro added awkwardly. “But anyway, let me help the little familiar. Don’t want her dying on my watch. Her master can be mad at you, not me.”

Farah snarled but Malika was getting paler and still was dead asleep, so she relented. She gently let Alejandro take here, stepping back just a tiny bit so she could still watch. Alejandro’s tongue flicked out, licking the wound just once. The skin started to stitch back together, but Alejandro didn’t give her back.

Instead, he turned to Soap. Both he and Rodolfo did. Price was on the couch, casually sharpening a blade.

“What happened?”

Farah hit his shoulder. “I told you what happened.”

Rodolfo sighed. “And we believe you, but we mean after you left him alone. You’re clearly fine. Any vampire worth their fangs would’ve ripped you to shreds for theft.”

“Told them I was Ghost’s.” Soap lied, hiding his ash covered hands behind his back.

“Ah. Makes sense. We can’t just… Soap, you can’t just do that!”

Soap winced. “Look, I’m sorry. I just wanted to help. Look at the condition she’s in.”

“It’s horrible but you can’t…”

Footsteps. Unsteady footsteps.

Soap heard Ghost’s voice as he stood on the steps.

Unmasked.

Ghost was unmasked.

He was blond.

He had bleached blond hair from the looks of it.

And freckles.

And pointed ears with little piercings.