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notanotherstory · 2 months

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Mistle-toeing

Warnings: fluff, a really annoying "i-don't-know-limits" man.

Word count: 4.5k

Disclaimer: this was the first lil thing I wrote about Angie. I do hope you enjoy it <3

Morning came and you groaned as your alarm rang and pulled you out of dreamland. You pulled your arm from under the covers and slapped it off, proceeding to stretch and swing your legs to the side of the bed, putting one foot in front of the other before opening the curtains and getting hit by the morning light.

You rubbed your eyes and blinked repeatedly as they adjusted to the light, getting ready for a much needed shower that’d finally wake you up. It was going to be a long, long, day, you thought, before stepping under the stream of warm water and letting your dreams wash away with it.

As you walked through the streets of Collinsport, you pulled on the brown, thick coat you wore, trying - and failing - to hide your nose from the cold so it wouldn’t turn rudolph red.

Quickly, you entered the building and shuddered at the change of temperature, ruffling your hair to get rid of the snow that had collected in it, and running your hands along your coat to clean it up from the little white particles that had stuck to it. Rubbing your hands together to warm them up a little bit, your eyes scanned the place.The sight was not the usual; and the energy felt different. A good kind of different.

The office was decorated all around, giving the usually white, clean, serious and cold surrounding, a cozier feeling. An elegantly decorated tree sat next to the coffee machine, which now had an addition of delicious ginger cookies on the counter, along with garlands up on the walls and some wreaths hanging in between them, finished with lights adorning the cubicles, everything strategically placed so it was a harmonious look. Funnily enough, everyone seemed just as surprised as you were. In the few months you’d been around, you had never heard of the office celebrating any kind of festivity, but, well… Here you were, with decorations along the office boxes, Christmas music playing in the background (you recognized Sinatra’s Let it Snow) and Nancy, Angie’s secretary (and your confidante) wearing a Santa hat. You guessed this was her making, and you couldn’t fathom how she had convinced Angie Bouchard to let this happen.

As you walked by Nancy, you waved shyly at her, mouthing a “Good morning, Nance” and receiving a big smile in return, followed by a wink - you didn’t get the reason for the last gesture, but you knew she always knew things you didn’t. To be honest… you were quite oblivious.

Absentmindedly walking towards your desk, the decorations distracted you from the pair of cobalt eyes following your every move, like a predator stalking its prey, silently, meticulously, and waiting until you had reached your designed space, still staring and assessing your reaction to the changes.

You dropped your leather bag on the desk unceremoniously and hung your coat on the chair, starting your computer to check for the new mails - but something felt off. A glimpse of red showed up on the corner of your eye, and you rapidly turned your head towards the salient colour. There was a gift sitting on your desk. You stared suspiciously at the neatly wrapped box that sported a ruby red colour, finished with a golden bow. No one in the office was too close to you, so this was quite the surprise. Carefully lifting the box while looking for the tag, you instead found a neat card that had your name elegantly written on it, alongside a small message;

“Y/N,

A little birdie told me you had been staring at these for quite some time.

I do hope you enjoy them thoroughly.

P.S., I see you’ve got good taste. Very nice choices.”

You turned the card around to find any kind of initial or name, but ended up with nothing. Saving the little card safely on your bag, you pulled on the ends of the ribbon and watched it fall lightly on the desk. The tips of your fingers grazed the red wrapping paper, feeling its soft texture and travelled down the softness of it until it met one of the seams; your nails picked on the scotch tape and lifted it, being meticulous enough so it wouldn’t tear.

After you pulled the box out, you kept trying to figure out what it could be. And when it opened, you had to bite your lower lip to keep the grin from taking over your whole face, yet still jumped up and down in your spot excitedly. Inside it there were two of the vinyls you had been looking at the store for the past two weeks, but always decided to not buy them just yet: Herbie Hancock’s Crossings, and Santana’s Caravanserai.

You were a huge music geek, and these were recently out. You looked around hoping to recognize something in someone’s eyes or expression, any tell-tale sign, but only found Nancy’s warm eyes; “Oh!” you exclaimed.

In one of your many conversations with Angie’s secretary, you had gushed about one of these two albums and how much you absolutely loved Christmas, considering it was big back at home. You set the vinyls back on the box and walked towards Nancy, but before you could open your mouth, she spoke without even drifting her eyesight from the computer screen.

“That was not me, dear.” You cocked an eyebrow up and a quizzical look took over your features. “Well - if it wasn’t you, then…” Nancy looked up at you and shrugged innocently. “I have no idea, darling. But they do seem to be paying attention to you.” With that, you decided to drop the topic and go back to work; god knows the secretary would not spill any more information. Jesus, this woman could get caught by the CIA and keep everyone’s secret’s safe, acting like she knew absolutely nada. And even when you tried to avoid your workload, you had a lot to catch up on. Yet, you found yourself looking back at the little card and reading it repeatedly during the day, smiling at the neat handwritten message.

The day passed by fairly quickly, and you were drained. Meetings, mails, getting ready for the end of the year at Angel’s Bay meant absolute mayhem, you learned. The thought of a warm cup of hot chocolate and a good Christmas movie under the warm covers of your bed, in the safety of your little flat made you yearn for the end of the shift, when you could finally relax. With that in mind, you finished typing the document you were working on and stood up from your chair, quickly making your way towards the coffee counter, eyes focused on the warm cups of chocolate that Nancy had just put down, turning towards you to gift you a soft, caring smile. You loved that woman to bits, and she knew you had been having a hard time lately. Christmas was not a day you were used to spending alone, so the thought of it had been taking a toll on you the past week. Of course, Nancy was constantly checking on you and doing small things to cheer you up - asking about your day and if you ate, to which you would roll your eyes playfully and answer while chuckling “Yes, mom”, or leaving candy canes on your desk, and now preparing your favourite thing ever; hot chocolate. She left the tray and kept walking forward towards her desk, which was right next to Angie’s office.

You grabbed the warm, white cup and the sweet smell of chocolate invaded your senses, bringing you the comfort you were looking for. There were small marshmallows on top as well, and you had to contain your excitement to avoid squealing like a little kid from the happiness it brought you.

While you were immersed in your hot chocolate cup, you didn’t realize who was walking towards you, until your personal space seemed to be awfully invaded by a strong cologne that reeked of musk - not the good kind. You don’t know what you despised the most; the smell or the person who came along with it.

Freaking Jack from the sales department. Another of the smug assholes who never took “no” for an answer, because his fragile ego could not take it. He’d been trying to get your attention since the first day you started working at Angel’s Bay, taking advantage of any situation he had to brag about himself - god, he was so full of himself. Today was not the exception. The rest of the girls in the office swooned over him; it was sort of like a Belle and Gastón kinda situation. Terrible, to say the least.

You heard him clear his throat and rolled your eyes before plastering the most fake smile you could manage, turning back to look at him.

“Jack.”

“Y/N, what a coincidence” Not.

“Yeah, well, considering we work on the same floor, I'd call it a very probable event.” You said, matter-of-factly. You knew he had spent the last 5 minutes looking around for you, and you actively avoided him. It’s not that you disliked him… No, no, it was that you disliked him. A lot.

He laughed forcibly at your statement, flashing you what should be considered a perfect grin, but instead came off as straight up weird. “Oh, aren’t you a funny one”

Realizing how close he was, you took a few steps back, and he followed suit, playing aloof while talking about his day, not bothering to ask you about yours, until you were standing in front of the tree, and very much cornered. You hugged the mug to your chest and felt it warm your skin up, looking around nervously, meeting Nancy’s eyes and praying she saw the apprehension in yours and came in to save you from this idiot, who wouldn’t stop talking.

Speaking of the devil, you saw a sharp, mischievous smile form on his lips, and you knew he had come up with some sort of plan to make you even more uncomfortable. He had his eyes glued to the ceiling, and for a moment you thought he had just… rebooted himself. Who knows.

Following Jack’s eyes, your own gaze sat on the pointy green leaves that accompanied the white, round fruit, delicately placed with a red bow over your heads. Of course you had to be standing under the one mistletoe that was up. You mentally facepalmed as soon as your mind registered the little plant, and you regreted every single decision that had taken you to this situation.

“Well, well, well… Seems like we have found ourselves under the mistletoe, my dearest y/n”. His voice lowered in an attempt to sound seductive, and it only made you want to smack the satisfaction off of his face. He grabbed the mug from your hands and left it back on the counter, not giving you a chance to speak before talking once again. “You know what it means. And it’s tradition, lovely y/n.”

You were at a loss for words as you felt his rough hands grab you by the waist and pull you against him, as your hands landed on his chest and you attempted to keep him away.

“Jack - this is not funny. Back off, please.”

The rest of the office had started speaking in whispers and hushed laughs, presencing Jack’s shenanigan as if it were nothing but a simple joke. They watched amused, except for two pairs of eyes. One belonging to Nancy, of course, and the other cobalt blue pair throwing daggers with her eyes, ready to strike.

“As I said, it’s tradition, y/n. Come on, don’t be such a buzzkill. I promise you’ll like it.” He said smugly, while leaning in.

You were so lost in thinking about what to do and how to kick the man and get away from his grubby hands, you didn’t even listen to the faint clicking of heels that had sent the whole office scrambling back to their desks and work, as well as the cold silence that had taken over. You could only hear your own blood pumping in your ears, until the clicking of the heels stopped. And Jack’s face looked like he had seen a ghost.

“Such a pretty face stuck on the body of a useless man. If I were you, I would leave this instant. That is, if you wish to keep your hands.” Her words seethed with venom, eyes shining brightly and sporting a menacing look, alongside an emotion you couldn’t quite put your finger on dancing on her deep blue orbs. Was it hatred? Jealousy? No, it couldn’t be. She stared at his hands grabbing your waist, which were quickly dropped and followed by an amount of excuses Angie was clearly not interested in listening to.

“Listen up, boy. You better gather your things immediately and leave the building within the next 10 minutes, or you’ll suffer a much, much terrible destiny. Your reputation is already ruined as it is.” She spoke without paying mind to the man, now a stuttering mess, who left the moment she had gone silent.

You dreaded the thought of being on his spot… Until you realized you were next. “Shit.” You said quietly, breathing deeply and getting as ready as you could to confront the upcoming interaction.

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

A fucking mistletoe. A single piece of dangly fruit that hung over your head, reminding you of the promise it brought, mocking you with its gentle swaying. You swore that if it could talk, it’d laugh at you. One little mistletoe that had gotten you in this mess.

“Fuck - fuck fuck fuck” you thought, as your eyes tried to set on anything but the alluring woman in front of you, her red, full, pouty lips, the defined jawline and high cheekbones, the softness of her porcelain-like skin, the intensity of her cobalt eyes that added to that ethereal, almost unrealistic look - no, nope. Stop. Stop thinking about it.

You didn’t even need to look at her. Instead, your eyes were glued to the floor, which suddenly became extremely interesting. Your gaze set on anything and everything it could. You probably never payed this much attention to the rugs before, but you had decided the best idea was to count every single damn thread in it, if it meant you could avoid the situation. Still, the air seemed to thicken, and you could feel the wicked smile setting on her ruby red lips as she looked at what hung over your heads, completely understanding what it meant. Suddenly, you felt hot under that piercing stare that turned your cheeks bright red and made the shirt you were wearing feel a tad bit too tight.

The way your name left her lips made you feel like your knees had turned to liquid, and you swore they buckled slightly. Her voice was all that was tempting in this world - sultry, velvety tone, honey-dripping. Christ, even the foulest of words would feel like a damn poem coming out of her mouth. You could only imagine what it would be like in a more intimate setting, your name leaving her lips with passion and lust. And god, you wanted to hear that prayer repeatedly. You only thought of worshipping her.

Your thoughts didn’t matter anymore - there was simply no way you’d get more flustered. She repeated your name, two, three times, before grabbing your chin in between her thumb and index finger, softly raising it, forcing you to redirect your eyes back up. You peered up at her through your eyelashes, as she dropped her hand and pushed a strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. Your lips parted at the glimpse of her features, the same features that had flooded your dreams countless times. An almost inaudible sight left your mouth, and you wanted to convince yourself she had not noticed; but you knew she did, she always did. Her right eyebrow lifted ever so slightly, and there was the ghost of a pleased smile on her lips, before she spoke again and broke the obvious ogling you had going on.

Your throat felt dry and you cleared your throat to avoid the crack of your voice, because the last thing you needed was to falter in front of the one and only Angie Bouchard.

“I’m beginning to think the floor is much more interesting than listening to me, y/n. I did not know I could be so uninteresting.” She said in a scolding manner, yet there was a tint of playfulness that bathed the statement.

That was the last drop you needed, and like a dam breaking, your words spilled out quickly, without a single thought behind them. You just needed to say something.

“I - I’m sorry, boss. I didn’t know there was a mistletoe and I don’t really know who put it up here but I just wanted a cup of hot chocolate and, well, you know, Jack arrived too and - I am very aware of the rules but it… it wasn’t like that I promise, I - why is there a mistletoe there? I swore it wasn’t when I got here!” your nervousness expressed itself on rambling, speaking without even taking a breath, while Angie watched clearly amused at your nervousness. She tilted her head to the left and her soft blonde hair followed the motion, falling over her shoulder until it set properly. She let out a soft chuckle that echoed in the floor, as everyone watched the exchange with curious eyes. The realization of the scene made you shut your eyes with shame and sigh defeatedly.

You didn’t know if she was about to have your head on a platter and fire you in front of everyone, scold you as if you were a five year old brat, or just leave without saying another word.

And you didn’t know what option was worse. But in between the plethora of scenes and options you ruminated, the upcoming one was definitely not in the books.

“So, tell me, did you like your gift?” She said, redirecting the conversation. You paused and narrowed your eyes at her. “Gift? What gift - wait. That was you?” Your voice had shown more shock than you would’ve liked to, but to be fair, it was pretty damn shocking.

Angie smiled, pleased with herself and your reaction, nodding once. “I had a little help, but someone told me this festivity is quite the big deal for you…” You shook your head and recovered the words you’d been missing. “I loved it. You didn’t have to, boss.”

She rolled her eyes and softened her gaze. “Drop the formalities, darling, you can call me Angie. And I’m glad you liked it. Nancy worked hard on the decorations of the floor.”

Of course the secretary was in all of this. You giggled and hid your face in your hands, shaking your head side to side. “A little birdie, huh? So it was Nancy.”

“Well, she told me about one of the albums, and the hot chocolate. Technically, there were two little birdies. The owner of the shop told me how much time you spent there looking at Santana’s vinyl. I didn’t need to do much, one stare and the information was there, willing and able.” She shrugged unapologetically before speaking up once more. This time, the timing of her words was slower, more thought out, and felt very private. She lowered her voice and inched closer to you, the mistletoe still dancing over your heads. And you were far too aware of it, your eyes travelling up quickly, before locking back with Angie’s.

“As for the Christmas decorations… You do get loud when you speak about something you like, don’t you know that? Whether it's music, festivities, or… people.” The last word made your blood run cold and the smile dissipate from your lips - her voice dropped and seemed to be impossibly attractive, but all you could think about was the fact that Angie found out about your crush. Detail, big fat detail: your crush on her.

Considering how many times you had spoken to Nancy about your admiration for Angie, and how every single one of those times she’d tease you -“Wipe the drool from off your face, y/n” she’d lean in and whisper- either for how you couldn’t stop smiling when speaking about the blonde enchantress, how your eyes lit up when she passed by (and how you’d get flustered every single time) or for every time you looked at her a little too long, you mentally scolded yourself for doing it in front of her office. Not the smartest of moves if you’re trying to keep it a secret.

“I - Oh.” She nodded softly and repeated your words “Yes, oh.”

The silence fell heavy between you, and the energy shifted into a tense, addicting feeling. You were sure you could feel electricity surging between both of you, and you definitely didn’t miss Angie’s eyes looking up at the mistletoe. “Ah, the infamous mistletoe. Shouldn’t we honour the tradition, then?” Her voice seemed impossibly seductive, and you were sure this is how mermaids had to speak - it was far too enticing, far too consuming.

She inched closer and snaked her arm behind your waist, pulling you in, hips snug against each other. You felt the rhythmic rising and falling of her chest, synchronizing your own breathing to hers. The proximity made you extremely nervous, and you kept breathing in her perfume, that intoxicating scent that made your brain go into overdrive and your heart beat faster. Your eyes followed the outline of her lips and marvelled at the way the light and shadow mixed and hit them, making them look even better. The lights of the tree twinkled softly and reflected on her eyes, which transformed them into the most beautiful starry sky; a universe in its own. You had gotten lost in the thought of them countless times, and here you were, staring right at them, feeling completely vulnerable and transparent, like she could read your mind.

Her right hand travelled up to your neck, thumb, index and middle finger pressing softly on each side of it as it looked for your pulse points, not leaving the spot once they had found it. You were inches apart, and as if the teasing was already not enough, she gently pressed the first kiss on the corner of your mouth, moving to the other side, doing the same thing before putting some distance between both. “Is this okay?” She said softly. You could barely nod, absolutely immersed in the situation.

After your confirmation, she brushed your lips against hers before pressing them softly. You wanted to remember every sensation, the plump feeling of your lips against her, the softness of her mouth, the intoxicating scent, her electric touch. You felt her hands grab your waist and press down, her nails digging in your skin with just the right amount of pressure, and you relaxed against the kiss.

Angie lightly slid her tongue across your bottom lip as if asking for permission, which you dutifully granted. You drew a deep, staggered breath at the surge of sensations and the heat you felt coursing your whole body. The kiss grew intense as she sucked on your lips and a shallow hum escaped her, completely pleased at the feeling she evoked on you and how you felt.

She tasted like a sweet, addicting nectar. And right then and there, you knew there was nothing you’d crave more in your life. Nothing that felt more right than this. Her body responded to yours and they moulded perfectly together, your primal needs clawing its way to the surface, and begging, begging you to not let her go. And so, your hands locked behind her slender neck, pulling her impossibly closer. They moved towards her face and caressed her cheek softly.

You swore you could feel your heart push through your chest as Angie’s left hand left your waist, which immediately missed the pressure and warmth of her touch, travelling through your upper body to set roots on top of your fastly beating heart. You felt so alive - and she felt it too, smiling through the kiss at the amount of power she held over your fragile heart, knowing, deeply knowing, you were hers. Her nails raked over your heart as she bit down on your lower lip and growled, “mine”. And there was simply no way you could ever contradict that statement, for the woman had been the owner of your heart since the moment you set eyes on her.

The tidal wave of lust that had washed over both of you slowly started to set once you parted from the kiss to allow air into your burning lungs. Still dazed from the experience, you were sure you’d wake up from the dream at any given second. Angie’s thumb still ran across your lips reassuringly, her pupils blown wide, black against cobalt blue with shimmering lights reflecting from the tree. All danger, adventures and strong desire, a reckless sea, a new odyssey - and with all the trouble it might come, you knew it was absolutely worth it.

Exhaling and taking a step back from you - which made you miss her warmth immediately - the blonde woman intertwined your fingers with hers, squeezing your hand before looking back at the rest of the office, which had seen the exchange and were staring slack-jawed.

“I do not like it when people touch things that belong to me. Good thing I put up that mistletoe and everyone knows who you belong to, now.” She winked at you, and before you could open your mouth to protest, shut you up by pressing one last soft kiss to your lips. Angie hummed in approval while assessing the messy red tint on your mouth; her work made her chest fill with pride, before wiping the red stains from your mouth as best as she could, although she liked the view, the mark she’d left on you. Somehow hers didn’t seem messy at all.

Before you realized, Angie was walking towards your desk, pulling you along with her, ignoring the staring and whispers. Confused, you followed like a lost puppy. Honestly, you’d go anywhere she took to you, without thinking about it.

“Grab your things, darling. We’re not done yet.” She purred.

You were completely entranced, and stumbled over your desk to grab your things, as she stared amused at your clumsiness. Once you had your coat, bag and gift, you looked at the muse in front of you and waited for instructions. She went into her office and gathered her purse and car keys, before saying goodbye to Nancy. You did the same thing, earning a sly smile from the old lady behind the computer.

“Take the rest of the day, Nancy. Go enjoy it with your family.” Angie said, sauntering towards the door with a hand possessively set on your waist. You were sure you’d faint if she kept this going.

“Well, dear. What is it that we’re going to do to enjoy our first Christmas together?” She spoke while turning the car on. You held onto those words like a promise, like an oath, and giggled at the thought of what a little plant could do.

#angelique bouchard #angelique bouchard one shot #angelique bouchard x reader #dark shadows #dark shadows one shot #angie bouchard #angie bouchard x reader #eva green #eva green fanfic #fanfiction

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kiwisbell · 7 months

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The Light of the Stars: Chapter 3 (Conclusion) [din djarin]

Your celebration for Din’s name day goes horribly wrong. And a group of pirates sees the worst of your Mandalorian.

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

read part one here (not necessary, but encouraged!): told before and told again

series masterlist | my masterlist!

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

series tags and warnings: established relationship, unprotected piv (no following the leader), the helmet stays on, but the gloves come off, in more ways than one, hand kink???, animal handler!reader, grogu being a good kid, extremely protective din, kidnapping, BAMF din, din gets mad, dirty talk, fingering, blood and violence, creampie, rough sex, multiple orgasms, top din, soft din, din fucking the babysitter, extreme amounts of fluff, din is in love, mando'a pet names, porn with feelings, porn with plot (there actually is a plot this time), feral din, din is touch-starved, it's din's birthday!! (sort of), din djarin being so in love that it's disgusting

word count: ~ 5.7k

sometimes, din is actually good at his job and that's when he gets angy -- please enjoy the conclusion to the light of the stars!! xoxo

chapter 3: backs bound in twine

Someone has made a grave mistake, and the Mandalorian sees little choice but to pay in blood. In fact, he enjoys the idea very much.

“Can you please take my blindfold off?”

“Sorry, love.” The voice next to you does not sound particularly sorry, but he doesn’t sound cruel, either. “No can do.”

“Is there a reason I’m not allowed to see?”

“Can’t have you fiddling with my ship,” says the pirate. “What if you try to escape?”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that.” You slump backward in your seat, flexing your fingers. Your wrists are bound to a rickety chair, as are your ankles. You’re evidently inside a spaceship, but you’ve been blindfolded since you woke up, blinking hard against the swath of fabric and smacking your chapped lips. Panic set in quick, assuming you had gone blind or worse, your nostrils stinging with the aftereffects of the sweet-smelling cloth. Then a glass of water was at your lips, and your mouth is not quite as dry now, but you’re still angry.

To their credit, your captors don’t seem interested in harming you. Apart from the ropes that chafe against your appendages, you’ve been hydrated and scarcely spoken to. Except for the pirate who took you in the first place, who seems to enjoy his spot at your left side. You can no longer feel the earpiece; you can only hope Din found your brooch.

The pirate’s voice is smooth and somewhat aloof. “You’re bait, my darling.” A hand caresses your cheek, gentle, but you still jerk away. “Nothing more.”

“He’ll kill you.” You bare your teeth as if you’re about to bite off his fingers. “It doesn’t matter if I’m bait.”

“No, likely not. But he will come nonetheless.” His breath smells of spotchka and his fingers are ridged, covered in scars. You remember his hat and his cropped hair. You cannot remember the colour of his eyes. Somehow, it seems important. You wish you had memorised them while you could see. Now, here, helplessly blind, your heart is compensating for the loss. It is like free falling through air and grasping at a rope you cannot see. Your stomach tumbles with every motion nearby, every out-of-place voice.

“You look scared, love.” Now, he's on your right side, and for some reason, it infuriates you.

“You only kidnapped me. Why should that frighten me?”

“I told you, it isn't personal.”

“Well, that’s refreshing,” you snap.

The pirate clicks his tongue. “You seem tense.”

There are many things you could say to that. You settle for, “I can’t see.”

“We’re still on Nevarro, if that comforts you.” It doesn't. “You’re inside my ship. It’s a Porax-38 starfighter. Decommissioned after the Clone Wars. It’s decent. Much nicer than that shithole we found you in. I even put a carpet down in the hull for—”

“What did he do to you?” you interrupt. “If I’m your bait, I should know why. So I don’t try to run.” Pointedly, you struggle at the bonds around your ankles.

The pirate is quiet for a moment. “He hurt my friends.”

If you could roll your eyes, you would. Din has hurt many people. “And stole your favourite toy on the playground?”

“Killed my friends, darling girl. He massacred my friends. Left them with holes where flesh should be.” A breeze rustles your hair and his fingers trace your jawline. You scowl.

“Did your friends deserve it?”

“Now, that's a matter of perspective,” he says. “I placed a bounty on a business rival of mine. Your Mandalorian delivered him. Completely dead.”

“Not just a little dead, then?”

You can hear the sneer in his voice now. “I asked for the bounty alive. Mando failed.”

“He was your rival. Why do you care?”

“Because he was my friend, too,” growls the pirate. His hand tugs the ropes around your wrist tighter to punctuate his words. You bite your tongue. “I was going to offer him amnesty from his debts to me if he moved his operations off-planet.”

“Seems like a poor business move. Where do you get your money if not from begging your own friends for theirs?”

The hand on your face stiffens slightly, tightening a bit around your chin. Holding you in place. “It’s funny,” he grits out. “I thought you were a whore. I thought you were just good enough for him to keep around.”

You lift your brows, doing your best not to act on the impulse to chomp down on his filthy fingers. “And now?”

“Oh, I still think he fucks you. I just think you love him, too.”

“And your friend?” you ask. “Do you force him to pay you, too? Or is it a purely… intimate relationship?”

The pirate laughs, patting your cheek gently before another shift in the air indicates he has moved away from you. For now, you breathe easy.

“Gag her.”

Several things must happen in order for Din Djarin’s plan to work.

First: Greef Karga sends out a planet-wide holomessage announcing that travel to and from Nevarro is temporarily prohibited. The docking bays are closed and the parade ebbs as the afternoon lulls. Second: Din reluctantly agrees to Greef Karga’s suggestion that he use a scouting droid to find your captors’ ship.

“It will be a lot faster than trudging over the plains yourself. You know it’s true, Mando.”

Of course he knows. It doesn’t mean he’s pleased to sit on his ass and wait for a droid to find you instead of just going out and doing it.

He doesn’t like knowing that your captors have the upper hand because they have you. He will do anything and everything to take you back, no matter what it will cost. They may have hurt you already. They may have taken one look at your beautiful face and decided—

“Mando.” Karga’s voice slices through his black thoughts. “If you squeeze that holopad any tighter, you’ll break it.”

He drops it abruptly, the droid’s feed still transmitting its search to the holopad. All Din can see are rocks and crags and steep drops. “If they… if they hurt her…”

He doesn’t finish. Greef Karga watches him, but does not reply. Between them, silence becomes a yawning maw, gnashing its teeth and snapping. At his right side, Grogu coos sadly from his pram. He misses you. He’s afraid for you.

Din understands.

The holopad chirps rapidly. Din, Grogu, and Karga watch as the droid comes upon an older starfighter, parked just underneath a shady outcrop, the signal fuzzy but transmitting the coordinates nonetheless. From the bird’s eye view, Din can see a few pirates milling around the ship, carrying blasters at the ready or loading cargo. That’s it. You’re inside that ship.

He stands up and curls his hands into fists at his sides. The third thing that must happen for Din’s plan to work: he needs to be angry.

“Can I use one of your speed bikes?” he asks.

Greef Karga nods, his face a bit taut, a bit grim. “It’s already parked outside.”

“Take care of the kid.”

He leaves without another word and does not turn to acknowledge Karga’s parting words: “Don’t die doing this, Mando.”

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been here. The gag around your mouth pulls so tight that your cheeks ache and the knot at the back of your blindfold rubs incessantly against your scalp. You cannot see, cannot speak, and you begin to wonder if the sun has dropped or if it has already risen. Have you spent a full night in this chair, bound and gagged so your captor can enjoy the sick pleasure of murdering your Mandalorian?

They have given up trying to give you water. They seem to understand that if they remove the gag for even a moment, you will snarl and snap and most likely try to annoy them to death. The pirate has left your side, but there is another close by. You can smell plasma, and you wonder if these pirates are so bored of waiting for the Mandalorian to come that they’ve taken to shooting at the wildlife outside. Not that there’s much of anything to shoot at in the lava flats.

“So,” says a new voice next to you, making you jump, “are you really… with him?”

You want to roll your eyes. Maybe step on his toes. You can do neither. You just nod. “Wow.” The voice belongs to another man, but it’s softer, slightly higher. He sounds like a teenager. “Never thought they were allowed to do… that.”

“Mmptmmphydno,” you tell him.

Hands at the back of your head. A sudden release, like a cabin pressurising, and your mouth is free of the gag. “Don’t tell them,” says the kid. “They told me you would try to piss me off.”

You work your jaw until you feel confident enough to use your voice again. “There’s a lot you don’t know,” you repeat. “About Mandalorians. About the one you’re luring into a trap.”

“I only know what they tell me. They say he’ll make us a lot of money,” says the kid.

“Sure. If he doesn’t decide to kill you.”

“He…” The kid clears his throat, but his voice has pitched up in uncertainty. “He saved that green thing’s life. The creature he travels with. Saved it from the Empire.”

You hum in affirmation. “He saved someone he deeply cares about from people who captured him and used them for personal gain.”

You swear you can hear the kid’s face blanch, and you almost feel sorry for him.

Outside, a scuffle draws your attention. Blaster fire. It is not the sound of casual target practise nor shooting at the wildlife. It is accompanied by screams. You scoot up a little in your chair and try not to lurch forward with pure relief. He’s here. He’s come for you.

Din descends on the party with little care for the element of surprise. The speeder bike has not yet come to a full stop when he jumps off and aims for the first pirate he can see. The body drops with a hole in its head. Lift. Aim. Fire.

Lift. Aim. Fire. His hands do not tremble. He is in control. He has no desire left for control. Control has never saved a life. It will not save yours. He will.

It does not matter how many are here, how many weapons they have, how angry they are. His rage is different. It eclipses the setting sun and turns the world black as tar.

Skin. Blood. Cloth. Bone. His vision sharpens, every particle in the air and every speck of ash a topography of the way to you. He shoots one pirate in the throat and cuts through another with the knife. Your knife. You will be glad to know it is being put to good use. Plasma bolts sear through flesh and gobble it alive. Holes where there was once life. Blood smears into maps of traceable carnage on the lava flats. Some go down with a single shot. Some, he pulls close and stabs, watching for the exact moment when life flees their eyes. He’s surprised by the thrill it gives him.

Killing is clinical. It’s necessary. For a Mandalorian, war is religion. For Din Djarin, whose every murder brings him closer to you, killing becomes tangible evidence that he is not going to lose. The starfighter awaits him, and he is pulling the wires in the control panel.

Inside, the sound of Din’s massacre carries closer to you, a song on the wind. You suspect it will be heard across the galaxy.

“Please…” The kid’s voice crescendos to a panic. “I’ll let you free... if you promise he’ll spare my life.”

You just laugh. “You are eons too late for that.”

The hull opens. It’s too easy. And there you are.

The kid opens his mouth and begins to plead. But his body thuds at your feet, and a set of hands is working the knots around your ankles. When all of your limbs are free, he helps you to your feet and indulges one fleeting, aching, gentle kiss of his forehead to yours. The feel and the smell of the cold steel and iron-rich blood make you sway on your feet. He pulls away, presumably to look at you. “Hey,” he says. His voice is the hum of night.

“Hey,” you whisper. Your cheeks still hurt, but you smile anyway. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry. Got held up,” he replies. “Didn't leave me much to go on.”

“Little busy getting drugged to leave a good trail.”

The shot does not come from Din’s blaster. It strikes his pauldron and narrowly misses your own head. He whirls, putting you behind him, to find a pirate crawling from the cockpit. He is wearing an ugly hat and a set of shabby clothes. Din feels a jolt of recognition, but he cannot place where he has seen this man before.

“If you’re worried we harmed one hair on her head,” says the pirate, “we didn’t. I just wanted you.”

“I’m here.” Din cocks his head, lifting his own blaster. Your hand is a grounding pressure on his lower back, a warning of what will happen should he fail. “Who the hell are you?”

“I know you don’t remember. But I’ve been wanting the opportunity to get back at you for a long time, Mandalorian—under more even circumstances.”

“You’re right. I don’t remember you.”

“I lie awake at night for months trying to figure out the best way to get back at the man who killed my whole crew.” When the pirate’s eyes flick toward you, Din stiffens. And the man notices, his mouth splitting into a grin. “And there it was. My opportunity. Who knew the infamous hunter had a heart?”

Din fires. The pirate is just fast enough to dodge a mutilating blow, lunging forward to grab hold of Din’s arm while his free hand slides sharply to the side, forcefully knocking the blaster to the floor with a clatter. It’s a smart move. But Din is larger and even faster. He’s also much, much angrier.

He lands a bone-crunching punch to the pirate’s nose, his brain swimming with the sick sense of pleasure at the sight of blood. The pirate’s blaster joins Din’s somewhere on the metal floor. But he isn’t finished. He aims for another blow to the jaw—

The pirate evades, catching Din’s wrist and kneeing him hard in the side. Pain briefly sparks white behind his eyes, but he recovers fast enough to twist out of the pirate’s grasp and kick him square in the gut. He reels backward, slamming against the wall of the ship. The entire cabin jolts sharply with the impact.

“I’ve changed my mind. I won’t be needing your life anymore, Mando,” the pirate growls, wiping a welling drop of blood from his lip. “I’ll just take her.”

The pirate takes a step toward you. It is the wrong decision to make.

“Don’t” —it’s little more than a snarl when it leaves Din’s mouth—“come any closer.”

The pirate’s nose is crooked, the bone broken. His breaths wheeze out of him. His eyes are slightly unfocused, and his stance wary. Still, he lifts his fists to go another round—

Din drops and picks up his fallen blaster. The bolt sears through the cotton of the pirate’s pants and the flesh in his thigh. Din lurches forward to grab the pirate, his hand curling around his throat, and breaks his neck. The body becomes a body. Cold. A dead thing.

The ringing in his ears will not abate at the sudden silence. He looks down at his gloved hands and finds them covered in blood.

“Din,” you say weakly, “I can’t see.”

An insistent tug at the back of your head and the blindfold slips off. You blink harshly at the light pouring in from the sky and the plains, and he's there, a black silhouette that cuts through the bright white. You are blind all over again as your eyes burn and tear up at the drastic shift.

Hands. Two warm, human hands, skin and flesh and blood. They do not know their own strength. They're cupping your face, rough and calloused, his thumbs tracing the line of your jaw, his hands feeling your hair. It’s so soft. It’s smooth and gentle and he does not deserve to hold onto it. He doesn't deserve the way he grips fistfuls of your hair, nor the way your hands, trembling, cover his own.

He has never truly felt your skin before. It feels like kneeling at a temple, bowing his head, praying to the deity. It feels like water and sunlight. It is the rush of hyperspace. It is the euphoric climb of a ship to the upper atmosphere and the way his ears pop. It is cupping his heart in his hands and trying to lodge it, slowly and meticulously, back into place.

Your eyes adjust. “Din—”

You haven't even constructed the direction of your sentence when he sinks to his knees in front of you and tips his head forward so the forehead of his helmet rests against your belly. His hands squeeze your hips in steady pulses. He’s reminding himself of your heartbeat, acquainting himself with the fact that you're alive.

You choke on the little cry that leaves your mouth and bring your hand to the frigid steel at the crown of his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice barely loud enough to pass through the modulator. It is a harsh, jagged rasp that rumbles from his helmet to your vertebrae. “I’m sorry.”

Your hand slides to the chin of his helmet. You only nudge his head upward so you can look in his visor. “They didn’t hurt me,” you whisper. “I’m okay.”

But it is not good enough. It will never be good enough. Not until he can see. Until he can feel, for himself, that you are safe. Your warrior is a restless coil of energy, his hands—his bare hands—squeezing spasmodically around your hips, his breathing dark and heavy through his modulator. You want to memorise the paths of the veins on his hands, the winding walkways they take, the flex of his fingers, the strength of the muscles there. There, in the hands that have killed hundreds. You have never been afraid of them until now. Now, they are laid bare before you, and you are petrified that he will come to regret this decision.

“Din.” His name is a broken music box in your mouth. The melody feels slanted somehow. “We need to go.”

He blinks hard and rises to his feet, his hand outstretched for you to place your own inside. You hesitate, looking at the life lines on his palm. “Your hands,” you say dumbly, as if it isn't obvious. As if he doesn't know, and you must alert him before he makes a rash choice. You have hardly used your voice today. Why do you sound as if there's sand stuck to the inside of your throat?

So he moves first, trapping your hand in his. The touch electrifies your whole body. It is no longer leather and skin. It is like to like: it is the stars and the space between them. “I don’t want to touch you,” he says roughly, “when my gloves are covered in blood.”

Your eyes meet his visor, and slowly, you dip your head in a nod. He leads you out of the ship, careful to steady you when you stumble along the crags and cracks in the rock. Boarding the speeder bike with you tucked safely behind him, you see nothing but the vast plains, the setting golden-orange sun, the cry of gulls overhead. Until you crest over a hill and find the Crest awaiting you. You feel a whimper slip from your lips at the sight of your home.

You leave the bodies behind. You leave the massacre at your heels. You abandon the rightful vengeance and set your eyes ahead, where you know you will be safe. He lets you climb into the hull first, following closely behind with a hand on your lower back. It dizzies you to know that if you were not wearing a shirt, his hand would be pressing against your spine. Unfiltered. Unfettered.

A single input on the control panel closes the ramp and locks you inside. His wide shoulders are stiff, his head not quite angled your way. “Din…”

“‘Fresher,” he interrupts. His voice is the scrape of sharp claws through rock.

He’s angry. He’s angry with you. You try not to let your body show your exhaustion, your misery, rubbing gently at your wrists as you make your way to the ‘fresher. Peeling off your blood- and sweat-stained clothes, somehow damp and dry all at once, you step inside and let the water scald you.

A hand—bare, tanned—stops the door from closing. Din has shed his cape and his jet pack and is joining you in the ‘fresher.

Maybe he isn't so mad.

“You…” Scrambling for words, you push gently on his chest to keep him away from the stream. “You’ll get wet.”

His hands close over your sore, raw wrists, a balm to the idle ache. You are rarely bashful to be wholly naked in front of him, but this feels different. For some reason, seeing his hands and a sliver of his wrists makes him feel just as naked as you are.

“I need to see.” His voice has not become gentler. His chest still heaves. “I need… need to know.”

Your brow furrows. Your hair is soaked, your whole body shivering like a leaf in the wind despite the hot water pouring over you. “You have me,” you whisper. “I’m here, Din.”

Not good enough. He backs you slowly against the wall, his leg wedged between both of yours. Water now deflects off his helmet and soaks his cowl, creeping into his skin. He welcomes the discomforting sensation. It is complete. It is sense. It is nothing like the nothingness of not knowing if you are dead or alive.

“You’re cold.” He says it like a revelation, his hand pressing gently on your sternum. Your whole body convulses with shivers and your teeth chatter, but he can feel the frigid skin. He can feel you. This is something he never thought he would know.

“Warm me up,” comes your reply. He would laugh at your brief little smirk if he wasn't vibrating with such voracious need.

His fingers splay out, migrate downward, and his hand rests between your ribcage. “Told you to be safe,” he murmurs, transfixed by the way your heartbeat quickens, the sudden shallowness of your breathing at such a simple touch. “I thought…”

Your head tips back against the wall so you can look up at him. “I just wanted to give you a present.”

“You did.” Your life is what I need, he wants to say. Your breath under my hand… that is my gift. “I made good use of it.”

“I heard.”

“You shouldn't have.” You see a vague twitch in the reflective light on his helmet, like he wants to shake his head. “You should never have to hear that.”

Your fingers are bold when they lace through his, resting soft and warm on your belly. “You’re a warrior, Din Djarin. I knew it when I met you and I know it now.” You scoot closer, your mouth so close to his own between the wall of steel. “They didn't hurt me. You did a warrior’s job.”

He will not accept your forgiveness so easily. “I let them take you.”

You pin him with a stern look. “There is nothing to forgive.”

Soft skin, ribs, heartbeat. Breath. Warmth. You are here.

Din places his hand on the wall next to your head as he eases his weight against you, his other hand guiding your lower back into a gentle arch. It makes you feel the slippery cold of his chest plate and the thigh guards bracketing your leg. It makes you feel the stiffness of his erection through his pants.

Your warrior is broad. He’s strong and imposing and rigid against you, and you understand why entire civilisations fear people of his kind. You are more than afraid. Your heart lunges out of you and transcends the pettiness of human feelings. It is sublime to look up at him, to be so close to a myth.

But he is real, and he’s touching you. His hand slides around your waist and turns off the water in the ‘fresher. If you were cold before, you’re positively frigid now, as his hand finds your body again, squeezing your breasts, flicking his thumb across the sensitive pebbled nipples. You cry out softly at the tiny meteors of pleasure that hurtle toward your core. His name echoes in the small chamber.

“Not hurt?” he grinds out, a knife stripping each syllable into strings.

You shake your head, pushing your breasts out, seeking his touch. “Not hurt.”

His hand skates down your side, nerves sparking hot at the feeling of his skin on yours. It's a sensation you never expected to be so delicious, so overwhelming. What you and Din have is not relegated to skin. Feeling his now is like the lurch of a starship into hyperspeed. His fingers on your lower belly, your hip, your thigh—

His entire palm presses hard against your throbbing clit, and you gasp, your hands flying to his strong shoulders. “Does that feel good?” he croaks.

“Din.” You watch two of his fingers slide through your folds, getting themselves wet with your slick. It’s a surreal experience to see his real hands work you, those fingers deft and dexterous as ever, but so close. So bare.

“Tell me.” He’s closer, somehow, his forehead at your temple, nudging your head to the side as his fingers press into your tight hole, opening you up for him.

“Oh, my—” A gush of wetness coats his fingers and you squeeze your eyes shut. “Din, it feels… you feel so good.”

“Cyar’ika,” he grunts, curling his fingers inside you as his palm continues to rub your clit. Your moan makes him clash his teeth together. “Open your eyes. You need to see. You’re so beautiful.”

“Like that. Just like that.” You’ve taken his fingers inside you before, but never like this. Never the warmth of skin. Never quite so obscenely loud, slick and filthy. Turning your head toward him again, you muster all your wherewithal to stare through his visor.

Someday, he thinks, he will bare his face and his soul to you and bind himself forever to your life. Someday, he will taste you for himself, instead of letting his fingers and his cock do all the work. It will no longer be nights face-to-face, with a wall of beskar between you, describing to you what his face looks like. He will show you. He will make himself yours forever.

His fingers work you to a high you do not quite see until it crests. You come, your body jerking hard in his grasp, your head jolting painfully against the wall as you moan long and loud, your cunt clenching hard around his fingers. You can barely see his hand lifting to his helmet, but you can feel the wet suck of resistance as his fingers leave your soaked cunt and slip beneath the steel.

You do not see even a sliver of skin more than the hands he has already given you. But you watch while he sucks himself clean of you and groans. Your taste has a sweet tang that nearly doubles Din over, and he watches your cheeks burn from the sight of his indulgence. Your eyes blacken, your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip. He doesn’t think you even realise you’ve done it. “Din,” you rasp, “I need you.”

“I know,” he says, equally as broken. “I know.”

Apparently, he does not know. He chokes on his own tongue when you lower to your knees and unbutton his pants, pulling out his throbbing, leaking cock and looking up at him with wide, expectant eyes.

“Is this okay?”

He cannot help the way his hand shoots to the crown of your head. It’s just that he’s gone blind with arousal and he can no longer see the wall in front of him. You are all he can distinguish in the whiteout.

“You have to tell me, Din.” Your hand slowly strokes him at the tip, squeezing gently around his shaft, and he wonders how you can expect him to form thoughts, let alone words, when you touch him like that— look at him like that.

“I… fuck,” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut only to snap them back open again. He does not want to blink at all, not when you touch him this way. “Yes. Yes.”

When your lips part to take his tip, his fingers curl in your damp hair and twitch with the impulse to push you right to the hilt. He doesn’t. He wants to watch you take him. You place open-mouthed kisses to his tip and the underside of his shaft, the vein visible along the length. Your tongue flicks along his slit and his head briefly tips back, forcing a weak groan from his mouth.

Satisfied, you take him past the seal of your lips, tucking your teeth and swallowing. He’s only an inch deep in your mouth, but his hand curls blindly against the wall in an attempt to curb his building orgasm. It’s embarrassing. It’s humiliating. But if you keep this up, he will not last.

Your hot, wet mouth envelops him, deeper and tighter still, greedily taking every inch you can until your eyes begin to water and his tip prods the back of your throat. His hand slips beneath your chin and feels the outline of his cock as you begin to bob your head back and forth.

“Oh—” He’s slipping, every small gasp and crackling groan filtering through the modulator and filling your ears. Your pride swells with every twitch of his cock inside your mouth, and you want to drown up to your scalp in the masculine, heady taste of him.

“Not—not your mouth,” he pants, his balls drawing up as he begins to lose all sense of where he is. “Want to—unhh, want to come inside you.”

You moan around his cock and pull off him, showing mercy, letting him pull you up and notch his leaking head at your entrance. He strokes himself a few times until his whole body jerks, a long groan seeping into your bones as he feeds himself inside your cunt and pumps his cum inside you.

You expect him to slump over you, bracing his hand on the wall to make sure you don't get crushed under his weight, but—

He holds your hips, pulling out and turning you around so your tits are pressed against the slick wall. And he's nudging his cock back inside you, sliding through his own cum and pushing it out of your hole. He’s still hard, still throbbing, not done with you. You cry out, holding uselessly onto the wall, one of his hands reaching up to cover yours. “Din!” you gasp wetly.

He seems beyond words, rutting into you like an animal, like he’s lost all comprehension besides the feel of your tight cunt around him. Pleasure crackles up and down your spine as he pounds you, finding your clit with his fingers and rubbing fast circles. The rough pummeling of his thigh guards against the back of your thighs is the perfect pinching pressure to rebuild your orgasm, brick-by-brick. He’s meticulous as ever in the way he manoeuvres your body.

“One more,” he growls into your ear, his helmet buried in your throat, as close as he possibly can, in order to inhale the scent of you, feel the tremulous gasps you take as he fills you repeatedly.

“Gonna… Din, ah— ah!” You stiffen, crushing his fingers in your hand, your mouth dropping open and your brows scrunching as you come all over him. Your legs shake so violently that he has to steady you to keep you from listing as he works toward his own high.

The slick, hot walls of your cunt suck him deeper, pulsate with the waves of your orgasm, and reel his in closer until he’s losing rhythm. His hips stutter against your ass, his cock driving inside you to the brim as he comes again, filling you with another load of hot cum. It spills around the tight seal of your cunt and dribbles down your thighs, his balls, undoing all the work you’d done to get yourself clean.

His chest heaves against your back and your fingers still hold his against the wall. It’s silent. The ringing in his ears finally decrescendos. You’re safe.

“Cyar’ika.”

“Mmm.” Your voice is an overwrought, broken whimper.

“I used the knife you bought me,” he tells you. “I really like it.”

Despite the fact that your cheek is mostly smushed into the wall, he sees you break into a grin.

Later, in that too-small cot, the baby sleeping peacefully in his separate compartment, you and Din doze. Well, neither of you are asleep. But soon, you imagine both of you will be.

“Din.”

The visor tilts down and you know he’s looking at you through that impenetrable steel.

“Happy name day,” you whisper, your hand finding the cheek of his helmet. You imagine the skin beneath, warm and soft to the cold kiss of the metal in your palm.

His bare hand covers yours. It is warm. The pads of his fingers are rough and his knuckles are scarred. Something cold slips into your palm. Your brooch: small, shaped like a mudhorn.

“Next time,” he says, squeezing the pulse point on your wrist, feeling the existence of you in that steady heartbeat, “no parties.”

You drop your cheek to his chest and laugh. In his head, he turns the words over in his head a hundred times. On his tongue, the words are ichor. Thick and honeyed. A nectar that clings to the roof of his mouth.

Marry me.

#kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando x reader #din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fluff #din djarin fic

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milkywaybottles · 2 years

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Hi! Could I request a swiss x gn!reader oneshot where he misses them when he is on tour and the reader surprises him at a show?

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Of course, love! Thank you sm for the Swiss request! I've been waiting for the chance to write for him <3

Enjoy xx

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Longing - Swiss x Reader Oneshot

Word count: 2.2k

Loving Swiss was like loving the moon, for all its beauty, knowing that by the time the sun comes up, he has to disappear. But he knew you and how you yearned to be held or laugh in his presence. For the latest Impera-tour, he had comprised a large kit consisting of many personal items.

The bag, which in itself was one of his duffel bags, consisted of two fluffy blankets that you used to cuddle with, three of his hoodies that had been covered in cologne, a handful of Polaroids, your favourite vinyls, emergency snacks and some beautiful handwritten letters, some of which had broken wax seals and others hadn’t.

You had also assembled a similar bag for him.

Nevertheless, he had ensured you were well prepared for the month period where you were very much on opposite sides of the Earth. Even the prospect caused you to ache.

Ever since Swiss bashfully asked you out at one of the rituals for the first time, you quickly learnt that touring would become the biggest challenge for any couple. As soon as you left that ritual with the biggest smile plastered on your face, the realisation hit you like a truck that he would not be joining you on the tiring flight home, nor would any of your companions.

The ritual cycle was gruelling, leaving you a dishevelled mess by the end.

So, this time around, when the ritual cycle arrived promptly on your doorstep, you knew exactly what to expect. Though, admittedly this could never take away from the raw and stinging pain you felt without him, especially when some Sister of Sin would go prodding with your heart to stir up drama. After supper, you would retreat to Swiss’ room and dive under the blanket of his four-poster bed, searching for relief.

This emotional toll was not only taken on you, but on Swiss as well.

He hadn’t recalled it as being torturous, but as he stood on stage, he decided promptly that it was inhumane to keep you from him. Every single night his eyes would sift through the crowd of faceless bodies, hoping and praying to make out yours amongst the sea. But he never did.

You always took your seat in the corner of the dining hall, preferring to keep your distance with the other Siblings of Sin. Eventually, while sitting in one of the various wooden rows for supper one stormy night, giggles had reached your ears about your dependency on Swiss. Your mouth soured, eyes set dead centre on your partially empty plate with a scroll across your lips.

“I heard they sleep in his room at night-” one Sister gossiped, holding her pale hands over her mouth as she spoke.

Another cackled, “Haven’t you seen them wear his clothes? Talk about desperate”

The words stuck to your mind, reverberating through your pounding skull. Between the booming thunder outside and the lowly chatter inside the hall, the warmth of your robe was all too comforting as you shrunk backwards into it. Their insults seemed to dissipate as you retreated into your mind, only to be broken with a startled jump.

“Ladies, don’t you have prayer duty to attend to?” Angie hissed, placing her dinner plate firmly down beside yours. At the familiar voice, your head snapped in her direction, a warm smile overtaking your mouth. “They’re just jealous” she assured, taking her seat beside you.

No matter how many times you saw her, you were constantly surprised by her beauty. Her eyes were the same colour as the bark of a tree, always sound and inviting. On occasion, a stray strand of ebony hair would fall out from underneath her coif, framing her round face.

But most importantly, Angie was your friend. She knew you better than anyone else.

“Thank you, Ange. I can normally handle one, but..” you trailed off, evidently throwing your arm up and gesturing to table that the Sisters were sitting at. Angie modestly shrugged, beginning to spoon the contents of her dinner into her mouth.

You both sat in comfortable silence for a moment, prompting you to play with the broken hem of your clothing. Angie was eager to break the silence, “Y’know, why don’t you just go surprise him? Like fly out to their venue and go from there?”. Your attention craned to her once again, your lips pressing together in thought. You shook your head twice,

"I dunno.."

But Angie's smile was wicked, and you knew you had lost.

The airport could best be described as an 'attack on the senses', leaving you baffled in its labyrinth of sounds and smells. The last thing you remembered was waving anxiously to your friend at the boarding gate as you disappeared down the hallway with a single luggage bag trailing behind you. The rest of the trip had merged into a fast-paced blur, a cloud of fuzzy disorientation that you found best not to dwell on.

With a single ticket in hand, you filed into the ritual venue with elated excitement, practically skipping your way to the barriers with urgency. The venue had yet to be filled to the brim with people, leaving vast gaps of empty space in the middle of the pit. If you had been to drop a coin, the sound would have bounced off the walls and returned back to you just as loudly. A draft swept through the venue. causing you to shiver.

When people began to fill the empty spaces, you looked down at your appearance and back up at them with a rosy face. You quickly realised that many people were dressed in a similar way to you, if not almost identical, meaning that it would make it almost impossible to spot you in a crowd of a few thousand. Feeling your face heat up in embarrassment, you turned back to the barrier and slicked your hair back, the nerves beginning to bubble in your stomach.

Before you knew it, a guitar solo from Imperium began to blare through the stadium as the lights dulled. You hummed with giddy excitement as the tune morphed into Kaisarion, and in a flash, a silhouette was projected onto the curtain. The stadium erupted in enthralled cheers and screams, practically begging to get the first sight of the ghoul.

As the curtain dropped, the crowd screamed again.

Finally, their eyes had been blessed with Aether, fire spewing behind him in a marvellous display. For the first time that evening, the stage had been lit in a milky yellow light, smoke bursting from the corner pillars. Despite the number of shows you had attended, you were always captivated by the sheer quality and creativity of it all.

Dew, Rain and Aether lined up at the front of the stage, their skills on display as they all played smoothly. You smiled at the friendly familiarity of it all. Aether and his little quirks when playing, such as the occasional extra flick of his wrist or the gesturing to the crowd. Dew and his aggressive head banging. Or Rain, rocking back and forth excessively like a rockstar.

Oh how you had missed them.

“Kaisarion!”

Your smile became even wider as you mouthed the lyrics, staring up at Papa with wonder-filled eyes. Marvelling at the brand new outfits, your eyes drifted to the back left of the stage, scanning for any sight of your ghoul.

Heart squeezing, your eyes were planted firmly on Swiss. You felt as though you were about to explode, cheeks red with excitement. His leg bounced at a quickening pace, hand secured on the microphone stand. Your ears perked at the sound of the backing vocals, and before long, it melded into a beautiful harmony of Swiss and the ghoulettes.

The show was pulling to a close and yet it hadn’t managed to slow at all. The crowd was still electrified and the performers just as lively as they continued with their final songs.

You had to admit that while you were completely understanding as to why, you couldn’t help but be disappointed that Swiss had yet to spot you. Being at the back, he was at a disadvantage. Rarely moving from his podium, you assured yourself that even if he didn’t spot you, you would see him later so it didn’t really matter.

With your eyes glued to your partner, you were hastily caught by surprise as you saw him leap off his podium and begin to approach the stage. Many hands were extended towards his shiny black boots as they neared the edge. Your heart must have skipped a beat when he was only a handful of metres away. You could almost feel his reassuring embrace, or his tender kisses.

Feeling the chance pass by you, you abrasively held out your arm towards him and screamed, “Swiss!”. The strumming of his guitar never halted, but he paused and his head was held high as if to smell a strong scent. Then, he spun around at the speed of light as his eyes landed squarely on you. His face was beaming with excitement as you waved furiously.

Although in an attempt not to distract from the show, he skipped over to Aether and they conversed for a moment. Despite the words not being audible over the music, you could assume what they were saying based on the fact that Aether also turned in your direction as Swiss pointed.

You were elated, truly.

Unable to wipe the content look off his face, Swiss focused back on the performance, knowing that if they just finished up, you both could be reunited once and for all.

And that’s what they did.

They carried on persistently until the curtain closed, and even that couldn't dull the roaring of the crowd. Soon, a burly security guard came to collect you and took you through the winding hallways of the venue. As you pushed through the door into the dressing room, you almost leapt towards the first ghoul you saw with desperation.

There was a certain homesickness you had been consumed by, not one which made you miss your physical home, but one which made you miss the people that made you think of home. And of course, your family made you think of home.

"(Y/N)!" a chorus of ghouls cheered. Before you could process what was happening, a pile of ghouls came tumbling towards you with speed. You winced as your body was overtaken by countless limbs, embracing you as tight as they could until your face turned purple. With one eye pried open, you could barely make out the bodies, Dew, Cirrus, Aether, Mountain, Cumulus, Rain and Sunshine.

"I'm happy to see you guys too!" you laughed.

But there was one ghoul that was missing.

Your eyes scanned over the room, the leather couch, the vanity, and even the cacti in the corner of the large room to no avail. Frowning, you turned back to the ghouls, doing your best to hide your disappointment with a content smile.

"(Y/N)...?"

Your mind snapped.

You knew that voice anywhere.

Your heart almost leapt from your throat as you spun to the voice, which had just emerged from the other door. You gave him no time to react as you jumped at him, hugging your ghoul in your arms. The scent of musk and bourbon lingered under your nose, prompting your hold to become stronger. You felt his hand press to your hair, pulse thumping under his chest as you were pushed towards it.

An 'aww' was shared between the ghoulettes.

At last, your head dragged away from the comforting fabric of Swiss's chest to meet his sparkling eyes, filled with the softness of love. "I saw you in the crowd" he mumbled against the crown of your head, "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to surprise you"

He grinned, canines flashing, "Well this certainly is a surprise" and placed a quick kiss on your lips.

One of his many forms of affection, while mostly gentle with you, was to pull you towards him or to stroke his tail spade up and down your calves. And it was no different that time around. As if his tail had a mind of its own, it began to drift upwards.

You smirked and shuddered, leaning into his arms to savour the moment.

Everything felt right, like puzzle pieces finally fitting together. The way your body curved perfectly around his strong stature, or the way his hand fell into yours comfortably.

“Get a room, guys” Aether called, looking up from the couch with a playful dismay.

Swiss shot deadly daggers towards his brethren, breaking away from your gaze. Like that of a snake, his tongue flicked outwards from the underneath of his helmet. “Trust me, we would if we could”. Although fiery, his tone was dripping with a smugness

Face now flushed, you left your hand on his arm assertively. He leant forwards, eliminating the gap between your lips as he caught you in a passionate tangle.

“You should surprise me more often” he remarked.

“I’ll take notes” you replied wittily.

And of course you both weren’t going to miss out on the opportunity to make up for lost time.

The prospect of returning home was far from your mind. All that remained was a deep longing for your partner.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#Swiss #Swiss Ghoul #multi ghoul #Swiss x reader #Swiss Ghoul x reader #Multi Ghoul x reader #the band ghost #the band ghost x reader #gn!reader #gn!s/o #oneshot #answering requests #fluff

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kiatheinsomniac · 2 years

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Hi i saw your 1k event post, i was wondering if you could write a donna x reader where readers just a buff tall and beautiful and handsome bimbo who has feelings for reader and donna does to but reader is just OBLIVIOUS so reader just sweeps off donnas moves on reader as friendly. And d sees this and thinks r doesnt like her so she becomes distant and r notices this and asks about this and d just basically tells her to leave or whatever u can just write d saying something to reader about d wanting r to leave. And reader is just CRUSHED but respects d's choice and leaves. But reader leaves little notes 4 donna and in one of those notes reader had written a lovey dovey love confession but donna hasn't found it yet but ends up finding it. So d seeks out r and finds her and just tells her shes sorry and all that. Please make this as ANGSTY as you can. Tysmmmm i love ur work sm

notes: hope it was angst enough hehe <3 this probably would have been out this afternoon instead of at 1AM if I hadn't spent all day watching the new RE series lol

pairing: Donna Beneviento x reader

word count: 3.3k

☾ ⋆ﾟ MASTERLIST / RULES / TAGLIST FORM

A terrible misunderstanding

It was an overcast day in the garden and Donna was sitting on a bench, chatting away with Angie while you raked the colourful leaves of autumn that had fallen to the ground in the Beneviento Estate that was renowned in the village for its dollmaker and its gardens. Your black jumper was on Donna’s lap as she watched you in particular compared to her other gardeners – she always did and it filled you with a warmth to know that you were your Lady’s favourite. It was that time of autumn where the mornings were cold and the afternoons were warm and so you had stripped off the extra layer, Donna having offered to look after it for you while you worked.

Donna was currently blushing madly, not that you could see it beneath her veil, as you had bushed up the sleeves of your linen button up, loosening your scarf and undoing a few buttons as you worked on raking all of the leaves into one pile. The way your sleeves had been pushed up accentuated the curves of your biceps perfectly, able to catch glimpses of the muscles of your back when the shirt stretched taut with some of your movements. You worked in trousers instead of skirts or dresses, finding them much more comfortable with your line of work and Donna was beyond grateful for this as they wrapped around the muscles of your thighs perfectly and, though she felt terrible to admit it, they made your ass look great too. She adored how tall you were too. She was perfectly capable of looking out for herself but the idea of being protected by you, of being wrapped in your arms and having everything in the world suddenly feel right – her heart soared for you.

Her eye was only torn from your form when you would look in her direction. When this happened, she would then turn her head back down to where she was mending some of the holes that your favourite jumper had accumulated over the years. You had told her it was unnecessary but she insisted – a part of her wanted to make her mark on one of your favourite possessions, envious of the love you had for it that she longed for you to share with her.

The day continued to pass like this: you doing your job of maintaining her garden while she watched you with adoration and mended your jumper. By the time you approached her again, Angie was giggling as she glanced between you and Donna while you smiled down at the dollmaker.

“Here.” She held out the jumper to you and you smiled at seeing the mended little holes before beaming as you took up the end of the sleeve in your hand, finding a little red heart stitched there.

“Oh, Donna, this is lovely! Thank you!” She could have melted as she looked into your eyes, the way they crinkled slightly with your beautiful smile, “I hope that I’m not crossing a line in saying this but I’ve come to see you as more than my employer.” The dollmaker’s heart could have leapt out of her chest and she stiffened in anticipation - out of all the things she had said and done to try and get her feelings across, was a little threaded heart all it took for you to finally see her feelings for you? “I’ve come to consider you as a dear friend too.” And as easily as you had lifted her heart, you dropped it to the floor, letting it shatter. The dollmaker no longer felt like speaking, afraid her voice would indicate the tears quickly filling her eye.

“We consider you a friend too!” Angie piped up, sparing Donna from having to speak. Your smile widened even more but now it only seemed bittersweet to the dollmaker.

“How wonderful!” You replied cheerily as you wrapped the jumper around your waist, “I’ll be back at my usual time tomorrow. Perhaps we can all have lunch together?” Lunch as friends. Donna thought that perhaps she could do that if only to take the opportunity to get closer to you – not as close as she yearned for but closer nonetheless.

“We’ll make cake!” Angie exclaimed and you said your goodbyes before returning to the village until the working day began anew tomorrow.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After that day, having lunch with you became a daily ritual for Donna and, originally, she missed the company on Sundays when you would not be around as it was your day off. However, one day, you asked if you could join her on your days off too, claiming that it was lonely at your little house in the village, seeing as you lived alone. She had been beyond thrilled and a part of her hoped that you were perhaps coming to share her feelings but your behaviour towards her showed no particular differences and it hurt her to come to believe that you truly were only coming on your days off because it was lonely at your own home. Though, Donna supposed she found comfort in knowing that you chose her company over anyone else’s. Did that indicate anything? She dismissed the thought, tired of being hurt over your unrequited feelings.

You had brought something for her today: your favourite book. She had almost swooned when you fumbled over your explanation of it, blushing and rather embarrassed that it was technically a children’s book but you insisted that you thought Donna would enjoy Coraline. She lovingly caressed the worn pages and creased spine of the book once you had left that day, fingertips dancing over the damaged corners and flipping through the book to find little pencilled annotations and sticky notes with scribbled-down theories. She tried to not read any as she flipped through the pages, wanting to enjoy the narrative and then discuss it with you.

Donna had found herself unable to put the book down and stayed up all night reading it, adoring all your little notes and annotations, your favourite quotes and scenes, all your ideas about what was really going on in this strange other world that the young protagonist had found herself in. The dollmaker was just bursting at the seams to discuss it all with you, to hear you voice your theories aloud, to watch your face light up as you spoke eagerly. She found herself feeling the same strange jealousy towards the book as she had with the jumper that she had repaired for you so many weeks ago. This book had felt so much of your attention and love, had seen your devotion to the narrative and she would do anything to be held in the same high regard as this book by you, this book that you adored so much and had trusted her to take care of while you lent it to her.

She had been very sleepy the next day but it was utterly worth it to see how you lit up as you both talked about the book for hours. It had led to you staying much, much later than usual and, feeling bold with a heart full of affection for you, Donna offered for you to stay the night. After being assured that it was no bother to her, you agreed to stay and Donna was practically trembling by the time the two of you were preparing to share her bed.

She watched you out of the corner of her eye while you brushed out your hair. Oh, how she longed to wrap her arms around your strong shoulders, to whisper in your ear that she would do it for you and feel your soft tresses between her fingertips as she gently brushed them out. But she was not so bold. Hesitantly, she harnessed the pollen of the yellow flowers in the vase on the windowsill as she reached to remove her veil. The growth of the cadeau that emerged from her eye socket was her deepest insecurity and she simply couldn’t bear to let you see. You were utterly beautiful in your radiant face, in your strong and tall body and she wanted to be seen as she saw you.

When you turned to thank Donna for allowing you to use the spare hairbrush, you froze for a moment. A part of you always knew that Donna must be beautiful, regardless of what she looked like. She was too sweet and thoughtful and dedicated, things that made up her beautiful personality that you knew would shine through her features, no matter what she looked like. But you hadn’t expected this.

She was utterly breathtaking: skin like the porcelain of her finest dolls, dark hair, big doe eyes framed by thick lashes. You found yourself staring, unable to look away. You ached to tell her just how beautiful she was, to make sure that she knew it, that she would always know it, never to forget. But you would be sharing her bed tonight, a generous offer that she had made to spare you the unsafe walk back in the dark. You didn’t want to make anything awkward between the two of you but oh how you longed to just pull her into your arms, hold her tight against your body and pepper kisses all across her face.

“Thank you.” You spoke, holding out the hairbrush and she took it from you to return it to its rightful place. You made no comment about her lack of veil, knowing that it took a lot of trust for her to show you her face and you didn’t wish to make her feel uncomfortable or put on the spot because of it. Donna, however, felt a crushing weight on her chest when you made no comment on it. Did you not like what you saw? Were you really so indifferent to her that seeing her face for the first time meant nothing?

The two of you climbed into bed without another word, a large space between you and, as you fell asleep, you turned onto your side so that you back faced Donna. The dollmaker listened for your steady breaths, an indicator of your unconsciousness and she stared at the ceiling in the dark.

What much more could she do to show she liked you? She had invited you into her home, you spent so much time together, she had given you flowers, made you a doll in your likeness, tried showing you her love with little gestures such as the heart on your sleeve and staying up all night to read your favourite book. She had now shown you her face, was laying in the same bed as you and you were still completely and utterly indifferent to her gestures. Had she read into this wrong? Did you like her at all? Did you even like women at all? Or was she just not what you wanted, not enough?

She began to sniffle and clapped her hand over her mouth, trying to muffle the sobs as tears fell down her cheek. There was a little tapping sound from across the room where a miniature bed stood. The taps hurried across the floor before a little wooden hand grasped the sheets and Angie was pulling herself up onto the bed, wiggling her way into Donna’s arms. Donna buried her face against her dearest doll and did her best to cry as quietly as possible as to not wake you.

She couldn’t do this anymore.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next morning, Donna seemed very quiet and more withdrawn than usual. She had woken up before you and was already wearing her veil. You wished to see her stunning face once more but knew not to ask her to remove it – it was something she had to do herself, not something to be pushed. You had suggested getting straight to work and then joining her for lunch as usual but she insisted that she hadn’t slept well and she wanted to sleep that afternoon before the exhaustion could give her a migraine. You told her that you had hoped the lack of sleep wasn’t because you had been kicking or anything and she insisted that it wasn’t and she just had a lot on her mind. You had been the reason she was awake though, in a way.

You had tried to get her to talk, assuring her that you were her friend and wanted to be there for you but she told you that it wasn’t something for you to worry about, which stung a little, and made her way into a separate room, wishing you good luck in your work for the day.

The following day, the lunch had been terrible. The two of you hardly spoke and Donna didn’t utter more than two sentences, Angie doing most of the talking for her. The next two weeks carried on like this: either she wasn’t feeling well or was too busy in the worksop for your usual lunches and even when you did have them, she would hardly talk.

“Donna,” You began one day, having grown used to using her first name a few months ago now, “have I done something to upset you? Things have been off between us for the last two weeks and if I’ve done something I’m sorry but I can’t make amends unless you tell me what it is.” She had been dreading this conversation. She couldn’t take you implicitly not returning her feelings and she couldn’t even bear the thought of being outright rejected.

“I don’t think we should see each other any more. I’ve been reminded of why I don’t enjoy having company.” Your heart plummeted the moment she said it and your chest was full with a sharp pain. You were almost sure that, had it been any quieter, you could have heard your heartstrings snap there and then.

“Oh.” Was all you could muster out as you held back the tears that were welling in your eyes, “I- I see. If I’m not wanted I’ll just…” And you kept your head down, unable to look at Donna as you rose from your seat and went to the coat rack by your bookshelf to grab your coat, hearing the scrape of Donna’s chair and the jingle of her keys as she got up to go and unlock the front door for you. You slipped out your book from your pocket, stuffed full of various letters that you had written over the past few months but never had the courage to send, and tucked it between some botany books on Donna’s shelf.

You wanted her to know, at least some day, how you felt about her but it was clear now that you could only do so without imposing your company on her. What had you done wrong? Did she find you too dull? Too stupid to keep up with the detail of her dollmaking and plant sciences that she would so passionately tell you about? Did she want someone who wasn’t so tall? Who was a little daintier perhaps? Did she like women at all? You held back your sobs, deciding that you would let them out once you were out of the door but that you would not cry in front of Donna who had just so easily broken your heart.

As you took the lift down towards the gardens, you crouched to the ground in a pile of sobs, wails and tears.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A month and a half had passed and Donna missed you every day. She now realised that absence felt much, much worse than unrequited love. She yearned for your smile, for the way you would so attentively listen to her talk in a way that she just wasn’t comfortable doing with any other. You had quit the following day, finding work on a farm in the village instead and suddenly the dollmaker’s renowned gardens felt dull and barren.

The house was dusty and so Donna was making her way around the kitchen and living room area while a maid, sent to help her by Lady Dimitrescu, worked to clean up the house upstairs. Donna was in the process of taking the books from the shelves to dust and rearrange them when she found your worn copy of Coraline. She was certain that she had given it back to you.

Only, it was thicker and she opened it to find that it was full of letters, all addressed to her. When had you put this here? She sat down on the nearest chair and carefully set them in her lap, bringing the first envelope up to her nose and inhaling deeply. It smelled like that rose perfume you always wore.

She carefully opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. You had written it almost as a ramble, saying that you knew the likelihood of Donna ever reading this was low but that you needed to express your words anyway, that you adored her, that you were in love with her, all the things about her that you had fallen for. Her hands began to tremble as her eyes flickered faster and faster across the paper, opening letter after letter to find that they were all times when you had felt like confessing to her but just couldn’t bring yourself to.

Oh, what a terrible, terrible misunderstanding the two of you had made. The dollmaker leapt to her feet, tucking the precious letters in her pocket and grabbing her nearest coat, hoisting Angie into the crook of her arm.

“Adele! We’re leaving but we’ll be back!” The doll called to the maid upstairs before Donna sped out of the door, unable to get to the village fast enough. She went to your house first, frantically knocking on the door but there was no answer. She had heard that you were working on one of the farms now and so she set off to the one behind the church, finding you putting out feed for the cows in the field.

“Y/n!” She exclaimed, barrelling towards you. Your head snapped up in her direction and she could have wept from the sight of your face alone. She came to a quick halt in front of you, setting Angie down who then trotted off to clamber up a fence to sit on, giving the two of you some privacy. “I found your letters.” She began and you looked away, face heating up in embarrassment.

“Donna, I’m sorry, I should have–”

“I sent you away because I’m in love with you too.” She spoke before this misunderstanding could get any more out of hand, “I found it so unbearable to think that I had so, so, much love in my heart for you that you didn’t return. I thought it was better to just send you away, that it would ease my pain. I was wrong and every day without you has been agony.” You could hear the tears in her voice and they were soon revealed to you when she threw her veil back and threw herself into your arms, “I’m so, so sorry for what I’ve done.” You quickly wrapped your arms around her and shushed her gently, pulling her into your chest and burying your face atop her head.

“We’ve made quite the mess, haven’t we?” You asked softly, “I think we might be as oblivious as each other.” She let out a laugh and nodded her head, pulling back just enough to look up at you. You leaned down a little so that your nose could nudge against hers slightly, your eyes fixed on her one. Even the illusion was dropped now and she was no less beautiful in your vision. “I love you.” You whispered, knowing she needed to hear it.

“And I love you.” She threw her arms around your neck and crashed her lips onto yours in a burst of courage.

You were so relieved to finally have your heart back in your life again.

☾ ⋆ﾟ Buy me a coffee?

#donna beneviento reader insert #donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #donna beneviento x you #donna beneviento x female reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil viii #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil #I begrudgingly titled this 'a terrible miscommunication'#but I want you all to know that the title of the google doc was 'oblivious lesbians'

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daydreamingleclerc · 2 years

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pictures of mick schumacher that give off ✨intense�� boyfriend energy

first up we have this bad boy <3 it just gives me major domestic boyfriend!mick vibes, taking the dogs out at 6am for dog walks in the autumn, days out in the winter. soft bf energy is so intense, i love it 🤍

second is this one <3 it just looks like the kinda photo he’d send you when you’ve said you’ve had a really bad day. i looooooove it

next up - this motherfucker <3 prema mick is the ultimate boyfriend. this seems like the kinda photo that would be taken after he’d just won a race and would come straight up to you and i love it

i have multiple pictures to fill out a mick and angie saga and this one is the first <3 he’s just such a boyfriend when he’s around angie the vibes are just immaculate she brings out the softest part of him i love it

wet. mick. he’s in an oodie. he’s just fetched angie from the river (lake? i don’t know what it is) this is the ultimate soft picture. i love it. i love him. i hope the excessive amount of full stops expresses said love

BOYFRIEND MICK IN A HOODIE. waaaaaaaaaaaaa. i legit just love men in hoodies it’s so slutty. looks like the kinda hoodie he’d let you borrow when you’re watching a drive in movie in the late summer in his convertible (does he have a convertible? he does now) & you get cold and he’ll let you wear it and it’s forever yours now he’s never getting it back

this gives cheeky boyfriend mick vibes. the kinda bf who purposely does stupid & silly things for your insta story or tiktok’s because he knows it makes you smile & your smile is the most important thing in his life. i love it and i want it forever imprinted on my brain

this gives “the member of your family who was getting married let you bring mick to the wedding last minute and he didn’t have time to buy a suit” vibes (or something along those lines, idk). he comes to the wedding and ur whole family are so in love with him and the added detail of his suit matching the colour of ur dress is just so perfect and he’s just so happy and it makes everyone swoon

last up in the mick x angie saga we have this pic. it’s giving christmas afternoon walk. it’s giving new year’s day hungover gf / right as rain bf “i need to cleanse you of your hangover so let’s go on a long, six mile walk” it’s the kinda post you’d put on your insta story with some soppy cute little caption that makes everyone go “awwwwww”

last but not lease we have this pic <3 just gives me intense jet lagged bf!mick vibes. like he’s just got off the plane to whichever country the next race is in and he’s so tired but he sends you a selfie to let you know he’s okay and he got there safe and he loves you and he’ll speak to you when you wake up in the morning 🤍

#mick schumacher #i had to do it #i looooove this

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sizhui · 1 year

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hello angie!! i missed seeing u around a lot for some reaosn!

i usually ask more abstract questions but ig ive been very amazed how u can do so much stuff so can i ask how u manage to draw so much while doing well in school?

also ive noticed youve been using many more desaturated colours and tilting the hues a little... hope to see it more!

HELLO LAB!!!! i missed you too, i got so happy when i saw an ask from you again!

I'm very flattered that you see me as someone who can do a lot of stuff, since i tend to see myself as someone who doesn't do anything worthwhile at all! To answer your question bluntly, it's because I tend to neglect my schoolwork until the last moment! I spend most of my time daydreaming, drawing and writing and then frantically study 3 days before the exam ToT! It's not something I'm proud of, and it's something I really want to change about myself. I'm not some kind of a genius, I'm just a little bit good at getting by and keeping my head above the surface of the water! But ... I really want to get more serious soon because I'm making big plans for my adult life these days...

And I'm glad you like my experiments with coloring! I will definitely keep trying °^.^°

I hope you are well these days! Write to me more if you remember me!!!

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boyette47tarp · 2 months

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Not known Details About best squishmallows

Just one Reviewer Wrote: “Under no circumstances squished a squishmallow before I purchased Mister Goofy for my two calendar year aged niece, but once my partner and I bought to squish one particular we needed a few of our own! http://images.google.dm/url?q=https://squishmallowsmart.com 'm betting that inside a 12 months the bed might be 100% squishmallow. [...]” No you can be mad around pancakes. Rayen is made up of 3 pancakes stacked together with a maple syrup shade on the best of each. She wears a pat of butter in the syrupy-coloured flower on her head. The fantasy squad is sold at Claire's. Just take of venture and get on the internet to be amazed by among the list of cute characters. Visit Claire's in person for making your selection yourself. Prepare to get a surprise with our thriller boxes. Accumulate the many cute Squishmallows and increase your selection! It really is such a fun locate for individuals who cannot go a day with no avocado toast. Sinclair provides a enthusiasm for outer Room, in order to explore The celebrities with the new cuddle buddy. Looking for a unique creature to include to your little one’s Squishmallow squad? Benny the Bigfoot is a fantastic place to start. Hello Kitty is just one neat cat, and her rainbow sunglasses make her that much cooler. This Squishmallow is prepared for sunny enjoyable! No matter whether you like a pocket-sized pal or a giant cuddle buddy, Squishmallows are available different measurements to fit your snuggling Tastes. Select from mini five-inch animal plush toys for on-the-go companionship, or go large with our sixteen-inch and bigger choices for utmost huggability. Each individual dimensions guarantees the identical plushy goodness, making sure that the Pleasure of squishing appreciates no bounds. Gown them up in little tutus, classy scarves, or maybe miniature glasses, giving your squishy squad a customized touch that displays your distinctive design. The lengthy ears, pink cheeks and white pupils while in the eyes make this among the cutest Squishmallows we've at any time found. It is a definite "wow" for your Pokemon admirer or even a young gamer. Avery’s Story: Avery is known to become the queen of arts and crafts. She’s your go-to Resourceful buddy and it is recognized for her impeccable calligraphy expertise, watercolors, and floral layouts. Will not stress, mothers and fathers—whether or not your very little one particular is investigating you with pleading eyes, ready to shed tears any second. However the need of Squishmallows has their populations dwindling at stores everywhere you go, there is certainly even now hope to seek out Squishmallows in suppliers and online. For those who LO is’nt Completely ready for a true pup yet, this Squishmallow Shiba is the next best detail. Angie’s pointy ears will make your coronary heart soften. In this particular pack of five minis, you will get an assortment of four-inch versions of a lot of the more substantial dolls.

#squishmallows #mart #squishy #best #top #new

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yjunies · 3 years

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ohhh !! 🌝 please? if you're still doing it ! (´,,•ω•,,｀) this moon emoji is still creeping me out hdhdhdhd

hi angie! you're such a kind and sweet person. this colour reminds me of pretty sunsets. and sunsets give me a cosy a feeling. i think it matches you nicely 💕

send me a 🌝 and i’ll tell you what colour you are

#i hope you like this colour angie <3 #replies #sunwoosgf

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its-deputy-caleb · 3 years

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Reaction from the lords (and miranda if you want) when they found out that s/o has the power of fire. but not a normal one but the hoarse blue on

Ahh this was super cute to write, firstly i’m sorry that i didn’t do miranda i have just been having a really rough patch and her character is hard to write for me personally so i apologise but i love these requests with a s/o that has some kind of powers! i hope everyone can enjoy <3

Alcina Dimitrescu

When Alcina discovered you have the gift of fire, she was not amused to find you burnt her fine quality curtains. Not that any of it was your fault, really you just waved your hand at Bela at the other end of the hall and the window went up in flames.

Once you got a hang of your powers though, it became a delight around the castle. The oil lamps in rooms were replaced by a warm blue glow which matched beautifully with the golden inlay of the walls.

One thing that you’d noticed about Alcina that being somewhat of a vampire, her skin was always very cold no matter how warm the room was and so you often found yourself with your hands on her face. She always leaned into your touch as your thumbs brushed her cheeks.

You let warmth leave your palm, a soft heat radiating from them as you gently held her face. Alcina loved your power because in a cheesy and cliche kind of way, you made her heart melt. She’d never been one for romantics but you had a certain affect on her.

You didn’t always use your powers to redecorate the Castle however, there were certainly times when it came in handy to protect you and your family. Many times you’d flame down the creatures that lingered in the cellars if they got too close to Alcina’s daughters and you never hesitated to leave a ring of fire around the Castle to fend off any unwanted guests.

They were your family after all, and you’d do everything in your power to protect the ones you love.

Donna Beneviento

Donna is so captured by your powers and your heart always skips a beat when she asks you to show her, watching as the blue flame is reflected in her beautiful doe eyes. Her face lights always lights up in the brightest smile.

An afternoon favourite of yours is to sit on the couch with Donna wrapped in your arms, her head resting on your chest as your fingers run gently through her hair. Often at times Donna will fall asleep (which you’ll never admit is the cutest thing seeing her sleep) but the house is always freezing so high in the mountains.

With a flick of your wrist, the fireplace springs to life and a soft blue colour fills the room. Naturally you could’ve used a blanket but you didn’t want to move and wake her and you also took every opportunity to use your powers.

You and Donna love to play hide and seek with Angie around the Estate, but the mischievous Angie insists that the lights get turned off as you search for her. With one hand in Donna’s, the other rests open palmed in front of you, acting as a lantern while you run down dark corridors. That and it also acted as a heat source in some of the more questionable and damp rooms.

Early mornings are often spent outside on the porch to watch the sunrise bounce off the waterfall, it was quite a spectacular view. One morning Donna had a mug of tea in her hand, long gone cold since it snowed almost all year round.

You bring your hands to the mug and warm it with your palms, making sure Donna can keep her own hands warm. Soon the tea is steaming again and she takes a tentative sip, humming in delight at the sweet taste. She tucks her head under yours as you bring her in close before returning your gaze to the waterfall.

Salvatore Moreau

At first Salvatore was almost afraid of your power, seeing that he was much more comfortable in an aquatic environment but he slowly learnt that you’d never hurt him with your power.

You loved taking trips around the reservoir together, camping out under the stars as you roast all sorts of sweets that you bought from the Duke. You’d both share marshmallows and chocolates and other goodies as you learnt Sal had a sweet tooth to counteract his love of savoury cheeses.

On really cold mornings, you both wake up early to go and find the freshly fallen snow. You use your fire power to melt it, leaving large puddles of water that he could swim in. One thing you noticed was the way your heart fluttered when he smiled at the water you could create.

Salvatore learnt that he was particularly fond of warm water and so the two of you found a sanctuary up above the reservoir that held a deep pool of water.

You knelt down and placed your palm on the rocks and let them heat slowly, a warm steam entering the atmosphere. The water was by no means hot but just warm enough to be enjoyable in these harsh winters. Sal absolutely loved the spring you made and although you tended to avoid water for obvious reasons, you let your legs dangle in the warm water while he either swarm around or had his head rested on your knee.

Karl Heisenberg

The minute Karl sees fire leave your palm his eyes light up like a kid on Christmas. He couldn’t be more excited to have someone like him, and it brought you two closer together.

Having the power of fire meant that you jumped straight in to helping around the factory with him. The two of you would weld metal together for hours. First you’d melt it all down and then he’d weld it all back to form magnificent weapons of which you’d both plan to use on Miranda.

Sometimes if he needed to weld two pieces together you’d simply point your index finger with a small searing hot blue flame while he held them together. You never missed the way he smiled at the end of it like he was the luckiest man alive.

You both loved going out and causing mischief all over the village. The two of you would spend hours searching through caves and hidden undiscovered pockets that had all the monsters that you could wreak havoc on. You’d often dare each other on how many lycans and Samcă you could kill. Naturally a Vârcolac was worth extra points and the winner got a weeks worth of bragging rights and a reward from the Duke all paid for by the loser.

Your gift was extremely powerful and Karl admired you for that immensely, knowing that you’re just as powerful as him, if not more. Not only that but he’s never felt loved than when you promised that you’d be by his side when he took Miranda down and that you’d protect him during the battle.

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #salvatore moreau #salvatore moreau x reader #resident evil village #resident evil headcanons #resident evil 8 #resident evil #asks #prompt

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sunrisefairy · 3 years

Text

Cameras and crushes

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Warning: Alcohol, small mention of death, pure fluffiness

Summary: Y/N is used to being a background character someone you glaze over but never really notice. But more recently she longed for someone to see her, well she longed for a certain redhead to see her.

A/N: Wrote this for @theweasleysredhair writing challenge based off the prompt “You remembered?” very proud of this fic so i hope you love it as much as i do. All feedback is welcomed :))))

italics represent a flashback

Taglist: send me a message if you would like to be added @hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines @klausdatprettyboi @georgeweasleyswhre

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Y/N is very content with being a background character, she’s quite used to it actually. Growing up with 3 older and much louder brothers she was pretty happy with sticking to the sidelines, letting them be noisy and crazy while she kept to herself. Y/N grew up with mostly boys around her, her mother passed away when she was young. Y/N would always beg her brothers and her dad for stories of her mother, wanting to feel closer to her. Y/N’s dad would fondly retell memories of his beautiful wife, reminiscing on how witty and charismatic she was. He’d mention all the small, quirky things she would do which made him fall hard and fast for her. Y/N longed for that kind of love, she longed for someone to take notice of her in the way her dad did for her mum. Ever since Y/N was a little girl she yearned to be heard and seen but that proved difficult when you’re as shy and quiet as her.

Judging by most of the people in Y/N’s life she seemed to attract the boisterous types, guessing her quiet nature balanced them out. She loved her friends with her entire heart, even if their personalities were the opposite of hers, Y/N wouldn’t change their qualities if she could.

One of her friends, although still lively and vibrant as the others, also had a calm and tranquil side to him. George Weasley. Y/N had only known George for a few years having met at Lee Jordan’s 18th birthday 3 years ago. Somehow that night she had ended up climbing a tree with the tall redhead whom she had only met 30 minutes prior.

“How the hell did you get up to that branch?” Y/N mumbled, trying to figure out how to reach the higher branch where George Weasley was currently sitting, his long legs swinging back and forth as he chuckled at the girl below him.

“I used that branch sticking out there and then swung my leg up to get here.” George points to the branch to the girls left.

Y/N grunts as she attempts what George said but huffs and pouts her lip feeling defeated, “you forget that I have little legs, unlike you Mr. giraffe.”

George rolls his eyes and stretches his hand out, “try again, I’ll help pull you up.”

Somehow, George manages to pull Y/N up and they sit comfortably next to one another up high in the tree. “There you go little bunny, don’t go falling off now.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at the nickname wishing she had brought her cider up with her feeling very self-conscious and unsure of what to do her shaking hands.

The pair fall into a comfortable silence, watching the party goers below them gathered around a very intoxicated birthday boy chanting as he chugs another beer, “we love to drink with Lee cause Lee is our mate and when we drink with Lee he gets it down in 8…7…”

Their voices drown out as George gently nudges Y/N’s shoulder pulling her attention back to him, “soo, Y/N I hear you’re not much of the talker?”

Y/N blushes hard grateful for the lack of light outside. “No I guess not. Not many are interested in what I have to say.”

George smiles, his eyes not leaving the girl beside him, “well I am. Tell me something.”

Y/N chews on her bottom lip nervously and looks back at the drunk crowd, “like what?”

George shrugs, he didn’t really mind what the conversation was about, he just wanted to hear the pretty girl speak. “I dunno, anything. Tell me about something that makes you happy.”

Y/N racks her brain for something to talk about, her palms getting sweaty from the long silence. Finally, she settles on something that always fills her with joy, her mother.

“Um okay so,” she starts staring at the leaves swaying in the tree, pushing down the anxiety. “Before my mother died she always had this film camera with her, my dad used to joke around saying that she loved this camera more than him,” Y/N chuckles quietly before continuing “She would take photos of the most random things, we have this big box back home filled with all the photos she ever took with that camera.” Y/N pauses, fumbling with her fingers. “I wish we still had the camera. You see after my mum passed, dad had to look after us 4 kids and with only one income coming in, it was pretty tough. For my 12th birthday I reeeaaally wanted a new bike, I’d complained for years that I couldn’t have my brothers old one because it was a gross boy’s bike. So, my dad sold my mums camera to get me a pink one. Kind of wish he didn’t because I would have loved to still have mum’s camera with us.”

Y/N finished and chewed her lip realising speaking about her dead mother probably wasn’t a great conversation piece, but any story of her mother always made her feel warm inside.

George hadn’t taken his eyes off her throughout the whole story, his heart fluttering when her eyes had lit up as she spoke about her mother.

“I’m sorry, probably not what you wanted to hear, it was the first thing that popped into my head.” Y/N mumbled.

George simply shook his head and replied, “you don’t ever have to apologise to me for saying what’s on your mind Y/N. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

For the first time in a while, Y/N felt seen.

Y/N’s phone dings and she pulls it from her pocket to read the message.

-Hey bunny :) so 4 tonight, we’re aiming to get to urs at like 7. does that work for u?

It was from George. Even if she didn’t have his number saved, she’d be able to tell it was from the redhead simply from his choice of nickname. Y/N hated when he called her bunny but George insisted on using the nickname ever since Lee’s 18th mainly because he thought it was cute not that he would tell her that.

Y/N’s heart thumped harder in her chest purely from the fact that George had texted her. Her crush on George had amplified over the years of knowing the boy, feeling both thankful and uneasy at the fact that he had so effortlessly slotted into their tight friendship group mainly because he was always around making Y/N a stuttering mess.

Y/N’s fingers fumble as she types out a response, it was her birthday today and all her friends we’re persistent in throwing her a party. They had agreed to a small gathering at Y/N’s place, Y/N didn’t want them to make such a fuss over it.

-Hey Georgie, 7 is perfect! Cant wait.

-See u then bunny, hope ur ready to get ur drink on ;)

-IDK, after the other weekend I dont think im ready to face alcohol again

-nope! no excuses from u, u only turn 21 once

Y/N chuckles at George’s message and goes back to tidying her house, ready for tonight.

~~~~

As soon as it hits 7pm her friends are barging through her front door lugging drinks.

Each of them greet Y/N giving her a hug and wishing her happy birthday.

“We’ll do presents later, first let’s get some drinks into us!” Angelina cheers as she starts to mix some deadly concoction. Alicia connects her phone to the speaker, the living room filling with music.

Y/N jumps as a voice pipes up from behind her, “happy birthday little bunny.”

She turns facing George as he places a brightly coloured wrapped box on the counter with the other presents. He opens his arms, engulfing her into a giant hug. Y/N wraps her arms around his waist, giving him a tight squeeze, “thanks” she mumbles into his chest before pulling away looking up at his warm eyes. They stare at each other for a second before the moment is broken when Fred places something on Y/N’s head.

“A birthday tiara for the birthday girl” Fred states loudly, Y/N glances at the mirror hanging from the wall on her left sees a plastic silver and pink tiara perched upon her head.

“Oh god,” Y/N mumbles adjusting it slightly.

Lee shouts over the music, drawing everyone’s attention over to him. “Okay everyone, the ever lovely Angie has made us each a questionable looking but delicious drink to start the night. So get your butts over here and let’s get this party started!”

A few hours and many, many drinks later, everyone is huddled in the living room, sitting on the couches watching Y/N open her presents. So far, she had gotten some perfume from Angelina, chocolates and a gorgeous photo frame from Alicia and Fred and Lee had gifted Y/N with a bottle of wine and voucher from the little boutique at the corner of her street. Y/N’s cheeks were hurting from smiling so much and her heart swelled at the sweet gifts her friends had gotten her.

“Okay, only one left,” Alicia says, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Probably the best one,” Fred whispers to Lee.

“Of course it’s going to be the best one you idiot,” Angelina says as a matter of fact, overhearing the two boys.

George, who is sitting to Y/N’s right, hands over the brightly colour box, trying to hide his excitement and nerves. “Here you go Y/N, happy birthday.”

The box feels heavy in Y/N’s grasp as she places it in her lap tearing off the wrapping paper. Y/N glances around, noticing everyone’s eager eyes on her. She sees Angelina nudge Alicia’s side smiling at each other knowingly. Y/N furrow her brows, slightly confused then draws her attention back to the box. She ripped off the paper carefully and uncover a brown box, no hints as to what is inside.

“Oh my god, hurry up and open it the suspense is killing me!” Fred says impatiently, George whacks him across the head telling him to shut up.

Y/N take off the lid and immediately her mouth gapes open finally seeing what’s inside. She shakily lifts the film camera out of the box and hold it so gently as if it’s made of diamonds and gold.

Small tears prick in Y/N’s eyes, shocked and surprised at George’s gift, it looks exactly like the one her mother had.

She manages to squeak out a small, “you remembered?” referring to the first conversation they had 3 years prior.

George has a small smile etched onto his lips. “Of course I did, I remember everything you tell me. I take a lot of pride in knowing everything about you actually.” He says, puffing his chest out proudly.

“Yeah like what?” Y/N cradles the camera in her arms.

“Well,” George starts. “I know that you hate the smell tequila because it reminds you of your 18th when you spent most of the night by the toilet. I know that you can’t sleep if the room is dead quiet. I know that you love buying plants but can never seem to keep them alive. I know you never wear matching socks because you think it’s a fun way to spice up an outfit.” He finishes smugly.

Alicia and Angelina let out a small aww in the background reminding Y/N of the 4 other sets of eyes watching her and George right now.

“Well there’s one thing you don’t know about me.”

“Yeah? What’s that then?” George counters.

Y/N doesn’t know where she musters up the courage from to speak the next words, maybe from the alcohol buzzing through her body or finally being sick of keeping this to herself for the past 3 years. Whatever it may be, she’s rather proud of herself, ignoring the way her stomach churns.

“That I have a huge crush on you.”

She expected George to laugh in her face before rejecting her gently. What Y/N definitely didn’t expect was him to cradle her face in his large hands, pressing a sweet but passionate kiss to her pink lips. She squeaks in surprise before melting into the kiss, gripping onto his shirt tightly, scared he would slip away.

Much to Y/N’s dismay George pulls away from the kiss tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear, “no I knew that too.”

“Wha-how?” Y/N stutters.

The attention is pulled to Alicia as she begins to speak, “it wasn’t much of a secret babe. Everybody knew you were crushing on George. Can’t believe it took either one of you so long to do something about it.”

“Little Georgie here spent months trying to find that camera for you as a way to confess his undying love for you.” Fred reaches over and ruffles his twin’s hair who shoves him off.

“Yep, we were all so bloody excited for you to open his presents so you two can stop pining over each other.” Lee adds downing the rest of his drink then standing up. “Right, now the two love birds have finally confessed their feelings. Who’s up for a round of beer pong? Reigning champion here has yet to be defeated.”

“You’re on Jordan, that ego of yours has gotten large enough.” Fred challenges, everyone moving over to the table to set up for beer pong. Leaving Y/N and George alone on the couch.

George wraps his lanky arm around Y/N’s shoulder pulling her into his side, “I hope you’re enjoying your birthday bunny.”

Y/N grins widely, playing with her new camera before lifting it up and aiming it at George. “best birthday ever Georgie, thank you.” She squeezes the button down, snapping a picture of George who is staring at her like she’s the only person in the world.

Y/N is very content with being a background character, she’s quite used to it actually. But for once she doesn’t mind being the centre of someone’s undivided attention.

#George weasley #George weasley one shot #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fluff #george weasley fan fic #Fred and george #george weasley imagine #twrh9kwritingchallenge

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katsukes · 4 years

Photo

hey everyone! as asked by some people, here's a tutorial and how i colour manga! thank you to anyone who's ever liked my creations, i really appreciate it ♡

1. BACKGROUND

i use adobe photoshop and my laptop's trackpad

i was initially inspired to start colouring manga by other creators on here! some tutorials i used when getting started were angie's (@sugawaras) colouring tutorial here, and ana's (@aizawashoutta) tutorial here!

this is just how i colour manga personally (and i haven't been colouring for long), and i am still improving! remember to have fun and be proud of what you make!

2. CLEANING AND REDRAWING

i'll be using this panel from haikyuu!! chapter 210 that i posted here

first, i'll delete the background using the eraser tool

as you can see from the panel, hinata's arm has been cut off, so i'll redraw anything that seems to be out of the frame

the shadows in the panel are too dark for me, so i make a grey fill layer on top of the panel and set it to divide

this makes the lines (and the shadows) lighter, and i save this as a .png and insert it back into the .psd file

when the .png is inserted back into the file, i erase the white background off the picture using the background eraser tool, so the image above should now be transparent, with the exception of the lines

3. COLOURS AND SHADING

i work in parts, where i'll colour the base layer for one part (eg. hair) and shade that part completely before moving on to the next part

normally, i start with the skin colour base layer:

i use three shade types on the skin base: (1) blush, (2) soft brush shading, (3) hard brush shading

all shade layers are set to "clipping mask" on top of it's base colour

i'll do the above for the rest of the panel (eg. hair, clothes, items, etc.), with the exception of the blush layer

if there's already some shading on the original panel, i'll just do a base colour and no shading!

i'll also normally add some sort of texture on top of my colouring here, and i'll set that layer mode to soft light, and change the opacity to low (15%–30%)

i put the texture layer on top of everything, including the outline

this is how it looks like after all the base colour/shading + texture:

4. LIGHT EFFECTS (LIGHTEN, SCREEN, ETC.)

as you can see from above, the outline is all black

on top of the outline layer, i'll add light effect layers (i don't know the actual name of these layers sorry)

an example how one of these layers look like before making the layer mode lighten

this is how it looks like after i change the layer mode to lighten:

i'll add lighten/screen layers where i see fit: normally these layers are in the hues of red/orange, but if a character has black hair i might add some lighten/screen layers with some blue tones instead

this is how it looks like with all those layers added:

this is the final order of my layer/groups:

the hue group is any adjustment layers i will add (eg. hue/saturation, selective colour) to adjust the colours of my colouring if need be!

5. NOISE AND BACKGROUND

i'll normally add noise to the finished coloured panel (around 2%-5%)

this is when i'll add a background/any other effects i want

and this is the final look!

and that's it! thank you if you got this far, and i hope this was somewhat helpful! ♡

#tutorials #manga coloring tutorial #coloring #manga #m #m: tutorial #i hope this makes sense ;-;#feel free to send a msg/ask if you have any questions!

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bamboowrites · 3 years

Text

what you’d gift your s/o in genshin, and reactions to you gifting them: albedo

(according to alphabetical order, playable characters edition, no children, teenage characters are paired with whose age I assume is the same as them) (gender neutral reader) (multiple options!)

Options

(ik y’all have different tastes and physical levels, so let’s goo <3 I hope some options also suit our peeps with wheelchairs/crutches)

Option 1:

After looking around Liyue (or asking the Traveler twins to help you look around) so you can get Albedo something he won’t usually find in Mondstat, you opted for a sturdy notebook. It was hardcover with a specific coating, so if your bf spills something from his experiments, his book would be undamaged. It’s also made with the finest Liyuean paper, with an ancient lost method, and thus was very hard to find, much less persuade its creator to sell you it. Hard-earned approval and a lot of costly materials went into it. You went an extra mile for it just because your studious boyfriend grumbled about the normal notebooks breaking easily. Sure hope he likes it! Not going to tell him how you got it though, at least not the details. Let him think it’s a simple gift. You wouldn’t want him to not use it at all.

Option 2:

You went hiking and scaled mountainous terrains to get Albedo the rare ingredients he wanted for a big experiment. Albedo likes to stay in and just purchase necessary ingredients, so acquiring those violetgrasses and qingxins would be impossible for him since no one in Mondstat sells those. You also went to the top of Starsnatch Cliff for cecilias. If he desired to use them in other ways, it would work too! Brightening up the place; commissioning perfume, potions or food; these flowers could be quite versatile aside from for experiments. You gently set them in a vase and left a note on his desk. The notecard is your favourite colour, so he’d know when he comes back from his lab. That’s the perks of him having an athletic adventurer partner <3

Option 3:

You have been complying all of your sketches of Albedo (for several weeks), and now that your sketchbook finally has a proper cover, it’s time. As you lightly cleaned up the sketches, you flip through and glimpsed into the memories you immortalised on paper. Some are charcoal/pencil sketches, some are watercolours, some are acrylic paints. You drew more than expected tbh, and you hope Albedo would like it.

One of the memories: When you two were in Dragonspine, you made him wear a husky beanie, fluffy earmuffs, fleece jackets and dog-paw mittens; while you wore your favourite boots, scarves and [winter clothing items of your choice]. He grumbled at first, but he retaliated when you agree to wear cat-ear earmuffs to his amusement. You got to draw your pink-nosed, boyfriend as he caught snowflakes in his pale palms, long eyelashes crystallised with snow. His eyes lit up as you smiled at him warmly. Even though you caught a cold and needed to go back, he carried you back afterwards. <3 you drew this one in your warm home, with him setting up the temperature mechanisms.

Reactions:

Option 1 (Liyue notebook)

Albedo is amazed at the special notebook you got him, and treasures it a lot while still using it. He only uses it for his greatest experiments, and to jot down your smol comments on what you like. He gave you a kiss and you sat in his lap while he studied his notes. You got more snuggles than usual <3

Also, he got super nervous when he accidentally spilled water on it, even with its repellent features, because it was a gift from you. It’s kinda sweet seeing him fuzz over things he won’t usually mind just for you. He also gets angy™️ when other people try to pry it away from him. You give him extra hugs for those cute moments.

Option 2 (Rare ingredients)

His face lit up at the gift but not surprised. You always do little acts of services for him and it warms his heart every time. He appreciated your effort in acquiring them and keeping them intact, since it’s challenging even for an adventurer. He was about to thank you and remind you to be careful if you planned to do dangerous things again next time, but he found you snoring with a wet head of hair (context: you showered before he came home). You must have been exhausted. He smiled and gently put a towel underneath your head, then readjusted the blanket to cover you snugly. He went back to work, but not before kissing you on your forehead.

You woke up to him making tea with the remaining cecilias after experiments. He definitely didn’t save them up just to make his partner smile with relaxing, aromatic teas. You grinned and leaped into his arms, and he had to catch both the cup of tea and you at the same time. Good to see your strength training with him paid off ;))

Option 3 (Your sketchbook of Albedo)

He’s super proud of your artistic abilities and internally ‘aww’-ed at how dedicated you were to fill out an entire sketchbook with his image. He blushed when he saw your drawing of him wearing husky beanies out of embarrassment and the cuteness of you drawing that in the first place. You got more hair ruffles <3

He let you take his introverted self out more, seeing that you loved spending time with him so much; and began to secretly make more artwork about you as well. He also praised your work a lot and would show it off to his other more artistically-inclined acquaintances if they happen to visit.

#headcanon time :D #bamboo headcanons #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #albedo #genshin albedo #albedo x reader #genshin albedo x reader #gender neutral reader #genshin fluff #fluff

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residentevil-simp · 3 years

Note

ok ok I’d love a RE 8 matchup if that’s ok 🥺 I’m Nelle, I’m 18. My interests are a weird mix of cute things like animals, drawing, cartoons, Disney, musicals n pastel colours but also horror movies/games, true crime, unsolved mysteries + reptiles! I’m very quiet and reserved at first, and socially anxious as heck, but have been told I’m very sweet and friendly once you get past that. Kind of a pushover and can be too nice for my own good sometimes, and scared of literally everything, I’m a giant wuss. Also been told I’m gentle, and friends often come to me to vent when they’re feeling down. Oh, and my pronouns are She/Her and I’m a lesbian!! Thank you ^^

ofc that's okay! I hope you liked it! <3

I matched you up with...

Donna Beneviento!

Donna is such a sweetheart, there's no way she wouldn't get along amazingly with you.

The two of you are both very creative. Donna loves to make dolls and you like to draw. If you ever drew any of Donna’s dolls, especially Angie, she would be over the moon. Donna is frequently looked down upon by the other lords as they see her and her dolls as ‘creepy’, so seeing you take an interest in them is just so heartwarming.

I don’t imagine Donna being very interested in true crime or unsolved mysteries, but she definitely loves Disney! Since her house is so secluded, the two of you have plenty of time to binge Disney movies all day. Angie and all the other dolls also love them too, so they’re going to join and watch.

Both you and Donna have very similar personalities. You’re both shy, reserved, and gentle. The two of you get along very well, very rarely having an argument or disagreement, and when you do it’s resolved very quickly. Whenever Donna is feeling down after a meeting with the lords, she appreciates having you by her side to listen to her problems, or even just keep her company. As much as she loves the company of all her dolls, she appreciates having another person around.

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jamilelucato · 4 years

Text

Faking It - Pt.1 [F. W.]

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader; Fred Weasley x reader.

Part 2 || Part 3

Summary: You’re a Slytherin dating Draco Malfoy and life is pretty normal until Fred Weasley decides that the best prank against Draco involves you; this won’t end well, will it?

*gif not mine

[y/h/c] = your hair colour; [y/e/c] = your eye colour.

Warnings: cheating, I guess

Words: 2k+

A/N: This might be my most non-canon fic ever since I don’t even know which year this fic passes on, so forgive me if you guys like it more when it’s faithful to the books. This is a series, so be free to ask if you wanna be tagged.

—

Fred Weasley had a plan, and according to him, it was going to be the best prank he had ever thrown.

He had come with the idea after a match of Quidditch where Harry got severely injured by Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin's Seeker. Harry Potter kept claiming he was alright and Madam Pomfrey assured that it was just two weeks of wearing a plaster on his arm, but that was not enough for Fred. He was tired of Malfoy and his friends — and with his whole family since Harry pointed out that it was Draco's father who got Ginny in all the trouble on her first year.

George came to him, asking what they were going to do — the younger twin suggested dung bombs, but Fred thought that was too simple and they could get caught easily.

So Fred spent the whole weekend walking around Hogwarts, wishing for an idea to pop out. He even went to the library, and that was not something he usually did. However, the idea came just before he opened the first spellbook he saw in one of the shelves.

Not so far from him stood y/N, concentrated on the book she had in hands. The idea came instantly.

Y/N was a Slytherin one year younger than him that was most known to be Draco Malfoy's girlfriend. Fred could understand why Draco would pick you. You looked spicy, especially right at that moment, when you stood focused and bit your lower lip when the book got interesting.

Your (y/h/c) hair was in a high ponytail that made you look remarkably powerful. Generally, the twins avoided pranking you because, differently from your boyfriend, you were good at finding out the guilty, and you'd caught the twins many times before. Your (y/e/c) looked up from the book, and Fred quickly turned away, scared of what you'd think of him if you saw he had been staring.

What Fred didn't know was that you knew he was staring; you knew that since he had first laid eyes on you. You were expecting him to look away, but since he seemed unwilling to do so, you were about to use extreme measures. It wasn't needed though — once you laid eyes on him, he had turned his back on you.

Fred walked away from the library, running a little when he was out of your sight. The plan had come to him — he just needed to work out the details, and, for that, he'd require his brother.

George was in the courtyard, sitting on the floor with Angelina. She placed her head on his lap while he played with locks of her hair. They seemed peaceful, and Fred wondered how long would it take for both of them to accept they were in love. He expected he wouldn't have to take her for a second Ball — Fred took Angelina the first time to make his brother jealous, and George finally realized that he might like Angelina more than just as friends at the end of the event.

Angelina knew the troublemakers the twins were, so Fred wasn't worried about spilling the beans in front of her. He sat next to his brother and started telling George his idea.

"I've got the greatest prank ever — and the best part of it is that it can have thousands of other pranks while the biggest one is happening."

George stopped playing with the girl's hair and looked to his brother, expecting Fred to continue explaining.

"There's only one person that knows Malfoy's every step, only one person that can tell us his entire schedule," he proceeded.

"Potter?" George suggested, and Angelina gasped, holding a laugh. It was true that the boy who lived had some obsession towards Draco, but George didn't think he could know Draco's whole schedule.

"No, silly — Y/N," Fred answered, raising a brow as if he was saying something important.

"As if she's gonna tell us," George remarked, avoiding his brother's angry looks, and turning back to play with Angelina's hair.

"She could," Fred continued, "if she liked us enough."

"And how you're gonna make her like us?" George wondered, facing his twin again.

Even Angelina seemed curious as she looked up at the boys.

"Not both of us — just me," Fred raised a brow again, hoping his twin would get it, but he didn't. Fred sighed. "I'm gonna seduce her."

That was it. Angelina and George cracked up, laughing so hard and loud that the girl had to get up from George's lap so she could breathe properly.

"Yeah, pretty boy, I'd like to see you compete with Draco," Angelina said, still giggling.

"Was that suppose to mean?"

"Oi, Fred! Look at you — worn-out jumpers, same sneakers every day, you don't even brush your hair, I think..." Fred was offended by the remark and Angelina apologized, but she wasn't very serious when she said sorry. "I just said that because look at her and her boyfriend — have you ever seen those two without being formally dressed?"

"She's right, mate," agreed George, "Draco is always in his best suits, and he combs his hair in the right direction and everything."

"You are saying she couldn't fall for me?" Fred wondered out loud, looking down at himself. Yes, he was wearing one of his oldest jumpers that were far from formal, and his hair was a mess; however, that was just because it was Sunday. Or at least, that was what he told himself.

"I'm saying you're not her type," Angelina said, "and neither she's yours."

"Well, I don't have to fall for her, Angie," Fred pointed out, tilting his head while he said the nickname she hated so much. She didn't bother with it though, she probably knew the damaged her comments had made to his ego. "She's the one who has to fall for me. And it's just a prank — it'll last less than a month."

"It'll take longer than that to make she fall for..." Angelina almost insulted him, but she stopped, "you."

"Yeah, mate. Girls take longer to fall in love," George added.

"So I'll start tomorrow right away," Fred promised, more to himself than to the pair in front of him.

Y/N could be a pretty girl, but she was still a disgusting Slytherin that spoke ill of everyone around her, especially people from other houses. He'd have to be very careful around her, so he could avoid his disgust to come out.

"That'll be something I'll like to see," Angelina laid back at George's lap.

"You won't see it, Angie. I'm supposed to be her love affair, get it? No one's to know," Fred smirked, but Angelina just rolled her eyes.

George shrugged, paying more attention to the surrounding than to his twin.

"Well, if it works, it'll be much easier to prank Draco," George finally gave in, after thinking about it for a minute.

"That's the spirit, little brother!" Fred shouted, tapping his twin's back before leaving.

*** After a stop at Harry's dorm — Fred needed to take a quick peek at the Marauder's Map —, he left the Gryffindor's Tower and started rambling around towards where he knew he would find y/N.

He was wearing his best trousers combined with his newest white shirt — that one was actually part of the school uniform, but since it had no symbols on it, Fred thought it'd be enough. He combed his hair two times before he left his room, and he was not wearing sneakers, the first time in almost forever.

One would think he was dress to impress, and that was the truth. It was the first Monday night after he and his brother talked about pranking Draco Malfoy and dragging y/N y/L/N with him.

You were wandering around the dungeons, a privilege you held ever since the last Prefect was sick. Professor Snape pointed you out for the replacement, at least until the real Prefect got better, much to Mr Filch dismay. He did not like you, not even a bit, mostly because you and your boyfriend use to walk around, joking with every student that came to your encounter.

Although now you were a Prefect and therefore allowed to walk around, you avoided meeting Filch, because you knew he'd find a way to punish you. And that was what you were doing when you saw him.

You were not yet sure which Weasley twin that one was, and it was harder because of the way he was dressed. You had never seen the twins like that — so dressy. Of course, you'd seen people more formal than that, but for the Weasleys, that was too much.

His hair, differently than his usual style, was slicked back and his hands were carefully positioned inside his pockets. Was he heading to a date? You wondered.

"Mr Weasley, would you inform me where are you going after the curfew?" you asked, walking towards him.

He raised a brow, smirking at you.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he commented, and you noticed that besides well-dressed, he was also wearing a rather strong perfume. Very manly.

"Yes, I would, because I'll have to report it to your Head of House," you explained, smiling confidently.

You stared at him, but your eyes wandered to behind the tall red-head. Mr Filch seemed to be coming in your direction. You gulped, not knowing what to do. Punishing the Weasley would give you a week of special treatment from your Slytherin's friends, but was it enough being caught by the caretaker?

You had no more seconds to think.

"Come with me, Weasley, and walk quickly."

You hoped he was following you as you ran towards the secret passage not so much far away from where you two were chatting. You pulled the curtain aside, walking in a small compartment and you heard the curtain being pushed back at the place while you turned around, facing the Weasley, closer than you two had ever been before.

"Straight to the point, aren't you, y/N?" he said, smirking down at you. His perfume had filled the place, and you started breathing slowly to smell it less.

"Don't play smart, Weasley," you frowned, "We'll be leaving soon."

"As soon as Filch disappear?" he asked, and you rolled your eyes.

Whichever twin that was, he probably was as used as you to be running away from the caretaker.

"So you don't wanna be catch by him either," you smirked, crossing your arms.

"I'd much rather be caught by you," he said, trying hard to suggest second intentions.

"Would you now, Weasley?" you rolled your eyes again. It was so easy to find that family repugnant. "Don't think I've forgotten you're past curfew wandering around. I'll have to report you."

"You do that, baby."

"Don't — Don't call me 'baby'!" you shouted, slapping his arm.

He wasn't hard by your action, which surprised you. You were usually rather strong, at least, Draco hated when you tried to slap him.

You two stayed in silence — he didn't dare speak again, and you had no idea what to say. It was an uncomfortable moment, one that you were not used to. The place you two were hiding was rather small — and you knew it very well as you used to go there to kiss Draco when you two weren't official yet. You thought what would he think if he caught you there with a Weasley, and the thought scared you.

"You think he's gone?" you asked.

"Hope not," replied the twin and frowned.

"Be better, would you?"

You pulled the curtain to open just a bit and took a peek around.

"We're free," you warned, just then noticing how closer to the Weasley you were. How stupid was your idea of looking out for Mr Filch when the boy was closer to the curtain? Merlin, you looked ridiculous now, almost supported by his body.

You adjusted your posture, getting away from the red-haired boy as fast as you could and gulped.

"You go first," you signalized with your hand.

"What if he's still out there?"

"Then you'll get caught, wouldn't you?" your rhetorical question echoed around the small space and the boy finally walked out. You followed.

You took a last peek around.

"Well, Weasley, that's it. I'm gonna report you now."

"I'd gladly tell everyone the two minutes we spend together behind this curtain, y/N," he said, smiling, "You known, in case someone asked how I got caught."

Oh, shit, he was up to play dirty. You sighed; there was nothing you could do. If Draco heard about it... Oh, Merlin. Besides, you didn't even know which Weasley was that, so what would you tell McGonagall? "I saw George Weasley walking around, past-curfew" and then she'd say "That's a lie, honey, he was talking with me in detention all night." Reporting the boy was fated to fail from the beginning.

"You are free of charges, Weasley. But don't get used to it. I'll report you next time I see you walking around."

"If next time you see me, we spend another two minutes in a small hidden spot again, then I'd be happy to be reported," he smirked and started walking away from you.

You were exploding in anger. Who that boy thought he was? Was he really trying to — argh, the word disgusted you — seduce you? Did he think he could?

In the middle of the night, you let out a dry laugh that cut the silence rather loudly. Just what you needed — another reckless boy to cause problems in your life. Wasn't Draco enough?

PART 2 HERE

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