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imagine--if · 2 years

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(A/N: I couldn't help myself, I love his character already even though I've only seen seconds of him 😂 this is as accurate to what I've seen as I can make it, but I'll probably make a part 2 when the full movie's out and there's more to work with 🥰️)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Burt Fabelman Relationship Hcs ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

❥• I am a firm believer that this man is unbelievably sweet and just the best partner ever, incredibly tender and doting and a great listener-

❥• Burt's great at giving advice; he's a bit of a worrier and wants the best for you, no matter what's happening. He's very honest and comforting with what he tells you and can talk for literal hours if you want. Long talks and cuddles with this man is heaven. Whenever you need a shoulder to cry on, he'll just rock and shush you soothingly, until you feel calmer. Then he'll ask you if you want to talk about it or want him to get you a drink, all the while making sure you know that "I'll always be here for you, darling," and "I'm so lucky to have someone so sweet in my life." He means what he says wholeheartedly.

❥• He's always there to support you through your work and hobbies, watching with awestruck and proud eyes, probably filming any event you're a part of. Even on family picnics or dinners, Burt admires you just being yourself, carefree and laughing and loved. He's a bit of a dad in the way that he prefers watching instead of being all active with you and your friends, but you best believe you can drag him up off his feet from reading a thick-paged novel to clumsily dance around with you.

❥• Loves seeing you being a bit of a housewife, cooking and looking after the house and kids, Burt loves being part of a family and is the best father and husband ever. He's pretty good around the house too, and will definitely help cook with you and praises your efforts.

❥• Very cuddly and affectionate, particularly in private, but always holds your hand when you're out and about, or is touching you in some way when you go somewhere with him. Behind closed doors, Burt is a complete softie, gives warm hugs and sweet, lingering kisses whenever you want them.

❥• He loves it when he can just exist with you, reading quietly together while drinking tea, taking a morning or evening walk around town. Burt always makes sure there's time for you two to be together after he's finished working for the day, and oftentimes brings flowers or little meaningful gifts back for you that he knows you'll like.

❥• He never snaps at you, even if he's having a rough day. Burt would feel awful and always wants to keep a smile on your face. To be honest, if he was having a bad day, you greeting him with a hug and those adoring, sparkling eyes would make him feel a lot better pretty quickly.

❥• Burt Fabelmen is 100% perfect husband material, he's so in love and reminds you every day, through gently whispered words before you sleep and actions throughout the day. Sometimes, just a simple forehead kiss and caring eyes from him can express more than words ever can, and it's enough to make you feel warm and giddy inside for hours. He feels the exact same way whenever you pay him attention, even in the slightest of ways. Proudly whipped 🥲

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cannedbeefaroni · 1 year

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Real Men (Burt Fabelman x Fem!Reader) (Angst)

Update: here’s part two. It contains smut btw

Summary: An artist breaks down from burnout in a park. A passerby takes notice and shows her sympathy. Content: DEPRESSION, HOPELESSNESS, DADDY ISSUES, HURT/COMFORT, PINING, COULD BE ONE-SIDED, NOTHING OUTRIGHT ROMANTIC HAPPENS

Reader is referred to as she/her, and is an art major in college. She is in her mid 20′s.

(this fic is inspired by the song Real Men by Mitski. is it still cringe to name fanfics after songs?)

Though honestly sir, all I wanna do

Is get naked in front of you

So you can look me up and down

And tell me “well done girl, you’re looking good”

She ripped the pages from her pad one by one, crumbling each one into balls before tossing each one into the trash next to the park bench she sat on. Some went in, and others rolled onto the floor. Her hot, flushed face ran with cold tears. The spring breeze sent chills to her face, reminding her of how exposed this pathetic expression was to the public. Hunching over, she buried her face in her hands, wishing she were home instead.

Unknown to her, a passerby took notice of her distress, but once she heard approaching footsteps, her body froze. She knew the person would just carry on, not saying a word, but the fact that they were close enough to see every moment of her breakdown made her feel so much worse. The footsteps came to a stop, as she heard the cracking of bones of a person bending over, and the crumbling of paper next to her. To her horror, she looked up and saw a man unfolding one of her drawings, observing her work.

“It’s beautiful… Why did you throw it out?” The man said, glancing back and forth between the page and her.

She froze, wanting to just disappear. She dreaded the judgment of older figures, and this man looked as if he could be one of her stone cold professors. Between the white button-up, glasses, and demanding presence of a man with experience, she felt like she was about to get drilled into

“I messed it up… I’m really bad at drawing landscapes.” She admitted sorrowfully. She was unfamiliar with being approached by polite strangers; she felt backed up against a wall. She dreaded awaiting the man’s response.

“Aw, don’t say that. You’re clearly a talented artist. You shouldn’t be that hard on yourself.” He sat on the opposite end of the bench, leaving a large gap between the two. She became tense, knowing he was going to engage in more conversation with her. “So, why are you drawing in the park?”

“I have to draw from life, it's for an assignment,” she answered sheepishly, staring down at her lap.

“Is it a high school art class?”

“What?! I’m in college! I go to an art school,” she blurted out, her stomach churning at being mistaken for a teenager.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I just never have met anyone who’s gone to school for art… but I suppose the world needs professional artists as well…” he seemed to have trouble understanding the idea of an art school.

“I’m trying to get into the industry, and a fine arts degree will make that easier for me.”

“I’ve never been to a school like that myself, but I imagine it’s just as stressful as any other college,” he tried to relate.

She wondered how long ago he graduated college. It was hard to tell his age, but he definitely looked old enough to have a wife and kids. Well, technically she was also, but she had only just reached the age where marriage was on her mind. On the other hand, he seemed to be at the age where his life is figured out, and he’s already created the family he’s always wanted. The way he acted reminded her of a kind and caring father; similar to the type she’d meet while visiting a friend’s house as a child. His demeanor made her smile, and she couldn’t help but trust him already. Ironically, that fact made her also feel wary of him, being unsure if people that nice can actually be genuine.

“So, you don’t do landscapes; I wonder what kind of artist you are?” he hummed inquisitively to break the silence. Strangely enough, he did seem interested in her art. Her eyes lit up at the question, excited to discuss her interests with him.

“I love to draw people, as in portraits and studying human anatomy. I want to be an illustrator, but in order to do that I need to improve my background art. That’s why I had to take this landscape class… It’s just so frustrating. It’s just so boring to me,” she rambled to him, flailing her hands around as she spoke to emphasize her points. He nodded along as she spoke, grinning as he looked at her with sincere eyes.

She felt flustered every time her eyes met his, and she took notice of his expression. She wondered if he looked at her this lovingly even though she was just a stranger, then she couldn’t imagine how much love he gave his wife and kids. The thought wouldn’t leave her mind, and she felt embarrassed for wondering about his personal life so much. She didn’t know a thing about it. Perhaps he didn’t have a family at all, but that was hard to believe when he was so nurturing by nature.

“I’d love to see your other drawings, if that's okay.” He looked back down at the drawing she threw out, tracing his fingers along the paper as he admired her work.

She winced at the question, knowing exactly how this would go. She recalled all the times her family, teachers, and classmates would laugh in shock at her anatomical drawings. She worried he’d get the wrong idea about her, and assume she’s some kind of pervert. Or maybe he’d get the wrong idea and start seeing her sexually, as most men tend to do. She spiraled in split seconds as her trust in him dwindled in these hypothetical situations. What if he thought the nude female models she’d drawn were her?

“I draw naked people,” she sternly blurted out, trying to set the record straight before facing embarrassment. “I have to draw naked models from life in school. I don’t want you getting grossed out by it-”

“Hey, hey, don’t worry. I already know that. I’ve been to museums; I’ve seen my fair share of nude art,” he cut her off, trying to ease her worries. “Of course, you don’t have to show me. I’d just love to see you in your element.”

Silently, she passed her sketch pad into his hands. He carefully grabbed it, and began flipping through the pages delicately, as if it were fragile. He spent a considerate amount of time on each page. His eyebrows raised and his eyes widened as he whispered “wow” at the still life’s and figure drawings. He took everything in wholeheartedly. He reached a page with self portrait studies, and paused on it for a little bit.

“Are these of you?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“They’re gorgeous… and they really look just like you!” he praised.

She wanted to gasp at that comment. He just indirectly called her gorgeous, and that little bit of praise made her want to explode. Her face grew even hotter than it was when she was crying earlier, and she worried that he could somehow feel the heat emitting from her. She continued to speak, but it was difficult to concentrate as he stared at her so damn innocently.

“I have to draw portraits pretty often. I don’t know anybody who’s willing to let me draw them, so I end up having to draw myself a lot. Sometimes I’m required to draw other people, so when that happens I get stuck.” She rambled until her voice trailed off, trying not to talk too much.

“Your friends don’t let you draw them?” He raised an eyebrow. .

“I-I don’t really have any friends, actually. But not because no one likes me; I just… keep to myself too much. I’m fine with it. I don’t really mind being alone,” she nervously laughed as she spoke, trying to seem like what she was saying was actually the truth.

“I’m sorry. That must be lonely…” He frowned in an almost perfect inverted smile. “I hope you know it’s perfectly normal for girls your age to be shy; but I find you charismatic.”

“I’m not as young as you think I am… I’m in my mid twenties,” she stated as politely as possible, trying to assert herself.

“You’re still very young, but you carry yourself as a mature young woman. I’m sorry if I made you feel like a child. Just shows my age, I guess,” he laughed nervously.

“You can’t be that much older than me. I thought you were in your early thirties.”

“Oh, I wish” he chuckled loudly at the assumption.

Her heart sank as she realized he was probably old enough to be her father. Her head dropped in embarrassment.

“Though, I was going to say that if you need someone to draw, I’d gladly be your model,” he grinned.

“That’d be really helpful, actually… Thank you.” She lifted her head, almost beaming. Despite how shy of a person she was, drawing random strangers was second nature to her. He passed back her sketch pad, and she readied her pencils.

“So, what pose should I do?” He asked giddily, clearly excited about being drawn.

“Um, just lean your arm against the bench and rest your head against your hand.”

She reached over, guiding his arms into position. After doing so, she realized that had moved closer to him, and even touched him. The fact that such a simple thing stuck with her made her mad at herself. Brushing it off, she sat back and began sketching. Starting with round shapes to build the body, she took in just how soft and round everything about his man was. His head shape, body, eyes, and smile were all so pleasantly round. She avoided drawing his face, so she wouldn’t have to make direct eye contact with him. Eventually, she finished rendering the folds on his shirt, the strands of hair, and even the shadows on his skin.

She looked at him to see him staring back at her. It only just hit her that he was watching her draw this entire time. The way he stared with such a gentle expression was mesmerizing. To her, it felt like his gaze was one of yearning. She wondered if he thought she was beautiful, just like she thought of him. Her heart raced as her desire to capture his expression on paper intensified, but no matter how much she rendered, every stroke felt incorrect. She wasn’t doing his beauty justice, and her thoughts beat her up over it. Eventually she was basically finished, and she held the drawing back to observe from afar. She wished she could’ve tore it up and started over, but she didn’t want to waste his time.

“Can I see?” He asked eagerly, leaning over to get a glance at the page.

She looked up at him with worried eyes, and darted them back at the page as she continued to observe her work. “It’s a little rushed…”

“Come on, let me see!”

She turned the sketch pad around, showing him the portrait. He took it into his hands slowly, staring at it in pure awe. As he occupied his vision, she stared intensely at him. He was wonderstruck.

“There’s no way you drew this so fast,” he laughed in shock. “This is so… indescribable! I’d buy this off you if it weren’t for your assignment.”

“Thank you,” she replied blankly.

Staring at the ground, she tried to hide her embarrassment from his overwhelming praise. It felt almost patronizing, but then she realized she hadn’t been praised for her work in so long. Usually, people don’t bat an eye at adult artists, and she only felt like a prodigy up until age eighteen, when she graduated high school. It was strange being appreciated at all, especially by someone she just met.

“Am I really that handsome? You made me look so flattering.”

“All I did was draw what I saw.” She wondered if she portrayed him more idealized than he actually was, like a schoolgirl doodling her crush.

“Well, it must be a given, since all of your art is so beautiful. The way you view the world must be so… unique.”

“You’re probably… the kindest man I’ve ever met. I hope that doesn’t sound weird.”

“No, not at all,” he smiled sincerely, looking directly at her. “I like to appreciate talent when I see it, and you, my girl, have it.”

That was it. That was the final straw. Her heart was practically threatening to be spat from her throat. The tears from earlier had returned, but the feeling was different. She wasn’t convulsing; she just sat there with tears pouring like a faucet. Foolishly, she looked up at him, eyes wide open. He saw the droplets dripping down her chin and staining her top. She choked out the words “thank you,” trying to somehow salvage the conversation.

“Oh, poor thing… what’s wrong?” reacting instantly, he placed her pad on the side of the bench, and slid over to sit closer to her. He leaned toward her slightly.

“No, it’s nothing. I’m being silly,” she dragged her palm across her face, smearing the tears away.

“But I saw you crying earlier too… are you okay, doll?”

She sniffed and wiped her nose with the side of her hand before throwing her head back, leaning against the back of the bench and staring at the sky. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Patiently, he waited for her to continue speaking.

“I don’t know… if I’ll get anywhere with this.”

“With what specifically?”

“I don’t know. In art. In life. In every way.” She sighed deeply.

He watched the tears roll down her face as her head was leaned back. There wasn’t much he could do besides watch, as he didn’t want to encroach on her space. “It’s too early to say that. You have so much to look forward to.”

“It feels like… like every time I try I fail. I don’t know if I’ll be able to make a career for myself at all. My only talent is art. If I can’t do that…” she didn’t finish her thought.

“But you’re doing it. You’re in college.”

“What comes after that?”

He shifted closer to her, leaning over. “You’ll figure it out. Don’t talk yourself out of your own happiness… just because you’re scared.”

“If I can’t make a living for myself, I’ll have no one to rely on. I don’t think I’m the kind of girl who can get married. Then my family… is a whole different story.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘not the kind of girl?’”

She stuttered, embarrassed. “I’ve been rejected too many times to count.”

“That doesn’t mean there's something wrong with you. You just haven’t found the right one yet.” He scoffed at her statement in disbelief that she believed she was unlovable.

She pulled her head down and hunched over. “I just want to be happy, but it’s so hard,” she started sobbing.

He felt horrible sitting there, watching her fall apart. So desperately he wanted to do anything that could change her mind. “Do you need a hug?”

She nodded as she leaned into him to rest her face on his shoulder. His arms rested around the back of her shoulders as she weakly wrapped hers around him. He gave her reassuring pats on the back. Even though the hug was from an awkward distance, she couldn’t recall ever feeling so happy to be hugged by someone. She felt like she was sinking deeply into his warmth and softness. She wanted to never let go. In fact, the thought of letting go made her cry even more.

“You’re gonna be okay…” he tried to let go, but she pulled him back in. He reacted with a shocked grunt. “God, you’re gonna kill me,” he laughed hoarsely.

She quickly let go and wiped her face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“

“No, it’s completely fine. Things are really tough for you.”

The two of them sat silently at a distance from each other again. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the side of her hand, feeling embarrassed of how gross she felt.

“Hey, I was wondering,” he broke the silence. “If I’m ever in need of an artist, for whatever reason, I’d want to get in touch with you.”

“You’d want to commission me?”

“Yes! I’d love to have a piece of art by you on my wall. Your style is beautiful.” Every word he said hit deeply. She couldn’t understand why he was so genuinely captivated by her.

She wrote her phone number on a sheet of paper, ripped it out of the pad, and handed it to him. He neatly folded it and placed it into his shirt pocket.

“If you want, I could give you mine as well. You deserve to have someone you can talk to. Although, It’s fine if you don’t want to. I am just some old fart you met at the park, after all.” He laughed as he looked at her with squinted eyes.

“I think you’re a nice old fart, at least,” she sputtered through laughter. She passed her sketch pad and a pencil over to him, allowing him to write on it.

“Oh, all this time, I didn’t even think to ask your name. I’m sorry, how rude of me,” he said bashfully.

“It’s (Y/N),” she said.

“Mine is Burt. It’s been a pleasure meeting you”

#burt fabelman #burt fabelman x reader #the fablemans #paul dano #paul dano x reader

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