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gogobootz1 · 2 days

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An American in London

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: One of Benedict's old schoolmates enlists his help with wooing his American penpal, but when Benedict (literally) runs into her travel companion, things take a turn

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: blood (nosebleed)

"Why, exactly, have you dragged me here?" Benedict bemoaned, looking around the nearly empty hotel bar. There were plenty of better places to drink in the city.

"Because tomorrow morning we are meeting my hopefully lovely pen pal here," came the arrogant voice of one of Benedict's old school friends. Charles had made no effort to continue their friendship into adulthood until earlier that day.

"We?" Benedict asked, skeptically as they sat.

"Yes, we," Charles nodded, motioning for drinks to be brought over. "You are to help me impress the girl and play chaperone."

Benedict squinted at him, "Why would I do that?"

"Do you have anything better to do?" Charles shrugged. Benedict blinked at him for a minute. The truth was, after dropping out of the academy, he did not. He had actually been rather bored as of late.

"Fine," he swallowed bitterly.

"Excellent!" Charles sprang up from his seat, "I'll be by Bridgerton house at ten tomorrow to pick you up."

"Where are you going?" Benedict asked as the man began walking off.

"I have an appointment," Charles called back, and Benedict rolled his eyes. He polished off his drink before putting some money on the table. Of course, Charles had left that to him. He made quickly for the side exit and frustratedly shoved the door open.

A pained cry drew his attention as he stepped out, and he found a young woman with her hand clapped over her nose. All previous annoyance seeped from him instantly. Guilt and shame flooded into its place as he rushed to check on you.

“Are you quite alright miss?”

“Not quite,” the muffled American accent caught him off guard.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he rushed out, eyes full of earnest regret. He grabbed the handkerchief from the pocket over his chest and reached toward your face with it. You reared back, hand still firmly covering your nose, though he swore he could see deep crimson starting to leak out.

“Will you let me have a look?”

“Oh, no,” you firmly shook her head, laughing without any humor, “I have had enough embarrassment for one night. I will not end my evening by bleeding on some random English gentleman.”

You began walking in the opposite direction, but he was quick to follow.

“Please, allow me to make amends, I feel at fault for-“

“You are at fault!” You stopped in your tracks to fix him with a glare.

He blinked back at you, “Well, yes, but I-“

“Unless you’d like to ram a door into your own nose, I’ve seen more than enough of you tonight, thank you,” you snapped, turning to leave. Before you could, you felt a drip of blood fall from your hand onto your dress. You let out a frustrated groan and turned back toward the stranger, snatching his still-outstretched handkerchief.

Working fast, you wiped your bloody palm, then your face. All the while, the concerned gentleman looked on in worry. Once you’d wiped the excess, you held the cloth up to your nose to catch any more.

“Perhaps I should introduce myself,” He nervously straightened his jacket.

“Perhaps not,” you shook your head, “if you introduce yourself we might just meet again, and you should pray for that not to happen.”

You might’ve laughed at his expression if your nose didn’t ache like hell. “Goodnight!” You said with faux cheer, as you left him standing in confusion.

“Goodnight?” You hardly registered his weak reply.

----------------------------

Benedict woke up on the floor after being violently tugged off the small sofa in his room. He'd been so absorbed with his sketch he hadn't even made it to bed last night.

"Come on then, Bridgerton," Charles' voice taunted from above him, "up and at 'em."

Benedict rolled his eyes as he pushed himself off of the floor, catching sight of the prior night's labors as he stood. A pair of intense eyes stared back at him, and since you'd kept the rest of your face closely covered, a swath of ruby replaced everything below the bridge of your nose. He tried to casually cover the piece before Charles could butt in and ask about it.

"I thought we agreed upon ten," Benedict told the man, stifling a yawn.

"It is ten," Charles snapped, and Benedict winced.

"A moment, then," he requested.

Charles rolled his eyes, "Make it fast, Bridgerton." Benedict rushed to dress in fresh clothing and fix his hair as quickly as possible. Being late would be an early point against him in making both England and Charles seem appealing. Not that those were easy tasks to begin with.

Luckily, he managed a quick turnaround, and a carriage waited outside for them. The grey sky, however, promised rain, yet another factor working against him.

Thanks to a hefty tip to the driver, the men were no more than five minutes late.

"Remind me of her name again," Benedict asked as the two exited the carriage.

Charles glared at him, "I swear to God if you-"

"Just tell me her name," they breezed through the door to the cafe within the hotel.

"Sarah," Charles said, scanning the room, "Sarah!"

A young woman had raced over, and likely would have embraced Charles had she not been held back by the elbow. The woman who prevented the social faux pas was instantly familiar to Benedict when he met the same pair of fierce eyes he'd stayed up too late sketching. Then took the time to examine the rest of your pretty face, though it was marred by a bruised nose. He had to hold back a wince at his own accidental handiwork.

When Charles elbowed him in the ribs, he tuned back into the conversation. Charles not-so-subtly nodded towards Sarah.

"Very fine to meet you, Sarah," he said, hoping he'd assessed the situation correctly. Pleased laughter from the lady told him he had.

"And you," she nodded, "I'd like you both to meet my dearest friend." Sarah introduced you, nudging you forward a bit.

You smiled reluctantly, "Nice to meet you, gentlemen." When you locked eyes again, your smile grew wider yet more mocking. Charles dipped his hat, but Benedict bowed to kiss your hand. Doing everything possible to enter your good graces couldn't hurt.

"Might I ask how you injured your nose?" Charles ventured. Benedict tensed and he saw your jaw clench.

Sarah, however, laughed good-naturedly, "Oh, you'll laugh at this Charles," she turned to you, "go on."

"Silly me, I walked right into a door," you said, tone bordering on teasing. To anyone else, it might’ve come off as humorously self-deprecating. Anyone else might’ve thought you clumsy or perhaps a little ditsy, but Benedict knew better. Benedict could see the threat behind your eyes.

"Well, that's not funny," Charles admonished Sarah, "I'm sorry you're hurt." Sarah seemed surprised but mildly impressed. You, too, seemed content with his answer. One point for Charles.

"Are you in much pain?" Benedict asked, hoping the answer would be no.

You blinked at him, mischief sparkling in your eyes. "Only when I breath," you nodded, deadly serious, but he saw the way your mouth fought a grin.

"That's awful," Charles said, sympathetically. "You couldn't find some medicine or some powder to cover the bruise?" He asked that to Sarah, and Benedict saw your expression shift. One point against Charles.

"I wear my wounds with pride," you challenged. Benedict was once again reminded that your wound was his fault while Charles seemed to struggle for a reply.

"Shall we sit?" Your well-mannered question seemed to Benedict to be the first victory of inevitably multiple challenges to Charles. He wondered if that was your purpose in accompanying Sarah from the States- to determine if Charles was up to snuff.

The four of you were nearly finished enjoying tea and scones when you pulled out the handkerchief you'd taken last night. It was pink, presumably from you trying to wash out the blood. Benedict choked on his sip of tea as you wiped the crumbs from your lips with it.

"When did you buy that?" Sarah asked.

"Oh, I'm only borrowing it until I get the favor I'm owed," Benedict gulped at that. You weren't kidding last night when you said he should hope to never run into you again. Though he did have trouble agreeing at the moment, and somehow, even still.

Sarah easily dismissed your comment and reengaged Charles in conversation. Benedict's attention remained on you, however, and you cheekily tilted your head at him.

Your eyes remained locked with his before you started speaking, "Perhaps you two would like to take a stroll of the hotel gardens before we leave for whatever plans you've made for the day."

Charles nodded at this, "An excellent idea." He walked around the table to offer Sarah a hand. When the two were out of hearing range, Benedict turned back to you.

"Will this favor earn me your forgiveness?" He asked, "Because I really do feel terribly about-"

"Stop," you said, "It's fine. Sarah had no problem believing I still have sea legs and tripped into a door."

Benedict's shoulders drooped as he breathed in relief. "But are you in pain? I couldn't tell if you were serious earlier."

Your expression became softer, "Only a little." He was relieved by that answer. "But I wasn't kidding about the favor," you reminded, sternly.

He froze, "And what favor do you require?"

"I'd like a full report of Charles' background, personality, what he does in his free time," you listed off, "anything of the like."

The questioning glance he gave you encouraged you to elaborate.

"Look," you said with a huff. "Sarah's mom is over the moon about this. Marrying her daughter off to an English lord will boost her social status by leaps and bounds. Her father, however, is not so convinced. Mr. Du Pont has always been kind to me, so when he asked me to assess this potential marriage, I gave him my word."

Benedict nodded, "And you'd like me to inform you on Charles, so you can inform Mr. Du Pont on Charles."

"Exactly," you said simply.

"That's rather funny, you know, Charles asked me to help woo Sarah and convince her he's worth a permanent trip across the Atlantic," he said, and you raised a brow.

"Are you trying to repent for hitting Charles in the face with a door?"

Benedict blinked, "What would you do if I said yes?"

"Help me," you snarled.

He raised his hands defensively, "All right! How am I meant to do that?"

"Have pertinent information sent to my hotel suite," you shrugged.

"Fine," Benedict assented after a minute.

"What's fine?" Sarah asked, having just returned with Charles. Her tinkling voice took him by surprise, and he laughed nervously.

"These biscuits," he said, standing, "they're very fine, I may even take some to go." Benedict stuffed two of the shortbread biscuits into his pocket and regretted it soon after. He regretted it even more after catching Charles' nasty glare at him.

Taking a sharp breath, he turned to offer you his arm, "Shall we?"

You politely took his arm, repressing your laughter. As Sarah and Charles walked on ahead, you leaned in, "Save one for me." Benedict lightly snorted before catching himself, but you seemed pleased at his laughter.

----------------------------

As weeks began to pass, notes from Benedict began to pile up. They were originally only about Charles, but as you started sending replies, the notes grew more conversational.

Sarah certainly only grew more besotted with time, and you were beginning to worry she'd rubbed off on you. The more time you spent with Benedict by way of monitoring Sarah and Charles, the more you found him positively charming.

His good looks were apparent from the beginning and made the door incident all the worse for you, but you'd recently grown fond of his personality.

Last week's art gallery found you admiring him while he spoke passionately of the use of light in one of the paintings you'd come across. You'd only snapped out of it was he asked your thoughts on the piece. The most you could muster up was that you absolutely agreed.

As the two of you chaperoned countless walks and lunches, you conversed about any and everything. Benedict told you of his artwork and promised to eventually show you some of it after you asked a few times. You told him of your own passions, and how they were often trampled by society's expectations. He confessed that since both his older and one of his younger brothers had been recently married, his mother had been nagging him about finding someone.

"I think it's important to be comfortable alone," you'd told him on one particularly breezy walk. "You shouldn't make do with someone else's life when you can't be content with your own."

"Come again?"

"I only mean it's unfair to put certain expectations on a spouse," you shrugged, "No one is who anyone else wants them to be, and trying to force people to be what they are not leads to unhappy marriages."

"In that case, I'm glad no one expects a thing from me," Benedict said.

You laughed a little, "I don't think people expect much of me either. At least we won't let anyone down."

"Setting the bar low," he nodded, smiling, "I like it." Your laughter drew a smile to his face.

----------------------------

A few months had gone by, and Benedict was overjoyed when Charles proposed to Sarah. He was happy for the two of them, sure, but mostly, he was glad your stay had been extended. You'd become such a fixture in his life that he struggled to imagine a time after your visit.

Your return tickets were canceled. Instead, Sarah's parents had booked their spots on a ship sailing over to England. They wanted to plan their daughter's wedding and see her well-adjusted in her new homeland.

"What will your first report to Mr. Du Pont entail, then?" Benedict asked you. The two of you had been tasked with greeting Sarah's parents upon their arrival, and you sat opposite each other in a carriage.

"What makes you think this will be my first report?" You raised a brow at him.

"You've been exchanging letters across the Atlantic about Charles? He's nowhere near interesting enough for that," Benedict told you, inspiring a grin.

"They're mostly about mine and Sarah's time here. She's not great at staying in touch- yet another reason they sent me along," you said. "But you're right, I have yet to form a full opinion on Charles. I go back and forth, but I trust your judgment."

Benedict's eyes widened at the admission as you pulled up to your destination. He exited the carriage first to helpfully offer you his hand. To his displeasure, you pulled away all too soon when you saw the Du Ponts.

Mrs. Du Pont cheerfully called your name as you rushed excitedly towards them. Benedict smiled as he watched you greet the older couple. They were clearly quite fond of you.

It took a minute before they registered his presence.

"Where is Sarah? And who is this gentleman?" Mrs. Du Pont asked you, trying to lower her voice for the latter question.

You perked up, "This is Mr. Benedict Bridgerton." You grabbed his forearm and pulled him closer to the conversation. "He's a friend of Charles. They've both been showing us the best of England!"

"So this is Benedict!" Mr. Du Pont said happily, "I've read a lot about you."

Benedict shot you a questioning look as he shook the older man's hand, "You have?"

"Oh yes," the man nodded despite you shaking your head at him. When Benedict turned to you again, you stopped and let an angelic smile grace your face. His smirk told you you'd been caught. Oh well, if he asked, you'd simply tell the truth. He was by far the most interesting part of Great Britain.

----------------------------

Wedding preparations had been running smoothly, and soon enough Benedict was out with a group of high society men to celebrate the impending nuptials.

The men were a few drinks deep when Charles made a toast, "Soon, lads, I will no longer be a free man, so you best believe I will enjoy it while it lasts."

Benedict was not sure he appreciated that sentiment, but let it pass as his other companions gave cries of, "Here, here!"

Drinking eventually turned to debauchery, and Benedict soon felt crowded at the table slowly attracting more women of the night. He excused himself to find another drink. Upon his return, however, he found Charles happily skipping off with one of them.

"Charles?!"

The man's attention turned to him, "Don't wait up, Bridgerton!" Charles laughed, and Benedict felt his face drop.

"Don't tell me..."

"Oh lighten up mate," Charles shrugged, "it's not like it counts."

Benedict blinked as his old school friend sauntered off with the woman. Every time he drank with men of the ton, it became more apparent that Violet Bridgerton's parenting methods were not widespread.

----------------------------

When he woke up in the hotel suite the next morning, Benedict spent a few blissful moments without the memory of the prior night. When he did remember, he tried to brush it off as a drunken illusion. Only, logic won out in the end. He hadn't drunk that much, and he had very clearly seen the scene with his own eyes.

Why did Charles have to go and make a mess of things? Everything had been going swimmingly. Now, just because the man couldn't keep it in his pants, countless hours of wedding planning would go down the drain. Sarah would be inconsolable, her parents would be furious, and they'd all be going back home. You'd be going back home. Shit.

He agonized over the situation, pacing the floor for an hour before Charles waltzed in.

"Are you only now getting back?" Benedict asked him, taking in the disheveled clothing Charles had been wearing the night prior.

"What can I say? I certainly enjoyed myself," Charles said smugly. He walked off, presumably to freshen up, but Benedict called after him.

"Charles?" The man turned, "You wouldn't... engage in that sort of behavior as a married man?"

Charles chuckled a bit, "Bridgerton, prostitutes don't count," that was concerning, "That sort of revelry was a one-time thing." That was... a bit better? Benedict let out a miserable groan.

----------------------------

Your bright eyes at the wedding rehearsal made him briefly forget his troubles. Once you were both in the proper position, Benedict didn't bother to pay attention. In fact, he pretty much just stared at you from across the altar. You looked good up there. He liked seeing you at the altar. He liked being across from you at the altar.

He was in trouble.

You whispered to him as he escorted you back down the aisle when the faux-service was over. Being best-man did afford him some benefits. "Guess what?"

"What?" He smiled down at you.

"The Du Ponts are thinking of staying indefinitely," you said, secretively, "they bought a house here. They've invited me to stay with them."

"Oh," he said, sense suddenly knocked back into him.

"It's looking like I might be in your hair a while longer."

Benedict quite nearly told you to stay in his hair as long as you cared to but felt it might be too forward. He also felt you'd make a lice joke at his expense. Your sharp sense of humor was one of the many things he found charming about you and one of the many reasons he did not want to let you go.

But if Charles and Sarah were getting married, you were staying. The Du Ponts were staying.

Just how bad was some debauchery at a stag party, really? In the grand scheme of things?

"Oh, how was the gentlemen's party?" You asked, excitedly, "I hope none of you behaved too poorly."

A nervous laugh bubbled from his mouth, "No. No, just the usual level of poor behavior." Fuck.

"Glad to hear it," you nodded. "Was Charles drunk out of his mind?" You laughed a bit.

"Quite possibly," Benedict said, smiling uncomfortably. The man was definitely out of his mind. Whether it could be attributed to the drink Benedict wasn't sure.

"Well, thanks for keeping an eye on him," you said, giving his arm a squeeze.

He was in big trouble.

----------------------------

On the morning of the wedding, Benedict was jittery. In a hallway of the church, he kept nervously adjusting his collar. A steady pair of hands pulled his away, and he looked up to find you fixing his collar.

"Stop touching it," you told him as you worked, "it looks good."

"Right," he breathed stiffly.

"And try not to look like you're attending a funeral," you reminded him, smirking. "Oh! I have something for you," you pulled the handkerchief he'd given you when you first met out of a small bag. Pressing it into his hand, you smiled up at him, "favor complete. Consider us even."

He could only nod at you as you began to retreat.

"I'm off to help Sarah. See you soon!"

Benedict gazed after you, guilt creeping in.

"I'm relieved she's kept such a close eye on Sarah," Mr. Du Pont suddenly appeared beside him, "but I should've expected it. The two have been like sisters ever since..."

"Since?' Benedict asked him curiously while straightening his bow tie.

"Well, we took her in some years back when her family passed," the older man explained.

As much as Benedict thought he'd gotten to know you, it seemed you'd yet to feel comfortable enough to tell him that, "I hadn't known."

"No," Du Pont shook his head, "she doesn't like to talk about it. Hates having to bear people's pity."

That, Benedict could understand. He had found that to be one of the worst parts of the aftermath of his father's death.

"But it's been a pleasure to have her in our family. I'm only happy it's expanding! Hopefully, she'll have nieces and nephews soon," Sarah's father looked around before leaning in a bit, "I'm hoping for lots of grandchildren. I'll be perfectly happy when both my girls have good, loyal husbands at their side. It seems we're almost there!" With a pat on Benedict's shoulder, Mr. Du Pont walked off, "I'll see you in there."

Benedict nodded absently. Oh. He had mucked things up. He had really, really mucked things up.

Benedict paled a little. In his bid to keep you by his side as long as possible he'd neglected all other considerations. Including the life and happiness of your sister in all but blood. This wedding was very real and very imminent. And despite the time he dreamt it was the two of you getting married, his feelings were not nearly the most important of those involved.

Sarah was about to marry a man who had cheated on her only two nights prior.

But Charles had said it was a one-time thing. A last hooray before settling down. He'd said that prostitutes do not count anyway and- oh.

Benedict sharply inhaled when he realized his own foolishness. How had he not seen this? The bars they'd visited in the past months were all down the street from the one they'd entered two nights ago- the one next to the brothel. Each time he would excuse himself to retire to his home, Charles had stayed.

A fool, indeed. He'd been so enamored and distracted with you that his spy work on your behalf was entirely lackluster. Worse yet, when he did find pertinent information out, he had lied.

He had to make it right.

Benedict raised his fist to knock on the door of the room Sarah had taken over. Before he could, it swung open. You smiled at him, a little confused.

"You know you're only supposed to escort me down the aisle," you joked, "You don't have to start this far back."

He shook his head grimly, and your face fell. "I need to talk to you," he looked up to find Sarah behind you, "both of you."

You stepped aside and let Benedict in, nervous at his shift in attitude.

"You cannot marry him," Benedict had summoned all of his nerve to say the words and looked Sarah square in the eye when he did so. She deserved that much. She deserved the truth.

"What?" Sarah asked skeptically. She was already in her wedding gown. She had no idea what was happening.

"Benedict, what are you talking about?" Your question was quieter, but you were deadly serious. As soon as he said it you knew something was wrong, and he was right in bringing it to Sarah.

He swallowed when he looked into your eyes, "I lied to you." You felt like he'd just slammed a door in your face again. "Charles did behave poorly the other night. In fact, I think he's been behaving poorly for months and I've been too blind to see it."

"What? He was drinking?" Sarah asked, "I knew that would happen."

"No," Benedict shook his head, "He was with- with other women."

And with that, Sarah was out the door. You, however, could not bring yourself to follow. You were frozen to the floor, looking at the man you'd trusted with glassy eyes.

"You lied to me," you whispered.

"I'm sorry."

You shook your head, laughing a little. The sound was sad, "I guess I broke my own rule." His eyes pleaded with you, but it was far from enough, "I expected too much from you. You couldn't help but let me down." His heart sank.

Finally, you turned to race after Sarah. Benedict was hot on your trail, "Please-"

"Oh, this is not over," you called over your shoulder, "but we have more pressing matters to deal with."

You stopped dead in your tracks after rounding a corner. It was so abrupt that Benedict could not slow his own pace enough not to bump into you. You both stumbled a bit but recovered in time to see Sarah slap Charles in the face. She then marched out of the church with her head held high.

Mrs. Du Pont followed her straight away. And Charles rushed after them both. Mr. Du Pont stopped only to briefly speak to you, "Would you both be so kind as to handle-"

"Consider it done," Benedict said. You sent him a sidelong glance before begrudgingly nodding at the man who had taken you in. Mr. Du Pont left to chase after his wife and daughter, leaving you and Benedict to dismiss guests and try to cancel vendors.

----------------------------

A long and tiresome day of working to undo weeks of wedding planning and avoiding the sad blue eyes that followed your every move ended in your hotel's garden. More specifically, eating the wedding cake that could not be returned in the hotel garden. You had very generously given most of it to the hotel staff. But you saved the top tier for yourself.

Draped across a bench, you stabbed into it with a fork. As you did, the charming figurine of Sarah and Charles fell from its place. You did not hesitate to grab the miniature and toss it into some shrubs.

"Rather harsh, don't you think?" A familiar voice drew your attention. You huffed when you saw who it was.

Benedict Bridgerton slowly made his way over to your bench. He gestured towards your legs, silently asking you to make room for him on the bench. When you didn't move, he simply sat himself parallel to you on the gravel floor.

"I am sorry," he said after some silence, looking straight ahead.

"I know," you nodded, not yet looking at him, "I suppose I am too."

"Whatever for?" Benedict's surprise broke the quietness of the moment, and he gazed at you questioningly.

You shrugged, still not looking at him, "I should have known better than to think you'd prioritize me over him. Charles is your friend."

"Maybe," he spat defensively, "but you're-" He cut himself off.

"What am I? To you?" You asked, now looking intently into his eyes, trying to discern his thoughts.

Benedict inhaled a large breath before telling you the God's honest truth, "When I realized what Charles was doing, I also realized that you would leave England with Sarah almost as soon as you found out. And I wanted you to stay." He paused, " I want you to stay."

Your lips parted as if to say something in return, but he barreled on, "I behaved selfishly, and I am a beast for it, but you were always my priority. Do not dream of thinking otherwise."

You swung your legs off of the bench and leaned forward towards him. Stabbing a bite of cake with your fork, you stuck it out to him in a gesture of peace. He cautiously ate the cake from your fork, waiting for you to say something. You took another bite before you did.

"A ship sets sail tomorrow," you said lightly, "back across the Atlantic." And with it, his hopes would sink. "I secured three tickets on it this morning."

Benedict blinked. That didn't add up right. "Is Mr. Du Pont stay-"

You quickly shook your head, and things started to click in place for him.

"Mrs. Du Pont?"

Your smirk started to grow.

"Sarah?"

"Now you're being deliberately obtuse," you mocked.

He grinned up at you, "Then...?"

"The Du Ponts need someone to mind their new manor in the English countryside. Who better than their favorite non-daughter?" You shrugged happily.

"Will you not get lonely in such a large estate out in the country?" Benedict asked teasingly.

You smiled playfully at him, "Then I should hope someone will be kind enough to call on me." Benedict looked rather self-satisfied at that. "I should only hope they clean up before they do."

His confusion was answered when you took a handful of cake and smeared it down the left side of his face. He stuck his tongue in his cheek to try not to laugh. It was well-played and deserved.

"Now we're even," you whispered close to his face before standing and walking away.

"Jokes on you," he shouted after you, "it tastes better like this!" Your laughter filled the night air, and he was happy to have made such sweet amends.

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I love Benedict sooo much!!! I wrote this super quick after watching the new season, so sorry if anything didn't make sense

Thanks for reading <3

(also sorry for any historical inaccuracies or whatever but this is Bridgerton we're talking about )

#benedict bridgerton #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #Benedict Bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader

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xblueshin · 6 days

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lil sketches of the redesign I'm giving to my shitten!

I felt the first one was rushed and too unoriginal, at least for my standards.

I decided to change their hair/wool so now it's curly instead of the generic looking hair I gave them before. I'm still unsure about the shape of the horns, the colors won't be like in the sketch but I want to try some ideas with the colors black and red, or maybe gold, I gotta see.

I'm starting to decide a bit about their personalities and dynamics with Nari and Lamb, but to deepen it, I have to figure out for good how I want to characterize them as well. for now I just have a general idea.

And lastly, I think I have chosen a name for them as well, Viduus! I did some research and found this minor Roman god called Viduus. His job was to separate the soul from the body after their death, and I thought it was fitting as the name of the child of death.

old design (in the first design I drew them as a kid, in the sketches they are grown up):

btw, I'm also very sorry for the low activity on social media; my mental health is a bit all over the place, and it's hard to get myself to finish a single sketch, let alone a finished drawing. so sorry again guys.

#cotl #cult of the lamb #cotl fanart #cult of the lamb fanart #cult of the lamb narinder #cotl narinder #cotl lamb #cotl narilamb #narilamb #true devotion #my art

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sand-jam · 7 days

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MORRO RANTING (through my old art)

the drawing above is like a year old?? most of the drawing that are coming are at least half a year old so just yeayea noticed i never posted these bad boys because i didnt have an account yet so im doing it now

anw thats morro with punk clothes because i thought he seemed punk-ish but mmm not so sure anymore but it looks fun

^heres a little headcanon of mine: morro used to help out mystaké!! Basically the idea was that yknow how Wu was always off and gone on some journey at least in the earlier seasons?? So like what if he did that with Morro around too so mystaké had to look after him sometime?? IDKIDK honestly just like the thought that Wu isn't the only notable person in morros life so im headcanoning everything

^ undecipherable sketches while brainstorming morro's training + first sketch i found of the aunt mystaké headcanon

feel like morro wouldve been a really creative kid with his powers (at least before the green ninja shit) and would be trying out stuff like the parachute or the little arm glider flappy flaps

theres also some familial sketches with Wu and Morro like the one where Wu cuts Morros hair because who else would yknow its all just headcanons

also really like the one where he jumps off the monastery mountain like a baby bird love that canon 100%

^drawing i did mainly to practice my side profiles but also to play around with morros hair which is sometimes more of a mullet when i feel like it

^old exploration of what if those weird eye things he has are actually burns

still draw him with these every now and then

^this is the first ever time i drew him!! I think its more than a year old by now?? I think my art improved a bunch since then

self explanatory

^this ones from a few day ago

Really love wojira duo and I like the fact that their powers are different from the rest because they didn't come from the first spinjitzu master

I like to think that wind and water are more 'sentient' elements and the masters of them have to sort of listen and understand them?? ykwim?? I think Morro was more naturally attuned to his element so he basically trained himself because Wu didn't understand and years later when Wu trained Nya he just made her do the same stuff he saw Morro do

I think thats enough for now

#ninjago morro #morro wu #morro #rambling

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espinosaurusrexex · 7 months

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Happy Little Accidents

Veteran!BuckyBarnes x Female!ArtTeacher!Reader

summary: In a world after the war, Bucky tries to get pieces of his old self back by joining an art class. He meets you and instantly falls head over heels. Now he just has to work up the courage to ask you out.

a/n: wrote most of this on my lunch break after finally feeling the creativity spark again. I hope you all get a cozy fall feeling.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: adapting to life after war, frustration, a little angst, love-dazed Bucky, just so much fluff and wholesomeness 💕

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

↑ the face of a man too whipped to listen - this is the Bucky vibe today

Steve Rogers was an artist. A lot of people knew about it. Hell, the Smithsonian even had a gallery full of sketches from a notebook of Steve’s he had lost back in ‘45. But Steve never needed people to recognize his work. Just like he never needed all the fame that came with his shield or all the honors he got for doing what he thought normal human decency implied - stopping bullies.

But what not many people knew was that Steve loved his art so much, he even held little sketch workshops in the camps on the western front. He drew each member of the howling commandos with impeccable accuracy. He loved drawing portraits and he loved to help.

Which was why, sooner or later, Bucky had been talked into trying his first sketches back in the day as well. Back when he was still left-handed, back when he found joy in little things such as drawing with his best friend. Back when he was not who he was now.

Yeah, he was bitter about it...

Bucky wasn’t too shabby of an artist per se. He was rather quick with his sketches always able to find the right spot for his next line and even though they weren’t perfect, one could always see what his pictures were meant to present.

Yes, they were crooked and not nearly as good as Steve’s but he had fun with it. Sketching had been an escape for his soul while bombs were exploding only miles away from his camp. It had reminded him of his best friend when they were apart, and most importantly, it taught him patience.

God, so much patience.

Bucky had never been good with it. Always fast, always right away. But the amount of times Steve made him erase carefully constructed lines and shapes had him feel scolded like a kid.

Later, he was grateful for it.

Now? He hated just touching a pencil. Every time he was reminded of his recovery, of months of frustration and anger, of grief and sadness. All because he’d lost his arm, and with it, all that had brought him joy in life.

When he had to learn to write with his right hand, he screamed at the papers before him, the crooked and shaky lines mocking him with vigor.

You’ll never be the same, they said, You’ll never have true joy back.

He felt like a child. Unable to do the most mundane of tasks, whilst fully aware of what had to be done to get it right.

But he missed it. The way drawing would clear his mind and the ease he felt when thinking of nothing but the next step in the process.

So after a particularly frustrating session with his therapist, Bucky had walked through a gallery on his way home. Beautiful pieces, each more impressive than the next hung on bright white walls until he reached a small corner with sketches and photographs. They weren’t less good than the rest, but other than the huge paintings, they seemed approachable - and they reminded him of times far gone.

“Hello, would you be interested in signing up for a sketching class?” An angelic voice had asked after holding a leaflet into his line of sight. And when he followed the hand up to your face, his breath hitched in his throat.

“I- I don’t think I’d be any good…” he had said with a pitiful smile as his left arm raised next to his head, the sleek silver of his hand shining in the showroom light.

“Oh don’t be silly. Everyone can be an artist.”

And that was all it took.

Now he was here. Sitting in a room with about eight other people, listening to you talk. Though Bucky didn’t pay much attention to your words. He was distracted by the way your lips curved when you spoke, and how your hands looked in the light when you flailed them in the air. He wanted to draw you, only you. But he knew he could never do you justice. And that frustrated him a little.

His first task was easy. A series of connected squiggles and shapes. The second was harder - finding and highlighting familiar motives in his work. But when he tried to connect his shapes, his hand began to tremble and the line on his paper got dented, he huffed in surrender.

A look to the front to you talking with another woman and he was getting off his chair.

This was useless. He should have never come here.

But when he moved to gather his things, your voice stopped him once again.

“Oh that’s interesting,” you said with a tilted head, your eyes following the little dent in his drawing.

“Yeah, I messed it up.” He shook his head and added a careful, much more quiet ‘I always do”.

“You see, it’s only a mistake if you make it one.” You turned to him and smiled and his heart began racing now that all your attention was on him. Bucky looked around to see if anyone noticed, but the other participants were all focused on their work. “I’m not going to tell you that this line isn’t supposed to be the way it is. You alone can decide that.”

You stepped closer as he eyed his paper again. “So, Bucky,” holy crap you remembered his name. And it sounded so good coming from your lips. “Are you gonna make it a mistake or not?”

❁ ❁ ❁

That was a month ago. And Bucky had come to your class every Sunday night since then. But now his crush had only intensified.

Every time you stepped behind him to watch him work, his hand began to sweat. Every time you gave him a suggestion, his eyes were so drawn to your lips, he barely heard what you were saying. Just yesterday this had caused him to get into a particularly awkward situation. He hadn’t listened, of course - those stupid mesmerizing lips of yours were at fault for it. And when Bucky finally came back from his daydream of imagining what they would feel like on his lips, he knocked over a jar of water as he noticed you had moved next to him. And to make matters even worse, you had caught him talking to himself as he cleaned up the mess.

Bucky was beyond embarrassed. He wasn’t normally that clumsy, all his moves were calculated. No limb out of control, but when you were around, he seemed to have lost that trait of his - which was actually kind of nice...

He was in deep. And he didn’t know how to handle it.

He was contemplating never going back to your class. He would probably end up ruining somebody’s work and - besides - it wasn’t like he could ever work up the courage to ask you out. It was just all too scary.

“Bucky, is that you?” Bucky froze as he studied the coffee menu above the barista. He was going to order black anyway. But the voice that called out his name almost made him want to pretend he was still studying the sign.

“Bucky.” Your voice came closer and when you were standing next to him, he finally looked at you. And there you were, with a bright smile and a scarf shielding you from the cool fall breeze outside.

“Oh, hey.” He paused, treading, not knowing what to do with his hands or pretty much any part of his body. At least, in your workshop, he had something to do. “...hey.”

“It’s nice to see you, how’s your homework going?” You rubbed your hands together to warm them and at the sight of your delicate fingers, he felt his cheeks heating up when he imagined holding them.

“It’s... well, it’s going...” He sighed and watched his feet as they shuffled on the tiled floor. “It’s not going well if I’m being honest.” And with a shy smile, he rubbed the back of his neck, watching as you nodded in understanding.

“I know it sounds stupid, but sometimes it really helps to just get started without thinking about it too much.”

He chuckled. That was exactly his problem. Because every time he wanted to start, he wondered what you would think about it. And then his thoughts drifted to you entirely and how your neck would bend when you watched him draw over his shoulder, or how your fingers swayed over his artwork to point out the parts you were talking about. God, he loved when you did that.

“-only if you want, of course.” Your nose crinkled when Bucky’s mind brought him back to the coffee shop again. You were staring at him expectantly, your smile growing nervous with every second he took to register that you had just asked him a question.

Bucky had no idea what you had just said. He had been too lost in his daydream yet again and now he made you look stupid in the middle of this coffee shop. There wasn’t much time to decide what his response would be, but under no circumstance did he want to admit just how scattered he was around you. So without thinking, he just nodded with a tight-lipped smile and willed his knees to stay strong when your eyes brightened.

“Awesome! When are you free?” Free? Did you just ask him out and he hadn’t even paid attention?

“Uh, Sunday?” Bucky stammered as his heart began to pound in his chest. This has got to be a prank.

You laughed, and Bucky got weak in the knees. “Sunday is workshop, silly.”

Stupid, stupid, Bucky. “Right, uh... Friday then.” The rapid beat in his chest took his breath away.

“Okay, great. Here give me your phone so I can give you my number.”

“You’re–“ Bucky choked as his hands scrambled to fish his phone out of his pocket. “Yes, yeah sure, cool.” Cool? Oh god.

You took it from him, entered your contact with a little paintbrush emoji, called yourself, and handed it back to his sweaty hand.

“I’ll text you my address.” You stepped forward to pay and retrieve your coffee, gifting the barista a smile that made him blush - apparently, you were a regular because Bucky did not remember you ordering - but then again - he didn’t really pay attention apparently. “Oh, and bring your art supplies!”

And then you were out the door, letting crisp air into the cozy coffee shop, and Bucky standing dazed and confused as to what had just happened.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky stared at his phone for the fifth time now, making sure he was in front of the right door before ringing the bell. He was nervous, to say the least. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was on a date, not to mention the last time he felt this nervous about being on one. He was a strong believer in facts but you asking him out had to be a sign from the universe. One he would only get once and he could not screw it up.

His hands smoothed over his black button-up one last time before adjusting his leather jacket again. Then he rang the bell and not even a minute later, you greeted him with a warm smile and urged him to give you his jacket to hang up.

“I just made tea, do you want some?” Bucky followed you to the kitchen where the faint but homey scent of pumpkin spice filled the air. He watches as you scrambled to find your oven its and then retrieve something delicious smelling from the oven. “Cookies?”

“I’m good with tea for now.” He chuckled in awe at how nice your home felt. Once he could tear his eyes away from you, he peered over the kitchen island into your living room, where many different artworks and photographs were displayed on the walls. Every pillow on your sofa had a different color and the blankets sprawled on it and the chair were too inviting for him not to picture the both of you cuddled up beneath them.

“Alright then, suit yourself. But just know these are my specialty.” You snatched one from the tray before almost dropping it again. “Ouch, hot.”

Bucky felt drawn to the room. With all its warm light and fall-scented candles, hints of read books and discarded crocheting, with a crackling fireplace and soft carpeting. He also felt awfully intimate at the glimpse he got into your life by being here, but he had already declared this place his favorite in his mind.

“Are you ready?” Bucky turned to you and watched as you padded your hands on your jeans, leaving faint flour prints on the dark denim.

“Ready for what?” He smiled again, he seemed to be unable to stop around you. But he was just so happy to be here, to be close to you, and to finally spend more time with you.

You chuckled and set two cups of tea on the table. “For your sketches. That’s the whole reason you came here for, remember?”

You settled on the ground and padded the sofa for Bucky. But he could just stand there and stare at you while trying to ignore the lump that began to build in his throat. He clenched the bag with his art supplies in his hand and watched as the soft material wrinkled in his grasp.

Of, course. He took a breath. How could he have been so naive? Then stepped towards the sofa. The whole thing had been a mistake. And finally sat down with a heavy smile.

The sadness was filling him so fast, it threatened to spill right out of him, but Bucky wouldn’t let this little big dent in the road be shown in front of you. Instead, he focused on your hands when they pulled his sketch pad from his bag. And your eager smile when you flipped through his failed attempts on the paper.

The whole atmosphere was wearing a thin layer of sorrow all of a sudden, and Bucky felt his heartache when you leaned over to him to point out the parts you liked the most. Your perfume seemed just that much sweeter as if it were mocking him all of a sudden.

He didn’t listen. He just watched you with the same longing he’s had ever since he met you. Back to square one. Back to the distance he had with you before he foolishly thought you had asked him out. Except now he’d lost all the confidence left in him to take the next step.

Bucky let the evening wash over him. Trying to concentrate on your tips and examples, tasting the tea you had offered to him with the sweetest smile. And before he knew it, he was standing in front of your apartment building again - with a box of those pumpkin cookies in hand and a heart that felt heavier than the bricks he was staring at.

He sighed and began his walk back home.

❁ ❁ ❁

On Sunday he decided that he wouldn’t give up. Bucky didn't know what changed his mind. He just knew that he couldn’t stop thinking about you and him on that incredibly comfortable sofa of yours and the scent of your cedar and cinnamon candle which seemed to linger on his skin for days after his visit. He wanted to play the sketching games he had half-heartedly endured last time and he wanted to become a better artist.

Bucky had left your cookie box at home as an excuse to meet up with you again. And even though he was sweating ferociously when he approached you after class, you had agreed to meet with him again.

He’d left the gallery with a bright smile that evening. Excited for the next time he’d see you again and eager with daydreams on the subway home.

You and Bucky met up every week. Every time, spending a little longer not just drawing and it filled his heart with warmth and happiness. You shared laughter, and, in Bucky’s eyes, a growing connection with every passing meeting.

He learned about your dreams and aspirations and told you about his past, his interests, and his most treasured fantasies.

As weeks turned into months, Bucky found himself drawn to you in more ways than the warmth radiating from your smile he’d noticed the first day he met you, or your talent of calmly helping him in every way possible. He admired your passion for art, your kindness, and your enchanting presence. The fear and the shyness that had gripped him at first, slowly faded away - replaced by a sense of comfort when he was with you.

And soon he realized that there was nothing he didn’t love about you. This was how he got the courage to, on one calm evening spent on your sofa, between the colorful pillows he had been thinking about falling asleep on for weeks, place his hand in yours and intertwine your fingers with his.

“I got something for you,” he whispered between dialogues of the Halloween movie playing on TV, watching as your eyes aimed up at him with curiosity.

With reluctance, he peeled himself out of the warm blanket you shared and trudged to the sketchbook hidden in his bag. The initial idea had been dipped in silly confidence. But it was too late to back out now. He’d already told you about it.

So despite his nervous heartbeat, Bucky came back to the sofa and handed you the book.

“Open it,” he nudged when you carefully inspected the black leather binding, unaware of the confession hidden beneath.

And when you did, he felt he could read every expression on your face like a poem.

The book was filled with sketches of you. The first pages were scattered in hasty pencil drawings, misplaced lines, and unintentional dents. Then followed the section in which he had tried to pay attention to detail. The curve of your nose or the arch of your fingers when they pointed at his artwork. He could see them now, hovering over the sketches himself, and when you turned to the last page of the section, he could see the striking resemblance between them. And so did you. On the next turn, you revealed the latest portraits he’d added to the book - finally confident enough to attempt doing what he saw you as justice, to finally look past his mistakes - or happy little accidents as you called them - and just try it.

Bucky had discovered that your weekly sketch sessions had done him good. And that you had secretly given him back what he had mourned after for so long.

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you from the moment we met.” He whispered still, too afraid to break the moment you’d just created. “Thought it was time for me to tell you.”

Your eyes were glassy when you tore them from the pages in your hand, a shaky laugh escaping your lips when Bucky beamed down at you. “You did all of this for me-”

“Because of you,” he corrected and wiped a lonely tear from your cheek. “I never thought I could get the joy of drawing back until you showed me how.”

Bucky leaned in closer until your noses touched. “How to be less critical of myself.” He closed his eyes and let his hand linger on your skin. “And how to welcome a mistake by making it an accident-”

And before he could finish that sentence, he felt your lips press to his and your warm hands wrap around his neck to pull him into your body. Bucky shivered in excitement, letting his hands trail down your back and falling into the soft cushions of your sofa while he pressed you to his chest protectively.

He sighed into the kiss, feeling his heart burn with excitement.

Fascinating, how fast a mistake can turn into a happy little accident.

I love you Bob Ross <3

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ratcash-wasgud · 18 days

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MR. KRABS, I HAVE AN IDEAA! (I'm so sorry, I hope you get this reference...) Modern!Mizu x Shy Reader who absolutely adores sketching in their free time, but specifically loves drawing Mizu?

Mizu is unaware for a long time but finds a sketchbook filled with beautiful sketches of her, with little notes by them that the reader made such as 'I love my girlfriend' , 'Her nose is so pretty' , 'I like how well I captured her jawline, it encompasses just how pretty she is.' Every page is filled with little side-note compliments/notes to self (That the reader didn't expect her to see) and Mizu just fawns and falls in love with the shy reader even more. Maybe Mizu will bring it up and reader gets flustered and eventually they spend their free time doing little drawing contests of each other? I thought it was a cute idea, I hope you are doing well and have a great day! :)

DAAAAAMN

love this idea. i'm probably gonna turn this into loser!mizu propaganda tho muhahaha

btw I'M SO SORRY I'M ABSENT and i'm very behind on requests too and everything. i'll try to post more <3

AN: this didn't turn out exactly how the request asked, BUT PLS I had to add a little smut, sue me.

also, there are some audios at the end

Mizu.

The shine in her eyes.

The way her eyelashes curl.

The curve of her chin.

The way her cheeks move when she talks.

You loved everything about your girlfriend.

But she was just too grumpy sometimes, and when you gave her complimetns, she just got a little red and told you to stop. And you didn't have the confidence in you to try after that. But she was so pretty! You had to get your thoughts out somehow. So what can a girl do? Draw.

You secretly took candid pictures of Mizu, and used them as references. You drew her in every possible pose and with a lot of facial expressions.

You loved drawing her smile especially. Mizu never liked her own smile, she says it's dumb looking and it doesn't fit her, but it can't be further from the truth. Her smile was beautiful.

You could never show her the drawings tho, you'd die of embarassement. One day tho, Mizu was at your place, watching a movie on your bed.

But you were foolish enough to go to the bathroom, and leave her alone with your stuff for five whole minutes. Mizu stopped the movie when you left, because in her opinion, watching your reactions is more interesting than the movie, so watching alone is unnecessary.

But she quickly got bored, so she stood up and started looking around your room again, looking at the little trinkets you have everywhere, and the posters she had seen a hundred times before. Then she found something she hasn't seen before. It was a small, slim sketchbook.

On the cover, there were old receipts from your dates, candy wrappers you ate while watching her matches and a kiss mark in the middle you made with her favorite shade of lipstick.

You usually show her everything you draw, so having a sketchbook she never seen before was unusual. Maybe it's new? Her fingers glide along the back of the sketchbook before she decides to pry and open it.

On the first page, there was a whole page, colored marker drawing of...Mizu. She was a wide smile in the drawing, her hair let down, falling down her back and into her face, her eyes narrowed as he skin creased from how wide her smile was. It was obvious you spent a lot of time on it. But Mizu's eyes quickly dart to the little notes scattered all over the page.

"My girl's smile is too pretty"

"Her nose wrinkles up when she laughs."

"Her eyes shine so much."

"So beautiful. "

And many more. It had her blushing. She covered her mouth as she got more and more flustered the more notes she read. It was like you noticed everything and loved everything. It was so strange. You complimented even the slightest, most basic stuff. Did you count her pores too or something?

But damn...

It made all of her body flutter. She flipped the page, and the drawing just didn't stop, and so didn't the notes. It kind of overwhelmed Mizu. Slowly, the drawings got more and more...clotheless.

At first, it was her collarbones.

"Her skin is so smooth, and the bones cast such a pretty shadow."

Then her back.

"A canvas better than any other."

Then her full chest.

"Pillows of the gods."

Then her...

The clack of the door was heard and you stepped inside, looking mortified.

"Oh you uhm...saw everything?" *You murmur, looking at the sketchbook in your girlfriend's hand.

"Yeah." Mizu answers without hesitation, and puts it down, taking a step towards you. Her heart thumped loud in her chest, as if fire started burning her whole body. She just witnessed the most flattering thing ever but also...it made her want you so much. "You like drawing me?"

"Yes...sorry, I know it's pretty cringe, I...what are you doing?" Your eyes widen as Mizu's fingers grab the hem of her shirt and start lifting it.

"You never drew a full body picture. I'm giving you an opportunity. " She says casually, but her ears burn in a deep shade of red as she tosses it to the side, her sports bra following suit.

"I...but, are you sure? I swear you don't have to, it was just a silly hobby of mine, I..."

"Get your drawing stuff out." Mizu orders, pushing down her sweats, leaving herself only in boxers. You just nod quickly and clumsily gather your things, your face looking rather similar to a tomato.

Mizu throws away her boxers, finally releasing all of her skin and she is sculped like a goddess.

She has a toned body, muscles showing from under her skin, abs almost winking at you and her perky tits being decorated with her hard ripples were just the cherry on top. She has a pretty happy trail leading to her bush, that is guarding her lips.

You swallow thickly as she settles in the chair, looking directly on the bed where you sat down to draw. She spreads her legs, leaning back and her elbows resting on the armrests of the chair.

She looks better than ever.

You can't look into her eyes as you start sketching her body, hands slightly shaking.

"I can't read your notes now, so say them out loud." She breaks the silence, her voice low and breathy. "Tell me what you think."

You bite on the inside of your cheek, glancing up and meeting her gaze.

"Her uhm...her body is...something to die for." You murmur as your hand moves the pencil quickly.

Mizu's eyes never leave you. Her chest starts moving up and down visibly, and she feels her insides twitch everything you glance either at her tits or her pussy.

"Is your view okay?" She asks and before you could answer, she reaches down, spreading her lips, showing you her light peach colored skin that is now slowly dripping out slick.

Your mouth almost falls open, and you quickly start sketching a close up of her entrance on the side of the page, almost not even looking at the paper, but only at Mizu's skin.

"You're enjoying this, huh?" Mizu murmurs, her own lips forming a small smile. "Perv."

"...sorry." You murmur, and look down.

"Want an even better view?" She asks, spreading her legs even more. "Come here then."

You jump at the opportunity and kneel between her legs. You just stare at her pretty pussy as it pumps out her juices. But before you know, Mizu's legs wrap around your head, pulling you right into her. You don't hesitate, and start slurping up her slick right away, your tongue eager to please.

"You taste so good...the best." You murmur into her as groans of pleasure start leaving her lips.

"Yeah? Fuck...keep going...tell me more." She breathes out heavily, sliding deeper into the chair's back. "My pussy is the best, isn't it? You love it..."

"Yes, the best..." You whimper out pathetically, eyes staring up at her as you start slightly making out with her hole, your nose pushing into her bush. "So good, so pretty..."

"Oh fuck...just like that, mhm..." She moans as her hips start moving up and down, rubbing herself against your face...and you love it. You'd rather suffocate right now than stop. You moan into her, pleasing her giving you equally as much pleasure.

"Please...please cum...please give it to me, please please..." You chant between thrust of your tongue.

"Yeah...fuck...want me to come? You want it so bad, huh?" Mizu moans, her hand slowly finding her own breast and starts playing with her nipple. You nod eagerly as you suck on her clit, making her squeeze her thighs so hard around your head, they almost crushed your skull.

After a couple of moment, you felt her soft and warm release drip down your throat, and you happily swallowed all of it. "Fuuuck...yeah, drink it...all, okay? Mhm...yeah you love it..."

Mizu relished in the powertrip as her legs slowly let you go, and watched your head emerge from her pussy, soaked but with dreamy eyes.

"Next time, when you wanna draw me," She whispers, grabbing your chin. "Just ask."

#blue eye samurai #bes mizu #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu x reader #bes x reader #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu fanfic #fanfiction #bes smut #smut

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ivy-loves-chocolate · 1 month

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✧˚ · .Painting their portrait ✧˚ · .

Note: I hope everyone is doing well 💖 I hope you will enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 💖 If you want to commission me check my ko-fi and pinned post for prices. Thank you!

When he found out about your talent, he immediately bought you the most expensive equipment. Whether you like to paint on a canvas or on a graphic tablet, he will buy you only the best products.

He's very old-fashioned and wants a classic portrait. He'll arrange a proper setting to fit his taste. With a fireplace in the background, an expensive suit, and some other decoration that screams old money, he’ll sit with his legs crossed in his comfy chair while he looks at you. A soft smile would appear on his face, especially when you two locked eyes. You thought about painting that lovely smile and contouring those sweet dimples, but you know him better and chose to leave a stoic expression on his face. His soft side is for your eyes only.

He won’t mind sitting for hours because he'll have the greatest company. You two will gossip about the hottest tea at work, talk about his latest projects, and besides that, he'll have his romantic moments when he tells you how much he cherishes you.

The final result leaves him in awe.

"Darling, this is astonishing." He said, amber eyes studying every inch of the canvas and feeling an immense sense of pride washing over him. He couldn't take his eyes off your masterpiece.

"I knew you had it in you," he began after a short period of total silence. "Yet you managed to exceed my expectations."

You breathe a sigh of relief. Even if he was your boyfriend, it was hard to please him. He didn't coddle you, so when he praised you, you knew it was real.

He will hang that portrait with pride in his office, and he’ll tell everyone with pride that his partner made the incredible art.

With the corner of his eye, he noticed how you kept shifting your gaze from your notebook to him. Sometimes you'd stare longer at him, and sometimes your hand would go faster and then slower as if you were trying to remember something. Sometimes, you would scratch your head with the pencil and sighed in frustration.

Whatever you were doodling, it wasn't coming along as you wanted.

Not being able to control his curiosity anymore, he slowly approached your desk.

"Whatcha doing there?" he asked, looking over your shoulder, directly in the notebook. A wide smile appeared shortly.

You didn't hide the page in time, and Leon saw the sketches with his face. You drew him from three different angles. Even if you were in a hurry, you still captured his soft features—his genuine smile and his gentle gaze.

"I- uh-I..." you fumbled, hands going in random directions over the paper.

"You don't have to hide it. I think it looks good." He smirked and went back to his desk.

"Thanks. Listen, I was taking a break, and I felt a bit of inspiration coming in-"

"You don't have to excuse yourself." He chucked and turned to face you. In that moment, you saw a faint blush on his cheeks. "I think it looks great, given how fast you draw."

"And given how much you fidget,"

He chuckled.

"Seriously, man, lay off that coffee."

You both laughed, making some people turn their attention to you out of curiosity. A quick glance around, and you quiet down a bit.

"If you want to finish, I'll try my best to stand still."

"I would appreciate that."

You both smiled at each other. Time went by fast, and by the time you finished, the office was empty. None of you felt the time passing by as you got to know each other better. Leon loved his portraits and "stole" your notebook.

He loved everything you did. Every gesture, every tic, everything was just perfect for him.

What he cherished most was your talent when it came to art. Everything you touched turned into a masterpiece, something so beautiful that it can’t be described by a simple man. So, when you wanted to paint him, he looked at you in shock.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Why?" he chuckled.

"Because I want to. And because I want an excuse to stare at your picture for hours while you are away on missions."

He pulled you closer and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Alright. Make sure to highlight my good side."

"As if you have a bad one."

Despite loving how affectionate and supportive you were with him, he never understood why. He viewed himself as a rough, cranky man who got on everyone's nerve. For short, an asshole. But to you, he wasn't like that. Despite the hardships in his life, he still maintained a soft gaze.

Naturally, he wondered why you wanted him to be part of your beautiful portfolio. And more importantly, did he deserve to be part of it?

For the next couple of days, he waited for you to finish. He would peek in your room to see the progress, but you didn't let him. You wanted to surprise him.

When he came back from his mission, arriving in your comfy apartment, you shoved your art in front of his face.

"Do you like it?" you asked excitedly.

He reluctantly took the canvas and stared at it for a few seconds. It's not that he didn't like it. It's the fact that he didn't recognize himself. His scars weren’t so prominent, his eyes weren't so full of sadness and anger, and his lips were curved in a soft smile. His features were softer, friendlier, even.

“This… I know it’s me, but it feels like I’m looking at a stranger.”

"Why do you say that?”

“It feels like you retouched my face.”

“Hmm, no, this is how you look in real life. You're not as tough-looking as you think."

He loves it regardless, and he loves you even more.

His muse in this life was you. Every time he looked at you, every time he saw your pretty face, his mood would lighten up in a heartbeat. A catastrophe at the moment would turn into something insignificant, something he could overcome with ease.

What he loved most about you was your talent. He was amazed at the beautiful things you could create with your hands, unlike him. He found refuge in your art, staring at your finished and unfinished projects for hours.

"Mi dulzura, what masterpieces are you creating?"

"Thank you, mi rey. Wanna be part of them?"

He smiled. He approached you with light footsteps, rubbing your shoulders gently when he reached your back.

"I'd be honoured."

He was thrilled. Being fascinated by your talent, he wanted to ask you long ago, but he didn't want to overcrowd you as you had many projects and clients. He didn't want to put more pressure. He simply told you that he doesn't want anything fancy.

He waited every day for you to finish, barely containing himself from asking dozens of questions. You had to kick him out multiple times from your room because you wanted to surprise him.

"Luis," you called out, "it's done!"

He came in a hurry, and as expected, he loved the result. He wouldn't stop praising you for creating another masterpiece.

"This is...I have no words. It's simply stunning."

"Well, you are stunning," you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I guess I really am your Prince Charming."

You chuckled and were ready to say something, but he caught your lips in a quick, gentle kiss.

From that moment on, he becomes your one and only muse. You'd paint him in various poses and various clothes, sometimes with you as well. He would sit near you, watching you do your magic without saying a word. He loves and respects what you do a lot.

#resident evil #albert wesker #leon kennedy #luis sera #resident evil 4 remake #leon kennedy x reader #albert wesker x reader #luis serra x reader #jack krauser #jack krauser x reader #fluff #headcanons

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cpunkhobie · 1 year

Text

GENETICALLY MODIFIED NINJA TEENS (gmnt) Era 1

EDIT: This post is old and outdated pls look here TwT

FIRST POST OF MY AU !

Era 1 because I drew all of these while I was still workshopping the designs for the characters which is why everything is so wildly inconsistent and just Generally very wonky. Thankfully I've narrowed all the designs down by now (still haven't finalized them) so any art I draw in the future should be Much more consistent and to form.

Im not planning on this being a uniform comic/story or anything like that, it's just something that eats at my brain that I will probably be posting abt a Lot after this. Some basic stuff about this au:

- Genetically Modified? : yep! at a very young age they were all genetically modified to be super soldiers by You Can Guess who, with Mikey being the only one fully, artificially made in a lab. That also means he's the one with the most raw power and skill. (This doesn't mean he utilizes it or is even aware of it often)

- How are they related? : They're all splinters kids ! Or at least genetically related to him. They're half siblings subtract Donnie and Leo who are fraternal twins. No one knows who Mikey's other parent is, and frankly they don't really care

- Do they live in the sewers? : No .. they are in hiding though! Once Splinter found out about Mikey and subsequently all the other experiments he snatched up his sons and never looked back. Rather unfortunate considering whose Raph's mom is... (we'll get to that later)

- What's with the turtle necks? : Donnie's idea! They have bulletproof abilities and I'm deciding whether I want it to be a synthetically made fabric of Donnie's design or just silk

- Are they mixed race? : They are mixed race.

current color blocked designs are right here:

I'll probably post a sketch dump and some comics of them at a later date. For now, og screenshots under the cut! :

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citrussnap · 9 months

Text

OH MY GOD hey y’all!!! sorry for not posting any art for a whole month I got severely art blocked and shit lmao

ANYWAY here’s some sketches of goth Bigby and Snow!!! I ended up revisiting an old drawing of Bigby last year and I decided to redesign him a little 👍

It was supposed to be just for fun originally, but then it eventually ended up becoming a whole au thing where Bigby has a double life of being the sheriff, but on his off days he is secretly goth and frequents a lot of Fabletown’s goth clubs!

He was introduced to the whole subculture during an investigation in a goth club, after a while he notices the music and the way people were dressed around him and he became really fascinated by all of it, pretty sure you know what happens afterwards lol

Eventually Snow founds out about it and is confused at first but ends up loving the music and also developing the style as well along side Bigby!

(also thanks to my friend @elesketchii for basically helping me out with a lot of the ideas this silly little au idea thing with me, they also contributed by drawing the corporate goth Snow which I also drew myself alongside it :D)

#I WOULD WRITE MORE ABOUT THIS BUT I’M TOO LAZY #the wolf among us #the wolf among us 2 #twau #twau 2 #twau fanart #bigby wolf #twau bigby #snow white #twau snow white #fables comic #fables comics #telltale games #goth #80s goth #my art #digital art #fanart

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twice-inamillion · 4 months

Text

Childhood Dream

Fluff, Story Building, Light Smut (Handjob, Facial)

Chapter 225

1740 Words

(Sana has been interested in making one of her early childhood dreams come true. As a reward she gives you a memorable moment.)

Ever since you and Sana went to the construction site and took a tour of the house, she’s been a bit more happier than usual. She goes to your office in the mornings when you call on the progress of the house and eagerly listens to them. You even asked her if she wanted a copy of the plot and house layout since she would constantly look at yours.

Obviously, she agreed, and you got her a set. She would often ask you questions whenever she had a hard time understanding something. You were more than happy to help her out and keep her busy. Surprisingly, she picked up what you taught her quickly and even asked if it was possible to build something else on the property.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Don’t laugh, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“I want to build a daycare.”

You see the seriousness in her eyes and ask, “Why do you want to build one?”

“Well… growing up, I always wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. Obviously, that didn’t happen, but after talking to Chaeyoung’s mom, she told me she used to work at a daycare after her children got a bit older. She told me about help experience, and it seems like having one would be great.”

You’re surprised by their conversation and didn’t know that Sana felt that way. It’s true that having daycare or kindergarten would be easier for members once the children get older. It’s even more important now after the experience that Sana went through; you can’t imagine what would occur if the public found out about the existence of your children.

“You’re right. Maybe having one is a good idea. How about we talk to the rest of the members?”

Sana giggles and says, “I already talked to them, and they said yes.”

“Haha, so it wasn’t much asking me but just telling me to build one.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, did you have anything in mind?”

The two of you spend most of the morning going over where the daycare would be and how big. You drew multiple sketches and drawings of what the building could have, such as a room for infants, two- to three-year-olds, four- to five-year-olds, and a kitchen. Sana mentioned that having a nice kitchen with homemade meals, a teacher's lounge, and a large playground would be nice for the kids. It took a while until the two of you could finalize the number of rooms and if having the infants separated from the rest was best or if having them in a detached building was better.

“What about the teachers?” you asked.

“Well, Chaeyoung’s mom said she would like to be one of the infant teachers, and Jihyo’s mom said they were more than willing to help. Mina mentioned it to her mom and said she would be willing to move and help with the twins. I wanted to ask my mom, but I don’t want to mention anything about kids until I’m better.”

You pull her in for a hug and hold her tight as she closes her eyes and relaxes. Once she’s a bit better, you both continue and decide where to place the build. “How about here? It’s away from the house, and we can have a nice playground.”

Sana looks around at the layout of the plot and agrees that having it away from the house would be best. “I remember my mom taking me to kindergarten on her bike. Maybe we can do the same,” she said, laughing as she tried to remember her childhood moments.

“That seems like fun. I’ll try to see if it's possible to build it. I’ll try to get it started as soon as possible if we can.”

Sana stands up from her chair and kisses you on the cheek, “Thank you!” she skips out of your office and goes off to see the children.

—————

A few days pass, and you come back from talking with the developers. Everything was approved, and I wanted to surprise Sana with the news. You walk to the living room and see her sleeping on the couch with Ari on her stomach.

“Sana, wake up.”

She rubs her eyes and turns towards you, “No, let me sleep.”

“Come on, you need to head upstairs.”

“I don’t want to, I’m…I’m going to sleep here” and turns over.

You slowly pick up Ari, holding her in your arms, and walk her upstairs to Chae’s mom. You knock and see Chae’s mom changing Hina. “Aww, she fell asleep. You can place her here,” she said as she pointed at the bed.

You kiss both Ari and Hina on the forehead before saying thanks and heading out to the living room. “Thank you.”

Now, in front of Sana, you nudge her arm, trying to wake her up, but it’s no use. “Alight, I guess it will be getting my workout for tonight.” You place your hand at each end and pick up Sana. Surprisingly, she doesn’t weigh much at all, and you can easily carry her to your room. You place her on the bed and ask, “Sana, did you wash your teeth?”

Still sleeping she mumbles, “Nee…” and tuck her in and give her a kiss.

You’re woken up to freezing cold hands rubbing against your thighs, “Good morning, Sana.” You turn around and see Sana with a smile, “Good morning, baby.” You chuckle when she goes up your inner thigh and into your shorts, “Wait, what are you doing?”

“Just wanted to say thanks.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sorry, but I heard your phone go off and saw that it was from a girl, so I am just a bit jealous. I read the text and saw that the permits and layout were approved. Said that you were going to have a meeting with the developers.” You see the light shine in her eyes by the news.

Suddenly, you feel the cold sensation in your private regions and say, “Wait, what are you doing?”

“I just want to say thanks. I know it’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

You feel her ice-cold fingers grab your limp cock and groan, “Ahh… fuck… it’s cold.” Still having the bedcovers, you can only imagine what is going on as you feel swaying your cock back and forth. Little by little, it slowly gets hard, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah…”

“Tell me if it feels good, okay.”

“Okay…”

With her thumb and index finger around the tip of your cock she slowly peels your foreskin back until your mushroom tip pops out. Now hardened, she pulls her hand back out and spits on her hand before going back down. She teases you by gently rubbing the tip of your cock with her wet fingers, making you moan from how sensitive it is.

“Do you like that, babe?”

“Yeah, I do.”

She then grabs your shaft and slowly begins to stroke your cock. Sana kisses your chest, causing your cock to twitch. She increases the pace of her stroking, squeezing, and tilting it up. This causes your cock to throb and Sana to simile by your moaning.

“Do you like that baby? Me stroking your big cock with my small fingers?”

“I do… I love it.”

She strokes it even faster and faster, as well as tightening the grip of her hand, “How bad do you want to cum?”

“I want to cum, I haven’t done it in a while.”

“Where do you want to cum?”

“Fuck… I don’t know, I just want to cum…”

“Want to paint my face white?”

Sana begins to giggle when she sees your cock react to her words of painting her face with cum. She flips the bedsheet over, revealing your throbbing cock, and crawls out of bed. She gets on her knees right in front of the bed. You get off the bed and stand right in front of her, stroking your cock with a firm grip.

She looks directly into your eyes as she sees that you’re about to reach your peak. “Cum for me, baby; cover my pretty face in your thick cum.”

You’re reaching your peak and can feel all your energy concentrating down in your core. “Fuck… I’m cumming! In one hard stroke, you watch as a rope of white hot cum flies and covers Sana’s. Her eyes are closed as it paints her eyebrows, nose, whole mouth, and small breasts.

“It’s so hot! You must have been so backed up, baby.”

“I was, but it was worth it,” you say as you look at the work of art you just made, using Sana’s body as your canvas.

She collects as much cum as she can with her tongue before showing you the amount of cum you shot in her mouth. She gargles you cum side to side and swallows it, then sticks out her tongue, showing you that it’s gone.

“Thank you for the breakfast, babe.”

She stands up, grabs her phone, and poses in front of her mirror, taking a photo of her upper body covered in your baby batter.

“How about joining me for a shower?”

“I’d love to.”

You smack her ass, making her giggle until you hear a pair of loud footsteps running across the hallway.

“Apa!! Apa!”

Both of your faces are horrified as the steps get louder. “I’m going to the shower; I don’t want the kids to see me like this!”

You quickly grab your bathrobe and the bathroom as Jisoo knocks on the door. Chaeyoung’s mom opened the door, and the two sisters yelled, “Apa??” They tilt their head and are surprised not to see you in your room but then hear the water running in the bathroom. “It seems like your daddy is taking a shower. How about we come back later and say good morning to him?” They both nodded their heads and ran out of the room.

Chaeyoung’s mom was about to close the door when she noticed small stains that led from the bed to the bathroom. She walks towards it, sees the clear substance, and smiles before heading back and closing the door, “What a time to be young.”

#twice smut #kpop smut #twice #twice fluff #kpop fluff #twice sana #sana fluff #sana minatozaki #sana smut #minatozaki sana #TM smut #kpop male reader #kpop idol smut #kpop x reader #idol x male reader #girl idol smut

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cordeliawhohung · 5 months

Text

Golden Days

soap x pianist!fem!reader - written for @glitterypirateduck holiday challenge

A quiet coffee shop is the perfect place for Johnny to relax and get his mind off things. But he finds he enjoys it a bit more when someone starts playing the old, beat up piano.

masterlist

warnings: none! super fluffy! short and sweet. maybe slightly ooc soap because i don't write for him super often...

wc: 1.7k

a/n: inspired by the original lyrics to "have yourself a merry little christmas." i think that version deserves some more love.

Getting some R & R was always easier said than done, and Johnny found that he always had to keep his hands busy while he was on leave. Whether it was a quick skirmish of footy, hitting the gym, or even going for a walk, he was always in motion. But as the weather got cruddy with the bitter December wind and the pavement slick with what little snow dusted the lands, he found himself stuck to drawing. Simple sketches, he liked to call them. Silly doodles that meant little to nothing.

A majority of his journal was full of fragments of the world. A favela in Brazil where the buildings and homes seemed to stretch forever; a watermelon with a knife sticking out of it; diagrams of various ships and vehicles; the works. And he’d write some snarky comment or make fun of his captain in the privacy of ink and paper. His home away from home, whenever he was feeling sentimental, anyway.

Even as he enjoyed a fresh cup of coffee in his favorite mom-and-pop’s cafe, he drew. At first he started out with attempting to draw his cup of coffee, logo and all, until he realized that it would be lukewarm at best by the time he got the sketch how he liked it. Instead, he opted to drink his coffee while he scribbled down a Christmas tree. Might as well keep it to memory when the older gentleman who made his coffee had obviously spent so much effort into decorating it. Dazzling lights, gold tinsel and ribbons, and a glowing star at the very top. He wouldn’t be able to catch all the details, but it was enough.

A cold chill blew past the exposed skin on his forearm as the door opened and closed with a ringing bell. By habit, Johnny quickly glanced up towards the entrance where he saw you, bundled up in a winter outfit. He had never seen you before, which didn’t surprise him because he was hardly home enough to recognize most faces anymore. Your smile instantly warmed the shop back up as you grinned at the old man behind the counter.

“About time you showed up,” the old geezer teased as you approached him. “The usual?”

Sweet, Johnny thought. There was always something endearing about the love elders held for younger generations. Their knowing gazes, their kind smiles, although usually mischievous too. The owner got to work on making your cup of coffee, and as you waited you began to wander around the shop. Decorated head to toe in pine and all the gold decorations in the world, it was a bright warm corner in the sleepy city.

Naturally, you eventually made your way over to an upright piano pushed up against the wall next to the Christmas tree. Somehow, it was beautiful and ugly at the same time. Faded ivory keys, but a beautiful dark stained wood for the body, and it was also missing the upper panel, exposing the hammers and strings. It looked like it had been through hell and back, yet still stood proudly like the day it was made.

“Why don’t you play us something?” the owner suggested, his hands still busy with making your drink.

You paused just as your fingers brushed against the keys before throwing a cautious glance around the shop. No one else was in the shop besides Johnny, who you threw a polite smile towards before your eyes settled back on the older man.

“Maybe another time,” you deflected, eyes flickering over to Johnny. “Don’t want to scare away your customers.”

“Aye, don’t worry about me,” Johnny spoke up. He waved a graphite covered hand at you, pencil still nestled between his fingers. “I don’t mind a bit of music.”

The internal struggle was obvious in your eyes, and Johnny turned his attention back to his drawing in an attempt to keep the pressure off of you. Eventually he heard a slight creak of wood as the ancient stool settled underneath your weight. Johnny couldn’t help but glance back up at you as your fingers ghosted over the keys, petting them almost, before you dove headfirst into a dreamy chord.

“What the hell?” you exclaimed, the music quickly cutting off.

Boisterous laughter erupted from the owner as he leaned against the counter, your cup of coffee next to him. You looked at him with wild eyes and mouth slightly agape.

“You tuned this piece of junk?” you questioned.

The old man held his arms to the side and shrugged. “Merry Christmas.”

With some newfound vigor, your attention returned back to the piano in front of you before you played that chord once more, that time with more confidence. It was such a soft, beautiful melody; something that reminded Johnny of his childhood somehow, yet he couldn’t quite place it. Some sort of nostalgia hidden deep in his chest that started to ache and burn.

And then you started to sing.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas. It may be your last.”

That… wasn’t how he remembered the song going. Blue eyes tore away from his journal as Johnny looked up at you. With your back turned to him, it was impossible to see your face, but he watched as your arms moved and fingers danced, how your body swayed with the beat and your feet tapped on the pedals.

“Next year we may all be living in the past. Have yourself a merry little Christmas. Pop that champagne cork. Next year we may all be living in New York.”

So much for making the Yule-tide gay. There was something a little more somber about this version of the song you performed, something that had both Johnny and the shop owner completely enamored. Between your singing and the lights of the Christmas tree casting a warm glow over you, it was something straight out of an odd, demented Hallmark movie.

“No good times like the olden days, happy golden days of yore. Faithful friends who were dear to us, will be near to us no more.”

There was a slight pause in the music. A prolonged chord that rang on the exposed shimmering strings of the piano. The moving hammers fell still in the exposed skeleton of the piano. After a moment, your head fell slightly as you continued on to finish the rest of the song.

“But at least we all will be together. If the Lord allows. From now on, we’ll have to muddle through somehow. So have yourself a merry little Christmas now.”

Notes sang and died down into silence as the song ended. You sat there for a short while before sliding off of the bench and awkwardly facing the rest of the mostly empty shop. The owner gave you a few well-natured claps, to which you bowed sarcastically to before approaching the counter once more to retrieve your drink. But Johnny was still dumbfounded.

“Beautiful. Haven’t heard that version before,” he spoke up, setting his pencil along the center of his journal where it rested between the pages. He leaned back in his seat, stunning blue eyes taking in the sight of you.

You turned to him with a sheepish smile, hands wrapped around the warm center of your cup. “It’s the original version Judy Garland wrote, actually. The one they deemed too depressing and asked her to change.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Really?”

“Yeah. I always liked this version better,” you explained.

Somehow during your short conversation, you had managed to meander closer to Johnny’s table, hand brushing against the chair across from him yet not braving to take the seat. He wasn’t ignorant to the way your eyes flickered down to his journal, or how your lips tugged into a small smile at the sight of it.

“Pretty,” you commented, nodding towards the journal.

Instinctively, Johnny glanced down at his work, and he could feel his throat grow a little tight. There was the luxurious Christmas tree he had sketched, with the dazzling ornaments, then there was the dimensions of the walls behind it, and then there was a half finished sketch of you, sitting at the piano facing away from him.

“Aye, it’s something I guess,” he chuckled, hands playing with the edge of the paper.

He blamed the glow of the lights for making you so beautiful. Like some sort of angel that should have been sitting on top of a tree rather than talking with someone like him. But you are there, and you’re real, and you ask him his name and give him yours and he swears that whole conversation feels like coming home. Like he never belonged anywhere else except in that coffee shop with you. Maybe he was just feeling sentimental.

“Well, I, uh, have to get going,” you said eventually, eyes awkwardly darting to the clock that rested above Johnny’s head on the wall. “But I’ll be back here around the same time tomorrow. I could… play you a happier song.”

It was impossible for him to hide his grin as he stared up at you. Of course he agreed, and he found himself getting more excited for it than he should have been. You give him a sheepish wave as you exit the shop, the bell ringing with your absence as you dissipate down the street. Things grew quiet again as it was just Johnny and the old shopkeeper, who was busy cleaning his machines. He looked back down at his journal and fiddled with his pencil as he thought about how to finish up his sketch. A part of him wished you came into the shop earlier. He would have put you at the center of the picture rather than that tree.

“She’s single,” the man suddenly spoke up.

When Johnny looked up, he realized the man was looking at him, and he wasn’t all too secretive about the mischievous glint he had in his eyes either. Really, he wasn’t quite sure what to say in response.

“Yeah? That’s some intel you got,” he said, slightly stiff and a bit sarcastic.

“She likes the Italian restaurant two blocks down the road,” the man continued. “I’m sure she would say yes if you asked her to go with you.”

At that, Johnny had to chuckle, and it sounded something like a warm grumble in his chest, as if he was actually attempting to entertain the idea. Still smiling, he glanced down at his journal again, finger tapping against the paper.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas. It may be your last.

Well, perhaps he could entertain that thought after all.

#soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #codholiday2023 #cod x reader

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blackdungeon357 · 2 months

Text

bad batch X artist Reader

Authors note: this is just for fun I randomly thought of this I tried I hope you like it

You have been with the bad batch for a while. You usually just draw when the boys are on missions or when things are calm in hyperspace although it is usual for you to draw you never really show them to the boys or Omega and most of the time they never question it. Until one day you were out at the store and left your sketchbook open on accident Omega found it on your bed and it was open to a page you have drawn of your little family. Omega grabbed it to show to the others at first they were a little weary because your privacy but when they looked at it their face is dropped as they flipped through the pages there were pictures of all of them just doing regular things

Hunter:

As Hunter looked through the sketchbook at all the pictures of his brothers his eyes are gleaming with happiness as this shows how much you see them as a family when he gets to a picture of him it says a few things that you like about him and its nothing but sweet as he looks at the well drawn picture of him holding his knife he is very happy and proud of how it looks as he keeps looking he finds a picture of him and Omega with the words #galaxies best father he smiles he never knew that you would say that about him and it brings joy to his day when you came back he smiles and handed you back your sketchbook "mesh’la you are a beautiful artist keep going I would love to see more" Hunter is extremely supportive of your skills and would love to see more as it helps him calm down seeing the pictures you drew and the time and dedication you made for each of them he also loves the notes you write in them.

Wrecker:

This big boy absolutely love your art especially the ones about him he finds this as a way you show you love and care for him and that makes him so happy he especially lost a little notes that you wrote about him he can't help but feel joyful inside. wrecker makes it known that he saw it he walks up to you and embraces you in a bear hug like Hunter he is very appreciative of the time you spent to draw each picture of him he especially puts the picture of him holding his stuffed animal. "Y/N you are amazing at drawing! We should totally draw together one day" Wrecker is definitely the type to do art as well and he happily gives advice to you as you give advice to him Wrecker does love you to death and would do anything to see your art.

Echo:

This precious baby actually feels more secure about himself as he looks at the pictures you've drawn of him and everything you wrote that you like about him it makes me feel jittery inside he also blushes a bit overall he's very happy that you see him in a good way as he is very insecure about how he looks but his favorite is the old picture you drew of him and Fives. It reminds him of the good times before everything happened it gives him a sense of nostalgic and he loves it Echo is very thrilled that you took the time to draw him and he loves the details of the pictures. When you get back Echo looks at you with a very happy smile and a better feeling about himself because your opinion is the only thing that matters to him now "ca’tra you are so talented when I saw how you drew me and the sweet notes about me it made me feel so good about myself you are truly amazing" Echo now sees himself in a better light and its all thanks to you.

Tech:

Tech was quite busy looking at his data pad until Omega decided to show him the sketch by shoving it in his face to get attention after his attention was grabbed he takes a look at it and at first he doesn't really care until he realize it's yours he's impressed by your proportions and ability to capture their figures very well he decides to look through it he finds many pictures of crosshair, wrecker ,Hunter, and Echo then he comes across one of him looking at his dad in the middle of the night and he loves how it looks the shading is spot on the proportion is correct he is very impressed we all know Tech is very intelligent and probably good at human anatomy and like things to be perfect when you come home he hands you back the sketchbook "you're proportions are pretty good you know a lot about human anatomy I'm impressed" he is very happy and may start to questions about if you know of each piece of the body and will correct you if you get it wrong.

Crosshair:

He doesn't understand art at all like he's impressed that you can draw that well but he doesn't ever draw so he doesn't understand but he smirks at the notes about him he notes to tease you about it when you get back but other than that crosshair is ok with your drawings PS: he loves the drawings of him the most. Honestly Crosshair is very prideful what did you expect? So when you return home he is quick to tease you "so I'm charming eh?" He says this with a smirk on his face as he looks at you with that smirk and as you try to grab your sketchbook he keeps it out of your reach and laughs at you attempts to grab it Hunter has to tell hem to return the sketchbook but for the next week hes teasing you about it always steeling your sketchbook just to see the new things you wrote about him and more badass pictures of himself it annoys you but you can't do much but you will play his little game and it will continue until you can hide your sketchbook.

#bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #tech x reader #crosshair x reader #echo x reader #wrecker x reader #tbb crosshair #star wars the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb echo #tbb wrecker

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xcaptain-winterx · 1 year

Note

i have no idea if you are accepting request but could you write where reader is in labor and her husband, steve rogers is out in a mission and kind of missed the birth of his new born daughter

I love this idea💙

26:44:49

summary: above

warnings: child birth, blood, fluff, angst, sad Steve, happy Steve, guest appearances

a/n: English is not my first language, meaning you will probably find a lot of misspelling etc.

Main Masterlist Steve Rogers Masterlist

Being married to an Avenger sounds like a dream and it indeed is one. There are a lot of good sides to it, like literally never having to worry about being robbed, while you’re on a walk with them. Sadly there are some things though, that are not that nice, like missions. Of course you like hearing on the news that your husband saved people or when he tells you that they took down another bad facility, but you don’t like that he has to leave. What if he gets hurt or doesn’t make it back. Your husband, the famous Captain America, isn’t really on hydras friend list.

Steve’s also scared when he’s not with you. What if something happens to you? The list of enemies is long and knowing that he’s not always there to protect you scares him.

Everything changed when you got pregnant. The day you found out was probably one of the best moments in your life, and seeing Steve's face light up when you told him made it even better. Steve knew from the moment you told him that he was going to be the best dad ever for your little bean. He almost passed out when you both found out that you were having a girl. A Girl. A little baby girl.

He would stay up at night, talking to your belly about how excited he is to meet her and tell her about everything that is going on.

“Yesterday we painted your nursery, bean. I drew some sketches that are now hanging there. I Hope you are going to like them.”

“Uncle Bucky came today and helped me build the crib, while your mom was with her friends shopping. Don’t tell her, but we were both completely lost on what we should do.”

“I think we need to talk about the food you want. I may be old enough to be your grandfather or even great grandfather, but I don’t think that pickles and peanut butter are a good combination.”

“I’m so excited to meet you, everyone is, especially your mom.”

“Can you promise me to make it easy for your mom when you arrive? She’s been carrying you for eight months now and even if she doesn’t want to admit it, I know she’s tired.”

Everything was going amazing, three more weeks and your baby girl was going to arrive, but sadly Nick Fury decided it was ok to send your husband on a mission. Steve was furious when Fury told him. He tried to explain that he can’t, that his wife is going to give birth soon, but Fury didn’t give in. It was a mission that involved saving people from an underground facility.

You overheard them talking on the phone and how Steve is needed for it. Obviously you hate the thought of Steve going on a mission, but you hate the thought of innocent people being held captive in a dark room even more. You also saw that Steve didn’t like the thought either.

After the call you told Steve that it’s ok if he goes. He told you that he’s not going on that mission and that you can’t convince him.

And he was right.

For thirteen hours.

Apparently being highly emotional during pregnancy can help in convincing your husband to join a mission.

The day he left for the mission was not easy for both of you. He tried to not wake you up but failed.

“You shouldn’t be up. Go back to bed, sweetheart”

“I wanted to be awake when you go”

A slight smile appears on Steve's face “I love you, you know” he says, pulling you closer to him, while making sure to not put too much pressure on the belly.

“I hope so or I’m going to give you the ring back” you say with a smirk, trying not to show how sad you are “I love you, too.”

He smirks at you “Hold up. First” he softly slaps your ass, making you gasp and him laugh.“Now” Steve goes, trying to stay serious “You know I love you more than anything else-“

“What about Bucky? What about him, Steve? He’s better up there too”

“Ok, ok, ok” he laughs “I love you, Bucky and our soon coming little baby girl more than anything else.” A smile crosses your face.

Steve gets on one knee, now directly at eye level with your belly. He places a hand on it “Make sure to watch Mommy, while I’m away. Ok, Bean?” You laugh when you feel the baby kick against the spot where Steve placed his hand, “I think we have a deal.”

“Don’t worry, we are going to be fine.”

He gives your belly a kiss before standing back up and giving you a long and passionate kiss “Yeah. I will finish the mission as soon as possible and then I will come back.”

Your husband gives you another kiss before walking out the door.

The sun just started to set, while you were getting another bowl of cookie dough ice cream. Humming some random song as you grab some raisins from the cupboard to put in the bowl. Just when you wanted to walk back into the living room something wet started to run down your thighs.

Looking down you see a puddle at your feet, and that’s when you realize.

“Please, no.” Just as the words come out of your mouth a contraction hits you. The bowl drops to the floor and shatters into a hundred little pieces “Ahhhh”. This can't be happening, it's too soon. Of course you were told that babies could arrive sooner, but the doctors assured you that it wouldn’t happen because the baby most likely has Steve's super soldier serum.

Another contraction hits, this time stronger than the last one. Steve’s not here, you can't have her yet. You know you should go to the hospital cause the contractions are already coming every seven minutes.

You waddle over to the counter to grab your keys. Is it safe to drive right now, probably not. Steve and you didn’t pack a back for the birth yet and there’s no way that you could pack one now. Stepping inside the car you think about calling Steve, you know though, that he wouldn’t pick up. You take a deep breath before finally starting the car.

The way to the hospital thankfully wasn’t that long and painful, you're happy that you both live that close to the hospital and that you inherited your dad's ability to handle a lot of pain. The nurses there immediately took you in and gave you a private room. Again, thank god for being married to an Avenger. They checked you to see how many centimeters you are dilated. Fucking six.

“Mrs. Rogers, should we call someone for you? Giving birth can be painful and we would advise you to have someone with you when it happens.” The nurse says, smiling at you.

No shit, giving birth could be painful. That’s completely new to you.

Your husband is on a mission, Bucky is with him, Nat is with him, Sam is with him. Clint is not in Brooklyn and neither is Sarah. Wanda is currently on her honeymoon with Vision, and Tony and Pepper are probably having an argument right now. There’s one person that you know of who’s currently in New York, but you never really talked that much.

You think for a few seconds before finally deciding that it's better to have at least someone with you right now. “Yes, please call someone.”

Fifteen minutes later you here someone come down the hallway, screaming at some nurse about how Mrs. Rogers requested her to be there when she gives birth to a fucking watermelon.

The door opens and they walk in, “You’re huge.”

You give a painful laugh, “Thanks, Yelena”. She looks at you before slowly stepping closer. She’s a black widow who fought against black widows and dozens of bad guys, but she has never been in such a situation.

The contractions are getting worse every second and the pain medication doesn't seem to work. Fuck Steve and his super soldier sperms.“Ok, I’m here, everything is ok” Yelena says, standing next to you grabbing your hand, “Just take a deep breath.” Squeezing your hand, you slowly calm down. Yelena tries not to show how much her hand hurts because of your squeezing, and how relieved she is that you let go. Trying to distract herself from the pain she asks “Why did you call for me? We’re not that close.”

You look at her and smile, “You’re Nat's sister, which means you’re part of the big family. We may haven’t seen each other that often but I still trust you”. You say, grabbing her hand softly. Yelena looks at you, not believing that you count her as a family member. Nat told her once that the Avengers are like a second family, but she always thought that she was lying. Maybe she was always thinking like that because she knew that the avengers wouldn’t accept her.

Yelena looks at you with tears in her eyes. “Really?” She doesn’t even try to hide her shaking voice.

“Of course, otherwise I wouldn’t have called you.” Yelena quickly wipes a tear away and gives you a big smile

The nurse walks in. “Let’s check how many centimeters you are,” she looks and smiles at you. “Your ten centimeters! I’m going to inform the other nurse and then you can start pushing.”

Oh no, no, no, no, no

Yelena sees the worry in your eyes and quickly grabs your hand. “Hey, I’m here. Everything is going to be ok. I will call them immediately when the mission is over,” she squeezes your hand “now let’s focus on that Watermelon”. You give her a nod before the nurse tells you to start pushing.

It was a hard mission and Steve is happy that he’s finally back, he can't wait to come to you and the little bean. All he wants now is to cuddle you and touch your stomach, while watching one of your favorite comedy shows that you already watched hundreds of times. He definitely has to take a shower first, though, when he gets home because he smells like sweat and dirt. He walks out the jet with Bucky by his side who’s smirking at him. “What’s so funny now, jerk?” he asks, hiding a smile.

“Well, punk, I think it's funny how I can immediately tell what you're thinking about. So, did you already call Mrs. or are you surprising her with coming home early?”, Bucky says, patting his back.

Steve chuckles, walking with him over to his car, “She doesn’t know, I’m going to surprise her”. Bucky can't help but smile at that, he’s happy that his best friend found the ‘one’ after all those years, a true angel. And now that angel is pregnant with his niece, to be honest Steve didn’t tell him that he’s going to be uncle, but that doesn’t matter because the little girl is going to be his niece no matter what. Bucky knows when the due date is and already made sure to be ready when he gets the call from Steve, that his niece is coming. Bucky snaps out of his thoughts when Natasha walks over to them.

Steve slams the trunk close when he sees her, “if Fury wants me for another mission tell hi-“

“Steve”, she cuts him off. “It's about y/n, she gave birth”, a sad expression forms on her face “Yelena just informed me, she stayed with her meanwhile.”

Steve's whole face falls and he lets out shaky breaths, without saying anything he opens the car door and speeds off. Leaving an utterly shocked Bucky and a confused Sam, who apparently just walked out off the jet. Steve's mom always told him to be careful and he always listened to that, but right now he’s driving like a mad man to the hospital.

Not five minutes later he’s there and running to the reception, “I’m here for Y/n Rogers!” The nurse looks at him and lets out a gasp when she realizes who he is.

“S-Sure, right away, Mr. Rogers." She leads him to the door and gives him a reassuring smile before walking away. He takes a deep breath, and another, and another, and another before finally walking in. You look up when the door opens and smile when you see the now dad Steve walking in. Steve's eyes move from you to the small bundle in the crib. This is all it takes for him to start crying and you follow.

You reach your hand out to him and he immediately walks over to you, sits down on the bed, kisses your hands and pulls you closer. “I’m so sorry I’m late”, he says, looking at you. “How late?”

You softly touch his cheek “It’s ok. Our bean just decided to come early, we can't blame her, she’s just a baby” Steve laughs. He turns to the crib and slowly rises from the bed and walks over to the crib. A tear runs down his cheek when he sees her little face, a cute small nose, chubby cheeks and a full head of blonde hair. Steve carefully picks her up and holds her in his arms, swaying back and forth, you smile at the sight of them together.

“Hey, bean, daddy’s finally here. Sorry, that I took that long, daddy was saving the world.” He looks at the information paper on the side of the crib before turning to you, “I’m 26:44:49 hours too late.” He sits back down next to you, one arm around you, the other around his daughter.

“I swear if you are going to blame yourself again I will hit you,” you say with a stern expression.

Finally Steve laughs, “Sweetheart, I’m holding our daughter”. At that exact moment the sleeping girl opens her eyes and looks at her dad with big y/e/c eyes. He looks down at her “Hey, princess. Do you know who I am?”. What if she doesn’t know him, he wasn’t there during her birth. What if she never heard him when he was talking to her late at night. She wiggles around in his arms. Steve holds his breath, is she going to cry?

She doesn’t cry though, she looks at her dad and gives him a smile, well, as far as a newborn can smile.

You kiss his shoulder, “I think she knows who you are.”

Steve kisses her forehead and after that yours, “I love you, you know.”

“Likewise. We still need a name,” you say.

Steve gives you a grin. “Yeah, we should decide that before the rest of her family comes”

Yelena walks in with a bunch of snacks, “hey отец, finally there. Next time you hold her hand” she says, showing her hand in a cast, “I also brought a few guests.”

Nat, Sam and Bucky walk in with a few gifts. Bucky immediately leaves the gifts on a table and rushes towards the baby. “Hey doll, it’s me, your uncle Bucky.” Steve hands her to Bucky and he holds her close to his chest, “Is your dad already annoying you? He has been annoying me for about 105 years now,” Steve lets out a small hey, but Bucky doesn’t care. He looks at you for a second, “You did a great job mama.”

“Thanks Buck, but I couldn’t have done it without Yelena,” Natasha nudges her sister, smiling at her, she knew Yelena would get warm with at least someone else.

The baby gets passed around and in the end gets passed to Bucky again because he wouldn’t stop whining. “Now, what’s her name? Let me guess, Samantha,” Sam asks, smirking.

You both look at each other before looking back at them. “Welcome, Sarah Brook Yelena Rogers, named after her grandmother, Steve's home and the person who stayed by me during her birth.” Yelena looks at you both with tears in her eyes, giving you a big smile, now being ok with you breaking her hand. Bucky walks over to you and gives Sarah back to you, whispering before that how she’s going to be his new favorite.

He looks at them “I'm the uncle, right? Don’t leave me hanging, Steven.”

“Yes, you are.”

“HA, SEE SAM, I'M THE UNCLE!”

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