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strawberrysturniolo · 3 months

Note

I genuinely want a Matt or Chris with someone older fic. Like a well done, met at work/on set… they need to impress her because she’s older and she’s just trying not to flirt back but totally is flirting … but needs to be secretive because it could cost her a job.

But he’s just so obsessed with her in the best way and his brothers can tell even though he won’t admit it

someone older

summary: chris reaches out to a new photographer in hopes of taking Fresh Love to the next level, but they find their attraction to each other too difficult to hide

part two

I’ve been in LA pursuing photography for a few years now. Coming out of college with my dream in the back of my head only made me hungry for that spot in this career field. It’s hard to be taken seriously sometimes, but I’m grateful for the opportunities LA has brought me, along with the clients who are just as invested in their careers, and are in a position to want to have me there to take them to the next level.

That’s exactly how I was approached by Chris Sturniolo, YouTuber and entrepreneur. I scrolled through my Instagram DM’s one day, checking the requests to go through any work opportunities I needed to work out. That’s when I stumbled upon a request from Chris, explaining his desperation as he tries to expand his clothing brand, Fresh Love. His message expanded on the fact that he wants to take things to the next level, reaching higher heights and satisfying his goals the way he hasn’t been able to in the past.

“I need a better photographer,” he said. “And you have exactly what I need.”

Count me in.

The money he was offering was another good reason for me to say yes, but I was more drawn into the fact that he models most of his own clothing. It’s easier for me to do a shoot with him considering it’s his brand and he knows what he wants. We won’t have to worry about his visions not coming to life as clearly through models who are just there to get their money from Chris, rather than someone who actually cares about the brand's success.

We had been messaging back and forth over Instagram, working out times that would be best along with a location. I invited Chris over to my apartment, where a room was set with studio lights and backdrops to satisfy the shoot he was looking to complete.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled as he carried a box of Fresh Love gear into the room.

“Cool right,” I smiled, positioning my camera in the center of the room.

He gazed at the backdrops – one plain white, one with oranges covering it, and one with scattered hearts, all of which matched some scheme of his brand.

“This is amazing,” he added. “Even better than what you sketched out.”

“It was a pretty simple idea, just had to be executed right,” I shrug, not wanting to take too much credit for a simple job.

I let himself get situated in the room, grabbing a few different items from the upcoming drop and letting him get comfortable.

Upon receiving his message request and working out a time for us to have this photoshoot, I did find myself watching a few of his YouTube videos to get a scope of his personality. I had never heard of this kid before. I wanted to make sure some creep wasn’t going to come to my apartment. Unfortunately, that has happened in this industry.

I noticed how talkative and chirpy he was in these videos, but now that he was in my home, it was like something changed. He was suddenly quiet and closed off, almost like he was feeling shy. The last thing we needed for this shoot was him feeling uncomfortable. There was no way any of these photos would come out alright if that were the case.

“Can I get you something to drink?” I offer. “I have some water, soda, iced tea…”

He nods, his focus on sorting through his things. “A soda would be good, thanks.”

I left the room and let him get situated while I got him something to drink. I had to admit, this kid was cute. I was only a few years older than him, but there was something about the fact that he was so driven in his career to pursue this project that I found myself attracted to. At 25, it’s safe to say most guys don’t think like that, but somehow at 20 he has things figured out for himself.

I came back with a drink for him, noticing that he had changed his shirt into one of the upcoming drops. “Oh, I like that a lot!”

He looks down at his shirt, smiling back up at me. “Thanks! I suck at drawing, so I have to be really detailed when I try to pitch ideas to my creative team. Luckily we’ve got a good crew there so it isn’t too hard.”

I nod as I listen to him, finding myself fascinated. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m gonna have you stand in the middle of the backdrop, right where that X is. I’m gonna take a few test shots, so don’t worry about posing or anything. I’m just checking the lighting and the angle.”

He listens closely to my instruction, following just as I said. He pulls at his clothing a few times, trying to let himself be comfortable. Then, he looks down at the X, then back up at me. It’s like his entire demeanor changed. There was an entire switch in him. He looks up at me with these… dead eyes. Staring into the lense of the camera in a way that has me sucking in a breath.

Jesus Christ.

I clear my throat. “Yeah… just… keep moving around a little. I’m still doing some test shots but don’t stand too still. I need to see if we need more lighting in certain angles.”

“I got you,” he nods, now swaying his body around a little bit as he tries different angles for me. He takes instruction well, making this a much easier process than most. Not to mention he’s nice to look at.

“Alright,” I stand straight again. “We got our lighting and everything settled. Is there anything you want me to take control of or do you want to be in charge here? It won’t offend me if you want to have more creative control since this is your brand after all.”

“I have a few ideas,” he says. “But once I get those shots I want, you’re free to do whatever you think looks good from your side of things. I really appreciate this by the way.”

“Of course,” I smile at how sweet he’s being, truly grateful for me taking time out of my day for him even though this is my job. He’s paying well too, so I can’t complain too much.

Chris relays some of his ideas to me, taking a few shots then checking behind the camera to look at the photos so far. He smiles as his vision comes to life, thanking me over and over again for today.

He stands shoulder to shoulder to me, and I have to keep myself focused. “I like this one here,” I point out a shot of him with a pair of sunglasses on, a playful smirk on his lips.

“Yeah, that one’s sick,” he agrees before heading back to help me switch out the backdrops.

Somehow along the way we find ourselves talking about my career, mostly with Chris wondering how I got to LA and what drew me to photography. The conversation continues through the next set of photos until we can’t stop talking and it starts interrupting our shoot.

“You want to take a little break?” I suggest. “We can order some food and talk while we look over the pictures so far? See what you like and what you don’t so we can make the final shots right.”

He almost looks shocked that I would ask him that. “Yeah, that sounds really good actually.”

I laugh at his reaction. “What’s that face for?”

“I usually don’t get asked if I want a break. It’s just… go go go until the day is over. This is nice.”

“Well, if you want to do more shoots with me… you know my rates,” I tease.

He follows me to my living room where we order some food and set up my laptop, exporting the photos. I delete some of the blurry ones, and others where the lighting is too crazy for the clothing to be seen. After the poor photos are disposed, we start taking a closer look at the ones that might make the cut.

“I like this one a lot,” I point out, zooming in on certain elements of the picture. “The pose is really good, but the look on your face sells it. You’re a natural at this, you know?”

His cheeks turn a pink color. “Thank you.”

“I’m serious!” I continue. “Something special about this is also how you model your own clothes, and if anyone else does, it’s friends and family. People like that. You have a unique creative mind. This thing is gonna go places, Chris.”

He smiles at me, a cheesy, dorky smile that I can’t help but smile back at.

“You make it easy,” he praises me instead. “You’re great at this but I’ve never felt so comfortable with a photographer. Plus, you’re nice to look at… so I guess that keeps me wanting to stare at the camera… or what’s behind it, I guess.”

There it is.

I knew I wasn’t going crazy. I saw the way he was looking at me, and this just confirms it.

“You’re sweet, Chris.”

He gives me a soft, tight lipped smile before turning back to the computer to take a closer look at the photos. “You know, I was wondering if you wanted to try a few pieces on and take a few pictures in them? I also have a polaroid camera we can do a few with. Or maybe some together would be good?”

I smile at his suggestion, playing into it. “You’re suggesting this after I just praised you for doing this on your own?”

He shrugs, a bit of confidence washing over him. “Some of these pieces would really suit you, and you’re too pretty to be hidden behind the camera.”

“Okay,” I nod. “I’m in.”

An hour passes, which soon turns into two. We spent the time talking about ourselves while we ate, learning more about each other and our careers. Despite Chris being this funny, loud character in his YouTube videos, it’s obvious that he’s extremely smart as a businessman. He knows what he wants, and he’s going to make sure he gets it.

We head back into my studio room, setting things up again.

“Try this shirt on,” he says, holding a shirt out to me.

“Are you sure?” I ask, not wanting to interfere with his creative ideas.

“Absolutely.”

I take the shirt into my hands, pulling off the one I’m wearing without a care considering I have a tank top on underneath. Chris watches every movement, waiting for me to put his shirt on instead.

“It looks good,” he nods, licking his lips before standing behind the camera. “Go ahead and stand on the X like I did. Give me some… over the shoulder looks.”

I smile at his attempts at conducting this photoshoot. He sounds adorable, but it’s also hot knowing he has his business brain going. I do as he says, looking over my shoulder with a certain look on my face that is working wonder’s for him.

“That’s it,” he mumbles, taking a few shots before peeking at me over the camera. “Give me some more.”

I do a few different poses as he praises me for my work.

“You look better in these than I do,” he breathes out.

“That can’t be true,” I deny, walking behind the camera to take a look at what he’s gotten so far.

I have to say, the gray Fresh Love sweatpants he’s wearing aren’t doing the best job of hiding what’s going on in that head of his.

I look through some of the pictures, hearing his breaths gain strength next to me. “Why don’t we take some together like you suggested? I can set a timer and it’ll do a flash of a hundred at a time.”

He nods. I take his hand in mine and lead him back in front of the camera. “Is this how all your shoots go with clients?” he asks quietly.

“Only the cutest ones,” I tease.

I move him around until I find a pose that works for us, settling on me sitting on the floor in front of him with him behind me. His hands rest on me, a simple feeling that I had been aching for all day.

We spent about 10 minutes posing together, alternating between us standing in front or behind each other until we decide to take a few looking at each other.

“This could be a good way to tease the new drop,” I say. “Just a few shots of the sides while we’re looking at each other.”

He nods, willing to do anything I offer at this point.

We stand with our chests almost touching, our faces close enough to feel each other's breathing pattern. I hear a flush of photos being taken, a small smile growing on my face while I look at him. As the photos continue to take, he makes his move.

Suddenly, his hands are on my face, holding me closely as he kisses me hard. I wasn’t expecting this in the slightest no matter how much I was hoping for it. The photos continue to capture the moment as it grows more heated, his tongue finding a way into my mouth until I’m falling backwards and he’s catching me at my lower back.

He pins me against the backdrop, funnily enough, the one covered in red hearts.

He pulls back with a sharp inhale, catching his breath. “I’d been thinking of doing that since I walked in.”

“Took you long enough,” I tease.

“Shut up,” he mutters, placing his lips back on mine. “You’re distracting me from my work.”

“I think you were doing just fine,” I assure him. “Great, even.”

“Mmm,” he hums, a mix of pleasure and satisfaction from my compliments. I smile at the sound of the camera going off, which makes Chris pull back from me. “What?”

I point behind him, watching as he focuses on the camera, and it continues to flash, capturing his smirk while my lipstick is all over his face.

I can’t wait to look at these later.

tag list: @freshloveforthefit @lacysturniolo @mattitties @floofparker @javalakers @creamoncreamoncream2 @heebiejeebiezz @sturnswrites @runupthathillgirl @gdsvhtwa @666hellokitty420 @runupthathillgirl @oliviasturniolo21 @keira324 @sstvrnioloo @sturnitup @sturnsvoid @theyluv-meee @therewilljustbereputationts13 @ilovedasturniolos @dancemomsfanee @rootbeerworshiper @sturn3ol0 @swaggygirlboss123 @lustfulslxt

#sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo

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thebearer · 9 months

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just thinking about carmy x shy reader who used to have the biggest crush on him when they went to school!! and carmy thought she liked mikey !

oh my god i can totally see him and now i can only think of two ghosts by harry styles ahhhh. little fluff blurb ahead for the soul <3

they go to prom together, their senior year just as friends. carmy bc donna is making him, and you... bc carmy asked you out lol. mikey set the whole thing up, he knew how much you likes carm. you were always coming over and following carmen around like a lost puppy. mikey felt bad for you, sorta, felt bad that you were so hopelessly in love with his oblivious younger brother.

carmen moved to new york and you stayed in chicago, only to reconnect years later at none other than mikey's funeral. carmen looked bad, sad and distant, but there was a glimmer of his old self when he talked to you. familiar. good.

it was a challenge, pushing yourself into the life of carmen berzatto again. two old friends catching up over coffee, first. then going to a ghost tour, because mikey used to swear it was the most entertaining shit (swore he'd see uncle jimmy on there eventually too lol). you'd help him at the beef when he'd call, helplessly needing assistance fixing some odd appliance. he'd make you greasy italian sandwiches and you'd spilt them sitting at the sticky booths, reminiscing.

it wasn't until weeks later, when things started to take a turn for the best. when carmen realized that "oh shit she's like into me into me???" he'd kissed you that night, in your apartment living room. it was rushed and a little sloppy. he'd blushed so hard after that, stammering and nervous in the low light of the room. you'd only grinned, pulling him back in.

"i- fuck- i didn't want to-to come across like that. i just... i'm sorry. i don't know why i... it felt- i don't know, i'm sorry." carmen is a stuttering mess, feeling his heart rate rise and like he might throw up at any given second.

"why are you sorry? i liked it, carmy, c'mon." you just give him a sideways, lopsided grin.

"what? are you- are you fuckin' with me right now? don't... you liked it?"

"of course i liked it. sophomore me is shitting herself right now."

"in a good way?"

you laugh, nodding. "in a very good way. c'mon, bear, don't fuck with me right now." you glare at him playfully. "you don't have to act like you didn't know i was in love with you."

"what?" carmen's eyes bulging tells you otherwise. "you-you... no, you didn't like me. you liked mikey."

"mikey?" you repeat. "carmen... i liked mikey because, i mean he was mikey, everyone liked mikey. but i had a crush on you."

carmen wasn't sure what to say, heart pounding hard in his throat, strangling the words. "really?"

you nodded, grinning gently. "i mean, you were too obsessed with claire bear to notice-"

"-oh, c'mon. don't do that." carmen cringed shaking his head.

"you did!" you laughed, jabbing his chest lightly. "you'd always talk to her in math and sketch all those pictures." you tried not to sound as hurt as your fifteen year old self had been. how you'd cried into your pillow when you found them. how you tried to make yourself look just like claire, act like her too so maybe carmen might notice you.

carmen blushed, looking down at his shoes. "well, i, uh... if it makes you feel any better. i-i was drawin' you too, ya know." he couldn't look at you, blushing positively boyishly at the admission.

it was silly. so silly and so sweet and it shouldn't have made you feel the way you did, but it did. you kissed him, two hands on the side of his cheeks, tumbling back on the sofa with him. a long, overdue kiss.

the next day, carmen asked you to come by the beef, telling you there was something that got dropped off for you while trying to figure out bills.

you opened the envelope to find a faded, crumpled piece of notebook paper, the light etchings of you on it with the algebra homework from mr. weir's junior year class.

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kawowoa · 4 months

Text

can i draw you?

synopsis : you’ve been dealing with art block for a while, nothing seems to ignite your creativity anymore but then you see him. boom. you want to draw him

characters : silver, idia

info : gn. reader, maybe ooc

a/n : srry for disappearing for like a year.. i’ll try to be more active but my creativity is down the drain T_T

> silver

you’re lucky enough to catch him without malleus by his side. he was sitting up against a tree with a few birds finding a home on his body. the scene was perfect, like he’d just came out of a fairy tale

he saw you coming, you weren’t being discreet about your presence. he had a confused look on his face, it wasn’t often that you two saw each other, let alone talked

you explained to him your situation, how your art block was eating you alive. he started to panic which scared the birds away, ready to face whatever this art block was. you calmed him down, it was just a metaphor

he agreed to be your muse, it’s not like he had much to do anyway

you carry your sketch book around with you incase you find something that sparked your creativity. the two of you got into a comfortable position, you laid your preferred coloring medium (or none at all if you don’t like coloring) beside you before pulling out your pencil and eraser

silver stayed awake for five minutes, maybe it was the constant sound of your pencil scratching the paper or the rustling of the trees that had him dozing off or maybe it’s just silver’s weird habit of being able to fall asleep in any place at any time

his features were way more relaxed than they were before, his shoulders started to slouch, the crease between his eyebrows disappeared as well. a perfect scene

“silver.. silver! wake up!” you whisper-shouted close to his ear. you leaned back as he jolted awake, rubbing his eyes to rid of any sleepiness that may still be lurking

“huh..? what’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes focusing on you, they were frantically moving across your face, looking for any signs of distress

you said nothing, pulling your sketchbook from behind your back. you held it in front of his face, far enough so that he can see it. you notice his hands, hesitant in wanting to hold the sketch book; you just smile and plop it right in his hands

“this is me?” he asked in shock, his eyes moving back in forth from you to the paper. you captured every little detail in his face and body, even the tree he was laying against

quickly noticing now long he’s been holding your sketch book, he gives it back to you. although, his slight smile never left his face

“it’s amazing. it was an honor being able to help you out”

> idia shroud

you caught him in the halls after all the clubs ended. he was walking out the board games club with azul and a few other students

he didn’t notice you, but azul did

you saw idia tense up, slowly turning around to you. you wave at the both of them. azul was quick to hand idia over to you when you asked for him. idia looked so dejected, looking back at azul like he just committed murder

you pulled idia aside, far from azul’s prying eyes. you explained the situation you’re currently in, you had a small feeling he might disagree; desperately hoping you were wrong

and you was! idia agreed to help you! not without a whole bunch of complaints. he saw the desperation all over your face, how could he not agree?

you had to do it in the comfort of idia’s room though, you didn’t mind, a person’s beauty looks best when they’re most comfortable

in the comfort of his room, he sat on the bed while you sat on the gaming chair. you set out all your art materials on the desk, you picked up your pencil and sketch book before scooting the chair closer to idia

the man looked so nervous. you started talking to him to try to ease his nerves. hours went by and he started to get more animated, talking to you about his current fave game

“…tbh the story could be better, the whole evil villain terrorizing the mc for some super special artifact is so overrated”

“yeah, definitely played out” you nodded in agreement. you push the chair closer to the desk, putting your pencil and eraser down. idia’s rambling dies down as he watches you come back to the original spot you were in before

he stares at every moment you make until your sketchbook invades his field of view. his eyes widened, grabbing the sketchbook out your hands

“do… do you like it?” idia’s expression and lack of words had you second guessing. you didn’t take much time on it, it was definitely a rougher sketch than you normally would do

“yeah… it’s great. can i keep it? not for myself but i think ortho would like it a lot”

#★ ! fics #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst hcs #idia x reader #silver x reader

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aviduringgremlinhours · 6 days

Text

My Muse

~content warning: slightly nsfw~

Mizu x artist!reader

Authors note: I am not a writer so I apologize for any mistakes! Enjoy!

"Somethings' off...I can feel it..." you say as you squint at the canvas before you. Wether its the shape of the head or the length of the torso, you could TELL something was off. "Two years of art school and yet I still can't seem to get body proportions right. Ugh, maybe I should just find a different career path-"

You hear a knock on the studio door "Y/N? You in there? I made us some tea, can I come in?" you hear the voice of your partner, Mizu, behind the door. "Oh! Yes! Come in!" You exclaim. Upon your approval she comes in with two cups of tea and sets them both at the break table nearby. Deciding to take a break, you get up from the frustrating sketch before you to spend some much needed time with Mizu.

"Hows the art going? What are you working on?" She asks curiously. Mizu has always loved your art, and though she was a woman of few words, you could feel her admiration and respect coming off of her as she gazed fondly at the paintings made by your hand.

"I feel like if I try to fix it any longer I'm going to jump off a bridge" you sigh, half joking at this point. "Ouch, that bad?" She raises an eyebrow as her eyes scan the canvas. "It looks a little off but its not bad. Perhaps you should do some model studies. Who knows, maybe seeing the body up close will help you figure out what you're missing." The idea sounds good in theory, but theres a problem with it "Where would I find someone willing to strip down and let me stare at them for hours while I draw them? I don't really have the cash to pay someone for it." You ask her earnestly.

"Well..." she contemplated "I could be your model, if you want." Your eyes widen at the thought, it makes sense, and its not like you haven't seen her naked before, but you feel a blush crawling up your cheeks regardless. "A-are you sure you're comfortable with that?" "Absolutely sure, I'm comfortable with it if you are. We can start after we finish the tea" She says, her ice blue eyes seemingly brightening up with excitement.

A brief moment later, and Mizu stands before you, a robe being the only thing covering her up. "I'm ready. Where should I stand?" She asks you. "Oh, just go sit on the lounge right here, I want to try capturing you in a leasurely pose." You say. "Just lay back with your back proped up on the arm of the lounge, have one knee bent, and your arm resting on the bent knee. Look off to the side as well." she nods and gets into position as you ready your pencil. "Ready?" You ask, "Ready."

You begin sketching out her figure, glancing over at her every now and then for reference. Every curve, every scar, every fold of her body carefully replicated onto your canvas. From her slender yet defined arms to her lean torso and model-eque long legs. "She's so beautiful..." you think to yourself. You sketch more. Her breasts, her gorgeously long dark brown hair, her breathtaking blue eyes-

You notice her glancing at you, flinching away your daydream as you hastily hide your burning red face behind the canvas. You hear a soft chuckle emit from her as she looks away, a warm smile fixed to her face and a light blush forming. The silence in the air that followed was not a suffocating one, but one that carried a sense of quiet intimacy between two lovers. Warm, soft, and inviting. You feel yourself beginning to relax as you continue to sketch the beautiful woman in front of you.

You finish your sketch up and exhale deeply "Its done! It came out so well! Would you like to see?" You ask her excitedly as she rises from the lounge and reaches for her robe. "Hell yeah I would." She replied. As she scanned over the canvas, her eyes widened with awe. "Its...amazing love, is this how you see me?" She asked "Of course!" You tell her "You're the most beautiful and amazing partner in the whole world, you could say you're my muse..." she looks away bashfully, a shy but happy hum coming out as a response. You gently turn her head to face you a plant a loving, soft kiss on her lips, one which she reciprocates in kind. "Thank you Mizu, you've been a great help. I love you." She beams at those 2 magic words "I love you too, Y/N"

#mizu #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai mizu #bes mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu bes #blue eye samurai netflix #mizu x reader #mizu x you

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mundoperla · 1 year

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Vincent Sinclair with a shy S/O

One day a bunch of teenage boys come and there openly flirting with her, while she did the job for Bo since there was no females to flirt with.

She came back to Vincent aggressively painting nude paintings of her in explicit positions something he’d never do because he was too shy. Catching her watching him, he finally did what he wanted to do out of anger

Sorry if it’s too much you don’t have to do nsfw if you don’t want too <3

HEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEGI

𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.🔞

Vincent Sinclair x shy Fem!Reader

•

— Despite your reserved shy nature, you’ve got someone who’s the exact same eating that act up behind the scenes.

⚠️‼️tws;; creepy ass dudes saying creepy ass things, brief mentions of violence, vinny boy having indecent thoughts abt you, p in v SEX👺, fingering kind of??, overstimulation, basement sex too ig u could call it

i want him so bad

Lester hand already let you and his brothers know another group was being directed to Ambrose so guests were expected at some point in the day. Bo had asked you to stay at the station while he went back to the house to retrieve a few things, you understood what to do and what to say, how to be even just the smallest bit comforting despite being aware of what was to come to the unfortunate few who were to step foot into the town.

The loud honking of a car horn had startled you from the mindless scrolling you were doing on your phone, looking up through the glass doors to see a group of boys roughly around college age in the vehicle. Two of them had gotten out and walked into the shop, the usual ask of a fan belt was brought up and you got to your fake search for one.

“ Are all the girls around here as fine as you are? “ one of them whistled at you, you could feel your stomach drop in disgust but you merely laughed it off and continued to stay on the subject of the fan belt they needed. Reluctantly trying to swerve into a different conversation just so that the comment could be forgotten.

“ Hey come on now, he asked you a question and you’re not gonna answer ? How ‘bout once we finish up fixin’ our car you come out with us ? ” The second one stood straight behind you, his eyes were glued to you which made your anxiety worse.

“ I don’t think so. There isn’t a fan belt here it looks like.. try the house further up the road, not that far of a walk from down here. Bo should have spares up there. ” at this point you just said fuck it to trying to remain calm, you were screaming on the inside looking for every excuse in the book to get these fuckers to piss off.

Despite your efforts, they kept insisting that you leave the town with them to go who knows where. The last three guys in the vehicle outside poking their heads out to gawk at you like the pair inside. You were exhausted, tired, and you wanted more than anything for them to leave.

But most importantly, you wanted to see Vincent.

You weren’t too sure where he was or what he was doing, you naturally felt too afraid to bother him whilst he could be working. But god damn did you need to see him right now.

Luckily for your sake, Bo had came back. He could tell by your body language that you were uncomfortable, giving you a look of what could almost be described as worried.

“ You can head out, Vincent’s probably in his lil’ cave. I’ll take it from here.”

• • •

Vincent’s hands trembled as he hastily sketched onto the sketchbook he had flat on his desk. He felt sick at the thought of any of those men eyeing you down.

He wasn’t upset at you for anything that had transpired, he was upset that your timidness was turning him in at the most inconvenient time.

Bo had buzzed in to let Vincent know what had happened, to which Vincent was furious for but he also wanted to be there for you while it happened.

But of course, his mind wandered.

Would you cower if he made a bold comment towards you? Would you stutter on your words if he called you gorgeous? Would you do all of these while he made you writhe on his-

This was dirty.

Your shyness was always adorable to him, one of his favorite things about you to be exact. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you any of these raunchy thoughts so instead he uses his own abilities to get as close as possible to seeing you in your most vulnerable.

His head could only be filled with mental images of you in positions he couldn’t even name. His hands merely transfering it onto the paper in front of him, ripping each page of his sketchbook out onto the floor to later shove in a folder somewhere where nobody could ever see but him.

For fucks sake, now was an inappropriate time to be aroused. Yet his own desires persisted leaving him more frustrated than before. HE deserves you, HE’S the only one who should make you flustered and leave you stuttering. You understand this too dont you?

Would you still be shy if he had you stripped entirely for him on his bed? when he had you bent over his lap as he curled his fingers inside of you? Jesus the mess you’d make on him would drive him bat shit crazy. He’d completely shatter you in fromt of all of those men to show who you belonged to. He can’t stop this, god he needs you so terribly bad it hurts. Won’t you-

“ Vincent? ”

His head snapped to his left where you were standing. He didn’t hear you come down.

You picked up some of the sketches from the floor and stared at them, the same familiar blush creeping up on your cheeks the more you looked as well as scanning the page he was almost completed with. Vincent was relatively open with you about many things, but never with sexual topics out of fear you’d be disgusted.

All he could do was look at you, unsure of how to react by being caught drawing his own set of ‘material’ of just you. You’re equally as flustered as he is, however you’d be lying if you said you weren’t as turned on as he was.

You open your mouth to speak again but you’re immediately cut off as Vincent slams his sketchbook onto the floor and tosses you up on his table, hurrily moving his mask up to reveal only his lips to clash into your own. His calloused fingers are roaming your legs and all along your torso, everything is moving so fast you’re completely left with no room to cower. His mouth moves down from your jawline to your neck, further down as he begins to practically rip apart the shirt you were wearing, coincidentally it being one of his own.

“ Hey- H-hey Vincent! ”

Your words go through one of his ears and out the other one, he needs you now and he’s tired of waiting. He’s still pissed off from earlier, he needs to mark you, leave your brain scrambled so you can only think of him, let you and everyone else know who exactly it is you belong to. His long black hair drapes over his masked face, pooling through your fingers as you grab a handful of it whilst he continues to rip apart your clothing, leaving you completely bare on his table.

He’s struggling with his jeans to get them off him all whilst trying to scoot you closer to the edge. Once he’s fully put of his own garments he wastes no time inserting himself into you.

Vincent wont wait for you to adjust to his size, he’s rutting into you like a man possessed. His hands are squeezing your hips tightly, leaving deep purple bruises in their place. The mask still left his lips uncovered, enough for him to bite and kiss at your chest and shoulders.

It felt like the tip was battering the inside of your cervix, with every thrust it felt as if he was fucking all the air out of your lungs. There was only so much you could do in this position — let out one pathetic whine after the other as your boyfriend completely obliterated you.

Where can he cum first? your face? your stomach? your back? in your mouth? keep squeezing him the way you’re doing now and he’ll fill up your cunt with his load until he’s completely run dry.

Vincent purposely edges himself, he won’t let himself have his own release until he feels like you’ve had enough of your own.

You’ve came for him more times than you can count, your pussy feels so sensitive the more he rips another orgasm out of you. You’re well aware he’s enjoying the sight of his pelvis and his thighs covered in your juices.

All the pretty sounds you let out are his notion to keep going, flipping you on your stomach to have you bent over for him, one hand still firm on your hip whilst the other lands occasional slaps onto your ass. You’re gonna stay down here until he’s done.

Or at least until another buzz of the radio comes in.

“ Three on their way to you, last two’re at the house with me now. Be ready. ”

You can feel Vincent squeeze you ince more before pulling himself out of you begrudgingly. The sudden feeling of emptiness causing you to whine.

He wasn’t done yet. He had more to do with you.

Your hands manage to reach out to grab the sleeve of his jacket, pulling him in for another kiss. Despite his previous behavior this is what flustered him the most.

Putting your semi-torn clothing back onto you, he carries you over to the mattress he had settled in the corner of his workspace. He began to walk to tbe stairs to handle the guests that would be arriving soon, just before leaving he hears the ting of your voice;

“ When you get back let’s continue where we left off! ”

•••

#slasher imagines #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #slasher smut #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair smut #house of wax fanfiction

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jackie5656 · 1 year

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Say It Like You Mean It With; Anthony Lockwood

A/N: Hello again! We’ve begun a new obsession, I am absolutely hooked on this show. And if there’s no renewal announcement in the next month, or at all, I’m fighting. @sunshineangel-reads provided some suggestions in the inbox, so I figured I’d tag <3. All right, hope you enjoy!

Summary: The one where you meet the newest addition to the agency, and insomnia strikes again

IMPORTANT: All characters are aged up. I wouldn’t be comfortable doing so if they were played by minors, but that’s not the case here. Just wanted to make that clear before we begin.

“She can’t just go taking two at once like that.”

“the rule is each member of the agency can only take one biscuit at a time in a strict rotation. Keeps things fair.”

“E-each member of the agency?”

“Assuming you are still interested in the position?” The front door opens just as Lockwood’s finished. Three heads snapping toward the mud room as you shuffle in, arms weighed down from grocery bags.

“Of course she’s still interested!” To Lucy’s relief, it’s a female voice that sounds before you appear in font of them. Tufts of hair spilling over your face at the exertion of errands. The two boys are immediately at your side, ridding you of all baggage and heaving it toward what she assumes is the kitchen.

“Lucy,” Lockward calls out behind him as he descends the staircase along George. “Meet y/n y/l/n, another associate.” You scoff, extending a hand with a kind smile. Undoubtedly the most welcoming so far. “She’s most sensitive to sound, much like you. Not bad with a rapier, either.”

“I hope they haven’t irritated you too much so far.” You beckon her to follow the boy’s path with you. “Please tell me you didn’t use the bloody toothbrush cup.”

“Of course not.” Lockwood taps his nose with his finger when your back is to him, a silent beckon for your potential hiree not to snitch.

The kitchen’s just down a flight of stairs, where you get unloading items into their designated spaces as George works on cooking.

“We call this the thinking cloth,” Lockwood taps onto the wooden table after tossing you a box of pasta to put away. “We jot down memos, theories, trains of thought-”

“Cheesy love confessions.”

“Shut up, George.” The redhead misses the inside joke, brows furrowing with confusion as Anthony continues on. “I located the bones of the Fenchurch Street Ghoul by sketching out the street plans here at three in the morning over cheese on toast.”

“When a case goes badly an we’re not talking to one another, it’s good for exchanging insults too.”

“Ah, and how often does that happen?”

“Almost never.” You butt in, giving her your most genuine expression despite the white lie. You’re so eager to finally have another girl around, it’s only fair you promote the job as much as possible.

“Now, basement. Follow me.” Lucy does as asked, sending a quick look of concern your way before she disappears down the stairway.

“She’ll never last.”

“Oh c’mon George, I was more than welcoming when you came along.��

“That’s because my natural talent was evident.”

“Is that why you screamed like a little girl during the test?”

“I wasn’t expecting the gunshots from the knife, alright?”

**********

“This was my bedroom when I was little, and y/n’s for a while. You can use it, if you’d like. Unless you have other sleeping arrangements?”

“Yes...No-I mean-”

“Of course, we’d deduct the rent from your wages. Nothing too steep. Just enough to cover the bills. I’m a very reliable landlord.”

“Jesus, Anthony. Give her a second.” You tear open the blinds, smirking when Lucy takes a moment to admire the view at such height. Something tells you the pair of you will get on just fine. She hesitates, then. Looking Iver to you with confusion.

“Do you sleep elsewhere?” There’s a sudden silence between the three of you. Lockwood clearing his throat as he pulls at a the tuft of hair at the nape of his neck. He studies the newest employee with a twinge of anxiety, presumably understanding how things might seem...Unprofessional. Granted, it’s a business run by an 18 year old, but an official one nonetheless.

“We share the bedroom downstairs.” Is all you manage, blush adorning your features as her jaw slacks in understanding.

“I’d like to make it clear,” Anthony looks over your frame, smiling fondly. Then back to Lucy. Who seems to hold no judgement despite her obvious contemplation. “Y/n and I attended academy together, she was with me when this all began.”

“In other words,” you finish for him. “We were sleeping together before he became my employer.” The closed-off girl huffs a laugh for the first time since you’ve met her, though your boyfriend twinges pink with an abashed smile. Diffidence is awfully rare on him, though it's quite adorable. It’s then Lucy decides she’s fond of you already.

“Please excuse my girlfriend’s lack of filter. I suppose George’s rubbed off on her.” He's only teasing, Lucy knows that when you shove at his shoulder. The pair of you are not overly affectionate, you don’t seem like the types anyway. Of course, she’s only caught a glimpse of your relationship, there’s an undeniable glint in her potential boss’ eyes as he looks at you.

“Like Anthony said-”

“Lockwood, please.” Though he interrupts you, he’s only looking at Lucy. She comes to understand you may be the only one unwilling to refer to him as such. It almost twitches a smile to her lips.

“This used to be my room, before Anthony begged for my hand.”

“Was that before or after you professed your undying love for me?” Said boy backs up toward the stairs, noticing the inklings of a friendship beginning to form between the two girls front him.

“Before then, but definitely after you pleaded to kiss me when you drank the better half of MY whiskey. Which was a gift, by the way. An expensive one.”

“From that muppet at academy?” He scoffs, wiping an invisible stream of dust off the banister. “Horrid flirt.” A grimace sets upon his face. Josh Collins was a right prick, you had to admit. Though it was an obliged graduation gift.

“Don’t speak so poorly of yourself, sweetheart.” Lucy can’t help but really smile this time, features immediately dulling once she realizes she’s been caught. You pretend not to notice.

Lockwood sends a half-assed glare your way, holding his tongue in lieu of the new company. “This has got it’s own bathroom. There’s a bigger one downstairs, but that’s mean sharing with George. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” A beat of silence after you nod in agreement, cringing at the flashbacks. “Right, well, we’ll leave you to unpack. Settle in. That’s assuming-”

“Those newspaper clippings on the wall...”

“Oh. You saw those. Not very modest, is it?”

“But definitely on brand.” You mutter what you think is to yourself, smiling innocently when they look your way.

“Should really take them down.”

“No, it’s more...It’s just. Well you haven’t said anything about...I mean, who are you guys?”

“Plenty of time for that. You should rest. Get some sleep.”

“That’s...If you’ll take the job?” You hope you don’t sound as desperate as you are, voice tilting with anticipation as you wring your hands together.

There’s a couple, agonizing beats of silence that feel like hours. Finally, the girl nods, “yes.”

You all but shout, fighting jumping up and down at the confirmation. Anthony shakes his head at you with a fond roll of his eyes, sending Lucy hopeful smile. “Well then, welcome to Lockwood and Co.” You squeeze her arm gently in congratulation, taking hold of your boyfriend’s chin to press a swift kiss to his cheeks. Unaware of his skin flushing with heat as you descend the stairs in an elated hurry.

“Georgie, she said yes!!”

****************

It’s dark when you wake, rolling over in search of warmth that isn’t there. Unsurprisingly, Anthony’s not beside you. You huff a sigh, cursing your boyfriends’ relentless insomnia before wrapping the quilt folded at the bottom of the bed around your form and stalking down the hall.

He’s in the library, of course. The bright fire pops into the silence of the night, illuminating the room in a tantalizing warmth. Lockwood runs a finger over his bottom lip as his eyes remain trained on the book in hand. Up until a weak floor board gives your presence away with a groaning creak.

His lips curl into a tired, yet no less pleased smile at the sight of you. Shifting the couch so you’ll fit perfectly into his side. “Why are you awake, dove? It’s late.” He pushes a stray strand of hair from your face, brows furrowing when you scoff at the irony.

“Could say the same for you. Can’t sleep again?” He hums, elaboration not necessary. Hurt tugs at your heart strings as your thumb trails over the dark skin just below his eyes. A hand wrapping around your wrist to kiss your doting ones away.

In the solitude of these hours, you’re both able to find comfort in your gentle affections. It’s much easier alone, sometimes. There’s an unspoken ease in the solitude of it all. In these moments, Lockwood can feed into the delusion it’s just you and him in this house, in the whole world.

“Close your eyes and get some rest.” He wraps an arm around your sternum. Your back to his chest as he continues reading. A pout adorns your features, eyes narrowing.

“But I’m not tired.”

“Yes. You most definitely are,” the corners of us eyes crinkle with his knowing smirk. “You just don’t want to make me feel bad for making you feel obligated to stay awake with me.”

You envy his ability to read you more often than not. Pulling the quilt further over the two of you so as to seem inconspicuous. Failing miserably when a yawn tears through you. Long lashes fluttering over your cheekbones as you blink slow, gazing up at him. Anthony feigns stoicism under your gaze, though you’re just about the only person to make his heart race with just a look. The one you’re giving him right now is particularly cruel. Pleading, soft, all things sweet and alluring. He figures you’ve perfected the craft of drawing him in, unknowingly or otherwise.

“I’m wide awake, actually.” Is all you manage. Voice rasped with sleep as your nails run over the exposed skin of his forearm. Sending chills down his spine. The arm resting over you pulls slightly back, just enough to enable his hand to hold the side of your face. Fingers smoothing over your warm skin to lull you further.

You’ve always been naturally much warmer than him. A personal furnace, he regards you. Seeing as he’s always too cold for his liking.

It makes sense. You’re all things sweet and painstakingly kind. There’s not a soul who’d be able to repay half the debts you deem mere favors. You’d give the shirt off your back to anyone who needed it, especially those you care for.

You’re everything Anthony Lockwood is not. And sometimes, most times, he hates himself for it. Hates he’s too selfish to let you go and award you opportunity to find someone much more worthy of your heart.

“Hey. Where’d you go?” He’s stopped his ministrations, seizing your attention from the cackling fire and back to him. He offers a small smile, one you read right through. Here he is again, pulling away and closing off in the moments you’re both most vulnerable. It’d hurt, at first. The beginnings of your relationship...Friendship, even. Had often been strained by Anthony’s reclusive habits. You’ve shared just about every piece of yourselves to one another, yet he still manages to find more fear in love than fighting the dead.

Over time you’ve developed patience. Reveling in the small moments of softness he’s awarded you in all the chaos. They’re worth it. Knowing him, learning how to love him, has been worth it.

“I’m right here, love. I’m always here.” He presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. Pretending to get lost in the pages afront him once more.

“Come to bed.” You’re so quiet he almost misses it, folding the book against his chest to meet your gaze. Doing his best to ward off your obvious puppy eyes. (though he lacks lacks the best track record with this)

“Just one more chapter? Then I’ll take you to bed and pretend to sleep for the next few hours.” You frown at his teasing, swatting away his poke to your sides in search of a smile.

“You’re not funny, Lockwood. All i want is for you to rest. Really rest, for once.” Rapier-calloused fingers card through his hair, eliciting a gracious sigh.

“I’m only joking. I do rest much easier with you around,” a swift kiss to your lips. “Sleep better when you’re beside me,” two more against your cheeks for good measure.

“You’re awful.”

“Awful?”

“Awful!” A hand collides with his chest, chastising. “Being sweet so I’ll stop worrying. It won’t work. I’ll always worry about you.” And there it is again. The agonizing clutch at his heart at your compassion. Unable to resist the notion there are so many others much more worthy of your affections.

“I know.” It’s a whisperer, forehead pressing against yours. “You should probably start saving that for a bloke who deserves it.” There’s no self-pity to it. No trace of malice or fish for reassurance. So succinct and matter of fact you want to tackle him into an embrace in lieu of willing away every deprecating thought that intrudes his conscience.

“Anthony Lockwood.” You’re stern, then. Maneuvering upward so your head can rest on the arm of the love-worn couch and better face him. “If you’re mean to my boyfriend one more time, I’ll ensure my spirit is tied to you. Haunting you with love and affection for the rest of eternity.”

“I feel like that’s supposed to be a threat...” Cold fingers trace over your collar bone, peeking out from under his dress shirt you’ve stolen. “Though it’s almost endearing. I’d quite like to be stuck with you for the rest of time, I think.” A blush flushes your features, worsening when it elicits his cocky smirk at the observation.

“I hate you.” Hands concealing your abashed face with the muffled whine.

“Say it like you mean it, Darling.” He stretches under you, nudging at your forearms with the spine of his book. “Will you uncover yourself now? I’d like to see you again.” You oblige, hands falling atop your thighs and against his stomach. Anthony’s gasp startles you, features taught with confusion. “My God, it’s happened again!”

“What?”

“You’ve gotten prettier! Just now, I swear it!” A groan sounds as you press your face into his chest, shaking along with his rumbles of laughter.

“Just read your book, Lockwood. I like you better when you’re quiet.”

“Just one more chapter. Then we’ll head to bed.” He straightens, getting ahold of himself as he obliges. Eyes meeting yours once you tap his elbow.

“Read to me?”

“I thought you liked me better quiet?”

“I like you best complacent.”

“Noted.” And with that, he begins.

You stretch over him as he begins, his shirt on you rising just enough to expose your mid drift. Greedy fingers take the opportunity to run themselves over your soft skin. Cool rings giving eliciting goosebumps. He does it mindlessly, which makes you heat even more

“Stop blushing, you’re distracting me.”

************

Lockwood squints as the curtains are torn open with a cruel screech. George stands a-front him, hands on his hips. You’d never managed to make it back to bed, both having fallen asleep in the sam positions as the hours before. This particularly apparent when Anthony raises his head from the back of the coach, wincing at the soreness in his neck.

“You know, I may as well take the master bedroom if you’re never gonna use it.”

“Quiet down, George. You’ll wake her.” The curly-haired boy rolls his eyes when his colleague cuffs his hands over your ears, shielding you from the noise.

“Good. We have work to do.”

****

“Our first official case as a team of four.” Your boyfriend beams brightly despite the morbid information in hand. Passing it along so the rest of you can be caught up.

“Mrs. Hope...Looking to rid her house of a Problem following the demise of her late husband.” George adjusts his glasses as he sums the story to you and Lucy.

“Cheeky.” The girl deadpans, taking a sip of her steaming cup of tea groggily.

“Pay grade. That we desperately need.” You shrug, doing your best to make light of each job despite their implications.

“George, you should get a head start on the research while we pack the bags. Lucy we have to learn plans A-F, as well.” The three of you nod along, Lockwood tilting his chin upward to allow you better room to adjust his tie, Pulling away so he can offer the portion of buttered toast and chopped fruit he’s plated for you. You only take a strawberry, a polite shake of your head when he pushes it forward once more.

“Later.” You note, running your fingers under his collar to smooth it out.

“You should eat.” He’s stern, pulling away his steaming mug you reach for with furrowed brows. “Can’t have tea on an empty stomach, you get all shaky.” Your jaw slacks in half-serious offense at the notion, the pair of you turning your heads toward your colleagues sat at the table,

“You’ll have to get used to their old-married-folk tendencies. It’s quite insufferable at first, but becomes increasingly tolerable over time.”

“Oh shut it.” It's in unison, only aiding in your flushed demeanors as their grins grow.

“Told you.” The bastards’ irritatingly smug as he motions toward you. “I’ll be off to the archives, I’ve reached my morning’s capacity of affections.” Anthony’s arms cross with a scoff, eyes trailing over to you and face igniting in a mischievous smirk. Your brows furrow, about to question his sudden change in attitude before he’s on you. Making a show of grabbing the sides of your face and littering kisses all over your face. Pushing so you have to step backward toward a horrified George, hands over his ears as he attempts to escape the treachery.

Lucy can’t help but laugh. Overcome with the realization of all the agencies in London, she’s likely ended up with the best one.

#lockwood x reader #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lockwood and lucy #lockwood gifs #anthony bloody lockwood #lockwood x you #lockwood x y/n #imagine #fanfic #lockwood imagine #lockwood fic #cameron chapman #lucy carlyle #george lockwood #request #inbox requests

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cozy-cinnamon-roll · 9 days

Text

Stitches (Part II)

(Read Part I Here! used to be We Interrupt This Broadcast... changed the name because I feel like this fits better 😅)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Rosie, Ler!OC, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, very brief blood mention, medical themes (non-graphic & painless). And again, this is set right after Alastor gets his ass handed to him by Adam, so you can expect some angst (don't worry, he gets better).

If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige. 💕

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

"Almost ready" I said. "Basically finished" I said. Sorry y'all, the Chronic Illness Fairy struck. 😅 I will say this was my favorite part to write, but also the one I'm most uncertain about... bit more angst in this installment and I'm not much of an angst writer lol... but with Rosie in the mix (especially as a ler), angst never lasts long. 🥰

Also I changed the title. Hopefully it's not confusing that way... cuz without Part 1 this fic makes zero sense 😅

One last thing... I'm so happy y'all like Trudy! Was thinking about posting a lil sketch of her at some point (I need a new insomnia project now that this fic is done 😅). I've been having a truly awful few weeks on the anxiety front, so all the positive feedback on Part I has been quite literally making my days 💕

Hope you enjoy!!

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

"Ooh, you stubborn little bastard. You're still gonna refuse to laugh?" Rosie mutters.

Alastor doesn't dare try to speak. All he can manage is a defiant shake of his head.

"Look, my friend. If you 'don't mind a little tickling,' and getting all giggly is your specialty…" Rosie tweaks his bottom rib, eliciting a noise that comes just short of a squeak. "What, exactly, is the problem here?"

"I'm supposed to be in control!" he grinds out through his twitching grin.

"You are in control, sir." Trudy abruptly withdraws her hands, holding them up innocently. "You can tell me to stop at any time."

Alastor cringes. He was sorta hoping no one would point that out.

"Which is why I find it so fascinating that you haven't yet." A sly smirk creeps across Rosie's face.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"I- I'm humoring you!"

"Humoring me?" Rosie tilts her head. "My dear, I hope you're not doing this just for my sake. If you don't want Trudy to check for further injury-"

"No, I do! O-on my terms!"

"This is on your terms."

"Yes, but-"

"In fact, you insisted."

He stumbles again, before mumbling another meager, "…to humor you!"

Trudy shoots her boss a disoriented look - but Rosie, as usual, is hearing her friend loud and clear.

"Alastor." Rosie rolls her eyes, gestures for Trudy to step aside, and scoots over to place a hand on his knee. "Adam is dead. Everyone in hell thinks you're either succumbing to your wounds in some remote gutter or hiding in whatever alternate dimension you just spent the last seven years. You're not even 'on air'." She leans in. "You can drop the act for a moment, if it's what you need."

That certainly hits the mark. For the first time, Alastor's smile falters - not completely dropping, but certainly losing much of the strained quality it's had since he arrived.

"I wish I could, my dear."

Encouraged, Rosie continues. "Well, what's stopping ya? As much as I love spending time with Alastor the Radio Demon… if you wanna take this opportunity to let out whoever's underneath that effervescent grin of yours, you know we wouldn't mind."

Alastor swallows - and for the first time in a decades, Rosie finds his expression difficult to read. "Rosie, I'm afraid I can't really..."

"I mean, you've been holding that same silly show-host-smile for years! Don't tell me you've never gotten tired of it!"

"It's sewn on, Rosie."

"…What?"

He hesitates. "Let's just say today wasn't the first time I've been, ah... stitched up." As he speaks, he gestures to his toothy grin. And for once, there's not a trace of distortion in his voice.

Rosie's dark eyes go wide when she realizes what he means. The cannibal overlord just stands there for a beat, in an uncharacteristic moment of shock.

But, being Rosie, she quickly recovers. "Well, so what?"

"I'm just saying, I'm afraid I can't really drop the act."

"Nonsense! Since when has your act had anything to do with your face?" Rosie flicks her hand, as if brushing the thought aside. "Who cares if you can't show genuine Alastor. I wanna hear him."

"But my microphone..."

"You're doing just fine without it."

Once again, this attempt at reassurance only makes Alastor look more disturbed. "Th-this can't be me!"

"...Well, no. This right here sure isn't the Alastor I know. But…"

Alastor is barely listening to her anymore. His broadcast persona has been his sole identity since he was alive. Now his radio tower has been reduced to rubble, his microphone snapped clean in half, even his carefully-styled clothing left in tatters…

If this is the Genuine Alastor he's now stuck with - panicked, stuttering, weak - he can't imagine how he'll ever be able to face the rest of hell…

But these racing thoughts are once again interrupted by nails tracing up his sides. A sharp yelp cuts the air as poor Alastor just about jumps out of his skin.

"…Perhaps I can offer a little help?" Rosie suggests gently, once she has his undivided (and adorably flustered) attention. "On your terms, of course?"

Alastor just gazes back at her for a long moment. "What do you have in mind?"

"I happen to know something about you that even you can't fake."

The radio demon hesitates… before heaving a sigh and, to Rosie's surprise, giving a small nod of consent.

She breaks into a brilliant (and frankly terrifying) smile.

Before Alastor can brace himself, Rosie's hands have both found his sides and begun working into his waist. Having just watched him squirm around under Trudy's thorough probing twice (and adored every second of it), she already has a pretty good idea of where his worst spots are.

Which is made abundantly clear by Alastor's reaction. Within seconds he's gone from still trying to hold it all in by habit, to giggling into his hands, to cackling hysterically.

And it's the kind of laughter she's spent the last seven years missing. This isn't the confident, taunting chuckle he brings out for battles or brushing off rivals; this is bright, helpless, occasionally hiccuping laughter, the kind that is nearly impossible for him to stop once he starts - and the kind she only has the privilege of hearing when something truly amuses him.

"You can't sew your laughter on," Rosie reminds him. "This is all yours."

Rosie's fingers creep up under his shirt to scribble on bare tummy, adding a couple new sweet spots to her mental catalogue. This technique brings out even more of her favorite little quirks: the way he bats playfully (and completely ineffectually) at her wrists; his repeated attempts to speak around his laughter that only result in frantic spurts of incomprehensible, giggle-laced gibberish.

As she traces her nails across his lower belly she also finds a tiiiny layer of unexpected pudge. Which probably shouldn't surprise her - he's been out of the battle scene for seven years, after all. All those deer carcasses have to go somewhere.

Regardless, she finds it terribly endearing for some reason... and the surge of affection translates into a corresponding surge in the intensity of Rosie's tickles.

"AHaha! Ro- Rosie!" he blurts, his voice jumping a full octave higher than normal. "Stop!!"

Rosie removes her hands immediately. "Stop?"

"Aha- ah- well- I mean, er…" He stumbles breathlessly, and gives a sheepish cough.

"You didn't really want me to stop, did you?"

Rosie resumes with a chuckle, reeling herself in just a little. "How 'bout we say... oh... 'enough,' if you really want me to quit?"

Of course, she has to go and say it out loud.

"M-more of a reflehex..." he admits reluctantly.

Alastor tosses a shaky thumbs-up at her, already too lost in his own giggles to manage a verbal reply.

And he's gotta admit… Rosie was absolutely right. He wouldn't stop her right now for all the souls in hell. There's a reason Alastor has the most recognizable evil cackle of any other overlord. He can't help but find dissolving into laughter as cathartic and exhilarating as always - even if this time, it's not at some poor soul's misfortune. It's a result of his best friend's affection for her darling deer demon.

"As fun as getting your soft little belly is," Rosie muses, pausing to let Alastor catch his breath for a moment, "I can't help but wonder if you're ticklish anywhere else…"

Alastor may be off the air, but Rosie can practically hear the screech of microphone feedback just by the look on his face. "….I plead the fifth."

"Have you considered his ears?" Trudy pipes up shyly. While she'd managed to restrain herself behind an impeccably professional bedside manner earlier, it had taken everything in her power not to stroke Alastor's ears when she'd been close enough to do so. They were just. so. fluffy.

"Ohhh, heavens…" Alastor, for his part, curls in on himself at the mere suggestion.

Rosie grins. "Hey, 'no' is always an option."

A long pause. Alastor can't believe he's considering this. But the sensation of being tickled, as unbearable as it is, does feel awfully pleasant… and it's been so long since anyone has dared to touch him…

And what else does he have to lose at this point, anyway?

"I suppose if you're… very gentle…"

"Are you aware that your ears are the softest thing in the nine circles?"

This stipulation ends up backfiring. When it comes to his ears, gentle is worse. So, so much worse.

Poor Alastor is too busy clutching his stomach and snickering madly into his sleeve to reply.

"I should know, I work in retail. These right here-" Rosie traces her fingers down the feathery-soft edges, sending the radio demon into a new round of hysterics. "-Would fetch a pretty penny."

"They're nohot for saHA-ale!!"

"Nooo, I should say not." Rosie's hapless victim lurches back into the cushions as her fingers find the fluffy region at the base of his ears. Even without the microphone, his cackles have no problem filling the room. "You're the only demon classy enough to wear them."

"And don' you - GAHaha! - f-forget it!" He's so drunk on laughter now that he's beginning to slur his words. His careful elocution has gone the same place as his steady tone, and lack of stutter.

Luckily, he's also far too drunk on laughter to care.

...Right about there, Rosie notices that the faint hum of radio static in the air is no longer just in her head.

He is laughing his heart out for the first time in weeks. Genuinely laughing for the first time in decades. And laughing completely for himself, for his own enjoyment, without need for intimidation or control or image or audience, for the first time since long before he died.

While Trudy typically can't say much for her self-preservation instinct, she's got enough of one to feel hesitant joining her boss in tickling the most powerful overlord in hell (outside the pretense of medical intervention, at least). So she just stands back, watching fondly as The Most Dangerous Overlord This Side of the Pentagram utterly destroys the deer demon.

...At least, until she notices a flicker of green light out of the corner of her eye. Lying forgotten on the end table, the splintered ends of Alastor's microphone are sparking and crackling like live wires.

The surgeon creeps over for a closer look, staring in fascination. And then - just as Rosie gets poor Alastor behind the ears and delivers a scribble to his tummy at the same time - she ever-so-gently nudges the fractured ends closer to one another.

To her surprise, a bright green spark arcs clear across the gap. For a fraction of a second, the whole staff radiates a flash of a familiar green glow.

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

"Keep him laughing, Rosie," Trudy murmurs over her shoulder. It appears the Radio Demon's downfall will be nothing more than an intermission.

Thanks for being so patient with me y'all! Hope it was worth the wait 💕

💜- Cozy

#lee!alastor #ler!rosie #ticklish!alastor #oh deer he's ticklish #hazbin hotel tickling #hazbin hotel tickles #ticklefic #dr. trudy sawblade #my ocs

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yyokkki · 9 months

Text

Asking to Sketch Them

POMEFIORE

Vil Schoenheit

You’re gonna have to schedule an appointment with Vil’s manager first darling, but, because you’re his friend he will accept the request free of charge

Literally started this entire hc series because of this man, the way I draw him does not match up to his standards whatsoever

The best model you could ask for, because it’s Vil so of course, but Pomefiore can prepare any set you ask for in the snap of a finger and they’re giving you a free spa treatment after this???

And that’s exactly why he’s the worst model you could get

Pressure cranked up to 100%

His face is so symmetrical and oh god rook is breathing over your shoulder, staring as you work and he hasn’t blinked in a w h I l e

Once you’re done Vil gives a balanced amount of positive feedback and helpful criticism

But rook

Dude is n it p ic k y, there’s no malice but the guy is intensely observing everything Vil does daily so he definitely has stuff to say no matter how good you do

If you don’t mind the bone crushing pressure, this is probably the most helpful session you could get with genuinely good advice and tips at least in the realm of drawing people as beautiful as Vil

Its either -100/10 or 100/10 depending on how much pressure you put on yourself im sorry but if I were asked to draw a portrait of fucking Beyonce while she sat right in front of me I would cry

Rook Hunt

Boy is grinning ear to ear

Contrary to… Above, Rook is very happy to model for you

Rook is very skilled at staying still for prolonged periods of time even in the most precarious positions so go crazy (revenge)

Usually he’s the observer so to be the one being observed is kind of nice to him in a way

Once you’re done he improvs a unique poem about your masterpiece and how much he loves it

Whether it’s stickman or hyperrealism on ms paint, he’s framing your work and hanging it up in his room

Next thing you know there’s a scented letter full of flowery poems detailing his gratefulness and his awe at your skill, as well as a huge oil painting of you ready to be hung up somewhere in Ramshackle dorm

This stuff probably comes naturally to him

9/10 Actually quite pleasant for, well, Rook

Epel Felmier

Vil hasn’t gotten around to teaching him how to pose for portraits yet cuz he’s really trying to hammer in the basics first but he will do his best!!

After you actually manage to convince him to do it that is

Posing for a portrait sounds stiff and boring and he’s already forced to put up with that everyday at his dorm

Bribes? Pomefiore basically has everything he needs and more

Food? Vil is gonna kill him if he eats anything outside his meal plans

A place to hide from Vil? Ramshackle is falling apart, he breaks in visits every other day with the other first years already

Your hand in marriage? I don’t think you should be offering something like that for a portrait

A competition? Ya bet yer ass I’m winnin

And now you’re drawing Epel while Epel is drawing you, with the other first years acting as judges

Honestly pretty fun, the atmosphere is light hearted

The other first years are arguing at the side and both of you aren’t super cut throat about it, cracking jokes and laughing at the dumbass combo whenever they do or say something distracting

You exchange the portraits at the end and Epel actually had a good time so it’s a win win situation and yall get to have a sleepover later

He challenges you to an apple carving competition next

8/10 Turned into more of a first year hangout but it was a good time so who’s complaining

-----

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst headcanons #twst x reader #twisted wonderland pomefiore #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 2 months

Text

the boy is mine (H's Version)

hi, no long no see in this fandom. but @carolmunson put out a call for writers and I wanted to dive in! see her prompt: here.

It's a romantic night in and that means that sometimes a lot of feelings come out.

Eddie Munson x Gender Neutral Reader

CW: This is a lot of fluff, but some minor heated moments. Post S4, cannon divergent.

______________

The day was boiling--no breeze to cut through the stiff air. But now, as the evening settles, the curtains from the open windows billow just a little. The air is a whisper on the back of your neck as you bring your knees up to your chest. The notebook slips down just a little on your thighs, but you push it back up to get the right angle. Eddie will undoubtedly have a snide remark about your position, but you know the moment he settles back down on the couch, he too will be curled up. Most likely around you, and you’re praying the night gets just a little bit cooler to withstand the walking furnace that is Eddie.

“Fuck me,” Eddie groans.

You look up from the work you’ve been doing in coloring in the drawing Eddie sketched out earlier in the day to find Eddie frantically swinging open cabinet doors. He opens another door, without closing the other. Disaster flashes before your eyes. Stitches, a bloody puddle on the floor, should Eddie not be careful and--

Thunk! “Son of a bitch!” Eddie howls, holding the back of his head. In all his hurry, he popped up from the cabinets at the bottom only to smack his head on the corner of one of the open cabinet doors.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” you call out with a giggle.

“Looks like 16,” Eddie calls out, eyes narrowed in a squint. There’s only four fingers up.

“Hmm, I think you’re fine,” you laugh but push up off the couch. There’s the slight shuffle, the almost silent peel of feet off the tiled over kitchen floor. Part of it due to the whatever waxy cleaner you’ve convinced Wayne to use. “Let me see,” you command gently after your approach.

“Careful now, I’m fragile,” Eddie pouts but pulls hand away from the spot.

“Gonna need a flashlight to get through this thicket,” you tease but gingerly touch at his scalp. There’s nothing damp so you don’t think there’s blood. Eddie tenses under your touch. “Sorry,” you whisper. It doesn’t stop the assessment, but you are more mindful of the pressure you’re using.

“It’s okay,” Eddie returns his voice soft like yours.

“What are you even looking for?” So far, you don’t think he broke skin. One good thing, but you are a little worried about something deeper too.

“A cup. I could’ve sworn I did dishes,” Eddie huffs. “I’m running out of, like nice cups.” You watch Eddie point to the plastic cup on the counter--ones that you’re pretty sure were holding some sort of soda from a gas station in their first life. “Those are the only ones left.”

“Honey,” you coo, urging Eddie to turn around. He doesn't budge, but you press into his back, right above his hip and he turns then. “Those cups are fine.”

“No they’re not,” he sighs.

“And what makes them not okay, huh?”

“You deserve your Coke in a chalice. Not the 7-11 trash.”

“Perhaps I consider 7-11 cups a chalice,” you return, pressing Eddie’s cheeks together. His lips bubble at the force and you plant a kiss on them. He tastes vaguely like vanilla. The frosting off the cupcakes you two shared earlier still paints his lips sweet even though it’s been a couple hours since they’ve been consumed.

“You know you don’t and so do I,” Eddie whispers against your lips. His hands find your hips.

“Hmm, I think I could be convinced.”

“You sure they’re okay?”

“Cups won’t ruin the night, I promise.”

You don’t need anything fancy. You never have. But you get it. You know Eddie’s always going to want to give you the best. The thing you just wish you could convince himself off is that it’s his best that matters. Whatever Eddie gives you is the best because it’s him--it’s him giving it to you. But you don’t think the words will penetrate. Eddie’s hard headed in his own way, stubborn to his core when he wants to be so you hope that actions do speak louder than words.

You seal your lips around his again and hum into the kiss when Eddie tugs you in closer. He’d promised a night in--dinner, movies, laughs, anything and everything as long as it was just the two of you. And he’d delivered thus far. Pizza had been called and delivered promptly. When you asked if he had any more Cokes from the case you brought over a week ago, he proudly declared he’d left the last two just for you. Your requests for a cup is what started this, but cups don’t mean a thing when all you’re thinking about is how the scent of Eddie presses against your nostrils and into your lungs like heaven.

You’ve missed him--missed this. Your new job took more time than your old one. Not a bad thing considering that it was only an extra hour, but it meant having a new routine. It meant one hour less in your day for you to get through the slog of laundry, and dishes, and bills, and errands so that you could sit like a schoolgirl on the phone, twirling your fingers around the cord to talk to Eddie on the phone when you couldn’t visit him. Weekends now are more sacred than ever and you cherish the thought of being able to spend quality time with your boy.

Eddie’s fingers press through the cotton of your shorts. He tugs you closer, and closer, and closer to his body. He’s warm--as always. But beyond that, beyond the wild curls that always call out to your fingers to be tugged on, or just caressed, Eddie is real beneath your fingers. Through the cotton of his t-shirt, you know what lies beneath. But you are grateful that the t-shirt is still warm. Arousal settles into your stomach, tightening your muscles as Eddie drags his fingers up your spine. But you pull back, the wet echoing smack of a broken kiss hanging between two of you as you both pant.

“If you don’t stop, we’re going to have a problem,” you laugh as Eddie’s teasing touch moves further and further south on your body.

“Maybe I’m looking for a problem,” he teases.

“I am looking for a cup to put my Coke in to have pizza with my boyfriend while we watch movies we’ve seen a billion times. Because you are trouble.”

“You started it,” Eddie squawks indignantly. “You kissed first!”

His hand doesn’t stop traveling. He’s cupping you over the shorts and the ache hits you--bone deep but you don’t falter in your resolve. “Pizza. Movie.” It’s all you say before peeling yourself from Eddie’s hold. “Bring the chalices please,” you call out over your shoulder as you walk back to the couch.

Eddie snorts but you hear his shuffled steps behind you and you know he is following. The lid to the pizza box is flipped back and the melted cheese greets you with a hefty waft. You grab a slice, the cheese pulling slowly away from its neighboring pieces. Eddie grabs a napkin and holds it just under the slice which you can only assume is threatening to drip grease onto the carpet or your lap.

“Three good things,” Eddie commands as he reaches for his own slice, asking for the details of three good things that happened in your day.

You hum around your bite, the pizza still hot just a little as you recount the day. “I’m no longer on the probationary period at work as of yesterday which is great. No one’s breathing down my back anymore. I finally got those jeans hemmed. And I get to enjoy pizza with my boyfriend. Three things--your turn.”

“I got the interview for the record shop,” Eddie starts. “I actually finished a drawing, speaking of which, I swear if you get grease on it,” he laughs pulling the notebook from your lap and tossing it floor away from the coffee table.

“Sorry, sorry,” you rush out. “I’m still working on coloring it though. Forgot.”

“No harm, no foul. And lastly, I, too, am getting to enjoy pizza with my lovely partner, who did not do such a great job at making sure I wasn’t concussed.”

“I’m newly licensed to sell insurance. I am not licensed to make sure you’re not a walking threat to your own safety.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek--wet and greasy, but you don’t shy away from it. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Oh, I know,” you laugh, turning to look at Eddie. His gaze is soft, big eyes dripping with sincerity. You think you can feel the adoration radiating off him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I love you, you know.”

Your first inclination is to shove it off with a joke. But you can imagine how well that would go--not well at all. “You’re going to make me blush,” you huff, ducking your head.

“Aw, no, don’t be like that. Let me see it. Let me see you blush,” Eddie laughs, reaching out to bring your head up by a gentle tug on your chin.

Your face is hot; you can feel it warming the longer Eddie takes you in. His gaze is intense, eyes taking in everything from hairline to chin. You watch the flick of his gaze, as he stares down at your nose, back up to your eyes. His smile is soft and sweet, like the stroke of his thumb over your bottom lip.

“I’m going to make you proud,” Eddie whispers unlike his normal bravado. Where you know Eddie carries himself with the mask, the loud and brash man unafraid, the quietest remarks are the ones that usually send you into a flatline.

“You should make yourself proud,” you correct. You’d be a flimsy goal--something akin to trash billowing in a strong wind. It could change all in an instant.

“Making you proud makes me proud.”

“I’m already proud of you.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to duck, hair falling into a wavy curtain around his face. You discard your crust--which you’re more than likely never going to fish--to a corner of the box and find Eddie’s face behind his hair. “No, you can’t hide either.” Your thumb strokes along his jaw and his eyes flutter close. “Tell me,” you return softly but it’s clear you want an answer, “Do you like that? Being told you’re making someone proud?”

“And you’re telling me you don’t?” Eddie scoffs.

“Oh, no, I do. But I just want to hear you say it.”

“I like being told I’m making someone proud.” The sentence wavers at first, like Eddie might not be sure he can even get the words out. But the end is strong. Like the mere utterance is enough to solidify the truth within.

“I’ll make sure I tell you more often then, okay?”

“Okay.”

His gaze drifts down and you know what he’s asking for, so you press in, lips sealing his again. A kiss soft enough that even you think twice if it’s real or not. Eddie hums this time, when you pull away, his head pressing into your shoulder. You can feel the smile on his face as his lips brush over your bicep.

“Your slices are going to get cold,” you tease when Eddie stays buried in your shoulder for another minute. The third slice you’d been reaching for will go cold too, but that matters much less.

“Let it,” he hums, burrowing now in your armpit.

You grab the TV remote before you reach behind yourself to make sure the throw pillow is in place against the arm of the couch for an added layer of cushion. Once you’re sure that it’s in the position you want it, you recline back and open your arms for Eddie to crawl into. He wastes not a second to settle his head onto your chest.

“Good thing we’ve got microwaves now, right?” you tease, pressing play for the VHS.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger thing imagine #h writes

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bonefall · 7 months

Note

Golfy is literally one of my favorite cats of all time and I adore the way you’ve characterized her!! Any fun tidbits to share? I want to know more about the woman

There's a sketch of her floating around if you want to go on a treasure hunt! I don't have time to look for it right now (I am currently in the trunk of a clown car), but I've actually drawn a beta of her design and her big mane

Also note: BB!Goldenflower is part of the Doekin line. Speckletail's perception of herself and her family is tied strongly to being Doestar's niece. This association dies out with Thornclaw in BB!OotS as he's the last one to strongly value this legacy.

Golfy's mane is so poofy, unmanageabley poofy. She keeps it braided

Lionheart just surrendered to entrophy on that one lmao. "Dirt happens."

It's my little way of trying to show the difference between the siblings.

They're both proud and honorable, but Lionheart is more calm and patient. He's a Que Sera Sera kind of guy.

Goldenflower is more fond of the expression, "Fortune favors the prepared."

Note to self: Clanmewnize these expressions. Que Sera Sera is notably quite RiverClannish... Golfy's phrase is definitely from early ThunderClan

Not to get too distracted but I recently got this FANTASTIC idea for how to close out Book 3 of BB!DOTC on a bittersweet note, involving The First Boarhunt and Clear Sky being delightfully devious as always. Maybe it would be cool to put that phrase there... anyway.

She had three siblings total, Lionheart, Mistleclaw, and Snowkit. It's really difficult being the last one; family was extremely important to her.

Mistleclaw wasn't even a year out of apprenticeship; you're really considered an ADULT adult after being on your own for a year. Losing her was like losing a sibling who's college-aged. That was to the plague, before Firestar's arrival.

Smallear was openly the father of all four of them, but Goldenflower hesitates to call him Ba. Him and Speckletail had a really toxic on-again off-again thing.

Smallear was closest to Mistleclaw, who coincidentally looked the most like him. Goldenflower is like... "yeah thats what i expected of him, that fish-eared loser"

She's biased in favor of her mother though. Lionheart was more chill with Smallear; not CLOSE but, neutral-positive.

It wasn't entirely Smallear's fault that the relationship kept falling apart though, to be clear. I use toxic in this use very much on purpose, it wasn't abuse, they really cannot get along.

So when Goldenflower eventually picked a mate, she REALLY just wanted a stable lifepartner that would not be like that.

I would describe her relationship with Tigerclaw more in the terms of an "arrangement." Fishing for romantic information from her is VERY funny because she just like. Doesn't "get" romance.

Brambleclaw: "Mom... what did you... like about dad?"

"He was large, we were both very large. And he was a responsible warrior, respected and ambitious. Well... at the time we believed that. And he spoke with great confidence. He had a way of making you feel like you were both safe and powerful by his side."

It will not even click for her that most people don't open the answer to "why did you love x" with "he was tall like me"

(VINE BOOM AROACE FLAG)

She wanted kits and a partner. She doesn't regret the relationship, she regrets what he made her believe.

On Tigerclaw's end, it was mutual. They both liked each other as trusted Clanmates. He was attracted to her and reciprocated when she proposed a mateship, but I don't think he ever really got over Spottedleaf romantically.

Plus, getting into this family was a smart political move. Having Speckletail's approval was VERY useful.

I might stick Goldenflower as Head of Hunting through TNP to early Po3, until she trains a successor, since there's no rush. I have an allegiance list floating around but I can't remember off the top of my head if she's where she should be

She's actually super disappointed in Tawnypelt for her choice. I don't think they ever reconcile this, they're both too proud

So she's kinda iffy on that alliance with ShadowClan. Not to the point of spite, but she does easily believe stereotypes about them.

"A bunch of holdouts of TigerClan and duplicitous fiends over there."

Both Golfy and Tawnp miss each other a lot, but again. Neither one is going to apologize to the other or say the other was even slightly correct.

And Golfy wouldn't accept it if Tawnp even did. She made her choice. They're in different Clans now. She chose her father, who killed Swiftpaw and Lionheart.

And for that, Golfy will not forgive her.

If they ended up in a battle, neither would hold back. They both know this.

I'm really fond of her. She really is Speckletail's daughter and the whole family has a special flavor of pain and pride.

#BB!Goldenflower

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bangtanficsforyou · 1 year

Text

Girl of his Dreams- Prologue

Pairing: Fuckboi! Jungkook x Reader

Au: Strangers to Lovers au

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut (eventually)

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3K (approx)

Summary: You think Jungkook is the utter definition of beauty. Jungkook thinks you’re cute but just not his type. Throw a magic ring into the equation, that makes you look like the girl of his dreams and you have the perfect recipe for heartbreak and tears.

Head over to my patreon if you enjoy my writing, wish to support me and want to get early access to all my works!

Main Masterlist

Walking into your art class you notice that your designated seat has already been taken by a boy. That's weird.

What's even weirder is that you have never seen the said boy before in your class. You say that with complete surety because there are only a handful in your class and this boy does not seem familiar at all.

Walking up to him you tap on his shoulders. "Excuse me, this is my seat."

The said boy turns to look at you and you frown when you realise you don't even have a clear view of his face as the majority of it remains covered by his hoodie.

Instead of responding to you, he moves a little to give you some space to sit on the stool.

There's a protest on your lips because how the fuck can two people sit comfortably on one small stool. But you decide on not voicing it because you know there are no other empty seats and asking him to just evacuate would basically mean him standing there awkwardly in the middle of the room, which honestly is harsh.

You awkwardly clear your throat and occupy whatever remaining space the stool has to offer.

"So are you new here?" The query leaves your lips a few moments later when you realise that you can't just ignore his presence considering how the right side of your body is almost entirely in contact with his left.

His fingers momentarily stop swiping at the phone screen and he looks up the slightest to give you attention.

He shakes his head and locks his phone. "Nah, I'm not here as a student."

If he's not a student then, what is he doing here?

He must have noticed the look of confusion on your face and he opens his mouth seemingly to clarify what exactly he is here for but the arrival of your art teacher stops him from doing so.

"Good morning, class," Miss Richardson greets the class as she settles all her materials on the table. "I hope you all had a good weekend."

The class comes up with mixed responses with a few people groaning and a few voicing their responses positively.

"Well that sure is a confusing response," she says with an amused look. "Well for those who had a not-so-good-weekend, I hope knowing that you will sketch a model today would be exciting enough to make your Monday."

A low murmur spreads through the classroom. That's a good response, you'd say. You definitely find yourself pleasantly surprised and excited at the thought of getting to capture the beauty of a model. The list of things she asked to bring for today's class, makes so much more sense now.

"Now, for today's model; his name is Jeon Jungkook and he's a fashion designing student."

All of a sudden you feel the warmth next to you gone, and the figure walks towards the podium. It takes a few seconds too long for you to realise what was happening.

Oh. He is the model.

"I hope all of you have your equipment ready and remember that you have to complete the sketch by the next two classes." She finishes. Once done, she turns to face Jungkook and gives him a small smile as if to tell him that from here on, he can do his thing.

And so he does.

It begins with him removing his hoodie which finally enables you to get a proper look at his face and fuck.

He's beautiful.

You did not think anyone could ever be this gorgeous and it honestly has you speechless. It's like one of those scenes from the movies where one of the main protagonist's eyes land on someone and they can't help but keep staring at them because they are the most beautiful creature on earth.

You believed that those sorts of things happened only in movies because that kind of breathtaking beauty existed only in movies. As it turns out, you were wrong.

Before you can gather your thoughts, he removes his t-shirt.

If you were in awe with how beautiful his facial features are, now you find yourself gasping for air after having a glimpse of his body.

Fuck, he looks sculpted, like a Greek god of some sort.

You feel butterflies flying merrily in your stomach as if they too want to voice out their agreement.

Unfortunately, the sound of low murmuring snaps you out of your daze. Looking around, you realise that almost everyone has their eyes on him and is in awe of his beauty.

It's when your eyes land on a guy who has already started sketching, do you realise that you too are here to sketch and that you too will only get three classes to finish this.

With a sense of urgency, you pull out your pencils and with a deep breath start sketching the beautiful man that seems to be straight out of your fantasies.

As your classmates slowly but steadily empty the classroom, you find yourself lingering.

You can't help but run your eyes across the canvas with a scrutinising gaze, wondering if you like how it is turning out to be and if your pencil is doing justice to the man's beauty.

Jungkook strolls towards your stool to take his bag but his eyes land on the sketch.

"That looks weird."

You yelp in shock and turn to look at the person who thought it was a good idea to scare you.

However, you find your breath hitching when you realise that it's Jungkook. Even worse, he remains shirtless.

Gulping down the saliva in your mouth, you try to steady your breath and register the words that fell from his lips. "What do you mean it's weird? Is it not coming out nice?"

He steps closer and bends down a little to have a better look at your sketch.

His movements cause a wave of nervousness to wash over you. In an attempt to hide your flustered state, you pretend that your whole attention is on your canvas and that you are not bothered by the man next to you.

"It is nice, I'd say you captured the details well," his low timbre reaches your ears and his exhale hits the expanse of your back. Fuck, you had no idea he was standing this close. "I just never had anyone draw me before. So looking at a sketch of me does feel weird."

"Oh, t-that makes sense." You curse yourself for stuttering. Could you look any more stupid?

The stutter catches Jungkook's attention and his eyes move from the canvas to the side of your face. A smirk appears on his lips when he notices your fast breathing rate.

He usually doesn't bat an eye because girls getting flustered around him, is not unusual. He knows the effect he has on the female population. However, with how flustered and how desperately you try to seem unaffected, Jungkook can't help but find it cute.

Cute enough to drop a flirtatious comment.

"But I guess it's okay if such a cute girl like you is doing it."

The effect those words have on you are instantaneous. You flush and your whole body warms up from head to toe. Squirming in your seat, you clear your throat and pray that your cheeks aren't embarrassingly red.

Jungkook's smirk widens. He wonders how you'd react if he were to call you the l-word. "I'll get going then, love."

You choke on air. That reaction was worth it, he thinks.

Stepping a few steps back, he puts his shirt back on and swings his bag on his shoulders. "See you, next class."

You hold your breath until the sound of his shoes against the floor completely fades away and only when he's gone, do you let yourself relax and feel the rush of emotions and adrenaline.

As embarrassing as it is, the first thing you do after going home is to search for his name on Facebook. There's just no way you're not searching up, the unbelievably good-looking guy, who also happened to flirt with you, on the net.

Thankfully, his Facebook profile is unlocked.

Clicking on his name you are greeted by his handsome face which stares back at you from the circle of his profile picture. You might have looked at it for a little too long, observing every single detail and wondering how a human could be this handsome.

Nevertheless, after snapping yourself out of your daze, you scroll down and your eyes fall upon the top post.

Models required.

For the upcoming inter-college fashion show, I need someone to model my designs. If you're interested, please meet me and my team on Friday in room no. 302.

One male and one female model would be chosen for the occasion.

You blinked at the screen and soon a wide smile spread on your lips. Isn't this just perfect? The perfect opportunity for you to get to know him better.

You have never modelled, you idiot.

A voice reminds you not so gently.

Although you feel doubts enter your head, you don't let your hopes get killed. Clicking on the comments section, you look for something that can provide you with clarification as to what exactly he is looking for.

One particular comment catches your eye as it is the only comment he has replied to.

Your eyes do a quick scan of the words and you find that it's a girl asking whether it's okay to try out even if she has no prior modelling experience. Jungkook's response to which is 'ofc it is'.

You internally scream thinking how perfect this is for you.

You take out your notepad and take down the details and also set a reminder on your phone, just in case.

However, with how long you stay on the net scrolling down his profile, you and probably even your FBI agent knows that there's no way you will forget about this on Friday.

Very unsurprisingly, you don't forget about it on Friday. In fact, you find yourself heading towards the room way earlier than the scheduled time.

It's on an entirely different side of the campus. It will take time to get there. That's what you tell yourself every time a voice tries to remind you that you're being far too eager about this.

When the building approaches, you feel a shiver of nervousness run down your spine. Is this going to be awkward? Is he going to recognise you?

The moment that thought comes to your mind, you chase it away. Of course, he's gonna remember you. It hasn't even been a week since the art class. There's no way he could have forgotten you this soon. Right?

With that little talk with yourself, you take a deep breath and step inside the building.

Having practised some modelling over the course of these few days from YouTube, you repeat the instructions you came across. Head held high, shoulders and back straight, and sway your hips and arms naturally. You can do this! (The last part was not in the video)

You find yourself being so narrowly focused on your way to the room that you miss the tall body that's heading in your direction. Although, the other party also remains blissfully unaware of the fact that they are heading towards you. Guess it's only fair that you two collide with each other.

"Owwwwww," you groan

"I'm so sor–Wait you're the art girl!" His pupils dilate ever so slightly in recognition.

Your eyes widen when you realise, it's him out of all people. Once the surprise wears off, you nod and a part of you feels glad to know that he indeed does remember you.

"So wassup?" He asks, genuinely curious.

Now see, you possibly could have replied to that question with anything. But with how caught off guard and unprepared you feel, you don't find your brain having the capability to come up with something cool. Hence, nothing but the truth comes spilling out; truth with the slightest bit of lie, mixed with it. "A friend of mine mentioned that you were participating in the inter-college fashion competition–"

You searched him up on the net. That's the first thought that comes to Jungkook's mind. How can he be so sure about it? Because he made the post only yesterday and sure he's popular, but not so much on Facebook because he's hardly ever active there. The chances of your said friend getting to know about it are next to zero.

"It's more like, I was asked to represent our college," that's the second thing that comes to him and he cuts you off with it. Call it him being cocky (which he knows he is), but there's a huge difference between putting your name in a competition and the college board preferring him to represent them. He can't have people making mistakes, can he?

Your mouth forms an oh and your eyes sparkle in wonder because how good is he exactly at fashion designing?

"That's great," you say. "I hope you win it."

"Oh don't worry," he says with his gaze locked with yours. "Pretty girls inspire me."

Now, he had meant for it to come out as a fact. Because that's what it is. But with the way his eyes remain locked with yours, it makes you assume otherwise. Makes you think that the statement is directed at you.

You clear your throat and look away from him. Gosh, your knees are gonna give away.

"That's good to know," you say in a meek voice. "I was actually heading towards room 302. You know, just want to give it a try."

Jungkook's brow furrows as he observes you closely.

So you searched him up on the net. Cute. But he isn't interested in you and he can tell that unfortunately, you took his meaningless flirting as him showing interest in you.

Thankfully, you seem like someone who knows how to get the hint. You don't seem like you will trail behind him like a lost puppy even if he were to make it clear that he isn't interested in you. Good for him.

He comes up with a quick plan which he thinks will send the message loud and clear. He has just gotta be honest.

"Don't waste your time with that darling," he says as he takes out his phone from the pockets of those tight skinny jeans of his. Before you can ask for clarification, he is speaking again. "You see this girl?"

You take a look at his phone screen which is now facing you and is currently displaying a Facebook profile page. Tina Rei. After some pondering as to why this name rings a bell, it clicks. She's the same girl whose comment you stumbled upon a few days back.

Not sure what he is trying to say, you nod.

"She's the one who's going to be my model," he says before locking the screen. "She's just so hot. One of the prettiest girls on campus. Can't think of anyone else better."

Your stomach sinks at his words. Oh. He already has a model.

"Then why have this whole audition thing?" You ask, trying not to interact with your thoughts at the moment.

"Don't want to seem like I'm being unfair you know?" He shrugs. "But thought I'd save you some time. Going inside that room won't be of any use. I already know who I want to work with."

You simply nod at his words. You don't know what to say. You feel so stupid for letting your teeny tiny crush get out of hand and although you never admitted it out loud, his flirty actions had you hoping.

"Lost your voice, art girl?" He asks with a teasing tone. You refuse to answer him verbally, yet again and simply shake your head, making him sigh. "I'll get going then."

He moves forward a few steps but stops.

Walking back to where you are standing, he bends down a little to look into your eyes. "Also, a small piece of advice, you should probably stick to art. Modelling is not for you."

And then he's gone.

That day instead of going back to your dorms, you choose to go back home for the weekend.

Feeling angry with yourself, you find that you are not in the mood of interacting with anyone and desperately crave the comfort of home. Where you don't feel judged.

Thankfully, when you're greeted by warm hugs from your parents and gentle (very very aggressive) licks and kisses from your dog, you don't find it in you to regret making this decision.

A small smile manages to make its way onto your lips and you find your spirits being lifted ever the slightest.

Your dad watches you from the corner as you playfully give Jack belly rubs. He notices the way your eyes don't have their usual bright look and the way you seem as if something's been eating you away. He can't help but wonder what it is that seems to be bothering you.

Once you've gone to freshen up, he makes his way inside the kitchen.

"Do you think she's okay?" He asks in a tone that does not hide his worry at all.

Your mum takes a spoonful of the soup she's preparing and tastes it, soon letting out a satisfactory hmm.

"She's a big girl now, don't worry she'll be fine." Her words do not address his question as there's no point in denying that there's something that seems to be troubling you.

He sighs. "I know but I still can't help but get worried."

Patting his back, your mom lets out a huff in amusement. Two big kids she has got. "Don't worry, she's probably itching to talk to me about it. Maybe while we clean the dishes, okay?"

Your dad feels some of the tension leave his body at your mom's warm touch and nods with a sigh.

Dinner goes smoothly with you laughing loudly at your dad's exaggerated storytelling about the time he went fishing with his friends and at your mom's annoyed grunts and comments about how your dad has turned into a teenager. You laugh so much that you forget about everything. Temporarily.

Once you're alone in the kitchen helping your mom with the dishes, you feel the silence prompting your brain to be loud with its thoughts.

"Am I not attractive?" You blurt out of nowhere. But then it probably isn't out of nowhere.

You were so busy admiring and daydreaming about Jungkook's beauty that you did not stop to ponder the possibility that he might not find you attractive.

While the thought of your crush not finding you attractive is hurtful, the thought of your crush finding you unattractive is quite gut-wrenching. And something about the last comment he made before leaving, has you feeling all sorts of things.

Most importantly, it has you questioning if you really are unattractive. But at the moment, you're too scared to address that question, all by yourself.

Your mother's movements stop all at once. "What kind of a question is that? No never mind, I'll answer that– one of the most stupid questions I have ever heard."

A small smile appears on your lips at her dramatics. "It's a serious question, though."

She shakes her head as if to indicate that she won't tolerate any of your nonsense. Putting down the cleaning cloth, she walks over to you. "What is making you say all this?"

She keeps her tone gentle.

You sigh trying to hide the tears that try to leak out. "It's stupid."

"Nothing is more stupid than you thinking that you're not attractive." She quips and pats the top of your hair in hopes of giving you comfort. "Is it a boy problem?" She asks for clarification.

Feeling relief but also hating, how spot-on she is, you let it all spill out. You tell her how Jungkook just took your breath away. How he seemed to be the perfect guy. The guy you always dreamt about. How he looked like a literal prince. How he only stomped away after giving you hopes that you might have a small chance of being his princess. Not to mention, how that one comment made you feel insecure to ever be in front of him again.

Your mom's eyes soften. "Oh sweetie, come here." She wraps you in a warm hug and lets you cry silently for a while. "There's something that might help you."

You unwillingly retreat from her warmth to look at her. "What is it?"

"Just wait here," she says before swiftly getting up and heading towards her bedroom. You sit there and stare in confusion until she arrives. When she does, you find yourself thoroughly perplexed to find that she went to get a ring.

"A ring?"

She smiles. "Hmm but not just any ordinary ring. The one who puts this on you will start seeing you as their dream partner."

You blink at her blankly for far too long. "Huh? Mom, are you doing drugs?"

She throws her head back and laughs. "Thankfully, no, not yet."

"Then are you trying to check if I'm doing drugs?"

A chuckle escapes her lips and she shakes her head. "I get that you don't believe me but take this and try it out. Put that ring on the guy you like and let it do its magic."

Saying so, she takes a hold of your clenched fist and pries it open. Placing the ring on your finger, she looks at you and you can't help but feel even more disbelief when you see nothing but honesty in her eyes. "Take care of this ring, it's precious."

And then she's getting up, asking you if you'd like to sleep in her room as if she didn't just say the most absurd thing moments ago.

#Jungkook x Reader #Jungkook fic #Jungkook ff #Love triangle #Jungkook college au #jungkook imagine #Jungkook angst #Jungkook smut #Jungkook fluff #jungkook au #BTS fic #bts fic #BTS fanfic #Jungkook x OC #Patreon

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darthvashtique93 · 5 months

Text

Sketch

The light was just right. Damian leaned back into a comfortable position on the chair. Settling the sketchbook on his lap, he began to sketch. He started with his H pencil and began his outline. After the initial sketch, he started in on the finer details. He started with the curve of her jaw, the bottom of her heart-shaped face. It was narrow, but not narrow to a point. He dragged his finger over the graphite lines in a gentle caress, giving the jaw a small shadow. Damian smiled as the memory of his lips dragging across her jaw played on repeat.

Next, he drew her eyes. They were closed now as she slept soundly. After all, Damian thought with a smirk, she did have a late night. He couldn't wait for her eyes to open. When they were opened, they were the most expressive part of her body. They were literally the windows to her soul. Those violet irises always told Damian her exact mood. Last night, for instance, the heat behind them nearly burned Damian to a crisp.

He moved onto her nose. Cute, perfect, and straight. It had never been broken. Damian wished he could say the same about his nose. He'd broken it several times throughout his 18 years. Damian was just happy he had a girlfriend blessed with healing powers. His nose was perfectly straight, and it was all thanks to her.

Lips. More specifically, her lips. He spent longer than needed on her lips, only because he loved drawing her lips. He'd spent so much time caressing and exploring them; he could draw them by heart. He caressed the drawing of her lips as his heart raced.

Moving on to her body, Damian drew a smooth line for the slope of her neck to her shoulder. He drew one arm resting gracefully on her hip. The other arm held the blanket, covering her perfect breasts. Damian chuckled as he remembered the first time he drew a naked Raven. She'd blushed and demanded he burn the drawing. Damian didn't mind throwing the drawing away. He had a great memory and didn't need a picture of her body. Doesn't mean he didn't like to draw it, but he'd promised no more naked photos. That's why he drew a sheet that covered her privates.

He spent some time on her hair, making sure to draw each strand perfectly. Her hair draped gracefully over her shoulders, and he drew a couple of strands falling in front of her face. The shading was hard. Raven's hair had felt like silk to the touch. Damian didn't know how to show the softness of her hair, but he did pretty well.

Holding his drawing away from his face, he frowned as he searched it for any imperfections. None. It was perfect. Almost as perfect as she is.

A moan from his bed caught his attention. He looked up in time to see Raven's large eyes flutter open. It took a moment for her brain to register where she was. She seemed startled and lost until her eyes fell on Damian. "Damian," she sighed softly, sitting up in bed. Holding her sheet to her chest, she rubbed the sleepiness from her eyes with one hand. "What are you doing?" she asked.

Damian's eyes fell to the hand clutching the sheet to her body. He gave her an endearing look. It always took a lot of coaxing on his part before Raven relaxed enough to show her body, but it was only in the daytime. At night, when the lights were off, she had no problem being naked. Damian smirked. Lucky for him, he could see pretty well in the dark.

Falling to his knees, he knelt by the side of bed, eye-level with Raven. "Good morning," he spoke softly, before leaning forward, capturing her tempting lips in a searing kiss. Pulling his fingers through her messy bed hair, Damian stood before gently rolling her onto her back. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she willingly opened her mouth to him. Damian groaned as Raven touched his tongue with hers.

Damian slowly pulled away and stared down at her lovingly. Dragging his body slightly lower, he placed a searing kiss on her breastbone. Raven sharply inhaled. Instead of continuing downward, he dragged his lips upward. He kissed the tops of each breast before moving his lips to her throat. Raven tilted her head back to give him easier access. From her throat, he kissed up to her chin. Raven released a soft squeal when Damian gently bit her chin. He chuckled as Raven playfully hit his shoulder.

Kissing around her mouth, he placed a kiss on each squishy cheek before pecking the tip of her nose. She chuckled softly when he placed a kiss on each eye lid. He then turned his attention to her lips, darting his tongue out to moisten his own. He kissed her top lip, and then took her bottom lip in his teeth. She moaned and arched into him as he sucked on her lower lip before kissing her with an open mouth, while his tongue darted in and out of her mouth. "Damian," she pressed her breasts against his chest as their legs tangled with each other.

It wasn't long before they both needed air, though Damian would have loved to kiss her non-stop. Gently caressing her lips, he slowly pulled away. Raven looked up at him, lips parted, breathing heavily. "Good morning," she breathed out heavily.

"Good morning," he kissed her one more time before rolling off of her. "I'm going to take a shower," he stood. Turning back to her, tracing her lips with his thumb, he asked, "Join me?" He held a hand out to her.

"Of course," she replied, her pupils growing larger as her eyes seemed to darken. Releasing the sheet, Raven allowed Damian to lead her to the shower, where they stayed until the water turned cold.

Sweather Weather - Chapter 1 - Vashti93 - Teen Titans (Animated Series) [Archive of Our Own]

#robrae #robin x raven #damian x raven #damirae #demonbirds #damian al ghul x raven roth #damian wayne x raven roth #damian wayne x raven #damian wayne x rachel roth

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