#but i could barely see the pencil sketch

[sweetreichel]

The risk i took drawing this was calculated, but man, am i bad at math

Reference

[toytulini]

also

[suksatoru]

╰┈➤ megumi fushiguro x reader ೃ⁀➷

synopsis; you draw a portrait of megumi - striking a chord in his heart that has never been played before.

cw; angst angst angst, gumi baby :(

"Gumi."

He's silent, not looking up from the soon to be cherished piece of art beneath him

"Gumibear." You whisper, trying to contain your giggles as Megumi's eyes remain unblinking - holding the sheet of paper in his hands silently. His fingers gripped it hard - not hard enough to damage it in any way - but enough to have you biting your lip nervously

"If you don't like it I could always - "

"No. No, I..." He begins, but his voice trails off as his fingers trace the finger prints and smudge of coal on the sheet as he tries desperately to suppress the smile that was threatening to break out on his face

You had drawn him. Drawn Megumi - with nothing but a pencil. The detail was incredible - recreating the gentle slope of his nose perfectly and depicting his eyes so lovingly that he found his hands slightly trembling as he inspected the drawing further

He imagined you bopping your head to your playlist as you drew it - giggling like a sweet fool as you drew the boy you claimed to love with those talented hands of yours.

He could see your little scribbles in the corner - small hearts drawn, his initials beside yours and other nonsense that had his heart beating fast

"It's beautiful."

There was a slight shake in his voice, a vulnerability that had your eyes softening as you move closer and wrap your arms around him

"Thank you. You're right - it is. It's not because of the artist - but because of the art." You say, moving to cup his face and place a gentle kiss on his nose as he carefully sets the paper on his bedside - turning to you with a love that fluttered in his chest like a bird let out of its cage

He pulls you into him, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he let out a shuddering breath

"You're wrong. That's not it." He says, lifting his face to meet your eyes. You're looking up at him so patiently - a doting smile on your face as you wait for him to continue and he swears the bird in his chest is soaring now

He grabs your hands - intertwining your fingers with his. He holds your gaze as he brings your knuckles to his lips - pressing a firm kiss onto the back of your hand before he moves it to cup his cheeks

"Your hands made this. That's why it's so special to me."

It's the same hands he holds now - cold and dead as his tears fall on your face.

When Megumi cried for the first time in front of you - you had cradled him to your chest and promised it would be ok. Promised you'd help him during these dark times - times where the evil in this world was too much to bear.

Out of all the wonderful things you were, your only flaw was that you were a liar.

Because you left him when you promised you'd be there to face the world with him - when your soothing hands and gentle love healed the unberable ache in his chest -

It burns. The pain behind his eyes is so raw and only intensifying that he can barely see your face as they close the coffin - his vision blurry from tears and a raging sadness that wasn't strong enough to bring you back to him.

He'd be with you soon - you'd sit in his lap and whine whenever he wasn't sitting still enough for you to sketch out quick enough. He'd roll his eyes and say you were wasting your talent on such a boring face - and you'd smile, calling him the most handsome soul in the world.

He'll find you soon enough. He'll cry himself to sleep the nights he remembers you died afraid and alone. He hopes he ends the same way.

Megumi was not a liar.

He said he'd find you. There was only one way for him to be with you, and after he finished his duty here - he'll be by your side, sitting as still as you want him to as you sketch out the oh too familair face.

He'll find you. It'll be the last thing he ever does. He's not a liar - he'll do it. He swears. He vows. He promises.

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Missing Matchmaker Merle

Warnings: Smut, degradation, minor alcohol consumption, unprotected p in v, NO use of (Y/N)

Summary: You and Daryl distract each other from missing Merle.

Notes: Wanted to try the idea of Daryl thinking he wants super rough sex, but he finds out he doesn't really like it that much when you indulge in it. GIF found from Pinterest from user vallie

Taking a hot shower was something you used to take for granted. But after arriving at the CDC and having the chance to not only clean, but sanitize yourself, you made every second count. You even fucking shaved. 

When you heard Jenner would also be serving dinner, you could've thrown up in excitement.

“C'mon, quit actin’ like a pussy and drink.” 

You rolled your eyes at the redneck's words, but shrugged and waved him forward anyway. He grinned in success and filled a cup with red wine, nearly spilling it on your chest with the way he shoved it towards you.

The shift in the atmosphere the last few hours had been remarkable. Not too long ago you were in the first stages of accepting your possible demise, standing behind Shane and Daryl as they fought to get Rick away from the doors. Now here you sat between Carol and Daryl, drinking some of the best wine you'd ever tasted, enough food on your plate to fill your stomach the way it was meant to be. 

You barely heard Daryl whisper beside you over the happy chatter of your group. “Watch, he's gonna turn all red, Koreans all got an allergy to alcohol.” 

You couldn't help but break into a grin at that, shaking your head in amusement. He looked too excited for you to correct him so you just chuckled, and tried not to fall from your chair when he playfully elbowed you in your side. 

The sight of Lori and Shane in the little library foiled your plans to read before bed. You only watched for a second, it looked like they were arguing, trying to keep their voices down despite their frustration. 

You rolled your eyes and turned on your heels, annoyed you'd have to settle on something in the rec room. 

As soon as you turned the corner to walk down the hall, you bumped into a chest so hard you lost your balance. Their hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, and when you heard that teasing southern accent you immediately felt your mood lifting. 

“That wine make you blind? You Korean too?” He snickered as he helped you right yourself. 

It was incredibly refreshing to see Daryl in that light. He was in a great mood, not drunk but buzzed enough to keep a grin on his face. 

“Fucking Shane and Lori's in there.” You grumbled playfully, crossing your arms in exaggerated annoyance. 

“Huh, what're they doin’?” His voice lowered to a nosey whisper and he nudged you back to peek around the corner. He immediately pulled back, bumping into you again, a look of disgust on his face. “Fuckin’ white trash. Actin’ like Rick ain't right down the hall.” 

That had you turning into a nosey busybody and you went to see what he was talking about, but he had already nudged your shoulder in the other direction to the bedroom halls. 

“C'mon, let's go do somethin’.” He didn't wait for an answer as he continued using his body to guide you down the hallway, reminding you of a sheepdog, which amused you to no end. 

“Like what?” You smirked as he shouldered you into one of the rec rooms. There were a few loveseats, bean bag chairs, a long couch and endless shelves of things. Board games, card games, sketch books and those really expensive high quality colored pencils, markers, you name it. You could spend the rest of your life in this room and die happy. 

“Hell, I don't know.” He shrugged and went to look through the shelves. You watched him in the doorway, your lip tightening at the side when you realized he was desperate to take his mind off Merle. Shit, you were too. You missed the fuck out of Merle Dixon. You'd grown extremely close to him, he wordlessly accepted your vulnerability of being the black sheep and Daryl related to it. They treated you like some weird adopted family member that one playfully flirted with and the other jerked off to. 

“Wanna play uno? I'm suspiciously good at it.” You finally shut the door and walked over to him with crossed arms, aware of the way he tensed when you got closer. 

“Uno? The fuck? Hell no.” He scoffed and aggressively flipped through the games on the shelf. “This is like some fucked up retirement center.”

“What'd you expect? An Xbox full of two player games?” You watched as he pretended to read the back of a card game box. 

“Psh. I don't know. Let's go fuck with Glenn -”

You grabbed his wrist before he could rush past you and laughed. “Leave the poor kid alone. He's gonna be so fucking sick tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, I guess. Threw up on my couch.” He muttered, remembering the way he'd had to drag Glenn to the couch in his temporary bedroom. 

“Course he did. You kept pouring wine down the kids' throat.”

You had a few minutes of friendly banter, suggested uno again, he suggested strip poker, you suggested skipping the poker, and soon you were grinding against his knee behind some of the book shelves.

“I want it dirty. Want it raw.” He huffed as he feverishly unbuckled his belt. “F-fuck, you're so hot.”

You grinned and leaned in to bite his bottom lip, earning a delicious whimper from him. You dug your teeth down harder and pulled back, feeling his dick twitch obscenely against your hip. 

“Want it dirty, yeah?” You drawled and kissed down his neck, switching between biting and biting hard. 

“Yeah.” He breathed and fucked his hand, clutching onto your hair with his other. “You think,” he faltered as you bit down on his nipple, his words spilling into various curses and slang you couldn't understand. “Shhh-fuck” His voice cracked in a way that was absolutely fucking adorable to you. “Y’think, you could, on top-”

“Yeah, I can do that.” You made your way back up to his neck, reaching to unbutton the rest of his shirt, but he stopped you. You didn't question it, you just sat him down on one of the loveseats and climbed in his lap. 

You looked over your shoulder at the door, even though it was shut anyone could just walk in, but Daryl grabbed your chin and forced you back against his mouth. 

You fucking loved the way he kissed. It was so hot and sloppy, his tongue diving everywhere in your mouth, licking every spot he could reach. When you pulled back to breathe, the skin around your lips felt wet, just another thing to make your pussy wetter. Daryl Dixon being so messy and dirty drove you insane. 

“I like the way you kiss me,” you slurred, your hands sliding up your pajama shirt to grope your own breasts. “Who would've thought you were such a needy whore.”

“Can you blame me, woman? Shit.” He thrusted up against you as he admired your form over him, your lips parted and your hair in your face, you looked hotter than every single pornstar he'd ever seen. He came harder to you than Sasha Grey. 

You maneuvered out of your pajama pants and slipped back in his lap, sliding your pussy against his throbbing cock. 

“Fuckin’ goddamnit.” He sputtered and grabbed hold of your hips for dear life. He rolled up in sync with you, nearly cumming when he saw the way his head would push through your folds each time your hips slid back. 

It was easier to get him inside you with you on top, you didn't need to worry about him slamming into you like last time. You took your time, enjoying the way he curled his upper lip in frustration, his eyes locked on the way his dick disappeared up inside you. 

“Fuck.” You drew your word out as you finally sat down on him, his dick sticking you like a skewer. 

You opened your eyes when you felt him grabbing your right wrist. He brought it up to his throat with no hesitation, a new boldness filling him that you didn't expect. 

You scoffed and laughed, the sound making his hips jerk roughly up into you. You obliged though, grabbing hold of his thick throat and squeezing. 

The situation you found yourself in was something you could easily get used to. You leaned back, keeping yourself upright with your grip on his neck. You rolled your hips in a way that served you, using Daryl's dick to get off. The way you fucked him was completely foreign to him, he'd never seen anything like this in the tapes he'd steal from Merle. 

You moaned when he bucked into you, and you had to take a moment to steady yourself. You released his neck and grabbed his chin, your thumb slipping between his teeth, holding him like a hooked fish. He looked up at you through his lashes and bit down gently, his hips rolling slower now. 

“You're a fucking mess.” You hissed with a smirk, looking down at your work proudly. Now he was the one who needed to be in a filthy magazine. His cheeks and lips red, his eyes half lidded and dark, his teeth bared and biting on your thumb. He was sweating like crazy and you were impressed he hadn't come yet, must've been the wine. “God I missed your dick.”

You weren't sure how it happened but soon you were pressed against the wall, your thighs wrapped around his back and his dick rearranging your insides. You couldn't moan even if you wanted, he was so rough and fast that all you could do was gasp in each breath, your eyes rolled back and your mouth hanging open. 

His thrusts slowed and he pulled back from biting your neck to nip the side of your jaw, making your eyes roll back to focus. 

“Slap me.”

Your words didn't register to him for a second. He lifted his head and furrowed his brows in confusion, although his rough thrusts didn't even budge. 

“C'mon, you wanted it dirty, didn't you?” You sneered, and a book fell from the shelf next to you when your head thudded back against the wall after a deep thrust.

He went to speak, but he only let out a long breath, and that's when his thrusts started to slow. “The hell you want that for?” 

You were caught off guard by the look on his face. He looked equally confused and almost… insulted? Hurt? 

“Cause it feels really fucking good. Hey, you don't have to, alright?” Your breathing came back under your control when his thrusts stopped altogether. 

You could tell you upset him. You slid your legs from his waist until your toes touched the floor, and his dick slipped out of you. 

“Hey, it's okay, alright?” You reached to touch his chin but he tilted his head away, no longer looking confused, moreso disappointed. 

You bit your bottom lip and thought. He was in no state to make any further moves so you made it for him. You pulled your clothes back on and took him to his bedroom, making sure to close and lock the door. You turned the lights off and laid him down on the bed before climbing on top of him. 

“I just wanna make you feel good, can I do that?” You murmured softly, sitting on his lap and stroking his cheek. 

That seemed to get to him and he gave in, nodding once without meeting your gaze.

“Just tell me to stop and I will.” You promised and kissed down his cheek, deciding against being rough with him the way you were before. 

“Never gonna hear me say that.” He snorted and intertwined his fingers in your hair, gentle, something you hadn't experienced with him. It was like a switch was flipped and he was a completely different man. 

Daryl melted under you as you worked him over with soft touches and kisses. You took your bottoms back off and took his dick back out, giving him a few strokes to get him hard again. You wasted no time in slipping him inside you, thankful there was little resistance with how wet you had become. 

You settled down on him, placing your hands on his chest to balance yourself, your fingers pinching the buttons on his shirt as a way to ground yourself. His dick sent you to other places. 

You fucked him slow, taking the time to feel and appreciate each time his tip rubbed against your sweet spot. He breathed noisily under you, giving the occasional grunt or quiet whine, his hands resting on your hips. 

Flipping your hair to one side over your shoulder, you leaned down and kissed him. You led this time, just moving your lips against his, slow and deep and without the use of your teeth, no matter how badly you wished to hear him whimper. 

He sat up and wrapped his arms around your back to turn you over, somehow managing to keep his lips on yours the entire time. 

You felt your muscles sigh in relief when he laid you on your back in the soft bed. You let out a soft happy breath when he slid his hands up your sides, content in just stroking your skin. He wasn't fucking you then, it was something different. If you were stupid you'd call it making love. He thrusted deep and slow, his hips moving on their own accord. Each time he plunged back in he'd exhale deeply through his nose, tickling the skin of your upper lip. 

Daryl was the one to break the kiss, he leaned back on his heels to look down at you.

“So damn pretty.” He mumbled, his eyelids struggling to stay open. If he wasn't drunk on the wine he was drunk on you and this new way of having you, a way he never even considered. This was it, he thought, this is how he wanted to have sex for the rest of his life. Swallowing each other whole, touching and caressing every inch of skin. 

His eyelids didn't feel so heavy when he saw you suck in a deep breath. Your eyes closed and you grabbed at your hair and breast, your head lolling to the side, your mouth hanging open, your face all twisted up-

You came hard around him, shuddering and gasping and whimpering as you enjoyed your sweet orgasm. It was so different, so drastically different from the last one he gave you. You didn't feel like you were on fire, clawing at your skin with your throat raw, you felt like you were being slipped into the warm black lake that was Daryl Dixon. 

“Daryl, oh my god Daryl.” Your words slurred in your mouth and he leaned down to kiss you. He wanted to swallow every little noise you made. Wanted to swallow your breaths, wanted to swallow you. 

“Ss-shh-fuck.” He bubbled against your lips as he came, forgetting to pull out again. He didn't give a shit anymore. He moaned then, such a beautiful noise that it nearly shattered your heart. So shameless, he didn't hold back at all, letting you hear all of it, all that you earned from him. 

He ground his hips into you well after you both finished, making sure every last drop of his cum filled you up. He buried his face in your neck and rolled his hips, his rough pubes grinding against your throbbing clit. You'd never come that way before, not without at least a little outside stimulation, the fact he made you cum from penetration alone changed your life for good. 

It was hard to bite back any further words. You moaned softly at the feeling of his dick still dragging against your walls, nudging against you each time in a way that was nearly too much to bear. 

You looked at him with admiration. He looked beautiful. You reached up and ran your hand over his short hair, wiping the sweat from his brows. He looked at you, something he needed great courage to do, and sighed. 

He couldn't think of anything to say. He felt ashamed, embarrassed, he'd been so deeply vulnerable that it physically hurt him. He swore he'd blow his goddamn brains out if you laughed or made fun of him. 

But you didn't, you just smiled up at him with that dangerous look on your face that had his heart racing. It should've relaxed him, but it didn't, it made the muscles in his shoulders tense. 

“Do you want me to leave?” You whispered as you stroked his cheek, fully prepared for him to go back to the same old Daryl Dixon you knew and tolerated. 

“Do whatcha want.” He breathed, finally pulling his soft dick from you. 

“Good. Then I'll stay.” You leaned up on your elbows and kissed his jaw before slipping into the bathroom. 

When you climbed back in bed he was pretending to be asleep. You scoffed quietly in amusement and pulled a thin sheet over the two of you, curling up behind him. You decided that wouldn't suit you so you turned over and wrapped your arm around his waist, nuzzling your face in the back of his neck. 

You kissed the skin there once before pressing your forehead against the same spot, closing your eyes when you felt comfortable. 

Daryl stared at the wall in front of him as he felt your fingers softly fidget with the buttons of his shirt. They soon stilled and your breathing slowed to a point where he could barely hear it anymore. Only then did he close his eyes, and secretly enjoy the way you held him. 

The next morning was awkward when you woke up and saw Glenn still passed out on the couch.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams

[eddies-ashtray]

Falling asleep on Eddie’s bed in the middle of the day and the sweet things that ensue after.

(CW: g!n reader, Eddie calls reader ‘pretty’ once). |0.8k|

♡*♡*♡

Eyes still closed, you smile lazily as you tune into the rattling and whir of the yellowed fan. Basically all it does is push around warm air, but its gentle gust brushing your bare shoulders pleases you nonetheless. Sometime in the early afternoon when you’d first dozed off atop Eddie’s covers it stood, unplugged, on his side of the bed.

You know he’s next to you before you’ve fully woken from your brief slumber. The dip in the mattress, the quiet scratching of a pencil on paper. These signs not only alert you of his presence but encourage you to blink your eyes open as you draw in a deep breath.

Your gaze settles at his hip. The curled edges of Eddie’s cut up band tee rest just below his waist, exposing a sliver of pale skin.

“Mmh,” you grumble, squinting up at him as the sunshine casts a glow across the bed. “What time is it?”

Eddie’s eyes, appearing much lighter as they soak up the glowing rays, crinkle in the corners as they meet yours, a smile playing at his lips. “Hey, sleepy.”

“Dopey,” you greet in jest.

He smiles bigger, squeezing his eyes shut as a quick breath escapes his nose.

“Very original.” Eddie’s deadpan tone does not match the delight kissing his features.

You shrug with some difficulty (only one shoulder lifts as the other is pressed into the bed), as if to say ‘What did you expect? It was right there.’

Rolling over onto your back, you stretch out like a cat, your whole body lengthening as your arms reach above your head, and release an involuntary groan of pleasure feeling as your muscles stretch.

Outside, trees rustle in the breeze and children shout and laugh as they play in the summer sun. They’re such nostalgic sounds they make your heart ache for the briefest of moments, like they’d evoked a sweet childhood memory which melted away before it could fully resurface.

Sensing his eyes on you, you peek back up at Eddie as your right hand comes to rest on your stomach, the left one falling palm-up by your side.

“You look pretty when you first wake up,” he expresses, all warmth and love.

“No way.” No one does. He just loves you.

“Yes way,” He mocks lightly as he stares down at you, his hand coming to settle over your forearm as he rubs his thumb into your skin.

You concede because you know you could both go back and forth like that forever. And because you’re too warm and feel too much like jelly to argue.

Instead, you sigh contentedly before pushing yourself up so you’re shoulder-to-shoulder with Eddie.

Lolling your head onto his shoulder, you whisper, “Time?”

So apparently taken by your slightly puffy face, he’d likely forgotten you’d even asked.

Immediately, he extends his left arm out to you so you can read the watch settled on his wrist.

2:22pm.

Tugging his arm gently to your face, you press a quick kiss to his hand, “Thanks.”

He hums as you place your head back on his shoulder, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. Despite the warmth in the room the sound gives you chills.

“Watcha drawin’?” You sing-song, though you can see his sketchbook from this angle.

“Watcha think?”

You almost jest, say, feet, before you realize, “Are those my hands?”

They must be. You know it not because of how detailed the drawing is. It’s more of a sketch so far. You know it because of the ring on the middle finger.

Eddie had found it while thrifting and gifted it to you one day. It wasn’t a birthday or anniversary or holiday. Just a normal day in March. It was a particularly frigid day, all grey skies and icy window sills. You’d arrived at the trailer after your shift about 20 minutes before Eddie. But when he did arrive, he went straight to you, and he said, I got ya somethin’ with that charming smile of his, all fidgety and excited like he was about to open presents on Christmas day. And then presented you with that beautiful ring he’s so carefully sketching onto your graphite hands.

“Mhm. You’ve got nice ones,” he says, taking hold of one of yours and softly tracing the ridges of your knuckles before thumbing the silver ring. It never comes off.

Your heart aches in the best way. You feel so content being here with him. Napping on his bed and waking up to him drawing you, caring for you, loving you. You squeeze his hand in yours before tilting upwards to press a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“Keep drawing, please?”

You can’t believe you get to sit here next to him in the middle of a balmy summer’s day while he presses pencil to paper with that rickety old fan sitting on your side of the bed.

♡*♡*♡

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this please reblog <3 & let me know what you thought!

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[gay-dorito-dust]

aaa ok hear me out on this. So I'm pretty sure you've mentioned that darling is one of Damians go-to petnames for his s/o. What about a little thing where his s/o normally will call him by his name but they end up calling him darling by accident? My english is terrible so sorry if this doesn't make much sense 😭

‘Where could it be.’ Damian muttered to himself as he practically tore his bedroom apart with his bare hands. ‘The stupid thing couldn’t have gotten that far.’

Damian had lost where he had placed his art pencils and couldn’t quite recall where he left them either, which was unlike him as he always had excellent recollection in the whereabouts of his and others belongings. Today however it seemed as though no matter how hard he racked his brain, Damian just couldn’t remember where he last left those stupid -yet expensive- set of charcoal pencils.

‘Tt, this is getting ridiculous now,’ Damian said to himself as he wiped the sweat from his brow that had accumulated from searching high and low for art supplies, ‘it’s not as if they could’ve grown legs and walked off somewhere.’ It wasn’t until that moment did Damian realise that you had came back from your trip to the kitchen for a snack as you stood in the doorway of his room, looking at the mess that you were certain wasn’t there beforehand.

‘Damian, what’s going on here, it’s not like you to just turn your room into a pig sty just because you felt like it.’ You told Damian as you stepped into the room, suspecting the mess before looking back at your boyfriend who was usually good at keeping his room tidy and well organised, but the heavy pout on his lips and the furrow in his brow told you that there was a reason to the sudden mess.

‘I can’t find my charcoal pencils.’ He replied shortly, crossing his arms over his chest.

‘Well you’re certainly not going to in this mess.’ You retorted sarcastically, causing Damian to scoff, ‘why didn’t you try and recall the last place you put them.’ You added, trying to be helpful in this situation.

‘I did but they weren’t there.’ Damian tells you as he went back to tearing apart his room to search for his missing art pencils when something out of the corner of your eye caught your attention; it was Damian’s charcoal pencils, peaking out slightly from his bag alongside his sketch pad and paintbrushes. It wasn’t easy to spot but they were there and it was a surprise to you that Damian hadn’t seem to notice this at all, but that’s what made the entire situation just that little bit more hilarious then it should’ve been.

‘Damian.’ You called.

‘Not now y/n.’ He replied, heavily focused on finding these stupid pencils before he had to head off for school.

‘Damian.’ You tried again, now holding his bag in your hand, getting ready to show to him for when he looked up from under the bed.

‘Tt. Unless you’re going to help me, don’t distract me from-‘

‘I found your art pencils darling.’ Your voice cuts Damian off completely, leaving him taken aback but it wasn’t because you had found his pencils as he scrambled out from under his bed and stood up to see you holding his bag, which did indeed have his charcoal pencils in upon closer inspection.

‘What?’ You asked upon seeing his face.

‘What did you just say?’ Damian said.

You made a face and raised the bag a little higher. ‘I found your charcoal pencils?’ You replied albeit confused and a little worried that something was wrong with your boyfriend, did he hit his head as he was getting himself out from under his bed? You weren’t quite sure as you didn’t hear anything that could indicate that being the case.

‘Not that,’ Damian snipped, the search having left him feeling exhausted, agitated and embarrassed, ‘after that.’

‘I said Damian.’ You told him, your concern growing stronger the longer this went on.

Damian groaned as he ran a hand through his hair. ‘Darling, you called me darling.’ He spat out as a silence befell you both as the realisation sat in for you, meanwhile Damian was looking away from you with slightly flustered expression.

‘Oh.’ You said after a while. ‘Do you…do you hate it?’ You then asked as you looked down at your feet, finding them to be the most interesting thing in the room right now as your heart went crazy within your rib cage. Pet names weren’t new for either of you but you didn’t use them on a regular occurrence like regular couples, sure Damian called you darling or treasure but that was mainly behind closed doors or as little people as possible, but other then that you’ve rarely used them in any other context.

‘No, my treasure I didn’t hate it,’ Damian said softly as he managed to compose himself enough to walk over to you and take his bag from your hand, putting it on the bed before taking your hands in his, ‘I was just taken aback that is all.’ He reassured you by pressing a gently kiss to your forehead. If anything Damian liked it when you called him darling, it sent his heart a flutter and ignited a fire within his soul as his entire body grew warm by a simple pet name from your lips, however this was something he was yet to be comfortable in admitting to you in confidence but he will one day.

‘Does that mean I can call you it more often?’ You asked, already making up future scenarios where that would be the case within your mind in hope of seeing that very same flustered expression on across his face once more.

‘If you must, please do so in places where my siblings are out of range to hear.’ Damian said, smiling softly as you beamed in happiness, this was what he lived to see every day of his life, just you being extremely happy and happy with him; Something he hoped that he could continue to make you far into the future you shared together.

‘Deal.’ You said as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. ‘Darling.’

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hannibal Lecter X Reader: Us lonely few

Warnings: talk of loneliness, smut, kissing, rough sex, unprotected sex, penetration (p in v), drinking, no use of y/n

Word count: 2,5K

The sound of Ave Maria floats out of Hannibal's office. It makes you hesitate, your hand freezing in mid air. You weren’t supposed to be here at such a late hour but you’d lost track of time. You started working as Hannibal's secretary a month ago. He’d never found himself in need of a secretary but you'd managed to impress him. He enjoyed the way your eyes lit up as he spoke about the mysteries of the mind so he decided to keep you around.

It was nice to have someone nearby. It didn’t matter that you usually remained outside of his office as you worked, just the thought of not being alone seemed to ease Hannibal. He liked your company. You were younger than him but you shared his taste for the finer things in life. Conversation came easy when he was with you. It was almost as if you’d been made for each other.

You knock on the door waiting for a response. When one doesn't come you lean your ear against the wood trying to listen for Hannibal's footsteps. The only sound that fills your ears is music. It’s likely he can’t hear you because of the song. You can barely hear yourself as you call out for him.

“Dr Lecter, I'm coming in.”

As always his door is unlocked. You push it open with ease, momentarily balancing the books you were holding on your hips. You close the door behind you before moving to scan the room, trying to find Hannibal. He has his back turned to you but somehow he still manages to sense your presence. 

“I thought you’d gone home.”

You walk over to his desk placing the books you were holding on it before going towards him. 

“I lost track of time. Your books are very fascinating.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed them but I can't have you staying after hours.”

“You stay after hours.”

Hannibal looks up from his drawing to look at you. You meet his gaze, waiting to see how he’ll react to your comment. He stays serious for a second before smiling at you. 

“I suppose you're right.”

“I usually am.”

You grin at him before turning your attention back to his sketches. You lean over Hannibal's shoulder trying to get a better view. He watches you as you observe his work. He inhales deeply trying to commit your scent to memory. You're oblivious to his actions, far too focused on the drawing before you. It's a nude portrait of a woman. You can’t help but notice the way Hannibal has drawn her. There is a sensuality to the portrait but there is also a loneliness to the woman's expression.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Yes she is.”

“Why’s she sad?”

“What makes you think she’s sad?”

“The way you drew her.”

You point to the image carefully so that you won't smudge the pencil.

“She's looking behind herself as if she’s searching for something but the way her arms are wrapped around herself shows she didn’t find what she wanted.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well she’s holding herself isn't she? I mean, she didn’t find someone to hold her so she had to hold onto herself. She’s lonely.”

“ I guess I didn't think about it that way.”

“Art has a way of bringing our feelings to the surface. Even if we ourselves don’t know what we're feeling.”

“Are you insinuating that I'm lonely?”

“Aren’t you?”

Hannibal eyes bore into yours as he thinks. Maybe he was lonely. Maybe that is why, after all these years, he found himself with a secretary even though he didn't particularly need one. 

“It’s okay to feel lonely. It doesn't make you any less strong.”

“Do you feel lonely?”

“I’ve felt alone my whole life. So yeah you could say loneliness is something I'm familiar with.”

Hannibal placed his hand over yours causing you to look at his face. His eyes softened as he took in your features. You were a pretty thing. He’d been so impressed with your mind he often forgot you also had a beauty he hadn't had the pleasure of being graced with in a long time. 

“Do you enjoy filet mignon?”

You let out a laugh at his question, eyes furring in curiosity.

“I do. Why?”

“I’m inviting you to dinner.”

“At your house?”

“Yes.”

“As long as I'm not intruding.”

“Not at all. I enjoy your company.”

Hannibal's house was very him. There were artworks scattered around the rooms and knowledge seemed to seep out of the walls. You removed your shoes and placed them by the door. Hannibal looked at you questioningly. “I don’t want to get your floors dirty.”

“If you feel more comfortable that way, be my guest.”

“You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you. The kitchen is this way.”

You followed Hannibal, eyes moving over every inch of his home you could see. A small gasp left your lips as you walked into the kitchen. You always enjoyed the culinary arts but you’d never had the pleasure of owning a kitchen big enough to explore your talents properly. Hannibal watched you as you moved around the room, a small smile tugging at his lips at your unfiltered fascination.

“I take it you enjoy cooking.”

“I’ve always had a curiosity for it but I'm not very skilled. I won’t die of hunger but I've never made any adventurous recipes. Just the basics you know?”

“Would you like to sous chef?”

“I’d love to.”

“Wonderful. You can start chopping the onions.”

You moved over to him grabbing the knife he handed you before moving to get the onions and a cutting board. Hannibal unbuttoned his shirt sleeve and pushed it up his arms allowing you to see his muscles. Your gaze lingered for a moment before focusing on your task once more. Hannibal moved around the kitchen with ease as he searched for the ingredients he needed. It was almost like a dance. You couldn’t help but watch him as he moved. He seemed so peaceful like this his mind completely focused on the meal he was preparing.

Your eyes started to sting as you continued to chop the onions. You sniffed quietly which caused Hannibal to look up at you. He watched as a single tear fell from your eyes before falling onto the counter. He moved over to you on instinct. You felt a hand on your cheek, turning to face Hannibal at his touch. His thumb moved over your skin, collecting your tears. It was an innocent caress but you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. He pulled his hand away from you, moving his thumb to his lips. He licked at his thumb, removing your tears from his skin. Your heartbeat fastened at the action. 

“Let’s switch tasks dear. Can’t have you crying in my kitchen. You can cut the meat.”

He paused for a moment glancing at the piece of raw meat on the counter before looking back at you.

“Unless it’s too much for you.”

“I’m not afraid of getting my hands a little bloody Hannibal. I’ll be fine.”

He knew you didn’t mean anything but it but his mind couldn’t help but wonder what you were capable of. You seemed like the type of person who knew how to hold their own. Still he wondered how far you’d be willing to go.

Hannibal took over chopping onions as you worked on the main piece of the meal. One he’d finished he moved over to watch you. Your hands moved over the pieces of meat with an unusual softness. Despite that you seemed to be having a hard time figuring out how big the pieces should be. Hannibal sensed your struggle. He moved behind you, his chest brushing against your back as he reached to place his hand over yours. You twisted your head to the side to look at him.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“Not at all dear. But you can cut the medallions a bit larger. Here let me help.”

You relaxed your arm so that Hannibal could maneuver your body in the way he wished. 

“There. That thickness is better.”

You turned to face him once more expecting him to be looking at the meat. Instead you found him staring at you. Your eyes dropped to his lips momentarily. You were so close to him that you could smell his aftershave. A breathy sigh left your mouth the air fanning over his lips. You wanted him to kiss you. His mouth opened but instead of kissing you he spoke.

“Could you set the table for us?”

“Oh. Yeah sure.”

“The silver ware is in the third drawer on the left.”

With that Hannibal unlatched himself from you allowing you to move over to where you needed. You walked over to the dining room. Your hands trembled as you placed the silver ware down. Hannibal's voice rang out from the kitchen.

“You can take a seat. It will be ready soon.” 

“Okay.”

A couple moments later Hannibal walked in with a platter in his hand and a bottle of wine in the other. 

“Do you drink?”

“Occasionally. But I'm not picky.”

“This wine was aged in a maple barrel. It has a sweet taste to it which will go perfectly with the meat.”

“Everything looks delicious.”

“I agree.”

You couldn’t help but notice Hannibal wasn’t looking at the food as he spoke, he was looking at you.

You ate until you couldn’t anymore. Hannibal filled up your cup as soon as you downed the last sip. After you finished dinner the two of you made your way to his living room. You were a little tipsy due to the wine causing you to become unfiltered. You padded against Hannibal's floor, moving to music that only you could hear. He enjoyed watching you like this. You were usually so formal around him it was nice to see you in a more relaxed manner. Hannibal observed you stumble over to his piano, hands toying with the keys before glancing in his direction. 

“Do you play?”

“I do.”

“Will you play for me?”

Hannibal could never deny an audience. He pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on, making his way over to where you stood. He sat down on the bench as you moved to rest your chin on the palm of your hand. Hannibal flexed his fingers, straightening his posture a bit before he began to play. The second his fingers began moving over the keys you became mesmerized. You walked over to the other side of the bench taking a seat beside him. You observed his fingers glide from one key to the other. He made it seem so easy. You closed your eyes, focusing on the sounds. As the song came to an end you slowly opened your eyes, a smile plastered against your face. You looked over at Hannibal only to find him already watching you. 

“That was beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you.”

Your eyes softened at Hannibal's words. Your hand moved to cup his cheek. Slowly, you inched your face closer to his until your lips were inches apart. You placed a gentle kiss to his mouth waiting to see how he’d react. When he didn't pull away you kissed him again with a little more strength this time. Hannibal opened his mouth to you. Your tongues moved together as you deepened the kiss. Hannibal's hand wrapped around your hips lifting you up with ease. He placed you on his lap. Your back dug into the keys of the piano as you continued to make out. Hannibal's hands dug into the flesh of your ass causing you to whine. You bit his lip, tugging at it with your teeth as you broke the kiss. Your hands moved over Hannibal's shirt, fingers working on unbuttoning it. He could sense the desperation in your actions. He moved his hand over to your chest tugging at the buttons of your dress shirt. The buttons seemed to be toying with him. He lost his patience. Before you knew it Hannibal had ripped your shirt open. You gasped as he leaned down to kiss the valley of your breasts. 

“Hannibal…”

“What is it?”

“Take me to your bed.”

The soft sheets of Hannibal's bed rubbed against your face as your body moved with his thrusts. Your fingers dug into his pillow as you screamed out his name. There was no mercy in his movements. He was fucking you so hard you were sure you wouldn’t bae able to walk tomorrow. You thought he’d stop after the first round but you’d been wrong. Once you’d gotten tired of riding him he’d flipped you around shoving your face down onto the bed before lifting your ass and continuing to pistol into your.

The bed creaked as he moved, muffling the sounds of your moans. His hands moved against your ass, fingers leaving crescent moon shapes on your skin as he continued to manhandle you. You were squeezing him so much that he was having a hard time moving in and out of you. He reached his hand to your waist lifting you off the bed. Your bare back pressed against his chest. Hannibal licked at your earlobe before biting into it. You let out a yelp causing him to shush you.

“You’re gonna cum for me again.”

“Hannibal i can’t-”

“Yes you can. I know you can.”

He placed kisses against your shoulder blade as one of his hands found their way to your pussy. His thumb found your clit. He grunted as he circled the small bundle of nerves. You panted against him, hands grabbing at his hair to anchor yourself. Your jaw fell slack as your orgasm washed over you. Hannibal stopped supporting your body causing you to fall forward into the bed. His grunts became more constant as he continued to fuck into you. It took a couple thrusts but soon enough he was spilling his seed into you. You heard his groan as he pulled out. You remain unmoving, still trying to recover from your orgasm. Hannibal returned to bed, laying down beside you. He tugged you closer to him. You laid your head on his chest, fingers moving to play with the hairs on his chest. He listened to you breath, his hand moving to caress your hair as he did. 

“You were right.”

“Usually am. But what was I right about exactly?”

“She was lonely.”

You let out an understanding hum, comprehending what he was confessing to you.

“Is she still lonely?”

“No. Not anymore. She found someone to keep her company.”

“I’m glad. I’m sure they were just as lonely as she was.”

“It's a good thing they found each other then.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

The two of you had been crafted by different artists but in your own way you’d been made for each other. If you hadn't been sure of that before you were certain of it now.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

expecting

pairing: benedict bridgerton x f! wife reader

The soft morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a warm glow across the grand bedchamber. Y/N stirred beneath the covers, her mind slowly rousing from the depths of sleep. She stretched her hand to the other side of the bed, expecting to find the familiar warmth of her husband, but instead, her fingers brushed against cold, empty sheets. Benedict had already risen, most likely absorbed in his work within the confines of his study.

She lingered in bed, her thoughts muddled by the lingering remnants of slumber, until a sharp pang of anxiety tightened in her chest. For several days now, a persistent worry had taken root within her, growing with each passing hour. She hesitated before throwing back the covers, her heart heavy with apprehension. Y/N’s gaze fell upon the bed linens, scrutinizing them with bated breath.

The sheets were immaculate, untouched by the crimson hue she had half-expected, half-dreaded to see. Her heart sank, frustration welling within her as she realized the implications. Another morning, another check, and still no sign of her monthly course. The absence of blood was both a blessing and a curse, for she knew what it likely meant.

They were still newlyweds, just months into their marriage, and while they had spoken of starting a family, Y/N had envisioned more time to enjoy their youthful union before the responsibilities of parenthood descended upon them. The thought of carrying Benedict’s child filled her with equal parts joy and trepidation. Was it too soon? Would he be ready for such a change, for the duties and demands that would come with fatherhood?

She rose from the bed, her movements languid as she wrapped her robe around herself. The silk fabric felt cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth she yearned to feel. Y/N padded down the long hallway, her feet silent on the plush carpet as she made her way to Benedict’s study. She could hear the familiar sound of his pencil scratching against parchment, the melody of his creative process.

She paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of her husband. Benedict was bent over his work, his brow furrowed in concentration as he sketched, utterly absorbed in his task. Despite the seriousness of his expression, there was an undeniable gentleness about him that made her heart swell with love.

For a moment, Y/N considered turning away, letting him remain in his world of art and imagination, but she knew she couldn’t delay the conversation any longer. The uncertainty gnawed at her, and she needed to confide in him, to share her fears and hopes.

“Benedict,” she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up immediately, his features softening the moment his eyes met hers. A warm smile spread across his face, and he set his pencil aside, rising from his chair to greet her.

“Good morrow, my love,” he said, his voice filled with affection as he crossed the room to her. “I did not intend to wake you so early.”

“You did not wake me,” Y/N replied, attempting a smile as she stepped closer to him. “I simply found myself alone in our bed and wondered where you might be.”

Benedict wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his embrace. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin. “My mind was alight with ideas,” he explained, his tone light and teasing. “I had to capture them before they faded away like the morning mist.”

Y/N rested her head against his chest, her ear pressed to his heart. The steady rhythm soothed her, but the anxiety in her own chest remained. She knew she couldn’t keep her secret any longer. “Benedict, I must speak with you about something of great importance.”

He pulled back slightly, concern flickering in his blue eyes. “What is it, dearest? You seem troubled.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her hands gripping the lapels of his dressing gown as she gathered the courage to speak. “I have missed my monthly course,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “It has been late for several days now, and I believe I may be with child.”

The words hung in the air, a delicate truth that had the power to alter their lives forever. Y/N braced herself for Benedict’s reaction, her heart pounding in her chest. She feared he might be taken aback, that the prospect of fatherhood might overwhelm him, especially so soon after their marriage.

But to her surprise, Benedict’s expression changed not to one of shock or apprehension, but to one of pure, unadulterated joy. His eyes widened, and a broad smile broke across his face as he processed her words.

“You think…?” he stammered, his voice laced with wonder. “You believe you carry our child?”

Y/N nodded, tears welling in her eyes as she watched the happiness unfold across his face. “I did not know how to tell you… I feared it might be too soon, that you would be unprepared…”

Benedict’s hands cupped her face, his touch tender as he gazed down at her with all the love in his heart. “Too soon?” he echoed, his voice filled with emotion. “My love, there could be no greater news in the world. You have just given me the most precious gift I could ever receive.”

Before she could respond, Benedict swept her up into his arms, spinning her around in a joyful circle. Y/N’s laughter mingled with his, the sound of their happiness filling the room. When he finally set her down, he held her close, his forehead resting against hers as he whispered, “We are to be parents, Y/N. I can scarcely believe it.”

Y/N’s tears spilled over, but they were tears of relief, of joy, of overwhelming love. She pulled him into a deep kiss, pouring all of her emotions into the tender embrace. When they finally parted, she looked up at him, her heart full to bursting. “I love you, Benedict,” she whispered. “And I am so grateful that we will embark on this journey together.”

Benedict’s arms tightened around her, his voice a soft murmur in her ear. “I love you more than words can express. You will be the most wonderful mother, and I will strive every day to be the father our child deserves.”

As they stood there in the warmth of the study, wrapped in each other’s embrace, Y/N knew that whatever fears she had harbored had been unfounded. Benedict’s love for her was unwavering.

A few weeks had passed since Y/N had first shared the news with Benedict, and their excitement had only grown with each day. Though they had reveled in the secret together, they both knew it was time to share the joy with their families. The Bridgerton clan was nothing if not close-knit, and such news was sure to be met with elation.

The day was sunny, with a pleasant breeze that made the leaves rustle in the grand trees lining the estate. The entire Bridgerton family was gathered in the drawing room of Aubrey Hall, the laughter and chatter filling the air as the siblings exchanged stories and playful jests. It was a rare occasion when they were all together, and Benedict couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth as he looked around the room.

Y/N sat beside him, her hand resting in his, their fingers intertwined. She was calm on the surface, but he could sense the slight tremor in her hand, the only sign of her nerves. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, meeting her eyes with a smile that spoke of all the love and support he had for her.

Finally, when there was a lull in the conversation, Benedict cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the room. “If I may have your attention, everyone,” he began, his voice carrying a note of seriousness that was unusual in their light-hearted gatherings.

The room quieted, all eyes turning to Benedict and Y/N. There was a mixture of curiosity and concern in their expressions, each sibling wondering what news might be so important.

“We have something we would like to share with you all,” Benedict continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion. He glanced at Y/N, his gaze filled with encouragement. She nodded, and together, they turned back to the family.

“We are with child,” Y/N announced, her voice soft but clear.

For a moment, there was silence as the words sank in. Then, as if on cue, the room erupted in a chorus of exclamations, cheers, and laughter. Daphne, ever the nurturing one, was the first to rush forward, her face alight with joy as she embraced Y/N.

“Oh, Y/N! That is the most wonderful news!” Daphne exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine happiness. “You are going to make such a wonderful mother.”

The rest of the siblings quickly followed suit, surrounding the couple with congratulations and hugs. Even Anthony, who often took on the role of the stern eldest brother, couldn’t hide the smile that spread across his face.

“Well done, brother,” he said, clapping Benedict on the shoulder. “You’ve managed to outdo yourself this time.”

“Thank you, Anthony,” Benedict replied with a grin, knowing that beneath his brother’s teasing exterior, there was deep affection.

Violet, their mother, had tears in her eyes as she enveloped Y/N in a warm embrace. “My dear, I am so happy for you both,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You are bringing such joy to this family.”

Y/N felt overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support. She had known that the Bridgertons would be thrilled, but the reality of it was even more touching than she had imagined. Benedict stood beside her, his arm around her waist, his pride and happiness evident in every gesture.

The rest of the day was filled with celebration. The family insisted on toasting the couple’s happiness, and there was much talk of the future, of names and nurseries, of the roles each sibling would play in the life of the new addition. Colin, ever the joker, made a grand show of predicting whether it would be a boy or a girl, while Eloise teased that she would teach the child all the ways of mischief.

As the evening drew to a close and the family began to disperse, Benedict and Y/N found themselves alone in the garden, the quiet night a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere of earlier. The stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky, and the soft rustle of the leaves provided a gentle melody to their solitude.

Benedict turned to Y/N, his expression tender as he took her hands in his. “Are you pleased, my love?” he asked, his voice low and intimate.

“More than I could ever put into words,” she replied, her heart full to bursting with the love she felt for him and for the family they were building together.

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “We are going to be wonderful parents, Y/N,” he murmured against her skin. “And our child will be surrounded by so much love. I cannot wait to begin this new chapter with you.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, not of sadness but of overwhelming joy. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close as she whispered, “Nor can I, Benedict. Nor can I.”

And so, beneath the canopy of stars, they stood together, holding each other close as they looked forward to the future, their hearts filled with the promise of the life they would share a life of love, of family, and of unbreakable bonds.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Prettiest Sight

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: really just cockwarming technically, sort of exhibitionism/voyeurism, Bucky has a filthy mouth even in such a casual setting, honestly this isn't much compared to some of my others lol

Genre: fluff and smut

Summary: Steve wants to draw you and Bucky and you plan to let him

***

You stride into your room humming to yourself as you finish a text. When you enter, Steve and Bucky are lounging around, Steve at the desk, and Bucky on the couch watching TV.

"Oh hey guys. I didn't realize you'd be back already." You say.

"We just went on a coffee run." Steve reminds you, tapping your coffee cup with his pencil.

"Well yeah I know but sometimes that shop gets busy." You shrug.

"Where did you get off to princess?" Bucky asks.

"Just had some laundry I thought I'd take care of while you were out. I just sat up there til I could put them into the dryer so I didn't forget." You explain grabbing your coffee from the table and taking a sip.

"Oh okay."

"What ya doin Stevie?" You ask looking over his shoulder where he's hunched over at your desk.

"Just some sketching." He mutters.

"He's been at it most of the morning. Even at the coffee shop, he was doodling away while we were waiting." Bucky tells you.

"Really?" You hum. "Can I see some of them?" You ask.

"They aren't like- great or anything just, trying some things." Steve mutters handing you the sketchbook. You flip through the drawings with wide eyes. Some of them are simple, outlines and such some barely more than shadows, but other pages are much more detailed, vivid depictions of places and things and the occasional person.

"These are impressive Stevie. You shouldn't sell yourself short." You tell him sitting down in Bucky's lap.

"Are these just strangers?" Bucky asks peaking at one of the drawings with an arm wrapped around your waist.

"Yeah- I don't draw people a lot but every once in a while I'll try." Steve shrugs.

"Well you could always draw us if you want the practice." You say with a wink. You're pretty sure he'll never actually take you up on the offer but you're not joking.

"Wanna draw us like one of your French girls Stevie?" Bucky smirks resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Don't tease. I was being serious." You lightly smack Bucky's thigh in reprimand.

"Actually- I did have this one idea." Steve mutters his cheeks tinged pink slightly.

"Really?" Bucky blinks at him.

"You wanna draw us?" Even you're surprised.

"If you guys don't mind."

"Of course we don't. What's the idea?" You ask. Steve doesn't answer immediately, but the tint in his cheeks is spreading in the space left after your question.

"Oh shit he really does want to draw us like Jack's French girls." Bucky laughs.

"Stop it." You roll your eyes. "Is that it Steve?"

"Well kind of. Unfortunately, my recollection isn't great otherwise I would just draw it from memory but- it's just that you always look so beautiful when Buck or I am filling you I thought it'd be a nice moment to immortalize." Steve explains and the revelation sends a shiver down your spine and has your core clenching slightly.

"Oh." You breathe out.

"You- wanna draw us with her sitting on my dick?" Bucky asks and you almost squirm at his words, the imagery now vividly at the forefront of your mind.

"It's a real pretty sight." Steve says.

"I mean I know it is Steve I'm just- surprised. You've never been one for that kind of exhibitionistic interest." Bucky says.

"Whatever man." Steve rolls his eyes. "Y/n? What are you thinking?" He asks you hesitantly.

 "I mean I'm not- against it. You just want me like in Bucky's lap?" You ask.

"Yeah pretty much."

"Well if Bucky's fine with it-"

"You'll never have to convince me to do something that involves you on my dick." Bucky shrugs.

"You are so vulgar." You roll your eyes.

"You had no problem with my vulgarity last night princess." Bucky kisses the back of your neck.

"Down boy." You joke. "Stevie you wanna give this idea of yours a try or what?"

"Now?" He blinks.

"Yeah why not? We're all here and you've got your sketchpad." You shrug. "Just tell us what to do and we can make it happen."

"O- okay, well you'll need to strip." Steve says.

"Risque." Bucky jokes as you climb off of his lap to tug off your shorts and t-shirt.

"You too Bucky." Steve says.

"Can do." Bucky winks at Steve shuffling down his jeans and pulling his shirt over his head.

"Actually- y/n put on one of our shirts that you've highjacked." Steve says.

"Hey you guys leave your clothes in here half the time." You protest but you grab one of Steve's shirts from your drawer anyway. You put it on and walk back over to Bucky on the couch.

"And the other half of the time you just go into our rooms and take things." Bucky says tapping your butt lightly. You stick your tongue out at him in response and he chuckles.

"Anyway, do you need a little warm-up y/n?" Steve asks.

"A warm-up?" You ask.

"Well yeah- you'll be sitting for a little bit, you both need to be somewhat comfortable." Steve says as if it's obvious.

"Oh." It's all you can come up with in response.

"Come here doll, let's get you ready hm, although- I'd bet you're already dripping for us like always." Bucky spins you to face him, a hand wrapping around your thigh, fingers settling incredibly close to your center. Close enough that if he stretched the digits he'd be touching, but where they are now it's just enough for you to be hyperaware of the closeness.

"Now's really not the best time for one of your games Bucky." Steve cautions.

"There's never a bad time for those." Bucky winks. Steve rolls his eyes which only makes Bucky's smirk widen as if he has every intention of riling you both up.

"This is supposed to be about me drawing you two babe, can't do that if you're just gonna make a mess of her til she's begging for both of us." Steve says and you almost want to abandon the drawing in favor of that when he says it.

"Alright I'll be nice." Bucky concedes tapping against your thigh lightly. The action instinctually has your legs spreading enough for him to slip two fingers between your slick folds. "Just like I thought, so wet before anyone even had to touch you. Always so ready for us." Bucky hums as he pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly, stretching you. You can't help the small whimpers and moans that fall from your lips at Bucky's ministrations with both men watching intently. A few minutes of playing your body like a custom instrument have you unsteady on your feet and that's when Bucky withdraws. "I'd say you're ready." He says sliding his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean and the action makes your walls clench. You take a deep breath before speaking again.

"Do you want me facing you Stevie? Or should I be facing Bucky for this?" You ask.

"Face me sweetheart." Steve says. You nod and climb onto Bucky's lap straddling him with your back to Bucky. You take Bucky in your hand and he hisses but he can't dwell on the sweet grip of your fingers because in the next moment, you're sinking down onto him, the molten heat of your core envelops him like the sweetest torture. You take your time settling on top of him, 'unintentionally' grinding further against his erection until his hands squeeze warningly against your hip. "Behave you two. I'm serious about drawing you." Steve warns.

"Of course baby." You smile innocently at him.

"Alright- Bucky get comfortable but your legs need to be spread so I can actually see where you're joined oh and slip your hand into her shirt, cup one of her boobs. And you can put your other hand on her thigh." Steve gives you a series of directions which Bucky follows quickly. "Y/n you can lean back against him." Steve adds and you settle against Bucky's chest, and his head rests on your shoulder. "Good girl. Now you guys can just sit there while I draw."

"Do we gotta be quiet and still or-" Bucky trails.

"I mean as long as you don't move too much it's fine, and you can definitely talk, at least until I'm drawing your faces but I'll let you know when I'm at that point." Steve's already started sketching, his eyes darting from you and Bucky to his sketchpad. Bucky swipes his thumb across the nipple of your breast that's in his hand and you gasp at the sudden stimulation.

"Bucky-" You warn.

"Sorry doll, you're just impossible to resist." He hums pressing a kiss to your neck that makes a shiver run down your spine.

"You're insufferable." You scoff at him.

"You say that but I can feel you squeezing me at my teasing." He says.

"Settle down Bucky." Steve warns him although you doubt Bucky will listen. If you're lucky he'll save the teasing for after the drawing is finished but chances are you'll end up doing way more than sitting on his dick within the hour. Bucky can be quite patient but when it comes to you neither of them is particularly good at managing their insatiability. You'll be seriously surprised if Steve manages to finish his drawing before one or both of them decides this time is better spent forcing orgasms from you.

***

[springtyme]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ♡

Derek Morgan x reader || Main Masterlist || Spotify

summary: It was not your plan to dump into a tall, handsome FBI agent, but sometimes you get lucky.

word count: 666

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟔) 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐂𝐮𝐭𝐞

It is a typical Tuesday morning at your favorite coffee shop, a cozy little place where the rich aroma of roasted coffee beans mingles with the sound of clinking mugs and soft chatter. The morning crowd buzzes, and you are nestled in your favorite corner, sketchbook open, pencil flying across the pages as you capture the vibrant energy around you.

You are so engrossed in your work that you don’t notice when the line for coffee snakes its way closer to your table. Your concentration breaks when the barista calls out a name, you stand up, but you didn’t really hear what was called and you are unsure whether it was yours or someone else’s. You look up, slightly confused, just in time to see a tall man brushing past you, his shoulder barely grazing yours.

“Sorry about that,” he says, his voice deep and warm. 

You glance up to look him in the eyes and your pencil pauses mid-air, he is muscular with a charming smile and warm brown eyes. He wears a leather jacket that hugs his athletic frame, and you can tell he is someone who knows how to take charge of any situation.

“No problem at all,” you manage to say, trying to keep your composure. “I get lost in my own world too.”

The man chuckles as he leans over your sketches, an appreciative glint in his eye. “Wow, you’re really talented. Is this coffee shop your studio?”

“Something like that,” you reply, your cheeks warming at the compliment. “It’s a great place to people-watch,” you say, gesturing to the rest of the coffee shop.

He glances around the bustling coffee shop, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he returns his gaze to you, smirking, a spark of interest flickering in his eyes. “People-watching is an underrated art form.”

“Sure is, I like capturing the small moments… It’s nice.”

He glances around, then back at you with a smirk. “You might be capturing my moment, then. I was just getting coffee to gear up for what could be a long day at the office.”

“Office?” you ask, intrigued.

“Yeah, FBI,” he says casually, as if it is just another job.

Your eyes widen in surprise, thoughts racing. “Like, really? You must have some incredible stories to tell then.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But I can’t share those. Privacy and all that, you know?” He winks, making your heart skip a beat.

Before you can respond, the barista calls out his name: ‘Derek’. It suits him, you think. He sighs dramatically, turning to grab his coffee. “Guess I’ll have to keep some of my secrets, but I think I’m able to tell a few… Perhaps you can exchange  stories with me sometime?”

His boldness catches you off-guard. “Sure, if you promise to tell me one of yours, I’m telling one of mine.”

As you exchange smiles, something shifts in the air between you. You jot down your number on a napkin, along with your name, handing it to him as he reaches for his drink.

With the warmth of your touch lingering on the napkin, Derek looks at you, a confident grin plastered on his face. “I’ll take that as a challenge. Coffee soon? Or maybe a drink?”

“I’d love a drink,” you reply, heart racing in anticipation, feeling a secret thrill at how easily the conversation flows between you.

Derek jots down a quick line on his own napkin before handing it back to you. “Text me when you want to meet up.”

With that, he turns to leave, but not before glancing back over his shoulder, that captivating smile promising an adventure that lies ahead.

As the door chimes behind him, you can’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, fate has decided to add a dash of excitement to your routine. You smile to yourself as the barista calls out your name and you turn to get your coffee.

[marvelobsessed134]

“You taste divine”

Pairings: James Hetfield x Innocent!Ulrich!Reader

A/n: back with my innocent!reader brainrot fics I love them so much. Fyi reader is 18 James is like 20 something here so it’s all legal

Warnings: smut, corruption kink, non/dub con, overstimulation, loss of virginity, praise, manipulation, James takes advantage of reader’s innocence, probably not accurate to real life events but it’s fiction so it doesn’t really matter

Ever since James met you, he’s been enamored by you. You’re just so sweet and innocent and he wanted to corrupt you so badly.

It all started when he pulled up to Lars-your brother-‘s house and saw you lying on your tummy in the grass while reading a book under the tree. A delicate white dress adorning your small form. The frontman could feel his mouth watering at the sight. Unfortunately it was interrupted by your brother shouting at him to come inside so they can practice.

“Hey, didn’t know you had a sister.” James said.

Lars shrugged, “Yeah, I usually don’t tell anyone cause everyone wants to bone her. But she doesn’t even know it!” He put his hands in the air as he explained. Meanwhile the guitarists’ pants tightened.

James likes them…oblivious. It was a horribly dark fantasy he has. The need to corrupt a innocent girl.

During practice, he couldn’t stop thinking about you and your sweet aura. Fuck, he had to talk to you. Even if Lars would kill him for doing so.

So one night, while the guys were having a random hangout which turned into a sleepover after they had one too many drinks, James creeped his way up to you room. The soft glow from your light peaked through the hallway and he walked inside to see your very girly pink room.

And there you were, on your tummy again but this time on your bed while you sketched something in a notebook. The blonde closed the door behind him making you jump and your head snap in the direction of the sound.

“James?” Your soft sweet voice sounded through the quiet room.

“Hey Y/n.” He responded before walking over and sitting on your bed, “Whatcha drawin’ there?” He motioned towards your notebook.

“Just some bunny rabbits cause I don’t know.” You blushed and giggled.

“You look like a little bunny rabbit.” The blonde said with a smile as he lightly pinched your cheek. You blushed more “Jamie.” You giggled. Oh god he loves when you call him that. Rarely would he ever let someone use that nickname for him but you? You can use it all you want.

“Hey do you mind if I hang out in here with you tonight? The guys are all passed out.”

“Sure.”

He took his shoes off and got comfortable on your bed. Then he leaned forward and grabbed you by your waist making you squeal in surprise before sitting you on his lap.

“James! You can’t do that!” You scolded but you were laughing.

“And why’s that?” He teased, tickling your side making you laugh and squirm, “Lars doesn’t like when- oh my goodness stop that tickles! When boys touch me.”

“Yeah? Well he’s not here now is he?” The frontman replied, stopping his tickling but moving his hand up your shirt towards your breasts.

“J-James what are you doing?” You asked dumbly.

“I just think you’re beautiful and I want to play with you, is it so difficult to understand?” Of course, you don’t know any better so you let him fondle your breasts making you moan at the foreign feeling.

“Can you take your shirt off for me baby?” You complied, taking your little white lace cami off to reveal your bare chest. His hands both came up behind you and tweaked your nipples, rolling them around in his fingers. “Jamie!” You gasped.

“Feels good doesn’t it honey?” You nodded, still a little unsure.

“Can you lay down for me?” The blonde asked gently and you nodded once again, lying down next to where he was sitting on your bed. He got up and tossed your sketchbook and pencils haphazardly onto the ground and pulled your legs so you’d get close to the edge of your bed. He carefully pulled your shorts and panties off, “Spread those legs for me baby. I just want to see how pretty you look down there.” His tone was so gentle and trusting. You had no idea how he really felt. How he was finally getting his perverse fantasy to come true.

As instructed, you spread your legs. “Oh god, look at that little pussy.” You didn’t know what any of those words meant minus the ‘oh god’ part but you felt like you could trust James, he’d never do anything to hurt you right? He’s older than you and knows more than you.

The guitarist slipped his finger up your folds making you jerk your hips up and hiss. You’re so sensitive down there. He licks his finger clean before getting down on his knees and licking a bold stripe against your pussy.

“Oh!” You moaned in surprise. The singer chuckled against you sending vibrations throughout your body. He continued to eat you out causing you to shiver and shake under him from all the newly found pleasure you experienced.

You felt yourself get overwhelmed with this tingly feeling in your cunt and you tried to back away to make James stop, “Please, James stop! It’s too much I don’t know what going on too tingly n’ itchy- oh!” You screamed out in pleasure as your first ever orgasm hit you like a truck.

“So good baby, oh my god you taste divine.” He moaned as he lapped up all your cum before standing up to check on you. He pressed a kiss to your lips before undoing his belt and letting his jeans and boxers fall to the floor.

His dick sprang to life hitting his stomach before he guided it to your core, rubbing it up and down your folds making you gasp, “What are you doing now?” You asked a little nervously.

“I’m playing with you, remember?” He didn’t want you to know exactly what he was doing to keep a tiny bit of your innocence for his own sick pleasure. He slowly entered your tight hole making you hiss in pain, “James stop! That hurts!” You cried but he kept entering you, staying still for a bit to let you adjust to the feeling.

Once you calmed down he started to thrust himself inside, and the pain you felt quickly turned to pleasure as he hit your g spot over and over. James gripped your hips as he fucked you.

“Fuuuck so perfect for me. Taking my dick so good.” He growled as he upped the pace making you moan and cry out. He didn’t care if anyone heard the two of you, he was too caught up in the moment.

“Jamie!” You cried out as you felt your second orgasm arriving and hitting you again making your vision white for a second. “You’re such a good girl letting your brother’s friend play with you like this.” The vocalist moaned before he pulled out of you to shoot his load on your tummy.

He scooped up his own cum with his finger and brought it to your mouth, “open.” He commanded and you did as he said, taking his finger in your mouth and tasting the salty release.

“Good girl.”

[ihatedtoadmit]

Art study

pairing: Bang Chan x gn! reader

genre: ...suggestive

warnings: nothing actually happens, so none besides teasing

word count: ~1.3k

summary: You're doing an art study on muscles, and who's a better candidate for reference than your wonderful boyfriend who keeps feeding his delulu fanbase with half-naked pictures?

a/n: Well well well, Nat, you don't have to pay to see me write something like this after all (if you will ever see this, because no chance am I tagging you or anyone, dear). Here, have fun, this is the most spice anyone can get out of my asexual ass.

↳ Main Masterlist

All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

You were a very reserved person, something your partner knew all too well. Every touch the two of you shared throughout the entirety of your relationship had no heat behind it, each one only fueled by pure adoration and love. Never once did a kiss turn hungry, hell, there had barely been any kisses the two of you had shared due to your lack of need for the action. Chan knew it all too well, and while he craved more, he also respected it. The last thing he wanted to do was to make you uncomfortable, and so he’d never stepped over that line.

That was the exact reason for his current shyness, the confusion that wanted to sit onto his face hard to mask. There he stood in your doorway, the desk before your hunched form cluttered with pencils and little crumbs of dirty erasers. You were entirely too focused on the task at hand to notice your boyfriend's presence, the song that flowed through your headphones much too loud to hear any footsteps or even words. And so you continued drawing, clueless about anything as your lover watched you work, eyes flitting between your sketch and the endless reference pictures on your screen.

Pictures about him, his back fully on display and unclothed.

A touch broke you out of your concentration as you erased a line for the fourth time, scaring you into throwing away the pencil in your clutches just so you could tear the headphones off your head.

“Interesting art you have there, love.” - Chan mused, yet his skin was as flushed as ever.

You joined him as you could feel your own skin heating up, ashamed that you’d been caught like this. Eyes looked at everything besides your boyfriend, yet you found comfort in that warm touch of his.

“I was just… doing a study, on muscles.” - the words were but a mere whisper, hand quickly reaching to minimise your browser and just hide it from a certain pair of prying eyes.

Still, there was a feeling clawing at the cage of your soul, ripping at the flesh to be let out and rampage freely. It was feral and vicious, planting a thought into your head that seemed impossible to get out, no matter how alien it felt. You could feel your breath hitch at the image that popped into your head, memories of the images you had been staring at for a while now overlapping.

The hand on your shoulder gently squeezed, breaking you out of your derailing thoughts.

“I don't mind, baby, it just… caught me off guard? Glad you enjoyed my performances though.” - Chan’s voice was light, mixing well with the shyness he was trying to hide.

It only urged that fierceness inside to break free, granting you a surge of confidence you would have never had otherwise.

Without any words you finally glanced up at the man you loved, finding him utterly handsome; you would hone your artistic skills for the rest of your life just to capture a fragment of that beauty. His skin was dusted with a faint red, ears painted by the deepest of shades. Those eyes you loved to get lost in were alight with an emotion you had seen them only hold whenever he looked at the boys, and it took your breath away within a heartbeat.

Your body moved on its own, towering over him as you now stood. His hair was still slightly wet from the shower he must have just taken, and you just knew he had been originally on his way to his room to swap his bathrobe for those comfy, black clothes he loved to don in his free time.

He searched your gaze, unsure, yet trusting. His hands comfortably placed themselves onto your hips; their touch was warm, the man before you always running hot. It was something you loved as he balanced out your always cold hands wonderfully, reaching the perfect temperature you both enjoyed.

“Hey, love. How was work today?” - you asked, leaning closer than usual as you swiped those dark curls out of Chan’s face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing for a second as he thought about his answer.

“The usual, although Hyunjin managed to piss off Minho again. It was a shoe this time that was the weapon, by the way.” - there was an airiness of joy to his words, yet no laugh accompanied it.

No, Chan was entirely too enamoured with the look you were giving him, as if you were worshipping him with your eyes alone. And maybe you were. With each look you studied the way your lover's skin moved, the shadows conforming accordingly. It lured you in, as if Chan was the siren and you were his prey, fated to be drowned in the vast oceans and seas.

He didn't move as you took him all in, hands eventually unable to keep themselves away. Your fingers were cold against the warmth of his fair skin, and you could hear his breath hitch, the muscles inside his neck moving beautifully.

There was something different in your touch, that much he knew, yet he wouldn't have it any other way.

As if you had never seen anything like it before, your hands glided over any free expanse of skin you could reach, memorising how the muscles hidden beneath curved and jumped at your touch. Never once did your eyes stray, wanting to remember every little detail. You wanted your art to be perfect, after all, to represent the real thing as closely as possible and that meant every little detail in their complete glory.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the white robe blocked you off, and so you slightly slid it off from one of Chan's shoulders. His hold on you tightened and you glanced at him briefly, seeing an intensity burning in those dark eyes, one you had never seen before.

You were playing with fire, and you could feel the heat of the danger.

Despite the clear wanting signs, you ignored them much like Icarus, hands now gliding down your lover's arm. Each touch held meaning, praising him in silence, singing odes about this man’s beauty. There was something so intriguing about watching the muscles connect to skin and bone, oh so perfectly toned and reacting to every touch of yours.

You stepped even closer, breaths mingling together as you reached into his robe, mapping out the vast skin of your partner's back. Every dip, every rise and imperfection was noted inside your head, the scorching star in Chan's eyes only growing in intensity as time passed. Your eyes flitted between those deadly stars and his neck, seeing it strain, muscles so tight that they jumped out of the skin in that lovely V-shape you could never grow bored of.

Then, as if something snapped, he gripped your waist with incredible force, not giving you a chance to escape. Despite that, no fear took residence inside you, your now warm fingers still laid peacefully on his shoulders.

“And what do I owe this extremely special moment to, baby?” - his words were a deep rumble, eyes begging for an answer with desperation.

“For being the most beautiful human to grace this planet, my wonderful love. Be my muse, please. Let me draw you, let me study you.” - you answered, one hand now cupping Chan's cheek tenderly, despite the uniquely heated situation.

As if that was the magic word to undo his binding, your lover moved, hauling your taller form easily onto the bed with him. There you were now, sat on his lap as he looked up at you expectantly, the intensity and love never diminishing in those bright eyes of his. Your sketchbook was still sitting beside you on the bed where you had originally thrown it at, hands itching to take it and immortalise what you had engraved into your mind in the past few minutes.

“I'll be your muse whenever, baby. All you needed to do was ask.”

[zodiyack]

Little Loner

Pairing(s): Jace Wayland x fem!reader

Warnings: clary being jealous but then cupid??, I wrote this while sleep deprived, fluff at the end, Clary x Simon if you squint.

Words: 1,743

Author's Note: I finally finished the requests. Now have some drafts while I work on sequels and stuff <3

Masterlist | The Mortal Instruments Masterlist

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read it,  @simonsbluee,  @thewarriorprincessxo,  @sebastianstanslefteyebrow,  @livlaughquinn,  @bubsonnobx,  @bunnyweasley23

Jace leads Clary to Hodge, but hesitates when he sees an open door. He finds himself pausing to admire the scene, leaning on the door frame with a crooked smile. Clary moves to get a better view and is confused.

A girl sits in a windowsill, her pencil hitting the paper lightly as she sketches out the scenery outside the window. The light appears to angle just right, giving her an almost angelic presence. Black runes cover her skin, some disappearing to hide under her clothes.

Clary leans over to Alec and whispers. "Who is that?"

Alec simply nods a little. "Y/N. Jace has a thing for her, but he's never acted on it." Clary feels her heart break a little. "Shame, really. She likes him too, but they're both too stubborn to be the one to confess."

"Oh..."

"My advice," Alec looks between her and the room, "stay away from Jace."

He moves on before she can ask much else, walking along the halls and calling to Jace quietly. Jace is brought back to reality as he gives one last look into the room before venturing on.

"So, Y/N..." Clary tries.

She doesn't miss when Jace blushes slightly, "another Shadowhunter. She's been here a long time, however she really only talks to me."

"Why's that?"

He chuckles a little but shakes his head. "That's none of my business to tell. She's a great person when you get to know her though." That's all the information he gives before they reach their destination. He opens the door and gestures inside with a nod.

His expression stays neutral, stoic as he explains, "You may find Hodge a little eccentric, but he's one of the greatest Shadowhunters that's ever lived." He looks down at the cloth in her hand and his brows furrow. "Here, give me that."

She walks inside of the giant room, her body and eyes exploring. The two boys walk in after her. They watch her carefully. Despite her distance, Clary can still hear Jace and Alec by the door.

"Don't lead this one on while you pursue your little loner. You'll get her hopes up, and if she decides to stay...the rune to fix a broken heart is the most painful one." She could practically feel Jace roll his eyes.

"I'm not leading her on."

"Oh? Is that so? Because I don't normally go around flirting and being handsy with random people, Jace." Alec warned. "It's obvious, the way Clary looks at you. I'd tone down your 'lack of leading her on' before she gets the wrong idea."

The doors shut suddenly, causing Clary to flinch, and Alec storms off down the hall, leaving Jace to think over his words. The more he thought about it, the more he tried to deny it.

Jace opens the door, "The Silent Brothers are ready for her."

When Clary and Jace set off for their next location, she noticed a new companion had replaced Alec. It was the girl from before. The girl that Jace liked.

"I didn't expect you to be joining us..." She tries to make conversation, but Y/N barely acknowledges her.

"I admire your attempt, but she won't talk. Not unless she's comfortable with you." Jace smiles at the girl in question, who smiles to herself but stays quiet.

"How long would that take?"

"Patience is a virtue, Clary." Jokes Jace. "I suppose I was the first person who ever really tried, so there's not much to go off of. She's coming with us because I asked her too."

The redheaded girl can't help but glance between the two every now and then. She isn't sure whether she feels jealous or wants them to be together, but she can say one thing for sure; The tension was nauseatingly strong.

"Why didn't Hodge come with us?"

"He hasn't left the institute in years." Jace shrugs as he continues walking. "Some say it's a spell."

"He's agoraphobic." Y/N giggles at Clary's bluntness, leading to the ginger giving her a small smile. One she returned. They stop and turn, Jace crossing his arms while he waits.

"Is that him?" Clary asks.

Jace follows her gaze and shakes his head. "No, that's Harold, the groundskeeper." He tilts his head, leaning in a bit, "that's him."

She looks up a little and feels a small shiver of unease crawl up her spine. A comforting hand is felt on her shoulder, and she's met with Y/N's smile when she turns her head. The action leaves her wondering how obvious her discomfort was, but she still is thankful.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Clary looks to the two as though asking for help, but nods regardless. "We will help you to remember."

The trio follow the tall robed man, Clary a little more hesitant. Y/N turns, kind smile still standing, and lifts a finger to the middle of her lips. Clary nods and follows behind.

Along the way she trips, "Ow!"

Jace turns his head instantly, shushing her. "You'll wake the dead."

Clary rolls her eyes. She catches Y/N giving her an apologetic shrug, the girl nodding with her head to continue.

"I can't believe this place is just outside of the city..."

She follows the duo to the window like ledge they looked through. Jace's voice catches her off guard, "Welcome to the City of Bones." His breath is right next to her ear, sending her hairs to stand on their ends.

"This is where the Silent Brothers draw their power, from the bones and ashes of Shadowhunters."

"All of them are buried here?"

"Yes." Jace looks to the wall, "One day," he taps a skull, making Y/N giggle, the sound eliciting a smile to slide upon his pink lips, "that's gonna be me."

Clary stops to look at the skeleton. Sensing her unease, Y/N urges her forward with a light touch. Clary stops a few steps forward, inspecting the room from entryway.

"This is as far as we go." She looks at Jace, and he assures her, "You'll be fine."

"So you've done this before?"

Y/N and Jace exchange a glance. She dawns an apologetic look as shakes her head and Jace replies, "No."

Clary decides to continue to try and talk to Y/N, "Have you ever met Magnus Bane?"

The girl only shakes her head.

"You know... I'm quite jealous of you." Clary admits with a laugh. Y/N tilts her head in confusion, prompting Clary to continue. "I thought Jace was into me, and if I'm being honest, I'm really into him but... I'd be stupid to stand in your guys' way."

Her brows furrow, even more confused than before. Clary's hopes range from high to doubtful, there's a chance Alec was wrong, that she didn't have feelings for him, but she saw the way the two looked at each other. She might've been naïve and clouded in her conflicting feelings, but she wasn't blind.

"Jace likes you too. And honestly...you should go for it." She looks away, ashamed of her own assistance in helping the guy she liked be with someone else. However, she doesn't have time to mope, when a voice she hasn't heard before causes her to snap her eyes back to Y/N's face.

"Is it that obvious?" A shy expression, laced with a little embarrassment, greets her.

"You-"

"I talk, yes." She chuckles. "Jace wasn't lying. I mostly talk to him, but after I realized my feelings for him, I started to confide in Alec. My only problem was that I didn't realize Alec also had feelings for Jace... But, Alec saw how much I love Jace, and told me that he had found interest in someone else. Whether that's true or not, I don't know, but, my feelings for Jace have always been around since then. I'm just...not too sure what to do about it."

Clary nods understandingly, and places her hand atop Y/N's. "Talk to him."

Y/N thinks about it for moment, and then nods. "Thank you."

"Hey. Can we talk?" Jace turns, nodding when he realizes it's Y/N. The blond looks around the infirmary, making sure Simon and Clary are accounted for one more time before he returns to facing her. He follows her to the study, sitting beside her on the piano seat.

"What's wrong?"

Her fingers press into the keys, a slow recollection of a piece by Bach. "It's nothing... I spoke to Clary-'

"You talked to Clary?" Y/N giggles at his dumbfounded expression. "M'sorry, that just caught me a little off-guard, you don't normally talk to anyone else."

"That's fair. Basically, she gave me some advice to a problem I have, not that I asked her for it- she actually noticed it- anyways, after Simon and the vampires and everything- I guess- my point is, Jace..."

"Yes?" His eyes were laced with concern, no longer amused by her sudden socializing.

"I like you. Like, really really like like you." She bit her lip. "Like...I'm in love with you."

Y/N stared at Jace, waiting for his answer. She grew nervous as time started to feel slower. The seconds felt like they were snail's paced, so close yet so far away. Sweat dripped down her forehead and her heartbeat rang in her ears. It was all so overwhelming until-

"I'm in love with you too."

"You what?"

Jace smiled shyly. "I'm in love with you too. I've been for a long time now." His eyes trace over her lips, the distance between them closing gradually. He hovers above her lips when his eyes meet hers again.

It's all in slow motion and superspeed at the same time. She lets go of control and lets her instincts take the reigns. Her lips crash into his and he lets out a surprised groan. Their eyes both close as they kiss one another, their lips partaking in a dance they somehow know. By the time they pull apart, they're out of breath and their eyes are blown.

"How long?"

She blinks. "Pardon?"

"How long have you been waiting to do that?"

"If I'm being honest, a month or so after we met. What about you?" Y/N giggles.

"Since we first met."

Clary leans against the door, heart half broken and half full, yet content with herself. Maybe she should look into what Simon's benefits are.

[m3vl0vesu]

𝑨 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 2

..............................................................................................................................

<The rest of your journey home was a blur, all you know is that you will not be going school tomorrow. Even if that means lying to your parents.>

.

.

Sadly you were too much of a pussy to do so…plus you had art today. 

You managed to escape the grasp of your little sister,how could such a little person be such a deep sleeper?

 You picked up the uniform that was scattered on the floor, digging up the obnoxious-coloured tie from under a pile of sweaters. There was no way you were going to make it through the school day, but for some reason you just could not be bothered to try lying. And you lied a lot.

.

.

.

I mean it was Gotham, you were bound to see hear someone get shot. Especially since it was almost dark out.

 The weather was colder than usual, as you passed the same alleyway as last night you noticed the yellow and black tape through the corner of your eye. It surprised you, I mean you half-expected to pass by a dead body. But no, instead it looked like whoever got shot was important…

Why would someone important be in this part of Gotham? Your mind was full of thoughts throughout the drive, why couldn't your mind ever be empty? Once you reached the school halls it began. The weird tightening feeling in your stomach, the way your bag seemed to get a lot heavier, the way your throat felt dry. It happened every time you were alone here. Where the hell were your friends? Friends.

… Did they even like you? Were you being too clingy lately? Were your constant hugs and need for hand-holding too much for them? Were you too much for the-…

“Where ya been girlie?” You hear a familiar voice say as you feel an arm wrap around your shoulder. A few other smiling faces not too far behind,what if…they were fake smiles? What if they were just being nice… And what if your mind just shut the fuck up? . . . Everything seems to happen too quickly. Break and lunch seemed too short, and you barely spoke a word. Of course they were worried, you had barely smiled at all this whole week and now you were practically going mute. Everything was so tiring, the intimidating circles underneath your eyes proved it, but even when things got this bad you managed to smile through it. Now?

Now it was already the last period, Art. You loved Art. The beautifully coloured walls, the papers you organised just yesterday…yesterday. And Miss Williams You loved Miss Williams, she was genuinely a funny and caring person. You definitely didn’t see her as a mother figure. Definitely not obsessed with her, no.

Not at all. As soon as your friends hurried over to their lessons you feel a wave of annoyance wash over you. One thing you didn’t like about Art class is that you had to sit next to him. Damian Wayne. It also made you feel a bit guilty as to why, for no reason at all, you did not like that rich boy. Maybe it was jealousy? Yeah that’s probably it. “...why don’t you take a seat.” Miss Williams' voice once again had stopped you from staring. God you have such a bad staring problem don’t you? It was worse since he was also staring at you…well more like glaring. Maybe he doesn’t like you either, what a comforting thought. 

If there was one word you’d use to describe him is unbothered. Or maybe he was just stuck up and arrogant…or maybe that was just your general view of any rich boy. Especially the rich boy.

…

Shit. You were staring again weren’t you? It was obvious since he was looking back with a guarded expression. Your head snapped to your pretty much empty paper, you were supposed to be doing a sketch that represented how you felt. How did you feel? Bored? Sad? Your paper was empty, nothing but eraser shavings and pencil smudges. Empty…

“So like I’ve been saying…” Say? Speaking? Oh. Right, where were you?

Your amazing, lovely, sweet teacher (okay maybe you were a little bit obsessed) was talking about an art project. An art project you already knew about a month prior due to being a part of the art club. So you were very prepared for the words. 

“It has to be with the person you're sitting next to.” Words that would’ve sent you into a spiral if you hadn’t known already. You turn around to a brunette boy in the corner making an exaggerated sad face as he mouthed something you couldn’t make out. His antics made you laugh, usually, but right now even smiling was too hard.

God, you were disappointing weren’t you? A melody of complaints and groans fill up the room, even the boy next to you sighed. Ouch. But fair enough, it was clear you two did not have a liking towards one another. He was also one of the few other student from the Art club that knew of the project, so yeah the reaction kinda hurt. AND he rolled his eyes? Yeah. Definitely against this guy. With a scowl on your face, you turn back to your paper. Still empty. You don’t know how long you stare at it for since the bell had just rang and everyone was hurrying out. UnFortunatley for you, due to not completing the work you needed to stay behind for a bit.

The clothes on your back felt heavier than needed when you heard your name being called out. 

You would like to be one of those students that don’t care what their teachers say but you simply could not be.

 It’s too expensive of an attitude, one that went way past your budget. Lets hope that the tears don’t start to pour,  because being shouted at by her?  Pretty sure your heart would fail. It’d be even worse since Damian was here…well more like he was lingering out the door. 

His footsteps were always so quiet, like a ninja or something.

“You there?” 

…were you? 

You nod. “You know your paper’s empty right sweetheart?” her southern accent obvious in her words. You nod. “I could get you in trouble y’know that?” Your nails dig into your palm before your answer. Nod. A small silence followed before her expression softened and she sighed. “Get some rest, lovely. I’ll see ya next week?” That’s the thing, were you going to make it to next week? Your nails pressed harder into your flesh and you managed to open your mouth and make out one word. “Yeah…” and you hope your voice didn’t crack because all you could do at the moment was turn around and walk out. 

The mask you so desperately needed to stay was cracking by the second. It was so hard to speak -when she was being so nice- at all. To you it was clear that she was frustrated, you didn’t want to disappoint her. Please no. God no.

You were pathetic. Hopefully he couldn’t tell.

.

. Friday  3:09pm (third person)

. Damian stood there, hands in pockets as he looked at the girl. Something was obviously wrong, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. 

But this was also the same girl that would leave the room he was in, stare and give him weird looks. 

So to put it simply, he didn’t really care nor bothered to ask. His presence had always been so daunting to her, ever since he first joined. There was always something that put her off. The awkward tension had washed away any sentimental emotion she was feeling. There was a certain level of resentment she felt when looking at the difference in the uniforms. Even though they both wore the same school uniforms, he just looked more expensive, sleek and clean. His pants were probably tailored and not from fucking target. His shirt was made from a fabric that wasn’t see-through and it looked like he had a proper tie instead of a clip on one. It made her stomach twist and face burn with embarrassment. I mean the reason she wore  pants with the uniform instead of a skirt wasn’t just because of comfortability, it was because you’d have to buy a specific skirt that’d cost money. Money her parents didn’t have. So instead she opted for some simple black pants that she either thrifted or bought at target. She didn’t remember. Anyway, enough about the uniforms. She walked a few steps behind him, waving bye to her friends as she passed them in the hallway. .

. Friday  3:17 pm (second person)

. Your phone stared back at you, your mothers contact displayed. Damian was still just a few steps in front, waiting. A few minutes prior both of you decided to go to his place, there was no way he was stepping anywhere near yours. It was too dangerous of a place for a kid like him. And you were also pretty sure he’d get kidnapped, he was a Wayne afterall. But that meant calling your mother. The phone rang for a few seconds before you heard her tired voice. Tired.“Hi Mom…” you bit back the urge to call her mama as she responded with a low hum. “I have a school thing, do you think you can pick up the others?” You were already tense enough as is but the next few words made you want to throw up. “I’ll have your dad pick ‘em up sweetie. He’s back in Gotham.” … Maybe going to Wayne Manor isn’t such a bad idea. Before your mother could ask about this school thing you cut the call. Your arm fell limp at your side as you walked to where Damian was standing. 

Your heart beat ringed in your ears, she sounded so happy saying that. Snap. “…” Did this motherfucker just snap his fingers to get you attention? You looked towards his direction, only for him to be walking away. You followed him towards a car, a car that made you feel even smaller than you already did. This was going to be a long few weeks .

.

.

At least you were away from home for a while.

.

.

.

This was weird and awkward! So awkward. Neither of you liked each other, neither of you ever spoke to one another and now you were sitting in his dads fancy car. Could a car even be this size?

 As you felt the car stop and you could barely move. Sure you had seen Wayne manors in pictures, videos online and such-but to be this close? It looked surreal, to your. An extensive garden with multiple large animal-shaped bushes. Even from the car you can tell the level of detail and work that was put in building this timeless structure. You wish you could say it awed you but instead it just made you feel more insecure and dirty. It was even worse that Damian just got up and walked towards the entrance, no appreciation for such beautiful architecture. … Oh right. This was his home. A place he saw and lived in everyday..

.

.

Each step you took you could feel the unease start to creep in, you held on to your bag tighter. Like it was going to help in this nerve-wracking situation.

The doors towered over you, the dark oak such a pretty contrast to the light stone. It ade your stomach twist as the inside revealed literal heaven. A large chandelier hung above what looked to be a…ballroom? It was a mix of modern and an old-money style, the bottom floor was very open. It felt empty and full at the same time, you squeezed the shoulder strap of your bag. You were right…you were out of place. It made you feel dirty and small. Damian just looked like he fit in? Now look at you, there was an obvious difference. And you hated it. Why did you have to do this? Why was the universe out to get you? The art project required you to get to know your partner. You were supposed to draw a portrait with the person your paired up with but it has to represent them, so, like, if your partner’s favourite colour was blue maybe you’d draw/paint the portrait using only blue. Get the gist? So obviously you were going to fail. .

.Friday 3:22 pm

.

You sat at the stretched out table, something you thought only existed in movies and haunted mansions. And you were pretty sure a building that looked like how the Wayne manor did, it was going to be haunted. His sharp green eyes not moving from yours. Was this a staring contest? Cause you were pretty sure you were going to win if it was. “So…” You clear your throat, god you were going to throw up. “Do you like cookies?” Damian asked, his question throwing you off. “Uh…uhm…” Did you have to stutter in a moment like this? “Yeah?” “Okay.” He then called out for a man named ‘Pennyworth’, no way that was someone's name. As you looked up again an old lanky man appeared behind Damian, the same one that had driven the car. This was a very weird situation, asking someone to get cookies for you? An old person? Wasn’t that rude? Even if he was a servant…or do they call him a butler? .

.

.

The cookies were awesome though, delicious, amazing-they were just really good. Now back to the nightmare of socialising. “Are…cookies your favourite?” You asked, spinning the pencil in your hand. He just shrugged. This was getting nowhere obviously but you might as well get your sketchbook out. The zipper was stuck for a second, adding to your embarrassment, before you opened your bag. .

.

.

So far all you had was that he liked animals, and the colour black. This sucked. No more cookies you thought to yourself as you looked at the plate, a few beige crumbs left. It would be rude not to put it away right? Or would he just have ‘Pennyworth’ come collect it. “I can…I can put it away for you?” For some reason this caught him off guard. He narrowed his eyes and just shook his head “I will.” … Did you do something wrong? What was with his tone? Did he think you’d infect the plate or something? 

…

You close your eyes, deep breaths. Just like yesterday…you could still remember the way your heart dropped and ear rang. The way the sound echoed through your ears, the sound of the body. Thump. Thump. It was so clear you could practically hear it in front of you- …you opened your eyes. It was a cat. .

.(guys this sucks so bad, I’m sorry i’m so lazy)

.

Damian stood there, in the kitchen holding the plate with a blank but proud expression. “I think I did well.” “Yes Master Damian. Your hospitality skills are improving” Alfred answered, not any true emotion behind the words. .

.

.

“His name is Alfred.” You nodded, the cat now sitting by your legs. You added animal lover to the list. But other than that this was going nowhere. All he knew about you was that you liked the colour green. . .(I’m sorry if you don’t like the colour green :( ) . Now this was the most embarrassing thing ever. Why would they try to drive you home? Were they trying to embarrass you? Trying to get their cars damaged?

 “No-it’s alright! Really, I can just take the bus” “Nonsense-” “No! It’s fine…I don’t wanna be a problem.” You didn’t like cutting the old man off but honestly? There was no way, these people wouldn’t survive anywhere near such an area… If only you knew.

.

.

.

A/N: So fucking sorry this sucks. It’s kind of rushed and ugh. Schools sucked any whimsy out of me and I’m so de-motivated, I promise it will get better. Lore WILL be revealed I pinky promise. Just give me time I always try to keep Reader as ambiguous as possible, this is a F!reader fic but you can read no matter what gender! :D

taglist

@pix-stuff @kitsuneton @hoforfictionalmen-andwomen @itwaszzmoon

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello! May I request a reader x Keegan drabble where the reader is an artist in secret?

Sure, they roam the wake of no mans land in a ravaging war, but in the moments they are not on missions they capture the scenery around them. Wether it be on rooftops, surrounding woods or abandoned shelters, the reader revels in the few moments of silence they have before another bombardment of bloodshed is thrown their way to remember places or things around them before they eventually move again

How would Keegan react, let alone if he caught reader sketching him?

Thank you for your time, have a good day :D

—Paint The Dawn; Paint My Eyes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [In the midst of war and death, there's little time for pleasure. All you had was a ripped-up sketchbook to call your own, its contents littered with the rough face of your comrade.] ❞

The camp is quiet, and you are tired. 

Looking out along the wreckage of this wasted world, there seems to be no end to the broken valleys or the craters of rock—this desolation remains as if an angry God had thrown a tantrum, and smashed the earth to bits. Trees grew sideways, wreckage that could be bits of houses or even remnants of bone breed in the little spaces under moss and bush; where the rest died, nature took back what was hers. Thus, the cycle continued.

What breathes, dies, and with that firm and undisputable reality, you find beauty in moments like these. 

You blink down at what still breathes of the patchwork lungs of No Man’s Land, pencil in your hand still for but a moment of red-eyed concentration. The deer was down in the dip below the Ghosts’ quiet camp for the steadily growing night—white where it should be a tawny-blonde shade. Barely breathing, you watch with half of its albino form sketched out in short bursts of graphite on your sun-bleached possession. 

A sketchbook, old, and worn to the very binding of its pages, and yet to you a more prized possession had never been held in your grip. 

So focused on the deer and its white shadow; its lithe body as it grazes along the forest floor amidst a soft rustling of leaves, you don’t notice the man behind you—a man supposed to be sleeping. 

It’s a minute of looking at your awe-filled face before Keegan clears his throat, speaking in a low grumble. “Not every day you see that, huh?”

You startle back so quickly that your pencil slips out of your hand, bouncing off your thighs before clattering to the flat rock that serves as your lookout platform. A clink of metal on stone is all it takes, the pencil falling down into the lower land and striking through greenery as you gasp and snap your eyes away. The flighty heart of the deer all at once sparked in a puff of air from its nostrils and a flair of a raised tail. 

It disappears into the bushes and its white flash is seen until the thick foliage swallows it again. You look back just in time to grace your eyes with one last glimpse. 

A deep disappointment blooms and you level out a sigh as Keegan clicks his tongue, guiltily rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.

“Shit, Sweetheart,” he hums, “didn’t mean to…” Keegan tapers off with a low groan. “I’ll, uh, get you a new pencil when we’re back, yeah?” 

You stare at the forest a moment longer before huffing out and shifting—you turn and glance at the Sergeant before grumbling out, “You have a nasty habit of sneaking up on people, Russ. I don’t like it when it’s me.”

Blue eyes meet yours, his body still in gear and armed just like yours. Even sleeping, Ghosts bore the fangs of the living. Keegan’s face is down a mask, though, so you’re privy to see his built jaw and strong features in the moonlight. Black hair like a void. 

He sighs. 

“Again, didn’t mean to. Thought you knew I was there.” Your eyes roll, but a small smirk snaps your lip.

“Of course you did.” Huffing and shaking his head, the man comes to lean against your rock. 

“What ya workin’ on anyways? Seen you scribblin’ in that thing every chance you get. Got curious enough tonight to ask when I saw you up during Ajax’s watch.” He blinks at you, swirling with curiosity and dim intrigue. “You take over for him?”

You smile, shrugging. “Maybe.” Keegan stares and raises a dark brow as your form leans closer, presenting your object of patience and smudged graphite. “You gonna wake him up?”

The man takes the object and studies your half-finished work with an acute eye, taking in the lines and erased bits that indent the paper. He tilts his head at it and a moment later he grunts an answer, lost in thought. 

“Depends.” Blue meets your vision in a slow sweep. “You tired?”

Face burning, you clear your throat and begin to stutter a negative before the worst moment of your life takes place. 

Keegan grabs one page of your sketchbook and starts flipping. Heart lurching and eyes wrenching open to the size of dinner plates, your hand snatches at the old cover—but not before the damage is done.

The dead-gazed Sergeant locks onto a perfect image of his own sleeping body from hours earlier. Drawn face soft and calm in the gray of blended material that you’d had to use your finger to achieve, and limbs loose; he almost seemed to come off the page in an intensive display of detail. 

Keegan pauses and feels his jaw slightly slacken, eyes going that bit wider before his brows lift in shocked pleasure. Your hand latches onto the top of your book and rips it from the man’s grasp easily.

“Did anyone ever tell you it’s rude to go through people’s things?!” Your heart is racing, palms going clammy. At your chest, you hold your belonging with a tight scoff of embarrassment.

Keegan’s lids move up and down three times in quick succession before he replies. A tease is so deep in his words you cringe with a burning face.

“Anyone tell you it’s rude to watch people sleep, Sweetheart?” Glaring, you have to look away. 

It wasn’t exactly common knowledge to others that you liked the gruff man, but if anyone took one look into your sketchbook they’d know the truth. Pages were dedicated to finding the perfect slant of his eyes—that structure of his jaw and his broken-one-to-many-times nose. 

His lips and how his skin looked when he smirked. 

Shame tightens your face and you stare hard at the trees a few feet away; the sleeping forms of your comrades. Until a smooth chuckle leaves you breathless. 

A puff of air spreads over your cheek but you don’t dare turn your head. 

Keegan whispers to you slowly, that gravel in his tone and his lips brushing against your ear as he leans closer to you—arms crossed in front of him.

“If you wanted me to pose there, Doll, all you had to do was ask me. No use watchin’ from a distance…I’ll give you the full tour.” 

He walks off back to his mat of leaves and grass and you’re left gaping and choking on your own thoughts; honied vision dripping shock.

Keegan calls easily over his shoulder as if his comment hadn’t made your pulse pound, “I’m waking up Ajax—go back to bed. Scenery’ll be the same come morning.” 

You breathe in his sly quip, “trust me.”

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[noemilivv]

HIYA HIYA!!! this is the super energetic bro that u matched with velvette, qnd I was curioussss to requesttttt smthhh (also maybe if u want to easier identify me I could be ✨️anon??)

Ok! SO! ~Imagine~ maybeee that angel has a person he is romantically interested in (reader)

And so reader is ~severely introverted~ and thus, not much is know about them. But! Charlie is leading a art group one day, for like, rehab bc art therapy is super big, and reader is really good at it, and basically drops lore that they where in college to be an art therapist‼️

And so‼️

Maybe angel, seeing this opportunity to get closer, and was like- "ayo want me to model 4 u??👀👀" and reader is like " pls wear clothes this isn't gunna be nude modeling bc I will get super embarrassed" and so basically soft fluff of reader painting angel and getting to know each other and confession

Mayybbee a oneshot?? If ur willing! Nor pressure

Also make sure to take time to urself and rest and eat water and drink food!!!

Lots of love from a silly Lil fan!! :))

hello dear!! ofc you can be ✨ anon, you’re already on my list haha, as i’ve stated in the past, im not amazing at oneshots, but here’s my take on this !

Warnings: Mentions of Nudity, Lazily written (sorryyyy), Pretty short

“Smooth Talker”

Angel Dust x Artist!Reader

After one of Charlie’s…interesting exercises, Vaggie suggests that the group should do therapy art, since y’know, it calms the soul. And Charlie couldn’t be more eager to do so!

The lobby was set up with canvases, paints, brushes, everything you could need!

Unlike most of Charlie’s previous activities, almost everyone was willing to participate, although Husk and Alastor kinda stood off to the side and watched.

Charlie was painting a cartoon version of Razzle and Dazzle, Vaggie was painting a sunset based off of the lesbian flag, Pentious was painting him in his war machine taking over Hell, and Niffty? Eh.. You don’t wanna know..

You on the other hand? Stood in front of your canvas, clueless, “Y’know, I could model for you..” Angel says into your ear.

Your head turned to face him “Sure.” You say nonchalantly before turning back to your canvas.

“Wait really?-”

“Just please keep your clothes on.”

Eventually you had moved your stuff over to the other side of the lobby so Angel could pose on the couch.

He had a soft smirk, as he layed on the couch, his arm propping up his face. Although, he began to get fidgety, messing with his fluff.

“Stop moving.” You said with a soft smile.

Angel kept messing his fluff. “Ange!”

“Gee, sorry!” He said, chuckling, moving his arm back to its original position.

“So uh, how’d you get into all this?” Angel asked as the sketching of your pencil went to a stop and you began actually painting it. “College, back when I was alive I wanted to be an art therapist.” You explained.

“Fitting.” He murmured. For the most part, it was silent, a comforting silence though, the presence of each other was oddly soothing.

“Okay.” You muttered, squiggling your signature down at the bottom of the canvas quickly, “I’m done.” You announce to him, turning the canvas around to show him.

Angel perks up immediately, amazed by your skill, he slowly gets up off the couch to get a closer look. “Damn…” He said, his voice above a whisper, “Can I… Can I keep it?” He asked, hopeful that you might say yes, “Duh.” You giggled.

“For once the smooth talker is shocked, that’s new.” You say with a smirk. “And for once the introvert is talking back, that’s new.” Angel replies, but the usual attitude in his voice isn’t there, his voice is barely above a whisper as his eyes are still entranced with the painting.

You take the painting off the stand and hand it to Angel. You look over to a nearby window notice the sun is setting, despite the red sky still being as clear as day, “It’s getting late, I’m gonna head up to my room.” You say. “Yeah… Me too.”

As you and Angel are both walking to your rooms, you don’t say much, until a voice pipes up, “Y’know, I really owe ya for the painting.” Angel says, still looking at it, “Owe me what?” You ask, as you both arrive at your door.

“A date, maybe.” Angel says, pecking your forehead, “Stop by my room at eight tomorrow, if your interested~”