#captive center model

[zcoordinate]

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[meleeyz]

୭ 𝗜𝗡 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘 ˚. ᵎᵎ 

ekko 𝒙 fem!reader

୨୧ English is not my first language, so I regret in advance if something reads weird or is misspelled.

୨୧ I love that you love dad!Ekko as much as I do, I have like three or four drafts on this and I'm not going to stop now.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

The Firelights hideout was never quiet, not truly. Even at night, the creak of wood, the faint buzz of firefly, and the occasional murmur of voices filtered through the air. Yet tonight, the sounds grated on you more than usual. You sat alone in the main room, slumped in a chair, your legs stretched out, and your head resting against the backrest. Your body was still, but your mind raced.

The meeting earlier had drained you. Every face in the crowd, every raised voice, every plea, every challenge—they were all into your memory. There were no easy answers when it came to survival. Staying in the hideout offered safety, but at what cost? Heading into battle was madness, and yet you had found yourself standing at the front of the room, advocating for just that.

Jayce Talis had begged.

The thought still lingered, making your stomach churn. The golden man of Piltover, the symbol of everything Zaun despised, had been desperate enough to cross the divide and plead for help. It was absurd. It was dangerous. And it was necessary.

You looked over at Wyeth’s crib, just a few feet away. He was still awake, his tiny fingers caressing the mobile Ekko had built for him. Little Firelight models swayed lazily above it, glowing faintly in the dimly lit room. His giggles broke the heavy silence from time to time, a sound that filled you with warmth.

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. You were exhausted, but sleep felt like a luxury you couldn’t afford. For your people. For your baby. For the memory of the man you loved.

Ekko.

The name still made your chest ache. Some nights, you let yourself believe he’d be back, that he’d walk through the door like nothing had happened, his grin as bright as ever. Other nights, you couldn’t even say his name. Not out loud. It hurt too much.

A sudden commotion outside jolted you upright. Voices—louder than usual—echoed through the hideout. The door slammed open, and Roux burst in, her curls wild and her chest heaving as if she’d run the whole way.

You shot her a sharp look, raising a hand to signal for quiet, but Wyeth didn’t so much as flinch. He was still captivated by the spinning fireflies above him, his tiny hand outstretched.

“Roux,” you said, your voice low and steady despite the tension knotting your muscles. “What’s going on?”

For a moment, she didn’t answer. She stood frozen, her dark eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and relief. And then, she smiled—a wide, genuine smile that lit up her whole face.

She didn’t say a word, just nodded at you, her expression speaking volumes.

Your heart lurched in your chest. No, it couldn’t be—

You shot to your feet, crossing the room in three strides to scoop Wyeth into your arms. He let out a surprised coo, his hands grabbing at the edge of your shirt. You didn’t have time to comfort him, your feet already moving toward the stairs.

The shelter was alive with movement. Firelights crowded the central area, their voices a buzzing cacophony. They were clustered together, their faces turned toward the center where a figure stood, just barely visible through the sea of bodies.

You pushed your way forward, your grip on Wyeth tightening with each step. Your breath came faster, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Please, let it be him.

The Firelights parted as you approached, one by one stepping aside as if they could sense the urgency in your movements. And then you saw him.

Ekko.

He stood there, his hair disheveled, his clothes dirty and torn, but his smile was as radiant as ever. His eyes locked onto yours, and in that instant, it was as if time itself had rewound.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice carrying over the crowd.

Your heart tightened, a wave of relief and disbelief crashing over you. You barely registered the people around you as you stepped closer, Wyeth squirming in your arms, reaching out toward the man who looked just like him.

And then—

You woke with a start, your chest heaving, your heart pounding like a drum. The room was dark, the faint hum of the hideout returning to your ears.

For a moment, you sat there, frozen, the vivid memory of Ekko’s face lingering like a phantom. Then, reality set in. You were still in the main room, slouched in the same chair as before.

But something was wrong.

Wyeth.

The crib was empty.

Panic shot through you like lightning as you scrambled to your feet, your eyes darting around the room. The hanging firefly mobile swayed gently, untouched.

“Wyeth?” you called, your voice breaking.

The silence that followed was deafening.

The air was suffocating, panic pounding in your chest as your eyes darted around the dimly lit room. Where was Wyeth? Your fists clenched, your pulse racing as the dark corners seemed to stretch endlessly.

You stepped forward, instinctively grabbing the nearest object you could find—Ekko’s hammer. The weight of it was familiar, grounding you for just a moment. Your knuckles whitened around its handle as you heard the faintest sound behind you, the scrape of a boot against the floorboards.

Someone was there.

Without thinking, you spun around, raising the hammer high, ready to strike—but a hand caught your wrist mid-swing, strong and firm. The hammer slipped from your grip, clattering to the ground.

The dim light caught the edges of his face first—the familiar curve of his jawline, the wild twists of his hair—and then his eyes. Those unmistakable, tear-filled eyes.

“Ekko?”

He stood there, smiling softly, as if you hadn’t just tried to bash his skull in.

“Aren’t you going to say hello to me?” His voice cracked at the edges, but the warmth in it was unmistakable.

For a moment, you couldn’t move. Your mind raced to catch up with your heart, which was already soaring, even as doubt clung to the edges of your thoughts. Was this another dream? A cruel trick?

Your knees nearly buckled. You’d been sleeping, and somehow, while you were lost in restless dreams, he had come back.

“Ekko…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He didn’t wait for an answer. In an instant, his arms were around you, pulling you into him with all the strength he had. You collapsed against his chest, your hands clutching his shirt as the floodgates opened. Tears poured down your face, sobs wracking your body as weeks of fear, anger, and loneliness spilled out all at once.

His hand cradled the back of your head, his other arm locked tightly around your waist as if letting go wasn’t an option.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, over and over, his words barely audible through his own tears. “I’m so sorry for being gone so long.”

You couldn’t respond, your voice lost to the ache in your chest. Instead, you buried your face in his shoulder, breathing him in, letting his presence ground you. He was here. He was real.

As you clung to him, your eyes drifted over his shoulder to the crib on the other side of the adjoining room. Wyeth was there, fast asleep, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. Relief coursed through you like a tidal wave. He was safe.

Ekko’s voice pulled you back to him.

“I love you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you with all my heart. I love you in every universe.”

The last sentence made you pause. You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your brows furrowing.

“What does that mean?”

His smile wavered, his hand brushing a tear from your cheek.

“I’ll explain everything,” he said softly. “But not tonight.”

You hesitated, but the exhaustion in his eyes—the weariness that mirrored your own—stilled your questions. Whatever it was, it could wait. For now, all that mattered was that he was here.

You melted back into his embrace, feeling his heartbeat steady against your own.

The night stretched on, the war outside the hideout forgotten for the time being.

Ekko hadn’t let go of you for hours, and you didn’t want him to. You sat together on the small bed in your shared room, Wyeth nestled between the two of you. He stirred occasionally.

Ekko watched him with an expression you couldn’t quite name—equal parts wonder and guilt.

“He’s gotten so big,” he murmured, his fingers gently tracing the soft curls on Wyeth’s head.

“You should have seen him a month ago,” you said, your voice light but tinged with lingering sadness. “He couldn’t stop rolling over. Drove me crazy.”

Ekko chuckled softly, his gaze flickering to yours.

“You’re incredible, you know that?”

You shook your head, brushing off the compliment, but he caught your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice firm. “You’ve held everything together while I was gone. Our son, the Firelights, the shelter—you did all of it.”

Tears pricked at your eyes again, but you bit them back.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

Ekko leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry I made you do it alone. I should’ve been here.”

“Then don’t leave again,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I won’t,” he said, the conviction in his tone wrapping around your heart like a promise. “Never again.”

For the first time in months, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. There were still so many questions, so many battles ahead, but for now, none of it mattered. Ekko was home.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

The morning sun filtered through the hideout’s windows, despite the warmth of the new day, there was a heaviness in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the battle yet to come. People moved through the corridors in hushed tones, preparing for what was ahead, stealing fleeting moments of connection with those they held dear.

Ekko stood in the tiny kitchen, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of morning. The space was simple but functional—weathered counters, mismatched cabinets, and a small table barely big enough for two. Wyeth sat snug in his father’s arms, his tiny hands grasping at the bottle Ekko held steady.

Ekko had a way of moving that was both fluid and deliberate, like he carried the weight of the world with practiced ease. This morning, however, there was something different about him. His usually sharp eyes were softer, fixed on his son with a mix of love and wonder.

You stood just outside the doorway, your hand resting on the frame as you paused. You hadn’t intended to linger, but the sound of Ekko’s voice stopped you in your tracks. He wasn’t speaking to you—or anyone else for that matter. He was talking to Wyeth, his tone gentle, the words almost a lullaby.

“You know,” Ekko began, adjusting the bottle in Wyeth’s tiny hands, “where I was, everything was… different. Almost perfect, I guess.” He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as if still trying to believe it himself. “Zaun wasn’t like this. No war. No infected trees. No fighting just to survive.”

Your brow furrowed as you leaned closer, trying to make sense of what he was saying. What did he mean by different?

Ekko continued, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had seen too much in too little time.

“It was wild, kiddo. My friends were alive. My family. Everyone I lost… they were all there. And Zaun?” He smiled wistfully. “Zaun was alive. Really alive. It was a city of light, not smoke. People thrived there, not just got by and your grandpa Benzo still had his shop, believe it or not,” he chuckled softly, though there was a sadness in it. “And I didn’t have to carry so much. No fight, no death.”

Your breath hitched as he spoke. Whatever he had experienced while he was gone, it had left its mark on him. You clenched your fists against the doorway, torn between wanting to step inside and wanting to hear more.

“But you know what I liked most about it?” Ekko asked, his smile softening as Wyeth gurgled in response. “Your mommy.”

Ekko’s gaze dropped to his son, his thumb brushing against the soft curls on Wyeth’s head.

“I loved her there, just like I love her here. Only difference is, in that world…” His voice trailed off for a moment, a faraway look in his eyes. “We were married.”

You froze, a sudden heat rising to your cheeks. Married?

“She was just as stubborn, though,” Ekko chuckled, shaking his head. “Still had that fire in her. Still drove me crazy, but in the best way.”

Married. You had never thought much about marriage—there hadn’t been time to. Survival always came first. But the way he spoke about it, the way he described you and him together in that other world…

Ekko shifted Wyeth in his arms, his expression growing fonder with every word.

“We had so much fun, you know? Playing with your other version. You were bigger there, running around and getting into all kinds of trouble. And you had a little sister.”

The revelation sent another jolt through you. A sister?

“Yep,” Ekko went on, his voice full of warmth. “Your mommy and I didn’t waste any time.” He let out a soft laugh, his grin mischievous. “And from the looks of it, we were about to get another little firefly. Your dad’s not the type to keep his hands off your mom, you know?”

Your face burned as you pressed yourself against the wall, your fingers gripping the edge of the doorframe. He couldn’t possibly mean… You shook your head as you tried to process his words.

Ekko’s voice turned playful, his tone carrying a knowing edge.

“It’s rude to spy, you know.”

Your breath caught, and you felt your stomach drop as he turned his head. His grin widened, as though he’d known you were there the whole time.

Caught red-handed, you straightened and pushed the door open fully, stepping into the room with your arms crossed.

“You’re lying,” you said, your voice laced with feigned annoyance.

Ekko turned, still cradling Wyeth in one arm. His eyes roamed over you, as though seeing you for the first time all over again. There was a softness in his expression, but also something deeper.

“You don’t believe me?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a faint smirk.

“Not a word.”

But there was something in his eyes, something intense and unyielding, that silenced the playful edge in your voice. He set the bottle down on the counter and held your gaze, his expression suddenly serious.

“You’re a lot like her, you know,” he said quietly. “But you’re not the same. You’re better.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you hesitated, feeling suddenly self-conscious under the weight of his gaze.

Then you straightened, fixing Ekko with a skeptical look.

“So, what? You just decided to leave this magical, perfect dimension where everything was great and come back here?”

Ekko’s gaze didn’t waver. “Yeah,” he said simply.

You blinked.

“Why?”

“Because it wasn’t home,” he said, his voice steady, certain. “You and Wyeth—you’re my home.”

Ekko shifted Wyeth to one arm, freeing his other hand to reach out for you. You stepped closer, your heart racing as you looked at him—really looked at him. Despite the time apart, despite everything he had endured, he was still all yours.

“I’m here now,” he said, his voice steady. “And when we get through this, because I’m going to win the damn war if that means see this little guy growing again…” He paused, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I’m going to marry you.”

The air left your lungs, the weight of his words crashing into you.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, you reached out, brushing your fingers against the hand that held Wyeth, grounding yourself in the warmth of your family.

“Say something,” Ekko murmured, his lips curving into a small smile.

You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill.

“You’re serious?”

“As serious as I’ve ever been.”

No matter how many worlds existed, no matter how different things might have been elsewhere, this was the one he chose.

This was his family.

And for Ekko, that was enough.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

tags: @serena6728 @theyluvkghanya @night-fall-moon @chaeisbroke

[seriallover]

Why certain people capture the spotlight?⭐️

1. The luminaries, the Sun and Moon naturally draw attention in a birth chart. People with strong Sun or Moon placements tend to light up any room they enter, effortlessly standing out.

Just like everyone loves capturing the beauty of a sunrise or the glow of a full moon, those with these placements have a magnetic energy that people can’t help but notice.

It’s almost like they’re always in the spotlight, which is why they often feel the need to look their best.☀️🌕

Beyoncé, Purva Phalguni Sun, Chitra Lagna and Venus.

Michael Jackson, Magha Sun and Shatabhisha Lagna.

Bella Hadid, Purva Phalguni Moon and Lagna.

There's not much to say about Beyoncé and Michael that isn't already well-known—they're icons in their own right, the biggest stars of our time. Bella Hadid has become the most photographed model off-duty and in 2022, she was named Model of the Year.

Gia Carangi, often hailed as the first true supermodel, paved the way for all the other supermodels that followed. She had a Shravana Sun and Lagnesh, with Hasta as her Lagna and a Shatabhisha Moon.

Britney Spears, Shravana Moon, was one of the most photographed stars for a while. The crazy amount of media attention even led to harassment and really affected her mental health.

Gisele Bündchen, Pushya Sun and Purva Phalguni Lagna, the only "Ubermodel"-that means being more than a supermodel.

Lauren Hutton, Pushya Moon and Lagna, holds the record for the most Vogue covers—26 in total.

I previously explored about how lunar-dominant people often achieve significant success on social media.

2. Chitra Nakshatra, known as the "Star of Opportunity," carries the Shakti of "accumulating merit." The word "Chitra" translates to "wonderful" and "pleasing to look at," as well as "illusion."

The deity of this nakshatra is Tvastar, the celestial architect who designed the universe. The symbol of Chitra is the "pearl" or "bright jewel," symbolizing beauty and uniqueness.💎💍

"Chitra" also means "picture," so individuals with this nakshatra are often naturally photogenic. 📸Tvastar, as the creator of Maya (illusion), grants those under Chitra the ability to craft captivating personas, making them talented models, photographers, actors, and successful on social media.

Kim Kardashian, Chitra Sun, built a career centered on her image. As one of the first influencers, she's become one of the most prominent and influential figures on social media. In 2015, she released “Selfish”, a book featuring a collection of her selfies.

Cindy Kimberly, Chitra Moon and Shravana Lagna, shot to fame because of her striking beauty. Her big break came when Justin Bieber posted about her on his Instagram. Now, she’s a major beauty influencer and a well-known model.

Anna Nicole Smith, Chitra Sun and Hasta Moon, made a name for herself as a model, completely based on her image. She was once one of the most photographed women in the world, and photographers loved working with her, often saying she was one of the easiest and most exciting people to capture on camera.

The thing with Chitra individuals is that, because of Tvastar, the celestial craftsman, their features often become iconic. For instance, Kim drew the attention to the BBL, Cindy’s nose has become a major inspiration for many women, and Anna Nicole brought attention back to curvy bodies at a time when the "heroin chic" look was in vogue, reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe's era.

3. Dhanishtha🌟 Shakti is "power to give abundance and fame," meaning "the most famous," "the most heard of." This nakshatra is recurring in the charts of people who usually marry famous individuals, making them well-known as well, often attracting more attention than their partner.

Princess Diana, Dhanishtha Moon and Magha Lagnesh, was the most photographed woman in the world, holding the record for the most sold-out paparazzi pictures, including one that sold for 6 million dollars.

Marilyn Monroe, Rohini Sun, Dhanishtha Moon, and Ashlesha Lagna, was also one of the most photographed women of her time.

4. Shatabhisha, meaning "hundred stars" and represented by a veiled star and an empty circle, is a nakshatra ruled by Rahu. ⭕️

This nakshatra is associated with illusion, the power to effect radical change, innovation, the foreign, esoteric influences, and trends. The empty circle can also symbolize the idea of a cult or community, like the Navy for Rihanna.

Rihanna, Shatabhisha Sun, stands out as one of the most influential artists and fashion icons. She has consistently set trends in the fashion world, with her style serving as an inspiration to many. Recently, her maternity looks have redefined how celebrities approach their appearance during pregnancy, bringing a stylish twist to the norm.

Demi Moore, Lagnesh in Shravana and Jupiter in Shatabhisha in the first house, set a trend for nude pregnancy photoshoots. At the time, this was quite controversial, but it has since become a common practice not just among celebrities, but also for non-celebrity women.

Elizabeth Taylor, Sun in Shatabhisha, was also a major target for paparazzi. George Hamilton once remarked:

"I remember when the word 'paparazzi' came along, and it just meant a bunch of guys who were all photographers looking for Elizabeth Taylor. Desperately looking for Elizabeth Taylor! And that was the beginning of paparazzi. They were not going for glamour anymore. They were going for the destruction of glamour."

[aventurineswife]

YOU NEED REQS??? I HAVE REQS

model aventurine X designer reader and like aventurine is basically reader’s muse and she legit starts to fall for him

A Beautiful Wager

Summary: As a celebrated designer, your work thrives on inspiration from the extraordinary, and Aventurine—model, IPC executive, and a walking enigma—proves to be the perfect muse. Beneath his charm and confident smirk lies a man of contradictions, and as your creative collaboration deepens, so does your bond. When the walls Aventurine hides behind begin to crack, you find yourself gambling on something more valuable than art: his heart.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn Romance, Designer x Model Dynamics, Mutual Pining, Flirty Banter, Emotional Vulnerability.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, Emotional manipulation, Themes of self-doubt and trust issues, Subtle exploration of power dynamics.

The golden glow of Penacony’s fading sunlight streamed through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of your studio, painting the room with a surreal warmth. Rolls of luxurious fabric spilled across the tables, and half-finished designs cluttered the walls, each sketch a testament to your restless creativity. At the center of it all stood him—Aventurine.

He leaned casually against the fitting stand, his long overcoat draped over one shoulder, golden jewelry catching the light. His eyes sparkled with a mischief that seemed to challenge the very laws of fate. “So,” he purred, voice smooth and tinged with amusement, “am I the perfect muse, or is my reputation doing all the work?”

You laughed, though his question wasn’t entirely untrue. Aventurine had become both a fascination and an enigma for you. As a designer, you sought inspiration in the rare and extraordinary, and he was all of that—and more. His flamboyant charm, the intricate details of his appearance, even the way he adjusted his glasses with a knowing smirk—it all captivated you.

“I wouldn’t call you perfect,” you teased, stepping closer with a measuring tape. “But you’re close enough.”

Aventurine grinned, tilting his head to let the light catch the peacock feather earring that dangled from his ear. “Close enough? My, my, darling, that stings. I’ll have you know, the IPC considers me the definition of perfection.”

“Perfection isn’t always inspiring,” you replied, your voice laced with a quiet sincerity that caught him off guard. “Flaws, contradictions—those are what make people fascinating. Like you.”

For a brief moment, Aventurine’s mask slipped. His ever-present smile softened, and something unspoken flickered in his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual devil-may-care bravado. “I’m flattered. Truly. Tell me, do I inspire chaos or brilliance?”

“Both,” you admitted, stepping back to admire your work. You’d chosen a deep emerald-green fabric for his ensemble, tailored to emphasize his sleek frame and finished with intricate golden embroidery that echoed the roulette wheel motif he favored. As you adjusted the final piece, your fingers brushed against his wrist.

It was subtle, but you felt him tense under your touch.

“Do you always gamble this much on your work?” he asked, his voice quieter now, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Only when the stakes are high,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

“And what’s at stake here?” Aventurine leaned in slightly, the playful edge in his tone giving way to something deeper.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the intensity of his question. His eyes searched yours, no longer masked by his usual flamboyance. For the first time, you glimpsed the man behind the facade—the vulnerability, the pain, the weight of secrets he carried.

“You...” you said softly.

The word hung between you, delicate yet unyielding. Aventurine’s expression shifted, the cracks in his armor widening as he considered your answer. He could dismiss it, turn it into another joke, another game—but he didn’t.

Instead, he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours in a gesture that felt both tentative and deliberate. “Careful, darling,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with warning. “You might win more than you bargained for.”

You smiled, refusing to let him retreat behind his walls. “Good. I don’t design for safe bets.”

Aventurine chuckled, the sound soft and genuine, and for the first time, his smile felt real. “Well then,” he said, his voice a mix of challenge and admiration, “let’s see if you can outplay me.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as the two of you stood there, a designer and their muse caught in a moment that felt like the beginning of something neither of you could fully understand—yet neither of you could walk away from.

[scoupsakakitty]

Runway to my Heart | idol!Joshua x Model!Reader | fluff

The energy in the venue was electric. The flashing lights, the murmurs of anticipation from the audience, and the rhythmic soundcheck from the live band all blended together into a perfect symphony of excitement. This wasn’t just any fashion show—it was a grand event, bringing together the best of music and fashion. And tonight, Seventeen had the honor of performing live as the models strutted down the runway.

Joshua adjusted his in-ear monitor as he stood with the rest of the group backstage. He had been to countless shows, performed on stages in front of thousands, but somehow, tonight felt different. Maybe it was the unique setting, or maybe it was the way the fashion world intertwined with their performance. He wasn’t sure yet.

“Alright, guys, let’s give them a show to remember,” Seungcheol encouraged, clapping his hands together as they gathered in a small huddle.

The lights dimmed, and the opening beats of their song filled the air. The curtains parted, revealing the runway, and the show began.

Joshua strummed the first notes on his guitar, his voice harmonizing with Jeonghan’s as the models began their walks. He kept his focus on the performance—until he saw her.

Y/N.

She was the first model to step onto the catwalk, opening the show with an effortless grace that captivated everyone in the room. The moment she emerged, all eyes were on her. Cameras flashed, murmurs rippled through the crowd, and Joshua? He completely lost track of the lyrics for a split second.

She was stunning. There was no other way to describe it. The way she carried herself, the confidence in her stride, the way the outfit complimented her—it was mesmerizing. He barely registered the soft nudge from Woozi, who had noticed his sudden distraction.

As Y/N reached the center of the runway, she made a subtle yet professional interaction with them. She gave a small wave, acknowledging their presence, and just before she turned for her exit, she leaned slightly forward, locking eyes with Joshua and gifting him with the warmest smile.

Joshua felt his heart stutter.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed. Seungkwan smirked mid-line, giving Joshua a knowing glance, but the older singer chose to ignore it, focusing back on the performance—though, not without stealing a few glances as Y/N gracefully disappeared behind the curtain.

After the show, Y/N found herself surrounded by reporters and interviewers, all eager to get a few words from the opening model of the night. She smiled as a microphone was extended towards her.

“Y/N, you looked absolutely stunning out there! How did it feel to open such a grand event?”

“It was an honor,” she replied smoothly. “The energy from the audience was incredible, and walking to live music was such a different experience.”

One interviewer leaned in slightly, grinning. “Speaking of live music, Seventeen’s performance tonight was spectacular. What did you think?”

“Oh, they were amazing!” she gushed. “This was actually my first time seeing them perform live, and I was genuinely impressed. Their presence on stage is just… magnetic. You can feel their passion in every note. If I ever have the time, I’d love to go to one of their concerts.”

Meanwhile, the members of Seventeen were also being interviewed. They stood together, still buzzing from their performance and the fashion show itself. The topic of conversation soon turned to the models and the designs they showcased.

“So, gentlemen,” the interviewer began, “which outfit or runway walk caught your eye the most tonight?”

The members exchanged glances, some laughing, some pretending to ponder seriously. Jeonghan playfully nudged Joshua forward. “Go ahead, Josh. You first.”

Joshua cleared his throat, already suspecting where this was going. He wanted to be honest—Y/N’s walk had undoubtedly been his favorite. But as he opened his mouth, his words stumbled out in an entirely unexpected way.

“Ah, I really liked Y/N…” He paused, realizing his mistake. The members erupted into laughter beside him. His ears turned red as he quickly corrected himself. “I mean—I really liked her outfit! Her outfit was really nice.”

Too late.

Hoshi was doubled over in laughter, Seungkwan was clutching his chest dramatically, and even DK was grinning wildly. The interviewer chuckled as well, catching onto the situation immediately.

“Oh? Just her outfit?” they teased.

Joshua groaned, covering his face with his hands. “You guys are the worst.”

Mingyu threw an arm around his shoulders. “Don’t worry, Josh. We totally believe you.”

2 month later

Arriving at the venue, she was immediately greeted by the staff, who ushered her backstage where Seventeen’s members were preparing for the concert. She was nervous yet excited, but the moment she saw Seungkwan, her anxiety faded away.

“Y/N!” he called out with a grin, immediately walking toward her and pulling her into a warm, friendly hug. “You actually came!”

“Of course! Thank you so much for the invite,” she laughed, returning his hug. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Standing just behind Seungkwan was Joshua, who had been watching their interaction with a soft smile. As soon as their eyes met, he stepped forward, his expression gentle and welcoming.

“It’s good to see you again,” Joshua said with a quiet warmth in his voice.

Y/N smiled at him, a familiar feeling of comfort settling over her. “Likewise! I’m so excited for the show. I know you guys are going to absolutely kill it tonight.”

Joshua chuckled, the sound rich and sincere. “Let’s hope so. But if you’re here, we’ve definitely got to put on a good show.”

Y/N’s smile grew wider. “Trust me, I’ve already got my ticket to the best show in town.”

As the concert started, Y/N quickly found herself lost in the energy of the performance. The lights, the music, and the electrifying atmosphere surrounded her, and she couldn’t help but cheer loudly for the group. The stage presence of Seventeen was undeniable, and her admiration for them grew with every passing second.

During the show, Y/N and Joshua exchanged several quiet glances and smiles. At one point, she caught him watching her from the stage as she cheered them on. The camera then zoomed in on her, broadcasting her happy face on the massive screen above the crowd. The fans went wild, but what stood out to Y/N was the look on Joshua’s face as he gazed at her with an almost dreamy expression.

"So, how’s the modeling industry treating you?" Vernon asked, his curiosity piqued.

Y/N exhaled, leaning back slightly in her chair. "It’s been a ride," she began, her tone a little more serious now. "When I first started, I really struggled because of my height. I’m only 1.70m, and a lot of agencies didn’t want to take me on. They thought I was too short to make it in the runway business, so I started with photoshoots before I could even get a chance to walk on the runway."

"That’s crazy," Mingyu said, clearly shocked. "You would never guess you had trouble with how confident you are on stage now."

Y/N chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "It took time. A lot of time, actually. But here I am."

Dino, who had been quietly listening, suddenly spoke up with a curious smile. "Wait, how old are you, actually?"

Y/N paused for a second, surprised by the question. She smiled softly, thinking about how much had happened in such a short time. "I’m 25," she said, her voice light, as if it were no big deal.

The group looked at her, some members surprised by how young she was. Joshua raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on his lips. "25? Wow, you’ve accomplished a lot for your age."

Y/N shrugged modestly, a playful twinkle in her eyes. "Guess I’m just getting started."

The conversation flowed easily after that, with everyone exchanging more stories and sharing laughter. It was a relaxing and natural moment, one that made Y/N feel right at home among the group. The bonds between them were quickly forming, and for Y/N, it felt like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

As the night wore on, Y/N felt more and more comfortable with the group. They were kind and funny, and the chemistry between them felt natural. The conversation moved from her modeling experiences to more lighthearted topics. Laughter filled the room as everyone shared their thoughts on everything from food to travel.

Eventually, the management asked them to take some PR photos. Y/N posed for a group shot with the members, and then some solo photos with each member, including Joshua. They exchanged playful glances, and Y/N couldn't help but smile as she stood next to him for the shot. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her feel special, as though the moment between them was more than just a friendly photo op.

“Let’s make a quick TikTok!” the manager suggested, and everyone excitedly agreed. Y/N, who had no idea what she was getting herself into, found herself attempting a Seventeen dance. She had seen it performed, but doing it herself was a whole different ballgame. Her movements were stiff and awkward at first, but the group laughed together, encouraging her to try again.

"You’re doing great, Y/N," Joshua said with a warm chuckle, making her blush slightly.

After a few takes, they finally managed to get a good shot, with everyone applauding her for her effort. “Alright, I think I still need a few dance lessons,” Y/N joked, causing another round of laughter. "Yeah you actually do." Hoshi laughed.

As the night came to a close, the group gathered for a final round of goodbyes. Y/N hugged each of them, thanking them for the wonderful time and promising to catch up again soon.

“I really hope I can see you guys perform again sometime,” she said with a smile and left.

“Dude, why didn’t you ask for her number?” Seungkwan teased, nudging Joshua with his elbow.

Joshua’s face turned a little pink, his eyes darting around nervously. “I—uh, I didn’t want to make things awkward…” he muttered.

“Awkward?” DK chuckled. “Man, even a blind person could see the chemistry between you two. You’re clearly into each other.”

Joshua sighed, realizing his hesitation had cost him a chance to connect with her. Without thinking twice, he excused himself and rushed out the door, determined to make things right.

He found her in the parking lot, just about to get into her car. He called out to her, breathless from running.

“Y/N, wait!” he shouted.

Y/N turned, a surprised smile spreading across her face. “Oh! What’s up?”

Joshua stood there, unsure of how to start, but his desire to make a connection with her pushed him forward. "I... I’d really like to get to know you better. Would you be interested in that?"

Y/N let out a light laugh, her eyes sparkling. “I was starting to think you’d never ask,” she teased, taking out her phone. “Here, I’ll give you my number.”

Joshua’s heart leapt at the exchange, his fingers trembling as he typed his name into her phone. “Thank you,” he said softly, unable to stop the smile that spread across his face.

Y/N’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “I’ll be in Seoul for about two more weeks,” she added, a playful hint in her voice. “Maybe we could meet up again before I leave?”

Joshua felt like he was walking on air. “I’d like that… a lot.”

With one last lingering look, Y/N got into her car and drove off, leaving Joshua standing in the parking lot with a smile that wouldn’t fade. The night had taken an unexpected turn, but he couldn’t help but feel like this was just the beginning of something special.

As he returned to the backstage area, the other members immediately began teasing him again.

“Finally,” Seungkwan grinned, nudging him. “It took you long enough!”

Joshua just laughed, shaking his head. “I couldn’t let her get away. Besides, it’s not every day I get to meet someone as amazing as her.”

That night, as Joshua lay in bed, his mind replayed the events. He couldn’t believe how easily Y/N had slipped into his thoughts and how quickly everything had changed in the span of a few hours. He looked forward to seeing her again, hoping that the next time they met, it would be the start of something even more unforgettable.

[cherryblossom-heart]

Stealing the spotlight (Media coverage)

Model!Satoru x Makeup Artist!Reader

<Previous chapter. Next Chapter>

New Faces Light Up Aether Vision Runway: Suguru Geto and Kento Nanami Shine, While Satoru Gojo Falls Short

Osaka, Japan – The Aether Vision Runway event, designed to spotlight fresh talent hoping to make their mark in the modeling industry, proved to be an unforgettable night—but not for the same reasons for everyone involved. While Suguru Geto and Kento Nanami impressed with their poise and professionalism, Satoru Gojo’s flamboyant performance left much to be desired, casting a shadow over what could have been a promising debut.

The event brought together aspiring models from across Japan, offering them a chance to showcase their skills in front of industry insiders. Among the hopefuls, Geto, Nanami, and Gojo stood out as the night’s most talked-about participants.

Suguru Geto quickly established himself as the highlight of the show, exuding confidence and charisma as he commanded the runway. His ability to embody the mood of each outfit, paired with his intense, magnetic presence, left the audience captivated. Industry insiders have already begun speculating that Geto’s performance may open doors beyond modeling, with rumors of casting offers for both fashion campaigns and film roles circulating after the show.

“Suguru has that rare ability to make you stop and watch,” said one casting agent. “He understands how to tell a story without saying a word.”

Kento Nanami also left a lasting impression, albeit with a very different approach. His clean-cut style and quiet elegance stood in stark contrast to the dramatic flair of the event’s theme, but it worked in his favor. Nanami’s composed demeanor on the runway resonated with audiences and industry professionals alike, showcasing a classic charm that some say is sorely missing in modern fashion. Whispers suggest Nanami may already be in talks for future international runway shows, as well as appearances in television dramas.

“Kento is the kind of model who can fit anywhere, whether it’s on a high-end runway or in front of a camera,” commented one fashion journalist. “His versatility is going to take him far.”

Satoru Gojo, on the other hand, struggled to find the right balance between personality and professionalism. His bold style and cheeky attitude generated excitement leading up to the event, but his performance on the runway failed to live up to the hype. Gojo’s exaggerated gestures, such as repeatedly adjusting his sunglasses and breaking into playful smirks, drew more laughter than admiration. Many felt his antics detracted from the outfits he was meant to highlight.

“Satoru definitely caught attention, but not for the right reasons,” said a fashion insider. “He has the charisma, but he needs to remember that the runway is about showcasing the designs, not himself.”

Despite the criticism, Gojo’s natural charm and striking appearance still garnered some attention, with whispers of potential casting in light-hearted commercials and possibly even action-oriented projects. However, his road to establishing himself as a serious model might require some reevaluation.

Social media buzzed with commentary after the event, with hashtags like #GetoBreakout and #NanamiElegance trending, while #GojoOverhyped became the center of heated debate. Fans of all three models defended their favorites, but even Gojo’s supporters acknowledged that his performance didn’t meet expectations.

As Aether Vision Runway closes its doors, the future seems bright for Suguru Geto and Kento Nanami, whose professionalism and talent have made them names to watch in the industry. For Satoru Gojo, this debut served as a learning experience—and perhaps a reminder that charm alone won’t always carry the day.

[lillymmb]

can u write something about drew x model reader

maybe drew gets invited to a fashion show (versace, dolce, etc) and becomes completely mesmerized by her as she walks down the runway. then at the after party drew goes up to talk to her and they just have amazing chemistry and banter.

if u do end up writing this - THANK YOU 🫶🏽

"Glamorous Love"

drew starkey x model!reader

warnings: none

a/n: awwww thanks for the idea and sorry for taking soooooo long to do this😊

Drew Starkey leaned against the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand, his gaze sweeping the glamorous crowd at the after-party. The air buzzed with excitement from the fashion show that had just wrapped up. Versace had pulled out all the stops this year, and Drew couldn't help but feel a rush of admiration for the boldness and creativity of the designers. But there was one thing that had captivated him more than anything else: you.

The moment you stepped onto the runway, time seemed to slow. The lights caught the shimmer of your dress, a breathtaking combination of gold and black that hugged your figure perfectly. Your confidence was undeniable—each step you took echoed with poise, a magnetic force drawing everyone’s attention. Drew couldn’t look away, as though you were the only person in the room, the only person in the world.

And when you turned, your eyes met his for a split second, like you knew exactly how much he was drawn to you.

Now, here he was at the after-party, trying to shake off the lingering effect your presence had on him. It wasn't just your beauty—though that was undeniable—it was the way you carried yourself, effortlessly commanding the room, that had him completely mesmerized.

As the minutes ticked by, Drew's curiosity grew stronger. He didn't want to just watch from the sidelines anymore. He needed to meet you.

Spotting you near the center of the room, surrounded by a small group of people, he felt his heart rate pick up. You were laughing, your voice light and melodic, your body language easy and relaxed. It was impossible not to notice the natural charm you exuded. Drew hesitated for just a moment, a fleeting doubt creeping in. What if you weren’t interested? But he pushed it aside. He wasn’t here to second-guess himself.

He strode over with a quiet confidence, a smile playing on his lips.

"Excuse me," he said smoothly, catching your eye as the others in your group fell away, seemingly sensing the connection between you two. "I think I need to thank you."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Thank me? For what?"

"For giving the runway a real show tonight," Drew replied, his voice low but warm. "I’m Drew, by the way." He extended his hand.

You glanced at his hand, then back up at him, your lips curving into a knowing smile. "I know who you are. You're hard to miss."

Drew chuckled, slightly taken aback. “Fair enough. I suppose you’d be the one to know, seeing as you were the one who had everyone’s eyes on you.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you teased, your tone light but flirtatious. You reached out, shaking his hand, feeling a little spark of chemistry the moment your palms met.

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "So, what does a model like you do after a show like that?"

"Drink overpriced champagne and pretend to enjoy small talk with people I barely know," you said, glancing around the room with a wry smile. "But I might make an exception for someone who actually knows how to hold a conversation."

Drew’s grin widened, the spark between you both undeniable now. "I think I could handle that."

You eyed him for a moment, your curiosity piqued. “Alright, then. What do you want to talk about?"

"How about the fact that I just watched you turn a runway into your own personal stage?" Drew said, his voice laced with admiration. “Tell me, do you know the power you have?”

You leaned back slightly, intrigued by the direction the conversation was going. "I’m just doing my job. But power, huh? What makes you say that?”

Drew’s eyes held yours as he spoke, his gaze intense but playful. “It’s in the way you move, the way you own every step. It’s hard not to get caught up in it.”

You chuckled, the sound like music to his ears. “Well, someone’s getting smooth.”

“I’m being sincere,” he insisted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

There was a pause as you studied him, the electric tension between you growing. “Maybe I’ll believe you... If you keep up with me on this conversation,” you teased.

Drew laughed, not missing a beat. “Challenge accepted.”

For the next hour, you and Drew effortlessly slid into conversation, the banter flowing with an ease neither of you had expected. The chemistry between you was palpable, each laugh shared, each look exchanged adding more fuel to the fire that had ignited between you two. He found himself drawn to your quick wit, the way you could challenge him without hesitation, your intelligence and humor captivating him just as much as your beauty.

At some point, the music grew louder and the crowd around you thickened. Drew found himself inching closer to you, not caring about the noise or the distractions, completely absorbed in the moment. He reached up to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the gesture intimate in its simplicity.

“I have to ask,” he murmured, his lips just a breath away from your ear. “How does someone like you end up in a place like this? You’re like a star in a world full of bright lights.”

You turned your head slightly, your lips brushing against his ear as you spoke. “Maybe I’m just looking for someone who can handle the spotlight.”

Drew chuckled softly, his breath catching in his throat. “I think I’m up for the challenge.”

Without thinking, he closed the small distance between you two, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both electrifying and effortless. It wasn’t rushed or full of urgency—it was a kiss that felt like it had been building since the moment you’d locked eyes earlier on the runway.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads resting against each other, Drew smiled against your skin. "You sure know how to leave a lasting impression."

You grinned, your fingers brushing lightly over his chest. “So do you."

And just like that, in the chaos of a bustling fashion show after-party, you both found something more than the fleeting glamour of the night. It felt real, something that could burn just as bright as the runway itself.

[corruptedcaps]

Model Behaviour

Liam paced his tiny workshop, his fingers twitching nervously as he glanced at the nearly completed bodysuit hanging in front of him. The latex and silicone masterpiece shimmered under the harsh overhead light, an uncanny recreation of the fictional supermodel girlfriend he’d spent the past year bragging about.

Maddy sat on a stool, arms crossed, her expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief.

“This is insane, Liam, I can’t believe I’m even considering this.” She said.

Liam stopped pacing and turned to her, pleading. “Maddy, you’re my best friend. You know I didn’t mean for this to happen. It just… got out of hand.”

“You could’ve just told the truth at any point,” Maddy shot back. “Instead, you built that.” She gestured at the suit.

“I panicked, okay? And now, if I don’t show up with ‘Sophie,’ my career is over. They’ll never take me seriously again.” He said, his face distraught at the thought.

Maddy sighed, shaking her head. “Ok fine let’s do it.” Liam lit up with excitement.

“The suit’s fully functional. It even has built-in voice modulation. You’ll look, sound, and… act just like her.”

“Wait, act?” Maddy raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

Liam hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “I may have added a… personality enhancer. You know, to make you more convincing. A touch of… um… supermodel flair.”

Maddy’s eyes narrowed. “Define ‘supermodel flair.’”

“There’s no time, just know it’s just a little conditioning to help you out is all.” He said hoping his house of cards won’t topple.

Maddy glared at him but stood up. “This better not mess with my head, Liam. If I end up on a therapist’s couch because of this, you’re paying the bill.”

“Noted,” Liam said, handing her the suit. “Now, let’s get you suited up.”

Minutes later, Maddy stood in front of the mirror, transformed. The suit hugged her frame perfectly, the flawless blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. Her lips were pouty, her posture effortlessly poised. She turned slowly, her reflection almost unrecognizable.

She placed a hand on her chest, running her fingers over her impressive boobs. “That’s… me?” Her voice, now sultry and smooth, startled her.

“Pretty convincing, huh?” Liam said nervously from behind her. “You look incredible.”

Maddy tilted her head, studying herself. A sly smile crept onto her lips. “Of course I am. Incredible doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Liam frowned. “Maddy? You okay?”

Maddy adjusted the shimmering blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her heart pounding as she stared at her transformed reflection. This was her chance, the closest she’d ever get to being Liam’s girlfriend, even if it was just pretend. It was the main reason she had agreed to do it in the first place.

And yet as she gazed at her new and improved body a voice in the back of her head was telling her that Liam didn’t deserve her now that she could have any man she wanted now. The voice made her hunger.

“Of course I do, darling.” She purred, her modulated voice smooth and sultry. She struck a playful pose, a mix of teasing and allure. It felt incredibly natural. “Now can we get going, I NEED to be seen.”

A few hours later Liam stood near the drinks table, awkwardly nursing a glass of sparkling water as his coworkers mingled around him. His eyes kept darting to Maddy, who was currently surrounded by a captivated crowd, her laugh ringing through the air like music.

She was wearing the dress that she demanded he buy her on the way to the party. A shorter than short red dress that she insisted was festive but also showed off her long legs and ample chest. She was the center of attention, and Liam could hardly believe how flawlessly Maddy had pulled this off, or rather, how flawlessly the suit had.

As he watched her endless charm his colleagues, his boss, David, sauntered over to Maddy with a confident grin. David was tall, broad-shouldered, and had a reputation for his charm. Liam’s stomach sank as he watched David lean in, clearly flirting.

“Liam, she’s stunning!” Claire from accounting exclaimed, sidling up beside him, blocking his view of Maddy. “You were underselling her. No wonder you were so smitten.”

“Uh, yeah, she’s, uh… one of a kind.” Liam muttered, forcing a smile.

“So, Sophie, Liam’s been keeping you a secret from us for too long. What do you do?” David asked, his voice smooth.

Maddy tilted her head, a playful smile curving her lips. She was drinking in David. A man like him would never have took a second look at a girl like her before. A girl like Maddy.

“Oh but you’re not Maddy anymore remember?” The voice said in her mind, now louder than before. “You’re Sophie a beauty queen, who knows a king when she sees them.”

The words weee accompanied by a dumping of endorphins that made her eyes flutter a little and a soft moan pass through her lips.

“Are you alright?” David asks with actual concern.

Maddy felt a flush of lust come over here as concern etched David’s face. “Mmm I’m sorry, it’s just I was taken by your good looks for a moment. It’s made me light headed.” She said biting her bottom lip at him. He looked a little taken aback by it himself but was still intrigued.

Placing his hand on her lower back he started to guide her way from the noise of the party. “Why don’t you sit down? I know the perfect place.” He said to her with a knowing smirk which she returned.

Meanwhile Liam was still trying to break away from his conversation with Claire. “I know why don’t I introduce you.” He finally said after ten minutes of her gushing about how amazing ‘Sophie’ looks.

However as he glanced back toward where Maddy had been he found her to be gone. His eyes scanned the room frantically until he spotted her. He left Claire to go deeper into the office, far from where the office party noise was. However as that sound died, a new one took its place. The sound of a woman moaning and panting.

Liam turned the corner and saw Maddy sitting on David’s lap, jumping up and down as she moaned like a wanton whore.

Liam froze, his stomach flipping. “No. No, no, no…”

He pushed through the cubicles, his mind racing. By the time he burst through the door, Maddy was running her fingers through her hair as her eyes rolled into the back of her head, climaxing and completely lost in the moment.

“Sophie!” Liam blurted.

She pulled back, her expression still utter bliss as her orgasm settled. However as the afterglow of it faded so too did her euphoria, as it shifted into something cool and indifferent. But also something else in her eyes that Liam couldn’t place. “Oh, Liam. There you are.”

David looked between them, smirking. “Sorry, buddy. Didn’t realize she was off-limits.”

“She’s… she’s my girlfriend!” Liam stammered, his voice trembling.

Maddy raised a perfectly arched brow. “Girlfriend? Liam, don’t be so possessive. It’s unbecoming.”

Liam blinked, stunned. “What?”

David chuckled as he did up his pants. He clapped Liam on the shoulder, as he said “Relax, Liam. She’s just being friendly.”

“Friendly?!” Liam’s voice rose. “You were fucking!”

Maddy sighed dramatically, turning back to David. “He’s always so sensitive. Isn’t it adorable?”

David laughed, clearly amused.

“Meet me back at the party hot stuff.” She said, kissing David on the lips in front of an irate Liam. David smacked her on the ass as he sauntered out back to the party.

Liam’s face burned with embarrassment and frustration. “Maddy, what the hell are you doing?”

“Maddy? Who the hell is Maddy? Have you had one too many cosmos?” She said sharply, her voice dripping with condescension.

“This isn’t you!” Liam hissed, lowering his voice. “It’s the suit messing with your head.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms. “What suit? What the hell are you talking about?”

Liam froze, the words catching in his throat. “The suit, you’re wearing a suit! I built it, remember? You’re not really… this. You’re Maddy!”

She laughed, a harsh, hollow sound that made his stomach churn. “You’ve lost it, Liam. Is this ‘Maddy’ one of your friends you have a crush on or something?”

“No, no, no!” He stammered, his voice cracking. “You’re Maddy! You’re my best friend! We put this plan together, remember? You’re wearing a suit that I—”

“Stop it!” She snapped, her eyes blazing. “Do you hear how insane you sound? A suit? Ugh… at least you losing the plot will make this a lot easier.”

Liam looked at her confused. “Make what easier?”

Maddy let a smirk curl up on her lips, clearly revelling in what she was about to do. “We’re done. Honestly I don’t know why we were even together in the first place.”

Liam shook his head, his pulse pounding in his ears. “Maddy, listen to me. You’re not thinking clearly. The suit, it’s altering your mind. You have to fight it.”

She took a step closer, towering over him in her heels, her presence somehow larger than life. “You’re pathetic.” She said, her voice low and cutting. “You can’t handle the fact that I’ve outgrown you. That I don’t need you. You’re the one who’s confused, Liam. Not me.”

His heart sank as she turned on her heel and strutted back toward the party, her laughter floating over the sound of the music.

Liam stood there, frozen, his mind racing. She didn’t remember the suit. She didn’t remember who she really was. She was Sophie, his perfect girlfriend who wanted nothing to do with him.

[preppyacademy]

Breaking and Remaking : No Thoughts, Only Obedience

Kyle or Prescott's story

Kyle was in his senior year of high school and part of the football team. Academics were secondary for him—it was sports in the morning, sports at noon, and sports in the evening. He hoped to earn a scholarship by being one of the top athletes in his school. Unfortunately, Kyle always acted before thinking, which sometimes led to avoidable accidents.

One game night in early November, his team faced an opposing high school team. Kyle, prone to arrogance, didn’t warm up much, believing he didn’t need to—after all, he was one of the strongest players. His team was scoring well, but in the final decisive minutes, time seemed to slow down. Rain had started to fall, making the field slick. As he caught the ball mid-air, Kyle slipped on the wet grass and crashed violently to the ground before being tackled by several other players. His teammates, still in action, grabbed the ball and scored, securing victory.

As for Kyle, he ended the night in the hospital. His team won, but his medical results were far from victorious. A fractured collarbone, six to twelve weeks of recovery, immobilization, and rehabilitation. He was told he had to remain bedridden for weeks before he could even move.

Kyle had no choice. The hospital that admitted him had to transfer him to a specialized rehabilitation center, located six hours away but renowned as one of the best. His family spared no expense, wanting only the best care for him.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Kyle felt well received. He quickly noticed that most of the staff were male, which struck him as unusual. He was assigned to Dr. Pritchard.

Dr. Pritchard: "You’ll be well taken care of here. You’ll be staying with us for at least six weeks, possibly ten if your condition doesn’t improve. I hope we’ll get along well."

Kyle: "I hope so too."

The first few nights, Kyle struggled to sleep. The feeling of being far from home and his friends weighed heavily on him. Moreover, a low, constant noise resonated throughout his room—a repeating frequency that played over and over. The following nights were the same, but Kyle gradually became accustomed to the sound.

Dr. Pritchard: "I know time may feel slow, but here, rehabilitation is not just about physical recovery—it’s also about relaxing your mind and body. From now on, no more phone screens. We took yours last night. You need rest and must adapt to our institution’s methods."

Kyle was furious but couldn’t fight back—his body was in too much pain, forcing him to comply with the medical staff’s instructions. How was he supposed to survive weeks without his phone?

Dr. Pritchard: "When you wake up, the screens in your room will display relaxation and meditation videos. Follow them, and you’ll see—time will pass much more quickly here."

The next morning marked the beginning of Kyle’s first session with the videos. They consisted of breathing techniques and mantras to repeat. A spiral accompanied the voice-over, guiding him through the instructions.

Kyle, repeating the words: "I feel good, my body is relaxed, I let myself be carried by the waves, my mind sinks deeper into the abyss, I feel calm, every word I hear is a new way of thinking to embrace, to listen, and to learn."

Each day, Kyle was captivated—hypnotized—by these screens, which seemed to absorb his attention completely. Slowly, his thoughts began to change, and time passed in a rhythm dictated by the spiral and the mantras. Over time, the words evolved into something else.

Kyle, repeating the words: "I feel good, I am happy, my body is relaxed, my mind sinks deeper into the abyss. I am obedient, I listen to what I am told, I must act as I am instructed, I feel calm, I love to obey, I want to learn to obey."

As the days and weeks passed, Kyle healed not only physically but mentally as well, thanks to the soothing words of the spiral. His mind was gradually shaped into a model of perfection, discipline, and obedience.

Kyle: "I wish to submit to the orders of superior men, I wish to obey them, I wish to be submissive. I wish to be submissive. I wish to be submissive."

Dr. Pritchard: "Good boy. You have found true relaxation within your body."

Like a machine executing programmed instructions, Kyle regained mobility in his body. His absolute obedience, now stripped of all arrogance and rebellion, made rehabilitation much easier.

Then, the final week of his stay arrived. Kyle sat on his bed, staring into the distance, still repeating the obedience mantra.

Kyle: "I listen, I obey, I serve. My will is that of the Academy. To doubt is to fail. To resist is to fall. Order is my truth, obedience is my virtue. I bend, I disappear, I become. Every command is an honor, every task a privilege. I do not need to think—only to answer: Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "Good boy, you make me proud. You’ve done well in your exercises, and now, after ten weeks, your time with us has come to an end. Unfortunately, we must make room for new arrivals like you."

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "As you say—'your will is that of the Academy.' Your mind has been shaped for the Academy—the Preppy Academy, to be precise. Would you like to join the Academy, my boy?"

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "You no longer wish to return to your old high school, correct?"

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "You will remain a good boy—obedient and disciplined?"

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "We will now relieve you of these hospital clothes—you no longer need them."

Dr. Pritchard placed a harmonization device over Kyle’s head. It resembled a large lamp with a metallic tube beneath it, sending electric signals into the subject’s brain. He activated it while Kyle continued to chant his desire to obey.

Kyle remained immobilized, paralyzed by the machine—unable to move of his own will. In his mind, the words "Obedience," "Submission," "Discipline" flashed over and over again.

Two nurses arrived, cut off Kyle's clothes and stripped him naked. Dr. Pritchard pulled a chastity cage from a drawer and locked Kyle's penis in it. He locked the cage and gave the key to a nurse, who left with it.

Dr. Pritchard: "You'll learn that your sex is no longer of any use to you; it belongs to the Academy. You only need it to urinate, because that's a natural need. But to urinate, you'll have to ask permission. If you feel pleasure, your penis, now the size of a phalanx, will be compressed, you'll feel pain and you'll learn to live with pain. Pain is a gift to be cherished, the very essence of a good Preppy Academy student. The more time passes, the more you won't even feel it anymore, you'll get used to what you've become."

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Kyle did not flinch. Who he had been just weeks ago had disappeared into the abyss of his mind. Sometimes, though rarely now, he could hear a faint inner voice telling him this wasn’t him, urging him to fight. But that voice was slowly drowning beneath the waves of his consciousness.

Dr. Pritchard: "Now, we will dress you. You haven't learned this here yet, but you will soon understand that being a good boy means being elegant at all times. Appearance is an extension of your obedience. It’s not about having style—it’s about proving your submission through every detail of your attire. Dressing preppy is fundamental. It is a duty, not a choice."

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Kyle was dressed from head to toe, like a boy being sent off to school. A neatly pressed, button-down plaid white shirt, tucked into light khaki shorts held up by thick brown suspenders. Long white socks and polished black loafers completed the outfit, along with a large, subtly checkered bow tie.

When Dr. Pritchard tied the bow tie around Kyle’s neck, Kyle opened his mouth—not in surprise, but as if this attire had been meant for him all along, as if the relaxation of feeling truly himself in this clothing had loosened his jaw. His body and mind understood: he was meant to be a good preppy boy.

Dr. Pritchard: "That’s a good boy."

By late morning, Kyle was transferred to the Preppy Academy, placed in a class appropriate for his age. He was quickly integrated among other students eager to learn submission, obedience, and discipline.

He embraced the academy’s dress code without hesitation, developing a particular fondness for plaid patterns—the very motif Dr. Pritchard had introduced him to. In time, the administration and Kyle himself sent a letter to his family, informing them of his transfer and his wish to continue his education at the Preppy Academy.

Kyle’s father had heard of the institution through a friend whose son had returned home completely transformed—eventually becoming the family’s butler. Pleased with the results, and reassured that this was Kyle’s own request, his parents placed their trust in him.

Dr. Pritchard frequently visited the Academy to check on Kyle. Over time, he began calling him Prescott—his middle name—which suited him far better and carried a more refined sound.

Dr. Pritchard became Master to Prescott, who, with the Academy’s approval, would come to serve him every weekend—submissive and obedient. For example, he offered him his mouth to be filled with the doctor's cock from times to times.

Dr. Pritchard decided how Prescott should dress. He had even noticed during Prescott’s hospitalization that he often squinted from staring at the spiral for too long. As a result, he gifted him a pair of elegant glasses—enhancing his preppy and exemplary style even further.

Far from the field, far from his arrogance, Prescott had become a good boy. He could thank the Preppy Academy for that.

Who’s next?

[simphornies]

Glitchy [ Vox x F!Reader ] pt. 2 (NSFW)

A/N: Was not expecting the attention the last one got. I already had a part 2 in my head as soon as I posted it. Sorry if the writing is off! I'm a bit rusty. Enjoy!

MINORS DNI

Warnings: smut, teasing, light bondage(?), oral, creampie

Velvette's fashion show was ongoing. She somehow set you up to model one of her latest pieces as the grand finale. You liked to dress up but being in front of crowds that didn't involve killing made you nervous. "C'mon bitch! Are you ready?" She switches up your hair into a fitting updo, showing off your TV wire inspired earrings. "Oh Vox is going to love this one." To be honest, you did want to tease Vox a little bit to get back at him for spying on you. Valentino sneaked you into his office while he was asleep at his desk and you saw that most of the cameras were paused on you. "Did you really put on a whole show to fuck with him?" You asked, straightening out the skirt she had you put on, "And does this outfit have to be this short. You know I don't like showing off too much skin. Gives too much to look at." Your statement made Velvette and Valentino laugh, "Babe, with a body like that you should be showing off. It's almost a crime to keep them hidden." Val slaps your ass and pushed you towards the curtain, "You're almost up, knock Vox dead. Do that move I showed you too."

You rolled your eyes at them and walked away. Val looks down at Velvette, "$100 bucks if he short-circuits." She grinned, "$100 if he gets up and they fuck later." The two shook on their deal and walked around to get to their seats.

Vox didn't typically sit for Velvette's shows but you had asked him to show up because of a piece you said you wanted him to see. The two other Vees sit next to him, "You look like you're having the time of your life, Vox." Val teased. "Fuck off, if Y/N didn't ask me to be here, I wouldn't be. Where is she anyways? I would expect her to be here considering she wants me to see this piece so bad." Velvette gasps, "Wow. So you wouldn't even show up to my show if I told you to come? I'm so hurt." Her words filled with sarcasm. "Shut up. It's almost time for her part."

Vox blinked, "What? What do you mean he-" Her finger covered his mouth and Val moved his head to look at the stage, blowing out some smoke for "effect" as you make your way down the catwalk.

You donned a gorgeous off shoulder top that showed too much, or too little as Val would say, of your cleavage. A skin tight skirt that rode up a little bit as you walked the catwalk hugged your hips. Above your skirt, the strings of your thong (that Velvette insisted you wore) peeked over adding a little extra flair. And the best part? You were of course in Vox's signature colors. You did a spin showing off the outfit and scanned the crowd. Your eyes locked with Vox's and you smirked as you thought about what Val taught you hours before. You bent over in his direction, one hand on your knee and one hand on your hip. You spun on your red bottom heels and posed one last time for the cameras, looking at Vox before leaving him with a wink. You looked away as soon as you see his screen glitch, red liquid oozing from the side of his mouth.

After the show, you put on a mesh coat. Velvette came running at you with a hug, "You did wonderful! I knew you could nail that. Have you seen the ratings?" She whipped out her phone with an article raving about the latest show with you front and center of the pictures, "The people love you! And the sales are coming in." You smiled, happy that you impressed the fashion critic herself. "Glad I could make you proud, Velv." Claps came from behind you and you turn to see Valentino and Vox, walking side by side. "Amazing work, sweetie. You nailed the tit show." He smiled, giving you a hug as well. "Thanks Val. I would never have done that move if you didn't teach me the art of captivating an audience with my tits. You're the master." You elbowed the tall sex demon. "So, did you like the show Vox?" You looked up at him, trying to make the eye contact that he wasn't reciprocating. "Come on~ Did my tits glitch you out." You teased. He cleared his throat, finally making eye contact with you with his signature smile. "I already knew you were hot, baby. I love the color combo." He gives you a hug, whispering into your ear, "Did you do that on purpose to fuck with me?" "Pfff. Me? Why would I ever do such a thing?" You spin around and pulled Velvette close to you, arm over her shoulder, "Besides, I'm not the fashion genius here. She is." Velvette gave him a teasing look and laughed, "Oh I would never! You're reading too much into it. Now shoo, Y/N and I have an afterparty to go to!"

You weren't a fan of parties but Velvette insisted you come. Well, she bribed you with some drinks. You grab a glass of wine and walked out of the club to get a breath of fresh air. As you scrolled through your phone, you see from the corner of your eye a familiar red figure walking towards you. It was the radio demon himself, Alastor. "Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite the pleasure!" He grabs your hand to shake it, "I've seen your influence around town from the latest fashion show put on by the overlord Velvette and might I say you're quite the stunning lady." He plants a kiss on the back of your hand. You had your guards up, this was Alastor. The demon that brought down overlords as soon as he manifested into hell. What the fuck could he want from you? "Thank you for the praise." You say as you pull your hand away from him, "What can I do for you, Alastor sir?" You back up slightly, taking steps back towards the entrance of the club hoping Velvette could see the predicament you're in. "Nothing too much. I just have a couple of...questions for you, my dear!" He grins menacingly, "You seem to be in close quarters with Vox, would you like to make a deal?" You scoff, "A deal? I'm not stupid. I'm not making a deal with you. What do you want?" "Would you like to go on a little outing with me?" "A what." "An outing! A gorgeous doll such as yourself must be exhausted having to deal with that annoyingly loud picture show." He was talking about Vox, "I could show you a better time. I can give you aid taking down all those who you wish if you permit me." Before you could answer, a glowing blue circle appears at your feet plunging you down to hell knows where. You land in Vox's lap, his face glitching with rage. "That fucker--Thank the seven rings I was watching around the club you were at." "Vox I-" "That little prick! I'll show him he shouldn't mess around with the Vees! That motherfucker-" "Vox." "-is lucky I wasn't there!" He chuckles, his one eye going crazy at the thought of Alastor hurting you. "Vox!" You yell, finally getting his attention. He seemed to have forgotten you were still in his lap in his fit of rage. He looks down at you, blushing a bit as you were still in the clothes from the fashion show. "Can you let me down please. Your little desk is cramped and I can't get myself off without getting tangled in your cords." Vox, in a panic, backs his chair up, a cord getting caught in one of the wheels and throwing you both back. He catches your head with his hand as to not hurt it. "Fuck. My bad. I was ju-" He cuts himself off noticing the position you're both in and the state of your clothes. He was on top of you and your top got yanked down a bit which meant your tits are now in full view. Not to mention the fact that you somehow got wrapped up in his cables. Him glitching at the sight of you made you smirk, "You like what you see? Or are you too angry at the radio demon talking to me to notice anything?" You cockily said before laughing, pulling your top up to put your tits away, "Now can you help me out of your cables, please?" Vox didn't move. He was frozen. You thought that maybe he short circuited. "Hello? Vox?" You place your hand on his screen, trying to knock him out of his daze, "Vox are you in the-" Before you could say another word he pins your wrist down above your head as he crashes his lips on yours. You melt against his, returning his affection. You taste a faint hint of mint on his tongue as he wraps it around yours, almost battling for a spot in your mouth.

When he pulls away, you were out of breath. You watch his eyes scan your body and take in the sight. "Sorry. I couldn't help myself to you. You just look...so hot right now." He says, taking his hand off of your wrists and trying to back up to free you. Your eyes wander and notice the bulge in his pants. A dirty thought crossing your mind. "If I look so hot, why don't you do something about it." You smirk up at him, gently guiding your knee over his bulge, sending shivers down his spine. "I'm stuck Vox, helpless under you. You really going to throw this golden opportunity away for both of us?" You teased. Vox composes himself and lets out a low chuckle, the antenna on his head letting out some sparks. "You've been driving me insane all day, babe." He speaks in a low tone, his voice turning you on. You feel around above you and grab the nearest cables and tangle your wrists in it, "Show me what you can do, Vox."

He didn't hesitate to undo his bowtie. He took off your top, tossing them to the side before lifting up your skirt. He was taken aback at the thongs you were wearing, they matched his shirt. "Did Velvette put this one on you too?" He asks as he caresses your inner thigh. You purr at his touch, "Mmm...No. Those ones are mine. I got them after your confession~" "You know how to drive me crazy." He slides your thongs off and lightly drags his finger over your slit, making you shiver in excitement. "Now it's my turn to drive you crazy." His blue tongue sticks out of his screen and goes straight into eating you out, relishing your taste. You suppress your moans as to not let anybody else hear. "Be loud, this room is soundproof."

His tongue enters you and swirls around, driving you as crazy as you've been driving him. You squirm in pleasure as the overlord feasts upon you, licking up all the juices. You feel a knot forming in your stomach, your face flushing in delight, "Ah. V-Vox." You moan out, "I-I'm gonna-" He doesn't stop one bit, if anything it seems like he sped up. The knot grew tighter and tighter until you came all over his face. He pulls away, grinning as he looks at your shaking body.

"Let's go somewhere, more comfortable for you." He untangles you with ease, besides your wrists, and teleports the two of you into his already locked bedroom. He plops you down on the bed before taking his pants off, his cock leaking pre-cum. You drool at the sight of his length, "Come here." You say, still a bit out of breath, as you get on your knees for him. "Giving me orders now?" He chuckles as he got closer to your face, his cock resting on your cheek, "Is this what you want, babe?" You look up at him with lust filled eyes before you take him into your mouth, tongue wrapping around his length as you your head up and down. He grabs your hair, making sure it stays out of your face as he looks down at you sucking him, "What a good girl," He purrs, caressing your cheek. You pick up your speed, eager to taste him. Vox grunts in pleasure, thrusting his hips as he pushed himself deeper into you, "Make sure you take every last drop." He grabs your head and starts fucking your face deeper as he gets closer. His cock twitched before letting a load down your throat. He pulls himself out of you, your lips making a pop as he did. You open your mouth to show him what was left, closing it to swallow and opening it back up again to show him that you didn't leave a single drop. He puts his hand under your chin, "Now ass up, sweetheart." You wasted no second getting into position for him. You've been dying to take his cock ever since he confessed to you. Ever since you found out he watched you on his screens. Ever since you laid eyes on him actually. "You're drenched, babe." He grins as he rubs his tip at your entrance, "Beg." You whine and wiggle your hips, trying to see if you can slide him in yourself. He grabbed your hips firmly, slapping your ass, "I said, BEG." he demanded. "Please Vox." "Please what?" He teased his tip, pushing just a little bit in, "What do you want? Speak up." "Please fuck me senseless, Vox. Please." You pleaded in desperation. He grabs your hair, pulling your head up closer so he can whisper in your ear, "Good girl." God the way his voice changes sent shockwaves through out your body.

He enters you slowly, "I'm going to make your entire body glitch the way you made me glitch." He was relentless. Torturing you almost. He picked up his speed and started pounding into you. You moaned in delight, enjoying how rough he was with you. "Faster, please Vox." Your request filled with pleasure, "Vox. Pl-please!" He slaps your ass in response, letting go of your hair and holding your head down on the bed, "Since you asked so nicely." He kept himself at a quick pace, taking in the sight of you drooling on his sheets. He pulls out of you to flip you over, you were about to whine but him suddenly filling you back up again stopped that quick.

Your walls tightened around him, "You're so tight. Are you gonna cum for me like a good girl?" Your brain was turning into mush, rendering you unable to form a real response. The only sounds coming from your mouth were ineligible slurred words and moans. "I'm going to fill you up as deep as I can. I'm making you mine." He growls, pinning your tied wrists above your head. He plants on your chest before licking your exposed chest. He leaves hickies all over your chest, marking this night on your body for only him to see. You feel the familiar knot forming in your stomach again and you're positive he can feel it too. He grunts as he thrusted into you with reckless abandon, pounding you senseless into his mattress.

"V-Vox. Pl-please." He kisses you with as much passion as he could give as you cum around his cock, tightening your walls so much you squeeze him dry as he released his fluids deep into you. The electricity crackled as soon as he came before everything powered down around you. He pulls away from you, resting his head on your neck as he tried to catch his breath. You can see the light emitting from his face flickering different colors.

He pulls out of you, his cum flowing out. He grabs a towel to clean you off as well as he was able to before cleaning himself off. He unties your wrist before plopping down next to you. You nuzzle up next to him. The city lights turn back on and the light seeped into his room. He seems to have kept the lights off in the room. You feel his arm wrap around you. You look up at him, hand resting on his chest.

"Was the teasing worth it or what?" You asked, giggling a little bit. "Hell yeah it did. I'm so glad I sat through the whole show just for you." He sighs contently, pulling you closer to him. "Will you run this entire hell with me, dear?"

"Gladly, Vox."

Valentino groans as he sends over $100 to Velvette. "You of all people should know he wasn't going to be able to pussy out this time." She grins.

[zcoordinate]

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[problematic-faves-appreciation]

The definition of a romance novel: a story centered around the non-platonic relationship between two (or many) characters — with a guaranteed happy or hopeful ending for the main couple.

Those are the chief requirements needed for a story to be considered a romance!

Romances are not equivalent to...

• "endorsement".

• a "good guy" hero. No. In a romance, the term "hero" simply refers to the male love interest/main male protagonist of that story.

• "boyfriend material".

• female characters who "should be" role models for the readers, especially young women.

• an ideal (healthy) relationship.

• "relationship goals IRL!"

• didactic.

• an instruction manual.

• a substitute for sex education.

• wholesomeness all around.

• cozy fiction.

• dark-themes-free.

• "being especially dangerous to women" because this genre glamorizes subject matter that isn't okay nor legal IRL. Like, people play video games which glamorize crime and violence, but they don't get nowhere near the same amount of shit that romance novel and fanfiction readers do for doing the SAME EXACT THING as them: enjoying the fictional depiction of whatever, not its real-life counterpart.

As such, dark romance is still a romance, no matter how much certain people clutch their pearls about the messed up couples, and dark themes and tropes (cruel heroes, stalking, kidnapping, captivity, abuse, non-consent, trauma bonding) this genre has to offer. If a dark romance novel contains the central love story and happily ever after elements mentioned above, then sorry not sorry. That's a romance.

[bluemantics]

Lance threw open a set of metal doors with a loud bang, sending interns with coffee flying as he stormed in.

“Lance!” Allura rushed up to greet him. She was flawless as always, her white hair pulled back into a neat bun. She was dressed in a pink jumpsuit that somehow made her impossibly taller.

“How’s everything holding up?” Lance asked her. He was a stark contrast to Allura in his quickly thrown together jeans and t-shirt. Dark rings circled his eyes, his normally dewy skin was pale, and his whole body felt like it was going to fall apart.

“Just perfectly, don’t worry,” Allura assured him. She pulled a clipboard out of seemingly thin air, running through a checklist at rapid fire speed. “All of the collection has had quality tests and checks. The lighting crew is fully set up. The models have been briefed on what they have to convey and the message of the line… but.” She paused.

Lance felt his face go flat. “There’s a but.”

“But,” she continued weakly, jabbing a pen at her clipboard. “There’s one model that seems to be a bit challenging. He won’t listen to the directors, just keeps posing how he sees fit. It’s making the other models slightly… on edge.”

At that moment, Lance heard the unmistakable sounds of boots clomping over to the door. He looked over to see Nyma, one of his favorite models to work with, storming out.

“I just can’t work with that new guy! He’s the fucking worst. Takes all the damn spotlight and then has the gall to act like he doesn’t know. Dick.” She practically was growling as she left.

Lance raised an eyebrow at Allura. She sighed. “Fine, she’s right. He’s a dick.”

“I’ll take care of it, Llura,” Lance promised. “This is my collection. If there’s something majorly wrong, I’ve gotta fix it myself. You go deal with Hunk, I think I saw him crying over a wind machine in the room next door.” Allura looked relieved, nodding and walking toward the same exit Nyma had left through. Her tall white heels made delicate clacking noises as she left Lance to fend for himself.

Lance inhaled, straightening up and trying to summon the courage of a head designer. This was his first full collection with Altea designs. He was finally done with years of internships, assistant positions, and execution of others’ creative visions. Blue was supposed to be something revolutionary. Allura had assured him that it was unique, but not too bold for an upstart. Floating lines, dramatic blue shades, and sleek fabrics were all signatures of the original line. Lance was so proud of it.

He was not going to let some new model with an attitude ruin his blossoming career.

Lance walked over to the set to get a lay of the land. The set itself was gorgeous; it harkened back to the underwater setting it represented without being too literal, dark and moody in some shots while light and ethereal in other places. Currently, three models were being photographed; Rolo was on the right, laid back with an open shirt, and on the left was Romelle, her skirt dazzling as she moved it around her legs between shutter clicks.

But—

And yes, there was a but—

The model in the center captivated all the attention. Whoever had given him Lance’s favorite pieces from the line was cruel. The dark-haired model was wearing a low-cut black top that rippled out into open, wide sleeves. His bottoms were dark blue and black, Lance’s take on a cross between a skirt and pants. Something that blurred the lines of gender. Even his boots were sexy. Lance wanted to cry.

Then, he saw the problem. Rolo and Romelle were mirroring each other and the energy they’d been told to capture. They were flowing, soft and gentle, shifting naturally from movement to movement.

The middle man was not at all in sync with them. He was dynamic. He was sharp. He snapped between poses, turning his head in a challenging manner or flexing his hand as if he was missing unseen action. It was not what Lance had asked for.

Fuck, it was better.

“Hey,” Lance turned to the photography director on set. “Call cut. Who’s that guy in the middle?”

“Keith.”

“Get him over here.”

The man nodded. Immediately, Romelle and Rolo gravitated toward one another. The other guy tried to stick to the side, until he was pulled over by an intern.

He strode up to Lance with a raised eyebrow, his hands stuffed in the pockets of Lance’s outfit. “You wanted to see me?”

“Hi. Lance. Lance McClain.” Lance stuck his hand out for Keith to shake, eyes trailing the low cut of Keith’s shirt for a moment before snapping up awkwardly. Keith didn’t seem to notice and shook his hand. His palms were rougher than expected for a model, but Lance found that he didn’t mind.

“What do you need?”

“I’m the designer of the line,” Lance explained slowly. Understanding dawned on Keith’s face. He hadn’t even known who Lance was. “I just heard you were having problems with the other models and, well, I can see why.” Keith seemed to bristle, crossing his arms over his chest (which Lance mourned his view of).

“Hm.”

“You don’t match the other models. You aren’t even following the directions you were given. Have you done this before?”

Anger ignited in Keith’s eyes, and he sneered up at Lance. “Well, aren’t you a nice guy?”

Lance grinned in response, which only seemed to irk Keith more. “You know what? I don’t care. Whatever this angsty rage bullshit attitude is, I like it better on this line than what I originally imagined. You added something here, captured a different part of the story.” Lance’s grin only widened as Keith’s confusion grew.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re the new face of the collection. I’m giving you solo shots. A bigger role. I don’t care that you don’t work well with that other flouncy, pretty image of this collection. You’re showing my new angle: the untameable nature of the depths.” Lance’s eyes were practically sparkling with each word.

Keith still wasn’t relaxed, just a little less outright aggressive. He slowly nodded. “Fine? I guess I'll do it.” Clearly, he was mostly confused, his gaze darting up and down as if still taking in Lance's sudden appearance.

Lance made a short, quick clap. “Great. I’ll talk to the directors, get a new spot on the set, and an intern will grab a few more outfits for rotation.” He smirked, doing a quick once over of Keith one last time. “Seems like we’ll be working more closely for a few weeks.”

He turned on his heel, not bothering to wait for Keith's reaction.

Shit, this was going to be fun.

[st4vk1nmybra1n]

Muse.

Pairing: Model!Gojo x sculpturist!reader

Wc: 7k!

Cont: fluff, (sort of) slowburn, friends to lovers, part two of my previous model!gojo x reader, can be read as a standalone fic! Ending alludes to a separate fic with geto x reader bcs i can't resist it..

author's note: Contains in-depth information about how I perceive both gojo and geto’s (and even reader's) way of expressing art. In depth talks about their upbringings and backgrounds, amateur’s take on art so please feel free to provide feedback!! Comments are very much appreciated! Overall just very long and detailed fic. Please enjoy <33

Geto Suguru wasn't a man who put himself out there for the world. Unlike his friend, Satoru, Suguru was more to himself. He wasn't reserved, per se. He just had a greater preference to keep his theatrics and jokes to his friend group. Don’t get him wrong, he loves annoying his friends as much as his best friend, but he preferred to keep that side of him as something mainly for his friends. Unless it slipped out in the moment, Suguru wasn't going to tease or get overly cheeky. That’s just how he was. Not that it mattered much, though. He wasn’t the famous one, that was Satoru! And really, he was happier this way. He was content with his life so far, and he didn’t have the desire to change that aspect.

Being Gojo Satoru’s bestest friend ever (Satoru’s words, not his) came with a little bit of attention, regardless of whether it was something you wanted. And when you’re as alluring as Suguru, it’s inevitable! He’d had multiple offers in commercials and photoshoots, as nobody seemed to be immune to his charm. Maybe Satoru was getting to his head, but Suguru likes to think he has his own good looks that people seek out. He was almost the opposite visual of his friend, funnily enough. While Satoru had short, snowy white hair, Suguru had long, black tresses. While Satoru had frosty lashes, and big, bright blue eyes, Suguru had slanted, smaller and darker eyes. Though when the sun hits, they seem to have a purple gleam to them. While Satoru had milky, pale and untouched skin, Suguru had tan skin, rough at the hands, piercings in his ears and on his lips, along with a few scattered, intricate tattoos over the skin on his arms and back, his entire frame littered all over with freckles and moles. While satoru’s build was tall, lanky yet still well muscled, suguru’s build was an inch or two shorter, but more muscled. Even despite such differences, the two paired well together, contrasting the other beautifully.

It was clear there weren't many similarities in their looks besides the fact that the media thirsted over the fact that the both of them were hot. Another common interest was teasing and annoying their friends together, though Suguru tended to tire out of the activity 10 minutes in, only to sabotage Satoru and start bullying him. Another thing the two could silently agree on was their appreciation of art. Art, a form of expression that captures the beauty and essence of the object of one’s affection or fascination. While the two had different preferences for the type of art they enjoyed, they could appreciate the other’s outlook, even sometimes gaining an interest in it.

Satoru admired the art of a physical muse, the art of presenting a face or a body in a manner that captivates the viewer. The idea of filmography, photography, drawing, painting, and sculpting statues being centered around a physical being was something that made him feel alive. The ways of capturing a creature in so many colors, so many emotions. It all appealed to him. The sensuality of a sculpture or a photograph shot at just the right angle that made it a phenomenal art piece is something that always stood out to him. Sensuality and sexuality was something that Satoru considered natural, it didn’t phase him or arouse him in most circumstances, it only ignited a sense of admiration and appreciation for art. Satoru was confident in his sexuality, he held the form of expression to high regards, often channeling the feeling whenever he modeled.

Suguru on the other hand, had an appreciation for art that presented in the form of something non-human, yet so humane. Capturing the beauty of scenic views in a painting, or in a photograph or drawing was what stood out most to him. To see the ways one could imagine the same exact thing. While colors were great, he preferred neutrality, minimal color. Even with the lack of bursting and animated pops of color, grasping an object in the palm of your hand and honing it in the way you envision is more satisfying than he’d like to admit. That was the main reason he owned a tattoo and piercing parlor, to be able to engrave his art in the form of ink onto someone else for them to share that sense of admiration. It brought him joy, more than anything. Aside from doing tattoos and piercings, he did photography on the side with Satoru as his main muse. Satoru had a look to him that was just enough to stand out perfectly in front of plain colors, making suguru’s photography easy on the eyes and minimal. Perfect enough to satisfy both their preferences.

It was an arrangement the two had since they were 16, starting soon after the two had become friends. Suguru seldom captured shots of his other friends too, but Satoru had an annoying tendency to actually boost Suguru’s inspiration to create art. The two would constantly inspire the other to work, continuously driving one another to be at their fullest potential. They were stubborn as hell too, always wanting their own way instead of what the other wanted. Though as always, they would come to a sort of compromise, creating a mesh between their two styles and medium. Though, Satoru preferred to be the object of someone's desire, wanting art to live on vicariously through his body, using it as a vessel to perform and present himself as someone's muse, a piece styled and perfected so tediously to how one envisioned him to be fitting, while Suguru had a knack for capturing said art.

Suguru came from quite a liberalized background, his parents being way more laid back and open minded than the average family in japan. For that sole reason, Suguru was able to express himself adequately and comfortably, and he was quite self aware and emotionally intelligent. Having such a freedom to think, and understanding the weight of that trust his parents bestowed upon him from giving him room for self expression made him even more conscious of the decisions he took and put time into. He was quite comfortable in his identity, and had no qualms against discussing topics that many may consider taboo. That's just how he was, what else could he say?

Now on the other end of the spectrum, Satoru was brought up very traditionally and conservatively. The Gojo family was a well known family amongst your everyday crowd. Derogatory and narrow-minded statements were shoved down Satoru's throat routinely, irritating him to no end. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that women weren't inferior, or that anybody who wasn't a "pure" japanese was a disgrace. Things like these were common knowledge to him by the age of 7, and he frankly couldn't care less about how the higher ups in his clan felt about women showing their ankles. Modesty and impurity were just, and anything else was blasphemous and an insult in the Gojo estate. Of course, Satoru didn't agree. So when he had met Geto Suguru, who had asked Satoru for a mini photoshoot, the white haired male agreed.

But what he didn't expect was to be handed a tight fit tank top. He wasn't uncomfortable by any means, just surprised. It was a pleasant surprise compared to the loose, traditional clothing he was forced to wear. Suguru was quite well versed in the latest of fashion trends, and Satoru was eager to learn more and change up his wardrobe in hopes of irritating the higher ups. Sooner or later, he got his first professional modeling gig. For the shoot, he wore white, loose cloth draped over his frame. Depicting him as angelic. That in itself was blasphemous, but the lack of coverage from the cloth would probably incite even more outrage amongst the elders of the Gojo clan. Belatedly, he'd realize just how happy he felt with the end result of his photoshoot. What once was an act of getting under the skin of his relatives, became an outlet of self expression that he never got to let out.

No sooner than later, Gojo Satoru had risen to fame, and was known as one of the most beautiful men out there, and he relished in the attention and the excitement he felt of being seen in such a light. The feeling of expensive silk garments draped over him, or the lack thereof, was exhilarating. Giving him the endorphins rush he craved constantly. The intricacy behind being styled with shawls and robes of fabric, or with minimal fabric, maybe something more daring like chains placed against his skin strategically, the glint of the metal against his skin only highlighting his milky skin. Sometimes in intricate, strappy belts or ropes around his frame. While daring and promiscuous, he was never opposed. He liked the idea of being presented to the world in many ways. He knew he looked good, anyway.

On the other hand, there was you; while not much of a model, you had a keen eye for arts like your two friends. You were a sculpturist; meticulously carving and molding out figures and statues with utmost dedication. You enjoyed working in the field, and it paid well enough. Sure, it was fun to paint and draw, but you much preferred sculpting. To bring a creation to life by creating a proper vessel in a three-dimensional form, was something else of its own.

You lived a life that seemed to be pretty ordinary, up in the beginning at least. Your parents weren't completely strict, they were pretty okay with most of your decisions. Alas, you grew up getting to indulge in your interests to a certain degree. That was only amplified when you'd made your friends in highschool. Having friends like Suguru, Satoru, Shoko, Nanami, Haibara and Utahime; it was nice. You guys were always close, pushing one another to do better than the last time. That's just how it was. You were close with Shoko and Satoru the most, finding yourself easily conversing with the two at all times. Not that you couldn't with the rest, but you just felt a click with the two.

And of course, overtime, that grew into something more with Satoru. It was like you were attached at the hip at times, running around the whole area surrounding your guys’ school to explore and find things to entertain yourself with. On some occasions, Suguru would join you. On those days, he and Satoru would look around for things to photograph, maybe use as a backdrop for their photography. On the days it was just you and Satoru, you both would wander around aimlessly, talking about anything and everything. Often, you'd talk about Satoru's shitty family, and his love and passion for beauty. You talked about your future and its possibilities, about what you wanted to do and what you saw yourself doing. Of course, it changed over the course of the years. Satoru had wanted to be seen by the world; perhaps as an actor. That stayed for a while, until he was cast for a modeling gig later on.

You had always been uncertain of your future, trying hard not to think about it too much, to avoid thinking way too much into the future. You preferred living in the present, alongside your friends. It was on one certain day during a sculpting class you had that you took often, where you were working on expressions. Making sculptures look realistic went hand in hand with learning the ins and outs of the body– understanding bodily anatomy was necessary for a detailed creation, and you were stubborn. When you started something, you needed to be good at it. Good enough to be proud of your work. And that took effort. So you dedicated hours and hours to sculpting. Working meticulously on your current piece, you thought deeply about how you wanted to do these features.

Carefully, you had sliced some clay from the face, smoothing it down to blend in seamlessly with the rest of the features. You carefully sculpted out the nose as well. Small, pointed with a soft slope going from the top to the tip. You carefully blurred out the lip lines, making a softer Cupid's bow. You defined the philtrum, carefully pressing into it. Then, you worked on sharpening the jawline, yet making it feel as human as it could be. After an hour or so of working on those details, you snap out of your trance with a sigh. You pull away, inhaling sharply at the work in front of you. Belatedly, you realized how similar it looked to your friend, Satoru. You were enchanted by it. You'd drawn and painted your friends before, but to create a human-like head so similar to one of your friends, like a statue signifying their importance to you– it was something you'd never thought to do.

When learning how to draw expressions and faces, you had to practice creating ethnic features and unique qualities, just to perfect the art of diversity. This was your first time creating a piece inspired by your friend. At least in the form of clay. And it was beautiful. You had dedicated hours and hours to this piece, and it was like you were short of breath as you saw this. It was unlike anything you'd envisioned before. That was the moment you had realized just how much you loved doing this. And as you sat alone in your class, having been the last to stay, you gazed upon your creation, your heartbeat accelerating just at the beautiful sight of it. Your friend was gorgeous, but creating this piece was like taking a piece of him from your memories, etching him upon the canvas that was the clay. In a way, you felt your love for said friend to grow more and more. The whole process felt more and more intimate, dedicating time to a statue of your friend. It wasn't just a regular drawing or painting, this was a piece of your heart, your blood, your sweat, and even your tears. The realization that you finally felt sure about what you wanted to do– it warmed your heart, your eyes growing cloudy with tears.

“Ah. You've finished. It's beautiful. This is your friend, is it not? Satoru, was it?” Your teacher had asked, to which you blinked, letting out a laugh and a nod as you wiped your eyes. It was. And the fact that it was recognizable not just to you but to other onlookers had made you feel accomplished. You sat there in silence, staring upon your work for half an hour after you'd finished, just taking it in. Eventually, you'd packed up your things and gone back home, still dazed from the burst of emotions it had caused you. But that was just the start of your obsession, and you only grew more and more dedicated to your craft. And eventually, you too had found what you'd wanted to do, just like your friend and your muse, Satoru.

The studio you worked in was spacious, quite empty, built reminiscent of an actual museum. You had a few occasional pieces around in the studio, consisting of statues of your friends and a few more abstract pieces here and there. Adding to the ambience of your work, it made for a peaceful environment and a great space. You seldom had visitors in the building, with the exception of your friends Suguru and Satoru, and Shoko on those days she wasn't busy. Occasionally you saw Nanami, Haibara, Utahime and even Megumi and his friends drop by. You were never opposed to visitors, finding it a pleasant change to the melodies you'd often be playing. You worked with music playing in the background, though you preferred to have it pretty quiet, just as background noise. Like tunes blasting in from a neighbor's house. It was a comforting sound, much better than risking your hearing with your song on full volume, as you worked. Not that you didn't blast music, no. You just preferred to keep it quiet as you worked.

Your sculptures consisted of random objects and trinkets for your friends and family, and some even for yourself. Some detailed china; though only for the sake of decor. Occasionally, you get commissions for your stuff to be displayed in lavish stores or museums. It was easy money for you! A good chunk of your work consisted of commissions from the upper class looking to have their lovers portrayed in the most romantic ways one could imagine– As a statue, reminiscent of times where artists would create a masterpiece of their muse. How romantic it is, indeed. But instead of the rich creating it themselves, they simply paid you to do the deed. And so you did! Not that you had qualms against doing so. You know the intentions behind the act itself is from a place of love and adoration, and if you can encapsulate the beauty of someone’s eternal love, then so be it. It almost felt like playing cupid, working your magic into each press of your fingers into the clay.

Sculpting can take days, weeks, and even months. But you preferred to take your time to perfect your creation. You found fascination in each piece you made. Sensual, thoughtful, innocent, small, cute, detailed. It didn't matter to you, you'd always find something interesting about each piece. You worked with a genuine care and devotion to each and every piece, finding yourself falling in love with them all to some extent. It was an intimate process through and through. To receive a request from someone willing to spend a fortune, just for a statue of someone they love so dearly. And so you built it up from the bones and flesh, encapsulating each detail with precision. And after weeks and maybe even months, seeing the fruit of your labor was a feeling like no other. It left you feeling many many emotions, being able to do something so special for others.

Just a day ago, you sat in your studio, surrounded by paints and a small sculpture. Just of a head, reaching to the shoulders. For practice, you reasoned. You'd been free from any commissions for just a few days, so you had decided to create a small sculpture. With your hands covered in wet clay, you had reached out, creating dips and dents in the face wherever you saw fit. Brows furrowed in concentration, you carefully and slowly reached forward, adding just a bit more clay to the cheekbones, huffing in satisfaction.

Now, with the sculpture dried and perfected, you sat and stared at it, pondering where you could go with it. Or well– you partially lied. You knew exactly where this was going, as you usually knew with all your pieces. This certain one had been created with a person already in mind, biting your thumb in concentration as you hummed, looking over your colors, then back at the sculpture. Carefully, you grabbed a few tones of colors, beginning to create the shade for the skin. Slowly but surely, you brought your creation into life, reviving it with color. High cheekbones dusted with a light flush, pale milky skin laid down against the canvas of the face. Bright, electric blue eyes, and platinum blonde, almost white hair. You meticulously shaded each and every part, deep in your focus.

As you start finishing up on the details a few hours later, adding more color to the plump lips, and carefully coating the sculpture’s lashes with white, you're slightly startled by the sound of a familiar voice. Very familiar. And as you leaned closer to add a few details, you looked into the one unveiled eye, feeling warmth spread through your heart, through your veins. The familiarity in the creation always left you feeling cozy and comforted.

“Hope you aren't too busy! Just felt like dropping by– oh hey, that's me, isn't it?” Crooned the voice of Gojo Satoru, the man your current sculpture was inspired by. You turn to face him, giving him a small smile and a nod.

“Yeah, it is.” You affirmed, wiping your face against the sleeve of your shirt, carefully avoiding the touch of your hands against your face and clothes.

“What's the occasion? Finally decided to dedicate your studio to me or what?” Satoru teased, sitting down beside you, to which you laughed.

“Not really. And do I need an occasion? I mean, you've got the perfect face to be my muse, why wouldn't I sculpt out something inspired by you.” You stated, as if it were the most obvious thing ever. Satoru looked upon you with raised brows, otherwise not speaking as he stared on. Not that he'd never heard such words. He had, quite a few times. But to hear it from you– and to see the dedication and admiration behind each detail, each carefully molded and dented feature of his face, it made him fall deeper and deeper into you. You had drawn white bandages wrapped around his head and over one of his eyes, the other carefully yet methodically uncovered, revealing the details behind his eyes.

In your other statue of him, you'd added his signature glasses. Most people keep his eyes uncovered when he models. Not that you covered his eyes up, no. You made sure to make his eyes equal to every other feature on his face. Sure, they were striking as ever to you and everyone else on this planet, but when you spend so much time around him, you realize how beautiful every part of him is. To you, each and every detail on his face is ethereal. And your work portrays that.

His eyes stood out always, but they were always accentuated in his shoots. But in your portraits of him, you made sure they stood out as they did when he sat on your bed, with the rest of his friends surrounding him. The way his eyes would stand out when he'd race with Suguru out on the fields in school, while you, shoko, nanami and haibara sat around, laughing lightly at the banter occurring between Suguru and him.

“You know, you really are something else,” Satoru mused as he snapped out his thoughts, glancing at the tower of paint that accumulated on your palette.

“You think so?” You cooed teasingly, nudging him slightly as you carefully began to clear up your space, letting the piece begin drying.

“Seriously, what's with you and this sudden sculpture of me? I mean, I'm not opposed to you.. sculpting me like I'm one of your french girls, but i thought you'd be busy creating pieces of young girls half naked for your rich clients that are way past their 60s.” He asked theatrically, dramatizing his words as he always did.

“I had free time. And I did it because I felt like it. You're just nice to sculpt, what can I say?” You answered back, tone cheeky yet sincere as you leaned your head against your palm, giving him a smile. He balked, scoffing with a laugh.

“You've got paint on your face now.” Satoru muttered out, tone laced in adoration. You blink, pulling away your hand to glance at the paint, gazing at it for a moment, letting out an ‘oh’. He chuckled once more, grabbing your water bottle from beside you, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket as he began to pour some water over it. He carefully closed the bottle, turning to you. He gently grasped your chin in his hand, the other hand bringing the handkerchief to your face, dabbing away the paint from your cheek and the side of your chin. He then takes your hands into his own, pouring some water over them, using the handkerchief to pat down the water and clean up the excess paint. Once finished, he tucked away the dirtied handkerchief, running a thumb over your cheek before pulling away.

“C’mon, let's go home. I'm tired, and it's late now. You still got the food from yesterday in your fridge, right? I'll just microwave that for us.” He urged, holding out his hand to you. You glanced up, blinking slightly before you broke out into a grin, grabbing his hand as you pulled yourself up, intentionally trying to pull him down in the process. Though it does nothing to falter him, and instead he gives you a playful glare, clicking his tongue.

“Did I mention I think your sculpture today was beautiful?” Satoru had started once you both had settled down on the couch in your apartment, watching tv as you enjoyed your leftovers.

“Yeah? Because it's you?” You had teased, grabbing another bite of the day old spaghetti.

“No. Because it's you. I mean– it's something you made. It's me. But made by you. Who couldn't find it beautiful?” He spoke softly, a fond smile playing on his lips. “Though it's also because I'm beautiful, yeah.” He added, grin becoming larger. You rolled your eyes lightheartedly, watching him shove a huge forkful of spaghetti into his mouth.

“What's with all this sappy stuff, huh?” You shook your head, grabbing your glass of water to take a sip.

“Maybe you just make me a sap.” Satoru spoke with concealed sincerity, glancing up to see your reaction. Your lips quirked up in the slightest, though you didn't say much.

“You just say that to all our friends, or what?” You asked, placing your finished plate of food onto the table. You grabbed a tissue, wiping your lips clean.

“Nah. Just you.” Satoru answered honestly, this time not bothering with veiling his words. You were special to him. All his friends were in their own ways, but the adoration he held for you was unmatched for anyone else.

“Wow. Am I supposed to be flattered?” You asked sarcastically, to which Satoru spluttered. He blinked, deciding that now was probably a good time to confess. He opens his mouth to start, clearing his throat.

“Hey..” he started slowly, the softness of his voice immediately sticking out to you. Before he can continue, you both are interrupted by a knock on the door, and the familiar voice of haibara.

You sigh, grabbing yours and his plates, yelling out a ‘coming!’ to your incoming visitors. You quickly placed the plates by the sink, rushing to the door to open it.

“There you are! We brought cookies!” Haibara greeted you with a quick hug, followed by Nanami, Shoko, and Suguru. “We visited your studio, but it seems you're not pulling an all-nighter today.” He added, waving as he spotted Satoru.

“Yeah. I don't have any pieces to work on right now.” You answered, locking the door behind you as you walked back into your lounge, taking your seat again as the group claimed their own spots on your couches.

“What brings you guys here?” You asked, carefully opening the box of cookies they brought along. You grab a classic chocolate chip cookie, sighing lightheartedly as you hold out the box to satoru, who had been glancing at the box eagerly. He grinned, grabbing the double chocolate chip cookie.

“I called Satoru earlier, he mentioned he was visiting you. So we decided to drop by your studio, guess you guys came back here.” Suguru explained, to which you nodded with a hum.

“Yeah. He dropped by as I was finishing off a piece. We came back home and just had some dinner and.. yeah.” You nodded, taking a bite out of the cookie as Suguru, observant as ever, raised a brow. It was clear there was more to the story, judging by Satoru's slight stiffness, and your slight concern. Perhaps they'd interrupted something.

“I thought you said you didn't have anything to work on?” Shoko asked, curious.

“None for my clients. But I got bored so I just decided to sculpt something of my own.” You explained, shrugging your shoulders. You glanced at Satoru, who had devoured his cookie, now glancing at you with a pleading gaze. You raised a brow, unimpressed. He blinked his lashes at you, to which you tilted your head at the box. He shook his head aggressively, eyes glaring at the chocolate chip cookie in your hands, watching you bite down on it. You groaned in exasperation, wordlessly handing it off to him. He cheered happily, taking a huge bite out of it.

“Oh, what did you make this time?” Nanami asked, showing genuine interest. He was kind and always interested in your works, asking you many questions regarding your pieces. He'd even bought you paints and equipment on your birthdays!

“Just a small sculpture. Head to shoulders. Based off of Satoru. It's currently drying, I'll show you guys tomorrow.” You grinned happily, taking pride at any opportunities to present your works to your friends. At this, both Shoko and Suguru shared a glance, as if having a silent agreement.

“I see.. interesting choice, I suppose..” Nanami mumbled, his expression of disdain evident. Satoru gasped in offense, placing his hand over his chest.

“I'm the best choice! Have you seen me?” Satoru retorted sassily, crossing his arms. You let out a laugh, glancing between the two. You turn to Satoru, admiring his every feature and etching it into your brain, just so you can make your next statue of him even better. You take note of the contours of his face. The curve of his small nose, the curl of his lashes, the natural pout of his plump lips, the set of high cheekbones dusted with the faintest of flush. His cheeks looked soft.

Abruptly, you lean forward, poking your finger against his cheek. He yelps, glancing at you in disbelief.

“What was that for?!” He asked, whining in pain. You let out a laugh, unable to hold back your laughter from how funny the whole situation was.

“I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist!” you gasped out between bouts of laughter, not realizing the way his whining stops as he admires you, eyes softening as a smile takes over his own face.

Suguru observed further, sighing internally. He wasn't oblivious to the two pining over each other, and it seemed the rest of the group wasn't either. Even Haibara could tell something was happening there! And that's a big deal. Suguru knew his best friend had felt this way for the longest way. It was obviously in the way he admired you, obvious in the way he sought you out in a crowd before anyone else. Obvious in the way he glanced at you after telling a joke or saying something he felt was smart. He and Satoru were good friends, yes, but even Suguru could recognize there was something more to Satoru's relationship with you. You both were a constant in each other's lives, with you being present for a lot of Satoru's shoots and interviews. You knew him like no other, and it showed in the way you sometimes chimed in to answer a question, or when you talked and boasted about Satoru. Satoru came over to your studio a lot to unwind, just sitting and watching you add the details to your masterpieces. He'd tried to pick up sculpting alongside you, but the struggle was much too real for him. He preferred to just have himself be the canvas of his art. That didn't change the way you two were so heavily involved in the other's life, it was like you couldn't function properly without the other at times. If only you two would just kiss and get it over with already!

And so you sat, with one leg crossed over the other, eyes focused on Satoru as he finished up a shoot of his.

“Just tilt your head up in the slightest.. perfect, and push your shoulders back.. there we go..” the photographer spoke, the constant click of the camera sounding out in the otherwise quiet room.

“And we're done! Good work as always, Gojo.” The photographer praised, to which Satoru nodded, glancing towards your direction. You got up from your seat, approaching him with a bottle of water. In an instant, he chugs the liquid down his throat, breathing heavy as he finishes.

“I've got a short interview, then let's head home, yeah?” He murmurs, to which you nodded and grabbed the water bottle from his hand, patting his shoulder. They brought out a chair for him to sit on, the crew beginning a small interview for him during the shoot.

“So, how was your experience here, Gojo?” One person had asked, to which Satoru hummed, nodding his head as he thought about the question.

“It was nice, as always. The photographer and the whole crew were kind. Nothing special, it was okay.” He answered honestly, shrugging. “Any shoot is fun when my dearest friend is watching.” He added with a cheeky smile, to which you huffed.

“What he means is that he had a good time, and he's happy. If he were unhappy, he wouldn't even be sitting here right now. Consider that a win!” You added with a laugh, wanting to save his image of coming off too callous as always.

“It seems you're very close to your friend. Even closer than you are to Suguru Geto. What's that about?” The person asked, to which Satoru laughed out loud.

“What's that supposed to mean? I adore all my friends! This one's just the only one who seems to tolerate me the most. Suguru can be mean sometimes. I need a friend who'll join me when I'm joking around, Suguru just loves to humble me.” He answered, giving a wink towards the camera. The questions continued on, remaining pretty related to the shoot itself. Eventually, he finished up and began packing, his manager stopping him before he left to discuss tomorrow's schedule.

“So, what's on tomorrow's agenda?” You asked, to which Satoru sighed dramatically, grabbing your hand to drag you into the car.

“Don't even ask, honestly,” He sighed out, leaning back against the seat. He stretched out his arms, listening as you told the driver to drive to your studio. He opened his eyes, wordlessly raising a brow at you.

“Need to check on my sculpture, y’know?” You explained, to which he nodded, letting out a loud yawn as he let his head fall into your lap, grabbing your arm to place it over his closed eyes. You let your other hand run through his hair, combing through the locks, carefully brushing your fingers through it.

The drive wasn't very long, and you both quickly entered the space, Satoru's eyes flitting across the area to observe everything you'd ever created. He saw pieces of him and your friends, of dishes painted in careful designs and pots and other objects decorating the whole space. You quickly approached your most recent project, the one inspired by Satoru.

“It's dry.” You cheered, eyes carefully looking over the entire piece for anything out of place or incorrect. Once you finished, you let out a satisfied hum, placing the piece on one of the podiums to analyze it once more.

“Looks good, right?” You asked Satoru, eyes glancing up at him. He nodded wordlessly, eyes glancing back at the sculpture. It looked identical to him, but somehow, it felt even more gorgeous than how he looked, if that was even possible.

“Looks even better than how I look. How'd you manage that?” He asked, to which you laughed, nudging his side.

“What can I say? I just know you.” You answered fondly, gazing up at him. He looked back with a smile on his lips, eyes softening with adoration.

“Yeah. I guess you do.” He answered softly, eyes becoming more and more dazed as he took you in. You stared back, breaking eye contact as you leaned against him, sighing wistfully.

“You know, the whole reason I even started sculpting full time was because of you.” You spoke, to which Satoru looked at you with raised brows, having not heard this information before.

“It was during one of my classes. I just subconsciously started molding the clay to fit your features. I sat there for the longest time, just creating your features from each and every memory of you I had. And by the time I finished, I couldn't believe it. That was the first time I had fallen in love with sculpting.” ‘and you,’ you wished to add. Satoru remained silent, his breath catching in his throat at your words.

“It was the first piece I actually felt really proud of, and I stared at it for hours, just taking in the fact that I'd created something so beautiful. It was like I'd taken something from my heart and created a vessel for it. And that was when I'd realized that this was what I wanted to do. To this day, I still think back to that day. Hell, I even cried that day.” You laughed lightheartedly, shaking your head. “I realized so much that day, and I have you to thank for that. It's like you just constantly inspire me, Satoru. You really are my muse, you know?” You added, tone soft as you glanced up at him, meeting his eyes once more

Satoru remained speechless, in awe of the confession you'd just made. To hear those words from your mouth felt like you'd just poured out your heart to him. He swallowed shakily, letting out a deep breath.

“I'm in love with you,” He spoke out, tone completely serious and sincere. You blinked, eyes widening.

“What?” You asked, mouth opening. It's not that you didn't expect something like this. It was kind of obvious you two had something more, you just never got to addressing it. So to have him announce this out of the blue, it shocked you.

“I'm in love with you. I always have been. You know this.” He repeated, not taking back his words as he reached out, grabbing your shoulders. You blinked, letting out a laugh.

“Is this seriously how you're going to tell me?” You asked him fondly, to which he blinked, suddenly feeling a little sheepish. Nonetheless, he nodded, cheeks flushing.

“I'm serious. I mean it. I can't keep it in anymore. Not after what you've just said. I couldn't waste another opportunity,” he murmured, raising his right hand to cup your cheek, his left hand grasping your neck. You glanced up, raising a brow cheekily.

“Done beating around the bush?” You teased him, to which he let out a breathy chuckle, leaning his forehead against yours.

“You didn't say it back.” He mumbled, eyes still looking into yours with the love he'd festered over the years. You let out a small laugh, eyes crinkling.

“I'm in love with you, Satoru.” You spoke sincerely, your arms coming up around his neck. He smiled brightly, letting out a sigh of relief.

“You're way too precious to me. You always have been.” He confessed quietly, leaning down to finally press his lips against yours, thumb brushing soothingly against your cheek. You kissed back with the same constancy as his, arms tightening around his neck. He kissed you slowly, passionately, with devotion he had yet to show for anything besides his art. Carefully, almost regretfully, he pulled back, eyes peeling open softly, his breath feathering over your lips.

“God, I love you so much. I can't believe I waited this long to kiss you.” He whined ever so slightly, voice laced with a playful undertone. You let out a laugh, leaning up to peck him once more.

“Just be glad you did it.” You mumbled, lashes fluttering as you looked up at him. He nodded, smiling brightly as he brought you into a tight embrace, pressing kisses into your hair.

“I love you,” he repeated for the umpteenth time, to which you let out another laugh. You nuzzled deeper into his neck, hugging him tightly.

“I love you, Satoru.” You echoed, placing a kiss to his neck. He sighed once more, beginning to sway you in his embrace.

“Let's go home?” He asked, glancing down at you. You looked back up, giving him a nod.

“Yeah. Let's go home, Satoru.” You answered with a smile, pressing your lips against his cheek, watching the skin flush pink as he grinned, grabbing your hand in his, pulling you out of the studio, hand remaining in yours as you locked up the door. You turned back to face him, watching him stand there, the glow of the setting sun casting upon him. Looking as beautiful as always, Satoru smiled back at you, the look of fondness and adoration evident in his face. Already, you know exactly what your next piece will be. You just hope you can do justice to your depiction of your lover in the sunlight. For once, it seemed you truly understood those who dedicated entire careers to their beloved. For once, you played cupid in your own life, professing a love so deep that it knew no bounds. How strange it truly was to have a muse.

“Does this mean you both are together now?” Suguru had asked the next day, watching Satoru cling to you and pepper kisses all over your skin that he could see.

“Obviously!” Satoru cheered out loud, grinning as he swayed you in his embrace. You let out a lighthearted sigh, patting his arms that snaked around you.

“Took you long enough.” Shoko mused, words mumbled due to the cigarette resting between her lips. Satoru blatantly ignored the comment, nuzzling further into your neck from his place behind you.

“At least I'm not alone and miserable like you!” Satoru stuck his tongue out at Shoko, to which Suguru let out a small laugh.

It was true. As we already know by now, Suguru Geto was indeed not a man who put himself out there for the world. He was polite to the people around him and the people who came to get tattoos, but that was as far as most of his acquaintanceships went. He wasn't opposed to finding someone or loving someone, he just hadn't found anyone of intrigue.

Is what he thought– at least until a while ago. But even a man like Suguru would eventually find infatuation with someone. And that someone was starting to become a regular in his life. It seems that's how most love stories start, or at least how it started between his friends. As he looks down at his knuckles, he realizes that maybe, maybe it's time to accept his own feelings for a special someone…

[rarepairdumpster]

Viktor Doll AU

Inspired by THIS ART

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: Canon Divergence, Dub Consent (over being made into a doll), First Meeting Bickering, Jinx being Jinx

Viktor Doll AU, but it backfires because Silco survives the shooting and sees what the fucked up Piltovan scientist did to one of Zaun's own. Silco liberating the doll because he won't have the memory of another one of his people defiled and tarnished by a Piltovan.

And the doll is a doll.

While it's been programmed with a facsimile of Viktor's personality, it doesn't understand the concept of captivity and liberation.

It's a shell of who Viktor was, with none of the ambitions that Viktor had.

Jayce quickly gets bored because he didn't realize that what he really loved about Viktor was his personality and ambition.

Regularly leaves the doll to be on its own while he's working.

The other Zaunites that worked in the lab, look at Jayce like he's the worst kind of monster, and they all quit over what he's done to Viktor's memory 

And that pisses him off.

Jayce sees it as him trying to preserve Viktor. Those Zaunite scumbags just don't get it.

But whatever. He hadn't wanted to hire them anyway.

He only did it because Viktor had made such a fuss.

When Viktor doll asks where the other scientists are and Jayce says they're gone, Viktor just responds with a calm smile and a tip of his head. "I'm sure it's for the best."

None of the anger that should have been there or demands to know why.

And Jayce goes off to be by himself and punches a hole in the wall.

Viktor-doll's existence however sparks a whole new level of interest among hextech sponsors though.

And Jayce soon starts receiving requests for more dolls.

Including some for the same model and Jayce shuts those down immediately

Silco sends Jinx to liberate the doll and steal the related research as a sign that he still trusts her implicitly, even after the shooting, and Jinx is anxious about fucking up, but that memory of realizing that she'd shot her dad by accident keeps her stable somehow, in a way that accidentally killing Vander and the others hadn't. 

Jinx is the one that one that fixes Viktor's programming, makes him more like himself.

And then she sets fire to the research because that shit's fucked up.

Jinx pulls what she can from the journals she found in the lab. She also broke into his old room to find his personal journals.

Jayce was too focused on just having Viktor back to even consider what makes Viktor him.

Newly reprogrammed Viktor-doll looking down at his metal hands and sounds so lost and confused as he says "What....what happened to me?" 

He still has a memory recall of his time with Jayce, after being activated, but it feels distant. Strange. Like a hazy dream.

And Jinx pushes her goggles up on her forehead and answers cheerfully, "I fixed you, silly."

Viktor looks down and covers his crotch up even though there's nothing there. 

"Some clothes or a sheet would be nice"

Silco's coat is there.

Jinx hadn't thought to ask for it.

But he'd thought to leave it.

And Jinx hands it to Viktor,

Viktor wraps it around his waist and attempts to stand, but he has trouble with his right leg. (He discussed it in his journals and so the program implemented it)

Viktor looks down at his leg.

Frowns.

Viktor looks around Jinx's work space, notices the outrageous colour schemes, and feels a jolt of recognition.

"You! You robbed from me!"

Jinx curses. "Shit I thought I took that part out of the feed"

Viktor scowls, starts looking for his cane automatically, but it isn't there. 

because the cane was buried with the real Viktor

"I need to go home," Viktor blurts. "I need to find Jayce."

"Oh, you don't want that guy," Jinx huffs, nose scrunching. "He's a freak. He's the one that did this."

Jinx gestures to pretty much all of him.

Viktor finally takes the time to look at himself and notices the hexgem enclosed in the center of his chest.

Oh, Jayce what have you done

He turns back to Jinx. "You fixed me as you say? Do you have notes?"

Jinx shoves a disorganized pile of papers at him scribbled with a mix of crayon, marker, and colored pencil.

Viktor looks so....disgruntled about what was used to write the notes, Jinx almost starts laughing.

"Silco has your journals" Jinx pouts a little, using air quotes to emphasize. "Said you wouldn't 'appreciate' my 'creative additions'."

Viktor hums and glances at her.

"He might be right. You're a genius, but our aims are polar opposites."

"HAH!" Jinx shouted, jumping from her chair. "You called me a genius! No take-backsiessss~"

She pressed a button on her desk that made an alarm noise. The label above had a stylized "S" and several hearts around it. Viktor assumed it must be a way for her to contact Silco.

Silco arrives almost in a hurry, coming down the steps and crossing the narrow "bridge" into the lab.

"Ah, you're awake," Silco says, running a hand though his hair as he gets closer. "Viktor, correct?" He holds out his other hand in greeting, a little startled at the strong grip from the automaton.

Strong and warm.

The Arcane's power is literally thrumming through him.

"I suppose that is the closest to who or what I am," Viktor explains.

"I am sorry we never met earlier," Silco says. "I always admired your work."

"So, you had her steal from me," Viktor muses, "instead of approaching me for a discussion. Interesting method for demonstrating admiration." 

Silco shoots a look at Jinx.

"No. She broke into the lab on her own the first time. But I am the one who sent her to rescue you."

"Also bold of you to assume that your partner," Silco spat the word like a bad taste, "would even allow me to have an audience with you."

Viktor opens his mouth to defend Jayce reflexively, but falters. Remembers the bridge. The barricade. Being locked out of Piltover and having to wait to have his identity "confirmed" by Councilman Talis. How Jayce had dehumanised and vilified Zaunites to his face.

Looks down at is hand.

At what Jayce did to him.

Viktor pulls his hand back and remembers the coat around his waist. "Does this rescue happen to include clothing?"

"Of course." Silco heads back in the direction he'd come from and beckons "We take care of our own. Come and we'll get you sorted."

Viktor went to take a step forward but collapsed against the railing. 

"Ah, a cane too, if possible," Viktor added, annoyed.

Silco looks at Jinx, clearly annoyed and expectant. 

Jinx huffs and rolls her eyes before hopping up onto the work-table. 

"The journals said his leg was fucked, so I worked that into the programming. You said to put him back the way he was!"

Arch + Woods

[adrealucia]

hiiiiiiii

Can I pls request an art class Sean? Or maybe one night he can't stop drawing you? Super excited for pt 4 of New Beginnings btw!! (you inspired me to start a fic tooo hehe)

omg, I absolutely LOVED writing this, thank you so much for this req <33 and omg I am so happy to hear that I inspired you to write a fic as well! I hope I'll be able to read it hihi

Sean's muse

Art class was Sean Diaz’s sanctuary. The scent of paint and the symphony of pencils scratching against paper were his escape from the tumultuous reality outside. Within these walls, creativity reigned supreme.

Sean sat in his usual spot in the corner of the art studio, where he could observe without being observed. Today, the model posed in the center of the room, perfectly poised, but Sean’s attention was elsewhere. His eyes kept drifting to you, sitting a few seats away, completely absorbed in your work. Your presence had become his new source of inspiration.

You had joined the class a few weeks ago, and Sean found himself captivated by you from the moment you walked in. There was something magnetic about the way you focused on your art, the way you held your pencil with such intent, the way you furrowed your brow in concentration. He couldn’t help but steal glances, his curiosity growing with each passing day.

Today, he couldn’t resist any longer. His sketch of the model was nearly complete, but it lacked the spark that your presence ignited within him. His hands moved almost of their own accord, tracing the lines of your face instead. He captured the way the light danced on your hair, the curve of your lips, and the intensity in your eyes. His gaze flicked up to you, hoping you wouldn’t notice his stolen glances, but you were lost in your own world.

The class ended, and as everyone packed up, Sean hurried to gather his things. He didn’t want you to see his drawing. He wasn’t ready for you to know. He barely knew you, but already, you had stirred something deep within him.

Walking home, Sean's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts.

He replayed the way you looked in his mind, trying to capture every detail. The way your eyes narrowed slightly when you concentrated, the delicate curve of your smile when you were pleased with your work. There was a serenity about you that he longed to understand, a depth he wanted to explore. He had never felt this way before, this pull towards someone he barely knew.

When he got home, he dropped his bag and immediately sat at his desk, surrounded by sketchbooks and pencils. He had to draw you again, to capture that feeling that you invoked within him. Each stroke of his pencil was a tribute to the fascination he felt. He drew you smiling, lost in thought, and even imagined the sound of your laughter. He wondered what your voice sounded like, what kind of things made you laugh.

Hours passed, and Sean lost himself in the process. His room became a gallery of your images, each sketch a testament to his growing obsession. He knew he had to talk to you, to see if you were as incredible as he imagined. The thought of it both excited and terrified him.

For the next art class, Sean arrived early, his heart pounding with anticipation.

He rehearsed his words over and over, imagining different scenarios in his mind. He feared rejection, but the thought of not knowing you at all was worse. When you walked in, you took your usual seat, completely unaware of the effect you had on him.

Sean took a deep breath and approached you, his heart racing. "Hey," he said, trying to sound casual, though his voice wavered slightly. "Can I see what you're working on?"

You looked up, surprised, but smiled warmly. "Sure," you said, moving aside to give him a better view.

Sean studied your drawing, impressed by the skill and emotion you put into it. "This is amazing," he said sincerely, feeling a pang of admiration.

"Thanks," you replied, a slight blush coloring your cheeks. "I've seen your work too. You're really talented."

Sean’s heart skipped a beat. "Thanks. Actually, I was wondering if you might want to... I don't know, maybe grab a coffee sometime? I'd love to talk about art and, you know, get to know you better."

Your smile widened, and it felt like the sun breaking through the clouds. "I'd like that," you said, your eyes sparkling with interest.

As you both returned to your seats, Sean couldn’t stop smiling. The rest of the class passed in a blur, but he didn’t mind. He had taken the first step, and that was enough for now.

That evening, Sean found himself drawing again, but this time, he was drawing from a place of hope. He sketched the way you smiled when he asked you out, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about art. Each drawing was more vibrant, more alive. He imagined conversations with you, learning about your passions, your dreams, and your fears. He wondered what it would be like to make you laugh, to see you happy.

In his room, surrounded by his drawings of you, Sean felt a sense of contentment he had never known before.

You were his muse, and he was ready to explore whatever this new chapter might bring. He knew that these feelings were just the beginning, and he couldn’t wait to see where they would lead. With every sketch, every thought of you, he felt more connected to you, more inspired. He realized that art had brought him more than just a way to express himself—it had brought him to you.

authors note: this was just such a goood request!! I feel like Sean can get pretty obsessive when it comes to drawing or sketching so I hope I didn't write him too creepy. hope you liked it <33