#messy sketch is all you get sorry

[dizzybizz]

back together but at what cost...

[xxplastic-cubexx]

I love that is not even an exaggeration that they're sitting on each other's lap

i HAVE to be so 1000% right now i thought erik was sitting like This behind the table in the first panel and i couldnt register anything else

[myokk]

an afternoon by the black lake🫶🫶🫶

[clowningaroundmars]

Hobie1610 pt. 3

part 3 has finally arrived!!! at a faster rate than part 2 but a bit of a wait nonetheless lol

not entirely sure how long this lil story will go on for but hope y'all are enjoying this ride regardless, whether it ends on the next part or in 3 more chapters ldfjkdhf

in this installment: thrilling action, a high stakes chase, and we get to learn more abt our beloved hobie jones! yippee!

>pt. 1 here<

>pt. 2 here<

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

By some miracle, Hobie did not mention the suit to Miles once they started texting semi-regularly.

Unfortunately, they also couldn't really make their lunch date (date? God, get it together, Morales. It is not a date…) as soon as Miles would have liked, due to a million different things getting in the way of them setting a solid day aside to chill together.

Just his luck, of course.

But in the hallways, Hobie actually deigned to give Miles a passing smile every now and then. They didn’t ever get to hang out like they did for those precious few moments on the first day of school, but Miles didn’t feel the crushing weight of guilt every time he saw Hobie in his same classroom anymore. What a relief!

So Miles was mostly okay with how things were going anyhow, even if the hangout ended up falling through and they both decided not to go in the end. He was able to patrol and do his homework in blissful peace for the first time in months.

… Kind of.

That look on Hobie’s handsome face as he looked down past Miles’ coat collar though…

That still ate away at an anxious part of Miles’ brain whenever he had the time to sit down and really let his worries manifest.

No time to think about that now, though. Miles was suited up again on a school night, hoping to get at least an hour’s worth of patrolling in before security at Visions noticed he was absent from his dorm room. He hoped Ganke would be able to cover for him like he always did.

It was yet another cold evening out in New York City, and Miles was steadily covering the edges of Brooklyn, heading towards Manhattan to do a quick sweep through Central Park like he did on occasion. There was always something going on in Manhattan, especially during the evening.

Miles decided it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick peek before calling it a night and heading back to Visions.

So away he went-- now fully in his Spiderman element-- vaulting and soaring over buildings, showing off every now and then by doing silly flips and tricks mid-air for the opportunistic New Yorkers looking to snap their Spiderman Sighting of the day. A little social media promo never hurt anyone, after all…

Spiderman finally swung down onto a tree branch on the western side of the park from a street lamp and was just about to lower himself down as inconspicuously as he could, before immediately feeling the tingling electricity of his Spider Senses race up and down his spine, giving him the usual headache along with it.

He crouched down quietly on a branch and watched as a familiar lanky figure streaked across the path underneath him onto the grass and beyond.

Whoever this runner was, he was fast. And hot on his trail was a gang of burly bumbling assholes cursing up a blue streak as they gave chase.

Spiderman’s eyes stayed glued to the fast runner like they were a lifeline. His senses honed in on the person and he erupted out of the leaves of the tree with one mighty leap, sailing through the air to shoot a web out and swing his way on over to the excitement.

Several joggers, people walking dogs after work, and mothers with baby carriages exclaimed and shouted as they were barreled into by the gang of men trying to keep up with their moving target. The runner didn’t seem to be giving up, though, as their long legs sent them flying over bushes and rocks and lounging people as gracefully as a ribbon in the air.

It was indeed getting dark soon again, but the darkness didn’t really affect Spiderman’s senses at all. His mask helped him fine-tune his powerful vision and anticipate the runner’s next moves.

It looked as though they were trying to make their way up towards the Great Lawn from Cedar Hill, but whether the person was planning to make a break for the now-empty Delacorte Theatre or the Metropolitan Museum Of Art… or beyond? That was the million dollar question.

Spiderman didn’t want to lose the person in case they happened to just be a petty thief, since that would be a quick and easy problem to fix. But as he silently chased down the runner alongside (and unbeknownst) to the gang, his suspicions gave way to some other... ideas.

Namely, that the runner seemed young, a bit too young for someone to be pissing off this many fully-grown gang members.

He pushed through his confusion and made a break for the theatre the second he guessed that the runner was pivoting in that direction.

The trees were getting thicker the closer they got to the Belvedere Castle and Spiderman eventually resorted himself to hoofing it, mindful of sticking to the shadows of the foliage that surrounded them on all sides.

He was super grateful now more than ever that his suit happened to be his signature sleek black and red, rather than the tacky and hyper-visible reds and blues of many of his Spider counterparts (sorry Peter!)

Once he confirmed that the suspicious target was indeed planning on hiding in the bleachers of the massive amphitheatre, he shot up a web to hoist himself into the infrastructure from the tall stadium lights. From there, he positioned himself a bit closer to the fray, hearing the loud and heavy boots of the gang following the runner, not far behind.

Then, he squinted into the dusk as he watched one of the entrances from his perch up high... and almost choked on his own saliva!

In comes none other than Hobie Motherfucking Jones, streaking down several steps like a shooting star, clutching onto… something tucked under one of his arms. He was breathless, panting loudly, and heading straight for the Belvedere Lake.

Upon hearing the heavy bootfalls get ever closer with every passing second, it seemed that Hobie got the idea to attempt a last-minute juke by throwing himself underneath the stairs that faced the lake, tucking himself as tightly as he could under the massive stage at the center.

Spiderman watched all of this happening with wide eyes, holding his own breath in. He prayed that the ugly thugs didn’t see Hobie’s sneaky last-second move, but climbed up high onto the stadium lights and prepared to swing down anyhow, just in case.

What was Hobie even doing here, out at this hour? And what the hell did he manage to steal that was so important to these men anyways? It was quite a chase they were caught up in, running nearly two entire miles all the way up to the amphitheatre just to catch him, and that was only from what he could see when he swung into action.

The group split up and pulled out flashlights, determinedly searching the bleachers and corners as best they could while the sky rapidly darkened above them.

From right below the webbed crime-fighter, Hobie poked his head out from the shadows and took a peek.

No, no, duck back down! Spiderman wanted to shout, but he couldn’t.

No one knew he had followed them and he was safe high above the action where he balanced himself on the metal bars that housed the bulbs. His muscles tensed as the bright beam of light from one guy’s flashlight swept a little too close to Hobie’s head. Damnit.

Spiderman couldn’t just sit there all day! He had a friend to save, stolen item be damned!

He rechecked his web shooters furtively and took aim.

He set his sights on another stadium light pole across from the stage, figuring that if he was quick and agile enough, he could time his swing well enough to scoop Hobie up from where he was hidden and avoid any detection. Hopefully.

Seemed like a solid enough plan though, until Hobie just. Shot out from his hiding place all of a sudden, the heels of his boots rapping loudly against the cement and echoing all around the stage as he made a beeline for the lakefront.

Shit!!!

Miles wanted to kill him. Those guys didn’t even suspect he was hiding where we was in the first place!

... Okay, plan B!

Spiderman’s brain whirred at breakneck speeds as he watched the thugs exclaim loudly and give chase yet again, this time much closer to Hobie than they ever were before.

Without thinking, he swung down from his perch and bowled over a couple of men in his haste to simply just… grab Hobie like a damsel in distress and fireman-carry him back around the gang to get a good line of web onto a nearby pole.

The men all cursed and shouted in surprise of course, flashlight beams waving around everywhere.

One of them even yelled, “what the hell was that?!” like a character in one of his dad’s favorite cheesy slasher movies.

Spiderman was too fast for them, a black blur simply whizzing by as he grabbed Hobie and hoisted the both of them up into the air with a mighty leap. Hobie yelped in surprise, grunting from the effort, and seemed to let whatever he stole slip out of his hands which then clattered loudly onto the ground below.

The thugs rejoiced then, shaking fists at Hobie and his rescuer as they flew up to the top of a tree and detached themselves so they could fall onto the stadium light opposite from Spiderman’s initial hiding spot.

Spiderman didn’t stop until he attached another web up to the lights and dangled there for a bit. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins as he shifted Hobie off of his shoulders and let him slide slowly onto his side, his friend’s wiry arms clutching him tightly.

They both watched with rapt attention at the goings-on several feet below them.

The thugs congregated around the fallen item, picking it up and turning it this way and that. It looked like a briefcase, though with the low lighting it really could’ve been anything. It was only when one of them-- the biggest and burliest of them all-- shouted out another colorful swear word that Hobie then seemed to come back to himself again.

He squeezed Spiderman’s shoulders with his arms and kicked at him. They swung a bit from the wiggling.

“Ouch!” Spiderman hissed, as quietly as he could. He was hoping the dark dusk would conceal their position now as long as they made No Noises, but even that wasn’t guaranteed.

“Go, go, go, go, man! Let’s get out of here!!” Hobie hissed right back into his ear, his face mere centimeters away from Spiderman’s mask.

Spiderman stubbornly ignored the heat radiating out from his face at that realization and jerked this way and that, looking for an easy escape from their conundrum.

Flashlight beams danced around the ground before finally swinging up to the trees and catching sight of a pair of shoes dangling in the sky.

The biggest and meanest one of the bunch pulled something out of his pocket and took aim.

Bullet! Spiderman’s senses screamed into his cerebellum.

“Goddamn,” he huffed ruefully as the shots rang out. Hobie panicked. “Bullets for us? That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”

Hobie clung onto his hero for dear life. “Brother, if you do not get a move on from here, we are both gonna get turned into fish filets!” He shouted into Spiderman’s ear.

“Ow. Okay,” Spiderman grumbled, sticking himself to the side of the pole they dangled from and readjusting Hobie so that he clung onto his back instead.

He took a deep breath and narrowly dodged a bullet that whizzed unnervingly close to their heads. Hobie yelled again.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Spiderman began, speaking quickly. “Hold on, okay? Hold on tight. Just hold on and do not let me go for even a second!”

“On it!” Hobie shouted back, legs kicking a bit before wrapping themselves tightly around Spiderman’s torso.

They both took a breath and then Spiderman jumped, gaining some air before twin webs erupted from his web shooters-- aimed directly towards the seating area entrance.

Together, he and Hobie rocketed from their airborne position towards their escape route once the fluids connected to solid architecture. To his credit, Hobie only whimpered a little bit through the ride.

The thugs had no chance! They stumbled on tired, aching legs towards the very door the two teens had left out of, complaining and cursing some more as they searched through the steps and made their way out onto the theatre’s general admission and concessions area.

They searched and searched through the bushes and trees, going so far as to even check the sculptures near the structure.

After several tense moments of gruff shouting back-and-forth, the search eventually died down until only a couple of the men were left sweeping the area once more. The others had already given up their fruitless endeavor and called it a night.

“Fucking kids, man. What the hell,” Spiderman heard one of them grumble before kicking at the Romeo and Juliet statue angrily and following the rest of his cohorts down the path towards the Great Lawn again.

Hobie and Spiderman let out matching sighs of relief then, happy to have given the men the slip by managing to hide behind the giant 3D Delacorte Theatre sign right above the box offices. Lucky for them, most people don’t think to search behind lit-up signs, so they went completely undetected.

“… Wanna let me know what you were doing here this whole time? You could’ve gotten killed!” Spiderman breathed. He wanted his tone to be sharper, more authoritative… but he was just so glad to see his new friend still in one piece instead of riddled with more holes than a chunk of swiss cheese!

Hobie scoffed, tucking a loc behind his ear and sitting back. Thanks to the lighting of the sign and the other park lights in the area, Spiderman could see him digging around in his coat pocket and fishing out-- a USB drive?

Hobie held it up triumphantly, sleepy down-turned eyes glistening with pride.

“I got it! Suckers! Screw them by the way, I’m not the thief, if that’s what you’re wondering,”

Well. He was sneaky, alright. Spiderman had to hand that to him, at the very least.

He sat back on his heels as well and exhaled. “Fine. I believe you. What’s on that drive?”

Hobie squinted at him then, really giving him a good once-over now that the excitement had officially died down. “…Damn. You’re Spiderman,”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, hi, nice to meet you, I’m your friendly neighborhood Sp-- ugh, seriously man, just tell me what all of that was back there or else I’m webbing you up and calling the cops.”

“Hey!” Hobie objected. “Like I said already, I’m the good guy here. I snagged this from those guys because I caught them snoopin’ around the museum over that way. I followed them and found out they were stealing this!”

Spiderman bobbed his head. “Okay? And what’s on it?”

Hobie turned the drive over a bit in his hands, admiring it. “Most likely? Security codes, schedules, maps. I’ve been uh… investigating those dudes for a while after watching them sniff around the museum for a few days now. It looks like they were just art thieves plannin' a heist, so I jumped on the opportunity to deliver justice myself.”

Hobie’s mischievous grin was met by Spiderman’s disapproving stare.

“And why didn’t you just call security and let them know? Like I said, super dangerous thing you did back there! If I wasn’t there to save you, you could’ve died, man.”

Hobie pocketed his USB drive again and rolled his eyes. “Y’know, for a vigilante hero with cool superpowers, you sure are a square.”

Spiderman sat up and placed a hand on his chest, feigning hurt. “Oof, ow. That’s mean,”

“Yeah, it is, but you know I’m right. If a kid like me walked up to some cops and tried to warn them of a possible art heist, you just know those pricks’ll laugh in my face and do literally nothing about it. I had to take matters into my own hands!” Hobie jutted his chin out defiantly.

Well. Couldn't really argue with that, especially considering PDNY’s less-than-stellar track record of taking preventative measures most times. All that they would most likely do is nod along to whatever Hobie was telling them and chuckle, shaking their heads as they walk away. Not their problem.

Spiderman rubbed his chin. “Point taken," he conceded. "So what’s your plan now?”

Hobie glanced around, as if he was checking for any eavesdroppers. “I’m gonna submit some photos to a journalist I met online before turning this in back to the museum. The journalist’ll help get those guys behind bars once a story's published and some actual adults talk to the cops. I am going to go collect my reward,”

Spiderman blinked. He had a bunch of questions swimming in his head, but the first question out of his mouth was, “what reward?”

“The reward for turning in precious security info, genius!” Hobie tapped at his forehead with a finger and grinned. “If I get to negotiate with them, I can get some money to save up and-- uh. Nevermind. Listen, are you gonna rat me out or not?”

Miles’ brow creased behind his mask. “… I don’t think I will. Sounds like you’re doing the right thing… mostly.”

Hobie cheered silently. “Yes! Okay, I take it back, Spidey. You are cool!”

Spiderman sighed. “But first, I need to know you’re gonna be safe. Like, actually, and that you’re not gonna get followed home.”

Hobie shrugged nonchalantly and pushed more locs out of his face again. “Yeah, you can walk me home if you want,”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, that’s not the only thing I mean. I need you to promise me that you’re not gonna get into stupid stunts like this again. That was so dangerous and you really could’ve gotten hurt!”

Hobie exhaled as well. He stared intensely into the mask’s giant white lenses for a beat, making Spiderman shift uncomfortably.

Then, he held up his pinkie. “… Fine. I won’t do stupid shit like this again. I promise.”

Spiderman blinked a few more times and hooked his pinkie onto Hobie’s. “Uh. Okay, cool! Cool, that’s what I wanna hear, considering keeping New Yorkers safe is my job! I just wanna see you safe, that’s all. No more art heists, you gotta leave that to the professionals to handle,”

“What, professionals like you? You might’ve not even gotten to them in time before they snuck off with like millions of dollars worth of art, bro.”

“Anyone ever tell you you are just so mean? Dontcha have a little faith in me? The ‘vigilante hero with cool superpowers’?” Spiderman shot back.

They both laughed.

“Seriously, though. I do appreciate the fact that you saved my ass back there,” Hobie admitted, eyes cast downwards for a second. “I was actually gonna throw this thing into the lake and hope this drive got eaten by like… a fish or something.”

“And what about you?” Spiderman smiled despite himself.

“Well,” Hobie shrugged. “If I died, I died. I guess,”

It was Spiderman’s turn to scoff now. “You have a family, man. Don’t be ridiculous. You have friends and family that would miss you!”

Hobie’s expression turned dark, his entire face shadowing for a second before being replaced by cool detached nonchalance. A slight hint of annoyance stayed put underneath.

“… My family’s barely my family. I don’t have any friends, either. Don't worry about me.” Hobie admitted in a clipped tone. He stood up abruptly and started doing some casual stretches.

Spiderman stood up as well, knowing fully well how this song and dance was going to go.

He would never admit it out loud, but he’d seen his fair share of self-destructive citizens throwing themselves into the middle of danger in the short time he’d been doing this whole vigilante thing. He had talked many a melancholy or manic person from tossing themselves off of multiple different buildings, different bridges, stopped them from “falling” onto train tracks.

And as loath as he is to admit it, this Hobie’s particular brand of cool detachment was entirely too familiar to him as well.

A flash of his uncle Aaron’s face lit up a part of his brain that he hadn’t really allowed himself to acknowledge since that fateful day. He quickly stamped that out.

He cleared his throat and rubbed at his neck. “… Well. That sounds pretty depressing, man.”

He didn’t notice Hobie’s shoulders hitch at that phrase.

“But,” Spiderman continued, “You got people out here who care about you, even if you don’t know it. You’re still so young, you could be ending your life before you even meet, like, your favoritest person in the whole world, right? So just do me a quick favor, take care of yourself. For me. Live long enough to meet your favorite person, alright?”

Spiderman put on his best comforting expression that he could despite the mask most likely getting in the way of Hobie fully seeing it. He hoped his words were enough to convince him not to dive off the deep end, at least not anytime soon.

It seemed to work at least a little bit, because Hobie looked back at him with a much warmer-- albeit hesitant-- expression.

“Can I ask you something?” Hobie finally said after a few moments of silence.

“Uh, sure.” Spiderman replied.

“Do you know about a kid named Miles Morales at all?”

The air was sucked out of Spiderman’s lungs right then as he floundered like a fish for a minute, brain working into overdrive to make his answer sound both intelligent and convincing.

“U-uh, maaaybeee? I dunno, I meet a lot of New Yorkers everyday and I don’t get many names, yanno? S-sounds familiar, but sorr--”

“I knew it,” Hobie exhaled a laugh and surged forward to embrace Spiderman with both arms.

Spiderman stood frozen in his place, arms held in mid-air as he worked to process this.

“Uh. What--”

Spiderman felt Hobie’s chin dig into the side of his cheek a little as he turned his lips to his ear. “Your secret’s safe with me, by the way. I’m not telling anyone,”

Miles felt his whole world turn on its axis before shattering completely.

Oh no, no, no, no, no! Goddamnit!

Miles pushed Hobie off and stepped back, holding his hands up. “Oh hey, whoa, whoa, whoa. I dunno what you’re thinking or who you think I am, but--!”

Hobie sighed loudly. “Miles, I saw your suit.”

The world screeched to a halt.

Hobie picked his gaze back up off of his feet and even seemed apologetic, almost. “I, uhm. Like, back on the roof. At Visions. I wasn’t… a hundred percent sure I saw it, since it could’ve been any logo at all, but. Well, you’re a pretty bad liar too, y’know that, right?”

Miles sucked in a slightly shaky breath, gulping loudly. “Uh. W-well,”

Hobie smiled shyly. “You, uh… you’re like around the same height as Miles Morales, anyways. And you sure sound a lot like him, too.”

Damn. Damn it all.

Miles spun this way and that, placing his hands atop his head as he panicked slightly. “H-Hobie, you cannot tell anyone else about this, whatsoever. Do you understand? No one. At all. Or we’re both dead!”

Hobie held his hands up, lines creasing in his face. “Look bro, you’ve got secrets of mine too. We pinkie promised, remember? I don’t break promises.”

Miles didn’t point out that the promise was so that Hobie would stop getting himself into stupidly dangerous situations, but he accepted it anyways, albeit reluctantly.

“D-do… do you actually, like actually promise me you’ll never breathe a word about this to anyone? Ever? At all?”

Hobie held up his right hand into the air, as if taking an oath. “I, MJ, solemnly swear to never breathe a single word to anyone about your super secret identity, so help me god.”

Miles planted his fists on his hip and shook his head. “Oh my god,” he exhales on a shaky laugh.

“Don’t you believe me? What would I have to gain by selling you out? Oh,” Hobie stops suddenly, perking up. “We could even work together! I got me my sweet camera and my extensive connects, man. Think about it!”

“No, no. Hobie. Stop that, man. I’m not putting you into any danger after I just saved your skinny butt. Spiderman doesn’t do sidekicks anyways,”

Hobie looked a bit put out, but shrugged anyways. “Well, I mean… think about it sometime. We could seriously take down criminal activity around here, if you’re down! And, uh. You do have my number,”

Miles looked up and took a deep breath. “Mmnyes, I do. I do have your number. That’s… I mean you’re not wrong about that. Listen, I think it’s getting pretty late and we should both be heading back home now, though.”

The corners of Hobie’s mouth curled up mischievously. “True, true. It is a school night, after all.”

Miles couldn’t stop grinning despite the heavy anvil that threatened to burst out of his chest. “Yep, yes it is! Okay, time to get you home now. C’mon, let’s go.”

Miles moved to step into Hobie’s space and carry him on his back again so he could lower the both of them down from the lip of the theatre roof.

But before that happened, he felt Hobie place a cold but strong hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

Miles looked up inquisitively and felt his breath catch in his throat as he felt those same hands slowly slide up the smooth spandex of his suit, up his shoulders, and then they stopped at his neck, at the seam of where his suit and mask met.

The entire thing probably only took a few seconds to do, but to Miles it felt like eons passed as he felt every single muscle twitch and the pulse beating underneath Hobie’s skin while he ran those fingers up his arms.

He was standing so close to him! Oh god!

The entire ordeal was unbearably intimate, and Miles could barely stop the shudder that wracked his body suddenly.

Hobie’s soft lips were slightly parted, the lighting of the sign next to them caught in the dark brown portals that were his eyes.

“U-uhm. Sorry, this is weird...” he mumbled quietly. But his hands didn't move.

All around them, crickets started their soothing chorus.

Here they were, right behind the giant lettering of the Delacorte Theatre, intertwined in each other’s arms on a cold night-- and Miles’ core body temperature has never felt hotter before. He felt like he could melt steel, the way this night was going. He didn’t know when his hands raised to grasp onto Hobie’s arms, but they must’ve done it of their own accord because Miles then felt himself squeezing softly onto Hobie’s biceps.

Slowly, painstakingly, and carefully… Hobie made his move.

Every centimeter of the mask being pushed up was accompanied by a soft look that asked-- no, it begged-- for permission to continue. His hands seemed to move on their own eventually, as he slid the mask up over the back of Miles' head and then eased it up off of his nose.

Hobie wore a soft look of determination then, that fully came into view again once Miles felt his mask slide right up off of his eyes. Hobie’s soft hands eventually fell away, mask in one hand, no sounds in the air except for the wildlife of the park starting to wake now that the night has officially fallen.

Miles wasn’t sure why he did, but he held his breath.

After a few seconds of appraising gazes from each other, pupils meeting pupils, exchanging a million words a second with just a few looks… Hobie grinned beautifully.

“Damn. There you are,”

Miles felt a plume of heat erupt from his gut and rush up to his face. “Uh. Hm, y-yep. Here I am,” he blinked back at Hobie with his big brown eyes.

Hobie had a look of pure joy on his face before it started to melt away suddenly. “You know… I should backstab you for abandoning me out of nowhere that one time, though… I really should...”

The moment collapsed like an undone web, a delicate thing now completely destroyed as Miles leaped up in indignation.

“Hobie!”

Hobie stepped back and laughed loudly. “Re-lax! I’m not gonna actually do it. But. Y’know.”

“And if you do, I’ll leave you webbed up to that billboard near Visions,” Miles threatened, mostly light-heartedly.

“Psshh, and then get my mom’s two million lawyers on your ass? Good luck,”

“As if they could ever catch me! I’m Spiderman!”

Just as easily as they had stepped out of being just kids for a moment, they stepped right back into it, bickering like they'd been friends since forever.

Miles lowered the both of them from the sign and they headed towards the eastern side of the park, making their way over to Hunter’s Gate. They bickered and bantered back and forth the entire way there, and it was only once they made it to the outer gates of the park that Miles stopped them both.

With his mask back on and other New Yorkers now milling nearby, Miles made it a point to lower his voice as he turned to Hobie and puffed his chest out heroically.

“So, random citizen. Where are we off to today? I told you I’d take you back home safely, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“’Cause you promised, right?” Hobie smirked, tucking his hands into his coat pockets.

“Uhm. Yeah, yeah. I did. So, lead the way!” Spiderman made a grand ushering gesture, and Hobie chuckled good-naturedly as he stepped aside and exited Central Park.

“You gonna walk me home, Spiderman?” Hobie threw him a side-long glance.

“Yyyeah…? Why? You’d rather swing home?”

“I liked swinging, actually. Yeah,” Hobie stopped where he was on the sidewalk and nodded with an air of finality. “Yeah… let’s swing!”

Spiderman felt his heart do a few somersaults in his chest before he gestured towards his shoulders. Hobie quickly assumed the position, long lanky arms wrapping around him and leaning his body weight against Spiderman’s side.

Spiderman shot up a web to a nearby street lamp and gave his friend one more glance.

“You sure?” He asked again, really making sure that Hobie was okay with this. Not many people really liked swinging, which was understandable. Even Miles wasn't the biggest fan of it at times.

Hobie chuckled and ignored the onlookers as they slowly ambled past the two, throwing the teens questioning glances as they made their way past them.

“Yeah, I am! Let’s go,”

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Miles: Do you actually actually really like on your LIFE promise that you’re not ginna tell a soul about… well…

Miles: gonna*

MJ: Yes, Miles. I PROMISE [eyeroll emoji]

Miles: I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE

MJ: Do you actually, though? ;)

Miles: No. But I can find out… I got connects

MJ: Uh huh. I’ll tell your “connects” that if you don’t take me out on that promised lunch date, our friendly neighborhood Spiderman just might be the next trending topic on ALL social media apps again very soon……..

Miles: Oh my god. You are Evil. I can’t believe this. My next arch nemesis… damn

Miles: What a killer plot twist. The greatest foe I have yet to face happens to be none other than one of my very own classmates

Miles: It be ya own people

From his family’s Lower Manhattan penthouse, Hobie laughs out loud as he reads the text messages, ignoring all of the curious glances thrown his way by various members of his team.

From Miles’ own humble dorm room at Visions, he laughs aloud as well.

[seagull-scribbles]

Messy sketch based on a messy sketch I did back in 2020

This was picked for the 800 follower celebration, thank you everyone for all your support on my art journey

[prettyokwizard]

really glad that when the only thing I can bear to draw on my own time these days is really fast sketches the same two guys kissing and being cute there will always be the same 10 people to nod in agreement

[comvi]

I always have to remind myself that I don’t need to push myself to make art, and I don’t need to apologize or feel bad for not making a lot of art. art is something that should make me feel happy, so if I’m pushing myself to the point of not enjoying it anymore, then I should just stop and calm down for a second. and take some time for myself. Art won’t disappear, it will always be there waiting for me again, its okay for me to take some time doing others things sometimes.

[alchemiclee]

short behind the scenes of lee art practice!

i know i don't do anatomy and sketching and stuff the right way (despite years and years and years of practice and books and vide tutorials and art classes. it still doesn't stick in my brain or feel natural in my disabled hands and people act like i never even tried to learn!!!!! based on how my art looks in their eyes) but i love using lynette as a subject for doing gesture sketchies because the way she's animated is so flowy and pretty!!!!! (also this is not me asking for advice. i'm tired of advice for the day)

[houseofceline]

My Pretty Girl - T.N.

Steal My Girl

Pairing: Ravenclaw and sort of ditzy but talented Reader x Slytherin notorious playboy Theodore Nott

Warnings: None (yet ;))

Summary: Theo's friends get to meet you for the first time.

&lt; 2

__________________

Perfect. 

You clapped your hands in satisfaction after taking a little study break to organize all your fabrics by color. The plan was originally to go to the dining hall to grab a quick snack, but your messy little studio set up in your dorm easily distracted you on the way out and made you change your plans. 

Your fingers flipped through the pages of your design sketchbook. A small smile formed on your face as you traced your sketches. 

Fashion. 

The only thing that you felt competent in. You didn’t have to try to make things look good. It was the only thing that came natural to you. You could plan an entire outfit for any occasion faster than you could even list the ingredients in a simple potion. You weren’t going to become a doctor like both of your parents, but you thought it’d be better to do something you’re good at rather than forcing yourself to study materials that you’ll never be able to understand. No matter how many times they tried to persuade, or threaten, you to change career paths, you never strayed far from your dreams. The dreams that kept you happy when you were scolded for wanting to stay home and draw instead of going with your father to work.

At least you will never have the chance to mess up a surgery. That would be worse than the invention of jeggings. 

The door swung open and your roommate walked in. You furrow your eyebrows upon her presence, wondering why she would be back so early from her date with Cedric. 

“How’d your date go?” You closed your design book and walked towards your bed before flopping onto it. 

So comfy. 

Cho sighed before rolling her eyes, “stupid last minute quidditch practice.” 

You giggled as your stomach growled. Maybe you should’ve gotten a snack before you decided to clean. 

“Dining hall?” Cho offered her arm out. 

You jumped up from your bed and happily skipped over to her and took her arm. 

“I’m famished,” You exclaimed in desperate need of having anything in your stomach after the oatmeal bowl for breakfast. 

“Me too, Cedric had promised me pastries from a bakery in Hogsmeade before I got canceled on,” Cho grumbled as the two of you walked in a pair towards the hall. 

Pastries. Croissants. Ugh you missed home. France has the best pastries. Now you were craving a chocolate croissant. Not that croissants are the only pastry in France. 

“Next ti- ow,” you rubbed your head after the harsh impact, stumbling a bit. 

“Watch where you’re going next time mate,” another boy came up and landed a harsh slap on his back. 

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” The boy in front of you questioned frantically while trying to hide the fact that he was searching your head for any bruises. Theo might kill him if he made a bruise on his “pretty girl”. 

“I‘m okay,” you waved your hands in front of your face, kind of nervous that people were starting to look.

“Hello y/n,” The other boy came up and offered his hand out. 

You were confused on how he knew your name despite the fact that you didn’t know his, but still shook his hand. 

The boy chuckled at your confused looking expression. He could understand why Theo had called you pretty instead of his usual “she’s hot”s that the group would receive when talking about girls. 

“I’m Mattheo, Riddle,” he winked, “Nott’s friend. And this is Lorenzo.” 

You made an ‘ohh’ face in recognition but you remained surprised at the fact that you were even linked to him. 

Cho nudged your side. You looked over to her and was met with a raised eyebrow. You were as equally as confused as her. You and Theodore had only interacted once and it was during that one potions class, the day Cho had to skip due to sickness. You had no idea why his friends knew about you or were even talking to you.

But nonetheless you offered a warm smile towards the two boys, “nice to meet you.”  

“Nice to finally meet you too,” Lorenzo returned the gesture. You liked him, he seemed nice. 

Cho cleared her throat while clutching her stomach. You had forgotten what the two of you had even come to the hall for. 

“Well, enjoy your meal!” You waved them goodbye as Cho dragged you to the Ravenclaw filled tables and out of their sights. 

“Who are you losers bothering,” Theo scowled and smacked the two boys on the back. 

“We were just getting acquainted with our best mate’s girlfriend,” Mattheo teased as Theo raised his arm pretending to hit him, making Mattheo duck. 

“Girlfriend? Please, you and I both know I don’t do none of that,” Theo rolled his eyes and the trio walked over to their table. 

“Lucky her, you’re not exactly boyfriend material yourself,” Enzo replied as they took their seats grabbing their lunches before quidditch practice. The first game between Slytherin and Gryffindor was coming up, they needed all the fuel they could get before Malfoy made them run what felt like 100 laps during practice. 

“What are you talking about? I'm the epitome of it,” Theo replied confidently as he took a bite of his sandwich. Sandwich was a bit dry, Italians do it better.

“Right, someone bring Hannah over for questioning,” Mattheo laughed as Theo glared at him.

“We never dated, I don’t owe her anything.” 

____________________

“IT’S SO COLD!” You let out a high pitched scream as a huge gust of wind blew right into your face. You had a sweater that you knitted yourself on, paired with a skirt and black tights along with a designer scarf you had searched the whole country for. It was late October, but you hadn’t expected the weather to drop this low. Maybe you should’ve worn your winter coat or opted for a bigger scarf. Or maybe you shouldn’t have come at all. That was the original plan until Cho had managed to convince you to attend. You didn’t really understand quidditch. The whole game seemed complicated to you, plus the whole flying really high and the possibilities of students getting hurt didn’t sit well with your stomach. But you came regardless and it seemed to make Cho very happy. 

“I KNOW BUT WE HAVE SUCH GOOD SEATS!” Cho screamed over the loud clapping and cheering that signaled that the game was about to start. Loud screaming, another thing you weren’t a huge fan of. 

“HERE!” Cho screamed as she took her earmuffs off and placed them on your head. 

“YOU MIGHT NEED THEM MORE THAN I DO!” She yelled before turning her attention back to the game. 

One by one players in either red or green began to fly out. Everyone you were cheering as if it was a competition to see which side would be the loudest. 

“GO HARRY! YEAH!” You heard Cedric shout from the other side of Cho. 

You didn’t know any Gryffindors that well but since you were in a crowd of people all supporting that team, you didn’t want to stand out so you decided to clap along. 

You recognized a few Slytherin players, the faces of the two boys who you had bumped into a few days earlier were spotted flying on broomsticks. You secretly clapped for them as well. 

The mixture of red and green made your heart happy. Christmas. Your favorite holiday. Only two months to go! You couldn’t wait until you get to start putting together presents and drink peppermint mochas with your friends. It was all so exciting! 

Focus on the game! 

You scolded yourself. You look up and frown as you see players begin to grow aggressive. You frowned as a Gryffindor player tried to throw one of those flying balls at Lorenzo. 

You knew it was part of the game but the fact that someone had almost harmed the nice boy made you want to reach for your wand. 

“Yay go Enzo!” You cheered and clapped as you watched him dodge them with ease. A few Gryffindors side eyed you and gave you nasty stares but it was hard to pay them any mind with the distracting colors of ketchup and mustard wrapped around their necks. 

Theo wanted to thank Berkshire, he really did. He wanted to thank him for providing him the strength to throw bludgers at Gryffindors. What was he doing stealing your attention like that? Last time he checked Berkshire was busy trying to ask out a Slytherin a year younger than them. He needs to leave you alone, you were his friend first. Maybe he should throw a bludger and knock Berkshire off his broom. 

Would that be a Slytherin or Gryffindor point?

[bruisedboys]

reader and peeta showering together after a hard day (just some innocent intimacy nothing suggestive) 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 love this man sm 😭🤞🏻🤞🏻

!!!!!! thank you for the req angel <3 this inspired me so so much! thanks for kickstarting my writing for peeta era hehe

peeta mellark x fem!reader 16+ please for non-sexual nudity. not really in universe but can read as post mockingjay if you want it to!

Peeta’s sketching on the bed when you come inside. One knee propped up with his back against the wall behind the bed, his sketchbook pressed against his thigh. His golden hair falls over his forehead, messy where he’s been too distracted by his drawing to push it back.

He looks up when you enter, smiling a bruising smile you don’t feel deserving of.

“Hey. Hey, sweetheart.” It’s alarming how quickly he sets aside his book and pencil to reach for you, as if he hadn’t been immersed in his sketching mere seconds ago. “C’mere, I missed you.”

As much as you’d like to be wrapped in his strong arms right now, you’re filthy, and he’s just changed the sheets earlier today.

“I can’t. I’m all dirty, see?” You wiggle your dirt-covered hands at him. You’ve been in the garden all afternoon. Time drifted away from you as you planted a new batch of tomato seeds. By the time you were done, the sun was setting and you hadn’t even realised. Your knees are stained dark brown and you’ve got dirt up to your elbows. “I’ll shower first, then we can cuddle. Sorry, baby.”

Peeta looks decidedly put out. You turn away from him before he can convince you any further, because you know if he looks at you like that for much longer you’ll give in. You pull fresh clothes from your side of the dresser and then move down the hallway to the bathroom.

The showers warming up and you’re starting to undress when Peeta knocks on the door. It’s unlocked, and he doesn’t have to, but he knocks anyway.

“It’s me,” he says. Who else would it be? You think. Silly man. “Can I come in?”

You pull the door open for him instead of answering. You’re halfway out of your clothes but it doesn’t phase him. Sure, he looks, but not for long, and not in a way that would suggest anything other than affection.

“Hey,” he says. He pushes the door closed behind him. The shower runs in the background, a peaceful thrum. “Do you mind if I join you? You can say no.”

You huff a soft laugh. He should know by now that saying no to him is a near impossible feat. “Yeah, of course. I don’t mind.”

You finish undressing quickly, eager to be clean and warm. Peeta leaves to get fresh towels while you hop in under the hot spray. The majority of the dirt on your skin has been rinsed by the time he gets back. You hear him moving around the bathroom for a minute or so before he pulls the shower curtain aside. You let him in, moving aside to make space for him. It’s tight, but it’s not uncomfortable. Weirdly, it’s almost a perfect fit for the two of you.

Peeta moves under the shower head and the water quickly drenches one half of his hair and one of his shoulders. His big hand slides over your hip and he carefully moves you into a position where you’ve both got equal spray.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. He’s so close you could count his freckles, each light brown spot scattered across his collarbones.

“Hello,” you say back. His thumb rubs your hipbone, up down, up down. “Is it too warm?”

“No, it’s perfect.”

You smile and touch your palm to his cheek. “You okay?” You’re not asking because he seems out of sorts. You’re asking because you want to know, and if he’s not he’ll tell you. He does the same for you. It’s just how you love each other.

Peeta nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. How did your gardening go?”

You beam. You love that he cares about what you care about. “Good. We’ll have tomatoes growing out of our ears by summer, I think.”

Peeta laughs. It’s a brilliant sound that bounces off the shower walls and warms your chest. “Awesome,” he grins. Then, “Hey, you’ve got dirt under your ear.” He reaches behind you to grab the flannel hanging on the shower caddy. “Look that way for me?”

He holds you still with a hand at your jaw and rubs the dirt from your skin so gently you barely feel it. His touch is like a magnet — you’re drawn to it over and over again, no matter how generously he gives it to you. When he asks if he can wash your hair, you’d be crazy if you said no.

“Yeah, please,” you tell him, past caring how desperate and needing of his touch and love you are. He knows, anyway.

Peeta turns you by the hips so your back is to him, then gently tilts your head backwards. You hand him your shampoo and he squeezes a dollop onto his hands, rubbing his palms together before spreading the bubbles over the top of your head. He’s very, very gentle with it, much more than you’ve ever been, massaging the soapy, sweet-smelling bubbles into your hair, fingers rubbing circles onto your scalp. His dedicated touch, along with the gentle thrum and warmth of the shower spray, is enough to almost put you to sleep.

“Okay, you can rinse now,” Peeta speaks up. His tone is soft and you suspect he’s noticed your sleepiness. He gets very soft with you when you’re tired. “Shut your eyes, please.”

You do as he says and he directs you under the spray. He holds a hand over your forehead like a barrier so the bubbles can’t escape and sneak into your closed eyes. The action in itself makes your chest ache. He cares more than you could ever comprehend.

When he’s done rinsing you finish scrubbing the dirt from your knees, your elbows. Peeta washes his own hair, and you help him rinse the same way he did for you.

“Thank you, angel,” he says. Warm water and soapy bubbles stream over his shoulders, his neck. His eyelashes are wet, clinging to each other in sparkly triangles. He dips down and kisses your shoulder, then your cheek. “Love you.”

You beam. You love him more than anything. You get on your toes to kiss him properly, a warm press of your mouth on his, a promise for more of the same later, when you’re clean and dry and fed. “Love you too, Peeta.”

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍

[bweirdart]

#mARTch 2024

text version (with more info!) under the readmore! please check it out if you're confused about anything <3

F.A.Q

do i have to draw every day? no!!!! there are skippable days built into the event, please use them whenever you need them! i really don't want anyone getting a wrist injury!

can you share my art? yep! i try to share entries to @bweirdevents daily during the event!! the tags can get busy tho so i might miss some posts OTL sorry

what are the tags? #mARTch is the main tag, but this year you might find posts in #mARTch2024 too!

wait, i'm confused about a prompt... full breakdown of all the prompts below ↓ with helpful hints if you're stuck!

_____

INTRO WEEK

this week is all about your artistic identity ... technically, you don't have to draw anything new this week if you have some art that already fits. the starter days are:

1 ⭐ self portrait who are you? it doesn't have to be you IRL .. if you feel more comfortable drawing a fursona or mascot, that's fine too! if you don't wanna draw, you can also just share old self portraits today and talk about why you drew yourself that way!

2 🤍 inspirations see how this day doesn't have a star? that means it's optional and you don't have to do it at all! but if you really wanna- tell us all about what inspires you to create art! this could be anything from the people that inspire you, the shows you like, the pins on your big messy pinterest board, or concepts that you're drawn to! you can draw something about it, talk about it, or just post your inspirations! anything is fine

3 ⭐ fav thing to draw what do you like drawing most? backgrounds? animals? one specific animal? bust of your oc facing left? cars? the same anime boy over and over and over? no judgement!! show us :)

_____

STUDY WEEK

this is the week we actually start drawing from reference! polished art is not required at all, quick sketch studies are fine! please don't burn yourself out

4 🤍 plant

5 🤍 body

6 ⭐ animal

7 🤍 object

8 🤍 food

9 🤍 face

10 ⭐ hand

these ones are pretty self explanatory! you can do them as realistic studies, or adapt them into your own art style, it's all fine! you can reference from your own photos or from resources on the web.. have fun!

_____

COLOUR WEEK

this is the week for playing with palettes and working on your colour theory skills! if you're really struggling with these ones, don't worry about drawing scenes or characters, you can just have fun splashing colours around on an abstract canvas!

11 🤍 RGB a set or primary colours typically used in digital/screen art - red, green and blue!

12 🤍 CMYK a set of primary colours typically used in traditional/print art - cyan, magenta, yellow ... and key (black!)

for both of these days ↑ you can add in black and white. and feel free to combine the two days into one, if you're struggling with a three-colour palette! use all six!

13 ⭐ WARM COLOURS the warm side of the colour wheel, reds oranges and yellows!

14 🤍 MONOCHROME monochrome doesn't mean black and white ... it means one colour! that can be any colour at all- shades of red, shades of purple, shades of green .. or yeah, grey if you really want!

15 🤍 COMPLIMENTARY complimentary colours are the ones opposite each other on the colour wheel! they're kinda married

16 🤍 YOUR FAV COLOURS pick any palette that works for you! where's your comfort zone? what looks nice to you? what colour combos do you always go back to?

17 ⭐ COOL COLOURS the cool side of the colour wheel, purples, blues and greens!

_____

CREATIVITY WEEK

this week is all about vibes! try to create something that matches the mood of the prompt .. they're vague on purpose! don't overthink it, just draw from the heart!

18 🤍 SMALL you could draw something that's really small, like an ant .. or draw on a canvas that's really small .. or use a really small brush .. get creative with it!

19 🤍 DANGER try to capture the adrenaline .. the rush .. the fear that you associate with the word danger!

20 ⭐ SOFT soft colours, soft textures, soft vibes ... whatever makes you comfy!

21 🤍 MIDNIGHT darkness and secrecy .. spooky witchy vibes .. the tranquility of a forest at night .. the fun of a late-night party .. there's lots of ways you can take this!

22 🤍 POWER what does this word make you think about? superpowers? control and oppression? literal electrical power? something else?

23 🤍 CHILL chill as in calm? or chill as in cold? who knows .. it's up to YOU!

24 ⭐ LOUD try to draw something that feels LOUD! BRASH! IN YOUR FACE! how can you convey sound through art?

_____

FUN + GAMES WEEK

this week is just for enjoying yourself! take it easy and have fun! also .. another reminder! there are skippable prompts! if you're tired and struggling to get to the finish line, please don't hesitate to skip a day!!! or multiple days!! as many as you need!!!

25 🤍 TRY A NEW ART STYLE copy the art style of a show you like, ask a friend if you can try their style, draw the eyes a new way, develop a totally new style on the spot... whatever you want!

26 🤍 DRAW WITH YOUR NON-DOMINANT HAND righties, draw with your left! lefties, draw with your right! ambidextrous nation ... our time to show off!

27 ⭐ DRAW WITH YOUR EYES CLOSED don't peek! try to draw something without looking! if you really want, you can colour it with your eyes open after you draw the lines/sketch with your eyes closed... but please try not to cheat with the actual drawing part!

28 🤍 RE-DRAW SOMETHING OLD find some old artwork you like, or something you feel like you can do better on now, and give it another go!

29 🤍 RE-DRAW A MEME find a silly picture on the internet to redraw .. do you have any in-jokes with your besties?

30 🤍 DRAW A GIFT FOR A FRIEND create something for someone you love <3

31 ⭐ FREE CHOICE final day! you can draw anything you want today! show off your skills! draw something you've been meaning to draw! whatever!

_____

please refrain from reblogging this post after march ends - next year's prompts will be different, thank you! if you have any additional questions, don't hesitate to shoot me an ask!

[ur-local-wizard]

Eye of the Storm (Part 2)

Your desk partner leaves his notebook after class, and you’re struck by the beauty of its contents.

Here's part 2!! Sorry it took so long. So many versions of this were written. Still not entirely happy with this one, but oh well. (Not much fluff in this one either, mainly angst. And obviously no smut either.)

college au, mattheo riddle x fem!reader, whipped!mattheo, use of y/n, slight obsession, stalking implied(?), i think that's it

w/c: 658

masterlist part 1

a/n: shout out to my editor, A <3

Reader's POV:

Slamming the door behind yourself, you stumbled into your dorm – bag sliding off your shoulders and falling to the floor. Grabbing Mattheo’s notebook, you walked to your bed and laid down, staring at the pages in your hands. After a little contemplation, you decided to open it. 

You were greeted with a compilation of sketches. Things like nature scenes, ornate architecture, people, etc. Some of the drawings were of things you recognize, some of things you didn’t. But what really caught your attention is the same drawing from earlier.

Upon closer inspection, you realized that Theo was right. It really was your eye. But not how you’re used to seeing it in the mirror. He captured more emotion, more life than what you normally notice. It was breathtaking… and a little intimidating; solely because of the amount of time and effort he must have put into all this. 

As you flipped through the notebook, the drawings progressed from objects to anatomy. It seemed to all be of a girl – side profiles, views from behind her, different individual features. For example, there’s a drawing of a girl in a library, the viewer facing her back. She’s reaching for a book high on a shelf. Her tote bag caught your eye, it was full of what looked like books and stationary. On the front was an intricate design of a rose.

You looked up, and the exact tote bag is hanging on a coat rack by the door. A quiet gasp escaped your lips, and you snapped the book shut. “Why is Mattheo drawing me of all people? How is he getting all these details about me in the first place?” You ask yourself, staring at the sketchbook in front of you. 

You stand up and slip some shoes on, grabbing the book again as you hurry out of your dorm. Time to get to the bottom of whatever the hell this is.

Mattheo’s POV:

Mattheo laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His mind was spinning – all he could think about was her. Her annoying cheerfulness, the way her smile lights up her face. It was infuriating; the way she burrowed herself into his thoughts so effortlessly, despite his best efforts to ignore her. But he just couldn’t help falling for her – couldn’t resist the magnetic pull she had on him. And the worst part? He hasn't told anyone. 

Deciding he’s had enough of sulking, Mattheo sat up and walked to his desk. Sketching her always helps to clear his mind. As he opened his bag, reaching in for his sketchbook, he discovered it wasn’t there. Panicking, he flipped it over, dumping out its contents, and still the sketchbook was nowhere to be seen. Searching for it, he slammed open every drawer he could find. Desk drawers, dresser drawers, his sock drawer at the bottom of his wardrobe; nothing was left unturned. The boy even looked under his bed. 

Still, it was absolutely nowhere.

A knock sounded on his dorm door, and his head snapped up in response. Standing up, he slowly approached it. His heart pounded so fast he could swear he heard the blood rushing through his veins. 

All he could think was, “Where's my sketchbook? Who the hell is at my door? Fuck- I’m shaking.” 

He cast one last look at his ruined bedroom before opening the door with trembling hands. Standing in the hallway, eyes wide with fear, was Y/n. He ran a hand through his messy hair, suddenly self-conscious. “Why is she here? Is she okay? She looks terrified… Am I the one scaring her?” His thoughts were jumbled, and he stared at her with concern for a few moments before stepping aside, holding the door open. 

“Please, come in. Sorry, my room is a mess… I lost something,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft with her. He was afraid of scaring her more. But as she passed him, he saw his sketchbook in her hands. Shit.

Hope you liked it!! As always, tell me if you want to be added to the tag list, and ty to everyone for all the amazing support! You have no idea how amazing it feels <3

Taglist: @ilovejamespottersomuch @mattyriddlesbitch

[natti-ice]

Hi lovely!

Could I ask for a Benedict fic where him and reader get pretty messy with the his paints? 💕🥹

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni, nudity, sensual touching, kissing, implied sex (1k words)

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

You had met Benedict at a social event this past season and the two of you got on very well, any time you saw each other in passing you had to stop and make conversation. You felt at ease with him, he was so down to Earth unlike most of the uptight socialites of the city. You were very fond of him in general and it seemed he felt the same about you. Not to mention the fact you were also very attracted to him. He often spoke to you about his art and his passion for finding the beauty in life, he showed you his work book of sketches, all of random things he found beautiful even if most people don't.

Today on a casual stroll in the park, Benedict casually asked you if you would like to be the subject of one of his paintings, you had never thought of modeling before but it intrigued you. You were always curious on how people viewed you and this would show you his perspective of you, so you agreed. He brought you back to his studio and showed you some of paintings he had hanging around by artists that inspired him, then he lead you over to the center of the room where he had a large sheet of white paper spread across the floor. You assumed it was to protect his floors from any paint drippings but you were quite wrong.

"This is our canvas for today, my lady" Benedict smiles

You chuckle and furrow your brows a bit "I'm sorry what? Are you going to draw a life size version of me?"

"No, dear" he laughs softly "I'm going to paint with you. I want to use your body as a brush, if that's okay with you of course" he adds that last part in quickly to reassure you can pull out at any time. There's a sparkle in his eyes as he explains how he wants to cover your nude bodies in paint and roll around making an abstract design. "So, what do you say?" His voice is filled with hope, he desperately wants you to say yes.

You think about his offer for a moment, the thought of being naked with him excites you but also makes you very nervous. You have only known him a short amount of time but you trust him a lot, you nod with a soft smile "okay, I'm in."

"Excellent" he grins and claps his hands together once "you can get undressed while I prepare the paints." he gives you a comforting smile then turns around and walks to the back of his studio where he keeps his paint. You slowly start to undress, you feel the butterflies in your stomach intensifying as you shed each piece of clothing. Finally naked, you fold your clothes neatly and set them on a small sofa nearby. The window of the studio is cracked out letting in a soft breeze, you feel goosebumps grow on your bare skin and your nipples become erect.

A few moments later, Benedict came back carrying a tray with small cans full of paint "alright here we are-" he stops dead in his tracks when he sees you, his eyes wide in surprise as he takes all of you in "wow... you're absolutely breathtaking" his voice is so soft it's almost a whisper

You chuckle nervously, you feel your whole body start to heat up "um, thank you, sir" you wrap your arms around your body, very aware of how exposed you are. He steps closer to you and sets the tray on a small table, he picks up a can filled with red paint and holds it up to you.

"May I?" He asks for permission, you nod slightly giving him full access to your body. He dips two fingers into the paint and slowly runs them along your collar bone, it slowly starts to drip down your front as your body temperature melts the paint. He works his way down your body, streaking the red all over you, his fingertips ever so slightly graze your nipples sending a shiver down your spine. "Beautiful" he whispers softly before setting the paint canister down and began to strip his clothes off.

You watched him closely as each article of clothing flew from his body leaving him bare in front of you. He gripped your arm softly and turned you around, he slowly poured some of the paint down your back letting it cascade down your back. He presses himself against your back slightly, you can feel his breath tickling your neck as he began to place soft hot kisses along the side. He used one hand to rub the red all over your back, a gasp caught in your throat as his larges hands rubbed soft circles on your ass.

When he finished he turned you around to face him, he picked up a can of blue paint and handed it to you "now you do me" his voice soft but laced with something more sensual. You take the can and start to smear blue all over his body, trying desperately to avoid his intimate areas as best as possible even if it was staring right at you. Once he was blue from the neck down he gently took your hand and brought you down to the paper on the floor. "Lay back, darling," he instructed playfully "we're gonna roll around a bit" he chuckles before rolling on top of you, his arms wrapped around your body as he goes in for a kiss.

Things escalated quickly from there, paint began to adorn the paper as you two made love. Shades of blue and red mixed together leaving streaks of purple behind, hand prints of different colors could be seen throughout the paper. Moans filled the studio, there was also the occasional sound of paper ripping when things became too intense. When it was all said and done, Benedict framed the work and even put it up in a gallery. People always asked how he created such an abstract piece of art, he came up with a story of how he just started throwing paint at the canvas. Only you and him ever knew the truth.

Tags: @booknerdlife

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[jeridandridge]

Stained Glass Window

Young!Larissa Weems x fem!Reader. Pre Wednesday. My first attempt with these characters, please be kind.

In the late days of summer you drive your old blue pick up truck through Jericho with your hand out the window, the cool evening air dancing against your fingers. Driving towards the trail you discovered a couple weeks prior, you hum along with the radio making a mental note of the shops and cafes, everything so new to you.

Having lived with your mother your entire life, moving in with your father while you transferred to a college near by was another thing to adjust to. In the meantime you could retreat to the comfort and solitude of nature to unwind with your sketch book and inks. Driving down a winding dirt path underneath the lush green trees you park the rusty truck hopping out with your backpack slung over your shoulder hoping to find a peaceful spot for inspiration to strike.

Sneakers carrying you over soft dirt and twigs you find yourself alone in the trees, the dusk casting the area in a warm glow while the smell of a fire near by hits your nose. You don’t know where you’re going, but continuing down the path you stop in your tracks when you see a gorgeous building. Eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas you take in the sight of the gothic building, something beautiful and a little frightening, like it was right out of Bram stokers’ Dracula. Spotting a moss covered log, you slide the backpack from your shoulder eagerly rifling through the messy thing for your sketch book and the pens you carried everywhere.

Sat with the sketchbook in your lap and a pen between your fingers you glide the ink across the page noting every shade of grey, every withered brick, and every window in your memory completely blown away by the gem hidden away in the woods. Almost castle like, you wondered what it was. Perhaps it was a monastery or convent, or something else all together hoping that somehow you could get inside to admire the beauty. Moving your hand along the page you switch to another pen, this time adding thick lines and details to the building and the nature surrounding it.

Once your ink work was finished and you were satisfied with the result, you smile to yourself as you pack your tools away, looking around to see which way could lead you to an entrance. Moving around its brick walls you stop at a large rod iron gate, the name Nevermore Academy and its Ravens sit in the material blending in with its surroundings. As you reach out to touch the gate, twigs crunch and a car horn sounds behind you sending you bolting off to the side.

“Morticia you could have hit her!” A soft voice rings out, the passenger side door of the sleek, black car out of a black and white movie opens revealing long legs and ruby painted lips.

“She shouldn’t be out here.” The other voice huffs.

Taken aback by the woman looking at you, you’re frozen for a moment not able to answer the question hitting your ears.

“Oh my you’re a pretty thing,” the driver gets out, long black hair cascading down her back.

Shaking yourself out of it you nod to the driver and turn your attention back to the woman on the other side of the car. “Sorry, I just came across this place and got lost in the beauty.”

“Not your fault that my companion here doesn’t abide by the traffic laws.” The taller woman shoots the other a look.

Still in awe of the statuesque beauty across from you, you slyly eye her up and down noting her nice clothes and her hands. You have to snap yourself out of it before your thoughts and eyes lingered too long.

“The pretty thing doesn’t speak much.” The brunette crosses her arms, chin held high. “Not used to seeing outcasts much?”

Getting ahold of yourself you come back with a witty response, and the truth. “I don’t know what you mean by that but no, your friend has my attention is all.” You glance at the woman, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips when you see ivory cheeks dusted in a shade of pink as she looks away.

The brunette scoffs getting back in the drivers seat, engine purring as the car glides down the path without one of its previous occupants.

“Did she really just do that?” You quirk a brow in disbelief.

“Yes,” the woman signs softly, “Morticias never liked people ignoring her. Especially normies.”

You chuckle keeping the strap of your backpack between your fingers meeting the woman’s blue eyes.

“Outcasts and normies. Sounds like a weird version of West Side Story.”

The woman with silver hair steps a little closer, eyeing you suspiciously. “You truly don’t know what Nevermore Academy is?”

Shaking your head you shrug. “I just moved here not even a month ago, I had no idea this place was here. Found it with luck.”

“Found it with luck.” The woman hums giving you a soft smile.

Holding your hand out, you offer your name in a friendly greeting feeling warm and fuzzy when the other woman shakes your hand.

“Larissa. Larissa Weems.”

“Well Larissa, may I walk you up to the school?” You ask nodding to the gate.

“I’d like that.”

That was almost three months ago. In the late weeks of October you drive through the town, two cups of coffee in the cup holder as you head for Nevermore Academy. When you see the Ravens in all their glory, you pull off to the side waiting for Larissa. Moving your backpack on the floor out of the way with your sketchbook in your lap you smile when you hear leaves crunching and that soft voice you’ve grown very fond of in person and over the phone.

“Room for one more?” That beautiful smile appears, Larissa opening the passenger side door.

“There’s always room for you,” you beam handing the coffee over to her. Taking a sip from your own cup you have to hide the flush in your cheeks when you hear her let out a delighted sigh.

“I needed this.” She tips her head back into the seat.

The wind outside the truck picks up, the smell of the now dying leaves wafting through the cool air.

“What’s going on?” You ask softly, hand moving to rest on hers.

Larissa smiles at the action. “It’s been a rough month is all. With graduation in the spring, the headmaster is already giving me references and letters for future employers, but.” She sighs. “I don’t think I want to go teach or counsel anywhere else. Nevermore is my home, has been since I was a teenager.”

“I know this place is important to you, but why not go somewhere else, even for a little while?” You shrug. At this Larissa goes quiet, not willing to look at you at the moment while the gears turn in her head.

“Hey, forget I asked okay?” You say softly, “you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” You assure her squeezing her hand.

“Thank you, darling.”

Smiling with her bottom lip between her teeth she reaches over plucking the sketchbook from your lap, the soft worn leather between her fingers as she opens it up.

“Hey cmon,” you laugh not really trying to take it back. “Okay, Weems. I can’t be held responsible for what you see in there.”

“Is that right?” She hums flicking through the pages, glancing at you with a playful glint in her eye. long fingers carefully run over the pages, admiring all the work of the ink seeped into its pages. The library in all its two hundred year old glory, the old movie theater that opens for the holiday season, Nevermore, then she stops only when she sees a portrait.

“And there it is.” You tease trying to gauge her reaction to the portrait you’d done not long ago. Realizing early on in your friendship you had a crush on Larissa didn’t come as a surprise to you, she was smart, witty, top of her class, and not to mention beautiful. You’d even told your father of your new friendship, receiving encouragement despite Larissa being an outcast.

“You drew me?” She asks in awe, looking at the page.

She’d worn her hair down in soft waves once shortly after you’d met her, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to run your fingers through silky locks. While your sketchbook was filled with architecture, it’s what you’re going to school for after all, other things sometimes made their way to the pages.

“I try to capture everything I find beautiful.” You say without apprehension, your voice sure and firm in what youre saying as you lean over a little closer.

“You truly think so,” she hums more as a fact than a question. Icy eyes search yours looking for any bit of fake sincerity but it never comes. The sketch book is put on the seat between you two as a pale hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin.

Crimson lips meet yours in a soft kiss, the hair on the back of your neck standing up. The smell and taste of coffee over takes your senses and you practically melt against her. Wrapping your arm around her waist you pull her closer, most definitely warming up on this cold autumn day.

From that day on you would go see Larissa at Nevermore or meet her in town after you were done with classes for the day. As your feelings blossomed into something more, you felt protective over her when you were in town. Strolling down the street one evening arms looped together you two were in your own little world, giggling and minding your business when you heard a group of grown men scoff and start to bother you as they sat outside a business.

“They let these kids do anything now a days. Those freaks should be locked up in that school.”

Larissa’s jaw clenches as she continues to walk but you, you’ve never been one to take shit from anybody. Pulling away from her you turn around on your heel putting your hands in your pockets with a grin that could only be described as wicked.

“Hey fellas, if you feel like being prejudice pricks feel free to hitch a ride back to the dark ages, k?”

The men on the bench shut up as you turn back to Larissa not giving them a second to say anything more. Arms looped together once more you keep your chin up and smile at your date.

“You didn’t have to do that, darling.”

“I’m not having gross old men ruin our date, Larissa.” You shake your head moving to wrap your arm around her waist.

“But they’re not wrong. Being a shape shifter is certainly freakish.”

Shape shifting. It’d taken months for her to tell you what her abilities were. She had never shared and you never pestered, never wanting to cross a boundary with her. She looked nervous, almost as if you’d act just like those men.

“Shape shifting huh?” You smile, “An ability like that must be just a bonus when you’re already so gorgeous.”

Larissa rolls her eyes reaching for your hand. “You are incredibly wonderful and ridiculous.”

“Thanks, honey.” You tease not wanting the moment to be too serious. “I really, really like you Larissa.”

“Does that mean if I asked you to accompany me to the yearly Nevermore dance you would?” She beams, her eyes crinkling.

Bringing her gloved hand to your lips you kiss her knuckles shivering from not only the chilly air but giddy excitement. “What’s the dress code?”

Larissa chuckles moving to wrap her arm around your shoulders. “This will be very exciting. Wear whatever you want, darling. It’s not strictly fancy attire, but most dress up.”

“I can do that.” You nod with a smile. “Now, back to business. Let’s pick some books out.”

Walking through town with Larissa made you walk a little taller, hold your chin up higher, and you were starting to realize you never wanted to lose that feeling. Not long later in the independent bookstore, you smile gliding your fingers across the book spines as you admire Larissa. You didn’t know what to call her really. You two could be considered a couple, and that sounded quite nice.

Finding a nice stack of books between the two of you, you jog ahead out the door to your truck opening her door for her. When Larissa gives you a beaming smile and a kiss to your cheek before climbing in. During the drive back to Nevermore Larissa’s hand stays on your thigh, her thumb rubbing the fabric of your jeans.

“So, my dad’s been asking about you,” you hum keeping your eyes on the dirt path, “he keeps saying ‘when am I gonna meet that girlfriend of yours?’ and I honestly haven’t felt like correcting him.”

The silver screen beauty looks over, the darkness of the truck and the woods not helping you see her expression clearly. Thinking you’d messed up, you open your mouth to speak but you’re cut off before you can say a word.

“Pull over.” Larissa instructs. Her voice is cool and even, not really helping what to think of the situation.

Stopping in the center of the path you put the gear shift near the wheel in park and hit the light on the ceiling. The light gives Larissa an orange glow, her eyes not giving you any hint of what she’s feeling.

“I’m sorry, honey I-“ you’re once again cut off, this time by soft lips in a feverish kiss that has your head spinning while your fingers flow through silver locks. Her tongue swipes across your bottom lip which you happily follow suit deepening the kiss. The taste of the hot chocolate you both had earlier still lingers, the sweetness somehow making the moment all the better.

Larissa breaks the kiss first not pulling back very far as she catches her breath in the still air of the truck. “Don’t apologize, darling. I’d been wondering if you were going to ask me. I’d thought maybe you wouldn’t want to after this evening.”

Shaking your head with a chuckle you loosely wrap your arms around her neck, lips meeting hers again in a soft kiss, staying in your own little part of the world for a little while longer.

When the night of the dance approaches, you stand in front of the mirror doing a once over of your black pantsuit and heels. Gold rings on your fingers you fluff your hair once more deciding you were happy with the ensemble. Your nerves got worse as you drove towards the academy, hoping Larissa liked what you wore and the single white rose you’d bought for her.

Pulling up to the school gate you take a breath realizing you’ll be actually going into the school this time, not just up to its corridors like you had to walk Larissa in months before. Parking your truck you look at the academy lit up, students out and about in fine attire. “You got this,” you hum to yourself. Getting out you carry the single white rose in between your fingers following a group of younger students. Going into the building you don’t make it far when you feel a hand on your arm.

“Darling,” Larissa’s red lips curl into a smile as she pulls you to the side, her fingers already playing with yours.

“Hi, babe. You look gorgeous.” You eye her up and down with a smile holding the flower out between you two, slender fingers taking the stem.

Larissa’s eyes flick down to the flower, her lips finding your cheek for a light kiss. “I don’t want my lipstick to stain you.” She chuckles lifting her hand to wipe the mark away.

“Oh come on, mark your territory.” You tease with a smirk, the sound of the other students and music around you drowning out as you and Larissa stand in your little corner, blue eyes shining at you.

“Perhaps I will. How about a dance first?”

Holding your hand out, you take Larissa’s in yours gently squeezing and enjoying the warmth. Weaving through the crowd of people dancing and talking you move with the beat of the song the band is playing, hips swaying until Larissa’s hands find their place sending a jolt through you.

Moving closer you loosely wrap your arms around her neck creating yet another comfortable bubble, just you two, the only people in the world. Looking at your girlfriend with a dreamy expression you tip your chin up meeting her eyes. You’re not sure how long you two dance, but eventually, you want to be alone with her.

“As nice as this is, there are too many teenage hormones around.” You nod to the door.

“Nineteen is still a teenager last time I checked, darling.” Larissa chuckles patting your hip. “Come, let’s get some air.”

Letting Larissa stand behind you guiding you to the doorway you rest your hands on top of hers shooting Morticia a wicked smile on the way out. The silver haired beauty catches the look, hiding her smirk as she leads you outside, jogging in the light rain to a secluded corridor of the courtyard. The cold rain is unforgiving as you two take shelter under the old stone, wrapped in each others arms.

“Now you’ve gotten me alone, what do you plan to do?” Larissa teases leaning down, lips only inches apart.

Arms wrapped around her frame you move up on your toes meeting red lips in a tender kiss. Warm hands cup your cheeks making your head tip back, turning you into putty in Larissa’s hands. Sighing into the kiss your hands glide up her back pulling her flush against you. The damp air doesn’t make you shiver, the warmth from Larissa engulfing you. Pulling back only slightly you admire icy blue eyes and kiss swollen lips.

“I think I took most of your lipstick.” You grin.

Larissa chuckles bringing her hand up, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“I suppose I’ve claimed my territory.” She smiles repeating your words back from before. “Darling, I-“

Before she can say anything else, your brows knit together and your hands pat her hip as you hear grunts and clashing metal. “What the hell?” You ask moving out into the rain, a body falling to the ground as you do so making Larissa scream.

“Shit!” You jump back, wrapping your arm around your girlfriend. The body lays flat in the dirt, looking up you see a man holding a sword. “Larissa, come on.” You urge, tugging her hand.

Going through the closest corridor you end up in an empty hallway stopping for a moment to take a breath.

“I know that boy. Gomez, he and Morticia are an item.” She says quietly, almost irritated.

“Shocking, the entitled ego maniac is involved with a murder.” You hum thinking about the brunette. “Are you okay, honey?” You ask resting your hand atop hers.

“Yes, I’m fine, darling.” She sighs holding your hands. “Let us go back to the dance, I’m sure everyone will be alerted soon.”

Nodding you walk through the empty hall hand in hand, your heart thudding in your chest. You knew what this could mean for the school, how the small town will react to this news. You’re a ways away from the court yard, almost to the front of the school when you see flashing lights across the wooded area.

“You two!” A deep voice booms, footsteps coming towards you.

Looking down the hall you sigh spotting two police officers. Standing tall you hold Larissa’s hand gently squeezing. One officer is a small, stout man, the other tall and lean, although shorter than Larissa.

“You two, been in the courtyard tonight?” The tall one demands.

“My girlfriend was showing me around the school, we didn’t actually see what happened. Just- just the body.” You explain, the officers looking between you two.

“You,” the small officer points, “you’re not a student here.” He states taking out a pen and his notepad.

“She goes to school in town, the college.”

Larissa informs them.

“What’s a kid like you doing at this school? You can see this is dangerous.”The taller officer scolds.

“I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself thanks.” You all but scoff, tired of the insinuation that Nevermore students are dangerous. Sure, you were shaken by what you’d seen, but that didn’t change your mind about anything.

The officers look between you two, Larissa squeezing your hand once more. Fingers laced together you rub your thumb over the back of her hand not backing down.

“The school is on lockdown, you, you’ll have to leave like all the other guests, and you.” He looks up at Larissa, “we have more questions for you.”

Larissa looks at you giving you a tight smile of reassurance. “Go on, darling. I’ll be all right.”

Glancing at the cops for a second you sigh leaning up to kiss your girlfriend’s cheek. “Call me when you get back to your dorm, please.” You ask, the beauty nodding in response.

You don’t want to leave Larissa, but soon you find yourself shuffling out of the doors to the front of the school, fingers playing with the keyring in your pocket as you walk in the dark to your truck. Losing yourself in your thoughts, when you pull into your driveway you don’t remember driving home.

“Kid!” Your dad comes running to the driveway, pulling you into a hug as soon as you step out of the truck. “It’s all over the news some kid got killed at the school, I was worried.” He cradles the back of your head with his hand.

“I’m fine, dad. I think it was a crime of passion situation.” You shrug patting his shoulder, heading into the house.

“I don’t think I want you going there anymore.”

Hearing the words you knew would come, you sigh slipping your heels off as you step inside the house. The lights are dim, there’s a beer on the table, and the tv is turned to the news channel. Stepping closer to the tv set you see a reporter then Larissa in the background talking to the cops from before. Watching the screen, you sigh knowing you’re in for a heated discussion while you wait for Larissa to call.

“Dad,” you sigh plopping down on the couch, legs crossed. “I refuse to turn into these hateful people that say horrible things about that academy.” You start, “Did you know Larissa is already being asked to take over when the headmaster retires? She’s the same age as I am. She has a degree already. Just because those people are a little different genetically doesn’t mean it’s wrong.” You huff.

Still standing by the door, your dad stands with his hands on his hips shaking his head. “I don’t like it. Not one bit. I don’t want you around those people.” He points.

Standing up, before you can argue the phone in the kitchen rings. Bolting to the device, you pull it off the hook bringing it to your ear. “Hello?”

“Darling,” Larissa lets out in relief.

“What’s going on over there?” You ask tucking by the wall, seeing your dad sit down in front of the tv again.

“I don’t know, they carted Gomez off and Morticia is hysterical. The news reporters are not very forgiving either.”

Taking a shaky breath you nod holding onto the phone. “I know. People are already blaming all the students.”

Larissa’s end of the line goes quiet, a soft breath coming through the receiver. “Yes, I know already. I- I wanted to call and tell you that if this drives you away, I will understand.”

Her voice is so soft, broken, as it hits your ear. Seeing the school and a picture of the murdered boy on the tv screen along with your father looking at you with a stern brow, you sigh into the phone.

-

Larissa Weems knows how to run Nevermore Academy. With many years of experience with the school under her belt, not many things throw her for a loop. Homesick students, the usual pranks, she can handle. Come February when she learns Wednesday Addams, daughter of Gomez and Morticia Addams will be joining the students for the term, it makes her fumble. She has a few days to prepare and in doing so she hopes Wednesday is a better student than her mother had been.

The morning of Wednesday’s arrival is a normal one. Larissa gets up, does her usual routine of getting ready, stops at the local cafe, and enters her office at seven thirty on the dot. Her office is warm and cozy, it always has been, from the gorgeous fireplace, to the sketched portraits framed on the wall, and the pressed white rose encased on her desk.

The meeting with the Addams family goes as expected, full of snark and a feeling of irritation on both sides of the lavish desk.

“Larissa, dear. Is that a wedding band I see?” Morticia quirks a brow.

On a milky hand sits a gold band set and a pearl atop the gold, the engagement ring she loved so much.

“It is,” she smiles stating professional.

“I hadn’t heard. I had thought the students were enough for a woman like you.”

Before Larissa can respond, a light knock on the door and a head poking in catches her attention.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Larissa. I didn’t know you were in a meeting. I only wanted to drop these off.” You come in, blueprints rolled up in hand.

“Is that-“ Morticia starts,

“Long time no see.” You smile from where you stand next to Larissa’s desk, shoulders back and chin up high.

“Darling, I’ll sign off on these and bring them back to you before lunch.” Larissa smiles happily taking the papers. “These are plans for a new greenhouse, perks of being married to an architect.” She tells Gomez and Morticia.

The mustachioed man stands up, reaching over to shake your hand. “Gomez Addams, Tish and I didn’t know Larissa got married.”

You give the man a kind smile shaking his hand firmly. “We got married not long after Larissa took over here. After that dance all those years ago I knew I couldn’t let her go.” You say knowing that night went down in Jericho history. “I’ll leave you all to it.” You nod making your way across the office once more, the little girl in the chair biting back a smirk at her mother’s reaction.

Feeling Larissa’s eyes on your back as you leave you turn closing the door with a wink to your wife.

[sockmeat]

Imagine m!reader is an artist who says that they plan on drawing/painting Angel and Angel thinking that they're going to draw him all sexy like and keeps inviting him to come to his room to get some 'nice references' on how to draw him but when m!reader actually reveals their picture of Angel, it's actually Angel smiling while covered in flowers like holding a bouquet with a flower crown on, so real sincere soft looking paintings instead of the lewd stuff Angel was expecting.

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 -- 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐭…(𝑯𝒂𝒛𝒃𝒊𝒏 𝑯𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒍)

(𝐰𝐜): 587

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When Angel finds out you plan on drawing him, he's pleasantly surprised to find out the nature of it.

(𝐀/𝐍): shamefully looking into my inbox with month old asks... nony x6 i am very sorry

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): sex talk, not really actually it's brief mentions, but then there's super cute gushy stuff yayyyy

                                                        𓆩♡𓆪

♡ You mention in passing that you want to draw him, thinking nothing of it

♡ Angel wouldn't let that slide though

♡ Obviously Angel gets drawn often, but he couldn't care less about that

♡ To know that you, somebody he's actually attracted to, wanted to draw him...

♡ You would never hear the end of it

♡ Angel pesters you constantly about it

♡ He does assume that you meant a sexual drawing, even though you were very calm and casual when you mentioned it. He just thought you were ballsy (and maybe already drew some)

♡ He never forgets to bring it up in conversation, if it's just to you or with others around

♡ He'll slip in the fact that you've been drawing sexy pictures of him in any conversation he can. If it seems like he can't, he changes the topic until he can

♡ He also never fails to offer you personal references for the drawing, even a "test drive" if you "aren't sure" how to draw him intimately

♡ You always stay polite though, merely gently rejecting or laughing off his suggestive comments with a flustered demeanor

♡ While Angel was bragging about the "sex art" you were making of him, you made one little doodle of him in your sketch book every night

♡ None of them were sexual like Angel had assumed. Each had its own sweet theme, from Angel surrounded by flowers to him during a moment of peace

♡ There were some made from your creativity, like Angel Dust with a bouquet of his favorite flowers

♡ But most of them were from real moments where he hadn't noticed you'd been drawing him. From him cuddling with Fat Nuggets, when he was smiling in a conversation, him in your favorite outfit of his, to him in his messy pajamas

♡ You made each drawing with pure infatuation

♡ Which is exactly why you put off showing him for so long. You were so nervous he'd feel uncomfortable by your art you hadn't noticed how desperate he was just to have something from you

♡ Eventually, you decided to just show him anyway

♡ You invited him into your room late one night and Angel made such a show of "getting ready" for you

♡ He came with his favorite pink robe and was surprised to see you still in your casual clothes with a notebook on your lap

♡ Angel sat next to you as you flipped through the book, which was entirely dedicated to him

♡ Every time he thought he would finally see himself in a sexy pose, he didn't

♡ His heart warmed as you explained the intention behind every doodle and how much thought you put into it

♡ Eventually, he completely forgot about why he was there in the first place

♡ He became so relaxed, his head found place on your shoulder as you droned on about your drawings

♡ You both relaxed into the bed as conversation moved from your art to random topics

♡ It wasn't long until Angel shuffled into your arms and fell asleep

♡ But you were so relieved, you couldn't help but fall asleep with him

[queenie-avenue]

Hii! 🌟

So..i want ask for request about CEO ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

What if one day reader is caught sketching the CEO in some fancy clothes? Would he like to wear this for reader?

(Thank you in advance! Hope u have really good day 👁️〰️👁️)

/// sorry for my English kinda bad at grammar (ง’̀-‘́)ง

He'll wear anything you make.

💌 ⤻ THE CEO, Adrian Houde

—> he's your muse, you're his obsession.

⤻ reader is gender neutral, reader has a crush on Adrian, obsessive behaviour, posessive thoughts, snooping, fluff, red flags but they aren't so apparent.

notes: i altered the prompt a bit, i hope you don't mind but thank you for the ask! i'm glad you like adrian as much as i do. feel free to send in more asks! love the cute emoticons btw <3 did not proofread, we die like men.

Adrian strolled about the fashion department, his hands raking across the abandoned tables now that everyone had headed home. He rolled up his sleeves to check the time as he walked past the messy and cluttered desks, the heels of his shoes clacking against the floor.

One might ask, what was the CEO of the company doing so late at the fashion department? Everyone had gone home, clocking off early for the holidays — even the ever-busy fashion team — except him. His blue eyes raked across the table as he searched for your table, and finally, he came across it and smiled.

You didn't have a table before, you cramped alongside the lower level employees but well, Adrian pulled some strings here and there for you to get your own table.

It also made it easier for him to look through your belongings.

"Hm?" He hummed when he saw an unfamiliar book on the table. He had memorised every detail of your table, to the point where he knew where you put your emergency snacks — sometimes even refilling them for you anonymously — but this sketchbook was new.

He knew it was wrong to sneak into someone's belongings, and his grandmother would no doubt absolutely pulverise him for such ungentlemanly actions but you already belonged to him. You didn't, but you would soon.

He was slowly cracking you down, he knew. Adrian could still see the blush on your face when you were caught staring at him for too long.

His nimble hands reached for the book and flipped through them. The pages crinkling in his hands as he gazed at all of the different designs. His eyes slowly widened as he recognised the dimples on the model's face, the tousled blonde hair, the dashing pale blue eyes, and the silhouettes you had crafted just for him. The suits, some dresses, some eccentric, some more subdued, and multiple designs made with styles he had a penchant for.

He smiled, knowing that you had to have been observing him rather closely to be able to craft such flattering outfits for him.

"Hah," he breathed out, feeling his cheeks heat up. "You're driving me crazy." He whispered to himself as he felt his entire body grow hot.

He continued to flip through the pages, taking in the sight of him as your muse. He almost wanted to hop in his car and drive off to your house now just to kiss you but he had to restrain himself.

He was a gentleman; even if he snuck into your belongings. He would wait for a while more. His grandmother had always said that a prolonged courting period was needed, filled with flowers, chocolates, gifts, and, of course, polite flirting.

He placed the book on the floor and snapped a few pictures, making sure to make it look accidental, like he had just stumbled across it and sent it to you.

Adrian. H: Stumbled across a cute little thing on the way to a late-night meeting. Mind if I get it privately made? I'd love to wear something you made.

He smirked, knowing that you would fluster. He just wished you were here just so he could see colour fill your face. He made a note to visit the fashion department during lunchtime just to tease you further. Maybe he'd even wear something akin to your designs tomorrow.

He just wanted to get this courting phase over so he could wrap you in his arms like a snake and never let go.

Your sketchbook was practically an invitation for him to do so.