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kairiscorner · 9 months

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May art thou request a Model!Miguel x Reader? Really love all your work. :D

OHHHHH OFC MY LOVELY 💖💖💖 yk, if you want, you can send a more custom request for that pairing/prompt :D BUTTTTT I HAVE AN IDEA, AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT 🤭

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

model!miguel o'hara x gn!make up artist!reader (headcanons and drabbles)

model!miguel is just your average guy behind all the advertisements and publicity this beautiful man gets. he lives his life one day at a time, having less free time than anybody else, even though he doesn't work a 9 to 5 job or have any family or partners that need tending to right away.

model!miguel used to live alone, in a quaint little apartment, catch the morning and afternoon trains to and from his previous job as an intern at alchemax. he hated it there, he felt so suffocated working at a place like that—and though he didn't have much trust in the modeling industry, he took it anyway, because posing for a camera in different poses and outfits was much more preferable than doing inhumane experiments on human subjects.

model!miguel was never the talkative type; he had a mouth that sprinted as opposed to just running, and he was usually really quiet and reserved when not bothered nor spoken to.

model!miguel was that distant co-worker of your model friends, and they always praised and complimented him for his looks, his ability to improvise, and to always captivate the camera readers, the audience; though the only complaints they had was that he never wanted to do anything outside of work, never wanted to talk to anybody... but you, who he found interest in for one thing.

model!miguel met you, a makeup artist for a bunch of amateur models, scrambling from here and there just to get back an eyeshadow palette you lent to the one doing his makeup. you were so out of breath and exhausted by the time you got to his dressing room, you looked like you ran a marathon to get there.

model!miguel couldn't understand a word of what you said, he looked at you in confusion as you wearily pointed to the eyeshadow palette you needed, and a few brushes you forgot to take back from them. "these?" he asked you as he takes the eyeshadow palette and the brushes you were pointing towards. you nod and wobble over to him, nearly falling into his arms as you stumbled; and you did, you did stumble—but he caught you.

model!miguel had amazing reflexes, and... an amazing body to boot. you were as light as a feather in his big, muscular arms–they were a lovely, brown tan with specks of gold when the light hit his skin; his lips were voluptuous, you wondered if they were natural because you've never quite seen lips like those, and... and his eyes–your friends were right, he was captivating, in every sense of the word.

model!miguel held you up and tried keeping you up on your feet, holding your hands so you wouldn't wobble over. "easy now." he whispered repeatedly as you slowly regained your balance and tried shaking the fatigue off. "hard to believe someone actually gives a shit in this place about their job, the makeup artist for me just dashed off the minute some younger model with dimples showed up and forgot all about me." he said with a frustrated huff. you asked miguel if his makeup was already done, to which he chuckled and shook his head at.

model!miguel sighed as he checked the time on his watch, it was five minutes until the shoot, and he wasn't even prepared in the slightest. "well, guess i'll be checking out job listings later. i can't deal with this anymore, it's humiliating." he breathed out in exhaustion as he went on his phone to check for online job listings.

model!miguel least expected the feeling of two smaller hands on the sides of his face, they were cold and a little moist, but they were definitely soft. he heard you muttering under your breath as you reached for some powder and a compact puff. you hesitated, remembering you weren't supposed to handle more popular models–that someone else was going to take care of his makeup for him... right?

model!miguel looked at you with a raised eyebrow, expecting you to do something. "um... you gonna do anything or...?" he asked you, snapping you out of your hesitated trance and stuttering out how you were a mere amateur at being a makeup artist—you didn't feel right doing his makeup when someone else was in charge of you. miguel sighed and gently held your wrist, bringing your hand closer to his face.

model!miguel had a soft expression on his face as he looks up at you. "i seriously don't think they're gonna come back on time before the shoot, it's not worth it to wait for someone who can't even remember you were here." he muttered as you looked back at him, feeling a little struck by his words in a way you couldn't describe, couldn't put your finger on. "sorry, did i overstep a boundary? you, um... you don't have to do it, though, i'll tender my resigna—" you agreed to do it.

model!miguel stayed silent as you puffed some powder on his face to keep him looking all matte and not glossy, to give him a more... natural look, as you would put it. you didn't put any makeup on him, you figured that putting any makeup on a man as gorgeous as him to look 'more appealing to the camera' was a damned crime. you combed through his hair though and told him he looked amazing, in about eight different ways.

model!miguel was surprised; you were nothing like the makeup artists he had before you, who were all stuck-up and did as they were told to, slather makeup on the models and send them off to the set. he knew you were actually passionate about what you did, you had a keen eye for beauty, natural beauty—and you smiled, enjoyed it at every moment you could.

model!miguel thanked you for freshening him up, with you telling him it was no problem, while smoothing out the creases on his shirt—even though that wasn't going to be what he was going to wear—you wanted him to look good, and feel good, by everything you did for him.

model!miguel appreciated your help, though he never really noticed small gestures and things done for him like that before, he now has a sort of throbbing feeling in his chest and a hot fuzzy feeling on his cheeks when he felt your hands roam across his chest, abdomen, and shoulders as you tried smoothing out his shirt. he liked the feeling of your hands, the little tongue flicks you do when focusing, and the little grins you show off when you get all excited and happy about something—but the mundane and exciting parts of the day.

model!miguel cleared his throat as he began to thank you, but faltering in embarrassment as he realized he never asked for your name. you introduced your name to him and instinctively reached a hand out for his—feeling all bashful now because you literally spent five minutes in the dressing room with him and not even telling him your name, introducing yourself like you were a stranger to him all over again. "what a... wonderful name you have. i'll definitely remember this one, i won't let my poor attention to names get the best of me when it comes to you," he told you, adding your name with a sweet smile at the end. it was a brief smile, a brief, tender moment that made you smile, as well.

you may not know it, but, when you two stepped out of that dressing room and went your separate ways... he hopes he can ask you for more than your name, more than just what makeup would look good on him for the next shoot—he wanted to ask you if you were interested in... going with him to the park maybe, and just, sit on a bench with a couple of coffees in your hands and get away from all the cameras, attention, and just breathe with him for a bit.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

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beneathashadytree · 1 year

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Hello there! I would like to request prompt 43 with William James Moriarty from Moriarty the Patriot and the reader is the one saying it to him. As for me I'd like it to be a bit suggestive if that's okay with you 🫠

ALL MARKED-UP - WILLIAM MORIARTY X READER

Warnings : nothing NSFW but somewhat suggestive, this isn’t proofread, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : a little spicy fluff I think

Word count : 0.8K words

Additional notes : Hi nonnie! Interestingly enough, as soon as I saw the prompt, I felt like it had to be the reader saying it, so kudos to you for choosing your request so perfectly! I had fun with this, and I hope you like it!💗

Prompt : “If you give me a hickey, I'll have to give you one too.”

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

“Oh dear. You look rather upset.” William’s chuckle came from the doorway, where he was leaning as he watched them huff and puff in frustration.

With a glance of annoyance, they rolled their eyes and went back to fidgeting with the collar of their shirt. “No thanks to you, of course. The marks you left are conspicuous, to say the least.”

“We were in a rush,” he replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “And you know I tend to get… enthusiastic when you drag me into abandoned rooms in the middle of balls.”

“That was yesterday evening. It’s been a whole twenty four hours,” they groaned, releasing the collar of their top as they realized that there was no use in trying to hide it with just their clothes. “I thought it would be gone by now.”

“I’m sorry, my dear.” William walked up to them, looking anything but sorry as he stared into the mirror. “On the bright side, I suppose no one’s going to have any doubts anymore as to whether or not our marriage is a happy one?”

“Don’t remind me,” they grumbled, feeling their indignation rise once again at his words. Their fumbling in their drawers grew messier as their agitation increased. “The nerve of him! Lord Byron’s certainly got no limits to his rudeness. And the Viscount! He thinks that his own shoddy marriage is enough of a reason to project on everyone else’s.”

Their husband hummed. “I think I heard someone last night, mentioning that his son’s legitimacy was in question.” A mischievous glint twinkled in his eye through the mirror, as he watched them finally pull out their makeup kit and set out to try and cover the blooming red and purple marks on their neck and collarbone. “If someone somehow manages to slip that he bears an uncanny resemblance to his wife’s stableboy up in her estate, then that would be entirely coincidental, would it not?”

Pausing in their ministrations with their powder puff mid-air, they turned to look at him with a look that was a mix of horror and awe. “You truly are something else, Liam. I’d hate to get on your bad side.”

With a smile they could never resist, he rested his hand on their waist, leaning in to press a soft kiss to their forehead, before whispering, “After last night, you should know precisely which side is my favorite.”

His seductive tone didn’t slip past them unnoticed, and they could feel their throat getting drier at the implications of his words, and the memories they brought back. With shaky hands, they tried to finish applying the makeup as best as they could, in a vain attempt to hide their lovebites.

Of course, ever-perceptive William would notice their trembling, if the laugh that left him was any indication. “Is there anything I can do now? Though it does wound me so to see you trying to disguise them, I understand why the nobility seeing them would upset you.”

A thoughtful look crossed their face, before they turned in his arms to face him properly. “I might have an idea to scandalize them even more.”

He arched his eyebrow at that. “Oh?”

Their eyes now held the sort of glimmer that always appeared whenever they made love between the sheets until the break of dawn and until they grew delirious with pleasure, or whenever they escaped for a passionate, whirlwind of a tryst with him down the hallways of some nobleman’s mansion. It was a look he’d never get tired of; a look that spoke volumes of how much they’d always want him.

Looking as tempting as ever, they smiled wickedly as they leaned in close enough to smell his cologne. Deft fingers found his own pale neck, teasingly stroking the skin and watching as it pebbled at their touch. “If you give me a hickey, I'll have to give you one too, don’t you think?” Daringly, their teeth nipped at a particular spot underneath his jaw that always had him swallowing thickly. “Or ten.”

“Well,” William managed to say after a few beats of stunned silence, somehow managing to sound somewhat well-composed, though some other body parts proved otherwise. “I can quickly think of ten places for them. Do be quick though, darling. We wouldn’t want them to think we’re improper, would we?”

“Oh no, certainly not,” they chuckled, moving back to fall against the bed behind them and pulling him to them by the belt loops. “The hosts themselves can’t be too late, I suppose.” Toying with the button of his pants, they could hear his breath hitching. “You’ll have to forgive me for being a bit rough with you then, if we want to greet the guests on time.”

“Have me as you wish,” he mumbled, before tumbling back onto the bed with his ever-so-tempting spouse in a flurry of eager limbs and unabashed desire.

Taglist : @sherlockscumslut @lilias-highlights @thispersoniscrazy @wifeofkyojuro

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jamies-latex-lust · 4 months

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Batman Beyond Quinnfatuated

After being knocked unconscious, Terry woke up, tied to a chair. Bruce had asked him to look into a gang of Harley Quinn impersonators. When he arrived at the scene, a gas had filled the air, making it harder to breathe. After that, Terry had felt something hard hit the back of his head and passed out.

“So, you’re the new Bats?” Came a voice.

Terry’s vision came back to him slowly, but he could tell the voice wasn’t from anyone around him.

“I gotta say, I love the new costume. Black and red! My colors!”

“Who’s there?!” Terry shouted, looking around.

With his vision back to what it was, he could see several figures standing around. All of them had red and black jester uniforms, white foundation and black domino masks. They all looked like Harley Quinn.

“Ooh, look, he’s awake,” one said.

“Our new recruit,” another said, with the same voice.

“You guys with the Jokerz out something?” Terry asked.

“‘Fraid not, puddin’,” Another voice said.

All the Harley Quinn “impersonators” started converging on Terry.

“I can’t wait to have fun with 'im,” one said.

“Me neither,” another said.

“Who’s in charge here?!” Terry demanded.

“Up here, suga!” The first voice said.

Terry looked up and saw a screen with Harley Quinn on it.

“Like it?” She asked. “Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. How do I still look so good this far into the future? Simple! I uploaded a copy of my mind as an AI! It’s not quite what Mr. J would’ve done, but I got my own way of doing things.”

The other Harley Quinn’s grabbed Terry. Their fingers felt closer than they should. That was when Terry realized, he’d been placed into one of the jester costumes as well.

“Wondering what I’m about to do?” AI Harley asked. “Simple! I’m about to turn you into another me, just like all these pretty girls here!”

The other Harley’s all began touching Terry all over.

“Not yet, girls,” AI Harley said. “I ain’t done my villain monologue.”

The other Harley’s backed off and one held up a powder puff.

“See that?” AI Harley asked. “We’re gonna powder your face full a my special foundation! It’ll change your body and mind to be just like me! Don’t worry though. We’ll be using an extra special kind. It’ll change ya slower. You’ll still be under our control, but your body won’t turn as fast. After all, once everyone on the planet is me, we’ll need to keep the Harley Quinn Race going somehow. That’s where your genes come in. Only the best for future generations!”

“Yeah, right,” Terry said, sarcastically.

As AI Harley talked, Terry used a Batarang to cut through the ropes tying him done. Terry leapt to his feet, shaking slightly from the high heels he’d been put in, and rushed off. Some of the Harley’s tried to block him, but he tackled them and kept running.

Terry tried to reach for his communicator, only to realize, “Right! They jacked my costume!”

He kept running through the lair, trying to find a way out. Behind him, he heard the sound of numerous high heels, too many to tell, coming after him.

As he turned one corner, he saw light coming from alter corner down the end of the hall. Terry rushed to that corner. If he could escape, he could warn Bruce and come up with a plan. Except…

Once he rounded the bend, he saw a dead end. The light has been nothing more than a screen. AI Harley was on it, blowing a raspberry.

“Fooled ya,” AI Harley said, gleefully. “But don’t worry. The girls will get ya soon. Then you’ll be just another one of me!”

Terry smashed the screen in frustration. The sound of high heels was louder now. Terry turned his attention to the sound.

A group of ten Harley’s was coming for him. Their arms interlocked, with their hands on their hips. Behind them, another group of Harley’s, blocking any gaps from the first group. Behind the second group was a third, and fourth. An entire platoon of Harley’s had him cornered.

But as Terry watched, his hormones changed his dismay to… attraction?

All of the Harley’s he could make out were smiling seductively at him. Their bodies were curvy in just the right ways. Their hips swaying do alluringly as they walked. Terry couldn’t deny it. He was turned on.

Despite all the Harley’s looking the same, there were small differences. Some had more black on their costume, some had more red.

The Harley’s furthest away from Terry had faces that almost looked like dolls, painted on. But they still looked so sexy.

In an instant, Terry’s hormones had made him lose the will to fight these women. It was pointless anyway. They had an unbreakable barrier he couldn’t get through. But, his hormones asked, why would he want to?

These Harley copies wanted to take him and make him just like then. He couldn’t deny such beautiful women. Terry slowly walked towards them, giving himself over to the army of Harley’s.

Satisfied that their hostage had given himself up, the copies all dragged him back, locking the door behind them. One took the key and dropped it down her costume, but it didn’t matter. Terry was theirs now, and he wouldn’t fight it.

“Good job, girls,” AI Harley said. “Now, I know what you all wanna do, so have at him!”

All of the Harley’s surrounded Terry. One grabbed him and kissed him on the cheeks, leaving a smudge of red lipstick. Another grabbed Terry and kissed him on the chin, this time, leaving black lipstick smudges.

Terry was passed around all the Harley’s, who all smothered him in smooches. By the time they were done, his whole face was covered in red and black lipstick.

“Oh, that’ll never do,” one of the Harley’s said.

“We need to get you all cleaned up,” another Harley said.

Terry was pushed on to the chair, and two Harley’s sat on each of his legs. Feeling their butt cheeks through the thin rubber uniforms got Harley’s hormones raging more.

The Harley’s held up powder puffs and smacked them against Terry’s face. Each smack covered him with more and more foundation.

Once they were done, the Harley’s placed a red and black jester hood on Terry’s head.

“How do you feel, puddin’?” AI Harley asked.

The foundation had started to affect Terry’s mind, but it wasn’t quite there yet. Still, with him having been seduced by them, Terry wasn’t about to disobey the army of Harley Quinn’s.

“Good,” Terry caps, as his voice took on a higher pitch and Harley’s signature accent.

“It looks like he feels more than just good,” one of the Harley’s said, pointing to the stretching costume.

“Girls, you know what it’s time to do!” Another Harley said.

The Harley copies took their newest member and began wiring their magic on him. Terry was placed in a special machine the Harley’s had built. The lower half was used to, as the Harley’s put it, “squeeze the rubber chicken”, until he was dried out. The upper half either let him see the Harley copies to help him, or showed a screen of a hypno disc while AI Harley further conditioned Terry’s brain.

After about a week, the process had ended, and Harley emerged from the machine, completely transformed.

Her sisters brought her a new uniform. After that, they powdered her face with more foundation, before applying her lipstick like they were painting a doll.

Harley tucked her blonde hair under her black and red hood and joined her sisters at their side.

She had become their doll, no, their marionette, like she wanted. They were happy, and she was happy.

“Now that Batman’s gone, I can change the whole world!” AI Harley laughed.

The army of Harley Quinn’s laughed with the AI.

In no time, the entire population would be changed into exact genetic copies of Harley Quinn. None would be leader, as they were all the same. The world would be perfect.

The world would be Harley Quinn.

(As a Batman Beyond fan, and as someone spellbound by that last Harley Quinn AI image, I had to write this. Feel free to post this on your deviantArt page if you’d like, Mistress Jamie.) - This is a wonderful piece darling, very good job!

#submission

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rabbitenn · 5 months

Text

MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE?

Beneath the melody of glimmering snowflakes, you sway in his arms.

ft. Yaotome Gaku, Kujo Tenn, Tsunashi Ryunosuke, Nanase Riku, Osaka Sogo, Izumi Mitsuki x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, romance. Use of ‘princess’ in Tenn’s.

A small (and a little late) Christmas present for @yumemirumikazuki (Tenn’s and Riku’s part) @gakutsumudailys (Gaku’s part) @ @houjichaya (Ryu’s), @yaminohimeyume (Tenn’s and Mitsuki’s) and @highcollargirl (Sogo’s). I’m not sure if you all celebrate, but this is my gift to you, I hope you have a lovely winter or holiday <3 I actually wanted to post this yesterday, but couldn’t make it in time, I still hope you enjoy !

♡ YAOTOME GAKU

The bustling of packed streets dies down as you approach your apartment complex.

Intense lighting is replaced by the soft warmth of candle-lit windows, joyous voices overheard in the outline of the people habitating the decorated houses.

In the snow-coated streets, you walk, arms wrapped around a soft teddy bear that your boyfriend just got for you.

You hug it close, arms tightening around the plushie’s red coat adorned with a bow. A smile makes it to your face as you steal a glance in your lover’s direction. It was so cute, you think, how he looks intimidating and yet, he’s the sweetest with you.

The moonlight above, light years away, seems to agree with your statement, as its aura illuminates the idol’s profile; an otherworldly god, bound by fate to you.

“Gaku?” You call him, gaze lost in his handsome features.

Steely eyes focus on you, brows slightly raised in silent question.

You stop walking, coming to stand before him, one of your hands lacing with his.

“Thank you.” You giggle, hugging your new plushie a little tighter.

A soft chuckle leaves Gaku’s lips, his hand squeezing yours tenderly.

“Anything for you, my dear.” He tells you, with a fleeting kiss to your lips.

Then, he brushes a delicate kiss over the back of your hand.

“Can I have this dance with you?” Is his question, as puffs of hot breath are held in your throat.

You nod, as your lover sways you beneath the Christmas lights and the smiling moon.

You rest your cheek against the soft fabric of his long black coat, cheeks heating up at the proximity.

The moon reflects on the snow at your feet, its glow imprinting the shadows of two entangled souls over the pearlescent canvas.

♡ KUJO TENN

The warmth of the fireplace casts your living room in rosy light.

You didn’t use it normally, but today is a special day, after all.

Sure, it’s the holidays, but to you, the fact that your angelic boyfriend is spending it with you is what matters.

You didn’t expect him to ring your doorbell this evening, disguised in his cap and glasses, with a bag packed full of cookies and Christmas treats.

A smile tugs at your lips as you prepare the table with the multiple snacks your boyfriend’s brought, the cinnamon-like scent of the sweets luring you to them.

A chuckle interrupts your thoughts.

“At least let me help you arrange them.” Tenn points out, removing his blue hat.

Your eyes focus on him. And while he always looks stunning, there is something so adorable about him in casual clothes and with a sincere smile on his perfect face.

“It’s alright, Tenn.” You smile, walking towards him.

A sigh escapes your boyfriend, as he slightly shakes his head, as if to say ‘you’re too kind.’

One of his hands reaches up to take off his glasses, but you stop him.

“Leave them on.” You tell him, taking his hand. “You look cute.”

The hues of a winter sky at dusk bloom rosy on his cheeks at your compliment, as you tug him close to you.

“And… let’s dance?” You suggest, your pleading stare drawing Tenn into you more and more.

“That would be my pleasure, princess.” Your angel whispers, leaning in.

His lips touch your temple, and, in the warmth of your small apartment, you move in tune.

No luxurious ballroom could ever beat the intimacy of your shared kisses as you sway before the crackling fireplace.

♡ TSUNASHI RYUNOSUKE

Powdered sugar coats your lips as laughter fills the air.

Your apron is all stained, remnants of icing staining the sleeves of your sweater, but you don’t care.

What could ever taint this moment? Not when your boyfriend’s strong arms wrap around you and twirl you around the kitchen, one of his group’s songs playing in the background.

Amber eyes crinkle up in warm crescents, your unadulterated smile, the most precious gift he could ever ask for.

You were radiant like this, no creases on your forehead, only the curve of your smile enticing him; akin to the tantalizing sparkle of champagne, he can never get enough of you.

The song comes to an end, and your labored breathing fills the air.

“Another, please! I want to dance more with you, Ryu!” You ask, eyes shiny, cheeks hot, despite the sake remaining untouched just yet.

Ryunosuke lets out a hearty laugh, gaze softening even more, if that was possible, at your enthusiastic request.

“Alright, alright.” He smiles.

You let out a happy squeal, standing on your tiptoes to place an innocent kiss on his lips.

When the new song starts to play and you pull away, however, your partner chases after you, capturing your lips in his once more.

Afternoon sunlight streams in through translucent silky curtains, wrapping your locked lips in vibrant shades of honey and gold.

Your lover tastes glazed sugar on you, the added sweetness and the addiction of you deepening the kiss, divine intoxicating nectar

The music goes on.

Your kiss doesn’t end.

♡ NANASE RIKU

Flakes of falling snow land on Riku’s nose as he follows you through the park.

Despite the white layer covering every surface, a blue expanse hangs overhead, the halo of the sun high in the sky; an angel guardian warming up the idol’s back.

There is a sort of freedom, of newfound joy in this outing today.

Whiteness surrounds your lover, and yet, he is happy it is not that of hospital beds, but of just fallen snow instead.

He smiles.

Memories of him and his twin flash before his eyes. He is glad there is no longer a window glass separating him from this winter wonderland.

And of course, he is even more grateful nothing can keep him apart from the one he loves, either.

“Rikkun!” You call him, running back towards him. “What are you smiling about, huh?” You question, a mischievous smirk curling your lips. “Are you feeling okay? Are you wearing warm enough clothes?” You worry, adjusting his scarf snuggly.

He gives you one of his cute smiles.

“I’m alright, [Y/n]. I’m happy…” He trails off, those sunset eyes of his, big and bright, lingering memories present in the undertones of early dusk.

You brush scarlet locks away from his forehead, your slightly chapped lips placing a kiss to his brow.

“I’m glad, Riku. You deserve it. So much, my love.” You assure him, as your arms wrap around his form, your face resting in the crook of his neck.

He hugs you close, his body beginning to sway the both of you around, vermillion eyes fluttering closed.

You can feel his heartbeat, in sync with yours, as you two dance amidst a gentle rain of snowy glitter.

To feel you so close… Even if he ends up having a cough attack later, this is more than worth it.

♡ OSAKA SOGO

You watch intently as your boyfriend’s fingers strum the guitar’s cords.

There is something definitely hypnotizing to him, you think.

Lavender moondust falls over his amethyst eyes as he intently focuses on his instrument, sweet notes and daring rifts mingling together in a melody that has you on the edge of your seat.

Sogo’s music transports you to a whole other universe, where no worries exist, just the two of you, in an idyll made by yourselves.

His fingers stop momentarily, gaze of hyacinths at sunrise focused on you, an indication for you to say something.

“Amazing…” You utter, entranced by him and the notes still vibrating on the chords of his guitar. “I want to dance to this song with you.” You blurt out, eyes never once leaving his.

Your boyfriend smiles, a light chuckle filling the air of his comforting room.

“I guess that could be arranged.” He tells you, standing up, offering a hand to you.

You take it, wondering what he has planned.

And the moment you find yourself wrapped in his soft embrace, Sogo’s voice entones the lyrics to what he was playing earlier.

They are sweet, gentle, like demure lavender fields coloring a cloudy day; passionate, the blaze he so usually hides, but that shines bright beneath his composed façade.

The melody he sings, the one you’re dancing to right now… It is him, all his true emotions and his love for you on display, with no picture perfect image to hide the rawest parts of him.

You love him, always.

But like this, you get to see every little part that constitutes his heart.

As you sway with him, you think true love had never been so clear.

♡ IZUMI MITSUKI

Dawn has barely touched the concrete when you take a seat at the dorm’s backyard.

You knew he’d be here.

The fabric of his orange hoodie catches your eye from a distance, your lover’s vibrant hair outlined against the first daylight. Perhaps there was no sun in this winter morning just yet, but to you, he was brighter than any blue sky.

He hasn’t noticed your presence yet, his earphones keeping him immersed in practise, arms outstretched towards the heights of a sky you’re sure he will reach.

You lean your chin in one hand, smiling to yourself.

Mitsuki always worked so hard… And the truth is, his dancing has improved a lot.

You wish you could join him.

What’s stopping you? The first rays of sun seem to ask, when they graze your face with its gilded warmth.

So you stand up, making your way towards where clear sunbeams seem to move in tandem with your lover.

Coppery hued irises catch sight of you, their corners tilting up when you reflect in his stare.

And for all the way with words Mitsuki always has, none are exchanged this time, for there is no need.

Everything you might have wanted to express is made obvious in the sync of your movements with his.

Even as the morning gets more clear with the rising sun, you don’t really notice.

Why would you? When you can’t look away from the one who lights up your every day?

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bloodyymaryyy · 3 months

Note

Could you do fic for Fernando Alonso with wife reader where they're baking together?? That one that ends with flour all over each other and kisses and then their children in the end going “idk if I should be grossed out you are kissing or mad that you sent me to bed without inviting me to bake with you” Thanks!! :)

Disaster in the kitchen

Fernando Alonso x reader

(sorry I changed it a bit I hope you like it like that!)

English isn't my first language

It all started when you made the mistake of asking your husband, Fernando Alonso for her making your kids a pastry you don't know how you end up on the floor with your husband by your side kissing your face and neck, covered in flour but it did happen...

"Nando! Baby can you come to the kitchen for a second please?"

Y/n shouted to her husband and father of her kids. A boy and a girl, in their teenage years twins 16 years old Julie and Luke.

She heard his footsteps from their bedroom where he was coming down to the kitchen, his head popped in from the halfway closed door with a smile in his face. He loved his wife, she always amazed him with her effortless beauty and her loving personality, quiet but supportive and feisty.

"Yes my love?"

He said blinking slowly at her waiting for her reply

"I am gonna make a cake for the kids, do you want to help me?, no problem tho, I thought you would want to contribute for it too because you complain I don't let you do anything kitchen wise, unless it is the dishes of course!"

She said with a knowing smile because she knew that he would want to make anything with you

"Sure!" * he said and made his way in the kitchen completely and closing the door behind him

Taking out the bowls, the ingredients and washing their hands so they can get started with the baking to surprise them because usually not a lot of sweets get into the house, not because of diets but your two teenagers only get chocolates or something for only one person.

Taking the big bowl and putting into the bowl the sugar first and then the oil, mixing them up until you couldn't feel the sugar then, asked nando to break 2 eggs into the mix and started to mix again, then a cup of fanda, again mixing it up, while you did that nando put 4 packets of vanilla and a bit of baking powder to help it puff up. Then after yet again mixing it you stopped the machine getting the flour to top it off, while measuring how much to put on the mix nando got an idea... A stupid one at that.

" hey baby look at that"

He said while scoping up a good amount of flour in his fist, while you were distracted trying to see what he pointed out you turned towards him with a confused expression on your face, eyebrows knitted together you were met with flour flying to your face and hair making you look like a ghost, shocked you look up to your husband

" Nando... What the hell?!, why did you do that, I just took a shower half an hour ago!"

You then held him from the back of his neck and rubbed your face in his making his face have flour too

" oh you are on!"

With that the flour fight began, chasing each other around the kitchen throwing flour to one other accidentally while chasing y/n around the table, he almost caught her but slipped in the flour covered floor, taking her with him in the ground

While they were giggling like little kids and kissing lovingly , they didn't hear the front door open and close their two kids coming in the kitchen hearing the commotion. There they stood with a mix of emotions, confused, surprised and disgusted faces

Julie was the first one to speak scaring her parents

" what are you doing?" she asked

" yeah what are you doing mom? Dad?" Luke followed after his sister.

" oh shit sorry" their mom exclaimed while getting up with red cheeks feeling embarrassed about acted like kids and to be found by their own " it's your dad's fault btw!"

" I don't know whether to be mad you didn't wait to make it together or disgusted with you two kissing in front of us" Julie said

" Well do you want to help me now? As you see I haven't put the flour in yet"

Their mother shrugged and suggested to Julie and Luke and they did helped their mom while Fernando watched with fondness as they finished up and everyone headed to the shower to wash the day's activities and get ready to eat and relax

#x reader #f1 x reader #drive to survive x reader #marriswriting #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso fluff #send help #my writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #bloodyymaryyy

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two-red-lungs · 1 year

Text

Pick Your Poison

Paul/Fem!Reader

Content: Slow burn, stoner!Paul, he’s the Drugs Guy and I love him, unresolved tension, the Lost Boys are SO toxic

Word Count: 2.9k

The neon sign in Saigon Soul’s window hummed, luminous and red, casting vermillion’s feather-soft hue across the rapidly cooling colors of the night. The last rays of the sun had faded less than an hour ago: but as soon as they did, like clockwork, your new favorite entertainment emerged. Just like he did every night. A reverse Cinderella.

Red looked good on Paul. It haloed his product-stiff blonde mane in a ruby glow and glittered like pomegranate seeds in a marching line down his gilded row of medallions. Turned his off-white eyes and teeth pink, too. He huffed, smacking his lips obnoxiously in an effort to puff away the heat of his extra-spicy beef noodle pho, flapping his hands about. The piles of bracelets on his wrists jangled.

“Fuck me, man. That’s good.” He said in his usual laid-back, loose tone after a gulp of iced tea from his flimsy paper cup.

“Mmm.” You hummed and picked up a heavy shrimp spring roll with your chopsticks. Maybe it was the thick seaside summer air, or the heavenly deep-fried smells that wafted your way every time the narrow restaurant door opened, but the damn things smelled amazing. “Told ya. This place is a total hole in the wall but their food’s primo.”

“Uh-huh.” He sucked pepper oil off the pad of his thumb and scratched his stubbly cheek contemplatively. Even like this, reeking of sweat and looking like a cat got lost in his hair somewhere, he was so beautiful it was almost ridiculous. Damn those baby blues. “My man Dwayne’s gonna dig on this stuff. He’s one bona fide heat fiend. Eats the fuckin, the… the uh…” He snapped his fingers a few times, brows furrowed in utmost stupefied contemplation. “The little spoons, with the red powder on top, you know—”

“Tamarind candy?”

His face lit up like the sun. Jesus Christ. That smile was a flashbang, a dynamite stick, a stun baton. Made you go all stupid. “Yeah! Yeah, man, the tamarind candy! Gotta get him some of that stuff.”

You looked down at your paper plate of food and worried at the inside of your lip with your teeth. Somewhere down the street dance music was playing. Car lights ghosted over your and your dinnermate, lighting up the strangers that walked by on the sidewalk next to you. It was by all means a perfect night: balmy wind and the distant sound of the boardwalk rides on the air. But Paul bringing up his brother… it sent an uneasy sensation down your spine and you couldn’t quite pin down why.

Paul had stumbled into your life three weeks ago, completely drunk on the beach. You’d been a good samaritan: held his hair back while he puked, tossed him a bottle of water while he reeled and slurred out that his brothers had dumped his ass for being too intoxicated. But the whole while, he grinned. Like he could enjoy anything. Like no matter what situation life put him in, he’d find some way to have fun.

He sat by your little bonfire in the grassy dunes and you chatted. You showed him some of your stick-n-poke tats and he’d insisted on getting one himself. And (in a decidedly less good samaritan way) you’d given him one, india ink blackening your fingers and his inner arm skin cold under your fingers. And that’s how you’d gotten to know him, how you’d continued to know him over the last collection of days. Alone, just him. His weird, easily-distractible, impulsive, entertaining self. He mentioned he had three brothers, once or twice, and you took it in stride.

Then you’d seen him with them.

He was like an entirely different person.

Across the sea of beach boardwalk heads you’d spotted him. But it didn’t feel like him. He sat lazily up on a railing surrounded by equally eccentric young men, and they watched the crowd like tigers. Like mad kings looking down on their kingdom. A beautiful young woman passed and they all jeered, whooping and whistling and clapping: even Paul. With an aggression and odd hunger in his eyes you’d never seen before. They all moved in tandem, like wolves, wordlessly communicating in a way that made your skin crawl.

You left.

Now he was Paul again tonight: just Paul, the Paul you knew and hoped to god was the real version. The guy who couldn’t talk and chew gum to save his life. The guy who declared a thumb war with you and proceeded to lose six times in a row. The guy who delighted in rocking the sky-glider that slowly trundled over the pier until you were shrieking and clinging to his coat.

Either way, real Paul or not, you were glad you’d yet to meet his family.

The blonde stretched, yawned, and hopped out of his seat, digging a hand into his dingy riding pants pocket. When you moved to counter, pulling your wallet out of your bag, he uh-uhed you and flapped his own leather-bound one in your face. “Not a chance, girl. Paulie’s good for it.”

You raised your brows. As far as you knew, he was a surf bum with a penchant for partying. No way was he holding down a nine to five to pay for dinner.

Paul scoffed at your look. “I got a freebie from a real charitable dude.” He flashed the corner of a hundred at you and stuck out his tongue with a smile before wrestling two fives out of his cash-thick wallet.

“Uh-huh. Someone just… handed you what, looks like… six hundred bucks?”

“He didn’t need ‘em anymore.” Paul didn’t even watch his wallet fall, he just dropped it to the table, flattening the bills to presentability with his fingers. “Try not to miss me, ‘kay?” In a whirl of pungent sea salt and old-timey coattails he was inside the little eatery, the bell on the poster-covered door jingling.

You idly scratched at the hem of his leather wallet with your thumb nail while you waited. Real charitable dude, huh? You weren’t stupid. Paul was a street fiend. Ran trades and exchanges from the pockets sewn inside his coat with practiced ease, like he was born to sell ditchweed and glass-cut coke to summer-break college students. No doubt that’s where the money came from. Hell, the way he was standing around with his brothers… you wouldn’t be surprised if they were his suppliers.

Something crunched under the edge of your nail. You brought your thumb to your face. There was a line of red, deep and nearby brown, trapped between the keratin and your skin. Dirt, obviously.

It was dirt.

Had to be dirt.

Like a category three hurricane, Paul was back, and before you knew it you were on your feet and moseying down the bustling town avenue. One of his long, lithe arms was draped almost crushingly over your shoulder, holding you to his side. He jingled with every footfall. Golden strands of hair blustered in the corner of your vision and you felt his ribs, pressed against your side, swell and contract with a contented sigh.

Two could play at that overconfident, wild-child game. With a little effort you extracted a pinned arm and shoved it under his coat, grabbing his waist over his mesh top and holding him much in the same way he held you as you jaunted down the avenue. He threw his head back and laughed, his stride never wavering.

“You kinda got guts, girl.” He cackled into the coastal breeze.

“So, Paulie.” You ignored his needling, crossing the crosswalk and ambling past seemingly endless pizzerias and cinemas and smoke shops. “Level with your good, kind, very honest and transparent friend. How many acid tabs did you sling to get that sorta funding?”

Paule shook your shoulder with a strong hand. “Wasn’t lyin’ to you, c’mon. I really did get that green for free.” The walk sign nearby turned from stop to go and you crossed another street. “Me and my brothers, we got ways, y’know? Not gonna be strapped for cash any time soon.”

Sometimes, when Paul looked at you just right, you thought your damn heart was gonna beat out of your chest. Like he saw right through the bullshit into your soul. But other times, times like now, you realized just how little you actually knew the guy.

“I got ‘bout an hour before I gotta jet, girl.” Paul started talking again and you blinked: you’d arrived in front of the bulb-studded Casino Arcade arched entrance at the boardwalk without even noticing it. When you looked up at him, he was already looking down at you, eyes crinkled in kiddish mischief. “You down for a puff ‘n play?”

“Just an hour?” You mockingly pouted, extracting yourself from him and crossing your arms broodingly in the small ever-flowing crowd of young adults going in and out of the noisy arcade. “Geez, Paul. What am I, a time-killer till you can go have real fun?”

He laughed and there was a bark to it. “If you could handle real fun I’d take you with me.” A little of his usual spaced-out bliss receded. “But I, uh. Don’t really think the guys would appreciate a plus one at our… parties.”

“Wow.” You deadpanned. “Not vague and condescending at all.” With a conceding huff you punched his shoulder playfully, making his body rock like an inflatable car-sale mascot. “Fine, blondie. I’m game.” Paul was grinning from ear to ear and dragged you by the sleeve off to the underside of the pier, fishing around in his inside pockets. “But none of that skunkweed, you hear me? And if I kick your butt at Speedway again you gotta gimme your ring like you promised last time!”

He stopped short so quickly you nearly collided with his tall, narrow back. Paul whirled around. “Yeah? What do I get if I win?”

You were very acutely aware of how close he was standing, nearly chest-to-chest, and how the shadow-painted back side of the arcade by the barnacle-stippled pier was much less crowded than the arcade. You swallowed and his sharp, playful gaze tracked the motion of your throat reflexively. “It’s— augh, um— mystery prize. Can’t tell you what it is till you win. Which you won’t.”

He was silent for a few seconds, sucking on the inside of his cheek. Thinking. Then he grinned. “Alright.” He flicked a lighter across his knuckles and pressed the button down. The little firelight flickered wildly in the turbulent air. “Let’s get toasted.”

Sitting down in the shadow-dark sand between the pier legs, watching him roll a joint right then and there on his narrow knee, you reeled. Sometimes you really couldn’t tell what his deal was. Were you a time-killer? A listening ear? A friend? The way he looked at you, sometimes— it didn’t feel friendly.

If it was good or bad, though… the jury was still out on that one.

So. It wasn’t skunkweed.

It was nice and palatable and bright. Absolutely top-shelf stuff he was handing out to you pro-bono. The world was a delicious blur: arcade lights were multihued and the speaker music was pop-y and completely grooveable. Your skin prickled in the hot interior air: fabric just felt better after a few puffs. And god, Paul was the funniest, weirdest, most oddly endearing beanstalk of a man when he was on the stuff.

He had his forehead pressed so hard to the claw machine it was going to leave a red halo: he beat the side with his fist and howled in breathy, entertained frustration when the wimpy claw let the neon green monkey plush slip from its grasp under your careful joystick management. “Ahh, you dropped it again! Unbelievable!”

“It’s not exactly made to be easy, doofus! I’d like to see you try.” You half-chuckled, half-grumbled, feeding the hungry quarter slot more change. You missed the slot a few times before you succeeded.

Paul reeled back and rounded the machine like a big cat, waving jingly arms. “You’re an amateur, girl. Let a pro show ya how it’s done.”

You assumed he’d push you out of the way: god knows he'd done it before. But no, of course now he decided to act exactly like the Paul you’d come to know. He pressed up behind you, chin tickling the crown of your head, and put a hand over yours on the joystick when the machine popped back to life, revitalized by the loose change. It chirped out a happy eight-bit tune and Paul hummed along to it, guiding the claw around and back. His fingers were cool over yours. You could feel his belt buckle biting into your back over your shirt.

You held very, very still, mouth pressed into a thin line. He jammed the drop button. The claw lowered, clamped over the green monkey, and hauled it over to the prize chute. It dropped it without a hitch: the plush clunked into the deposit receptacle.

Paul’s mouth was behind your ear, cold breath on the shell of it. “See? Pro.”

Then he was gone, crouching like an animal by the chute and wrestling the monkey free, and god you were reeling again: collecting your very high nerves with hands still clutching the sweating joystick plastic.

“What’s my prize?”

“...Huh?”

Paul doubled down, resting his weight against the Blasteroids arcade machine and wiggling the monkey at you. “I won. What’s my mystery prize, hmm?”

You collected yourself enough, finally. At least enough to scoff dismissively. “Please, I basically wiped the floor with you in Speedway and Super Mario—”

“You can’t argue with evidence, girl.” When you lunged to snatch the green ‘evidence’ out of his grip he reached upwards with it, holding it over your head mockingly, a cheshire smile on his face. “Cough it up. I want my prize.”

You jumped for the monkey and it went even higher. Grumbling and hopping and face starting to grow very flushed with an ‘I don’t have a fucking mystery prize’ panic, you rambled and cajoled at him, flipping between wheedling and threatening. It took you about fifteen seconds to realize he was no longer staring down at you, but rather over your head.

“Paul.” A laid-back, low male voice said evenly from behind you.

An icy knot formed in your stomach. You turned, slow as a glacier, and yep, it was exactly what you thought it was. Two of the brothers you’d spied the blonde hanging out with before. The tall, dark, and brooding one, and the peroxide-spiked trench coat model.

The latter lifted his eyebrows at you when he caught you staring. A tight, cold smile graced his lips for a moment before he turned his cutting gaze back to his brother. “Thought we all agreed to be at the statue by ten. We missed you.” His eyes slide back to you. “Who’s your friend?”

You stood as tall as you could in the given circumstances, feeling rather like a park ranger making himself as big as possible to frighten off a bear. An introduction was on the tip of your tongue. It got knocked off of it when Paul abruptly elbowed past you, shoulder-checking you hard enough to offset your balance. When he stood by his brothers, he looked exactly in place. Like he was meant to be there.

He glanced down his nose at you. There was a different sort of smile on his face. An insider smile. One you didn’t feel like was for you. “Just some chick, David. Y’know how it is. Where’s Marko?”

“Scoping out dinner. Probably waiting on us, now.”

“Shit man, then let’s go!” Paul crowed, snapping his fingers and grinning, tongue trapped between his teeth. “I’m starvin’.”

The whole while they talked, the tall, dark-haired one watched you with crossed arms. Taking in the way your face shifted, the confused, hurt pinch in your brow. The pac-man machine illuminated half his face, like a skull of amber-yellow. You caught his eye. The intensity of his gaze forced yours down to the multicolored carpet.

“After you.” David gestured broadly with a gloved hand towards the arcade entrance, and Paul flounced towards it without so much as a goodbye or a sparing glance in your direction, even after an entire evening together. David looked at the dark-haired one. “Dwayne. Time to roll.”

A long-drawn out pause. You refused to look up.

“...Comin’.” Dwayne eventually said. The trio disappeared between arcade machines, tops of their heads barely visible, then vanished into the crowded Santa Carla night.

The green monkey was abandoned on the floor, limbs splayed. You picked it up, its glassy plastic eyes blankly reflecting the arcade lights. Like it was mocking you for being there, alone, after that.

“Fucking asshole.” You breathed in disbelief to yourself. Far more hurt than you thought you’d be. You’d hung out with him for what, six days, tops? Were you even friends? Was he not just some nighttime stranger, a weirdo who emerged from the woodwork to show you a good time once in a while? Paul was good. Paul was fun. He was a fat blunt and a shot of tequila and a roller-coaster ride all wrapped up into one person.

You’d picked him as your poison of preference. It was a good poison. Now you were starting to wonder if you’d picked wrong.

#the lost boys #tlb paul #The Lost Boys 1987 #tlb fanfic #my writing #does this fic go anywhere? no. but i simply wanted to write it #having lots of Paul Thoughts today so

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swampstew · 2 years

Note

Hi! May I request at the bedtime story prompts? Trafalgar law at the secret recipe prompt?

Hi @lucci204 ~ you sure can <3

WC: 612. SFW, Soft moments with a grumpy Law, a secret recipe.

"Come on Law, I promise you'll like this!" you tug on the lanky man's arm towards the small kitchenette.

"This is so meticulous. Why go through the extra steps instead of simply pouring the cocoa powder and milk into the mug like it says?" with a scowl on his face. Law hated being in the kitchen, and no it's not because his skills in the kitchen are duller than a butter knife.

"It's about the time spent together, dork," you roll your eyes at him. "Please? Have some fun with me baby," you give him your best puppy dog pout.

Giving you your own eye roll medicine back, Law finally submits. You lead him into the kitchen and pull out the ingredients needed for the hot cocoa bombs you wanted to make.

You instructed Law to create a double boiler to melt the chocolate you chopped up, telling him to just stir for a while. You gathered another bowl and began combining a mix of cocoa powder, mini chocolate sprinkles, and tiny marshmallow puffs.

Law was cursing immediately, "it's getting chunky!" he panicked, and you rushed to his side, tutting and adding the smallest amount of water to loosen seized chocolate. You'll take over tempering it and instructed him to go find the spherical silicon molds for baking you insisted on buying.

He brought it back to you as you took the chocolate off the heat, quickly transferring the liquid into the mold and letting it drain. Reheating the leftover chocolate and mold to make several of the hot cocoa bombs for the rest of the crew.

"Ok, now I need your help pouring the coca mix into this half of the chocolate balls. Just slowly pour into each half until it reaches the point."

You turned to do your half when he began complaining. You turn around and see powder all over the counter, several of the chocolate cups overflowed completely. You laugh at him, making some more mix, and show him how to properly dump the mix.

"Now for the final part. Gently heat the other halves at the edge just enough to melt a little and then place them on the filled halves."

It sounded easy enough, so why did Law suck so much at it? First he heated the halves down waaaaay too much. Then his fingers melted through the shells while he held them down in the saucepan. After the third ruined half, he sat in a chair and pouted.

Tutting, you finish up the rest of the cocoa bombs and for flair, added sprinkles and melted chocolate drips on each one. Law, surprisingly, enjoyed this part of the baking process. Making little faces on each cocoa bomb. They looked like the crew.

Finally done, you both pluck one cocoa bomb and store the rest. Pouring the steamed milk into your matching mugs, you both pop the cocoa bombs into the cups and you watch Law's face light up as the ball broke and the powder and tiny bits floated to the top. Handing him a spoon, you both mix your hot cocoas until they were perfectly blended.

Standing on the submarine's raised platform, you enjoy the crisp ocean air as you sailed through the winter atmosphere. Snug together under his feathered coat content and relaxed.

You smile when Law kisses your cheek. "I had fun baking with you."

Bringing mugs to eager lips, your happiness is shattered when the weather suddenly turns and hail begins to rain down upon your moment. Mugs shattering from impact, Law is quick to pull up his Room and transport you safely inside the submarine.

"I hate winter islands," he pouted.

🏴‍☠️Follow, Like, Reblog for more🏴‍☠️

#swampstew bedtime stories #swampstew #swampstew stories #lucci204 #raven answers #one piece trafalgar law #law one piece #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgardwaterlaw #one piece law

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giggle-bee · 8 months

Text

Beel's Big Break!

Written for Tickletober days 2: accidental and 4: weak spot, based on @/august-anon's tickletober prompts!

(unspoken affection, dividers by @/cafekitsune)

Summary: Beelzebub has been asked to feature in an issue of Devil Style for the upcoming Fangol tournament. Luckily, his brother Asmo is helping with makeup, but they run into a problem. Warnings: none, this is a tickle fic!

Asmo was ecstatic. Beel, not so much. It wasn’t that the younger demon wasn’t excited about being featured in Devil Style, but he would rather be doing things like hanging out with Belphie, having a meal with MC, even studying sounded better than this. What was ‘this’ exactly?

Beel was currently being pampered by a hairstylist pulling it in all directions and Asmo dusting his face with powder. He looked fine, why was this necessary?

“Everything is different on camera, dear,” Asmo explained, fluffing a brush across his cheek. Beel’s stomach growled. “Asmo- when can I go back to the green room for some of those scream puffs?” He pouted, his lip drooping. His brother huffed, shaking his head. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can snack, I promise, Beel! Now pull your shirt up, I have to do some work on your abs.”

Asmodeus pulled a contour palette out of his giant cheetah print makeup bag, the same size as Beel’s exercise duffel. “Why? Is something wrong with them?” Beel pulled his shirt up and glanced at his stomach curiously.

Asmo giggled and poked his side, “No, silly, we just have to do some contour for some of the photos they’re doing this shoot.” Beel flinched, his mouth quirking up at the poke. “Fine, just hurry up please, I’m starving-”

Another loud grumble came from his stomach, it was complaining just as much as Beel. Asmo dipped into the palette and tapped the brush on the side. “I’ll be fast, I promise,” he held his pinky out for Beel’s to grasp. A pinky promise between the demon brothers was very common, something they had done many times over the years. It meant different things with different people, but Asmo’s usually came with a smile and success. Beel nodded, holding his tank top up with his chin as Asmo started applying the makeup to the grooves of his abs. What he did not expect, was the extremely ticklish sensation that followed. He jumped, almost kicking his brother across from him, a deep giggle bubbling out.

“Asmo- that tihihickles! Slow dohohown!” Beel was trying his best to stay still, he knew that Asmo had an important job to do, but he couldn’t help squirming in his seat. Asmo clicked his tongue and brought out a makeup wipe, erasing the stray powder. “You just told me to hurry up, now you want me to go slower? Make up your mind!” Asmo exclaimed playfully, looking up at his brother with a raised eyebrow. After he calmed down, he grumbled under his breath before sighing. “Just do it, I can deal with it,” Beel replied, looking away from Asmo. “Alllllright then, if you say so!” Asmo chirped, swiping the brush under his bellybutton to define the muscles. Beel tried. He really did. After holding his breath for what seemed like eons, he finally broke, spluttering into quiet snickers and hiding his face in his hands as Asmo continued to work.

He could hear some of the magazine staff cooing behind him, which made his ears turn pink in embarrassment. “How are you still so ticklish after all this time? Guess you never grew out of it hmmm, little brother?” Asmo teased, moving up to the next set, making sure to get the sides and in between them. “Oh shuhuhut ihihit! You’re just as bAhAHahAd!” Beel scoffed, planting his feet firmly into the floor so he wouldn’t move too much. Asmo hummed, grinning wide as he moved up to the top, “I’m almost done, you’re doing good,” he reassured, going in for more powder. It was getting more difficult to keep still as Asmo blended out the contour, the small light circles sending Beel into another bout of belly laughter. It echoed through the room, and he wasn’t trying to hide it anymore, just attempting to let Asmo finish with no complications. After a few more unbearable seconds, Asmo let up and blew a stream of air over his stomach, making Beel yelp. “All done! Now, go to the stylist and change into your Fangol uniform,” he shooed a very giggly Beel out of the chair and over to a demon manning a rack of clothes. “I’ll go save you some scream puffs for when you finish,” Asmo whispered with a smile, watching Beel’s eyes go big and his face light up. He muttered a small thanks before hustling over to the stylist, ready to continue the shoot.

A week later, Beel found MC and Asmo on the couch, gushing over the newest issue of Devil Style. And there he was on the front cover! The hard work of the staff paid off, and he had to admit that the photos had come out looking pretty good. “Oh, MC guess what! I found out that our precious Beel here is still ticklish, isn’t that soooo cute?” Asmo purred, shooting Beel a mischievous glance. The human’s eyes perked up with interest, a playful glint in their eyes. “Is that so, Beel?”

Beel bolted, putting his Fangol skills to the test with MC hot on his heels.

#sfw tickles #buzz #bee writes #obey me tickle #if you ship them i will smite you #obey me tickles #obey me tickle fic #lee!beel #ler!asmo #augtickletober2023 #tickletober #obey me beel #asmo obey me

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chocotonez · 2 years

Text

sugar sweet (lee felix/reader)

a/n: dawg I am so sorry this was literally sitting in my drafts for so long, I totally forgot to post this,,, anyways! Thank you for requesting, please feel free to tell me if it is not what you expected :)

warnings/genre: fluff, lots of descriptions of food, non-idol! au but it’s not really important n e ways

The familiar bell rang, signalling another customer entering. You internally groaned as you were just about to go on break, but a familiar voice caused a smile to immediately appear on your face.

“y/nnie~, am I bothering you?” The angel you call your boyfriend, Felix, entered with a gust of winter air. You giggled, your cashier rolling her eyes at the sappiness about to go down, elderly customers chuckling. Any regular at your bakery knew of Felix, he’d always come during your lunch breaks or when he was free just to sit and talk with you, he’d even help out in the kitchen, the both of you giggling so loudly the customers couldn’t help but roll their eyes. No one could deny how adorable both of you were, especially when you came out holding a plate of strawberry tiramisu, your face and apron comically covered in whipped cream, with a dab on Felix’s face.

“How could you ever bother me?” You retorted, stepping behind the counter and giving him an attempt at a hug (you wanted to avoid getting the heinous amounts of chocolate on his hoodie), yet he simply grabbed you by the waist and held you close. “You’re gonna make a mess, and you haven’t even been here for a minute,” you teased, hurriedly grabbing a napkin. His sunshiney smile made it clear he didn’t care.

“Oh well, anything to give you a hug,” he shrugged, taking a finger to try the batter. “Oooh, is this new?”

“How could you tell?”

“I practically memorized all your recipes by heart, of course, I could tell.” You rolled your eyes, slightly flustered at how dedicated he was to your bakery. He’s always been extremely supportive, excitedly baking with you and eating every single good you made--he could never get tired of it. Cakes and brownies suddenly became ten times better when he knew you made it. “Can I try?”

“Duh,” you stuck your tongue out, guiding him into the kitchen. You presented the silver tray of chocolate puff pastries, adorned with strawberry flowers and powdered sugar. “Thoughts? I was planning on having these mainly to go, so they would be in a box or plated immediately.”

“The flowers are so cute! Do you cut them out by hand?”

“Unfortunately,” you groaned, remembering how you stayed up meticulously practicing carving those strawberries. “Mm, say ah!” You chuckled, grabbing one and letting him take a bite. He took it graciously, shivering with delight and smiling with puffed cheeks.

“Mmph, good as always! The dough was baked just right,” Felix praised, making the smile on your face stretch even wider. “Oh, what’s that?” Like a kid in a candy store, he ran over to the fridge where you were setting seasonal jellies. This month was almond and plum, the raindrop jellies being injected with plum-flavoured colouring and dotted with almonds. You took great pride in the presentation of your products, but Felix tended to not care, always saying “as long as it was tasty!” He never failed to fix your worry-wart mindset, always reassuring you. He was your very own pocket of sunshine, and you couldn’t be any more grateful.

“Wanna try one? Seasonal jellies,” you opened the fridge and took a sample spoon, offering him a bite. He practically melted with satisfaction, leaning over to give you a plum-flavoured peck on the cheek.

“Ah, jagi!~ You’re just too talented!” It was truthful, but he couldn’t help but tease you by throwing his arms over your shoulder. “You’re like…A baking engineer! Or inventor!” You laughed, rubbing the back of your neck as you could feel the stares of the cooks, Felix ruffling your hair. “Aww, is my baby all shy?” He pinched your cheek, before skipping along to another tray, now containing eclairs. And then to another tray, and then a bowl of cookie dough…

“You’re gonna get a stomach ache if you keep eating everything…” You sighed, crossing your arms.

“I can’t help it, you’re just too talented!” You giggled, as he took your hand and gently pulled you closer. “I love dating you, free food’s never tasted so good,” he teased, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Don’t be surprised if I kick you out of my kitchen, you can’t always get away with everything,” you chided playfully, as he laughed in your ear. “Seriously though, I should get back to the register-”

“And miss taste testing with Felix?” You made a “-___-,” face, knowing this was a battle you were going to lose.

“Lixxie, if I don’t work, we don’t make money, no money means we can’t buy more products, more products means less goods, meaning you can’t taste test as many things,” you retorted, yet your argument fell on deaf ears as he made the sweetest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. God, the biggest baby in the world and he somehow became your boyfriend.

“Just a few more! You put so much effort into these, we have to appreciate it!”

“By eating it all?”

“.. “...Yes!”

“...Fine.” He pecked your lips, his kiss tasting sugary-sweet, before he dragged you back to a tray of fruit tarts, gesturing for you to open your mouth so he can feed you a glazed blueberry. He was head over heels for you, and admittedly, you were whipped too. So whipped that you almost missed your cashier shouting for you. es!”

“

“Stop being all lovey-dovey and help me!”

#stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #felix lee #lee felix x reader

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seyemvertisepra · 7 months

Text

You'd been meeting in that abandoned and desiccated fishing lodge on the north part of the island, where the ĺights from the city started to fade into the distance. Everything inside had long been stripped bare, but moonlight poured in from the damaged ceiling, and if you looked up, you could see the stars. The magnificent, endless stars.

One of you would bring a blanket, the other would bring snacks; cigars and booze on the special occasions you could sneak them by your fathers. You were both far too young to be ruining your bodies already. But the need to cope with the horrors of this life would take you eventually, just as it took everyone.

He especially loved his cigars; your lungs could never hack more than a few puffs, but they were a symbol for him, something that elevated a relatively small and slight man to full masculine glory. Years later, you'd always go back to that image of him; your secret lover, cigar between his lips, cloaked in a cape made from a moonbeam. His snorting laugh and his smile were like the only kind things you'd ever known.

Substances aside, there was nothing elicit about these meetings. In the beginning, he let you take off his shirt and touch him; you'd even gotten as far as being inside him with just one. But something about that frightened you. Your body frightened you. So you'd told him you weren't ready, that you didn't know when you'd be ready, and he was fine with that.

So instead, you'd lay side by side, and when he filled the space between your arms, you felt your heartsrate first quicken with excitement and then fall into rhythm with his. You buried your face in his crest, smelling his afterbath powder scented like the aromatic pine forests of the inner island mixed with lingering cigar smoke.

That moment where love seemed eternal would slip through your hands like every happy moment of your life; you would leave him because your fathers said so and marry the girl they had picked for you. You would break his hearts, like a tyrant, like a monster, and years later, he would be in your arms again, a dying man held by a dying man.

#alienkin #alterhuman #the great misc tag empire the lion of the galaxy #the canon memories of londo mollari #short stories

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honeybeewhereartthee · 2 years

Text

MDD MINI CORNER: Make Up

MC: "hey mayoi~ can you help me with my make up?"

The idol froze at your call. "...m-me??" He shutter as he was too surprised that you would ask him from all people.

"Why not?" You giggle as you offer him your make up set.

"I--... "He hold it carefully like it's a fragile item.

"Y-you sure?" He ask you again. You put the seat in front of him and seat, you close your eyes and await him.

"I don't think you'll be that bad. Mayoi is a pro of anything you do after all. " you open your left eye to give him a wink."You can style what you like too~" you added.

"S-such praise to someone like me!" His eyes widen before a wide smile appear on his face.

"Then if your not going to regret such person as I to do your make up then, I'll gladly help you, mc~" he chuckle as he hold the powder puff. He then carefully put make up.

You smile as you let him do his work, after what seems few hours, mayoi finally finish. Through he don't only did your face but as well your hair. Putting it up in a messy pony tail, and letting few bangs let lose as well.

"You can open your eyes now ~" he says seemingly proud of his work. You slowly open your eyes to see him holding a mirror to view your reflection. " Woah~" you look shook at the result. It look better than you expected.

"H-how was it?" He ask nervous of what you thought of his handy work.

"It's AMAZING ~" You gleefully hug him.

"Ahh~ mc your make up would be ruined if you did that ~ butnothatimindit!" He happily hug you back. "Mayoi is so talented ~ <3" you praise him.

He can't help but blush at your comment as he continue to hug you to hide his face from your teasing eyes.

"It's not only talent. MC is beautiful even without one. I just put some touch up to enhance your beauty more~" he complimented you with full honesty. Now it's your turn to turn red.

"W-wao... M-mayoi is more beautiful that m-me!" You resort back with bashfulness.

"Ah~ mc being embarrassed being complimented? Hmm~ so cute~" he lean away to look at your red face. "No it's MC~" he resort back.

"no you--" ♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ )

"ahaha~ how very precious. I can't help but want to do wicked things to you~" you hear him whisper as he hugs you again and pats your head softly. He chuckle darkly like his some phantom of opera-- the villain one.

"mayoi trying to change the topic?" You pout as hug him tighter. You thought of something. "I'm going to ask someone who's more beautiful ùwú. They all going to say it's you. Or else I would not cool dinner "

You were about to leave to find the nearest victim, possible aira or hiiro would be good. But mayoi stop you. "I am the worse. I don't want to share to others what I'm seeing~" he tearfully mumble to you.

"Oooh" you look at him in surprised. " Mayoi being selfish for first time. " You giggle.

"Okii.. I'll stay with you then." You return to his side and hug him again.

" S-selfish...? I guess... But I can't help it!" He added as he secure you in his arms.

Humming a tone as he try think what to do to make the moment last. It seems to be a familiar tone of one of his unit song. Since your familiar with it, you humm with him. Not knowing what to do next.

Somehow mayoi held your right hand(?) As he put his other around your waist. The position like you two are dancing.

"Shall we dance?" He ask you with a toothy grin.

" Hmm." Thinking his offer is a good to pass time, he and you hummed as you two have a slow dance.

Not minding the world around you anymore, you two enjoyed the simple moment. As if there's only the two of you in the world. Not noticing certain someone looking at the scene and taking a pic before leaving the two of you on your own space.

"Oh! how L-O-V-E-L-Y." aira commented as he saw the scene through he sense that you would not let anyone disturb such moment, he went to the door to guard it. He would be a helpful person to his OTP. (Ùwú) he says as he drag hiiro to his guardian job of his otp moment.

...

"why did you ask me to do your make up, btw? Where you planning to go to a date with someone? Was I disturbing you or --" mayoi who realize time have passes by with a blink realize you could be planning to go somewhere.

He can't help but felt a pit of jealousy yet he would not let it show it-- through he thought that, soft tears start to form in the corner of his eyes.

"lol what, who would go with a date with me anyway?" You chuckle as you take out your handkerchief.

"..." Like your best friend and bunch of other people???' mayoi wanted to comment about your self doubt about your own charm.

"I was curious how good you are in doing make up since your pro in anything as long you know the basic how it work." You said.

You remember how Mayoi could be good chief if he know how to make the dish, even Niki would salute to him. His also good in teaching others about dancing and singing and stuff.

A genius who refused to acknowledge himself. Even Madara treat him as a life rival.

"o-oh..." His eyes widen. "I see..."

"I mean we could be in a indoor date right now too ùwú. So mayoi Is my date if your asking." You thought about his words and began to tease him to see his cute bashful self. " My date is so beautiful. I'm so lucky ~ love you my date (ùwú)" you says as you lean to kiss his cheeks earning a red mayoi who start squealing while holding the cheeks you kiss. "M-MC--"

"you don't love me? Was I rejected ? " You put a crocodile tears show as you pout. You saw aira recording the whole thing behind mayoi, he give you a wink as a signal. "H-ha-- I do! I love mc...! MC is my very precious person! I love you~" he added as he wipe your tears away.

"I love you too ~ *chuu." You kiss him in the lips which made him froze but return the kiss slowly.

You two enjoy the moment as you give a thumbs up to aira without mayoi noticing. He give you a ok and a wink to send you the clip later and left.

"eheh. I'm so lucky~" you mumble as you two part ways. You hug him again and felt bless in your life so far. "Me too..." He hummed.

BONUS:

MC: bestieee

Aira: mcchi~ here's the clip~

Mayoi:??? What's that ?

MC/Aira: (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) nothing.

Mayoi: ... (｡ŏ﹏ŏ) MC d-did you made Aira record that s-scene earlier.

MC/Aira: no.

Mayoi:...•́ ‿ ,•̀ Y-you did huh.

MC of @allimili

#ensemble stars #ensemble stars x reader #enstar x reader #enstar #mayoi ayase #mayoi ayase x reader #mayoi Ayase x you #mayoi Ayase art #aira Shiratori

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rubykgrant · 2 years

Photo

(Grif and Simmons first-date outfits, thanks to Kai and Donut~)

“OOOH, are you FINALLY taking your nerd out?” Kai asked him, practically hopping up and down.

“Yes, and SHUSH IT!” he told her before she started screeching in delight over the situation. He was very grateful that his sister was respecting their privacy by not spilling the beans to everybody else, but sometimes she got entirely too excited. “I want some help getting ready for our date. So-”

“OH, I know EXACTLY what I want to do!” she reached out, grasping his shoulders, spun him around, and threw him down into a chair.

He was at her desk facing a mirror, and before him was an absolutely CHAOTIC spread of “beauty products”. Nail polish bottles, nailclippers, nailfiles, lipstick, lipbalm, lipgloss, bottles of lotion, bottles of lube (gross, Kai!), body glitter, mascara, eyeliner, eyeshadow, different kinds of face-cream, hairspray, make-up brushes and powder-puffs, about a dozen different colorful things he didn’t recognize (but thankfully, nothing that looked like it could potentially be a sex-toy).

“Here, I’m gonna pull your hair back like this- see?” She took most of his hair and held it back in a loose bun, but let some hang down. His hair parted in the middle, so now the dark-brown wavy lengths framed his face. “But first, we need to change your clothes… hmm, a jacket would be good, I got a few the other day I thought you’d like, but I need to make sure they match… hold on, I’m calling in help!”

She dashed off to the door before he could stop her.

“Kai, what are you do-”

“Hey, Donut! Can you c’mere a sec?” she ignored her brother, instead calling out to Donut in the hall.

“KAI!” Grif whisper-screamed at her.

“Chill bro, I’m not gonna tell him everything!” she waved at him, shush-shush.

“Heyyyyy, Kai! What’s up?” Donut poked his blonde head into her room as she stepped back.

“So, I got Dex here some new clothes, because you KNOW what he’s like on his own…” she explained.

“He’ll just buy himself another hoodie, and another hoodie, and ANOTHER hoodie,” Donut finished.

“Exactly. He’s letting me play big-bro dress-up, but I want you to help me color-coordinate everything!” Kai gestured over to a stack of clothes on a chair.

“OOOOOH~” Donut clapped his hands together eagerly. He walked toward the clothes, looking them all over (not noticing the glare Grif was sending over to his sister).

“I’m thinking THIS shirt… oh, and the embroidery on this jacket is very nice… and these pants! Here Grif, try them on!” Donut brought them over.

“Fine… but I’m changing over here,” Grif took them and stood up, walking to stand behind the sliding door of Kai’s walk-in closet. He didn’t shut it all the way, and could hear his sister and Donut whispering and giggling to themselves the whole time. “OK, done. How do I look?”

Grif stepped back out into the middle of the room, and was met with surprised gasps of joy. Before he could turn around and look at himself in the full-length mirror, Kai insisted on doing-up his hair, so Grif waited while listening to Donut’s compliments (which were also self-brags on his eye for fashion). At last, Grif was allowed to see the end result; the jacket was a dark, dusty blue (it made him think of wet concrete at night… sort of a weird comparison, but a nice color all the same). The collar and trim of the sleeves and edges was embroidered with shiny, golden thread, making a pattern of little swirls. The shirt had a v-collar, and was a dark orange… almost brown, but still vibrant (Donut was calling it “burnt sienna”, and Grif wasn’t going to argue). The pants were pale-gray jeans, and somehow worked really well with the darker colors in the rest of the clothes. He looked… good. Actually, pretty damn fine. As Grif smiled at his reflection, Kai gave him a hug; she was very pleased with herself, helping her brother look all pretty for his date.

Across the hall, Simmons was losing his mind; all of a sudden, NONE of his clothes looked good. This was worse that back-to-school shopping, getting ready for picture-day, and trying to dress nice for every college and internship he’d ever applied for when he was younger…

OK. Calm down. He could figure this out; the real problem was trying to make sure he didn’t look like a tech-support dude who wandered away from his office cubicle. Or some kind of "youth minister" trying to be hip and trendy.

Simmons wanted to at least look vaguely COOL. He could maybe pull off the “I don’t give a heck” kind of cool vibe by just wearing some jeans and a black shirt, but Grif had told him to look kinda-sorta nice for this. Which meant Grif was going to look kinda-sorta nice, so they should kinda-sorta match.

Simmons started to sort through everything, putting away the casual clothes, so he had the slightly more fancy options spread out across his bed. Now, to figure out which ones to combine into an outfit… UGH, it all looked stupid! Damn it, he was never good with fashion, unless he had very specific guidelines to limit his options (and this usually meant either wearing the armor, or something very prim and stuffy). He needed help, but he couldn’t ask Grif. Somebody else, somebody who liked this stuff, somebody who understood how to mix-and-match clothes, somebody like…

“Donut!”

Simmons poked his head out of his door just moments after Donut left Kai’s room (she was now letting her brother test-sniff different body-spritz perfumes and colognes).

“Yes?” Donut answered, a cheerful musical tone in his voice.

“I need your help with something… um, something secret!” Simmons waved for him to come over.

“Oooh, fun! I love secrets,” Donut happily walked through the door.

Simmons hastily led Donut by the arm to show him the issue.

“OK, so, uh… Grif… Grif made a bet with me, that he was better with fashion than I was, he just usually doesn’t bother dressing up or putting effort into his clothes-”

“I know, right? He wears almost nothing but hoodies! That don’t even have any patterns or designs on them! So drab!”

“Mm-hmm, but see, I know he’s having Kai help him cheat-”

“Oh…” Donut suddenly connected a few dots (though, he had no idea just how many more dots were involved here).

“So, I’m asking you, please help me figure out what to wear?”

“Well, you’re in luck! I just happen to have some very in-depth and intimate knowledge about Grif’s anatomy, both with and WITHOUT fashionable clothing!” Donut declared.

“What the hell does THAT mean?”

“Never mind. Yes, I’ll help you out. Now, let me see what we have to work with…” Donut leaned closer to look at the clothes. “This is nice. I know it’s ironic how we wound up color-coding our clothing to match our armor, but dark red really is a good color on you, Simmons… oh, this jacket, you can totally rock this jacket… and these pants! There you go, try them on~”

“OK… but I’m going in the bathroom,” Simmons turned and went through the short hallway in the room he and Grif shared.

“Fine,” Donut said. If Simmons was still awkward about changing in front of people, Donut wasn't going to stress him about it.

Simmons didn’t bother turning on the light in the bathroom; plenty of it came in from the lamps in the main room, and he could see perfectly well. At last he got the clothes on, and stepped back into the direct light, walking until he stood between his and Grif’s beds. Donut rushed over, threw his arms around Simmons, and spun the flustered man around before stopping in front of the mirror by the shared closet. Simmons got a good look at himself; the shirt was a high-collard band, and a deep rose-red. The jacket had mid-length sleeves (stopping comfortably above his elbows), styled to almost look like an old-fashioned waistcoat with a low cut. The shoulders and collar were a steel-gray, while the lower section was darker, almost black. The pants were also dark, even more of a deep red than the shirt, and a little less vibrant. He looked kind of like… a Victorian-era vampire who had re-invented himself in the modern age as a rich night club owner. Which, Simmons absolutely WASN’T, and anybody who knew him would laugh at such a thing, but the LOOK was there. As Simmons stood up a little straighter, holding his head high, it kind of… worked.

#red vs blue #rvb #dexter grif #dick simmons #grimmons #kaikaina grif #franklin delano donut #rvb fic

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ragesin · 9 months

Note

[largely from here] ❝ —it's not some huge secret, or anything; like, I'm not ashamed of being what i am... it’s just not something i usually talk about, because it’s not something most people can understand. ❞ she muses, while using a tiny flourish of magic to sweep ingredients back onto their shelves, (repairing a few along the way which had been damaged in the scuffle), ❝ You get that, right?... and anyways: i don’t really need to be understood. i just want to be accepted. ❞

► MISC MEMES

Emerald eyes peered over the bridge of folded arms, cursory glances thrown to surroundings as it's steadily rearranged back in order and ingredients were neatly packed away. The knight hadn't cleanly escaped the smattering of chaos sprung onto the store either. A generous dusting of sugar powdered much of blond locks, white blending in with the fabric of his long coat. The perpetrators of said scuffle he came across had already been shown the exit. The solid kicks in the ass graciously handed out by his boot spoke clearly: good riddance.

Though, they must have said something to the owner. Enough for it to stick, and enough for it to prompt this airing of thoughts after Meliodas' innocuous observation — ❛ seems like you got a lot going on, lady ❜. Or maybe the demon had that kind of face, the type that's disarmingly open ( quite contrary to reality ) where people felt the need to freely pour their heart out to him with relative ease. A part of him within heaved a mirthless / amused scoff at that last one, dismissing the stray musing out of hand.

Relaxed position shifted, chin now resting atop his forearms. A puff of air sent a dusty cloud of particles into the air. Soon, his sight wandered again, drawn to the owner herself.

Layers sat underneath the statements, applicable to people like him ( with a thing to bury, so that no eyes may rest upon it beyond the passing of a inattentive gaze ) but he held an idle stance, unsure if he wanted to even step forward and try navigating the complexities sitting between the lines waiting to trip up careless passersby. Something like apprehension invaded the tongue, bitter and bitingly sharp in contrast to the scent of scattered confectioneries that might otherwise make his mouth water.

❝ ...Well now, that's part of what living's about, is it not ? Looking out for the few people that will accept you, no questions asked. ❞ Experience coloured response, affable words twisted into something stuck between wry and cheer. ❝ Though that is like finding a gold needle in a haystack. You'd have your work cut out for you. ❞

Assumedly, the desire of said acceptance involved her heritage. If the locales' mix of rumours and testimonies sworn up and down the river about the fairy running the residential bakery weren't somehow sufficient, keen senses determined inhumane nature the moment he stepped near the establishment's threshold. ( word of mouth like that probably did wonders for business. it got him out here, didn't it ? ) Naturally, the obvious shimmer of luminescent wings appeared to be lacking, likely underneath the veil of magic. However, fae always carried a floral scent. It served as one of the indicators of fairies, a subtle tell typically less thoroughly hidden.

While traces of empathy stirred within, ultimately none of this had anything to do with him. After all, what he was in the kingdom's eyes was a criminal shackled to the guilt of past crimes, and he's content with leaving it at that. The only personal insight he's willing to offer would have to stem from that surface image alone, whether she was aware of it or not.

He allowed his head to fall slightly to the right with an airy laugh, adding on a cheeky afterthought: ❝ Well, not everyone can have their cake and eat it too. But hey. I bet your baking skills go a long way for that goal already. Tons of people would hate to admit it, but they can be won over through their stomachs. Be the best and they won't have any leg to stand on. ❞

@mielmoto

#mielmoto #⁺✧⠀⠀`⠀reply⠀﹕⠀❪ wrath claws at your chest. ❫#⁺✧⠀⠀`⠀verse⠀﹕⠀❪ holy sword brandished. ❫#⁺✧⠀⠀`⠀ic⠀﹕⠀❪ and yet、you kept going. ❫#( so i combed through your blog for nnt info/verse but came up with nothing #so i hope you don't mind me making up some stuff here for her #i just assumed she had some traits of nnt fairies #hope this is alright )

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nataliedanovelist · 3 years

Text

GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.1

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

ch.2

Beautiful artwork was created by @starstruck-loner! THANK YOU SO MUCH SWEETIE I LOVE IT!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

Snow freckled the chilly January day lightly, like powdered sugar over a freshly baked pastry, sticking to each layer effortlessly and creating a blanket that completely covered the woods and the cabin nested between the trees. The atmosphere was still and stiff, like frozen icicles that were not going to start dripping any time soon. The air was bitter and unwelcoming, which was probably why no living thing was outside today. Today was the perfect day to burrow and sleep and keep warm with your own body heat.

A crack through space-time cut through the air. The crushing of tiny ice particles followed as two twelve-year-olds ran, one chasing the other, as the time-tape was heating up and buzzing. “This thing is getting hotter! Hot! Hot, hot, hot!” Mabel attempted to save her palms from burns by bouncing the tiny machine between her hands.

“What are you doing?!” Dipper demanded as Mabel bounced the tape-measure too hard and her twin reached a hand to catch it. He managed to catch it perfectly, like an athlete catching a baseball, and then was gone in a flash of baby-blue lightning.

Mabel’s eyes widened in sheer panic and she held her arms as a gust of wind blew and nearly froze her to her core. It felt like her skin was being pricked by mean sewing needles. She looked around wildly for her brother, for him to come back to this time and place immediately, because surely he would use the time machine to come back, but seconds ticked by and she was still alone.

Puffs of smoke decorated the wintry scene as she held her shivering body and looked at the shack. It wasn’t as colorful and welcoming and loud as the shack Mabel remembered, but she made herself consider that it was because there was no big sign or tourist-y things, and it was winter. Then a light turned on, the hall if Mabel remembered her summer home correctly, and the door opened.

The hope that Mabel had in her chest of seeing her great-uncle was gone, and replaced with fear and confusion. This man looked very much like Stan, though much younger, quite chubby and youthful, wearing a black t-shirt and blue plaid pajama-pants. He had the same face as a young-Stan, but with a more pink than orange nose, a cleft chin, fluffier hair that reminded Mabel of her’s when it was short, and different glasses.

Mabel didn’t know what to do or how to react or how to feel. People change a lot when they age, sure, but this much? It was possible this person wasn’t Stan, but who else would look so similar to him and live in this house? Maybe this is the guy who lived here before Stan, and they just happen to look very similar. This is Gravity Falls, and though she and Dipper were still new to the town, it was a weird place where something like this could happen.

It also came to Mabel how odd the situation was for the man: a little girl was standing in a sweater and skirt outside his house in the winter. Would he try to send her home? She had no home to go to. She didn’t know what year this was, but if it was a time Stan didn’t live here, it must have been way before she was born, maybe even before her parents met. She was stranded.

But the man looked at her sympathetically and he seemed kind and worried. He grabbed a trenchcoat and called gently, “Hello. Are you okay?”

Mabel bit her lip. His voice was definitely not Grunkle Stan’s. A gust of wind made her shiver and her teeth chatter, and the man stepped into some slippers and walked up to her, draping the trenchcoat over her shoulders. “There there, that’s a very nice sweater, but it doesn’t seem to be keeping you warm, is it?”

“N-No.” Mabel shivered. “I… I used breathable yarn for…” She stopped. She was going to say how she used breathable yarn for the warm California weather, but she decided not to.

“You used?” The man repeated, rubbing her shoulders to try to make the trenchcoat work faster. “You made this?”

Mabel saw his excited grin and she smiled nervously. “Y-Yeah. I knit sweaters.”

The man bent his knees in front of her and studied her sweater. She held out an arm so he could see and his brown eyes sparkled. “That’s very impressive! I love sweaters!”

Mabel gasped happily. “C-C-Can I m-make you one?!”

The man looked taken back, but chuckled and stood. “Of course, but first let’s get you warm. How does hot chocolate sound?”

“Y-Yes, p-p-please.” Mabel shivered, and allowed the man to walk her into the house.

It was scaringly like the Mystery Shack, but so much was different. It was the same layout, the same house, but there was so much that was different. A coat rack stood by the door, holding a white lab coat with black rubber gloves in the pocket, some safety goggles like the ones in Mabel’s science classes, and Stan’s fez. Mabel stared at it. Well, okay it probably wasn’t Stan’s fez, but it was a maroon fez with a golden fish and a black tassle.

There was a wood-burning stove alive in the living room, with a small box full of wood by it and a tiny stool. Instead of Grunkle Stan’s armchair, there was a red-velvet couch, a large writing desk, and the room was decorated with books, desks, papers, and jars and experiments. It was all strange, but warm and cozy with the fire going.

Mabel smiled as the man pulled out the tiny stool and gestured for her to sit by the stove. She obeyed and the coat was removed from her shoulders, but quickly replaced with a dark-green blanket.

“There, do you mind warming up here while I make your hot chocolate?” He asked, draping his trenchcoat over his arm.

Mabel shook her head and held her cold hands in front of the stove. “Thank you.”

The man smiled. “You’re welcome.” And he turned and left for where Mabel knew the kitchen was.

Sitting alone and feeling better as her body was getting warm, Mabel thought it all over. This man was clearly not her Grunkle Stan, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nice or couldn’t help her. Any minute Dipper was going to come back for her, but until then she had to stay where she was. That’s what grown-ups told her to do if she was ever lost. Stay where you are until you’re found.

By the time Mabel was very comfortable, the man returned with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, and handed one to the girl. “Here you are, my dear.”

“Thank you, sir.” Mabel sipped and hummed in delight as the man sat on the floor next to her.

“You’re very welcome.” He sipped his drink and added, “Now then, I have to ask, what were you doing out there? Did you get lost?”

Mabel’s face dropped and she nodded. “Uh, huh.”

“Hm, very well. That can easily happen when playing on a snow day.” The man said with a smile. “Why don’t I call our parents and we can arrange to have you back home safe?”

Mabel swallowed nervously. She bit her lip, looking down at her mug. She didn’t know what to say to that.

The man looked at her and noticed how scared she was. “Is something wrong?”

Mabel looked up at him, was met with a kind face, and whimpered, “I can’t call them.”

The man smiled sympathetically. “I’m sure you won’t get into too much trouble. Maybe a little, but it’s for the best to call them so we can get you home soon.”

Mabel shook her head and squeezed her stinging eyes shut. “They’re… not around.”

The man’s face dropped as Mabel scrubbed at her eyes. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

Mabel only replied with a sniff and she sipped her hot chocolate.

“Is there someone I can call for you?” The man asked. “I’m sure there’s someone out there worried about you.”

Mabel bit her lip. “M-My brother… He’s still out there…”

“Is he lost, too?”

Mabel shrugged.

“Well,” The man held his cleft chin in thought. “I’m sure he’s out there looking for you. Perhaps then you should wait here until he comes here, and then we can send you to your guardian.”

“It’s just us.” Mabel muttered. “Just us.”

The man smiled. Mabel hoped he believed her brother was much older than her, or at least old enough to take care of her. That way she wasn’t really lying, just letting this man believe what he wanted to believe. Nothing wrong with that. “Okay. Still, you may stay here until he finds you.”

Mabel sniffed and wiped her nose with her sweater sleeve. “Thank you, sir.”

“Please, call me Ford.” He said and held out a hand to her.

Mabel smiled and shook his hand. “I’m Mabel.”

“Mabel, huh? That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thanks.” She looked down at their hands and her eyes widened. One, two, three, four, five, s-...

Ford pulled his hand free, his cheeks reddening as he sipped his hot chocolate, but Mabel was grinning at him happily and she gasped with joy, “You have six fingers?!”

Ford blinked at her, reminding Mabel of a startled owl, and he cleared his throat. “Um, y-yes. It’s a birth defect.”

“Nuh, huh! It’s cool! Can I see, please?” Mabel sat her mug on the floor by her feet.

The researcher didn’t like people staring at his hands, but this young girl wanted to look, it appears, in admiration, so Ford hesitantly gave her his hands and she held them lovingly, her eyes sparkling like stars.

“Wow! That’s neat! No wonder your hand shake was so friendly! It’s a whole finger friendlier than normal!” Mabel was then reminded that Dipper’s journal had a six-fingered hand on it.

The girl’s eyes widened as she wondered if she was meeting Dipper’s idol. It was possible. The journal Dipper had dated it in the 80s, and Dipper said that the author mysteriously disappeared. As exciting as it was to meet the Author of the Journals, all it did was put Mabel more at ease. If anyone can help her, he can.

Ford laughed and gave her hands a soft squeeze. “I like you! You’re weird.”

Mabel grinned, distracted from her thoughts and grateful for it. “I like you, too, Ford!”

#GF #gravity falls #fanfiction #timestuck au #ford and mabel bonding #MORE SWEATER-TWINS BONDING #ford pines #mabel pines #time travel

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