Hearthway Hollow

Vincent & Cricket

Polyamorous Male Werewolves x Female Reader

You look up at the dancers in the room. Their forms are impeccable, and the way their bodies move makes you think of fairies dancing in circles. You glance back down to your art pad, sketching out the scene before you. Your hand is smudged black, and there is a stack of papers by your side of drawings and doodles you've done throughout the class.

Delaynie hired you to design a poster for the upcoming dance recital of Midsummer Night's Dream. You were eager to do it. You had worked hard all your life on your art, only to wind up teaching at the college. The fact Delaynie had considered you at all was a triumph in your sketchbook.

As the class ends the students gather around you, eager to see the artwork you've created while watching them.

Delaynie stands beside you as you gather your things. "What do you think?"

"I think you have an amazing group of students," you beam at him. "I've got lots to work with," you say as the students start handing you back your paper.

"I saw your work at the college, and I was floored," Delaynie replies. "I think your posters will sell. If not, I'll keep them all."

You grin at him and chuckle. "Well if not, this has been an amazing opportunity for me. Not much in the way of art has popped up."

Delaynie looks at you sympathetically. "Hence the teaching?"

"Hence the teaching," you sigh.

One of Delaynie's instructors laughs as he approaches. "You say that as if it's a bad thing." He smiles at you, and you feel like an ice cream cone left in the sun.

Delaynie pats his back. "This is my main choreographer, Cricket."

"Cricket?" You turn and admire him.

Cricket is tall and very much looks the part of a dancer. His limbs are long and elegant with the right amount of sinew and muscle. His skin has a rosy tone to it that gives him a healthy glow. His hair is tied back in a bun, but a loose curl hangs on his forehead in a perfect corkscrew.

Cricket shakes his head. "Old, old, horrible nickname from my rough that I've come to claim as a badge of honor."

"This kid had the knobbiest knees I've ever seen," Delyanie grins.

"Not all of us are born to be big and scary looking," Cricket smirks. "Some of us were born with weak ankles and knobby knees." He looks at you then tilts his head to your drawings. "Do you mind?"

You gasp. "Oh, no, go ahead." You hand the pad over and watch as Cricket goes through the pages.

"Cricket has built this production from the ground up," Delaynie says. "In fact, he's the one who suggested I go check out your artwork at the college."

Your heart skips a beat and jumps up into your throat. "Really?"

Cricket looks up at you with bright green eyes. "I'm found out," he laughs. "I'm a fan."

You take your sketches back and hope your face isn't so red it gives you away. "Thank you. I really appreciate this."

Cricket looks up as the doors open, and a set of younger students comes in. "Duty calls," he winks at you as he walks by.

"Careful with that one," Delaynie whispers. "He'll charm you into free work if you aren't careful."

"Oh?" You gasp.

Delaynie grins. "How do you think he got a job here with knobby knees?"

You head back home. You live on the ground floor of an apartment building that's close to the school. Most of your neighbors are college students, and for the most part, it's pretty quiet. The rent is reasonable, and the apartment is more than you need. Although, one room is nothing but all your art supplies. Years of gathering and collecting to be used for great pieces of divine inspiration, all now resting and gathering dust in plastic drawers and boxes.