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ohdeerfully · 3 months

Note

K hear me out, a wife! Reader x Alastor and Charlie finds out they had a kid when they were alive. (I don’t mind what the kids name is but make them young and passed due to Spanish flu, dark I know)

omg this has been sitting in my drafts so long, i love requests like this </3 im sorry if it seems rushed, i really wanted to finish it!

Mourning Dove

Alastor x Reader (angst, slight comfort at end) TW: CHILD DEATH, child sickness, reader referred to as a woman but doesnt effect story too much join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You sat yourself unceremoniously at the bar in the hotel lobby, shoulders slouched and cheek squished against the cold countertop. You weren’t one for alcohol, but you didn’t mind the company of Husk. He didn’t say much unless prompted, but that didn’t bother you. It was nice, honestly, after a day of dealing with the others.

“Somethin’ the matter?” Okay. Nevermind about him not saying much.

“Hmm?” You responded, barely peeking up from your finger that dragged patterns in the surface you laid against. “I’m good.”

“You don’t look it,” Husk observed, and you knew he was referring to the discoloration of your eyes and the residual dampness of your cheeks from crying. Your hair was a mess, too. Yeah, you looked like shit. “Tough day?”

“I guess, yeah,” You sighed, pushing yourself up and leaning back in a stretch while your fingers gripped the countertop to steady yourself. “Just thinking about… Y’know.”

He didn’t pry, and you were thankful for that. Husk did know a little, actually, and knew better than to push for more details. After being stuck with Alastor for so long, with the guy owning his soul and all, he inevitably learned some deep shit about him and, by extension, you. He just grunted in response and went back to spot cleaning his bottles of booze.

“(Y/N)!” A chipper voice called your name, and you squeezed your eyes shut in frustration. You thought you were done with all of this for the day, and you were so ready to just go to sleep. “I wanted everybody to join me for dinner today! We have a few new residents, so I want everybody to meet each other.”

You squeezed your lips to prevent a harsh word from responding to Charlie’s invitation. You were so tired. You feigned a weak smile and looked at her. You wanted to say no, to say you needed to sleep, but those huge, pleading eyes of hers caught the rejection in your throat. You tried to reason with yourself that Charlie doesn’t host stuff like this very often. It would just be one night. You’ll survive.

“Okay.”

She clasped her hands together and jumped on the balls of her feet, thanked you, and took off to find the next resident to invite. You held your head against your hand and you sighed dramatically. Husk looked at you from the corner of his eye, but opted to remain silent. You stood up after a few more minutes of quiet sulking, deciding you should fix yourself up for dinner.

In your room, you gently fixed your hair and threw on a casual outfit. Nothing super nice, just in case food started flying–knowing the antics of some of the hotel residents, it wouldn’t be a surprise.

You slowly made your way to the banquet room, which Charlie had installed for events like today. You could already hear the low murmur of small talk, and you were surprised to see a few new faces. Not a whole lot, just about five, alongside the familiar faces of your friends. Charlie’s hotel was, slowly but surely, becoming more successful.

You spotted Alastor quickly–he was hard to miss due to his height. You settled yourself in a chair next to him at a long table that Charlie had dragged into the room for everybody to sit at. You felt your skin prickle with the familiar sensation of static, which increased slightly as his attention turned towards you. He gave you a grin before focusing his eyes on the racket that was already picking up. You watched his smile curl, a bit sinister, as the sound of shouting caught your attention.

“-my fuckin’ business!” You picked up the tail end of Angel Dust fuming at Vaggie, one pair of arms crossed under his chest. He had a third hand on his hip, with his fourth hand jabbing an accusatory point at the woman in front of him.

“Guys, please!” Charlie pleaded, pressing her shoulder against Vaggie’s in an attempt to move her away from Angel. “I don’t want to scare my new guests away!”

“Tell this bitch to keep her nose outta my shit! I can’t have my fuckin’ life on the line because she doesn’t like my job!” Angel spat. There was a dangerous, maybe even frantic, look in his eyes. Before Charlie could say anything, Angel had spun around and stormed to the table. He ripped the chair out and slammed his body down. All four of his arms were crossed now as he glowered at the wooden tabletop.

You sighed, and felt a headache already forming.

Angel’s spirits quickly changed when Husk sulked into the room. He had his paws stuffed in his pockets, and glared at the air in front of him. He sat down at the other end of the table, but Angel was quick to stand up and saunter his way over to sit next to the cat. You couldn’t quite catch the flirtatious remarks that made Husk roll his eyes.

You observed them for a while, watching as Husk slowly grew more comfortable in the small talk he and Angel shared. He would never admit it, but you knew Husk didn’t hate Angel’s company. Husk seemingly said something about you to Angel that made him whip his head up to look at you. You quickly averted your gaze.

Charlie had been standing by her own chair, and a cough from her throat made the chatter die down. You didn’t really listen to the overly sappy speech she had started to give, your mind drifting away in absent thought. You picked your nails into the edge of the table, fidgeting with the light cloth.

Alastor caught your attention by lightly nudging his leg against yours. You trailed your eyes up to his, meeting his red gaze. There was a hint of worry in his eyes, and his grin twitched at the edges as he looked at your exhausted face. He tilted his head in a silent question.

You merely shook your head in response, and mouthed a quick “it’s nothing” and hoped that he wouldn’t press. He didn’t, but you knew he’d ask again in a private room.

Charlie sat down again, and Vaggie rubbed her shoulder, murmuring a silent praise. You dragged your eyes across the table, making note of the handful of new faces. None of them seemed to take Charlie very seriously, but that didn’t come as a surprise. They probably just liked free food.

The food in question seemingly materialized out of nowhere, and you chalked it up to her “princess of hell” type powers that she didn’t use very often. You smiled gratefully and, though you didn’t have much of an appetite, you started slowly picking at the plate in front of you.

The room once again began to rumble with small talk, but at some point the multiple conversations began to melt together until the whole table was talking to each other in one. Charlie was doing most of the heavy lifting with keeping the conversation going.

“-the deal with the Radio Demon and that gal next to him?” You perked your ears when you heard this reference to yourself. One of the new guests, some sort of lizard demon, had a finger pointed at the two of you. He had a slight country drawl in his voice. You saw Alastor’s smile widen when the attention of the table turned towards himself.

“My darling wife,” Alastor stated simply, briefly placing a hand on your shoulder. His eyes were closed as he smiled proudly. You silently nodded with a light, polite smiling. “We knew each other in life. It’s only natural for us to remain together. It would have been a shame for death to do us part.”

“Didn’t think you was the type…” The lizard said slowly, eyeing the two of you carefully. You didn’t blame him; what kind of nut job would marry the Radio Demon? Though, as Alastor said, you were married before Hell, and he wasn’t so… infamous back then. He was actually rather sweet, besides the whole serial killer thing–which, in your defense, you weren’t even aware of till he was shot to death.

“Didn’t think ya were the type to have a kid, either,” Angel piped up absently, one arm thrown lazily over the back of his chair. You watched as Husk tried desperately to shut him up as he continued to speak, but you barely heard the words over the sound of your heart picking up pace, and the increased radio frequency of Alastor’s. His body had stiffened and his eyes had shot open, quickly narrowing as his smile strained and curled dangerously, his gums visible in a snarl. His eyes were not on Angel, but on Husk, whose ears were flattened against his head and a nervous look in his wide eyes.

You weren’t really paying attention though, but you felt the intense tension and rapid prickling on your skin. Your breathing became more labored and you pointed your face to the table to try to hide the building tears in your eyes. You had tried so hard, all day, to push back the memories that kept threatening to resurface. What are the chances that on the same day, the topic was brought up, destroying the wall you had built to contain the anxiety, regret, grief…

You were kneeling by the wrinkled, messy sheets of the twin bed your son had been in for the past couple days. Your heart was tight, and you could barely breathe as you looked at him. He gazed blearily at the ceiling, following the path of the rocking fan. Every breath he took scratched at his throat, as if there were pebbles blocking the path. He barely had the strength to cough. His lips were dry and cracked, and his graying skin still had a flush of fever. You used a damp rag to clean the dried snot under his nose.

You had tried everything. Every recommended antibiotic, every treatment, therapy, exercise; nothing had worked. Nobody knew how to treat the illness. You had even tried to work with witch doctors that Alastor knew. You had spent so much of what little money you had trying to save your little boy.

Alastor was often gone during this time, being the one to go out and find something new to try. You never left the room, even when your husband tried to push you to go outside to stretch your legs or take a shower. He promised to watch over your son. But you just couldn’t, not with David laying on these dirty sheets, looking so frail, weak, and small. You had often called him little dove, and it made you sick to think that your nickname was now like a cruel adjective to describe his current state. A sick, frail baby bird. He had barely eaten in the past eight days, and you didn’t want to admit to yourself that any scratchy breath he took could be that last one.

You stiffened when his head rolled over towards you, and his eyes struggled to focus on you. His cracked lips grimaced for a moment, followed by a sharp, grating cough that made your heart drop and your eyes sting. You reached a shaky hand forward to smooth down his knotted hair.

“Am I going to be okay,” David said weakly. His voice caught on the tightness in his throat multiple times. “I feel really bad.”

“I know baby, but you’re okay,” You said tenderly, continuing to stroke his hair. “Your dad is getting you some new medicine. You’ll be okay.”

You were lying to him, and to yourself. But you couldn’t help but cling on to a morsel of hope–it was all you could do, really. David just looked towards you, his eyes flicking around slightly, unable to truly focus on anything.

“I’m tired.” He said. His breathing was labored.

“I know.”

Your emotions threatened to spill from your eyes as you watched him turn his head back towards the ceiling, eyes shutting. You didn’t want to cry; you couldn’t, not in front of him. You needed to stay strong for him.

You pressed the back of your hand to his burning forehead, and then trailed your hand to his chest, lightly pressing against him to feel his heartbeat. It was slow, and slowing. Your own heart picked up in response.

You heard the door in another room open, shut, and footsteps quickly pace towards the room. The door cracked lightly, and the tall, thin frame of your husband peeked in. He held a brown back tightly in his fist. With one look into your eyes, he knew something was wrong. Or, well, more wrong than usual.

You clenched your jaw to prevent any sob from escaping your lips as he sat the bag down on an end table and kneeled next to you, gripping your waist tightly as he looked at David. The boy’s breath had gotten dangerously quiet.

You watched as his eyes opened again.

“I’m tired.” He repeated, weaker this time.

Both you and Alastor leaned towards the bed, his hand on David’s leg as you gingerly lifted the boy’s head into your arms, pulling his light body towards yourself. You shifted yourself up into the bed with him, trying to wrap as much of yourself around your son as possible. You could feel his heartbeat getting slower with every weak breath he took.

“Sleep, then,” your voice trembled. You felt Alastor grip your shoulder, his other hand softly rubbing David’s arm. You couldn’t describe the expression on his face. “I’ll see you in the morning, little dove.” You lied.

“In heaven?” He responded. Your breath hitched at his words. He knew, somehow, that he was dying. How sick it was, for such a young boy to be aware of his impending death. How cruel God was.

“Yeah, I promise,” Was all you could muster. You worried that any more would destroy the dam that held back your tears.

It broke, though, when you felt David’s heart finally stop. You choked on a sob once, twice, before finally you started wailing. Screaming. You held a vice-like grip on the boy, both your arms and legs secured around him. Alastor was still quiet, but he had sat across from you on the bed and pulled you towards him, securing you and David’s still-warm body in an equally tight grip. You could feel his strained breathing and tight jaw against your head. He said something, but you didn’t hear him.

Your mind rushed back to the present when you felt a hand on your back. Your head whipped towards Alastor, who was looking at you. The table was dead silent, and there was still a look of rage in his eyes, but his smile held a softness that was only ever given to you. Your heart still beat strongly, and you struggled to breathe, but you were at least glad that your mind was still back in the present.

Evidently, barely any time had passed. Angel had a nervous look in his expression, which he tried and failed to mask as Husk cursed at him. Charlie was looking at you in worry.

“(Y/N),” She said softly. “...How come you never-”

“Truly, there is no point in speaking of life before death,” Alastor interrupted her, the usual cheer in his voice lilted by a masked emotion. You knew he felt the same grief as you, but he was a million times better at acting naturally. “What a waste of time and emotion.”

Alastor stood quickly, his hand trailing against your shoulders as he walked past you and towards Angel and Husk. Husk’s ears flattened to his skull again as Alastor loomed over them, hands behind his back as a smile twisted his features.

“Husker, my friend,” He said, the cat demon visibly flinching at the mention of his name. “Let’s take a walk.”

Husk didn’t move, and the room grew heavy with tension with every second as the sound of radio frequency got louder and somehow sharper. Alastor bent at the waist, his snarling smile inches away from the panicked expression on Husk’s face.

“Is the tomcat getting too old to hear?” You barely picked up Alastor’s words, but you definitely heard the threatening tone in his voice.

The cat swallowed hard before standing up. He shot one last infuriated look at Angel, before whipping his head back to attention when Alastor tapped his cane against the ground impatiently. The two of them left the room, and the tension in the air immediately lifted when the door shut.

Charlie startled you when she placed a delicate hand on your upper arm, and she guided you to your feet and out another set of doors. A weak smile touched her expression.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked as you both went up the stairs towards your hotel room. You shook your head silently at her offer. She only nodded back, and said nothing more. She opened the door to your room for you, and waited till you settled down in your bed before saying a string of comforting words that you didn’t really pay attention to. The door clicked softly, and you once again began to sob.

Only a few minutes passed before you felt your skin prickle with a static-like feeling. You had grown to find comfort in the odd sensation, and felt incredibly relieved when you knew Alastor was sitting next to you. You didn’t even hear him enter the room.

He pulled you wordlessly against his chest, lying the two of you down. You twisted yourself in his grip till your ear rested against him, listening to the odd drum of what you assumed was a heart.

“Has David been troubling you all day?” He asked you when your sobs slowed and you caught your breath. You nodded. Alastor rubbed a soothing hand on your shoulder blade. You recognized the tone of grief in his voice as he spoke. “What a pesky boy, even all these years later.”

You wrapped your arms tightly around Alastor’s neck as tears began flowing again.

Though you would never tell him, you often hoped Charlie’s idea of redemption would work. Your husband himself would likely never follow that path; you knew he saw no point and enjoyed the power he held in Hell. But, you wished every day to see your son again. To see your little dove.

You had promised him.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #angst #TW: child death #child death #ohdeerfully

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k-hotchoisan · 5 months

Note

mmmmmm been thinkin abt photographer!san right nd he is know for his boudoir photography but his latest client’s got him in a chokehold like god how is she so fuckin sexy nd he can’t focus at all bc fuck all he wants to do is fuck her senseless— HELP

Your wish is my command Angel! Thank you for being patient 😘

As always, enjoy 🩷

snap.

Synopsis: encouraged by your friend, you give boudoir photography a try after recovering from a break up, you find yourself doing more than just be a model.

Genres/warnings: smut, boudoir photographer!San x model!reader, sexual tension, unprotected sex, cream pies, mention of oral

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies

“Boudoir photography?” You reiterate. Your friend nods.

“A friend of a friend of a friend tried it recently and apparently she’s been full of confidence. Her boyfriend adores it too!” Your friend squeals.

You scrunch your eyebrows, wondering how semi-nude photos taken by a professional photographer in this niche would boost one’s confidence.

Your friend’s eyes dart to you again, and then your phone pings. You look at the link your friend sent you. It’s a referral code for a promotion. You turn to her, gaze still dripping with skepticism.

“Come on, just try it. You’re a lovely person and you deserve to see it for yourself! Boudoir photography might really help at not being constantly self critical.”

You weren’t an entirely insecure person, and you were sure of that. It’s just that, after the rough break up with your ex, and seeing them move on instantly (like two fuckin weeks) with a new partner, undoubtedly was a gut punch to your self esteem, while you were still stuck grieving over the lost relationship and wasted time.

You’ve heard of boudoir photography, but you’ve never actually understood the concept of it, considering that it was niche, and that you don’t really know the point of it. You glance down at the referral link before deciding to just fuck it and sign up.

San is working overtime again, meticulously editing and touching up the photos. It’s become a natural part of him to almost be a perfectionist, whether when on the ground taking photos of the model or the post editing process. But he never loses the sight of letting the women shine naturally through their photos. After all, in such a niche market, they picked him. Definitely, he has his mix of male boudoir models, but the women evidently take up a higher ratio. He understands that one of the most important aspects of boudoir photography is trust and comfort with his models, which has them coming back for more sessions, sometimes even with their partners.

Setting up his own business in such a niche market was difficult of course, and he’s grateful that he’s managed to make a name for himself. But sometimes he’s grateful that his good looks are an added bonus to drawing in his clients.

His email pings and it makes him pause his work. Maybe he should finish it tomorrow. San glances at the fresh email that sits in his inbox.

An appointment via referral.

He opens it, and looks through the client’s information. At the bottom box for comments, sits a short question.

[Just wondering, what should I expect for my appointment? Is there anything I should prepare?]

He takes a moment before he drafts a reply.

[Hey there! Nice to meet you. I’m Choi San, boudoir photographer of Woodie’s Studios. First of all, thank you for choosing our studio for your boudoir experience!

Regarding your question, come in with an open mind. For what to wear, you may bring a set of clothes/lingerie of whatever you feel confident in.

I don’t bite, I promise!]

He reads the reply a second time before he hits send. It’s not as if it’s the first time he’s gotten questions like these anyway. His train of concentration is broken, so he decides to call it a night.

You reach the opaque door of a clean-looking studio apartment. The sign has San’s studio name and logo imprinted on it, so you’re sure that you are at the right location.

You press the door bell and it chimes a lovely tune. There is a quiet pause, before the door handle clicks and the door itself pulls back. Before you stood a really, no, an insanely good looking, tall male. His glasses rest loosely on the bridge of his nose as his small eyes meet yours. His brunette hair is slightly messy. He wears an expression of confusion at first, but it turns into something unreadable. You think for a spilt second that he may have gotten the wrong client, but your rationale reminds you that you did send him photos of yourself so he’s able to recognise you. You blink once, then twice because you were starting to get lost at how handsome your photographer was.

“Choi San..?” you say, with a small tilt of your head.

Then it’s his turn to blink, and he snaps out of that small trance he seemed to be caught in for a few seconds. Then a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he greets you.

“Hey! Y/n right? Sorry, was tryna recognise you. I promise I don’t usually take that long to process”, he chuckles, pulling the door wider as he ushers you in, reminding you to switch out your shoes for the apartment slippers.

The hallway San brings you down is brightly lit and spilt into a couple of sections which you assumed one of them would be the photo studio itself. A couple of posters of pin up girls hang on the walls, all of them beautiful and stunning.

He then stops at a glass door and pushes it, to what you assumed to be his office.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you a cup of tea. Any preferences?”, he gestures. You shake your head as you let yourself sink into the velvet couch, gingerly leaving your bag of clothing beside you. San gives a polite nod and excuses himself to the pantry.

And the moment the door shuts behind him, he tears his glasses off the bridge of his nose and hooks the branch onto his collar.

His hand is placed over his heart.

San has photographed many different women over the course of his career, some breathtakingly beautiful. But none has ever made his heart skip a beat and caused his words to be stuck at the back of his throat, not like you did. He doesn’t know what has gotten into him. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how you looked like—the pictures you sent served that purpose. Maybe it was the fact that he never expected you to look like that in real life, and for once, he almost doesn’t know how to react. His thoughts are all over the place as he paces into the pantry to prepare your tea. As he’s dipping the tea bag into the piping hot water, he begins feeling self conscious—was his hair too shrivelled? Did he smell bad? Was there something on his face? He tightens his grip on the mug and hastily makes his way back to his office.

San returns, with a smile on his face as he settles the cup onto the coffee table before you, and he joins you, seated on a velvet armchair across you.

“Take your time”, he reassures. “We can start after this, if you’re feeling comfortable, or we can just talk a little to ease your nerves.” It doesn’t take you much to think—you opt for the latter of course.

San laughs and nods. “I get that a lot, especially from first time female clients. It’s valid of course, having a male being your photographer for boudoir can sound off-putting. Perhaps looking at my portfolio might put you slightly at ease?” He reaches out for a large and thick leather-bound photo album. You let it rest on your lap as you receive it with a soft “thank you”, and flip the album open, and you’re instantly awestruck—San’s work spoke for himself. The models were diverse, both in nationalities and body shapes, all equally stunning and sensual in their own expressive ways. The only common denominator was the glint of genuine emotion and confidence reflected in their eyes.

You wonder to yourself—could you look and feel as confident as them? As you skim through the pictures, you feel yourself falling in love with the models as well—their genuine smiles when they do and the gazes they give.

When San catches himself staring at you being absorbed in admiring his portfolios, he feels his cheeks flush and he looks down, wondering what you think of it all.

“I see why you have so many clients. The pictures are gorgeous”, you say, shutting the photo album and handing it back to him. San flashes a sheepish smile and mutters a “thank you” loud enough for you to hear. The silence in the room remains a for awhile as you sip the tea, letting it calm your nerves. You don’t even know it but the person with actual jittery nerves was San himself, a feeling that he never expected to feel since the last time he did was when he started out this business three years ago.

“So… what’s the goal of being a boudoir model, if you don’t mind me asking? Like was it a long time thing you wanted to try or was it something spontaneous?” He asks to break the silence.

“I broke up with my ex recently”, you respond curtly, before taking another sip of the tea. Damn, this is some good ass tea. San blinks at your reply, unsure of what to make out of the bluntness. Before he attempts to reply, you continue, “and my friend sent me a referral to your studio, and I thought to myself, why not? I want to feel confident in my own skin. Also, I think it’s an interesting way of self exploration.” Your gaze meets his, and it’s his turn to look awestruck. You try to ignore the flutter in your chest when he laughs softly, when his smile reaches his eyes. It’s the way that he’s confident of his craft, and it’s making you warm up to him even more.

Your fingertips tap on the mug softly. Your gaze lands on the photobook once more.

“Does taking such risqué pictures affect you when you first started out?” You ask before taking another sip. San ponders about the question for awhile. He has people asking him that before, but for some reason, he wants to be slightly more transparent with you.

“I don’t see about my clients in a sexual way, even if they physically look appealing to me. In the end, self confidence and comfort always comes first, and I think that’s what I enjoy seeing in my clients when they become more comfortable in their own skin. People don’t understand how difficult it is to fully love yourself”, he replies.

That’s when you understand why San’s photography studio had so many recurring clients.

“Why boudoir? I think sensuality and intimacy is a form of art. It’s beautiful—watching people discover parts of themselves they never knew existed and falling in love. You don’t have to be conventionally attractive to be a boudoir model.

The money’s good, of course, but the satisfaction of watching my clients giving me feedback of them realising they deserve to love themselves more, or discovering other sides of themselves is nothing short of rewarding.”

By the time he’s done explaining, you feel a rush of confidence in yourself. It’s only been about ten minutes since the both of you just sat and talked, but you see that he definitely prioritises your comfort before he even begins the sessions. You ball your fingers into a fist, meeting San’s gaze with determination, telling him, “I think I’m ready.”

San’s eyes brighten up. “Great! You can use the bathroom to the left, and I’ll meet you at the photo studio just opposite the office.” He stands up, opening the door for you, and you bow slightly in courtesy as you head to the washroom to change. San’s heart beats faster, wondering what you’re gonna wear for the shoot.

San is fixing the sheets of the bed, then the studio lights at the perfect angle he wants it to be. His heart is still racing as he walks over to the tripod, glancing over at the door from time to time, awaiting for your arrival.

He perks up when he sees you walk in with a bathrobe on and he greets you cheerfully again, trying to hide his excitement.

You wave back with a smile, letting the environment of the photo studio sink in. The basic package for first timers consisted of a bed shoot, so it’s no surprise you see a bed in the middle of the room, covered in white. The bed looks comfy and you giggle to yourself, wondering if you’d end up falling asleep mid-shoot from how nice the bed looks.

“Anytime you’re ready”, San reminds you, carrying the tripod in one hand, his biceps flexing as he does, and it makes you blush slightly, which was ridiculous. Why are you swooning over your handsome photographer carrying the tripod with one arm? Suddenly you’re self conscious again, your fingers clutching against the black bathrobe. It was frustrating that you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was making you nervous, but you weren’t about to back out.

San continues to adjust his camera on the tripod, and his gaze absentmindedly shifts towards you, and his breath gets stuck in his throat, watching you undress from the bathrobe, revealing a white button up over black lace lingerie. It’s not anything new, but for some reason he can’t seem to tear his eyes off you—the way the panties hugs your hips and the bra cups your breasts, the garter belt hugging your waist and the straps hanging past your panties. He watches you climb onto the bed, eyes shutting briefly as you sink into the mattress with a soft smile.

He’s not confident that he’s able to last through the shoot, not when you’re looking like that.

“Is it too cold here?” San asks, trying to divert his attention from his perverse thoughts. You pop up from the sheets, the collars of the shirt slipping past your shoulders, obviously too big for you. That does nothing to help him with his thoughts.

“No, I think the temperature’s okay. Shall we get started?” You ask, buttoning up your shirt, the white material pathetically sheer that San is able to see the black bra peeking through.

The sight of you in an oversized shirt on, with no pants, just your underwear on is like a meal for San’s eyes. He hides behind the camera to hide his flushing cheeks, only to face your body through the viewfinder, watching you preparing to pose as you position yourself at the end of the bed, turning your body slightly to the side with one leg up, your thighs in full view, with the sleeves of the shirt covering most of your fingers, and your gaze right into the camera lens.

San takes a deep breath. Forty five minutes. He can do this.

“Sure. Ready whenever you are, y/n.”

It turns out to be a very agonising forty five minutes. While the both of you were cracking jokes during the shoot, San finds himself getting more distracted when you gradually remove your shirt, and when your poses grow ever more risqué—at one point you remove your bra and fit your shirt over again, which definitely made San grow very restless when he’s unable to tear his eyes away from your bare chest.

Midway through the shoot, all that swarms his mind is wondering how your body would feel against his, how your bare skin would feel under his hands, what kind of faces you would make when you’re under him.

What kind of noises you would make for him when he fits his cock right into you. He wants to fuck you so hard that your mind goes blank—so good that you’ll never remember your ex.

San blinks, his finger still on the shutter button. He doesn’t know what washed over him, but what he does know is the taut feeling in his pants, and he internally heaves a sigh of relief that he decided to wear cargo pants. Nonetheless, he hopes that it isn’t obvious. Well, it shouldn’t be, as long as you don’t ask for close up shots.

“San! Could you come closer for my close ups?” You call out, letting the collar of your shirt fall off your shoulder once more, revealing your bare shoulders, and reminding him that you were still braless underneath the loose clothing article.

Fuck.

San forces a smile, unlatching his camera and trying to walk normally without letting his erection steal your attention.

He reaches to where you are, reminding himself to stay professional, but when he meets your playful gaze, all he wants to do is pin you down. Your eyes twinkle with allure as you prepare your next pose. You get it now—the confidence that slowly trickles into you after every photo taken. You’ve never realised that you had this side of yourself, not until now, and you love it.

The close up shots only spell another layer of doom for San—he adores the budding confidence that you exude, but it makes it even harder for him to hold back, watching you make sultry expressions and poses close up. Through the viewfinder, his eyes try to focus on taking the photo but he finds himself being entranced by your stare. He counts down, then taking a few shots, not missing the growing smile you had.

San puts his camera away, reaching forward to your face to remove a stray hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, and his touch is warm on your face. It’s then you realise how physically close San is to you—you smell his cologne and it leaves your mind blank for a spilt second. He’s absorbed in fixing your hair, combing the strays off your face, the sound of his quiet breathing the only thing you hear. You look away, wondering if your heartbeat is loud enough for him to hear, and you hope it isn’t. San gives you a soft smile when his eyes finally meet yours.

He pulls back, preparing to take his camera for the next shot, but his leg gets tangled in the sheets.

Everything happens in a spilt second—his knee that shifts forward at first, pressing against the sheet that has unknowingly tangled around his other leg, then San trying to get up quickly with the tangled leg, realising a little too late by the time he falls right onto the bed.

Right onto you.

He almost squishes you. Almost. But he lands above you, supported by his elbows just in time before his body is in contact with yours.

Your heart races, way too quick for you to even process what just occurred. All knew you was:

One; San is right above you,

Two; his lips are hovering over yours,

Three; you feel something pressing against your pelvis.

And San stares down at you, his heart beating in his ears. He takes in the sight of you below him—eyes looking up at him through fluttered lashes, your heat radiating against his skin, your lips slightly parted in surprise.

As well as the strain in his pants when his eyes instinctively lower to your bare chest, your nipples peeking through your shirt, and that his little problem is just resting right on you.

“I’m sorry”, San whispers, breaking the silence that had hung between the both of you. “This usually doesn’t happen…”

You crack an amused smile. “Usually?”you reiterate teasingly. A tint of red flushes San’s cheeks and his clothed erection presses harder against your bare skin, and it makes you bite your lip.

“Fuck. I mean, this never happens. It’s just.. I’ve never felt this way about my boudoir models…”, he trails off. “I think you’re fucking stunning since you entered the studio, and I think you’re even more stunning now.”

Your heart flutters at his confession and this time, you feel yourself blush. A soft laugh escapes from the male above you when he sees you avoid eye contact from the shyness. His strings of rationale—yelling at him to stay professional—is snapping. He’s not lying. He’s never felt so attracted to any of his models before, until you, and now that he has you trapped under him, he doesn’t want to lose that chance.

“Should we end the session here?” San asks, with a quick glance at your pretty red lips.

Your fingers are playing with the dangling silver chain that he wears. He lets you, waiting for your response before he catches your gaze dances back to meet his again. Your hands shift to caress San’s jaw, and he takes it as a sign to make his move. You inhale softly as you feel his lips press onto yours, and it makes your head spin with glee. He tastes so heavenly, and your legs clench at the feeling that flutters between your thighs.

San slightly presses his body weight onto you, his erection only growing harder against your thigh. But it looks like he’s taking his time.

His fingertips warm your skin, and he lets them slip up your body, until he’s at your chest, barely covered by the sheer cotton material. His thumbs grazes against your nipples, and you gasp in between open mouthed kisses. You feel him smile, and he applies pressure, and the sensation goes right to your pussy.

He pulls back, watching your lip stick smudged, and your eyes dilate. You can’t help but feel entranced by San, and now you’re wondering how his face would look like when he falls apart.

And it makes you excited.

San lulls you back from your thoughts when you feel his lips suck softly against your neck, and now your fingers are playing with his soft locks of hair.

He’s slightly embarrassed at the way he’s growing even harder when he gingerly peels the white shirt away. His hands cup your bare tits, and he lowers himself to your left tit, giving it a couple of hungry licks and sucks, leaving your back arching and your mouth agape from how ticklish his tongue feels as he flicks your nipple. He doesn’t neglect the other nipple, giving it the same attention as he relishes in the way you fall apart for him. When he has his fun of sucking and making sure your nipples swell while you moan and tug his hair, he pulls away.

He sits up, pulls his shirt over his head and you’re left drooling at how chiseled his body looks. San unbuttons his pants and yanks it off, alongside his boxers, and you watch with awe as his cock springs out—hard and heavy against his abdomen. Your panties are tugged off you in no time, and you don’t miss the way his cock twitches when his eyes land on your slick covered cunt.

“You’re gonna be the death of me”, you hear him mutter before he collides his lips against yours once more. You squeal when you feel his fingers press onto your clit, giving it small rubs, watching and soaking your reactions—your whines and whimpers. There is a dull buzz in your mind every time your bundle of nerves get stimulated, and it builds up in your tummy.

“Oh god, you’re getting even wetter”, he sighs, his fingers completely soaked.

“It feels good. So good. Keep doing that”, you whisper, your fingers pressing against his arm. Your moans only grow louder as San picks up the speed on rubbing your clit, and it’s sending you over the edge way quicker than you wanted to.

San lowers himself to your head, and his husky voice vibrates in your ears.

“That’s it, keep coming undone. Let your mind shut off. You look so fucking beautiful like that.”

“San, San, fuck. I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck-“

Your eyes roll back as your orgasm washes over you, your body tensing as pleasure becomes the only thing you know. You barely catch onto the dirty things San is telling you, but you know he’s encouraging you to cum on his fingers like a good girl.

He makes sure he has your orgasm drawn out as long as possible, your mind completely blown out at that point. San sucks off your arousal on his fingers, before giving his cock a few pumps.

“You taste like heaven, babe. I’ll get a taste of that cunt soon, but right now, I really can’t wait”, San huffs, trying to keep himself composed as he slowly fucks his hand.

“San, hurry up, please. I need you, so fucking bad”, you whine, your fingers pulling your wet folds open for him.

His breathing goes heavy at your words. “Damn, the shoot really got you heated,” San teases.

“I can’t help it if my photographer makes me wet”, you reply with a playful smile.

Something seems to snap in San when he hears that—all he’s thinking about is wanting to drive his cock so deep into you that your mind completely blanks out.

So that’s what he does.

San lines up his cock to your entrance and pushes and inch in. His eyes dart to your face, licking the bottom of his lip when he watches your face contort into pleasure. His hands stroke your thighs as he pushes in a couple more inches, soaking in your broken moans as he stretches you out. He forces himself to stay composed despite the fact that you’re squeezing him with your warm and soft walls.

He manages to bury himself right to the hilt and he gasps at how perfectly fitted his cock is in you, an uncontrollable moan escaping his lips when he feels you convulse around his cock.

“San, you’re so big. I’m so filled”, you whimper through glazed eyes, his cock completely cutting off other senses as your thighs tremble. A smile tugs at his lips.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, pretty”, San tells you. Despite that, he waits for your green signal before he pulls out and drives his cock right into you.

Your mind switches off the moment his cock is fucking your pussy, because that’s all that matters. It’s so good. So fucking good.

His hands slither to your wrists, and has them pinned over your head as his cock pistons into you. You swear he’s driving you to be cock dumb by the end of this, but not like you fucking minded anyway.

“Look at you. Growing stupid over my cock already. So fucking adorable.”

You only nod in reply, biting your lip as his cock continues to render you speechless. Now San has completely flooded into the smallest crooks of your mind. San has his mind blank, his eyes darting from your fucked out expression to your bouncing tits.

Your cunt flutters once again and tears are pooling at the corner of eyes. The sounds of wet skin slapping echo around the studio.

“…wanna touch you”, you mutter. Despite the face that you loved that he was holding you down, you are feeling desperate to feel his skin as you dance on the fence of your orgasm. San releases your wrists, and he props himself better as he continues to pound into you, hitting the soft, spongy spot over and over again when he has your legs folded. When his pulls out, his cock is covered in a creamy mess. His head spins and his ego inflates at the thought him being the one who drove you to this point of mind blanking pleasure.

“No, no, I’m gonna cum again. So good. San!” His name leaving your lips as a whine. Your hands are gripping onto the loose unbuttoned sleeves of your shirt. His hands take yours and places them on his on his sides, and he groans at the way you’re clawing him.

“Shit. Fuck!” San curses when you cream on his cock even more on top of your walls hugging him tightly. You let go on his cock with a pleasured sob, legs twitching.

It’s not long before a long drawn out moan San releases as his warm cum completely floods your tight hole. He swears he wants to keep his cock tucked in your pussy because it feels that fucking good.

His face—oh, his fucking face when he orgasms. You barely recover from your second orgasm to watch San fall apart while he empties in your pussy, and it almost drives you to your third orgasm. Almost.

The both of you remain still for a moment, only breathing filling in the silence. Then, San slowly pulls out, watching the way his cum leaks out of your abused hole.

San pulls back, and he realises that he’s never seen a more beautiful sight—you, splayed out in nude, only covered by a measly white shirt that inevitably drives him crazy, with cum leaking out of your pretty hole while your body twitches against the white sheets.

He thinks that it’s a pity that his camera is out of reach, because it’s such a beautiful shot.

You glance at San with a shy smile as he hands you your panties. He hooks the your legs into the panties and pulls it up to your hips. You feel another load stain your panties while your thighs twitch.

San dresses himself quickly and extends his arm for you to take as he leads you off the bed. He knows he’s got extra work to wash the sheets but that’s the least of his worries.

What throws you off is when he pulls you into his arms and kisses your temple.

“I promise I’ve never done to any of my clients”, he reiterates.

“Unprofessional”, you tease, your hands sneaking up his shirt.

“Can’t fucking help it. I never knew fucking an Angel in my studio would be this exhilarating. It makes the thought of washing the bedsheets bearable”, he teases back, letting his fingers tangle in your hair.

Your mind goes completely blank when he tells you to wash out the loads in you, so he’ll fill you up once more when he brings you home, which earns him a slap on the chest. He gestures you to go change up, watching the way you remove your shirt to reveal your bare back, and he makes a mental note to start fucking you from behind.

And back at his place, he does. His eyes are hyper focused on the way your ass bounces on his cock. A loud slap reverberates in his room followed by a whimper.

He stills in you, spilling his load once more into your abused cunt as you cream all over him once again.

Then he has you wrapped up in his arms, peppering you with kisses as you’re teetering off your high.

“Stay over, won’t you?”, San requests, tucking a lock of hair behind your ears. You’re beginning to feel completely enamoured by the male. You nod as you melt into his arms.

San thinks it’s ridiculous how hard and fast he fell for you, but he’s confident that you’re his favourite model, ever.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #choi san smut #Choi san #San ateez #ateez san #choi san ateez #ateez choi san #choi san x reader #cultofdionysusnet

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kaleldobrev · 8 months

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A Simple Misunderstanding

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hughie might of overheard something he probably shouldn't have between you and Ben

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Cursing (9x), Fluff, Sexual Innuendos, Implied Drug Use, Soldier Boy (Yes, our macho man gets his own warning)

Authors Note: So, this has been sitting in my drafts for months and I've been going back and forth debating if I was going to post this or not. But once I gave the summary to @zepskies she said she was intrigued, so I said, "What the heck?" and now it's posted for your enjoyment | This is my first time writing for this universe so I hope I was able to do these characters justice | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

It was the middle of the night and Hughie couldn’t sleep. Although him and The Boys were in a safe house in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors for miles, it surprised him how noisy everything could be. He had lived in New York City all his life; he was used to the noise. The bustling sounds of traffic, the occasional gunshot or stabbing, airplanes always flying overhead, or a supe destroying some vehicles while trying to catch a culprit. But the noises he heard were much different; it was the sounds of the crickets, droplets of water hitting an unwashed plate in the sink, and random incoherent whispering. The hustle and bustle of the city had become white noise to him.

Looking over at the clock it just struck 1:59am. He hadn’t been in bed long trying to sleep, only attempting to just a little past midnight. Since joining the group, it was unusual for him to actually get to bed at a normal time or even go to bed at all. He was used to going a day or two without sleep. Frenchie tempted him with some sort of drug to keep him going or an energy drink, MM would usually offer coffee which was the preferred method for Hughie. But at this point, the caffeine wasn’t working anymore, as he had started drinking it like water. Unhealthy for sure, but so was not sleeping for one, two, or three days straight.

This was the first time in a long time where everyone was actually sleeping, even Butcher. It was strange, because as long as Hughie had known him, he never once saw the man sleep. The closest he ever got was when he would get knocked out; but even then, that was kind of a rare occurrence.

Getting up from his bed he sat on the edge of it for a moment rubbing his face. He had wanted to stay in bed and keep trying to fall asleep, but he knew that there was no use. So he decided to implement a trick that he remembered his mother using when she couldn’t fall asleep or get back to sleep. When she had trouble falling asleep or getting back to sleep, she would do various things to occupy herself until she felt tired enough to try and sleep again. Her usual go-to’s were either reading in the living room or listening to Billy Joel quietly to herself. Once, Hughie remembered waking up in the middle of the night and had found her humming quietly to herself while she read a book in the living room. The only light came from a single table lamp next to her.

Leaving the bedroom he started making his way down the hall toward the living room where he decided to watch some TV. There would probably be nothing worth watching at this time; just infomercials about grills or some kind of cleaning agent that didn’t work. He really wasn’t picky about what he watched, he just wanted something to help him fall asleep.

As he walked down the hall, he heard faint whispering coming from one of the bedrooms. He thought that he had been the only one up - guess he was wrong. The room in which he heard the whispering coming from was Soldier Boy's room - something that he didn't find surprising in the slightest, as he was someone that actively fought sleep. "I've slept enough," he would say.

He started walking away, but didn't move far as he stopped dead in his tracks. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" That was your voice. What the Hell were you doing in his bedroom? And at this hour? Hughie thought to himself. He knew that the two of you were friends of some sort, as you were the only person that SB genuinely seemed to like and get along with, but for some reason, it didn't really occur to Hughie that you would be spending time with him this late into the night.

The next thing he heard was chuckling, chuckling from SB. "Trust me." The next sounds Hughie heard actually made his eyes go wide. It was the bedside drawer opening and closing just as quickly, the sound of some kind of plastic being opened, and then bed springs squeaking. The squeaking was so loud that he could only assume that it was the two of you moving in unison, not just one of you.

“Oh wow that’s…huge.” You commented, emphasizing the word ‘huge.’ Huge? Hughie thought. Gross.

Again, SB chuckled. “Never seen one so big Princess?” Princess?! Hughie was surprised he didn’t gag right then and there. Never did he ever want to hear SB say the word Princess, nor did he ever want to hear it in the context of it being used to describe you; his best friend since kindergarten.

“No, never.” You replied back, sounding as if you were embarrassed. “I mean, I’ve heard they can be that big but…” you trailed off.

So many emotions were taking over Hughie: but disgust was the main one. There were two things that his brain automatically came up with in this scenario. The first: barge into the room and stop you and Soldier Boy from having sex, the second: move far away as possible from the door and pretend this never happened. As much as he wanted to do the first option, he valued his life too much, didn't want to see Soldier Boy in all of his naked glory (once was enough when they were in Russia), nor did he want to be a cockblock for one of the oldest and most powerful supes in history. He knew, that being a cockblock would have been the very last thing he would do in life if he barged in. Option two it is, he thought to himself. With that decision, he never moved so quickly in his life.

The morning finally came and you were greeted by Ben having his arms wrapped around you and your head tucked underneath his chin. His embrace around you was tight, but not so tight that if you needed to move, you could (not that he would let you move any way, he was too comfortable). He's getting better at not crushing me when we cuddle, you couldn't help but think. The position the two of you were in was an intimate one, and it had become a somewhat regular occurrence over the past couple of weeks. It was something that you never thought would ever happen, especially when you first met him a few months ago.

Your relationship with Ben had drastically changed in the short amount of time that you had known him and took a complete 180. When you first met him, you were initially excited to meet him because you had watched all of his movies on repeat growing up as your father was a huge Soldier Boy fan - it was something the two of you had bonded over. But when you met him, he was far from how you envisioned him to be. He wasn't this all-American hero who stood up against injustice - he was a misogynistic racist asshole.

As time went on, Ben had somehow started to grow on you. Although there were still elements of him that radiated misogynism and racism, you gave him the benefit of the doubt when it came to certain things. How it wasn't entirely his fault, as he had spent 40 years essentially in isolation being tortured by the Russians; completely unaware of the massive changes that took place in the world. Once you had "remembered" that, and started spending more and more time with him, you had started to fall for him - and it happened relatively quick.

"Good morning." He said to you, his voice lazy as he kissed your bare shoulder.

"Good morning to you too." You replied back, pressing your back and ass closer into him.

"Your heart's beatin' a little fast there Princess." He smirked.

"It's just nice waking up like this, that's all." You said. "Well, you kissing my bare shoulder doesn't hurt either."

"You know, I can kiss other parts too." He said, keeping the smirk on his lips.

"Hmm, I know you can." You said, turning to face him. He leaned in and kissed you, a little surprised that he was the one that initiated. "Can I ask you something?"

You heard an annoyed sigh from him. "You're going to ask if I say no or not Sweetheart." He responded with his usual bluntness.

"Yeah you're right." You said. Ben couldn't help but slightly roll his eyes. "So my question," you began, turning to face him completely as you propped up your elbow on the pillow. "Why didn't you try and have sex with me last night?"

Ben looked at you with a mixture of confusion and amusement. "You're disappointed that I didn't try and fuck you?" He let out a small chuckle at your question.

"Honestly...Yeah. I mean, everyone was sleeping, and I know you want to. Plus, I barely had anything on." When you came to his room last night, you had purposely wore more revealing clothes in order to tempt him - a tank top and boy shorts.

"You wouldn't've been able to stay quiet." He began. "Although, it would have been fun to hear you attempting to be quiet and failing miserably." There was that smirk again.

"You don't know that." You said, your fingertips running up and down his bare arm.

"Y/N, trust me. You wouldn't have." His confidence was almost radiating arrogance.

"Is that a promise?" You asked. Your question more bold than you had intended it to sound.

"Oh, it most definitely is." He said. "I'll tell you what. We can test it out tonight." He leaned in, inches away from your face, moving a strand of lose hair that had fallen in front of your face.

"Promise?" You asked, your voice low, a little hesitant.

"I didn't stutter did I?"

"No Sir." You said, leaning in and kissing him again.

The smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes filled the air, glasses of orange juice on the table. MM and Frenchie making breakfast for everyone while Kimiko helped to set the table. Butcher sat on the barstool on the island in the kitchen, every once in a while taking a sip of coffee and reading the paper. Hughie walked into the kitchen and took a seat next to Butcher, his face looked like he had seen a ghost. Putting down the last plate, Kimiko looked at Hughie and walked over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. He didn’t respond to her touch, which made her slightly frown with concern. Frenchie looked over at her and she signed something to him. “Petit Hughie, she wants to know what’s wrong.” Frenchie translated.

Hughie didn’t respond, he just sat there on the stool looking off into space. Frenchie waved his hand in front of Hughie’s face. “Petit Hughie?” Frenchie and MM exchanged looks, and Butcher put down the paper.

“Oi, lad.” He waved his hand in front of his face too. He looked over at MM and Frenchie. “I know what to do.” Without hesitation, Butcher slapped Hughie in the face, causing him to almost fall off the barstool.

Hughie started rubbing his cheek where Butcher had slapped him. "What the fuck was that for?"

"For being a creepy little shite and not saying anything when we're talkin' to ya." Butcher responded.

"I had uh, a rough night." Hughie said. He pointed at his cheek. "This isn't going to bruise is it?" He asked, Butcher rolled his eyes.

"Do you want me to make it bruise?" He asked, smirking.

"Good morning everyone!" You practically sang as you walked into the kitchen. Everyone besides Ben had been there, as he was still currently pre-occupied with taking a shower. Everyone was currently sitting at the dining room table, slowly taking bites of their breakfast. Every so often, they took glances at you before looking back down at their plate of food.

Sitting down at the table, you took your usual spot next to Hughie and gave him a quick smile, before taking your fork and started digging into your pancakes. "MM, Frenchie, did you guys make this?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"Uh, yeah." MM responded, almost too quietly. It was a little strange to you how quietly he had responded, but at the same time, you didn't really think anything of it, as the last couple of days has been a little rough for everyone. Despite being in a safe house, you knew that MM was at least up some of the night making sure that all of you were actually safe. You weren't sure if it was because of the situation you all were in, his military background, his OCD, or a combination of the three.

After a few moments of silence Hughie finally spoke to you. "So, how did you uh, sleep?"

You took a sip of your orange juice before responding. "Pretty good actually. Best I've slept in quite a while." Which was true. "How about you?"

"Rough night." Hughie said, responding very quickly to your question, as if he already had his answered prepared.

You frowned at his answer. "I'm sorry. Nightmare? Couldn't sleep?"

"A little of both." He said.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked, genuinely wanting to know.

"Ye-" Before he could finish his sentence, Ben walked into the kitchen, freshly showered and wearing a t-shirt that you had gotten him about a week ago. Without saying a single word, Ben took his usual spot next to you and started digging into the plate of food in front of him.

You cleared your throat and looked at him, which caused him to look at you. "What?" He asked, a mouth full of pancakes.

"Isn't there something you'd like to say?" You asked.

"Christ on a cross..." He mumbled, before looking up. "Morning." He said, forcing a smile before looking down at his plate again. "Happy?" He mumbled just low enough for only you to hear.

You smiled at him. "Very." You whispered back.

"The things I fucking do for you." He mumbled.

Hughie stood up very abruptly, the utensils and plates shaking a bit. This abruptness had caused everyone to look at him (except for Ben, who didn't even seemed bothered in the slightest). "You know what, I'm just going to come out and say it." His voice confident.

"We know you're gay." Ben said, very nonchalantly, still not looking up. "It's uh, good for you." He looked up now, focusing his attention on Hughie. "Be proud or...whatever." He finished, flashing him a forced smile. Ben then turned toward his attention to you, looking for some kind of approval from you regarding what he just said. Trying to adjust to the modern age was hard for him, but he was thankful that you were there to help him navigate things.

"What? I-I'm not gay. For the last time, I'm with Annie." Hughie said, trying his best to defend himself.

"I've been told that's called a beard." Ben took another bite out of his pancakes, and your hand automatically went to his thigh, giving it a small squeeze. It was your way of basically telling him to stop talking. He looked at your hand before looking at you again. "What?"

You turned your attention to your friend. "Hughie, what did you want to say?"

"Okay. I'm just going to come out and say it. Ask it. Whatever!" His voice sounding insanely flustered. "Did you guys fuck last night?"

You felt your eyes go wide, your fingernails digging into Ben's pants. You didn't know what to say, you were speechless. "What's it to you?" Ben asked, not even seeming to be remotely fazed by Hughie's question.

"Because she's my friend." Hughie responded. He knew that his response wasn't good enough.

"Okay, and?" Ben gave him a confused look, unsure of what Hughie's point even was. "I'll repeat, what's it to you? Y/N doesn't ask every time you blow Butcher."

"Again, I'm not gay." Hughie said, his voice sounding defeated.

"Whatever. Point is, she doesn't fucking ask. So why are you asking?" You couldn't help but agree with Ben, who seemed to be very reasonable in his questioning for once.

Hughie looked at Ben and you, and then looked at the rest of the group - all of them staring at him, waiting for him to say something. "Because..." he tried to find the right words. "Because you two are the reason why I couldn't sleep last night!" You and Ben exchanged looks, not understanding. The two of you focused your attention on him. Before either you or Ben could say anything, Hughie started talking again. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" He looked at you. "Never seen one so big?" He looked at Ben. "You're even wearing his fucking shirt!" Hughie pointed to the shirt you were wearing.

You looked down at your shirt before looking at Hughie again. "I always wear Ben's shirts." You stated.

"No, you don't actually!" Hughie's voice was starting to sound so frantic now.

"She looks damn good in them though." Ben commented, taking yours and his empty plate to the sink.

"Hughie, I can assure you. Me and him didn't have sex last night." You said, really trying your best to reassure your friend, even though - to Ben's point - it wasn't remotely his business anyway.

"We will tonight though." Ben said, his voice calm as it has been throughout this entire exchange.

"They didn't need to know that." You pinched the bridge of your nose. You weren't embarrassed that Ben said that, but it was something that you didn't think he needed to add to the conversation.

"Sure they did. I mean, your friend here seems interested." Ben walked over back to the table, placing two mugs of coffee before sitting back down next to you again.

"For the love of..." You mumbled. "We smoked a blunt last night! There! Happy?" Your voice was the one that sounded frantic now, with a small hint of annoyance added.

"You guys...smoked...a blunt?" Hughie felt his cheeks heating up, embarrassed by this whole exchange now. "So you guys weren't talking about the size of his -"

"Hughie you better not finish that fucking sentence I swear to God." MM said, his voice sounding as if he had lost all of his patience already for the day, and it wasn't even nine in the morning yet.

“Ben and I were talking and I had mentioned that I’ve never smoked a blunt before, or have done any kind of drugs so he offered to let me try it. That’s it.” There was much more to the conversation, but you didn't feel like adding anything else. The rest of the gang didn't need to know that you and Ben were planning on going some place far away from New York when all was said and done.

"You never smoked a blunt before? I'm shocked." Butcher stated. "Swear you have." For as long as he had known you (which was quite a while now, as you joined The Boys about a year before Lamplighter had killed Mallory's grandkids), he could have sworn up and down that you were on some kind of drugs, but he never could put his finger on it. He thought about asking you of course, but he always decided against it.

"It's shocking I know." You shrugged. "I guess it's never appealed to me."

"Well it's a good thing you're with Mister Coke Head over here." Butcher said, adding a little chuckle at the end.

"Just because we're together doesn't mean I'm gonna start doing drugs with him Butcher." You defended.

"She'll be too busy doing other things." Ben smirked, before winking at you.

Tag List: @jackles010378 @zepskies If you want to be added to a tag list, let me know!

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys one shot #ben x you #ben x reader #reader insert #female reader #the boys amazon

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thegnomelord · 1 month

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Okay fuck after reading @killerkillerkillher 's fic with demon Soap and Price, and angel Ghost and Gaz, it got my own brain worms multiplying (as if I don't have enough going on lol) so here's the au draft that's been rotting for a while lol.

So here's an idea for an au:

Reader is part of a small group of friends that are Ghost hunters/DIY exorcists (read: They're all drop out college students and the ghost hunting youtube channel's putting food on the table). Reader doesn't believe in the supernatural but the friends keep reader around because you're the group's 'ghost deterrent' because spirits GTFO when reader's near and reader thinks the friends are just bullshitting you.

Anyway the group are moving to a bumfuck town in the middle of nowhere where an old haunted house the reader's grandmother left is. Then their pos car breaks down an hour away from town. 'Luckily' the town's mechanic, Johnny, was just driving by and helps you lot out. And ain't he a handsome devil (emphasis on devil) thinking he can con a couple of young and dumb humans out of their souls. Soap's all hooded eyes and husky voice as he lures you away like a lamb to a supply closet, oil darkened hands sliding under your shirt and lips sucking dark hickeys into your throat.

He pulls away when you tug on his mohawk, raising his head until his lips are just inches from your own and you don't even notice him mutter a verbal contract, nor do you understand you've agreed to one when his lips crash on yours like he's drowning.

And Johnny's grinning into the kiss like a loon as he tries to take the soul of the stupid but hot mortal he's just met only to find out he... he can't. No matter how consuming his kisses are or how aroused both of you get your soul sits stubbornly in your chest and doesn't even budge.

When your friend bangs on the door and yells for you to "stop shagging every guy you meet!" you're forced to give an awkward goodbye and scurry away. And Soap's left completely bewildered and confused as fuck wondering what just happened and thinks he needs to tell Price.

Meanwhile, while your car's being fixed up, your friends drag you to the town's only pub that's run by a Simon Riley. He's an intimidating man without trying to be, but he doesn't immediately chase you out like some bar owners. He's quiet, listening to your friends chatter while cleaning a glass rough scarred hands, but the way he looks at you is... odd. Like you're an interesting bauble he's found on his gran's shelf.

He's there to catch you when you trip on a raised floorboard you swear wasn't there before. "Thanks, I owe you one." You say with a small awkward laugh, though for some reason it feels like him catching you had been an excuse to touch you.

"That so?" His thumb traces the dark hickeys across your throat, surprisingly soft, and you can feel your cheeks getting hot. "You let Johnny have fun with you?" His chuckle is rich like aged wine, fingers gently pressing down on a hickey; it feels possessive. "You'd let any old thing like me take from you, yeah?" There's something in his words that has a shiver running down your spine, though from apprehension or arousal you're not sure.

"Ye- eh, yeah." You don't know which question you're agreeing with, and you understand the weight of your words, quickly walking away from him before your friends can embarrass you by wolf whistling at you and him. And you completely forget to ask on how he knows it was the mechanic who gave you the hickeys.

With still some time to burn before sun sets you decide to visit the radio station in town, mainly because your friend swears on his life that those are always haunted or have some decrepit old host that knows all the gossip in town. And when you meet the man you had heard softly yet confidently talking on the radio? He's handsome, pretty brown eyes as enticing as his voice, and you're starting to sense a theme with you meeting all these very nice looking men.

But Kyle, or Gaz as he asks you to call him, is a wealth of knowledge to the point you're not sure where the gossip stops and some crumb of truth begins. He talks all the way into the night with you and your gang of amateur ghost hunters, and you see why he is the radio host because his voice is like the song of angels, silk soft on your ears and you feel like you could fall into the best sleep of your life from listening to him.

And all he wants from you in return for his knowledge? "Nothing much mate, just a small favor, I'm sure you'll manage." Kyle leans in and pecks your lips like he's sealing a promise, or a bargain, but that's just you being stupid after getting kissed by the second hot guy today, surely. Gaz already knows he can't just nab your soul, he has ears in every wall in this town, but at least he can put his own claim on you.

Day, for the most part, well spent you and your friends go to the house for a good night's rest. It isn't any good as you're woken up numerous times and by morning you have several broken vases and an exploded lightbulb — everything you explain away as the house being old as fuck, but your friends claim it to be the work of spirits — your friends drag you to the church on the hill at the asscrack of dawn.

And that's how you meet Father Johnathan Price. (Insert devil in church joke here)

He listens to your friends explain the situation, calm and collected, but you swear his eyes stay on you the entire time. "That's quite a predicament." Price hums, offering to bless you and your friends in hopes of protecting you from evil spirits.

You're the last to go, nearly jumping out of your skin when he grips your chin. "Relax my boy." Those words frazzle your brain enough for him to easily pull on your jaw until your mouth opens, his thumb almost playing with your bottom lip. The look in his eyes is dark, the air between you far heavier than it should be between you and a bloody priest. But Price doesn't see anything wrong with this, pressing a thumb down on your tongue and then putting a wafer on your tongue. "There you go, you are now blessed in the name of a lord. Now consume it, my boy."

You obey automatically. You're not quite sure if a communion wafer is supposed to taste so... weird, it has a coppery and peppery taste to it. Almost like spicy blood or something but that's just you being stupid again, especially as you can feel heat burning between your legs.

Sufficiently embarrassed about getting hard at a priest you give an awkward goodbye and leave, trying to fix your pants before your friends see your... problem.

Johnny appears by Price's side in a small flicker of flames and brimstone when you leave, confident smirk on his face. "Ooh, couldn't resist claiming a piece of him fer yourself?" He smirks, nudging Price on his side.

"I suppose he is more interesting than the usual rabble." Price hums, already imagining of how handsome you'd look laying naked on the altar, and how to get you to that point.

Congrats! Now you've got 4 hot dudes trying to take your soul :D

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tlbodine · 7 months

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Stuck? Try junebugging.

I don't know who needs to hear this, but we're 5 days into nanowrimo so maybe this will be helpful.

Do you want the safety and surety of knowing what happens next in your story but can't stick to an outline? Does knowing in advance what will happen suck the joy out of discovery writing? Do you try to wing it through plots but get tangled in plot holes or have a story that runs out of steam because you can't figure out what went wrong? Are you at your most creative when you have a little bit of guidance? Do you tend to under-write? Do you get ideas in your head for random scenes and snippets that drop from the sky without context?

If any of these apply to you, junebugging a draft might be for you!

What Is Junebugging?

Since you're on Tumblr, you might already be familiar with the concept of junebugging as it relates to cleaning. If not -- I think the idea was first introduced to me by @jumpingjacktrash.

The basic idea is that you tackle cleaning by way of controlled chaos. You pick a specific area you want to focus on, like your kitchen sink, and then wander off to deal with other things as they occur to you, but always returning back to that area. You end up cleaning a little bit at a time in an order that may not make sense to an outsider but which keeps you from getting overwhelmed and discouraged.

How Does Junebugging Work in Writing?

OK, so that's great, but how does this work with writing? Well. In my case, the general idea is to jump between writing linearly, outlining, and writing out of order. It usually looks something like:

Start free-writing a scene, feeling my way through it and enjoying the discovery process.

Thinking, ok, now I have this scene, did anything need to happen to lead up to it? Do I need to go back and add some foreshadowing? Does this scene set anything up that needs to be paid off? And then jump forward/back to make those adjustments.

I'll usually have a bunch of disconnected ideas of ideas that have popped into my head, so I'll write those down in a list somewhere and then try to figure out what goes in between them and what order it goes in.

I'll write what I call "micro-scenes" which is where I'll just sketch out a few essential elements of what's going on without worrying too much about details, description, etc. -- just he did this, she said that, the setting was this, real bare-bones script. Then I can come back through and flesh out each of those microscenes into an actual scene later.

Got a story that has a complex structure? No problem. Write through each storyline one at a time and then chop them up and weave them together afterward. Write all the B plot scenes first then come back through to do A plot and C plot. Move the pieces around like legos. No one ever has to know.

This method works for me because I can't "decide" story elements in advance. I have never been able to just sit down and "figure out" what happens in a story beyond a couple steps ahead -- I have to discovery-write my way forward. But at the same time, that gets really daunting. So I zoom forward with micro-scenes, roughing out the beats in the most bare-bones way possible, then when I run out of clear vision for what happens next I backtrack, flesh out those scenes, build in connective tissue, etc. and by then I will probably find more inspiration to jump forward.

It's basically folding drafting, outlining, and revising all together into a single phase of writing, which is chaotic and goes against everything people teach you, but if it works? then it fuckin works.

Anyway, sorry for the jumbled-up post, I'm dashing this off quickly while I heat up a pizza and I'm about to dive back into my WIP -- but I hope this was a little helpful. If nothing else, take this as my blanket permission that it's 100% OK to jump around, write out of order, write messy, outline sometimes, pants sometimes, and do whatever else it takes just to get through the story. You've got this. Good luck.

#writing tips #nanowrimo #writing advice #nano 2023 #writeblr #writing community #plotting vs pantsing #junebugging

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writtenfangirl · 1 year

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The Light

In which Benedict Bridgerton counts the ways he loves you.

I've had this idea for a while and this draft has been sitting in my draft folders for lord knows how long but I finally decided to publish it! After initially reading the Bridgerton books, I want the world to know that Benedict has always been my favorite Bridgerton brother because I relate to him the most.

Epilogue

I. In the quiet moments

Saturday morning was always quiet in Aubrey Hall, Benedict’s childhood home. With Aubrey Hall in the throes of summer, that meant the Y/L/N’s stayed with them. Her mother’s dearest friend had always been Y/M/N, having debut in society together. They had made it their tradition to visit one another during the summer and where Y/M/N, it usually meant Y/N followed. Y/N, who was Y/M/N’s only child with her husband, Y/F/N. She was two years younger than Benedict but they had always been close.

He was always the first one up, and as the cook and the maids prepare breakfast, he would often sneak away towards Y/N’s room. He knew propriety dictates that such an action was uncouth but he was a child and Y/N was his best friend and so he snuck in anyway.

He knocked first. That secret knock they devised just last summer so the person on the other side knew that it was them.

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.

The door swung open, as if already expecting him. Y/N was already awake and dressed, her hair tied up in a ribbon, her dress clean and pressed. Though Y/N only came to visit Aubrey Hall during the summers, the times that she did were some of Benedict’s favorites and they had their routine down to a tee.

“What are we doing today, Benedict?” Y/N asked, as she did every morning.

“We can go visit the lake and see how many animals we can see in the clouds in the sky!”

“Okay!” Y/N said with a childish giggle.

Benedict gripped her hand, leading Y/N out of her room, past the gardens and towards the lake that bordered their estate.

They spent the morning watching the sky, their backs pressed against the grass, giggles emanating from the duo as they argued about whether that cloud looked like a frog or a bunny. Their hands were still tightly held within each other’s grasp and they didn’t let go until they were called to breakfast and Benedict dared Y/N to race him back to the manor.

He knew then that he loved her. She was his best friend and best friends loved each other no matter what.

II. In the loud moments

Benedict’s family was considerably large and though he loved his siblings dearly, he knew that there was never any quiet when it came with them.

They were loud. And boisterous. Unless they had guests, dinners with the Bridgertons usually ended with dinner being flung across the table. Y/N’s mother had arrived sick with a head cold and had requested to have dinner in her room alone, leaving Y/N to have dinner with the Bridgertons all and on her own. And though Y/N was not a Bridgerton, Benedict knew how much the Bridgertons loved her, especially because she was privy to their chaos.

Chaos, most especially seen in Aubrey Hall, where 10 year old Anthony had begun sending their father, Edmund, mischievous looks.

Violet, as if sensing the impending doom, had a warning tone already ready. “Anthony Bridgerton, don’t you dare.”

But Anthony paid his mother no heed. Instead, a mischievous smirk stretched across his face before he jumped on the table and loudly screamed, “FOOD FIGHT!” before proceeding to ham fist the mash potatoes, flinging it towards Colin’s open mouth.

Chaos irrupted from the table as everyone, including Benedict’s parents took their own food, flinging it across the other side. Benedict’s mother was laughing in glee despite her previous protestations and Edmund had declared himself Violet’s knight in shining armor, shielding her from the onslaught of lamb stew that Colin threw their way.

Almost instinctively, Benedict felt Y/N’s hand grip his own, pulling him down towards her before Daphne, who was but two and couldn’t possibly understand what was going on but could understand that fun was being had, could hit him with the mashed peas on her plate.

Then and there, Benedict knew he loved Y/N. It would be difficult not to love her when she would willingly sacrifice her favorite dress to spare Benedict the green stains of mashed peas.

III. In the moments you do not share

He missed Y/N, terribly so. Being away to Eton meant he didn’t see Y/N nearly as much as he wanted to and though they wrote each other letters, it just did not suffice.

She had been a constant in his life and her sudden absence felt like a rock wedged between his ribs where his heart should be.

He enjoyed his time at Eton, he truly did. They were schoolboys and youth was their elixir of joy. It meant living life free of inhibitions, gambling and drinking and finding women to fill their beds. But none of his friends could ever hope to replace Y/N’s presence. With Y/N there was no bravado, no explanation. Just unhurried conversation and fun he could remember tomorrow.

He couldn’t wait to see her and his much needed vacation in a week was enough to give Benedict a spring in his step.

Today also happened to be mail day and though he knew he was going to see his best friend in a week, he still anticipated her weekly letter.

With the letter slipped into his dorm at the end of the day, he quickly sliced through the wax that bore Y/N’s family crest, reading through its content.

My dearest, Benedict,

I suspect that by the time you receive this letter, the time between us seeing each other will have considerably shortened. I miss you terribly. Summers in Aubrey Hall are simply not the same without you. Colin has turned whiny waiting for his two older brothers to come home and spend the summer with him. Daphne is growing taller by the day and Eloise has begun to learn how to read. She and Francesca are joined by the hip everyday. Your mother and father are as splendid as always and I suspect a Bridgerton whose name begins with G will soon join us.

I am quite alright though I am shamed to admit how terribly I’ve missed my greatest friend. My mother and father are also splendid as is the rest of my family. Do come home in one piece. I’m afraid I may go slowly mad with Colin pestering me everyday.

The Light of Your Life, Y/N Y/L/N

Y/N’s words brought him all the comfort he needed. He loved his time in Eton but he could not deny it’s loneliness. His friends couldn’t understand how it is he could possibly miss his family but theirs was a strange existence. His parents valued love above all else and he had grown up alongside his siblings in a home full of love and laughter.

And he knew then that he loved Y/N for her ability to assure him, to lull him into a calm that could keep his mood afloat for days.

IV. In the moments you do share

Oh how he missed her. He missed the way Y/N’s H/C hair whips through the wind, carrying with her heady scent. He missed her twinkling laughter, her teasing smile. He especially missed the feel of her hand grasped around his.

They were growing up and though Benedict knew that their youth would still be with them, there was a certain kind of melancholy that came with the realization that things will not always be as they were. Y/N had informed him that with her debut to society next year, she would not be able to spend the summers with him. He couldn’t imagine Y/N married to anyone, let alone married to anyone unworthy of her and he had been insistent that he spent next year’s summer with her.

“Y/N, light of my life,” he said, his tone serious but his eyes lit with jest. He’d begun calling her that after he heard his father call his mother the light of his life and he knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Y/N was the light of his life. He pulled them to a stop, Aubrey Hall looming in front of them despite being a great distance away.

“Yes, Benedict, light of my life?” She said demurely.

“Do you think you can make me a promise?”

“What promise is that?”

“You won’t marry someone unworthy of you.”

At that, she laughed. “If I have any say about it I shan’t marry at all. But I’ve held it off as long as I can. I’m twenty one now and mother is at her wits end.” But her eyes grew serious and somber, her laughter slipping from her lips. She looked at him as though she knew deeply, truly, what was inside Benedict’s heart. He reached for her, felt the silky lock of hair that fell from her chignon, her breath that feathered across his wrist as he tucked the strand of hair behind her ear. His eyes were fully trained on her face, at the way her lashes swept across her cheeks, the red flush that crept up her neck that Benedict knew would take him weeks to shade match. He wouldn’t deign call her cheeks rosy. She would hate him for comparing her to something so common.

If Benedict were to paint her at this moment, he’d call it Summer’s Embrace. It captured her beauty, the ephemerality of today.

He could feel the heat of her and it was as if that very heat burrowed itself within him, finding a home in his heart. When she spoke again, her words were but a whisper, the spoken promise of planets swearing fealty to their stars. “I swear to you, Benedict. I will not marry someone who is not worthy of me.”

And with her promise, it was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He could feel the rush of air in his lungs mixed with her heady scent, the scent of childhood and misty early mornings. He felt her hand squeeze his own in earnest and Benedict knew that she would keep her promise forever if she could. He loved her then, for that promise. How could he not love the way she loved herself? Fiercely and with a protectiveness that Benedict knew was reserved for him and only him.

V. In the soft moments

There were no nights as special as rainy nights and none were as special as the ones he got to share with Y/N.

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.

The door flung open, revealing Y/N. Her E/C were shiny with excitement, her face positively glowing.

She was wearing her simplest dress, covered only by a black frock that Benedict had leant her once that she refused to return. Her feet was clad in her finest riding boots and Benedict nearly had to clamp his own mouth shut to keep from rejoicing.

“It’s raining,” Benedict noted with a grin.

“I gathered as much,” Y/N said with a grin as equally mischievous as his.

“It would be the responsible thing to stay indoors. You are to leave for London tomorrow and I imagine that such a long journey may end in you getting a head cold.“

“Benedict, light of my life, when have we ever been responsible?” She looked at up at him, grinning like the devil.

And before the both of them lost their nerve, Benedict grabbed Y/N’s hand, sneaking them down the stairs and past the gardens, letting the rain wash over them.

Oh he adored the rain’s ability to wash away everything. And he knew how much Y/N loved the rain too. How she adored letting it fall on her skin as she jumped over puddles and danced on the wet grass.

Her long hair stuck to her forehead, giving her the appearance of a drowned cat but her wide smile more than made up for it. Even in the darkness that smile could light up a thousand lanterns and Benedict never found her more beautiful than she looked now.

A sudden feeling seized him and before cowardice could choke it down, he was already pulling her to him. “Y/N, I must tell you something,” Benedict yelled over the din of the rain, catching her chin between his fingers. Drops of rain were caught between her lashes, her breath coming out in pants between her lips.

Goddess Divine. That’s what he’d call this painting of her.

“What is it, Benedict?”

He swallowed. An invisible force had consumed him, wrenching the words from his lips before he could stop them. “I love you.”

Her eyes widened, her mouth falling open in surprise. “W-what?”

“I love you,” he repeated, courage surging within him, his previous hesitancy evaporating like steam. His hand reached for hers almost instinctively. He felt her warmth, the way the heat of her hand seemed to jolt through his body like static. “Most ardently. In every way a man could love a woman, I love you. You are truly the light of my life and without you, I am pitched in darkness. You are the cracks in my heart but also balm soothes that it. I love you, Y/N. I have spent years of my life loving you in secret and I can bear it no more. I love you.”

He could see it in her eyes, the love she bore for him. It was the same love he felt for her, a garden in full bloom. But the words that followed her were not the words he thought he’d hear. “Benedict, I have been promised to someone else.”

VI. In the hard moments

“What?”

“I have no choice,” Y/N’s voice was cracking as hard as his heart. “My father has promised my hand to another. My debut, it is a farce, meant only to assuage his guilt for selling his only daughter. I am to be married to the Duke of Albany before the season ends and then he will ship me away to the colonies. He sold me to the Duke to pay off his debts. I have no dowry, no money. I thought to spend my last summer with the people who loved me, truly loved me. The Bridgertons have treated me as their own family. You have treated me as your own. Benedict, please I am so sorry.” She was rambling now, that much he could see. She always did that whenever she was close to crying, as if the fast words would somehow catch her tears before they fell.

He should say something, he knew he should but the words stuck to his throat like honey. It was all too much in too little time. Married? Shipped to the colonies? Benedict thought he had more time. More time to charm her parents and offer himself as a candidate for her hand in marriage. He’d already had every intention of marrying her but now his plans had turned to ash in front of his eyes.

“This was a mistake,” Y/N muttered pulling her hand away his. “I never should’ve come. I should’ve left like my father had suggested. He was right. This is all too hard.“

Thunder clashed like rolling drums in the sky. What has once been a pleasant pitter-patter of rain had turned into a torrential downpour, soaking Benedict to the bone. Any warmth he had felt had dissipated, leaving him shivering.

Before Benedict could stop her, Y/N was already racing towards Aubrey Hall, leaving Benedict with the bitter taste of heartbreak in his tongue.

VII. In the moments they shared with others

He was a fool. A right bloody fool who didn’t deserve her.

How could he have let her slipped free so easily? When Benedict had finally come to his senses, Y/N had already fled Aubrey Hall, taking her carriage and lady’s maid with her. Before Benedict could hope to give chase, Anthony had stopped him, citing that the heavy rain had made the roads treacherous.

“All the more reason to chase after her!” Benedict bellowed, his insides twisted in worry. He was still dripping wet from the rain, the roaring fire doing nothing to dry him off. “If something were to happen to her, I could never forgive myself.”

“Dearest, you must calm yourself,” Violet said in a soothing voice. “Y/N is strong. She is more than capable of taking care of herself.”

“You don’t understand, Mama,” Benedict said clearly still agitated. “She is to marry!”

“It is her first season and she hasn’t even debuted yet,” Anthony said with a furrowed brow.

“She is engaged to be married to the Duke of Albany. He means to live in the colonies and take her with him. He’s going to take away my Y/N. Mama, Anthony, please we must make haste and stop them.” He was begging now but he didn’t care. He’d beg on the very streets of London if it meant stopping Y/N’s wedding.

“The Duke of Albany’s 30 years her senior!” Anthony protested. “Her father couldn’t possible mean to marry her off to that odious man!”

“Hush, my darling,” Violet said as she pulled Benedict into hug despite their large height difference and how wet he was. “When the rain abates, I will join you myself in stopping their wedding.”

“Mama, I love her. I cannot. I—“

“I know,” Violet soothed. “It will be alright, Benedict. You shall see.”

But he couldn’t see. If Y/N reaches London, he knew in his heart of hearts that she would marry the Duke and sail off to the colonies without saying good bye. He knew it to be true because it is what Y/N would believe to be the best for them. If she left for the colonies, Benedict would never see her again and this would ease the heartbreak. At least, this is what she was likely telling herself to assuage her guilt.

But Y/N didn’t know how much affection Benedict carried in his heart for her. He could never love another woman so long as she breathed and even if she were to pass before him, she would hold his heart in her bones forever.

“I have to go get her.” Benedict declared, ripping himself away from his mother’s embrace.

Ignoring his brother’s cries, Benedict ran from the sitting room, towards the stables. Grim determination had consumed him, his thoughts focused on Y/N and only Y/N.

He’d go on horseback. It will be faster and he was a decent rider, he could catch up to her. He had to.

“My lord,” the stablehand stammered upon seeing him. The smell of horses permeated his nose though it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

“Help me, please. Our fastest horse.” Benedict panted, his breath winded from his short run.

“But, my lord, it is pouring. I can prepare the carriage—“

“No, I’ll be faster on horseback. Please do as I ask.”

The stablehand simply nodded and ran through the notions of preparing their fastest horse.

He heard his brother first before he saw him.

“Benedict, do not be rash.” Anthony was now as wet as he was from the rain.

“I am going and you cannot hope to stop me.” Benedict barely spared his brother a glance. “A little rain never hurt anyone.”

“Then I shall go with you,” Anthony motioned to the stablehand to prepare another horse.

“Follow after me if you’d like but as soon as my horse is finished, I will ride.”

The stablehand moved quickly, cinching belts and hoops in record time and it wasn’t long before Benedict was on the saddle, the stable doors banging open as his horse leapt through them.

The horse felt fast beneath him despite the rain and moved with the same urgency its rider felt. He would not be deterred. If he had to stop the wedding at the altar, then he will do so. He cared not for dowries or money and properties and his family was wealthy enough for both of them. All he cared about was her.

It wasn’t long before he saw carriage lamps up ahead and he knew that it was Y/N. The carriage was moving at a languid pace, no doubt the driver was worried about a potential accident caused by the torrential downpour.

It only served to spur Benedict on.

“Stop!” Benedict yelled at the carriage.

It was as if God Himself was on his side. By some miracle, the driver heard him over the loud din of the rainfall. Benedict kicked at his heels as the carriage slowed, letting his horse ride just a little bit further than the four horses that pulled the carriage.

“Master Bridgerton,” The driver said, his eyes wide in surprise but Benedict paid him no mind. He dismounted from his horse before circling towards the door of the carriage. And then he knocked that secret knock they shared as children.

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.

“Go away, Benedict.” Her voice was muffled through the door. The window’s curtain was drawn but he could see her vague silhouette as well as the silhouette of her maid.

“You do not have to say anything. You do not even have to answer me. But I implore you to listen.”

When Y/N didn’t say anything further, he continued.

“I wish to marry you,” Benedict said, his voice strong despite his pounding heart. For once in his life, he spoke to Y/N from his heart, let the words drip from his tongue like honey. He didn’t care that they had an audience, that Anthony was approaching from his own horse, that Y/N’s maid was in the carriage with her and that her driver was looking at him as though he’d grown two heads. Right now, all he saw was her. “Do you understand me, Y/N? I wish to marry you. I care not for your dowry or your money, I care only for you. If you wish to never look at me again, say so at once and I shall depart and I will never share in your presence until the day I pass from this world. I will endure the pain and the heartbreak because I love you and I wish only for your happiness. You need only tell me that you do not feel the same for me.

“But if you find that you cannot live without me the way I cannot live without you, tell me so. Let us end our own miseries and be happy. You, who deserve happiness more than anyone else in this earth.”

Despite the loud din of the rain, Benedict’s world grew silent, focused. His attention was on the carriage and the carriage alone. He knew that if Y/N told him to leave, he would do so without a moment’s hesitation. He will ride on his horse and turn his back away from her and he will never see her again.

But then, the knob turned slowly then all at once. The carriage door opened so fast, Benedict barely had time to jump out of the way before the door could hit him.

Y/N’s face was illuminated by the carriage’s lamps. She was still wet, wearing the same simple dress snd frock she had been wearing, having left Aubrey Hall in such a rush that a puddle had pooled at her feet, one that her lady’s maid desperately tried to wipe away.

But neither of them cared about that right now. An asteroid could crash from the heavens and obliterate the earth but their dust would stay in an embrace for the rest of eternity if they could.

She made her way out of the carriage, ignoring her maid’s protestations and making her way in front of Benedict. Whatever parts of her body that dried by her time in the carriage was immediately soaked by the rain once again.

She looked up at him, her eyes almost twinkling.

Venus on Earth would be the name of the next painting. Of that, Benedict was certain.

“I love you too,” Y/N whispered before grabbing his lapel and pulling him down to a kiss.

In front of all these witnesses no less!

Y/N’s lady’s maid gasped in surprise while the carriage driver and Anthony averted their eyes but Benedict didn’t care. He leaned into the kiss, relishing the taste of her. She tasted like rain, like misty mornings and the sweetness of youth. And their kiss was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He’s kissed plenty of girls before but nothing and no one would ever compare to Y/N.

And when they pulled away, Y/N’s grin could only be described as incandescent.

“Now you two truly must marry,” Anthony said but there was no displeasure in his voice, only keen triumph, “lest Y/N’s father wants his daughter’s reputation in tatters. I will write to him tomorrow. Tonight I will write to the Archbishop of Canterbury for a special license and you two can wed before the week is out.”

“Thank you, brother,” Benedict said, finally feeling able to breathe.

He looked at Y/N, saw the triumph in her eyes. Y/N was one of the smartest people Benedict knew and though she knew kissing him would bring scandal nipping her heels, it would also force her father’s hand. The Duke of Albany wouldn’t want to marry Y/N if her reputation had been compromised.

It was no matter. To Benedict she was perfection and he wouldn’t have her any other way, tattered reputation or no.

“You are a bloody idiot, Benedict Bridgerton,” Y/N said but there was no malice in her voice. Just pure sprightly joy. “It took you this long to realize you loved me?”

He grinned, the kind of grin a man has when he knew his place in the world and his was beside her. “In truth, I fell in love with your fire long ago. Cowardice just seized me every time I felt the urge to tell you my feelings. But I do well and truly love you.”

“I love you, too.”

VIII. In their moments alone

Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.

Y/N’s door opened quickly, a strained smile on her face as she ushered Benedict in. Propriety dictated that their actions could only be deemed scandalous but Benedict didn’t care. He was marrying her tomorrow anyway. There was nothing and no one that could stop them.

It had been two days since the carriage incident and Y/N’s father had arrived on horseback to Aubrey Hall as soon as he’d received the missive.

“I have promised you to the Duke of Albany!” Her father had roared as soon as he managed to push his way through the butler, storming towards the sitting room where the Bridgerton family was having tea. Violet had the younger children ushered away from the confrontation, leaving only Y/N, Benedict, Anthony, and Colin.

“Who is older than even you, Father.” Y/N had said, the picture of serenity and calm. She was sitting on the chair closest to the window, the sun’s glow settling against her skin. She looked sublime.

Ethereal Grace would be a befitting title for this painting.

“He is a Duke and 18th in line to inherit the British Crown! He is being sent to the colonies to govern. With his money, you will live a life even better than I could have ever provided for you as a baron!”

“I care not for his money, Father,” her voice had some heat to it now, “You sold me. Like some brood mare whose only purpose is to breed and pay off your debts!”

“I did not!” He sputtered. But shame coated him, his eyes nervously looking at the Bridgertons. While women in society were often betrothed without their consent, notions of selling were generally frowned upon. If word ever got out that Y/N’s father married her off for money, he would be ostracized by society. Even worse, if such word ever reached the King or Queen, he could be stripped of his peerage, becoming even more destitute than before.

“I will be wed tomorrow to Benedict,” Y/N’s voice was hard now, all conviction and fire, “You cannot stop us. Anthony has acquired the special license and the Archbishop of Canterbury himself has agreed to marry us as a favor to Violet. You have come in vain.”

At that, Y/N’s father’s face turned thunderous. He took a menacing step towards her, one that had Benedict standing at attention, turning him into a protective shield. Her father eyed him distastefully and Benedict returned his venom.

“You are making a terrible mistake. She has no dowry,” Her father hissed at him. “She has nothing.”

“She has me,” Benedict replied, his voice calm despite the rage simmering beneath his skin. If Y/N, despite all the pain and heartbreak wrought by this man, could continue to remain calm, then he shall do the same. “That is enough. She is enough.”

This time it was Anthony who spoke, his voice as hard as steel. “You will find, sir, that we care not for Y/N’s dowry, only of her happiness. Perhaps it is time you depart, before you do something you will regret. Colin, get the door.”

Y/N’s father’s fists turned white but just as Benedict thought he would swing, he turned and walked away.

But before he could cross the threshold, Y/N called out to him, “Our wedding will be at noon tomorrow, Father. If you and mother would like to bear witness, it would bring me great joy.”

But Y/N’s father simply continued walking.

It had broken Y/N’s heart, which is why Benedict came to her room that evening.

He pulled her close, letting her sob for the first time since seeing her father. He knew that tomorrow will be the happiest day of their lives but for now, for tonight, Y/N was allowed to grieve.

“I love you. I have never been prouder of you than when you stood up to your father,” Benedict said, tucking her head beneath his chin and pressing a chaste kiss on her head. “Everything will be alright, you’ll see.”

“Do you mind staying with me tonight?” Y/N asked with a sniffle, her voice hopeful.

Any other time, the word yes would have fallen from his lips like the water of a fountain. But if there was ever a time for Benedict to try and make her feel better, it was now. So rather than a simple yes, different words flew from his lips, teasing and accompanied with an affronted gasp b“Ms. Y/L/N, do you mean to compromise me? I am a gentleman! Unhand me, at once, you cur!”

Y/N gave him that look, the same look she always gave him when they were children and she knew Benedict was trying his best to cheer him up but, nevertheless, Y/N’s once somber expression lifted into her own mocking look of surprise as she wiped away her tears. “I will have you know, Mr. Bridgerton, that I am a lady! Your insinuations are greatly unfounded. Leave my room at once before you leave me with a sordid reputation.”

But Benedict did not leave. Instead, he took her hand and pulled her towards the bed, letting her body mould against his like he was a sculptor and she was wet clay.

“My mother and father kept one bedroom, did you know that?” Benedict said as Y/N settled against him. He let his fingers roam, letting it comb through her hair before journeying down her neck, down her arms before resting on her hand.

“Oh?”

It was unusual for members of the aristocracy to like their spouses let alone love them as most marriages were arranged based on factors such as dowries and wealth. Spouses tended to keep separate bedrooms, choosing to spend an evening with the other only if there was a need to but Benedict’s parents were a true love match. They stayed in one bedroom until the day his father died and even then, his mother refused to leave. Better a love lost than a love never found were words Violet often used as an explanation.

“Is that something you’d like for us?” Y/N asked, peering up at him through her lashes. “A single bedroom?”

“I intend to stay with you tonight and every night after we are married. It would be quite a challenge to do so in separate beds.”

“Alright then,” she said with a giggle, “a single bedroom it is.”

“What about you? Any requests for our future home?”

“A sunroom would be quite nice. With many shelves filled with books that I can read. The light would be heavenly and you could paint while I read. It would be beautiful to have tea there rather than have a sitting room.“

“Your wish is my command, Y/N, light of my life.”

“Oh and, several bedrooms. I think I’d like to return the favor and host the Bridgertons every summer. And several more rooms for our future children, whenever we are ready to have them.”

“Of course,” Benedict said with a nod and smile.

“And a garden. Large and beautiful. Full of flowers of all shapes and sizes.”

“We will fill it with all of your favorites.”

She paused and then she frowned. “What if my father was right and we are making a terrible mistake?”

He squeezed her tightly, letting his enveloping his fingers around Y/N’s hands. “Then we will make this mistake together and we shall have no regrets. I cannot see the future, my love, but I greatly remember our past. I know that whatever troubles may find us, we will face it together and so long as we are together, we can face anything.”

He watched her brow smoothened as another smile entered her sweet face.

“Now, what else would you like for our future home, Mrs. Bridgerton?”

And as they planned their future home, their future lives, Benedict couldn’t help but think just how lucky he was in that moment they were alone. Perhaps he was being too idealistic. He had lived a life of splendor most people could only wish for, with no real adversaries besides the problem he’d encountered with his love life. Perhaps saying that they could face anything together only proved to tempt destiny into hurdling them towards trouble. But he did mean every word he said. He could face anything, be anything so long as Y/N was by his side. Y/N, who would always help him look past the darkness and see the light. Because that was what she was. The light of his life. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

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greynatomy · 9 days

Text

reputation

ella toone x reader

first ella toone fic! was in the drafts for a while and got around to finally finishing it. honestly don’t know where i was going with this

———

You had a reputation.

Once you turned eighteen, you started to rebel, wanting to make your point across. At eighteen, you started getting tattoos and buzzed all your hair, looking completely different from the colorful person you used to be. You wanted to steer away from the child everyone sees you to be and be seen more of an adult. The thing is, your management thought that the only way to do that is to make you out to be a womanizer, getting girls left and right.

The smoking, though, that was on you. Becoming well known starting at the age of fifteen, you’ve been under the spotlight from a young age, being told how to dress, how to act, everything in your life was controlled. The smoking, getting tattoos, cutting your hair was a way for you to get some of the control back.

You are now twenty-five. Fired your old management, signed into a new label who let you be you. Its been two years and you’ve been writing and producing songs on low profile. Your fans still figure out which songs have been written/produced by you - even under pseudonyms. You were loving being out of the spotlight for once.

—

The sun shining through the curtains wakes you up from your sleep, eyes fluttering shut from the light. Your arm tightens its hold from the body it’s slung over, pulling them close.

“Mmm, five more minutes.”

You didn’t reply, just pulled her closer than she already is, drifting back to sleep. About an hour later, you wake up to footsteps running around. Sitting up, back resting against the headboard, you see your girlfriend running around, stuffing things into her training bag. You sat there quietly, admiring your her chaotic form rushing in and out the room.

“You’re staring.”

“Just admiring.” You mouth twitching up in amusement.

“Well, I need to leave now or I’ll be late.”

“Did you pack any going out clothes? Wanna take you out after training.”

“Yeah, but what about my car?”

“I’ll take a cab to the facility. Wait for you.”

“Alright, text me when you’re there.” She leans down, giving you a kiss. “I love you.”

You grab the back of her neck and pull her back when she moves away, pulling her back in for another kiss.

“I love you. Now, go before you’re late.”

“See you soon.”

To make time go by faster, you decided to busy yourself with some cleaning around the house. You quite liked being a little housewife for Ella, cooking, cleaning, waiting for her to get back home from training.

Few hours later, dressed casual, you’re in a cab on the way to St. George’s Park. paying the cab driver, you walk to the parking lot looking for Ella’s car.

Rockstar 🎸🖤

at the car. forgot the spare key. take your time

Looney Toones ❤️⚽️

give me a few minutes

You leaned against the car, answering some messages and emails from your phone. You were too focused to notice a couple of footsteps coming towards you.

“Uh, excuse you. Don’t lean on the car.”

You look up, taking the hood off your head, to see Ella’s best friend, Alessia, and one other.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Hold on.” Mary, the goalkeeper that Ella’s told you about, spoke up. “Why do you look so familiar?”

Before you could answer, you’re cut off by a very loud voice.

“We’re matching!”

Your face instantly lights up at the voice of your girlfriend.

“What a coincidence!”

“Ha. Ha.” Ella realizes you, once again, matched with her on purpose. “What is it with you wanting to match with me?” She smiles at you with adoration.

You shrug. “You ready to go?”

The clearing of a throat breaks the two of you out of your bubble, forgetting about the other two Lionesses.

“Uh, Tooney?”

“Yeah?”

“Who’s this?”

Ella’s face lights up. “Oh! This is me girlfriend, Y/N!”

“Nice to meet your two!” You hold your hand out, but it was just stared at. You let out a chuckle, awkwardly putting your hand back down. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah. Bye guys.”

Mary and Alessia watch as the car drives off with their friend inside.

“I remember now! She’s Y/N Y/LN. The one I’ve seen on the news always bringing a new one home.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I wouldn’t be surprised if Ella was just another one of her conquests.”

The next day at training, Mary and Alessia approach Ella during break.

“Hey, guys!” Ella greeted them cheerfully.

“Hey, Ella. Uh, just some questions.”

“What is it?”

“Your girlfriend. You know who she is right?”

Ella was now confused. “Uh, yeah. Of course I do.”

“Well, we’re just worried.”

“About?” Now Ella was getting a bit impatient.

“She’s a bit off a womanizer isn’t she?” Alessia blurts out, speaking up for the first time.

“Excuse me?”

“She’s always seen with a new girl hanging by her arm like every week.”

“I’m not having this conversation.”

“Look, Tooney. We’re just looking out for you.”

“Looking out for me? Nah, I’m done with this conversation.”

You were in the backyard when you heard the front door slam shut. Looking towards the door, you see your girlfriend stomping towards you and plopping down on your lap.

“What’s happened?”

“Ugh! Can you believe Mary and Less? They had the nerve! The nerve to accuse you of being with me only temporarily.”

“What else did they say?”

“They were talking ‘bout how you always have anew girl hanging off your arm and stuff, but those were from years ago before you fired everyone.”

You wrap your arms tighter around her, pulling her closer. “Well, I mean, look at it from their perspective. They’ve never met me, they don’t know me like you do. All they have is what they’ve seen online. And they’re your best mates, they’re looking out for you.”

After a few moments of silence, Ella now has a look of determination on her face. She grabs her phone and sends out a text.

“They’ll be here in a couple minutes.”

Your eyes almost pop out of their sockets.

“What do you mean in a couple minutes. I haven’t even cleaned the house yet.”

You run around the house picking up anything you could see to put away, wanting to make a good first- technically second- impression with Ella’s best friends.

“Babe.”

You go to grab the vacuum.

“Baby.”

You also grab a broom because what if the vacuum isn’t enough.

“Baby!” She grabs you by the shoulders to keep you in place. “Breathe.” You do as she says. “Okay. The house isn’t even messy and even if it was, they’d know it was from me.”

You nod your head. “True.”

Exactly as Ella stated, there was a knock on your front door a couple of minutes later. She greets them, letting them in and goes to stand next to you.

“This is Y/N. My girlfriend, as I stated yesterday.”

“Hi, nice to meet you both.” You give them a small wave.

Mary’s lips form a straight line while Alessia gives you a small smile in greeting.

“Let me get us something to drink.” Ella announces, leaving the three of you alone.

“What’s your game here?” Mary gets straight to the point.

“Sorry?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“C’mon! You’ve gotten with singers and supermodels, basically everyone. Is Ella another one of your conquests?”

“What? No!”

“I’m not stupid! I know your reputation, you go from one girl to another.”

“Well, then you don’t know me at all!” You were now getting frustrated. You hated when people judge you just because of what they see from the media. You can’t blame them though, that’s all people know you from.

“What’s going on here?” Ella walks back in, drinks in hand, confusion on her face.

“Nothing. Just getting to know—”

“—Actually.” Mary cuts Alessia off. “I just wanted to make sure she is good for you. Based on all the girls she’s been with, I don’t think she is.”

“Okay, that’s enough Mary!”

“I’m just being realistic!”

“No, you’re being an asshole judging my girlfriend from things you see on the internet. You should know not to believe everything you see online. The both of you.” Mary and Alessia looks down in shame. “Also, if you haven’t noticed, she’s been out of the media for two years so everything you’ve seen was from a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that she’s been with half the population before you!”

“It does when you find out that that isn’t true at all.”

“What?” Alessia’s voice was soft but heard.

“My name is-was a brand by the label. I was legally blinded to do what they told me to do and the acting out, smoking, tattoos, those are the only ways I could take some control back, but I never took advantage of anyone. All those girls I’ve been pictured with, I’ve only slept with one until she left me because management wanted to keep the ‘bad girl’ image.”

You move to the kitchen, grabbing a beer from a refrigerator. Popping it open, you take a swig, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Two years ago, I decided to ‘run away’ to Manchester. Fired my whole team and just disappeared.”

“That’s when I met ‘er.” Ella cuts in, wrapping an arm around your waist, leaning into you. “Started dating two months after the countless dates she took me on and it’s been almost two years. She makes me really happy.” The last sentence was directed right at her friends.

“Okay. I’m sorry for judging you so quick.”

“Same with me. I’m sorry.”

“No hard feelings at all.” You give them both a smile. “Now since you’re both here, why don’t you stay for dinner.

The three perk up at the mention of food.

#woso x reader #greynatomy #woso #woso imagines #woso imagine #ella toone #ella toone x reader #engwnt x reader #woso community

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atsumwah · 9 months

Text

"if you had to pick"

featuring : daichi, oikawa, kita

includes : fluff

notes : this has been in my drafts for way too long ahhh

☆ SAWAMURA DAICHI

practice was over and you guys still had some time left so why not play a game?

tanaka had roped everyone to sit in a circle and play truth or dare so here you were

it was your turn and obviously, not wanting to do some stupid dare by him, chose truth

"if you had to pick between all of us, who would be the best boyfriend?" tanaka asked

you didn't even hesitate on that. "daichi, for sure."

you had a little crush on him, sure, but then again maybe that was too fast

that earned a few hollers and mischievous looks coming from your friends, especially your trouble making juniors.

"oh and why's that?" noya asked with a wink.

you try your best to change the subject but everyone seemed interested in your answer

including daichi who was sporting a blush

"well he's already boyfriend material. a good brother, an even amazing captain, not to mention a real gentleman —" it was your turn to blush when you caught yourself rambling "—so yeah theoretically that's the most obvious answer. okay next"

thankfully it went to someone else and you sighed in relief when the spotlight was off you

after hanging out , you made your way home but you were stopped by daichi himself

"you know if you want, you could see if your theory was true," he said smoothly but you could see a hint of blush on his cheeks as he spoke

☆ OIKAWA TOORU

you knew something would happen when you hung out with the four of them

it was your monthly movie night with the boys so you're all at oikawa's house this time

you still made time for each other despite your schedule

iwaizumi claimed the single arm chair, makki and mattsun sat on the floor and you were seated next to oikawa on the couch

you didn't mind though, maybe some part of you was hoping you were seated next to your crush

you were watching a movie about these friends having a backup husband/wife and makki got really interested in the idea.

it's not a surprise when he stopped mid movie to ask you guys

well, technically, ask you

"say y/n if you had to pick one of us to be your backup, who would it be?"

you looked around them before answering. "oikawa"

said setter looked at you in surprise while makki had this mischievous look in his eyes.

"oh do tell us more."

"he's gonna go pro right?" was the first thing that came to your head aside from the obvious fact you had a crush on him. "might as well marry the rich."

"so you'd marry him for money?"

"and the good looks" you joked before continuing.

"KIDDING but he's actually sweet and I think he'd make a great backup husband"

cue awwing from makki and oikawa subtly hiding his blush

"okay but what makes you think he would want you as his backup" mattsun chipped in

and immediately all eyes were on the man of the hour

you knew it was a silly game but you'd hope he'd pick you

oikawa looked around and cleared his throat before answering.

"well obviously not y/n"

you rolled your eyes at that but deep down that kind of hurt

"why would I have you as my backup when I could have you now?"

say what

you whipped your head towards him and saw how he's blushing

"she's totally gonna reject you now, dude."

☆ KITA SHINSUKE

it is no secret that kita is the perfect gentleman

that is the only reason being inarizaki's manager is so bearable

and you know the humongous crush you had on him helped too

anyway

you were filling up some forms for the team and they were hanging out near you, literally just wasting time and suna decides to ask you questions

and suna just casually goes "y/n if you had to pick one of us to date who would it be?"

"kita."

he didn't stop there

"pick someone who'd you kiss?"

"pick someone you'd kill for?"

"pick someone who'd you cook and clean for"

"look, i'll save you some time. if kita is an option, i pick kita." you said, clearly distracted and not knowing said captain was just behind you blushing like hell

atsumu had other ideas cue evil laugh

"ah, so you have a crush on him huh?"

"isn't that obvious." you retorted.

"it wasn't obvious to me."

you froze. literally frozen on the spot as kita comes up from behind you.

earth please swallow me whole

"oh haha it was a dumb games anyways let's forget about it."

"ah, shame. because I'd do all those things only for you too."

cue sneaky teasing kita

also cue you short circuiting

safe to say this was just the beginning

reblogs are appreciated luvss <3

#haikyuu headcanons #daichi fluff #oikawa fluff #kita fluff #daichi x reader #oikawa x reader #kita x reader #daichi sawamura #oikawa tooru #kita shinsuke #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #daichi headcanons #oikawa headcanons #kita headcanons #hq headcanons #hq hcs

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dirtyvulture · 1 year

Text

MILF!Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!CEO!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Requested by anon: i just..i - i need a hc of beefy ceo!reader going back to her hometown after years of being away to visit her family (and Nat). And at dinner tiny mil!Nat just turn the big bad ceo!r into a stuttering and shy mess. Later that night Natasha is laying in bed and touching herself htinking about how R's muscle and body felt under her hands, and R spots her through the window and eventually make her way over and fucks Natasha. With a hint of powerbottom!nat and a shameful amount of dirty talk. All love to you mate.

AN: This has nothing to do with Valentine’s day, but it’s been in my drafts for a while so it’s time for it to see the light of day. Enjoy, my sinners. See you all soon. ❤️

You knock on the door twice, stepping back and bouncing the tray of cookies in your arms nervously. It had been years since you had seen your parents, and while you talked to them almost every week, you knew it was a big deal to see them in person.

Work had kept you away longer than you would have liked--but a promotion to CEO was not something you took lightly. However, once you settled into your role, you decided to take some time off and visit home.

The door suddenly opens, and your mom bursts out, jumping into your arms and you almost drop the cookies. After a few minutes of tearful hugging, your mom drags you into the house to greet your dad.

Your blissful family reunion is interrupted when you hear a familiar voice, and you look up and see Natasha Romanoff standing in the kitchen, wearing a skimpy black dress that normally you wouldn’t have allowed given that your mother was in the same room, but since it’s your first time seeing her in years too, you give her a pass.

Her curves are fuller, and she’s covered the wrinkles on her face with a heavy layer of makeup, but you think she looks even more beautiful than she was before.

“What...What are you doing here?” you ask, pushing away from your parents to approach her in the kitchen.

“Your mom invited me,” Natasha says with a shrug. “She said she didn’t feel comfortable with me being alone during the holidays.”

“Alone?” The last you had heard, she had married some wannabe actor from a popular comedy show and had a child with him.

“Yeah.” Natasha subtly shows off her left hand, which is now absent of a wedding ring.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” you say.

“Don’t be.” She waves you off. You don’t miss her glance over your body and bite her lip in appreciation. With your promotion, you had less time to focus on yourself, but you still always made an effort to eat healthy and workout when you could. While you felt the results could be better, you were happy and judging from the way Natasha nodded her head as she looked away from you, she was happy too.

You help Natasha finish prepping dinner in the kitchen. You don’t miss the way she rubs her front against your back, just trying to "squeeze by” with the honey baked ham, and then her arm is almost pressed against yours when you stand side-by-side to chop the vegetables for the appetizer platter.

At the dinner table, Natasha fills your plate with a little bit of everything. You think it’s sweet that she remembers the kind of appetite you have, and the food--all of it home-cooked--is absolutely delicious. Natasha is sitting next to you, and gradually her hand finds its place on your muscular thigh, squeezing it teasingly throughout the meal.

You almost choke on a slice of ham, and Natasha pats your back to help you clear your throat. You look at her, a little nervous at her boldness, but she winks and you and turns back to her plate.

After dessert, Natasha retires to the spare bedroom on the first floor. You offer her your old bedroom, but she politely declines and disappears into the bathroom to shower. Your parents head upstairs to unwind, and you’re stuck with a mountain of dishes to clean.

But the tedious work takes your mind off Natasha, at least for a little bit. The touches against you during dinner, the way she kept bringing up her loneliness from the divorce. You know she’s desperate for you, but you don’t know if it’s right to reciprocate. After all, you had just reconnected, and it seemed a little rash to go after her again after how things ended the last time.

You tie up the full trash bag and carry it outside to throw directly into the bin. The window to Natasha’s room is near the garbage bins, and it’s open just enough for you to hear her inside.

“Oh, fuck, Y/N. Yes, right there, baby. Harder. I need more of you.”

You drop the trash bag on the ground in shock, sneaking up closer to the window to peer inside.

Natasha is lying naked on the bed, her legs spread wide open with her fingers knuckle-deep into her core, pumping frantically. Her eyes are closed as she imagines replacing her fingers with your bigger ones, and how she would dig her nails into your flexing forearm while begging you to move faster. She remembers the way you would take her to bed, all passion and intensity, only needing minutes to have her squirming underneath you. And then when she would return the favor, she loved having your powerful thighs wrapped around her head or grinding on your abs until she came all over your stomach.

You’re not sure how long you stand there watching Natasha pleasure herself, but suddenly, your feet are taking you back into the house and you barge into her room. Natasha smiles at you and beckons you forward with a crook of her finger.

“Come fuck me, baby,” she says, and you’re tearing off your clothes as fast as you can leaping into bed with her. You don’t care that your parents are upstairs, and this reminds you of your high school days when you would try and sneak girls home to have sex with while your parents were down the hall. Needless to say, you were caught more than once, but this time, you’ll try to keep Natasha quiet.

You lay on top of Natasha, careful not to lower all of your weight onto her, and wrap your arms around her, kissing her and tasting her cherry lipstick. She smears it along your cheek and down your neck, lightly biting on your trapezius muscle. You shift to the side, moaning when you feel her lips wrap around one of your nipples, then biting your lip and trying to silence yourself. Natasha looks up at you, her fingers trailing down your abs, but you stop her before she can reach between your legs.

“You asked me to fuck you,” you whisper, panting as her lips pull away from your chest. “But you have to promise to be quiet.”

“How can I be quiet when you’re the one fucking me?” she says, and you feel your stomach clench at the praise.

“You’re gonna have to try or I won’t do it,” you reply, although you think it’ll take an impossible amount of willpower to resist Natasha Romanoff in bed.

“Fine, fine,” she relents. You lay next to her, slipping your hand down to her center and rubbing your finger through her wetness. You pinch her clit and she gasps, but you lean over and cover your mouth with hers.

“You promised,” you whisper, sliding your fingers into her with ease and she bucks into your hand. As you thrust into her, your thumb circles her clit, spreading her wetness everywhere between her thighs. Natasha pants into your mouth, her nails clawing at your shoulder and bicep, her hips rocking wildly.

“Fuck, fuck, no one can make me cum as fast as you,” she says.

“Not even your ex-husband?” you ask, thrusting so fast your forearm is on fire.

“He never made me cum,” she pouts, and you push your fingers into her hard enough for her to whimper.

“Then it looks like I have a lot to make up for,” you respond. Her walls start clenching around your fingers and her stomach tightens. “Go ahead, Nat. Go ahead and make a mess for me.”

She pulls down on the back of your neck to bring your shoulder close to her mouth to bite on so she doesn’t throw her head back and scream loud enough to alert your parents. Cum gushes down your hand, and you’re pretty sure you’re bleeding from where Natasha bit you. But she releases you as you pull out, kissing your skin softly and you wince.

“Don’t leave me, baby,” Natasha murmurs against your chest.

“I made that mistake once,” you say, scooping her up in your arms and cuddling her close. “I won’t do it again.”

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#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you

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onyourowndaisymae · 10 months

Text

unicorn bandages - alt. version

this has been sitting in my drafts awhile. someone requested some lucifer hurt/comfort (that i haven't got around to yet) and i wrote this, only to realize this didn't exactly hit the mark when i finished. but i figured it's cute, so i might as well post it

word count: 1145

content + warnings: playful/smartass lucifer, general fluff, minor physical injury, general mentions of embarrassment

you need to learn to be more careful.

that's what you think as you walk the rest of the way home to the house of lamentation, lost in your own thoughts. the gentle searing pain of your skinned knee was enough of a punishment-- did you brain have to keep replaying the memory of you tripping in the middle of town, too? being clumsy and wearing shorts were both incompatible with your plans today, yet here you are, looking foolish and feeling exposed from your mistake.

the blood had long since dried against your skin. you felt sticky and gross, yearning now for a shower and a place to hide from your lingering embarrassment. did anyone from RAD see you eat shit outside that shop. ugh, and they way nobody helped you up, how you awkwardly stumbled to your feet and-- ahhh!! please, no more!!

the familiar creak of the front doors announced your arrival to the house of lamentation. you shuffled inside awkwardly, head hung, staring at your feet to avoid another tumble. even the book you bought on your day out couldn't console you enough to block out the invisible judgement you felt.

"what is that?"

you lifted your head to find lucifer stopped in the archway to the living room, eyes narrowed at you.

"huh?"

"what is that?" he repeated. "what happened to your knee?"

"oh. i, uh, i fell on my way home and scraped my knee. i don't-- i'm fine. it's just a scrape."

you felt the urge to shy away from his stern gaze, to hide your little scrape from his prying eyes and pretend it never happened. he looks at the wound for a few moments longer before meeting your eyes.

"will you sit down on the stairs for a moment, mc?"

"it's not that big of a deal. it just need to be wiped off, nothing special."

"then surely you'd be okay with me cleaning it for you? since it's such a minor injury."

you couldn't think of much else to argue. he gave you that smug half-smirk he saved for minor victories such as this and disappeared from sight. you shuffled to the stairs and sat, slumped in defeat, as he presumably went to fetch some first aid supplies.

the avatar of pride returned as quickly as he left, this time with a small black box in his hands. a small gesture of his hands urged you to stretch the injured leg out to give him better access. gloved hands busied themselves digging through unidentified supplies.

"what happened?" he asks, quietly, as he pulls out what looks like a cotton pad and some sort of cleaning agent.

"i was... i went out to get this book satan recommended. y'know, because he always wants to talk about what he's reading." he nodded and you continued. "so i decided to grab it while i was out. apparently there's a hole in the sidewalk out front, because as i was walking out, my foot got caught and i-- ow!"

your cry of pain was almost indignant as lucifer interrupted your story by cleaning the wound. the sharp sting of something akin to but not quite isopropyl alcohol lit your knee on fire. had the scrape really been that bad?

"the bacteria in the devildom is a bit more aggressive than in the human realm," he explained, softer look on his face than a moment ago. "we wouldn't want our favorite human getting sick from an accident like this, would we?"

as if he was trying to apologize, lucifer brought your knee closer by the back of your leg and gently blew on the wound to alleviate some of the pain of the cleanser currently working its magic. it was nice. for a moment, he was lucifer, big brother, not the avatar of pride he embodied in public. his fingers fiddled with pulling and stretching your skin to ensure each inch was properly wiped clean. there was a certain level of sincerity to his movements that made you smile.

"did you do this a lot when your brothers were growing up?"

"you have no idea."

that makes you laugh. he smiles, just a little, before continuing.

"angels are supposed to be resilient. their skin is thicker than a human being's, so they shouldn't get hurt as easily. and yet training my younger brothers was-- well, it was quite the event."

"i'm gonna guess mammon was the biggest pain?"

"definitely mammon." a fond smile. he wiped a cotton pad across your busted knee before continuing. "every time i saw him, he was always covered in bruises and scrapes. i could never quite get him to admit that he'd got them wandering off in pursuit of his younger brothers."

"that sounds a lot like him."

lucifer picked up a small tin containing the bandages. these must have been picked out by asmodeus-- instead of the usual plain design lucifer always grabbed, these were bright and colorful with unicorn designs. the avatar of pride only offered a small sigh before pulling an adequately sized one out and applying for you. in a few moments, what was a terribly embarrassing memory had been sealed from the world behind two unicorns hopping in unison over a rainbow.

"aren't you going to kiss it better?"

your sarcastic question was followed by your mischievous little smirk. maybe you shouldn't have teased him while he was in such a good mood. his eyes narrowed a bit before, to your surprise, his smirk mirrored your own.

you open your mouth to play off your joke, but lucifer's already lifting your knee to his mouth. your whole body is sliding uncomfortably off the stair step-- karma sure is efficient-- as his lips hover above your knee. lucifer's lips brush the top of your bandage. he makes an obnoxious kissing sound to honor your request before unceremoniously dropping your leg, leaving you sprawled in an odd position on the steps.

"i was kidding," you whine.

"my apologies. i just wanted to make sure you healed correctly."

"yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

the avatar of pride is quick to repack the first aid kit and rise to his feet. you reach out for his hand to help you up. in a bout of playfulness, he instead high fives your open palm, small smirk dripping with sarcasm. of course you had to catch him in a good mood. you sigh dramatically. this time, his offer to help you stand was genuine. a quick tug of your hand and lucifer had quickly pulled your fragile human body off the steps.

"careful, mc. wouldn't want you to fall again."

"i think you'd enjoy it, actually. sadist."

"... you're probably right."

"huh?!"

your cry is indignant as he begins to exit. you chase after him without hesitation. that smirk on his face meant he was joking, right?

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #obey me lucifer #otome #obey me fluff #obey me x reader

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glutengoblin · 1 month

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Too Sweet (Part 1) - Sebastian Sallow X Reader

A/N: Hello everyone! My name is Ari! I used to write fanfiction back in the day, but took a break for a while. I've recently decided to restart my writing journey. This is the first of many pieces I have in my drafts - please let me know if you enjoy it, if you'd like to see more from me, and if you have any suggestions! I would really appreciate it.

This story is inspired by "Too Sweet" by Hozier, which I have been playing on repeat for days at this point.

Also, if you'd like to be friends, please reach out! I would love to get to know you!

Summary: Sebastian has a problem, and that problem is his best friend. She is simply too sweet for him, and can't get her out of his head. Will he do something about his feelings, or choose to continue to keep them a secret? (She/Her Pronouns, House Neutral)

Word Count: 2.6 K

______________________________________________________________

10 am was typically when Ominis could expect his dear friend and roommate to show his head on a Saturday morning. Though Sebastian always managed to get up for classes for time, the weekend struggle of being left to his own devices never seemed to evade him.

Ominis raised an eyebrow as he felt the brunette sit in his typical spot, with a bit rougher descent than usual. To the casual observer, Sebastian’s hair looked particularly unruly this morning - a sure fire sign he had an “interesting” night.

Without even bidding Ominis good morning, Sebastian poured himself a large cup of black coffee. He inhaled the scent as he brought the mug to his lips, hoping it may bring him back to life. The first sip was always the best to him - his now typical 3 am escapades had made him dependent on the bitter substance. And at this point, he honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. Sebastian reveled in the night time, enjoying the time away from prying eyes, time where he could truly focus on his work.

Even without sight, Ominis could tell Sebastian had a rough night- The tell tale smell of smoke covered him, a sure fire sign that he had been up late practicing confrigo in the undercroft, or perhaps a more dangerous location.

Despite the events that had occurred during the end of his fifth year, eventually Anne had chosen to forgive him. After many long conversations, Anne had also given Sebastian the okay to continue with his research, but only if he swore to Merlin that he would no longer go anywhere near dark magic. So far, he had managed to keep his nose clean- but his desire to help his sister his sister was strong as ever, so he opted to spend as much time as he could looking for a cure. It being his seventh year with N.E.W.T.S quickly approaching, Sebastian had been struggling to find time during the day to work on anything other than his studies. Despite the common misconception, Sebastian was actually one of the best students in his year. Having grown up with professors for parents, a jest for learning was instilled within him from early life.

So far, Sebastian had managed to stick to his plan: study during the day, research at night. The one downfall to Sebastian’s focus was Y/N. Ever perfect, sickeningly sweet Y/N, who seemed to be unaware of how absolutely mad she drove him.

Though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, Sebastian had been in love with her since she first knocked him on his ass during Defense Against the Dark Arts. Being one of the best duelist at Hogwarts, Sebastian was not used to being beat so easily- Especially by someone who had only know of the existence of magic for less than a year. Though they were good friends and spent exorbitant amounts of time together in the undercroft, Sebastian still could never get enough of her. Her presence was like a drug to him. He often found his eyes stuck to her during lessons, during meals, basically any time she was in the near vicinity of him. Right now, his eyes tracked her across the great hall, as she had an animated conversation with Garreth. He stared, trying to determine what topic had gotten her so excited, hoping that one day he may be able to bring it up “accidentally”. His focus was so great that he barely noticed Ominis’s hand waving in front of his face.

“Earth to Sebastian… Are you still in there?” The blonde looked at him, puzzled, until he followed Sebastian’s gaze. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a slightly disappointed sigh.

Sebastian startled a bit, and turned to look at his friend. “Yes, what exactly did you want to talk about Ominis?” Ominis muttered something to himself about Sebastian’s inability to listen to any one but himself, before responding.

“I had asked if you were still planning on going to the Three Broom Sticks tonight. Natty, Poppy, Imelda, and Amit are all insisting we go.” Sebastian looked down at the table, taking another sip of his coffee, trying to weigh his options.

“You might just have to go without me, I have a very interesting lead that I-”

“Y/N will be there.” Ominis cut him off with a slight smirk on his face, waiting for his friend’s reaction.

“On second thought… Perhaps you could count me in. I could also read more of my book from there.” Sebastian let out a sheepish smile as Ominis tisked, not surprised at Sebastian’s sudden change of heart at all.

Sebastian looked away, drawing another long sip from his coffee, before looking up. To his surprise, he found the object of his unadmitted obsession standing right before him.

Y/N had walked over, clearly excited about something, as she eagerly took a seat across from the boys at the Slytherin table. “Well if it isn’t my two favorite friends! How are you on this fine moment.” Sebastian let out a soft chuckle, studying her face with a gentle smile.

“Nothing much… What’s got you all excited today?” Y/N grinned, leaning in a bit more to whisper to the two.

“Well, I just found out its Imelda’s birthday today. And I was thinking it would be a wonderful idea to throw her a surprise party! We’re all going to the Three Broom Sticks anyway- might as well set up a few decorations while we’re at it.”

Ominis let out a slight huff, looking at Y/N with a puzzled look on his features. “Are you sure she won’t have your head for doing that- I mean, this is Imelda we’re talking about. I don’t really want to clean up whatever blood is spilled from the after math.” Y/N let out a chuckle, taking Ominis’s hand and squeezing gently.

“While I appreciate the concern, I’m sure it’ll be okay. I’m going to make it Quidditch themed!” She grinned in excitement, sending a small shiver down Sebastian’s spine. He longed to be the cause of that type of grin one day.

Ominis shook his head, giving her a small smile. “If you say so, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Sebastian choose to chime in at that point, “Let me know if you need any help. I’m not exactly sure what I could do, but I’d be happy to assist in any way possible.” Y/N looked thoughtful as she poured herself a cup of coffee from the same pitcher Sebastian had used earlier - the only difference being that she choose to dump an exorbitant amount of sugar and milk into her mug too. She preferred her morning beverage sickly sweet, quite the opposite of Sebastian. Still Sebastian found it endearing, he loved watching her try to make the perfect concoction… Gosh, he was a goner.

Ominis, a bit disturbed by the silence at the table, choose to elbow Sebastian in the side at that moment. “Anyway, it was great to see you Y/N. Sebastian and I must be going. I need to pick up some supplies from Pippins.” Ominis stood, waiting for Sebastian to join him.

Sebastian stood as well, flashing her one last smile. “Send an owl if you need me.” He followed Ominis out of the great hall, much to his dismay.

_____________________________________________________________

Spring had just begun to show its face as Sebastian and Ominis approached the path to Hogsmeade. The sun was out, which added a bit of warmth to an otherwise chilly day. The trees still hadn’t recovered their leaves from the fall prior, but the grass was beginning to show hints of green, a surefire sign that warmer days were soon to come. Lost in silent contemplation, Sebastian had his arms crossed behind his back as they meandered at a casual pace. Eventually, Ominis broke the silence with a question that Sebastian had been dreading asking himself.

“So, when are you planning on divulging your feelings to Y/N?” Ominis said expectingly. Truth be told, he had begun to grow a bit tired of his friend's endless pining. At first, it was heart warming to see 5th year Sebastian focused on someone other than Anne for once. But at this point, especially with graduation approaching, Ominis hoped his friend would build up the courage to do something about his feelings that seemed to be almost all consuming.

Sebastian sighed, running a hand through his hair as he often did when worried - it was his nervous tick. Sebastian considered his options, but he was long past being able to lie to Ominis about his feelings at this point. Everyone with eyes, except for Y/N of course, seemed to be aware of the brunette’s strong feelings for a certain ancient magic yielder. “Honestly Ominis… Probably nothing. Truth be told, I think she’s too good for me. You see how selfless she is- she constantly puts everyone before herself, running errands for them. How could she possibly like someone like me? I mean,” he let out a small chuckle, “I can barely keep up with my work. And I almost drove her down the path of dark magic once… Who says she even really trusts me at this point? She’s too sweet for me. She be better off with someone like Garreth.”

Ominis let out a small sigh as he continued to walk, a bit displeased by his friend’s ignorance of the situation. After all, it was pretty obvious that Y/N returned his affections if one took the time really observe the situation. After all, Y/N had told Ominis just last week that she had actually turned down Garreth when he asked her on a date. Ominis considered telling Sebastian this tad bit of information, but decided to keep it to himself instead. Sebastian needed to figure this out on his own.

By this time, they had reached the bridge and were joining the busier streets of Hogsmeade. “Whatever you say Sebastian, but I think you’re wrong about her. Perhaps you should try a make an advance at the party tonight.”

Sebastian let out a chuckle at that, shaking his head. “You’re impossible… but perhaps I’ll try, should the opportunity present itself. Its also funny, I think this is the first time you’ve actually admitted you have feelings for her.” Sebastian punched him gently in the arm at that, letting out a small huff.

They made their way to Pippins, only stopping to throw a spare coin in Ernie’s hat as he put on yet another one of his magical street displays. Truth be told, Sebastian had a decent feeling about tonight. Though he was still hesitant to potentially affect their friendship, his feelings for Y/N had reached a breaking point.

______________________________________________________________

After their Hogsmeade excursion, Sebastian and Ominis had made their way back to the castle to prepare for the recently declared surprise party. Typically Sebastian wore whatever he could pull out of his closet first. This time though, he took his time trying to decide between his limited collection of jumpers. Growing frustrated, he flopped back on his bed in the dorm he and Ominis shared, startling his roommate a bit.

In typical Ominis fashion, Ominis was already ready to go and looking rather dashing at that. Sebastian often found it ironic that his blind friend could clean up better than he could - not that it was hard to do, Sebastian tended to rely on his decent looks to make a good impression.

“Are you almost ready to go Sebastian? We need to leave in 5 minutes if we don’t want to be late for the festivities.” Sebastian let out a groan, staring up at the dark green canopy that covered his plush bed.

“Almost, I just can’t decide what jumper to wear. I’m thinking maybe the green one?”

“How very Slytherin of you. I think that’ll be fine, Sebastian. If you’re worried about Y/N, I think she’ll like whatever you wear.” Sebastian relented and pulled on his favorite green jumper, running a brush through his hair a couple of times (for the first time in longer than he’d like to admit), and even added some the woodsy cologne Anne had gifted him for Christmas as a special touch. Looking in the mirror, he felt his outfit was suitable enough for a party. His brown boots, khaki trousers, and dark green jumper all suited him nicely. For good measure, he grabbed a book, just in case he should find himself in a situation where he needed it. It was rare nowadays to find him without one, anyway.

Once he was fully ready, Ominis ushered him out the door, eager to depart the Slytherin common room before Imelda had the opportunity to try and hound them for information as to why everyone was suddenly acting strange.

Thankfully, they made it out of the castle interrogation-free, and started making their way towards Hogsmeade for the second time that day.

______________________________________________________________

Not that he had ever doubted her, but what Y/N had managed to pull off in just a day was truly amazing. As Sebastian and Ominis walked into the Three Broom Sticks, they were greeted with a full range of decorations - green streamers crowded the ceiling, confetti containing mini brooms and snitches was splashed across the tables, which were also covered in deep green table clothes. Music was playing in the background, a testament to Y/N’s ability to plan. She truly thought of everything.

As the pair made their way over to the bar, Y/N ran to meet them, engulfing them in a massive group hug.

“You made it! I was getting concerned that you wouldn’t show up. I wouldn’t be a party without the whole gang here!” She gave them a toothy grin that made Sebastian’s stomach turn. He had to admit, though he typically regarded himself as a strong person, she had a way of making him turn into absolute putty in her hands. If she flashed that smile at him, he would simply do anything she requested, without hesitation.

Ominis broke Sebastian’s pining thoughts with a small chuckle. “Well, I’m sorry if we were almost late. But I’ll have you know that its because our dear friend here couldn’t decide on a jumper. For twenty whole minutes.” At that, Sebastian laughed sheepishly, rubbing his neck with his hand as his eyes pointed towards the floor.

“What can I say, I dress to impress.”

After a few more pleasantries, Y/N had to return to host duties and disappeared from sight. This left Sebastian and Ominis to the bar, where Sebastian intended on staying. Typically, he would have a drink and hand and start making the rounds, perhaps sliding a few flirtatious remarks towards any fellow Hogwarts students that caught his fancy. In this instance, however, it felt almost traitorous. It had since he had developed feelings for her. Honestly, it had felt that way since the day he met her. The first day, when she handed him his ass in DADA and still had the audacity to be nice about it.

Giving Sirona a proper greeting, Sebastian soon enough had his beloved butterbeer in hand. The sickly sweet syrup of the drink always seemed to sooth him, reminding him that no matter how dark his thoughts may sometimes get, at least sweet things exist. One of those was Y/N. His thoughts simply couldn’t escape her at this point, replaying her like the melody from a song one has heard multiple times, but could never place. Somehow, he instantly knew her and didn’t - but he certainly longed to learn more.

Ominis let out a small huff, tapping Sebastian’s arm lightly. “Sebastian, you are still there, aren’t you? You’re rather quiet… Especially for you.” Sebastian sighed, and gripped Ominis’s arm, mulling over his next words.

“Yes I am… and I think it’s time that I finally do something about my feelings for Y/N.”

#sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fandom #sebastian swallow X you

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mariposa666haruka · 1 year

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"Awaken" (Harbingers X Fem!Reader) #00

This may mostly count as Dottore x reader...but I am thinking of making different routes for each character when the right time comes. I also wished to make the reader gender neutral but....to be honest I am afraid to do so. I do not want to make anyone uncomfortable with my unintentional mistakes and let's say I do not have a good experience with it. That is why I decided to go with a female reader (I identify myself as a female and it is much easier for me that way.)

Also this part is more of a prologue than a chapter so that is how I am marking it. It may even stay in my drafts for a while but we do not talk about that....heheh.

Warnings: Reader has long hair in this chapter cause she has been asleep for a long time and did not get a haircut in years. in this fic Pantalone has dark purple eyes.

Word count: 761

You open your eyes to a very bright light, facing the roof as you were lied down. Aside from the extreme brightness - that made your eyes shut tightly again - you could feel a quit cold liquid enter your body from your right arm....a serum?...You slowly sat up and rubbed your eyes with your free hand to ease the pain from looking at the bright light for too long.

Your body hurt....you were in pain, like you had not moved your limbs for a very long time; not to mention your brain was still hazy, furthermore you were not sure about what you were doing before getting inside this room that was very much like a medical lab filled with all sorts of big devices which most of them were connected to your feet and right arm.

Slowly looking down, you find yourself in a very delicate icy dress with long yet loose and see through sleeves.

Despite feeling pain in your arms, you carefully remove whatever is connected to your body. The cold liquid smelled strange, you could not put your hand on its name though.

Your legs felt weak as you stood up and held onto the wall. It hurt to just stand, you could not imagine how painful walking would be.

You soon dragged yourself out of the room and hissed at the sudden coldness. "Why is it... so cold?" Even talking hurt. Your throat itched and your vocal cores had a hard time making any sound. You decided not to talk until getting yourself a glass of water.

The temperature seemed to drop further as you walked closer to what looked like an exit door; it opened easily after pushing a random button and soon you were hit with even a colder air, as it was way chillier outside the room.

If one were to look from afar, They would see a female figure walking down the corridor, helplessly holding into the wall; which was exactly what the great Regrator was witnessing.

' A woman...coming out of The Doctor's lab.....? Is she perhaps a new test subject?" He thought, taking into account how unlikely it was to see a test subject of the infamous Doctor healthy enough to escape the laboratory. They were not even left alive most of them times. Pantalone was already used to hearing screams and cries of help outside of that cursed lab; but a woman - in a really decent and nice dress - making it out without in any blood on her? That sure was a rare sight to see and he possibly could not contain his curiosity; Therefore his legs led him towards you.

Your legs had given up carrying your weight any further, that is why all you managed to do was to sit down where you were, the wall behind you supporting your back.

"Well well, what do we have here? What are you doing here little darling?~ in such light clothes too; you'll catch a cold if not careful." Said the dark haired man, who seemed to be wearing glasses or shall I say that was what your weak eyes were seeing? You barely could see how his facial features looked like.

On the other hand, The Ninth Harbinger took a good look at your face and how your long hair covered your shoulders down to your belly; as if it had not been cut for centuries, despite that, your hair was completely clean and your body seemed to be freshly washed.....you felt like you had taken a bath the night before, as you felt a certain freshness lingering to your skin.

Back to the jet black haired man, he was talking to you but all you heard were uncoherent words, so you began mumbling words of your own.

"Zandik....where is..Zandik....cold...I must....find..him."

Pantalone's eyes widened at the name you just whispered. You knew of of The Doctor's true name?.....unexpected yet impressive.

"Zandik.."

"Oh little darling~ I'll take you to Zandik" He chuckled and wrapped his big warm coat around you. He then picked you up carefully and almost laughed at how you pressed your cold face to his warm chest.

It has been a very long time since the last time he was this much amused by someone....and you weren't even conscious yet. He wondered how entertaining you would be once you were fully awake.

The Regrator walked towards the harbingers' meeting room, where every single harbinger would have been gathered there by now.

Oh how impatient he was to witness their expressions once they saw the woman in his arms.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #dottore x reader #pantalone x reader #pierro x reader #capitano x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #signora x reader #alrecciono x reader #wanderer x reader #balladeer x reader

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moonlightazriel · 1 year

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The family we choose /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: It has always been Azriel and Aiden against the world, but what will happen when the new school years begin and his son talks about this amazing teacher every day?

Warnings: None, just fluff cuz why not?

Word Count: 3,1K

Notes: Fucking finally, this has been sitting on my drafts for a while and i love this idea.

Main Masterlist

“DADDY!” Aiden yelled, raising from his spot beside Feyre and rushing to get to him, he lowered to his level and waited for the little boy, he threw himself into his father’s arms, and Azriel wrapped his arms around him, giving him a tight squeeze.

“Hey, buddy! How was school?” His son rushed back to the table, Feyre, Nyx, and a lot of art supplies were waiting for him, he grabbed a piece of paper and ran back to him to show him the drawing.

“Miss Y/L asked us to draw our family.” Azriel looked closely at the figures, the 6-year-old had done a great job, he could see himself, Cassian, Nesta with a huge pregnant belly, Rhys, Feyre, Nyx, Mor, Emerie, Gwyn, Elain, and Lucien.

“That’s a beautiful drawing, you have a lot of talent.” He complimented.

“Aunt Feyre helped me make this drawing so I could give it to Miss Y/L, I really hope she likes it.” The flower bouquet was painted on a piece of parchment paper, Feyre had done the drawing but Aiden had painted it.

“She’s going to love it Den, but why don’t you and Nyx play in the garden while the adults talk?” Feyre suggested as she started to gather the supplies from the table, Aiden looked at Azriel and he nodded, the two boys happily smiled and started to rush outside. “He really loves this teacher.” She said and Azriel got to her side, helping her clean.

“Did he start with the never-ending rant about how amazing and beautiful she is?” She nodded. “You don’t think he’s projecting the feeling he had for his mother on her, do you?”

“Well, I can’t say for sure Az, Nyx likes her too, a lot, sometimes feels like he likes her more than me.” She giggled, rolling her eyes. “Maybe she’s just a really good teacher and there’s nothing to do with his mom.” Azriel nodded.

He had met Laurie in an Illyrian camp 10 years ago, and it was love at first sight, they lived like a happy couple until she met her mate, and decided that it was a good idea to leave Azriel with their 1-year-old son. 3 years ago, the news of her death reached him in Velaris, it was a tough blow that he wasn’t expecting but he slowly got over it, he had to, for his son. Ever since he does everything he can to make sure that his son is happy, and focused his life on him, even if his family tried to tell him that he should live his life too.

“She’s all he talks about ever since they started the school year, you have no idea how many times he asked if he could pick “Aunt Elain’s beautiful flowers” to give them to her.” Feyre looked at him and smiled.

“Let him be Az, it’s probably just a phase.” He nodded.

“Thanks for everything Fey, you’re amazing.” He said giving her a quick hug and kissing her temple.

“Get your hands off my High Lady.” Rhysand spoke with a smile on his face from the doorway. Azriel stepped back with his hands in the air.

“I’m already on my way, don’t need to get all overprotective.” Rhys playfully slapped his back while he walked outside to get Aiden.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Do you want to eat something?” Azriel asked his son as they walked around Velaris.

“My belly is full Daddy, Miss Y/L brought us the best cookies in the world, she made them.” The toddler happily spoke. “She said that she will teach us how to make them, she’s so nice, I really like her.”

“That’s awesome buddy, you just have to be careful around the fire.” He warned his son.

“Yes Daddy, cuz the fire hurts if we get too close.” He repeated the words Azriel had told him ever since Aiden started to crawl, his son was perfect, and he didn’t want him to be marked like he was, he didn’t need any scars on his perfect brown skin.

Aiden was a copy of him, with the same eyes, the same hair color, the same skin tone, and huge wings behind his back, and even if he could understand his father’s shadows just as perfectly as Azriel did, he had none, at least not yet.

The two kept walking until they reached the townhouse, Rhys knew how Azriel loved that house and decided to give it to him as a gift, it was good enough for him and Aiden and he was happy that his brother made him the owner, he took good care of that house.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Azriel brushed his wet hair, spraying some perfume on his neck and chest as he got ready for the school meeting, the teachers requested to talk about the student's progress and how the parents could help with their learning. Aiden was already ready, playing in the living room as he readied himself, a simple black shirt, pants, boots, and truth-teller strapped on his thigh, his siphons glowed as he looked at himself in the mirror once again.

His son was really excited for him to meet his teacher finally, and even Azriel was curious, Aiden had practically dragged him across the street towards the school, the little boy was rambling all the way, and when he saw his cousin, he left Azriel behind to go play with Nyx.

“Someone is super happy.” Rhys said as Az approached him, the two kids were running around now.

“You have no idea.” He replied looking around, the kids were running and most parents just waited for the reunion, Azriel tried to spot who he thought was Miss Y/L, in his mind, he was looking for an old, kind fae, with white hair and granny coats, weren’t all teachers like that after all?

Faes started to come to the parents to lead them to the classrooms, they followed a male as he guided the way, the classroom was decorated with flowers, and kids' drawings, books, and toys were all over the place, and in the corner, in the front part of the classroom a female stood, she was beautiful, her hair was in a braid behind her back, she was wearing a long dress, and she had the prettiest smile in the world, she looked at Azriel and he swore he could see the world shining brighter as she looked at him, she couldn’t be…..

“Miss Y/L!” Aiden yelled, running past them and jumping in the female's arms, she lifted him from the ground, laughing with him.

“Hi Den, did you bring your daddy as I asked?” She spoke, her voice was calm and airy, and hearing her talk made Azriel feel like he was walking on clouds.

“Yup!” The toddler proudly nodded and pointed at Azriel who still stood in the doorway. “Daddy, this is Miss Y/L.” He happily said as the female walked closer to him.

Of course, everyone in Velaris knew who the Spymaster was, but it was something entirely different seeing him in person for the first time, the tall male was absolutely breathtaking, he was wearing the simplest clothes on earth and yet he looked perfect, the cobalt gems adorning his body, to contain his powers, glowed as he looked her up and down.

Y/N felt her cheeks getting hot as she approached the male, his eyes still glued to hers, she could feel the sparks of electricity as she held his gaze, extending a hand in his direction.

“I’m Y/N.” She managed to say, her voice more steady than she expected, good!

“Azriel. I’ve heard a lot about you.” The male chuckled and Y/N felt her knees go weak at the sound.

“Oh, i could say the same about you, little Aiden here loves his father more than anything else.” The little boy held his father’s hand while he blushed. “What about you take your Daddy to your seat and we’ll talk more later?” She lowered to Den’s level and he nodded, pulling his father to the empty seat in front of her desk. She went to greet other parents that arrived in the classroom.

“I wasn’t expecting that AT ALL.” Rhysand spoke as Azriel approached him, Nyx and Aiden sat side by side in class, he smiled at that, loving how close the cousins were like they saw each other as brothers the same way their parents did.

“What?” Rhys gave him a knowing look and he rolled his eyes.

“That she would be this pretty, guess I was expecting an old lady.” Azriel scoffed.

“Don’t let Feyre hear you, or you might sleep on the couch tonight.” Rhysand laughed and the two males looked at her while she spoke about the class progress. One by one, the parents approached her to speak about their children, they were the last ones in the classroom when she came to speak with them.

“High Lord!” She bowed a little. “Thank you two for coming in today. The boys are absolutely wonderful, they’re the top ones in class, but I’m afraid that they have some trouble with maths, I’ve been giving them extra exercises but maybe you two could keep an eye on that, and see why they’re struggling with that.”

“Of course, do you teach privately?” Rhysand asked, saying that she could teach a thing or two to Azriel in his mind, Azriel slightly shoved the High Lord and Rhysand suppressed a laugh.

“I do! If you need me just contact the school and they will let me know.” She smiled at them, and Azriel felt his chest fill with warmth with that.

“Thanks, Y/N.” He said, and the two said their goodbyes leaving her behind.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Azriel rushed through the school corridors, opening the door to the nurse’s office, he almost fell to his knees as he spotted Y/N sitting in the corner, Aiden was in her lap, he was holding his little arm, and his cheeks were red from crying, his head was resting against her chest and she had her cheek pressed against his forehead, whispering a song to calm him down. The way his son grabbed her like she was the only person that could keep him safe, made Azriel’s heart bleed, the two turned their head to him.

“He fell while playing in the garden, the healer said that his arm just hurts cuz he fell on top of it, it’s not broken, and he’ll be okay. He’s just scared.” Azriel kneeled in front of them, and Den’s puffy red eyes locked with his, he grabbed his son, cradling him to his chest, kissing the top of his head. She still looked worried, like she was about to cry, the only people that worried that much about his son, were his family.

“Thank you so much for always taking care of him.” His voice was shaken, and the shadows around him still moved frantically, assessing Aiden for any injuries she could not be aware of.

“There’s nothing to thank me for, Aiden is a special boy, it’s my pleasure to take care of him.” She said gently, rubbing the toddler's back, Aiden was already sleeping in his father’s arms.

“No modesty please, let me pay you a coffee, I insist.” Azriel didn’t know why, but he wanted her to understand how much he appreciated her for all her care for his son. He could see that she was inclined to accept, so he talked again. “Meet me tomorrow morning at the Oak Alcove, by the Rainbow. At 9!” He said, thanking her once more, grabbing his son’s backpack, and leaving without waiting for an answer, he just hoped she would show up.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Y/N walked between the tables trying to spot the Shadowsinger, she was wearing a simple dress, and she rubbed her sweaty hands in the soft fabric for the third time, she gave another look around before she saw a hand raised in the air, Azriel was wearing leather clothes, the breath got caught in her throat as she looked at him, absolutely beautiful.

“You came.” He smiled at her, getting up to pull the chair for her, she sat, thanking him. She didn’t know if it was just a coincidence, but the Oak Alcove was her favorite coffee shop in Velaris, the soft breeze from the Sidra, the smell of flowers, the soft music, it was a magical place.

“I did.” She laughed. “ It’s not often that I get to go to my favorite coffee shop for free.” She joked.

“And here was i, thinking we would split the bill.” He rested a hand on his heart, pretending to be hurt and she liked that, everyone just saw him as a serious and stoic male, which was intimidating, but the way he smiled, a sight that she was sure wasn’t often people saw, made her heart melt.

Azriel was a pleasant male, the way he softly spoke, his wide knowledge of everything, his passion for literature, he was really much more than the eyes could see. The time flew as they got to know each other better, now she understood why Aiden loved him so much, the Shadowsinger was sweet, gentle, wonderful, her heart skipped a beat every 5 seconds, and she tried to stop blushing like a little girl every time he smiled in her direction.

“This was fun.” She said after he stated that he should leave, he had plans with his son.

“It was.” He got closer to her as they walked away. He walked her to her house, not far away from the coffee shop. “I was hoping we could do it again if it’s okay for you.” Her heart came to a stop in her chest.

“I would love to, Azriel. See you around.” The way she spoke his name, it was a sweet melody.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“She’s wonderful.” He said, stretching his wings, the glass of liquor dancing in between his fingers, Rhysand smiled and Cassian entered the office.

“What’s happening?” Rhys served him a glass as well.

“Azzie here is in love with Den’s teacher.” Cassian whispered a “NO WAY!” shuffling his onyx hair, making Azriel growl at him.

“I’m not in love with her.” He sipped on his drink. “Yet!” The trio laughed.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Azriel knew he was wrapped around her fingers when he kept going to the school every day, just to see her smile, just like his son, he would bring her flowers, he would take her out, after suffering because of Laurie, he was ready to open his heart again, especially for someone like her, she was perfect for him and he was ready to take their relationship to the next level.

“Where are you going daddy?” Aiden asked as Azriel fixed his tie in the mirror.

“I’m going out with Mrs.Y/L, you like her, right?” He pulled his son closer.

“Yes, she’s amazing.”

“Would you like it if she was Daddy’s girlfriend?” His little eyebrows furred and he looked confused.

“Will she be my mommy?” The words shattered his heart and he swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling his eyes burn, he knew Aiden probably missed his mother, he noticed how he would look to Feyre when Nyx called her mommy, Azriel knew he wanted, craved that too, and broke his heart not be able to give that to his son.

“Maybe in the future buddy, if she wants to.” His son nodded and Azriel fixed his hair, he dropped Den in the River House before meeting Y/N for dinner, the bouquet Elain prepared for him was almost slipping from his shaking fingers, Y/n was already there waiting for him, she smiled, getting up to greet him with a quick kiss, they shared their first kiss after their fifth date, and he couldn’t keep his hands to himself ever since, her lips were sweet and she fitted so perfectly against him, she was made for him.

“I want to ask you something.” Azriel had been building up the courage all night, Y/N dropped her spoon, her lips smudged with chocolate and he smiled at her, she was beautiful. “Will you be my girlfriend?” She almost jumped from her seat as she shook her head agreeing, he took her home that night, where they made love until sunrise.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Mrs. Mommy I need help.” Aiden’s voice sounded from somewhere behind her and she immediately turned around, seeing him shaking the glitter off his tiny fingers. Az had mentioned what happened between him and Den’s mom, and how he knew his son wanted a mother, she just didn’t expect that.

“Hi Den, what do you need?” He showed her his fingers glued together.

“My fingers are sticky.” She guided him to the sink.

“Let’s wash it then.” She said, then releasing the kids to their break. Azriel showed up like he did almost every day, he was holding a cup of coffee and some cookies for her.

“Hey love, what’s wrong?” He kissed her cheek and closed the door.

“Aiden called me mommy today. Mrs.Mommy to be precise.” She giggled a little.

“Shit.” Azriel didn’t want to pressure her to assume a motherly role to Den, but he also couldn’t exactly control these kinds of things. “I can talk to him if you want, tell him that you’re not his mom. He’ll understand.”

“I just don’t want him to be confused, I don’t know.” He hugged her. “I love him, just as much as I love you. Maybe tell him not to do it at school? Cuz the principal is already fuming that we’re dating.” He smiled.

“Maybe she’s jealous.” He joked and she laughed, she loved them really much. And her heart clenched hearing Den call her mommy. Maybe they could make this whole thing work.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“You can’t catch me.” Aiden smirked, as Cassian chased him and Nyx, they were at a picnic with the inner circle, and Y/N was more than welcomed among them, they really liked her, she was getting really close to Feyre, the two were watching as the general pretended to be slower than the children. Den rushed to her, jumping on her lap and hiding from Cassian, while Azriel watched from afar. She looked at him, and it was like the whole world had come to a stop, she was the only thing holding him on earth, he had always assumed he was just lucky to have found someone so similar to him, and now he understood that it wasn’t luck, she was perfect for him because she was made for him, his mate, his equal, the love of his life.

She blinked too overwhelmed as she explored the newly found bond between them, she had suspected for a while that he might be her mate, she had hoped and she had prayed to the Mother that she was right, and there it was, glowing like a thousand suns, the mating bond tying them to each other for the eternity, finally everything was complete for them.

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