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forbidden-sunlight · 4 months

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yandere! literary agent with fem!reader scenario

warnings: implication of obsessive thoughts or love.

There might be potential triggers in this story. If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your mobile device or computer and read something much more pleasant.

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Hey guys, welcome back to another yandere fic, introducing Yulian Prescott. I'd like to give a big shout-out to my dear friend @deathmetalunicorn1 for helping me write this and finding the perfect likeness for my character, especially when this idea came to me all of a sudden on a Sunday night when I should be sleeping instead of staying up an ungodly hour.

As always, bullying on here will not be tolerated. If it does happen, this scenario will be taken down. I'm not sure if this will be a series. At the moment, this is just a scenario.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's dive into the cutthroat world of publishing.

PART TWO

Yandere!Literary Agent is a man who prides himself on being very good at his job. He represented one of the best publishing houses in the country. Anything less than what he expected from his clients was unacceptable.

If the manuscript arrived in his inbox exactly two minutes past the promised deadline, he would not look at it. If his client is acting like a stupid moron at a function or royally fucking up their reputation by posting something inappropriate on their social media account, he is not cleaning up their mess. He is not their babysitter. They are full-grown adults. And if one of them is not able to produce another book that will actually sell past the number of copies slated to be printed, he will let them go. Call him cruel if you want. Yandere!Literary Agent is simply being pragmatic. He wasn’t cheap. He only wants the best of the best.

So imagine Yandere!Literary Agent’s surprise when a particularly difficult client sent him a completed manuscript. He planned on writing her an email that after much deliberation, it was time for her to find another agent to represent her. The client, Abigail Crowley, had written an adult dark academia trilogy and a feminist retelling of the myth of Theseus, told from the perspective of his lover Adriane. The manuscripts following the conclusion of her last book, however, were complete shit. Her royalties were nearly gone, having squandered them on a penthouse in a high-end neighborhood, the latest clothes, and a wine fridge. You heard him. A fucking wine fridge when she could have replaced that shoddy laptop of hers with something better so she could keep writing books and not have it crap out on her.

Half-amused and half-annoyed at this pathetic attempt to keep her contract with the publishing company from being null and void, Yandere!Literary Agent clicked on the attachment and read it. One page became four, then fifty. He had to force himself to stop when it was lunchtime and he was already at the mid-way point.

This story, it was…good. No, it was more than good. It was absolutely fantastic. And Yandere!Literary Agent did not compliment his clients’ works very often, which meant he believed at this very moment, this manuscript will most definitely become Abigail’s comeback to the literary industry. Book sales would go through the roof, A Netflix deal was also possible. But the first hurdle he had to overcome was pitching the manuscript, and making sure the query letter was at least consistent with the story that Abigail was trying to sell to him.

And he’ll make it happen. He is very good at his job, after all.

Once he had successfully pitched it with a bit of extra charm, he contacted Abigail. She was over the moon, promising to make any necessary edits to the manuscript and it will be sent to him on time. From there, time fast forwarded. ARC books were sent out, Abigail selected the cover designs for the regular and special editions, and a tentative book tour was scheduled. Seven cities, and one international trip, maybe another in the future. Sales for this book were projected to exceed expectations. Yandere!Literary Agent was very confident things would go smoothly from here. At least he had thought so.

A month before the book was to be published, his secretary knocked on his door and said he had a visitor. They insisted on seeing him. Yandere!Literary Agent raised his brow, rising from his desk and stepping out into the hall and saw you.

In the beginning, he will begrudgingly confess that his first impression of you was someone who is painfully average and out of place. A backpack slung over your shoulder, dressed in navy blue medical scrubs and looking absolutely haggard. Your eyes, though, shined with anxiety and determination. You inclined your head.

“I apologize for the sudden intrusion, I know you’re busy, but I have some concerns about the book that’s going to be released soon by Abigail Crowley.”

Yandere! Literary Agent’s gaze sharpened.. “And what, pray tell, are your complaints?” He crossed his arms. “Are you one of the people who had signed up to be ARC reader and didn’t get their copy?”

You raised an eyebrow. “...No?”

“Then why -”

“Because it is my novel that is being published. Without my consent.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Look, I know it is hard to believe, I get it.” You then swung your backpack around to your front, unzipping the larger compartment. You pulled out a large notebook, some papers, and a flash drive. You held them out to him. “But I think what I have here might convince you to allow me ten minutes, if not five, to hear me out. That’s all I’m asking. This isn’t about money, this isn’t about suing your company. I just want my story back. I’ve already tried talking to Abigail about it, and she isn’t picking up my calls. Please.” You said. “Three minutes.”

His schedule was clear until the two o’clock meeting with another client on the other side of town. That was about an hour and half from now, as he had just come back from lunch. He supposed he could give you three minutes. Rolling his eyes, Yandere!Literary Editor swiveled on his heel.

“Let’s see what you have. Melissa, please hold my calls until I’m done.” His diligent secretary nodded and went back to her desk. You followed him like a lost little duckling back to his office. Once the door was closed, you handed him everything.

Yandere!Literary Editor went over the materials carefully, flipping through the pages of the notebook. The outlines and character designs were here, all written in excruciating detail and in such tiny print. He asked you random questions, going off of his memory from the manuscript and these notes. You answered him without hesitation.

“Yes, that’s correct. What? No, absolutely not. I would never have those characters be romantically paired up! Their relationship is too toxic, and wouldn’t set a good example to the target audience. I’m sorry, what? No, that isn’t her name! It’s Cristabel, not Anastasia! She’s supposed to be assisting the Night Emperor with collecting intelligence via the gossip of salons under her alias, not swooning over his brother when he’s already happily married to his wife! Good God, no. That scene should not even be there! That’s filler content and makes the character growth of the protagonist seem like the pay-off wasn’t worth it, or that he didn’t learn anything at all since the beginning of the book!”

Yandere!Literary Agent grounded the molars of his back teeth, inhaling slow, deep breaths through his nostrils. Keeping his emotions in check is one of the reasons why he has survived in the publishing industry for this long, and he’s such a successful man.

But hearing you speak about the characters, perfectly recalling the manuscript’s themes and looking back at the notebook in his hand, seeing the colorful sticky notes with edits and improvised scenes written on them…he couldn’t deny it any further. You were the real author of the book he’s representing, and Abigail Crowley played him like a goddamned fiddle.

If this wasn’t enough damning evidence of his client’s plagiarism, you had shown him an original illustration of the world you had created. It was done by an artist you had commissioned on Etsy, with proof of purchase for their services and a timestamp. Three years ago. That was when Abigail’s last best-selling book hit the shelves, and when her creative well began to dry out.

You must have caught on to his irritation, because you told him that you weren’t here to intentionally stir up any trouble. A coworker had told you about Abigail’s newest book coming out, and the premise was exactly yours, at least what was advertised in the BookTok and Youtube trailers online. You’ve been searching high and low for your manuscript, and the only other person who has been in your apartment and knew about your creative endeavors has been Abigail. She wasn’t really your friend, per say. You took some of the same creative writing courses. You eventually found another career to pursue, and you kept writing as a hobby. She went on to become a professional author and never missed an opportunity to show off her success whenever she invited you out for drinks at an upscale bar or went to fancy dinners.

Why would Abigail steal the book you’ve been working on for three years when you work a full-time day job, you had no idea. She’s living the dream that she’s always wanted, defying her mother’s wishes to get a normal job because writing is everything to her, and she would never give up on it. But if you were to be hypothetical, it might be another attempt to somehow get one up on her self-proclaimed rival, Cindy Chen, who is an even bigger success than her.

You then rubbed your eyes. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.” You murmured, standing up from your seat. “Keep the notebook, the maps, whatever you want. If you could return them to me when you’re done, that’s all I ask. And an apology from Abigail, if you’re able to get one out of her. Like I said, this isn’t about money, royalties, or fame. I just want my story back.”

Yandere!Literary Agent immediately stood up, his eyes slightly widened in fear. “Wait, please, just a moment! I know you’re tired, you want to go home…but I need to set things right. If I had known that this manuscript, your story, had been stolen, I would have never spearheaded its publication.” And he wouldn’t have. Not only would it affect his reputation, but the company’s too. Stocks would plummet, and there would be a feeding frenzy on social media with #abigailcrowley, #plagiarism, #sailboatpublishinghouse.

When you looked at him, his heart lurched uncomfortably at seeing your lips fall into a crestfallen expression. You looked so tired, so done with everything, and oh god you looked like you were about to cry shit. Walking around his desk, Yandere!Literary Agent eased you to sit back down and quickly prepared an espresso, possessing a machine to make it in his office so he did not have to walk down five flights to the break room.

You thanked him for the drink and took a sip, wrinkling your nose slightly, no doubt surprised at the taste. You must not be a regular espresso drinker, or prefer how you made it. Either way, he was grateful that you did not bolt out of the office. Picking up his office phone, he dialed Melissa’s number.

“Call all of the heads, including the marketing and social media departments. This is an emergency meeting. Now!” Bless Melissa, she did not ask him questions and said she would get on it immediately, hanging up on him. The next person he called was Abigail fucking Crowley. He sweet-talked her into coming to the office, apologizing for interrupting her ‘creativity time’ and promised it won’t take long. She swore to be there in a half an hour, so long as traffic didn’t back up. Yandere!Literary Agent played the understanding card and hung up, his smile being replaced with a smirk. Hook, line, and sinker. He scoffed. He then turned to you.

“Everything will be resolved soon.” He promised.

“Sir -” You began.

“Yulian, please.”

“Mister Yulian, I understand that you want to make things right, but…can you really get Abigail to talk? She blocked my calls, and the book is hitting the shelves in a month, maybe less than that? How are you going to recover the money that has gone into getting it published, the fees for the printing companies, and the marketing? Correct me if I’m wrong, I’m not too familiar with how publishing works these days.”

You weren’t wrong, at least in the aspect that the company has put a significant amount of money into the publication of the stolen manuscript, your work, he added mentally. It was too late to stop the printing, and the final draft would need a significant amount of changes. Unless…

“Abigail is a plagiarist, and you are the rightful creator. The way I see it, we can salvage the financial loss by putting your name on the cover, and fixing the glaring omissions as well as other scenes you claim shouldn’t even be there.” He sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Of course, we would need to have a press conference and explain why we are changing authors, and what she has done. Considering the timetable and coordinating with the printing companies, it will be cutting it close.”

You stared at him silently for a long moment before placing the espresso cup back onto the tiny saucer with a soft clink, releasing a heavy sigh. “If I agree to do this, to help with the edits, probably fuck up my sleeping pattern and might potentially be fired from my job unless I can use some of my PTO, what will I get in return?”

He smiled. “Abigail will be the one to pay for publishing and marketing fees. I can extend the deadline for the revisions by a week. And you will be paid for your time, of course. There will be no need to come here to drop off revisions either. All correspondence will be through email. As an agent, I am qualified to be your representative during press conferences, so you will not have to be present. All I would ask of you is to turn in the final manuscript on time and not say anything on social media until our legal team is fully prepared.”

“No need to worry about Twitter or Facebook. Haven’t logged on to my account in years.” You raised the espresso cup to your lips. “Too much politics.” You tilted your head to the side, a puzzled frown stretching across your face. “Any chance I could get all of this in writing? I might need to get a lawyer if Abigail tries to take it to court and sue me for defamation.”

Yandere!Literary Agent nodded. He opened up a blank document and immediately typed up the contract, including everything that you have discussed and a few other variables. Once he finished, he printed it out, handing it to you. You read through the contents carefully before handing it back to him.

“It looks good - it’s all here and I’m agreeable to the terms.” You said.

Humming under his breath, Yandere! Literary Agent signed the bottom. You signed your name next to his, with today’s date and the time.

He ignored the tiny tingle that crawled up his spine when your fingertips brushed against his as you gave him back the pen. You agreed to stay until the matter with Abigail was over, and he would email you the manuscript so you could go through everything when you get home.

As it turned out, you did not have to wait much longer for the best-selling author to make her entrance at Board Room 3. Exchanging numbers with Yandere! Literary Agent you would wait in the adjacent room until he sent you a text to make your entrance. Melissa escorted you to said room when he received a message from Abigail that she would be here in ten minutes.

It’s time. That was the message he sent you. When you opened the door, revealing yourself to the staff and the flustered Abigail…she snapped.

She rambled how she needed a book, just one more successful book, and she would be set for life. She wouldn’t lose her penthouse, she would still be considered a worthy rival to Cindy Chen, and above all else, she could still write as she had always wanted to do since she was a teenager. You already had a normal job, you had a steady income, you weren’t even a writer. Being a hobbyist writer did not count. Yes, she took your manuscript, but it wasn’t a big deal! You could just write another book when you had time between shifts at the hospital, right?

The look you gave her…it was resignation. Hopelessness. Disappointment.

“Abbie…it wasn’t just a story I wrote. You should know that. Writing is so much more than that. I’ve tried to be nice, to talk to you but you wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry it’s come to this, I really am.” You said. That was the last thing you said before you were escorted outside of the door. Seeing your part in this is over, Yandere! Literary Agent took control of the room.

“Whether it is a hobby or professional writing, it doesn’t change the fact that you stole someone’s work and tried to pass it off as your own.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You are a thief, nothing more and nothing less.” Then the lawyers approached Abigail, presenting her with the fees she will need to pay. If there was an issue, going to court would not be an issue as he had all of the evidence needed to ruin the once best-selling writer Abigail Crowley.

Her reaction was….amusing.

After security had escorted the screaming woman off of the premises, Yandere!Literary Agent went to search for you, thinking you had gone back to his office to wait for him. You weren’t there. Melissa said you did stop by her desk, only to leave a message on a sticky note that you needed to go home but promised to get the revisions done as fast as you could, and thanks for the espresso it was really good.

Yandere!Literary Agent smiled softly at the hastily written chicken scratch, pocketing it in his trousers before going back inside his office. You weren’t like any of his other clients. And he would like to get to know a bit more. Who knows? Perhaps….he could persuade you to sign a contract with him, be your agent. You shouldn’t hide your talents from the world. There were people who would love to read your stories, and he had no doubt that the company would benefit from it too.

But there was no need to rush. There was a month until the book was to be released. That was more than enough time for him to work his magic. He is good at his job, after all.

Taglist

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@yanderefangirl

©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2024

#forbidden-sunlight #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere x you #fem!reader #yandere! literary agent #yandere fanfiction #yandere manhwa x reader #ns.fw #tw obsessive love #tw obsessive behavior

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anxiousnerdwritings · 3 months

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I am going FERAL over this imagine:

So basically Bruce brings reader home to be his new daughter/the boys' new sibling but Uh Oh! They now want you carnally and reader is just like "you said you wanted me as a daughter/sibling, wtf is this" and being their platonic darling is better than being shared between them romantically so reader tries to come off as innocent and child/sibling coded by being like "yeah I've never actually kissed or dated anyone before aren't I just so innocent" and the boys are like :)))

So then Dick says you can call him your boyfriend "just to feel it out" and Tim starts blatantly stealing your panties and Jason says he can give you your 1st kiss so you can "practice" with him and Bruce offers to teach you how to touch yourself and (and him) and when you try to walk it back cause the boys are being Freaks they're in their delulu era so eventually you end up tied to the bed with the boys and Bruce drawing straws over who gets to take what 1sts (like 1st date, kiss, virginity, ect).

And Damien is just in the background absolutely SEETHING cause the the boys and Bruce's Horny Time keeps interrupting his Mommy Time with the reader

And reader using Damien as kind of a shield cause what are they going to do, feel you up in front of a CHILD? Like just, "Stay Platonic :))"

Just that kind of pseudo incest makes me Feel Things (*/∀＼*)(///∇///)

I'd love your thoughts/a fic based on this! Ty ❤️

TW: Brief mentions of pseudo incest(y) scenarios/behavior, manipulative tactics, yandere tendencies

(Okay so I’ll answer this with my thoughts for right now.)

I know I primarily write incest(y) related topics for my Game of Thrones/ASOIAF stuff but I have been tempted to/curious about branching it out into some of the other fandoms I write for 👀. (I’ve had a few ideas rolling around in my noggin for a bit if anyone is interested.) So I would be willing to give this a try. I’m down to experiment with some new stuff, within reason of course.

I imagine the Reader being older (probably 19-23), maybe even having been a runaway of sorts or not having a very stable home life, so when they’re given the ‘offer’ to become part of the family they’re looking to fulfill a familial void they’ve never experienced or have forgotten how it’s felt like. I definitely see Bruce and the rest of the boys keeping a very close eye on the Reader before they decide to finally bring them into their family, basically full on stalking them from the moment they caught their attention (you know how the Batfam works). It wouldn’t be a surprise if even before the Reader was with them physically that the boys developed a more carnal desire for them. At first, their intentions were completely platonic, but with all the lengthy observing and information gathering of their supposed-to-be-new-family-member eventually something changed in how they all saw their darling.

I really see the change in their obsession starting with either Dick or Tim first. Especially regarding some accidental or purposeful peeping Tom foolery. I feel like Bruce would be the last to fall victim to the change in direction or at the very least he’s the last one to admit to it. If Damian is younger than I see his obsession staying strictly platonic, but if he were much older than I could see him involving himself to the same depths as his family.

At first, I see things happening subtly. Knowing that at the very least a few of them are already in an obsessive-romantic headspace in regards to their darling before they even physically become part of the family the guys would try to be as welcoming as possible without revealing their true intentions. They don’t want to scare you off right away, they want you to walk into it semi-willingly at least. But the interactions with the Reader would show something else. The lingering touches, the being much closer to you than really necessary, the heated grazes over your clothes here and there that leave you wondering if that actually happened or not. I also kind of like the other members not being fully aware of each other’s change in obsession, everyone giving each other the side eye until it sets in and then all out war of who gets the darling to themself unfolds only to eventually end up with them working together and agreeing to share. That’s when Bruce’s heel-turn is revealed.

Once things get truly amped up, the interactions with the Reader really begin to escalate. The boys would walk around shirtless more often, all of them trying to get their darling to look at them, to really look at them. Eventually, it’s not just them being shitless but either them in nothing but their underwear or nothing at all. They start out as accidents but eventually it’s pretty loud and clear that the guys want you to see them, all of them, to even touch them and feel them to your hearts content. But thats not all, of course it’s not. The touching of their darling only gets all the more intense, to the point that you know damn well that they’re touching you and they want to leave you wanting for more. So much more. The Reader’s innocence and lack of experience would only spur them on even more. They absolutely thrive off of it. They all want to be your first, your first everything. There will be a lot of secret ‘lessons’ being given behind closed doors and telling of “Don’t tell Batdaddy or he’ll get real mad.” “Don’t let Jay know, or he’ll want to punish you for not doing this with him.” “Let this be our secret, (Name). Something just for you and me.” “Can’t tell anyone about this or they’ll ruin it for the both of us.” And they only get even worse from there.

I can’t see Alfred being okay with this in any situation, whatsoever. I think he especially would feel like Bruce and the other boys completely took advantage of the Reader and he would try his best to aid them in trying to keep up with the platonic intention of this entire fiasco. He would be a total cockblock, even going as far as helping Damian in his cockblocking endeavors. Alfred’s intention would be to play both sides so he knows how to help the Reader when it comes to Bruce and the others but it wouldn’t take too long for them to figure out that Alfred is working against them. Like, Alfred was all for the familial-platonic obsession but when things started getting more romantic he was ready to shut that shit down ASAP. You can’t tell me he hasn’t, at least a few times, locked Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim out of the house to give the Reader some peace and give Damian his much deserved allotted time with them.

Speaking of Damian, he is a menace (as per usual) but even more so than normal. He really doesn’t take too well to the new direction of his father’s and brothers’ obsession for the Reader. He thinks it’s pretty messed up but he sincerely likes and cares about the Reader and he wants them to stay, he wants them to continue being a part of the family forever so he’ll let some things slide. Some. He even may be willing to look the other way when it eventually comes to Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim baby-trapping the Reader if it means this whole ‘family’ thing becomes set in stone with the arrival of a new ‘sibling’. But for the most part, at least early on, Damian would be a huge pain in the ass for the other family members. He feels like he needs to step in to save his darling from the others and their ulterior motives. He’s all his parental/older sibling figure needs, at least at that point. He may even try to runaway with them to keep them safe from the others. Hell, he may even get his mother involved if he was desperate enough, especially if he saw the Reader as a parental figure. Or maybe even another Justice League member to either adopt him and the Reader so that he could have that family experience he was promised with the Reader. Or he would be completely content just living the rest of his life just him and the Reader, platonically of course.

It would either take Bruce or Dick to have a talk with Damian to get him to come to some agreement to allow them to continue with what they’re doing in regards to the Reader. I think Dick would get away with manipulating Damian much better than Bruce could. I think Damian would have some opinions about his father especially throughout this whole situation. Especially since I see Damian being very observant of how Dick, Jason and Tim are behaving towards the Reader early on and picking up on the fuckery taking place, even going as far as telling Bruce about it under the belief his father would be on his side (not ever fathoming the idea of his father also doing similar things to the Reader without him ever knowing). As far as Damian knew his father was completely platonic towards the Reader, as a ‘father’ should be. Right? So understandably Damian feels not only betrayed but also disgusted when he finds out that his father was and still is taking part in, acting in a similarly depraved fashion as the others.

Eventually, I could see them coming together and being one big ‘happy’ family. But it sure as hell comes at a price. (Usually the Reader’s freedom and sense of self outside of the obsession they’ve been dragged into, to drown in alongside their yandere(s).)

#anxious answers #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere batboys #yandere dc concept #yandere batboys concept #yandere concept

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zhongrin · 19 days

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✼ tags ┈ sagau, gn!reader, creator!reader, not impostor au, more of a concept description than actual fic/hc, angst, hurt -> comfort(ish), slight mindfuckery, no specified pairing (general concept, so you can imagine your faves)

✼ a/n ┈ not sure if this exists yet but i'm feeling... not so good, and this idea hit me last night.

sagau plotline where you're thrown back into teyvat, and of course you absolutely loved it ー everyone loves you, your favorites seem to always wish to be near you, the world brightens when you smile and dulls as your mood sours... everything's just. perfect.

until one day it hits you.

you were the creator.

you made them this way.

of course teyvat and its law abides to your will. you made it this way.

of course the animals and all the nonhuman lifeforms favor you. you made them this way.

of course everyone loves you. you made them this way.

what would your favored one think when one day, they realize this, too?

(word vomit content ahead)

imagine the physiological mindfuck you could explore with this. one could even claim essentially akin to a curse, and for the super devoted ones like zhongli, i imagine it would hit so much harder. what do you mean his steadfast devotion was an illusion all along? what do you mean the fact that he can't get fully angry and not resorting to bury you ten thousand feet under is because he was cursed with this very predicament? why would you do this?

and then maybe you feel so bad that one day you just decide to use up all your power to erase this core trait from all lifeforms walking upon teyvat. due to the sheer scale of the action, i'd imagine it wouldn't be a stretch to result in your death. or at the very minimum a coma of sorts. (cliche i know but imagine the mental stress of it all for a moment. personally i'd go insane from the combination of guilt, impostor syndrome, doubting my self-worth 24/7, and paranoia. but if your mental fortitude can handle it then congrats ig)

a 'happy ending' alternative would be for your favorite to wake up the next day and realize what you've done... and yet instead of being glad that they were freed from the 'curse', all they felt was dread. they rush towards your side, fall onto their knees, and cradle your hand, their own ones shaking terribly.

they find themselves loving you, still.

for them, it was never a curse.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #sagau #sagau x reader #rin releases a plot bunny into the wild

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revasserium · 4 months

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hiii i'm a new follower and i love your writing so much

ik u said no requests in ur bio but i just finished reading ur sanji fic.. so even if ur still not taking requests i'd just like to throw in an idea that u may or may not feel like using in the future, up to you (i'm requesting this with opla sanji in mind but if u wanna use it for zoro that's cool too)

k so imagine reader being invited to a friend's wedding, & being excited to go until they find out their ex is coming too (with their partner of some amt of yrs). so now reader is pressured to bring someone w/ them & ends up asking their best friend sanji bc they don't want others thinking they're still hung up on the past.

wedding dress

opla!sanji; 6,544 words, pining with a happy ending, fluff and a tad of angst, flirting, lovesick!sanji, whipped!!!!sanji, no "y/n", zeff is a whole mood, confessions, sanji-appropriate nickname usage, modern!au?

summary: you invite sanji to be your plus 1 at a wedding

a/n: im so sorry this took so long. but. better late than? never? also, there is a tiny bit of rehashing for ep 6 of the live action for sanji and zeff's relationship so... spoilers?

It’s a chilly, overcast kind of day when the call comes in. And in retrospect, Sanji thinks he should’ve known better when he’d seen your name on the caller ID. He’d hesitated, because by god if it wasn’t his New Year's Resolution to get the hell over you this year, but it’s almost December again and he still can’t help the way his heart races at the sound of your voice.

“Hey sweetheart — long time no talk!” he answers after a brief moment of contemplating his entire life, dusting his flour-covered hands on his apron.

“Hey! Sorry for calling so… out of the blue…” your voice is still as sweet as ever, and the way his stomach twists at the tinkle of your nervous laughter makes him want to kick himself. Still, he forces himself to stay calm, clearing his throat as he checks the oven — it’s almost done pre-heating.

“Now you know what I said about actin’ a stranger — just because you moved halfway across the entire world doesn’t mean we ain’t best friends anymore, right?”

It’s what you’d said when he’d been standing at the airport, three seconds from dropping to his knees and begging you not to go. But he hadn’t, because he knew how hard you’d worked for this — for this opportunity abroad, to study art in the birthplace of the Renaissance itself, in the heart of Italy.

“And… you might be able to come visit me, right?” you’d said, rocking on the balls of your feet, your eyes full of what Sanji could only call false hope — which is always, always the worst and most painful kind.

Sanji had swallowed and nodded and said something or other about Europe and fine dining, but there’s a terrible, prickling heat eating up the back of his neck and a voice that’s screaming at him to pull you to him and kiss you. He doesn’t. And he regrets it to this day.

“Ah — right… I’m actually calling because… I’ll be in the area in about a week and…”

Your voice pulls him out of his reverie and he clears his throat, hitches a smile to his face that he knows you can’t see but he’s sure you can hear.

“Oh! That’s great, darling! You’ve gotta come for a drink, I’ll whip up all your favorites — we can make a night —”

“It’s actually for a wedding.”

There are a few moments in everyone’s lives when they learn the true meaning of a thing for the very first time — elation, pride, stomach-twisting guilt, and… fear. True fear, the kind of fear that shakes the muscle from your bones and sends them tingling, threatens to overwhelm you with numbness. Fear, that pushes adrenaline through you like a drug, forces the world into a terrifying, all-consuming focus.

Sanji feels the fear coursing through him, wild and contentious at your words.

A wedding.

Your wedding? Perhaps?

He can’t bear to think of it; he’s so terrified he can barely breathe.

Then comes the moment after, the wave of everything else that the fear had washed away — confusion, anger, guilt (always guilt, for some reason), because isn’t he supposed to be happy for you? For you, the person he loves most in this entire world, to find love, to know happiness. He should. He should.

“Oh.”

Sanji sags back against the hard, metal counter. Almost mindlessly, he reaches into his pockets with shaking hands, digging around for a smoke.

Your breath is soft in his ear, too far across the phone line and a thousand miles of ocean.

“I originally wasn’t even planning on going — she’s not a very close friend — we had like one class together but —”

And within the span of a minute, Sanji also learns relief. The kind that melts the world around you into sizzling butter and champagne bubbles. The kind that makes you want to lie down on the ground and scream.

“— it was so close to your restaurant so I said yes but I didn’t know he was gonna be there and —”

You’re still talking, rambling like you do. And it takes nearly everything inside Sanji to pull himself back to the conversation.

“Sorry, love, who did you say was gonna be there?”

“My ex — you know the one —”

Sanji grimaces, flicking on his lighter with still-shaking fingers.

“Mm, yeah I do. The tall, dark-haired bastard who —”

“Yeah well — he’s gonna be there too and I just —” he hears you swallow hard and take a long, steadying breath. An unnameable something is calcifying in the depths of his stomach as he waits for you to collect yourself.

Curiosity? Why had you called like this, so suddenly, about a wedding where your ex was going to be? Concern? Were you thinking of going back to him?

But slowly, as you stutter through your next few words, the unnameable thing obtains a name — dread.

“— I just don’t think I could do it myself, y’know? And — and you were the one who got me out of it wh-when I decided to break it off with him so…”

Sanji takes a long drag of his cigarette and casts his eyes up at the high, white-slabbed ceiling of the kitchen, scored with long strips of bright, fluorescent lighting that floods the entire room in a direct, unforgiving glow.

He closes his eyes and counts to three.

“Course I’ll come with you, darlin’. It —” he wets his lips, taps off a bit of ash from his cigarette, and sucks in through his nose, clearing his throat of the words still lodged there, “— it’d be my honor.”

Relief — he hears it in your voice, and by gods he can almost see it — the way your whole face would light up, washed as if by the setting sun, your eyes wide and dark, your cheeks flushing his favorite fucking shade of pink and —

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I really owe you for this one —”

Sanji makes a valiant effort at a nonchalant chuckle; it comes out sounding like a dog with a bit of bone stuck in its throat instead.

“Nonsense — what are best friends for, anyway?”

There’s a tiny pause where Sanji can feel the words best friend scraping along the insides of his mouth, barbed and harsh, leaving his tongue feeling raw and metallic.

“You really are the best friend anyone could ask for,” your voice is soft and honest and Sanji wants nothing more than to chuck his phone into the industrial blender.

You tell him that you’ll send him the details, that you can’t wait to see him soon, that you’ve got a world and a half of catching up to do, that you’ll buy him so, so many drinks, and that you’ll come bearing presents. He laughs at the right times, makes soft noises of consent and agreement, and when finally, finally you tell him goodbye, he clicks off the phone and takes another long drag of his smoke.

And then, he whips his hand back and throws the cigarette butt into the large sink, where it tinks against the metal and sizzles sadly in the murky dishwater.

“Real sucker for punishment, aren’tcha, lil’ eggplant?”

Sanji groans, turning around to find Zeff with his arms folded, the hip to his bad leg propped against a counter.

“Will you fuck kindly off — can’t you see I’m going through a thing here?”

Zeff snorts, clunking unevenly towards him.

“You been going through that thing for the last year and a half since you chickened outta askin’ her to stay so —”

“I didn’t chicken out — I — it was her dream to go to Florence and study —”

“And what was your dream then, ey?”

Sanji bangs his palm against the counter and sighs, “It’s not like I could leave you here with —”

“With what? A thriving restaurant business that I started? A guest list out the door and round the corner —”

“I — I helped!”

Zeff rolls his eyes, “Ah sure ya did, but I never asked you to, did I?”

Sanji huffs, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stop the torrent of horrible, sad, acrid things he could say and could never mean, so he swallows them back down. When he looks up next, Zeff is still standing there, but there’s a softness around his eyes.

He opens his mouth a few times, but eventually, all he says is, “The oven’s over heatin’.”

Sanji swears and jumps up to tug open the oven door. A wave of hot air whooshes out and nearly catches him in the face. Behind him, he can hear Zeff’s dark, gravelly chuckle, and the dull clunk of his wooden leg.

“You burn the kitchen down, you pay for it.”

And then he’s gone again, leaving the door swinging behind him, and Sanji very much alone with the too-hot oven and a counter full of things he can’t really remember the recipes for anymore.

Nearly a week later, Sanji finds himself standing at the airport, rocking on the balls of his feet, nearly in the exact same place as he’d been a year and a half prior. Except this time, you’re not walking away from him. You’re walking back towards him. He wonders if there’s a name for deja-vu in reverse and comes to the realization that that’s just called… a memory.

And memory seems to work in strange ways now, images superimposing themselves on top of one another — the flicker of a film lens, the bat of an eyelash, the shadow of a smile crimping the corner of your lips. All of this, he sees in the here and now, but he sees it in the air around you too, shimmering and mirage-like — all his memories and dreams of you layered over the shape of you. Your memory like a ghost of itself, trailing behind you as you walk towards him, a shy smile on your face, your cheeks flushed from travel and the cold and —

He doesn’t let himself hope. Not this time.

“Hey!” your voice is just as bell-like as he remembers it, pitched a little higher than it usually is, probably out of nervousness. But it still feels like a kick to the guts. Sanji forces himself to smile.

“Hi, love,” he says, leaning down as you reach him, but the motion aborts halfway because — is it still appropriate to hug you like he’d always done? To press his lips to your cheek or your hairline and revel in the bright citrus of your shampoo, to soak in the butter and cream of your skin like he used to?

There’s an awkward half-second pause before you’re standing up on tip-toe and Sanji’s heart nearly drops out of his ass as you lean in. But then — your lips skim by his cheek and your arms are around him, and stupid, stupid, stupid heart — thundering in his chest like horses or hooves or fists or thumping rabbit’s feet — leaping into his throat and pattering against the base of his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. But it’s not close enough. It’s never close enough.

He breathes and distantly, a part of him notes that you still use the same shampoo.

“Hi…” your voice is warm by his ear, a bit muffled, but he can’t help the way it makes him shiver, “It’s… so good to see you.”

He nods, not trusting his own voice to do the normal thing and, oh, you know — work.

“I’ve — I’ve missed you.”

He makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough as he nods again. He feels your arms slackening around him and a fierce, terrifying thing is flapping its wings in his stomach, screeching at him not to let you go. But he does — like he did before.

“I — I missed you too,” he says, though his voice sounds flat and scratchy and he clears his throat again.

A dozen different expressions flicker across the lovely planes of your face and finally, it settles on endeared exasperation.

“Please don’t tell me you still work through like three packs of smokes a day.”

Sanji laughs then, shaking his head as he reaches over for your luggage, “Nah — well, maybe not three but —”

You whack him softly on the arm.

“I actually tried to quit right after you left.”

“You did?”

Sanji shrugs as the pair of you start to make for the exit. He feels your gaze go slanted and shrewd.

“How long’d that last?”

He smirks, “Few hours.”

You whack him again and this time, he dodges out of the way just to bask in the bright spark of your laughter as you chase after him.

“Seriously though, you know how terrible they are for you!”

“Sure do,” he says, tugging one out of his pocket as soon as he clears the airport doors, pivoting left towards the parking garage. You have to jog to keep up with his longer strides, your breaths misting the air between you in silvery puffs.

He makes no move to light it as he helps toss your luggage into the trunk of his car, sliding into the driver’s seat. You huff as you wiggle into the passenger’s side.

“Then why —”

Sanji waits patiently for you to buckle your seatbelt before pulling out of the parking space, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting soft against the middle console. He slates you a glance.

“Cause,” he says, fixing his eyes back on the road, an easy smirk twisting his lips, “it’s a metaphor.”

You groan, sinking into the seat, “Just because you read John Green one time —”

“Oi, I’ll have you know I read his entire bibliography after you showed him to me.”

“Ugh, whatever you manic-pixie-dreamgirl-loving ass.”

“Yeah, whatever — you actual manic pixie dreamgirl.”

You smile and Sanji allows himself the brief and aching delusion that the past year and a half didn’t happen, that you never left, and that you’d never leave. That you’d always be here, warm and laughing and just within reach.

The rest of the car ride is spent in mundane conversation, in how was your flight and tell me about Florence and how’s Zeff doing these days and I wanna know about your latest dish. It’s light and easy, and Sanji lets it warm the air around him. By the time he pulls into the front of your hotel, all the unsaid words from the past year and a half have soaked through his socks and into his shoes. It sloshes out onto the pale pavement as he opens the car door.

He helps you roll your luggage up into the lobby and tells you he’ll be here at 3PM to pick you up tomorrow. The venue’s just three blocks away.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” you say, pursing your lips, waving as he backpedals towards the automatic doors.

“You’ve still gotta send me pictures of the dress you’re wearing — I gotta find a matching tie.”

You laugh, a bit embarrassed, “Right — and here I thought I might surprise you.”

Sanji freezes, eyes wide.

“O-oh! Er — well, you can just — just tell me what color or —” he waves vaguely, “send a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against —”

You nod, eyes glittering, eager once more, “Oh! That’s a good idea — I’ll do that.”

“Great,” Sanji says.

“Great!” you echo, perhaps a bit too chipper.

He gives you one last smile before turning and striding from the hotel, firing up the engine as calmly as he can, forcing himself not to turn and check if you’re still watching him through the brightly lit, sliding glass doors. He allows himself a glance through the rear-view mirror as he pulls away from the drive and his heart skips a beat when he realizes you’re still standing there, right in the middle of the lobby, fingers wrapped around the handle of your suitcase, your eyes fixed on the shadow of his retreating car.

He lights the smoke the second he turns the corner, your shadow no longer in his rear-view mirror.

That night, Sanji dreams in fits and leaps, flashing images and long, sticky streams of could-have-beens —

He dreams of your laughter in a white-tiled kitchen, of powdered sugar and eggshells cracked and leaking on an exposed wood counter, chopsticks clinking against a thick glass mixing bowl. He dreams of your voice echoing off the shower tiles as you sing off-key, the way you used to when you’d sneak into his college dorm for movie night and a midnight snack. He dreams of coffee mugs and errant rose petals and dandelion seeds blowing in the wind. He dreams of dancing with you in his arms in a darkened dorm room that morphs into a bigger room with a softer carpet, one that he’d never seen before but he knows implicitly (like bodies know) is his home — it has pictures on the walls, trinkets lining the far bookshelf, your favorite scarf draped over the back of the well-worn sofa.

In the dream, you pull your head back from where it's pillowed against his shoulder and smile up at him. He leans down to kiss you, his lips hovering half an inch from yours.

Sanji jerks awake to the sound of his alarm, fingers fumbling for his phone, groaning as he smashes the orange snooze button and flips over to bury his face back into his lumpy pillow.

“Ah… fuck.”

It’s not the first time he’s had that dream, and he knows it won’t be the last. But it’d been so real that night, real enough to make him wonder if it just might come true.

He rubs at his sleep-crusted eyes and peers blearily at all the notifications on his screen. There’s a text from you with a picture attached. He clicks it open to find a short message attached to the picture — I really did want to surprise you…

He blinks for three seconds at what looks like a blurry picture of studded black silk before he remembers —

“Send me a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against.”

He allows himself a laugh, swinging his feet out of bed even as he types back — you coulda just told me it was black…

He watches the three little dots appear and disappear a few times, chewing on his bottom lip, before the text appears — well there are different shades of black, right???

Sanji laughs, shaking his head.

sure there are.

A string of tongue-out emojis, followed by an equally long string of middle-finger emojis.

He spends the rest of the morning fussing over which specific black tie to wear before settling on one that he’s quite sure is the exact same shade of black as your dress (and yes, he does have quite the collection of black ties), before tugging his best suit out to press.

It shouldn’t feel so easy, slipping back into the rhythm of things, of texting and smiling and hearing your voice in his head when he reads your texts. It shouldn’t feel so easy to forget the months of radio silence and guilt, the oppressive, resonant weight of what might have been if either of you had done a single thing different that day at the airport — he wonders if he should’ve reached for your hand, he wonders if you’d ever looked back.

He hadn’t. He couldn’t let himself.

He is waiting for you in the lobby at 2:45, wearing a hole into the plush Persian carpet, collecting strained looks from the concierge who had assured him three times in the last four minutes that he’d already rung up to your room and that you’d said you were on your way.

“Wow, you’re early — sorry I took a while — I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hair and —“

Sanji lifts his head and thinks distantly that all those rom-com cliches of a guy looking up, time itself slackening, the room smearing sideways around him, the music going slow, the lighting soft — all of it is painfully, startlingly true after all.

Because there you are, walking towards him, still saying something, but he can’t make out the words anymore because time isn’t really a thing anymore, is it? He can’t focus on that and also the dark glimmer of your dress, the way the neckline skates just beneath your collarbones, barely skimming the skin there before it slips down along the slope of your shoulders in a way that makes his breath unspool inside his chest like loose threads.

And in the slanted, ethereal light of the winter afternoon, your dress looks like it’s cut from a swath of darkest midnight, moonless and scattered with stars.

You blush as Sanji attempts to pick his jaw up off the floor and hitch his lips into something resembling a smile.

“W-wow… you look…”

Your smile is shy as you press your palms against the dress, looking down, “Thanks… you don’t think it’s… too much?”

Sanji shakes his head, feeling dazed.

“No! I mean — it’s —“ his mouth is dry, drier than he ever remembers it being, and suddenly it’s very hard to swallow and Sanji isn’t even sure the muscles in his neck know how to perform the action, let alone force words out alongside it. He struggles for another few seconds, his jaw working furiously as his eyes skitter down and back up the shape of you.

“You look… perfect,” he says, finally, because the word has been ricocheting around his chest like a stray bullet and he had to let it out somehow.

“Thanks — you don’t look so bad yourself,” you say, your voice breathy in a way that makes Sanji’s stomach squeeze.

He offers you his arm, and you glide forward to take it.

He drives the three blocks to the wedding venue in a daze, his mind spinning slow and off-axis, tilted so by the gentle waft of your perfume, the lullaby of your voice as you chatter nervously about this and that and the weather, I mean, can you believe it’s gonna be an outdoor wedding in the winter? He wonders briefly why you’re so nervous, and then he’s reminded of the reason he’s even here at all — your ex will be here. Ah. Right.

“Ready?” he asks, offering you his arm again as the both of you follow the meandering stream of arriving guests toward the paved outdoor garden area where the ceremony is due to take place.

“No, but… you’re here so…” you let out a breath and for a second, Sanji almost thinks he hears the hint of an ache in your voice. An ache like an old scab picked at too many times, like unrequited love, perhaps. It’s an ache with which Sanji is so intimately familiar that he immediately tamps it down and vows not to think about it again for the rest of the night.

There are stiff-backed waiters wandering around with plates of hors d’oeuvres and thin flutes of bubbling pink champagne.

Sanji grabs two glasses and hands you one.

“Cheers, then.”

“Bottoms up,” you say, tossing back the entire flute in one.

Sanji cocks his eyebrows, grinning as he follows suit, smacking his lips.

“Alright then, I guess if that’s how you’re playin’ —”

Your laughter is light, if a little strained, but he remembers how quickly bubbly drinks tend to go to your head and makes a concerted effort to slow down. You make it all the way through the actual ceremony without bumping into your ex, though you do lean over and grab Sanji’s hand as the bride and groom exchange vows — something about love being a choice, one that they promise to make every morning of every day for the rest of their lives — and he looks over to find you misty-eyed, bottom lip caught beneath your teeth.

“Sap,” he whispers, leaning over. It earns him a choked laugh and a half-hearted elbow in the ribs, but it’s worth it to see the tension melt from your shoulders.

Sanji turns back towards the bride and groom, exchanging rings now, and unbidden comes the images of you and him standing where they are — you in a dazzling white gown, him still in a dark suit, but one perhaps of more expensive material and much better tailoring. He thinks about all the things he might promise you, wonders at what you might promise him in return —

“I promise to love and cherish you —” you might say.

“I promise to make all your favorite foods,” he might say.

“I promise not to touch your emotional support le creuset pans.”

“I promise not to make you taste all my experimental dishes —”

“Okay, but what if I want to —”

He imagines the way the crowd would titter, how the officiator would affectionately clear his throat. He imagines Zeff’s warm, well-worn laughter, rough and a little torn at the edges because he’s just as sentimental as the next guy behind all the beard and gruffness. He imagines the crowd smiling up at the pair of you, the way you’d squeeze his hands to get the both of you back on track —

He jerks out of his reverie as you tug your hand away from his to clap, and it takes him a beat to realize that everyone else is clapping and cheering too. He blinks — the bride and groom are kissing, pulling apart as the music swells around them and they link hands to walk back down the aisle.

Sanji clears his throat and hurriedly gets up to clap as well, his eyes trailing the radiant smiles on both the newlyweds’ faces. Another sharp ache sings through him but he feels your hand in his again and he can’t tell if he wants to grip you tighter or pull away. They’d both hurt just as much, wouldn’t they?

“C’mon, let’s get inside — I wanna judge the catering with you,” you whisper, your breath tickling his cheek, and he knows without having to look that you’re standing on your tiptoes, your chin almost propped on his shoulder.

He fights down a bout of shivers and smiles, “My favorite part of any formal event, honestly.”

You laugh, “I know — me too.”

So you spend the entire dinner service whispering to each other about the food —

“God, this steak is so well done I think it just might dislocate my jaw —”

“What’s in this sauce?”

Sanji chews thoughtfully before making a face, “Dunno, but it’s got oregano.”

“Oh the cake looks good though.”

“Yeah, but we both know how much sugar and butter goes into that right?”

You nudge him with an elbow, “Weird, cause I’m pretty sure happiness is also made of sugar and butter.”

“Well for me, it’s always been…” but Sanji trails off, biting his tongue. No. He can’t say that — not now. Not here.

Because for him, happiness has always just been you.

So instead, he swallows passed his own mouthful of regrets and attempts a lopsided grin. And thankfully, your attention is drawn elsewhere by a loud peal of laughter before he has to make a shitty joke about happiness being a well-lit kitchen and a gas-lit stove.

You’re both at least a bottle of champagne deep when it finally happens, inevitable as a summer storm — your ex saunters up to you on the dance floor, sporting a grease-slick grin, eyeing you up and down like a piece of well-cut meat. Sanji is at the bar, grabbing more drinks and you’re catching a breath of fresh air just outside the dance hall.

“Well, well, well — look who it is.”

Sanji turns sharply at the sound of the voice, his eyes narrowing — Asshat. Fantastic. The bartender is putting the finishing touches on two custom cocktails but blinks, confused, as Sanji swipes both drinks out from the bar and casts him a hurried grin.

“Thanks mate, these look great,” Sanji raises the cocktail glasses at the bewildered bartender before hurrying off, slowing ever so slightly as he reaches you, straightening his spine and smoothing out his shoulders.

“Here, got them special-made for you,” he says, pressing the cocktail into your hand, cutting into something that Asshat is saying.

“Oh! Thanks — oh wow, this looks so good!” you beam up at him, taking a sip.

“Oh wow, didn’t know you were still hangin’ out with this guy,” Asshat says, hooking his thumbs into his belt-hoops and jutting out his chin.

You frown, pressing your lips, “Excuse me?”

Asshat scoffs, posturing, “I mean, when we broke up, it was cause o’him right? So I just thought you might’ve realized what a mistake that was and —”

Sanji barely has the time to feel offended before Asshat is gasping and stumbling back. You’d tossed the remainder of your drink straight into his face.

“What the —” Asshat sputters, his fists clenching, but quick as anything, Sanji swipes out a leg that catches him right in the shins and makes him stumble. In one fluid movement, Sanji pushes his own drink into your hand before reaching out the other arm to steady the now flailing Asshat, catching him around the shoulders.

“Whoa there! Seems like you’ve had a bit too much to drink, my friend!” he says, loud enough for the people around you to hear. He thumps Asshat on the back in a would-be kind gesture before tugging him close, still coughing, and hissing in his ear —

“Listen here, you asswipe — you’re gonna turn around and walk away and stay the fuck away from us for the rest of this wedding, you understand? I’ve got plenty more o’this for ya if you don’t, got it?”

Sanji scuffs his foot along the gravel-covered ground in a motion that could easily be mistaken as fidgeting, but you know better. And so, it seems, does Asshat, who scoffs and shoves Sanji off him with a glare, but after another second, straightens his drink-soaked jacket, turns, and stalks away.

You let out a long breath, swallowing hard.

“Hey darlin’… you alright?” Sanji turns and bends down to level his eyes with yours.

“Y-yeah — thanks — you didn’t need to —”

“Nah. Course I did — it’s why you invited me, right?” he allows himself a lopsided grin that borders on self-deprecating and you look up, eyes wide.

“No! I — that’s not —”

“It’s okay, love — I promise I’m not offended —” Sanji’s babbling, he knows he is — but he has to, because the alternative of letting you speak, of letting you confirm what he already knows to be true (that you’ve only ever seen him as a best friend, that you love him in all the ways except for the one way he wants you to, in the one way he loves you) is too much. He tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs up his shoulders, pulling them up towards his ears like armor.

And then you lean in and kiss him, and every single word he’s ever thought of saying just to fill the silence turns to mist and mornings on his tongue. His mind turns blissfully blank and when he regains consciousness (or has he? Because isn’t this the dream he’s dreamt every waking moment of his life for the past… however many years?), he thanks every god he can name that he feels his fingers in your hair, his other hand cupping the soft curve of your jaw. He tastes your uncertainty against his lips and presses in, hoping, praying that if he just kissed you hard enough you might understand.

When you pull away, he can’t help the satisfied purr that curls up his chest at the pinkness in your cheeks and the slightly glazed-over look in your eyes.

“O-oh — sorry I —”

Sanji shakes his head, leaning in to push his forehead against yours.

“Nah, nah, nah — if you tell me that was a mistake now I might just turn around and never speak to you ever again — because don’t you dare —”

You let out a helpless laugh, shaking your head as you reach up to cover his hands with yours. It’s only then that he realizes they’d been shaking. He swallows and he thinks he can taste every single morning after for the rest of his goddamn life in the whisper of your breath.

“It — it’s not, I wasn’t —” you close your eyes and Sanji holds you still, foreheads still pressed. Distantly, Sanji is aware that people are cheering, that more drinks are being poured, that the dance floor is probably a mess. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think he’ll care about anything else ever again — why would he? Now that he’s got you.

“Shh… take your time, love… we’ve got all the time in the world.”

He feels the relief take you, and then you’re falling into him, burying your face in the lapel of his suit jacket, probably smearing it with your foundation. Vaguely, Sanji considers framing it when he gets home.

“I’m… I’m sorry it took so long — I’m sorry I didn’t — that I wasn’t…” you curl your fist into the material of his shirt and thump him lightly on the chest, even as he laughs and wraps his arms around you.

“I know, darlin’… I know.” Sanji presses his lips into your hair and can’t help a smile.

Finally. Finally.

Your hair smells like citrus shampoo.

Finally.

“I thought about you every single day,” you admit, your voice small when you finally pull back to look at him again. He thinks there might be tears in your eyes, or maybe it’s just the starlight caught in the thick night sky of your lashes.

“Did you now?” he asks, fumbling for some semblance of normalcy amidst this night of revelations.

You nod, fervently, and god he wants to kiss you again. Briefly, he wonders if he should, if he’s allowed to now. Instead, he smiles and cocks his head.

“So? What changed?” and he can’t help the tiny note of hurt out of his voice, the slightest shiver of disbelief. After all, cynicism is a hard habit to break.

Especially after so many years of practice.

You shrug, sighing, “Nothing — everything. I mean — I’d always… but then I thought — you had your career as a chef and I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life. But it —” you lick your lips, and Sanji nearly breaks when you tear your eyes away from his. He wants to force you back, to soak in the dark and bright of your gaze till he can see the world exactly as you see it.

“It’s always been you…” you say.

At this, Sanji does break. He tips your face towards him with a thumb and a forefinger and leans in, waiting for you to pull back, bracing for it. But you don’t — instead, you press in and close the space between you again, and again, and then again.

He wants to tell you — he needs to tell you that it’s always been you too, that there’s never been anyone else. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he’s known, even though both of you were children back then, and neither of you had any idea what “love” actually meant. He knew then, too.

“Love…” his voice trails off, but you smile, and he knows you know, knows that you can hear it in the rawness behind his voice, in the softness of his breath, in the way it shakes.

You make to kiss him again. But your lips hover half an inch from his and you stop. Sanji sighs.

“What — why’d you stop?”

Your smile is sweet and sharp, honey glinting on a razor’s edge, and he knows that he has you. And maybe that he’s always had you and was just too blind, too terrified, to see it.

“Haven’t you heard? It’s a metaphor.”

Sanji groans, “Fuck your metaphors.”

You bat your lashes, pulling an expression of mock affront onto your face.

“Well at least wine me and dine me first —”

Sanji licks his lips, “What’dyou think I’ve been trying to do for the last ten years?”

Your breath catches.

“Oh.”

Sanji smirks and kisses you again, slowly this time, languid and deep. Unhurried. He luxuriates in the way you go soft in his arms, in the way he can feel the gentle hitch of your breath as he runs his tongue along the edges of your teeth, coaxing you towards him, closer and closer and closer.

The hardest, angriest part of him wants to swallow you whole, bite down just to hear you hiss, to taste your blood on his tongue. To make you feel even a sliver of the pain he’d felt. He tamps it back down — there’s time for that later.

Instead, he forces himself to pull back and allows himself the satisfaction of watching you chase him, pursing your own lips with a bashful look away, your cheeks dark.

“So,” Sanji takes half a step back, puffing out his chest in the best imitation of a fuckboy at a wedding party, “wanna get outta here?”

You let out a helpless laugh, falling into his side. He lets the sound ring through him like so many silver bells.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

He chuckles, looping an arm around your middle and leaning towards your ear.

“Your place, or mine?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure I still have a toothbrush at your place.”

Sanji hums, “You still have a whole drawer at my place.”

You smile up at him, open and happy and sincere, “Then… I guess that’s your answer then.”

#opla #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece live action #opla sanji #one piece netflix #one piece fluff #sanji opla #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x you #opla x reader #opla x you #opla fluff #x reader #floofy floof floof #scheduled post

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luvhu9hes · 2 months

Text

Part of Me QH43

You had been in love with your best Friends brother for as long as you could remember. So much so he was a part of you.

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Minors DNI, oral (f receiving), not proofread, I think that's all of it please lmk if there's anything else.

This is only my second fic i've actually posted, if you like it please let me know. Also this is kind of rushed at the end, but I'd be stressing about this for over a week so hopefully i've done it some justice. Anyways I love all of you who take the time to read my work! Go Canucks and all that jazz.

Summer was quickly approaching in Ann Arbor Michigan, and you were all but prepared for your trip to the lake house this summer. Every summer for as long as you could remember was spent at your best friend Luke’s family lake house. Your mom and Ellen Hughes (his mother) had met their sophomore year in college from playing on the women’s hockey team together. Their friendship had continued over the years and became even stronger when they became pregnant around the same time having you and Luke only a week apart from each other (him being the older of you two).

You and Luke were destined to be best friends, practically inseparable. Always going to the same schools, hanging out daily, becoming part of each other's families. Growing up with Luke meant growing up with his older brothers; Jack and Quinn as well. Jack was like an older brother to you, always being so protective over you. Even back when you were in elementary school, Luke’s other friends would tease you about being a girl and having cooties. After Jack had threatened them, they never bothered you again. Quinn was a different story, you had always had a little crush on him, (you’d never admit that to Luke, but it was true). Even though you had been so into him, he had never seemed to reciprocate your feelings, making you feel like his younger brother’s annoying best friend. For years you tried to get over your crush on Quinn Hughes, but to no avail, your heart still belonged to him even at the end of your sophomore year of college. You knew deep down, he would always be a part of you.

Always going to the same schools with Luke led you to where you are now, at the University of Michigan, sitting in your dorm room, clothes scattered everywhere. It was the end of the term, and you were meant to be leaving for the lake house in a mere 5 days, but excitement filled your mind. You were excited to be reunited with Luke, considering you hadn’t seen him in over a month due to him leaving for Jersey to fulfill his lifelong dream of playing in the NHL with his two older brothers. Though you were extremely proud of him for all of his hard work and accomplishments, you still missed him more than anything, having never spent this much time apart from him.Even though you were excited, the mere thought of spending another summer around Quinn had your stomach in knots. The two of you kept contact throughout the years, even with his busy hockey schedule and your school schedule you still made time to stay in touch. You weren't sure if it was your imagination, but something felt different about this summer, even if you weren’t quite sure what it was yet.

The drive to the lake house was peaceful as you listened to music and traffic was low. As you got closer to the lake house the more free you felt. All of the stress of the school year slowly leaving your body and the relaxation of summer being let in. Luke had texted you the day before that he and Jack were on their way, considering it took far longer to get to the lake house from Jersey. You had expected to be the first one there as you usually were, but to your surprise, there was already a car in the driveway when you had pulled up. It was not a car you had seen before, both Quinn and Jack had gotten new cars since the last time you had seen them, but considering you hadn't heard anything from Luke since yesterday you had a very strong feeling that it was Quinn's.

You entered the house voicing a quick “Hello?” announcing your arrival to whoever was in the house. At the sound of your voice a very tousled looking Quinn came rushing down the stairs to greet you. The sight of his messy brown hair and bright but tired eyes brought a smile to your face. Your smile was contagious as it brought one upon his face just before he engulfed you in a bone crushing hug. The hug was comforting, like coming home after a long time away, but that didn't stop the feeling of butterflies from erupting throughout your stomach. “Hi Quinn” your voice came out barely above a whisper, being slightly muffled against his chest. “Hey y/n/n, long time no see huh” he jokes. You can't help but chuckle at him as you begin to pull away. Though, Quinn clearly wasn't ready to pull away, as he pulled you back in and gripped you tighter than before. The slight action had you flushing and you were grateful he couldn't see your face at that moment.

Finally as the two of you pulled away, Quinn spoke up asking “Have you heard anything from tweedle dee and tweedle dumb? They haven't said a word to me since they left Jersey yesterday.” The old nickname had you grinning as you responded “No, I haven't heard from them since about the same time.”

“Well then,” Quinn smiled, “it looks like it's just you and me for a while.” You were sure he didn't mean to sound so suggestive when saying that, but that didn't stop the warm feeling you got from his words. Your time together was slightly awkward at first given the fact that you hadn't truly seen each other in a year, but as the minutes passed the awkwardness subsided and you both began to grow comfortable in each other's presence. Conversation came easily with Quinn, talking about anything ranging from your favorite music to how life at U of M had been. It shocked you how comfortable talking to him was, because even though you had grown up around him, Jack and Luke had always been there as a buffer, even when you had wished they hadn't. After about an hour of talking with Quinn you heard the familiar sound of another car pulling into the gravel driveway announcing the arrival of Jack and Luke.

Quinn and you immediately hopped up heading towards the door to meet the two boys. You were surprised when Luke dropped his suitcase bounding towards you before spinning you around in his arms. The suddenness of it all caused you to burst out with a pure laughter having missed your best friend so much. You and Luke had missed the look Quinn had given the two of you, but Jack sure didn't, smirking at the look of jealousy on his big brother's face.

“Let he breathe Lukey” Jack spoke teasing his brother “not all of us have had the chance to say hello to her yet” Jack had finished his thought as he pulled you out of the other boy's grasp enveloping you in a hug of his own. Luke pouts as his best friend is stolen from a grasp, crossing his arm as he speaks up. “Last time I checked she was MY best friend, not yours” His whiny tone elicited a laugh from all of you as you pulled away from Jack.

“Oh Lukey, you don't know how much I've missed you.” Noticing Jack's smile falter at your words you spoke up again “before you say anything, I missed you just as much Jack” your words caused a giant smile to break out on the two boys faces.

After you all spent some time together catching up, you had excused yourself up to your room to begin unpacking for the summer. Your room was just as you left it, your bed made nicely and littered with stuffed animals from fairs and arcades that you had collected over the years. The walls were covered in pictures that seemed to show the story of you growing up, with photos of you at your first birthday party leading up to a photo of you and the Hughes boys last summer. That newest photo was your favorite, it was taken your last day of the trip when Ellen and Jim had stopped by, you were on Luke's back smiling as widely as your face would allow, while Jack was trying to act all cool for the camera. Your heart always seemed to stop whenever you looked at Quinn in that picture, he was wearing just a pair of swim trunks, showing off his toned body, but that wasn't what caught your eye, it was the way he had looked at you and Luke, he had so much admiration in his eyes, and if you didn't know any better, you would've believed that look was pointed at you and you only.

You're broken from your train of thought by the sound of a knock on your door. You muster a quick “Come in” expecting to see Luke, and are pleasantly surprised to see Quinn. “Hey Quinn, what’s up?”

“Nothing I just wanted to spend some time with you, I don't see or hear from you as much as the others do” Quinn admits rubbing the back of his neck.

“To be fair Quinn I you've never made me feel like you wanted to talk to me so I’ve given you your space.”

“I always want to hear from you y/n/n.”

Quinns confession has your heart beating faster in your chest, so much so that you're almost certain he can hear it from across the room.

“Yo- you do?” you struggle to form the words as you try to process what Quinn just said to you.

“Of course I do, I care about you, I want to know what's going on in your life, hell I want to be a part of your life, and not just in the summers.” his eyes are watching you so closely, as if he's trying to read your mind, trying to know your every thought. Your mind is running a million miles a minute as you try to think of a response, as you try to pinpoint the context for which he's saying these things.

“What do you mean Quinn, you are part of my life, you always have been” you finally utter out.

“I mean..” he says as he steps closer to you grabbing your hands “I want to be in your life as more than just your best friend's brother. I want to be the first person you talk to when you wake up in the morning and the last person you talk to before you go to sleep. I want you in the stands of my games cheering me on. I want to spend more time with you than I get, whether that means me coming down to Michigan, or you coming up to Vancouver. I want to be with you y/n. I’m so in love with you, and I have been for years. I can't keep that to myself any longer.”

Never in a million years would you have expected that from Quinn. You stared at him in such awe trying to figure out if this was real or some cruel prank the boys thought would be funny. And as if he knew exactly what you were thinking, Quinn speaks up again

“I know you weren't expecting this from me, I wasn't expecting it either, but after we spent all of that time talking before Jack and Luke got here, and after I saw how touchy Luke was with you, I just knew I couldn't hide this anymore.

After you still hadn't responded, Quinn began to panic a little.

“y/n… please say something.” That was all it took for you to snap out of the trance you were in and respond.

“Quinn, I’m so in love with you. I have been since I was eight years old and you held my hand after I had scraped my knee open. I've tried for years to push my feelings down for the sake of Luke, but also because I never thought you would be interested in me. I've never seen you as just ‘my best friend's brother’ , you're so much more than that to me, and I want all of those things too.”

The second those words left your mouth, Quinn wasted no time grabbing your face and bringing your lips to meet his. At first you were shocked, but you were quick to kiss him back as this has been something you had wanted for years. The kiss was full of passion and promise. Years of pining being made up for by one breathtaking kiss. You only pull away when you're both out of breath, leaning your foreheads together. It's in that moment you remember one detail. Luke.

“Quinn?” you ask, breaking the silence, only receiving a hum in response. “What are we going to do about Luke? How are we going to tell him? Are we even ready to tell him?” you start to ramble, leading Quinn to cut you off with another kiss. This one is much shorter than the last, as he begins to speak “Let's not worry about Luke right now hm? We can focus on us for now and tell him, and everybody else when we're ready. Okay?” The look in his eyes is so comforting, it genuinely has you questioning if you'll ever be able to say no to him. You know deep down you won't, which is why you say “Okay.”

So that's what you did. You and Quinn spent the whole summer focusing on your relationship by keeping it to yourself. That consisted of sneaky make out sessions in dark corners of the house, sneaking into each other's rooms in the middle of the night, holding hands under the blankets during movie nights, and sneaking glances that lasted longer than they should have. It sucked keeping such a big secret from your best friend, but you weren't ready to tell him yet, and you were enjoying your time with the man you loved.

Summer had come to an end much faster than you had ever expected, and that meant you would all be going back to your regular lives soon. You were worried about what that meant for your relationship with Quinn, being new to the whole long distance thing, but you were hopeful nonetheless. Today was the last day you would all be together, and you wanted it to be memorable. Luke had decided that going out to the local club would be the best way to spend your last night together, and of course Jack agreed 100%.

That's how you ended up here in a crowded sea of people cradling a vodka cranberry trying to make your way back to the booth the boys had saved for all of you. You hadn't even made it more than three feet away from the bar when a hand was grabbing your wrist. Turning you come face to face with a strange man who's very clearly drunk. You try taking your wrist back, but his grip only tightens and he speaks up in a dark gravelly tone “What's the rush doll, I jus’ wanna dance” his words slurring as he speaks

“I don't think my boyfriend would like me dancing with you, i’m trying to get back to him if you don't mind” you tried to stay calm as you tried pulling your wrist free again, his grip bruising now.

“You don't have to lie about having a boyfriend doll, if you don't want t’ dance jus’ say that”

before you get the chance to respond you feel an arm wrap around your waist and hear the voice of your boyfriend say “She doesn't want to dance pal, leave my girl alone before we have problems”

My girl, even though you knew you were his girl the words still sent butterflies to your stomach and a heat down to your core. At the sight of your boyfriend, the creep lets go of your wrist putting his hands up in surrender leaving you and Quinn alone.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Quinn practically screams, trying to speak to you over the music. It doesn't take you more than a minute to respond with a yes. The two of you find Jack and Luke and tell them what happened and that Quinn had offered to take you home, and let them enjoy the rest of their night. Luke was worried and didn't want to leave you alone, but you managed to convince him to stay and have fun.

The ride back to the lake house was torture. Quinn's hand rested on your thigh while his other gripped the steering wheel, and he was drawing shapes into your skin, his hand occasionally going higher messing with the hem of your dress. He knew exactly what he was doing, though it was the slightest of touch, it still had you squeezing your thighs together. You glanced over to look at him seeing the mischievous smirk on his face. Shaking your head you tried not to focus on his touch and focus on the scenery on the drive back (it didn't work.)

The second you had made your way into the lake house Quinn was on you. His lips attached themselves to your neck leaving open mouth kisses and nibbling just below your ear eliciting a gasp from your mouth. You turn around in Quinn's hold bringing him in for a needy, almost desperate kiss. His tongue running against your bottom lip requesting access, which you'd be crazy to refuse him. He slips his tongue into your mouth massaging your tongue with his, as his hands start to explore your body. You break away trying to catch your breath as you grab his hand dragging you up to your room. You attach your lips to his again once you're in the safety of your room, hands reaching up to unbutton the slutty black shirt he was wearing. No matter how long you had been with Quinn, you still got nervous in intimate situations like this with him causing you to have shaky hands. You could feel him smirk into the kiss at the shakiness of your hands, as his own reached up to slide the straps of your dress down your shoulders. He was pleasantly surprised to find out you weren't wearing a bra, groaning into the kiss as his hands groped your breasts nimble fingers flicking over your nipples. The sensation had you pulling away from his lips letting out a low moan, spurring him in further as he lowered his mouth taking your left nipple into his mouth. Your hands made their way into his hair holding him to your chest, Quinn backing you up until your knees hit the bed causing you to sit on the edge of the bed. Lowering himself in front of you, Quinn looks into your eyes looking for permission as he hooks his fingers into your panties, you mutter out a quick yes and he wastes no time pulling them off and licking a long stripe up your pussy. The sensation has you arching your back lacing your fingers through his messy brown hair. The only noises that can be heard through the room are the pornographic moans and groans coming from you and Quinn as well as the slick sound of Quinn eating you out. It doesn't take much more before you're coming undone on Quinn's tongue as he helps you ride out your high. You and Quinn spent your last night together, sanctifying your love for each other and cherishing each other's bodies as much as you can before you get separated.

Nothing could ruin the bubble of bliss you and Quinn had made for yourselves. Or so you thought until you were woken up in the morning by the sound of “WHAT THE FUCK” causing your head to shoot up to see your best friend, whose eyes are locked on the sight of you and his older brother laying naked in your bed.

This was not how you wanted him to find out.

Fin

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #hockey smut #vancouver #vancouver canucks #hockey imagine

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patrophthia · 6 months

Text

attention is what i want! | theo. nott

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

genre: pining, one sided crushes, angst !!, complicated feelings, theo is a dick tbh, humor (my attempt at it), reader embarrasses herself (multiple time), girls girls pansy, reader are friends with the golden trio but isn’t a gryffindor, cursing, drinking, a bit suggestive in the end hehe

wc: 4.3k (idk how it got this long, i planned to write sth with like 2k at most but it kept going)

note: i wrote this while listening to attention by new jeans for two hours straight (yay pining!) i have very mixed feelings for this fic but here it is anyways!

summary: it’s no secret that you have a crush on theodore nott, theo knows it, hell the whole school knew it; maybe if they didn’t then it’d be easier for you to get over him after you embarrassed yourself in front of the whole school. at least you got a new friend because of it.

To say you had a crush on Theodore Nott would be an understatement. You never actually confessed to the Slytherin but it's as clear as days that you were into him.

And when he was as good looking as he was, could anyone really blame you?

Not really, not when most of Hogwarts found your attempt at shooting your shot with him the most amusing thing ever.

"Good morning, Nott." Your hand shot upwards the second the Slytherin enters the classroom. His eyes settling on you whilst his friends bickers behind him. "I saved you a seat."

There's snickering from behind you, hushed whispers as your classmate gossips about your pathetic attempt at getting with Theodore once more.

His eyes scans the room, finally settling on one of the two empty seats behind the class and B-lining towards it. Zabini, having lost to Malfoy at grabbing the seat next to Theodore smiles at you kindly. Maybe even apologetically as he sits next to you.

"Better luck next time?" He offers, trying to lighten your mood and you smile back, nodding. "You'll get him eventually."

And though your voice is low, barely audible and muffled; Zabini still manages to hear you huff out a: "doubt it."

"Do you think he'd pay attention to me if I dyed my hair green?" You ask, playing with your hair.

Sure, your hair would end up damaged but if it meant Theodore would spare a glance your way then you'd take it.

Harry looks at you as if you'd grown an extra head, green eyes enlarged as he tries to gauge whether you were serious or not. "Excuse me?"

"I think I could pull of forest green hair."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "No, you can't." She doesn't really mean it though, she does agree that you'd probably pull off forest green hair but she'd rather you do it for your own personal wants rather than to gain someone else's attention. "And you won't."

You only huff at her words. "Why not?"

"Because, it's stupid. You'd look stupid doing so." Mione doesn't bother sugarcoating it, she doesn't need to when you've known her as long as you have. "If you need his attention so badly then ask him out, just drop the question and get it over with."

"I'm trying to!" You groan, passing your plate with leftovers over to Ron who accepts it gladly. "I could walk naked in front of him and he wouldn't even bat an eyelash."

Ron face scrunches at the idea, finding the prospect of a naked you disgusting. "You could put up a banner," he suggests through a mouthful of food. "I'd notice someone if they put up a banner with my name on it."

And when Hermione's whacked Ron at him encouraging what she deemed was self destructive behavior, the conversation shifts to something else completely.

You're huffing and puffing when you straighten up, showing your three closest friends what you'd been working on for the last two days. "What do you think?"

Ron gasps loudly, eyes wide as he takes in the imagine in front of him. "You're crazy."

"If you'd just—" Hermione, as if it was second nature, reaches up and smack at his arm. "—learnt how to shut up, this wouldn't have happened."

It's only natural for you to frown at their reaction, brows knitted as you asked them. "Is it too much?"

Harry, and his sweet sweet soul tries his best to not hurt your feelings as he nodded. "Maybe?" He tries to soften the blow, adding on: "I think it's brilliant, it's just ... a lot."

You look over your masterpiece. Reading out the glittering paint, letter by letter and watching it as it takes shape into one of the biggest banner you've seen at Hogwarts by far.

Written in shining green paint were the words:

A-T-T-E-N-T-I-O-N, attention is what I want. Nott, go out with me?

"I mean, if anything you'll definitely get his attention with that," Harry says, blinking rapidly at the banner. "It's pretty hard to miss."

"Let's hope so."

The dining hall is louder than normal, it has always been noisy; having seated thousands of teenagers who had little to none supervision during their breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

But like Theodore has noted earlier, it's noisier than normal. And the drop of voices is significant when he steps through the large doors, loud gossips turns to hushed whispers; eyes roaming between him and a figure by the Gryffindor table.

It doesn't take him long to notice why, a dust of glitter falling down on him from above. He glances up, eyes squinting as he reads out the banner before him.

A-T-T-E-N-T-I-O-N, attention is what I want. Nott, go out with me?

The letters are bright, glinting under the candle light as if it was taunting him, pushing at his buttons for a reaction. And though, there was no name written on the banner to indicate who'd made it; he knew that it was you.

Dark eyes narrows as he zones in on you. You dressed up nicely, watching him with a pretty smile on your waiting face.

And when all he did was roll his eyes and turn towards the Slytherin table, without sparing you another look. You all but deflated in front of everyone's eyes.

You knew it was stupid, and that it was all your fault to make your love life so public for everyone to entertain themselves with, but you can't help but feel hurt at the laughter bubbling through out the hall.

You're scrambling out of your seat, rushing out of the hall when a voice shouts out. "Serves you right, pick me!"

Oddly enough, it's Pansy who speaks up; her voice loud and clearly irritated when she shouts back, telling them to go and: "Fuck yourself."

Why the Slytherin threw a dirty glare at her friend and ran after you despite the two of you not being friends —let alone having been seen together before, was a mystery to everyone.

And since Hermione loves you too much for her own good, she’s quick to scramble out of her seat, casting a spell to set the banner up in flames as she rushed after Pansy and you.

There’s a sort of guilt that Hermione feels when she finds you hunched over with Pansy’s hand running up and down your back. The two of you weren’t friends, neither is Hermione and Pansy but when a girl’s in need of comfort, it’s only normal for them to be there for her.

“I don’t get why you’re into him, honestly,” Pansy grits out, “out of all the boys in Slytherin you just had to choose the dickhead, didn’t you?”

Hermione can hear you sniffle out a laugh as she takes a seat on your other side. “Out of all the boys in Hogwarts you just had to choose the dickhead, huh?”

Pansy and Hermione are sharing a grin as you lift your head up slightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not like I wanted to like him, you know?” You say with a small laugh. “I guess I’m just attracted to an asshole.”

“You’re guessing this now?” Pansy says with a roll of her eyes, there’s no venom in her tone, only playful annoyance. “This isn’t the first time he’s treated you like this. I’ve heard all about your … attempts, you know?”

“Really?” You’re laughing and the hurt in your tone is clearer than ever. “How embarrassing.”

“It’s not,” Hermione reassured you, “if anything I think it’s endearing.”

“Me making a fool of myself for a guy is endearing to you?”

Pansy giggles at your words. “I’ve done worse, maybe just not so publicly.” Her voice is playful when she adds on, “but this should be the final nail in the coffin right? Finally getting over that asshole after this?”

“That asshole is your best friend,” you remind her and she looks to her side bashfully.

“That doesn’t excuse him for being horrible to you,” she mumbled. “And I thought Draco was bad.”

“Malfoy is bad,” Hermione chimes in. “He just didn’t humiliate you like Nott did her.”

Pansy tilts her head to the side in thought. “Maybe. Or maybe we should just stop dating Slytherin guys over all.”

Hermione only smiles fondly at her words. “Maybe.”

You’re doing fine. Or as fine as one could be after a publicly humiliating confession. You’re still very you, smiling at Theodore every chance you get even though you’ve told your friends (now extended to Pansy) multiple times that you were getting over him.

The only BIG difference that anyone noticed after your rejection was that you no longer attempted to get closer to Theodore. You don’t save him seats, you don’t tell him good morning, and they’d be lying if they said it wasn’t weird.

“Is this seat taken?”

You look up, eyes widening at the person in front of you and nodded. “I’m saving it for someone.” You pray to Merlin that he doesn’t hear the waver in your voice as you did so. “Is there something you needed?”

He doesn’t answer you, instead placing his book bag on your desk. You try to control the butterflies caged in your stomach, fluttering at the sight of his forearm flexing as he did so. “You’re saving it for me? Like always?”

You blink at him. “… no. I’m saving it for Blaise.”

“Huh,” he hums thoughtfully, “you’re in first name basis now?”

You move to your right when he takes his seat to your left, trying to distance yourself from him. “What do you want?”

He looks at you and your pretense of being over him crumbles all over, tumbling as he nearly knocks you off your feet just how intense his gaze is. And though you’ve always wanted his attention, for him to look at you back like he’s doing now. You can’t help but feel sick to your stomach with how much you still liked him.

“Attention is what you want, right?”

What is he playing at? “Not anymore.”

“Shame.” There’s a slight smile at your answer. “I was finally ready to give it to you.”

“He said that?” Pansy repeats your words back to you, her hand moving away from your face as she dips it back into the face mask she’d mixed up. “That’s weird.”

“That’s what I thought,” you murmur, feeling Hermione kick her feet into your lap. “I’m so confused right now.”

“Maybe he’s playing hard to get?�� Hermione suggests. “Even if he is I hope he knows the only hard thing he’s getting is a rock thrown at his face.”

It’s clear that she’s taken your rejection harder than you did, grumbling at the thought of him. “A text book if he’s lucky.”

Pansy finishes up your face mask and sets the bowl down. “I told him to apologise to you, not to go and bother you," she says, frowning slightly.

“You told him to apologise?” The tone of the conversation shifts, downing just the slightest bit.

Pansy avoids your eyes as she nods, “I just wanted him to say sorry for how he treated you, you didn’t deserve that. But that fucker decided to go and do something weird, I’m sorry, lovely.”

When she’s taken up the nickname lovely for you, you don’t know. But you’re too much into your head to say anything about it. “Please don’t do that. Don’t meddle with this just because you pity me. I can handle this by myself.”

“I don’t—” Pansy pauses, realising the weight of her actions “—I’m sorry, I promise I’ll leave you be.”

You’re nodding when you tell her: “thank you.”

Trying to jot down notes does nothing to soothe your nerves, and it definitely doesn’t distract you from the fact that Theodore Nott is sitting so damn close to you. So close that your thighs were touching, and that with any small move you made, your shoulder brushes against his.

Moving your chair to the right is no use, not when he’d move his just so he’d be closer to you. You’re so close you could practically hear him breathe.

It’s when your quill slips off of your desk that you have to confront him about it. You nudge at his thigh with yours, forcing them to his left only for him to look at you curiously. “Can you move?”

“Why?” He asks instead, planting his thighs where they’d been.

“My quill fell, I need to get it.” You explain, avoiding his eyes as best as you could. His attention is not good for your heart, maybe it two weeks ago, but it definitely wasn’t now.

Theodore is uninterested and unmoving when he quipped back. “And you can’t get like this?”

Not if you didn’t want to plan your face on his lap and be so terribly close to his— yeah no. You sigh, leaning forward to tap at the person’s in front of you shoulder. “Would you mind getting my quill for me please? It’s bit hard for me to reach.”

The person in front nods and leans down to get it for you with a smile. And when they hands it to you, their finger brushing against yours, you distinctly feel Theodore press himself closer to you.

“You could’ve borrowed mine,” Theodore says lowly, eyeing you from above.

He’s slightly taller than you, even when you’re both sat. Trying to prove to him (and yourself) that you were over him, and that this close proximity did not matter to you; you strain your neck up to glare at him. “You could’ve moved.”

“Maybe,” he concurs. “And you could’ve just asked for me to get it for you.”

“Like you’d do that,” you murmur with a roll of your eyes. “For me of all people.”

“For you of all people,” he repeats.

You hate how you instinctively break away from his gaze, looking at your notes as you try to calm your beating heart. Two weeks is nearly not enough to time to get over a crush you’ve been harboring for the longest time, not when you liked him so much you didn’t bother to keep it a secret to anyone and he knows it.

He knows it and he’s using it as an advantage, for what exactly you don’t know. What you do know, is that you need to get away from Theodore Nott. Or kiss him. Whichever works.

You sigh, glancing at your hands and hope that your voice doesn’t tremble when you quietly ask him. “What are you playing at Theodore?” You’re exasperated and he can hear it, he can hear the exhaustion in your voice and he tries his best not to let it get to him. “I know Pansy told you to apologize but you’re not apologizing, you’re just making things worse.”

He doesn’t say anything, though you can still feel his eyes on you. “Excuse me, Professor,” he says suddenly, his shoulder knocking yours as he stood up, “I’m feeling a bit under the weather, would you mind letting me slip to the infirmary?”

His hands are on you, holding firmly onto your wrist as he speaks. “It’s best if I had a friend to help me.” The professor doesn’t get a chance to respond before Theodore is pulling you away from the class.

Your words are jumbled, flailing as you try to match up his pace; you’re confused and against your better judgement, you trust that he wouldn’t hurt you —even if he’d done so many times before.

He comes to a halt by a hallway, it’s quiet still; students having yet left their classes.

He looks at you, dark eyes clouding with emotion and tries to get you to look at him. Practically begging for you to give him your attention before speaking. “How am I making things worse? It’s what you wanted isn’t it?”

“It is,” you say after a minute. “It’s just— this isn’t how I wanted it.

I like you, Theodore. A lot and I’ve made it so clear so many times and you always made it clear that you didn’t like me back. I finally try to get over you and you do this? What even is this? What are you trying to get at, Theo?”

He doesn’t answer you, his hand finally releasing the grip on your wrist to rest by his side.

You scoff, noting how he falls back to his pattern of not speaking to you when you’re practically pouring your heart out to him.

“Why did never ask me out?”

Your expression is puzzled, and he knows that he needs to explain himself, for him to tell you exactly what he meant but can’t bring himself to. Not when he wants to keep his pride in check.

“I did ask you out,” you tell him slowly. “In front of everyone.”

“Exactly,” his reply is breathless as if he had been pondering over this for ages, “in front of everyone. Why didn’t you tell me you like me? Why didn’t you ask me when it’s just you and I?”

“Are you serious?” You let out a ridiculing laugh. “You never wanted to step a single foot next to me and you expected me to ask you when it’s just me and you? Are you kidding me?

Did you ever wonder why I wrote ‘attention is what I want’?”

He’s speechless. And screwed. He can sense that you’re growing agitated with him, and he hates it.

“Would it have changed anything if I had asked you out between you and I?”

His silence is loud enough for you to understand his converted answer.

“Merlin, why did you bring me out here, Theodore?”

Theodore is bad at emotions. He’s bad at feelings, he’s bad at love and everything alike. He doesn’t like you and he’s pretty sure of it. Then why does it bother him so much to know that you no longer wanted anything to do with him.

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you don’t.” You meet his eyes and he knows that this is the end, you’re done with him for good. “Out of all the boys in Hogwarts you just had to be the one I liked, huh?”

“And that’s it?” Ron ask curiously. “You’re finally getting over him?”

“Mhmm,” you hum, waving at Pansy who waved at you from the end of the dining hall, her Slytherin friends pointedly looking between you, Pansy, and Nott. “Finally am.”

Ron doesn’t need to know that despite your mind being set on getting over Nott, your stomach still did somersault every time you see him —even in your peripheral vision.

And when you smile at him, much like you did to everyone else and he doesn’t smile back at you; you feel your heart break all over again.

It’s your own fault though, falling for a mere stranger who you’d only ever spoken to in classes —all of which having been conversations about school.

“Do I get reward?”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “A reward for doing something we’ve been telling you to do for ages? You wish.”

“I’ve been wishing for something else.” The mischievous look on your face is enough to clue her in on where your mind as gone, scrunching her face as she scowls at you. “Gross.”

“Are you okay though?” Harry asks you lowly. “I know it can be hard to get over crushes.” Take him and Chang for example. “So if you need anything we’re here for you.”

“I’m okay,” you tell him. “Or at least I’ll be.”

Harry offers you a smile, as kind as always. “That’s good then.”

It’d only be weird for you to visit the Slytherin common room often (courtesy of Pansy) and for you to not run into Theodore at least once.

You’re standing outside the common room, waiting for Pansy to come and get you when the door swings open and he stands there in front of you. He’s in his pajamas, an oversized sweater pooling at his hands.

“What are you doing here?”

Though you’re also in your pajamas, you feel slightly underdressed under his eyes. Only having worn a loose T-shirt and shorts for girls night.

You want to ask him what he’s doing here but it is his house’s common room so you withheld your question to yourself. “Pansy.”

He gives you a once over before glancing back into the common room, it’s roaring with laughters; a bunch of the Slytherin boys deciding to play card games as they indulge themselves with the alcohol they bought with their father’s money.

“Let me walk you in,” he offers, already turning back into the common room; expecting for you to follow after him.

“You don’t need to—” you don’t get to finish your words when Theodore throws you a sharp look. As if he was asking you to protest him on this. You sigh, following after him.

Theodore stays a good distance away, hiding you and your bare legs from the other Slytherins. He doesn’t really have to though, most of them minding their own business until Blaise chirps up to say hi.

“Hello,” you greeted him back, waving at him. Crabbe, now noticing your interaction lets out a low whistle at the sight of you. And Theodore moves closer to you, almost possessively. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Mhmm,” Blaise says, humming before turning his attention back to Enzo. “Goodnight, princess.”

There’s a snicker from Goyle, smirking as he says. “You’re stealing Nott’s girl now?”

You only offer him a smile, feeling Theodore come in over closer to you as he hurries you up the stairs. There’s a thump! from behind and you knew, without seeing, that Blaise threw a pillow at the bastards face.

Theodore doesn’t try to hide his amusement when you curse a hex in Crabbe and Goyle’s way, not when Mattheo’s laughter roared across the room at your spell.

“Thank you,” you tell Theodore, and you noticed that his lips are curled; why exactly, you don’t want to know. “Goodnight, Theodore.”

You’re halfway up the stairs when he calls your name, you turn to him. “Yes?”

“Goodnight,” he says, turning on his heel to leave.

You turn back up the stairs, only to pause and look back at him once, twice; before setting off to find Pansy.

It’s two weeks later when Theodore bumps into you again, this time; quite literally. His hands are on you, stilling you so you wouldn’t fall flat on your ass.

The dance floor is crowded, but it’s to be expected when one of the most popular students at Hogwarts (read: Blaise Zabini) is throwing a birthday party.

You’re —by extension through Pansy, a friend of his which means you needed to be there or he’d be pretty (very) sad about it and pester you about it for the rest of your life.

“Woah!” Your hands lay awkwardly on his chest, trying to push him away whilst trying to balance yourself still. “Watch where you’re going.”

Theodore straightens you up, hands lingering a little too long before letting you go. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

And though you promised yourself to let go off Theodore months ago, you can’t help but feel your heart twist at his words. Skin burning where he’d touch you mere seconds ago.

“It’s fine,” you wave him off, “just be more careful.”

“Yeah.” His tone is breathless, blinking at you slowly as if he couldn’t believe you were so close to him. “You look nice.”

You better hope so, it’s not like you spend an hour getting ready to look anything but nice. And despite your better judgment, you feel butterflies setting off in your stomach once more. But that could’ve also been caused by the mixed concoction you downed five minutes ago.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “You too, Theo.”

“Mhmm,” he hums nodding, his expression is hesitant. “Thank you,” he says, turning his head to the side and under the clubbing lights, you can easily spot the tinging redness at the top of his ears. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“What?” It’s not that you didn’t hear him, it’s that you didn’t want to hear him. Because you knew, damn well, that if he’d just repeated himself you would agree within a heartbeat.

He gulps, and repeat himself. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Maybe your heart is weak, maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just Theodore that gets you out of there with him attached to your lips.

His hand pressing into the small of your back as you leaned against the wall, a small groan slipping from his lips when you nipped on it.

Theodore pulls back, eyes wide and roaming your face as he takes your features in; memorising the slope of your nose, the plumpness in your lips, and the apples of your cheeks as if this was the last time he’d be able to do so. And presses his lips to yours once more.

He calls out your name, a free hand reaching up to cup your jaw so you’d look at him. For you to give him the attention he so desperately wanted from you. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I know you probably hate me and I’m so sorry but give me a chance, please.”

His tone is desperate, almost begging as he did so and you wonder if he knew the impact he still had on you. He lets go of your jaw, arm wrapping around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer to him.

“Give me a chance to make it up to you,” he asks of you, mouth pressing wet kisses down your neck as he repeats himself. “Please, please, pretty girl.”

“Theo.” His kisses doesn’t stop, much less falter at your words. “Theo.”

“Mhmm?” He hums against your neck, pulling back to give you his full an undivided attention. “Yes?”

He’s a bit taken aback when you kiss him quickly, chasing your lips as you pulled back. “You have a lot to make up for.”

“I know.” The curled smile of his returns, dark eyes glinting as he looks at you. “But for now let me give you all my attention.”

— from bee: i guess reader got what she wished for at the end lol, feedbacks and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! (๑>◡<๑)

p.s this pic of mingyu is so (my) bf i love him!!

#theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott angst #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott headcanons #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fanfic #🧳: my writing #Spotify

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baby-yongbok · 7 months

Note

I loved your handjob fic with bang chan, I thought it was really sweet.

So can I pls request their first time together where reader is all shy and sweet?

I'd love it if there was hand- holding and just adorable words of praise ❤️❤️

I did it! I hope that this is okay! Thanks for your request <3

First Time - Boyfriend!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader - Imagine

Word Count: 2,886

Genre: Smut, The fluffy kind

Warnings under the cut

This piece is kinda like a part two to Free Time. You don't have to read the first one to enjoy this one but it'll be cool if you do <3

✨Masterlist✨

Warnings: Cursing, that should be all of the warnings? So Sorry if I missed any! This is a pretty fluffy piece!

Reader is Called: Baby, Babygirl, Princess

Chan is called: Babe

You knew that the time would come eventually, you just didn’t know when. You and Chan had agreed to take it slow when you first met, you wanted to get to know each other and see how your feelings developed before you got too physical. It’s been 8 months since the two of you started seeing each other and two months since the two of you upgraded from making out and dry humping to handjobs and fingering.

Each time that the two of you were intimate you could feel the longing radiating off of each other. You were damn near desperate to feel the weight of him in your mouth or even experience the bliss of him stretching you. Chan would mention his desire to taste you every now and then, he claimed that licking your arousal off of his fingers just wasn’t enough for him. You both wanted more, you just didn’t know when it would happen. You both decided to leave it up to the universe.

Today wasn’t supposed to be a day off for Chan, it was actually supposed to be tomorrow but there was a mix up with the venue schedule where the boys had a photo shoot scheduled and they were granted time off while it was all figured out. Of course Chan couldn’t complain, who would get upset about an extra day off? You had also gotten the day off due to your job's entire system crashing last night and never going back online. Coincidence?

Despite having the time off you and Chan both still took some time out of the day to work. You spent most of the day in your respective corners typing and editing to your heart's content until you both got hungry. The two of you decided to order out and spend some time together. That’s how you ended up here, watching a movie in your bedroom at 6:13pm. The deep orange of the sunset is shining through your blinds and illuminating the dark space around you. It looked magical and Chan definitely noticed it. He hasn’t even looked at the screen for the past four minutes. He’s too busy admiring the way that the deep orange compliments your skin, and how it brings out the color in your hair so flawlessly. You looked like a celestial being and he couldn’t help but to be drawn into you. He hated that your eyes were still trained on the screen, he wanted you to look at him. He needed you to.

“Baby.” He called to you in a whisper and you replied with a hum, eyes still fixed on the screen. This wasn’t good enough, he needed your full attention. He moves his hand and brings it up to your chin, his pointer finger resting on the underside of your chin and turning your head towards him. He tilted it up a bit so that your eyes would catch his, what he didn’t expect was for the sunlight to illuminate your gaze. Your brown orbs turned to gold right in front of him and his entire body caught on fire at the sight of it. It wasn’t some plain old lust that he was feeling, no, it was an intense longing. A desire to become a part of you and turn your body into gold too.

“Chan?” You blinked up at him, your doe eyes boring into his.

“I want you.” The words left his lips in a whisper, the soft music from your movie adding to the moment. “Is that okay?”

“You want to…” Your sentence trails off as you catch Chan pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. You feel a shiver run down your spine as lust starts to pool in your core. You’ve been more than ready to go all the way with Chan, you were just nervous, you wanted everything to be perfect. But, looking into his eyes right now you can’t imagine a moment more perfect than this.

“Yes, that’s okay.” You whisper back to him as you lean into him.

“Thank god.” Chan closes the distance between the two of you, his soft lips crashing against yours and pulling you into a deep passionate kiss. You sigh into him, moving your body to press against his. His hand sneaks up under your shirt to grip your hip, pulling you closer to him.

You shift your position, straddling him without breaking the kiss. Your hands lace through his soft curls as your lips move in tandem. He lifts his hand higher, raking his nails softly against your skin and leaving Goosebumps in their wake. He breaks the kiss and starts breathlessly kissing down your jaw and neck. He sucked at the sensitive skin, definitely leaving marks behind.

"Chan I wanna taste you." He groans against your skin, your words making his cock twitch against your core.

"I don't think I'll last very long if you do." He plants one more kiss on your neck before pulling away, you climb down his body, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. His bottom lip is back between his teeth as he watches you carefully.

"Let's just feel it, okay? Don't worry about lasting." He nods his head as he lifts his hips, allowing you to peel his sweat pants and boxers down his legs. His hard cock spring up, slapping against his clothed stomach. You marvel at his pink tip, the prominent vein on the underside of his dick making your mouth water. You'll finally get to feel it against your tongue, you press your thighs together in anticipation before looking back up at Chan.

"Ready?"

"Yes, please, I need you." You smile up at him, leaning forward on your knees and licking up the underside of his dick. You both moan at the sensation, his soft skin glides perfectly against your wet tongue.

Chan tilts his head back to rest on the headboard, a deep exhale falling from his parted lips. You lick up his shaft again, sucking his tip into your mouth and bobbing your head. You take more of him inch by inch as you move against him. The weight of him in your mouth and filling your throat makes your clit throb with need. This was more than worth the wait.

"Oh, baby you're so perfect." Chan whispers, lifting his head to look at you. Your watery eyes meet his as you take him farther down your throat. His praise makes you want to make him feel even better.

Chan reaches down towards your hand that's resting on his thigh, covering it with his own and stroking his fingers over the back of your hand.

"Just like that, you're making me feel so fucking good." You hum in response and Chan's brows pinch together at the sensation. "I love how deep you're taking me. Fuck, babygirl."

You take that as a prompt to take him deeper, a tear rolls down your cheek and you nearly choke around him but the deep groan that leaves him makes it worth it.

"Oh, baby" You lift up, a string of spit connecting you to his throbbing length. A breathy chuckle leaves your lips and Chan smiles at you.

"You taste so good, you're so big in my mouth." Chan's cock jumps and you chuckle in response. Just as you're about to go back down on him he sits up a bit, stopping you before you can take him in your mouth completely.

"I don't want to cum yet and I won't last another second with that pretty mouth on me." You sit up on your knees smiling at him. "It's my turn now."

With a wide playful grin Chan grabs your wrists, pulling you forward and swiftly switching spots with you. He holds your waist, pulling you flat onto your back. You both laugh as he situates you, brushing his fingertips over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and the back of your knees. Your laughs quickly turn into gaspy moans as the sensations cause shivers to rush over you. Your nipples harden as your anticipation builds.

"I've been waiting to taste you for so long, princess." He tugs at your shorts, nearly ripping them off of you like a kid opening gifts on Christmas. You giggle at his hasty behavior.

"Oh really? I couldn't tell." Chan rolls his eyes playfully but his expression quickly changes to one of lust when his eyes land on your naked core. The evening light makes your skin glow and your arousal glistens in its presence.

"Ready, baby?"

"So ready, love." He smiles against your inner thigh as he kisses his way up to your heat. He licks up the sensitive flesh, moaning at the feel of you against his tongue. His eyes flutter shut as he savors the taste of you.

Your breath catches in your throat as he licks up your pussy again, circling his tongue around your clit before going back down to your entrance. A deep moan erupts from your throat, your eyes squeeze shut and your back slightly arched off of the mattress. He's only just started but he feels like heaven against you. He always told you that he believes he's pretty good at eating pussy but you didn't know that it would feel like this.

"Oh my god." One of your hands reach down to tangle in his hair just as one of his reach up to intertwine with your free one. You hold his hand, squeezing a bit as the pleasure builds.

He sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking the sensitive bud with his tongue and moaning against you sending delicious vibrations through you.

"Oh, yes, please don't stop. You're so good baby, you're perfect." He trails his tongue down to your entrance, slipping it inside and fucking you with it. A loud whine escapes you as you circle your hips against his face, covering his chin and cheeks in your arousal.

"Will you suck my clit please, and put two fingers inside."

"Of course, princess." He does as you asked, latching onto your clit again and bringing his free hand over to your entrance. He teases you a bit before pushing his middle and pointer finger inside. He fills you up to the second knuckle, curling his fingers to hit your sweet spot.

"Oh fuck Chan, Yes just like that." He shakes his head against you, giving you a new sensation against your clit. You squeeze his hand, trying your best to reassure him that you're feeling good but with the way you're reacting you're pretty sure he can tell.

He swirls his tongue around your clit one more time and you barely have a second to warn him before you're coming undone. Your walls clench around his fingers as they try to move inside of you. Your back arches off of the mattress and your eyes squeeze shut as you moan his name with a string of curses. He pulls away from your clit, fingering you through your high just how you like it.

"That's right, cum for me, babygirl. You sound so pretty, taste so good." Chan kisses the inside of your shaking thigh until you come down from the intense pleasure. He pulls his fingers out of you. Sucking your arousal off and moaning at the taste.

"You are everything that I dreamed you would be and more." You smile at his words, eyes still closed as you try to regulate your breathing.

"Wait until you feel me."

"Oh fuck, I can't wait to feel you." Chan climbs up your body, lifting your shirt along the way so that he could pull it off once he got to the top. Once your shirt is off he pulls his off, leaving you both naked in front of each other. For each other.

"I know exactly what position I want, baby. Trust me?" You open your eyes, finding Chan's excited ones and nod. You'd trust him with your life so something as small as a sex position is more than doable. "Turn on your side, okay? Face the window."

You do as he asked, turning on your side and jumping a bit as your thighs close. The pressure on your sensitive bud sends chills up your spine. Chan lays behind you on his side. He snakes one arm under your side, pulling your back against his chest and holding you tight. His other hand grips his cock, positioning it at your entrance. He looks down at you, beautiful doe eyes shining like gold in the deep orange sun. His heart skips a beat. You look so beautiful, you sound even better and at this moment he can't believe how lucky he is to be with you. To have access to you in such a vulnerable way. He leans down, peppering kisses on your cheek, making you giggle.

"Can I tell you something, baby?" Chan whispers against your cheek and you nod, turning your head to meet his eyes. Suddenly he pushes in, sinking into your dripping heat slowly. Your mouth opens in a silent scream and your eyes widen as they stare into his. He wants to close his eyes but he doesn't dare break eye contact, a deep groan leaves his lips as he leans down to kiss you deeply. He pulls away once he bottoms out and his eyes meet yours again.

"I love you so much." He whispers as he pulls his hips back, thrusting into you slowly and passionately. His arms wrap around you. Hugging you into his chest as he moves in and out of you at a steady pace. Only speeding up a bit once he's adjusted to your tight walls.

"I love you too, so so much, Chan." Your words leave your mouth in a moan. Your head rests against his shoulder and his rests in the crook of your neck, leaving light kisses in between moans and groans.

"I feel so good when I'm with you" Chan whispers into your ear, kissing the lobe softly. You moan at his words, you can feel the knot in your stomach pulling tighter and tighter. Suddenly he speeds up a bit, circling his hips into you and fucking you deeper.

"Oh my god, you feel so good. You're so big." Chan groans and you can feel his cock twitch inside of you. He bucks his hips into you, reaching impossibility deep as he sucks on the sensitive skin of your neck. Usually it takes more, it always has. You've always needed to touch your clit to cum, but Chan has proven that to be false.

You feel yourself slip into a pool of pleasure as you start to come undone. You choke on your words as you try to warn him but the fluttering of your walls tells him everything that he needs to know. He grunts, squeezing his eyes shut as his own release creeps up on him.

"Oh fuck, where can I cum. I'm so close." You blink your eyes open slowly, your body still shaking lightly as he stretches you open.

"Inside, please, wanna feel you."

"Oh my god." Chan tilts his head back as his rhythm falters. You already felt like heaven and now you were telling him that he could finish inside of you? It's the literal icing on a perfect cake for him.

"I'm gonna - oh fuck." He thrusts into you slow and deep as ropes of sticky cum fill your dripping cunt. You both moan at the sensation, seeing stars and floating through space together as you step out of your cloud of bliss. You squeeze his hand that is holding onto you, tight and secure.

"Baby?" You call him and he hums, eyes still shut and his chest rises and falls quickly against your back. "Come back to me."

You both giggle a bit and he slowly opens his eyes. "Oh my gosh."

He looks down at you, meeting your bright eyes and smiling.

"Hey." He chuckles, pecking your nose lightly.

"Hey." You chuckle back cuddling into his chest.

"I should, uh, pull out." You shake your head, clenching around him and pulling a groan from him. He's still hard by some miracle and it feels so good to finally feel him complete you.

"Let's just stay like this for a second, yeah?" Chan stares down at you with bright eyes filled with love, he nods, settling into the mattress and laying down behind you. His fingers run over your stomach slowly as if he were strumming a guitar. The soft touch makes you feel safe and grounded.

"Sure, baby." He exhales against you softly, kissing your shoulder "Was it everything you expected?"

"So much more than I expected, so perfect. You're so perfect." Chan smiles against your skin, leaving another soft kiss.

"It's you that's perfect." You both lie there in silence as the sun finally sets and the soft darkness swallows you both. You hear soft music playing and you both look up towards the end of your bed at the credits for the movie you were watching.

"I wonder if that was a good movie." You ask with a laugh and Chan shrugs pulling you closer.

"Even if it was, this movie was so much better."

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barblaz-arts · 2 months

Note

In the Witch-Baby AU what is Vegas reaction to meeting Enid for the first time? Since I can’t imagine Wednesday either explaining how she came about to her yet or that Enid specifically is her other mother.

Also also, Enid is totally going to throw down against Esther in defense of Vegas yes?

I really would have rather shown it in a comic or fic, but considering how I'm distracted by another fandom rn... okay, I'll tell 😀👍

Vega and Enid's first meeting was supposed to be a lil rough. If you saw the WiP I'd posted before, then you know Vega was supposed to meet Sora after running away from the authorities

Sora was a lost kid in the forest, and Vega helped her out by finding her way home. But of course, being a wolf, their return merely caused a panic where Vega ends up getting hurt.

Meanwhile, Enid and Wednesday eventually find Vega who is too blinded by fear to be lucid in her form. Vega lashes out and almost hurts Wednesday, but Enid jumps in the way just in time to catch the blow.

But instead of being met with violence, Enid gives her a hug, comforting her, saying sweet things like how Vega has her eyes and they're beautiful. Gradually Vega reverts back to her humanoid form in Enid's arms. It was supposed to be a parallel to the main AU where Vega transformed for the first time, since this instance in the witchcraft baby AU was also Vega's first time shifting.

Vega ended up liking Enid a lot after that. It causes a bit of a competition between Wednesday and Enid, but Vega loves both of them regardless.

Although Vega already knew she was a homunculus, Enid is the one who tells Vega that a part of her came from Enid. Vega is the one who comes into the conclusion that it might mean both Enid and Wednesday are her mothers, which Enid is thrilled to agree with and Wednesday doesn't have the heart to refute. Eventually they commit to it so they could have a cover as they go into hiding in Sora's town, away from the council.

I'm not sure if I actually want Enid to literally fight Esther over Vega's safety, but I planned to have Esther eventually accept Vega. So regardless of how the confrontation happens, I wanted Vega's charming self to end up catching her grandmother's heart despite everything.

#asks #witchcraft baby au

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bagopucks · 5 months

Text

J. Hughes - Can’t Break Up Now [Old Dominion & Megan Moroney]

✄————————————

Jack Hughes x Fem!reader

Word Count: 904

Warning(s): talk of major fight, self deprecating thoughts, thoughts of self harm

I promise this fic will not hit the same if you don’t listen to the song while reading. This song quickly became my favorite as soon as I heard it, and I knew it just had to be a Jack fic.

—————————————

You know the color of my coffee

Too many t-shirts in my closet that you bought me

At this point, I can't unlearn the things you've taught me

About myself

It was our biggest fight yet. Jack and I had both said things we didn’t mean. We were scared of the unknown. Scared of a disagreement with our future. Jack had merely said he could easily see himself leaving the city if he ever got traded. But I had a stable job and family here. I couldn’t leave…

I had been frozen in shock when the door slammed shut. He’d left. Perhaps rightfully so. I’d called him horrible things. I broke down on the carpet in the bedroom when he left.

You pick the music when I'm driving

Your mama always takes my side when you fight me

And these days, my dog likes you more than he likes me

You can just tell

Jack hadn’t thought the answer through, and in the end he got too defensive to admit how wrong he was. When he left he didn’t know where he was headed. Jack just knew he was going somewhere. The yelling, the accusations, the hateful words spoken… they’d all been too much.

Jack gripped the steering wheel of his car impossibly tighter than before. His knuckles were white. He wanted to pull the wheel and turn himself into oncoming traffic. He wanted to spend his life with this woman. What had he done?

So what am I supposed to, unlisten to every song written?

Take you out of every melody?

You know my secrets, my demons, and I know your weaknesses

All of your doubts and your dreams

Jack knew she was alone, just as he was. Crying, panicking, asking herself what to do. He just couldn’t bring himself to go back. He didn’t know how to face her. But where were they supposed to go from here? The only way to know was if they could talk it out. Jack knew if they didn’t talk, it had a 100% chance of ending badly. Maybe if they spoke they could fix it.

So we

Can't break up now

No, we

Can't break up now

Four years. Four solid years of loving and growing. There for each other in every scenario. Every rise and fall. Every accomplishment and failure. There was such a deep history, how could they end things?

I hate the thought of starting over

If you left, I know I'd never get closure

Can't imagine letting anyone get closer

Than you are to me, oh

I flicked through photos in my phone, scaling back too many years. If I deleted them, four years of my life would be gone. Four years of so much effort. How could I leave him? I folded my legs beneath myself on our bed. Our bed. I needed Jack. The photos on the wall? His clothes? His towels in my bathroom. His dishes in my cabinets. His movies, his gaming consoles, his furniture. Everything would be gone.

Yeah, I'll battle this out all night 'till we fix it

If the ship's going down, I'm going down with it

Time alone did nothing to ease either mind. So perhaps it was better to be together.

Your friends are my friends

Jack turned his car around the moment he knew what he wanted.

I start where you end

I stood from the bed to leave the room. I decided I’d leave the front door unlocked. Yet when I got there, I couldn’t gain the courage to actually unlock it. Instead I sat against the wall next to the door, waiting to hear his knock. His voice.

We've got too much history

This was the right choice.

So we

Can't break up now

No, we

Can't break up now

We've come too far and we're in too deep

We love too hard just to let it go

So we

Can't break up now, oh

It didn’t take Jack long to drive back to the apartment. Mostly because he was speeding. He’d tried to fix his disheveled appearance before knocking on the door, plastered with fake gold numbers that clacked every time the door shook.

So what am I supposed to, unlisten to every song written?

Take you out of every melody?

I shot up at the sound, no hesitation in my body this time as I unlocked the door and opened it. We were met with one another’s faces, silent, blank. Where would this go?

No, we

Can't break up now

No, we

Can't break up now

“I’m so sorry..” Jack’s broken voice reached my ears. “I love you so much.”

No, we

Can't break up now

No, we

Can't break up now

“God Jack I never should have said any of that.” I fell into his arms, quiet sobs falling from our lips as we held each other tightly.

We've come too far and we're in too deep

We love too hard just to let it go

“Please let me in,” Jack whispered against my neck. It wasn’t even a question as to whether I would or not.

So we

Can't break up now

“Come in, honey.. let’s sit down.” I held onto his hand as I ushered him in, tears streaming down both of our faces.

No, we

Can't break up now, oh

It was better to heal together than alone.

Can't break up now

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #songfic #song fic #ella’s updates

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zentraex · 9 months

Note

Could u do an arrange/forced marriage of aizawa fic please ❤️ (Maybe mafia AU?)

Thank you so much for this request! This is my first one and it made me so happy! I hope I didn't disappointed you or something like that.

Like always, English is not my first language and German grammar is a lot different than English grammar. So, sorry for any mistakes.

Trigger Warnings: forced marriage, slightly yandere, mentioning of a gun

Also, I got an inspiration for the last few sentences from a picture in Pinterest. So, it wasn't really my idea, but fitted really well.

I hate you

The detailed planning should make you feel like you're floating above clouds. The closer the day gets, the wilder the butterflies should fly in your stomach.

It should be the most beautiful day of your life: your wedding day.

A nightmare. This is a nightmare.

But why is it exactly the opposite for you?

Locked up in your room, the only retreat you had left until now, the day scratched squeaking at your door.

You dreaded this day, so much that the nausea in you grew bigger and bigger.

It is the worst day of your life: your wedding day.

Clack

The shackles around your hands are straining at your wrists. Just...what shackles? The ones you imagine?

How could you end up like this?

Your gaze wanders to the empty seats which are reserved for your parents.

True, they are to blame... Or rather yourself?

When did it all start?

Your family was a normal baker's family, nothing special. You were happy to follow their footsteps and take over the shop later.

You would have had regular customers, 70% of them would have been old seniors, and you would have chatted happily with them. Who knows, maybe that's how you would have found the love of your life?

Your future partner wouldn't have wanted anything big, just a few rolls, but he wouldn't have known which ones. You would have advised him and your way of talking and smiling would have charmed him. He would have come again and then more regularly, and slowly, the two of you would be something more.

You've always raved about it. Who would have thought that this dream turned out to be a nightmare?

Shota Aizawa or Eraser Head as he is called in his mafia group, was actually the one customer, “your true love".

Your parents wanted to have an evening to themselves, so you had to take over the shop.

"Welcome," you smiled. The man in front of you was tall. His black hair was disheveled and hung down to his shoulders. His red eyes were only half open. He looked like he had been through several sleepless nights.

"A few bread rolls."

For a moment, there was silence between you as you waited for him to give a more precise order.

"Which ones and how many?"

His tired eyes wandered through the variety of bread rolls your bakery had to offer.

"Which ones are good?"

A proud grin formed on your lips.

"I'd say they are all of the best quality, but if you ask me what my favorites are, it's definitely the milk bread rolls."

"Yes, then I'll take those."

You almost sighed out loud. What was with that guy?

"And how many?"

His eyes glanced briefly at your smile.

"All of them."

Your eyes widened when you heard this almost absurd order. Unsure, you analyzed the stranger in front of you, only to get a completely serious look in response.

"Okay... do you want another coffee? You look very tired."

"No, the work just gives me a lot of headaches. That's all."

"Oh, I know that only too well! I always catch my parents feeling exhausted after a day full of work."

The man in front of you raised an eyebrow. "Your parents?"

"Yes, they own the store. Normally I just help out, but every now and then I get to take over.

The stranger just nodded.

"So, that would be then..."

Your neighborhood was known for having a dangerous mafia group. There were many reasons why, despite all this, so many lived here. One of the reasons was because the rents weren't too high. Aside from that, it was rather on the edge of the town and therefore there was not really anything going on. The neighborhood was peaceful, if the mafia was left out. Most people were always nice to you and only a few were bullies. But the smiling faces could never hide the fear in the eyes of the people. Many shops had to close out of nowhere and many people disappeared suddenly. You could never be sure if someone was a member of the mafia, as no one dared to reveal their identity.

That's why you didn't recognize him, just like all the other times: the man everyone feared the most.

How could you? Not even the members of the mafia gang themselves knew what their boss looked like.

That's why you always greeted him with the widest smile you've had. First week after week and then day after day. A friendly smile quickly turned into a loving one...

"It's funny how long we've known each other and yet I never got your name."

"It's also the first time you've brought it up, Reader. Do you want to know?"

But there is one thing everyone knew about the boss of the mafia...

"Don't ask if you already know the answer," you answer with a wink.

The name.

„Shota Aizawa.“

Your eyes widened and your breath stuck in your throat.

"W-What? I don't think I got your name right."

Casual as always, he rested his head on his palm and looked at you with a smirk.

„Shota Aizawa.“

Your profuse sweating lasted until he left. Did he mean it as a joke? How could you talk so peacefully with a criminal for so long ?

Even worse, how could you fall in love with someone like that?

Since that day, you had avoided working in the bakery and spent a while in a friend's apartment. Maybe that was the most decisive mistake you made.

"500,000 Dollar or our store closes? What have we done to make it happen to us?"

Nothing. Your parents had absolutely nothing to do with it. It had been your fault that you had bewitched him and then disappeared.

"How are we supposed to get so much money together in three days?"

You had ridden your parents into misfortune.

The three days passed slowly. Your family came to terms with the fact that you can't get the money together and so you all just waited for your end. Shota didn't show up during that time either.

Too your surprise, The boss himself was present at the day of reckoning. This time, Shota was wearing a suit and his hair was styled back. He was bent forward, his arms resting on his knees, and his hands are intervened. Typical for him are his half-open eyes and the corners of his mouth pulled down. Usually it made you smile, at that time it sent shivers down your spine.

"The money?" he asked. During all this, he hadn't even given you a quick glance.

"Unfortunately, we don't have it. You know-", your father couldn't even finish talking, Shota immediately interrupted him with a shot of his gun. Your breath trembled, and your sweat ran down your face continuously.

"I don't want to hear excuses," Shota muttered and sighed. "You know what that means?"

None of you cried or pleaded. You have already finished with your lives three days ago.

"Normally, you have to pay with your life..."

That was true. In the best case, one was allowed to die, otherwise most women became prostitutes and men became slaves. It hit you very badly when one were given the title of a pet. You only heard rumors of how one had to eat dog food.

"But I'm generous today."

A wide grin suddenly spread across Shota's lips.

"Either the two of you," he said, pointing to your parents, "die or you give me your daughter as a bride. You can even help with the planning."

You didn't even have the right of codecision. It was also the last time you saw your parents. As far as you know, they had packed their things and moved…wherever.

While Shota was bursting with satisfaction, your world collapsed.

And this is still the case today.

Why me?

The wedding march in the background, which made you dream of your future in the past, sounds distorted to you, like the music in a horror movie. Even though the walls of the church are colorful, you see them only with a black and white filter.

Why do you progress so fast when you walk as slowly as you can?

Stay away from me, I hate you.

Worst of all, however, is his mangy grin. Everything in you is screaming out to rip it out of his face.

I hate you!

Except for the 4 closest confidants of Shota, there are no other guests. Your parents have received an invitation, but why should they come?

When you arrive at Shota's side, the first tears roll down your face.

"We have gathered today because Shota Aizawa and Reader want to enter into the covenant of marriage. Love..."

Love? What love?

"... endures everything, believes everything, hopes everything, withstands everything. Love never ends."

No, I hate you. I don't want any of this.

"And so, we hope that it will succor you."

Your grip on your bouquet crushes the poor plants.

"So, I ask you, Shota Aizawa, will you honor and love your wife in good and in bad times? So answer with: yes, I do."

I don't want to be honored by you.

"Yes, I do."

No! I hate you!

"And so I ask you, reader, will you honor and love your husband in good and in bad times? So answer with: Yes, I do."

No, I don't want to!

No!

There is silence in the room for a moment. The lump in your throat is too big to get it down all by once. Your silence meets the warning gaze of Shota.

"Yes, I do."

"So now, by virtue of my office, I declare you husband and wife. You are now allowed to kiss the bride."

You assh*le, wretched b*st*rd. Don't touch me with your disgusting lips!

As soon as his lips touch yours, it feels like a plague is spreading throughout your body.

The ring he puts on you weighs tons, at least that's how it feels. Your skin burns underneath.

"Look, now you're officially mine. You can't imagine how long I've been waiting for this moment."

"A cageed animal is not immediately yours. I'll get away from you."

"We'll see."

#x reader #yandere #bnha #mha #female reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #mafia au #mha x reader #bnha x reader #yandere aizawa #forced marriage #yandere aizawa shouta #Aizawa x reader #yandere bnha x reader #yandere mha x reader

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ikol-art · 11 months

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I'm not a writer so don't ask me for a fic, but

I keep imagining a scenario where Merlin is holding Arthur as he's dying, but with a magical grief outburst like Morgana's over Morgause. Except for Merlin it sends his time manipulation powers into overdrive and he ends up reversing it, all the way back to the beginning. I've read several fics where he time travels back, but in this scenario I imagine Arthur ALSO knows about it, because Merlin was holding him as it happened. Imagine Camelot at the very start of season 1 and only Arthur and Merlin have knowledge of the past/future 10 years. I'd imagine it would change quite a bit (they def support Morgana from the beginning, smuggle out any sorcerers because they don't quite want to actually murder the king, maybe Arthur and Morgana end up simply traumatizing him with their stances on magic idk, they adopt mordred and also hatch and smuggle Aithusa in, gaslighting everyone into thinking she's a bird)

Now Arthur has to do the whole 'keep Merlin's magic a secret' thing.. he's terrible at it, Morgana ends up knowing within 5 minutes

I would also imagine it would change the relationship dynamics, sharing 10 years with only one person is bound to bring you even closer together (yes I need merthur to happen here, but it could also be mergwenthur 👀 or if Merthur is endgame Gwen should at least get to end up with both Lancelot and Morgana, she deserves everything)

#again im not a writer so this is all youre getting from me #feel free to add on to it tho #or write it yourself #its free real estate #just tag me pls #I want to consume it #merlin #merthur #headcanons #how does one even tag this kind of post #confused artist noises #arthur pendragon #mergwenthur #gwencelot #morgwen #emrys

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satans-helper · 7 months

Text

Bring a Friend

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Danny Wagner x (F) Reader

Word Count: ~6800

Warnings: it's a threeway with HEAVY slash. Don't like it, don't read it. (voyeurism; oral sex w/ M & F receiving; dirty talking; bottom!Sam; Danny is a bit of a dom; fingering all around; protected anal & vaginal sex) 18+ only!

@mackalah sent a call to the universe asking for a Sanny x Reader fic inspired by the song Lost in the Fire by The Weeknd. I've been writing Sanny fics for a long time and I never get tired of doing it. I think I was one of the first, if not the first, writers in the fandom to write a Sanny threeway, actually...and I never thought I'd write more of those but I felt very inspired by this song and the idea...even if it doesn't fit your specific image, I hope anyone who reads this enjoys it ;)

---

Sure, you had reconciled with the fact that Sam would never love you as much as he loved Danny. At first, their overwhelming affection and adoration for one another was kind of cute to you. Seeing Sam so enamored with a boy was adorable–quite special, really. You loved that he could love a best friend so fiercely, so passionately. But then it had become clearer and clearer throughout your relationship that you would never be even close to a priority no matter how long you were with Sam or how close you two became–Danny would always be closer, and Danny would always be number one.

So things ended. Amicably enough, thankfully, and you still saw Sam–and by default, Danny–all the time. You were friends. But you weren’t sure how to respond when Sam started sending you pictures that showcased more of their friendship than you’d ever imagined. Well, not seriously imagined, anyway.

The first one was almost passable as innocent–a picture of Sam and Danny’s arms slung across one another’s shoulders, Danny leaning in and pressing his lips to Sam’s cheek.

Cute, you texted back.

Jealous? Sam replied.

You balked at your phone. Sam was ridiculous. Of you or of him?

Either

Nope

Hmm…

After that text, he sent you a picture of them actually kissing–Danny was planting a big one right on Sam’s mouth and Sam was smiling into it, arm outstretched to capture the moment on his phone.

What about now?

You stared at the picture, flabbergasted. It was kind of hot, you had to admit, but you also felt your chest tighten with bitterness–you’d really tried with Sam. You’d been patient and forgiving, welcoming of how close Danny was to him, but it just never felt like you were enough. Not the perfect fit. And that wore you down more and more until it just all had to end. But here Sam was showing off his perfect match, apparently really trying to make you jealous when you thought all those feelings of jealousy had been buried and forgotten.

You left Sam on read, ignoring his attempt to antagonize you, but later, when you’d nearly forgotten about the pictures, Danny texted you:

Did Sam send pics of us together to you?

You sighed. You weren’t really in the mood to get more, but maybe Danny would spare you.

Yes. Did you guys take those just to send to me and make me “jealous?”

Actually no. I didn’t even know he sent them until now. I’m really sorry if it upset you

Another sigh. Danny was a sweetheart. Surely he really didn’t want to rile you up or hurt your feelings.

It's okay. You guys are good together

Thanks. You and Sam were good together too

You left that alone. As much as you could appreciate the sentiment, you weren’t in the mood to travel further down memory lane. But later, when you were lying in bed, you found yourself opening up your texts to look at those pictures again, especially lingering on the snapshot of Sam and Danny kissing. Finally, with a huff you locked your phone and tossed it aside before you tossed yourself into a fitful sleep.

But the next day, the pictures commenced. The first one was sent in the middle of the night and was a perplexing awakening–a picture clearly taken from Sam’s POV. You’d recognize that torso anywhere and there it was in clear digital–Sam flat on his back, a string of bright pink bite marks down his stomach and Danny’s wild dark curls pressed against his belly. You couldn’t see his face, but you also knew that hair anywhere. You sat up in bed rubbing your eyes and once your brain made full sense of the image, you wanted to be mad. You were mad–you could feel the heat rising in your body, the tension growing in your mind, but you also felt a tingle of betrayal shudder through you all the same.

No text accompanied the photo. It was bait and you weren’t going for it. If Sam wanted you to be jealous, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction; if he just wanted you to have the pictures for whatever demented reason, you’d accept. But when the pictures kept coming and got progressively more raunchy, you thought the picture of Sam kissing Danny’s neck, his hand shoved down Danny’s pants, had to be the last one. There was no way it would escalate. But it did–later that night Sam sent you a picture of Danny straight up sucking his dick.

That made you gasp and, without even thinking about it, press the call button.

“Sam!” you shouted when he answered. “What the fuck are you doing? Does Danny know you’re sending me all these?”

Sam laughed. Such a bastard. “He didn’t at first. But now he does. He’s been encouraging me.”

You held your face in your free hand, sighing. “Sam. What the hell is wrong with you? I’ve really worked hard to move past our breakup and I–”

“Y/N, I know. That’s not what this is.” Sam paused for a second and you sensed he wasn’t alone on the other end. “This is an invitation.”

You couldn’t lie to yourself–you’d thought about it. How could you not after receiving all those pictures? But still the words from Sam didn’t make sense in your mind. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean exactly what I said. We’re inviting you to join us.” When you didn’t respond, Sam continued: “Just for a night, you know? Test it out?”

The words were still bouncing around. Your heart sped up with curiosity. “Let me talk to Danny,” you ordered. “I’m sure he’s with you right now. Right?” Danny would make it make sense.

Another laugh from Sam. “Yeah, he’s here. Hang on.” There was a vague shuffle and then Danny’s voice was in your ear.

“Danny, please explain this to me,” you demanded, growing even more flustered and impatient. “What’s Sam talking about?”

“Well, um, I think he kind of said it all.”

You let out an exasperated huff. “He did not say it all, Danny. Clearly I need you to spell it out for me.”

“We both like you and we want to have a threesome,” Danny explained and you could hear Sam laugh in the background. “That’s it. If you don’t want to, it’s totally cool. And I’ll tell him to stop sending the pictures.”

Maybe it was strange, but when you’d looked at all the photos, you’d never pictured yourself being part of the action. Sam and Danny came as a pair–clearly. Your relationship had ended because of that–and were truly, as far as you were concerned, meant for one another. To get between that seemed strange, not to mention held incredible risk to damage the friendship you were still clinging to with both of them.

You thought about the pictures some more though and felt you landed on some middle ground, unorthodox as it was. But all of this was entirely unorthodox. “What if I watched?” you proposed.

“What? You want to?” Danny asked, the surprise in his voice ridiculous to you given what he and Sam had already proposed themselves.

“Sure. Clearly, Sam’s into that.”

There was a slight pause, then Danny said, “Okay. Yeah, sure. We’re into that too.”

It was probably one of the worst decisions of your life. But when you hung up, you couldn’t help but feel a little excited about it.

You were surprised at how Sam and Danny didn’t seem to care at all that you were watching, sitting in the oversized, plush lounge chair that had been hauled from the living room to the bedroom for the big show. You were also surprised at how, as the action progressed and you were seemingly forgotten, sinking back into the walls like you were invisible, you cared less and less as well. Sam and Danny were completely enthralling to watch–Sam was lying half on top of Danny, kissing him like his best friend was made of pure magic, and Danny was cradling the back of Sam’s head like he was a precious piece of art. Both things were true in your mind–Danny was like a magical, mystical storm enveloping Sam, who was indeed a rare and beautiful work of art that needed to be treasured.

When Sam smiled into the next kiss, a lightning bolt of jealousy pierced your chest. They looked at one another like they were completely in love, probably because they were. Sam had never looked at you like that. But it made sense. You were just the last in a string of failed girlfriends before Sam finally realized who his true partner was. You could imagine that Danny had been silently waiting and beckoning Sam to come to him for good.

Nevertheless, you couldn’t deny that what you were privileged to witness was also painfully hot, even hotter when they both took their shirts off; Sam dipped his head down to begin kissing Danny’s neck and Danny’s hands roamed Sam’s shoulders and back, then up to toy with his hair.

For the first time since they’d begun, Sam addressed you. “Isn’t he so hot?” he asked, glancing at you while he ran his fingers over Danny’s ribs.

“Very hot,” you agreed; Danny blushed in response.

“Did you ever think about fucking him?” Sam continued. The question didn’t catch you off-guard, having expected to be a little scrutinized with all the build-up to this event. If nothing else, the conversation probably just made Sam even more turned on.

“Who hasn’t?” you replied. You had, not that you’d ever told Sam that. Not that Danny ever showed any interest. And not that Sam would have cared, you realized; on the contrary, you now knew he would have jumped at this opportunity much earlier.

“I know, right?” Sam resumed pressing kisses to Danny’ neck, holding the side of his face; Danny nuzzled against his palm and that image made your heart swell. They adored each other so vividly and so overtly.

“I’m surprised you’re okay with being watched, Danny,” you noted, feeling a little more apt to talking now that Sam had extended that olive branch.

“I said I’d try it. For Sam,” Danny told you. Sam smirked against his skin and wiggled down to mouth against his chest. “I don’t mind, really. It’s just you.”

“You like watching?” Sam inquired, peeking at you with his face still pressed against Danny’s chest, his cheek resting against his sternum.

“Yeah, it’s hot,” you said. You could feel your own body literally growing hotter by the second just watching, even more so when Sam finally brought one hand down to Danny’s crotch. Your breath hitched as Danny’s did too, and he arched up into Sam’s touch.

“Just wait ‘til you see his dick,” Sam said, stroking Danny over his sweatpants. You could see the faint outline, impressively sized, not to your surprise. Sam brought himself to his knees and moved lower, bringing his fingers to the waistband of Danny’s pants. “It’s so big I can hardly take it.”

Your cheeks suddenly burned. “Jesus, Sam.”

Sam laughed. “What? It’s true!”

“It is true,” Danny affirmed, putting both his hands on Sam’s head. “But you’re gonna take it tonight, right? Show Y/N how good you can be for me?”

You hadn’t, however, expected Danny to chime into the dirty talking. It seemed so out of character but it worked, and it had you rubbing your thighs together, starting to feel tortured. But you were going to try to keep up. “You let him fuck you, Sam?”

“Sure do. He’s fucking good at it too,” Sam said with a rough, low laugh. He pulled down Danny’s pants and that impressive dick was free, rock hard and looking heavy against Danny’s abdomen. You watched Danny close his eyes as Sam licked straight up his length, cradling his balls in one hand while the other was clenching tight around his hip.

“Is Sam good at sucking dick?” you asked. Danny seemed to be enjoying it already, even with Sam just licking and jerking him off slowly.

Danny nodded, humming, and laced his fingers through Sam’s hair. “He’s so good at it. He knows just what I like. Why don’t you show her, Sammy?”

And Sam did, gripping the base of Danny’s cock to prop him up before he went down. Danny was big–the fact that Sam could take half in one go was impressive and you squeezed your thighs together harder, struggling more and more to figure out what to do with your own hands. Meanwhile, Sam knew what to do with his hands. He started to stroke Danny while he sucked and his other hand trailed up Danny’s body, palming at his chest before he slipped his fingers into Danny’s mouth.

There was no music to curtail the sounds they were both making–Sam’s sloppy sucking and occasional gags, Danny’s muffled gasps and moans that turned to whimpers with Sam’s fingers in his mouth and his cock being worked over longer and harder. Maybe all of this should have been shocking. You never thought, not before all those pictures anyway, that Sam would go down on any man and you certainly never could have imagined you’d watch it happen, but the whole thing was far more arousing than shocking. It was like your brain couldn’t even acknowledge the surprise that should have been blatant, rather it was fixated on the pure pleasure Sam was giving to Danny and how it translated to you somehow, an invisible line connecting all three of you.

Forever, for sure. You’d have to take all of this to the grave.

Sam suddenly grunted and popped off, grinning at Danny with spit coating his chin. “Ouch, Daniel.” He turned to you. “He’s such a biter.”

You’d been too busy watching Sam going down on him to have noticed Danny chomping on his fingers. “I remember,” you said, voice just a tad wobbly which you hoped would go unnoticed. “From that picture. All those marks on your stomach.” You could still see faint pink remnants on Sam’s torso now.

“Mmm, yeah.” Sam jerked Danny off, a wet slick sound thanks to all the saliva he’d left behind, and kept his eyes on you while he asked, “Wanna watch him do it?”

You felt like you were about to burst despite no one touching you or touching yourself, but the idea of Danny doing that was too enticing to turn down. You also felt it was possible that such a long delay before your own ecstasy could make it all even more incredible. So you said yes and quickly Sam flopped onto his back, encouraging Danny to come to him with outstretched arms, but he had to wait a moment–Danny fumbled on the bed for a few seconds trying to get his pants all the way off and his struggle elicited a much-needed laugh from you and Sam.

“Stop laughing,” Danny protested with a final kick, sending the sweatpants to the floor. “Getting naked isn’t always like, a graceful thing.”

“You’re not as bad as Sam,” you assured him, and Sam shot you an insulted look. “He just tears everything off like an animal. No grace at all.”

“I like doing it for him,” Danny said. He kissed Sam on the mouth softly, deeply, and Sam’s arms circled his shoulders, bringing him even closer. You watched closely, glued to the chair, as Danny brushed Sam’s hair back and brought his mouth to his neck; you’d always loved kissing Sam’s neck, too. Would he make the same sorts of sounds when Danny did it?

The soft sigh that Sam let out when Danny kissed along his throat was similar, yet still different. There was more desperation in that sound, especially when Danny carried on gently for another few moments before you saw him sink his teeth right in. Sam shuddered and clawed at Danny’s shoulders, and suddenly you were wondering what Danny’s mouth would feel like on you.

“Yeah, Sam loves when I mark him up,” Danny purred, trailing his increasingly harsh and teeth-filled kisses down Sam’s torso. He stopped at Sam’s belly, his teeth pressing into the soft skin as he pulled down his shorts. Seeing Sam’s dick was nothing new for you, but when Danny abruptly grabbed Sam by the hips to toss him over, then lifted him onto his knees, that was an entirely new sight.

Danny gripped Sam’s ass while he dove right in and took a bite into one cheek like he really was trying to eat him; Sam yelped and you gasped. It looked like it hurt–when Danny pulled back, there was already an angry red mark, but then Sam moaned and laughed a little.

“God, Sam. I didn’t know you were like this,” you remarked, perplexed and fascinated and so turned on that you had to sit right on top of your hands. “I’ve never seen you so–I don’t know. Submissive.”

“He’s a good boy for me,” Danny said, the words low and deep, and pet his hands up Sam’s sides. You could see that–Sam was perfectly pliant beneath Danny’s touch, like he was just waiting for whatever happened next, and so responsive to everything. Danny looked at you and his next question, though you’d been secretly waiting for it, nearly made you collapse out of the chair: “Wanna help him get ready?”

You balked for a moment, wide-eyed and so stiff from all the pent up excitement and curiosity. “Ready for–?”

Sam snapped his head to the side, peering at you sharply through his hair that had fallen into his face. “Ready to fuck me, obviously,” he snarked, but when Danny grabbed his hips hard and gave another bite to his ass, he quivered and his voice softened as he added, “Get over here, Y/N. We need you.”

That short sentence circled around in your mind, urging you to move but you felt like you couldn’t–the thought of getting up fully clothed to just wander over to what was happening on the bed seemed awkward and silly. Clearly your trepidation didn’t go unnoticed, because Danny was walking over to you, naked as the day he was born, and lifted you up.

“Don’t be scared,” he said in your ear, pushing you onward while he stayed behind you, his erection unceremoniously pressing against your lower back.

“I’m not scared,” you said, but you gasped again when Danny tugged at your pants and Sam was suddenly right in front of you yanking on the hem of your shirt. Helpless, you let them both strip you down to your bra and panties; Sam leaned back on his hands with a grin while you felt Danny move in even closer, his hands stroking your hips.

“Is that okay?” Danny asked, his lips on your ear.

“Yeah, sure,” was all you could say. You shivered when Sam reached one of his hands out to lightly press his fingers to the crotch of your panties.

“It was really hot for you to watch,” Sam said, drawing a line down your thigh with one fingertip. “Danny was nervous about it. Performance anxiety, you know. But–” He leaned to the side to look behind you. “It looks like he’s doing just fine.”

You were feeling more relaxed–Sam was back to himself, at least momentarily, and Danny was keeping his touches gentle and tentative. “You guys look like you’re made for each other. It makes sense why we didn’t work out.”

Sam frowned a little. “I feel bad about that, Y/N. I didn’t even know how into Danny I was until, well, pretty recently.”

Danny gave a little snort. “Please. I think everyone but you could see it pretty clearly.”

Sam rolled his eyes before he sighed and looked back at you. “You should try kissing him,” he suggested, leaning back once more. “It’s totally serendipitous.”

You could imagine. You turned in Danny’s arms; he smiled at you so sweetly that you were wrapped up in his softness, not even realizing he was single handedly bringing you down to the bed to lie next to Sam. Then he was kissing you as tenderly as he’d smiled at you and you felt you understood what Sam must have been feeling while you’d been watching earlier–kissing Danny was like magic.

You were feeling quite fulfilled just from making out and touching–Danny was so warm and so firm, his muscles taut beneath your fingers, his hair so soft–but then he was abruptly being pulled away from you. “Alright, back to business,” Sam commanded, yanking Danny away by his hair, to which Danny was grimacing and reaching up untangle Sam’s fingers.

“Ha!” Danny exclaimed when Sam freed him. “You’re jealous.”

You’d never seen Sam jealous before, actually, but now that Danny was pointing it out, you could see it clearly–the darkness in his eyes beneath furrowed brows, the exaggerated slant of his cheekbones as he pouted, the flush on his cheeks.

“You’re supposed to make it even during threesomes,” Sam said, looking from Danny to you then back again. Jealous or not, he was still hard, you noticed. “You have to divvy up the attention, Daniel and Y/N.”

“Fine,” Danny said shortly. “Then get on your knees again.” Instead of waiting even one second for Sam to do it himself, he grabbed his ankles and rolled him over again.

“Such a dom,” Sam said with a chuckle.

“God,” was all you could say, breathless at being involved now, not just witnessing. You needed to see more though and you were starting to understand your place in all this–you moved up to sit in front of Sam, lightly touching his face. “Hey, Sam–can I kiss you?”

He smirked at you, though you felt he had no right to when he was in such a vulnerable position, his ass quite literally in Danny’s face. “I thought you’d never ask,” Sam said, inching forward on his elbows, an image so ridiculous that you almost laughed. Instead, you brought your smile to his lips and kissed him for the first time in months–it should have felt ordinary but it didn’t. It felt brand new, strange and a little scary, made even scarier by the sudden popping sound that broke out from below.

You pulled away to identify the source, which was Danny squeezing lube onto his fingers. “Where’d you get that?” you asked, keeping your hands on Sam’s shoulders.

Danny chuckled, closing the cap of the bottle. “It was already on the bed.” With his dry hand he lifted a strip of condoms from the mattress and waved them around. “We came prepared.”

You grimaced; Sam and Danny both laughed. “Well, um–that’s good,” you said, but jeez. When had your ex-boyfriend and his best friend become such sex-crazed maniacs? It wasn’t the condoms or the lube–it was the fact that Sam was wiggling his hips back to Danny and Danny was squeezing one of his ass cheeks, anticipation evident on his face.

“Are you good?” Sam asked, propping himself up on his knees to get directly in front of you, wrapping his arms around you.

“Yeah, uh, I’m very good,” you stammered, running a hand through your hair and nearly knocking Sam in the face in the process. “It’s just–a lot to process.”

Danny moved right behind Sam, holding him so you were all pressed together like an obscene panini. “Yeah, it is for us, too,” he said, resting his chin on Sam’s shoulders. “You’re the only one we’d wanna do this with.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sam said. “I’m keeping my options open.”

“You’re fucking rude, Sam,” you said, but all the distractions kept any real heat away from your voice.

Sam laughed, that loud cackle that nearly made the walls vibrate. “I’m kidding, Y/N!” He grabbed your face and pulled you forward to plant a fast, harsh kiss to your mouth before he snapped back and said, looking over his shoulder at Danny, “Now let’s get this show on the road, big guy. Show her what you’re made of.”

That certainly did set things in motion, with Danny moving swiftly to get Sam back down in front of you; Sam planted his face in your lap and grabbed your hips, hastily pulling your underwear down. You weren’t sure where to fix your eyes–at Danny kissing Sam’s spine and his arm moving vaguely below or Sam tossing your panties to the floor, then latching his teeth to your inner thigh.

You let out a flustered breath and unhooked your bra. “Since everyone else is doing it–”

Sam’s voice was faintly muffled with his face between your legs: “That’s the spirit.” Though it shouldn’t have, the swipe of his tongue up your center came as a surprise, but not as much of a surprise as the loud keen that came from him as Danny perked up behind him, looking at both of you.

“Oh my god,” you uttered, trembling as you met Danny’s gaze. “Are you–”

“I’m getting him ready,” Danny answered as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. When you straightened up a bit, you got a better peek at what Danny’s hands were doing–one was gripping Sam’s hip and the other was thrusting idly. “I gotta open him up.” He draped himself over Sam’s back, his own upper body long enough for his own dark curls to mix with Sam’s sleek chestnut hair. “How do you want it, Sammy? Nice and easy or hard and fast?”

Sam gave an upwards nod at you. “Whatever she wants to see.”

Being given a clear say in this matter triggered a need for vengeance that you hadn’t even known existed. “Hard and fast,” you told Danny. He looked a little surprised, eyes widening slightly and lips parting; you tugged Sam’s hair a bit to make him look up at you again. “I bet that’s how you really like it, isn’t it?”

Of course Sam wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of feeling like revenge was ever possible. He laughed softly and said, “I like it however Danny likes it.”

Danny pulled back. “Which just happens to be hard and fast,” he said, and you caught a glimpse of him thrusting his hand forward again and Sam let out a choked little whimper, then a bitten-back groan as Danny gave a shockingly sharp, hard smack to his ass.

You had nothing to say to that. You simply tried to process what the hell was happening all around you once more, which was a good thing; you couldn’t exactly speak when Sam began nipping at your thigh and sliding two fingers inside of you. You kept your hands in his hair and fought the urge to close your eyes–you wanted to see as much as you could of Danny working his own fingers in and out of Sam and the way your ex-boyfriend’s body moved so sinuously with every motion. Sam pressed his tongue to your clit again, licking with impressive intention given the position he was in, while his soft grunts got muffled against your heat.

“How’s that feel?” Danny asked, and you weren’t sure if he was asking you or Sam or both of you.

“Good,” you said at the same time Sam said, “Amazing.” He looked up with suspicion. “Just ‘good?’ Alright, guess I have to work harder.” He brought his face back down, lapping at your clit wetly while his fingers worked deeper and harder through your own wetness. You felt a little embarrassed at how you were already dampening the sheet beneath you but you couldn’t help it–this was by far the most wild and the hottest sexual experience of your life. It made you a little mad that Sam being a kind of shitty boyfriend had to be the lead up to it.

Danny hummed. “So, Sam–think you’re ready?”

Sam nodded between your thighs, then looked up, his lips and chin shiny with your slick and his spit. “I’ve got an idea,” he began, lifting himself up and using your legs for leverage. “Get under me. That way, it’ll be like getting fucked by both of us.” He laughed a little, looking very satisfied with his own suggestion. “Except I'll still be getting fucked the way I want.”

“Always about you,” you muttered, a futile sort of defense mechanism against this very bewildering idea. But Sam only pulled you down as much as he could, until you were halfway down the bed and halfway beneath him.

Danny, you could tell based on the crinkling sound, was getting a condom on; you watched him slip one to Sam, who wasted no time in tearing it open. His abdomen flexed as he stayed upright on his knees and rolled the condom over his own cock; you reached out to touch him, his body still so familiar. The onset of an ache, of wanting Sam so badly, began to override the ache for punishing him. Maybe all of this was an apology in and of itself.

“I gotta get in you before he gets me,” Sam said. His voice was calm but his cheeks were vivid scarlet and sweat beaded on his hairline. You spread your legs and got your arms around his waist, both bringing him down to you and giving yourself some much-needed stability, and Sam slid into you like it was any other ordinary time, except for Danny’s hands looping around his chest and bringing his chin back to Sam’s shoulder.

The slide was easy–probably far easier than Sam’s experience would be, you thought–and Danny watched while he sank his teeth into Sam’s skin, the swirling forest of his irises fixed on yours in a way that would have made you feel self-conscious if it weren’t for Sam overtaking you being so distracting.

“God, you feel good,” Sam said quietly, giving a shallow thrust. That was enough to make you moan softly in response, gripping his middle more tightly. Your arms were brushing against Danny’s abdomen; Danny brought one hand to your forearm as if encouraging you both to keep going, so Sam did with a few more gentle shoves of his hips. As you were just getting used to the sensation of three bodies of increasing heat coming together, Sam’s cock sliding through your wetness and his hands squeezing your breasts, Danny shifted and Sam’s serene face turned to an open-mouthed, tense visage.

“That’s it, Sammy,” Danny encouraged. There was so much love in his voice that it made you feel loved too, though it was obvious in that moment he was wholly focused on Sam. Rightfully so. Sam responded viscerally not only with his facial expressions that only you could see, but with his voice, cursing softly and moaning low, and the full-body shudder that ran through him as Danny pushed forward.

You could imagine it being a bit of a challenge to take Danny yourself; the fact that Sam could do it was actually a little amazing. “God, Sam,” you said, stroking his hair. The soft reverence emanating from Danny made you feel the same–this was an experience to be treasured no matter how it went. “This is so hot. You guys look really hot together.”

“He feels so good. Literally so hot,” Danny said. He leaned over Sam again, making Sam push down on you, and subsequently into you, harder. Danny was fully in charge now, something you were entirely unopposed to–you watched, fascinated, as he began to move, his hands wandering over Sam’s chest and hips while he started to thrust. He built up a rhythm swiftly and easily, soon enough making Sam let out moans that became choked little sobbing sounds as Danny started to live up to expectations–he was fucking Sam hard and fast and you were on the receiving end of the last gyrations and echoes of his movements.

You grabbed the back of Sam’s head, pulling him in to kiss. There was just barely enough room to snake your arm between the two of your bodies; your first two fingers made a V around the base of Sam’s cock, stroking him lightly before you brought them to circle your clit. Sam’s desperate moans were drowned out by your incessant kissing–you wanted to consume him like Danny did, or as close to it as possible.

Between pants and huffs of effort, Danny’s voice snaked through your ears: “Do you like it, Sammy?” he asked and you opened your ears, giving Sam some necessary air and giving yourself quite the view as you strained to the side. Danny’s thighs were flexing with each thrust and his hands had a stronghold around Sam’s hips; Sam was all wobbly limbs and flushed skin, his hands clamped on your shoulders.

“Yeah,” was all Sam said. It was probably all he could say while Danny pounded into him.

Danny’s eyebrows rose. “What was that?” You bit your lip as Sam’s face tensed, his eyes shut tight, and waited for Sam to respond, but he didn’t. He only moaned a little, quiet and subdued, then the tension was slashed to pieces by another hard smack against his ass. “Sam?”

“Fuck!” Sam was explosive now with that one word, fucking himself back onto Danny and, subsequently, harder into you as he shifted back and forth. Words escaped you entirely as you just tried to ride through the dense waves, but Danny apparently had more.

“Tell Y/N how much you like this,” Danny demanded, yanking Sam’s head back by a fistful of hair, Sam squirming helplessly all the way.

“Oh my god, I like it,” Sam let out breathlessly, trying to look back at Danny. With the additional space, you touched yourself again more freely. Your chest and stomach felt so tight, this huge buildup growing even more–the fear surrounding this was gone. The anticipation had been alleviated and the payoff was more than you’d ever imagined, because the image of Danny holding Sam’s hip while he pulled his hair, his lips roaming Sam’s neck, and Sam desperately trying to please both of you was the most incredible thing you’d ever seen.

It was Danny's name that escaped your lips as you came, eyes shutting to dizzying blackness, shuddering violently beneath Sam and squeezing his cock tight inside you. Even in the throes of your own little explosion, you realized what you’d said and managed to say Sam’s name next, and reached for him with one hand.

“Oh fuck, I like that too,” Sam said against your cheek, teeth then dragging down to your neck. “You coming around me while Danny fucks me. So fucking hot.”

“Fuck, you guys–” you started to say, still out of breath, and tangled your fingers in Sam’s hair, trying to keep him close. “This is–wow. Are you close?”

“Sam’s ready to blow,” Danny answered, not showing any sign of slowing down. “He’s getting even tighter and–” He peeked down, then Sam gasped. “Yup, his balls are full. You gonna come for us, Sam?”

“Danny, where’d you learn how to dirty talk like this?” you questioned, genuinely flabbergasted by how easily the more easygoing, friendly and sometimes exceptionally shy and boyish side could give way to a man who was so in charge, so lustful, so commanding.

“He’s a secret slut,” Sam quipped, which got him another slap on the ass. He laughed a little, then you were caught in the dark again when he began to kiss you. Based on just that, it did seem like Sam was close–the kisses were getting sloppier, the stifled moans sharper, his hands squeezing your body harder. And when he did come, it wasn’t exactly what you were used to because Sam also moaned Danny’s name, both syllables whispered on your lips.

“That’s good, baby,” Danny cooed. Your vision was a bit fuzzy as you tried to look right at him, but you could see quite clearly how tenderly those big hands moved down Sam’s trembling back. The gentleness was short-lived–Danny went back into thrusting harshly, their muscles clashing against one another’s, Danny’s fingers raking down Sam’s sides. You’d never seen Danny come. Never thought you ever would. You thought that would be forever reserved for Sam now that they’d gotten together. So, enthralled once more, you stayed transfixed on him as he closed his eyes and lurched forward, his upper body hanging over Sam, his curls shielding parts of his face. But you could see the twitch of a brow and the parting of his lips, then the white teeth biting down, and then Danny let himself go entirely. He flopped down on top of Sam, who collapsed on top of you.

“Okay, jeez, you guys are heavy,” you noted after getting the wind knocked out of you. Sam stayed motionless, but Danny had the decency to get up. You turned your head to the side to watch him move off the bed, carefully roll the condom off himself and grab his pants from the floor. You considered asking him to stay naked because, well, why not? But then Sam groaned loudly, interrupting your thoughts.

“I’m gonna be so fucking sore tomorrow,” he declared, finally rolling off you, spreading out on his back; he stretched and you heard a crack come from somewhere. “Thanks, Daniel.”

Danny stepped over to pat Sam’s thigh. “You’re welcome.” He looked over at you. “How are you feeling?”

“I–” you paused, trying to find the right words, but first you needed to find your clothes again. Sam might have been comfortable living nude as often as he could, but you needed some sense of familiar security around you after all that. As you got redressed, you continued: “I felt many things during all that, honestly. It was kinda fun to see Sam getting wrecked.” Danny beamed at that, which almost made you laugh, which made Sam actually laugh. “I think you guys really are great together and I’m happy for you. But breaking up still really hurt.”

Danny gave a sympathetic frown then, his eyes becoming softer; Sam crawled over to your seat at the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry. I really am,” he said, sounding shockingly genuine. “I should’ve been a better boyfriend while I was still your boyfriend.”

“It’s okay, Sam, honestly,” you assured him, patting the arm that had wrapped around you. “It’s over and, really, it was fine. You were just in love with someone else. Better being in love with Danny than some random stranger or something.”

“Maybe if he’d told me sooner, we wouldn’t have ended up in that whole mess.”

Danny scoffed, planting his hands on his hips as he stood in front of both of you. “I sent you like, a million signals, Sam. You were pretty much the only person who didn't realize sooner.”

“It’s true,” you chimed in. “Looking back, Danny never really tried to hide anything.”

Sam sighed, then hopped off the bed and plastered himself against Danny’s side. “Okay, well, we didn’t hide anything tonight, did we?” He reached down and grabbed Danny’s crotch while kissing his cheek.

Danny hissed and slapped Sam’s hand away. “Too much too soon.”

“Never too much,” Sam replied, sneaking in another kiss, holding Danny close. “Never too soon.”

“Ugh.” You got to your feet, too. “Too much sappy romance for me.”

Sam cackled and grabbed your hand. “No, don’t leave. The night can’t end like this.”

“Yeah, we all at least need a few shots or a bowl or something,” Danny agreed with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair. “And a shower. Definitely a shower.”

“I get to go first,” Sam announced, breaking free and jetting out of the room, leaving you with a final image of his reddened ass, all thanks to Danny.

So then it was just you and Danny standing in the middle of the bedroom where so many unexpected, wild and beautiful things had happened. You looked at the chair that you’d been sitting in, so unassuming, then to the disheveled bed, and Danny put one arm around your shoulders.

“Thanks for doing this, Y/N,” he said. “Sam still talks about you all the time. He really cares about you. I think he respects you a lot, too.”

“I’ll always care about him,” you told Danny. His touch was as comforting as your clothes, weirdly enough. You were starting to understand more and more why Sam was so smitten with him. “I care about you too, Danny.”

From the hallway, Sam shouted, “Do you care enough about me to let my boyfriend get in the shower with me?”

Danny rolled his eyes while you laughed. “Okay, big guy,” you said, steering him out of the room. “You get in there while I get the drinks.”

---

Tagging no one (RIP my old fandom). If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, you can go HERE or DM me!

#sam kiszka #danny wagner #danny gvf #sam gvf #greta van fleet #gvf #gvf smut #sam kiszka x reader #gvf fic #gvf fan fiction #sam fic #josh kiszka #jake kiszka

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solomons-finest-rum · 1 year

Note

Hello to one of my favourite Alfie fic writers! Since you're taking requests, I'd like to make one as well.

I don't know how it works but how about a scenario/imagine where Tommy gets in some kind of trouble (as always) and Alfie suggests that his lovely gangster wife could help and goes to introduce them but as it turns out it's none other than the Shelby's sister/cousin/relative/friend/or maybe even an ex? (Your call one this one) who they thought was dead or something?

Idk if it's even worth your time and effort but I just wanted to make a request ;) No pressure, of course!

Love you and your writing a lot!

“As The Crow Flies” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — PART 1

SUMMARY — By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you to @zablife for being the most gracious beta!💗💗💗💗💗 and thank you Anon for this request, because actually it inspired a full-blown multi-chapter idea! So this is set around... Season 5 I suppose? But I'm going to ignore everything in it and Season 6 too. Let's pretend none of it happened and just focus on the fun part! That is driving Tommy insane and making Alfie say outrageous lines.

WORD COUNT — 2,286

Masterlist

In retrospect, Tommy Shelby felt he should have known better. He should have fucking known that the moment, the moment, he came to Margate to sort the bloody situation out, exactly two things would happen.

One, he would have to sit and listen with a straight face to Alfie’s inspired monologue, the subject of which had swerved from elephants to bank robbery in about two and a half minutes, and then managed to touch upon just about everything else under the sun.

Tommy remained quite sure that the sense of Alfie’s rambling had been long lost to history and the point of it all was just to talk him to death, really. Put him out of his misery with nonsense alone.

“Now then, Tommy, as I said, right, I ain’t the vindictive type, I really ain’t, so I am gonna help ya out just this once, right, outta the goodness of my own heart.”

Tommy managed not to roll his eyes. Barely.

“‘Cause I am a changed man these days, Tommy, an’ it can be that the old man that I am, I’m goin’ soft on ya, right, an’ so tradition dictates, mate, to ask for more than ten thousand for my troubles.”

Tommy raised a brow.

“But as things currently stand with the medical bills, on the account of bein’ shot in the face by some cunt, right… Fifteen would sound proper fair, mate.”

Thank fuck for small mercies, Tommy thought, then lit another cigarette and promptly got up to leave. Alfie apparently managed to settle both sides of the conversation, negotiations included, and their American problem could very well sort itself out all on his own—thus proving to Tommy once more that the only thing he could really count on in this world had always been lunatics.

“Right, the fuck you’re doin’ now, sit down!”

Tommy frowned and remained standing, cigarette in the corner of his mouth and sheer outrage emanating from his entire person. The question of “what in fuck’s name do you want now, you crazy bastard?” overtook his face.

“Right, I need to make a bloody phone call,” Alfie said then, which explained exactly nothing.

Yes, that was the second thing Tommy had been so sure would happen. Alfie would first go on a tangent, then formulate a plan that involved three separate layers of deception, a bribe, and a crate of dynamite (probably).

Then Tommy would get caught in the middle as bloody always and Polly would have his head for going along with Alfie’s plan in the first place.

What he didn’t expect was for Alfie to change his tone of voice completely as soon as the person picked up on the other end:

“Yeah, darlin’, it’s me. Come to the house, alright? Right, ‘cause I need ya here for somethin’. No, not like the— Bloody hell, woman, just don’t fuckin’ argue with me for once, alright?”

Sometimes a rare occasion would present itself for Tommy Shelby to become fucking speechless. Truth be told, he remained rather surprised that two such occasions had also involved Alfie Solomons, undoubtedly purely for the Devil’s bloody amusement.

“Who was that then, Alfie?”

“None of ya fuckin’ business.”

Tommy had a sneaky feeling there wasn’t a clever enough question in existence that could have pushed Alfie to say anything more. He looked smug as hell for having pulled that stunt off so Tommy was willing to see it through.

For old time’s sake.

The sun was setting and they had another drink, then Tommy let Alfie go on another tangent about… Tea import. Perhaps. Who knew, he wasn’t really listening.

On drink three Tommy was alerted by a car pulling up to the house, followed by a door slam and a rhythmic clacking of high heels on the porch. Tommy looked to Alfie, but the man remained infuriatingly calm.

Just as Tommy was about to reach for his gun, the door to Alfie’s study opened unceremoniously and a scent of expensive perfume wafted across the room. Tommy turned around and tried his best to keep up the indifferent facade, but failed miserably. Nothing could have prepared him for you walking through that door, with a giant bodyguard no less, following you like a second shadow.

“Alright there, Billy?” Alfie greeted the bodyguard casually and the man grunted in response. “Right then, might ya wait in the car for us, mate? This whole bloody business will take a minute.”

Tommy then watched as Alfie approached you and planted an affectionate kiss to your cheek, at which point Tommy stood up abruptly.

For a moment he just stood there and stared; a state he didn’t find himself in too often these days.

“Darling, are we having guests?” you asked Alfie in a tone so familiar to Tommy; so like your mother. Pleasant, on the verge of sarcastic.

By God, either that Camden bastard was a magician or you had a twin sister that Polly never mentioned. Because it wasn’t possible… It couldn’t be you. Not according to the file he stole from the parish. By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

“Right then, Tommy, might I present my lovely wife,” Alfie said. “Sweetie, this here is Tommy Shelby, right, all the way from the ungodly place they call Birmingham—”

“Tommy Shelby?” you interrupted and looked at Tommy with a smile so like Polly’s that Tommy nearly lost his composure again. “My, my… And there you went and promised you were done with the life, Alfie.”

“Right, an’ how could that—”

“Anna,” Tommy interrupted what he was sure was a budding monologue from Alfie.

“Yes?” you asked. “You know my name?”

“I… Know your mother.”

“Know?” There it was again. That curious smirk of yours that could really mean anything. Tommy found it harder and harder to keep up the charade.

“But that’s not possible, Mr. Shelby.”

“What’s not possible?”

Your tone remained polite, but your dark eyes said it all. The expression of quiet resolve Tommy thought only one person capable of delivering with such resentment.

“I’m an orphan, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy said nothing to that, because what in hell could he even say? All of a sudden the American issue faded into nothingness, replaced solely by the phantom standing before him.

“So you did not lie, I see,” you turned to your husband with a quizzical expression, seeing as Tommy went quiet again. “He really is as strange as the papers make him. No matter, though, Mr. Shelby, I hope you like chicken? My husband insists I’m a terrible cook, but you must stay for dinner.”

Tommy nodded mechanically and put out his cigarette just to busy his hands with something. When he looked at Alfie, though, Tommy noticed how the man’s mouth twitched, clearly indicating the scheme was playing exactly how he wanted it to. Mad bastard, Tommy thought. There was no saying if he was being played or tricked or helped. Probably all at once, but solely for Alfie’s benefit of course.

“Right, curious as I am, luv, what delectable fuckin’ option you maimed and butchered for dinner, Tommy isn’t stayin’—” Alfie then stopped himself when two sets of identical Shelby scowls got directed his way.

Tommy did stay for dinner and made sure to clean his plate, too. He didn’t mind the food at all; it reminded him of Polly’s simple cooking back in the day when she would take care of Tommy and his siblings in Small Heath.

The more he listened to you talk and bicker with Alfie, the more of your mother he saw in you and the angrier he got at seeing you here of all places, as Alfie’s wife, unable to speak to you in plain terms. Tommy wasn’t exactly sure which made him angrier, though—the fact that you were Alfie’s wife or the fact that the sly bastard had kept you from your true family for who knows how many years. How did he even find you?

All the questions he had were still swirling around in Tommy’s head and he wasn’t particularly paying attention to anything else, besides staring daggers at Alfie. He was hoping there would be a moment to talk to you alone, but of course your husband would never allow it. He watched Tommy like a hawk the entire evening, sometimes with just a hint of a smile to suggest he was still three steps ahead of everyone else.

“See you never got accustomed to that fancy cookin’ they’re offerin’ ya at the mansion these days, Tommy,” Alfie said, undoubtedly truly enjoying the charade. “Tommy’s an MP, darlin’, right about two steps from gettin’ a knighthood I reckon. Yeah, a real prince he is.”

The way Alfie said the word was so clearly a jab at Tommy’s ancestry that he didn’t even flinch. What he was curious about was your reaction, but you remained perfectly pleasant:

“Don’t tease, love, we haven’t had guests in ages and I’m not letting you drive this one away.”

When the maid took away the plates, you lit a cigarette in a swift overdone gesture and Tommy was once more taken aback with your resemblance to Polly.

“Well, I’ll leave ya both to it,” you announced as you got up. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Shelby.” You extended your hand and Tommy shook it. “I know you tried your best with the chicken and I appreciate it,” you paused and tilted your head to the side as if sizing Tommy up.

“I rarely trust your husband’s judgement,” he replied.

The way you smiled reminded Tommy of a cat that got into the pantry. He decided not to think about it too much.

“I see. Goodnight then, Mr. Shelby.”

As soon as Tommy heard you got upstairs, he turned to Alfie who, unsurprisingly, already had a gun pointed at him. It was a casual way of it that was the most infuriating—Alfie’s hand was more so resting on the table and the gun just happened to be there, pointing at Tommy.

“Now then, Tommy, let’s be reasonable about this, mate.”

Tommy clenched his jaw and remained silent, but his murderous glare said it all.

“There are four people at the house, right, includin’ you, me, my wife, then the maid… Then there’s Billy outside, right, who’s gonna be rightly worried once he doesn’t get my dismissal for the night. So I want ya to be real cold an’ calculated about it, Tommy, just like I know ya can be, ‘cause if ya decide to off me for no reason now…”

“No reason.”

“Right.”

“You’re old enough to be her father.”

“Yeah an’ fortunately I’m not, ‘cause that’d be right fuckin’ awkward at the temple, mate.”

“Temple?”

“What’d ya think, Tommy, that I smacked her over the head and dragged her into my cave?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

“Right, we’ll have to show ya the pictures then, she looked stunnin’.” Alfie leaned back in his chair. “Tell ya what, mate, why don’t ya come by for tea one day?”

“Tea.”

“Yeah. We have it, Tommy, we’re not animals.”

Tommy said nothing to that. He was still reviewing his options, but as he wasn’t a fan of spontaneous action, the patient approach seemed appropriate. The offer, though, just like everything else about the situation, was fucking infuriating.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Fuck you, Alfie.”

That finally made Alfie smile and for some reason he lowered the gun.

“Right, so seein’ as we’re family, Tommy, and what a happy coincidence this is, I must say, I feel like we should talk fuckin’ proper. None of that shit.” Alfie then gestured between them as if he hadn’t been responsible for “that shit” in the first place.

“We’ve been talking, Alfie,” Tommy deadpanned.

“Yeah, but then there’s still somethin’ ya haven’t told me about your American troubles, isn’t there, mate, so I’m expectin’ you’ll be more honest with me in the future. Now that I’ve brought the right arguments to the table…”

The hint of a threat in that statement almost made Tommy wish he still had his razor cap around.

“She’s Polly’s only daughter, Alfie.”

“Right, I’m aware of that.”

Tommy nodded, feigning understanding between them. As always, handling Alfie very much resembled handling a live grenade without a pin.

“This can’t be the way to end things.”

“Who’s endin’ things, Tommy?”

“I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, an’ I’m going to let this one slide, Tommy, ‘cause you just got a lot to process, mate, so I’m prepared to be understandin’.”

Tommy shook his head and reached into his jacket pocket, at which Alfie uncocked the gun. Tommy slowly pulled out his cigarette box, but Alfie never even flinched. It was gruesomely reassuring to still have been right, even in the position that Tommy currently found himself in.

Alfie Solomons would always remain Alfie Solomons, even with the whole song and a dance about getting old and senile. He was still the same mad bastard Tommy came to know all those years ago, and as things stood, Tommy found himself wondering if this time he shouldn’t try poison instead of a bullet.

“Tommy,” Alfie sighed, “with three good eyes workin’ between us, mate, I really would greatly mind if I somehow acquired a fuckin’ tumour in my lungs, too.”

Tommy said nothing and he knew Alfie hated it.

“Which means put that shit out, mate, and listen to what I’m about to say, ‘cause I got a feeling you’ll really wanna hear it.”

#peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy x reader

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leilani-lily · 2 months

Text

~Oh Deer~ (Chapter 1)

... So this idea for an Alastor x reader (kinda?) story popped in my brain, and has refused to leave me no matter how hard I try.

Have I written fanfiction recently? Hell no.

Do I even know how to write for an AroAce character? No but I'm gonna do my damndest to represent him properly (and also relying on outer sources so I'm not offending anyone).

Do I feel like a complete fool for being sucked back into the fanfiction world and re-entering with a freakin Hazbin Hotel fic? ABSOOOO-FREAKIN-LUTELY.

But here we are. The writing gods have spoken. And they have declared that I write this story out so my poor brain can focus on other things like work.

Figured I'd share so it's just not on my computer all lonely. Will be a slow burn so fair warning. Let's be real, the deer boi needs love. But not overly romantic love. Just, someone he ends up really caring about and becoming his favourite.

SYNOPSIS: AroAce! Alastor x Chef!Singer! Reader. The hotel is looking to hire a chef to prepare meals for the staff/guests. Somehow you're hired and you begin your new life. And somehow end up becoming close to a certain Radio Demon. Word Count: 1.8 K

Chapter 1 under the cut. Enjoy I guess? ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ok, deep breaths y/n. Remember to smile.

You felt your lips curl up into a strained grin as if to fight off the nerves in your chest, your grip tightening on the flyer in your fist. This could go either two ways. One, you get the job and are able to live a life of somewhat normality. Or two, you get hung from the tippy top of the building by your own intestines. With your legs chopped off. And one of your arms sticking out of your ass.

Gotta love Hell and it’s creative subjects.

You shake your head out of those terrible thoughts, surely it wouldn’t be that bad?? When you saw the original broadcast on the 666 News, you couldn’t stop thinking how nice the Princess of Hell actually was. And building an entire hotel to help her subjects reform into something better was, perhaps a little optimistic in your opinion, but it made you admire her gumption and her love for her subjects.

So later when you found the flyer in search of a chef at the very same establishment the princess was hoping to fill… well, it somehow managed to get you all the way here. Standing at the doorsteps of the very lonely looking hotel on the hill.

You had to admit it wasn’t the look you had imagined, but hey, this was Hell. You had seen worse. And everyone has to start somewhere. Including yourself, arm still poised ready to knock yet not yet making the motion.

You felt so stupid, you had been standing here for almost 10 minutes now just trying to get the courage to enter the damn building. You sigh to yourself and shake out the jitters. Alright, let’s just do this. Once again, you smile, puff out your chest and raise your arm high in the air, ready to strike with a newfound courage.

“Well folks, looks like the little lady is finally ready to take the leap! Will she follow through with her actions? Or will she choke and back out of the fight? Let’s tune in and find out~”

You felt your heart nearly leap out of your chest as you whip your head around to look behind you. A tall demon clad in red and ruby eyes stood behind you, a wickedly wide grin filling his face as he points what appears to be a microphone in your direction. You stare at it dumbly, then make eye contact with him again. He remains poised, half lidded eyes seeming to hold a sparkle of impish joy. His eyes flicker from you, to your raised arm, and back to you. After a embarrassingly long time of connecting the dots, you finally extend your arm closer to the door, never breaking focus on the demon behind you (you can't help but notice he raises his microphone even closer to you), and give the door a good solid knock.

“AND SHE’S DONE IT FOLKS, what a display!!” He pulls the microphone back to himself, as you continue to stare dumbfounded “The form, the elegance, it could almost make a grown Imp cry. Let's give her a hand people.” He begins to clap as a roar of applause plays from… somewhere.

You couldn’t tell if this guy was being sarcastic or genuine, but the whole absurdity of it all, plus the bundle of nerves you were feeling earlier, seemed to bubble up inside of you and you couldn't help a little snort escape. The red demon’s grin widened as he ceases his clapping, stepping closer to you as you continue to giggle.

“Ahhh now isn’t that better. A much nicer smile than the one you were faking earlier. Besides, there’s no need to be so shy my dear. This hotel is always happy to accept wayward demons looking for reformation!”

Upon hearing his words, you turn to face him and put your hands up “Oh nono, I’m not here to-”

“Ohoho~! and what’s this you have here?” Before you can finish your sentence, the tall demon ripped the flyer out of your hand and inspected it quickly, before turning back to you. His half-lidded gaze was now round with surprise, his grin becoming even wider (which you didn’t even think was possible).

“So THAT explains the nerves from before! And here I was just thinking you were a timid little thing. But a business woman! Now that I can admire.” He smiles at you almost impressed and leans in closer, your noses almost touching.

“Tell me my dear, can you make a good jambalaya? Or perhaps a hearty gumbo with cornbread on the side~?”

You were so flustered with the speed of everything happening (plus the close proximity of this demon you had just met certainly didn’t help). All you could manage was a jumbled “Uhh, well yes I-!”

“WONDERFULLLL~!" He straightens up again and you sigh with relief. “I’ll be sure to test you on such skills. But for now we should-”

The front doors of the hotel suddenly burst open and a short gray female stands before you, with long silvery hair and an eyepatch. She looks at you for a moment, before turning her gaze at the red demon and giving him a scowl.

“Alastor, what the HELL took you so long, you should’ve been back ages ago. And quit creeping out new potential clients.” Her gaze adverts back to you, expression softening ever so slightly, “Seriously, if he’s bothering you-” “Oh Vaggie my dear, no need to be so hostile. I was simply going over business with our newest chef!” he brings his long fingers up behind your shoulder and pulls you in close against his chest, making you yelp a moment before regaining composure. You could sense this so-called 'Vaggie' demon tense, eyes flickering between the two of you. You felt as if your brain was sputtering to catch up with the current conversation (he WORKS here??!) before finally realizing what he had just called you. You sneak a look at him, and he gives you a quick wink before focusing back on the female before him.

“Now be a doll and have Nifty tidy up one of the rooms, preferably one of a reasonable size and close to the kitchen. And call upon Charlie as well, she’ll DEFINITELY want to meet our newest addition!”

The female in front of you shot a glare at Alastor (you quickly noted these two did not seem to get along), but then flicked her gaze back at you. After a moment, she sighed and turned back into the building as she followed the male demon’s orders. You couldn’t help but notice how Alastor’s grip on you tightened ever so slightly as a chuckle escaped his lips, static humming ever so louder in amusement. He himself began to walk into the hotel, guiding you along with him.

"Now then. We’ll have to introduce you to everyone, as well as get you to fill in the proper paperwork, give you a proper tour of the place and-!”

“Wait wait,” you stop walking, causing him to halt. You notice a slight twitch in his eye and his hand squeezes you for a moment. He doesn’t like to be interrupted, duly noted. You take a breath.

“Sorry, uh for interrupting” That seemed to please him. “But does this mean… I got the job?? You don’t need a resume or a test or…?”

Alastor let out a guffaw of amusement “Why of course my dear! As long as you remain true to your word of being able to cook a good New Orleans dish, that’s all the proof I’ll need! There hasn’t been many a demon coming here interested in the job, so I say your timing couldn’t be more perfect!”

Well that was the easiest damn interview you’ve ever done. You felt yourself exhale a sigh of relief as you smile up to the tall demon.

“Wow, that’s… that’s amazing, thank you so much.” He gave you a half lidded smirk, clearly enjoying being praised “So… does this make you my boss, Mr…?”

You heard the sound of a record screech as his eyes widened in surprise. Hand finally leaving your shoulder and placing it on his own chest he began to laugh heartilly, a laugh track playing in the background. You stood there confused for a moment before he finally responded.

“Ohhh my goodness me, my mother would be rolling in her grave if she ever heard about this. How rude of me to be so forward without properly introducing myself!” One minute he was standing right beside you, and then the next he had sunken like a shadow into the floor, only to appear in front of you a few steps ahead. With grace and suave you didn’t realize he possessed, he gave a small hand flourish before bowing in front of you.

“I am Alastor, also known as the Radio Demon. I happen to be the Hotel’s Facility Manager, but you’ll find Miss Morningstar is the real ringleader around here,” You notice the corner of his lip twitch at that last remark, but you pay no mind to it. “If you ever have any questions or concerns, do not hesitate to reach out to me.” You smile and dip yourself in your own little curtsy as he straightens up.

“My name is y/n, and I’ll be sure to do my best to serve you and this hotel, sir.” Alastor seemed to hum with approval as he looks down at you. “I guess I just have one more question for you, if that’s alright.”

“Why of course dear y/n, whatever would it be?”

“Well, I uh…” You feel yourself becoming flustered at the question, and the radio demon seemed to notice. Cocking a head to the side, he takes a step forward, opening his arms into a friendly gesture.

“Come now dearest, you can ask me anything! If we’re going to be working together, we have to be honest with each other~” You look up at him and sigh, knowing he was right. With a gulp you straighten your back and wear a serious expression.

“How long did you see me standing by the door?”

Alastors face didn’t waver, it was hard to tell what was going on in his mind. Then his smile grew into what looked like an amused, smug expression before answering.

“The whole time.”

You groaned and felt your head slap against your hand, making Alastor burst into laughter yet again at your expense. He was there watching the entire time?? Satan’s Ass you felt like such an idiot. Was he waiting for you to move so he could get in the building?? The more you thought about it the more you wanted to sink into the floor and die, for a 2nd time. The radio demon wiped a stray tear from his eye.

“Ohhhh y/n, what a riot you are. I can already tell that this is going to be fun~”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

First chapter hoorayyy ♡〜٩( ˃▿˂ )۶〜♡ Not sure how often I'll be updating, hopefully soon as I'm currently inspired. Thanks for reading thus far!FIRST (You're here!) PREVIOUS (Doesn't exist ( • ᴗ - ) ✧) NEXT

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #oh deer #leilani-lily

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