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queenendless · 8 months

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🔞🌃Nights (Adult!SatoSugu x Fem!Reader)🌃🔞

A/N: This is a short smut piece, serving as the follow-up to Moving Day.

CW: MATURE 18+ CONTENT INSIDE. NSFW, P in V, P in ass, double penetration, MMF, threesome, throuple, polyamory, short smut.

I'm no master at writing smut so sorry if it's not longer and stuff but writing short pieces means more often posts.

All credit for the characters/show goes to Gege sensei.

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

I hope whoever reads this enjoys.

Gojo boastfully laughed as he regaled with tales of pissing off the stingy higher ups, Geto whisking his drink about in his hand with a wry grin and invested eyes, and you sitting in between them.

Sushi dinner with your two loves. What a way to celebrate this newest chapter in all your lives.

You resting your face in your folded arms as their banter rang richly to your ears, lulled by their shared warmth. Feeling cozy, at ease, and entranced in ways you didn't think you'd ever receive. With them, it was like you three were in your own little world.

It had gotten late. Leaving the sushi joint with leftovers in bags, you three were heartily full, light-headed and happy. Driving back home in your five seated cozy car with Geto at the wheel. Gojo leaned his head back in the passenger seat while you kissed them both on the cheek, making small talk with Geto while Gojo zoned out to nap.

Honestly … you felt on top of the world.

Like right now.

In the comfort of your newly shared bedroom.

As your soaking cunt gobbled up Geto's shaft with such ease as he lowered you down slowly enough to slide it in; his giant hands squeezing you from your hips to your thighs.

"Fuck~" His raven hair fanned out beneath him, panting heavily already. "Honey, you are heaven sent~" Geto's lovesick smile made your bud tingle at his girth stuffing.

"Aaah~!" Your erotic moan made Geto swell up even further. His cheeks turned more red, sweat trailed down his enamored face and his flexing muscles; his veins popping out in the process.

Scratching your nails down Geto's ribs elicited rough hisses from him that made you carefully lay down atop him so you could smooch him. "Sugu~" Your shortened nickname for him made Geto smile further as he opened his mouth to let you two French kiss sloppily.

The moment you felt Gojo's lean warm presence lay atop your back, his girth throbbed as he jerked off in his hand whilst rubbing his dripping head in between your peaches.

"Nngh!" Geto grinded his hips forward just to get friction stroking his balls against Gojo's.

"Mmph!" Your lips broke off, head reeling as your arse swayed in the air, just begging to have Gojo's girth stretch you out. And that's what he did, your scorching wet caverns sucking him up just as greedily. "Ha – Aah … Toru~" Your shortened nickname for him, panting needily, had his hips jolting into yours, kneading your cheeks roughly, leaving scratch marks in their wake.

"Fuuuck~! Tight as ever, sweetie~ You've really missed me, huh~?" His head plopped down on your back as his hand fondled your right tit from behind simultaneously with Geto massaging your left tit.

"Missed us both, honestly~" Geto drawled, flitting his tongue along your neck, suckling your collar bone, grinning at the red welt marks now imprinting you. "The feeling's mutual~"

With Suguru's left hand gripping your right hip, and Satoru's own left hand grabbing your left hip, you felt somewhat anchored through your heated mindset. Your hands dug into Geto's broad shoulders for steadiness, your hips rotated upwards as they together lifted you up only to pull you down to take them in further, striking every nerve ending ingrained inside.

When they thrusted upwards, you jolted forward. When they pulled back, your walls fluttered, squeezing their cocks desperately.

This addicting pattern was quickly escalating as neither man was not even close to fully truly releasing. And so, their now frenetic rhythm had you a moaning yelling mess as familiarity of times before began racing through your memory. Them pounding into your soaking tightness specifically.

"God, this feels right~!" Gojo buried his face in your neck, kissing and biting you insistently enough to leave marks as much as possible in every inch of skin there. "So fuckin hot~!"

Geto took in a mouthful of your bountiful breast that he was just twisting your nub with his fingers, now tracing patterns with his sizzling tongue as he nibbled on your bud starvingly, his lips curling on both ends up at you. "Agreed~ Such a fine tasting angel~"

God, their teething, their burning mouths, their firm-built hands fondling and rubbing your skin, everything drove you up the wall. Their touch. Their taste. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

Dopamine jutted through all three of you.

FWOP!

Pushing yourself off Geto as you raised your hips frenzy in tune with them pulling away just as swiftly.

FWOP!

Only to SLAM yourself down on them both, earning lustful swearing yells from them, amorously smiling looking at their squeezing eyed, panting, sweating flushed beauty. Up and down you went, rewarding you with unreasonable pleasure and their deep enriching symphony of moaning.

"Horny little lady~" Gojo hissed as his hand released your abused red boob to grab your chin and turn you around enough to kiss you savagely; your surprised mewls mingling with his growls as he won supreme exploring every inch of your mouth.

SCHLICK!

Pulling your hands off his shoulders to intertwine with his, the squelched sounds of Geto popping out your breast heard loud and clear; a line of drool connected his tongue to your drool covered hill as he pushed up on his elbows, dark lust coating his eyes. "Satoru, let me take the lead here."

"Aw~! But taking her from behind is heaven~!" Gojo's whine as he parted from your swollen slick mouth was accentuated by thrusting in one fast thrust up said ass, having your loud squealing self lean back against his front; your horny tongue out expression had their dicks twitching.

"So is this." Geto's devious smirk was your only warning as he quickly pushed off the bed, situating yourself straddling him, when his hand released yours to grab your right thigh and heaved it high enough and far apart to stretch your pussy to go with another angle had you crying out. "Well~?"

Pulling your left thigh enough apart to drape over his hip from behind, Gojo followed his lead, earning him the same result, seeing your wanton crying self hugging Geto around the neck.

"Huh … not bad Suguru~" Gojo chuckled before leaning over your curling whimpering self to kiss Geto deeply.

"I try~ Now Satoru, shall we~?"

"W – wait~!" Your breathless plea had both men watching and amazed that you turned around to tug on Gojo's black blindfold, pulling it off to let his hair down and his eyes be free. "Beautiful~"

Gojo blushed darker, his heart felt struck harder by Cupid's arrow, and his eyes brightened with unbridled love before he kissed you his thanks, smiling cheekily as he rubbed noses with you. "Kawaii~!"

Holding your legs up from under the knees in one hand, lifting you higher off the bed, you were blown away by their sheer strength electrifying your nerves in this new angle, taking turns thrusting in and out, tugging your legs further apart in tune to their spasming pegs.

Burying your face in Geto's thick neck as your boobs aligned against his boob like pecs, you chewed on them luscious builds before biting hard enough to leave teeth marks. "Goddess~!" Geto gushed, dazedly smiling at you marking him as yours.

Shaking the bed insistently enough had the headboard smacking the wall a lot as one slid in and the other slid out, shaking you back and forth between them as they sucked and bit every inch of you they could reach, further claiming you.

The cacophony of profane, raunchy yells and screams served as the melodies to your ears, bouncing off the walls from the overwhelming sensations rendering you unable to spot when blue and brown gazes made eye contact.

Both slid out until only their tips remained inside. Then they struck in unison. Your tender flesh stretched to its limits until they reached that right spot. You then saw blinding white, popping off Geto's pec to breathlessly gasp. Your cunt and a-hole slick and swollen enough for another double pining.

Grinding as one, their composure long lost, all that mattered now was carnal release. Your breath hitched at the overwhelming high, your nails dragging down Geto's back; his pained growl giving you goosebumps before devouring your open mouth, swallowing your cries.

Blood rushed to your core chaotically. The air between you all got so smothering hot, difficult to breathe calmly. You barely able to pull free from Geto's swollen wet mouth before Gojo's head swerved around to entrap you in a deep tongue fuck.

Your hair stuck to your forehead, gleaming from sweat, you were losing composure. You felt muscles tighten as you were literally pressed in between their built chests, bruising left on your knees from their grip digging in painfully.

"T – Toru! S – Sugu! I – I'm – !" You struggled to utter against Gojo's perfect lips as you felt yourself about to reach the precipice.

"S – Same! Sh – Shit!" Gojo gritted through his teeth before going back to sucking and nibbling roughly at the back of your neck.

"Come, love! C – Come for us~!" Geto croaked out as narrowed brown eyes blazed with vigor; his furrowed brows and set jawline evident signs of him barely keeping it together.

The same was said for you as your continued insatiable clenching around their lengths had them pegging you in their hardest drive. Combined, it all drove you over the edge.

All you saw and felt was that same white hotness, wailing out loud as you unraveled. Drenching their abdomens, their thighs, the bedsheets covers. A lot really.

Your obscene wail was what set their beings spasmodic; the trigger warning, as their guts tightened in unison as they convulsed hard, roaring out loud, bursting the dams, painting your insides with their essence, leaking out of you, down their lengths and mixing with your own.

Dissolved into pleasure, you all came undone, the highs coming in waves of heaven. Wanting to chase that high, the chaotic duo kept at it, their cream coated loads still hitting your deepest crevice just to get the rest out, grunting whilst you were an exhausted mewling wreck.

Finally, their own highs in the clouds faded off, leaving their once stiff dicks now softened up. They lowered you down, releasing your knees, setting your legs draped against the soiled sheets.

Gojo collapsed against your backside, resting his sweaty warm face against your right shoulder while Geto draped himself over you up front, his face buried in your tits. You shuddered as one hand draped through Geto's ruffled raven locks while your other hand brushed back Gojo's snowy locks stuck to his sweaty forehead.

"Y/n-chaaaaaan~" Gojo cooed teasingly despite the fatigue, no doubt smirking. "Hands on practice, success~"

"Quite the memorable lesson, indeed~" Geto's soothing voice also teemed with wry humor as he looked up at you with his nose lodged between your hills.

Of course, they'd be smug about making you cum hard.

"J … Jerks." Your halfhearted jab was overshadowed by you nearly fainting sideways, instinctively triggering their sudden boost in reflexes, having them grabbing you before laying you gently down on your side.

"Maybe we pushed her too far." Gojo hinted at.

Geto raised a questioning brow at his crazy bestie lover. "Maybe?"

Still, they chuckled weakly at the night's events as they laid on their sides, keeping their shafts inside your comfy self; the bump in your tummy being sheer physical evidence of them in the womb. Their arms encased you, flushed between their glowing drenched selves, their legs entangling with your own.

"Love you two." Your nearly silent murmur added to your overall allure as your hands balled up against Geto's abs, your cheek pressed up to his scar covered chest as your own pillow for the night, dozing off leisurely to la-la land.

Gojo kissed your free cheek, using your shoulder as his pillow, whispering into your ear, "We love you too, beautiful~"

Geto kissed your forehead, smiling looking at your precious self snuggling into him. "Always."

As the iconic sorcerer duo kissed each other goodnight, they too conked out, leaving cleaning up to the morning.

For now, three being one, in their own little world, was like and will be like many more nights to come.

Literally.

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i-hate-accidents · 16 days

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i hate accidents: the between

femme!reader x benedict bridgerton, femme!reader & the bridgerton family, femme!reader & penelope featherington

summary: the adventures of a working class femme who befriends a fellow writer, a boisterous family, and a bewitching second eldest son

sections: I. the beginning / II. the between / III. the ball

y/n: bipoc, she/her, afab, nonbinary femme, queer, working class, of immigrant parents

content warnings: classism, mentions of financial survival, microaggressive sexism, microaggressive gender assumption, intersectional low self-image of y/n, positive/supportive families, retelling of recurrent microaggressive homophobic experience with y/n’s family member in [II.vi], short description of almost throwing up (not related to low self-image) in [II.vii]

word count: 9.1k (of 38.8k)

story context: everything in s1 and s2 of the tv series is canon for this story except for the s2 epilogue with the bridgertons. this story takes place leading up to and into the 1815 season.

additional notes: this story is incomplete. scenes that are not written are described in chevrons <> with third person pov or are delineated by isolated ellipses. additionally, the author has only watched s2! she has not watched any of s1 aside from clips, and they have not read the books aside from quotes used in edits. they have not yet watched queen charlotte. the author kinda knows the gist of an offer from a gentleman; they are familiar with sophie beckett (and are excited to meet her/them in the tv series!).

author’s note: this is the first time the author has written fanfic in 13-15 years. :) it is her hope that they have made some progress since her pre/teens. additionally, this fanfic has been written, on and off, over the course of two years. the author sincerely hopes you find some sort of joy in it, especially the readers who maybe hope to see themself a little more specifically in the world we so love.

tagged: @omgsuperstarg @bedobeeeee @stvrdustalexx @anisas-nonsense @crazymar15 and all who have liked the story so far: the author extends her gratitude for your engagement with the first section. <3

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.i ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“have i told you that you are the best model who has ever sat for me?”

it has become a common occurrence. whenever you read while in the drawing room, benedict asks if you can be his model for his hand studies. you oblige, seeing how you are already so still while reading aside from the occasional page turn, and—more so—you want to support how benedict progresses in his craft. today, you and benedict are sat at a table as hyacinth plays a solitary game of cards on the floor and kathani and anthony sit at a couch with some delicious smelling tea. you had come over to meet eloise and penelope first thing but were soon informed that the two young ladies were still at the markets with colin. that made you smile; your loud friend is, no doubt, inserting herself emotionally and physically in between your two friends in love.

you feel yourself scrunch your eyebrows at benedict’s comment.

“surely you are exaggerating.”

“hyacinth was my last model; she was horrific.”

you hear an aghast gasp and do nothing to hide the amusement in your smile.

“it is difficult to sit still!” the youngest bridgerton yells.

“hyacinth, it is not becoming of a young lady to ye— ow!”

you see somewhat in your periphery how kathani puts the hand she used to thwack her husband’s arm back on her teacup handle, smiling. benedict, in the meantime, groans and seems to be focusing even more intently on his sketch as not to make eye contact with his youngest sister.

“yes, i understand it is difficult, but you did not sit still for even eight seconds.”

you have not shifted your position in the past half hour or so as not to ruin the angle of your hand for benedict; but you need not visual confirmation to already know that hyacinth has rolled her eyes in response to her brother and returned to her game.

“well, what about the art academy?” you continue. “there must have been very good models there for you to draw.”

and very beautiful ones, at that.

“it is true, there were; but,” you see him smile as he smudges his paper, “none are comparable to you.”

you feel your cheeks light aflame and, with a cough, focus even more intently on your passage.

“then i ought to give up on my profession as a basket weaver and put in my request as a model at the art academy.”

“you do realize that you would have to pose—” you see how he pauses his drawing, looking to see where the youngest is in the room, and lowers his voice as he leans forward towards you; (you attempt not to roll your eyes), ”—nude, in order to be a model there, y/n.”

“yes, and what issue is there with that?”

you look away from your passage to benedict to make a point with your stare and are startled to see how startled benedict looks, the familiar ocean of his eyes almost entirely gone and replaced by the black of his pupils.

“nothing. there is no issue. no issue at——” he coughs, scratching the back of his ear, no doubt smudging it with charcoal, “would you like to see my progress so far?”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.ii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< in the gardens of number five. penelope, eloise, hyacinth, and gregory are adventurers looking to save the princess benedict from the banshee y/n.

< hidden behind a hedge, y/n and benedict bicker. >

“you are a middle child on a technicality, benedict.”

“what is that supposed to mean?”

“you have seven siblings. anthony the eldest, hyacinth the youngest—and everyone in between simply a middle child? you all could not be more different from one another, and you are at the very top; you are practically an eldest child.”

“i’ll have you know that no one, myself included, sees me as such.”

“i’m familiar. an eldest sibling with a penchant for peculiar tea is not one i would describe with an overwhelming sense of duty.”

“how do you know of that?”

“kathani told me. she recounted to me her first dinner with the family and how transcendently in the most literal sense you had behaved.”

“so you two talk of me?”

you feel the tips of your ears heat, but fortunately your hair hides your embarrassment sufficiently. you roll your eyes.

“is that what you gleaned? do not think too deeply about it.”

“i shall think about it deeply and often,” he states with a twinkle in his eyes. in an attempt to ignore your fluster and flutterings, you roll your eyes again and shove him. he laughs, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling adorably whenever he is truly delighted. despite your best efforts (you put in no effort), you smile at him. it cannot be helped when you are around benedict.

“now, make haste; hyacinth is about to cast a spell, and she needs a princess to save. may i grasp your arm?”

“grasp my what?”

“your arm! i need to pretend as if i am holding you captive, but i am not simply going to take hold of it without permission.”

“how chivalrous of you.”

“i suppose i’ve learned from a sufficient enough gentleman.”

benedict grins and offers his arm.

“i am yours for the taking.”

it is preposterous how much this man makes you want to roll your eyes. and how much you welcome it. in the moment, however, you refrain yourself and, instead, smile at him in return as you yank yourselves both out of the hedge to be seen by the others.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.iii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< on a morning before she is off to number five, y/n realizes that her last remaining skirt still needs to be cleaned after she had spilt a bottle of ink on it. (she was devastated by losing so much writing material and money in one fell swoop.) she had been so preoccupied with work that she had forgotten to clean it.

< in a rush, she looks throughout her house for extra skirts but to no avail; the only thing she finds that she can wear is a pair of trousers from when her father was younger. she finds this suitable enough, puts them on, and runs off to bridgerton house.

< upon arriving at the drawing room wearing trousers, y/n hears a choking sound. she looks over and sees that benedict has somehow spilt tea all over himself. as the bridgerton family makes comments of curiosity and support of y/n’s current attire, benedict excuses himself, y/n hearing how he mumbles that he needs to change his clothes.

< after some time, benedict returns, but y/n notices that, aside from removing his coat, he still wears the clothes he was in. she remarks to herself: how can he have been gone for long enough but still be in the same clothes? >

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.iv ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you gasp.

“wait!”

you do not wait to hear a response from your companions; you right about turn, swing open the door to number five, and run into the house, straight towards the drawing room.

“benedict!” you shout, “you must come see!”

“wha—“

you grab his hand, pulling him up from his slouched lounge.

“quickly! you must make haste!”

adrenaline and joy rushing in your veins, you lead benedict out of the drawing room and towards the entrance where, upon returning, you see giles, with a large beam on his face, holding open the door. you laugh, shooting him a quick nod and grin of your gratitude, and bring benedict outside, pass penelope and colin, pass the gates of bridgerton house, towards the road, and halt yourself and benedict in place.

you shoot your forefinger outward, pointing towards the sky, your grin ever growing.

“look!”

benedict has been looking at you incredulously, as if you’ve completely lost your mind, and perhaps you have, but you’d be damned if you got to see this and benedict hadn’t. he shifts his gaze and grin from you towards the sky, and as you had expected, as you had hoped, his expression transforms from gleeful confusion into complete awe.

“see? it is just like your palette of ideas! the oranges, the reds, the yellows, the purples, the pinks. here it all is, made by mother nature herself, and you have already managed to capture the hues in the pigments of your paints!” laughter bubbles out of you. “it is amazing! you are amazing!”

you hear a soft buzz in your ear, causing you to turn towards the familiar sound. a bumblebee swirls about your head, and it makes you giggle. you always had a fondness for the sweet creatures; how wonderous one has come to greet you at such a moment! the bee lands on your nose, as if to give you a kiss, causing you to giggle even more, before it departs and flies off into the sky.

as you stare at your departing friend, as you stare into the sorcerous colors of the sunset, as your smile feels permanent in this moment, you ask benedict,

“isn’t it beautiful?”

“yes.”

you turn to benedict, expecting to see his side profile tilted towards the sky when, instead, you connect with his ocean eyes. gazing at you.

your smile fades away as you quietly suck in air through your nose. you feel a soft caress at your hand, and looking down, you see that you are still holding hands with benedict, him gently rubbing the side of your hand with his thumb. you look back up, and with indecipherable ocean eyes and a soft smile on his lips, he still gazes at you. butterflies flutter maddeningly within you. the way he looks at you, it makes you feel scared. but you’d be damned if you allowed your fear to tear yourself away from benedict. so, instead, you smile back and gently rub the side of his hand with your thumb too.

“well!”

you and benedict reel back from one another, letting go of one another’s hands. as you feel the loss of his touch, you whip your head towards the voice and see a smirking colin, by the side of a smiling penelope, both approaching the two of you.

“while i hate to get in the way of two— friends in the midst of a conversation, i must fulfill my duties and escort miss featherington to her home.”

you roll your eyes as you promptly ignore the fire that burns on your cheeks.

“you rich people and your escortings. penelope lives across the way! she would have already been home if you would have let her, colin.”

“yes, that is true,” pipes up penelope, “but then i would have missed out on such a beautiful sight,” and instead of gesturing at the sunset as her words imply, she keeps her eyes locked on you and benedict.

menaces. i am friends with menaces.

with smugness in their smiles and delight in their eyes, penelope and colin nod their heads in farewell. as they move past, you feel a soft squeeze on the side of your arm and see penelope giving you a wink. you stare off at the couple, penelope featherington and colin bridgerton, your absolute menaces of friends who have left you and benedict stunned in spot.

benedict.

benedict!

you turn your head to face him. he must have realized at the same moment as you, for you are greeted by an equally speechless expression. feeling yourself staring into his ocean eyes a moment too long, you cough and look away.

“right, i suppose— i, going— i should be going.”

“of course— yes, that is— right, yes, very good—— not! you going! you going is not— not good! i— we— are more than glad to let you stay!— not let you, but! but have you stay with—— us! stay with us!—”

“benedict,” feeling the instinct to touch his hand again, you hesitate and, instead, touch the side of his arm. you offer him a smile to his (adorably) flustered state. “i understand what you are trying to convey.”

he huffs out a breath and smiles warily in return, and it is truly absurd how beautiful he is when his suave falls away. when he takes off the façade he performs to the world and is just himself. not a bridgerton, not a second eldest son, not a gentleman. just—

benedict.

the one you—— care for.

the one you care for.

the one i care for.

“thank you, y/n,” you hear him say, “for sharing this with me.”

“of course. you were first to come to mind when i saw it.”

“shall i— shall i escort you home?”

you snort, inadvertently breaking whatever odd energy has grown between the two of you, and he grins in response.

“goodness, no. i am fully capable of walking there myself. besides, it is too far from here, unlike miss featherington,” you intonate the last of your words with mockery. you will battle colin bridgerton one day.

“i enjoy a long walk. and with such a beautiful sight, it would be much more a blessing than a burden.”

“daylight is fastly fading; the sunset will not last another eight minutes.”

“yes, the sunset. because that is what i was referring to,” he says as he stares at you with a lopsided grin.

rolling your eyes, and feeling the violent flutterings in your stomach, you shove benedict by his shoulder, which causes him to laugh and throw his hand up in mock surrender.

“good evening, benedict,” you finalize as you walk away, a smile quickly forming on your lips once out of his sight.

“good evening, y/n,” and you hear the smile in his voice.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.v ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“it is here!”

you had just begun to cross your writing when you look up and see kathani enter the drawing room, paper in hand.

“what’s here?” you inquire. the viscountess smiles.

“perhaps you should be the first to see,” and she hands you the sheet.

taking it into your hands, you are immediately struck by the ornate illustrations of flowers and foliage ornamenting the borders—they are printed on! rather than hand drawn. you run your fingers against the paper to test your observation. you’ve only seen such a feat in the books you’ve borrowed from the bridgertons, so it impresses you (though perhaps it shouldn’t surprise me, you remark to yourself) that kathani has found a press to accomplish this feat for her printing.

you then take in the lettering and read,

a ball in titania’s garden court

“come, now a roundel and a fairy song.”

the company of

is requested at bridgerton house, number 5 in grosvenor square, on thursday evening, jul. 6, 1815 at 9 o’clock p. m.

“you helped inspire the theme,” kathani remarks. you look up from the paper to her; her eyes are intently on you.

“me? how so?”

“with our reading of his work, and our conversations with eloise and penelope, he was naturally on my mind when planning for the ball.”

you beam.

“how wondrous! your first ball in the city, and you are bringing the fairies to it,” you turn to the others. “you must tell me how it goes! i’d be delighted to hear what the dresses were like, with the theme and all, and if any larks ensued.”

you note to yourself how penelope will likely know of all of the latter far better than any of the bridgertons, but it would be intriguing, nevertheless, to hear their perspectives. you turn to the viscountess once more, “it is a brilliant idea, kathani. i’m honored to have had some part in it.”

you see her open her mouth in response—

“oh good!”

—when you hear anthony’s voice at the entrance of the drawing room.

“you’ve accepted! that is wonderful news.”

you furrow your eyebrows as he approaches.

“accepted?”

“the invitation. to the ball.”

“what?”

anthony looks around the room to his family and then back to you.

“i— am beginning to think that is not what you were responding to.”

“how quick of you, brother,” deadpans colin.

“i have just entered!”

“and have proceeded to make a fool of yourself,” eloise counters.

“it’s appropriate for the theme, really,” colin turns to kathani. “sister, perhaps you might change the dress to costumes? anthony would make an excellent bottom to your titania.”

“i am—” you start, “still lost.”

kathani gently nods her head to the paper in your hand. you look down again. previously neglecting it for the printed words and illustrations, you now read what is clearly in the viscountess’s handwriting between ‘the company of’ and ‘is requested’:

miss y/n y/l/n.

“this is an invitation. for me.”

you look up from the invitation and are greeted by kathani, and the rest of the bridgerton family at number five, expectantly staring at you.

“but—— but—”

“now, i understand that this might be quite overwhelming,” begins kathani, “but after speaking with the family, we all agreed that it would be most wondrous if you were to attend the ball. we would make certain that you felt prepared, beforehand, with lessons in dance and etiquette, hence why i’ve prepared the invitations earlier than customary.”

“not! to assume that you are not already competent in these,” adds colin. “you certainly have more grace than eloise— ow!” and he rubs the part of his arm eloise just smacked.

“but if it would appease your mind,” violet interjects, “and help with your concurrence, then we would be more than elated to offer them, and to do them with you.”

“your attire would be paid for,” anthony states simply, “and we would pay the business of your employment their missed earnings for the days in which you will be preparing for the ball and resting from the event’s happenings. and, if you shall allow it, we would support you and your family from your abstained days of wages.”

“balls are dreadful,” asserts eloise, “but!” she continues swiftly, and exasperatedly, upon seeing her family’s reaction, “with your presence, this one would certainly be more bearable. pleasant!, even.”

“we,” hyacinth gestures to herself and gregory, “cannot attend the ball, but we will help you in any way we can before then!”

“and we will be there on the morning and afternoon of, if you would like!” gregory exclaims.

kathani was wrong.

this is not quite overwhelming. this is overwhelmingly overwhelming.

you do not even know where to begin in processing all of the information with which you have just been bombarded. the wages, the etiquette, the paying, the attire, the dancing, the days off, the ball itself.

but what strikes you most of all—

“you all… agreed? of wanting me at the ball?”

you look around the drawing room. your friends’ countenances are illuminated with beams. all, but one. you turn to him. he was the only one not to have stated his case in the family’s proposal.

before you can start to ruminate on the implications of such, he offers you a smile. small, but enough for those stupid, stupefying butterflies to flutter within.

“we did,” benedict says. “we do.”

you exhale.

“then,” though weary from the turn of this day, you offer a small smile in return, to benedict, to the family, “then yes. i shall go to the ball.”

hyacinth and gregory nearly knock you over in the chair you’re sat in by the sheer power of their hugs. violet, clapping her hands, laughs with delight at the sight. eloise exclaims something about penelope finding out. anthony states he shall begin the ledger. colin, for whatever reason, starts talking about the cakes that will be there. kathani remarks that there is much to do and that she, and all of the family, will be there every step of the way.

and benedict smiles. still small. still enough. with those damned ocean eyes.

i shall never understand the absurdity that is this family.

and how delighted you are by that. how grateful you are for them.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.vi ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“your rehearsal partners will be myself and gregory,” states the viscount.

you try to withhold your sigh. you have been dreading this day since kathani first told you of it. you are utterly delighted to be a student under the tutelage of the viscountess; you are utterly petrified of being a dance student.

“and why do benedict and i not have the privilege to dance with y/n?”

it also does not quell your petrification that the entirety of number five has decided to be present for your lessons.

“because, colin, you two are unmarried men; i am a married one; and gregory is a child.”

“i have just entered my adolescent years!”

“precisely,” anthony grins, “a child.”

“kathani and hyacinth can be potential partners,” you suggest, diverging as not to join hyacinth in her laughter at gregory’s disgruntlement. despite the anxiety that somehow both swells and knots within you, you are resolute on being intentional and present during your lessons. “the former is married, and the latter is a child.”

anthony opens his mouth to respond but suddenly closes it shut. he blinks.

“why have you not considered eloise?”

“because she is unmarried. i am assuming that you do not want me to partner with colin or benedict, for fear of some sort of— romantic attraction forming. so i’ve applied the same logic to eloise.”

there is a small silence. you can see how anthony (and perhaps the rest of the room, you sense) is busily processing within his mind (and theirs) what you have said to him.

kathani pats her husband twice on his back and smiles at you.

“that is an excellent idea, y/n. we will rotate your partners amongst myself, anthony, gregory, and hyacinth. let us begin.”

and so you do, and it is quite horrendous. or rather, you are quite horrendous.

kathani is, unsurprisingly, a marvelous teacher, but not even she as a guide can prevent you from stepping on her, anthony’s, hyacinth’s, and gregory’s feet. you apologize profusely each time you do so, and so you apologize frequently and often, but each of your partners still smile at you without a drop of deceit or regret in their expressions despite their winces. they encourage you in all their particular ways. kathani gently knocks the foot you stepped on her to where it ought to be placed. anthony pacifies that you are doing well. hyacinth recounts how she had struggled as you when she first began her lessons. gregory assures that you are not nearly as heavy-footed as eloise.

even those who aren’t your partners encourage you. eloise confirms gregory’s statement, not once peeking into the book she holds in her hands. colin claps his hands to help you keep the tempo of the steps. violet, at the pianoforte, enthuses how much progress you are making with each passing dance. penelope, who joined the drawing room part way through a rather disastrous cotillion with anthony, begins to clap her hands excitedly upon seeing you.

the only bridgeton you haven’t heard from the entirety of your lessons is benedict. while rehearsing a sequence in a quadrille with hyacinth, you notice the vacant spot next to eloise where he once sat. you try to feign to yourself that your following misstep is due to your ineptitude in rhythm and nothing else. certainly not the lack of presence of a particular someone.

after you curtsy and kathani bows upon finishing a scotch reel, she beams at you.

“i believe that is enough lessons for today.”

you sigh with every bit of your lungs, your attempt at perfectly squared shoulders immediately slumping in relief. the family chortles in response and gives you a pleasant round of applause. you feel your cheeks go flush with embarrassment, completely unbelieving that your horrific display of dancing deserves any sort of praise, but the sentiment warms your heart.

“i would like to pardon myself, if that is all right,” you request towards kathani, “for a moment, is all.”

“yes, of course,” and she takes your hand. “and we do mean it, y/n. you have done well today. you should be proud.”

before you can respond to her, she gives a gentle squeeze of your hand and turns to walk towards anthony. blinking, you shake your head out of your thoughts. the bridgertons and penelope seem to respect your want of excusing yourself as they grin or nod their heads in your direction but make no move towards you. you take a moment more to look at the family and then turn to leave the drawing room. you cannot help the smile that blooms on your face as you cross the entrance—

when a hand catches your wrist and pulls you further away from the drawing room. you are about to scream when you see benedict, with furrowed eyebrows and pleading ocean eyes, swiftly put his forefinger to his pursed lips.

“fuckin’— benedict!” you whisper-yell, attempting to honor benedict’s unspoken request for your silence. “are you mad? and why are you out here? have you been here this entire time?”

“may i speak with you? in private?”

the urgency in his whisper stupefies you, any frustration felt within fading away.

“of course you may.”

he slides his hand down from your wrist to take your hand—

“follow me.”

—and, with haste, leads you down the corridor and up a set of stairs.

“are you certain this is all right? the last time we had spoken alone together, you were scolded by your brother.”

“i am more than willing to take that risk with you,” benedict says sincerely, with a smile, but it is strained. it is a subtlety, but with knowing him for as long as you have now, it is something you have noticed in his expressions.

“are you all right, benedict?”

he promptly ignores your question. it is unlike benedict, to ignore one of your inquiries. to retort with a snarky quip, yes; to make a particularly theatrical countenance, yes; to respond with uncertainty, yes. but never outright, deliberate evasion. it makes your heart swell even more with worry.

you and benedict arrive at a set of grand doors. turning the gilded knob, he opens the door and, in true gentlemanly fashion, holds it for you to pass. such etiquette would have caused you to roll your eyes, but with benedict’s current distress, you will yourself to refrain.

just as you enter the room, benedict enters too, turns around, and carefully closes the door shut. he reaches into his pocket and, after some shuffling about, retrieves a key. you hear a click of the door, and before you can comment on the absolute peculiarity of this situation thus far, benedict whips himself around and faces you.

“do you have attraction to both sexes?”

“i— what?”

“do you have attraction to both sexes?” he repeats with impatience.

“to all persons,” you correct with equal impatience. “and yes, i do.”

benedict blinks at your response but shakes his head out of his thoughts.

“and how long, how long have you known? of your attractions?”

“‘of my attractions’?”

“i am asking a question, y/n!”

“you are being strange, benedict!”

“i am!—” and he turns away from you, running his hands through his hair, sucking in air through his nostrils. he turns back to you and it startles you—how frustrated his countenance is, and how vulnerable his ocean eyes are.

“i am merely trying to ask a question. i am trying to understand. please, y/n,” benedict begs. “please.”

“i— all right,” you try to soothe. “i, i don’t know how long i have known. i suppose, since i was a child? or, perhaps, truly in my adolescent years, when i found myself gazing at those with names like emily and andrew and how i—” you swallow, suddenly feeling exposed, “how i held my breath around them, whenever they were close, when— whenever they were near.”

“and do you still feel that way?”

“pardon?”

“do you still feel that way? around people? for people?”

just for the one.

“i, i do.”

after staring at you a moment more, benedict turns away again, and you quickly exhale a breath—when you’re stricken with a sudden fear.

“does this change your opinion of me?”

benedict turns back to you, frustration still in his features but confusion slowly seeping into them.

“when i—” am i crying? “when i told my sister how i felt for a girl in our neighborhood, she did not—” you try to shake your head of the fog that starts to fill your mind at remembering, “did not look at me for weeks, and when she did, i felt like, like—— like a monster.”

his face falls.

“no,” benedict states, fastly approaching you, “no, no, no, y/n.”

“i am sorry,” you choke out as he places his hands on the sides of your arms.

“why are you apologizing?” benedict whispers, applying pressure to where he holds you steady. you had not realized you’ve been shaking.

“you had asked me questions, these questions of importance to you, and i— i have made it about myself— i am so sorry, benedict.”

“you have nothing to apologize for.”

you shut your eyes close, feeling your face contort in the way it does when everything simply becomes too much for you to bear.

“you were, and are, so much more courageous than me.”

benedict’s gentle voice and strange statement rouse you to open your eyes.

“i do not understand?”

“you have told another person about your attractions to both— to all persons. i…”

he goes quiet, unable to finish his thought aloud. you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, but staring into his ocean eyes a moment more—vulnerable, scared, hurting—it dawns on you.

oh.

benedict.

your heart blooms as you shake your head.

“it is not about courage, benedict, i do not think. with my sister, it was about trust. i thought i could trust her with my feelings, with— well, with me. and she had proved me wrong.”

“and you have proved me right.”

“why are you speaking so vaguely today?” you manage to jest.

benedict rolls his eyes, a small smile resting on his lips.

“and you have proved me right in that i could trust you. and i do, y/n. i trust you with— with me.”

perhaps you should have thought better of it, but your emotions move faster than your logic, and your emotions call you to reach out your hand and cup benedict’s cheek as you see tears line his ocean eyes.

“as i trust you with me.”

you do not mean to do it; perhaps it’s the intimacy of your conversation, perhaps it’s the proximity of standing so close, perhaps it’s the way you can feel his bated breath mix with yours, but your eyes flicker down at benedict’s parted lips and, swallowing, you look back into his piercing, indecipherable ocean eyes and breathe,

“benedict—”

when a loud sequence of knocks thud at the locked door.

“oh god!” and you take off, running away from benedict and looking about the room when your eyes fall upon a wardrobe.

“what are you doing!” benedict whisper-shouts at you as you hasten towards your destination.

“i am trying to prevent you from being in trouble again with a certain eldest brother, and you ought to be doing the same!”

you open the door to the wardrobe, hop into it, and, grabbing the door’s edge, look at benedict and the adorable shock on his face.

“answer the door as i hide in here!” before he can babble out a response, you whisper-yell, “go!” and promptly, quietly, shut the wardrobe.

before long, you muffedly hear the clicking of the door and it being opened. there is a bit of quiet until gregory’s voice asks—

“what happened to your hair?”

“what of it?”

“it is a mess. it has not been that messy since—”

“nevermind my hair! what is it that you need?”

“have you seen y/n?”

“what? why would i know of y/n’s whereabouts?”

“do not play foolish, brother.”

“i am not playing foolish!”

“you two are always together! you and y/n are like eloise and penelope, anthony and kate, colin and food— you never see one without the other, and she hasn’t been seen since her lessons.”

“i have not seen her; does that answer your inquiry?”

“why are you so on guard! ugh, never you mind. hyacinth and i will look for her on our own, with no thanks to you.”

before benedict can retort, you hear footsteps walking away from him and down the corridor. there is another moment of quiet before you hear the shutting of the door and the turning of the key. you slowly open the wardrobe, and when you see a disgruntled benedict and benedict only, you hop out and walk towards him, unable to contain the growing smile on your face.

“you shouldn’t be so harsh on gregory. he was, after all, merely asking a question.”

“you’re taking his side?”

“of course i am. he, along with hyacinth, are my favorite bridgertons.”

“and where do i fall on this list of yours?”

“eighth,” you reply easily, and benedict’s jaw drops, “but that’s merely on a technicality— i have yet to met daphne and francesca.”

“what have i done to be thought of so little in your regard!” benedict’s expression is aghast, but you see the ghost of a smile on his lips (that you certainly do not stare at for another moment too long).

“do not mistake your low ranking in how i care for you,” you tease but then soften, unable to keep up the lark over your truth. “i care for you, benedict. for all of you. precisely as you are and what you feel and who you—” you swallow, “whoever you love.”

the jest and play fade away from his expression. benedict simply stares at you, ocean eyes once again indecipherable. before he can say anything, you step into his space and tidy his hair.

“you ruined your coif earlier,” you whisper.

“what fortune i have for someone to care for me so.”

his smile is so sweet, his voice so sincere, his ocean eyes so gentle. it is too much, it is so much.

“if you weren’t such a mischief maker,” you diverge, “you wouldn’t need such fortune.”

that makes him scoff, and you grin, quietly glad a new emotion begins to overtake your overwhelming one.

“wise words coming from a mischief maker herself.”

“a mischief maker who knows how to handle her trouble,” you respond pointedly. “speaking of which, i must be going,” and you turn from benedict and head towards the windows.

“and where are you going?” you hear the befuddled amusement in his inquiry as he follows you. you unlatch a window.

“i must leave by way of window and make it appear as if i have been out in the gardens this entire time,” you carefully open the window and peer outside. no one in sight. pleased, you turn around and are greeted by an adorably perplexed benedict. “how else will we deceive the family into believing that we were not alone together? particularly after gregory inquired after me and found you here. it would not help our situation if we left the same room, even if at staggered times.”

“this is not the first time you have escaped home,” he declares matter-of-factly.

“of course it’s not.”

“yet another thing we have in common.”

you snort but then cover your mouth. you turn around and peer out the window, hoping, willing that no one has heard you. no one in sight still. you sigh in relief and turn back to a grinning benedict.

“you are compromising my meticulous plans.”

“then you ought to be going. i shan’t compromise you any further.”

you roll your eyes deeply, ignoring the double entendre (and the flush you feel creeping across your face), but soften.

“will you be all right? are you all right?”

benedict inhales deeply and exhales equally so.

“i—— have much to think over. of myself. to myself. but, it is a comfort to know that i am not alone in this. in this experience, the feelings themselves, as well as in the navigation of them,” the corners of benedict’s mouth tug into a gentle but most radiant smile, his ocean eyes incandescent with joy. “thank you, y/n.”

the butterflies flutter violently within.

“i, i have done nothing.”

“you have done more than you know.”

unable to withstand the intensity of his gaze, you turn back to the open window and steady your hands onto the sides of the frame, leveraging your weight against the ledge to lift yourself up.

“be that as it may,” you assert perhaps too forcefully, “i truly must be going now.”

you carefully but easily shift your body over the ledge and place your boot against the exterior side of bridgerton house to start your descent. you should just go—leave and neglect the violence of feelings within you. but you do not. instead, you look up and are greeted by the sight of benedict at the window, hands also steadied on the ledge, body leaning towards the outside and downwards, beaming at you, the afternoon sun casting light upon his now even more beautiful countenance.

shit.

you will yourself to focus.

“if you need or wish to speak again on this, you will let me know, yes?”

he still smiles but you see the subtlety of his ocean eyes transforming, from delight to… something else. you don’t know what, benedict’s ocean eyes ever indecipherable in moments such as this, and it does nothing to quiet the flutterings within.

“i shall. and hopefully in a manner that does not require your escape.”

“oh, this is nothing.”

“of course it’s not.”

you smile broadly, a particular burst of fondness and play and courage overcoming you—

“farewell, princess.”

and you begin your descent down bridgerton house.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.vii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< kathani and y/n make a day of getting y/n a dress for the bridgerton ball. they meet first at bridgerton house early in the morning, before the rest of the family is awake. they break fast together, and kathani teaches y/n how to make masala chai. y/n remarks that how kathani speaks of indian drink and food reminds y/n of how her parents talk about their drink and food from their home country.

< the conversation then grows into talking about how much the ocean intrigues y/n because of how her parents have talked about it, especially in their stories of emigrating to england by ship. the mystery, beauty, comfort, fear, and joy of the ocean all in one entity.

< the conversation then shifts to kathani and y/n talking about the scrappiness of making do with what resources you have access to. it makes y/n recount a memory with her mama when she had offered to give up buying ink, quills, and paper to support the family once her elder sister had married and left their family home. >

“it is a hobby, mama, it—”

“it is important, she says pointedly. “it is your passion.” and she smiles. “we have managed once with just my and papa’s wages, we shall manage now. you need not worry, my child.”

< eventually, kathani and y/n finish their breakfast. they leave bridgerton house and hop into a bridgerton carriage to go to the modiste. it is the first time y/n is in a carriage and it is a surreal, lovely experience. it feels like a fairytale. >

–

< after arrival at the modiste and introductions, kathani decides to roam the markets of the neighborhood as madame delacroix tends to y/n in the back of the shop. >

“madame delacroix—”

“clients call me madame delacroix,” she interrupts. you feel shame flood your body. of course. you are not a client. you are a charity case. at the whims of this wealthy family that has bestowed their pity on you. how else would you be in such a position, in such a shop, before such a talented artist revered by the upper echelons of london. you’re a fool, you wish to run away, you must go when you hear what madame delacroix says next—and she’s smiling.

“friends, however, call me genevieve,” she remarks with a wink.

…

“now, y/n, how would you feel about me being,” genevieve flourishes her hand in the air, “experimental with your dress?”

a combination of fear and excitement perk up within you.

“how do you mean?”

“the ton are quite—” she seems to fight hard not to roll her eyes but admits defeat to a sigh, “—conservative in their fashion—”

“you mean dreadfully dull?” you chime in. genevieve laughs warmly.

“exactly, my dear,” she grins. “you, however, are anything but. i see the french silhouettes more fitting to your character, to your personality, to your spark.”

you feel overwhelmed by the kindness of words that flow easily from the mouth of your new friend. you have not known each other for more than ten minutes, and she seems to see something within you. it makes you feel self-conscious, undeserving, and incredibly proud.

“i would be honored to be graced with the true magnificence of your artistry, genevieve.”

your friend’s eyes shine with joy, and you cannot help but feel utterly delighted that you were the one to ignite such happiness within her.

“my dear, the ton will be green with envy at the sight of you. with your natural beauty and with my vision, you shall be an unstoppable force.”

you furrow your eyebrows at “natural beauty.” you open your mouth to comment—

“is there any person you are looking to,” she hums, looking for the right word while looking for her measuring tape, “impress?”

“no,” you lie. “i would not know anyone aside from the bridgertons and penelope.”

“ah, yes. miss penelope,” the modiste says with much fondness in her heart. “she is quite brilliant, is she not?”

you beam. “she truly is.”

“though,” genevieve ponders, wrapping the tape around your waist, “she is rather besotted with the third eldest bridgerton.”

“oh, yes, it is very appar— wait. why do you say that?”

genevieve shrugs, but you give it more thought.

“are you implying that i have affections for penelope?”

you love penelope. she has come to be one of your closest friends, and my god she is beautiful inside and out—but you have never felt an inkling for her beyond platonic love.

“i imply nothing—i’ve just said she’s besotted with the third eldest, did i not?” genevieve plays coy with a smile. “and the viscount, he is very in love with the viscountess.”

“are you now implying that i have affections for anthony?”

you feel your entire body shudder. the idea of having any sort of love for the eldest bridgerton beyond one that is platonic makes you want to— the very thought—

you put one hand to your mouth and the other to your stomach. genevieve laughs, delighted by this game she’s inflicting upon you and entirely unperturbed by your potential sick in her shop.

“so,” she continues on, “with mister colin and lady kate and their beaus eliminated, unless you are of the temptress kind—”

“no!”

“then,” laughs genevieve, “that leaves three—”

“what do you mean ‘three’!”

“y/n, please, you are a terrible liar. you have affections for one of your friends, that is clear.”

“i do not!” you lie again. she tilts her chin down, looking at you pointedly.

“as i was saying, that leaves three. there is miss francesca, miss eloise, and mister benedict.”

you feel yourself take in a small breath through your nostrils as you hear his name, and you pray that genevieve does not notice.

“aha!” she declares. your prayer has failed. there is no god. “ah, yes, mister benedict bridgerton. the second eldest.”

you hold back a groan, not wanting to give your friend evidence to her (very much correct) claim, so instead you lift your head towards the ceiling. when you snap it back down to look at her, you are startled by how her delighted expression from a mere moment ago has molded into an expression you cannot figure out.

“y/n, you must know,” she states, with so much sincerity in her tone. you are entirely confused by this shift in genevieve, and your confusion only intensifies when she gently takes your hand into both of hers.

“benedict and i... we had been acquainted— intimately, at one point.”

oh.

“oh,” you respond pathetically.

the words should not affect you. they should not affect you. they should— not— affect you.

but—

you huff out a laugh.

“genevieve, why are you sharing this? it’s all ri—”

“i share this with you,” she replies in earnest, “because while intimate, and yes, even passionate—” you try not to wince, “—it was brief and, most of all, not of depth,” she sighs. “but i can only speak for myself, can i?”

you swallow, hoping it will cure your dry throat, and with a smile say, “he is very lucky to have won your affections.”

“my dear.”

genevieve removes one of her hands from yours and brings it to the side of your face, softly wiping away a tear on your cheek. you hadn’t noticed you had started crying. you close your eyes, weak by and ashamed at the frailty of your heart, as you lean into the comfort of your friend’s hand.

after a few moments, you feel her hand leave your cheek and feel your chin held between her thumb and forefinger, lifting up your head. you open your eyes.

“anything i felt for him, i feel for him no more, y/n. he is lucky to have your affections,” genevieve declares. “and if benedict is an intelligent man, he must feel the same for you.”

you laugh.

“benedict is a beautiful person who attracts beautiful people. i am not a beautiful person.”

it is peculiar, how genevieve’s eyes flood with hurt as if you have offended her. what did you say that has hurt her so? you were only speaking of yourself. before you can think further on it, the modiste steels her expression, fire suddenly blazing her eyes.

“well! then i must prove to you what you fail to see, my dear! i dare you not to feel beautiful in the dress i make for you. and if you doubt your beauty,” she peers at you, “will you doubt my artistry?”

you laugh, this time sincerely, radiating gratitude for your new friend.

“it would be foolish to doubt your artistry.”

genevieve beams.

“exactly.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ II.viii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you kick your feet off again, swinging yourself back and surging forward as you look up at the stars. you try not to make too much noise. you know it’s not proper to ambledly hang about your host’s back garden at night as they all slumber. you feel as though you are taking advantage of the bridgertons’ kindness in allowing a pauper like you to stay the night at their home, in allowing you any time to stay at their home since making their acquaintance, in allowing—— you sigh again. you could not sleep. restlessness has entirely consumed you, and you had decided that some fresh air and some childlike fun would be exactly what you needed to calm your nerves. while the cool air and the beauty of the night have been a welcomed reprieve, your heart still pounds and your mind still races with anxiety over the ball tomorrow night.

“couldn’t sleep?”

you slam the heels of your boots into the ground as you hear the familiar voice, doing everything in your power to ignore the flutters of butterflies in your stomach upon hearing it, and fall over onto your knees, planting your hands into the dirt so as not to completely and embarrassingly plant your face there instead. you hear the body of the voice rushing towards you, offering his hand in your periphery. you look up as benedict’s soft ocean eyes stare into you. feeling your cheeks flood with warmth, you take your dirtied palm into his, promptly ignore the lightning that shoots out from the touch to the rest of your body, and lift yourself up with benedict’s gentlemanly assistance. you murmur your thanks as you dust off, in vain, the dirt on your nightdress.

“i did not mean to startle you.”

“well, you have very clearly failed at that,” you remark.

after one last whoosh about your knees to clear off the excess dirt, you look up at benedict and are startled by the utter sincerity of his concerned look. he looks as if he is about to say something, as if he is about to apologize, when you offer him a smile.

“i’m teasing you, benedict.”

he blinks once before breaking out into a smile, a smile that forcefully summons the butterflies within you to flutter about once again, and laughs. you cannot help but smile and laugh with him.

“may i have the honor of sitting with you, miss y/l/n?”

you roll your eyes.

“it is your home after all, you need not my permission.”

“am i to ignore the privacy a lady wishes to have?”

“a lady’s privacy, i am sure, is something you wish to have for yourself,” you retort, alluding to your lack of such a title.

he swallows.

“that is something i cannot deny.”

something shifts in the air as benedict stares at you. you feel yourself holding your breath and, in an attempt to shift away the energy from whatever this— this is (and how much it thrills and terrifies you), you playfully curtsy as you gesture to the swing next to the one that you had occupied.

“i would be delighted by your company, mr. bridgerton.”

the overwhelming gentleness of benedict’s expression transforms into an amused smile, and he follows along with an exaggerated bow of his head. you take a seat at your swing as he takes his seat at the other on your left.

“i couldn’t,” you say in reply to his first question. before he can ask why, you hastily jump into your inquiry. “and why are you up?”

“i was sketching. i had an idea for a painting and wished to lay out the preliminary work before it escaped me,” he sighs heavily, turning to look out to the rest of the garden. you feel the loss of his gaze. “i was frustrated with the results and thought some fresh air would do me some good.”

“what is the idea for your painting?”

he hesitates.

“a portrait,” he seems to admit carefully. feeling how benedict wishes not to be pressed further, you simply hum an affirmation in response.

“i am certain that your sketch is not nearly as horrendous as you think it is.”

“i appreciate your kindness, but it entirely lacked their spark.”

“you seem quite fond of this person,” you huff with a bit of a laugh, jealousy starting to pool in the pit of your stomach.

benedict smiles.

“i am.”

and he turns to look at you.

you swallow, averting your gaze from soft intense ocean eyes, and kick your feet off the ground to begin a gentle swing.

“you should continue with the portrait,” you rattle on in a hasty attempt at diversion. “not only are you blessed with natural talent but you are also fueled with such a passionate determination to ever improve your skill because that is how much you love your craft. an undying devotion to something for which you so deeply care. it is admirable and extremely apparent in all that you do.”

“and what of you?”

“and what of me?”

“of your passions?”

you scoff.

“my passions?”

“your writing.”

you halt your swing and whip your head to benedict. he is grinning with stupid satisfaction, and you would find a way to wipe it off his stupid (beautiful) face if you were not so aghast by the situation.

“how do you know of that?”

“well, whenever you are not reading or conversing with eloise, penelope, and kate; or playing make-believe with my youngest siblings; or squabbling with colin and anthony, you are busily writing in a folded quarto. or, rather, crossing in a folded quarto. crossing twice, if you can manage. you are quite the prolific writer.”

you gape at him, and he continues to grin.

“eloise also told me.”

“she told you!” you shriek.

“indeed. it is, after all, how you met penelope, apparently. and penelope is how you met eloise. and eloise is how we— how you met the rest of us.”

you slump in your swing.

“i feel betrayed.”

benedict laughs heartily, and you shoot him a glare. he holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“she was merely sharing a fact.”

“she is merely a traitor.”

benedict laughs once again, and you summon all the strength within you not to choke it out from his lungs.

“you seem not to handle perception of yourself very well, y/n.”

“when you are me, it is easy not to be perceived,” you mumble, still reeling from the traitorous nature of your loudmouthed friend.

there is a small silence.

“i do not think that is true.”

you turn to him, once again surprised by the gentleness of his sincerity.

“i see you,” benedict declares in a quiet but steadfast voice. his ocean eyes, indecipherable once more, gaze into you.

you feel yourself hold your breath, unable to stop the truth from ringing out in your heart, mind, body, and soul.

i love you.

you shoot up from your swing.

“i must be going, it is quite late—”

“y/n, wait—”

“thank you, benedict,” you say sincerely, turning to him. “i— i really enjoyed our conversation, as brief as it was.”

he blinks and offers you a small smile. i must control myself, you reprimand as you feel the butterflies viciously flutter within.

“as did i.”

“good night,” you whisper. with all the self-control you can muster, you turn away from benedict and hasten towards bridgerton house.

“good night, y/n,” you vaguely hear him say from the swings that brought you together. you attempt to tune out the wistfulness that you hear, that you imagine you hear in his voice.

131 notes · View notes

wavelikewhat · 11 months

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Heartstrings

Pairing: Producer!Woozi x Producer!Reader (she/her pronouns) Summary: You help Jihoon meet an unexpected deadline for a song and he wonders why he can’t stop thinking about you. Luckily his members nudge him toward the answer. Wordcount: 4.5k Content notes: none Genre/themes/appearances: fluff, strangers to lovers, idol/non-idol, music talk, Hoshi meddling, Seungcheol interrogating, Jeonghan snooping

A/N: So this is technically a fanfic for two fanfics: when I read i look good on you by @seungkwansphd I needed a backstory for them immediately. Then last week I read Live by @wondernus and it felt like it fit into my headcanon, so my mind started filling out how they met and got back together and began a public relationship… So here I am posting my first Woozi fic that is a fake prequel to those two, in a way? Please read those because they are so short and so sweet and will have your imagination (and heart) racing! This story is about how this couple gets together :)

“Ya! Soonyoung!” Jihoon called out.

Soonyoung abruptly stopped dancing and turned around, surprised to see Jihoon in his practice room. “What are you doing here?”

Jihoon got straight to the point, as always. “Do you have the number of the producer who wrote the song you did with Youngji?” he asked as he walked toward Soonyoung at the mirrored wall.

Soonyoung’s eyes widened. “Y/N? Why do you need her number at…” He glanced up at the clock on the wall above the mirrors and added, “11:45 at night?”

Jihoon sighed, exasperated that this ‘quick question’ was turning into a full blown conversation. “I have to finish that song featuring a woman’s vocals. The company wants to hear it tomorrow, but I need someone who can sing on the demo. They’ll have a hard time picturing a woman singing it if I sing it.”

Soonyoung nodded slowly. “That makes sense. Y/N sang the guide for that song. Yes, I have her number.” He walked over to his bag and fished out his phone. “Sent.”

Jihoon’s phone buzzed in his hand, and he looked down to see a notification from Soonyoung. “Thanks.” He turned and headed out of the room.

Soonyoung watched the door close, shrugged, and walked back to the mirrors to practice.

...

[Jihoon - Universe Factory] 23:49 - This is Jihoon, Soonyoung gave me your number. Would you be able to sing on a demo for me tonight? I’m working on a song with a woman’s vocals and the company wants to hear it tomorrow.

[Y/N] 23:50 - Did you give someone my number?

[Hoshi] 23:50 - Woozi asked me for it. Did he text you?

[Y/N] 23:50 - He did, but I had to make sure it was real

[Hoshi] 23:50 - LOL!

[Y/N - Bespoke Records] 23:51 - Hi! I’m just finishing up at my studio. I can definitely help.

[Jihoon - Universe Factory] 23:51- Any chance you could come to my studio tonight then?

[Y/N - Bespoke Records] 23:52 - Sure, send me the location.

...

You stared at your phone in shock. There is no way THE Woozi (and he called himself JIHOON?! like you were actual people who knew each other?) just asked you for help at midnight on a Tuesday. You honestly almost said yes even before your brain had a brief moment of sanity and directed you to check with Hoshi.

When Woozi asked you to come to his studio you completely froze, re-entering reality only long enough to let him know you could be there. You’d seen clips of him working at the studio and it seemed like such a cool place. You couldn't believe you were really about to go inside.

Woozi (Jihoon, you reminded yourself) even sent a company car to pick you up, which was very thoughtful of him. Then again, you were doing him a huge favor by agreeing to meet him at midnight on a Tuesday. He was lucky you were a night owl. The least he could do was give you a free ride.

All throughout the ride to his studio from yours, you felt like you should be manically texting someone about it, but you were somewhat frozen in shock. You sent a message to your roommate letting them know that you were staying out late to work with another producer, and you gave them the address for “Jihoon’s studio” and made sure location sharing was still turned on for your phone. (Safety first.) You did this frequently enough that they easily replied they'd keep their ringer on and check on you in the morning to make sure you made it back.

You stared out the window as buildings and brightly lit late-night restaurants flashed by. Suddenly, you realized, I am literally living my dream at this exact moment. You lived in Seoul working as a music producer, you had an amazing roommate you loved, you had fun meeting and collaborating with other producers in the business, and you worked on several very successful songs. And now you were about to meet one of the most successful producers in the world. Unreal.

The car arrived at what looked like an average gray building after a 15 minute ride from your studio. The subway entrance across the street told you the building was only one stop away from your apartment on the subway line you rode to work.

A security guard at the entrance let you in and pointed out the correct elevator. As the elevator doors closed, you heard him on the phone with Jihoon, letting him know you arrived. When the doors opened, you didn’t even have to wander around looking for the right room. Jihoon stood outside one of the doorways and nodded quickly before heading back into a room halfway down the hall.

You took a deep breath and started toward the studio. You had butterflies in your stomach. You didn't follow the group closely, yet among the members you’d always felt particularly drawn to Jihoon, not just for his looks (because he was so handsome you could barely believe it) but for his mind. This was an amazing once in a lifetime opportunity to work with such a talented producer.

When you walked into the studio, it was exactly as it looked in the clips you saw online. He was sitting at a computer and beside him was an empty chair. On the desk were big headphones and a microphone that were both plugged into his system. You’d only seen this microphone model online, and your excitement grew at the chance of getting to use it.

“Thanks for coming over,” Jihoon said as you walked to his desk. “I had a busy schedule today so I didn’t find out until an hour ago that they wanted it so fast.”

“Happy to help. I’m glad you thought of me.” At that moment, he looked up and met your eyes. His gaze was intense and his eyes seemed to stare into you. Maybe this was his work mode.

Shake it off, you told yourself, dropping your bag under the desk and sitting down. Be professional.

Jihoon played the ballad for you a few times and explained the concept. He sent you the lyrics so you could scroll through on your phone and follow along. You sang along under your breath, shoulders bobbing to the beat. The song was sure to be a hit, but he was correct that it was hard to imagine a woman featuring on the song with his (absolutely incredible) vocals on the demo.

“Are you ready to record?” Jihoon asked.

You nodded. You were never nervous the first time you sang something. It was like making pancakes: the first one didn’t count. That was your personal rule. You carefully put on the headphones and settled the microphone in front of you where you liked it.

You sang the lyrics exactly as written with the same vocalization he used in his version. A few times, your tongue twisted over the words. Your gut told you it wasn’t your singing style that was the issue. It felt like the sounds of those particular words didn’t fit those specific bars. As Jihoon played it back for you, you settled in to listen but you still felt some of the lyrics weren’t aligned with the song’s concept or sound.

Jihoon tilted his head and looked at you. It looked like he was calculating something. “What are you thinking?” he asked, turning his chair to face you fully.

You hesitated for a moment, but this was work. Jihoon was looking for your professional opinion as a songwriter. He obviously heard the demos you’d sent Hoshi back when you wrote a song for him and Youngji, and Jihoon liked your voice enough to ask for it on his demo. So this was definitely about work.

“I think a few of the lyrics need to be changed.” You scrolled to the first spot on your phone and pointed. “Right here, these three syllables are clashing against the musical phrasing underneath. You should do two syllables with an elongated vowel.”

Jihoon nodded slowly. “I know what you mean. What about ‘only’ or ‘maybe’ in that spot?” He looked at the lyrics on your phone and sang that section a few times to test out both options. You nodded along, feeling the rhythm of the lyrics.

“Maybe. It fits the concept of the song better.”

“I agree. What else?”

As you pointed out a few other suggestions, you found yourself much more comfortable working with him than you expected. Sometimes when you met some of the bigger producers for the first time, you felt too starstruck to make any changes to their work. But something about working alone in the quiet studio with Jihoon made your typical unease disappear. His presence filled the room, but his questions were clear and direct and you always knew exactly what he was asking.

Ten minutes later, Jihoon started a second recording, this time with the new lyrics. Despite the late hour, your voice felt strong and your mouth formed every word exactly as you intended. When you finished singing and took off the headphones, Jihoon’s eyes sparkled at you before he spoke. You felt it, too. This was it. You wouldn’t need to lay another track.

“Ready to hear it?” he asked, looking back at the computer and not addressing the fact that you both knew it was going to be perfect. You could hear the note of anticipation in his voice.

“Yes.”

A broad smile stretched across your face as you listened to the entire song. Afterwards, Jihoon turned to you with his phone in hand.

“Send me your agency’s contact information and the email address for the legal department. I need the KOMCA registration details so I can list your name in the credits.”

And just like that, you officially collaborated on a song with Universe Factory.

...

“Did you end up recording with Y/N?” Soonyoung asked Jihoon as they walked back to the practice room holding fresh iced Americanos.

“She came over that night and recorded the demo,” Jihoon replied, heading up a staircase.

Soonyoung’s eyes bugged out of his head and he stumbled on a step. He grabbed the railing to catch himself. “That night? It was the middle of the night!”

Jihoon shrugged. “She said she could.”

“What did you do together?” Soonyoung asked suspiciously.

“What do you mean? We recorded the song.”

“That’s it?”

“What else would we do? She helped with the lyrics and I set it up to give her writing credits.”

“Really?”

“Of course I did. She made the song better.”

Soonyoung watched Jihoon out of the corner of his eye. That was one of the nicest things Jihoon had ever said about anyone. Soonyoung took another sip of his coffee, his mind racing as he calculated a hundred algorithms at once. This whole situation was pretty unusual. But maybe, just maybe, his suspicion about Jihoon was correct.

“When are you seeing her again?” Soonyoung asked casually after they reached the top of the steps.

Jihoon cocked his head, thinking. “Maybe I’ll invite her to the recording. She would probably like that.”

Again, Soonyoung stumbled over his own two feet out of shock that Jihoon was considering someone’s feelings, and it wasn’t someone he’d known for a decade. And he didn’t always consider the feelings of members he knew for that long.

“Aren’t you going to buy dinner to thank her?” Soonyoung suggested.

“Is that necessary?”

“It would be the professional thing to do. Wouldn’t you do that if you worked with a guy? And Y/N really helped you meet your deadline.”

Jihoon thought carefully about the suggestion as they approached the door to the practice room. “You’re right. I should treat her to dinner. I’ll send her a message when we’re done.”

“I’ll remind you!” Soonyoung exclaimed enthusiastically.

...

Late at night a few days later, you walked up the hill to your apartment, completely lost in thought. You just finished dinner with Jihoon, and sharing the meal felt as comfortable as when you were recording in his studio last week.

After recording the demo together, he coordinated with your agency to make sure your credits appeared properly on the new song. You also had to sign an NDA about the song, studio location, and spending time with Jihoon. I guess it goes with the territory, you thought to yourself as you signed it.

During dinner, Jihoon explained the rushed deadline for the demo was because the song would be an OST for a drama starring one of the hottest actors in the country and the drama producers wanted to hear the song. Of course, they loved it and approved it.

It was hard to believe you worked with Jihoon on a song that Dokyeom was about to sing for a highly anticipated drama. It was even wilder that *Woozi* was saved in your phone simply as Jihoon, as if he was just another producer you worked with. And you were so surprised when he offered to buy you a meal to thank you. You should be the one thanking him!

But the simple meal was delicious and the quiet dinner in the small family-run restaurant near his studio (and near your apartment, but he didn't need to know that) was really nice. The owners seemed to know him well and treated him as a son. You knew you would remember the evening fondly.

Conversation mostly focused on work, but when Jihoon learned where you went to college for music production, it turned out you had learned from his mentors. He shared some genuinely entertaining stories from when he was starting to learn production software and recording tools.

It all made him more… real, and less of a person you just saw in videos on your phone. You sort of couldn't stop thinking about him, and as you walked up the steps leading to your apartment building, you found yourself mentally scrolling through all your draft songs to see if he might want to work on one with you.

...

[Jihoon] 21:09 - Would you be interested in coming to Dokyeom’s recording on Tuesday?

[Y/N] 21:15 - I would love that!

...

Through the glass of the recording booth, Jihoon watched you chatting with Dokyeom like you were old friends. He felt his stomach twist but couldn't figure out why.

Dokyeom had convinced you to record one track where you sang with him, even though they had a famous singer scheduled to record that verse tomorrow. So there you were, giggling with Dokyeom in the booth.

"Ready?" Jihoon asked over the booth speakers. He watched you and Dokyeom giggle yet again over the grumpy tone of his request before settling in around the mic.

Jihoon began the recording and heard your voice pipe through his headphones. Dokyeom added unplanned adlibs underneath, which Jihoon grudgingly acknowledged worked better than what he'd suggested.

It was so odd that Jihoon felt so protective of this song when it wasn't even his song anymore. You had made it so much better, and now the two singers were going to apply their own professional minds to the song. This is how it always went.

So why was he jealous of not being on the track himself? Of not being the one in the booth with you? Jihoon saw Dokyeom tap you on the shoulder to encourage you to join him on the final vocal runs. Oh yes, he was definitely feeling weirdly jealous over you two for some reason.

The music ended and you looked through the glass directly at Jihoon, eyes shining at him with a huge grin across your face. Jihoon found himself smiling back. You looked really beautiful at that moment.

Dokyeom's eyes widened as he glanced between you and Jihoon. He had never seen Jihoon appear so connected with a virtual stranger. The camera crew appeared to think the same thing, because he saw one of them move to get a close up of Jihoon, and he saw the robotic camera in the booth tilt toward you.

You broke eye contact with Jihoon to take off your headphones and thank Dokyeom for a chance to record the song for fun, and Jihoon shook himself out of whatever bizarre hypnosis he was going through. He headed over to the computer to send this track to his personal email, just in case he may want to listen to it later.

After a few more recordings of Dokyeom alone (his raw vocals were no joke), the three of you chatted in the studio while the engineer finalized the tracks and Dokyeom suggested getting dinner.

"I would love to, but I'm meeting my roommate for dinner," you explained. "We live nearby."

"Invite them!" Dokyeom replied. "Let me pick a spot and send you the location." He scrolled through the map on his phone.

Jihoon tidied the studio and listened to the two of you talk about dinner options. So you lived nearby and had a roommate. For some reason, he liked learning things about you. It must be because you worked together so well.

Dokyeom selected a restaurant and you called your roommate to ask about meeting you and your friends for dinner. You made eye contact with Jihoon when you said that into your phone. "Friends." Were the two of you friends now? Maybe.

...

"Jihoon, did you watch the new behind the scenes video?" Seungcheol asked as they rode to their next schedule.

Jihoon responded without looking up from his phone. "Not yet. It’s been a busy week."

"The fans are going crazy over your recording with Y/N."

Jihoon looked up at the sound of your name. He didn't realize Seungcheol knew who you were. "My recording with Y/N? You mean Dokyeom's OST recording?"

"That's not what Carats are calling it."

Seungcheol held his phone up so Jihoon could see a fan edit of the few clips from the episode that showed you with him in the studio. It ended with a screenshot from Dokyeom's Instagram story showing the three of you at dinner after the recording, in a photo taken by your roommate.

"What is that all about?" Jihoon wondered aloud. He was genuinely confused.

"Are you two dating?" Seungcheol asked directly.

Behind him in the car, Jeonghan and Minghao immediately stopped chatting. This was far more interesting than their conversation. While eavesdropping, Jeonghan frantically searched your name and Jihoon's name on social media to find the clip Seungcheol was talking about.

"No," Jihoon replied. "We worked together on the song and Dokyeom suggested we have dinner. We had dinner another time, too."

"That’s it?" Seungcheol asked skeptically.

"What do you mean? That's it."

Seungcheol looked from Jihoon to his phone, where the edit was playing again. Seungcheol agreed with the fans. There were definitely sparks between you and Jihoon. Maybe Jihoon didn't realize it yet.

By then, Jeonghan had found the clip and was watching it on mute with Minghao. They shared a meaningful look. They would probably agree with Seungcheol on his theory.

Jeonghan opened his text thread with Soonyoung and sent him a message out of curiosity. "Do you still hang out with Y/N?"

...

You were surprised by the reaction to the behind the scenes video. Most of your friends were excited to see the clips of Jihoon and Dokyeom and kept telling you the video was so cute.

Back when Dokyeom tagged you on his Instagram story, you explained to your friends that you worked on something with them and it had been an amazing experience. They were all happy for you and excited after the song was released and became so popular.

The fans seemed to have the same reaction as your friends. You were naturally a little nervous about what Carats would say when Jihoon's company asked if you were willing to be recorded. After the video, the fans seemed to think you were adorable and talented and that you worked well with Jihoon. It wasn't the dramatic reaction your roommate predicted.

But your roommate was also convinced you were into Jihoon and he was into you. While that might be half true, despite your denial, nothing in the video showed anything personal between you and Jihoon. Not that there was anything personal between the two of you, but sometimes you felt like he was giving…something. His attention felt more intense than regular coworker attention. You sort of loved having all his attention focused on you.

Nevertheless, you were barely in the video after all, since it was about Dokyeom recording the song. They cut the entire section with the track you sang with Dokyeom. The few clips where you appeared mostly showed you chatting and interacting with Jihoon, and you may have watched one or two fan edits of those scenes.

No matter what was or wasn't going on between you and Jihoon, you would never forget immediately after the music stopped, when the two of you stared into each other's eyes in a perfect moment in time.

Even if he never contacted you again, you would never forget that moment.

...

[Jihoon] 13:30 - I just learned the song was nominated for best OST

[Y/N] 13:31 - WHAT?? Really??

[Jihoon] 13:31 - It's your first nomination right?

[Y/N] 13:31 - Yes!

[Y/N] 13:31 - I can't believe it

[Y/N] 13:32 - I'm in shock

[Jihoon] 13:32 - I asked them to invite you to the ceremony

[Y/N] 13:32 - You didn't have to do that

[Jihoon] 13:33 - I have to sit with the group, but even if we don't win I want it to be a special night for you

[Jihoon] 13:33 - It's an honor to be nominated

[Y/N] 13:34 - Thank you so much for including me in all of this

[Jihoon] 13:34 - You earned this

...

"...produced by Woozi of Universe Factory, and written by Woozi of Universe Factory and Y/N of Bespoke Records. This is the first win and first nomination in this category for these songwriters. Please welcome Woozi and Dokyeom to the stage."

Jihoon was actually surprised the song won. The other nominees were very popular as well, but all were produced by groups who wrote many drama OSTs. Seungkwan clapped his back and encouraged him to go up to the stage with Dokyeom as the members cheered and clapped around him. Above the noise, Jihoon could hear the song playing in the background.

As he stood, he took a moment to scan the audience, hoping he might see you. He didn't know where your assigned seat was, only that you weren't at one of the tables at the front with the larger groups and celebrities. He knew you were here because of the excited text messages you sent him after you spotted his table.

Dokyeom led the way to the stage. Jihoon reached the microphone and accepted the award, bowing to the MCs. They stepped back and motioned toward the microphone. Dokyeom nodded encouragingly. Jihoon had done this so many times yet completely forgot what he was supposed to do this time. He wished you were on stage with him.

"Thank you, thank you everyone. Thank you to the company and the drama producers for this opportunity. Thank you to the viewers for appreciating the song from rookie OST producers. Thank you to Y/N, who is also here tonight, for elevating the song to what you hear today. She…"

Jihoon trailed off as loud applause covered his voice and people seemed to be looking at the screen behind him. He turned to look and his mind went blank. You looked radiant in your elegant dress and glowing smile.

He'd never seen you in such a beautiful gown (he only saw you in jeans or sweats and he loved that didn't follow all the trends). Your makeup was shimmering on camera (your everyday makeup always wore off by the time you arrived at your late night meetings but you were always beautiful to him). Everything about you was captivating.

He was a man of few words, generally, but right now he was speechless.

Finally, Dokyeom poked his side and nodded toward the microphone forcefully. Jihoon's years of media training kicked in and he turned back to the audience to finish his speech.

"Thank you also to our wonderful singers who brought so much life to the song. I hope we are all able to return to you soon as stronger artists."

When Jihoon returned to his seat, Soonyoung eagerly whispered, "Y/N looks gorgeous, doesn't she? How did you know she was here?"

"I invited her," Jihoon replied. And she does look amazing, he thought to himself.

...

Late that night, many hours later, Jihoon's phone buzzed as he filled a glass of water. He looked at the notification and saw it was a message from you.

[Y/N] 4:13 - Thank you so much for everything. I'm going to remember tonight for the rest of my life. It was an honor to work with you and I'm so proud of the song.

Jihoon looked at the time. Maybe it was too late to call you, but you were clearly up too late thinking about things, just as he was. He tapped the icon to call you and was still a little surprised when you picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hi. I just wanted to say it was a privilege to work with you too.” There was a pause and he awkwardly filled it. “The award will be sent to your company after they engrave it.”

“Oh! Thank you. I’ve never won anything before. It still doesn't feel real.”

Jihoon heard a small thump in the background. It sounded like you sat down. He sat down on the couch himself and set his glass on the table in front of him.

“It would be funny if we worked together again and won another award.”

It wouldn’t be funny, Jihoon thought. It was very possible. You were extremely talented. “Why not? You should send me some of your songs.”

You chuckled into his ear. Something about this made his heart beat faster. “I've been thinking about doing that but I didn't know if you would want to listen to my music.”

“Of course I do.”

The line went silent.

Jihoon wondered if you could tell how he felt about you. His friends told him women were more perceptive than they expected, especially if you treat them disrespectfully. He tried to treat everyone with respect. But he wanted more from you. He wanted more with you.

“YN? Are you still there?”

“I am,” you replied quietly.

“After you send me some songs, should we have dinner again? Just us. We can talk about the songs.” He paused, thinking of how to put into words what he felt about you. “And anything else on your mind. I really like it when you tell me what you're thinking about.”

“That would be great. I would love to.” He could hear your smile over the phone.

#seventeen fluff #svt fluff #woozi fluff #jihoon fluff #seventeen x reader #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #seventeen fanfic #wavelikewhat #woozi fanfic #lee jihoon #jihoon imagines #woozi #jihoon #svt #seventeen #wavelikewhat svt

966 notes · View notes

candycandy00 · 5 months

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The Doll House - A Toji x Reader Fanfic Part 3

You’re in love with Toji, even after finding out he trains sex dolls at the Doll House. Taking a chance, you sell yourself to the Doll House so he can be your trainer, and you bet him that you can make him fall for you by the end of the training.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Toji’s. I’m not sure how many parts it will have. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m keeping the same tag list as Geto’s part. If you’d like to be removed, please let me know!

Note: Consider these parts AU’s within an AU. So you might see Geto with a different doll from the reader in his part, but just consider this an alternate timeline lol.

There will be one more part after this! I thought about just doing one big long part 3 but when I got into it, I realized the story flows better this way.

Smut. 18+. Short Fem Reader. Cock drunk reader. Age difference (Reader is 20, Toji is 38). Size difference kink. Rough sex. Use of aphrodisiacs. Divider by @benkeibear!

A few days later, you wake up to Toji’s voice speaking somewhat harshly. You spot him across the room, holding his phone to his ear.

“This is short fucking notice!” he says, his eyes narrowed angrily. A pause, then, “Alright! Fuck it, I’ll pick him up myself! …Am I still on the list? You know what I mean, the list of people they’ll let pick him up at school! They don’t just let any rando show up and grab a kid! … Yeah you do that. Okay. Later.”

You raise up in bed and he looks over at you as he drops his phone onto the dresser. “Sorry about that. Looks like you’re gonna meet Megumi after all. My uncle has something to do today.”

“Really? That’s great!” You can’t suppress the excitement in your voice. You get to see Toji in “dad mode”. The thought has you giddy.

He gives you a flat stare. “You’re gonna be disappointed. That kid isn’t cute at all. He’s a sarcastic, rude little brat.”

Despite his words, you could sense a feeling of affection that Toji seemed to be trying to hide. “He sounds like his father,” you say teasingly.

Toji frowns, feigning offense. “Excuse me? Do I have to put you in your place? I can probably borrow a belt from Nanami.”

You laugh, pulling the covers off yourself, showing him your nude body. “You don’t have a belt?”

“Not like his,” Toji says, crawling onto the bed. “His are all Italian leather. You’ve seen my wardrobe. It’s ninety percent sweatpants.”

“You look good in sweatpants,” you say as he climbs on top of you, kissing your face and neck. “What about picking up Megumi?” you ask.

He doesn’t bother looking up, his face buried in your chest. “School lets out at three. We have a few hours to kill.”

All at once he rolls over onto his back, pulling you on top of him. The way he can just sling you around turns you on so much. He’s so much bigger than you, so much stronger. The fact that he could easily break you in half, but instead is surprisingly gentle with you, makes your skin tingle with delight. It’s like you’ve tamed a great beast.

He’s lying flat on his back, and he puts his hands behind his head in a relaxed pose. “I gotta conserve my energy if I’m gonna be taking care of a kid today,” he says with a grin. “Why don’t you do all the work?”

You get to your knees, straddling him. You bend down to kiss his lips. “Such a lazy trainer,” you say, sliding your hands down his soft cotton T-shirt, finding the bottom hem and then pushing the fabric up to reveal his muscled abdomen. You pull the front of his sweatpants down far enough to free his cock, already hard and ready for you.

As you scoot back down a bit, you lock eyes with Toji as you lean forward and run your tongue over his dick, letting your saliva drip all over it, getting it nice and wet. Then you straighten up, get in position, and sink down onto him. You don’t go all the way down at first, only halfway. Toji groans and gives you an exasperated look.

“You teasing me now?”

You smile as you move your hips in a circular motion. “I don’t know what you mean,” you say playfully. “Is my big strong trainer feeling frustrated? Does he want to be buried all the way inside my wet little pussy?”

His eyes are gleaming as he looks up at you, his hands finally moving from behind his head to grip your waist. It would be so easy for him to pull your body down, completely shoving himself into you. He doesn’t, but the thought that he could at any moment, his strong hands firm on your skin, thrills you.

“I can hold back if you can,” he finally says, a smirk on his face. “But I know this needy little cunt is hungry for my cock. You’ll never be satisfied until I’m all the way in.”

He’s right of course, but you feel like teasing him a bit more. You roll your hips, making shallow thrusts, as you use one hand to play with your nipple, the other moving down to rub your clit. You moan, arching your back, giving Toji an incredible view. You’re trying to goad him into pulling you down, holding your hips in place while he fucks up into you so hard you cry. Glancing down at him through half-closed eyes, you can see the unbridled desire on his face. He wants to absolutely rail you, that much is obvious.

But he’s holding back, waiting for you to be the one who gives in first. So it becomes a game to see whose desire wins out. You want to be stuffed full of him so badly, but you stay at the halfway point, moving slowly, touching yourself, watching the way his eyes rake over your form.

“Toji… Toji!”

His name is delicious on your lips as your eyes close, your head tossed back. His cock is twitching inside you, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He’s close to giving in, but so are you. Several more minutes of this, and your legs are weak, shaky, aching to collapse. Just when you’ve decided you can’t wait any longer, Toji’s grip tightens and he yanks you down, plunging his entire length into you.

For a moment, you see stars. His tip has crashed against your cervix, leaving you gasping. Toji grins beneath you as he thrusts up once, going so deep, tears spring to your eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “My little doll gettin more than she bargained for?”

You clench tightly around him, drawing a grunt from his mouth. Your hands are on his stomach, feeling the taut muscles under his skin. “S-so deep…Toji!”

He waits, not moving, just watching you. Then, you begin riding him, moving up and down, moaning each time you slide all the way back down, relishing the way he fills you so completely. His large hands glide up from your hips to grope your breasts as you bounce on his cock, crying out his name like a mantra.

After some time passes, maybe a few minutes, maybe an eternity, you climax with a loud wail of ecstasy. You slam your body all the way down, taking him as deeply as possible, and clamp onto him. You look down at him with dazed eyes. “Please shoot your cum inside me,” you say in your sweetest voice. “My womb is thirsty.”

Toji rises up suddenly, now holding you firmly in his lap as he presses into you, burying his face in your neck. He kisses the warm flesh there first, then bites it, his teeth not breaking the skin but grazing across your neck hard enough to leave a mark. It surprises you, but the animalistic way he growls as he does it sends you to a higher plane of existence. Almost simultaneously, he cums directly into your deepest place, coating your insides.

Your arms are wrapped tightly around him, as if you can meld into him if you hold him close enough. You’ve never loved him more.

Later in the day, Toji leaves the house to go pick up Megumi at school. You’re so excited that you can’t sit still. You move from the kitchen to the dining hall to the common room, occasionally running into other trainers or dolls. And when Toji finally returns, there’s an adorable little boy with unruly black hair trailing behind him.

You meet them in the welcome room. Toji is carrying a dark blue backpack in one hand, and with the other he lightly pulls the boy forward. “This is Megumi,” he says, then he gestures toward you. “Megumi, this is-“

“Your sex slave, I know,” the boy says. He wears a somewhat sour expression as he glares at Toji.

Toji sighs. “See? I told you this little brat isn’t cute at all.” As he says it, Toji lays one large hand on the boy’s head and ruffles his hair. Megumi jerks away and starts trying to smooth it back down, but it was already messy to start with, so he isn’t having much luck. You can’t help smiling at their interaction.

Stepping forward, you grin down at Megumi. “I’m your dad’s friend. We’ve known each other for a long time now. We met at the convenience store.”

The boy looks at you suspiciously, as if he doesn’t entirely believe you. “But you’re still his sex slave,” he says matter-of-factly.

Toji frowns. “Please stop saying that. You don’t even know what that means.”

A smug grin appears on Megumi’s cute face. “Yes I do! It means she has to do whatever you say! And you make her kiss you! And… do other stuff!”

Toji bends down to face him. “What other stuff?”

Megumi’s face reddens, and you feel certain that the boy only has an extremely vague idea of what that other stuff might be. Thank goodness. “W-well, I’m not gonna say it out loud! I’m a gentleman!”

You can’t suppress a laugh as you watch them. You step closer to Toji and put an arm around his waist. “I can promise you, Megumi, your dad and I are friends. He doesn’t make me do anything. I hope you and I can be friends too.”

Megumi stares at you, and you notice that he has Toji’s eyes. “Why bother? You’ll be gone by the next time I come here. Then there’ll be another girl here.”

You know he’s just a child, and what he’s saying is probably true, but those words cut you deeper than he could imagine. Still, you kept your friendly smile plastered on your face.

Toji put a firm hand on Megumi’s shoulder and ushered him down the hall. “Don’t be rude, Megumi. You’re never gonna have any friends if this is how you talk to people.”

You heard Megumi’s voice responding, but they had already went into one of the unused rooms so you couldn’t make out what he said.

***************

Toji walks into the dining hall at dinner time and does a sweep over the room to make sure all the dolls are dressed and nothing obscene is going on. He told the other trainers that Megumi would be here, and they’re normally good at keeping things decent when the kid is around, but Toji still likes to make sure.

Everyone appears to be on their best behavior. None of the dolls are naked or have tails sticking out of their asses, and Sukuna never brings his doll to the dining hall so Toji doesn’t have to worry about him.

Once everything is clear, Toji goes to get Megumi from the room he’d left him in to play video games, as well as his doll, so they can all three eat together. He doesn’t really get why his doll wanted to meet and spend time with Megumi. In Toji’s experience, most women are turned off by the fact that he has a kid. A son is just walking baggage to them. And the few that do take an interest in Megumi quickly lose that interest after meeting him. Megumi has a prickly personality, probably because of the way he’s being raised. Toji is acutely aware that he’s to blame for that. Shuffling the kid around to different relatives can’t be good for him.

But despite Megumi’s hurtful comments earlier, the doll still wants the three of them to have dinner together. So when they all walk in together, Toji groans when Megumi immediately runs over to Nanami’s table and sits with him. Nanami’s doll, sitting in her own seat instead of Nanami’s lap, seems amused as Megumi begins chatting with the other trainer. Toji usually doesn’t mind that Megumi speaks more to Nanami over dinner than he does to Toji in a year, but just this once, he hoped the boy would sit with him. If only for his doll’s sake.

Toji gives her an apologetic look as she takes a seat, but she smiles and shrugs. “It’s no big deal. If he likes sitting with Nanami, let him.”

Toji fixes plates for himself and his doll, then watches as Nanami goes with Megumi to the food table and fixes the boy a plate. Toji often wonders why Nanami doesn’t just settle down and start a family. The man is a natural born father. Hell, sometimes he even thinks about asking if Nanami wants to adopt Megumi. The kid would be far better off that way.

During dinner, Gojo walks over to chat with Megumi, who always pretends to find Gojo annoying. Toji can tell, though: Megumi likes Gojo a lot. Probably because the white haired trainer acts like a big dumb kid half the time. Geto and even Choso go over to briefly talk with Toji’s son. He’s never said anything to them about it, but Toji is extremely grateful that they treat Megumi so well. Sukuna, at the very least, doesn’t complain about Megumi’s presence.

At some point Toji glances at his doll, who is watching Megumi with a warm expression on her face. He nudges her playfully with his elbow. “What are you so happy about?”

She looks up at him. “I was just thinking he looks a lot like you. I can’t help picturing you as a kid. I bet you were cute.”

Toji snorts. “Me? Cute? Never. I was a mean little shit.”

She gives him a pouty look. “Whaaat? But you’re cute even now!”

“And you need to get your eyes checked,” he says with a laugh.

His doll is quiet for a moment, then her face looks serious for once. “I wish I knew more about you,” she says, her eyes lowered to her plate, where she absently stirs some mashed potatoes with a fork. “I don’t want to pry too much, and I don’t want to stir up any painful memories… But if there are any good memories, any happy stories you can share… I’d love to hear about them sometime.”

He looks away from her, to his own plate as he stabs a piece of steak. “I’ll think about it,” he says as he begins chewing.

Later that night, Toji’s doll steps out of the room to grab a snack in the kitchen. When several minutes pass without her returning, he goes looking for her. On the way to the kitchen, he stops outside the room Megumi is using. He hears voices, so he cracks the door open and silently looks inside. His doll is sitting on the edge of the bed beside Megumi, playing a game with him. Their backs are to the door, and they’re focused on the game on the screen in front of them, so they don’t notice Toji at the door.

“Oh, come on!” his doll says. “That’s not fair!”

“It’s part of the game,” Megumi replies smugly, “of course it’s fair.”

“How are you so good at this?”

“I play this a lot. It’s the only game here.”

“Really? Your dad needs to get you some new games.”

Megumi snorts the same way Toji did at dinner. “I’ve told him that before. He doesn’t listen, or he doesn’t care.”

“I can bring a few of my old games here and leave them,” she says.

Megumi’s head turns slightly toward her. “Okay. Thanks.”

There’s silence for a moment, then Megumi speaks again. “I feel sorry for you. Having to do whatever that guy says.”

It hasn’t escaped Toji’s notice that Megumi very rarely calls him dad. It’s always “that guy” or “old man”.

The doll doesn’t seem fazed. “I told you already. Your dad and I are friends. And I’ll tell you a little secret: I’m in love with him.”

Megumi pauses the game and looks directly at her. “Are you joking? Why would you love him?”

Toji feels his heart beating faster for some reason. Megumi just straight up asked the question he’d been wondering about for weeks now. He supposes kids can get away with being so direct.

“At first, I just thought he was handsome and cool,” she says, turning slightly to face Megumi. “He came into the store where I worked a lot. And he was fun to talk to. But then one night a bad man came into the store and tried to hurt me. Your dad saved my life. And when I was scared and didn’t know what to do, he stayed with me and made sure I was okay. He showed me so much kindness, even though he didn’t really know me that well.”

Megumi stares at her for a moment, then looks back toward the tv and unpauses the game. “I still think he’s a loser,” the boy mutters.

Toji figures he deserves that. He hasn’t been much of a father to Megumi.

The doll is looking at the tv as well, the controller gripped tightly in her small hands. “I don’t know enough about the relationship between you two to comment on it. It’s not my place to say you’re wrong or you’re right. But to me, your father is a great man.”

Megumi glances at her again, this time his face looking slightly uncertain. After the match is over, with Megumi winning again, the boy gets up and goes to turn the PlayStation off. He looks back at the doll and says, so quietly that Toji barely hears him, “I hope you’re still here next time.”

Toji steps out of sight before Megumi can spot him, continuing down the hall and leaving the door slightly cracked. In the kitchen, he grabs a bottle of water and a bag of chips, just to have something to bring back in case his doll beats him back to his room.

As he leaves the kitchen, he bumps into the owner, who stops him in the hallway.

“Oh, Fushiguro, I wanted to talk to you.”

“What’s up?” he asks, cracking open the water bottle.

“It’s about your doll,” the owner says in a smooth voice. “We have a potential buyer. He’d like to meet with her this week.”

Toji’s entire body freezes in place, the water bottle inches from his open mouth. He blinks, then slowly lowers his hand. “Already?” he asks.

The owner gives him a strange look. “It’s been four weeks. That’s when we usually start interviewing buyers. …Is everything alright?”

Toji nods. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I guess I just lost track of time.”

The owner is still looking at him as if he might be sick. “Take care of yourself,” she says before disappearing down the hall.

Toji heads back to his room, suddenly feeling irritated.

Tag List:

@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene @lzaj19 @lyn-lotte @missthatgirl @peachedtv

#toji x reader #fushiguro toji #toji smut #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader

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newtkive · 3 months

Text

pixels [ newt x reader - modern text au ]

ch. 2 - drama queen core

summary: minho's drama finally catches up with him, but newt becomes a hero.

warnings: strong language, mutual pining, none really.

➥ m.list

THE GLADE

[ 12:08 PM ]

y/n: gm pookies

newt: it’s the afternoon.

y/n: yeah well

ur east coast

newt: so are you y/n

y/n: FINE BAD MORNING THEN ARE U HAPPY?

minho: drama queen is awake

newt: you’re the drama queen min let’s be fr

minho: u want me to die be honest

newt: see .

tommy: hey guys :3 been waiting for you all

y/n: awwww tommy <3 gm

tommy: morning sweetums

minho: ew stop

newt: how did you sleep?

tommy: good! used my new heated pillow

newt: not you

minho: not you

tommy: wtf

WHO THEN?? THERES LIKE 7 OTHER PPL IN HERE

minho: he means y/n

and there’s 4 other people not including newt and y/n dumbass

y/n: oh

why just me????

newt: cuz you stayed up til 6 am

y/n: ..

how do you know that

newt: i saw you were active on discord

gally: doesn’t that mean you were awake too then

newt: ok and?

minho: thats crazy newt

newt: no it isn’t

i just casually saw it

y/n: hehe

im ok i need to sleep more. sims 4 was really consuming me

why were you awake??

newt: up for work

minho: you get on discord before work?

chronically online..

newt: can you choke and pass out and hit your head please

minho: THE WAY U WANT ME DEAD IS INSANE

y/n: he’s gotta check on his discord hoes before hitting the grind

newt: there are no discord hoes

unless you count thomas

and i don’t

tommy: well why not

newt: because you disgust me

tommy: love u too :3<3

minho: y’all about to kiss aren’t you

newt: never say that shit again im outside your door with a b*mb

minho: why censor it

just blow me up it’s my grandmas house anyway. u want to jump her that bad????

gally: blow that bitch up i say

y/n: HELLO???!,!!

gally: minho not grandma

she loves me cuz im so tall

minho: tall people always gotta remind you they’re tall 😒

like we get it bigfoot

gally: shut up tinkerbell

y/n: you’re somewhat tall minho

minho: any man under 6’0 is considered short

y/n: yeah but newt is 6 ft trapped in a 5’10 body so not totally true

newt: what does that even mean

minho: give me a break

i can tell you exactly what that means

she wanna hit

newt: stop

tommy: don’t get his hopes up

newt: dude

stfu

y/n: what newt said

gally: can we appreciate the only one actually over 6 ft here

minho: no.

tommy: im the same height as newt!!!!

y/n: yea but ur like 3 ft trapped in a 5’10 body tommy not the same

tommy: oh ..

minho: kind of real

newt: can someone kick gally i’m tired of seeing his fucking name on my phone

gally: then turn your phone off don’t you have old ladies to tend to at the library

newt: yeah and they all love me

y/n: so real

if i was old i’d go in there and imagine you’re my young boyfriend and cling to everything u say

tommy: true im the old ladies

y/n: LMAO

minho: write a fanfic y/n why don’t you

newt: yeah you both are old and not beating the dementia allegations

y/n: IM THE YOUNGEST HERE

ur just mad you’re old as dirt

tommy: youth has left you newt and it has turn you bitter in your old age.

minho: thomas knows big words who knew

newt: which word in that sentence was big??

y/n: shut up minho

minho: wtf did i do

y/n: idk but i imagine you sitting there typing on your little phone and i got pissed

minho: WHAT???!.‘wKWHFO

newt: LMAOOOOOOOOOOO

yeah chubby little fingers hitting the wrong letters on his iphone 8

minho: im leaving

tommy: dont leave i forgive you for what you said

minho: i don’t give a damn

y’all mad y’all are all fake im the realest i’ve been prophesizing and reading scriptures 7000 years before y’all fake asses were born be so for real right now

y/n: not reading that

congrats

or sorry for what happened idk

about to drink my coffee in a wine glass

tommy: just drink wine

newt: it’s noon tommy??

tommy: ok and?

newt: explains a lot

minho: no coffee for me this new year only water and pussy juice fr fr

[ newt removed minho from the group ]

tommy: woah

y/n: woah..

newt: i can’t take it anymore

alby: How did you get that access..?

newt: don’t worry about it

in times of need i have to step in like that

y/n: hi alby!

alby: Hey y/n!

tommy: you’re such a hero newt

gally: that was deserved

who wants to play minecraft rn

y/n: me!!

alby: I’ll play, I’m off work today.

y/n: let’s go to the desert i want a camel

gally: alright but then the caves after i wanna mine

newt: if you mine with her you gotta bring extra food and storage when she dies so you can pick up the fallen items

gally: i forget you’re her designated babysitter

y/n: oh please no he isn’t

and i’ll bring my own food

newt: you always say that and then leave it in the stove oven

y/n: WELL I WONT THIS TIME

newt: sure ok

i’ll get on after work

[ alby added minho to the group ]

minho: when i get you.

newt: why did you add him back alby

alby: He was harassing me.

newt: be a man and take it

gally: im leaving

[ gally left the group ]

minho: im going to throw up and die

newt: im staying out of this

minho: (guy who caused it) im staying out of this

y/n: why does gally alwyas leave 😔

newt: why question a gift from the heavens

tommy: get online y/n gally is attacking my dirt house w a pickaxe :((((

y/n: NO IM COMING

minho: im coming to your work newt

newt: okay im locking the door early then

minho: i’ll smash through the glass idc

newt: i’m leaving my shift is over at 1 today.

minho: i’ll use life360 on you

newt: i deleted that app

minho: i’ll stand in the middle of the street

newt: ok let me position my car in front of you

just come to my apartment and we can play w them on pc and xbox

minho: …. fine but i hate your guts

newt: fine

y/n: HURRY GALLY IS ATTACKING MY SHED NOOOOWWW

newt: i’ll just rebuild it

minho: i’ll set it on fire just wait

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sizzlinbaconpeach · 7 months

Text

So my sister shared some of her fanfic with me which got my creative juices going again.

I did some sketches inspired by it. I also wrote a fun little scene as well, but my sister informed me that it's the wrong time of year and stuff. But I'll share it with you guys anyway.

This is supposed to be the first (or one of the first) missions that Chris and Jill are partnered on in their S.T.A.R.S. days. They're investigating a gang or something...

[Chris and Jill sitting in a car, down the street from the bar, getting ready to initiate their undercover operation] [Chris is dressed in casual clothes - leather jacket, jeans, and a t-shirt. Jill is wearing an oversized sweater with a short black skirt and boots.] [Chris is reviewing his notes as Jill makes her self ready, and removes her sweater] C: So he's been showing up consistently at 7:34pm [checking his watch] every night at the bar, usually with at least 2 other guys, but they always go outside -- [notices Jill's skimpy outfit] You're not going to wear your sweater? J: My mom always dressed like thi-- [seems embarrassed with what she was about to say] Uhh… yeah. I've gotta dress like I'm here for a good time, right? [gets out of car] C: [somewhat under his breath as he watches Jill move to the front of the car] For the bar, not the frigging swimming pool. [He climbs out and meets her at the front of the car] Okay, so it would be best for you to wait until his 2 friends go out for their smokes - they always wait for Fat Tony by the side door. I'll try to stall them for as long as I can, so you can chat up our dear slimy leader, Snake. J: [clicking her small purse closed after applying some lipstick] Roger that. C: [notices the goosebumps on her arms] Here. [Drapes his jacket around her] J: Don't you think it'll be a little hard for me to do some Snake charming if I'm wearing another man's jacket? C: Well, he's a biker dude, you'll earn his trust easier. But I'm sure you can get creative and make something up. J: [playing along] Oh this? [slips her arms through the sleeves] It was my dad's before he died in a tragic accident. C: [eye twitch] Huh… [turns his head away] J: [worried, trying to meet his eyes] What? You don't think that'll work? C: [looks back at her] Ooorr, maybe it was your ex-boyfriend's. That jacket doesn't look worn enough to be your dad's. J: [playfully] Oh right - my overly cocky boyfriend, who thought he was 'oh so cool' on his motorbike, terrorizing the town with his hooligan friends. Too bad his inflated ego killed him… C: [chuckles] Yeah, but I bet he was devilishly handsome, right? [runs a hand through his hair] J: [smiles as she pulls the jacket closed, retreating into its warmth, teasing] If not a little dorky sometimes. C: [smile drains from his face, pushes her towards the bar as she laughs] Yeah, yeah. Time to win your Oscar.

#valenfield #fanfic #im so lame...

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reallyromealone · 1 year

Note

I just created a Fanfic in my head imagines one day Bonten goes to a nightclub to do business with the owner of another gang that also owns the club they go there talking about business and the boss of this gang calls a waiter and Bonten sees an Omega (Reader) and begin to feel a feeling for the little Omega thinking he's so cute cute adorable and small and they keep holding on so they don't attack little omega they can't get their eye out while little Omega goes to get a drink for them so the boss of this gang offers one of the club's prostitutes to them but they refuse saying they just want one thing the little Omega he gets a little confused but accepts then when little Omega we come back bringing the drinks His boss says now he'll be from Bonten and little Omega is scared Because he knows Bonten's fame for being criminals in godly and sadistic and is trembling with fear the whole car trip and they realize that and try to calm the little with affection and Sweet words

(I hope not to be a nuisance or is hindering you or something I love very much your posts thank you very much even a kiss and do not forget to settle and drink plenty of water 😘❤️❤️💗💗💕💕)

You're not a nuisance my dude

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

The clubs bass was booming as Bonten went to the VIP lounge, seeing the leader of some gang leader that was making the waves in Tokyo "Ah, Mr. Sano..." The man said standing, having at least some common sense to show respect to the most feared man in japan and his executive's "waiter!" The gang leader called with a snap to the finger as Bonten sat down.

In came an Omega, short and cute while dressed in the server uniform of the club which was slightly formal "yes sir?"

"Get us drinks, be quick" the man said bluntly to the Omega who bowed, a soft expressionless look on his face as he did a soft bow and exited the room, neither the Omega nor the gang leader aware of Bontens heated stares burning into him.

"So what is it you want?" Sanzu said bluntly, the first to turn his attention back to the matter at hand, a cold expression on his face as to not give anything away to the lower being before him, the gang leader could hardly be called a threat.

Besides, Bonten already had plans to...remove them from the list.

When (name) got in to start his shift, be was tired as hell.

"How did your midterms go?" One of the dancers asked as he walked into the back to put his stuff in the lockers "I couldn't sleep because I'm so nervous about the results" (name) sighed as he switched into his uniform, it was a higher end club after all.

"Break a leg!" (Name) said softly before going out and beginning his shift.

He hated this job, sleaze bags thinking because he's an Omega they could just touch him.

'fucking pigs...' (name) grumbled as his manager walked to him "you're serving the boss and his guests tonight" the beta said with a slight glare, always slightly annoyed at any given moment "don't fuck it up or it's your head"

That didn't make (name) nervous, not at all.

"Waiter!" The boss yells with a snap of his fingers, causing (name) to rush into the vip section "get us drinks, be quick" (name) nodded, not making eye contact with the man before bowing and turning and leaving to receive said drinks.

As he stepped out he locked eyes with the darkest eyes he had ever seen, they were like black pearls.

(Name) rushed to the bar to get the drinks, not wanting to think of it much more.

"So, do any of my whores interest you gentlemen? You're free to take one if they suit your fancy"

They didn't want any of his whores, they found they only wanted the Omega.

"Give us the waiter"

Said Omega was now bringing in their drinks quietly, so delicate and careful with what he did and Bonten could smell the slight scent of (scent) in the air, no doubt from the Omega.

Bonten wanted to reach out to him, pull him close and feel his skin that was no doubt softer than the finest silks.

"Fine by me" the gang leader said somewhat confused but accepted it none the less, what was an omega if it meant getting into Bontens good books "oi you" the Alpha said to (name) who looked confused "have fun with your new owners"

(Name) looked horrified as he processed the words, his now former boss saying something about giving them some space to get to know one another.

(Name) looked at the tattoos and trembled, knowing exactly what these men are capable of.

He's seen the news after all.

Before him were the most powerful and dangerous men in japan and they stared at him with almost...loving gazes?

"Let's bring you home Omega"

The entire car ride (name) was shaking like a leaf, scent muted but you could faintly smell pure distress from the poor Omega.

And Bonten took notice of this very fast.

"Shhh darling, were not going to hurt you" Kakucho said nosing at the omegas scent gland "what's your name angel?"

"(N-name)..."

"You can call me Kakucho or alpha... Whatever makes you comfortable"

When touching the Omega, they felt sparks, a strange pull towards him and they found they enjoyed it.

(Name) could also feel the strange pull, his Omega practically screaming to touch them but (name) didn't dare, scared shitless "p-please let me go home"

"We want you as our mate, we can't explain why but we do"

"...can I still go to school?"

"...how old are you?" Takeomi asked slowly, hoping to god that this Omega wasn't a teenager "I'm (over 18)" (name) said softly and a wave of relief washed over them "so you're in university?" Ran asked and (name) nodded, fiddling with his shirt "our Omega is so smart~" he said sweetly, gently petting (name)s cheek, the men showering (name) with sweet words and soft touches to get him calmer.

(Name) let out a involuntary purr when Mikey kissed his scent gland, blushing heavily at the sound but the alphas just cooed at him.

"You can go to school if you promise to be our Omega"

"Only...If I'm the only one"

"Promise"

(Name) felt he didn't have much of an option, nodding and accepting his fate much to his new alphas glee.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers fluff #bonten x reader #male reader #omegaverse #omega male reader

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starcurtain · 1 year

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Haikaveh Fanfics I Really Want to Read (Part 1)

Part 2. ->

1. A run-in with a cursed artifact on a research trip leaves Alhaitham intangible and invisible. He can't be seen, heard, or even open his precious books (which is the real tragedy here). Things go from bad to worse when it's discovered that the only person who can break the curse is someone who "knows Alhaitham by heart."

Problem is, nobody does. The only one who might even come close is Kaveh, and will he really be willing to go out of his way to research Alhaitham's deepest secrets just to bring his scathing roommate back?

Turns out the answer is yes, and Alhaitham is left invisibly watching over Kaveh's increasingly desperate attempts to learn more about the most private person in all of Sumeru.

Yeah... Alhaitham's probably doomed.

(Or: The Akademiya's erstwhile scribe has nothing better to do than stalk follow his roommate around unseen, gets a front row seat to Kaveh's tough life, undergoes the mortifying ordeal of being known, and realizes just how much his own cold nature has left him isolated from the world.)

Rest under the read more:

2. Another research trip gone wrong: While Kaveh's out of town on a job and without a shield this time, Alhaitham takes a nasty knock to the head during a fight. Although he wakes up all right, he doesn't have the faintest idea who or where he is. Quick-thinking nature intact, Alhaitham decides to fake his way through on context clues for a while. It's an interesting experiment, after all, to learn about his own life from an outsider's perspective.

Too bad a very silly series of coincidences occur (i.e. Kaveh took most of his work things with him for his trip, so his room is pretty bare; they wash their laundry together to save water; and everyone keeps asking Alhaitham why some mysterious "Kaveh" guy isn't with him), all of which lead Alhaitham to the absolutely incorrect assumption that this missing "Kaveh" person is his significant other. Imagine Kaveh's shock when he returns home to a very out-of-character greeting...

(But I mean, really, does Alhaitham need his memories back? This is kind of nice, you know...)

3. Requirements for a Desirable Life (According to Alhaitham):

1. Match your actions to your talents (read as: go with the flow) 2. Low stress, high paying job (read as: the balancing act between making oneself seem indispensable while underachieving as much as possible is a talent) 3. Nice home with a short commute (read as: at-home lunch hours every day) 4. Books (read as: soon as possible) 5. Kaveh (read as: the light of my life who I moved into my house through admittedly somewhat underhanded tactics just to keep him close to me, but what was I supposed to do--tell him I have actual feelings? Impossible, in the most literal of senses)

Or: Alhaitham pursues his plan for an ideal lifestyle in an utterly single-minded and undeterrable fashion... except when comes to his roommate, who--for someone so good at drawing up his own designs--also seems terribly good at ruining Alhaitham's.

Just fall in love with me already.

(Basically, I just want to see Alhaitham be the pining one for once. He is one checkmark away from his dream life, but he'd rather sell his soul to Lord Sangemah Bay than confess without knowing how Kaveh feels first.)

4. Alhaitham is preeminently capable. He's beyond a genius. His research could rewrite the laws of reality if he tried hard enough. But he's also... terrible with people. Actually, terrible is an understatement. If Alhaitham is murdered one day, it'll be because he finally committed one too many social faux pas and honestly the masses will probably say he had it coming. Thank the lesser lord that the Akademiya's scribe has someone as gregarious as Kaveh around to help him learn, right?

Or: Five times Kaveh tried to teach Alhaitham social skills, and the one time Alhaitham put all those lessons into practice... on Kaveh.

5. The very silly comedy one: If someone were to ask Kaveh what the very worst thing about living with Alhaitham is, he'd say--well, first he'd say "Who told you?!", but after that, he'd say something that might come as a surprise. The worst thing about living with Alhaitham isn't their constant snarking and diametrically-opposed mindsets. It isn't the tacky, asymmetrical furniture Alhaitham keeps bringing home because it was "practical and inexpensive." (Kaveh's skin is crawling.) It isn't even the fact that his so-called "landlord" reminds Kaveh all too often about his unpaid rent while never lifting a finger himself to do the dishes.

Nope. The worst thing about living with Alhaitham is the experiments.

"How many books can I leave on top of Kaveh's sketches before he yells at me?"

"How angry will Kaveh get if I drink the expensive wine he brought home last night?"

"How many days will it take Kaveh to notice I keep rearranging all the stuff on his shelves while he's out?"

"How many times can I suggest he add Aranara statues to his designs before he tries to strangle me?"

It's bullying, is what it is! There's no limits to Alhaitham's behavior when his curiosity is piqued--the only thing that matters to him is the answer to whatever outrageous new question he's thought up in that thick head of his. And of course, the louder Kaveh shouts, the more "experiments" Alhaitham seems to dream up...

Honestly, someone ought to give him a taste of his own medicine!

(Or: Alhaitham and Kaveh end up in an exponentially escalating social experiment competition, pushing as hard as they can to find the other's boundaries. One of them has to break and give up soon, right?! Too bad Alhaitham's the god of stubbornness, and Kaveh's eternal peace of mind is on the line--if he can just win this, Alhaitham will finally give it up and quit bothering him! He can't chicken out first!

Because they're both very Normal™, it turns out there's not a single boundary to be found.

Well, at least answering the question "How many times can I walk in on him in the shower before he kicks me out of the house?" might save them some money on the water bill?

By the way, Kaveh wins. It turns out the answer to "How many dog ears can I fold into the pages of Alhaitham's books before he tries to kill me?" is 0.)

#haikaveh #kavetham #genshin impact #alhaitham #kaveh #genshin impact fanfic #fanfic ideas #send help please #I don't have time to write these myself #but I need them in my life

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deliciousdefendorinternet · 1 month

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do you think Bro zone's parents will ever come into play in a story in the future?

keep in mind this can mean any number of things like either they just get mentioned in the future in favour of developing the older brothers further.

someone else had the idea in a fanfic of JD maybe opening up to Branch that their Father went Grey and abandoned the family following their mother's death via a Bergen.

and JD admitting they all went on to do the same aka leaving the family when things got hard thus being used as an emotional turning point for him telling Branch that none of them will ever give up on their family again like they did in the past.

or the parents could straight up be introduced as a major plot element in a future film in the past I've had ideas of them maybe popping up in a similar manner to JD did in the Third film.

asking for forgiveness and saying they need their sons help for something serous and while JD Bruce and Clay are very sceptical and angry at them.

given in this scenario the parents just abandoned them all when Branch was an egg.

but Floyd having still been somewhat too young to remember much about them and Branch obviously not remembering anything about them are more wiling to give them a chance.

with Branch even somewhat calling the older brothers out on their Hypocrisy for being unwilling to give their parents a second chance when they themselves were given another chance.

so long story short they'd all go on a journey to find something what exactly I'm not 100 percent sure maybe one of the parents claims to be dying and in need something rare that will cure them which they need their family harmony in order to access somehow.

so Branch and Floyd are somewhat eager to get to know their parents while JD Bruce and Clay begrudgingly come along on the Journey.

so after a movie of them bonding and the parents slowly worming their way back into the good books of the older Brothers they eventually get to where their going and in the end the parents screw their kids over.

after using them to get access to what they wanted they leave them trapped with it turning out neither of them were actually dying and instead it was all just a Heist basically.

they didn't really give a crap about their kids they just used them for the harmony magic and now their just gonna leave them trapped.

and afterwards while their trying to get out JD has a told ya so attitude about him while the others are just more legit silently upset.

Floyd and Branch are pretty shocked by their parents actions while Bruce and Clay are upset but not 100 percent surprised given they tell them this is what they were always like when they were kids.

their parents were maybe always selfish con artists who only really took an interest in them when they needed to use them for something.

hell if we wanna take things a step further maybe Bro zone was only founded because the parents forced their kids into it as a way to make money off of them.

and even before they straight up abandoned the family they were never exactly there for their kids and JD was actually forced into the co parent role even earlier than we initially thought.

IDK I just kinda like the idea of the parents as villains it could maybe lead to some nice further development for Bro zone.

but yeah anyway what do you think? do you think we could see the parents come into it at some point? or even just get more of a mention?

or if it was up to you what would you do with the parents in terms of future stories?

#trolls #trolls branch #trolls brozone #dreamworks trolls #branch #branch trolls #trolls dreamworks #brozone #trolls 4 ideas #Trolls #Trolls Branch #Trolls Bro zone #trolls headcannons #trolls hc

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missbabyjay · 8 months

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New Era - Alex Turner x Reader

You and Al have an intimate moment shaving his head for the TBHC tour 🧡

Fluff!

a/n: OKAY SO!

First of all, I haven't written fanfic since March, and this is the first piece I've written about Alex. I am so nervous to post this lol, but I low-key thinks its really cute. Secondly, it doesn’t necessarily follow the true story about him shaving his head because I'm pretty sure he did it on tour? Not too sure. This is also a shoutout to all the pretty bitches who love TBHC (& the car). They’re such beautiful albums and I can’t understand suddenly ditching a band because they’re changing and evolving! To each their own but you can’t deny they are masterpieces ✨

But enjoy this made up moment I constructed in my delusional head trying to fall asleep a few nights ago :) p.s i am NOT a great writer lol but I do have pieces for Pedro Pascal on my blog as well.

Warnings (?): mid writing 😭😂, tons of fluff, idk if you'd consider it angst but reader is a tad grumpy, insecure AND confident Al?, tbhc era, buzz cut Al!, alcohol, oh & some cheesy British slang cuz why tf not

You exhausted a big sigh as you pulled up to your house. The rain was incessant; refusing to give up as it continued pelting down, creating a symphony of noise on your vehicle. “Fuckin’ rain,” you mumbled under your breath as you prepared for the journey to your front door. You mentally crossed your fingers in anticipation, hoping Alex noticed the text you had sent earlier about leaving the door unlocked.

“3…2…1,” you counted to yourself as you quickly pushed the driver's door open and made a dash towards the front door of yours and Alex's house. To your benefit, Alex must have seen the text as the large door swung open with one turn of the cold, metal knob.

You let out another sigh of relief as you sat on the cushiony soft ottoman in the front entry of the house. You pondered for a minute as you let the warm air wash over your body, relieving you from the cold and damp world outside. Today wasn’t your day, to say the least, you were knackered. Work was a mess; your boss continually nagged at you over the smallest things and nearly every one of your coworkers were in a sour mood. You faulted the weather outside as no one was ever in a good mood with weather like this, but your fuse was short and you were thankful to be back in the comfort of your own home.

After debriefing the day with your own thoughts, you removed your shoes and made your way into the house. The cool tile of the kitchen floor eased your sore feet as you reached for a bottle of your favourite wine and poured yourself a generous glass. Your brows furrowed as you took your first sip; typically you’d have heard from Alex at this point, but you were yet to hear his silky soft voice greeting you.

Alex’s mind raced back and forth as he sat in front of the washroom mirror. His fingers fondled the set of hair clippers before placing them on the counter. He knew what he was about to do would entail more attention and more criticism, but he hoped it would help the fans realise that the monkeys were entering a new era and that to be quite frank, they would continue to change and evolve no matter the criticism.

He checked the time on his phone, the illuminating screen read 5:42. “Fuck,” Alex cursed to himself. He knew you’d be arriving from work shortly and he was uncertain of your reaction to his somewhat spontaneous decision. Of course your opinion mattered to him, but Alex knew deep down that this change was necessary, at least to himself. “Alright mate, just go for it,” he muttered to himself before reaching for the clippers.

Unbeknownst to Alex, you had been home for the last few minutes, going about your own business. With one last deep breath Alex pressed the power button and the hair clippers came alive. “Al?” Your soft voice met Alex’s eardrums. He quickly brought the clippers closer to his hair as both his heart rate and breathing increased in speed. “In here, darlin’.”

You ventured towards the shared bedroom, noticing a sliver of warm light peeking through the ensuite bathroom door as you entered the contrastingly dark room. “Al?” you called out softly, not wanting to disturb his privacy. “In here, darlin’,” his rich voice echoed back to you from the washroom. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself - you had been craving Alex’s comforting presence all day. He was always the cure to a shite day.

But when you reached the door and gently pushed it open you were met with an unexpected sight. Alex was propped up in front of the large mirror on a barstool from your kitchen, hair clippers in hand, seconds from shaving away his long brown locks. “Bloody hell Alex! Have you gone crazy? What are you doing?” Your reaction came out much harsher than intended but you most definitely weren’t expecting to come home to Alex attempting to shave his hair off.

Alex’s hand came to a still, nearly inches before meeting his hair. His big brown eyes stared at you through the reflection of the mirror and for a few moments the only sound that filled the room was the low buzz of the hair clippers. “I-,” Alex paused for a second, looking down at the hair clippers as his hand rested them on the counter. He internally cursed himself, wishing he went about this at an earlier time. “With all the stress over the new album I just thought, ‘why not have a new look too?’, everyones already chatterin’ about…” he trails off with a shrug, a light pink tint washing over his cheeks.

You huffed, setting down your glass of wine before your arms came to wrap around Alex. Your head found solace in the crook of his neck and your eyes met his gaze in the mirror. You gave him a small smile, “Oh Al, I know this has been an odd time for you, but are you sure you want to do this right before the tour starts?” You placed a gentle kiss on the ridge of his jaw, the light stubble tickling your chapped lips. He returned a sheepish smile, “I do, love.”

You removed yourself from his shoulder, “Alright then mister, hand the clippers over.” A childish grin replaced the shy smirk on his face as he realised the intentions of your words. He fixed his posture and straightened out his back, proceeding to run his hands through his precious locks one more memorable time. “Have at it, darlin’.”

You tousled Alex’s hair a few times before beginning to drag the clippers through his strands. You watched his face soften as his eyes gently closed and he began to embrace the affectionate moment. “I love you,” he said, just above a whisper as his locks began to fall over his shoulders onto the floor. “I love you too Al, I’m sorry for how I reacted… today was just one of those days,” you responded with an equally quiet tone and yet another exhausted sigh. You questioned how many times you could sigh in just one day, making you let out a quiet laugh to yourself. “Is that so?” Alex chuckled as he slowly opened his eyes and met your mirroring stare with a cheeky smile.

The two of you continued to sit in an intimate silence as you finished the job, Alex’s hand reached backwards to keep a compassionate hold on your leg during the close proximity. You clicked the power button on the clippers and set them down on the counter, delicately placing your hands on Alex’s shoulders to give him a supportive squeeze as he revelled in the moment. His one hand raised, brushing over the short and stubbled hair that now resided on his head.

“It’s quite alright, isn’t it?” his baritone voice ringed through the small space as a smile grew on his face. “Ya know what?” you started before pausing as you squeezed yourself in between Al and the vanity, bringing both your hands to cup his face as you stood in front of him. “It sure is, sweetheart,” your voice squeaked as you quickly closed the space between the two of you with a passionate kiss, enveloping him in a tight and loving embrace.

His soft lips were like medicine, as if he could kiss away all the stress and pain. “I am so proud of you. You always do what you feel is best no matter the criticism and that’s really respectable, Al.” His smile beamed, the confidence now radiating off of him the same way the sun radiates a warm comforting glow on a summer day. “I have a good feelin’ about this tour, love. Once the fans hear this album live I think they will truly fall in love with it, just as much as I’ve fallen in love with you,” he says as he lovingly looks at you. You giggled, “Absolutely, Al. You cheeky bugger.”

#Alex Turner #alex turner fanfic #alex turner fanfiction #alex turner x you #alex turner x reader #alex turner fluff #tbhc era #tbhc Alex turner #arctic monkeys fanfic #arctic monkeys fanfiction #buzzcut Alex turner #tranquility base hotel and casino

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drabbles-mc · 1 year

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All For Nothing

Angel Reyes & F!Reader

For Day 18 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: abandoned

Warnings: 18+, angst, language

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: The way that I went into this thinking I was going to write an EZ fic and then somehow, somewhere along the way it turned into an Angel fic. I'm not upset about it but my how the turntables.

Angel Reyes Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @lilacyennefer @justreblogginfics @rosieposie0624 @queenbeered @littlekittymeow @thesandbeneathmytoes @garbinge @kelpies-shed @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @gemini0410 @frattsparty @amorestevens @withmyteeth @winchestershiresauce @nessamc @narcolini @mijagif @choochoo284 @fanfic-n-tabulous @artemiseamoon @passionatewrites @justazzi (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You’d spent weeks trying to get Angel to take you Stockton to visit EZ. It wasn’t exactly a short drive, and truth be told it wasn’t a place that you really wanted to go by yourself. Every week you would ask him, and every week he would come up with a different reason why he couldn’t go.

“Do you even care?” you finally snapped one day.

It got Angel to stop in his tracks. Suddenly the juice that he had been so interested in pouring into his glass was no longer holding his attention. He slammed the carton down much harder than necessary. You knew that it was a low blow, and a question that you had no right to ask, but you were so sick of getting blown off because of excuses so thin that you could see through them without squinting.

He shook his head at you, jaw hardened. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

It was the meanest he’d ever sounded with you and it set you back on your heels. You nodded as you tried to pull your words back together, the look on his face having caused them to scatter. You sighed, looking down at the floor for a second before looking back up at him. “Sorry.”

He sucked his teeth, shaking his head. “You know I fucking—”

“I know,” you cut him off, your tone genuinely apologetic as you said, “and I’m sorry. That, that was fucked up. I shouldn’t have…”

He stood there silently for a few seconds after your voice trailed off. You were wondering if he was going to tell you to get the hell out of his place. That was usually how the discussion ended. He always found a way to say it somewhat nicely, but every week when you showed up, you always left empty-handed.

“Why do you wanna go so bad, anyway?” he finally asked as he put the carton of juice back in the fridge.

The question gave you pause—it felt like the answer to it was glaringly obvious. Instead of giving a straight answer, you flipped the question back on him. “Why don’t you? Don’t you…” you tried hard to pick your words carefully, “Don’t you miss him?”

He frowned for a moment. “’Course I miss him”

“Then why won’t you go with me?”

He couldn’t meet your eyes as he tried to figure out the best way to answer that question. He busied himself with taking a sip from the glass he’d just filled, his gaze flitting everywhere that kept him from having to look you in the eyes.

Finally, he looked at you, hands still fidgeting with the glass in his hands. “The fuck am I supposed to say to him? He’s,” he shook his head, “he’s lookin’ at twenty years, and you want me to just go in and? What? Talk to him about the fucking weather?”

You frowned. It wasn’t that you didn’t understand where Angel was coming from, but in your head it wasn’t a good enough reason to not go. How were they supposed to figure any of it out if he never showed up?

“You’re right,” you started, and you could see it on his face that he wasn’t expecting you to say that, “he is looking at twenty years.” You stepped in a little closer to him. “All the more reason to make sure you actually go and see him. You can’t,” you caught yourself, “we can’t just abandon him in there because it’s uncomfortable to show up.”

The hurt look on Angel’s face let you know that he could see you were right. It didn’t mean that he was going to cave to it easily. He sniffed, shaking his head slightly. “If it means that much to you, I’ll give you my fuckin’ keys and you can take my car up there yourself.”

“Angel—”

“No,” he stopped you short. Stepping in closer to you, he made himself a little taller, a little more intimidating. “You wanna go and see him? Fine. No one is stopping you. But don’t,” he shook his head, “don’t make this my fucking problem too.”

“But—”

“If he wanted me there,” his voice became sharper and sharper with every word, “he’d fucking tell me.”

“And how is he supposed to do that?!” You stepped in, putting yourself as close to chest-to-chest with him as you were able. “That’s your brother.”

“And he’s your, what, again?” he snapped. “Remind me?”

That stung in a way you hadn’t been expecting. “Fuck you.”

“Get out,” he said, nodding towards the door.

“What?”

“Fuckin’ leave.” He pointed with his hand this time, adding extra emphasis.

You did as he said, knowing that you weren’t going to get anywhere with him. You slammed the door behind you as you left, not sure if you were slamming it because of Angel, or because of the whole entire situation. None of it felt fair. None of it was fair. For a moment you wondered if you would be better off if you acted like Angel, just trying to turn a blind eye to it all and pretending that everything was normal. You just didn’t have that in you.

So you finally took matters into your own hands and made the long trek to Stockton with just the radio to keep you company. You discovered that there were quite a few stretches of highway that got next to no radio reception at all, so it was just you and the static from the speakers. If your mind hadn’t already been so loud, the near-silence would’ve driven you insane.

Once you were there, the last thing that you wanted to do was sit back down again. But that’s exactly what you were instructed to do once you’d made it through the very tight security of the Stockton County Correctional Facility. The waiting area wasn’t as packed as you thought it would be, which made you sad in a way. Clearly Angel wasn’t the only family member who didn’t care to make the time to show up.

Minutes kept ticking by, and you could feel yourself becoming restless. You tried not to fidget around too much, or look too nervous. You didn’t want to make it seem like you were anxious because you were doing something wrong. Some of the other people in the waiting area left to go visit whoever they were there for. You watched people come and go while you simply sat there in limbo waiting for your name to be called. A few different times you looked over at the man who was sitting behind the desk closer to the exit, and then over at the two correctional officers who were by the doorway that led to the actual visiting area. No one was making eye contact with you, and you didn’t want to walk up and start asking questions.

Finally, one of the guards walked over to you. “Sorry, Miss, but we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Wh-what? Did, did I do something wrong?” If there was something that you could fix, you’d do whatever they asked. They couldn’t just send you away, not when you’d already made it all the way there.

He shook his head, not sounding upset but not sounding overly sympathetic, either. “You didn’t. But you need to go.”

“Is EZ okay?” you asked, panic making your blood start to run cold. “Did something happen to him?”

“I can’t—”

“Please,” you cut him off even though you knew that you shouldn’t. “Why can’t I see him?”

You must’ve looked more pitiful than you thought, because for a moment the man’s face seemed just a little less jaded and unkind. It was a fleeting moment but it was long enough to convince him to tell you, “Said he doesn’t want to see you.”

“Oh.” You hated how fucking sad and pathetic you sounded, especially to this guy of all people.

You tried not to think about the tears that were quickly gathering in your eyes as you grabbed your bag and stood up from your chair and started to make your way towards the door to leave. Getting out was a much faster process than getting in, especially when you hadn’t even gone in to actually see anyone.

The drive back home felt far longer than the drive out had. It felt like you had been crying for the entirety of it, but you knew that that wasn’t true. You still found it hard to believe that your body hadn’t run out of tears yet. Mile after mile of road disappeared beneath you but it still felt like you weren’t going fast enough. You couldn’t outrun the feelings that were clawing away at you.

You didn’t know how you ended up parking back at Angel’s. When you left, you had every intention of going home, flinging yourself onto your bed, and crying yourself to sleep. But somehow you ended up back here. You were about to just keep on going, or even just finally allow yourself to pass out in your car. You didn’t really want to see Angel, not with the way the two of you had left things, not with how things had played out with EZ. All of the lights looked like they were off anyway, so even if you went and knocked on his door he probably wouldn’t answer.

Your hand was hovering above the gearshift, trying to figure out if you were going to put your car back in drive. It was only then that you noticed the way that your hand was trembling, and once you noticed that, it was like the floodgates opened back up instantly. Tears spilled over onto your cheeks, sobs forcing their way past your throat as you dropped your face into your hands. Your whole body was shaking as you cried, like there were so many feelings in you that you simply just couldn’t physically contain them.

Time was irrelevant as you sat there hunched over in the driver’s seat of your car. Your face stayed planted in your palms, the rest of the world completely tuned out despite the fact that you weren’t even at home.

The sound of someone rapping their knuckles against the glass of your window caused you to scream, jumping and pulling against the seatbelt that was still strapped across your chest. All of the sadness that you had just been drowning in was instantly pushed to the backburner as your heartrate skyrocketed.

Turning to see who it was, some of the anxiety drained out of you when you came face to face with Angel. He was leaning against the side of your door, one arm braced against the top of the frame as he used the other to knock. His hair was a mess, eyes letting you know that you either woke him up when you pulled in, or he’d woken up randomly in the middle of the night and just so happened to see your car out front.

He nodded towards the door. “Come on.” He pulled your car door open for you. “Don’t just sit out here all night like some kind of PI or some shit.”

The comment got a weak smile out of you as you undid your seatbelt. Grabbing your bag from the passenger seat, you got out of the car, not in any great rush to shut and lock the door behind you before following Angel. He didn’t say anything else as the two of you walked, you just one small stride behind him. You were a little thankful for that in a way, but you knew that the silence wasn’t going to last forever.

You found yourself standing in his living room, bag clutched tightly to your side as you stood there unsure of what you were supposed to do now. It wasn’t as though you spent a lot of your free time here, especially not at this hour, especially not after the blowout the two of you had had in the morning. Nothing about this was within the scope of your routine.

“Next time,” Angel said as he walked to the kitchen to get coffee for each of you, “just come up and knock.”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “I didn’t, um,” you wiped at the stray tears on your face, “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he poured coffee into the two mugs he’d gotten out. “You know what time it is? I don’t wanna see anybody right now.”

You accepted the coffee as he handed it to you, grateful for something warm and inviting after how your entire day had gone. It wasn’t enough to fix it, but at least it wasn’t another thing going wrong. Angel watched as you took a slow sip.

“How was the trip?” he asked, even though the answer seemed fairly obvious.

“Think I’d be crying my eyes out to you if it had gone well?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, still too drowsy to muster up a real laugh. “Yea.” He took a few steps and sat down on the couch, too tired to keep standing. “Wanna…you know…talk about it?”

You shrugged, shaking your head. “We don’t have to. I know you don’t, you know…”

“Then why’d you come here?” The question wasn't accusatory like so many other statements he’d thrown at you over the last few weeks. He sounded genuinely curious.

“I don’t know,” you told him honestly. You stepped over and sat down next to him on the couch. “I just sort of ended up here.” He nodded in response but didn’t say anything else. There was a long stretch of silence before you finally caved and said, “He wouldn’t let me see him.”

Your voice was so soft and sad that Angel almost didn’t catch what you had said. Once he heard it, though, and realized the weight of it, his face softened. Normally you wouldn’t want his pity, but right now it was the closest thing you had to comfort.

“Shit,” he said, tucking his chin down to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

You shrugged. “Not your fault.” Sniffling, you looked down at the mug of coffee in your hands. “You’re the one who said it wasn’t a good idea.”

You didn’t expect the soft bewilderment in his voice as he said, “I didn’t think he’d do that to you.” The statement hung in the air for a moment before he let out a sigh. “So much for him being the one feeling abandoned, huh?”

That got a sad laugh out of you that you hadn’t been expecting. Meeting his eyes, you shook your head, managing a tiny smile as you told him, “You’re the worst.”

“Hey,” he took another sip of his coffee, “you came to me, so, y’know.” The two of you shared a tired laugh before he let out a deep breath. “Wanna crash here?”

You nodded. “That okay?”

“Yea.” He stood up, trying to stretch and also manage to not spill his coffee. “Let me grab you some blankets and shit.”

You felt your body relax at that, the prospect of not having to get back in your car again and drive home, the prospect of not having to be alone after a day that had left you feeling more lonely than you thought you were capable of.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” He saw the way you nodded and he said, “Nah, seriously. I don’t want other people thinkin’ they can show up in the middle of the night to my place cryin’ and shit.”

You laughed quietly. “I won’t say anything.”

He gave you a nod at that, and you could see the smirk that was curling the end of his mouth. Despite the heaviness that was still lingering in your chest, all of the questions and emotions that you were going to have to try and sort through, for the moment things felt manageable. And that was the best you could hope for.

#whumpril #whumpril2023 #whumprilday18 #mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x you #angel reyes fanfiction #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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just-another-author-i-guess · 2 years

Note

hi i really love how you wrote marshall lee!! i couldn't stop thinking about your writing, youre just truly talented!!! it was the dog reader personality that really made me weak at the knees. is it possible you could do a lambgirl reader? half girl half lamb? i saw this idea somewhere and this sorta dynamic with bad boy marshall makes me go😫😫!!! but you can push it down on the list if u want. no rush or anything! you dont owe us anything and remember to take breaks. love you❤️

I love you tooo ty for the encouragement <333

Ty for requesting, sorry I’m it takes me so long to get them done D:

I have recently started writing on ao3 so if you want to read what I have on there my name is just “justanotherauthorig”. Rn I only have a Heisenberg and a Hobbir fanfic so if that’s interesting to you pls check them out ^^ I will post more information soon

Marshall Lee x Lamb Girl! Reader

Tags: fem!reader, Marshall Lee is so hot bruh I can’t, reader is kinda stupid but it’s okay bc she’s nice, idk what to say about this, I didn’t edit it through but are we really surprised?, this would make a good smut :P sorry it’s kinda short tho

Authors note: this was fun :D I googled a bunch of adventure time slang and they’re actually so fun to use lol

Word count; 1,1k

I think he originally started flirting with you just to mess with you

Sure, he thought you were cute as hell

But he wasn’t really looking for anything but a good laugh

You hang out with Fionna and Cake a lot, both of them are very protective of you

The three of you and sometimes BMO have a lil girls night out

On this particular night, you went to the dark forest bc Marshall Lee was having a concert and Fionna really wanted to go

Not so much to hear Marshall Lee, but bc flame prince would be there lol

Anyways, you immediately caught Marshall’s eye as he stood on stage

Both Fionna and Cake had branched off, leaving you alone in the crowd

Your eyes glued to your feet, not even daring to look up at Marshall’s performance as you fiddled nervously with your sleeves

When he finally had a break from the stage, he soundlessly floated up besides you

I kid you not, you almost bleated when you turned around to find the vampire king right besides you as you turned your head

You jumped, scrambled to get away as your lower lip quivered, white ears flattened to your head

“Woah, woah. Calm down there, sweetheart,” Marshall laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender

You quickly realized that he didn’t intend to harm you and somewhat calmed down, still slightly worried as he flashed his shiny white fangs to you

Your brows furrowed, fists clenching your dress as you fought to keep back the angry tears

“I-I am calm! Have you not heard that it’s rude to go around scaring people like that?” You huffed, sending him the most intimidating glare you could muster which to Marshall Lee looked more like a scared bunny

He smiled wider. “Well, I’m not exactly known for being nice,” He said, voice slightly deepening

You felt threatened, he looked at you like a predator looked at it’s prey and you finally understood why Cake was always bad-mouthing him

“I only hang out with nice people, sorry.” You muttered, turning away from him just to get a break from his all-consuming stare

He laughed again, clearly finding your reacting to be the most hilarious thing he had heard in a long time

You jumped again when you felt his hand creepy up the back of your neck, lips ghosting over your pulse point

Your breath caught in your throat, tears springing to your eyes again at the thought of being bitten. “P-please don’t bite me! Fionna will get m-mad!” You hiccuped, twisting the fabric of your dress even more until it was wrinkled and warm.

He blew on your neck and you felt him pout. “Fionna, huh?”

He pushed himself away from you a bit, finally getting himself out of your close personal space as he floated around you to face you again

“Aw, baby. Don’t cry,” he grinned when he saw your flushed cheek and quivering lips. “I just wanted to have a bit of fun, can you blame me?”

You shook your head defiantly as an answer, making him laugh again. “I promise I won’t bite you, little lady. On one condition,” he said, placing a large hand on your head

You mentally slapped yourself for the way you wanted to lean into his hand, ears twitching ever so slightly as his cold hand touched them

You wrinkled your nose. “On what condition?”

“Sing the next song on stage with me.”

Your eyes widened comically. “No way! I- I don’t even know how to sing! And I don’t know any of your songs,”

Marshall pouted, dramatically holding a hand over his non-beating heart. “And here I thought you were enjoying my show! I’m hurt!” Then he winked at you. “But don’t worry, all you have to do is follow my lead.” And before you knew it, he had an arm around your neck waist and legs as he hoisted you up in his arms

He carried you to the stage, floating above the crowd as you clutched him tightly in fear of falling

He sat you gently down on stage, grabbing his axe-bass and the crown immediately erupted in cheers

You were frozen in fear, face caught in between an angry flush and hysteric cries as you stood before the crowd

You already hated standing down before the scene, with all the people pushing and shoving it quickly overwhelmed you

But standing in front of at least a hundred candy kingdom citizens and a bunch of princes topped the chart of things you hated

You desperately pulled your cardigan around you, attempting to hide as your tail twitched and your ears once again laid themselves flat against your hair

“Follow my lead,” you choked on a gasp when Marshall was suddenly besides you again, whispering in your ear with that deep voice of his

“Good little girl, always picking a fight with me, you know that I’m bad” Marshall hummed, hands leaving his bass for a moment to gently sway your hips

You turned at least ten shades redder, burning up as he made you sway sultrily in front of the mesmerized crowd.

Well, luckily he had picked a song you actually knew.

“But your spending the night with me. What do you want from my world? You’re good little girl,” his hands left you to play his bass again, you gently swayed your hips to the rhythm

You looked intently at Marshall, figuring it was better to look at the troublemaker himself than the large crowd

He made a motion with his head, signaling you to start singing

“Uh-“ you started, inhaling deeply to not stumble over the words. “B-Bad little boy, that’s what you’re acting like, I really don’t buy,” you had to yet again stop yourself from bleating again, taking quick breaths as your hands shook

“That you’re t-that kind of guy-y,” you closed your eyes tightly, hating the way you could help hiccuping up the words. “And if you are, why do you want to hang out with me?”

Suddenly Marshall was by your ear again, chuckling darkly. “You did so well, little lady.” He murmured, before floating away from you a bit to continue the show

“Hey! Isn’t that Y/n?” You breathed out heavily in relief upon hearing Fionna’s voice.

“Come here, sugar,” suddenly Cake enveloped you and you welcomed her happily, snuggling yourself into her warm fur

She stretched, setting you down on the ground besides Fionna before taking your place on stage, cutting Marshall Lee’s verse short as she started singing about hot tomatoes and good sauces

“Hey, are you okay, Y/n? You look pretty jacked up,” Fionna said, pulling you to her side

“Marshall Lee told me to sing with him or he would bite me,” you mumbled bitterly, leaning onto Fionna’s shoulders

She clenched her teeth, face flushing angrily. “That son of a blee-blob!” She hissed. “I’ll kick his buns,”

You smiled slightly. “I told him you would get mad if he bit me,”

“Of course I would! What a butt-guy..”

When the concert ended Fionna was quick to find Marshall and give him a piece of her mind, however the vampire king only laughed her off, telling her that next time he would you wouldn’t be so lucky

Both Fionna and Cake insisted you slept at the treehouse that night and you happily agreed

Of course, it didn’t take Marshall long to seek you out again

He honestly doesn’t have that much going on, a bored guy needs entertainment

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t my favorite little lamb,” Marshall grinned, suddenly appearing in a tree as you were walking home from one of Tree Trunk’s apple pie dinners

This time you pretended not to jump, huffing as you held your head high, refusing to look at him

“I-if it isn’t my least favorite vampire king,” you said, half of your words coming out as a whisper. You mentally slapped yourself, if you were going to give him a comeback you you at least sound like you weren’t absolutely shaking in your boots

“Now that really hurt!” Marshall pouted as he spoke, coming down from the tree to walk besides you “you smell like apple pie,” he noted, sniffing the air

You wrung your hands nervously. “Tree Trunks made me apple pie,” you muttered, still refusing to directly look at the vampire

He cackled. “Jeez. That must have been so boring,”

You frowned, even though your face was turned the other way Marshall Lee noticed, filled with glee. “Tree Trunks is really nice! And his apple pie is amazing,” you huffed, defending your dear friend

“Tree Trunk’s is bunk, dude. Let’s go somewhere,” He grabbed your shoulders and spun you around to finally face him. “Come with me to this undead party, it’s rad. I know you want to,”

You finally had enough, angry heat flooding your face. “L-Leave me alone! And stop acting like such a mr. cool-guy you.. you! Ding-wad!”

To your utter surprise, your little outburst just made Marshall laugh loudly. “I’m a ding-wad, huh? Alright, alright. Give me a chance to show you something cool and I bet you won’t think I’m a ding-wad after,” he grinned, cocking his head like a puppy

A very threatening puppy, in your opinion

You took a moment to regain yourself, noticing he was being somewhat sincere. The goodness in your heart won and you shyly looked at your feet. “A-alright. But no funny tricks,” you mumbled.

“You got it, sweetheart!” He said as he lifted you bridal-style, taking off into the air.

To your utter surprise, you ended up having a good time with Marshall Lee.

He took you to a party in a graveyard, ghosts was actually a lot more chill than most living ppl and you actually managed to socialize

When you got tired and socially exhausted all you had to do was gently tuck on Marshall’s sleeve and he happily flew you home

To his house, I mean. You protested at first, as you didn’t know him that well and it seemed like a pretty bad idea to sleep over at a blood-thirsty vampires house

But all your sleepy protests died down as he tucked you into his bed, gently wrapping you in the sheets and quietly humming as you drifted off to sleep.

As he watched you sleep, ears twitching and cheeks puffed out, he realize that what started as a joke had turned real pretty fast

He felt an overwhelming urge to protect you, not that he would stop mercilessly teasing you, but he quickly discarded the idea that you were just a new plaything

He was also pretty sure Fionna would actually skin him alive (or dead I suppose) if he upset you

When you hung out at the tree house the next day and told them about how you slept over at Marshall’s she was already pretty read to beat his guts

Slowly, and I mean slowly, bc Marshall is a huge tease and you couldn’t stand looking at him for more than 5 minutes without getting so embarrassed you could melt, the two of you eventually started dating

Rest assured, Fionna and Cake both threatened him on multiple occasions, making sure he was on his best behavior

Even Prince Gumball had a few choice words with him lol

Everyone is was extremely worried lmfao (with good reason)

Marshall can be sweet tho, he actually is sometimes

Especially in public, since he knows you get overwhelmed super quickly

All you have to do is look at him with those doe-eyes of yours and he gets the message immediately

Doesn’t matter if you’re in the middle of a fancy dinner in a castle or if he’s playing a concert, he will get you to a place with less people immediately

He really does love you lol

omg bc both of you are so emotionally constipated- like you’re too shy to express your feelings and Marshall has just been taught to believe that expressing feelings is a taboo

If he ever did anything to hurt you tho he would hate himself so much, you’re the purest person he has ever met and hurting you is just a no-no

Sure, he teases you constantly bc that’s just how he is

But if he ever sees upset for real, he will beat himself up over it for the the next decade or so

Fionna will not hesitate to let him know if he messed up either

As I said before, the vampire king will be on his best behavior

You’re his cute little girlfriend and he will treat you as good as he possibly can <3

Hiya ^^ I hope you enjoyed this, sorry it was kinda short D:

I have a confession.. I srsly considered making it into a smut but I stopped myself bc it’s 1 am and I have school tomorrow lol

Lemme know if you would like a part 2 smut version of this :D

Anyways, thank you for reading!

Love, author

#adventure time x reader #adventure time #marshall lee hc #marshall lee #marshall lee x reader #lamb girl reader #fionna and cake #prince gumball #flame princess #i love Marshall lee help #i need sleep #requests are open

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