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coffeeshades · 3 months ago

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credits to the gif maker!

GUILTY AS SIN...? - PART II

summary: one summer with the man you can't have, but can't stop thinking about.

pairing: cillian murphy x popstar!reader

word count: 9.1k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). explicit sex. angst. cussing, slight age gap, mentions of alcohol and divorce. no use of y/n, heavily inspired by ts and ttpd. if i missed something please let me know. (also this is a work of fiction, none of it reflects how i feel about the people mentioned in this, most importantly cillian's wife, who im sure is a sweetheart irl. it's fiction, just relax and enjoy it, and if not, move along, friends.)

a/n: hi everyone! here's the second part, finally. i had lots of fun writing this one, happy reading <3

part one

After staying at Cillian's for awhile, you decided to go to the place you had rented. The truth is, you didn't want to leave, but you had already extended your stay longer than planned, and you wanted to give him space with his kids. And you also wanted to give him time to process the event that took place four nights ago in his bathroom. Or you wanted to give yourself time to process it.

At this point, you weren't sure who needed the space more.

It was all very confusing because, yes, you've had feelings for him for God knows how long, but you've squashed them down like a stubborn bug for the sake of your friendship and, most importantly, his family. Those two things were always at the forefront of your mind, guiding every action and decision. But now that his family is no longer a factor and the two of you almost crossed a line, it's hard to ignore those feelings.

Those feelings that crawl up your spine every time he smiles at you or brushes against your hand accidentally. Those feelings also make you feel like the worst person in the world, as if you're betraying his ex-wife and their children by even entertaining the idea of something more with him.

It's all so delicate.

The cottage is nestled between rolling green hills and the glimmering blue of a distant sea. The place is like a warm embrace. The floors are laid with wide, honey-colored wooden planks, their surface worn smooth by generations of footsteps. Exposed wooden beams crisscross the ceiling, their rich, dark wood adding a sense of history and sturdiness to the space. The walls are painted in a soft, creamy white. The master bedroom is a haven of tranquility, with white linen curtains billowing softly in the breeze from the open window. The bed, with its wrought iron frame, is piled high with quilts and pillows in soft shades of blue and green. It's the best sleep you've had in months.

It rained earlier today. You've stayed inside all day, not wanting to venture out into the wet weather. The gentle pitter-patter of raindrops against the window was a soothing backdrop to your day, but it stopped around mid-afternoon, leaving behind a fresh, clean scent in the air.

Now you’re sitting at the rustic wooden table beneath the pergola, one leg tucked under you, grapevines overhead casting dappled shadows on the weathered wood. The garden around you is alive with color—wildflowers in every shade imaginable sway gently in the soft breeze, and the lavender and rosemary release their fragrant scent into the air.

Bon Iver’s voice drifts softly from your phone, which lies next to your notepad on the table. The music is haunting, its melancholy tones matching the weight in your chest. You’ve been here for hours, or maybe it’s only been minutes—time seems to blur together lately.

The notepad lies open beside you, filled with half-written lyrics, fragments of thoughts and emotions that you can’t quite bring yourself to finish. The pages are messy, scribbled lines crossed out, some words barely legible, as if your hand couldn’t keep up with the rush of thoughts.

You’ve been chasing this dream for so long—touring, recording, performing in front of thousands of people—but somewhere along the way, you’ve lost sight of why you started. The music that once brought you so much joy now feels like a burden; the words that once flowed effortlessly are now tangled up in doubt and frustration. The applause, the fame, the success—it’s all there, but it feels hollow. It feels lonely.

The sun is beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the water, but you’re too tired to move. You prop one leg up the chair and rest your chin on your hand. You focus on the water, trying to find some solace in its steady flow. But all you can feel is a deep, gnawing sense of unfulfillment, a yearning for something you can’t even name.

How pathetic.

You’re tired, so tired, and the dream that once seemed so bright now feels like a chore.

The door creaks open behind you, and you catch the faint sound of footsteps on the stone path. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s him. Cillian moves with a certain quietness, a soft presence that you’ve come to recognize. The footsteps grow closer until they stop just to your left.

"You should lock your door," he says, his voice low, carrying a hint of amusement but also concern.

You let out a small, tired laugh, not bothering to look up. "Didn’t think anyone would come by," you reply, your gaze still fixed on the stream; its gentle flow is the only thing that seems to make sense right now.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stands there, his shadow blending with yours. Then he pulls out the chair next to you, the wood scraping softly against the stone, and sits down. You can feel his eyes on you, but he doesn’t press, just lets the silence settle around you both.

You hear him shift beside you, and from the corner of your eye, you see him glance down at the notepad on the table. His gaze lingers on the unfinished words, but he doesn’t say anything about them. Instead, he just leans back in his chair, looking out at the water with you.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks, his voice softer, almost reflective. "I know that look. The one that says you’re miles away, stuck in your own head."

You don't respond, knowing that he understands you more than most people. The music on your phone shifts to another Bon Iver song, this time Beach Baby.

He continues. "You know, sometimes I think about all of it—this life, the fame, the roles I play. It’s bizarre, isn’t it? I spend so much time being someone else, living in someone else’s skin, that it’s easy to forget who I am when the cameras stop rolling."

His words hang in the air, and you turn your head slightly to look at him. His expression is thoughtful, his blue eyes distant, like he’s lost in his own memories. "It’s like… sometimes, I feel more like myself when I’m acting, when I’m being someone else. That's what made me fall in love with it in the first place. I just loved being somebody else. It’s easier, somehow. But then there are those moments, when the lights go out, and I’m just… me. And that’s when the loneliness creeps in."

You nod, understanding more than you’d like to admit. "It’s the same with music, I guess," you say quietly. "There’s this rush, this high, when you’re on stage, when everyone’s looking at you and you’re giving them everything you’ve got. But then it’s over, and you’re left with the silence, the emptiness. It’s like… who am I when it stops?"

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and you can see the shared understanding in his eyes. It’s a strange comfort knowing that someone else gets it, that you’re not alone in this feeling of being lost.

You take a deep breath, the weight of the words you’ve been holding back suddenly becomes too heavy to keep inside. "I guess that's why I'm here. To escape. To escape the pressure, the expectations and…just be," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Everything is a performance. Everything. When we're out in the world, we're expected to act a certain way, to fit into a mold. We have to edit ourselves. As honest as we try to be, there's always a part of us that remains hidden. And it's exhausting."

Cillian nods, his gaze never leaving yours. "And when you’re alone, you can let go of that and let your mind just be still," he says, his voice carrying the weight of someone who’s thought about this a lot. "It’s quite peaceful, isn’t it? But it’s also… terrifying. Being alone with your thoughts, with no distractions, no one to perform for. It’s like staring into a void sometimes."

You swallow hard, the truth of his words hitting you square in the chest. "Yeah, it is. But it’s also when I feel the most myself. When it’s just me, and I don’t have to be anything for anyone. Just… here, in the quiet, letting my mind rest."

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The garden around you is alive with the soft sounds of nature—the rustling of leaves, the gentle murmur of the stream, the distant call of a bird. Bon Iver’s music still plays from your phone—Holocene.

You break the silence. "Sometimes I think about it. I think about letting go of it." It's a terrifying thought but also strangely liberating. You don't know what it means completely yet, but just saying it out loud brings relief. Cillian just looks at you, his eyes reflecting understanding and empathy.

It was so easy, existing with him.

In this moment, you feel a little less lost, a little more understood. And as the sun dips lower in the sky, a mix of orange and pink hues, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re not as alone as you thought.

The next day dawns softer, brighter. You wake up with a sense of calm that had been missing for a while. There’s a lingering warmth from yesterday, the conversation with Cillian still playing in the back of your mind. As you sat at the same wooden table this morning, you found yourself scribbling lyrics that flowed easier, more naturally. They’re different—slower, more deliberate. There’s a depth to them that feels right, as if you’re finally tapping into something real, something honest.

Last night had ended quietly. After that heavy talk in the garden, Cillian stayed for dinner. The two of you kept the conversation light, avoiding the unspoken tension. It was there, hovering between you, but neither of you brought it up. Instead, you talked about mundane things and watched Punch-Drunk Love in the quaint living room. He pointed out every little detail he liked in it, and you listened, soaking in the emotion in his voice.

When the movie ended, he promised to see you the next day, and you reassured him it was fine, that you understood his absence. You meant it, even though a part of you always ached for more of his presence.

Today, with that newfound energy, you decided to venture out. An early morning walk turned into a drive to the nearby town. You pulled on a cap and sunglasses—a funny and somewhat ineffective disguise, but it was something. The town was charming, with narrow cobblestone streets, quaint shops, and a relaxed pace. Most people didn’t give you a second glance, and for that you were grateful. It was nice to blend in, to be just another person out enjoying the day.

You wandered through the market, admired the local crafts, and even picked up a few things—a handmade bracelet, a small painting of the Irish countryside. Lunch was at a cozy little café, tucked away from the main street. You ordered a hearty bowl of seafood chowder, rich and warming, with fresh bread on the side. As you sat there savoring the meal, your phone buzzed. It was Cillian, asking if you wanted to grab drinks tonight. You hesitated, your mind running through a dozen reasons to say no, but in the end, you agreed. You wanted to see him again, even if you couldn’t quite admit how much.

Back at the cottage, you took your time getting ready. You set the atmosphere, lighting a few candles, playing some soft music in the background. It felt good to take care of yourself and put a little effort into how you looked. You chose a pair of jeans that fit just right, a black top, and your favorite leather jacket. Casual but confident. A swipe of red lipstick added a touch of boldness.

You didn’t know where the night would take you, but you felt ready.

Cillian arrived right on time, his car rolling up the gravel drive just as you slipped on your jacket. When you stepped outside, he was already out of the car, leaning casually against the door. He smiled when he saw you—a warm, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Ready?” he asked, his eyes flicking over your outfit with an appreciative glance.

“As I’ll ever be,” you replied, a hint of nerves bubbling up but quickly pushed aside.

The drive to the pub was easy, the conversation flowing effortlessly. You talked about your day, the town, the little things you’d picked up. He told you about his new movie coming out later this year, based on a novella set in the mid-1980s in a small Irish village. There was a comfort in the exchange, in the way your words mingled with the sound of the tires on the road.

When he pulled up outside the pub, you couldn’t help but grin at the sight. It was a small, unassuming place, the kind of spot that felt like a well-kept secret. The sign above the door was weathered, the windows glowing warmly from the inside. It looked cozy, inviting.

“Do I need to bring out my disguise?” you asked, amused, as you glanced at him.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, you’re safe here. No one’s going to bother us. I’ve been coming here for years. They don't give a shit about me.”

He was right. The pub was perfect—dimly lit, with a mix of old and new music playing in the background. The crowd was relaxed, more interested in their conversations than in who might be sitting at the next table. You found two empty stools at the bar and settled in.

Close to the drinks. Perfect.

You ordered beers—the kind that tasted awful but somehow fit the atmosphere. Cillian took a sip of his beer, and the reaction was immediate. He groaned, his head falling back as if in defeat, eyes closed as he savored—or perhaps endured—the taste. The dim light from the pub’s old-fashioned fixtures cast a warm glow on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jawline and the shadow of stubble that had begun to form. His lips, still wet from the beer, parted in a wry smile that spoke volumes of his disdain for the drink. His brow furrowed slightly as he kept his eyes closed, letting out a deep, exaggerated sigh as if the beer was the worst thing he’d ever tasted.

It was a dramatic performance, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how absurdly handsome he looked even in that moment. There was something endearing about it—the way he could make something so ordinary seem so intense. His dark hair, slightly tousled, fell over his forehead, and you found yourself staring longer than you meant to.

“Bloody hell, that’s awful,” he muttered, finally opening his eyes and giving you a side glance. His blue eyes sparkled with trouble, the corners crinkling as he caught the expression on your face. “You should’ve seen yourself, though. Looked like you were trying to swallow glass.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, please. You looked like you were about to keel over from one sip,” you shot back, sarcasm lacing your voice.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, and the amusement in his eyes deepened. “Can’t argue with that,” he admitted, taking another sip with a grimace. “Piss beer, this is. I’d almost prefer water.”

“Almost,” you teased, lifting your glass to take another drink. The foam clung to the rim as you sipped, and you made a point to keep your expression neutral, though you could feel the bitterness spreading across your tongue.

Cillian leaned in a bit closer, his Irish accent growing thicker with each drink. “But then, what would we have to complain about, eh? I think the shite beer is half the charm of this place.” His voice was smoother, more relaxed, and you noticed the way his words seemed to roll off his tongue, rich with the lilting cadence of his heritage. It was endearing, undeniably so, and you found it increasingly hard to focus on anything else.

“Is that what they call charm here? I must’ve missed the memo,” you quipped, smirking as you met his gaze. The clever back-and-forth felt natural, easy, and it warmed you more than the alcohol ever could.

“You’re lucky I’m here to explain it to ya,” he said, leaning in just a bit more, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “Otherwise, you might’ve gone your whole life without knowing the joys of terrible Irish beer.”

“Oh, I’m so grateful,” you shot back, sarcasm dripping from your words, but your smile gave you away. “I’ll add it to the list of things you’ve taught me.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying the banter, and you noticed how close he had gotten. His arm was now resting casually on the back of your seat, and every so often, your knees would brush, those accidental touches sending a small, electric thrill through you. The pub’s atmosphere, once filled with distant conversations and the clinking of glasses, now seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. The world outside the booth blurred away, and all that was left was Cillian’s presence, the sound of his voice, and the faint, intoxicating scent of him that mixed with the pub’s woody, earthy aroma.

The more you drank, the closer you both seemed to get, each sip loosening the barriers that had been in place. His laughter grew louder, more infectious, and his accent, more pronounced with every word, sent a shiver down your spine. It was more than just the alcohol—there was an ease between you that you hadn’t felt before, a sense of connection that went beyond the usual playful exchanges.

“Y’know,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leaned in even closer. “I think I’m starting to like this beer.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a smirk, feeling a little more brave. “Is that so? Or is it just the company?”

He chuckled, his breath warm against your ear as he replied, “Maybe a bit of both.”

A familiar flutter stirred in your chest—the undeniable pull that you’d been trying to ignore for days. But tonight, in this pub, with its terrible beer and terrible lighting, you decided you didn’t want to fight it anymore. Not here, not with him.

You moved on to something stronger, whiskey that burned going down but left a warmth spreading through your chest that felt as intoxicating as the alcohol itself. With each sip, the edges of your nerves smoothed out, and you felt looser, braver, and a little sexier. You sat on the bar stool with your body angled slightly toward Cillian. The leather of your jacket creaked as you shifted, the red of your lipstick standing out against the dim light. You felt his gaze on you, not just looking, but really seeing you, his eyes tracing the curve of your neck down to where your top dipped, lingering just a moment longer than usual.

His look was hungry, but it wasn’t just that—it was curious, intrigued. He rested his elbow on the bar, leaning closer, his knee brushing against yours as he picked up his glass, watching you over the rim as he took a sip. The whiskey seemed to bring out the blue in his eyes, making them sharp and piercing, but there was softness there too, an openness that had grown.

“You know,” you began, a small, knowing smile playing on your lips. “I was just thinking about the first time we met.”

His eyebrow arched in curiosity, and he leaned in a little closer, his interest piqued. “Oh yeah? That was… what, 7 years ago? At the Globes, wasn’t it?”

You nodded, taking another sip of your drink, the liquid courage giving you the confidence to broach the subject. “Yeah, that’s right. And you… well, let’s just say you weren’t exactly my biggest fan.”

Cillian looked taken aback, a surprised smile curving his lips. “What? I don’t remember it like that.”

“Oh, come on, Cill,” you said, playfully nudging his shoulder. “You kind of hated me."

He laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t hate you. I just… I guess I had some preconceived notions about you."

“Preconceived notions?” you asked, a teasing glint in your eyes.

He hesitated, looking almost sheepish as he ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly? I thought you were this… I don’t know, shallow, self-absorbed person. Just someone who was there for the attention, you know?”

You let out a mock gasp, placing a hand over your heart in faux offense. “I’m wounded! I can’t believe you thought that about me, really.”

He chuckled, but there was a hint of regret in his voice as he added, “But I was wrong. I figured that out pretty quickly.”

“Oh, really?” you asked, leaning in a little closer, your voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. “When exactly did you figure that out?”

“The first time we really talked,” he said, his voice equally soft, the words carrying a weight they hadn’t before. “After I saw you in the hall, crying. I don't know. You were so real, and I realized you weren’t what I thought. Not even close.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Wow, so I had to have a full-on breakdown just to convince you I wasn’t a shallow, self-absorbed diva? Good to know, Cill. I’ll make sure to cry more often around you.”

He laughed, bringing his fingertips to his lips, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Not quite what I meant, but I guess it did the trick, didn’t it?”

You remembered that night vividly, how everything had seemed to spiral downward so quickly. “I was having the worst night,” you said laughing, a slight bitterness creeping into your tone as the memories resurfaced. “I’d just been dumped by the world’s biggest asshole that morning, and then there you were, tearing down everything I said with some esoteric joke.”

Cillian winced slightly, the regret more pronounced now. “Yeah… I wasn’t exactly charming, was I?”

“You were a bit of a jerk,” you admitted, but there was no malice in your words. “But you made up for it with that burger offer.”

A grin spread across his face as he remembered. “I wasn’t sure you’d say yes.”

“Well, I figured a burger with you was better than sulking alone,” you replied, smiling at the memory. “And it was. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was exactly what I needed.”

His expression softened. “I’m glad I asked, then.”

The bartender interrupted your conversation to ask if you wanted another round, and without a second thought, you both nodded in agreement. It seemed neither of you were ready to call it a night. The place was warmer now. As you waited for your drinks, your eyes drifted to the ceiling. Neil Young's "Harvest Moon" played softly in the background, the gentle melody weaving through the low murmur of conversation.

You glanced over your shoulder and noticed that a few couples had begun to dance, swaying gently to the music. There was something so natural, so easy about it, that you couldn’t resist the urge that bubbled up inside you. Turning back to Cillian, who was taking a sip of his drink, you couldn’t help but smile. “Come on,” you said, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Dance with me.”

Cillian raised an eyebrow, looking at you with a mix of amusement and skepticism. He muttered something in reply but you couldn’t quite make it out. It only made you more determined.

“I didn’t catch that,” you teased, leaning in closer as if trying to decipher his words. “But I know what you’re going to say.”

“Oh, do you, piano woman?” he shot back, his tone light but with a challenging edge.

“Yes,” you said, grinning. “You’re going to say that you don’t dance.”

Cillian chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “You’re right about that. I don’t.”

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a low, persuasive tone. “I know, but you’ll indulge me anyway.”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if weighing his options. Then, with a small, resigned sigh, he downed the rest of his drink in one go and set the glass back on the bar with a decisive thud. Before you could react, he grabbed your hand and stood up, pulling you along with him.

It caught you by surprise, the suddenness of it, especially considering he had just insisted he wasn’t the dancing type. As he led you toward the makeshift dance floor, he leaned in and said with a grin, “You’re lucky I like you.”

You laughed, a loud, genuine sound that felt as freeing as the night itself. “Oh, am I now?”

He smirked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, because otherwise, there’s no way I’d be making a fool of myself like this.”

You shot back with a playful, “Well, let’s see just how much of a fool you really are, then.”

As you reached the space where others were already swaying to the music, Cillian took your hand and pulled you in close. You could feel the warmth of his body, the solidity of his frame as he moved with you, the two of you finding a rhythm that was surprisingly in sync. It wasn’t anything fancy—just simple, slow movements to match the easy tempo of the song—but it felt intimate, like you were the only two people in the room.

Cillian leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Did you know I'm a failed musician?”

You couldn’t help but smirk, the alcohol loosening your tongue.

“Failed, huh? So, what happened? Couldn’t hack it with the rest of us rockstars?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. "Something like that. I was in a band, actually."

You leaned back slightly, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief. “You? In a band? Color me shocked.”

It was kind of hot, imagining him on stage with a guitar in hand.

"We even had a record deal and everything."

"What happened?"

Cillian’s expression softened as he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of nostalgia. “My brother was still in school at the time, and my parents basically told me I could fuck up my life if I wanted, but I couldn’t take him down with me. So, it fell through.”

As you continued to sway together, the story of his past unraveled between you, each word carrying a hint of regret mixed with fond memories. “Those were great times, though,” he continued, his eyes distant as if he were seeing it all again. “I’d be out late, drinking, playing music in small pubs, thinking we were going to make it big. It was a bit of a rush, you know?”

You could imagine him there, young and reckless, with that same intensity in his eyes that he carried now, but wilder, untamed by the years. “So music was your first love, then?” you asked, your voice soft, genuinely curious.

He nodded, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, I suppose it was. I had been playing instruments since I was little. There’s something about it that just… gets into your blood. But then, acting came along."

“When exactly did you know that's what you wanted?” you asked, wanting to peel back more layers of him.

His smile turned almost bashful, as if recalling a secret he hadn’t shared in a while. “There was this guy who ran the Cork theater company—had a huge man crush on him. He was brilliant, and I ended up doing a workshop with him. After that, I just pestered him for an audition until he gave in.”

You chuckled softly at the thought of a young Cillian, determined and probably a bit of a nuisance, chasing after something he wanted so badly. “And that was it?”

“Well, there was a drama module in school when I was about 16, 17—during the transition year. That’s when I first got the bug. Ended up starring in A Clockwork Orange. It was sexy, dangerous, unlike anything I’d ever seen. I loved playing someone else, losing myself in the character.”

He paused, then flashed a self-deprecating grin. “There’s not much to look at, but if you give me a minute…"

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his modesty. “You’re selling yourself short,” you teased, leaning in closer, your bodies moving in sync to the music. "Cill, you literally have an Oscar."

“Ah, the Oscar... just a glorified doorstop, really,” he quipped, his tone light but with that familiar undercurrent of humility.

"It's the work that matters, blah blah blah," you joked, rolling your eyes playfully. His eyes were crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. "Exactly," he agreed, before pulling you into a twirl.

"Do you miss it? you ask, hands circling his neck as you sway. "Music, I mean."

Cillian blew out a slow breath, his eyes growing thoughtful as he considered your question. “Sometimes,” he admitted. "But life has a way of taking you where you need to be, not where you want to be.”

His words settled over you like a blanket, warm and heavy, as you mulled them over. Is this where I need to be? The question echoed in your mind, reverberating through the deeper corners of your thoughts. You weren’t sure you had an answer. You were a successful artist, living the dream so many could only imagine, but there was always that lingering sense of something missing, a quiet ache that you couldn’t quite place.

Where do I need to be?

The thought spiraled, unfurling like an endless thread, pulling at the edges of your consciousness. You started questioning everything—your choices, your path, the very essence of who you were. Those words seemed to tap into something deep inside, a reservoir of doubts and desires that you hadn’t fully acknowledged until now.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, almost like you were talking to yourself more than to him.

You rested your head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around you, swaying slowly. See, this is the thing about Cillian, he had a way of making you feel seen and understood, even when you didn't fully understand yourself, even without saying a single word.

The warmth of Cillian's arm around you, the subtle way he moved—it all felt so natural, like this was where you were supposed to be. But then, the memory of four nights ago crept in—the way his breath had hitched as you said you weren't going to stop him from going further, the tension that crackled between you both like a live wire.

The room suddenly felt too small, too warm. Heat flushed through your body, a dizzying sensation that made it hard to focus on anything other than the way he was looking at you. A knot formed in your throat, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady your racing pulse.

The memory was like a current running through you, making you hyper-aware of every point of contact with him. The room suddenly felt too small, too warm. Your mind was swirling with thoughts, the alcohol making you bolder, more aware of the things left unsaid.

"I can't stop thinking about what almost happened the other day."

“What almost happened?”

He let out a low, almost inaudible chuckle, his lips dangerously nuzzled in your hair. “Don’t play coy with me, love. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach, the way your body reacted to his nearness. “I’ve tried to stop thinking about it,” he continued, his voice a hushed murmur that only you could hear, “but I can’t.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken desire. You wanted to let go of the restraint you’d been holding onto all night, but you were still aware of where you were, of the people around you—even if they weren’t paying you any attention. The thought of crossing that line, right here in the middle of the pub, was both thrilling and terrifying.

But Cillian, sensing your hesitation, didn’t push.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression serious but laced with that familiar smirk. “Wanna head out of here?” he asked, his voice low but with a note of urgency.

You didn’t need to think twice. “Yes,” you breathed, the word escaping your lips before you could stop it.

The night air hit you like a shock to the system as you stepped outside, the cool breeze carrying with it the faint scent of rain. The streets were quieter now, the lively noise of the pub fading into the background. You were drunk, the world tilting slightly with each step, and neither of you could drive.

Cillian pulled out his phone, his fingers deftly dialing the number for a cab. You watched him as he made the call, the way his jaw tensed slightly as he spoke, his voice low and calm despite the alcohol humming through his veins. There was something undeniably attractive about the way he carried himself, even in this moment of mundane practicality.

“What about your car?” you asked, your words slightly slurred but still coherent.

He glanced over at you, a small, reassuring smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll pick it up in the morning,” he replied smoothly, his accent curling around the words in that familiar, endearing way. “Don’t worry, love.”

The cab arrived not long after, the headlights cutting through the night as it pulled up to the curb. Cillian opened the door for you, and the two of you slid into the backseat, sitting close together but not touching. Not yet. The space between you crackled with unspoken tension, the thrill of anticipation hanging heavy in the air.

You found yourself playing with your ring-clad fingers, the cool metal a small distraction as the silence stretched out between you. The driver turned up the music a bit, and the opening chords of Inhaler’s "Dublin in Ecstasy" filled the car. The song was somehow fitting, its pulsing beat and haunting lyrics adding to the electric atmosphere.

It started to rain, the droplets tapping against the windows and turning them foggy, adding a sense of intimacy to the small, enclosed space. The outside world became a blur of lights and shadows, the city fading away as the cab sped through the streets. You could feel Cillian’s gaze on you, the weight of it almost tangible as you sat there, both of you lost in your own thoughts.

You turned to look at him, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The music became more intoxicating, the beat syncing with the rapid thudding of your heart. He noticed you bopping your head slightly to the rhythm, and a small, surprised smile crossed his face.

“You know this?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

You smirked, leaning back against the seat as you replied with playful confidence, “I know every song ever made, actually.”

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Is that so? A human jukebox, then?”

“Something like that,” you teased, the conversation light but charged with something more, something neither of you could ignore any longer.

The cab’s interior felt smaller, more suffocating as you neared your destination. When you finally arrived at his place, Cillian paid the driver, and the two of you got out, raising your jackets over your heads to shield from the rain, which had grown heavier. You both ran to the entrance, your footsteps echoing in the quiet night as you giggled like teenagers, the spontaneity of it all making you feel light, carefree.

He fumbled with his keys for a moment, the sound of metal clinking against metal filling the air before he managed to unlock the door. You stepped inside, the warmth of the house a stark contrast to the chill of the rain outside. The living room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the faint glow of the night sky through the large windows. The shadows played across the walls, casting everything in a soft, almost ethereal light.

You tossed off your jacket, letting it fall to the floor, your clothes clinging to your skin from the rain. You could feel the fabric sticking to your body, the dampness making you shiver slightly, but the heat in the room—and the heat between the two of you—kept you from feeling cold. Cillian wandered off somewhere for a moment, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited, the anticipation almost unbearable.

When he returned, his eyes locked onto yours, a predatory glint in his gaze that made your breath hitch. He took a step closer, the distance between you shrinking to almost nothing as he asked, his voice low and laced with a hint of something dangerous, “What should we do now?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with suggestion, and you felt a rush of heat flood through you, your pulse quickening. You moved toward him, your steps slow and deliberate, closing the gap until you were inches away. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” you murmured, your voice trembling slightly despite the bravado in your words.

His hand reached up, fingers brushing against your cheek before trailing down to remove a stray piece of hair stuck to your face. His touch was light, almost reverent, but it sent sparks of electricity through your skin, making you feel like you were on fire. His hand continued its path down your arm, and you followed it with your eyes, watching as his fingers traced the outline of your veins, the simple action making your breath catch in your throat.

He moved his hand up to your shoulder, his fingers ghosting over the strap of your top before slowly sliding it down, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Your skin burned under his touch, a mix of desire and something else—something that felt like shame, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It felt too good, too right.

His hand slid up to your neck, his grip firm but not painful as he held you there, your breathing coming in short, ragged gasps. You clung to his black t-shirt, your fingers digging into the fabric as you tried to steady yourself, but the room seemed to spin around you, the intensity of the moment making you dizzy.

Cillian’s eyes bore into yours, his expression dark and filled with an unspoken promise as he whispered, his voice rough and filled with desire, “Tell me what you want.”

You wanted him—every part of him. You wanted to forget everything else, to lose yourself in this moment, to give in to the desire that had been simmering between you for days. And as his grip tightened slightly on your neck, pulling you closer until your lips were just a breath away from his, you knew there was no turning back.

"Kiss me," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

So he did. He kissed you, long and slow. His lips were soft yet urgent, and you melted into his touch. Your hands found their way to his damp hair, tangling in the strands as you deepened the kiss, savoring every moment. His breath mingled with yours, warm and laced with the faint taste of whiskey, his hands still cradling your face as if you were something fragile, something to be cherished.

But then the kiss deepened, the restraint unraveling as the need between you grew too powerful to contain. His hands slid from your face down to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. The kiss became more urgent, more demanding, as if he was trying to consume you, to lose himself in you. You responded in kind, your own hands gripping his t-shirt, pulling him closer, wanting more—needing more. The heat between you intensified, the tenderness giving way to something hotter, something that felt like it had been a long time coming.

The rain continued to patter softly against the windows, a distant sound that seemed to fade into the background as your focus narrowed to just him—to the way his hands gripped your waist, to the way his breath hitched when you bit down softly on his lower lip.

You started moving backward, the need to feel him against you overwhelming any thought of where this might be going. Your feet stumbled slightly as you both moved toward the couch, the dim light from the windows casting your entwined shadows across the floor. He guided you, his hands firm and sure, but there was a tenderness in the way he led you, as if he was still holding back, still trying to keep a grasp on the control that was slipping away.

You reached the edge of the couch, and he paused for a moment, his gaze intense as he looked at you, his chest heaving with the effort to catch his breath. “You're in control here,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, thick with the weight of the question, with the possibility of what was about to happen. "We stop whenever you want to, okay?"

Ever so polite, you thought. You answered him by pulling him down with you, your lips finding his again with a renewed urgency. The cushions gave way beneath you, the soft fabric enveloping you both as you sank into it. His body pressed against yours, the weight of him grounding you.

As the kiss deepened, became more frantic, more desperate, you could feel the tension in him—the barely restrained control he was struggling to maintain. His hands roamed over your body, landing on your jeans and slowly playing with the button, a silent request for permission.

"Don't stop now," you teased, your voice barely audible against his lips. He responded by deepening the kiss even further, his hands moving with purpose as he unbuttoned your jeans. He stopped for a moment, lowering himself to his knees in front of you, his hands taking off your shoes before sliding your jeans down your legs. He positioned himself between your legs once again, kissing you rough this time.

The couch was vast and soft underneath you as one of his hands traveled up your thigh—still not as high as you wanted it. You let out a needy moan, encouraging him. When his fingers brushed against the edge of your already wet panties, you couldn't help but arch your back in anticipation. He pushed them aside, his eyes never leaving yours. When his fingertips made contact with the wetness of your folds, he groaned too, in a way you found very satisfying.

"I've thought about this…a lot," he murmured, slipping a finger inside you, making you gasp with pleasure. "What you might sound like. What you might taste like. What you might feel like."

He pulled away from you swiftly, and you moaned at the loss. He kneeled down in front of you, his gaze intense as he leaned in to kiss your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine. He pulled down your panties. You went stiff, suddenly aware of how exposed you were. He opened your thighs a little more, as if he wanted to see more. "I want to make you feel good," he whispered. "Let me taste you."

"Yes," you breathed out.

You couldn't stop looking at him as he pleasured you, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. Each flick of his tongue and gentle bite made you arch your back in ecstasy, completely lost in the moment. His hands tightened around your thighs, pulling you closer to his face. He groaned in pleasure, and you opened your thighs wider. His tongue was thorough and deliberate, exploring every inch of you with precision. Your hands grabbed the couch cushions, trying to ground yourself as you felt yourself spiraling into pure bliss. And just when you started to roll your hips, he slid two fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made you gasp and moan uncontrollably.

It was too much. Pleasure consumed you as you arched your back violently against his touch and you moaned his name over and over again, letting go. You were drunk on him— his touch, his mouth, his scent—lost in the euphoria of the moment.

"Fuckin' incredible."

Well, yes, fucking incredible indeed. But not as incredible as it would feel to have him inside you completely, filling every inch of you. To reduce him to the whimpering mess he had just turned you into.

Before Cillian could do anything, you sat up and pushed him flat to the floor. You were both drunk and too eager to make it to the bedroom, so you might as well just do it right there on the living room rug.

He grunted in surprise, but his hands quickly found their way to your hips as you straddled him, pulling you closer. You removed your top, your breasts spilling out as you leaned down to capture his lips in a hungry kiss. His fingers gently tangle in your hair as you pull away from his mouth, pulling his black t-shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

He stopped breathing as you worked your way down his chest, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles until you reached the waistband of his jeans. Your hands made quick work of the button and zipper, and you eagerly slid them down his legs, revealing his growing arousal.

When your fingers wrapped around it—fuck—his skin felt hot and smooth against your touch, his breath hitching. You positioned yourself to take him in your mouth, savoring the taste of his desire as you licked a slow, teasing path along his cock. Cillian let out a ragged moan, his hands tangling in your hair.

You lifted your eyes. He had propped himself up on his elbows, watching you with his lips parted, pupils blown.

You had him.

You took him deeper, relishing the way he arched into your mouth, his groans spurring you on. With each flick of your tongue, you could feel him losing control, surrendering to the pleasure you were giving him. "Fuck, stop," he gasped, his voice strained with need. "I need to be inside you."

“Condom?” you asked, the question hanging in the thick air between you.

“Upstairs,” he said, his voice rough, almost pleading.

You hesitated for just a second. “I don’t mind… if you don’t.”

For a moment, he froze, his blue eyes darkening as they searched yours, as if to make sure he’d heard you right. Then, with a low growl that sent shivers down your spine, he nodded.

You released him with a smirk and sat up, swung over him. You positioned yourself so that his hands were on your hips, guiding you down onto him. The anticipation was electric, every nerve in your body alive with the need to be closer to him, to feel him, completely and without anything between you.

As you sank onto him, his eyes rolled back in ecstasy, a low moan escaping from both of you. The feeling of being filled by him sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire between you that burned hotter with each thrust. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you matched his rhythm, lost in the intensity of the moment.

This was going to end you.

His movements became more urgent, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered your name. The room was filled with the sound of your mingled gasps and moans, a symphony of pleasure that seemed to echo off the walls. He felt so good, so right. His thrusts became more deep and harsh—you wanted even more. As if he read your mind, he sat up against the couch and kissed you deeply, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

"Bloody hell," he murmured against your lips, both his hands grabbed your face as he looked deeply into your eyes, and you circled your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and circling your hips in rhythm with his. Your breasts pressed against his chest, the heat between you both rising as your bodies moved in perfect synchronization. He was close—you were close. His hands roamed your back, your ass, and your breasts, and you threw your head back when his mouth found its way to your nipples.

"Oh fuck," you gasped, "Yes, oh—" you screamed as white-hot pleasure shot through your body, causing you both to reach the peak of ecstasy together. You felt his cock swell, filling you completely as he released with a guttural groan.

The intensity of the moment left you both breathless, bodies entwined in a tangled mess of limbs and sweat. He had leaned back to the floor, and you had gone with him. He was rubbing your back, and your face was pressed to his chest.

"You okay, love?" he asked softly, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your skin. You hummed, feeling content and safe in his arms, basking in the afterglow of your shared pleasure.

You stayed like that for a moment, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath you, the quiet rhythm of his breathing syncing with yours. His fingers kept tracing those gentle patterns on your back, grounding you, reminding you that you were still here, still connected. The afterglow wrapped around you both, a warmth that made you feel safe, cherished. You could still feel him inside you.

“How bad would it be if we just stayed here?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the moment. There was a part of you that didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break the spell.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest, and you could feel the rumble against your cheek. “Well, love,” he said, his voice laced with amusement, “I’m not sure how comfortable the floor will be in about twenty minutes, but I’d say it’s worth a try if you are.”

You laughed, the sound light and free. “Fair point,” you conceded, shifting slightly to look up at him. His eyes were warm, a little teasing, but there was an underlying tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

“Come on,” he said gently, his hands sliding down your sides as he carefully helped you up. “Let’s get cleaned up. I promise the bed is much more inviting.”

He rose to his feet, extending a hand to help you up. You accepted, your legs feeling a little shaky as you stood, still a bit lightheaded from everything that had just happened. His hands lingered on your hips, steadying you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the care in his touch.

Together, you made your way upstairs, his arm draped around your shoulders as he guided you toward his bedroom. The space was warm, cozy, with a lived-in feel that made it undeniably his. The bed was unmade, sheets rumpled, as if he’d just gotten out of it before coming to find you.

He led you to the bathroom, where the soft glow of a single light illuminated the space. He turned on the shower, testing the water temperature before gesturing for you to step inside. You did, letting the hot water cascade over you, washing away the remnants of the night, though the memory of it clung to your skin. He joined you a moment later, his hands gentle as he helped you rinse off, his touch tender, almost reverent. You stood under the water together, letting the steam envelope you both.

When you were both clean, he handed you a towel, wrapping another around his waist. He left the bathroom for a moment and returned with a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, offering them to you.

“Here,” he said with a soft smile. “This will do.”

You took the clothes, slipping them on. The fabric was soft, worn in, and it smelled like him—woodsy, with a hint of something earthy and warm. You found yourself breathing it in, the scent comforting in a way you hadn’t expected.

When you were both dressed, he led you to the bed, pulling back the covers and slipping in beside you. He held the blanket up for you, and you slid in next to him, the cool sheets a welcome contrast to the warmth of his body. He immediately pulled you close, his arm wrapping around your waist as you nestled into his side, your head resting on his chest once more.

The room was dark, but the faint light from outside filtered in through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the walls. You could hear the rain still pattering against the window, a soothing backdrop to the quiet intimacy between you. His hand found yours under the covers, fingers intertwining as he held you close, his breath warm against your forehead. You could feel his heartbeat under your palm, steady and reassuring, and it lulled you into a state of deep relaxation.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but you knew he heard you. You don't know for what exactly you were thanking him, but it felt like the right thing to say in that moment.

He responded with a gentle squeeze of your hand, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your hair.

You didn’t need to say anything more. The silence between you was comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding. You both knew that tonight had changed something between you, something profound and unnameable, but for now, it was enough to just be here, together.

a/n: there you have it, i hope you guys liked it!! please like, reblog and comment. i wanna hear your thoughts! and as always, thank you for the support <3

#cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy imagine #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy smut #cillian x reader #cillian x y/n #cillian fic #cillian murphy fluff #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy x reader #my writing

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justtwotired · 1 year ago

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Hi! Could u do Sam and Colby x reader where they're exploring a haunted area and the reader has a panic attack due to a scare so they comfort

Ofc! Thank you for the request!

I did make the reader female because of some extra details, if you don’t like that please let me know I’ll change that for you<3

We just had a tour and our guide left afterwards. I would lie if I said I wasn’t nervous, I’ve never done this before.

“Alright, so our tour guide just left so we’re all alone, are you two ready?” Colby pointed the camera at Sam and me.

“Hell yeah!” Sam grinned and I just chuckled nervously. “I am rather nervous if I’m honest.” I said.

“And that’s totally fine, I mean, this is your first time, right?” Sam asked and I nodded. “It’s completely fine to be nervous or scared, I mean I can’t say I’m never scared in our own videos.” Colby said and I couldn’t help let out a small laugh.

“Alright then, where do we start?” I asked, putting my hands together.

“Well I’d say the children’s room, our guide said it was pretty active there and I mean, their children, it’s a good start,” Sam suggest and then looked at me.

“You’re a skeptic right?” He asked and I nodded. “Yes, I am a sceptic, but you know, maybe that’ll change today,” I grinned at the camera before Colby shut it off.

When we where in the children’s room he started it again and pointed it at Sam who would explain a bit.

“Alright so as the guide mentioned, there is quite a lot of activity here, mostly like toys moving, equipment going off and he mentioned knocks when you are in another room.” He summed up before Colby pointed the camera at me.

“He also said, they did really like females especially with long hair.” He said and Sam walked the frame taking some of my long locks of h/c hair in his hands and pointing at it. “Long hair.” He said and I chuckled.

“Let’s just hope they won’t cut it.” I said making them also laugh.

After the investigation in the room, we’re about to leave when I feel a strong tuck on my hair. I suck im a sharp breath and my hand shoots towards my head.

“Hey, hey what’s wrong?” Sam immediately notices something wrong. “Something just pulled my hair I’m not kidding,” I say and tears fill my eyes.

“Like an actual pull or just movement?” Sam asked curiously, not noticing my distress yet.

“No like someone actually grabbed it and pulled,” I said and my voice broke, making them realise something was wrong. “Hey, hey it’s alright.” Colby quickly walked over putting and arm around me.

“No, no I’m fine, I’m sorry,” I apologise. “Hey, no need to say sorry, it’s all fine.” Colby reassured. My sight was blurred and I could feel my hands shaking.

“Come, you should sit down for a moment.” Sam urges and I just sit down right on the ground, leaning against the wall.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, wiping my tears out of my eyes. “No, no it’s fine, it’s fine. Come breath, in and out alright.” I’m not sure who’s speaking to me but i try my best to listen, trying to take longer breaths.

“See, that’s better,” Colby says, rubbing my back. “I feel like I’m going to pass out.” I admit as I lean my head against the wall behind me.

“You’re not going to pass out, just keep talking to me, you’re going to be alright.” Sam reassures, sitting in front of me while holding my hands to stop them from shaking.

I take deep breaths in an out, trying to calm down while they keep reassuring me everything is going to be fine.

“I- I think I’m fine, we can continue.” I said after calming down a bit, I try to sit up but Sam stops me. “Wow, let’s get you some water first and then sit for a moment longer, we’re in no rush.” He tells me before standing up and walking towards the bags to get some water.

When he returns he hands me the bottle and I take a few sips.

“I’m sorry, I just- I already was overwhelmed and then that happened, it just freaked me out.” I said. “No it’s fine, really, you don’t have to apologise, its really fine.” Colby said, sitting next to me.

“Do you still want to continue? We can cut it short and get you back,” Sam asked but I shook my head. “No, we can continue, I’m fine.” I smiled.

“Alright, but if you want to leave just say so,” he tells me and I nod. “Can we cut me freaking out from the video, though? You can add the part where I just say what happened, just… not what happened after.” I say.

“Yes, of course, I think we actually immediately cut the camera’s.” Colby says and I breath out in relief.

“Alright then, let’s continue.”

#sam golbach #colby brock #sam and colby #colby brock x reader #sam golbach x reader #xplr #xplr club #panic attack #sam and colby x reader

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girlboypersonthingy · 9 months ago

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Totally not requested Hazbin Hotel piece…BRO IM OBSESSED. Just something cute and cheesy about your first day at the hotel and how you’re greeted by each resident/staff. Any Hazbin requests, send em my way!

New Arrival!!! 🏩

Charlie ❤️‍🔥

Obvi Charlie is the one who found you and told you all about her hotel, dragging you along “just for a tour” she says in a sweet voice. And you follow along (whether you really want to or not) bc she’s just so kind and energetic and she’s the first caring person you’ve met since you landed in hell. You can’t break her heart after your first meeting :(

Once at the hotel, she’s practically screaming from excitement.

“WE HAVE A NEW ARRIVAL!!! NEEWWW ARRIVAALLLLL~” she sings with her angelic voice, making you crack a small smile at first until it hits you-

“Whoa whoa, wait! I never said I’m staying, you said it’s just a tour!” She pretty much ignores the annoyed look on your face, smiling brightly at you still as she holds her hand out for you.

“By the time I’m through with you, you’ll never want to leave!” Her smile faltered a little. “Well, it’s your choice, I’m not gonna force you. I just have a feeling you’re really gonna like it here.”

At that, your smile grows a bit and you take her hand as she begins showing you around.

It’s very flattering that not only has she offered you her friendship before even learning your name, she is also giving you a tour of her hotel and offering you a room, but the best part…

As she guides you around, she’s asking you all sorts of questions about yourself, your past, where you came from and how you’re adjusting to your new life (afterlife?)

As you pass by a tall gentleman with red hair and a huge smile, he greets Charlie as “princess” and you’re like “oh, is that your dad or something?” She she so plainly responds “oh, no. Lucifer is actually.”

And you choke on your spit for a second, pulling your hand away from hers now (holy shit were you holding hands that whole time?)

“Oh shit! I-I’m so sorry. I had no idea you’re the Princess of Hell. Wow! Should I like…bow to you or…?” Charlie lets out a bright giggle, her eyes closing as she holds her stomach.

“No no no! Please, I’m just Charlie, okay?” And now she’s holding your hand again, continuing her tour.

She gradually introduces you to each staff member and resident you guys pass.

By the end of her tour, you’ve forgotten pretty much everyone else’s name besides Charlie’s.

She is standing right in front of you, both of you in the center of the lobby of the hotel. You’re sort of unintentionally tuning her voice out as you watch her talk, taking note of how bright and shiny her fangs are and how cute she looks in a suit like that and how she’s so pure and heroic and gorgeous and funny and generous and-

“(Y/N)? You okay?” Her saying your name snapped you back to reality. “Sorry, yeah. Uh what were you saying?” “What do you think?”

The nervous but excited face she makes as she awaits your reply is the cutest shit omfggggg ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 you take a while to answer just so you can stay this close to her and admire her adorable facial marks and her big eyes.

“I’d love to stay. I’m…not sure if I’m worthy of being redeemed but…I’d like to see more of you- I MEAN what you’re doing here and maybe help out if you need?”

She literally jumps in the air and fist pumps, letting out a loud “WOOHOO!!!” This pulls a soft laugh from your mouth and suddenly as she looks back at you, tears are forming in her eyes and you’re so confused about the sudden mood swing.

“Hey, uh…what’s-“ and before you can finish, she’s hugging you so softly, her eyes closed but her smile never fading.

“I won’t let you down, (Y/N). You’re gonna love it here, I promise.” She pulls back, her hands on your shoulders to keep you close to her as she looks you in the eye. This moment lasts only a few seconds but (both of) you feel your heart jumping in your chest and your mouth go dry.

“Well! Follow me to your room~” She waves a hand at you before turning her back to you and leading the way. As you follow behind her, admiring how her long blonde hair sways with each step, you can feel yourself becoming hot from the nerves, thinking to yourself…

‘Omg…first day down here and I am now living with the princess of hell? I could definitely get used to this.’

Lucifer 🍎🐍

You were actually a good friend of Angel Dust for a while and when he told you all about the new place he was staying, first of all you were happy he was spending less time with Val abd more time with some positive influences, and also you were really interested in Charlie and what she was doing for your fellow sinners.

Eventually, Angel convinces you to come over one day to meet Charlie and maybe possibly talk to her about staying, seeing as you’d like to redeem yourself or at least try.

You’re super nervous, not having many other friends in hell and often staying alone and secure indoors. You’re pretty sheltered now a days…so it’s weird going to meet new people.

Unfortunately, you walked into the Hazbin Hotel with Angel at the worst possible time.

Charlie was ranting and talking to herself, pacing the lobby of the hotel with messy hair and majorly disheveled clothes.

“Uh…what’s up with her?” Angel ask as he points to Charlie, looking over at Vaggie. Vaggie just shakes her head as she approaches Charlie, trying to calm her down.

When Charlie spots you, she smooths her hair back and takes a deep breath, embarrassed that this is your first impression of her.

She introduces herself, a manic look in her eyes still.

“Hi im Charlie! You must be (Y/N)! YAY! Welcome. Sorry, my father will be here soon so…it’s just a little bit on the hectic side today!” Her eye twitches but her smile stays big and shiny.

Holy shit…you’re gonna get to meet the Princess AND the King of Hell in the same day? As if you weren’t already anxious…

You look around to see everyone else cleaning, hanging banners, preparing snacks and you decide to start helping while also very awkwardly trying to introduce yourself and make small talk with everyone else.

“Okay okay OKAY! He’s almost here!” Charlie says looking somewhat excited and nervous at the same time.

You stayed glued to Angel’s side, internally having a panic attack. This day was becoming overwhelming.

Lucifer himself finally walks through the door, immediately focusing on his daughter as well as her three darling pets.

He’s…not at all what you expected but…somehow he’s better? You pictured him being bigger and scarier and in darker clothing but he’s actually….really fucking cute. Like an adorable dorky kind of cute.

You’re just at a loss for words. Watching as he talks to Charlie and argues with Alastor.

Angel gently elbows your arm to get your attention. “You good, hun?”

Your breath gets caught in your throat as you nod, eyes still fixed on Lucifer.

All you can do is bunch up the fabric from your clothes in your hands tightly, your breathing becoming more rapid as he gives a kind greeting to all of the staff and residents, slowly approaching you.

“And this is (Y/N)! They actually just got here today. I haven’t even had time to show them around yet.” Charlie smiles, looking back and forth between you and her dad.

“Oh, nice to meet you! It’s uh…t-truly an honor, sir. I-I-“ You can’t seem to get another word out once his smile grows, his sharp teeth making an appearance now.

Lucifer took your hand, not really shaking it but just holding it snug in his own.

“Please, please, just call me Lucifer. The pleasure is all mine.”

The eye contact lasts longer than either of you wanted it to. It wasn’t bad, it was just nerve wracking for the both of you. It was only a few seconds of intense staring and soft blushes creeping up before Alastor and Charlie were dragging you two along for a tour.

And commence the hardcore pining for the rest of the day!

As you all stroll from room to room and down long hallways, you two check off every cliche romcom movie moment in the book!

Your hands brush up against each other’s

You keep catching each other staring

You both go to talk at the same time, then both stop, then both giggle and look away and insist the other go first.

At one point, you sort of bump into each other trying to walk through a doorway and then it’s the awkward back and forth of “Sorry, you go ahead.” “Oh no, you first!” “No, no, I insist.” As you’re standing way too close to each other, both stuttering and acting like absolute idiots.

By the end of the hotel tour, your face is redder than Charlie’s suit and our short king has started to break a sweat, avoiding eye contact with you at all costs.

But you’re both grinning so big, it’s ridiculous

“So, you’re gonna be staying here?” He asks confidently, giving you a charming smile.

“Oh uhm…y-yeah. Sure. If Charlie will have me, that is.” Your reply has Charlie squealing with excitement as Angel watches you and Lucifer interact.

“Magnificent! Good for you. I’ll be seeing you around then, (Y/N).” Lucifer says your name so sweetly it causes you to start blushing all over again.

You’re also blushing bc from behind Lucifer, Angel is winking at you, making kissy faces and humping the air as his way of taunting you and your very obvious crush on the king of hell

Little do you know…he’s got a crush too 🤭

Vaggie ⚔️

Obvi, Charlie introduced you two seeing how Vaggie is Charlie’s right hand man, best friend and protector.

Vaggie is immediately suspicious of you, watching your every move with a tight lined frown on her lips. In her defense, she’s suspicious of every new person she meets.

“This is Vaggie! My best friend and number one supporter here.” Charlie smiles so big it forces her eyes to squint closed. “And thiisssss is (Y/N). Hopefully, maybe…our newest resident?”

The straight faced girl gives you a quick nod followed by a soft “Hey.”

“Hey. Nice to meet you. That’s a cool name, Vaggie. I like it.”

Now she’s feeling a bit less up tight. I mean…You like her name??? That softened her just a tad.

You offer Charlie a small smirk as you shrug. “I dunno. You’re gonna have to give me a tour first, princess.”

And suddenly, Charlie is pulling you along by your wrist, babbling on and on about every detail of the hotel as Vaggie follows behind you two.

You can’t help but keep glancing over at the quiet, long haired girl following you guys. You had hardly even heard her voice yet but there was something about her that made you feel weirdly comfortable and nervous at the same time.

After the tour, Charlie is doing a little happy dance in front of you, eagerly awaiting your reply to her question of whether you’ll stay or not.

You can’t help but laugh at her and how cute and kind she is.

As you open your mouth to give her an answer, your voice seems to give out and you’re totally caught off guard by a soft and slightly low chuckle from beside you.

You look over to see Vaggie now standing closer to you than before and this is the first time you’re seeing her crack a smile.

“Y-yeah, sure. I’ll stay.” You reply, but more so to Vaggie than to Charlie.

“WHOOOO!!!! NEW RESIDENT! We have to celebrate!” Charlie screams out in excitement causing the other residents and staff members to give a little cheer before they all swarmed around the bar, pestering Husk for drinks.

You stayed planted in your spot, still eyeing Vaggie right beside you. You two stand alone, apart from the rest of the group at the bar.

“Welcome aboard, (Y/N). It’ll be nice to have a new face around and…you seem normal enough.” Vaggie finally offers you her hand, a warm smile still on her lips.

You take her hand and give it a gentle shake, your face becoming so hot and flushed that you have to look away and wipe your other hand on your clothes bc it is SWEATY.

“Normal enough?” Your brow raises as you watch her.

“Yeah. We have some odd characters here. You’re probably the most normal one here.” She lets out another soft chuckle, making you tremble a bit. Her voice is just so nice and deep and smooth.

“Oh, heh, right. Well, thanks I guess. This is an incredible opportunity. I can’t believe the princess of hell herself is running a rehabilitation program like this. And, truthfully, I’m just glad to finally have some friends.”

At this point, Vaggie being the smart girl she is can tell that you are nervous. What she doesn’t know is that she is the one making you nervous.

“C’mon, newbie. I’ll introduce you to everyone. But seriously…try to stay away from Nifty.”

“What, why?” You ask as you follow her to the bar.

Before either one of you can speak another word, little Nifty is climbing your body all the way to your face to get a better look at you.

You let out a surprised yelp as she bares her sharp teeth in a creepy smile, giggling manically.

“Oooooh, fresh meat. Hi! I’m Nifty, I clean.” And suddenly, Vaggie is peeling the little demon off you.

You sigh in relief but your breath gets caught in your throat when Vaggie puts an arm around your shoulder.

“Don’t worry. She’s harmless.” Her smile becomes a little softer and a bit sheepish. “For the most part.”

This pulls a soft laugh from both of you and now you’re truly starting to relax.

You spend the night talking with everyone but Vaggie. She’s not much of a talker but OMFG SHE STAYS BESIDE YOU LIKE ALL NIGHT AND WRAPS HER ARM AROUND YOUR SHOULDERS FOR WHAT FEELS LIKE HOURS AND UR PRETTY SURE YOURE IN LOVE

Husk 🃏

Sorry but bro is not gonna introduce himself or even really wanna meet you. Poor guy doesn’t even want to be at the hotel at all so if he doesn’t have to interact with anyone, he won’t.

But he’s leaning his elbows on the bar counter as he watches Charlie go from person to person with you trailing behind her as she introduces you to the staff and residents.

Husk can’t help but scrunch his face and huff in annoyance as he watches the two of you finally approach him.

“Thissss is our lovely bartender, Husk! Husk, this is (Y/N), our newest resident. Isn’t that so exciting!?”

You shoot him a shy smile before waving your hand at him. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

Husk eyes you for a second, not returning the smile as he sits up a bit. “Pleasure…” He mumbles in response before taking another swig from the whiskey bottle in his hand.

Husk watches you sitting at the bar for a while after this, just seeing how you interact with everyone and listening to your stories and watching the way your face looks as you laugh or how you seem to get really focused when listening to another person talk or how you keep looking over at him and giving him a small smile.

Finally, you clear your throat before you speak up. “Uh Husk?” He moves his eyes your way but stays still. “Could I get a drink?”

“What do ya want?”

“Surprise me! Or Whatever is easiest.”

And at that, he pours you a straight shot of whiskey in a glass.

You give him a look before picking up the glass. “Oh, uh, thanks.”

“Hey, you said easiest, not tastiest.” He watches you with a raised brow and when your eyes finally meet his gaze, his face seems to soften a bit at the sweet smile you’re wearing.

“Oh I get it! I don’t think I’d have the patience to be a bartender, especially one in hell. So, thanks.” Your smile remains.

“Why are you so fucking cheery and nice? You messing with me or something?” He watches you with a dumbfounded look on his face then glances over at Alastor before looking back to you with a frown.

Hes genuinely confused tho…like how did a kind hearted little thing like you end up in hell? And why are you being so nice to the drunk, smart ass bartender???

“Oh, I-I….um I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Your smile is gone now but you can see on his face that Husk regrets what he just said.

“Oh, don’t worry ‘bout him, sweetheart! He’s grumpy like this all the time.” Angel chimes in, making Husk roll his eyes.

“It’s okay. I’ll uh…give you some space.” You stand and remove yourself from the bar but before you can get far, Husk’s voice calls out to you.

“Come back…Sit down, kid.” And as you turn to return to your seat at the bar, you hear ice being put in a glass.

“I’ll make you some sweet, fruity crap. Seems like something you’d like.”

He whips up your drink rather fast and slides it over to you, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he watches you take a sip.

You take a drink, about to compliment the tasty beverage but then a loud bang sounds from behind you and everyone goes running off, yelling “NIFTY!!! NIFTY, NOOOO!”

You flinch first then turn and watch with wide eyes as a deep chuckle comes from Husk. His laugh makes you turn your attention back to him.

“You’re living here now?” He asks and you nod in reply. “Better get used to that.” He points to where the loud noise just came from.

Finally, he’s got your smile back. He feels a little less guilty now.

“So…are you really always grumpy or…just having a bad day today…?” You ask before sipping your drink again.

Husk simply shrugs in reply.

“Well if you ever need anyone to talk to, I’ll be here. I’m at the very end of that hall there.” You point as a smile stretches on his face. “You can talk to me.”

“You stole my line.” His smile and this new teasing tone of voice make you laugh softly.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Ya know, people always talk about their baggage with the bartender. No one ever asks the bartender if they need someone to talk to.”

“Well! There’s a first for everything, Husk.”

His face contorts a bit as a blush slowly grows across his nose. Not only were you being disgustingly sweet to him but the way his name sounds coming from your mouth…oof he is feeling some feelings for you rn

“Thanks for the drink. Do I…owe you anything?” You stand but keep your eyes on him, noticing his ears are now pinned back against his head as if he’s scared or shy.

He’s not sure if he’s just really drunk or if you’re just really cute or both??? But he suddenly forgets where he is and what’s going on so all he can do is shake his head ‘no’.

“Oh, okay. Sweet! I’ll see you around then. Goodnight, Husk.”

As you walk towards your room, waving to the other staff members and whispering ‘goodnight’s to them all, Husk is staring so hard omfg

Angel saunters up to the bar, nearly laying across it as he pokes Husk on his blushy nose. Angel snickers when he notices Husk firmly gripping the bottle of whiskey in his claw, his dark eyes watching intently as you walk down the hall until you’re completely out of sight.

Once he can’t see you anymore, his attention finally shifts to the spider demon.

“Ooooh, aawwww! Does the little kitten have a crush on the newbie~?” Angel teases, smiling wider which causes Husk to groan and try to push Angel away.

Angel Dust 🕸️

IMMEDIATELY FLIRTS 🚨🚨🚨

Pickup lines and lingering touches right off the bat. You know baby boy is NOT afraid to make his feelings known.

No one introduces Angel Dust to anyone besides himself 😘

“Hey, sweet pea. I think ya in the wrong place cuz you look like an angel. What’s your name?”

“Heya, cutie pie. Who are ya and what did I do right to get ya here?”

“Well hello there! I didn’t know we’d be having guests~” Spoken as he adjusts his chest fluff all seductively and gives you a wink.

Whether you happily accept his advances or not, he will continue to flirt and give you way too much attention unless you specifically tell him to stop or that it’s making you uncomfortable.

In that case, he’ll chill out on the flirty words but you’ll have to fight him if you want him to stop being handsy. I mean, he has six arms! Just let him put at least one arm on or around you.

Follows you and Charlie around the hotel on your first day, chatting your ear off about everything and anything.

Charlie lowkey gets irritated a few times bc she’s trying to show you around and tell you all about her hotel but Angel just keeps complimenting you and telling you about his line of work in hopes that it’ll tell him more about who you are as a person.

And it’s extremely distracting, in a good way for you but a bad way for poor Charlie :(

“Soooooo? What do ya think, babe? Are we gonna be roomies or what?”

Regardless of your height, I’m sure Angel is much taller and probably rests his arm (or multiple arms) on your head or shoulder as he waits for your response.

“Angel! I wasn’t even done with my tour!” Charlie pouts and now she is also eagerly awaiting your response looking at you like this 😥

“Yeah! Sure. Why not?” You finally say, now trying to look up at the spider demon.

“Alright! Yeah!” He cheers before turning to Charlie with puppy dog eyes.

“Please put (Y/N) in the room next to mine?”

His plea to the princess forces a goofy grin to your lips, making you beam with pride. He wanted to be your neighbor? Cuuttteee~

But you had to question his motives and his true feelings.

All day, he’s flirted and shown his interest in you non stop but you’ve caught him flirting with others around the hotel too so you’re not entirely sure if he’s just really really nice and accepting and wanting to give you a warm welcome or…if he’s actually into you

Cuz you’re sure as hell into him ❤️‍🔥

“Yes, of course!” Charlie replies and suddenly Angel has one of your wrists, Charlie has the other and they’re practically running to your room, both giggling like kids on Christmas morning.

Charlie opens your door to show you the room and Angel enters first then flops down on your bed before you can even get through the doorway.

“Oooh your bed is so comfy. Maybe we can have a sleep over sometime, baby~” He wiggled his brows at you, making you turn beet red all the way down your neck.

“O-oh! Sure, sure. That actually sounds really fun. Heh..thanks for making me feel so welcome, Angel.”

And Angel just about loses it…

You’re so cute and innocent, like you just let him talk all lowkey naughty to you and now he’s watching in adoration at the way you look down at the ground and you can’t control your smile

He totally knows you’re crushing on him. He can sense that shit.

You’re not sure of Angel’s true feelings but he’s so sure of yours

When Angel flirts and throws himself at others in hell, half of them look at him like 😒 “ew bye” (sort of like Husk) and the other half are like 😍 “AWOOGA!!! Me, you, Pound town, right now.”

But you are different…you seem so pure and nice. You shy away from his touch at first before slowly melting into him and his comments obviously make you happy and giddy and he thinks you’re just too cute.

He’s definitely gonna take you up on your agreement to actually have a sleep over.

Starts out innocent with you guys having some drinks and maybe some snacks, maybe watching a movie or listening to music

But if you’re down to take it further, just say the word and Angel will happily kiss you until you can’t breath or even rip your clothes off and ravish you 😉

Alastor 🩸

He’s also the type to introduce himself once you finally run into him.

He’s a very busy man after all, you might even be at the hotel for a day or two before you actually meet him.

“My my! Charlie, you didn’t tell me we had a new resident. Hello, darling! Pleased to meet you. Call me Alastor.” He tips his head to you but keeps his large hands fixed on his cane.

“Oh hi! Nice to meet you too. Uhm…aren’t you…the radio demon?” You ask, equally afraid of him and intrigued by him.

“Why yes, yes I am. You must have heard my show then, yes? What do you think?” He leans forward, invading your personal space a bit with a prideful look in his deep red eyes.

He was testing you in this moment, wondering how you’d respond.

“Oh yes! Well, some of it. But I like it and I’d love to hear more.”

His permanent smile stretched just a bit wider at your response, eyes softening a bit.

“You’re awfully kind, (Y/N). What did a sweet little dove like you do to end up down here, hm?”

“Wait. How did you know-“

“Oh I know your name.” He interrupts, his expression and tone becoming just a bit more ominous but it didn’t scare you much.

“Oh wow, okay.” You watch his expression change before speaking. “I’m not even sure what I did to deserve this. I don’t remember much from my life, it’s all kind of a blur.”

Suddenly, his hand is on your back and he’s gently pushing you the way he wants you to go.

“Did Charlie give you a tour yet?” “Yeah, she did-“ “Oh, who cares! I say we go for another!” This was Alastor’s way of getting you alone to examine you a little closer.

The taller man walked you from room to room and down different hallways, not speaking much but waiting for your voice to shine through instead.

“Uhm c-can I ask you something?” You mumble out shyly, somewhat afraid of how he might respond.

He hums in response, hands behind his back as he continues his slow pace down the hall.

“Do you…always smile? And if you do always smile…why?”

And now he’s looking at you with much more intense eyes, his curved up lips twitching ever so slightly.

“You’re awfully bold, my dear. Most sinners run the opposite way when they see me on the street, but you…well I’ve got you all alone, in an unfamiliar space and you’re asking me such intrusive questions? Hmm…interesting.”

He had stopped walking, causing you to freeze in your spot as well.

Uh oh…was he mad?

“Oh! I-I’m so sorry. You just s-seem so nice and-and friendly. I like your smile. I’m just curious I guess. Sorry again. Forget I said anything!”

Your expression shifted to one of slight worry and concern as Alastor continued to stare you down with his terrifying radio dial pupils.

As apathetic and evil as his expression looked rn, his tiny cold heart stuttered a bit at your words.

Of all the ppl in hell, you thought he was nice?

Part of him was thinking “what the hell is wrong with this one? Why are they so naive?” But the other part of him was like “I NEED TO SIT THIS ONE DOWN AND LEARN MORE, HMM, VERY INTERESTING.”

And you try to keep walking bc now you’re just a tiny bit afraid of what he might say next.

You can’t even take two steps before his hand is gently but firmly latched to your wrist.

“No need to apologize at all! I find your curiosity very amusing. After all, you’re new here.” He gently pats your head, smiling bigger at you as his eyes squint.

You suddenly realize when his eyes squint closed and get wrinkled at the corners, he was genuinely smiling, not just being forced to uphold his smile.

“So…why do you smile all the time?” You ask again, voice barely above a whisper as the radio demon keeps his hand on your wrist.

“Well, You’re never fully dressed without one!”

He lets you go before using his mic cane to gently tap you on the head.

“I’m so very intrigued by you, (Y/N). I can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting someone quite like you, especially down here in hell. Well, let me know if you need anything from your gracious hotelier.”

He slowly turns and walks off, his back to you as you yell out in response.

“Thank you, Alastor!”

And then he starts walking a little faster bc your voice is making his head spin a bit.

He’s not used to these feelings.

Well he’s not used to feelings of any kind anymore. It’s been way too long since someone has been so open and receptive to him. Like he said, most ppl run the other way but for whatever you reason, you ran straight at him and he didn’t understand why.

But it made him somewhat excited to get to know you more.

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opiumsturn · 9 months ago

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GHOSTBUSTERS!

M.STURNIOLO

IN WHICH- Y/n wants to go to a haunted hotel but ends up regretting her decision

WARNINGS- use of y/n,fluff,pet names (mama,ma,princess,baby,ect.) ,haunted things idk

A/N- This is kinda butt sorry guys also my bday tmmr chatttt!

I was scrolling through my phone on instagram looking at haunted areas for fun and to maybe see if Matt would be down to go together?

I was scrolling for not too long before one area in general catches my eye 'driskill hotel'. This was the one. I looked more in it to see what it was about. '98 spirits roam this hotel'. 'most active spir-' 'the story of-'.

Just as I go to save this, Matt walks in the room setting his keys down exhausted from fliming and mettings all day.

"Hey baby." he says walking up to the bed where i lay

"Hey My love!! oh my okay so look. just listen! okay i was scrolling on instagram looking at haunted places and i was thinking what if-" his eyes widening while smiling and giggling at my enthusiasm but cutting me off before i finish.

"Dont even ask me to go there." He chuckles sitting next to me.

"But Matt! pleaseeeeee" i beg sitting up to him grabbing my wrist leading his hands to my waist sitting me on his lap, my back against his chest.

"Baby are you out of your mind?" He laughs

"It would be so fun!! pleaseee" I plead looking at the pictures on my phone.

"Y/n no!" He says in a joking disbelief.

"Mattt!! please there will be a tour guide and everything just plea-"

"Okay! fine." He chuckles resting his head on my shoulder nuzzling in the crook of my neck.

"REALLY?!" I say turning around to face him

"Mhmm" He says smiling

"THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU I LOVE YOU" I basically shout hugging him now straddling him (not like that..)

"I love you too" he says hugging me back giggling.

I leap from excitement scheduling an appointment for our tour.

"Okay! tommorow at 7pm." i say proudly.

"You got a reservation already?" he says shocked chuckling.

"yup!" i smile widely.

"Your insane" He chuckles.

I giggle at his reply laying down on his chest as we both lay down getting ready for bed, the excitment for tommorow not leaving my body.

Matt scrolls through his phone for a few minutes before we both fall asleep with eachother. Matt puts his phone down pulling the covers over him and I kissing my forehead before whispering to me.

"Goodnight sweet girl, I love you" Knowing im fast asleep he still does the smallest but cutest things ever.

NEXT DAY

I wake up at around 1 p.m still on Matts chest to see he's awake on his phone making sure his volume was low enough for him to hear but also to not wake me up.

"Good Afternoon sleepy head" He says still in his morning voice.

"Hey baby" i say in a raspy tone rubbing my eyes while placing a kiss onto matts chest. "Hey dont forget we have that hotel to visit todayyy!!" I say fully waking up just by remebering what we will be doing.

As a young girl i always liked scary things and horror. I could handle horror. I mean certain things.. Maybe just through a screen. Never in real life..Shit.

The thought now made my excitment into nervousness.

"Im gonna go get ready." i say getting up off matts chest into my closet, grabbing a towel and walking into the bathroom. Its as if everything was starting to bother me now. I feel a cold sudden gust of wind as i walk into the bathroom and shut the door. Its nothing. I go to turn on the shower and hang my towel up, undressing infront of the mirror which im not looking at at the moment. I lift my shirt up and as soon as its off i look up into the mirror. A black shadow by me. I jump turning around but nothing.

Its just my imagination. Im just scared. and i was 100%.

I hop into the shower closing my eyes as the warm water hits my cold bare skin. The though of someone or something watching me suddenly coming to mind. I shoot my eyes open. Nothing as expected.

After i shower i dry off wrapping my towel around my freezing body walking back into my room where matt layed on my bed.

I hadn't noticed but my face was pale and i looked as if i had just seen a ghost.

"Woah.. hey ma are you okay?.." matt asks worridly getting up and coming toward my frozen still body.

"i-uh.. yeah? why?" I say as quick as i can

"you look like you just saw a ghost baby." He says worridley

Ghost. Ghost. Ghost. Spirits. Haunted. Tour.

"Wha-oh yeah..no im fine!" I say clearing out of my thoughts.

"o..okay." he says suspiciously

I go to get ready wearing White jeans,my brown fresh love hoodie,and my brown dunks. I put on some jewlery,do my hair and my makeup before matt and i head to his house so he can get ready.

3:37 P.M

We arrive at the triplets house heading up to matts room while he steps in the bathroom to shower i go into chris' room since Nick was at madis house.

I get to Chris' door and knock three times before hearing chris say

"come in!"

I walk into his room, hes playing fortnite with one ear out of his headset looking at who just walked in his door.

"Oh wsg twinn" He says looking back at his P.c

"Nothing just waiting for matt to come out the shower" i say plopping down on his bed getting on my phone to maybe ease my nerves.

4:32

Matt walks into chris' room wearing an outfit that matches mine. A brown T-shirt,a white long sleeve under,and white jeans.

"Hey Chris." he says going up to dap up his brother before coming up to me

"Hey baby, you ready?" He asks standing at the side of the bed

"Y..Yeah" I say hesitantly.

"Where are you guys going?" Chris asks

"Some haunted hotel she wanted to visit." Matt replies

"What hotel dude I heard about this crazy haunted one called like the Driskill hotel or sumn. heard that shits scary" Chris says

My heart sunk and the color from my face probably disappeared.

"Oh yeah thats the one" Matt says

"Damn. Good luck" Chris chuckled.

"Shut the fuck up loser, C'mon ma" He says

5:00

We get into the car driving to the place which is an hour away from us.

Matts driving with one hand as his other hand holds mine. Im zoned out. Its quiet.My legs bouncing.

"Alright sweetheart theres clearly something bothering you. what is it?" Matt says bringing me back to reality.

"What? No..Im fine. Just.. a little nervous about this..you know." I say nervously chuckling

"Its okay ma. You'll be fine, I'll be with you the whole time okay?" He says reassuringly squeezing my hand.

"Okay.." I reply.

We arrive to the area at 6:00pm having an hour left before our tour starts.

"Hey baby wanna go get food? we still have an hour left." Matt says in a soft tone stopping at a red light.

"Yeah." i mumble.

we decided to get fast food considering we only had an hour left so we didnt have many options.

6:52pm

We had finished eating and talking which had calmed my nerves down a little but i was still scared. i had been in my thoughts so long that i didnt even realize we were here or matt calling my name.

"Y/nnn? hellooo?" matt says stretching out his words.

"Oh-uh Yeah? sorry" i reply quickly

"We're here mama" He says exiting the car going around to open my door

"c'mon princess" He says opening my door and grabbing my hand leading me out the car.

We walk into the hotel the chills run down my spine as if all warm air turned into frozen air. I could almost feel the color of my skin drop from how scared i was.

our tour guide walks up to us greeting us before showing me and matt around. I made sure to stay by matts side the whole time holding his hand,arm,shoulders touching, just anything. i didnt want to lose him from my sight nor did i want myself lost from his.

As we walk around to the 5th floor of the hotel i saw a figure run by the hall causing me to ghasp and let out a small shout.

"SHIT! WHAT WAS THAT?" I ghasp, my heart racing 50 miles a second.

"Woah woah baby what was what?" Matt says moving his arm to the small of my back making me turn into him going into his chest wrapping his arms around me.

"There was- I saw something!" I manage

"This is the most haunted floor honey so you might have." the tour guide says.

"c'mon baby its okay i got you okay?" Matt says wrapping his arm around my waist puling me close to him.

We had walked for about an hour now going around the whole hotel before the tour guide speaks up.

"These elevators are known to malfunction al the time but there is one thing we always do on tours and that is have our guest play the Elevator Game." she says

"Oh whats that?" matt says with ease

"its known that if you enter an elevator and say 'take me to another world' then press a series of buttons in a certain order then on the last floor before the lobby a spirit enters the elevator with you and instead of the elevator going back down to the lobby it will go up into another world." she explains.

"you want to sweetheart?" matt asks me.

"y-yeah" i said hesitant.

"alright then! so your gonna press the numbers in this order which is 2,6,8,2,5 then back to lobby okay?" our guide says.

"mhm" me an matt say in unision.

I was terrified but im the one who wanted to do this and i didnt want to ruin the fun. Me and matt had stepped into the elevator before matt had spoken the words "please take me to another worls, i may regret saying that but whatever" he says before pressing the button 2.

I had been shaking and biting my nails and matt had clearly noticed.

"Okay princess whats up?" He asks me pulling me to a distance putting both his hand on my hips.

"Its embarrassing but im scared matt." i say to him shyly

"oh mama its okay" he says pulling me into his chest kissing my head "watch honey we're gonna go back to the lobby and go home after" he says comforting me.

"okay baby thank you..sorry too" i reply

"No y/n/n dont be its okay ma" he says holding us chest to chest.

After we had done all level we pressed the lobby button hoping that it would actually go to lobby which it did calming all my nerves knowing we were finally leaving.

Once we get back from the elevator we thank out tour guide and walk to the car getting in.

"You okay mama?" matt asks putting his hand on my thigh rubbing his thumb ever so lightyly on it.

"yeah love thank you" i smile at him as he turns the car on and drives home.

"i love you Matt" I say

"I love you too pretty girl."

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #ghostbusters #ghost #sam and colby #sturniolo fluff #fluff #comfort #cute #birthday

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1-49 · 10 months ago

Text

TOURIST GUIDE: The top 7 things you don’t want to be doing when in Paris.

Imagine,

the brightest, most perfect winter’s day imaginable. Crisp, chilly, and beautiful. Warm cafés, busy streets, and gentle breezes ──── stellar architecture, metros, and museums. If anything, Paris is the most magical place on earth, but having Sungchan there makes it even more so.

That being said,

here is a list of the Top 8 things and situations to look out for, & don’t indulge in when you are in Paris if you don’t want to fall in love. A doomed guide for both tourists and locals, eh.

tags: fluff, love, sure it carries its angst though ⁝ fun concept to approach given i wasn’t going to write a fic nor it fits exactly into headcanon, so yeah. he has made me dizzy with his paris photos im sooo sorry. wc. 3k

Fan fact: The French term ‘Coup de foudre’ describes when someone feels completely blown away by someone they have recently met. In literal terms, it means lightning strike. If you have been ‘struck by lightning’ in this way, a common feeling is that you can tell the person everything bc they just get you

Good luck!

THE CRASH

A stunning stranger seated a short distance away from you in a small cafe is always a threat—but this is not just any stunning stranger. As you converse with your friend, he’s also conversing with his group of friends. Passing phones and a camera make their giggles sound like a good time.

Every chance you get, you glance at him while speaking with your friend because it’s so tempting to do so. Little sparks shoot out the moment the stare is returned; when your gazes meet halfway; when he’s caught, too, for naively trying to get your attention.

When your friend catches on to the fact that you’re looking at what is behind her rather than her.

When she turns around to reinvestigate the situation and notices that he’s staring in your direction, she instantly understands.

When she gives him a smile and turns back to face you, who moved too slowly to stop her.

The stranger which then believes that you both had a conversation about him.

The friend who first exposed you is also the one who is now pushing you to use the restroom; for if he meets you halfway again, chances are good he’s into you too.

Her point is validated when you find yourself in a small hallway, pretending to scroll through your phone, as he moves toward you.

Scents of rich vanilla, chocolate, coffee, and wine fill the dimly lit secluded part of the café, which has burgundy walls. His physique is too large to fit in the narrow hallway. His eyes and smile translate love. His confession is full of tenderness, affection, & promising good times.

THE ‘NO’ PLAN

It’s already outside of your plan to plan the remainder of your day. Order breaks out. Chaos ensues. What was already set in motion was interrupted by him, a tourist named Sungchan. But a Paris show-off won’t be a show-off without a museum, so there goes that theory.

In any case, a museum or art gallery is a must, so thirty minutes later, you are showing him around one of the many museums. The grand rooms echo with silence as you hope that the angels are praying for you to make it to the end of the tour. It’s simply so overwhelming to be next to such beauty. You can’t stop thinking how much he fits the scene.

The line of his nose; his lips; the shadows of his collarbones; the wrinkles of his smile; the flow of your hair; the trickle of his laugh—for all of these, he is worthy of a museum.

So when you finally get your hands on the previously ‘passed-around’ camera, an exhibit of blue curiosities rests on his shoulders. Quickly, you take some pictures of him with the Rothko piece. It’s impossible to determine which is more beautiful—him or the artwork.

There are repercussions for that, as he leads you to allow him to take a picture of you—his ulterior motive, though, to have a picture of you forever. You’ll be with him no matter what, even after he leaves this city and you behind.

JUST TOURISTY THINGS

Time will separate the two of you, just as a river divides Paris, but as you continue to stroll beside the Seine, where musicians sing of hopeless love and painters craft their works in the open, the issue of time is not a priority. If anything, all the time in the world at this moment is yours.

He grabs your hands and spins the two of you around, his hair brushed with sun-kissed shades of cinnamon brown. Claiming he isn’t immune to music, so you can’t be critical and should just follow his example.

But when the spinning becomes too intense and he feels lightheaded, he tries to steady himself by staring into your eyes for longer than he should. Your proximity scares you, but you’re concerned and ask if he’s okay.

A smile appears on his face as a result of your concern for him, while a heavenly presence is tipping from his eyes as he’s making a promise that he’s good, if not better than ever.

A smile that inspires hope & makes you believe. A smile that undoubtedly had great power to bring you both to this point. He’s beautiful in every sense. Mentality, personalty, appearance.

He’s even surpassing the Eiffel Tower in terms of beauty with ease!

Your captured images, with him as the subject, create the most ideal postcards, and as you’re showing them to him, it’s when a feeling of sad nostalgia envelops you prior to even parting ways with him. You come to the realization that you desire to spend more time with him, not just one day.

But all you get is one day...

A magic day... that is gradually starting to turn into a night—and as the two of you walk on the fresh-washed gravel paths through the Luxembourg Gardens, the wind becomes clearer and sharper.

Even the bare trees, which you’re used to seeing against the sky, seem to be feeling the warmth of his touch as he insists on pushing and spreading his fingers inside your palm. His vibrance makes even the leafless trees feel less lonely. He takes your hand in such a way that you aren’t even allowed to give him a warning look. Hand in hand, you have no choice but to chase after him.

NO DESTINATION BACK UP

Does it even matter that he doesn’t know the city?

The ecstasy you are running on is surley telling you that it’s all about getting lost and discovering yourself in unfamiliar places—and that’s all because of him.

The startled look in this stranger’s eyes as you two nearly cross a street at a red light due to his rushing…

As he begins to apologize while biting his lower lip, claiming he didn’t mean to.

His deer-eyes in the headlights are all that you can focus on really. It’s tempting to say, ‘It’s okay,’ but there is something about his apologetic expression that makes you feel as though he’s completely enclosing you in his gaze.

His eyes are hugging you while he apologizes. It has been a long time since you felt something like that—felt completely safe. Sincerely, and risk-free. He’s a walking green light. So then, it’s a bit sadistic of you to wish for his apology to last longer.

But how can you not?

When his hand squeezes yours even harder, and he turns all starry eyes while biting his lip in fear?

Someone you would definitely want to try and fit into your pocket, regardless of his height or width.

CRAMPED SPACES

When the cruelness of the night finally reaches your bones, chasing a tiny, romantic restaurant is the only way to soothe the cold.

The warmth of the atmosphere meshes with his gray cardigan, and you find yourself moving more and more into his comfort zone due to the crowded space, where many are seeking refuge for the same reason as you two.

His rich scent fills the air around you and his knees keep touching yours due to the close proximity. The wine glass dangles in his hand and his lips become more and more affected, picking up a cherry hue.

His collarbones exhibit every movement of his body, and for whatever reason, you feel an insatiable urge to reach for the soft, grey wool and uncover more.

You’re so invested in this delicate area it’s making you feel absolutely irrational. The constant spreading of his hand through his lush hair and pushing it behind is only adding to your obsession. Regardless of how often he does this, the silky hair flies back into his eyes every time.

He has this habit of dipping his small fork into your chocolate mousse, taking a bite, then flirting while he listens to you talk and plays with the fork, letting the sharp tips sink into his soft lips.

The gesture merely begs for your attention, so in order to stay true to yourself, you greet him by clinking glasses with him. But as soon as his glass touches yours, you have to look him in the eyes again and be so sincere... You lose either way.

This gorgeous person’s natural flirtatious charm can’t be escaped. His focus shifting between your lips and eyes as he attentively listens to you is quite possibly the hottest thing about him.

And although he insists on practising some French words, he continually mispronounces ‘croissants’ and ‘creme brulee’. He got ‘Bonjour’, ‘Bonsoir’, and ‘baguette’ right, which is worthy of notice; and the greatest reward would be a peck on the cheek, which he hasn’t yet received...

The fork remains sunk in his lips. If there’s one dessert that can be described as the ‘most scrumptious’, it’s him.

UNDERGROUND MISHAPS

Running with him in hand is a somewhat exciting experience. You aren’t sure where he got his stamina, but you’re sprinting down the stairs and will have some downtime when you two board the next metro.

When you reach underground platform though, a sea of tourists waits impatiently to go home or explore the outside world.

His hand carefully slides around your waist as you wait, standing side by side, your chests exploding from all the running. Whether it’s to protect you or keep you to himself, the intent is unclear.

And just as you’re about to look up to give him another warning glance, you realize that you’ve already forgotten how many there were. His adorable facial expressions are the reason you never succeed.

Obviously, the wine has increased his energy—his feelings are in his eyes.

His features quickly and suddenly take on an emotive tone. A line appears between his brows and a hint of melancholy on his face as recognition dawns. Maybe the effects of the end of the day are finally starting to catch up with him.

You realize that he’s a lot of fun—the type of person who always sees the glass half full but who is also, presumably, grounded enough to realize that something is in the way and the glass isn’t quite enough full. Though he’ll eventually have to face it... saying goodbye to you is probably the biggest treat.

His hand is trembling inside yours...

... whether from anger, sadness, or excitement, it can be all of them or then

“Sungchan,”

You barely have time to finish what you started before he pulls you in and gives you a hug. Metros, come and go. People are walking past you, but he freezes this moment.

His coat’s lapels seem kind enough to part away, giving you more personal space and allowing your ear to fall directly on his heart.

His hand falls effortlessly over your head, as soft as a snowflake as he says, “It’d ruin everything if we said anything. Let’s not.” He carasses your hair and then plants a kiss.

A hug so strong that it keeps you safe from the passing of time.

However, even this beam of sunshine has a heart, and it rains. Not even he has the complete ability to stop time from passing. The earth orbits, and the leaves dissipate.

Though what he can do is,

he can certainly seize some of the light in the circumstance as he pulls on your hand once more, making the promise of, “Trust me.”

FALLING IN LOVE

There is definitely a sense of a ‘Trust me’ irony in the situation however, about how you won’t fall in love with him.

He seems to be pointing you in the direction of the photo booth at the end of the platform, which he noticed while your bodies were merging together.

You’re fairly certain that those will be your favourite, worst-ever photos of the two of you, but the only memory you can physically hug, so you decide not to argue.

Naturally, the cubicle is small, but what do you expect from a metro photo booth?

The sweet giant battles his height and shoulders to enter, and when he does, he just hovers above you, looking down. His palms pressed against two different walls, and his neck bent at an awkward angle because you have taken all the ‘what can hardly be called a’ seat.

Like it is your fault, right?

With a tongue poke to his cheek and raised brows, he’s subtly advising you to do ‘this one thing.’

Like hell, “I’m not sitting in your lap,” you bat your eyelashes at him.

“It’s too late to back out. Plus, I don’t think there’s any other way to make this work.”

The goofy grin morphs his whole face into what it would be to stand under the sun; his cheeks rise higher the more he shows teeth. He’s so cute. It melts your heart.

Your mouth stays open in shock as you say, “But it is you who wanted this,” before you endearingly defend yourself. “This was your idea.” How very ‘trust me’ of him. In the end, you accept. “Okay, fine,” you sulk while pouting.

Satisfied, he clicks his tongue. You both knew that you would accept; you just wanted to have some fun, didn’t you?

You eventually create room for him to sit, but when it comes time for you to sit, you hesitate. But then you feel his hands dragging your waist down, and the next thing you know, you’re in his lap. He has lost all patience.

You sigh with annoyance, but even you know it is all a front.

Now hesitant to move, your back remains pressed against his chest, and you’re even halfway there trying to maintain your balance on your feet instead of lounging comfortably in his lap. However, his back hug is particularly effective because it feels like his palm is pressing deeper into your tummy, encouraging you to relax even more into him.

His thighs radiate unnecessary heat, and his warm breath tickles the side of your neck as his chin rests on your shoulder. He teases you, whispering, “You can face me you know, I don’t bite.”

There is an absolute anarchy, there beneath his palm, in your belly. Not the whispering tone!!

You tilt your head back (ironically, letting it rest where his shoulder and neck meet), gazing at the near ceiling and mentally calculating the number of seconds until you lose your mind.

He rests with you, for a minute, or two… his heart densely kicking in your back, but you swear it’s a peaceful moment. He’s able to magically stop the flow of time, no matter what!

Perhaps outside of the small world that you two inhabit, the metro passes by for the fifth time, and perhaps the waiting area is swept by cleaners once more while your shoes peek out from under the curtain, threatening to blow your cover.

However, time never really stops—especially in this place, the City of Light, Paris, a city that never sleeps.

“Let—um” His voice cracks for the first time before he finally says, “Uh—Let us take those pictures.”

You shut your eyes, allowing the angst of the situation to have its way with you before turning to face him.

His brows appear flat, and the crack between them is even deeper than it used to be. Even his lips are fuller than they used to be. Or could it simply be the face-to-face intimacy that is causing them to appear in such a way?

All this time, you thought it was just a playful lust, an undeniable attraction, when, in fact, what you’re finding is love—love looking straight into your eyes.

You no longer need to hold it within you. You just admit it, completely aware that nothing will change but that it will undoubtedly have some significance because it’s better to let things out than to hold them inside.

“Sungchan,” you pause for a moment, “I don’t want you to leave.”

Like you haven’t already felt them, he takes your hand and puts it over his heart, allowing you to feel the butterflies surging through his chest. Your lips to your eyes is the route he prefers to travel most. “I don’t want to leave either,” he admits voice light and airy.

As you look at him, every time the photo booth camera flashes a bright light, the butterflies burst rhythmically—because of that, and as much at the magic, and at the calculated touch of a girl who, in the past, had learned to trust no one. Yet, here you are, choosing to trust someone you have just met & won’t see again.

Your hands tremble against his cheeks as you gently cup his face and begin your slow, careful inspection. His tense muscles slowly relax under your touch as you run a finger across the peak of his eyebrow.

You feel an influx of emotions as you begin to understand that this person is an angel. You’re tracing every inch of him into your brain—soaking up every star in his eyes and every mole on his face—because an angel like this can never be met twice...

His greatest quality, you think, even in this kind of ‘damned’ situation, is that he can’t stay serious; a smile lights up his face. The only word that adequately expresses how you feel is wanting to ‘devour’ the damned smile that lingers close to your lips. He’s irresistible.

Cute or sexy are terms that are so confusing with him. You aren’t sure to which he’s supposed to be leaning towards. It’s driving you crazy. He simply can not be defined.

And the more he holds you, the more confident he gets. He started off politely, treating you like a paper bird, and then he abruptly stops apologizing. His lashes start to make out slowly with the narrow look he gives you. His thumb glides over your bottom lip. There is only one meaning to it.

Conversely, the photos taken are sitting in the photo outlet. You whisper, “Sungchan,” gesturing to the pictures and apparently indicating that ‘your work here is done.’

His firm grip on your jaw, however, fiercely brings your face into his. His winey breath is coating your lips.

“But,” you knit your brows, “our series of pho—”

His index finger stops your lips from moving mid-sentence. “Let’s make another one.”

“You—you’re getting too comfortable in this,” You stagger over what you are saying as his nose brushes against yours, “for-for well, for something that will never happen again.”

“That’s exactly why I need those photos,” he says, chewing the inside of his cheeks in response to your somewhat insensitive comment.

“And we—And we,” you keep breaking, “We’ve been her—

“Can I kiss you?” He brutally cuts you off.

His sugary lower lip is already pressed against yours. It no longer interests him what you’re saying. It’s a quiet question, but there is some dangerously real intent behind it.

Yes, but can he beg for a kiss?

Sure,

as if he’s breathing in the air that he knows he’ll be missing out on, his lips remain waiting for a sign before they get messy.

His thumb ignites ‘instant fire’ in every pore on your cheek with each precise circle. It’s more like he is consuming you in advance.

Your thoughts are numb, and your heart is stuck in your throat. You don’t want to forget any part of it all, and you’re bound to in the high you’re experiencing right now... He was right when he advised it to be documented.

The gaping mouths. The tender lip-stroking. The deep, slow breathing. The hot air exchange.

His teeth clenched in pain. The energy he surrounds you with is so intense.

Your “Fuck!”

& Sungchan’s “Please,”

occur simultaneously.

#riize #sungchan #jung sungchan #riize scenarios #riize x reader #riize imagines #riize fanfic #riize fic #riize fluff #riize suggestive #riize angst #sungchan fluff #sungchan imagines #sungchan x you #sungchan angst #sungchan x reader #sungchan scenarios #sungchan fanfic

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madlittlecriminal · 1 year ago

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Hiii, I'm not sure if you're still taking requests, but if you are, could you write headcanons about the moonboys reacting when the reader wears glasses (it could be something sfw and nsfw)?

Thank you <3 <3 <3

Their Preference ✰ Moon Boys × GN!Reader with Glasses [headcanons]

you're welcome! hope you like it! :D as someone who wears glasses, i was so happy to receive this because like :')

Warnings: a bit of smut, i don't wear contacts so if you do i apologize if there's any mistakes, tour guide!steven because it's what the baby boy deserves, show's depiction of DID so i apologize for any errors, i speak spanish and my spanish might be different than yours

~from my 1K Follower Celebration, but im accepting requests for these three men

-NOT MY PHOTO-

You've been with the boys for about a year now, but they've never seen you in your glasses

You've worn contacts and always made sure you had a new pair

But then you ran out and forgot to get new ones

So, you had to wear you glasses

Unfortunately, you had to get your new contacts tomorrow since your eye doctor was already closed as it was past 6 pm

That also meant the guys would be home from Steven's shift at the museum as a tour guide.

You sat on the couch waiting for them to come home

When you heard to the familiar sound of his keys hitting the door, you smiled

He came in and was taken aback by the sight of you.

"Love?"

"Yeah?"

He tilted his head to the side.

"Since when do you wear specs?"

"For a while now, I just wore contacts before."

He grinned.

"Adorable,"

You felt your cheeks warm up at his words

Marc took control of the body next and would be in awe of you in your glasses

"You look beautiful, baby. You should wear them more often."

Then Jake took control.

"Cariño, te ves increíble con tus lentes puestos." ("Darling, you look incredible with your glasses on.")

They gave you the option to either forget the contacts as a whole or to wear them when you'd go out because they were obsessed with you wearing your glasses.

Regardless, they were always gentle with your glasses

Cuddles? They'd take them off for you since you had a habit of falling asleep in their arms

Hugs? They'd make sure you weren't too squished in their chest so your glasses wouldn't be damaged

Sex? Ha...on or off, they didn't mind.

If they were on though, they'd be gentle

If you wanted them to be rough, mostly with Marc or Jake, they'd take off your glasses carefully before placing them on the bedside table with such gentleness that you'd think their next movements would slowly ease into the roughness

Nope.

Maybe Marc would start slow again before pounding into you

But Jake?

Yeah, he'd show no mercy.

Either way, they'd each tell you how your glasses made you look irresistible

In ways where they would wanna hold you forever and showering you with love and affection

And in ways where they'd make love to you and/or fuck you

They didn't care though

As long as you were comfortable with them on, they were happy

At the end of the day, that's all that mattered; you being happy and comfortable.

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resurrectionist3 · 5 months ago

Text

June 6th, 1755 - Happy Birthday Nathan Hale!!!

We are gonna pretend like this isn’t several days late.

And this post is about to be super long…

Disclaimer: for the entirety of the post, I’m recalling information that was told to me by the tour guide from the Nathan Hale Homestead. If anything I wrote here is incorrect or not complete information, feel free to KINDLY correct me in a comment or repost, I would appreciate that☺️

Back in May (05/18/24), I visited the Nathan Hale Homestead in Coventry, Connecticut with my sister!!

I always drive by it when I go home from school and I finally got to visit for a tour! They also have a farmers market on grounds in the summertime as well as a couple other events throughout the year. I do hope i get to attend their Halloween ghost stories.

One thing i learned that i guess i didn’t ever realise was that Nathan never actually lived in this house. After his mother passed, Nathan’s father, Deacon Richard Hale and all 9(?) of his children lived together in a very, very small house. It wasnt until after Richard was remarried, that this newer and larger house was built. By this point, i believe Nathan had already moved away to be a teacher in New London.

Here are photos of their medicine cabinet and their fireplace✨

Photos of their piano forte in the sitting room and a drawn family tree.

And this was Deacon Richard Hale’s writing desk. If I remember correctly, he was a deacon in the church and a magistrate. He dealt with small court disputes in their house which I found very silly (and the wax stamp had an H on it idk why that made me die😭)

And here, in one of the upstairs rooms, they displayed artist renditions of what we think Nathan Hale and his brothers looked like. I think Nathan had 9 (?) biological siblings that survived to adulthood, one of which being his sister Johanna. And then i believe he had 3 step siblings after his father remarried (im trying to recall everything the tour guide said).

Johanna isnt depictied in these drawings, its only the brothers, but her room was on display for the tour and it had a lot of windows. The tour guide said it was because she apparently loved to read, so they made sure her room had the most windows for the most light??😭😭🥹🥹

Anyways, all of Nathan’s brothers went to war except for the youngest one. Also, if you look at the years of their deaths, Samuel Hale (the oldest sibling) actually outlived them all?? Which makes me want to scream???? Samuel also didn’t inherit the family farm, it actually went to his brother John.

Joseph Hale- (damn he can get it lowkey..🥵) while in the war was captured by the British and was on a prison ship until he was exchanged and honestly I’ve been thinking about it too much. So glad he didn’t die of dysentery or something. But he did pass of consumption at only 34 which I can’t even handle.

Enoch, went to Yale along with Nathan and they were in the same graduating class which i think is so cutesy. The tour guide also said that one of the pewter steins in one of the sitting rooms (i don’t actually have a photo unfortunately) belonged to Enoch and I wanted to scream, like was it ACTUALLY his???

They had a display of several items they found on the property like coins, buttons, ect. but I didn’t take a photo of that either. It was in the same room as these images of the brothers.

I think we all know Nathan, and quite honestly i didn’t even realise he had so many siblings until this tour. I suppose one could assume given the time period - everyone had like 5+ children. But of all the times i was taught about Nathan Hale (and that was kind of a lot, being a Connecticut resident for my entire life) no one ever mentioned his family or his siblings. There was a portrait of Deacon Richard Hale in the downstairs area- I didn’t realise this in the moment, my sister mentioned it later, but (based on the artist’s rendition) Nathan looked just like his father. I found it really funny when i realised it.

This was Nathan’s hunting rifle as well, another thing that apparently belonged to one of the members of the Hale family that made me want to scream (more on that in my final thoughts).

And last photo (the Turn: Washington’s Spies baddies are gonna LOVE this one)

This is a list of the Yale University (back then, it was just Yale College) honours graduating class of 1773. On it, is Nathan and Enoch Hale of course. But also, Nathan’s friend and “roommate” 👀 (and our favourite spymaster) Benjamin Tallmadge!!!!! I had to keep my mouth shut when the tour guide mentioned that he was on this list, but I was screaming internally and my sister and i made goofy ahh eye contact.

Their names are towards the top, Enoch and Nathan are listed in the third small column while Benjamin is in the sixth one all the way to the right.

Things that i saw/were talked about that i didn’t take a photo of was a shadow drawing of Nathan’s side profile. At some point, Nathan stood in front of a door in the house while someone traced the outline of his shadow onto it. I don’t quite know why that was done..? Perhaps it was for a genuine reason or maybe the Hale siblings were just messing around. But it’s a pretty big deal considering there are actually no true portraits of Nathan or his siblings. Just statues and drawings that are artist renditions based on historical accounts. There was a historian who wrote about Nathan Hale and came in contact with a member of the Hale family (Rebecca Hale, I believe). She told him about the shadow drawing and it was a long and interesting story that I unfortunately don’t remember all the parts to. A piece about the portrait is typed on a paper in the photo of Nathan’s rifle, if you can zoom in, you can read a little more on it.

Their gift shop was also small and cutesy and I spent a lot of money there on books. On display there, they had an old piece of wood from the original house. I got a published copy of Reverend John Hale’s, A Modest Inquiry into the Nature of Witchcraft.

If anyone wasn’t aware, Reverend John Hale (Nathan Hale’s great grandfather) was called to Salem, Massachusetts from Beverly to assist in the Salem Witch Trials in 1692. He was partially responsible for the persecution of several innocent people however, nearing the end of the trials, he began to disagree with the accusations. He published this firsthand account to condemn the actions of those involved with the trials and I’ve always thought it was so interesting. I’ve wanted to read this since I read The Crucible back in high school and i was very excited to see it at the gift shop.

You can also visit the Hale Farm in Beverly, MA where Rev. John Hale used to live and I want to someday. I’ve only ever been outside of it, I’ve never properly visited for a tour. (Cutesy fact as well: Rev. John’s Hale’s birthday is June 3rd, which is only 3 days before Nathan’s).

Final Thoughts:

The Hale Family was absolutely MASSIVE. Our tour guide mentioned being a descendant of the Hale Family and im sure a number of “born and raised” New England residents are as well somewhere in their ancestry. Based on the drawn family tree, most of the members had probably 4 kids minimum and then those kids all had a ton of kids. It’s also very funny to me how there are probably several Hale’s who are decently significant figures in history and it’s just wild that it’s all one family. I know it’s the same for royal families and such but it feels different somehow.

According to our tour guide, one theory about how Nathan Hale was captured was by Robert Rogers. That Rogers invited him to dinner and convinced Nathan that he was also part of the Continental Army. Nathan then confided his mission in Rogers and was lured into a false sense of security that lead to him being captured. Which is another one for the Turn baddies that almost made me die when I heard it. Especially since I don’t believe I’ve heard that theory before.

Something I did really enjoy about this tour was how it didn’t completely focus on Nathan. Of course that would have been fine and equally as interesting, but it was mainly a lesson on his family and some of his descendants. After being taught about Nathan Hale so many times, I had no idea about his entire family and his siblings.

It also never TRULY occurred to me that there aren’t any real portraits of Nathan Hale. They’ve all been artist renditions as paintings or statues based on historical descriptions of him and something about that is extremely wild to me. It makes me somewhat grateful for our easy access to camera and video in our modern world. There are so many faces and stories that have been completely lost to time - even some very significant historical figures have little to no surviving images. Like, we know who they are and that they were here at some point - we have their belongings and things that they used. Thats why seeing Nathan’s rifle in the bedroom or Enoch’s stein in the sitting room cause me to have such visceral reactions. This was theirs once. This was used by someone probably everyday. And now its almost like a ghost or memory of them. The land around the property is heavily wooded as well, lots of trees and stones. My sister and I took a short walk around the property before leaving and it really made me think: how many of these stones did they touch? How many of these large trees did they lean on? It drives me so insane honestly.

One last thing that hadn’t occurred to me before this trip was how the Hale family learned of Nathan’s hanging. According to the tour guide, Enoch and a couple his brothers had heard of a Hale being found guilty of espionage and being hanged. And after looking into it more, Enoch did confirm that it was Nathan and sent word to the rest of the family. It’s said that before being hanged, Nathan only asked for a few things: A priest (which he did not get), parchment, quill and ink for writing. He wrote a letter to his commanding officer and one to his family. According to the guide, i believe neither one was sent. Perhaps the one to the officer was sent, however he never received it because he was killed in battle before he had the chance. And allegedly, the one written to the Hale family was seized by the British and was likely used as a written confession rather than being sent home to Nathan’s family. I honestly can’t imagine how upsetting that must’ve been for all of them. Especially with each of the Hale brothers being in the war and likely all in different places, there wasn’t really any other way for them to find out that their own brother was hanged aside from the way everyone else learned of it - through the newspaper or by word of mouth. No other Hale brother died in the war either, they all survived and had relatively high rankings by the time the war was over.

~~~

So that was my trip, it was fun and informative and I would really love to visit again sometime. I highly recommend anyone who is a fan of history, or Turn: Washington’s Spies to visit if you can! They are only open seasonally though, and only on weekends. They do a tour every hour, so plan accordingly if you want to visit!

#amrev #turn amc #george washington #ben tallmadge #nathan hale #hale homestead #coventry #Connecticut #american revolution #turn washington's spies #abe woodhull #caleb brewster #hale family #hamilton #american history #historical #1700s #new england

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