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cherryredcheol · 9 months ago

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"dumpling"

tldr: all the ways jun uses your nickname a/n: i love him so bad. i've been waiting to post this forever.

slobbers: around a mouthful of food

“dumpling,” he sprays it, more than says it, but you look at him nonetheless. your chopsticks paused midair, a clump of noodles hanging precariously over the rug; the rug you’d picked out together for your new living room. he liked this rug, but the one in your new bedroom was his favorite.

“this is going to be fun. living with you, i mean. it’ll be a good time.” he stumbled over his words, overwhelmed with feeling but unable to express it. you seemed to get the point, smiling wide as you opened your mouth to slurp your noodles. he meant it too, this first night in your shared place together was just the start of, what he hoped would be, an amazing adventure.

‘i love you, dumpling.” he smiled at you, confident you felt the same even if you hadn’t nodded in agreement enthusiastically at his words, cheeks still too full of lo mein to give a proper response to his soft words. as he watched you swallow your dinner, he leaned closer, bringing a gentle hand to your cheek, “you’ve got sauce on your face.”

taunts: when he’s winning a game

“dumpling” your head whips around, hearing his sing-songy voice from the darkness ahead. or was it behind? you can’t tell. this wing of the hybe building was dark at this time of night and it had been his wonderful idea to play hide and seek…in the dark. and now he was hiding somewhere in a building you aren’t that familiar with, tormenting you from the safety of said darkness.

“i see you…” you whipped around again, aiming your phone flashlight at the dark corner of the conference room. were those footsteps you heard? how is he so quiet? maybe you should put a collar with a little bell on him, one to match your cat at home. lost in thought, you almost miss the movement against the wall. turning quickly, you brandish your flashlight.

“ah! my eyes!” his hand goes up, protecting his pupils from the bright light in an entirely dark room. you hold the flashlight in place, pleased to see him struggle after he tormented you with this little chase around the dark halls of hybe. plus, you were scared if it was dark again, he’d slink off somewhere else and the game would start all over. he waved the hand not covering his eyes at you, “put that thing down, and let's go home. i’ll give you your prize for winning…”

cackles: at your expense

“dumpling!” he barked out in a laugh. you grabbed quickly for a napkin to dab the steaming broth off your cheeks. you two were out on a hotpot date and you had slurped your noodles a little too hard causing hot, spicy soup to splash across your face. you were not hurt, just embarrassed, especially as he continued to laugh at your fumble. it even splattered onto your cute top.

“are you okay?” he giggled even as he asked this, passing you another napkin to get the sprinkle off your forehead. you took the napkin, but not without pouting at him, hoping to garner some sympathy. He laughed harder, making your pout into a full-blown frown, something he never wanted to see, especially if he caused it.

“i’m sorry, dumpling. are you alright?” he reached for your hand across the table, offering some comfort to you, easing the embarrassment you felt. feeling your hand wrapped up in his did make you feel better. and the broth wasn’t that hot. maybe the pouting wasn’t necessary. his caring demeanor broke as he let out another giggle, “you’re just so cute, dumpling!”

calls out: while dead asleep

“dumpling~” you’re only half awake when you hear it. his back was pressed to yours and you had assumed he was asleep. he’d had a long day and had basically passed out as soon as you two had gone to bed. you’d stayed up and played on your phone for a little while before settling down yourself.

“dumpling~” you heard it again, clearer this time and more whiny. this time you rolled over, your front now pressed to his back. you debated waking him up, knowing he had to be up early for his schedule, but when he called out a third time, your debate ended. shaking him lightly you woke him up.

“what’s going on? are you okay?” he was confused as to why you had woken him up, assuming something must be wrong. he was still half-asleep so he only half understood when you explained to him he’s been calling out to you in his sleep. you were just about to ask if he was having a bad dream when you were cut off by his stomach rumbling, “i think i’m just hungry, dumpling.”

whoops: when he’s proud of you

“dumpling!” he shot up from the couch as soon as he saw ‘winner’ flash across your half of the screen. you’d been in an intense mario kart tournament with wonwoo and you had just won the final race, winning the whole thing in a completely unexpected upset. the rest of the boys stared at the screen, a little shocked at the result.

“i knew you could do it!” he folded you into a bone-crushing hug, celebrating like you’d just won gold at the olympics instead of some silly video game. but he was proud of you and wanted you to know it. he pulled back to look at your face, a smile stretching across his entire face. he pulled you back into his arms, relishing in your victory.

“i’m so proud of you,” he whispered in your ear, causing your cheeks to heat up, bashful about his confession in the room full of people, despite that it was said for only you to hear. he pulled you out of the hug for real this time, and planted a soft kiss on your cheek, deepening your blush. “wonwoo, since you lost, you have to fund our next date.”

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #svt #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #junhui x reader #moon junhui #wen junhui #jun imagines #junhui imagine #junhui #jun seventeen

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bakerstreethound · 2 years ago

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Etched in Stone

Relationship: Benedict Bridgerton x afab!reader

Warnings: 18+ spicy times (MINORS DNI), flirting, fingering, mutual pining, childhood friends to best friends to lovers, exposed ankles, fluff, softness, gentle/possessive Benedict, brief mention of alcohol and slightly tipsy momma Violet Bridgerton makes an appearance

Summary: Bored at yet another party hosted at Bridgerton House, Benedict seeks solace (and a strong drink) in the quiet of Anthony's office only to find you there, one of his oldest friends and buried feeling resurface.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT copy, repost, claim, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 4.1k+

A/N: I wrote this fic for my lovely friend @frostandflamesfanfic a while back but wanted to take my time posting it because this was such a joy to work on and wanted to savor every moment. El was there for the beginning of this story so it's only fair I dedicate it to them as well. Thank you for trusting me to write one of your beloved fictionals. I drew a lot of inspiration from both book and show Benedict. Any era inaccuracies are fault of my own as well as where Benedict's room is located in the house. Graphic by @firefly-graphics . Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!!

His piercing gaze hadn’t left you all evening, making your shoulders rise on the verge of danger, but the way his gaze bore into yours, and you couldn’t deny the shallow thrill or the pulsing in your heart.

You hadn't wanted to come to the ball and despite your family’s protests and prodding you found yourself at the Bridgetron ball, dressed in the prior season’s attire, not caring about the gossip. It wasn’t like you had anything to prove to the ton or Lady Whistledown. A soft smile graced your lips at the thought and you round a corner, sipping on your lemonade, weary and the night was still young. You longed to be reading one of the adventures in your novels, whisking you away to another place and time, holding hands with your beloved.

******

Benedict sighed for the third consecutive time in a row, making Eloise roll her eyes. “Brother, surely you can find some enjoyment from this party.”

“When I tell you, I’ll let you know,” he grumbled, watching the couples swirl along the dance floor, his eldest brother Anthony pulling Kate close in his arms, a bright smile lighting her face. Benedict tried to hide the disdain, the ache resounding in his chest. He’d rather be locked away in his room, working on his art, perfecting the curve of a hand, the slope of a shoulder, silk between thighs. He shook his head, groaning before tossing back a glass of lemonade he’d picked up during yet another turn around the room.

It did little to cool his blood.

When he made his way to the study, he half expected to see Colin there sneaking a glass of Anthony’s secret stash, however, he didn’t expect you draped across a chair, nose buried in a book, legs curled over the arms of the chair, exposing your ankles. The smirk crawled along his lips for a fraction, enraptured by your stone-cold expression and you flipped another page, not uttering a sound. He poured himself a drink, trying not to chuckle, and watched you intently.

“Do you intend to stare at me all evening, Mister Bridgerton? Or are you going to ask me to pull myself together to dance in front of the entirety of the ton?”

The drink almost lodges itself in his throat as he choked it down, the bewildered expression on his face the cause of your pursed lips. For the love, you were laughing at him!

“Cat got your tongue, Benedict?”

Oh, it was more than the cat that got his tongue, he wanted to swallow yours, combat your wit, fill himself with your words and beauty tenfold.

Good gracious, what had become him?

Here you were and he’d been watching you like a hawk all evening barely making a move and your ankles were there, tempting him, tricking him, enticing him. How ready he was to fall, the hold you had on him was indescribable. He’d been this way since he first laid eyes on you all those months ago. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on you. But how he wanted to fall with you, drag you along the dance floor show you off for the world to see. No, he would do no such thing.

He would enshrine you in a painting, etch you into stone, a carving upon his heart.

Warmth flooded your body as you continued watching Benedict pace around the room and you doubted he realized he had done so. A bedraggled state was becoming of him, accentuated by his ruffled hair as he muttered under his breath, stopping to refill his glass with something stronger than lemonade.

You smirk, perusing the pages of your novel, which sparked an idea.

“Benedict?”

Your voice, oh your voice was a guiding light, his anchor, steadying him through the whirlwind of a storm conjuring in his head.

“Yes?” His gaze met yours, and he stopped pacing standing before you and giving you a good look at his chest, the rise and fall of his breaths, reminding you to steady yours.

You crane your neck up, looking him in the eye. “Read to me.” It’s a simple request, but you hide the quivering of your lip. He leaned in closer, engulfing you in his scent, causing you to bite your cheek to keep from groaning. It was heady and intoxicating and it was all him.

“What?”

Focus, you ninny! You cursed softly to yourself gathering your thoughts as you clung to your novel.

“I asked if you would read to me. Literature is the art of words is it not?” You shifted in your seat, your feet now resting flat on the floor as any respectable proper person would have done from the start. You let out a soft groan when the balls of your feet touch the floor, and he leaned down further, his index finger barely stroking along your jawline. Your ankles were definitely covered now, but you suspected his reaction didn’t stem from that.

He cocked his head. “You would prefer me to read romance to you rather than show you firsthand?”

“Why ever would I need to experience such things firsthand? I have everything I need here.” Your stomach fluttered, almost dropping when he kneeled before you, his fingers brushing along your sides before grasping your thighs and squeezing gently.

“You do have one thing right for this evening. We have everything we need right here.” Another squeeze of your thigh sent your mind reeling.

“Does one intend to enact upon such desires, Mister Bridgerton? Or does one who reads such novels suppress them?”

His hands traveled further up your thighs a silent challenge, one you were not backing down from despite the pounding of your heart. You were here with Benedict Bridgerton alone in Anthony’s study, someone you had known for years, a constant fixture throughout your youth, the source of countless daydreams and now, rather passion-induced dreams.

“Do you know how long I’ve imagined this?” He growled low in his chest and you forget to breathe. None of the books you read prepared you for reality, not that you would confess. Benedict didn’t need his ego poked any longer, the more he knew he could unravel you slowly.

You squirmed against him, tugging his vest. “I’ve wanted you for years but denied myself. I didn’t - couldn’t- imagine you felt the same,” your voice came out as a whisper, a plea for him to see you and he did. Benedict saw you and gazed at you with hope and adoration.

He growled low in your ear, sliding his hands around your waist, rising to his feet pulling you against him, the racing of his beating heart restarting yours. He was your desire, your soul ached for him, knowing he was the only one you could ever hope to give yourself to.

No one else in the world was meant for you or could compare to him.

His heart beating in tandem with yours, clinging to each other, a lifeline. It felt like a lifetime before clarity finally made its way into the world, making its intentions known between you. It was more than the slow-burning passion and affection blossoming between each other.

His lips brushing along yours sent your heart soaring, connecting your souls and you welcomed him, and you were home, he pulled you flush up against him, groaning softly, digging his hands into your waist. He couldn’t breathe, utterly weightless, intoxicated by your scent, everything. He was high on you, your touch, oh how lovely it felt your fingers digging into his back, melting against him, needing him as much as he did you.

This was love. It was Benedict in a new form, one you awoke, taking him back home, a home he’d always known for you were there through it all. He wanted to give you everything you desired, everything you deserved. And you would receive the best in return. But not in his brother’s study on his favorite reading chair.

“Anthony will kill us if we do anything here,” He pulled away in a moment of clarity, holding you close, your legs trembled, overcome with your passions. You ached for him dearly, more than you knew possible.

“I’ve done worse, I assure you,” you snicked, gathering your bearings, brushing off your outfit, ruffling out the wrinkles as if that cleared off any evidence of Benedict having his hands over you wasn’t obvious. “I’ve defiled my mind with notions of unrealistic nonsense.”

He raised a brow, looking unamused, a flicker of amusement flashing before boisterous laughter, likely caused by Lady Featherington passing by the door and you inhaled sharply, the anticipation ticking by each moment. As soon as it came it went, hopefully, spurred on in good spirits. Lady Featherington surely didn’t have half the mind to break into Anthony’s study.

Benedict cracked open the door beckoning you over, taking your arm by the elbow, “Up the stairs, second door on the left. I’ll knock three times so you know it’s me.”

You nodded, taking in his appearance, his disheveled hair, mused vest, and undershirt beneath. You would be lying to yourself if you denied the excitement of what lies beneath but the other side of you was equally terrified.

******

Dashing up the stairs was easier said than done, the events of the evening causing your head to spin in a mixture of wonder, anxiety, and borderline delirium. You were sure you were dreaming but the stairs beneath your feet are solid, beckoning you up to the elegant quarters where the Bridgertons slept. You glided your hand along the banister admiring the railing, willing yourself not to fall, raucous laughter closing in, dangerously close by from the sound fluttering through the halls.

Perhaps Lady Featherington sought to uncover your dalliance after all. That would be the talk of the ton, however, you knew the Bridgertons could afford some slander from Lady Whistledown, but fortunately, all she commented on was the growing size of the family, the lovely grandchildren Vicountess Bridgerton had the pleasure of seeing when Daphne and Simon returned to town.

You silently cursed your attire and its restricted movement when you made it to the landing, stopping for the briefest moment to catch your breath. You didn't bother asking if his younger siblings were asleep, but he didn’t seem to care at that moment, the way his eyes glanced along your body, and the smile along his lips was far too distracting anyway.

Your minds were busy with other thoughts, the taste of his lips still freshly imprinted into your memory. You did everything as he instructed, the door to his room groaning on its hinges making your heart race, but you peeked out the door to be certain.

No maids padded down the corridor, the only sign of life was the music and laughter intermingling for what you could imagine would be all hours of the night. The Bridgertons could throw a grand party, no doubt about it.

Benedict's quarters greeted you with the scent of him, masculine and comforting. It felt like home, the furniture dark and handsome, the shelves lined with countless books, figurines along his desk not to mention his infamous sketchbook lying on his desk in the corner by the fireplace. Charred pieces of crumbled paper jutted out from the embers.

Curiously, you reached out for it turning to a page. It didn't take you long to figure out the odd figures as you pieced each frame together, a culmination of finished pieces, sketches, and half-started attempts, frustrated pen strokes deft in their quest to uncover the beauty ready to bloom.

Hands. Intertwined, graceful elegant, smooth lines, hardened ridges, callouses palms, delicately resting ones. Upon further inspection, you noticed the tried and failed attempts at an all too familiar pair of hands. It was odd to look at how he depicted yours, strong, yet graceful, adept at anything you put your mind to between needlework, horseback riding, the leather a fine feel in your hands.

You had to admit some were quite good while some lacked depth and luster. Practice made it worth it in the end, some of the figures he drew resembled a striking resemblance to his family, almost as if he were imitating the artist of the figurines, which when you looked longer were small likenesses of his mother, father, and siblings. The sight warmed your heart.

"Benedict! You're missing the partyyy!" A shrill giggle outside the hall pulled you from your exploration, your heart racing in tandem. You hoped and prayed it wasn’t Gregory and Hyacinth. From your previous encounters, you knew they were sharp, keen-eyed, and inquisitive about a multitude of subjects on top of their general mischievousness. Plus, you weren’t in the mood to ask any questions, but where the hell was Benedict?

Despite yourself you began pacing, desperately trying to avoid glancing at the bed draped in fine sheets, a fine rich deep velvety blue coverlet gracing it giving the piece a regal appearance. You wanted nothing more than to lose yourself between the downy softness of it all and fall into blissful dreams, and yet, there are other pressing matters to attend to.

The giggling resumed and you sighed, thinking better of yourself, not wanting this to be a joke.

You found yourself opening the door, greeted with the voice of none other than Violet Bridgerton whispering, on the verge of a quiet yell to her second song, grasping onto his elbow at the lower landing of the stairs. “Benedict! Good heavens, you’re to retire so earlyyyy???”

He rolled his eyes half in amusement and exasperation. “Mother, I have matters to attend to, plus the other mothers merely want to hunt me for sport and pair them with their retched daughters.”

His eyes flashed, glancing up, his gaze boring into yours, flooding your body with warmth. He quirked a brow, challenging you while his mother rambled drunkenly along, still grasping his elbow while he shifted his weight on his feet.

Shut the door, he mouthed to you, causing your lips to quirk in the barest hint of a smile.

“Quite right, you have a fair point. But there was that one lovely person you danced with twice back in the orangery perhaps…”

At that exact moment, you opened the door further to grant yourself a better view of Benedict’s struggle and also partly in retaliation to his protests, only for the grand door to let out a massive agonizing wail. The giggle left you of your own volition at Benedict’s bewildered expression rendering you completely helpless as Violet looked up at you, the same Bridgerton eyes, older, wiser and so kind smiled at you, albeit borderline tipsy.

“I see now I see. That’s the pressing matter you have to attend to. Don’t mess it up dear boy,” she slewed, chuckling to herself, before whispering in his ear, his face flushing in response. Violet released his arm, winking up at you before traipsing down the stairs, leaving a flustered Benedict behind to collect his thoughts before he came back to his senses, scurrying up the stairs while you slipped back into his room, posting yourself right in front of the door, keeping it cracked just so. When he arrived you only catch a glimpse of his eyes flashing before the door sealed you completely from his sight.

Silence greeted you and you feared you might have ignited his wrath, alas you merely wanted to tease him.

The seconds tick by then three knocks follow.

Were you going to answer him? Oh, he was going to make you pay for this with many kisses. He huffed before composing himself.

You still didn’t answer.

“Don’t play with me, dear unless you wish for them all to hear us when we should be dancing.” When he knocked for the second time, you decided to open the door, the scowl imprinted on his face illuminating a side of him you desperately wanted to see. You did this to him. Without hesitation, he locked the door behind him and immediately pressed you against the wall, a scowl forming along his lips.

“You wouldn’t dare flash me before the eligible men of the ton tonight if you had to.” You whispered, brushing a stray hair off his forehead. “I belong to you, Benedict. Even if I am an old maid.” Your heart thundered in your chest. You were home, you belonged to no one else, nowhere else but here in Benedict's loving arms.

“I am yours, oh love I’m yours.” His voice cracked, overcome with realization and the emotion of it all, his scowl replaced by pursed lips, wandering hands, lavishing your body in the simplest yet heat-induced touches and you wanted - craved - more. More of him. Benedict. Your Benedict.

“Benedict, Benedict…Benedict,” Your was all you can muster with the meeting of his lips upon yours, feeling the depths of him, pulling to you crashing over you like a tidal wave. You were a sailor lost at sea who made it to the safety of the harbor and oh, it was blissful beyond anything beyond your wildest dreams.

“Say it again,” he pleaded, each kiss awakening desires long suppressed, ones you hadn't acknowledged since they only came about throughout the course of your friendship with Benedict. Only he could put you under his unique spell, craving his lips, the brush of his hand against yours and here you are getting more than you dreamed.

“Benedict,” You sighed blissfully as he kissed you once more, kisses languidly savoring the feel of you as he guided you up onto the bed, the coverlet as luxurious as you surmised. You’ve not come close to feeling something so heavenly as this and Benedict, oh, he was more than you ever dreamed. The novels you’d read didn’t hold a flame to each sensation buzzing through your body, the magnetizing gaze of his upon yours, already undressing you with his eyes. You wanted to take your time, alas it was getting harder to resist. Benedict was one thing if not impossible, but he was yours, irrevocably so.

A fire in the fireplace crackled to life, startling you for a moment, while Benedict caressed your jaw, memorizing every inch, and you selfishly wonder if he'll draw your portrait one day, trying to capture the first moment he had you to himself in his chambers. He moves his exploration from your jaw to your shoulder, then your hands, leaving kisses where he can, murmuring sweet nothings, soft praises that have your knees weak and you wanting him all the more.

“Your hands are lovely, nothing can compare to me holding them,” he whispered, caressing them softly, continuing to place kisses of adoration along them while you gazed at his soft loving eyes. “I cannot capture their beauty, their essence onto the page. I’ve tried and failed for months.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’ve done a fine job, Benedict. Your art is beautiful, never lose that passion inside you, it’s ethereal strong, spellbinding, and magnetic.”

“As are you. You’re everywhere in my waking hour, in my dreams and sleepless nights. You’re my muse. You inspire me.” His voice wavered, a tear sliding down his cheek. Every bit of him belonged to you, there was no question, no doubt about it.

Without another word, you tug on his vest, a beautiful shade of the signature Bridgerton blue, his shirt embellished with small bees. Everything looked wonderful when it was on him, but you wanted more, to lose yourself to him countless times throughout the night.

“You’re pretty much the only reason I get out of bed most mornings,” You swallowed as he turned to face you, his hands cupping your face.

“My love, oh my love,” he kisses you softly, in equal parts awe and reverence intertwined, making you forget where you are, the time and place. It’s you and him safe in each other’s embrace. His kisses trailed from your hands up to your neck, nipping softly, eliciting soft groans from you and you returned them in kind, his fingers stroking along your back, pulling you closer in his embrace.

You brushed away another tear from his cheek, one falling from your eye as well and he wiped it away, kissing you gently before wrapping around behind you, desperation, adoration, awe, and passion guiding him. His lips connected with your neck, and you sighed in satisfaction, his hands wandering down your torso, lighting you up on the inside and you groan leaning back into him, leaving your mind to wander while you savored his touches.

“Good, you’re not thinking, that’s right. Much better see?” His hand wandered lower, down stroking you just so, warmth blooming through your body. He relished your moans, biting into your neck as he watched the effect he has on you, wishing he could have done this to you earlier all the wasted time you have to make up for now.

You urged him on through desperate kisses as you pull clothes from your bodies, every inch of him visible to you, eagerness and passion alike driving you both.

“Keep going, please.” The last of your clothing fell to the floor and he pulled you back onto the bed while assuring him you have all the time in the world. “I want you, Benedict, always have, always will.”

He needed nothing more but your constant assurance, his fingers dipping into you, gliding along your body making you fall into his ministrations, your breathing ragged as you fell into bliss, his fingers replaced with his tongue sending you soaring into another place another time and it felt so irrevocably right, your fingers digging into his mass of curls encouraging him along, more than eager to assist your release. And when you were spent, his lips met yours hunger and desire battling, intertwined as you tasted yourself on his lips. You wanted more, you wanted all of him, however, in the midst of it all you found yourself asking a question as you kissed him once more, this time slower, unrushed.

"What did your mother say to have you flustered as you are?" You batted your eyes, casting an impish smile, a look you know he couldn't resist. He hummed, his free hand stroking your side, his voice low in your ear. "My dearest mother told me to treat you well and that we best enjoy ourselves a little bit before our union. Told us to enjoy ourselves."

“Her intuition is uncanny, I never want to be on her bad side.” You huffed as Benedict groaned, pulling you in for yet another kiss, trailing down your body, making you squirm, not listening in the slightest, for he was far too distracted, focused on you before him. He would never tire of the sight, thanking his lucky stars.

Finally, after years of yearning and pining when you’re joined, it’s a bliss, unlike anything you’ve known. You stifled a moan at the feeling, Benedict brushing a stray hair from your eyes, trapping you against him. “Love, I want to hear you, alright? Can you do that for me?” Your eyes widened at the request but when he moves against you, pleasure filling every fiber of your body you cry his name to the heavens.

Oh, how he loved it the soft whimpers, you begging for more and your name sounding just as sweet and sinful falling from his parted lips, swollen from your nipping and kissing. You want the moment to last for oblivion yet when you both lose yourself to your bliss, delirium hits and you pulled him closer in your arms, his face resting in the crook of your neck, the bed and sheets in disarray. You smirked to yourself more than pleased with the outcome.

He continued to kiss your neck, nuzzling more, your hands stroking his curls. “I love you, Benedict.”

“I love you more, my love.”

“I’ll love you forever.”

“How about eternity?” He intertwines your hand with his own, kissing your ring finger. “Will you marry me?”

Your heart thrummed erratically but warmed at his loving gaze full of joy, hope, and wonder. It was a face you wanted to wake up with a kiss and love for all your days.

“Yes, Benedict, a thousand times yes.”

The smile that shot across his face kickstarted your heart and he kissed you for the thousandth time of the evening, not that you were complaining. For you have an eternity to kiss, love, and be loved by him. You settled against his chest, his embrace warm and reassuring, his hands settling on your belly soft and warm, while you drift off to sleep of bliss thinking only of Benedict and what the future holds.

******

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #benedict bridgerton x afab reader #afab reader #my writing

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year ago

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Hallow'seams

A Seams Halloween special oneshot

{ Part IV: Notch | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: A spicy T

Summary: Joel proves to you that he can be adventurous if he wants to be.

Warnings: Joel wears a slutty Halloween costume, fluff, mentions of drinking, spicy thoughts but nothing explicit, no use of Y/N

Word count: 1.7k

Notes: I was so looking forward to writing this Seams Halloween special that I floated back in the summer. Unfortunately, life™ happened - I've had a very rough month and honestly I didn't think I had it in me to do any writing for the rest of this year, but then this happened! I woke up thinking about Joel wearing a Gladiator costume and couldn't put it down. It's not as long or intricate as my original idea, but I hope you enjoy this anyway. I've missed these two so much!

Thank you for sticking with me and giving me so much love, I really don't deserve you all 🧡 Happy Halloween!

Joel pushes open the door to the High Street Outfitters, one booted foot steps over the threshold -

And he stops and stares.

Pumpkins of all sizes, some more crudely carved than others, seem to occupy every conceivable surface. Black cat and broomstick decals adorn the worn wooden walls, while hand-pulled cotton cobweb the ceilings.

When his feet unstick and move into the empty shop, he nearly topples a huge cauldron of what looks like homemade candy. Steadying it with his hands, he mutters under his breath. 'What the f-'

He would never admit it, but he nearly jumps out of his skin when you emerge from the studio with a dramatic flutter of the curtain divider. 'Oh hey, you're here!'

Stepping towards you, he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth in a hello, and gestures. 'You really went all out, hmm?'

Your grin brims with pride, and he feels his lips stretch into an answering smile as you straighten up some of the costumes on a nearby rack.

'We found a Halloween shop nearby a few years back,' you explain. 'All their stock was still in boxes in the store room, so we took everything and ran with it. It's a lot of work every year, but the kids have so much fun with it, it's definitely worth it.'

Joel hums skeptically. 'Not just the kids have fun, from what I heard.'

You cross your arms and play coy. 'What have you heard?'

'That my brother hosts the rowdiest Halloween party in town for the adults every year, and tonight is their last hurrah before the baby comes.'

You chuckle. 'And I'm guessing you fought the costume and lost?'

'There’s no winnin’ when your sister-in-law plays the pregnancy card,' he grumbles with poorly concealed fondness.

You walk him towards the racks near the cashier. 'Here are the men's costumes. We run a pay what you want system for Halloween rentals, just pop your contribution into that pumpkin on the counter. You better hurry though, things start kicking off around seven tonight.'

Joel combs through the outfits half-heartedly, when a standalone clothes rack on the other side of the room, covered with a black sheet, catches his eye. 'And what's that?'

You hesitate, and stutter, 'Oh, um - you won’t like those.'

Arching an eyebrow, he stares down at you. 'Why is that, sweetheart?'

The endearing way you wring your hands and worry your bottom lip brings him right back to when he first met you. Your shyness has always provoked a reaction from him - an understanding at first, from the introvert in him. Then protectiveness, when he started spending time with you.

And now, knowing you the way he does, with you opening up to him over the past few months, he lets his mouth relax into a half-smirk, one hand curling around your waist to pull you into his side as he teases, 'Use your words, Pin.'

You huff, recognising the playfulness in his body language, but you still struggle to get the words out. 'They’re - um, damnit - they're adventurous.'

He sets his face in a mock stern expression. 'And what, I’m too borin' for them?'

Narrowing your eyes at him, which makes him grin, you deadpan, 'It's just - they're not your thing, ok? They're of the -' you pause, and gesture in air quotes. 'Occupational variety.'

Comprehension dawns on him, and he drawls, 'Ah, you mean slutty costumes.'

He can feel your skin heat at his words as you duck your head, and he teases, voice low and gruff by your ear. 'And will you be wearin' somethin' slutty for me tonight, sweetheart?'

Your breath hitches and your lips part, eyes glassy at the turn of the mood. 'Joel -'

He isn't a particularly spiritual man, but the longer he lives, the more he’s convinced that some people are put on earth for a reason.

And Lucy's raison d'etre is to cockblock him at every turn.

The door bursts open with a brash energy that is uniquely hers (with an uncanny resemblance to Ellie's), and your best friend doesn't skip a beat at the sight of the pair of you canoodling. 'Save the making out for later, Miller. We gotta go get ready Pin, c’mon!'

You hastily press a kiss to his whiskered cheek. 'Pick your costume and lock up behind you, ok? I'll see you in a bit.'

Lucy all buts hauls you out of the shop, throwing over her shoulder. 'See ya later, Miller! You better show up half naked!'

Curiosity getting the better of him, Joel pulls back the sheet from the clothes rack, and his eyebrows reach for his softly graying hairline. Leafing through the options, he pauses somewhere in the middle, and smiles to himself.

He’ll show you adventurous.

Maria and Tommy's Halloween party is easily the most anticipated event in the Jackson social calendar. Illicit incentives often swap hands for a RSVP, with those unfortunate enough to be assigned patrol duties on the night willing to pay handsomely for a swap in shifts.

While the kids are knocked out at home from eating their body weight in sugar, the Tipsy Bison is teeming with townsfolk. The normally dark interiors are decked out floor to ceiling in garish black and orange, as if people wouldn't get the memo.

Joel was apprehensive on his arrival, pausing for a moment outside the double doors of the establishment to steel himself. But as soon as he crosses the threshold into the warm and boisterous bar, so loud that his right ear rings, he realises that his worries are completely unwarranted.

No one even bats an eyelid as he wades through the throngs of partygoers, nodding politely at acquaintances who drunkenly shout his name and raise a pitcher in greeting.

It's pure madness - Halloween stopped existing for him twenty years ago. The last time he went to a Halloween party was their neighbour's barbeque. He still remembers the Gryffindor costume he bought Sarah, and how big she smiled swishing around in her robe, casting gibberish spells on her friends all night.

This, however, is a distinctly grownup affair.

When he put on his costume and stood in front of the mirror an hour ago, he could barely look at his own reflection. But now, compared to others in the room, turns out his choice is almost demure.

He only saw Gladiator once when it came out a couple of years before the outbreak, but he liked it, and when he saw the costume on the rack, he picked it out straight away.

The dark red cape sits on his shoulders and drapes across half of his torso - shirtless, of course - baring his right arm. He's a bit self-conscious about the skirt (he's sure there's a name for it but the packaging didn't shed light on this), which sits mid-thigh, fastened by a belt around his waist. He's even wearing the Roman sandals and leather bracelet, and a plastic sword hangs from his belt - the full monty.

The vain side in him thinks he can pull it off, but more importantly -

He wore it for you.

But you're nowhere to be seen, even after he grabs a beer from the counter, having circled the bar twice. Spotting a lone empty chair at a high table, he decides to perch (pulling down his skirt so his boxers don't show) while he has a drink and looks for you.

His keen eyes scan the room methodically. Sexy witches, slutty lumberjacks, misbehaving firemen, naughty nurses - together with the noise, everyone and everything seems to blur into one, and he almost gives up when something familiar crosses his line of sight.

Joel frowns.

Hold up. That toolbelt looks familiar. His eyes narrow as he squints at the worn faded leather.

It is his toolbelt. The toolbelt that disappeared from his garage workshop a couple of days ago that Ellie swears she knows nothing about. That little shit.

Then his gaze pulls back, like a camera zooming out, and he finds that the toolbelt is sitting on the soft swell of a pair of hips, over short denim cut-offs that he's sure he's seen before, and below a red flannel. His red flannel, knotted at the waist, that he knows you sleep in every night.

His chest rumbles with something primal, and he downs the rest of his beer in one big gulp before slamming the empty pint glass on the table and getting onto his feet.

You don’t see him coming, but you know without turning around the moment a pair of strong hands close over your hips in a possessive grip, pulling you towards the bathroom in the back of the bar.

He knocks a breathless laugh out of you when he pushes you up the closed door, the noise of the party muted by the thick timber as you grin up at him, preening at the way his dark gaze rakes over your costume.

A shiver runs down your spine as your own undoubtedly dilated eyes follow the solid outline of his right arm, which flexes as he rests his palm on the door behind you, then down his broad chest and the soft belly he’s so nonchalantly putting on display.

It’s absurd, you know - it’s just a tacky Halloween costume, but the seams of your eyes prickle as you muse how comfortable he is in his own skin.

'And what exactly are you dressed up as?' he asks, sliding his free hand under the toolbelt to squeeze your ass.

'A slutty contractor,' you answer boldly, dragging your index finger down his bare chest. 'Isn't it obvious?'

'And you thought stealin' my toolbelt for your little costume was a good idea?' he growls.

'Well, I didn't know you'd turn up as a gladiator of all things,' you tease, wrapping your fingers around the hilt of his plastic sword.

It should not make his pulse spike like this.

'Not only that, sweetheart. I'm a slutty gladiator, thank you very much,' he retorts, walking into you to slot his hips flush against yours.

You shoot him a loaded smirk that instantly has his boxers shrink by two sizes. Ripping his cape off his shoulders, you ask cheekily, ‘And what does my champion demand as punishment -'

Joel doesn't let you finish your sentence, swallowing the rest of it with a kiss so deep that it steals your voice and takes out your knees in one fell swoop.

Grinning at the way you're already bonelessly slumped against him, he winks, nose brushing yours. 'I can think of a few things, sweetheart.'

Note: Thank you for reading! I had so much fun dipping my toe back into the Seams universe, I hope you did too. This is me warming up with a view of returning to writing for the series proper, fingers crossed sometime soon! Comments/reblogs/asks are very much appreciated as always 🧡

Thank you @firefly-graphics for the adorably spooky dividers!

#fuckyeahseams #hallow'seams #seams halloween special #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller fluff

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that-hazbin · 2 months ago

Note

Media Demon AU

I come bearing gifts! Holds up Vox like a feral orange cat with mange and the saddest expression you ever did see. Charlie is going to love this pathetic sad little meow-meow, Sorry Alastor but Vox has literally done nothing to incriminate himself yet. He is Fair Game!

You are going to need people to push the plot who aren't OC's and Angel Dust, Sir Pentious and Husk seem a bit busy, also it would be funny if despite all attempts to the contrary Alastor fails to deter Vox from existing in his vicinity.

"Thank you for your patronage please come again!", Vox’s feet were heavy as he hung up his apron in his uniform cubby and handed his keys to the night shift. The Pentagram's night sky was as always brightly lit as if it were always day, heaven a barely visible white sphere in the sky. loud music thrummed through his soles, bombarding him from every angle in a incomprehensible language, it reminded him of the videos Val had shown him all those years ago of the tourist cities where Val had grown up.

Before Valentino had left Vox all alone.

Vox absently purchased a medium box of spicy seafood to go from a nearby hole in the wall restaurant, feeling more adventurous than the sandwich place on his usual eatery having been stationed at the register next to the ice cream scraper all day.

Vox could admit to himself that he and Val were a poor match, the sex had been great, no doubt.

But then Valentino had started talking to about breaking into a 'niche' on the porn market, and Vox had taken a swift step back.

There were no 'niches' in the porn market, the Media Demon had cornered them all before Earth had even conceptualised half of them. There were rumors that The Media Demon had created Pride Parades in Hell first and some looselipped hellborn had introduced the idea to the humans of Earth in the 70's, which was far more likely than the Media Demon seeing the future, hopefully.

The few ideas Valentino wanted to exploit were the very illegal, extremely dangerous stuff the Overlord's had collectively outlawed. Vox had backed out despite wanting to maintain the few connections he had down here. There was suicide and there was guaranteed doubledeath, still Vox alway wondered what happened to the moth...

Vox had stuck to what he was good at, working a pink collar job as a cashier whilst working on improving his writing thanks to the online libraries.

His 'One Hit Wonder' in the late 50's had set him for 40 years and Vox had used that money frugally but all that did was provide him a emergency fund as the millennium turned from one to the next and he kept himself afloat with temporary jobs.

But enough of Vox’s poor interpersonal skills and failed relationships it was time to eat, he placed the takeout box of crab boil on the table and began rummaging through the cupboard for plates and cutlery.

*bang, bang bang bang, bang*

Vox felt himself twitch as the familiar knocking sound on the door made him sigh and grudgingly open the door, security chain still in place.

"Hello Velvette" Vox gazed at the twin ponytailed sinner in tatty jacket and ripped dirty jeans.

Velvette was wearing her pathetic expression that said it all.

Vox stiffened his resolve, he was going to end today with a full stomach moochers be double damned.

"You are aware that just because you spawned with the body of a hungry teenager doesn't mean you actually are one?" Vox deadpanned.

"Come on Voxy, you like me, I'm, like, your bestie and you want to feed me"

Vox would not fold like a wet napkin, he refused instead adopting a sly expression.

"Should have though of that before you review bombed the people who feed you for clout, how's that working out for you?"

Velvette grimaced then grumbled, "They.. permabanned me for the next 50 years and tattled to their neighbours, who also banned me" Velvette admitted looking mildly embarrassed.

"So walk to the other side of Pentagram and eat there!" Vox hissed, this mooch was like a relentless cat, feed the stray cat indeed.

"Can't I just pay you to pick up my food?! I'm starving!" Velvette whined then froze, Vox did not do customer service when off duty and any requests for unpaid work were always poorly received.

Vox’s face changed from eyes and smile to a fullscreen taunting uwu emote with pink sparkles and gamboling unicorns as he slammed the door with a singsong soundboard clip of Hatsune Miku saying "No."

Velvette whined from outside the door knowing better than to bang on the door with the vicious old biddy landlady downstairs.

"Come on Vox! I didn't mean it like that! Look I know this place on the other side of the Pentagram, it's a sweet deal, free food, no rent."

"Probably a scam" Vox drawled Vocaloid imitation full volume just to piss her off.

"The royals are sponsoring it! It's legit!"

"Bitch, I Am American! Fuck Royalty!" Vox hollered.

Velvette smiled to herself admitting that line in full Vocaloid sounded hilarious, then went for the throat with Vox’s one weakness.

"And.. they have a fucking huge library!"

Vox went quiet for a moment and the sound of chains being undone heralded Velvette being dragged through the open door to the glorious spicy hot food.

"So what's the name of this place?" Vox asked handing Velvette a platter of glorious Crab Boil.

Then through a mouthful of hot seafood, Velvette uttered the words that would make a certain deer Overlord throw a private hissy fit at the unfairness of life, the universe and everything.

"It's called the Hazbin Hotel!"

I'm DYING over this. I love this Vox so so SO much. He's so sad and wet and pathetic and I want to wrap him up in a blanket burrito.

You're right, he hasn't technically done anything wrong, and the thing is, Vox in my head is easily influenced. Which, when surrounded by characters like Valentino is a very NEGATIVE trait to have. But if he were surrounded by characters like Charlie? That's... the perfect trait to have as someone working towards redemption. Vox in this AU would actually do INCREDIBLY well at the Hazbin Hotel— and Alastor would HATE IT.

Alastor's perfected his Customer Service impression at this point, so he wouldn't be awful at hiding his distaste. But Charlie would know. At some point she's going to ask what on earth crawled up Alastor's ass and died, and he'll probably try to sell the excuse "he used to date a black market dealer so I don't trust him," which will give him some leeway, but Charlie still won't entirely put up with it. Alastor will eventually cave with the thought that, if Vox is redeemed, he's no longer in Hell, and he will never have to deal with the picture box ever again.

I honestly love this little bookworm Vox so much, he's so precious 😭 I can imagine him in my head so perfectly. I bet since he isn't as well-off, he still has an older TV screen for a head, maybe an early 2000s model since he can't afford a flatscreen. It just makes the idea of him using a Hatsune Miku voice even funnier!!

Charlie's going to love this sad little meow meow so much. Her puppy eyes are unstoppable, sorry Alastor, you're going to have to suffer. That, or acknowledge that you're being unreasonable in blaming someone for something that happened in a timeline that no longer exists. Go on. Do it.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin vox #charlie morningstar #media demon au

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irkimatsu · 1 year ago

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You know how cats will nose bump/head bump their humans sometimes? Imagine drunk!husk doing that to his crush. Maybe reader helps him to his room and tries to tuck him in bed but he drags them down with him. Nuzzling and showing affections. Maybe they wake up in his arms and he's all flustered and reader tells him what happened. He's all embarrassed but reader just tells him that they feel the same way.

I went full on cute for this one. <3 Spicy implications but nothing actually happens, Husk is just drunk off his shit. Cuddling and nuzzling and confessions ensue. SFW, GN!Reader, about 1.7k words.

---

You’ve had a fun night out with the more adventurous members of the Hotel, but Husk has gone way too far this time.

What you expect from him when drinking is contradictory. You know he has a problem. He fully admits it, and refuses to get any help, insisting that he functions better at a certain level of drunkenness than he’s capable of while sober. You do have to admit, you’re darkly impressed at how much he can drink while still standing upright.

Because of this, you fully expect him to drink too much on nights out, but you never expect to see him full-on drunk.

You were the first one to notice his head dipping as he sat at the bar, shot glass in hand.

“Hey… ‘nother one!” he slurs out at no one in particular. “C’mon… glass is empty…”

You wonder if bars in Hell have a policy to not serve visibly intoxicated patrons, and if that’s why the bartenders appear to be ignoring him.

“Husk?” you say sweetly, as if speaking to a child, as you try to remove the glass from his hand. “I think you’ve had enough…”

“I’m fine,” he slurs as he tightens his grip on the glass. “Hey. Buy me another one.”

“No,” you say simply as you try prying his fingers off the glass. “This is too much, even for you.”

“I got this, baby, don’t worry…” he says, his voice growing rapidly more incoherent. “Just want another sip…”

“We’re going back to the hotel,” you say simply.

“No we’re not,” he protests. “Heeey… anyone? ‘Nother drink…?”

You decide to try a different tactic. “I want to go back to the hotel, and I don’t want to walk there alone.”

“Ohhh… okay, I gotcha.” He hops down from the stool, and you catch him under his arms before he can fall to the floor. “I’ll walk you home, then come back. Could use some air… it’s fine…”

“Thanks for walking me,” you say, letting him believe he’s in charge even as he slumps against your side and shuffles his way out of the bar. You catch Angel’s and Cherri’s attention on your way out, and upon seeing Husk’s current condition, they have no further questions about why you two are heading out.

Husk doesn’t speak much on the walk home from the Hotel; all you get out of him are a few pained groans. At one point he starts heaving, and you desperately hope for his sake that he’s not about to vomit in the middle of the sidewalk, but you thankfully manage to arrive home without incident.

“Okay. I gotcha home. I’m going back to the bar,” he says as soon as you bring him through the door. Despite his statement, he makes no motion to actually leave.

“Could you bring me up to my room?” you ask. “Make sure I get up the stairs okay?”

“You that drunk?” he asks. “Well, if ya are, yeah, I’ll help…”

You let him continue thinking he’s helping as you slowly walk him up the stairs. His head keeps dipping, and you wonder if he’s going to black out before you make it, but he’s still somewhat conscious by the time you make it to his door.

“You got your key?” he asks, seemingly unaware of where he is.

“Yeah. Just a second…” He thankfully doesn’t notice you slip your hand into his pocket for his card key. You unlock the door and drag him inside with minimal protest.

“All right, get some sleep… I’m just… gonna…” Still standing, he slumps further against your side and lets out a snore-like sound.

“Yeah. Get some sleep.” Assuming he’s fully lost consciousness by now, you drag him over to the bed. As you try to figure out how to get him onto the mattress in a halfway-comfortable position, he bumps his head into your neck and purrs.

“You smell nice…” he says with a laugh.

“Oh! Um… thank you…?” While you’re pretty sure Husk considers you a friend, he’s never been so openly complimentary before. “Here. I think you need to lay down…”

“Lay down? In your bed?” He laughs louder. “Ohhh… that’s why you wanted me to walk you home! Didn’t know you were so naughty…”

Your face turns beet red as you consider his implications. No. Absolutely not!

…not while he’s this drunk, anyway…

You try to shake that thought from your mind as you pull the covers back for him. “Here, I’ll help you up.” It’s difficult maneuvering him into the bed when he won’t stop nuzzling your neck, but soon you have his head resting on the pillows. You’re ready to walk away and never speak of this again, but before you can stand up straight, his arms wrap around your torso and rest his paws on your shoulder.

“Where ya goin’?” he asks. “Your bed’s right here…”

“I’m just- um-” you stammer. You can’t think of an excuse before he’s pulled you into his bed. You teeter precariously on the edge, only his arms preventing you from falling to the floor, as he keeps nuzzling under your chin.

“Mmm… soft…”

You could say the same thing as his fur brushes against your skin.

“Tell?”

“Thanks for letting me take you home…” he continues over the rumbling purring in his chest. “I thought you couldn’t tell…”

You cannot be thinking that about him right now.

“Tell that I like ya,” he says before lightly licking the side of your neck, the rough barbs on his tongue making your toes curl.

“But it’s so hard askin’...” He nuzzles your neck again. “Haaa… this feels damn good… I really, really like ya…”

His grip isn’t that strong. It’d be easy for you to scramble away from him, maybe slap him across the face for being too forward.

But now that you’re here, you may as well stay.

Instead of moving away from him, you try to climb over him to get to the other side of the bed. He laughs and squeezes you tight once your body is above his.

“Mmm! Ready for that already? C’mon, we just got here… at least let me kiss ya first…”

He doesn’t try anything further as you attempt to move, and his grip opens easily enough to allow you to lay down on the other side of the bed. He doesn’t protest the changed position, but he does immediately cling to you again, this time nuzzling into your chest as he continues purring.

He looks so relaxed and at peace that you can’t help yourself. You slightly scratch behind one of his ears, causing him to purr louder and press more closely against you.

“Yeah, baby, that’s the spot…”

You wrap your other arm around his torso, and he moans.

“Babe…” he exhales as moves up to your neck and nuzzles there again. “I really… really like ya…” His voice fades away as he falls unconscious, still purring and pressing into you. If he expected anything else to come of tonight, it’s not happening now.

You don’t mind sleeping here for the night.

—

You wake up to a loud, pained groan.

“My fucking head…”

You roll over to see Husk sitting up, clutching his face in both paws. “How much did I fucking drink?” he asks himself. “How did I even-” He freezes, then slowly turns his head toward you. You both stare at each other in silence, his eyes wide as saucers.

“...what the fuck happened last night,” he asked, “and how can I apologize for it?”

“You’re fine,” you assure him. “I helped you get home last night. Do you remember leaving the bar?”

He shakes his head, only to wince in pain from the gesture.

“Not surprised. You were really far gone.”

“Fuck… I don’t like blacking out around other people…” he grumbles. “Next question… why are you here?”

“I walked you home and brought you to bed, and you didn’t want me to go,” you say. “And I guess I didn’t want to go either…”

His voice is stern and panicked now. “What the hell did I do? I swear to god, if I forced anything, I’ll-”

“You didn’t force anything!” you insist. “We just cuddled.”

He sighs in relief. “If you were okay with it, I guess that’s fine…”

“And you told me you liked me.”

“...okay, would have preferred to admit that while I could remember it…”

“...and you kept nuzzling my neck.”

Husk frowns, and his brow furrows. “Nuzzling.”

“Yeah. You were really into it, too.”

“Jesus Christ.” He returns his face to his hands. “I’d rather you told me we fucked.”

“What’s wrong with it?” you ask. “It was cute.”

“Exactly. I hate being a fuckin’ animal…”

You sit up next to him and wrap your arm around him from behind. “Husk…”

“Nuzzling. Nuzzling. I finally let you know how much I like you after months, and it’s because I got drunk and nuzzled you. What the hell kind of flirting method is that?!” He’s getting increasingly worked up. “Nuzzling! Who does that?!”

“Husk!” You call for him more loudly this time, snapping him out of his rant. “Husk, it’s fine! I thought it was sweet. And if I really didn’t want to, I always could have left.”

“Some first impression as a potential partner that was. Nuzzling… if we do get together I’m gonna need to cut that shit out…”

“No you’re not!” you assure him. “I know you’re… sensitive about it… but I like you, Husk. I like all of you. Even the cat parts.”

“Trust me, if we were still on Earth I would have made a way better confession. Might have even been somewhat sober for it.”

“I like the confession you gave me just fine.” You pull his head down onto your shoulder and hug him tight. “And if we’re gonna be together… I’d like it if you embraced who you are and how you show affection. I want every side of you.”

He doesn’t respond… but you can see that he’s eyeing your neck and waving his tail. “...so, um…”

“Go ahead.”

He hesitates for a second more before nuzzling into your neck again. You laugh at the ticklish feeling as you hold him tight. “Heh… I can smell me on you,” he says. “I kinda like it…”

You stroke behind his ears as he settles into comfort against you. “Enjoy it as much as you want…”

You just know that the longer you spend here with him, the more questions Angel and Cherri are going to ask your both as soon as you finally make it to the lobby.

It’ll be worth the questioning.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #irk blubbers about nothing #irk got asked a thing #irk talks to strangers #irk huskposts

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months ago

Note

TW fandom loves to speculate and theorize about mer and beastmen anatomy like how much they borrow from their animal ancestors. How about Miss Raven? What raven traits does she still have?

[Might be referencing this post?]

wiulwoyefapa THIS IS A TOPIC I THINK ABOUT A LOT, ACTUALLY. I think it's really fun to theorize what animalistic traits our non-human characters might have :DD

Here's just some of the raven stuff that stuck around with our Miss Raven:

(Please note: I do talk about bird and human anatomy in this post! Nothing explicit, but figured I'd warn in case this is an uncomfortable area.)

I think Miss Raven's general personality matches that of a raven; they're intelligent yet playful. She's less communicative and sociable than a raven, but I think she makes up for that in her writing.

Birds cannot taste capsaicin, which is the irritant that often registers as "spiciness" to humans. (It's an evolutionary adaptation that helps birds spread the seeds of chili peppers they eat.) Miss Raven has a high spice tolerance because of this, unlike her uncle (who is sensitive to spice).

Likes shiny things; her eye is easily caught by them regardless of value, size, color, etc. (That's her bird brain talking www) She can't wear much jewelry because she might get distracted by it. Instead she keeps jewelry in a little box and stares at it for fun, amusing herself with the sparkle.

This has been mentioned a few times, but Raven sleeps in a manner that's strange for a human. Instead of lying down, she'll form a "nest" of blankets and pillows and sleeps curled up in it.

Miss Raven is a little clumsy on her feet because the weight in her human body is distributed slightly differently than in her bird body.

She equates clothes to a bird's feathers, and being naked like having all your feathers plucked. (Man, have you SEEN a bird without its feathers? Most pathetic looking dry ass babies ever, I tell you.) Miss Raven tends to cover up her skin because, in her mind, she doesn't want to be seen as a crusty ol' naked bird.

Tends to wear skirts instead of pants because pants feel restrictive to her. She's used to having her legs out and feeling the breeze down there.

Miss Raven mostly wears black because she feels like she's kind of obligated to, as that is the original color of her feathers. More recently though, she has come to terms with the freedom her human form grants her and has been more experimental with her fashion.

Likes cuddling and when people play with her hair. This is because actual ravens cuddle with their entire bodies and preen their partners.

Ravens can eat almost anything, even garbage and carrion. Miss Raven has a strong stomach and an adventurous palate because of this.

She's smaller than the average raven, but she has the same protective instincts of one. If she's upset or trying to come off as intimidating, she'll puff up (her feathers stand up) and get verbally snippy (an actual raven would try to nip you).

Doesn't like people touching her things or being in her space. This is because ravens can be territorial!

Bird mouths are actually dry because their salivary glands are in the back of their mouths. This wouldn't work for a human and the kinds of food they eat, so when Raven first gained a humanoid form, it was weird for her to have a wet mouth and teeth 😂 Words felt so strange to speak too.

Initially nervous around predator animal beastmen and actual predator animals, particularly cats. This includes Lucius, Grim, Chenya, the Octatrio, the Savanaclaw trio, Fellow, Gidel, etc. It's Miss Raven's natural instincts letting her know she has to prioritize her own safety! She usually gets over it once she gets to know the other person a little better.

Distrustful of scarecrows since they're the things put out in fields to keep crows and ravens from eating their crops. Also has weird distrust of farmers because of this.

In terms of mating, ravens are monogamous and devoted to their partners, never straying too far from each other. They often go for romantic flights together and even give each other special treats. Miss Raven has that idea of an idealized romance in her head.

When content, ravens make a soft warbling noise (similar to how a cat might purr). Miss Raven does too, but she does her best to actively repress this sound, since she feels it is embarrassing.

Mid-February to late May is an odd time of year for her, as that's mating season for ravens. That's when she's at her most sentimental/emotionally squishy... She doesn't like being in public because it's so easy to make her cry (and those terrible NRC students would definitely do that) 😔

In early summer/late fall, ravens tend to molt and replace their feathers. Now that she has a humanoid form, Raven doesn't have to worry too much about that but sometimes still scratches excessively at phantom itches that come with molting.

Really impressed by skilled flying! This is because male ravens fly to impress females and to find mates. Raven always stares in wonder during Flight class. (Unfortunately, she's not that good at flying in her new form...)

While Raven's bite isn't as strong as Sebek's, she does bite. Birds typically have three kinds of biting: biting to open nuts and berries, biting to defend themselves (which can draw blood), and love bites (which mostly occur in domesticated birds). asbiliafeafia I like to think she gives little affectionate noms...

Insecure about the size of her "breast muscle" (not realizing that humans mostly have fat there). This is because the size of a bird's breast muscle is directly related to their flying ability... and flying's pretty important for her kind. Genuinely believes that the most skilled fliers at NRC must have a certain kind of physique to be as skilled as they are. (Envious of those buff boys/j)

Being a raven, she experiences culture shock when put against the habits and behaviors of others with animal ancestry. For example, aggressive behaviors that are affectionate to a dog or a cat are seen as intimidating threats to her.

Has cute domestic fantasies! That’s because a lot of birds will build nests together and share the responsibilities of parenting. She thinks it would be nice to build a life together with someone like that.

It's not weird for her to eat eggs! Wild ravens do it :>

THERE'S A REALLY SPECIFIC BIRD BRAND OF FLIRTING THAT SOUNDS WEIRD TO HUMANS. Birds in nature are protective of their eggs and typically only entrust their partner to look after them while they do something else, like hunt for food. Because of this, Raven is really flustered by someone asking for eggs in any context. For example, maybe they're eating eggs in the cafeteria and a peer asks her to "pass the eggs".

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #question #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #Raven Crowley

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wandagcre · 1 year ago

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Lol imagine when Sam and you are about to have sex like on the couch and you tell her to grab a condom to put on and she excitedly goes to get it but there’s your cat near the drawer that looks at her like 😾 and she whispers to herself something like “damn this mf is even stopping me from fucking my girlfriend”😭

THIS IS PURE COMEDY PLSSS

like sam's got the condom foil in her teeth, ready to tear it up while you're underneath her in the couch. her jeans unzipped and junk out, resting on your bare tummy. in the midst of breathless make out session where sam is ready to roll it up, she heard a meowing sound.

"surely that isn't you babe, right?" sam double checks.

you snort at her. "i mean if you're into that. but gross, no."

"i figured just as much."

maybe it was both of your fault – doing the deed out in the open. alas, the adorable fur ball makes their presence known, strutting at the corner and looking straight at sam. your girlfriend swore that there's a clear distaste on this cute creature's little face! it was a good thing that sam still had her sports bra on.

but you move your hand, stroking sam again. she groans and closes her eyes at the feeling, relieving the goodness even for just a second. but no! sam had to be decent. before the cat could walk and get all judgy in much closer, sam sadly tucks her cock back in her boxers to which you pout at.

"sam, i'm wet."

"i'm well aware, trust me." sam moves and makes you sit up, in order to carry you with your front pressed against her. "trying to be decent in front of your fur baby here."

her hand gripped you securely by the thighs, legs dangling as she gets both of you out of the couch. there's still meowing – that's when you realize. the cat woke up and they were near you.

"oh." you shyly reply.

"yeah." she chuckled in the crook of your neck. "we're taking a little detour, specifically on your bed with a locked door to continue."

sam sighed in relief, returning the same unpleasant expression to the adorable cat from temporarily cockblocking and finally, locks your bedroom door just as she promised.

#gg.answers #sam carpenter x reader #intersex!sam #cat adventures : spicy

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moonlit-midnight · 5 months ago

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“This is the way my normal life came to an end. Not with a bang or a whisper, but with me waking up in a foreign universe full of magic, mischievous dwellers, danger and wonders.”

✧More info under the cut!✧

Eye color: Hazel. Hair color: Dark Red (dyed), Dark Brown (natural). Favorite food: Dumplings, Gimbap, Noodle soup, Purple yam bread, Arabic food. Least favorite food: Anything spicy and raw. Other likes: Cats, Marine life, Flower fields, Gemstones, Seashells, Shopping. Other dislikes: Greediness, Forced socialization, Superficial relationships.

Hannah is an introvert who is both a homebody and a lover of adventures. She’s witty, very curious, soft spoken and has an imaginative mind. She’s often misjudged as an aloof and intimidating person, but in reality she’s a genuinely friendly, honest woman with a warm heart and an endearing eccentric side. Despite her calm and gentle demeanor, she can be quite scary and deadly serious when you press the wrong button.

✧ Hannah is her middle name which she prefers to use more than her first name, and Bloom is a fake surname. ✧ She’s of Spanish, Japanese, Filipino, Chinese and Korean descent, born in Saudi Arabia. ✧ She’s an English teacher in real life, but she plans to be a Librarian one day. ✧ She’s multilingual like most of her family, and she’s fluent in many Arabic dialects due to being educated in an Arabic school and most of her childhood friends are Arabs. ✧ If she was sorted into one of the seven dorms, she would probably be in Ignihyde or Diasomnia. ✧ Her favorite places in NRC are the library, Heartslabyul garden, botanical garden and Sam’s mystery shop. ✧ Most people don’t take her seriously because she doesn’t look her age at all, and she considers this fact a curse most of the time. Only a few believe that she’s really an adult. ✧ She struggles with anxiety, ADHD, Lupus and chronic fatigue, but she always tries her best to survive the day. ✧ Her coping mechanisms are watching Asian dramas, journaling, gardening and maladaptive daydreaming. ✧ She values her alone time, but when she finds someone who’s better than her solitude, then she will warmly welcome them in her daily life.

Finally posting my yuusona (she’s me, not an OC) after three years of rotting in my drafts. I decided to write my interactions with the characters for the sake of fun!

Dividers by: @.cafekitsune & @.bunnysrph

Picrew 1 | Picrew 2 | Templates by @.unfinished-project-galore | Banners from canva

#✧🌺 my yuusona #twst self insert #my persona #twst yuu #ramshackle prefect #yuusona #twst ramshackle #twst #twisted wonderland #twst prefect #self insert

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kikis-writing-service · 1 year ago

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Spicy Curry (Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader) Chapter 5

Summary: Pro-hero DynaMight hides his developing hearing loss from the public. He doesn’t want them or the villains to know about what he considers his only weakness. His family knows. His best friends know. And now you, the owner of his favorite little curry shop, know. You want to live a quiet life & to protect your son. The last thing you want is to draw attention to yourself. You hide your identity, you hide your scars, and you hide your quirk. And then Bakugou, Katsuki walks in one day with dried blood on his ears, and you can’t help but help him.

🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | ? ? ?

🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤

Content Warning: This fic will contain mentions of past abuse from a “partner”, including sexual assault. It will also contain depictions of ableism, both from external sources and internalized ableism.

🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤

The evening breeze carried the lingering warmth of the day as Kouichi walked beside Katsuki, their shadows stretching long beneath the streetlights. Katsuki shifted the overstuffed laundry bag on his shoulder, trying to find a position that would free up his dominant hand for signing. His usual grace felt compromised by the awkward weight, but the kid's enthusiasm made it worth the effort.

Kouichi’s fingers danced through the air in excited bursts, asking rapid-fire questions about hero work that Katsuki could barely keep up with. Each of Kouichi's movements flowed with a natural grace that came from a lifetime of silent conversation, making Katsuki's one-handed responses feel doubly awkward - both from his novice signing and the limitation of having his other arm occupied with the laundry.

The world around them existed in perfect silence, but Kouichi's expressions were crystal clear - shining with that pure hero worship that made something twist in Katsuki's chest. The boy's eyes kept darting between him and you as if he couldn't quite believe DynaMight himself was walking with them to do laundry, like this mundane errand was somehow the greatest adventure.

You walked just ahead of them, and Katsuki caught the way you kept glancing back, your smile soft in the gathering dusk as you watched your son's enthusiasm. When you caught him struggling to balance the laundry while attempting to answer another of Kouichi's eager questions, your eyes crinkled with barely suppressed amusement. Heat crept up his neck, and he quickly looked away, readjusting the bag yet again.

Checking that your attention was safely focused ahead, Kouichi’s rapid-fire questions about hero work trailed off, his hands slowing as his expression shifted into something more serious.

"Have you hurt people?" Kouichi asked. He bit his lip, adding quickly, "With your quirk?"

Katsuki paused, memories flooding back with stark clarity - scorched walls in his childhood bedroom, the neighbor's singed cat that had hissed at him for months after, that time he'd accidentally burned a hole through his mom's favorite curtains and she'd yelled so loud the windows rattled. The kid was staring up at him with those damn earnest eyes, dark like his mother's but burning with an intensity that was all his own, and Katsuki felt his usual sharp edges softening like butter in warm curry.

"Yeah," he signed. His palms tingled with phantom heat, remembering the fear of too much power. "When I was learning to control it." He caught himself being gentle and added a characteristic scowl, but Kouichi just watched with that unwavering attention that made every movement feel significant, like he was writing his answers in stone instead of air.

"But your explosions are so powerful!" Kouichi's hands flew with excitement, bouncing a little on his toes. "How'd you learn? Can you teach me? Please?"

A fallen leaf skittered between them, and Katsuki saw himself reflected in Kouichi's eager expression - that mix of determination and fear he knew all too well.

"Practice," Katsuki signed, the movements sharp and decisive. "Lots of practice. Started small. Learned my limits." He watched understanding dawn in Kouichi's eyes. "Power without control is dangerous."

Kouichi's smile dimmed, his next signs smaller, more hesitant. "My quirk..." His hands trembled before steadying. "I don't want to hurt anyone again."

He quickly looked away, but not before Katsuki caught the flicker of real fear in his eyes. Something in that expression made Katsuki's chest ache.

The conversation trailed off as they approached the neighborhood laundromat, its windows glowing like beacons in the dimming afternoon light. The glass door creaked as they entered, bringing with it a wave of warm, detergent-scented air. Katsuki carried the heavy bag to the nearest available machine, setting it down with a gentleness that seemed at odds with his usual explosive nature. You began sorting clothes with practiced efficiency, the motions as familiar as breathing.

The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across the worn linoleum floor, their constant buzz a physical presence in the air. Something about the rhythmic tumbling of the other machines made the place feel oddly peaceful, like being suspended in a bubble away from the world. You measured the detergent, closed the lid, and set the cycle.

Kouichi planted himself in front of the washing machine window, his small hands pressed against the glass, transfixed by the hypnotic swirl of clothes. When you finally settled onto one of the worn wooden benches, Katsuki followed after a moment's hesitation, the old wood creaking under his weight. The sound echoed in the empty space, making you acutely aware of how alone you were with him. His warmth radiated across the small gap between you, and you found yourself fighting the urge to lean into it.

His eyes caught yours for a moment before he quickly looked away. The harsh fluorescent lights made his red eyes seem almost luminous against his pale skin.

"So. Kid, huh?" he signed.

"Yes." Your response was measured, cautious. You'd learned long ago to be careful when people started asking about Kouichi. "Surprised?"

"Tch. You don't look old enough." His brow furrowed as he studied you more closely, that intense focus making your skin prickle.

"How old do you think I am?" The words slipped out before you could stop them, half-teasing despite the sudden flutter of nerves in your stomach.

He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing slightly as if faced with a particularly challenging problem. "Twenty-four?"

A laugh escaped before you could help it, genuine and warm. "Twenty-nine, actually." You watched his eyes widen slightly, caught between amusement and anxiety at his reaction. "That make me an old lady to you?"

The silence stretched between you, filled only by the steady hum of washing machines. His jaw worked for a moment before he answered.

"Doesn't make you anything," he muttered, ears turning slightly pink as he looked away. "Just... wouldn't have guessed."

You shifted on the bench, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him but careful not to touch. The air felt charged somehow, like the moment before a storm breaks. His hands twitched in his lap, and you could almost see him wrestling with what to say next.

Finally, he signed: "Kouichi's father...?" The question was hesitant, his movements gentler than usual, as if he knew he was treading on dangerous ground.

The question sent a familiar chill down your spine, ice spreading through your veins as memories threatened to surface. But you kept your voice steady, years of practice holding the fear at bay. "Not in the picture." Your hands formed the signs with practiced casualness, as if you were discussing the weather instead of the man who still haunted your nightmares.

Katsuki's jaw tightened, and you could almost see him biting back more questions. A muscle jumped in his cheek. The silence stretched between you, filled with the gentle hum of washing machines and unspoken questions.

You watched Kouichi as he traced patterns on the washing machine window, his small face lit with intense focus as he watched the tumbling clothes.

"Kid's pretty good at signing," Katsuki noted, watching Kouichi's animated gestures as he traced the path of the spinning clothes.

"He's had a lot of practice," you signed with a small smile. "We both have. He was born deaf, so it's just always been our way of talking."

Your attention returned to Kouichi, who was still mesmerized by the washing machine. Katsuki shifted on the bench, and you could feel him wrestling with something he wanted to say.

"Earlier," he finally signed, movements hesitant in a way that seemed foreign on him. "The kid seemed... tense. About his quirk."

You stiffened slightly, parental instincts flaring. "What did he say to you?"

"Nothing specific," Katsuki answered quickly, but his expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Just recognized something familiar. About being afraid of your own power."

Your shoulders relaxed a fraction, though the worry didn't leave your eyes completely. "There was an incident at school," you signed after a long moment, your hands faltering slightly as you remembered the panic in your boy's voice. "When his quirk first manifested."

The memory of that day flashed through your mind - Kouichi's terrified face, the scorching heat radiating from his small body. Your hand unconsciously moved to touch the burn hidden beneath the bandage, the phantom pain of that moment when you'd held him close despite the searing heat against your palm, determined not to let him see how much it hurt.

Understanding flickered in Katsuki's eyes as they fixed on the bandage still wrapped around your palm - his handiwork from a few nights ago, now wrinkled and stained from curry spices. The pieces connected: a heat quirk, an incident at school, and a burn that was far too severe for a simple cooking accident. Something hot and tight coiled in his chest as the pieces fell into place. Without warning, he captured your hand in his, turning it over with surprising gentleness.

"You haven't changed this?" His voice was gruff but his touch was careful, calloused thumb brushing over the edge of the bandage. The contact felt impossibly intimate in the harsh fluorescent lighting.

The contact sent electricity through your veins - part fear, part something else entirely that made your breath catch. Your body tensed instinctively, old memories threatening to surface. You tried to pull away, but his grip remained gentle, grounding. The warmth of his skin against yours felt like a tether to the present, keeping the past at bay.

"Hey," he murmured, something unexpectedly soft in his voice that made your heart ache. "Just... take care of yourself, alright?" The words carried more weight than they should have, laden with understanding that made your eyes burn.

The words washed over you like warm water, easing some of the tension from your shoulders. You nodded, unable to meet his eyes, afraid of what he might read in them. His thumb traced small circles on your palm, and you found yourself torn between leaning into the comfort and pulling away from the danger of letting someone this close. The gentle motion felt like it was slowly unknotting something tight in your chest.

You carefully extracted your hand, missing his warmth immediately. "I will," you promised, voice barely a whisper, the words feeling inadequate against the weight of his concern.

He watched you withdraw, something complicated passing behind his eyes. You could see him struggling with whether to push or let it go, his hero instincts warring with respect for your boundaries.

"I could help," he said suddenly. When you looked at him in surprise, he continued, hands moving more confidently now, as if committing to the idea gave him strength. "With the kid's quirk. I know it's different from mine, but..." He shrugged, trying to look casual despite the intensity in his eyes. "Not like I've got anything better to do right now."

Hope bloomed in your chest before you could stop it, warm and dangerous. "Really? You'd do that?" The words came out softer than intended, weighted with all the times you'd wished for help but been too afraid to ask.

"Tch. Don't make it weird." But his ears were slightly pink, and he couldn't quite meet your eyes. "You can pay me in curry or whatever." The gruffness of his tone did nothing to hide the gentleness of the offer.

A smile broke across your face before you could help it, genuine and bright enough to make him look away quickly. "Deal," you signed, just as the washing machine buzzer cut through the air, making him jump slightly.

You stood to transfer the laundry, and Katsuki rose with you, a wordless offer of help that surprised and warmed you. As you approached the washer, Kouichi's eager face greeted you, his small hands already gripping the laundry cart he'd positioned perfectly. Dark hair fell into his eyes as he looked up expectantly, ready to assist with all the seriousness a five-year-old could muster. The three of you formed an unexpected team—you handing wet clothes to Katsuki while Kouichi managed the cart with practiced efficiency.

In the window's reflection, you caught Katsuki watching you with an expression that made your heart skip—something protective, fierce, and gentle all at once. When you glanced back, he was already looking away, but the warmth in your chest remained like embers.

The laundromat's mechanical symphony surrounded you—dryers humming, water splashing, fluorescent lights buzzing—a familiar backdrop to your weekly routine. As you finished loading the dryer, Kouichi tugged at Katsuki's sleeve, signing excitedly.

"I want to show you something!" His hands moved with enthusiasm as he pointed toward the industrial washers.

"What is it?" Katsuki signed back, his movements still somewhat awkward but getting better.

You smiled at their interaction. "I'll be over there," you signed, gesturing toward the bench. "You two go ahead."

As you settled onto the worn wooden bench, Kouichi led Katsuki back to the row of industrial washers, practically bouncing with excitement.

"Feel this!" He grabbed Katsuki's hand with surprising strength, pressing it against one of the rumbling machines. The metal was warm beneath their palms, thrumming with mechanical life. "The washing machines make such strong vibrations!"

Kouichi grinned, his small fingers splayed across the metal surface. "I love laundry day," he signed, his movements quick and enthusiastic. "Everyone can feel what I feel here. The vibrations tell me everything happening inside."

Something tightened in Katsuki's chest, sharp and bittersweet. He remembered when he could hear the full symphony of the washing machines – the water sloshing like waves against shore, the gentle whir of the drum that changed pitch with each cycle, the metallic clicks and tings that marked different stages of the wash. Now it was mostly just a dull rumble, more felt than heard, but watching Kouichi experience it in his own way made the loss feel different. Not lesser, just... changed. Like the boy was teaching him a new way to listen.

"So here, you're not different from anyone else?" Katsuki signed, understanding dawning on him.

Kouichi nodded eagerly. "Mom says I've always loved coming here." He patted the machine with a comfortable familiarity. "Nobody needs to hear anything - just feel!" His expression grew slightly more serious. "Not like at school."

Kouichi glanced over his shoulder to where you sat on the bench, watching the dryers tumble with their contents. Then he turned back to face the washing machines with Katsuki, positioning himself so his body blocked your view of his hands. "Can I ask you something?" he signed, movements smaller and closer to his body. "Don't tell Mom I asked."

"Go ahead," Katsuki signed back, curious about what the boy might want to know in secret. The harsh fluorescent light cast shadows across his face as he leaned in closer to catch Kouichi's smaller signs.

Kouichi's next signs came slower, his small fingers shaping each word carefully, like he was worried about asking something important. "Mom says I'm not supposed to ask about your hearing, but..." He bit his lip, dark eyes searching Katsuki's face. "Can someone like me still be a strong hero like you? Even though I can't hear?"

The question hit Katsuki like a physical blow, unexpected and sharp. He saw himself reflected in Kouichi's earnest face – the same burning determination, the same need to prove everyone wrong. But there was something else there too, a vulnerability that Katsuki recognized all too well – the uncertainty that had been gnawing at his own confidence since the doctor's warnings about his deteriorating hearing. It was the look of someone afraid their dreams might be slipping out of reach.

The question caught Katsuki off guard. His hands stilled, the unexpected question hitting a nerve that made his chest tighten. For a moment, he was back in the doctor's office, hearing his own career's possible expiration date. He looked at Kouichi's hopeful face and thought of your words from the curry shop: "You'll still be you. You're DynaMight." Something about that memory steadied him, the simple certainty in your voice cutting through his own doubts.

His hands began to move again, the signs more deliberate, as if he was working through his own thoughts as much as answering Kouichi.

"Being a hero isn't about what you can or can't hear." His movements grew more confident with each word. "It's about how strong you are, how smart you are in a fight, how determined you are to win." He paused, his eyes focused intensely on Kouichi. "Different quirks, different bodies - doesn't matter. What matters is you don't let anyone tell you what you can do." His hands formed each sign with conviction. "Anyone who says you can't be a hero because you're deaf? They're just scared of how powerful you'll be."

Kouichi's eyes widened, a look of genuine surprise and hope spreading across his face.

"Really?" Kouichi signed, eyes wide with disbelief. His hands stilled for a moment as he processed what Katsuki said. Then his expression shifted, determination setting in as he straightened his small shoulders. "I'm gonna be a great hero," he signed, each movement growing more confident. "In fact, I'm gonna be even stronger than you!"

A startled laugh escaped Katsuki before he could stop it, rough and genuine in the humming air of the laundromat. The kid had nerve – he'd give him that. It reminded him of himself at that age, declaring to anyone who would listen that he'd be the number one hero someday. Before all the complications, before the world showed him things weren't so simple. But seeing that confidence mirrored back at him now felt strangely right.

"That so?" Katsuki signed. "Then you better work hard, kid."

The washing machines kept running, their vibrations thrumming through the floor. Kouichi nodded seriously before his expression broke into an excited grin, already launching into detailed plans for his future as a hero, completely unaware of you watching them from across the laundromat with a soft smile on your face.

#spicy curry #bnha imagine #mha imagine #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou imagine #katsuki imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki angst #bakugou angst

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ducksido · 16 days ago

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Hi! I’ve really liked your series on culture!Yuus. Can I request Mexico!Yuu or Louisiana!Yuu?

Louisiana!Yuu

Grim

“Yuu, I dunno what you just put in that pot, but it smells amazing!”

Tries gumbo, burns his tongue, and still goes back for more.

“Wait, you eat gator? That’s kinda messed up.”

The NRC Student Body

“Why do you keep calling people ‘cher’ and ‘mon bébé’?”

“Are you sure the swamp isn’t haunted?”

“Did you just wrestle that monster with your bare hands?!”

Staff Reactions

Crowley

“Ah, Louisiana! A place of history, music, and magic! You must have wonderful stories to tell.”

Tries to act cultured by mentioning The Princess and the Frog.

Crewel

“I admire your dedication to cooking, but some of those spices are lethal.”

Complains that their seasoning is too strong, then secretly loves it.

Trein

“Your tales of ghosts and spirits are quite fascinating. Do you truly believe in them?”

Intrigued by Voodoo but wants to scientifically explain it.

Vargas

“You wrestled a what?! That’s some serious strength training!”

Wants to try Cajun-style seafood but can’t handle the spice.

Sam

Absolutely loves them. “Cher, you gotta let me cook for you!”

Whips up gumbo, jambalaya, and beignets. It’s a feast.

Dorm Reactions

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts

“Your food is… chaotic, but surprisingly well-balanced.”

Strict about table manners, but Louisiana!Yuu eats with their hands. It’s a struggle.

Trey Clover

“You make your own roux? Respect.”

Wants to learn Cajun and Creole recipes.

Cater Diamond

“Beignets?! Those look so Insta-worthy!”

Loves Mardi Gras culture and beads.

Ace Trappola

“You’ve been in a boat where? With what in the water?!”

Dares Yuu to drink something spicy. Immediate regret.

Deuce Spade

Terrified of the swamp stories but pretends to be brave.

Loves seafood boils.

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar

“You hunt gators? Heh, impressive.”

Loves the bold flavors in Cajun cooking.

Ruggie Bucchi

“You actually live off the land? That’s survival instincts right there.”

Hoarding beignets.

Jack Howl

“You have swamp monsters? That’s… actually kinda cool.”

Likes their fearless attitude.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

Secretly loves gumbo. “I see… seafood and spice? An interesting combination.”

Tries to capitalize on Louisiana cuisine in the Lounge.

Jade Leech

Intrigued by the swamps. “Tell me more about these… creatures.”

Wants to go on a Louisiana-style adventure with them.

Floyd Leech

“So you fight gators for fun? You’re my kinda person!”

Tries to wrestle a caiman in the Coral Sea just because.

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim

Loves their energy and festive spirit. “Mardi Gras sounds amazing! Can I join?!”

Eats Cajun food like a champ.

Jamil Viper

“I respect your cooking, but do you always have to make it that spicy?”

Appreciates their street smarts.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud

“You casually mention ghosts way too often.”

Freaked out by their swamp stories.

Ortho Shroud

“Do you think AI could document your local folklore? That would be fascinating!”

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia

Absolutely fascinated by the voodoo stories.

“Your culture has such deep magical roots. I would love to learn more.”

Lilia Vanrouge

“Ah, spirits and folk magic? My kind of place!”

Already knows some of their legends.

Silver

“Your stories are… unsettling, but I respect them.”

Sebek Zigvolt

“Your bold nature is admirable, but you should show more discipline!”

RSA + Noble Bell

Chenya

“So, you have tales about black cats bringing luck? I like that.”

Neige LeBlanche

Loves their music and energy.

Rollo Flamme

Absolutely horrified by Mardi Gras. “That much chaos?!”

Extra Chaos

Randomly starts playing jazz in the middle of the night.

Refuses to say if their family practices voodoo. “Who’s askin’?”

Mardi Gras beads everywhere.

Casually mentions seeing ghosts.

Swamp survival skills activate at random times.

#Louisiana!Yuu #twst x reader #twst #twst wonderland #twst yuu #twst incorrect quotes #culture!yuu #twst headcanons #Louisiana

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stari-hun · 6 months ago

Text

No Storm: Time Traveler AU

Isolde’s Normal Girl Adventures and Kakania Learning to Make Healthy Friendships

This is a bit of a world building post to my Isokania story for my janky modern au. It’s a collection of fun (and not so fun) facts about their lives

Timeline: Isolde and Kakania start college (Isolde 18 / Kakania 19), Graduate (Isolde 20 / Kakania 21), 5 years later as their lives change (Isolde 25 / Kakania 26), Reunion (Isolde 35 / Kakania 36).

✰. General Facts About The Two

Isolde is a morning person. She dislikes fluorescent lights and she hates the warm glow of candles even more, so she’d rather just wake up early morning and use natural daylight.

Isolde is the type to randomly drop trauma out of nowhere. While she doesn’t think of it as incredibly traumatic, her friends taught her to air out her thoughts instead of letting people never get to know her.

✰.

Kakania is a midday person. She dislikes early mornings, but also late nights. She’d rather get the most out of any day, but she doesn’t function well waking up at dawn or staying up super late.

While Kakania had much more freedom than Isolde in her childhood, she still didn’t know a lot about sexuality until far later. It took a lot of talks with Blonney and Jessica after graduation, and once she had started her job, that there was more to it than just liking the same or opposite gender.

Many people in Kakania’s family have had cataracts later in life, so it’s one of her biggest fears. Once she reached her 30s though, she stopped worrying as much over it because of her health insurance and good eye health.

✰. Friend Group Content:

Despite using it as an example, cats are wary of Isolde because of her arcane energy. Dogs are downright terrified of her. Jiu has a picture on her phone of a cat purring with Vila and following her around before it realized Isolde was next to her.

Isolde is impossible to startle by jumpscares in movies or even the tension from psych horrors, but she can still get scared. She struggles a lot when she thinks about the time she lost as a child to possession.

Tooth Fairy was initially going to be the one to teach Isolde to drive, but after Windsong and Vila saw the way she drove. It was quickly decided Windsong would teach her.

Medicine Pocket, Mesmer Jr, and Vertin aren’t scared of Isolde or unnerved at her at all. It gave her a false sense that children weren’t as afraid of her as animals are. She learned of the misunderstanding when Vila asked her to be her TA during a midterm assignment to do a mock lesson with children. They ended up having to reshoot twice before Matilda is able to keep her eyes off of Isolde.

Once she got used to her however, Matilda had the chance to teach Isolde some divination skills. In turn, Isolde taught Matilda an arcane spell to do with insight which had been passed down in her family. (It has a VERY low chance of working, but in turn it’s the only completely safe arcanum the Dittarsdorf’s preserved.)

During the time she lived with Tooth Fairy, Isolde worked at Jiu’s tavern because she she had enough knowledge on alcohol from her studies as a Dittarsdorf.

For a few months, Jiu became really obsessed with spicy food, and the entire group would eat a lot of the hot foods she’d make in the tavern. While Windsong was her biggest challenger in their quest to see who had the best spice tolerance. Isolde ended up winning overall. Even though she hates when food is too spicy to taste, her ability to keep her cool made her seem like the winner before an hour had passed and Tooth ended up giving her 3 fairies to stop the pain.

Isolde is friends with Desert Flannel but only online. They met through Windsong when she was showing Isolde how to navigate the internet properly and upload videos, and Desert Flannel has a side hustle with indie music editing.

Isolde has met Tooth Fairy’s parents before during Thanksgiving. Isolde, Jiu, Windsong, and Vila went together after being invited by Tooth Fairy’s parents through her.

Kakania saw the Film Crew around quite a bit during her first year and even in her second, but she never interacted with them because a situation never came up. She never saw Jessica either until after spring break of their second year. It’s one of the few things Blonney is grateful towards Kakania’s insensitivity for.

Kakania’s first real mutual bond with the film crew was from the fact that she doesn’t scare easily. She grew up with her best friend being in a long line of mediums, so ghosts don’t scare her. She would also get into danger on her excursions, so she was fully aware of how to handle a dangerous situation with both ghosts and humans. An-An and Horropedia spent a solid month before they found a movie that startled her.

Blonney and An-An Lee took Kakania to Jiu's tavern once, but Jiu didn't really recognize her, and Kakania didn't drink. So it wasn't an eventful incident enough for any of them to remember.

Shortly after graduation, Blonney got into marathon running. Jessica, Blonney, and Kakania completed a few runs over the years until Blonney began working as a director, and Jessica as an actor. But Kakania kept up running even after they stopped marathon prepping, she’s even won first place in a few runs in London.

Kakania started a therapist twice a month after starting her work at the SPDM. They frequently scold her for ignoring her own signs of stress and the way she hurts herself by exhaustion when she feels frustrated. Whenever Kakania feels like she’s made a huge mistake, she jumps into helping people as much as possible, even when it's hurting her, until the episode has passed.

Vila and Kakania have run into each other on occasion from Kakania being the children in her classes' therapist. Even though she had been on somewhat friendly terms with Tooth Fairy as a coworker, Vila had no plans of making the same kind of friendly truce between her.

Kakania has heard of how Isolde is doing, just without her knowledge and not from Tooth Fairy. An-An Lee got really interested in Isolde for a good amount of time after she did an interview for a news station on what it was like being a Dittarsdorf and around ghosts all the time. An An took it as a good learning opportunity and even kept up with her for a while when she’d answer questions on social media.

✰. Already Settled into their Lives Apart

By the time Isolde was 25, she had started having wards sewn into all of her custom clothing in order to ward off possession after a particular episode revealed to her therapist her habit of using it to cope. She’s powerful enough either way that if she was in a serious amount of danger to need possession, she could drag a ghost into her past the wards, but they’d still give her more control over the possession than she’d have without.

✰. Bonus !

At one point after their reunion, Kakania and Isolde go back to Vienna together, and Kakania realizes that nostalgia is what had made the Austrian food in New York taste good.

#no storm:time traveler au #honeystar #isoldes normal girl adventures #reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #kakania reverse 1999 #isolde reverse 1999 #isokania #vilasong #vila reverse 1999 #windsong reverse 1999 #tooth fairy reverse 1999 #jiu niangzi #blonney reverse 1999 #horropedia reverse 1999 #an an lee reverse 1999

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