#my husband and I spent all morning cooking
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Thanksgiving was gooooood!
🤎✨🍗
#i looked so cute#Milo#did too#my husband and I spent all morning cooking#I tried a new macaroni recipe and everyone loved it#it was just a great day!#i love my family#🥰🥰🥰#I hope everyone had a#happy#thanksgiving#!!!!#me#my face#selfie
56 notes
·
View notes
Text
Captain Levi had never planned to fall in love with you, the pregnant widow of a Survey Corps member.
Your husband wasn’t part of his squad, but he’d seen him fall, just seconds too late from being able to save him. He’d found a letter to you in his pocket and delivered it to you in person; it was the least he could do, he thought. You were gracious and thankful to have this last message from your sweetheart but Levi saw the depth of sadness in your eyes, and something else simmering just below the surface.
“I’m pregnant,” you confess. “Three months.”
“Do you have family to go back to?” he asked.
“I have no one.”
And that’s how Levi found himself visiting your house whenever he came into Trost. It was late fall, so the Corps was on hold from any expeditions, and after he picked up his usual cleaning supplies, he’d find himself picking up some things for you and bringing it by.
“There’s some tea there that is supposed to be good for morning sickness,” he says as he hands you a bag of groceries, “and some of my officer’s rations of red meat. I heard that’s good for a growing baby.”
“You’re too kind, Captain. You don’t have to do all this for me.”
You were right, he didn’t, but he couldn’t help worrying about you, a soon-to-be mother, raising a child on her own.
A month turned into two, then three, your belly growing rounder, your features becoming even softer. There was a glow about you he couldn’t describe, almost angelic.
His monthly visits had become weekly; you would cook him dinner and he’d stay until the fire in the hearth was embers, and your eyelids became heavy.
But this time, as he stood up to leave, you took his arm.
“Captain…could you stay? Just for tonight.”
He knows he shouldn’t. You’re still grieving and probably just lonely. But he can’t deny the pull you have on him. You’re beautiful and kind-hearted, witty and spirited. His thoughts drift toward you so naturally now, wondering how you’re feeling, if you need anything.
If you need him.
And so he follows you to the bedroom and lays on the bed beside you, making sure to stay on his side and give you the space you need. You toss from side to side, finally lying on your back.
“The baby’s too active tonight. I feel like I’m a human punching bag,” you sigh out, then you roll over to look at Levi.
“Do you want to feel it?”
You gently take his hand and place it on your belly. For a while, he feels nothing but the pounding of his own heart, touching you in what feels to him to be so intimate.
But then there’s a little bump under his hand. Then another.
Levi’s experienced many things in his life, but never has anything brought him so much awe than those two little movements.
He spent that night with his hand on your stomach as you drifted to sleep, and decided right then and there that he would do whatever it took to keep you and that little one safe, healthy, and happy.
#levi ackerman#levi x reader#Levi comfort#tw; pregnancy#soft!levi ackerman#dad!levi#Dadvi#levi x fem!reader#levi drabble
809 notes
·
View notes
Text
Grid Kids
Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers
Summary: your adopted family may be chaotic but you wouldn’t change it for the world
Series Masterlist
Max Verstappen: Jailhouse Rock
It’s an ungodly hour of the morning when your phone rings. You groan, fumbling blindly on the nightstand to silence the offender. The name glowing on the screen gives you pause: Max Verstappen.
“Seb,” you mumble, nudging your husband awake. “Max is calling. It’s 3 am.”
Sebastian grumbles something unintelligible, face squished into the pillow next to you.
“You take it,” you insist, poking him again, “I spent three hours on the phone with Lewis last night promising him that Roscoe doesn’t hate him for being left at home this weekend.”
Reluctantly, Sebastian sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He swipes to answer, his groggy voice filling the silent room. “Max, do you know what time it is?”
You hear a hurried explanation from Max’s end, something about a go-kart race, a party, and a tiny misunderstanding with local law enforcement. Your husband’s face becomes more incredulous with every word.
“Wait, you’re where?”
***
Ten minutes later, you find yourselves at the police station, bleary-eyed but amused. Max is sat behind bars, a sheepish look on his face.
“I promise, it wasn’t my fault,” he insists, blue eyes pleading.
You both manage to suppress your laughter. After signing a few papers, Max is free but the smug grin on Sebastian’s face tells you that he’s not going to let him off that easy.
“So, this is our life now?” you whisper to Sebastian, wrapping your arm around his. “Running a day care for unruly F1 drivers.”
He chuckles, giving you a light kiss on the forehead. “I think we make a pretty good team.”
Charles Leclerc: Open the Floodgates
It’s a stormy evening when your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s a text message from Charles Leclerc: Hey, can I crash at yours? My flat’s kind of … flooded.
Sebastian, reading over your shoulder, raises an eyebrow. “Flooded?”
Before you can respond, a photo arrives — Charles’ living room, a sea of murky water with floating furniture: Okay, maybe more than just kind of.
You look at each other, suppressing laughter. “Guess we’re running a bed & breakfast now too,” you comment, already texting Charles back: Come over. Bring a mop.
***
Not an hour later, there’s a knock at your door. Charles, drenched from head to toe, stands at your doorstep, carrying what appears to be a plant pot with a small, equally wet cactus.
“I saved the cactus,” he says, looking as pitiful as a drowned rat, albeit a very cute one. He offers a half-hearted shrug, “I didn’t want it to drown.”
Sebastian bursts out laughing, his contagious mirth echoing around the hall. You can’t help but join in, hugging your sides in an attempt to remain composed.
“Well, come in. We can’t have you and the cactus catching a cold.”
***
Over the next few days, you quickly adapt to the unexpected housemate situation. Charles proves to be a surprisingly tidy guest, always washing his dishes and even cooking dinner one night (although you had to discreetly order pizza after trying his special lasagna).
In the evenings, the three of you curl up on the sofa with Sebastian’s old race replays, laughing and teasing each other. And every night, before he goes to his bed in the guest room, Charles says goodnight to his cactus — the newest member of your eccentric family.
Lance Stroll: The Cat-astrophe
A week later, you get a frantic call from Lance Stroll. “Guys, I found this cat,” he says, panting heavily, “It was all alone in the alley and I couldn't just leave it there.”
The line goes silent for a moment before Lance coughs then sneezes loudly. “Uh, guys, I think I might be allergic ...”
***
When Lance arrives, the culprit — a tiny, scruffy looking kitten — is perched on his shoulder while Lance himself is a picture of misery: puffy eyes, runny nose, and all.
Between his sneezes, Lance pleads, “Can you please keep her until I figure out what to do? I can’t just abandon her.”
You glance at Sebastian, who looks at the tiny furball with a mixture of amusement and concern. He’s been a dog person all his life but how can you say no to those pleading green eyes?
And so, your home expands to accommodate another kid — this time, a four-legged one.
***
The next few days are full of chaos. The kitten — whom Lance named Speedy — turns out to be an agent of destruction, knocking over everything in her path and giving Charles’ cactus a few worrying near misses.
You try to give Lance advice on finding a new home for Speedy while dealing with cat-proofing your own. But, during the ensuing pandemonium, you can’t help but laugh.
George Russell: The Shrunken Sweater Saga
One sunny afternoon, George Russell bursts through the door, a panicked expression on his face. “Guys, something terrible happened!”
Sebastian and you exchange a concerned look, jumping up from where you were cuddled on the couch. “What is it, George?”
He holds up a shrunken cashmere sweater, once a luxurious wardrobe piece, now resembling something only a toy poodle could wear. “I accidentally put all my sweaters in the washing machine! They’ve shrunk!”
As the reality of the situation sinks in, you can’t help but chuckle. “George, you do know cashmere isn’t machine-washable, right?”
“I thought they were!” he laments, looking at his miniature sweater in disbelief.
Sebastian claps a hand on George’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, mate. We’ll figure this out.”
***
Over the next few days, you and Sebastian embark on a quest to save George’s beloved cashmere sweaters. Armed with online tutorials and gallons of fabric softener, you attempt various rescue techniques.
Some of the sweaters regain a semblance of their former glory while others are beyond saving. You present George with a colorful assortment of shrunken clothing which he accepts with an embarrassed grin.
***
A sudden thought strikes you and you can’t help but giggle. Holding up a particularly tiny sweater, you call out to Speedy.
“Look, Speedy! It’s your size!” you exclaim as you gently dress her in the shrunken garment. It fits her perfectly, making her look like the most stylish cat on the block.
The sight of Speedy strutting around in a cashmere sweater breaks all of you into laughter. Even George can’t help but chuckle, despite his heartbreaking loss.
***
In the following days, Speedy parades around the house, flaunting her new wardrobe. George’s shrunken sweaters have found a new purpose, and despite the initial panic, everything worked out in the end.
“This is the most high-fashion cat I’ve ever seen,” Sebastian comments one day, watching Speedy strut her stuff on the living room rug. “She should be on a runway.”
George, watching his beloved sweaters being put to good use, grins. “I think they look better on her than they did on me.”
Speedy watches you with a lazy stare, now comfortably nestled in her new family’s hearts (and cashmere sweaters).
Lando Norris: Call the Milk Man
It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon when the doorbell rings, jolting you out of your peaceful nap. Groggily, you stumble towards the door, pulling it open to reveal a sheepish-looking Lando Norris.
“Hi, I was just wondering,” he starts, shifting nervously from foot to foot, “Do you have some milk I could borrow? I ran out and the shops are closed.”
Suppressing a smile, you nod, motioning for him to wait while you go fetch the milk.
***
When you hand Lando the milk, he seems relieved. But then, he looks at the container quizzically. “Why is it in a glass bottle? Don’t you use cartons?”
Your laughter fills the hallway as you explain your household’s eco-friendly policy. Lando listens attentively, his previous discomfort replaced with genuine curiosity. You can tell he’s taking mental notes.
***
Over the next few weeks, Lando pops by more frequently. Sometimes he borrows more milk, other times he just wants to chat about sustainability, an interest sparked during his first milk visit.
One day, he arrives at your doorstep with a broad grin and a glass bottle in hand. “Look, I’ve switched to glass milk bottles too!”
Sebastian will be proud.
Mick Schumacher: Comfort in Company
One evening, you find Mick Schumacher sitting alone in your backyard, gazing at the stars. His usually cheerful face is thoughtful, his eyes a little glossy.
“Mick, everything alright?” you ask, settling down next to him on the grass.
He looks at you then at the stars again. “I just ... I miss my dad, you know?”
The silence hangs in the air, thick with emotions. You reach out, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay to miss him. You don’t have to hide it. Especially not here with us.”
He nods, wiping his eyes. “I know. It’s just some days it hits harder than others.”
You stay with him, listening as he talks about his dad, his memories both sweet and poignant. You realize that while you’ve adopted your grid kids into your chaotic family, they each come with their own sets of joys and sorrows.
***
Sebastian joins you two after a while and the three of you sit under the stars, sharing stories and remembrances. Mick smiles as Sebastian tells him stories about racing with Michael, the camaraderie they shared, and the respect they had for each other.
By the end of the night, Mick seems lighter, the earlier sadness replaced with a soft smile of remembrance. He thanks both of you for listening and understanding. “You guys really are like a second family to me.”
The Big Announcement
One sunny afternoon, you gather all your grid kids in the living room. The chatter is lively, the room buzzing with energy as they try to figure out why they’ve been summoned.
Sebastian gives your hand a reassuring squeeze as you both stand in front of your unconventional family.
“We’ve called you all here because we have some news,” you begin, heart pounding in your chest.
***
When you finally tell them you're pregnant, the room falls into a stunned silence, their wide-eyed expressions making you chuckle. But then, as the news sinks in, the silence is broken by whoops of joy and congratulations.
“Wow, so we’re going to be big brothers?” Max exclaims, while Lando jokes about teaching the baby to prank Sebastian, Mick looks almost teary-eyed with happiness, and George immediately volunteers for babysitting duties.
***
With your pregnancy announcement, your grid kids go into overdrive. They begin to dote on you in a way that’s both touching and a little overwhelming. From Charles insisting on cooking you healthy meals (despite his previous lasagna disaster) to Max bringing you comfortable pregnancy pillows, everyone tries to make you as comfortable as possible.
Lance even makes Speedy wear a bell around her neck in case she inadvertently startles you. The cat isn’t pleased but the sight of her jingling around the house keeps everyone entertained.
***
As the weeks go by, their concern borders on overprotectiveness. They fuss over you at the smallest things, like Max insisting on driving you to your doctor’s appointments because he’s “the fastest driver” or Lando continually adjusting the house temperature to ensure you’re never too hot or cold.
While their actions are well-intended, they often become hilariously excessive. One day, you find Mick baby-proofing the house even though the baby isn’t due for months. He sheepishly shrugs, “Just trying to be prepared.”
***
Despite the chaos, their actions stem from love and concern, which warms your heart. One evening, you find yourself surrounded by your grid kids as you sit in the living room, their laughter filling the air.
As you watch them, your hand gently resting on your growing belly, you can’t help but feel grateful. These young drivers, your grid kids, have become such a vital part of your life. Their genuine care and, at times, overzealous concern during your pregnancy only emphasize the strong bond you share.
Your family may not be traditional and your daily life may be filled with mayhem but it’s your life with Sebastian and the grid kids. It’s chaotic, hilarious, and unpredictable — and you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.
The Big Day
The day finally arrives when you’re rushed to the hospital. Sebastian is by your side, holding your hand through every contraction, while your grid kids anxiously wait in the waiting room, pacing and biting their nails.
A few hours later, when your newborn daughter makes her entrance into the world, Sebastian walks out to the young drivers, his eyes sparkling with joy and exhaustion. “You can meet her now.”
The joy and anticipation in the room is palpable as they rush in, crowding around the hospital room door in their eagerness.
The sight that greets them is nothing short of heartwarming. You’re in bed, looking tired but blissful, a tiny bundle nestled in your arms.
As they take turns holding the little one, their faces light up in awe. From Max’s gentle cooing to Lando’s finger being gripped by tiny hands to Mick’s unashamed happy tears to Charles’ whispered lullaby in French and George’s soft-spoken promise to be the “coolest brother,” the room is filled with a warm sense of family.
Even Speedy, smuggled into the hospital in Lance’s jacket, gets to sniff the newest human member of the family, much to the nurses’ chagrin.
A Baby in the Paddock
Several months later, the paddock welcomes an unexpected visitor — your baby daughter, wrapped snugly in a cute onesie with a tiny racing helmet print. As you push her stroller through the crowd, your grid kids and their fellow drivers are visibly smitten by the adorable sight.
Your grid kids instantly surround your daughter, their faces lighting up as they coo and make silly faces to elicit giggles. They take turns pushing her stroller and you can’t help but chuckle at their enthusiasm in their newfound roles as big brothers.
Sebastian, ever the proud father, looks on with warm amusement as he watches your daughter bond with her extended family.
***
Amid the hustle and bustle of the paddock, your daughter experiences her first pit stop as Charles and Lando try to change her diaper. Even Mick, the baby-proofing master, hovers nearby to ensure everything goes smoothly.
You can’t help but admire their dedication and the way they’ve embraced their roles as her protectors and playmates.
***
At the end of the day, you gather the whole group for a family photo. Your daughter, held by Max and Mick on either side, steals the show with her toothless grin.
As you look at the photo later, you realize that this quirky, chaotic family has grown and changed in the most beautiful ways. Your daughter has been embraced by these young drivers, who have become her brothers and protectors, just as they’ve become sons to you.
A New Racer on the Track
Years pass in the blink of an eye and soon your little girl is no longer a baby. She’s grown into a lively child with a love for speed, much like her father. Today, she’s ready to participate in her first karting race, and the whole gang — your grid kids now with seven World Championships between them — are here to support her.
As they gather around the track, an old joke resurfaces. Max points at a particular bend in the track, nudging Charles with a smirk. “Remember the inchident?”
Charles groans, rolling his eyes, “Not this again. It was years ago!”
Laughter breaks out among the group, their bond echoing through the years.
***
Before the race, each of your grid kids offers your daughter their sage advice. From Lando’s “always keep your cool” to George’s “remember to enjoy the ride,” her brothers are keen to impart their wisdom. Mick even attempts to show her how to properly do a pit stop, using a toy car and tiny plastic cones.
Your daughter, with a sparkling helmet almost too big for her head, listens earnestly, her wide eyes moving from one brother to the next.
When the race finally starts, your grid kids cheer on loudly, their voices carrying over the vroom of the karts. The sight of your daughter, determined behind the wheel of her tiny kart, brings a surge of pride and a few tears to your eyes.
As the race ends, your daughter crosses the finish line in third place, a beaming smile on her face. She’s welcomed back to the pit by a roaring cheer from her family, her brothers lifting her onto their shoulders.
***
That night, the celebration is filled with laughter, teasing, and an impromptu re-enactment of the inchident by Charles and Max, much to your daughter’s amusement.
Sebastian lifts his glass for a toast, “To our little racer, may you always find joy on the track. And remember, an inchident is only funny if it doesn’t happen to you.”
Laughter fills the room once again, and you can’t help but marvel at the love and joy surrounding you. These are the moments you cherish the most, moments of laughter and unity shared with this extraordinary, unconventional family.
As you watch your daughter being coddled and celebrated by her brothers, you realize that this legacy of love and support will always continue, and for that, you couldn’t be happier.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#sebastian vettel x reader#max verstappen x reader#charles leclerc x reader#lance stroll x reader#george russell x reader#lando norris x reader#mick schumacher x reader#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#sebastian vettel imagine#max verstappen imagine#charles leclerc imagine#lance stroll imagine#george russell imagine#lando norris imagine#mick schumacher imagine#f1 x y/n#f1 x female reader
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
⋆ 。⋆୨୧˚— I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE.
𝜗𝜚 ༘⋆ ⋆˙pairing. husband! park sunghoon x fem! reader synopsis. you and sunghoon swore to be faithful to each other, unfortunately sunghoon couldn’t keep that promise. genre. angst ,, wc. 2012. 𝐥u𝐧a notes ⋆.˚ guys…how r we liking the layout 🤭.. 🫧 — 𝓵𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋𝔂. | part 2
if you enjoyed reading ,, pls like and reblog !! ‹𝟹 it helps out a lot ¡!
the past year had been a painful rollercoaster of emotions, each high point you’ve had has been followed by a devastating low. you remembered the countless amount of nights you waited for sunghoon, watching the clock tick away the hours as he stayed out late, you had gotten so used to the sound.
the scent of his cologne lingering on his clothes when he finally came home, the way his tie was undone, the way he avoided your gaze when you asked where he'd been. your accusations of him being unfaithful were met with immediate denials, his words cutting deep even as he tried to reassure you that you were his one and only love.
"i would never cheat on you, y/n" he'd say, pulling you into his arms.
"you're my everything." he would say with that look in his eyes, with both love and a conflict he is fighting deep within himself.
and you believed him, of course you would. he’s the same boy who courted you for six months in university because he was so deeply in love with you, the same man who flew you both to hawaii and gave you the most magical proposal ever to be done.
you tried to hold onto the love and trust that had once been so strong, so unshakeable. but each forgotten date, each broken promise chipped away at your trust, leaving you feeling hollow and alone.
today, on the morning of your anniversary, you awoke with a sense of something different, hope for you and sunghoon.
this would be the day you reminded sunghoon of the love you still had for him, and always will. the love that had brought you together in the first place.
you spent hours in the kitchen, preparing his favorite dishes, your hands moving with practiced ease as you cooked. the smell of his favourite kimchi stew and freshly made kimbap filled the air, the same cooking he said he would never ever get tired of.
the scents mingling with the hope that maybe, just maybe, this would be the gesture that rekindled sunghoon’s love for you, you missed his touch, his kisses, the sparkle in his eyes, he still has it- but nowadays all he could really do is look down.
as you wrapped a red bow around the lunchbox, you grinned, perfect.
you drove to his office, each mile a reminder of the distance that had grown between you. as you walked through the lobby, your heart pounded with a mix of anticipation, fear, and longing.
the elevator ride seemed to take forever, the seconds stretching out as you rehearsed what you would say, how you would greet him, how you would kiss him.
but nothing in the world could have prepared you for the sight that met you when you opened the door to his office. sunghoon, your husband, the man you had vowed to love and cherish, for better or for worse, was locked in an embrace with his secretary, their lips moving together in a kiss that was all too passionate, all too real.
the box slipped from your hands, the sound of shattering glass, some pieces piercing your legs barely registering as you stood frozen in place.
you felt like you had been stabbed in the heart, you had never felt heartbreak before, and you didn’t understand people when they said everything hurt, now you did.
"y/n," sunghoon's voice broke through the fog of your shock, his eyes wide with panic as his hands trembled.
the hand with your wedding ring trembling.
"this isn't what it looks like honey,”
your chest tightened at the name, the name he couldn’t be bothered to address you as in months.
tears blurred your vision as you shook your head. the pain was unbearable, a physical ache that made it hard to breathe. without a word, you turned and fled, the sound of sunghoon calling your name fading as you ran. the drive home was a blur, sobbing as you got concerned looks from other cars, you were not in any shape to be driving, really.
but you didn’t care- your mind was reeling with the betrayal you had just witnessed.
at home, the same home you and sunghoon bought a month after your marriage- the home with six bedrooms because that was how many kids sunghoon wanted to have with you, the same home where you and sunghoon had late night talks, wrapped in each others embrace.
you moved through the house like a ghost, avoiding staring at the picture frame at the end of the hall, a picture taken on your wedding day.
your hands mechanically packing your belongings. each item you placed in your suitcase felt like another piece of your heart being chipped away.
you were almost finished when you heard the front door slam open, sunghoon's frantic footsteps echoing through the house.
“y/n-“
he cut himself off at the sight before him- the suitcase being packed, the sight of the wardrobe being oddly empty because your clothes would always be overflowing it.
"y/n, no.. please," he begged, sobbing as he fell to his knees before you. "don't leave me. i can't live without you, i won’t do it ever again."
you looked down at him, your heart aching with a mix of love and complete despair.
even after what he did to you, all you wanted to do was to be held by him again, all you wanted all these months was for him to finally long for you like you longed for him- how unfortunate the circumstances were, you thought.
his tears fell down his glass cheeks, his hands trembling as he reached out to you, you shivered at his touch, it felt so foreign, unfamiliar.
"i made a mistake," he cried, his voice raw with emotion. "i love you more than anything in this whole world. please, give me another chance- i’ll make you the happiest girl in the world, we’ll have six kids and we’ll grow old together!”
your mind wavered for a moment, the memories of your life together flashing through your mind. the happiest memories of your life with sunghoon in them, but you knew that staying would only be betraying yourself, that the trust between you had been shattered much beyond repair.
leaning down, you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, it wasn’t for him, it was for yourself. the taste of his tears mingling with your own.
"goodbye, hoon," you whispered, your voice breaking. "i hope you find the happiness you couldn't find with me."
with a final look at the man who had once been your everything, you turned and walked out the door, the sound of your suitcase trailing behind you as you tried to keep your composure at the hysterical sobbing from sunghoon behind you.
the drive to your best friend heeseung's house was filled with the sound of your sobs and screaming, each mile taking you further from the life you had known.
when he opened the door, heeseung’s heart dropped. his eyes filled with concern at the sight of you. he pulled you into his arms without a word.
"it's okay, y/n," he murmured, his voice a soothing whisper to your wounded heart. "i'm here for you, im not leaving."
you clung to him, your tears soaking his shirt as you let out all the pain and heartache that had been building inside you. heeseung's presence was a comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions, his embrace a reminder that you were not alone.
as the night wore on, you found solace in the company of your best friend, knowing that you had made the right choice, even though it had shattered your heart into delicate pieces, pieces you didn’t know could be fixed.
in heeseung's arms, you allowed yourself to grieve the loss of the love you had once believed in, the loss of your best friend, and lover. the betrayal, the heartbreak, all of it poured out in waves of tears and hushed sobs.
heeseung listened to you without interruption, his presence feeling like a heavy blanket over you and the world, comfort as you navigated the gut wrenching feeling in your heart.
"it's not your fault, love" he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your tear-streaked face.
"you did everything you could." he said looking at you with a gaze in which you didn’t notice, you never did. the gaze you’d given sunghoon for years, the gaze he gave you long before you’d even met sunghoon.
"but it wasn't enough, hee" you replied, your tears rolling down your cheeks, voice raspy from all the sobbing, it was barely above a whisper.
"i wasn't enough."
heeseung shook his head, his expression filled with an ache in his heart and anger at your self doubt. "no, y/n. you are enough. you always have been. sunghoon's mistakes don't define your worth, he’s the dumbest man to ever live, i’d do anything to have you."
you turned to him, bewildered at his words. you looked down at his shaking hands as you sobbed wrapping your arms around him.
“i’m so sorry, hee. i’m selfish, you don’t deserve this- you should tell me to leave-“
he cut you off with a hard hug, you cried harder as his own tears soaked your bare neck.
“don’t say that- i don’t care if i get hurt, or you use me, i don’t. all i need is you beside me, okay? don’t worry about anything.”
his words, though comforting, couldn't fully erase the pain that lingered in your heart. but in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of your best friend's embrace, the love that radiates off of his body.
you felt a glimmer of hope, you were in no shape of moving on just yet, the road ahead would be difficult, filled with moments of utter pain and sorrow, but you knew that you wouldn't have to face it alone.
as the orange sunset began to filter through the windows, you found yourself at a break from the pain in your heart, staring out at the view in peace. heeseung's steady breathing beside you, the quiet hum of the world settling down, it all felt like a promise that everything would be okay.
you took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill your lungs, and allowed yourself to believe that maybe, you would find happiness again.
with heeseung by your side, you faced the days ahead with strength. the pain of sunghoon's betrayal would always be a part of you forever, but it wouldn't define you. in the embrace of heeseung and the promise of a new beginning, you found the courage to move forward, one step at a time.
© FAIRQVES 2024 network ⊹ ࣪ ˖ @enchive
taglist open <3 @luvlyhee @sjyunnsworld @shawnyle
#꒰ luna works! ꪆ୧ ꒱ *.⊹˚#enchive#enhypen imagines#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen x reader#enhypen#enhypen drabbles#enhypen fanfic#enha imagines#park sunghoon imagine#park sunghoon fanfic#park sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon imagines#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon imagines#sunghoon fanfic#enhypen scenarios#enha fanfic#lee heeseung fanfic
453 notes
·
View notes
Text
LOSING MY RELIGION
WIFE!READER X HUSBAND!SIMON
SYNOPSIS: After his comrades death, Simon comes home and remembers what he has to lose. His family.
WARNINGS: Heavy angst :(, Spoiler!!
Your husband was coming home. Forget the stress of school rushes and sorting out the girls’ packed lunch. Forget the stress of ringing up your mum to look after the girls for a day (or two) Forget all of that for your husband was finally coming home.
With his favourite dish cooking in the oven, you wondered what wad taking him so long. Maybe something’s holding him up at the base? Maybe-
Knock, Knock!
You walk- no!- practically run to the door, excited to see your Simon. But once you open the door, and hug him and kiss him like you always do, a cold feeling runs down your spine. He didn’t hug you back nor kiss you back.
“Simon..?” You asked quietly. Your husband’s face was completely still, looking anywhere but your eyes. “Babe? What’s wrong?”
In your years of marriage and dating, you’ve seen Simon cry three times (when you gave birth to your three girls). But never have you seen him just cry and sob, until now.
He grips you tight and sobs into your neck, “Babe? Tell me what’s wrong!” You feel tears sting your eyes too.
“He’s dead, Y/N….Johnny’s…” He choked on his own words but you got the message. Johnny, the Godfather to your youngest child, was dead. Memories come flooding back of the moments you spent with him and Simon. The pub nights, the wedding, the Christmas parties.
Thoughts of Johnny’s partner also came to mind, how would they deal with this? Do they know?
Once Simon calmed down, and you gave him a cup of tea, he explained everything to you.
“Me, Price and Kyle…we had to err tell her the news this morning. That’s why I was late. And…She was pregnant and none of us knew…” You wiped a stray tear from his eyes as you listened to him. “She didn’t cry. Didn’t even sob. I think it was shock she was just so still. I wondered if she heard Price when he said that Johnny is dead. It was fucking awful.”
He continues, “I guess, seeing her pregnant reminded me of when you were pregnant…And how you’d struggle when I went on deployment and stuff…Made me think about what would happen if I didn’t come back. Like…It’s fuckin jarring…”
You kiss his shoulder as he speaks. After a while, he stops speaking and settles in silence with you. Nothing but the sounds of both your hearts beating filled the room.
He needed this, his wife, his kids, his house. Not once has he ever thought of quitting his job, until now. Simon knew you’d be a wreck if he passed away, and his girls would be a mess too.
In his mind, it was settled. He’d quit. For you.
#szasfuckingwife#ghost cod#cod x reader#simon ghost x reader#ghost mw2#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost#simon riley x you#simon riley fluff#simon riley x reader#simon riley
528 notes
·
View notes
Text
To The Place I Belong | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader
Summary: The world could be cruel. Especially now, as dangers lurked behind every corner in the forms of both the dead and the living. However, despite all of that, Daryl found his solace in the two people he loved most—you and your daughter.
Genre: Fluff.
Warnings: None.
Word count: 1k.
A/N: Requested—or well, a spark of inspiration given by— @holdmytesseract. I hope you like this, my love!
The chilling wind blew through Daryl’s hair as he looked out the window of the truck. Rick was driving the vehicle, the former sheriff’s deputy silent as he focused on getting them both home safely. The gates of Alexandria loomed closer, the promise of safety, of security, a mere few yards away.
You and Hazel were almost within reach.
The vehicle soon came to a stop within the gated community. The sun had just begun its slow descent into the horizon, the ball of flames disappearing behind the mountains. Daryl and Rick both simply left all the supplies on the truck and took different paths to their own homes, the found brothers both silently agreeing that sorting through everything and taking things back to the pantry could wait until the morning. Although Daryl usually would have taken on the task himself and worked late into the night to finish it, he could not be bothered to do so that night. It could indeed wait until the next day.
Daryl’s boots made dull thuds against the pavement as he made his way towards the all too familiar porch. He carefully climbed the few steps that lead up to the front door, and slowly turned the doorknob that would lead him to his own private sanctuary, his escape from the horrors of the world run by the undead.
The crossbow-wielding archer was instantly greeted with the amazing aroma of freshly cooked stew. It made his stomach rumble, making him aware of the fact that he had not eaten anything that day. He had slipped from the bed at the crack of dawn when the house was completely silent. You had still been asleep when he had left for the planned scavenging trip with Rick, your baby girl also still deep within the realms of slumber in her crib in her nursery, dreaming of whatever babies dreamt about.
Daryl smiled his signature half smile when he approached the kitchen and saw what you were up to. You were humming to yourself as you went about tidying up the space, your efficiency being hindered by the fact that you held Hazel in your embrace as well. However, as you had said many times before, it did not bother you. You loved your little munchkin with all of your heart. A little more time spent on cleaning meant nothing in comparison to the love you held for your daughter.
“Somethin’ smells amazin’,” Daryl spoke up after a good twenty seconds of simply observing you.
You spun around at the sound of your husband’s voice, a loving smile gracing your features. “You’re back.” You laughed lightly when Hazel eagerly wriggled around in your arms, her babbles incoherent but clearly getting her point across—she wanted her dad. “Looks like someone missed you.”
Your husband smiled and stepped forward, plucking Hazel from your arms and gently holding her against him. “Hey, babygirl,” he cooed to her softly. “Did ya miss me?” All Daryl got in response was a little adorable giggle. “Well, I certainly missed you, Hazelnut. You ‘n your mama.”
“And we missed you,” you voiced softly, stepping up to stand beside Daryl. You reached out and stroked Hazel’s head tenderly, still in awe—even all those months later—by the fact that you had created such a beautiful human being with the man you loved so much. “We missed you so much.”
Daryl’s heart fluttered in his chest. “Yeah?” he asked rhetorically.
You nodded nonetheless. “Yeah. You were gone for far too long. Isn’t that right, Baby?” Your lips twitched up at the coo you got in response from Hazel. “You should probably just forget all your responsibilities and spend all your time here with us.”
“S’that right?” Daryl asked, turning his head to press a soft kiss to your temple. “’Cause I ain’t against that plan at all. Y’sure you can handle me twenty-four seven?”
You laughed and nodded. “I’m sure a couple more hours of you everyday won’t kill me,” you joked, nudging his shoulder with yours.
Daryl simply chuckled and shook his head. “Well, when ya put it like that, how m’I s’posed to say no?”
“You can’t,” you began playfully. “You can try to decline, but your attempts will be futile. It will be met with resistance in the form of kisses and baby cuddles.”
“Oh, god. Please no. Not the baby cuddles,” Daryl gasped in mock fear. “How s’anyone s’posed to survive the baby cuddles? M’doomed.” He tickled Hazel’s stomach, laughing with her when she squealed happily.
Your heart swelled with love as you watched the two people you loved most. Daryl had come so far. He had grown from that man you had first met at the quarry to he one you got to see now every day. The one you got to love and cherish. The one you got to call your husband.
You smiled softly when Hazel let out a big yawn and lowered her head to rest against Daryl’s shoulder. “I think it’s time we get her to bed,” you said, placing a gentle hand on your archer’s arm.
Daryl shared a look with you, one that voiced more than words ever could. “Alright.”
You both worked together to put your little girl to bed. It was relatively easy to do. One lullaby with some gentle rocking and she was out like a light. You watched as Daryl slowly and carefully lowered Hazel into her crib, before lowering himself down to press one final kiss to her forehead. It was a sweet gesture, one that spoke volumes of his love for the tiny human being that rested within the crib.
You quietly closed the door behind you when you and Daryl left the nursery. Daryl opened his mouth to say something, but it was cut off by the unexpected feeling of your arms wrapping around him. He easily returned the gesture, holding you tightly against him.
“I missed you,” you spoke up, your voice muddled as you nuzzled your face into his chest.
Daryl smiled. “Missed ya too, Sweetheart.” And he meant that. Despite only being apart for a few hours, he had missed you. He had missed Hazel. He had missed his little family. After years of wandering around and wondering where he fit in, he had found it. He had finally found the place where he belongs. His home.
You.
#krys writes .ೃ࿐#dad!daryl dixon#dad!daryl#daddy!daryl#daryl dixon#the walking dead#daryl dixon x reader#twd daryl#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl x reader#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon the walking dead#daryl#the walking dead daryl#daryl fanfiction#daryl x you#daryl x female reader#daryl x y/n#daryl dixon fan fiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon x y/n
234 notes
·
View notes
Text
birthdays and burnt pancakes
— hoshina soshiro x gn!reader
— notes: and it's a comeback! thank fuck for a consistent job schedule oh my god. coming back to writing with an 8-12 hours job is a risky take since rest is a luxury itself, but im gonna give it my very best! happy birthday to my husband i love him so much wtf | [masterlist]
words: 715 | warnings: suggestive but no nasty.
“y'know, i always thought one of the best things to wake up to is you cuddled up to me in one of my shirts.”
“oh my god,” your hand tightened their hold around the handle of the pan, the other retreating its grip on the spatula in favor of clutching into a fist at your chest from fright.
“you scared the fuck out of me,” you hissed and glared pointedly at the smug man.
soshiro, ever the sly man, remains hunched behind the kitchen island, chin propped on his palm with his watchful gaze looking over your busy form with a grin. if you weren't so caught up in the way his sudden appearance took you by surprise, you would've spent some time admiring how untroubled he seemed to be at the moment, so unlike his stiff and composed self on duty.
relaxation, to someone with soshiro's occupation, is luxury itself.
“what can i say?” he hums, “the view is too good for me not to say so out loud.”
“oh shush it,” you turn around to face the frying pan with a grumble, scooping and flipping the pancake.
you hear him suppress his laughter before he shuffles around the kitchen island to stand behind you. calloused and firm hands rest upon either side of your hips, the familiar touch never failing to bring goosebumps along your spine. more so at the warmth of his breath on the skin of your nape.
“you should go back to bed, i'll finish this up in a moment.”
“but i miss you.”
you can hear the pout in his voice. what a whiny man.
“we have the day to ourselves, love,” you turn your head to place a quick peck on the corner of his lips. “i just want to bring my birthday boy his breakfast in bed and then we can go about your day however you want us to spend it, okay?”
“oh? what if i have a different breakfast in mind, hm?” he hums against your ear, fingers now rising up and under your(his) shirt to feel your skin, “one that is currently right in the palm of my hands?”
“you're insatiable and it hasn't even been hours through the morning.”
he snickers at the deadpan tone of your voice, resting his chin on your shoulder to watch you pour the batter in the pan to make another batch, wordlessly complying to your earlier request with a fond look in his eyes.
such a domestic activity and it's driving him insane with all the possibilities of a future spending each and every morning like this with you—ending each and every night with you.
oh god, he's really all in with you, isn't he?
“i really do love the sight of you making breakfast for the both of us early in the morning,” he hums contentedly, the smile on his face obvious from the tone of his voice. “makes me want to marry the life out of you.”
the mention of such commitment escaping his lips so casually brought a flurry of warmth to your cheeks and a funny feeling in your stomach. you know hoshina soshiro well enough to know that he wouldn't spew such things if he doesn't mean them in the slightest. perhaps he says it as a way to seal a promise to you without directly addressing the matter. in any case, it will be a topic for a different day, when the both of you are ready to tackle that stage in your relationship. you do nothing to deny or oppose his statement.
“although,” he drags out a playful tone, “nothing will beat the sight of your disheveled hair sprawled across your pillow, dazed look on your face from lust with your lips parted while we–”
“how are you this horny so early in the morning?” you abruptly elbowed his torso in a futile attempt to save yourself from embarrassment and further teasing.
“also, stop bothering me while i'm cooking!”
“i was merely stating a fact!” he jested with a chime of giggles, nuzzling his face into your hair and wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer to his chest.
“i can't help it when you're being this adorable first thing in the morning!”
“i'm going to feed you burnt pancakes.”
— © 2024 do not copy and repost my works!
#hoshina soshiro#hoshina soshiro x reader#soshiro hoshina#soshiro hoshina x reader#soshiro#hoshina#hoshina x reader#soshiro x reader#kn8 x reader#kn8#kaiju no 8#kaiju no. 8#kaiju no. 8 x reader#kaiju no 8 x reader#hn.works
174 notes
·
View notes
Text
OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who has been tying your shoelaces since you were little. Yoongi still had that image in his mind of you crying in the rain because you tripped over your shoes and got all wet. since that day, Yoongi has always made a point of tying your shoes before leaving the house. and now, even though you were adults with separate lives, Yoongi couldn’t control his habit whenever you slept at each other’s houses. “wait, you still need to tie the laces. you can fall, you know that. nevermind, i don’t mind bending down. it’s not like this is my first time.”
OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who still intimidates any suitor of yours. when you were just 5 years old, Yoongi remembered how that boy who bothered you so much started running away when he saw Yoongi picking you up from school. since then, Yoongi has made it his personal mission to fend off any and all suitors you might have. he was your older brother. somehow, he always looked out for you. and Yoongi guaranteed that he would continue to take care of you, no matter how old you were, no matter how many suitors you had. if they really wanted you, they could put up with an intimidating Yoongi for a few minutes. “oh? are you really sure you want to bring your new friend to lunch? well, if it’s just a friend, i’m okay with it. but if it’s something else…”
OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who still cooks lunch for you whenever you need. if you asked Yoongi, he would say he only learned how to cook so he could make your favorite dishes. during school, Yoongi always woke up early to cook for you, making a point of giving you something tasty and attractive — it was already his habit. so when you spent the night at his house or when you couldn’t waste time making lunch, Yoongi would show up at your work or doorstep with a small lunch box filled with your favorite lunch. after so many years, he still knew you. “your message was full of typos. i knew right away that you were late, that’s why i cooked this to you. it’s your favorite, i hope you like it. oh, and i also brought you a piece of fruit. enjoy, minion.”
OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who picks you up from work or school when it’s raining. every month, Yoongi had your schedule updated and posted on the wall of his studio, and when you were still busy and the rain became more and more intense, Yoongi would put everything on hold to pick you up. whether you worked next to him or studied on the other end of town, Yoongi always found the quickest route to you, to make sure you didn’t get caught in the rain or risk getting sick. “remind me how many umbrellas i’ve given you, and how many you’ve used. just to refresh my memory. it’s just that it’s becoming really old that i have to come and get you every time it rains.”
OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who offers you something whenever he is with you. Yoongi was never good with words. and Yoongi was shy in his actions. but what Yoongi always did to show you that he liked you was something as simple as giving you a gift. a new book, your favorite ice cream, even a four-leaf clover he saw on the way home — no matter what. ever since you were little, Yoongi got used to giving you little souvenirs to calm your heart and this act seemed to never die, no matter how much time passed. he just wanted you to know how much he truly loved you. “there’s an origami stall back there. a lady is teaching children how to make various animals and her husband was selling some and i thought you would like this crane.”
OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who is always willing to give you advice, or receive it. it was three in the morning and you had come home after a date and didn’t know if they were right for you? Yoongi was already accepting your call without realizing it. you just received two equally good job offers and don’t know which one to choose? Yoongi was already ready with a list of pros and cons. was Yoongi unsure of his new project? you were already inside his studio listening to his music. Yoongi didn’t know if he could hold on a little longer? you were already by his side reassuring him that he was loved. you or him, it didn’t matter. both of you gave and received in that mutual relationship of complicity. only Yoongi knew what was best for you. only you knew what was best for Yoongi. and that was enough. “i’m going for an interview now but as soon as i leave i’ll call you. it’s not supposed to take long, so you can think about what you really want to say and i’ll help you later. if you want, i can even write the message for you. i have to go. don’t make any stupid decisions before i get back!”
OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who looks at you with eyes full of pride just because you are you. watching you from afar only squeezed Yoongi’s heart. yesterday you were still a small child and today you were already signing the contract for your first job. time flew between your childhood and your adulthood, and all this time, Yoongi was watching you. you were such a pure, innocent child and managed to transform into this responsible, mature adult — only Yoongi knew how many heartaches it took to make you so grown up. “it seems like yesterday that i gave you a piggyback because you had hurt your knee on the slide. and now i’m inside your first apartment that you bought with your first job. you’re growing up too fast and i don’t like it. stop. stop right now.”
#!BTS bouquet꒱₊˚ᰔ.#yoongi#bts#yoongi scenarios#yoongi x reader#yoongi fluff#yoongi drabble#bts yoongi#bts scenarios#min yoongi#suga fluff#suga fic#bts suga#suga#bts fic#bts gifs#bts army#bts x reader#bts fluff#bts imagine#bts imagines#yoongi imagine#yoongi imagines#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi imagine#min yoongi imagines#suga imagine#suga imagines#yoongi headcanons#suga headcanons
165 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bells Ring (1)
Title: Fade Into You
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Warnings: Mentions of body-shaming, infertility, infidelity, alcohol consumption. Suggestive imagery.
MDNI
“May ah have this dance?”
Starstruck. That’s the only possible way to describe exactly how you felt the first time your eyes met that sea of cerulean peeking through long, dark lashes and a quirked brow. You tensed immediately upon hearing the prince’s unmistakable dialect. It was as if your body wanted to swallow itself whole, curl into a tiny little sphere like a frightened millipede hiding from a predator. He cleared his throat and you were drawn from your trance, hastily placing your dance card into his outstretched palm.
You were not the diamond of the season, not even close. Not even a nugget of bronze. Overlooked by Queen Aiyla herself, you fit in most perfectly with the common ladies of the ton, bonding over petty gossip and drinking lemonade in the gardens. Although you had a larger stomach and a softer jawline than most other ladies, you were friendly, pleasant company, and they treated you as such. Neither notably wealthy nor tragically poor, you were comfortable and content somewhere in between.
“I do apologize for my hesitation, Your Highness,” you’d said timidly as he led you to the dance floor, placing one hand on his shoulder and keeping the other in his.
“No apologies necessary, ah assure ye,” he’d responded with a charming lopsided smile, smoothly pulling you into his strong arms as the dance commenced.
Ewan had kept you occupied all night, much to the dismay of every mama and all of the more eligible ladies for a man of his nobility. He may as well have signed his name in every slot of your dance card, as he did not let another soul near you for the entire duration of the time he spent at the ball. When the night was over and the two of you parted ways, you were nearly positive that you must have dreamt up the whole ordeal, a childlike fantasy for a girl larger and far more inferior than nearly the whole population.
But the next morning, he’d arrived at your home to call on you and wasted his entire afternoon teaching you Gaelic phrases as well as entertaining your excitement over poetry. Ewan was kind and patient, holding your gaze and admiring your other features when you looked away. He was enamored with your beauty, your voice, your passions , simple as they may have been. You could not deny the butterflies in your soft stomach that only fluttered when he was around, or the goosebumps that rose across your delicate skin whenever his fingers brushed over yours.
From then on, the prince had made up his mind, spending most of his time courting you, taking you on walks through the gardens where all of the other ladies you had been acquainted with now looked upon you with jealous scorn. Ewan seemed to enjoy keeping you on his arm, showing you off. It was maddening, the absolute hold he had on your love-struck heart.
On a particularly cool night that autumn, he had snuck you into the innermost part of the woods, away from the night owls of society and into a safe haven where it was just the two of you. He’d lifted your skirt and sunk to his knees, worshiping the sweetness between your thighs like it was the only thing he was made for. You hadn’t known anything to feel better, not until his plump lips entwined with yours as he lay you on the damp grass and showed you what heaven hid beneath his trousers.
In less than a quarter of a year, he had proposed to you, and even quicker than that, you were wedded. The two of you honeymooned in Greece before returning to Glasgow, which you now called home. Just like that, you went from sewing your own dresses and cooking your own meals to eating dinner with the King and Queen as the respectable Princess MacTavish. It was overwhelming, to say the least, but the long nights you spent in your husband’s chambers made it all worth it.
You wish you could say you don’t know where it all went wrong. It was bliss in the beginning, days mostly spent in bed with each other or having picnics in the castle garden. But when you failed to conceive a child after your first wedding anniversary, tensions grew between you and your beloved. Ewan was supportive at the start, holding you while you wept and assuring you that you were not broken, these things just take time.
But by the time your second anniversary came around and you still were not with child, he had already withdrawn. He stopped inviting you to his chambers and declined each of your advances, only bedding you after his mother commented on the lack of intimacy between the pair of you. Ewan had become a shell of the man he used to be, a fraud residing in the body of the tender-hearted lover you fell so hard for.
Communications between you and your husband had been reduced to those of business, financials and such. When you would make your afternoon rounds around the ton to have tea with the elderly widows or pick flowers with the children to give to their mamas, Ewan would stay inside to write or drink his stress away. You grew to hate the smell of scotch.
After an especially nasty argument, your husband informed you that he would be taking some time for himself to travel. He might as well have smacked you across the face—for such royalty to travel for leisure without his wife was a clear sign that their marriage was in distress.
But you, innocent and naive, weren’t aware that the ton you poured all of your time into befriending had already sensed the strain long ago. Vicious whispers shaming your barrenness, blaming it on your plush body or lack of care, floated into every ear willing to listen like rotten leaves being carried by the breeze. The servants looked at you with pity as you watched Ewan ride away in his carriage, and gave you space to cry when you should have been bathing or eating dinner.
You were midway through another crying spell when the letter arrived on a random Tuesday afternoon, delivered to you by one of the servant girls. Addressed to Ewan, who still had not returned, with the heady scent of floral perfume seeping through the paper. Disrespectful as it was, you opened the letter and read it through furrowed eyebrows.
My Beloved Ewan,
Every second that we are apart is a dagger to this weary heart of mine. I am aware that you must return home to your family, or lack thereof, but I cannot stand to be an ocean away from you any longer. Come a fortnight after you have received this letter, I will be on my way to make my home in Glasgow. You will no longer need to travel to see me. Anytime you need me, I will be there. Until I am with you once more, hold this close to your heart and feel mine beat with yours. I belong to you entirely, ma chérie.
Coralie
You could practically feel your heart drop down to your stomach, bile rising until you abandoned the letter and your feet carried you to the drawing room. You emptied the contents of your belly into the chamber pot, hot tears accompanying the sting in your throat.
You desired to curl up into a ball the same way you wanted to the first time you met him. Perhaps your hesitation wasn’t something to have been ashamed of back then, rather an older and wiser version of yourself attempting to protect you from her inevitable heartbreak.
That Thursday, you heard the news that Ewan had returned, but you made no effort to reunite with him. The thought of seeing his face made you sick. The one who was supposed to be yours and yours alone had given his heart to another. Ultimately, however, a formal dinner invitation from King MacTavish could not be avoided.
Now, on an especially gloomy Saturday, here you sit at a silent dining table opposite your infidel husband, with your clueless in-laws in the same respective position on the other sides.
#call of duty#cod#cod mw2#johnny soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#john mactavish x reader#soap x reader#reader is fat#plus size reader#john mactavish x fem!reader#royalty au#Spotify
189 notes
·
View notes
Note
May I request some fluff of SDV bachelors (Harvey, Seb, Shane) with a farmer who’s sick, overworked, or just generally needs to take a break?
Hi there! This is such a cute fluff prompt I’m happy to write! What I did was I took each bachelor and matched them up with one of the prompts you gave me as follows:
Sebastian taking care of sick reader
Shane taking care of farmer that needs a break
Harvey taking care of overworked farmer
Thank you for your patience too! I’m in the middle of moving and things have been crazy lol
Sebastian:
The morning sun streamed through the bedroom window, blinding your eyes as you started to wake from a long night’s rest. You’d been so exhausted, spending all day outside on your snowy farm to prepare for spring’s arrival, and with it the planting of crops and trees. It soon became evident you’d stayed out a little too long without enough layers, as a telltale sharp pain stung your throat while drinking a glass of lukewarm water. Your nose felt stuffy, making it hard to breathe, and it felt as though your body was creaking from your every movement, aching and shaking while simultaneously sweating buckets. Groaning, you pushed yourself out of bed, trying not to wake your husband. Sebastian was still sound asleep, lightly snoring with his arm across his bare chest.
While attempting to walk to the bathroom to find some medicine, your vision started growing blurry, swaying on your feet. Gripping the bathroom sink to steady yourself, you call out your husband’s name, before sinking to the floor.
“Y/n? Y/n! Hon are you okay? Let’s get you to bed.” Sebastian’s deep voice rings in your head, as you feel his big arms scooping you up into the air, placing you gently onto your shared bed. The lightheaded feeling begins to fade away, as Sebastian kneels by your side of the bed, holding your hand gently, worry and fear riddled in his face. You finally turn to look at him, smiling gently to attempt to ease his worries.
“Hi love,” Your voice comes out barely as a croak. “I think I spent a bit too much time outside yesterday.” You attempt to joke, to which Sebastian smiled.
“That seems pretty clear, dumbass,” He teased you.
“Why don’t I go make you some tea? I’ll make your favorite.”
“With extra honey?”
“Of course love.” He reluctantly lets go of your hand to head for the kitchen, returning with a steaming cup of hibiscus tea, with extra honey at your request.
The rest of your day is spent resting, much to your reluctance, Sebastian even threatened to tie you to the bed if you don’t comply. After digging for ingredients, he found all the materials to make you pumpkin soup, to soothe your throat he says.
“Warm fluids will help your throat, and take some of this medicine as well, I know it doesn’t taste good but it’ll make you feel better.”
After refusing, claiming, “it tastes like piss”, he spoon feeds you your medicine, laughing at your scrunched face in disgust.
“Come on it’s not funny! That stuff is disgusting.”
“How can I not laugh darling, you’re just so cute when you look like that.”
When Seb’s pumpkin soup is finished cooking, he’d spoon feed you that as well, this time for his own enjoyment. After your belly is full from medicine and hot soup, Seb crawled behind up you on your bed to wrap you in his arms.
“But you’ll get sick too!”
“I don’t care, my only priority is you right now. Now, rest well my love,” He whispers, fingers tangled in your hair.
Shane:
Your hastily scribbled notes lay sprawled in front of you, scattered across your desk, some even fallen to the floor. Plans for a new layout for the farm, new buildings to be put in place, fences and paths that needed replacing, ground to be tilled and crops to be planted. It felt as though there was so much to do and not enough time nor resources to do it, and spring was approaching ever closer by the day, as the snow began to melt and patches of dirt and grass began to peek through. You sighed, placing your head in your hands, a raging headache pounding against your skull. You didn’t even hear your front door creak open when you heard the sound of boots thumping into your home. Whipping your head around, you see your boyfriend, Shane, standing by the entrance of your room, a sad expression on his face.
“Babe, you look awful. What are you still doing up at this hour?”
Glancing over to your wall clock, it read 1:00 am. You groaned, turning back to him with a grimace.
“Gee thanks Shane. I’m just going over the new farm plans for the season.”
He walks closer, examining your many papers and notes strewn around your work area.
“Y/n, when was the last time you slept? And I mean really slept.”
You can’t seem to remember.
“I don’t know. What day even is it?” You muttered, eyes trained at the ground.
He bends to your level, lifting your chin with his fingers.
“Baby you need to go to sleep. And today is Friday to answer your question.”
Your eyes widen at your realization.
“We had a date planned tonight didn’t we? Oh my god I’m so sorry Shane, I didn’t mean to forget, I thought for sure it was tomorrow.”
Tears begin to brim in the corners of your eyes, and Shane wraps you in a big hug, placing his warm jacket around you.
“I couldn’t care less about that. It isn’t like you to forget stuff since you always seem so on top of everything, so I guessed something might have happened to you. But that’s not important now, have you eaten anything yet?”
The last thing you ate was some berries from your fridge you picked a few days prior, you’d made it your midnight snack the night before.
“No.”
“Then I’ll go make something for you, in the meantime you go get some pajamas on and sit in bed, I’ll bring it to you.”
“But what about-”
He shushes you.
“It can wait. Now please go rest before I have to drag you there myself.” He smiles, leaving for the kitchen.
Harvey:
You wiped your forehead with your dirt-ridden gloves, having finally finished the exhausting task of removing all of your summer crops to prepare for the impending fall season. The muscles and joints of your body seemed to creak and groan with every movement, soreness tainting every part of you as you winced to even walk. Pulling a crumpled piece of paper from your pocket, you inspect your list of tasks. There was still so much to be done and fall would be here in two days, the thought of it filling you with anxiety. Trudging towards the silo to harvest wheat, you heard the sound of footprints making their way towards you.
“Hey there love! I prepared you a healthy meal to give you strength while you work, it has - y/n are you alright? Y/n?”
He holds your lunch, his smile dimming as your knees finally give out from exhaustion, the last thing you see is his figure hovering above you, quickly assessing your state and vitals, his voice slowly fading out as he attempts to calm himself down and focus on caring for you.
When you awake, you’re lying in one of Harvey’s clinic beds, eyes blinded by the sheer brightness of the room. Thankfully, you aren’t hooked up to any of his fancy machines, and Harvey is sat by your right side, watching you intently. When he notices you stirring, he jolts upward, glasses tilted on his face.
“Y/n! Thank goodness you’re awake, how are you feeling?”
You shimmy yourself to sit up, your muscles sore but not as fatigued as before.
“Tired mostly, and a bit sore,” you pause.
“I’m sorry Harvey.”
He frowns a bit, “Please don’t be sorry. But I do want to know how you got to this point, if you’re willing to confide in me?”
He asks tentatively.
You nod, and explained your unending list of tasks, coupled with the hours of hard work you’ve put in. Harvey listens to you intently, nodding as you go.
“And then you came to bring me some food, and I just collapsed because I was so tired. There’s still so much to be done before fall and I only have two more days to get everything else finished-”
Harvey quickly cuts you off, “Leave it to me. I’m not the most adept at farm work but I believe I can perform an adequate enough job for now.”
He smiles, gently grabbing your hand to hold it clasped in his.
“Remember my love, I am always here for you. Whether to ease your worries or complete tasks for you. Never feel as though you are a burden by asking for help.”
Smiling back at him, he helps you up from your bed, escorting you back to your farm for some well deserved rest and care.
#stardew valley#sdv harvey#harvey x reader#sdv fluff#sdv x reader#sdv farmer#sdv shane#shane x farmer#stardew shane#sdv sebastian#sebastian x reader#stardew sebastian#sdv community#stardew valley x reader#stardew#stardew harvey
274 notes
·
View notes
Text
Part 1.
Lemme cook....
Y'all I'm thinking of.... Royal army leader Toji whose life long goal was... You. Your kingdom.
He wanted it all. Ever since he met you when you first turned 18, he was infatuated. You were graceful, kind, beautiful, soft, generous....fuck.
But life wasn't fair. He was the head of the royal army, not some ditzy prince who'd meet you at a ball and fill your little head with compliments and promises of affection...only to take control over your kingdom as a husband should do.
And was the kingdoms only heir, that was what would happen. He even heard you crying to your lady's maid about it one night while he was heading to your father's study.
Poor little thing.
Toji wanted you. No...that was an understatement. He needed you. He needed you so bad It was painful. He'd treat you better than any of those annoying Princes. He would worship any breath you took....
But like he knew....life wasn't fair.
Little did Toji know....you had somewhat of a crush on him too.
On the day you turned 18 and had the most boring birthday party, most of it was spent sitting down on the third throne your parents had created for you. Or...paid for it to be created. They hated getting their hands dirty.
Comfortable but not too much. Pure gold they said. It was becoming boring. But you couldn't complain. You were blessed to be born as the princess. The only princess of your kingdom.
So, you sat straight, chin up with a soft smile as thousands of villagers and merchants came through, giving you different gifts, gold, jewellery... etcetera.
You wanted to use the excuse of needing the bathroom but just then, the trumpets sounded and in came the royal guards. Your eyes lightly widened when you saw him.
First lieutenant, Fushiguro Toji.
He was tall as shit and handsome as hell. 6ft and 2 inches of pure perfection....those forest green eyes, that scar that slashed against his lips...his muscular physique. He was more of a man then those princes your parents have been trying so hard to introduce you to.
He dropped to his knee to bow deeply to you, his men doing the same.
"it is my pleasure to finally meet you, your Highness." Toji greeted. "May I?"
You nodded slightly, stretching your hand out. Toji smirked in a way that had your heart skipping unhealthy beats as he moved closer, taking your gloved hand in his before pressing a gentle, almost tender kiss against your hand.
Your father noticed whatever was going on between you and cleared his throat, prompting Toji to gently let your hand down as if you were made of glass.
He gave one last bow before leaving .
Now that was a man you'd be fine with marrying....
.
That night, Toji was pulled aside by none other than the king himself.
"Lieutenant Fushiguro....I'd be grateful if you didn't openly ogle my daughter." Your father told him in a firm but calm way.
"ogle?" Toji raised a brow.
"Yes. Ogle. Besides I'll need your assistance. The Duke from the northern regions will be here this Sunday morning to meet my daughter. You'll guard them." Her father ordered.
Toji kept quiet. He knew what your dad was doing.
It was the royal and rich way of telling him to "mind his place."
But Toji stayed steely gazed and nodded.
"of course, your Highness." He spoke flatly.
Your father gave him one last lingering glance before walking off.
He sighed deeply and glanced at the way your father disappeared.
Sure, your father said he shouldn't ogle you...but he never said he couldn't talk to you. Plus, he'd be in the palace for a while...
What better than to acquaint himself?
-----------
I wanna make this a series so y'all, lemme know 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚
A/n - Y'all I'm so sorry about the taglist and all but I'm so disorganised. I'll get the people from the last taglist together and then try to get shit together<3
STILL TRYING TO WORK ON THE MASTER LIST.
Tags - @flamey-comet, @smolbeanzzz, @pandoraium, @hana-patata,
Thanks for support ↑ - if you wanna be added just ask <3
#smut#jjk smut#toji x reader#toji x y/n#toji x black y/n#toji fushiguro#jjk toji#toji smut#toji x you#toji x poc reader#royal au
317 notes
·
View notes
Text
Blurred Lines Pt. 2
Part One Here:
Summary: What was a one time thing is turning into a full fledged affair
Warnings: 18+ONLY MDNI. some choking, p in v, creampie, more cheating, handjob, spitting
Notes: AHH ok part 2 is here! Please enjoy, I may make a part 3 i have some ideas.....
2750 words
Getting away with cheating is not a humbling feeling. It boosts your ego without even realising it. And then suddenly you’re taking risks you never would have before. You think you’re untouchable. Especially in this case when there’s two parties involved who have so much to lose. It doesn’t get any better with time either, the longer you aren’t caught for the less careful you become about hiding fleeting glances, small, overlooked touches. Then there’s after work. Going back to your respective homes, playing a husband and father or playing a dutiful fiancé. You think it won’t catch up to you, but it always will.
The immediate day after you were with Rusty, you called in sick – something you had never done. You were sick to your stomach that day, you couldn’t even be at home. Dom was at home sleeping in the same bed you let Rusty fuck you in, worse in the same sheets. Your absence was met with a slew of texts from Rusty, get better soon, hope you’re in tomorrow, where’s the link to my google calendar?, please sweetheart I’m useless without you. It was honestly a bit overwhelming. You spent most of that day in your car, driving past the office about ten times like a maniac. Once evening hit and you knew Dom would have left for work you went home. You collapsed once inside, relief rushing through you at being alone. You breathed deeply and smelt the dinner Dom had cooked and left warming in the oven for you. despite the rough patch you were having, he still made time for you like this, it made you sick thinking about it. You frowned, a twinge of guilt coursed through you as picked at the food, not very hungry. Your phone vibrated, filling the silent void you had cocooned yourself in. you felt even worse checking the message, from Dom sending his love and hoping you enjoyed dinner. Sending back a message with love hearts you shut your phone and cringed. But as you sat there longer, chewing slowly on the potatoes your loving fiancé had cooked. You made a decision. A decision to not let this effect you. Evidently you had gotten away with it. Everything would be fine so long as it remained a one-time thing.
The next morning you walked into the office with your head held high. Rusty had beat you into the office, not many people had filed in this early. You marched into his office locked the door and leaned against the door with your arms crossed.
“The other night was a one-time thing.” Your stern voice almost echoed in the room.
“Jesus. Keep your voice down!” Rusty looked suspiciously out the little window, not a soul was around besides the two of you. Ignoring him a little you continued; “I don’t regret it, god, I don’t regret it, but we have lives we must maintain.”
“I agree. We work so well together is all. We got carried away is what happened. For the record, I don’t regret it either, I should but I don’t. Shall we begin the day? Coffee?” Rusty had already made you a cup, it sat next to his on the desk. And just like that. It was swept under the rug, nothing more needed to be said.
A week passed uneventfully; more prep work was done for the woman whose body was found in the dumpster. The trial really was only another few weeks away and at this point it seemed cut and dry, open and closed. All thanks to your hard (very hard) work with Rusty that night. It wasn’t until you felt yourself staring at Rusty again when you should’ve been working that you felt concerned again. You felt an invisible tug towards him, a shudder in your lower stomach when you studied his lips for too long. You were reminded how good they felt on you, how good they felt on your neck – no. You shook your head, trying to snap out of your daydream, or more memory of Rusty.
The next week was full of late nights in the office with Rusty, the case now was too sensitive and confidential to work on anywhere else. Most of your team was in the office until about 8pm. It was the Friday before the trial was set to start, the following Monday. It was now approaching 8:30pm, everyone had already vacated, under the impression that we wouldn’t discover anything new this close to trial. But Rusty was insistent, he was beyond thorough and would not stop until he was satisfied there was nothing else to find. You had organised food for the two of you and stood in the break room, dishing up a plate of chicken and rice. Rusty was standing over his desk when you took it in, his hand catching yours as you placed his food.
“You know I really appreciate you. You’re the best assistant anyone could ask for.” His thumb rubbed the back of your hand, smiling.
“I’m much more than an assistant you know” You whispered, sliding your hand away.
“You’re so much more.” Rusty said quietly, you looked back at him. Without thinking, you tilted your head up and kissed him, eyes closing briefly. He kissed back, leaning into you. But it was all over too quickly, you pulled away, scurrying back to the break room to grab your food. You stood there with your hands on your hips, staring at the ground in disbelief. Another decision was made in that moment. The true point of no return.
**
“Fuck!” Rusty yelled after a few more hours of meticulous reading and frustrated re-reading of the case files.
“There’s just nothing else. I can’t find anything to fortify our case further.” Rusty slumped in his office chair, rubbing his temples and frowning.
“Maybe that’s because its already foolproof.” You offered, throwing your stack of papers back on the desk.
“No, it has to be better.” Rusty almost snapped, frustration overcoming him. You rolled your eyes, not appreciating the tone.
“Come on. Grab your things.” In a moment you were up, handbag and laptop in hand.
“What, why?” Rusty slowly got up, grabbing his things and attempting to tidy up before leaving for the weekend.
“We’re going to clear our heads.” You headed for the elevator; Rusty followed behind chuckling after you. Rusty’s arm brushed against yours the entire lift, he didn’t seem to want to move, and you were trying to stop yourself from moving closer to him. You looked at him again, his tie still tight from this morning. You placed your bag on the ground and reached up to his tie, dodging his gaze.
“Its now after work, got to loosen up a bit.” You loosened his tie, hands lingering on his chest, his warmth radiated up through your fingertips. In an instant, he backed you into the lift wall and kissed you deeply. You gasped as his hands pulled at the bottom of your shirt from your skirt, rucking it up and sliding his hands under. You felt his fingertips working upwards, running across your ribcage, feeling his way. He pulled his hands out and fiddled with the buttons up at your chest. The lift pinged as he undid two, exposing your cleavage to him, he looked smug as you walked to your car.
You drove the two of you to a cliff top lookout, it overlooked the whole city. At this time of night, you expected local teenagers with beer getting drunk, but it was thankfully deserted by the time you got up there. Rusty had asked many questions along the way, not a man who liked to be surprised. You had answered all of them, with Rusty kissing your hand. The city lights twinkled in the distance, feeling a lifetime away from the lookout. You sat in silence for a moment, both looking ahead at the view. It was you who broke the silence, sighing deeply and looking at Rusty.
“Fuck it.” You whispered, more to yourself and hiked up your skirt, climbing over the centre console, and into Rusty’s lap. He was amused, a smirk pulling at the edges of his lips.
“I don’t want it to be a one-time thing, Rusty. I want you. I have craved you ever since that night. I can’t stop thinking about you.” You knew you sounded obsessive and a bit crazy. You knew it was a lot to be asking of him, of anyone but that longing desire you had burned for him. You tried to be a head strong person, but you had somehow almost girl-bossed your way into an affair.
“I don’t like keeping secrets from my wife.” Rusty was already playing with the buttons on your shirt, teasing you.
“So, I’m sure you told her about the other night then?” You stared him down, lifting his chin and forcing his eyes to meet yours.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
“Just shut up.” Rusty’s voice was harsh as he snaked his hands around the back of your head, pulling you down for a kiss. It was rough, all teeth nipping at each other’s lips. You let him kiss you, your hands snaking down to play with the buckle on his pants. Rusty let out a deep sigh as your hand brushed against him. He was rigid as the back of your hand stroked him, pulling his cock out of his pants. You eagerly spat, it landed on his cock, Rusty hissed at the contact. He bucked his hips when you touched him, a soft whine escaping his lips as you jerked him up and down with lazy strokes. You leant forward, lips connecting to his exposed neck, you felt a low warming in your stomach as you licked a stripe up his neck, stopping at his jawline and kissing him along it finally reaching his mouth. You licked his lower lip, begging for entrance, whining when he waved a hand through your hair pulling back, his grip firm. You locked eyes as your hand continued to stroke him up and down, now painfully hard, the tip blushing pink as you ran your thumb over the slit. Rusty grunted your name, his head falling back against the seat. Taking the opportunity, you kissed him, pulling him in and biting his lower lip, running your tongue against his now swollen lip.
Rusty took the chance and pushed you back, landing against the dashboard, your legs spread for him, pussy covered only by sheer stockings. You started pulling them down awkwardly, attempting to shimmy them off you when Rusty put his hand on yours to stop. His wicked smirk returned, hands grabbing on the material at the apex of your thighs, gripping tight and ripping a hole in them. A surprised gasp left your mouth as you stared at him through half closed lids, lustfully enjoying the way Rusty kneaded at your exposed thighs. His hand grabbed your thigh dangerously high, his thumb swiping over your underwear, brushing your clit. His thumb hooked under the band, feeling the warmth of your cunt as he inched towards your dripping entrance. A mix between a moan and a dark chuckle left his mouth when he felt how wet you were for him. How all it took was a hand-job to get you aching for him. He looked at you then, and you felt powerful, eyes following your hand down and gripping his dick as you leant forward and grinded your hips down onto him, his tip flicking against your clit.
“Please.” He whispered, hips meeting your grinding, breathless moans leaving him. You slipped forward, tilted your hips and sunk down slowly onto his length. Rusty was big, there was no way to put it lightly and you hissed at the burn sinking further onto him. He knew it too, he chuckled once you took him all the way, pausing to breathe deeply. You moaned as he bucked up impatiently, pulling you towards him and gripping your hips tightly urging you to move on him. Settling yourself, you placed your hands on the car seat for leverage and began moving your hips up and down. You felt his cock sliding in and out of you and you relished the feeling, short panting moans as your pace quickened. Rusty’s fingers kneaded and bruised your hips as you rode him, helping you move as he bucked in shallow thrusts from below. He felt so deep inside you, his cock nudging against the spongey spot making you mew for him. You ground yourself down on him, your clit rubbing back and forth over his neat patch of hair, and you released a moan, feeling yourself getting closer and closer.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” You whined as he tangled his hands in your hair, pulling you forward to kiss you. His thrusts deepened and quickened as you rested yourself on his shoulder, panting and moaning as his cock pumped in and out of you now almost harshly. He pushed you back against the dashboard, hand travelling up to your throat and holding you in place as he thrusted upwards into you, still seated in the car. His fingers wrapped around your throat, and he squeezed, testing the waters. Rusty groaned hotly, chuckling darkly as he felt your cunt clench when he squeezed. He did it again and you moaned, it came out high pitched and strained as Rusty kept his hand on your throat.
“Oh, you are a little slut for me, aren’t you?” Rusty’s voice had changed, he sounded rugged as he egged you on.
“My own personal stress relief. Isn’t that what you wanted, to ‘clear my head’?” Rusty felt his ego inflate ten-fold when he looked at you, mimicking your words from earlier. You met his eyes, cock drunk and watering as you held onto his hand, choking you. He tore his hand away from your throat, grabbed your leg and hitched it up higher, resting on his shoulder as he inched forward, fucking you deeper. You couldn’t answer him, you were too fucked out and teetering on the verge of an orgasm, eyes fluttering shut.
Rusty’s hand made its way to your cunt again, his thumb rubbed small circles on your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you. You jerked against his touch, suddenly becoming too much as your orgasm built in your stomach.
“Rusty, its too much” you attempted to move his hand, but he gripped your wrist and held it away, his thumb moving quicker against you.
“You can take it sweetheart.” His thrusts quickened, his pace becoming erratic and sharp.
“Fuck.” You breathed out, immediately whining as you spasmed. A hot and cold feeling washed over you as Rusty kept on fucking you through your orgasm. Your cunt pulsed, over stimulated and Rusty wasn’t stopping, he was chasing his own high. He grunted and pulled you closer to him, feeling him everywhere. He was too deep, he smelt too good, his arms wrapped around you possessively as he thrusted the last few times. He nestled against you, burying his head in your neck and breathing in deeply as he grabbed you tighter against him, moaning into your hair, his warm cum spilling into you. You eventually relaxed into his tight grip, too tired to move. Rusty felt too good in your arms to move as well, his hand stroked your hair, you could feel his cum dribbling out of you. Rusty made no attempt to move, just stayed locking you in his arms. The rush was subsiding, and you both enjoyed each other’s silent company. You both felt it thought. The pull towards one another. You could hear his mind turning over like cogs, both coming to another decision. It was another night spent with the wrong person. Another night spent with each other, but now he was your arms, feeling far too intimate to be just sex.
You were the first to break the silence, “Rusty, I don’t want to go home, yet.” Your hand snaked in behind his neck, tilting it up so you could look at him.
“I don’t want too either.” His voice was soft, almost as though he didn’t want to admit it to himself.
You don’t know how long you stayed up there, embraced in each other’s arms, but you knew something had changed. There was no going back after this.
#jake gyllenhaal#jake gyllenhaal x reader#jake gyllenhaal smut#jake gyllenhaal fic#rusty sabich smut#rusty sabich x reader#rusty sabich#presumed innocent#presumed innocent smut
197 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 🍒
✨🍡♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ ) ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ˢᶠᵂ,ᵈⁱʳᵗʸ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ, ᵖᵒˢˢᵉˢⁱᵛᵉ ᵏᵉⁿᵗᵒ, ᵒᵇˢᵉˢˢᵉᵈ ᵏᵉⁿᵗᵒ,ᴶᵉᵃˡᵒᵘˢʸ. ♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ )✨🍡
🍡 Your loving husband has been busy for a week by now with his hectic schedule and work load. Going to office early in the morning, then going to exorcise curses, coming home late at night, directly goin to sleep, with no cuddling or spending time with you... The love was gone as if. Your once lovey dovey cutesy husband, vanished as if... And now? You're stuck with a workaholic Stranger.
🍡So, now you have decided, to make him taste the same shit he has been making you swallow. You thought to confront him about this.. but.. a wicked idea popped right inside your nasty mind. You have been craving your lovey dovey Husband alot.. but- The treatment which he was giving you? PATHETIC! he deserves a punishment doesn't he? That's when the idea clicked in. You decided, to pull a prank on him, right when he comes home.. obviously Late at night!
🍡 You decided to order a scandalous, sexy, revealing looking dress for yourself. Making sure, the dress looked tooo vulgar. You knew, that Kento would immediately notice it. He maybe is busy, but his eyes never missed the opportunity to eye you down. NANAMI knows what's your style and fashion taste, he knows that you don't like wearing revealing clothes outside.. and well, that's what u have planned. You knew, NANAMI couldn't afford to let you wear something this vulgar outside, he knows how men act especially to a women as sexy like you. You were only made for him, and his words were like written on stone. Not untill now, cuz it's the time to give him a punishment.
🍡 you wore the mini black dress, which revealed alot of your cleavage, of your ample breasts. The dress merely covered your fat ass cheeks, or your plump thighs much. Just the perfect sight of sore eyes. To make it more obvious, you decided to wear black heels and a red lipstick with a smokey eye look.. now it's obvious. You ain't just going out.. nah. This would make him enough suspicious. You patiently waited in the living room with your purse for NANAMI to come home.. so that u could start ur prank.
🍡 7:00pm! At exact time, the entrance door opened, revealing your hot husband, wearing his suit, looking so sexy and fuckable for you. But- it wasn't the time. Right now, it's his punishment time. You smirked to yourself, and stood up, walking towards him, heels clinkerin on the marble floor. NANAMI instantly looked at you, when he heard the sound of.. heels? Why were u wearing heels in the house first of all? Soon enough his eyes widened seeing, that "Dress" well he won't even consider that as a piece of cloth, cuz weren't clothes suppose to hide the body parts? So, this dress of yours.. what's it hiding? He immediately walked towards you in the speed of light, grabbing your arm harshly.
🍡 care to explain me what you wearing Baby? Is it.. something for me?
Nope, I actually, am going out with my friends. So.. I'll be late. Dinner is cooked. Have it. Bye. (You said in a cold tone) obviously you wanted him to feel that same neglected feeling you have been feeling for weeks .. he deserved the taste of his own medicine right. But oh well, his eyes instantly Went red as if. He immediately picked you up on his shoulder, as if you were a sack of potatoes and walked towards your shared bedroom, locking the door with his another hand. He remained silent, not even uttering any word.
🍡 NANAMI! LEAVE ME! WHAT ARE U DOIN? I SPENT HOURS TO GET READY. DON'T RUIN MY DRESS AND HAIR.. MY MAKEUP.. NANA- ... your lips were sealed by his own, kissing your roughly, his tongue invading in your mouth, he began to suck your tongue. You could feel the rage bubbling out from him. He was furious. Yet he was trying to stay calm, cuz he didn't want to, cannot even, hurt his princess.
🍡 He stopped kissing you and directly looked at your eyes.. his piercing gaze, digging holes into your soul. You instantly avoided the eye contact,. Again your stupidity, caused your pretty slutty dress to rip apart in pieces, as nanami loathed this dress now. He would've loved this dress if you said you were wearing it for him, but? Friends? Who the fuck were your friends? They were deserving enough to see u like this? He was kinda amused and irritated by your audacity. Well, time to teach u a lesson. He immediately, tore that dress, ripping away with the lace bra underneath even, and throwing it across the room. Before you could protest, you were slammed onto the soft mattress of the bed.. " think you can, dress like a whore and roam around? Forgot that you're a wife now? That u belong to me hah? "
YOU'RE BEING MEAN!! If you can ignore me for days and don't bother about my existence despite me being your wife.. if you can't forget your husband duties..THEN I can too leave being your wife for days yeah???
🍡 that's when NANAMI realised where all this was coming from. His gaze softened and he immediately hugged you. You were surprised, but you didn't wanted your anger to vanish, no.. just because your lovely, hardworking, husband is showing you affection can't melt you.. can't can't.. can't oh yes... Fuck. You instantly wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling into his massive chest, crying already. He began to pepper your head with kisses, muttering sorries and love you's. Your heart exploded when you felt his tears trinkling down your skin. You immediately looked upon him and licked his tears away. "Such a naughty girl, innocent yet so... Naughty" he smiled as he hugged you again, tightly. " Don't cry, sorry baby, i should've confronted you rather then taking such naughty prank stuff. Sowwie. I ain't going anywhere out.. wearing such provocative outfit. I wore it to make you notice me.. and make you jealous a little bit..." He instantly looked at you in disbelief, but again smiled.. his face showed that he was guilty... "Let me make it up to you princess"
Part 2?? Want it? Then comment.
#smut#jjk x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#kento smut#kento x reader#kento x y/n#jjk kento#kento nanami smut#kento nanami#nanami kento#nanami smut#nanami x reader#jujutsu nanami#jjk nanami
157 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wedding Day Bliss~
Request: I had this idea if a wedding day. Like the whole wedding day leading up to the end of the night. Like the saying their vows and it being really emotional and George tearing up when she is walking down the aisle and the reception and all their friends and family watching them be so in love. Also their first dance as husband and wife I think would be so cute then sharing kisses and just being in their own bubble with George’s friends making speeches.
Pairing: George Clarkey x reader
Rating: PG-13
Category: Fluff
Word Count: 3.3k
*****
"The best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly who you are: good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you. The right person is still going to think the sun shines out of your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with." —Juno
"You okay, mate?" Arthur's voice cut through the early morning chill as George stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His hand hovered over the shaving cream, his eyes bloodshot from last night's festivities.
"Yeah, just trying to remember what year it is," George joked, rubbing his hand over his unshaven face. The wedding was in a few hours, and the nerves were starting to set in. He had never felt so alive, so ready to embark on a new chapter with the love of his life. Yet, the gravity of the promise he was about to make weighed on him like the hangover he was pretending not to have.
The house was buzzing with activity, the air thick with excitement and anticipation. The smell of fresh flowers wafted in from the open windows, mingling with the faint scent of his mother's famous breakfast spread. He could hear the distant chatter of the bridesmaids, the occasional burst of laughter, and the clinking of champagne flutes as they toasted to the soon-to-be newlyweds. George took a deep breath and turned to face the day ahead.
When she reached him, George's hand trembled slightly as he took hers. The priest's words were a gentle hum in the background as they exchanged vows, their eyes never leaving each other's.
"Y/N," George began, his voice clear and steady despite the tumult of emotions churning within him. "Thank you for loving me, for understanding me, and for putting up with my friends. They're a wild bunch, but they're mine, and you've welcomed them into your heart without question." He paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he thought of the countless nights spent cleaning up after their drunken escapades. "I promise to stand by you, to cherish you, and to laugh with you, even when they're singing off-key karaoke at three in the morning."
Each word felt like a promise etched into their very souls, a declaration that no matter what life threw at them, they would face it together. And as he slipped the ring onto her finger, he knew that he had made the right choice.
The congregation chuckled softly, and George felt a warmth spread through him. He took a deep breath and continued, "I vow to support you in your dreams, even if it means watching every cooking show on Netflix with you." He winked, remembering her passion for culinary mastery, which often resulted in kitchen disasters that only she found amusing. "To be your partner, your confidant, and your rock, as you are mine."
"And now," the priest announced, turning to Y/N, "it is your turn to speak your vows." She took a deep breath, her hand tightening around George's. Her voice was steady and sure as she began, "George, my love, from the moment I met you, I knew you were different. Your kindness, your humor, your unwavering loyalty—these are the traits that have made me fall in love with you over and over again."
The room grew still, captivated by her every word. "I promise to be your home, a place where you can always find comfort and peace. I vow to stand by your side, through every challenge and every victory, holding your hand through it all. I will laugh with you, cry with you, and maybe even dance with you when you're feeling particularly courageous."
Her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, and George felt his cheeks warm at the thought of their many dance floor disasters. She went on, "I will cherish every moment we share, from the mundane to the magnificent, because each one is a gift that I never knew I needed until you gave it to me. I will love you fiercely, George, because you have shown me what it means to truly be loved."
The room was silent as the gravity of her words settled over the guests. The emotion in her voice was palpable, and George felt his heart swell with love for this incredible woman. He couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life making her as happy as she made him.
"You may now kiss the bride," the priest announced, breaking the spell. George leaned in, his heart racing, and kissed her softly. It was a kiss that spoke of their future together, a gentle promise of love and protection. The congregation erupted in applause and cheers, and the organist began to play the wedding march.
They walked back down the aisle, hand in hand, smiling at their friends and family. The warmth of their union seemed to radiate outwards, wrapping everyone in a blanket of joy. The light from the stained glass windows painted them in a rainbow of colors, as if the very walls of the church were celebrating with them.
*****
The reception was held in the manor's lush gardens, under a grand marquee that had been set up especially for the occasion. The air was filled with the sweet scent of roses and the sound of laughter. The guests were already mingling, eager to congratulate the newlyweds. As they stepped outside, George and Y/N were greeted by a shower of confetti, thrown by their exuberant friends and relatives. It was like stepping into a whirlwind of love and good wishes.
Throughout the evening, George couldn't help but steal glances at his bride, her smile never fading, her eyes always sparkling. They danced, they talked, they laughed, and with every shared moment, he felt his heart swell with love. The speeches from his friends were equal parts embarrassing and endearing, each one reminding him of the incredible journey that had led them here.
But it was Arthur's speech that truly stole the show. He took the microphone with a grin that was a mix of mischief and affection, his eyes twinkling as he began to recount their escapades from over the years. The room grew quieter, anticipating the tales that were about to unfold.
"Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends," Arthur started, his voice carrying over the clinking of silverware and the gentle hum of conversation. "I stand before you today, not just as George's best man, but as his confidant, his wingman, and occasionally his designated driver." The crowd chuckled, setting the tone for the heartfelt roast that was to come.
"Now, I've known George for what feels like an eternity," Arthur continued, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "We've been through it all—the good, the bad, and the questionably legal. And through it all, he's remained the same lovable, slightly disaster-prone man we all know and love."
The crowd chuckled, and George felt a warmth spread through him as Arthur winked at him. "But today, we're not just celebrating George and Y/N's love story," he said, his tone growing serious. "We're also saying goodbye to the bachelor days, the nights out that ended with pizza on the floor and George's head in the toilet." A collective groan echoed through the room, followed by laughter. "And Y/N, let me just say, you're a brave soul for taking him on. You're not just gaining a husband; you're inheriting a lifetime subscription to 'What the hell was I thinking?' magazine."
Arthur raised his glass, and the room fell silent. "But in all seriousness, George, I couldn't be happier for you. You've found someone who not only puts up with your terrible taste in music and your obsession with superheroes but also makes you a better man. And Y/N, you're not just stealing him from us; you're giving us back a George we haven't seen in a long time—one who's more at peace, more content, and dare I say it, more responsible."
The room erupted in laughter, and George couldn't help but feel a twinge of truth in Arthur's words. Y/N had indeed changed him for the better, bringing order to the chaos that was his life and filling his days with a warmth he hadn't realized he was missing. He looked over at her, her cheeks flushed with a blush that made her look even more radiant, and knew that every second of this new journey with her would be worth it.
As Arthur wrapped up his speech, the DJ took over. The air was electric with joy, and George found himself drawn to Y/N, ready for their first dance as husband and wife. The first dance was a slow, sweet melody that had been playing on the radio the first time they had kissed. As George held her in his arms, their bodies moving in perfect sync, he whispered into her ear, "Thank you for choosing me." Her eyes searched his, filled with a love so deep it seemed to hold the secrets of the universe. "I've always chosen you," she murmured back, her voice filled with a gentle certainty that washed over him like a warm summer rain.
*****
The evening passed in a blur of shared glances, whispered promises, and stolen kisses. The air was electric with love and happiness, and every moment felt like a precious memory in the making. As the night grew darker, the stars began to twinkle outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, echoing the sparkle in their eyes.
Their friends and family watched with smiles, some with misty eyes, as the couple moved in perfect harmony. The lyrics of the song spoke of a love that had withstood the test of time, a promise of forever, and George felt it resonate deep within him. He whispered sweet nothings into Y/N's ear, her cheek pressed against his chest, and she giggled, her happiness infectious.
He couldn't stop thinking about how lucky he was to have her, to call her his wife. Every few seconds, he'd lean down and press a gentle kiss to her forehead, her cheek, her lips—any part of her he could reach without breaking the rhythm of their dance. Her eyes would flutter closed with each touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips, and he knew she felt the same overwhelming love that he did.
A silent conversation of love and adoration that didn't need words to convey the depth of their feelings. The music swelled around them, a cocoon of sound that blocked out the world and left only the two of them, spinning and swaying to the beat of their hearts. The warmth of her body against his was a reassurance that she was real, that this wasn't just some beautiful dream he would wake up from.
From the sidelines, George's friends couldn't help but tease him. They had never seen him so lost in a moment, so utterly consumed by happiness. "Look at him," Chris murmured to Arthur Hill, his own partner in crime at past escapades. "He's gone soft."
Arthur Hill chuckled, raising his glass. "It's about time," he said, a hint of sentimentality in his voice. "He's been chasing that love bug for years. It's good to see him finally catch it."
Their banter grew louder, a playful jab here and there, but the affection behind their words was unmistakable. "You know, I never thought I'd see the day when George Clarkey would be this whipped," Arthur quipped, earning a playful glare from George.
Chris, Max, Arthur, and Arthur Hill had been the life of the party, charming the guests with their wit and camaraderie. They had been an integral part of George's life for years, and seeing them interact with Y/N and her friends was a delightful reminder of how intertwined their worlds had become. Their banter was light-hearted, their laughter infectious, and their love for the couple palpable.
As the night grew later and the music grew softer, the four friends—now bonded by more than just friendship—gathered around George and Y/N, raising their glasses in a toast. "To new beginnings," Arthur said, his voice a blend of joviality and sincerity. "May your love be as wild and unpredictable as our adventures, yet as steadfast as the foundation of this ancient city we call home."
Chris leaned in, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "And may you never run out of patience for each other," he added with a knowing smile, "because with us around, you're going to need it." The group erupted in laughter, the tension of the day giving way to the easy camaraderie that had carried them through so much.
"To Y/N," Max said, raising his glass higher, "for saving us from ever having to listen to George's dreadful dating stories again." The room buzzed with knowing chuckles, and George couldn't help but laugh along. The group's laughter grew as they reminisced about his infamous Hinge dates—stories of catfishing, awkward silences, and that one girl who had stood him up a record eight times.
Y/N leaned into George, her eyes shining with mirth. "But I'm the one who finally caught you," she whispered, her voice a gentle caress against his ear. "And I'm so happy I could be the one to save you from a life of swiping and ghosting."
Their friends' laughter grew, but George's gaze never left hers. "You didn't just save me," he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "You gave me a reason to stop looking." He placed a tender kiss on her cheek, the warmth of his lips leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
As the music played on, George watched his wife dance with her father, her smile never fading, her eyes shimmering with happiness. The moment was so perfect it hurt. He felt a gentle pat on his shoulder and turned to see Arthur, a solemn look on his face. "You know, George," Arthur said, his voice barely above a whisper, "you're the luckiest man here."
George nodded, the weight of Arthur's words sinking in. "I know," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "I never thought I'd find someone who could handle all of this—me, us, the fans, the chaos. But she does. She's my sanity in a world gone mad."
*****
The night grew later, the music slower, and the room more intimate. The air was thick with the scent of happiness and the warmth of a love that had conquered all. As the final notes of their first dance played out, George leaned in to kiss his wife, the sweetness of their union echoing in the silence that followed. Their friends and family cheered, but the couple remained lost in their own little world, oblivious to the applause.
The reception wound down, and the photographer captured their love in a series of candid shots, the flashes of the camera a stark contrast to the soft glow of the candlelit room. They mingled with their guests, thanking them for their presence, sharing laughs, and receiving well-wishes that felt like warm embraces. Each moment was a treasure, a memory to hold onto forever.
The rest of the night passed in a whirlwind of dance, laughter, and love. Each moment with Y/N felt like a gift, a precious memory to be stored away and cherished for the rest of their lives. They shared dances with their parents, the joy in their faces reflecting the happiness of their children. They watched as their friends paired off, spinning and laughing, the music weaving a tapestry of memories that would bind them all together for years to come.
Y/N leaned into George, her arms wrapped around his neck. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for choosing me, for loving me, for saving me too."
George pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. "Saving you?" He cocked his head, a question in his eyes.
Y/N nodded, her smile softening. "From a life of questionable life choices and questionable haircuts," she teased, her thumb gently tracing the line of his freshly trimmed hair. "But mostly, from the loneliness that comes from not knowing your soulmate is out there waiting for you."
George's heart swelled with gratitude, his eyes never leaving hers. "You've done more than that," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "You've made me whole, Y/N. You've given me a purpose, a reason to wake up every morning with a smile."
Their friends had cleared the dance floor, giving them space to continue their intimate moment. The soft glow of the fairy lights above them cast a warm, romantic hue over the two of them, as if the universe itself was bending to highlight their love. Y/N's hand found its way to his cheek, her thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped his eye. "And you've done the same for me," she murmured. "You've shown me that love isn't just a word in a book or a scene in a movie. It's real, it's messy, and it's beautiful."
Her words hit him like a tidal wave, the depth of her feelings resonating through his very being. He leaned into her touch, feeling the warmth of her skin, the gentle beat of her heart. "I never knew I could love someone like this," he confessed, his voice a whisper in the stillness of the night. "But here we are, and I can't imagine a single day without you by my side."
*****
The moon had risen high in the sky by the time the party began to wind down. The guests slowly started to say their goodbyes, each one offering congratulations and well wishes for a long and happy life together. As the last of the cars pulled away, George and Y/N stood on the porch, hand in hand, watching the taillights fade into the distance. The cool evening breeze danced around them, carrying with it the promise of a future filled with love and adventure.
Turning to face him, Y/N looked up into George's eyes, her own sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Ready for our grand finale?" she asked, a playful smile playing on her lips.
George raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Grand finale?"
"Mm-hmm," she nodded, her smile growing wider. "The part where we finally get to be alone."
"Alone?" George echoed, feigning innocence. "What could possibly happen when we're alone?"
Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, I'm sure we can think of something," she teased, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper.
The banter between them was light, a playful dance of words that had become a hallmark of their relationship. George's cheeks flushed slightly, the humor in his eyes betraying his excitement. "First time as husband and wife, you mean," he clarified with a grin, squeezing her hand.
"Ah, yes," Y/N giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But you know what they say, practice makes perfect."
Without a moment's hesitation, George bent down, wrapping one arm under her knees and the other around her waist, and scooped her up into his arms. She squealed with delight, her gown fluttering around them as he spun her in a circle. "Let's get to it then, Mrs. Clarkey," he said, his grin growing wider with each passing second.
Her laughter was like music to his ears, a sweet symphony that had played on repeat in his mind since the moment they first met. "I can't wait," she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed with excitement. The night was still young, and the possibilities stretched out before them like a never-ending horizon.
Carrying her over the threshold, George felt his heart swell with a love so profound, it was almost painful. This was it—the start of their forever, a journey they would navigate together, hand in hand.
He kicked the door shut with his foot, the sound echoing through the now empty house. The quiet was a stark contrast to the buzz of the wedding, but it was a welcome one. The world outside could wait—this moment was theirs, and theirs alone.
#george clarke fics#george clarkey#george clarke fluff#george clarkey x reader#fluff#british youtubers
154 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Light
In which Benedict Bridgerton counts the ways he loves you.
I've had this idea for a while and this draft has been sitting in my draft folders for lord knows how long but I finally decided to publish it! After initially reading the Bridgerton books, I want the world to know that Benedict has always been my favorite Bridgerton brother because I relate to him the most.
Epilogue
I. In the quiet moments
Saturday morning was always quiet in Aubrey Hall, Benedict’s childhood home. With Aubrey Hall in the throes of summer, that meant the Y/L/N’s stayed with them. Her mother’s dearest friend had always been Y/M/N, having debut in society together. They had made it their tradition to visit one another during the summer and where Y/M/N, it usually meant Y/N followed. Y/N, who was Y/M/N’s only child with her husband, Y/F/N. She was two years younger than Benedict but they had always been close.
He was always the first one up, and as the cook and the maids prepare breakfast, he would often sneak away towards Y/N’s room. He knew propriety dictates that such an action was uncouth but he was a child and Y/N was his best friend and so he snuck in anyway.
He knocked first. That secret knock they devised just last summer so the person on the other side knew that it was them.
Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.
The door swung open, as if already expecting him. Y/N was already awake and dressed, her hair tied up in a ribbon, her dress clean and pressed. Though Y/N only came to visit Aubrey Hall during the summers, the times that she did were some of Benedict’s favorites and they had their routine down to a tee.
“What are we doing today, Benedict?” Y/N asked, as she did every morning.
“We can go visit the lake and see how many animals we can see in the clouds in the sky!”
“Okay!” Y/N said with a childish giggle.
Benedict gripped her hand, leading Y/N out of her room, past the gardens and towards the lake that bordered their estate.
They spent the morning watching the sky, their backs pressed against the grass, giggles emanating from the duo as they argued about whether that cloud looked like a frog or a bunny. Their hands were still tightly held within each other’s grasp and they didn’t let go until they were called to breakfast and Benedict dared Y/N to race him back to the manor.
He knew then that he loved her. She was his best friend and best friends loved each other no matter what.
II. In the loud moments
Benedict’s family was considerably large and though he loved his siblings dearly, he knew that there was never any quiet when it came with them.
They were loud. And boisterous. Unless they had guests, dinners with the Bridgertons usually ended with dinner being flung across the table. Y/N’s mother had arrived sick with a head cold and had requested to have dinner in her room alone, leaving Y/N to have dinner with the Bridgertons all and on her own. And though Y/N was not a Bridgerton, Benedict knew how much the Bridgertons loved her, especially because she was privy to their chaos.
Chaos, most especially seen in Aubrey Hall, where 10 year old Anthony had begun sending their father, Edmund, mischievous looks.
Violet, as if sensing the impending doom, had a warning tone already ready. “Anthony Bridgerton, don’t you dare.”
But Anthony paid his mother no heed. Instead, a mischievous smirk stretched across his face before he jumped on the table and loudly screamed, “FOOD FIGHT!” before proceeding to ham fist the mash potatoes, flinging it towards Colin’s open mouth.
Chaos irrupted from the table as everyone, including Benedict’s parents took their own food, flinging it across the other side. Benedict’s mother was laughing in glee despite her previous protestations and Edmund had declared himself Violet’s knight in shining armor, shielding her from the onslaught of lamb stew that Colin threw their way.
Almost instinctively, Benedict felt Y/N’s hand grip his own, pulling him down towards her before Daphne, who was but two and couldn’t possibly understand what was going on but could understand that fun was being had, could hit him with the mashed peas on her plate.
Then and there, Benedict knew he loved Y/N. It would be difficult not to love her when she would willingly sacrifice her favorite dress to spare Benedict the green stains of mashed peas.
III. In the moments you do not share
He missed Y/N, terribly so. Being away to Eton meant he didn’t see Y/N nearly as much as he wanted to and though they wrote each other letters, it just did not suffice.
She had been a constant in his life and her sudden absence felt like a rock wedged between his ribs where his heart should be.
He enjoyed his time at Eton, he truly did. They were schoolboys and youth was their elixir of joy. It meant living life free of inhibitions, gambling and drinking and finding women to fill their beds. But none of his friends could ever hope to replace Y/N’s presence. With Y/N there was no bravado, no explanation. Just unhurried conversation and fun he could remember tomorrow.
He couldn’t wait to see her and his much needed vacation in a week was enough to give Benedict a spring in his step.
Today also happened to be mail day and though he knew he was going to see his best friend in a week, he still anticipated her weekly letter.
With the letter slipped into his dorm at the end of the day, he quickly sliced through the wax that bore Y/N’s family crest, reading through its content.
My dearest, Benedict,
I suspect that by the time you receive this letter, the time between us seeing each other will have considerably shortened. I miss you terribly. Summers in Aubrey Hall are simply not the same without you. Colin has turned whiny waiting for his two older brothers to come home and spend the summer with him. Daphne is growing taller by the day and Eloise has begun to learn how to read. She and Francesca are joined by the hip everyday. Your mother and father are as splendid as always and I suspect a Bridgerton whose name begins with G will soon join us.
I am quite alright though I am shamed to admit how terribly I’ve missed my greatest friend. My mother and father are also splendid as is the rest of my family. Do come home in one piece. I’m afraid I may go slowly mad with Colin pestering me everyday.
The Light of Your Life, Y/N Y/L/N
Y/N’s words brought him all the comfort he needed. He loved his time in Eton but he could not deny it’s loneliness. His friends couldn’t understand how it is he could possibly miss his family but theirs was a strange existence. His parents valued love above all else and he had grown up alongside his siblings in a home full of love and laughter.
And he knew then that he loved Y/N for her ability to assure him, to lull him into a calm that could keep his mood afloat for days.
IV. In the moments you do share
Oh how he missed her. He missed the way Y/N’s H/C hair whips through the wind, carrying with her heady scent. He missed her twinkling laughter, her teasing smile. He especially missed the feel of her hand grasped around his.
They were growing up and though Benedict knew that their youth would still be with them, there was a certain kind of melancholy that came with the realization that things will not always be as they were. Y/N had informed him that with her debut to society next year, she would not be able to spend the summers with him. He couldn’t imagine Y/N married to anyone, let alone married to anyone unworthy of her and he had been insistent that he spent next year’s summer with her.
“Y/N, light of my life,” he said, his tone serious but his eyes lit with jest. He’d begun calling her that after he heard his father call his mother the light of his life and he knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Y/N was the light of his life. He pulled them to a stop, Aubrey Hall looming in front of them despite being a great distance away.
“Yes, Benedict, light of my life?” She said demurely.
“Do you think you can make me a promise?”
“What promise is that?”
“You won’t marry someone unworthy of you.”
At that, she laughed. “If I have any say about it I shan’t marry at all. But I’ve held it off as long as I can. I’m twenty one now and mother is at her wits end.” But her eyes grew serious and somber, her laughter slipping from her lips. She looked at him as though she knew deeply, truly, what was inside Benedict’s heart. He reached for her, felt the silky lock of hair that fell from her chignon, her breath that feathered across his wrist as he tucked the strand of hair behind her ear. His eyes were fully trained on her face, at the way her lashes swept across her cheeks, the red flush that crept up her neck that Benedict knew would take him weeks to shade match. He wouldn’t deign call her cheeks rosy. She would hate him for comparing her to something so common.
If Benedict were to paint her at this moment, he’d call it Summer’s Embrace. It captured her beauty, the ephemerality of today.
He could feel the heat of her and it was as if that very heat burrowed itself within him, finding a home in his heart. When she spoke again, her words were but a whisper, the spoken promise of planets swearing fealty to their stars. “I swear to you, Benedict. I will not marry someone who is not worthy of me.”
And with her promise, it was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He could feel the rush of air in his lungs mixed with her heady scent, the scent of childhood and misty early mornings. He felt her hand squeeze his own in earnest and Benedict knew that she would keep her promise forever if she could. He loved her then, for that promise. How could he not love the way she loved herself? Fiercely and with a protectiveness that Benedict knew was reserved for him and only him.
V. In the soft moments
There were no nights as special as rainy nights and none were as special as the ones he got to share with Y/N.
Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.
The door flung open, revealing Y/N. Her E/C were shiny with excitement, her face positively glowing.
She was wearing her simplest dress, covered only by a black frock that Benedict had leant her once that she refused to return. Her feet was clad in her finest riding boots and Benedict nearly had to clamp his own mouth shut to keep from rejoicing.
“It’s raining,” Benedict noted with a grin.
“I gathered as much,” Y/N said with a grin as equally mischievous as his.
“It would be the responsible thing to stay indoors. You are to leave for London tomorrow and I imagine that such a long journey may end in you getting a head cold.“
“Benedict, light of my life, when have we ever been responsible?” She looked at up at him, grinning like the devil.
And before the both of them lost their nerve, Benedict grabbed Y/N’s hand, sneaking them down the stairs and past the gardens, letting the rain wash over them.
Oh he adored the rain’s ability to wash away everything. And he knew how much Y/N loved the rain too. How she adored letting it fall on her skin as she jumped over puddles and danced on the wet grass.
Her long hair stuck to her forehead, giving her the appearance of a drowned cat but her wide smile more than made up for it. Even in the darkness that smile could light up a thousand lanterns and Benedict never found her more beautiful than she looked now.
A sudden feeling seized him and before cowardice could choke it down, he was already pulling her to him. “Y/N, I must tell you something,” Benedict yelled over the din of the rain, catching her chin between his fingers. Drops of rain were caught between her lashes, her breath coming out in pants between her lips.
Goddess Divine. That’s what he’d call this painting of her.
“What is it, Benedict?”
He swallowed. An invisible force had consumed him, wrenching the words from his lips before he could stop them. “I love you.”
Her eyes widened, her mouth falling open in surprise. “W-what?”
“I love you,” he repeated, courage surging within him, his previous hesitancy evaporating like steam. His hand reached for hers almost instinctively. He felt her warmth, the way the heat of her hand seemed to jolt through his body like static. “Most ardently. In every way a man could love a woman, I love you. You are truly the light of my life and without you, I am pitched in darkness. You are the cracks in my heart but also balm soothes that it. I love you, Y/N. I have spent years of my life loving you in secret and I can bear it no more. I love you.”
He could see it in her eyes, the love she bore for him. It was the same love he felt for her, a garden in full bloom. But the words that followed her were not the words he thought he’d hear. “Benedict, I have been promised to someone else.”
VI. In the hard moments
“What?”
“I have no choice,” Y/N’s voice was cracking as hard as his heart. “My father has promised my hand to another. My debut, it is a farce, meant only to assuage his guilt for selling his only daughter. I am to be married to the Duke of Albany before the season ends and then he will ship me away to the colonies. He sold me to the Duke to pay off his debts. I have no dowry, no money. I thought to spend my last summer with the people who loved me, truly loved me. The Bridgertons have treated me as their own family. You have treated me as your own. Benedict, please I am so sorry.” She was rambling now, that much he could see. She always did that whenever she was close to crying, as if the fast words would somehow catch her tears before they fell.
He should say something, he knew he should but the words stuck to his throat like honey. It was all too much in too little time. Married? Shipped to the colonies? Benedict thought he had more time. More time to charm her parents and offer himself as a candidate for her hand in marriage. He’d already had every intention of marrying her but now his plans had turned to ash in front of his eyes.
“This was a mistake,” Y/N muttered pulling her hand away his. “I never should’ve come. I should’ve left like my father had suggested. He was right. This is all too hard.“
Thunder clashed like rolling drums in the sky. What has once been a pleasant pitter-patter of rain had turned into a torrential downpour, soaking Benedict to the bone. Any warmth he had felt had dissipated, leaving him shivering.
Before Benedict could stop her, Y/N was already racing towards Aubrey Hall, leaving Benedict with the bitter taste of heartbreak in his tongue.
VII. In the moments they shared with others
He was a fool. A right bloody fool who didn’t deserve her.
How could he have let her slipped free so easily? When Benedict had finally come to his senses, Y/N had already fled Aubrey Hall, taking her carriage and lady’s maid with her. Before Benedict could hope to give chase, Anthony had stopped him, citing that the heavy rain had made the roads treacherous.
“All the more reason to chase after her!” Benedict bellowed, his insides twisted in worry. He was still dripping wet from the rain, the roaring fire doing nothing to dry him off. “If something were to happen to her, I could never forgive myself.”
“Dearest, you must calm yourself,” Violet said in a soothing voice. “Y/N is strong. She is more than capable of taking care of herself.”
“You don’t understand, Mama,” Benedict said clearly still agitated. “She is to marry!”
“It is her first season and she hasn’t even debuted yet,” Anthony said with a furrowed brow.
“She is engaged to be married to the Duke of Albany. He means to live in the colonies and take her with him. He’s going to take away my Y/N. Mama, Anthony, please we must make haste and stop them.” He was begging now but he didn’t care. He’d beg on the very streets of London if it meant stopping Y/N’s wedding.
“The Duke of Albany’s 30 years her senior!” Anthony protested. “Her father couldn’t possible mean to marry her off to that odious man!”
“Hush, my darling,” Violet said as she pulled Benedict into hug despite their large height difference and how wet he was. “When the rain abates, I will join you myself in stopping their wedding.”
“Mama, I love her. I cannot. I—“
“I know,” Violet soothed. “It will be alright, Benedict. You shall see.”
But he couldn’t see. If Y/N reaches London, he knew in his heart of hearts that she would marry the Duke and sail off to the colonies without saying good bye. He knew it to be true because it is what Y/N would believe to be the best for them. If she left for the colonies, Benedict would never see her again and this would ease the heartbreak. At least, this is what she was likely telling herself to assuage her guilt.
But Y/N didn’t know how much affection Benedict carried in his heart for her. He could never love another woman so long as she breathed and even if she were to pass before him, she would hold his heart in her bones forever.
“I have to go get her.” Benedict declared, ripping himself away from his mother’s embrace.
Ignoring his brother’s cries, Benedict ran from the sitting room, towards the stables. Grim determination had consumed him, his thoughts focused on Y/N and only Y/N.
He’d go on horseback. It will be faster and he was a decent rider, he could catch up to her. He had to.
“My lord,” the stablehand stammered upon seeing him. The smell of horses permeated his nose though it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.
“Help me, please. Our fastest horse.” Benedict panted, his breath winded from his short run.
“But, my lord, it is pouring. I can prepare the carriage—“
“No, I’ll be faster on horseback. Please do as I ask.”
The stablehand simply nodded and ran through the notions of preparing their fastest horse.
He heard his brother first before he saw him.
“Benedict, do not be rash.” Anthony was now as wet as he was from the rain.
“I am going and you cannot hope to stop me.” Benedict barely spared his brother a glance. “A little rain never hurt anyone.”
“Then I shall go with you,” Anthony motioned to the stablehand to prepare another horse.
“Follow after me if you’d like but as soon as my horse is finished, I will ride.”
The stablehand moved quickly, cinching belts and hoops in record time and it wasn’t long before Benedict was on the saddle, the stable doors banging open as his horse leapt through them.
The horse felt fast beneath him despite the rain and moved with the same urgency its rider felt. He would not be deterred. If he had to stop the wedding at the altar, then he will do so. He cared not for dowries or money and properties and his family was wealthy enough for both of them. All he cared about was her.
It wasn’t long before he saw carriage lamps up ahead and he knew that it was Y/N. The carriage was moving at a languid pace, no doubt the driver was worried about a potential accident caused by the torrential downpour.
It only served to spur Benedict on.
“Stop!” Benedict yelled at the carriage.
It was as if God Himself was on his side. By some miracle, the driver heard him over the loud din of the rainfall. Benedict kicked at his heels as the carriage slowed, letting his horse ride just a little bit further than the four horses that pulled the carriage.
“Master Bridgerton,” The driver said, his eyes wide in surprise but Benedict paid him no mind. He dismounted from his horse before circling towards the door of the carriage. And then he knocked that secret knock they shared as children.
Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.
“Go away, Benedict.” Her voice was muffled through the door. The window’s curtain was drawn but he could see her vague silhouette as well as the silhouette of her maid.
“You do not have to say anything. You do not even have to answer me. But I implore you to listen.”
When Y/N didn’t say anything further, he continued.
“I wish to marry you,” Benedict said, his voice strong despite his pounding heart. For once in his life, he spoke to Y/N from his heart, let the words drip from his tongue like honey. He didn’t care that they had an audience, that Anthony was approaching from his own horse, that Y/N’s maid was in the carriage with her and that her driver was looking at him as though he’d grown two heads. Right now, all he saw was her. “Do you understand me, Y/N? I wish to marry you. I care not for your dowry or your money, I care only for you. If you wish to never look at me again, say so at once and I shall depart and I will never share in your presence until the day I pass from this world. I will endure the pain and the heartbreak because I love you and I wish only for your happiness. You need only tell me that you do not feel the same for me.
“But if you find that you cannot live without me the way I cannot live without you, tell me so. Let us end our own miseries and be happy. You, who deserve happiness more than anyone else in this earth.”
Despite the loud din of the rain, Benedict’s world grew silent, focused. His attention was on the carriage and the carriage alone. He knew that if Y/N told him to leave, he would do so without a moment’s hesitation. He will ride on his horse and turn his back away from her and he will never see her again.
But then, the knob turned slowly then all at once. The carriage door opened so fast, Benedict barely had time to jump out of the way before the door could hit him.
Y/N’s face was illuminated by the carriage’s lamps. She was still wet, wearing the same simple dress snd frock she had been wearing, having left Aubrey Hall in such a rush that a puddle had pooled at her feet, one that her lady’s maid desperately tried to wipe away.
But neither of them cared about that right now. An asteroid could crash from the heavens and obliterate the earth but their dust would stay in an embrace for the rest of eternity if they could.
She made her way out of the carriage, ignoring her maid’s protestations and making her way in front of Benedict. Whatever parts of her body that dried by her time in the carriage was immediately soaked by the rain once again.
She looked up at him, her eyes almost twinkling.
Venus on Earth would be the name of the next painting. Of that, Benedict was certain.
“I love you too,” Y/N whispered before grabbing his lapel and pulling him down to a kiss.
In front of all these witnesses no less!
Y/N’s lady’s maid gasped in surprise while the carriage driver and Anthony averted their eyes but Benedict didn’t care. He leaned into the kiss, relishing the taste of her. She tasted like rain, like misty mornings and the sweetness of youth. And their kiss was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He’s kissed plenty of girls before but nothing and no one would ever compare to Y/N.
And when they pulled away, Y/N’s grin could only be described as incandescent.
“Now you two truly must marry,” Anthony said but there was no displeasure in his voice, only keen triumph, “lest Y/N’s father wants his daughter’s reputation in tatters. I will write to him tomorrow. Tonight I will write to the Archbishop of Canterbury for a special license and you two can wed before the week is out.”
“Thank you, brother,” Benedict said, finally feeling able to breathe.
He looked at Y/N, saw the triumph in her eyes. Y/N was one of the smartest people Benedict knew and though she knew kissing him would bring scandal nipping her heels, it would also force her father’s hand. The Duke of Albany wouldn’t want to marry Y/N if her reputation had been compromised.
It was no matter. To Benedict she was perfection and he wouldn’t have her any other way, tattered reputation or no.
“You are a bloody idiot, Benedict Bridgerton,” Y/N said but there was no malice in her voice. Just pure sprightly joy. “It took you this long to realize you loved me?”
He grinned, the kind of grin a man has when he knew his place in the world and his was beside her. “In truth, I fell in love with your fire long ago. Cowardice just seized me every time I felt the urge to tell you my feelings. But I do well and truly love you.”
“I love you, too.”
VIII. In their moments alone
Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.
Y/N’s door opened quickly, a strained smile on her face as she ushered Benedict in. Propriety dictated that their actions could only be deemed scandalous but Benedict didn’t care. He was marrying her tomorrow anyway. There was nothing and no one that could stop them.
It had been two days since the carriage incident and Y/N’s father had arrived on horseback to Aubrey Hall as soon as he’d received the missive.
“I have promised you to the Duke of Albany!” Her father had roared as soon as he managed to push his way through the butler, storming towards the sitting room where the Bridgerton family was having tea. Violet had the younger children ushered away from the confrontation, leaving only Y/N, Benedict, Anthony, and Colin.
“Who is older than even you, Father.” Y/N had said, the picture of serenity and calm. She was sitting on the chair closest to the window, the sun’s glow settling against her skin. She looked sublime.
Ethereal Grace would be a befitting title for this painting.
“He is a Duke and 18th in line to inherit the British Crown! He is being sent to the colonies to govern. With his money, you will live a life even better than I could have ever provided for you as a baron!”
“I care not for his money, Father,” her voice had some heat to it now, “You sold me. Like some brood mare whose only purpose is to breed and pay off your debts!”
“I did not!” He sputtered. But shame coated him, his eyes nervously looking at the Bridgertons. While women in society were often betrothed without their consent, notions of selling were generally frowned upon. If word ever got out that Y/N’s father married her off for money, he would be ostracized by society. Even worse, if such word ever reached the King or Queen, he could be stripped of his peerage, becoming even more destitute than before.
“I will be wed tomorrow to Benedict,” Y/N’s voice was hard now, all conviction and fire, “You cannot stop us. Anthony has acquired the special license and the Archbishop of Canterbury himself has agreed to marry us as a favor to Violet. You have come in vain.”
At that, Y/N’s father’s face turned thunderous. He took a menacing step towards her, one that had Benedict standing at attention, turning him into a protective shield. Her father eyed him distastefully and Benedict returned his venom.
“You are making a terrible mistake. She has no dowry,” Her father hissed at him. “She has nothing.”
“She has me,” Benedict replied, his voice calm despite the rage simmering beneath his skin. If Y/N, despite all the pain and heartbreak wrought by this man, could continue to remain calm, then he shall do the same. “That is enough. She is enough.”
This time it was Anthony who spoke, his voice as hard as steel. “You will find, sir, that we care not for Y/N’s dowry, only of her happiness. Perhaps it is time you depart, before you do something you will regret. Colin, get the door.”
Y/N’s father’s fists turned white but just as Benedict thought he would swing, he turned and walked away.
But before he could cross the threshold, Y/N called out to him, “Our wedding will be at noon tomorrow, Father. If you and mother would like to bear witness, it would bring me great joy.”
But Y/N’s father simply continued walking.
It had broken Y/N’s heart, which is why Benedict came to her room that evening.
He pulled her close, letting her sob for the first time since seeing her father. He knew that tomorrow will be the happiest day of their lives but for now, for tonight, Y/N was allowed to grieve.
“I love you. I have never been prouder of you than when you stood up to your father,” Benedict said, tucking her head beneath his chin and pressing a chaste kiss on her head. “Everything will be alright, you’ll see.”
“Do you mind staying with me tonight?” Y/N asked with a sniffle, her voice hopeful.
Any other time, the word yes would have fallen from his lips like the water of a fountain. But if there was ever a time for Benedict to try and make her feel better, it was now. So rather than a simple yes, different words flew from his lips, teasing and accompanied with an affronted gasp b“Ms. Y/L/N, do you mean to compromise me? I am a gentleman! Unhand me, at once, you cur!”
Y/N gave him that look, the same look she always gave him when they were children and she knew Benedict was trying his best to cheer him up but, nevertheless, Y/N’s once somber expression lifted into her own mocking look of surprise as she wiped away her tears. “I will have you know, Mr. Bridgerton, that I am a lady! Your insinuations are greatly unfounded. Leave my room at once before you leave me with a sordid reputation.”
But Benedict did not leave. Instead, he took her hand and pulled her towards the bed, letting her body mould against his like he was a sculptor and she was wet clay.
“My mother and father kept one bedroom, did you know that?” Benedict said as Y/N settled against him. He let his fingers roam, letting it comb through her hair before journeying down her neck, down her arms before resting on her hand.
“Oh?”
It was unusual for members of the aristocracy to like their spouses let alone love them as most marriages were arranged based on factors such as dowries and wealth. Spouses tended to keep separate bedrooms, choosing to spend an evening with the other only if there was a need to but Benedict’s parents were a true love match. They stayed in one bedroom until the day his father died and even then, his mother refused to leave. Better a love lost than a love never found were words Violet often used as an explanation.
“Is that something you’d like for us?” Y/N asked, peering up at him through her lashes. “A single bedroom?”
“I intend to stay with you tonight and every night after we are married. It would be quite a challenge to do so in separate beds.”
“Alright then,” she said with a giggle, “a single bedroom it is.”
“What about you? Any requests for our future home?”
“A sunroom would be quite nice. With many shelves filled with books that I can read. The light would be heavenly and you could paint while I read. It would be beautiful to have tea there rather than have a sitting room.“
“Your wish is my command, Y/N, light of my life.”
“Oh and, several bedrooms. I think I’d like to return the favor and host the Bridgertons every summer. And several more rooms for our future children, whenever we are ready to have them.”
“Of course,” Benedict said with a nod and smile.
“And a garden. Large and beautiful. Full of flowers of all shapes and sizes.”
“We will fill it with all of your favorites.”
She paused and then she frowned. “What if my father was right and we are making a terrible mistake?”
He squeezed her tightly, letting his enveloping his fingers around Y/N’s hands. “Then we will make this mistake together and we shall have no regrets. I cannot see the future, my love, but I greatly remember our past. I know that whatever troubles may find us, we will face it together and so long as we are together, we can face anything.”
He watched her brow smoothened as another smile entered her sweet face.
“Now, what else would you like for our future home, Mrs. Bridgerton?”
And as they planned their future home, their future lives, Benedict couldn’t help but think just how lucky he was in that moment they were alone. Perhaps he was being too idealistic. He had lived a life of splendor most people could only wish for, with no real adversaries besides the problem he’d encountered with his love life. Perhaps saying that they could face anything together only proved to tempt destiny into hurdling them towards trouble. But he did mean every word he said. He could face anything, be anything so long as Y/N was by his side. Y/N, who would always help him look past the darkness and see the light. Because that was what she was. The light of his life. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
#bridgerton#bridgerton netflix#king george#violet bridgerton#anthony bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x you#benedict bridgerton fluff#benedict bridgerton imagine#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x you#bridgerton oneshot#bridgerton imagine#benedict bridgerton oneshot#anthony bridgerton x you#anthony bridgerton one shot#bridgerton season 2#bridgerton season 1#bridgerton series#lady danbury#regency era fic#colin bridgerton#daphne bridgerton#hyacinth bridgerton#gregory bridgerton
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
"He is...he is..." Will said as he looked at the pictures taken at the crime scene. "Frustrated. He is not trying hard to impress with his murder spree, he is angry and he wants to draw our attention, it's not his design that matters, it's... something else." Will added as he paced back and forth in Hannibal's dining room, trying to put together everything he knew. "He is feeling...fuck if I know."
Hannibal sighed softly and started arranging the pictures into a pile.
"I am not done, let me pull myself together." He said as he rubbed his eyes with his palms.
"It's more than enough for tonight." Hannibal replied and as soon as ge gathered the pictures he headed towards Will and placed a hand on his forehead.
Will did not try to escape his touch.
"You're burning."
"One of my dogs got lost last night and I went to look for him. It was cold."
"Why didn't you stay home today? You could have come here, I would have cooked for you and made sure you are actually taken care of." Hannibal said and realized he might have overstepped.
"I can take care of myself."
Hannibal arched an eyebrow in a loving way. He sighed relived when Will laughed.
"As self-reliant as I am, when I was driving to work this morning I considered just coming straight to you. And I know you would have hidden me from Jack Crawford."
Hannibal's heart skipped a beat. Will had wanted to seek shelter in his home.
"I would definitely have. Why didn't you?"
"I can't just run away from work whenever I feel like it." Will said as he tapped the edge of the table with his fingers. He was fidgeting. "Besides, you can't plan your life around my problems."
What if he would just inform him that all his problems paled when it came to him? He would indeed abandon everything if Will needed something from him.
"I can certainly try. I made pancakes this morning." Hannibal said, earning another smile from Will. "Just know that I could never mind your unplanned visits."
"Thank you. If you did, you would be the worst husband in the world, anyway."
"I already feel like the worst husband in the world since we are living in two different states, darling. The least I can do is to make sure you don't ignore your fever."
"I believe the most beautiful aspect of our relationship is that we get to keep it just for us. I don't want them to know." he said, referring to Jack, Alana, Chilton, Freddie Lounds even. "They don't deserve to know."
The last sentence melted Hannibal. Even though he would have preferred to tell everyone about the fact that he has the most wonderful husband in the world, he agreed to Will's perspective. Those people really did not deserve to know. Not only because of the judgmental glances, neither of them cared about that. It was the fact that they wouldn't understand.
"Did you find your dog?"
"Yes. So stupid. Found him with a frozen squirrel. He was quite disappointed that I wasn't impressed."
"I get just as excited about my prey."
"You do." Will agreed. "I hate to say this but would it make you happier if I spent the night here?"
Hannibal thought he hadn't heard it well. He grabbed Will's hand and held it to his chest, as if he was trying to check if he had been indeed genuine.
"So you get to take care of me. And I don't feel like the worst husband in the world. And you too."
"Then neither of us is the worst in the world. Yes, that would make me very happy." Hannibal left a kiss on Will's hand.
One day I might stop driving back to my place, Will thought as for a second, the simple thought of making this man happy felt enough.
#hannibal#after a long while finally something#hannigram#hannibal lecter#will graham#hannibal nbc#hannibal fanfiction
103 notes
·
View notes