#thank you for the request!!! it was fun to draw her

[i-dared-myself]

Transfer

Stray Kids x reader

Requested by anonymous: so ihave this request that is like an queendom x kingdom, and y/n is an idol (in other group) i know is short but i really wanted to see what would your imagination feed us. 

Queendom and Kingdom were combined for a spin-off show that you were lucky enough to be a part of. Your group had been one of the few chosen for this highly-anticipated show.

“Practises are today.” The girl next to you puckers her lips, staring at her reflection in the mirror. “Is your group ready yet?”

“Uh, yeah.” You fidget in your seat as your cheeks are swiped over with blush. As soon as your makeup is finished you slip off the stool and go off to your group. 

“Remember,” your leader is saying, gaze firm and arms crossed. “Everything rests on this moment.”

You linger in the back of the group, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. You always felt awkward around then for some reason.

It’s probably just your imagination.

“We’ve been struggling lately, and this is a good chance to prove ourselves.” Your leader smiles, sickly-sweet as she looks over at you. No mistakes.”

Your stomach twists with nerves.

At a recent event that was live-streamed, you had tripped. You don’t know what you tripped on, but you had. You had fallen during the performance, causing the rest of the members to stop everything.

Your company wasn’t pleased. Neither were your other members.

You follow the rest of your group into a dance studio. You spend the next hour running through a choreography for your performance, something that will lead to a media recovery.

Your only problem is how little you have to do. You understand that you might not be the best dancer, or the best singer, or might not even be as pretty as the other girls.

But standing at the rear like a backup dancer? They’re not using your abilities like they should, and you know you can do better. You know that the tripping in that other performance was a one time thing.

But you start to doubt it as more time goes by and no progress is made. The others are struggling with the more difficult movements, and your steps are too simple.

But when you add more flair to it, you get told to stop being so flashy. 

“You’re taking the attention from the front,” the choreographer complains. He sighs and waves a hand at you. “While we figure this out, go fill the water bottles.”

You, taken aback by the humiliating request, frown. “What?”

“He told you to do something!” a girl in your group snaps at you. “Just do it!”

You’re handed all of their water bottles and awkwardly juggle them as you go down the hallway. You manage to find the water station and hold each bottle under the tap one by one.

You hear a gasp of your name and ignore it. When people talk shit about you, you push it aside and cry about it when you’re by yourself.

Then someone is tapping your shoulder, and you hesitantly turn around.

“Yes?” you warily ask before realizing who it is. It’s fucking Seungmin. Seungmin, from Stray Kids, is in front of you. “What the shit.”

He blinks at you. “I’m sorry?”

You gasp and cover your mouth. “I’m so sorry! Pretend you didn’t hear me swear! Please!”

Seungmin smiles gently at you, something akin to amusement flashing in his eyes. “It’s okay. I make fun of JYP all the time. I won’t ruin your idol image.”

You grin. “Yeah, I know.” You pause before attempting a recovery. “I mean- Who are- Who’s- I’m JYP.”

Seungmin’s smile widens even further, and it infects you with joy. You’re both just standing, beaming at each other like idiots.

“Can I get a photo with you?” You both blurt it out at the same time before sighing in relief.

“Why do you want one with me?” you question as he pulls out his phone. You smile into the camera and pose with him.

“Because you’re cool,” he replies simply before making hearts with his fingers for your photo. “Obviously.”

You feel heat rise to your face at his words. “Oh. Thank you. That means a lot.”

Seungmin’s head tilts. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be training right now?”

You fiddle with your hands anxiously. You’ve never liked explaining the dynamics between you and the other members of your group. 

“Someone had to refill the water bottles,” is what you finally say. You motion to them, almost forgotten on the ground.

Seungmin nods slowly. “Sure, I guess. Do you have some free time to come meet the rest of us then? We’re kind of fans of yours.”

You can hardly believe it. Stray Kids are fans of you. 

“Sure.” You shrug casually. You should run back to the rest, but you do want to meet them. “I have time.”

Seungmin helps you carry the bottles down the corridor, dodging other idols. You reach a studio with a closed door, and Seungmin knocks on it with his foot in the form of a hard kick

Changbin answers it, eyebrows pulled together in annoyance. “You have hands, idiot- Oh. Oh!”

“My hands are full,” Seungmin grumbles, holding up the bottles. “Get out of the way, loser.”

Changbin’s wide eyes are still locked on you. He steps away, letting you and Seungmin pass. 

You flash him a warm smile, bowing slightly. Changbin returns it as if he can’t believe you’re here.

“Omg,” Jisung says, covering his mouth.

“I can’t believe you just said ‘omg’,” Hyunjin drawls from where he’s on the floor. He has his arms covering his face.

“Hello.” You wave to the rest of the room. Everyone is just watching you and you’re frankly uncomfortable with their gazes all being on you.

“Hi,” Chan coughs out. “What are you- What are you doing here?”

You adjust your stance, looking to Seungmin uncertainly. “He said you guys would want to meet me? And honestly I’m a big fan, so I didn’t mind coming here.”

“You’re a fan of us?” Felix asks in amazement.

“I can’t believe you’re a fan of me.” You laugh lightly. This whole day has taken a bizarre turn.

Hyunjin sits up, jaw dropping. “Stay is going to be so jealous. Can we post photos of us with you?”

You shrug casually. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

So you’re swarmed by them all taking photos in various poses with you. Jeongin is shy when he comes up to you, but quickly warms up to you and even asks you to record a video with him.

“I’m sorry, but I should go back to the others.” You grimace before smoothing out your expression into a pleasant one. “It’s been great meeting you.”

Chan hums softly. “You’re welcome back anytime. We know what we’re doing so we’re just fine-tuning. We have plenty of spare time.”

You smile and nod before putting all of the bottles back in your arms. It’s difficult to carry them all, but you make do.

When you return to the studio your group has been assigned to, they’re wrapping up. You linger in the doorway, unsure of what to do with yourself.

“There you are!” The choreographer puts his hands on his hips. “Come here.”

You set the water bottles down before rushing back to him. “Yes?”

“We’ve decided to remake your part,” he casually tells you. “I’ll show you it, and then you’ll memorize it and have it ready to go by tomorrow’s rehearsal.”

You freeze, watching him demonstrate the new dance. It’s definitely more complicated than the one you had previously been assigned, and you hesitate.

“Are you sure?” you carefully say.

“Oh, and you’re in the front now.” He wipes his hands on his pants. “You have it memorized? I also have a video of it set up on the laptop over there. You know the lines already too.”

“Yeah.” You blink back frustrated tears. “I’ve got this.”

The rest of the group shuffled out the door, wiggling their fingers goodbye at you. You stare numbly at them as you’re left alone in the studio.

You press play on the speakers and focus on singing for now. You’ve never sang this part before, and it’s a bit out of your range.

But you’re confident enough that you can do this, and nail it. You know you sound amazing, so you move on to the dance.

The movements are tricky, especially the hand gestures. They’re complicated enough that you have to just work on them for a minute.

“You look busy.” 

You whip around to find Hyunjin hovering near the entrance. You click the pause button and take a swig from your bottle.

“What are you still doing here?” Hyunjin pulls out his phone and checks the time. “It’s midnight. You’ll be exhausted for rehearsals tomorrow.”

You stretch out your legs. “No, I’ll be fine. I just- I have to do this.”

Hyunjin settles on the ground, leaning against the mirror. “Show me then.”

You falter. “Sorry?”

Hyunjin crosses his legs at the ankles and folds his hands in his lap. “I’ll give you some feedback. Then you can go get some rest sooner.”

You nod. “Sounds good.” You press play on the music and go through the dance, singing along. Your voice echoes weirdly in the room, but you know on stage it will sound good.

When you finish, you pant and slide down against the wall to the floor. “Well?”

Hyunjin tilts his head at you. “It was excellent. And… Weird.”

“Weird? What’s weird?” you anxiously ask. 

Hyunjin runs a hand over his shaved head, hand not catching on any hair. “It just… It matches perfectly with our choreography. I know we’re not supposed to talk about it before the show, but it’s almost identical.”

You frown as he gets to his feet. “Really?”

Hyunjin shows you his, and sure enough it goes alongside yours almost perfectly. He considers it for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”

You adjust your stance. “I’m not sure. Doesn’t your group go first, with mine after? It would look like we’re copying you.”

Chan knocks on the doorframe, clearing his throat. “Hyunjin. You should be in bed by now at the dorms. It’s a big day tomorrow.”

“Take a look at this.” Hyunjin points at you, so you awkwardly show Chan your dance as well.

Chan’s eyes widen. “Hyunjin! Why did you teach her our-“

“That’s hers,” Hyunjin interrupts. He begins to pace. “But you thought it was ours, which means that the audience would think they copied us, which means-“

You cough. “I’m sure there was just a misunderstanding with the choreographer. He probably just studied closely with yours, and it came out the same. Big coincidence.”

“We made ours.” Chan shakes his head. “There’s no way that’s what happened.”

You shuffle, unsure of what to do now.

“Let’s just deal with this in the morning.” Chan sighs and rubs at his face tiredly. “We’ll walk you to your group. Or van I guess.”

“That’s nice, but I’m okay.” You smile warmly. “They left already and took the van with them.”

“So how are you getting to your dorms?” Hyunjin questions, exchanging a look with Chan.

You chew the inside of your cheek. “I usually just walk if I’m not far, or sleep at the studio. It’s not bad. I can sleep in weird places.”

“She sleeps at the studio like you do.” Hyunjin shoots Chan a filthy expression. He rounds back on you. “We’ll give you a ride.”

You yawn, covering your mouth with your hand. “Really? You don’t have to.”

“No, it’s fine.” Chan tugs at his jacket, pulling it tighter around his body. “Come on.”

You trail after them, holding your water bottle. You make sure to flick the lights off before you leave.

“Felix!” Hyunjin yells. “We’re going!”

Felix darts out from an empty room, eyes locking on you. “What’s she doing here?”

“We’re giving her a ride,” Chan briefly explains. He fishes his keys out from his pocket. 

When you exit the building and go outside, Hyunjin screams, “Shotgun!”

Felix groans and crosses his arms. He glances at you and brightens. “Guess we get to sit together!”

Chan unlocks the vehicle and everyone scampers inside. Hyunjin snickers at Felix, who has to sit in the back.

You tell Chan the address and rest your head against the window as Felix eagerly rambles on. You barely catch what he’s saying, too tired to really focus.

Then you’re asleep, and your head rolls onto Felix’s shoulder. His entire face turns red and he reaches up to poke at Hyunjin.

“What, backseat loser?” Hyunjin grumbles.

“She’s asleep,” Felix whispers. “What do we do?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake the next morning to silence. It’s odd. Usually there’s frantic racing to get ready and people slamming on your door.

But it’s quiet with the sunlight filtering through your curtains.

You slip out of bed and tap the screen of your phone, heart sinking when you realize it’s almost nine. You dash out of your room, urgently tugging your pants on. You knock on people’s doors before skidding to a halt.

Why were you the only one in your room when you woke? Why are there dirty dishes piled up next to the sink?

There’s a note on the fridge, kindly informing you of your removal from the performance. The others are worried that you won’t be able to be ready in time.

So you’ve been ‘transferred to a backup dancer for another group or something.’

Temporarily, they added, but you have a sick feeling that it’s not. That this is your new normal.

You sit on the couch, sighing heavily. You notice ink on your forearm, and since you can’t remember last night-

“I got a tattoo?” you shriek in alarm. You feel dizzy as you look at your arm.

It’s not a tattoo, thankfully. Instead, someone has written a number with a marker. 

Last night comes rushing back, so you type the number into your phone and dial.

It rings once before Chan’s voice meets your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” You greet him maybe too casually, but you’re not a morning person. “Why did you give me your number?”

“So I can add you to our group chat.”

You pause. “What? Why?”

“Because… you’ll be working with us? Did you not know that you’ve been signed over to our group?” 

The dizziness has returned.

“What?” you rasp. “I’ve been what?”

There’s silence before Chan speaks again. “Okay, so I’m assuming you didn’t know.”

You close your eyes, fighting the light-headedness. “This is a lot. Chan, I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Don’t pass-“

Then you’re unconscious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chan curses and puts his phone down, causing Minho to glance up.

“What’s wrong?” he asks with mild concern as he places own phone in his lap.

Chan’s lips thin into a tight smile. “Get the others. We have to go pick her up.”

Minho shrugs and stands, wandering off. Chan grabs a first aid kit from under the sink and stuffs it into the van. When the others climb inside he starts up the engine and tells them everything.

“So, she’s been transferred to us.” Chan’s grip tightens on the wheel. “She had been taught our choreography so it would be an easier transition for this performance and-“

“So you knew the whole time?” Hyunjin demands. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“No!” Chan looks in the rearview mirror at him. “I got the email this morning that explained everything. I’m as shocked as you are.”

“Can’t believe they just gave her up,” Changbin mutters. 

Seungmin sighs and drums his fingers on his thigh. “Why is there a first aid kit?”

Chan shifts in his seat. “She might’ve passed out.”

Jisung gasps. “Oh no! Is she okay?”

“Well that’s why we’re going over,” Chan says in exasperation. 

Jeongin puts his hand up. “Dibs for CPR.”

Felix frowns at him. “I don’t think that’s how it works. I think you have to be trained to actually do it.”

Hyunjin snorts in amusement. “Right. I do it all the time.”

Chan side-eyes him. “Excuse me? Who are you giving CPR to so often?”

Hyunjin narrows his eyes. “That’s none of your business.”

Chan lets it go, having arrived at your dorms. Hyunjin had watched you put the code in last night, so he presses the buttons and the gate slides aside.

Changbin busts the door down and they all charge inside, holding various tools from the first aid kit.

You blink at them, holding a wet towel to your forehead. “What- How did you get in here?”

“We’re here to give you CPR,” Jisung blurts out.

You scowl. “Ew. Yeah that’s not happening.”

“Hey, you could do a lot worse than him!” Jeongin defensively says. He bats his eyes at you. “Heyyyy.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I can’t believe I’m in Stray Kids now. This is insane

“We’re cool.” Seungmin puts an arm around Hyunjin’s shoulder before shuffling to the side awkwardly once Hyunjin shrugs him away.

“Yeah I know. I’m not upset about being here now.” You grin at them. “I’ve been a fan for a while. I’m just… getting used to such a big change.”

“And we’ve been your fan for a while.” Minho rolls out his wrist. “But we have to get to rehearsal. Are you in or out?”

You toss the wet cloth at the sink, leaving it with the dirty dishes. Someone else can deal with it. “Let me grab my things and then I’m ready to go.”

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic

[pokeberry5]

Could we get a pen and ink cass cain?💖

o7 i referenced this cover:

[horsemoment]

Hi, hello. Sorry you only got one request, let me add another one! Octavia, please. Draw her doing whatever you'd like, I just wanna see her!

Thinkin of her gf!

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

For the expression ask challenge, uhhh Allura in C8 and hewwo??

Who taught her that?

[tanasha-not-yet]

fish pls

sure but find her som water

[trashyshrew]

just dropping in to say I love the way you draw the folds in clothing - makes me want to reach out and feel the fabric, smooth it out a little. it’s like I can visually /feel/ the texture, if that makes sense?

and separately - if you’re still taking art suggestions - could you draw Shinobu Kocho please? 🦋

🤩 thank you so much!

but on to what you came for:

[ketchupandpickles]

HEY KP, I wanted to send in an art request, so would you draw Rosseee? I cant add images sadly, but if you need me to send a pic of her just dm me on discord <3

Here she is! I love her design sjsgsjgsjddg <33

[zexal-bunny20]

Say, can you draw my oc, Aqua the Armadillo and Niltch like this? Aqua (Right) and Niltch (left)

Here you go, thanks for the request!

[good-beanswrites]

Hello!! If you're still taking requests for that drabble game, might I request either Strength with Kotoko + Mikoto or Weak with Amane + Futa? It's fine if you aren't doing it anymore, of course

I've been in this fanbase since trial one and out of all the things I've read, your writing is probably amongst my favorite! (Even if I haven't finished going through it all yet...) I hope you have a splendid day! <3

!!!!! You are so kind waaahh this completely made my day, thank you ;---; I'm so glad you're enjoying omg ✨And thanks for these, they were really cool and fitting combos!! I tried to do a dual-perspective of Kotoko and Mikoto's pre-T2 fight, and I posted the one for Weak below.

Strength can manifest in a variety of ways, not just physically. Kotoko had a strong determination, for example. Mikoto had a powerful way with people. She showed solid self control and willpower. He held to strict deadlines and routines. She maintained a sharp intelligence. He upheld an unshakeable resolve.

Also, they were both ridiculously physically strong.

The pair came to this realization around the same time. They’d gotten a taste of the others’ power when clashing in the interrogation room, but it had begun suddenly and ended just as quickly. This time was different. They stood in the center of the panopticon, with the echoing space to themselves. As Kotoko swung a punch toward Mikoto, and he caught her against his forearms, they had a moment to gauge the other’s muscle. 

Kotoko stared into his eyes, which had a different sort of awareness to them now. He’s more coordinated, she thought, he must not be the same one I faced before. He’s leaning on the strength in his arms -- he’s not using his legs to their fullest potential. It doesn’t matter, given the raw force of his blows. Has he trained for fights, or just built his muscles in general? 

Mikoto stared into her eyes, returning her fiery gaze. Fuck, this lady’s strong.

She wound up again. He retaliated quickly. She shoved his back into the guard’s tower. He sidestepped her next attack. 

He didn’t really care why his fellow prisoner had come charging at him swinging, but she made sure he knew.

“The warden may not be able to administer punishments,” she said in between timed breaths, “so they entrusted me with that responsibility. This is justice, for the lives you’ve taken. You won’t be able to hurt anyone else.”

He broke into harsh laughter. “You’re one crazy motherfucker! You’re the only person hurting anyone.” He tried to grab her, but she slipped from his arms. His eyes narrowed, laughter dying away with unsettling speed. “But there’s no way in hell I’m letting you hurt me.”

Kotoko was struck by the way he said it. Her voice had shaken with the very same determination when putting herself between an innocent citizen and some creep. It was how she felt now, trying to keep his violent hands away from the other prisoners. There were children here, weak and scared. Es themself was just a child, and had already suffered his violence. She refused to let this villain cause any more pain. “I’m doing what needs to be done. You’re nothing but a murderous monster.” She swung her fist.

Mikoto caught her by the wrist, forcing her to look at the blood caked in her hand. He didn’t know whose it was, but it wasn't either of theirs. “You’re the fucking monster!” He shoved her backwards. “And I’m gonna kill you for it…!”

He didn’t know how she could think she was the hero in this whole situation. He was the one protecting someone else. 

Neither held back. Mikoto wheezed as her boots connected. Kotoko cringed as Mikoto landed a solid hit on her face. There was some shouting from the hallway. Their resolves hardened. Mikoto wasn’t going to let anyone else threaten him. Kotoko wasn’t going to let him threaten anyone else. They were strong, they reminded themselves. They had to end this now.

The two charged at one another. A moment before they were set to collide, they both cried out in pain. Blinding white light flooded the dark panopticon. They clutched their eyes, stumbling away from one another. A figure shoved through, planting himself between them.

“Stop this, both of you!” It was Kazui.

“Get outta my way,” Mikoto growled.

“This is not your concern,” Kotoko said, blinking in the light. 

The spotlight in the guard’s tower had been switched on, pointed directly at them. Kazui remained in place. “That’s enough. Look at yourselves, for god’s sake!”

Under the harsh light, they now saw the sort of state they were in. Mikoto’s uniform had torn in new places, blood seeping through. He could taste some in his mouth, too. Kotoko’s face was cut. Her leg ached. They stood covered in bruises, panting. 

“Go back to your cells,” Kazui commanded. “We’ll sort this out in the morning.”

Kotoko squared her shoulders. “There’s nothing to sort out. He’s a murderer. I won’t lose to him.”

“This bitch tried to kill me. I’m not letting her get away with it.”

“I don’t care.” Kazui said simply. “Call it a draw. You’ll both tear yourselves apart if you keep going.”

They continued staring at one another as if their gaze alone could take them to the ground, but neither moved to fight. 

Mikoto felt a pang of guilt. Lost in adrenaline, he didn’t realize how banged up he was. He thought of how much pain he’d experience in the upcoming days. The whole point was to save himself from harm. 

Kotoko cursed Kazui for interrupting her. As one of the forgiven, he was supposed to be on her side. Even if he wasn’t honorable enough to see her as an ally, she’d have to be the bigger person. She wouldn’t threaten him. 

Neither was happy about conceding, but couldn't think of a better option given their end goals.

Kazui remained between them as they stalked off to their respective cells.

“A temporary draw,” Kotoko muttered to Mikoto. She flashed a grin that felt more like an animal baring its teeth.

He returned the smile. “You won't be so lucky next time.”

[dawnthefluffyduck]

Ooh I thought of something I'd like you to draw! Could you draw my cat Jessica please? I can provide a reference if you need one, or you can use the photos on my dash. Thank you Dawn <3

Of course, anything for the precious little lady :) she's such a beautiful cat, best wishes for the coming weeks <3

[im-smart-i-swear]

Please draw my beloved Yellowfang if it is ok. I love her but i know almost nothing about her but also she means everything it is like a parasocial relationship but for blorbos

hiii:) heres the old woman, featuring the two kids she kind-of-adopted

you dont want to know how she died

[poorly-drawn-ace-attorney]

can i get Franzy in 1A? thank u~~

sure, the horrors are unending, but you've got to serve <3

(outfit game here!)

[opikiquu]

Hello, I saw that requesting ocs is allowed

Could I ask for them to be drawn? Their name is Jiko Higeki, ult Unlucky Student

(They're a non-binary they/she)

THEY’RE SO PRETTY I LOVE THEM

[fayes-fics]

Eden

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Seeing you with other Bridgerton offspring has an interesting effect on your new husband...

I couldn't resist using a Season 3 gif cos hello.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, breeding kink, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, ie filthy babymaking. Also, the smut is bookended by fluff; yeah, that probably needs a warning, lol.

Word Count: 4.2k

Authors Note: This is a very belated request fill for @victoriaholland (HERE) and Anon (HERE) about Benedict with a touch of baby fever. I decided to combine the asks as I saw a way to weave them together. Sorry for the delay, but well at least babymaking seems appropriate for spring hehe. Thank you to @colettebronte for being an awesome beta, as always. Err, Enjoy! <3

Daphne’s latest child is beautiful; you delight in his joy as he bounces on your lap, learning the strength of his sweetly chubby legs, little fists wrapped tight around your fingers. 

Looking up, you catch your husband's eye from afar, his stare intense across the gardens of Bridgerton House as you sit under a tented shelter upon a picnic blanket. The rest of the family are scattered around, playing games or chatting, but you are quite content minding the little one while his nanny takes a few moments to eat lunch.

“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquire as Benedict draws closer. 

“Yes… I….” He seems a little flustered. 

“Are you sure?” 

You pull a funny face for the infant, who breaks out into the most adorable infectious giggles that has you grinning from ear to ear and hugging him into your body, swaying with him. 

“Are you alright? Minding the child?” He checks, his voice a touch odd.

“Oh yes. We are more than happy, are we not, my little prince?” You talk in a vaguely silly baby-talk voice, addressing the child in your arms as much as Benedict. 

Again, the child peals with delighted noises and spit bubbles enthusiastically, looking up at Benedict eagerly as much as you do.

“Well, that is wonderful news,” he blusters, and you could swear he is out of sorts, breathless almost. “I shall… leave you to it,” he adds, giving you a bow and then withdrawing as the little one wiggles out of your arms.

“Ignore your Uncle Benedict; he is being a silly billy,” you whisper conspiratorially once the man in question is out of earshot.

The response is babbled nonsense as the child bashes one wooden brick against another.

“I quite agree,” you state sagely before breaking into a goofy grin.

——

“Please?” Hyacinth wheedles.

“No, Hy,” you sigh without even looking up.

“Ugh, you are no fun!” she scowls, crossing her arms defiantly.

“What is all this?” Anthony clips as he strides into the drawing room, Benedict on his heels, as Hyacinth flounces dramatically across the room. 

“Your little sister is angry at me because I will not allow her to drink the punch; it has brandy in it,” you explain cooly.

“Quite right, too!” Anthony chimes as Hyacinth rolls her eyes.

“Listen to y/n, Hyacinth, and do as she says,” Anthony lectures, and you feel grateful for his support, effectively neutering her rebellion. “Despite a temporary lapse of judgment when choosing a spouse, she is otherwise one of the most sensible people in this family.”

“Hey…!” Benedict protests.

“Please…” Anthony withers, twisting towards him. “Brother, if there is one thing us Bridgerton men know how to do, ‘tis to marry a woman entirely too good for us. And well done on that, by the way.”

You smirk at Anthony’s hilarious way of putting his brother - your husband - in his place, catching Kate’s eye with a wink as she enters the room carrying her baby. 

“Y/n, come and meet the future Viscount; he’s awake at last,” she calls to you. 

You are immediately on your feet and grinning, taking the tiny bundle from her arms and cooing at the sweet little boy. The baby opens his enormous brown eyes and observes you for a second before breaking into a one-toothed grin and happily waving his fists at you.

“Oh, he really likes you!” Kate enthuses, delighted.

“As I do you, little one,” you smile, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

You look up to see Benedict with that same look on his face as earlier. A tempest, almost an energy over his being. It’s almost as if he is… aroused?! Which is most odd.

As you hand the baby back to Kate, giving him one final kiss, Benedict is suddenly by your side. Announcing to the family that there has been a change of plan and, regrettably, you will not be able to stay for dinner, his arm an insistent tug around your waist.

——

“Why did we not stay for family dinner as originally planned, my love?” 

Your question is soft, only just audible over the noise of the carriage as you trundle over the cobbled streets of Mayfair a few minutes later. 

“I decided that we should perhaps dine at ours this evening…” his voice adopting that deeper edge which always causes butterflies in your tummy. His hand lands on your knee, a heavy weight that feels portentous. He slides closer on the bench seat.

“Why might that be?” your ask turns breathy, entirely without you meaning it to.

“I want to be alone with you,” he murmurs, unmistakably pitched to arouse. 

The carriage seems to notch up a few degrees as the rocking motion presses your side rhythmically into his. The sound of the wheels and hooves is so loud. He twists to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pulls your back against his flank. 

“All day today, I have watched you,” he rumbles, hand warming the skin around your clavicle, fingertip brushing in circles. “You are so very good with children, darling. Seeing you so naturally with the babies and how you handled Hyacinth… you would be the perfect mother.”

You blush a little at his praise. “Thank you, my love. I would like children one day. Your children. Imagine a child with your eyes. They would be quite the most beautiful,” you sigh wistfully, leaning back into him, his hand feeling heavier on your skin.

Benedict chuckles modestly. “And what of your beauty? Would a child version of you not be the most fetching?”

You giggle and turn your head sideways to nuzzle against his jaw. “I think we would indeed make beautiful babies together, Benedict.”

“I agree,” his voice a tempting lilt, fingers skating downwards over the swell of your breast now, slipping inside the fabric and making you gasp as he tweaks your nipple. “And I think we should start as soon as we get home.”

“Did seeing me with babies suddenly make you want your own, Mr Bridgerton?” Your hand flexes on his knee as he toys with your breast.

“Oh yes darling, it made me want to take you right there…” he asserts, finally admitting those looks he gave you were indeed pure arousal.

You reach up and run your hand into his hair, fingers flexing on his warm scalp as you pull his face to yours.  “And suddenly, it appears I am no longer hungry for dinner…” you whisper flirtatiously, your cupid's bow brushing his stubbled upper lip.

He groans, and his passionate kiss is plundering, a tingle running over your limbs, just as your carriage comes to a shuddering stop outside your townhome. 

Uncaring of the neighbourhood or any prying eyes, Benedict sweeps you out of the carriage in his arms, carrying you bridal style over the pavement and through your front door.

“My wife and I are not to be disturbed,” he announces crisply and loudly to the staff as you enter the hallway.

Leaving no room for doubt about his plans by pulling you into a searing kiss for all to see before ascending the stairs rapidly. He practically growls as he kicks open the door to your master bedroom door and slams it shut again with his foot. 

“Benedict…” you stammer, heart pounding at how overwrought he is. 

You have never seen him like this. Commanding, crackling with an energy that has your body simmering. He is usually so sweet, affable, and kind. Every time you have been intimate since your wedding night a few weeks ago, he has been a complete gentleman: loving and so very tender. The grip he has had on you tonight feels different. This is something primal—like a switch has been flipped at a basal level in his being.

He places you down onto your feet before the roaring fire, his face intense.

“Wife…” The way he says it makes you feel a flush creep over your skin.

“Husband…” you respond in kind, belly fluttering with excitement.

“Take off your dress,” he orders, his dilated pupils shining in the firelight.

This is new. Usually, he is the one to remove it slowly and softly from your body. 

“I cannot, the buttons…” you confess, signalling behind you. You would need your ladies' maid to unhook them from between your shoulder blades.  

He moves closer, seeming so much taller; his ragged breaths dance in the tendrils of your hair as he reaches around behind your shoulders. With a rough tug that makes you startle, he tears the fabric asunder, the sound of tiny pearl buttons skittering across the polished wooden floor behind you as you gasp in surprise.

“There…” he smirks dangerously, “problem resolved.”

You are speechless as he withdraws a pace, looking at you expectantly. You follow his order, a slight quake in your hands as you push the frayed dress down your body, still a little shocked by his strength. Then you reach for the crisscross lacing of your stays, feeling the weight of his stare as each loop relents, his eyes hungry, his body heaving with deep breaths his fitted jacket taut with each inhale. You peel the item away, leaving just your thin white cotton chemise.

“Rip it too,” you plead before you realise it, enthralled by this assertive demeanour.

With a noise in the back of his throat, he takes a pace forward again, and you stare up at him, enchanted. He grasps the fabric above your breasts and then rips it loudly from your chest all the way to your ankles, the sound echoing up the walls. Again, his strength has your knees weak. As the torn pieces flutter from your body, you want to bathe in the hungry sound he makes as he realises you are clad only in white knee-high silk stockings, no underwear to be seen, the warmth from the fireplace swirling around your intimate area. 

As you stand almost naked before your imposing husband, him still fully dressed, there is a knot low in your gut. But it’s not fear; it’s something else entirely—desire. Trembling, breathless and wanting. An elemental wish to be thoroughly taken.

He steps forward, eyes glittering, and his fingers plough roughly between your legs, making you gasp.

“Eden,” he proclaims, his fingers snagging over your swollen pearl of a clit with almost rough strokes, the callous where he holds his paintbrush abrading your folds. “A wonderful, lush, wet garden. Just waiting to be planted.”  His words are hypnotic and low, questing fingers being coated with a dewiness that is entirely of his making.

“Please…” you whimper, squirming on his touch, captivated by this version of your husband, wanting to submit to him, a burning need low in your belly. His fingers slide faster, making a lewd, wet noise. 

“Are you going to let me?” Benedict croons. “Plant my seed inside you?”

Until now, he has always been careful to complete outside your body. A slightly bereft feeling every time - the wonderful moment cut short as he leaves you suddenly empty, a warm splash upon your thighs, tummy or spine. The idea he will stay inside you is alluring in a way you don’t fully comprehend.

“Yes, please, husband,” your nipples puckering almost painfully against the wool of his lapels as he crowds into you. 

“Good. Get on that bed right now,” Benedict orders roughly, pointing at your four-poster bed as he tugs off his jacket.

You scramble to obey. Feeling under a spell. Being naked save your stockings feels illicit as you lay back into the soft pillows and watch as he undresses, staring you down the whole time. 

You slide a hand between your legs instinctively as more of his toned body is revealed. He growls at the sight, you biting your lip and watching him, his torso bare, his trousers clinging to his shapely legs, to his swollen cock. He bends to remove his shoes, and the sight of his broad shoulders flexing is enough to make you moan. As he stands back up and hooks his elegant fingers around the trouser buttons, a smug look on his handsome face that he is doing this to you.

“Husband…” you call out to him, writhing on your fingers shamelessly now, one hand shooting up to brace your movements against the headboard, flushing warm down to your toes.

With a few dextrous flicks, the buttons relent, and his trousers drop to the floor. His naked body is always a delicious sight, but tonight feels more, every sense heightened, moaning again as he takes a step towards you, thigh muscles flexing, his cock standing proud to attention.

Again, a soft plea falls from your lips, your eyes raking every plain of his tempting form, feeling yourself swell under your fingertips.

“Not yet,” he clucks, the arrogance somehow more beguiling as you bite your lip. “I think I want to watch you come, my darling. All by yourself. I hear female pleasure can aid with conception after all.”

“Will you not touch me?” you petition, reaching your other hand imploringly towards him.

“No darling, I shall watch,” his lopsided grin deadly. 

He wraps a strong fist around his own cock, pumping slowly, a bead of moisture gathering at his tip, glistening in the candlelight as he does. 

“Now, use both hands, please. Place your fingers inside yourself,” Benedict instructs as you blindly follow, a languid buzz in your brain—you would do anything he told you to right now.

Planting your feet squarely on the bed, you drag your ankles up higher towards your bottom, letting your legs fall open wider to give him a better view as your other hand slides down. You plunge two fingers into yourself, your hips canting off the mattress with a staccato breath at the sensation of yourself, so hot and tight.

“That's right,” he endorses, a leisurely movement of his hand up and down his cock as he watches you from a few feet away. “‘Feel yourself, darling. Tis paradise, is it not?” that trademark rumbling voice skittering over your skin, goosebumps raising down your arms just at the tone. 

“Come closer,” you appeal breathily, wanting to smell him, feel his heat, his flesh—anything.

He shakes his head, smirking wider as his refusal spurs you on, desperate to come. Mewling as your fingers speed up, one circling your clit, the others buried as far as you can, wishing instead it were his long, graceful fingers reaching places you are unable. Watching him squeeze his own cock hurtles you fast, already aroused from the moment he slid a hand into your dress in the carriage. 

Unable to fight the tide in your body, you screw your eyes shut and call out his name as your pussy starts to convulse around your own fingers, toes curling into the sheet, your muscles all going stiff, your hips again raised as you feel the tide break. A gush of wetness runs down your palm and your bottom cheeks as your mind floats away. Distantly, you can hear him speaking, but it’s fuzzy as you flop back down, sated, your legs going flat, too shaky to balance.

You startle as a warm hand circles the wrist of your fingers still inside yourself, bringing you abruptly back into the room. Benedict looms over you, his chest heaving, that power still there.

“What was that?” your query drowsy, lips dry.

He chuckles richly. “I said that was spectacular,” he repeats, bemused. “But also that I want you to paint your nipples with your arousal, my love, for me,” he commands, tugging your hand so your fingers slide out of yourself.

You do as bidden, still floating down from the high, smearing your own warm juices onto your puffed areolas.

“Perfect..” he intones.

In one swift, athletic move, he mounts the bed. You cry out as his warm mouth encloses your left nipple, groaning lewdly as he licks you clean of your arousal, his tongue a heavy, warm, wet weight curling around your sensitive bud, his lips tugging gently, reawakening those synapses only just recovering from your orgasm. 

“Why do you always taste like heaven?” his dusky question is rhetorical, his breath gusting over your sternum as he swaps to your other breast to meter out the same treatment. He has you moving under him again as he settles his body over you more firmly, your hips tilting up to feel his hard cock graze your inner thigh. “I wonder if you will still taste like heaven when you are heavy with my child?” he hums thoughtfully as he teases your nipple with the tip of his nose, one hand cupping your empty belly. “I dare say even moreso, ripe like a vine, bearing fruit…” That sonorous voice teases over your skin as he moves slowly upwards to nuzzle your neck. “My fruit….” he adds, possessive as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, so loud now right by your ear.

His hands wind around your thighs as he shuffles position so he is kneeling between your legs, his ropey thighs spread wide under yours…

“Are you ready for that, my love?” he pauses until you nod almost imperceptibly; you squeak as he suddenly hauls you down the bed, hips onto his lap, your pelvis now higher than your head upon the sheets. Your stockings unfurling down your legs where he quickly plucks at the ribbons holding them aloft.

“Good, because I am more than ready for you,” it almost sounds like a warning.

Then, with a solid thrust, he spears into your body, the invasion toe-curling, your fingers grasping his muscular forearms that are clamped around your waist. It is a primal position, and he begins to thrust with no mercy, his cock feeling huge and heavy, a strong weight that drags heavily over your walls as your pussy clings to him. Your eyes flutter closed as you whimper his name, powerless to do anything but take his thrusts, draped across his lap as you are.

“Look at me,” he demands raggedly. And you do, his handsome face contorted with effort as he slams into you, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow. “Look at me while I fuck a baby into you, wife.”

He’s never spoken to you like this before, clipped, harsh. It seems appropriate that he would be almost desperate in an act so elemental, so of the earth—to create life. Stoking a fire deep in your core that is a clarion call for him, a frisson running over your skin at the idea you are being impregnated. Bred.

You know neither of you will last long with this almost frenzied coupling, the tendrils of your arousal already swirling so soon after your last, his near-brutish handling precisely what you need, your swollen pearl slammed into his flat abdomen with every stroke he takes. The sheets roll under your shoulder blades as he keeps the same position, your hips high, a mounting that you cannot and do not want to escape, knowing he is leaving fingertip bruises around the dip of your waist, marks you will carry secretly with pride just for him.

You moan his name, so close again to that ephemeral bliss, thrashing your head from side to side as if willing the pleasure to break and wash over you.

“Come on, come for me, milk me, darling. Take what you need, take my seed,” his voice a deep wrecked purr, the lines of his body tense, craving release as much as you.

That command is what breaks the dam for you, an almost violent ricochet fanning out from where you clench around him, his cries muffled behind the rushing noise in your ears, every part of you convulsing in a pleasurable wave. And then, in a floating haze, for the very first time, you feel your husband come inside you, a warm bloom that coats your walls. It's an intoxicating feeling; you never want him to come anywhere else ever again.

“That's it, well done, my love,” he croons, eyes still shut as he shudders with little aftershocks, not leaving your body—as if he wants to stay inside you always.

——

As the embers in the fireplace glow white, you lay in post-coital bliss, bodies dewy from exertion. Benedict rests his head upon your stomach as you card your fingers leisurely through his hair.

“Do you believe we may have made a baby, darling?” he hums, pressing his ear to your belly button as if listening for a heartbeat.

“I am certain of it, husband; you were so very thorough with your attentions,” you assure as he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I hope our baby has your face,” you opine.

“Even if it is a girl?!”

“Thou art as pretty as thou art handsome, Mr Bridgerton,” you quip.

He laughs, carefree, crawling behind you and pulling you into a spooned embrace. “Be careful with such provocation, wife; I may not be done with you after all,” he jests idly. “I, on the other hand, hope our child looks like you, even if it is a boy.” he posits, crowding into your back, his lips warm on the shell of your ear.

“Why?” you laugh, frowning, twisting to look back at him.

“So that I may love them as much as I do you,” he breezes nonchalantly as if what he says is not the sweetest thing you can imagine, causing a tart, sudden spike of want through your body, even as you lay sated.

“Be careful, husband,” you volley back, coquettish. “Or I may not yet be done with you.”

There is a sharp, approving intake of breath, and his hand slides low from your belly into the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“Is that a promise” he rumbles, your gasp loud as his fingers expertly drag against your clit.

“It is whatever you want. Just do not stop,” you rush out, your hand curling around his bicep, feeling a rigid mass slide hot against your bottom. “Again, husband,” you appeal breathily. “Impregnate me again.”

“With pleasure, wife,” he growls, surging into your body with a force that again steals the very breath from your lungs.

The pinkish light dawn is streaking over the ceiling above when you both finally succumb to sleep after many more vigorous attempts at babymaking. The last one, perhaps the most desperate, you pinned against the headboard, him fucking into you so hard from behind that a jagged crack appears, spidering up the wall from where the bedframe slammed into it. A flaw which he steadfastly refuses to get fixed, claiming it to be the most profound art—a souvenir and ode to a momentous night.

——

9 months later

Benedict’s lips mash against your sweaty brow as he keeps lauding you with praise, excitement and pride evident in his every word. You flop back onto the bed, exhaustion deep in your bones, your body turned inside out, hurting in a way you have never known.

But it was all worth it.

What feels like only moments later, in your shattered, addled state, the doctor and nurses depart. Your husband perches on the bed next to you, his face a picture of wonderment. Holding not just one but two bundles of joy in the crooks of his arms. One girl, one boy—fraternal twins.

“My love, we have created the most beautiful creatures on all of this earth,” he attests partisanly, his voice profound with emotion, his eyes pinging from one swaddled face to the other as they sleep soundly.

You shoot him a watery but ironic smile. “I suppose, dear husband, that is what happens when you spend a whole night impregnating me. You succeed twice over.”

His brow raises pointedly, his tongue shooting out to pass over his bottom lip. “Are you suggesting next time around, wife, we keep going for three days straight? So that I may have a brood of eight by the time we are done?” Deploying his bedroom voice that he knows full well makes your knees weak.

“Do not say such things in front of the children!” you chide, swatting his knee where it touches your thigh. “And no, I am not carrying six of your progeny at once; that is simply preposterous!”

“Four?” he petitions with a wink.

You roll your eyes affectionately, settling back into the mound of pillows. “A maximum of two at a time is my final offer, Benedict Bridgerton,” you respond drolly.

“Entirely reasonable,” he chuckles contentedly, dropping a kiss onto each of their foreheads before handing both to you so delicately, as if they are the most precious bundles in the world. 

Which to you both, they are.

Join my taglist HERE

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[gloomwitchwrites]

I absolutely love your stories they’re so amazing! Can I please request the task force and pranking them by telling them a guy did your Brazilian wax

Thank you! I can't take all the credit. I might be the writer, but the Imagines Series couldn't be what it is without all the amazing ideas people have submitted. I'm honestly blown away by the amount of creativity and ideas sent my way. My inbox is full of wonderful requests, and while it's going to take me a bit to get to them all, I'm eager to complete them!

The amount of prank requests I've been getting has been so fun. Not just this one, but telling mom to shut up, and the premium air prank, etc. All of these make me giggle and have been a blast to work on. Thank you so much for sending this in!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, established relationship, pranks, non-descriptive nudity

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John briefly licks the pad of his thumb before counting out the appropriate amount of pound notes.

“This enough?” he asks, presenting it to you.

It’s more than enough. “Plenty. Thank you, John.”

He leans forward a bit, and you eagerly greet him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Drawing back, you give him your best smile. But beneath the grin is a trick.

You want to mess with him a bit.

“I have a new waxer,” you shrug, adding the cash to your wallet. “Cheryl put in her notice.”

Cheryl did not put in her notice. That woman probably won’t retire until she dies.

John inclines his head, already turning away. “That’s too bad. You liked her.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, grabbing your purse. “They’ve put me with someone new. A Mark? Mike? No—Marcus? I think.”

John freezes. He slowly turns back, cheeks bright red. “What?”

“It starts with an ‘m’,” you muse.

“Your new waxer is a man?”

“Yes,” you shrug. “And?” John’s face resembles a beet. “Everything good?”

“Where does Cherly work now?”

“John—”

He grabs his phone from his pocket and starts tapping away at it. "I want to know if she accepts walk-ins."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle's hand slowly runs over your newly waxed skin. "Look at you. So soft and smooth." His touch makes you shiver.

"You paid for it," you murmur.

"I did," smiles Kyle, head dipping.

His tongue makes contact, and you release a moan. It’s slightly distracting, but not enough to detract from you poking at him.

“Had a new waxer,” you sigh as Kyle goes in for another taste.

“Did you?” he asks absently, more interested in your new smoothness.

“A man, actually. Undergoing training. There were two of them in the room.”

Kyle's head snaps up. "What?"

"Why'd you stop?" you whimper.

"There were two men that waxed you?"

“No, Kyle. Just one.”

A series of emotions pass over Kyle's face. His mouth opens. Closes. And then his hand forms a fist, fingers flexing and relaxing as he mulls over something.

"Everything okay?" you ask, suddenly worried.

“Can’t be that hard.” Kyle pushes away from the couch and reaches for his phone. “Or expensive.”

“What can’t? Kyle. What are you talking about?”

You lean forward and see him adding a waxing kit to his online shopping cart.

“No,” you say firmly. “You’re not putting hot wax anywhere near my vagina.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

"Oh, what's this?"

Johnny's hands are on your thighs and then beneath your skirt in a moment.

"Johnny!"

"Is this for me? You don't have to. You know I like a good adventure through the woods."

"Johnny!" you say again, slapping his arm playfully as his fingers lightly squeeze, making your squirm in his grasp.

"Was this on my dime?" he asks.

"Maybe."

"Oh, aye. Am I gonna find an unknown charge?"

"With a tip. A large tip. My waxer deserved it. He did a good job."

"Oh, they—he?"

"Yes. That a problem?"

Johnny's hands don't retreat but he's staring at you—hard. You arch an eyebrow and he finally speaks. "Your waxer is a man?"

No.

"Yes."

Johnny nods and then he leans in, lowering his voice. “You’re taking the piss.”

“I’m—”

“I saw your location. I checked it out. They don’t have a single male employee in that place.”

Your face grows hot.

Johnny’s hands squeeze a bit harder, and then he lands a brief smack against the curve of your ass. “Lying to me, love?” Johnny tsks. He palms the curve of your ass where it stings. “Suppose I should punish you.”

“Maybe you should.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You reject the call and clutch your phone to your chest. You've messed up. Royally. Pranking Simon is always a terrible idea.

The texts were just a tease. Just a way to push Simon’s buttons.

I have a new waxer.

I thought it would be one of the other ladies.

But no!

It was a guy!

Your phone buzzes again and you nearly throw it across the room. It’s Simon. You decline the call. Everything is quiet for a few brief seconds before a text message from him comes through.

Answer your phone.

You click out a reply.

I'm in the car!

His reply comes instantly.

You're at home. I know your location.

Another incoming call. This one you answer.

"Simon,” you say flatly.

"What location did you go to?" he asks, voice rough with tension.

"Why?" you counter.

"What's his name?" he snaps.

"I know what you're doing, Simon.”

You always forget just how deep his possessive streak goes.

Silence. Then, "I just want to talk."

"Simon.”

He growls your name in warning.

"You don't need to go there. Just...come home. You can see the results for yourself."

He sighs. "I'll be there in ten. Be ready for me."

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @cherryofdeath @ferns-fics

@tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus @no-oneelsebutnsu

@marispunk @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307 @itsberrydreemurstuff

@cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic @sammysinger04

@kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld @umno-yeah

@daemondoll @jackrabbitem @lxblm @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez

@ash-tarte @enarien @gingergirl06 @greeniegreengreen @certainlygay

[limethefirst]

im sorry i but i have to get in on this sonic movie s shadow train i love this movie so much as well! And ive been dieing for some movie shadow x readers to pop up. Is it alright if i request something? Can we have a shadow the hedgehog x reader where you also are living in the g.u.n base maria and shadow were? Your father or mother being on of the scientists and one day maria and shadow find you alone in a corner of the base writing music or playing with toys something (your marias age). Thrn they introuce themselfs and maybe you become part of their gaggle of fraggles to always being with them to the point your mother and gerald agree for you and maria both to share a room. With you shadow and maria being so close in time till your all like siblings? Idk this just sounded so cute. Thank you of your able to write this!

Birds of a Feather

pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x reader x Maria Robotnik (platonic)

warnings: none!!!

summary: after being brought to work with your mother, Maria and Shadow stumble upon you, deciding to invite you to join their little group, from then on the three of you became inseparable

a/n: this is such a cute request! I was gonna end it with both Maria and the reader dying but I think Shadow has been traumatized enough for now…

“You stay put! I have work to do in the lab okay?” Your mother’s voice was stern; being a single mother was tough, especially because she had no one to take care of you while she did her work. You gave her a small nod, acknowledging her request.

A slight sigh escaped her lips as she lightly caressed your cheek, “Just, behave for me please,” was the last thing she told you before she walked into the door to your right, the words ‘Laboratory’ in bright white above the area.

You slowly sat down on the floor, she’d asked you to not leave and you really wanted to respect her decision, even as a child you knew her life was harder than she’d let on.

Unfortunately you were a child with a small attention span. You dug into your pockets and found a small notebook with equations, probably from your mom and a small pencil. Since there was nothing better to do maybe it was best to just draw a little bit, maybe some flowers and animals you liked.

Sitting there, you slightly hunched over, trying your hardest to draw the most beautiful roses and some bees and landscape you could. Suddenly a voice rang out from above you, “What are you doing here?” Your head snapped up, meeting the eyes of a small blonde girl and a strange black and red hedgehog.

“Uhm my mom works here..” you nervously answered her, “What are you doing here?” You asked her exact question but back at her.

“My grandfather works here!” She proudly exclaimed. The hedgehog looked between the both of you, he stood covered behind her, he had a mean face but you could tell he was more curious than anything.

The girl taking note of the awkward silence decided to introduce herself, “I’m Maria! And this is Shadow! What’s your name?”

You looked between the two, taking in who they were before you quietly responded with your name, Maria let out a big grin and Shadow silently repeated it to himself, “What are you drawing?” Maria asked, looking at the small notebook in your hand. You looked down at it and turned it over so the two could see; it looked like a small rabbit with butterflies and flowers around it, “Woah that looks really cool!”

Shadow silently nodded, agreeing with her. You thanked the two of them, fidgeting with your pencil. As Maria continued to talk you took notice of her outfit, she wore a pastel rainbow long sleeve shirt and loose pants with skates on her feet instead of shoes. She must’ve noticed you staring at them as she suddenly asked, “Do you wanna try them!?”

You hesitantly shook your head, as much as you wanted to you didn’t really know her and if she would even be okay with that. Maria reassured you that it was fine and actually really fun, before you could tell her a definite no she’d already taken them off, placing them in front of you, “Try them! Shadow can pull you around,”

Shadow looked between the both of you, clearly not having agreed but Maria nodded her head yes, leaving Shadow to only agree. Surely your mom wouldn’t notice if you were gone for a quick second.

Once you were geared up and Maria found a rope to tie onto Shadow and for you to hold, she grabbed her timer, “Ready, set, go!!” Before you had time to really brace yourself Shadow had already set off, he ran through the base, his face held a small smile as he checked back a few times to check if you were still holding on.

He saw the wide smile you had, your laughter was echoing throughout the hall filled with the other agents. Quickly you already finished the lap and had made your way back to Maria, but unfortunately you didn’t exactly know how to stop, so as Shadow had slowed down you still held a generally fast speed. Too fast actually, causing you to trip and fall face first; thankfully the fast hedgehog was able to grab you and hold you up before you fell and ate concrete.

Maria ran over to check and make sure you were okay, feeling guilt if she somehow made you upset from almost falling. As you stood up, you turned back to look at the two, your extremely wide smile shocking them both, it was almost contagious as Maria started to smile and laugh and Shadow breathed a sigh of relief but you could see the small twitch in his lips making them quirk up.

Suddenly you heard your name coming from beside you, turning you saw your mom as well as her boss Professor Gerald Robotnik looking at the three of you, “I thought I told you to stay put!” Her expression wasn’t one of anger, more a mix of stress and lack of sleep.

“Mom! I’m sorry I just met Maria and Shadow and they’re really fun and I thought it was okay, we didn’t cause any trouble-“ You started to ramble feeling immense guilt for betraying your own mother, but you were suddenly cut off.

“Now now, I think it’s quite alright, you see Maria is my granddaughter, and I trust her and your child doesn’t seem bad” The professor interrupted and explained to your mother, “I actually think it’s good for the kids to hangout and get along” he advocated for you.

All three of you nodded your head, even Shadow was agreeing! Your mom reluctantly nodded her head, agreeing that he was right.

And so you came daily, until your mom had to start working 24/7 and so Gerald let you stay in Maria’s room, even getting you guys a bunk bed. It was nice, the three of you became like the three musketeers, you’d never see each other alone anymore.

Sometimes Maria would play music and you three would all dance and jump around together. At some point you even got your own pair of skates so that you three could race, although Shadow always won.

Life was fun, everyday was like an endless sleepover, sometimes the three of you would sneak out and watch the stars, even falling asleep under the moonlight. It wasn’t bad, not at all.

These were the best days of your life, just you and your two best friends.