#you can get lost in those eyes so easily
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i really like the idea of quintessence ghouls having literal stars in their eyes.
i dont mean their sclera, i mean their pupils, when they move them there are actually constellations you can see in them, and the constellations change a little bit everyday
#theres no reason for why it is what is it but I like it#you can get lost in those eyes so easily#like youre asking for a cup of water and when you look up you see tiny dots of stars in the ghouls eye#awestruck#hthrob posts#the band ghost#nameless ghouls#ghost band#quintessence ghoul#ghoul headcannons
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thank you @lilysrosier and @sugarsnappeases for the tags<33 catch me rambling in the tags as ever<3
iâm over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i donât often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / iâve never dated anyone / i have a best friend iâve known for over five years / i am an only child
no pressure tags for @scrxpz @sophyayayayaya @theicarusconstellation @svphart @stillagoodwitch and @spaceandotheroddities as well as anyone else who wants to!!!!!<33
#by googling cm to feet ive come to discover that i am in fact 5 feet 6 9â64 inches tall lol#<-168 cm#i have red hair!!!! and blue eyes + freckles#tho those are mostly prominent during summer#i hate the feeling of nail polish AND im too impatient to wait while they dry. so when i do paint them it always looks so crusty#i smile all the time i cant stop it#no resting bitch face HOWEVER i just look really sad when i relax my faceđ#do i play sports? not if i can avoid it#i'm banned from the kitchen BUT my baked goods are unmatched yall!!!! unmatched!!!! irls dont you dare come for me abt this if youve never#tasted my cookies#i have friends ive known for 5+ yrs but not BEST friends.. never did well with those bc i kinda get too easily lost in the codependency yk#but i love love love my friends mwah<33#and no only child would be this ill about sibling angst. methinks#big brother is a content creator in this fandom too.. very scary stuff lol
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đđ SYNOPSIS. sukuna is shamelessânot caring if anyone were to ever catch him righteously claiming ownership over his favorite concubine in the garden.
wc. 1.5k-ish
tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut, pwp. exhibitionism. size difference. dumbification \\ objectification. has two c.ocks. hair pulling. use of spit (yeah ik i wouldnt write for it but its sukuna). breeding themes. overstimulation. reader gets called âlittle girl, slutâ. sukunaâs a menace and loves to create drama between his concubines
âshut up. i donât care if theyâre here or not,â sukuna grunts, tightening his grip on your fleshy thighs as his lower cock slams in and out your sloppy cunt without much thought. the sound of pruning shears cutting off branches is easily overwhelmed by the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin.
you feel sorry for those servants whoâre just doing their job tending to the garden. none of them dare to look your way. theyâre sweating, eyes solely focused on the branches theyâre cutting, acting like they are not hearing the sinful moans and grunts in the distance. if they look, theyâre dead. that much is known.
everything is blurry to you. all you can manage to do is let out a string of pleasure filled whines. your body is easily overpowered and held up against the harsh wood of the nearby wall. your thighs are spread in an awfully painful way, your knees up to your chest. quite literally folded in half.
âi said eyes on me, yâ fuckinâ slut,â sukuna barks. he does not have the patience today. you breaking the intense eye contact with him only worsens his mood. one of his veiny hands tug at your hair. the others hold you upânot allowing you to even think of getting back on your feet until your tight cunt is done milking him for what heâs worth.
you gasp and sukuna takes the chance to grab your jaw with yet another free hand. âopen yâr mouth,â his hips do not still for even a second. they roll and ground against yours, the surrounding skin near his pelvis stained with your wet juices. he could smell it. just as nasty and dirty as he wants it to be.
you part your lips and keep them like that, not wanting to piss sukuna off even more. he grins at the sight of your red tongue instinctively rolling out like the obedient little girl you are. he spits right into your mouth, âswallow.â
you do so without second thought. the warm liquid trickles down your throat. sukuna watches in satisfaction, drilling into you until your insides are complete mush. youâre drooling over yourself alreadyâclearly having lost control over your rationality.
you sniffle and try to hold onto sukunaâs biceps. your small fingers curl around the shape of them, nails digging into his flesh. every time you think sukunaâs finally letting up, he only increases his inhuman pace. âmy l-lord, âs too much,â you cry out. your body could only handle so much pleasure before itâd break down. your pussy is convulsing around his girthy cock, feeling his other sliding back and forth over your sensitive clit.
the king of curses shuts you up with a hiss. his bottom set of eyes is focused on the impressive scene of your tiny pussy swallowing his cock so easily. heâs feeling proud of the fact that heâs molded you into the perfect concubine for him and his carnal pleasure.
sukuna has fucked you silly enough times to know how to get you under his spell. his fingers brush over your hard nipples, grabbing the squishy flesh of your tits as they bounce with each of his thrusts. he leans his head down towards yours. his rough, raspy voice makes your body heat up, âno, no. itâs never too much for my little girl, right? she can easily take ânother load fâme.â
your breath hitches and sukuna realises it worked. he knows just what to say to manipulate you into giving in. so he can fuck you senseless for how long he wants. youâre a sucker for the fact that he calls you his. thatâs what you areâyouâre his woman. only his and no one elseâs. the claim of ownership makes your pussy clench.
ây-yes, my lord. i can take another, i can,â you breathe out, head swaying from side to side, not mentally able anymore to keep up with sukunaâs intense libido. yet, your body is still active, squeezing around sukunaâs dick as he promised you more of his precious cum.
the king of curses snickers, amused by just how fast you gave in. âthatâs what i thought, hah,â heâs realised that his hold on you knows no bounds. youâre his little toy. the only one he wants to ravish these days. and the only one worth of carrying his seed.
youâre still thinking about the way heâs called you âhis little girlâ. itâs driving you closer to the edge. you start to get louder, completely ignoring your inner thoughts that begged you to have some decorum; to try and hide the fact that youâre getting slutted out in the courtyard.
thereâs not much hiding it anyway since the servants have a clear understanding of whatâs going on behind them. âmghh, pleaseâplease need more!â you mewl and sukuna listens. his red eyes darken with desire as you get into it. he loves to experience that lust driven side of yours. a complete opposite to your usual formal and shy self.
âlouder, câmon. let them know iâm fucking you good,â sukuna sneers, enjoying the mind games he is playing with you. youâre too cockdrunk to even notice. the them in his sentence refers to his other concubines. he knows that youâre secretly craving to get revenge on them and show them just how well you get dicked down by him every single day.
unlike them, who rarely get graced by his touch. that is, when youâre unavailable.
you do as told and increase the volume of your erotic moans, letting everyone around the estate know what youâre getting up to. not like anyone could interfere. sukuna wouldnât dare let them live a second after.
âthatâs it, yeah,â the sorcerer grunts and rams his length repeatedly into you, cursing at the way youâre gripping him so tightly. youâre so dripping wet that he slips out of you for a second. he moves his hips, angling them better to slam back inside of you.
however, youâre one step ahead. your shaky hand reaches down between your legs and you quickly guide his tip to your entrance, urging him to push between your moist folds again. ânasty fuckinâ girl,â sukuna scoffs at your desperation, though secretly thrives off it. he switches cocks and shoves the upper one into your cunt.
you gasp. youâre so used to him to the point that you could sense the difference between his dicks. the upper one has more veins and is a tad bit girthier. you hiccup and nearly choke on your own moans and spit from the change of pace and dicks. ângh, âtis so deep, my lordââ you whine loudly and your hands move to hold your breasts, stopping them from painfully jiggling around in every direction.
sukuna hums in content as he continues his rough thrusts. he can feel his balls twitch and clench, ready to shoot his sperm all up in your womb like you deserve. though, he doesnât want to end this moment too quickly. he wants to extend it.
âcâmere,â sukuna grumbles and stops pounding your poor, aching cunt. he stills his dick inside you and allows you to cling onto his tall stature, lifting you away from the wall. he silently urges you to wrap your legs around his waist so he could carry you.
the robes of your kimono get left behind on the patch of grass near the wall of the main house. thereâs a few droplets of white liquid thatâs stained the grass, right where sukuna and you were standing at seconds ago.
you donât think about anything anymore as you babble about how full you felt with his cock all the way in you. the fat tip brushes against your cervix with each step sukuna takes towards his next destination.
âkeep talkinâ to me, doll. tell me how good it feels to take my cock,â he grins smugly as he carries your little body like a trophy into the main buildingânot paying mind to any maids who he passes by. theyâre shocked by the sight of their lady in such a state, though are only able to bow at the two of you.
sukuna finally stops in front of the dinner table. the same table you always have dinner at with him and his other women. he places your back against the surface, big hands holding you down by your hips. âthere we go,â he coos mockingly, seeing how youâre completely fucked out, yet still needing more of him.
the king of curses has his own twisted reasons of bringing you here. looking outside of the window, you notice how the sun is starting to set. thatâs also the moment you realise his hidden motive.
the other concubines will sooner or later gather at the dining hall to eat supper. theyâd expect a peaceful meal, though instead, theyâll be greeted by the sight of their dear lord screwing his favorite. itâll be a painful blow to them.
which is exactly what the ruthless man wants to achieve.
sukuna licks his lips and all of his eyes focus on you solely, âgonna enjoy my dinner a bit earlier tâday, yeah?â
CR. STTORU 2024
#sttoru writes.#jjk smut#jjk x reader#sukuna smut#sukuna x reader#jjk x you#sukuna x you#jjk x y/n#sukuna x y/n
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As the flash hits your eye, you feel something crashing into you from all directions. Below you is obvious, Bonbon situated themself to bump into you while the picture was taken. You look to your right, and Mirabelleâs cheek is pressed up to yours. On your left, Isabeauâs sheepishly hugged you to his side. Thereâs a hand in your hair, too, and it feels like Madame Odile. [...] âWe need a souvenir of this trip,â Mirabelle adds. She rushes to the ground to pick up the picture and snort-laughs as she looks at it. âOh no, Siffrin looks like weâre holding him hostage!â â Curtain Call, Chapter 9, by @openphrase123 (Link in the replies)
2024 October 22nd
Fanfic fanart fanfic fanart!! When I read the "hostage" line, it invoked such a clear image in my head of Siffrin tensed up like a startled prey animal that it got added to my list of things to maybe draw immediately.
Dooon't think about the words 'left' and 'right' in that quote too hard. I know how to read I prommy. :) (I did Not process those words and lost the coin flip in the composition phase...)
Close-up and ramblings about the cans of worms I unleashed upon myself under the cut
Time taken on this was [head in hands] 48 hours and 37 minutes.... That bloated number has two culprits:
1) I got a new tablet! My old one was 10 years old. Its plastic was melting and the electronics had ghosts in 'em, so it needed the sweet release of retirement. However, I had just gotten to the line art phase when the switch happened. Clumsily getting used to the new one during the most precise phase of the process did devastating things to my perfectionism.
2) I made a GRAVE mistake with how I chose to color this. I wanted to keep the grayscale layers for accuracy instead of just slapping a B&W filter over the colored version, so all the colors come from gradient maps, color balance layers, overlay layers, and raster layers clipped to other layers. Listen. I'm used to working with lots of layers. I like keeping things separate so I can edit them more easily. But this is the worst layer system I have ever created. Going from color to B&W requires toggling exactly 20 layers & folders on or off. There are 87 visible layers total. This file lags when you edit it. I've never wanted CSP v1.13 to have layer comps more in my life.
Not helping matters was Isabeau. I said he was the easiest to draw in my last post, but he took that as a challenge, apparently. It's a simple fist-on-hip pose, why was that so hard!?! His face gave me grief too.
Odile's lil' wave got added at the end of the line art phase. I've never added to a sketch that late in the game before, but I felt bad about how little screen area she got, haha. Girl, I tried, but this composition was not kind to you.
Giving Isa, Odile, and Siffrin skin colors felt cursed. Well... "color" is maybe a stretch for Sif. The pallor from being affection-jumpscared isn't helping. In the dev's nose reveal post, they said that Siffrin isn't white but is white-passing, so BOOM albinism headcanon. Like c'mon, they wear a big hat and have most of their skin covered because the sun is a deadly laser when you have little to no melanin and idk if sunblock exists in-universe. Heck, maybe most Islanders have it, their whole religion is about the night sky so maybe they're nocturnal. This makes perfect sense. :)
#in stars and time#in stars and time spoilers#isat#isat siffrin#isat isabeau#isat odile#isat bonnie#isat mirabelle#fan art#2d art
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I runned out of tags,, i will compile all of this and reblog it as text, i guess
Please put your logic in the tags Iâm genuinely interested in this cause Iâve seen a few good takes already, even if I think something different.
Please remember that avatar and victim are two different things and while there are certainly overlaps in some instances mostly an avatar is a manifestation of a power that gains energy from feeding off of victims of the power that they belong to. They can still suffer from a power, but they arenât itâs main prey, more of a mouth piece. Or living snare.
#okey. so this is gonna be long#first: dual avatar of the hunt & stranger; why? hunt: he's always chasing something. whenever he's up and awake he's moving towards#something and when he finishes? he INMIDEATELY starts chasing something else he's could be defined like the hunt ritual âeverchaseâ#stranger: he's so uncanny. he's always talking to himself; he always looks at you slightly off; every person that encounters him casually#ends up seeing something strange about him!#all of those chats w John while in cabs? you can bet the drivers were creeped right the fuck off abt him! and that deff feeds the stranger#second: the eye and the web âare fondâ of him; web: he's so good at manipulating people! if he wasn't so insistent on pursing people & goals#he definetly would've been snatched as a web avatar (similar to what happened to martin) i don't think he could be an avatar of it simply bc#he would refuse to be puppettered by the mother and all of her avatars are#he prefers to resolve his problems by chasing & violence (sidenote: not slaughter avatar bc his violence is NOT sudden and spontaneous nor#is it unmotivated or unpredictable)#eye: i mean? our boy is SET on knowing things even if they could potentially or definetly hurt him or even those around him! what's more eye#than that? (that was literally what led Jon to fully become The Archivist if Arthur's eyes were still his own he would've been an eye avatar#for sure)#third: victim of the dark; the desolation; and obvs touched by the spiral maybe even the buried & the corruption#dark: he does no longer have his eyes all he can see is darkness and he hates it! it would be so easy for him to get fed to the dark#especially bc he KNOWS there are monsters that go bump in the night and people out to get him his fears are not a âmaybeâ they are a âwhenâ#desolation: my man has been taking L after L- I mean- ok seriously#he keeps having one devastating loss after another (this is before even getting fully into canon; pre-canon + 1st part) he barely has the#time to get all of his pieces and gluing them back together before another tragedy or accident decks him in the face (his parents then bella#then faroe then parker) his life is loss and recovery from it only to get pushed back into it the second he is slightly back up#and his persons lead me to:#corruption: his relationships man; they are a lil messed up! he could so so easily get consumed by what loves him and tells him he's a home#his parents can't love him anymore; they're dead Bella never loved him; he never loved her they only married bc she was pregnant! he loved#Faroe so so much but he lost her because of his own actions and Parker got him out of the (metaphorical) pit he was in he clung to him as a#life boat & he was still alive bc of Parker and Parker alone at that point. he's also dead. now he has John; they bicker and they tear#eachother apart they hurt the other so deeply but they cant separate because the alternative is so much worse (even if John got a body they#would still be so codependent of each other; their souls are interwined after all)#you could argue he's already a home for what loves him. after all isn't he a home for John?#buried: man has been thru: 1) a loveless marriage; 2) the pit (non-metaphorical) i would not be surprised if all of his life he felt trapped
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Mr. Bridgerton and the Baker
Benedict Bridgerton x Reader
Summary: Covered in flour. It is how she usually spent her days, working hard at her family's bakery. She just hadn't expected to have met him in such a state.
Word Count: 11.8k
Warnings: pining, angst, fluff, a small assault (reader gets hit, not by Benedict!), mention of pregnancy (like, literally a line or two),
A/N: Did I write an entire fic barely based on that one scene in Camp Rock where Mitchie is covered in flour? Yes. Do I regret it? No.
With the melting of snow and the promise of new starts, the social season was nearly upon the ton, nearly upon all the potential suitors and debutantesâall waiting with bated breath to secure a match this year. Of course, those in waiting were of high status, usually tied to the aristocracy or drowning in wealth beyond compare.
The others? The ones not blessed with endless funds or pure luck of royal lineage had the privilege, nay, honor to serve those who would be so fortunate. For the many, it included servicing the estatesâbutlers, ladyâs maids, governesses, home chefs and the like. For the patrons on Tilbury Street, it included the less sought after roles, polishers, cobblers, modistes and bakeries. One bakery in particular was the prime choice for the aristocracy, a diamond in the rough as some may say.Â
â
âI just simply donât understand why we cannot have our chefs prepare the pastries for the ball,â Eloise Bridgerton nearly groaned, her arm hooked onto her motherâs. They had been walking up and down Tilbury Street for the better part of twenty minutes, simply enjoying the fresh spring weather. âIâve never known them to make horrid dishes.â
âItâs the first Bridgerton Ball of the season, Eloise,â the dowager viscountess murmured politely. âAlong with it being the first Kate has had the pleasure of hosting, putting an order in here is a fresh foot forward, one thatâll impress our guests.â
Eloise barked back a laugh. âIf it is so important, why is Kate not here to make the order herself?â
âThat, dear sister, is an excellent point.â Following close behind the two Bridgerton ladies was a rather tall shadow, equally as dashing and nearly as cleverâBenedictâthe second eldest son of the Bridgerton brood. âSurely Anthony could spare his wife for one afternoon, I canât imagine it being so difficult to pry them from their bedroomââ
âBenedict Bridgerton!â Violet snapped, turning hot on her heels to face her son. He could only laugh.
âOh Mother, you must relax,â he said lovingly, patting both hands on her shoulders. âYou know better than I that it could have been a far fouler thoughtâwhy, I can easily imagine three other ways I could have expressed my way of thinking.â
âAh, ever the poet, Benedict,â Eloise smiled wryly, pushing her way to the front of their clump. No one had the heart to mention the glaring fact that it was likely she didnât know the way in which they were headed.Â
âThis bakery,â Violet continued half-heartedly. âIs a prestigious supplier for the tonâyou may recall their exquisite cake that we had ordered for Daphneâs wedding.â
Benedict hummed contently. âIt was a good cake,â he practically nodded off at the thought. The decadent sponge nearly brought him to tearsâof course, it could have very well been the relief from undue stress of Daphneâs season altogether, having nearly lost his older brother to an unnecessary duel.
âI think it was far too sweet,â Eloise said, scrunching her nose in distaste. âI had to drink nearly three cups of tea to clear out the sugar on my tongue.â
âAh, but whatâs life without a little bit of sweetness?â Benedict nearly sang.
âPerfectly fulfilling,â his younger sister quipped back.
The dowager viscountess could only sigh, her eyes reaching up to the clouds above. While she loved nothing more than being the mother of all eight of her perfect children, their endless bickering and bantering grew vexing. It merely took the Bridgerton siblings another minute of arguing before stopping in front of a quaint storefrontâthe sickeningly sweet aroma filling the street. âWeâre here.â
âI could have told you as much,â Benedict mumbled, rubbing his temple lightly. âThe scent is⌠overpowering.â If he were lucky, the headache that was quickly forming would dull fast.
âBut Benedict,â Eloise turned hot on her heels. âWhatâs life without a bit of sweetness?â
Violet Bridgerton was quick to catch her second eldest's hand before it met the back of Eloiseâs head. âIf itâs too much for you, dear,â she released her grip. âPlease feel free to wait for us out here. It should only take a moment.â
âLike a âmomentâ at the modiste?â Benedict crossed his arms, his brow nearly touching his hairline. âIf I recall, the last time I accompanied you to the dressmaker, I spent over an hour basking in the summer sun.â
âNothing logical stopped you from coming in,â Eloise drawled. âOf course, if you wanted to managed to stay pleasant with the seamstress, one should have kept it in his trousersââ Â
âWeâll only be a moment,â Violet hushed Eloise quickly, grasping the top of her arm firmly. âThere seems to be little wait. Weâll be on our way shortly.â
He huffed towards the sunâwhile there had been little heat near the start of the English spring, the sun was warm against his skin. Benedict enjoyed being outdoors more often than not, it was usually the reason he accompanied his mother on their errands nearly every other day of the season. That, of course, and the fact it got his worrying mama off of his back to be wed. With Anthony finally securing a match, it was only fitting for Violet Bridgerton to be working her way down her list of endless childrenâhaving only two of eight married off. âIt should only be a moment,â Benedict reassured himself, watching various other families and couples walk by.Â
That is, until he heard a rather loud bang coming from the alley beside him. He should have known betterâhe was taught betterâthan to investigate outlandish sounds, especially in town, but Benedict Bridgerton was nothing if not curious. He peeked around the corner, holding his breath, preparing to be met with a wild animal of some kind. His view was shaky at best, hardly could see a thing around the bricks. If he wanted a better look, heâd have to take a few steps towards the unusual noise.Â
A large white cloud had enveloped the small alley, it was difficult to even see a few meters ahead, let alone what could have caused the loud commotion. Benedict waved his hand through the mysterious fog, trying to clear some air. âHello?â He heard a soft squeak. An animal, it had to have been, Benedict was sure of it now. âIs anyone there?âÂ
A cough rang through the alley, startling him more than rogue vermin could have. The cloud had begun to dissipate, the white settling on the stone street below. Flour, if he had to guess, given the location.
âIâm alright,â a voice murmured quietly, another soft cough following quickly after. The shape of a person came into view, the air finally clearing enough for him to make sense of the scene he came upon. It was one of a woman now covered head to toe in the white powderâshe had no distinguishable features, the flour was caking every bit of her body and dress. Just striking eyes that made Benedictâs heart jump to his throat. âJust⌠made a mess.â
âSo it seems,â Benedict hummed, stepping over a pile of powder to get closer. âDo you require any help?â
âNo, no,â she laughed. âI wouldnât want you to get dirty. I fear Iâve got quite enough of that for the both of us.â
âI donât mind getting dirty,â Benedict said quickly, his tongue moving faster than his brain. âBut⌠yes, I suppose itâd be for the best if I refrained from getting any flour on me. May I ask howâŚ?â
âClumsy,â she uttered simply, the shrug of her shoulders speaking nothing but truth. âI must have the slipperiest fingers in townâI wish I could say this was the first timeâŚâ
âManage to cover yourself in flour often?â Benedictâs lips pulled into a jesting smirk.
âNearly every other day,â the woman sighed. âWeâve grown accustomed to purchasing an extra sack or two just for situations like these."
âI hardly doubt you could be that clumsy,â Benedict laughed, leaning against the stone wall. âBut, I am painting quite the image in my head.â
âOh I do hope Iâm decent in that image, Mr. Bridgerton,â she giggled, curtsying in a near-mocking manner.
âHow do you knowââ
âEveryone knows your family, Mr. Bridgerton, Iâd be a fool to admit I donât know who you areâthough you and your brothers all blur together, so I am merely taking a shot in the dark in which of the four you are.â
âOh?â
She nodded once, a flurry of powder falling from her hair. A muffled shout from the back door startled her, grabbing her attention. âAh,â the woman waved the air in front of her face, âI suppose I should take my leaveâget cleaned up.â
âOf course,â Benedict said simply. âI wonât keep you.â In nearly an instant, the mysterious dusted lady disappeared from view, diving into the back door. He was taken aback by her candidnessâhaving addressed him so forwardly without the pleasantries of a name exchange. âDamn,â he mumbled to himself, kicking residual flour off of his polished shoe, âI never asked for her name.â Would it be too forward to knock on the back door to ask for her? Benedict Bridgerton couldnât wrap his head around the interactionâshe nearly sent him into a tizzy.
âBrother?âÂ
Eloise stood at the end of the alley, clutch in hand, face pinched in confusion.Â
âAh, I suppose youâre finished?â
âHardly,â Eloise scoffed, âMother insisted on doubling the initial order âjust to be safeâ. Sheâll be out in a moment.âÂ
âPerhaps I should go inside to accompany herââ
âAnd leave your unwed sister unchaperoned in this part of town?â Eloise pressed a hand to her brotherâs chest, stopping him dead in his tracks. His eyes danced quickly to the street in the distance, clearly not paying any attention to his sister. âBenedict?â
âHm?â He glanced down. âAh, maybe we should both go back insideââ
âYouâreâŚâ she pushed on him harder, nearly sending him backwards. âActing strange. Not terribly long ago you wanted nothing to do with this place and now, youâre dying to jump into the building that brought you so much strife?â Eloise removed her hand from him, settling it down by her side as she glanced at him up and down. The blues of his outfit were covered slightly in a white powerânot enough to really notice, but enough to give the appearance of filth. âAnd youâre covered in⌠flour?â
âI donât wish to share every moment of my day with you, dear Sister,â Benedict said simply, sighing contently. âMy business is my business.â
âBusiness,â Eloise parroted. âSure.â
Violet Bridgerton had finished the order quickly, mumbling something about the higher prices this time of yearâshe had gotten a good deal regardless. Benedict was hardly listening, for he was already planning his next trip to this very bakery, hoping to meet the girl in flour once more.Â
He never did get the chance, to go back to town. His studies took up most of his free time, any other moment he had was spent with his ever-growing family. Just recently, his sister Daphne brought over her newest additionâanother daughter named Belindaâwho happened to be yet another spitting image of her mother. Benedict had a theory that every new Bridgerton baby will simply just inherit all the Bridgerton features, so far he had been proven correct.Â
âDamn,â Benedict mumbled, violently dabbing a paint brush into his water cup, the colors swirling from the end.
He had been in his studio for the last few hours, mixing endless pigments and oils together, trying to concoct the color in his mindâs eye. It was impossible, he theorized, to create the exact shades and hues of her eyes. It was the most striking thing he remembered about her appearanceâsave for the copious amount of white flour caking her formâand Benedict Bridgerton had come to the conclusion that her eyes were simply forged by God Himself, a color not meant for mortal recreation.
âWhy can I notâŚâ He sighed, slumping back in his stool, paintbrush nearly hitting his trousers. âThis is impossible.â
The grand clock beside the door chimed out. It was nearly time to get ready for Anthony and Kateâs ballâan occasion he was most dreading, save for enjoying the few pastries that came from the quaint bakery down in town. Reluctantly, he began to pry himself from his studio and made his way to the washroom, preparing to soak away any remnants of her.
â
âMother,â (Y/N) chimed out, tying the serving apron to her waist, âI donât see the reason for my attendance this evening. Surely the hosts of the event will have their own serving staff?â
â(Y/N),â her mother exasperated, throwing a towel down. âYour brothers are ill and bedridden and have been the last few days. Your father and I are counting on you to help fulfill the order, my back isnât what it used to be, if you recall.â Â
The girl sighed, her eyes rolling right up to the cracking ceiling. âHow funny, it seems your back flares up nearly in time for deliveries to be made,â the girl mumbled.
âWhat was that?â Her mother turned quickly towards her only daughter. âIâm sure I misheard you.â
âYou must have,â (Y/N) sang. âFor I said Iâm willing to help with the delivery, mother.â
The older woman narrowed her brow. âNever do I hear such sass from the boys⌠Perhaps a bit of manual labor will refocus your priorities.âÂ
âI already agreed,â (Y/N) reiterated. âAs if I had terribly too much of a choiceâŚâ
âNo,â her mother clicked, slapping the a rather large ball of dough that resided on the floured surface. âYou do not. Now come, help your mother roll this out.â
She had gotten ready for the ball in record timeâseeing as how sheâs never gotten ready for one. (Y/N) dug through her motherâs wardrobe, finding an old and somewhat outdated green dress to wear, but it did the trick just fine. It was far nicer than the frocks she had owned anyhow, a light embroidery laced the edges and was sure to be run over by her fingertips endlessly throughout the evening. Â
âThe carriage is here!â Her father couldnât have shouted louder throughout the small flat. Their home resided above the bakery, a quaint little thing with only two bedroomsâ(Y/N) had the pleasure of sleeping in a rather over-glorified closet. If she reached her arms out, sheâd be able to touch two of the walls easily, but like everything in her life, she made do. Unexpected child? Unexpected room.Â
âIâll be right there,â (Y/N) said, tying the now-cleaned apron around her waist, checking herself in the reflection of her water pitcher. âDamned hair,â her fingers moved to tuck a loose ringlet back into positionâshe had spent the better part of the evening trying to style it.Â
âWe need to load the carriage and make way to Bridgerton House,â her father repeated, smoothing his formalwear out. He hardly had the chance to wear it, seeing as situations like this happen only once in a while. âWe must make a good impression, perhaps weâll find more business this evening.â
âThatâll be a blessing,â her mother agreed, heading down the stairs to the bakery. âWe could always use more business and the dowager viscountess is well liked around the ton, surely sheâll have pleasant things to say about our work.â
âI thought we let the pastries âspeak for themselvesâ,â (Y/N) chimed in, carefully picking up a parcel. Her parents simply glared at her, allowing their daughter to silently move along with the loading process.Â
The silence continued throughout the lengthy ride to Bridgerton Houseâthe bakers not uttering a word until disembarking to unload all of the sweets. True to her original thought, the Bridgertons had their staff do the bulk of the unloading, carrying each parcel and box into the grand room that was to be the heart of the ball, all that was left to move was the elegant cake specially ordered by the dowager viscountess.
âDo you need a hand?â
âOh, that would beââ (Y/N) turned around to the mysterious voice, only to find the same Bridgerton boy from earlier in the week standing behind her. âIâMr. Bridgerton, Iâm sure I can find my father to assist, you really donât need toââ
âI insist,â Benedict held up his hand, effectively cutting her off. âI shouldnât allow a lady to carry such a thing on her own, it would be most improper.â
âIâm certainly no lady,â she scoffed, readjusting her apron. âIâm not a part of your âseasonâ or whatever it is you lot do during the spring and summer months.â
Benedict barked out a laugh. âDebuted into the Marriage Mart or not, youâre still a lady and I am ever the gentleman, so please, indulge me.â
A blinding heat flushed across her cheeksâshe was sure it was visible from down the street. (Y/N) stepped to the side to allow Benedict to grab ahold of one side of the tray, her hands curling around the other. âThank you⌠for your help.â
âItâs no bother,â Benedict said truthfully. âIâve been practically bored out of my skull all afternoon, this is truly the highlight of my evening.â
âHelping me carry a cake?â She asked, turning a corner carefully.
âSeeing you again,â he hummed unabashedly, noting the way her grip stiffened. âThough I must say, I think I prefer you without the flour.â
âHow do you know that girl was me? I was covered head to toe.â
âYour eyes,â Benedict said simply. âTheyâre the most expressive and exquisite eyes Iâve had the pleasure of viewing.â
Benedict Bridgerton. The man who made her speechless.
âThat, and I made a bold assumption when I saw you and the pastries arrive this evening.â He laughed lightly, afraid to drop the masterpiece. âI assumed correctly, no?â
âYou,â (Y/N) tried to allow her cheeks to cool before continuing.âWould be correct. Very wise you are, Mr. Bridgerton.â
âBenedict.â
âBenedict,â she repeated softly, twisting herself to set the cake down on the table. âMy apologies.â
The ballroom was grandâmuch nicer than any place sheâd dream of residing inâdelicate decorations hung from the sconces, flowers covered nearly every inch of the free space. It was, in every meaning, elegant. âThis is⌠where you live?â
âAh,â Benedict rubbed the back of his neck. âMy brother has been kind to allow me to stay here since he married, seeing as I only have my own property in the country. But yes, this is one of the homes I grew up in.â
âOne of the homes,â she repeated back to him. âAnd here I thought I was spoiled with my broom closet.â
He turned a vibrant shade of red. âOh! I didn't mean toââ
Her laughter filled the ballroom, the lightness practically lifting Benedict upwards. âI was merely teasing. Iâm well aware of your status and wealth, Mr. BridgertonââÂ
âBenedict.â
âAh! Sorry,â (Y/N) felt the twinge of shame hit her chest, it was small but enough to keep her in line to avoid making the mistake again. âI meant it in jest.â
âFunny girl,â Benedict clicked, waving his finger lightly. âYouâve got quite a sense of humor.â
âGrowing up with nothing more than sacks of flour and parcels of sugar allows one to get creative with her jokes,â she explained carefully, treading lightly as to not make it sound completely miserable. âThough, I think they were a better audience anyhowâŚâ
âYou wound me,â a hand grabbed his heart, knees buckling towards the ground. âOh how the lady wounds me.â
âI believe I told you, Benedict, I certainly am no lady.â
âWell, the lady has neglected to give me her name,â he peeked up from the floorâhaving found quite a cozy position. âSo how else should I address such a fair maiden?â
âFair maiden,â she scoffed playfully, voice barely above a whisper. âCertainly am nothing close to a maiden⌠but, if you must know,â she paused, âmy name is (Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N).â
â(Y/N)âŚâ Benedict repeated it, mostly to himself. He rose from the floor, eyes not leaving her own. âWhat a beautiful name.â
âIâthank you. I suppose you should give my parents such a compliment, though. I am simply the recipient of such a gift.â
âWell, when I ask your parents for permission to court their daughter, Iâll pass the message along.â
She froze.Â
âAh, what was that?â
âI hate to be so bold,â Benedict sighed, shoving a hand into his pocket. âBut I feel the need to let you know of my intentionsâmy interest in you.â
âOh you must be mistaken,â (Y/N) shook her head. âYouâd want nothing to do with a girl like me. Surely there are other women in the ton who strike your fancy?â
âNope,â he said simply. âNot a one. You, on the other hand, with your striking eyes and seemingly endless beauty, piqued my interest. If I may be honest, I havenât stopped thinking about our encounter in the alleyâitâs been on the forefront of my mind for days.â
She blinked, the gears in her head trying to keep up with the words Benedict was speaking. âBut I am not from your world, Benedict. Even if I was interested in pursuing a courtshipââ
âAre you not?â His eyes struck wide open. âIâm quite the catch, you see. Well-bred, scholarly and, if I might say so myself, Iâm quite the talented artist. Easy on the eyes, too.â
âBenedict.â He stopped and looked at the woman. She was practically glowing in the candlelight. âWhile Iâm not saying Iâm⌠not interested, I canât help but feel like you are infatuated with the idea of me and not⌠me.â
âHow do you mean?â
She laughed humorlessly. âYou donât know me, truly. My likes, dislikes, how I take my tea, what weather I fancyââ
âSee,â Benedict grabbed her hand, âI wish to know those things. Is that not the purpose of a courtship?â
âI am not from your world, Benedict. I have priorities, a duty to my family and our businessâI canât spend a moment thinking of the frivolity of a courtship with a man of your status.â
âBut if I were, say, the butcherâs son it would be different?â
âYes,â she removed her hand from his. âOf course it would be. Iâm surprised you havenât thought this through.â
âI have been thinking it through since weâve met,â Benedict nearly spat, feeling anger bubble up in his chest. âI am not the type of man who wishes to court just anyone, you know.â
âSo you wish to court me just because you can? Because how ever could I say no?â
âIâof course not!â
âWeâre perfect strangers who shared a momentâalbeit an endearing oneâout in the middle of an alley. We both cleaned up and went about our lives,â she shook her head. âNothing cosmic or magical about it.â
âI did not expect you to be so against the idea, unless⌠thereâs another man of your affections?â
She groaned, pinching her nose. âNo. No other man. Has a woman ever said no to you before, Mr. Bridgerton?â
He paused, clearly taken aback.
âWell,â she smoothed the tablecloth, the wrinkle in the bottom corner was annoying her, âlet me be the first, then. No, I am not interested in a courtship, nor do I think I have any interest in a courtshipâwith you or anyoneâso do not take it terribly too personally.âÂ
âNever? Donât you plan to have a family of your own?â
âI already have a family,â she said simply. âI have no time for foolish ideas of having an adoring husband, three beautiful babies and a peaceful life out in the country.â
âThat seems awfully specificââ
âNo matter,â she waved. âThank you for your interest, Mr. Bridgerton, I am flattered, truly.â
She walked away, hoping to hide in the carriage the rest of the night. Was she a fool? To turn down a courtship from such a sophisticated and notable man of the ton?
Benedict seemed to think so. True to her comment, he couldnât recall a time in which a woman had rejected his advancesânever in the name of a courtship, this would be his firstâso to watch her walk away stung deeply, like a thorn to his heart. He was genuinely interested in the girl, he knew it. He just needed to prove it to her.
â
Days had passed since the Bridgerton ball and (Y/N) had successfully faked a stomach ache and ârestedâ in the carriage until the night was over and done with. She was busy in the kitchen, working hard on a batch of fresh loaves for the storefront. Flour dusted her apronâthe humor not lost on herâas she thought more and more about Benedictâs proposal.Â
The bell to the shop rang out, her brotherâs voice gave a muffled greeting, nothing out of the ordinary for a regular day at the bakery. It was calming, to work with the dough, taking virtually nothing and creating something delicious was soothing to her soul. She continued to knead the dough, working it like clay against her palms before the door to the back swung wide open.
â(Y/N), I do believe you have a visitor,â Harry, her second eldest brother smirked. He had finally recovered enough to help around the shop again, much to their motherâs delight. âOne of the gentlemen variety, if you must know.â Â
She stopped dead in her tracks.
âDid he give you a name?â
âOnly asked for you,â Harry shrugged. âI figured you mustâve been expecting him,â he walked closer to her, taking over the kneading, âbrought you flowers and looks rather fancy.â
She wiped her hands off on the already soiled apron, clapping her hands once for good measure. âDonât over-work those, Iâll shove your face into the oven.â
Harryâs laugh rang out through the kitchen as she braved the door to the store. She knew it was inevitable, to expect him to come and try to woo her again, though she wasnât expecting it so soon. The door felt rough against her palms, swinging wide open to the storefront. Sure enough, a one Benedict Bridgerton was standing by the counter, eyeing the various loaves on display.Â
âAh, Miss. (Y/L/N),â Benedict said, almost bowing. âIâm delighted you could join me.â
âMr. Bridgerton,â (Y/N) smiled sickeningly sweet, forced beyond all measure. âWhat a⌠surprise.â
âA wonderful one, I presume?â He jested. Her eyes found the colorful bouquet quickly, she was trying her hardest to not make eye contact. It was ornateâfancy, just like her brother saidâdecked out in a healthy mix of wild blooms and expensive looking flowers. âAh! My apologies, these are for you,â Benedict said, lifting the bouquet across the counter.Â
She reluctantly took them, cradling the bunch as if it were a newborn babe. âThank you, Mr. Bridgerton.â
He swallowed thickly at the formality of his name, but bit his tongue. âI must say, you looked exquisite at the ball, but I think your natural element suits you more favorably, why, youâre practically glowing.â Benedict pointed to her floured apron and messy frock, having been in the kitchen all morning. âLess flour than the first time.â
Her grip tightened around the bouquet. âIs there anything I can help you with? Perhaps another order for your mother?â
The man shook his head, laughing lightly. âNo, no order. I just wished to see you.â The bluntness of his answer nearly shocked her, but the effect wore quickly.
âPerhaps I wished the opposite?â
âOh, my dear,â Benedict practically mewled. âIf that were true, you wouldnât have come out here in the first place, now would you?â
Like a gaping trout, she had no reply. Perhaps he was right. She didnât have to come out to the front of the store, the gnawing curiosity got the better of her and practically pulled her through that door.Â
âIf you are here to try to get me to change my mindââ
âI wish to spend the afternoon with you.â
She blinked.
âJust one afternoon, allow me to try and prove how serious I am about courting you,â Benedict said earnestly. âAfter that, if you are still of the same mind, I will never bother you again. You have my word.â
Hesitantly, she lowered the bouquet, her shoulders slumping. She was thinking so hard about his offer, Benedict swore he could see steam rising from her ears. âI⌠cannot just leave the bakery, itâs my familyâs livelihoodââ
âIâll buy the lot,â Benedict said, pressing a handful of coins onto the counter top. âSell me whatever it is you make in a dayâa small price to pay for a moment of your time.â
âYou cannot simply throw your money at things and expect it to always work out for you, Mr. Bridgerton,â she said sternly, eyeing the sack of coins longingly. She would be kidding herself if the offer didnât sound appealing. âI am no woman on the corner, you cannot buy my time.â
âThen consider it a tip,â Benedict hummed, pushing the bag closer to her. âFor your excellent service at the Bridgerton ball. Nothing nefarious, nothing expected of you. Just a man buying some bread.â
âLoads of bread,â (Y/N) mumbled, quickly calculating how many loaves he truly was willing to walk out with. The amount of money was unclear, but if she had to wager, he practically bought out the whole storefront. Her parents would be thrilledâthey could even take a rare day off, just because their daughter spent the afternoon with a practical stranger. âFine. One afternoon.â
The glee that washed across his body did not go unnoticed, he practically lit up the room with his joy.
âYou wonât regret this,â he said seriously. âTrust that my intentions are pure andââ
ââhonest and true,â she droned, finishing his thought. âYes, yes, I understand.â
Benedict nodded. âRight. Well, shall we?â
âWill you allow me a moment to change? I do not think you wish to spend your day with a girl caked in flour.â
âFunny enough, I wouldnât have it any other way,â he grinned. She was unamused. âBut, if you insist.â
It didnât take long for her to clean up, a change in her frock and a readjustment to her hair was all that was needed. She found herself staring in her mirror a bit longer than usual, taking in her features. Could he really be interested in her? He seemed so taken by her looks when she herself considered them⌠so plain. She shook her head, effectively jumping out of her haze and proceeded to head back downstairs to meet her suitor for the afternoon.Â
âPerhaps you were right,â Benedict said softly. âThis may be your best look to date.â
A heat warmed her cheeks and it wasnât the summer sun. âFlattery will get you nowhere, Mr. BridgertonââÂ
âAh!â Benedict waved a finger. âIf we are to spend the afternoon together, I insist you call me by my given name.â
Her lips pressed together in protest. âIf you insistââ
âOh and I do, my darling,â Benedict nearly sang.
âBenedict,â she corrected. âWhat sorts of plans do you have for this afternoon? Surely you did not produce such a grand gesture only to leave our day up to chance.â
âI am feeling quite parched,â Benedict said, almost ignoring her comment. âCare for a spot of tea?â In their walk down the street, he had managed to stop right in front of a quaint little tea shop. She hardly noticed.
âAnd if I do not care for tea?â
âI hear they have excellent scones and biscuits,â Benedict countered. âSurely not sweeter than you, but delicious all the same.â
âSweeter than my scones, you mean?â
Benedict raised a brow, puckering his lips lightly. She heard him correctly the first time. âSo. Tea?â
They sat at a small table near the back of the shop, a hot pot of herbal tea sat between them. It looked entirely domestic, a pot of tea shared between lovers, any onlooker could have deduced as much.
âPass the honey?â (Y/N) pointed to the small jar next to Benedictâs hand. He nodded and pushed it closer to her.
âYou take your tea with honey?â He probed.
âHerbal tea, yes,â she confirmed, stirring a spoonful into her cup. âIf it is black tea, a healthy amount of milk is entirely welcomed in my drink, no sugar.â
âInteresting,â Benedict said, watching her intently stir the honey until it dissolved into the hot liquid. âI prefer plain black tea myself, though occasionally my brother Colin will bring exquisite teas from his travels across the seas.â
âAnd Colin is which brother?â The question slipped out quickly, she hardly noticed she had asked.
âOne of my two younger brothers,â Benedict smiled gently. âNot much younger than I, but I do have a few years on him, not as many as I have on Gregory, of course. Heâs practically the babe of the familyâsave for sweet Hyacinth.â
âEight childrenâŚâ She thought aloud. âWere your parents working towards a record number?â
âI always jest that they wished to complete the entire alphabet,â Benedict mused. âBut, alas, twenty six seems a bit much.â He took a sip of his tea, enjoying the lingering aroma. âSo, you know there are eight of us?â
âEveryone knows your family,â she said simply. âDo not flatter yourself.â
âOf course,â he hummed into his cup, a smile brewing from his lips. âYou have siblings, yes? I believe I met your brother earlier.â
âTwo older brothers,â (Y/N) groaned lightly. âJack and Harry, the latter being the one you met. They are⌠oh how do I put this? Exceptionally irritating.â
Benedict laughed into his drink. âSounds quite a lot like my siblings.â
âMy parents expect Jack to take over the bakery,â she explained quietly, her voice lowering. âBut he has no desire to bake whatsoever. He can hardly make a sponge cake.â
âAnd a sponge cake isâŚ?â
âOne of the most basic cake recipes a baker can learn,â she continued. âI usually end up being the one who pulls the slack Jack creates.â
âAnd Harry?â
âWhen he isnât galavanting across town with the ladies of the night, he is holed up in his room doing Lord knows what. Certainly nothing that helps the family business.â
âYou care a lot about your family and the business,â Benedict said, stating what is clearly the obvious. âSurely your parents see it too?â
âOh no,â she shook her head wildly. âThat is the most asinine part of the ordeal! They simply do not see me as an asset to the bakeryâsomething that should rightfully be mine should the time come.â She sighed, throwing her head into her hands. âBut, I am expected to keep my head down and decorate cakes like a good girl.â
âYou say that as if you are their pet,â Benedict scoffed lightly. âDo they truly expect such obedience from you?â
âI wasnât wanted,â she said simply. âMy parents merely wanted a son to take over the businessâJack, heâs the oldest. Good for nothing, as it turns out. Harry was to have an extra set of hands around the bakery, but now heâs their prodigal child. Me? I was shacked with an over glorified closet for a room because there truly was no space for me.â She sniffled. âAt least they got a decorator out of it.â
Benedict tentatively put his hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. âYouâre more than a decorator. Surely your parents see that too?â
âTheyâll see some use of me when I get home,â she said into her cup. âSeeing as you bought out our store just to spend a measly few hours with me. Iâm sure that in of itself is worth having an accidental daughter.â
Benedict all but scoffed at this. âYou cannot be serious.â
âNot everyone comes from loving families that wish to do nothing more than pop out babies left and right,â (Y/N) deadpanned, placing her cup back on the table. âIf it were truly up to my parents, they wouldâve stopped after Jack. But, much like the society you come from, an heir and a spare, I suppose.â
âAnd you?â Benedict almost felt afraid to ask.Â
âItâs like you said,â she finished her cup of tea. âI am simply a pet.â
Benedict was never one for fights, but he suddenly had the urge to put his fist through a handful of faces in that moment. âThatâs awful.â It was all he could say.Â
âThatâs life,â she shrugged, picking up a biscuit and examining it closely. Her nose scrunched. âIf you were trying to gain my favor, perhaps you shouldâve taken me somewhere with better biscuits. Itâs insulting to a baker to see such poorly made ones, especially in a place like this.â
He knew she was trying to change the subject. âI shall do better next time.â
âYes, I suppose youââ she stopped. âThat was a rotten trick and you know it.â
âI am certainly no magician, (Y/N),â Benedict finished his tea, hiding the most devilish of smiles from behind the cup. âBut seeing as weâre finished with our pot, perhaps we can take a turn about the park?â
âYouâd risk public outcry and a scandal for being seen with a commoner in the park?â (Y/N) asked, pulling herself from her seat. âWhat would Lady Whistledown say?â
âYou know of Lady Whistledown?â
âEveryone knows of Lady Whistledown,â she scoffs. âI may not have the pleasure to afford her column every time she publishes, but occasionally our regulars will leave their pamphlet for me once theyâre finished.â
âOnly read the good bits, I take it?â
âAs much as I donât understand the world you come from, Benedict, reading Whistledown helps me fill the gaps I am so obviously lacking. Truly, even if I did grow up in your society, I doubt Iâd be able to understand much more than I do now anyway.â
âI reckon youâre right,â Benedict said, a laugh escaping through his nose. âIâm not one for society anywayânever cared much for it.â
âSurely news of this would cause a scandal, though?â
âNews that I am simply walking in the park with a friend? Oh how the newsboys will have trouble selling that story,â Benedict mused, leaning down towards the lady. âPerhaps if we were seen doing something less proper, I suppose. Do you wish to be doing something less proper, (Y/N)?â
She didnât dignify his question with a response, though, the rouge on her cheeks was answer enough.
â
It only took a handful of minutes to walk to the park, the tea shop was so close already. How convenient.
The other ladies in the park, the ones of a more genteel breeding, they were dressed finer than anything (Y/N) could have put on. She felt out of place. She usually did, of course, but something about her outdated frock in contrast to how striking Benedict looked and dressed? It felt rather foolish.Â
Perhaps it was the notoriety of the Bridgerton walking beside her, or the self consciousness of being underdressed enough to catch the eyes of anyone walking past, but it felt like she was a spectacleâsomething in a museum or on display. She was holding bright light, nearly shouting at everyone that she was not enough, not worthy to be in this park, let alone with this man.
âI am tired of walking,â (Y/N) said suddenly.Â
âWe have only just begun,â he laughed. âBut if you require a respiteââ
âLetâs sit,â (Y/N) said just as quickly, practically running to the edge of the pond. Perfectly out of sight to everyone.
âHow secluded,â Benedict mused. âI daresay, I never thought youâd be so agreeableââ
âHush,â (Y/N) admonished, holding a finger up. âI am simply in need of a breakâaway from prying eyes.â
Benedict nodded, not daring to pry further. He watched her slump to the ground, her dress skirt billowing around her like a cloud before settling to the gravity. He continued to stand. âI rather like this park.â
âA park is a park.â
âHave you been before?â
âHere?â She shook her head. âObviously not.â
âMy family, we would come to London during the social season,â Benedict explained. âOur usual residence is out in Kentâanyhow, my father had this spectacular notion to come to the park every week as a family. Looking back, it was probably to save face and show a united Bridgerton front.â
She looked up at Benedict, who was currently plucking a few leaves off of the low hanging branches of the tree. âSounds wise.â
âHe was the wisest,â Benedict agreed. âKeeping the ever-growing number of Bridgerton children entertained became a sport. Anthony, Colin and I were always squabbling, drove my mother rightfully insane, so, my father had a bright idea.â
âPaste your lips together?â She offered.Â
Benedict knelt down, close to the edge of the water. âNo, but I do not doubt that idea crossed their minds,â he laughed, bringing the leaves in his hands to view, âmy father suggested racing.â
âHorse racing?â
He shook his head. âWeâd each pick a leaf and follow it to the other edge of the pondâkept us entertained for hours, running back and forth to reset our leaves and chase them down.â
âSmart man,â she hummed, genuinely impressed by the late viscountâs cleverness.
âSo, pick your contender,â Benedict said softly, displaying the spare leaves like cards in a deck.Â
âYou are serious?â
âDead serious, Iâm afraid,â Benedict clicked, pushing his hand a bit closer to her. âCome on, humor me.â
She looked down at the leaves and back up at Benedict, his blue eyes rivaling the color of the pond. Taking an interest in the middle leafâit was the longest and skinniestâshe plucked it from his fingers. âThis one.â
âExcellent choice,â Benedict said cheerily, dropping the other leaves. âI am more inclined to a smaller oneâseems they move faster down the shore.â
âSize isnât everything, Mr. Bridgerton,â (Y/N) crossed her arms, resting them on her knees. She would never dare to admit it out loud, but she was having a bit of fun.
âAh, perhaps not,â Benedict jested with her, her jab not even shocking him in the slightest. âBut, I reckon it will be a close match regardless.â
After insuring that the lovely lady in his company was watching his movements closely, he set the leaves down on the surface of the water. âFinish line is by that tree over there,â he pointed, finally letting go with his other hand.
âMay the best leaf win,â she giggled. Giggled? Good Lord. A crooked grin cracked on his face, focused too intently at the company rather than the match at hand. âAre you not going to chase them?â
âAnd leave you?â He scoffed. âPerish the thought.â
âI just thought,â her gaze was caught on the leaves, still floating down the edge of the pondâslower than she anticipated, âwell, I suppose I wanted to get the whole picture of your family tradition.â
âShall I run along the coast, then?â Benedict asked playfully, rising back to his feet, thumb pushed towards the water.Â
âOnly to humor me,â she shrugged, not even fighting the smile on her face.Â
âWell, in that case,â Benedict began to remove his jacket, throwing it beside her. With a light jog he caught up to the leaves, they hadnât gone very far anyway, perhaps if it were a windier day heâd have a faster time to keep up with. âYou are in the lead!â He called out.Â
âBrilliant!â Her hands were clasped around her mouth, a cone to help amplify her shout. His smile was like the sun, warm and invitingâshe wished she could spend the day in such a warmth. Benedict practically jumped for joy when the leaves made it to the final stretch, crossing to the rocks on the shore. Nearly falling into the water, he managed to scoop the leaves up and jog back to the woman in the grass. âWell?â
âWell, what?â He asked, nearly out of breath, smile still pulling his lips upward.Â
âThe winner?â
âAh,â he fell to the ground, sitting comfortably next to the bakerâs daughter, pocketing the leaves. âA secret.â
âSo you lost?â
âOh, I assure you, if you won I would be celebrating you until the end of our time together,â Benedict sang. âHoweverâŚâ
âI lost?â She scoffed.Â
âA gentleman is humble in his successes,â he explained carefully. âWe could go again?â
âNo,â she said, humor in her voice. âI think that was more than enough excitement for one afternoon.â
âFor once, we agree,â he said. âMay IâŚ? Could I ask you a question?â
âIf you are proposing marriage, I am afraid Iâll have to declineââ
âNo, no,â he laughed heartily. âNothing of that sort.â
âI suppose I could find it in myself to answer a different question, then.â
âYou were cold to me this morning,â Benedict noted, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers. âBut not on the day we met. What changed?â
She sighed, pulling her knees to her chest, gaze locked out on the now setting sun. âI⌠am not entirely sure.â
âSurely it was not the leavesââ
âThe leaves may have helped,â she admitted. âHumanized you, in a way.â
âWas I inhuman before?â
âNaturally,â she retorted. âI mean, is it not obvious?â
âYou were protecting your feelings,â Benedict finally realized. âAll this time. You did not wish to be hurtâtruly afraid I was merely stringing you along as an elaborate prank or ruse? Is that right?â
âHow could someone like you ever have an interest in a pauper like me? The bakerâs daughter and the son of a viscount?â Tears dotted her eyes, threatening to fall. How she came so close to crying was beyond her. âIt seems implausible.â
Benedict dropped the grass, fully looking at the lady beside him. She had made herself nearly as small as she felt. He had hit the nail on the head. A gust of wind blew by, bringing leaves down from the tree above.Â
âI do not think less of you because of whose daughter you are,â Benedict said softly, removing a stray leaf from her hair. His fingers guided her head towards him, begging for her to look his way. âI care only about you. Getting to know you. Frankly, your father seems like a mostly alright man, but I do not wish to know him the way I wish to know you.â
âYou may wish for that,â she sniffled. âBut what would the rest of your world think? You, trying to court a woman below your statusââ
âThe only people who should be caring so deeply about my potential courtship are my intended and me,â Benedict said sharply. âThe rest of the ton can frankly kiss my rear end.â
This raised a laugh out of her. It was bubbly and pure, almost like the one of a child. âYou truly donât care what people think about you?â
âNo,â he shook his head. âI do not.â
âHow freeing that must be,â she said.Â
âBeing the second son has its perks,â Benedict looked at her, really looked at her. âNo one expects me to be proper all the time. I am given the freedomâfinancially and otherwiseâto do as I please. I do not have to worry about inheriting a title, siring heirs, that is my brotherâs responsibility.â
âWhy me?â
His head quirked. âI do not understand?â
âYou could court any girl of the ton,â she said. âAnd I am sure more than half of them would never turn down a chance to be courted by a Bridgertonââ
âThey wished for the title,â Benedict sighed. âTo be Viscountess Bridgerton, to marry my older brother and have the notoriety. That ship has already sailed, I'm afraid. You are kind in thinking that many women would be after me though.â
âYou are not ugly,â she listed, âyou have a great humor about you, a pleasant demeanor and a kindness in your eyes. The women of the ton must be foolish, then.â
âPerhaps the foolish one is you?â
âI beg your pardon?â
âYou truly think those things about me?â He asked, awaiting a response. Her jaw was slack, clearly not about to give him any sort of confirmation to his question. âI believe your words, I do. But perhaps you should look at yourself with such eyes?â
âI-I donât understandââ
âOur class differences aside,â Benedict said, as if it was easy to just ignore that, âwhile I was taken by your beauty at firstâyour eyes are something the Gods themselves forged in the fires, stars rivaling their shineâit was your continuous personality that kept my attention. Granted, it helped you were once covered head-to-toe in flour, it really brought out your features.â
Her cheeks flared at the recollection of their first meeting. âIt was not my finest moment.â
âAnd you were vulnerable all the same,â he continued. âYou cared not for who I was, yet, you showed an interest in me anyway. You may not agree with that statement, but you and I know it to be true in some shape or form. The only thing that holds you back is this notion on our classesââ
âPerhaps I am interested in you,â (Y/N) cut him off. âPerhaps I wish to be courted by you, attend balls and dress in pretty gowns, drinking expensive drinks and whispering sweet nothings. But that is all that it isâa wish. I know my place in this world, it is a right shame you have such a fantasy about yours.â
â(Y/N)âŚâ
âNo,â she stood up, brushing the blades of grass and leaves off of her skirt. âI hoped that you would understand, Benedict. I agreed to this afternoon because it felt like I had no choice in the matterâyou practically bought my time, after all. What I did not expect,â she hiccuped, âI did not expect that I would enjoy such an afternoon.â
âYou enjoyed yourself,â Benedict rose to his feet, desperate to match her gaze head on. âWhy can you not allow yourself to have that joy? Allow your heart to follow its call?â
âI do not have such liberties to listen to my heart,â (Y/N) said softly. âI must use my head for every choice I make. An afternoon with you allowed my family to have enough money to make it through the end of the season without going hungryââ
âAnd an afternoon with me has brought such happiness to fill your soul for much longerââ
âHappiness has little importance,â she scoffed. âI would rather see my family healthy and surviving than even think about a notion like happiness or joy.â
âYou have said yourself that your family treats you like a pet,â Benedict took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He neednât explode in the park. âWhy do you care so much about them if they care so little for you?â
âBecause it is all that I know!â The candle had finally reached its end, burning out with a sizzle. âAll I have ever known is my life in the bakery, rising early to make the dough, peddling samples to those walking by and hopingâprayingâthat they step in our store and purchase something. Because a sale of a few loaves of bread or cakes meant we could afford to buy vegetables for a soup, something to eat with our days old bread.â
âIf you were with me, you wouldnât ever need to think about things like that again,â Benedict said, his voice wavering on a whisper. âI could support you, support your family.â
âAnd that is precisely why I do not wish to continue this,â she raised her finger. âI do not need an affluent man to come and save meââ
âBut I could helpââ
âI do not need your help!â
âYou obviously do!â
She took a step back, the tears from before finally reappearing in her eyes. âO-obviously? Because I am of a lower class you believe, in that giant and empty head of yours, that you can simply win my favor by saving me? Offering riches and experiences that I should be grateful and thanking every God that will listen that you are even willing to give me?â
âYou know that is not what I meantââÂ
âYou believe that because you are who you are, and I am who I am, that I couldnât possibly say no to you,â her gaze flicked with anger, a fire looming. âWhile the ladies of the ton have their choices, I do not, so it makes it easy for you to pine over someone who simply has no choice in the matter.â
âNoâ(Y/N)ââ Â
âThis afternoon has been lovely,â (Y/N) spat, looking to the skylineâthe sun had finally set, âbut I am afraid that the afternoon is over. I shall be taking my leave.â
âPlease reconsider,â Benedict begged, willing to try anything to get her to stay. âI wish to know you.â
âA shame, then,â (Y/N) said, turning around. âWishing for something so foolish.â
â
âHer head is in the clouds,â Jack whispered.
âNo, I reckon her head is in the dough,â Harry mumbled back to his brother.Â
âI can hear you, you know,â (Y/N) ground out, working hard on a rather unruly clump of dough that simply would not cooperate. âAnd if I can hear you, you are close enough to be helping.â
âBut that is so exhausting," Harry groaned, leaning against the countertop. âBesides, how are you ever going to impress your betrothed if you do not keep such toned arms?â
She threw the dough against the counterâhard. âHe is not my betrothed.â
âBut you wish for him to be, no?â Jack giggled, playing with a few burnt bunsâa mishap of his own creation.
âI say, Sister,â Harry said. âWhy do you not pursue that Bridgerton? He clearly is interested in you, or, have you forgotten all of the flowers he has sent?â
The front of the shop was practically a floristâs dreamâcovering every free inch of counter space with beautiful bouquets. Her mother simply refused to throw out such lovely blooms, even going so far as to fish the first one out of the trash after her daughter made quick work to dispose of it. âHow could I possibly forget about the man who continuously flaunts his wealth to get what he wants?â
âHe wants you, surely that is not lost on you?â
âOf course not,â she continued to knead, a few hairs falling into her face. âBut he is so insistent on getting me to agree to his whims simply becauseââ
âHe has money, (Y/N),â Jack scoffed. âGood money. Christ, you spent half of a day with him a few weeks ago and we were able to finally purchase meat for dinner. Imagine if you married himââ
âSo you want your sister to be married off for your own financial gain?â
âWhat else would you marry for?â Harry laughed. âLove?â
She stopped kneading. âWhy do you not go and try to marry a wealthy lady, then? Hm? Surely a woman of genteel breeding would be much taken by the idea of a rugged bakerââ
âThat Bridgerton is already interested,â Harry shrugged. âAt the very least, if you end up with child he would provide enough fundsââ
âFirst you wish to marry me off, now you wish for me to have his bastard?â She couldnât help but laugh, ignoring her hard work on the counter. âWhy can I not make my own choice? I do not wish to be with Mr. Bridgerton, I wish to stay here at the bakery.â
âFucking stupid,â Jack scoffed. âIf I were in your shoes, I would let the gentleman pay for anything my heart desiresâforget about this wretched place and move on with my life.â
âAnd abandon our legacy?â
âYou mean my legacy,â Jack corrected. âI am to inherit the bakery, it is my birthright. You? I suppose I will allow you to continue your grunt work hereââÂ
âWho else will do the baking?â Her voice rang throughout the kitchen. âMother and Father are nearing the end of their career, both becoming too frail to continue with the rigorous task of this place. I am the only oneâthe only competent member of this family who can keep this shit afloat! And you want me to just⌠give that up?â
Jack stood a little straighter. âIt was never your place.â
âHarry is set to inherit the bakery now, you know it. Yet someone had to fill the shoes of the family fuck-up instead, no?âÂ
It was a sharp pain, suddenly and all at once against her cheek. It took her only half a second later to realize what had happened, her other brotherâs face was only a confirmation on the fact.
âJack, what the hell?!â Harry practically screamed. âYou hit her?â
âShe insulted me!â
âYou deserved it,â Harry said, pushing his older brother back. âShe only spoke the truthââ
âSo I am allowed to be walked over by my baby sister?â Jack scoffed, pushing Harry back. âA woman? No fucking chance, mate.â
Her hand had covered her cheek, already feeling warm to the touch. Everything was too much, too loud, too bright. She had to get out of there, had to forget all about the dough on the counter, forgetting all about the brother who had just smacked her silly. The back door wasnât lockedâno surprise as Jack was the last one to use itâmaking it easy for her to push into the alleyway and into the rain.Â
Rain.Â
Pelting like bullets, the wet drenched her clothing in a mere instant, making it harder to escape. Where had she planned to run anyway? She had nowhere to go, her entire world was contained to the four walls of the bakery, never daring to explore the rest of it, not when her world was already so encompassing, so inviting.Â
In theory, anyway, it seemed.
So, she ran. A mix of running and walking, she kept moving forward. By the time she left her part of town, she knew her brothers would not bother coming for her. The rain alone was a deterrent, even Harry, the one who loved her more, wouldnât dare to brave the elements just to reel his sisterâs whims in.Â
A splotch of purple entered her vision. How long had she been moving? Did she even expect to come here? Did her subconscious send her in this direction for a reason?
She knocked on the bright door before she could find out.
âGood evening, maâam,â a butter said politely. âWhat business do you have?â
âI am here to call upon Benedict Bridgerton.â
â
His quill had soaked the parchment below with ink, having left the tip upon it for far too long. He had been lost in thought, contemplative, especially the last few weeks. Benedict knew he had hurt her, had insulted her very being, yet he still tried. Every other day heâd send a fresh bouquet to the bakery, a new poem attached to the stems. Perhaps she read them? He knew it was more likely that she burned them, in the ovens or otherwise.Â
At the very least, he knew that the blooms were being displayed at the shop. Hope. That is what it had given him.
âMr. Bridgerton, you have a caller,â a butler knocked, opening his door a crack wider.
âA caller? In this weather?â
âShe seemed rather insistent,â the butler shrugged. âShe is waiting in the drawing roomâI already sent for tea and towels for the lady.â
âA lady is here to see me?â Benedict quirked his brow.
âA Miss. (Y/L/N),â the butler said. âNo calling card, soaked to the bone and she seemed a bit⌠out of sorts.â
Benedict had already risen from his desk, practically pushing past the staff member to reach the stairs. Missing a step or two, he made it to the drawing room and shoved the door open. In the center of the blue room was (Y/N), dripping onto the wooden floor, shaking like a leaf.
â(Y/N)âŚâÂ
âI-I had nowhere else to go,â she began to explain. âI did not even realize I was here until I knocked on the door. It was foolishââ
âNo,â Benedict shook his head, reaching to take her hand in his own. âIt is quite alright. You are more than welcome to be here.â
His hands were warm, or perhaps she was just that cold, making them feel like a fire. âI am so sorry, Benedict.â
âFor what?â He asked genuinely.Â
âEverything?â She offered. âI-I am not sure of what, exactly, but I feel that I need to apologize.â
âYou neednât apologize for anything,â he said. âNot with me, not ever.â
She looked up at the ceiling, afraid to make contact with his blue stare. âI needed to get away. My brother heâJack hit me.â
Benedict froze, his entire body went rigid. âIâll kill him.â
âI suppose I deserved it,â she shrugged, now looking at the ground. âTalking back to him, assuming things that could never beââÂ
âA man has assaulted you,â Benedict squeezed her hand tighter. âBrother or not, he put his hands on you. You did nothing of the sort to deserve such a thing.â
âI donât think I can go back there,â (Y/N) said softly. âPerhaps this was just the moment that gave me clarity. Opened my eyes, so to speak.â
Benedict took a good look at her face, red and splotchy, whether it was from the smack or the tears, he could not tell. âTea is on the way, I shall request a cold compress for your cheekââ
âI do not wish to impose.â
âYou shall wish for nothing here,â Benedict said quietly, firmly. âYou will stay until the rain lets up, or, you provide me with a suggestible plan for your next steps.â
âI cannot go back,â she finally looked up at Benedict. âAs much as I would like to, I simply cannot.â
âIf you do not want to go back, I will support you. If you want to leave town, the country even, I will support you,â he said seriously. âPlease allow me to support you.â
âI could never ask you for thatââ
âYou are not asking, I am offering,â he clarified.Â
âBenedictâŚâ
The rain seemed to lessen, if the pelting against the window had anything to say about it. The noise had dimmed, not as violent as before. âTo know that you are safe, that you are cared for, that is all I care about.â
So, in the center of the blue Bridgerton drawing room, soaked to the bone and dripping all over the floor, she kissed him. It was a sudden thing, pulling him down towards her lips, the contact much quicker than she had expected. He returned the favor in kind, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight, kissing her in a way he had yet to truly experience.Â
If his hands were like a fire, his lips were an inferno. Fighting for dominance, it was all encompassing. How had she gone so long without a feeling such as this? The burn was coming from inside, not a superficial one atop her skin as she was quite used to, but this burn, this feeling, she could find herself craving this.Â
âI-I am sorryââ she pulled away.
âNever be sorry,â Benedict shook his head. âNot for that, not ever.â
âI should not have done thatâŚâ
âNo,â he agreed, a chuckle leaving his lips, âbut how exhilarating it felt, regardless.â
His thumb ran lazy circles on her jaw. She leaned into the touch. âI do not know what to do, where to goâŚâ
âBut you cannot stay hereâŚ?â
She smiled sadly. âYou know me scarily well, Benedict.â
He thought for a moment. âSo⌠leave.â
âExcuse me?â
âLeave town, leave the countryââ
âI do not have the means to do such a silly thing.â
âI will pay your way.â
She scoffed, trying to pull out of his embrace. He wouldnât release his grip. âBenedictâŚâ
âI told you, I wish to support you. Emotionally, financially, I want to be there for you,â Benedict said. âEven if we are notâif you do not want to be together romantically, I want to ensure your safety and your health, your well-being. A friend.â
She tried to find the lie in his eyes, in his tone. Coming up empty, she had no excuse to not believe him.Â
âFrance,â he said, as if struck by lightning.
âFrance?â
âI hear only the expert bakers study in FranceâI have no doubts you could go to learn,â he explained. âI could pay for your travel, housing, you name it. Ask for it, and it is yours.â
âI doubt anyone would want to teach a woman, no matter how lovely a thought it might be.â
âI have a cousin,â Benedict explained. âHer and her husband own a cafĂŠâI am quite certain that they would love to hire an expert baker to add to their inventory and menu. You could earn your own income, make your own way. A fresh start.â
âA fresh startâŚâ she repeated. âThat sounds too good to be true.â
âI shall write to her in the morning,â Benedict said, holding her hands again.Â
âAnd youâŚ?â
âI will only come with you if you want me to join,â Benedict said slowly. âI will not trap you. I want your happiness, your freedom.â
She nodded, understanding.
âI think France sounds nice,â she smiled. âWill you write to me?â
âEvery chance I get.â
âEven if you are vexed with me?â
âEspecially if I am vexed with you.â
She kissed his lips again, sweeter and softer than the first time.
âSounds perfect.â
â
A year. An entire year had passed and she couldnât recall a happier time in her life. The only time that something could have rivaled it was a visit to a tea shop followed by a respite by a pondâin handsome company all the while.Â
They kept correspondence, just like they promised. Every week came a new letter, a new story to be told by the poetic Benedict Bridgerton. She tried to rival his words, explaining every detail about France, about her new life, but something was nagging. She missed him. They had grown close over the correspondence, leaving her heart wanting more. But, she knew when she left for France it was to fulfill her dreams, leaving a foolish notion like love on the back burner.
â(Y/N),â Marie, the Bridgerton cousin, called out behind her. âWe are in need of more buns.â
âI just restocked the buns,â (Y/N) giggled, turning to the blonde. âWhat? Has someone mysteriously bought the lot?â
âOui,â Marie said with a jest, heading into the storage room, âperhaps you should go bring more out?â
âYou are in luck, the last batch just finished resting from the oven,â she said, carrying a tray on her shoulder, âI will bring them out with haste.â
âI am sure he will appreciate it.â
(Y/N) faltered, hand already pressed to the door leading to the front shop. A tingle ran through her spine, her heart picking up to a freeing flutter.Â
Could it be?
âYou know, I would buy your entire stock,â the man hummed, looking thoughtfully into the display case, âbut I fear I would be recreating a rather taxing memory for the both of us.â
âBenedict,â she gasped, nearly dropping her tray.Â
âYou look radiant,â he mused, that wicked grin of his breaking on his face. âMuch like the first time I saw youâcovered in flour.â
âI am in my element,â (Y/N) said sweetly, âjust as you would expect.â She had noticed that Marie and her husband were not in the cafĂŠ, the sign flipped to close. âYou planned this.â
âDo you insinuate that I bribed my distant cousin to close her cafĂŠ to give you the day off, travel all the way to France, hoping I could spend the day with you?â Benedict scoffed playfully. âYou truly do not know me at all.â
âI do not think Marie would take a bribe,â (Y/N) said slyly, knowing how much of a champion the cousin had been for the baker and viscountâs son to get together.
âShe refused payment,â he admitted, agreeing with her notion. âBut, was ever eager to see you get out of the kitchen and enjoy yourself.â
âYou hadnât written to me in two weeks,â (Y/N) said, walking around the counter. âI was worried.â
âI needed to refrain from our correspondence, I fear I would have let the surprise slip otherwise.â
âSmart man,â she hummed.
âI am known to be smart occasionally,â he shrugged.
âWhat are you doing here?â She finally asked. âN-not that I am not happy to see you, of course, but as you had said, this is a surprise.â
âI came to study art,â Benedict said, a hand in his coat pocket. âI felt that if I truly wanted to learn the craft, I needed to learn from the mastersâmany of their works are housed here in France. I even began to rent a little home in town, finding the need to stay a while.â
âThat is the only reason?â
Benedictâs gaze softened. âOf course it is not the only reason.â
Her heart fluttered again.
âIt is only fair that I try this again, correctly and without the prying eyes of society, this time,â Benedict said, clearing his throat and spinning around.
âCorrectly?â She giggled, watching him twirl to face the door.
âAh, good morning miss!â Benedict said, turning back to face (Y/N). âI must say, you look ever-so-prettyâtell me, do all bakers have a beauty such as your own?â
âI would wager no,â she said, trying to keep serious. âMost of the bakers around here are men.â
âShame. Might I learn your name? It seems only fairâI fear I might just die if I do not know the sweet sound of it.â
â(Y/N),â she sang. âMy name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).â
âBenedict Bridgerton,â he stretched out his hand, reaching for her own. She allowed him to take it, a soft kiss was placed on the back of her cracked handâa working hand, one that she was proud to have.Â
âYou are very charming, Mr. Bridgerton,â she hummed, looking deeply into his blue eyes. âPleased to make your company.â
âI assure you, I am more pleased to be in yours,â Benedict insisted, kissing her hand again. âTell me, do you have plans this afternoon?â
âIt seems my schedule has cleared up,â she looked to the sign on the door and sighed. âWhy? Do you have any suggestions on how I should spend it?â
âMight we take a turn around the park? A friend of mine has written to me about just how lovely one nearby is, I reckon I would like to see it for myself.â
She smiled brightly at him, as if he held the world in his hands. Instead, he held two leaves between his fingersâbrown and cracked, but clearly treated with such care. They had been the same ones from their time at the park the first go around, she was nearly certain. Why else would he bring dead leaves with him?
"Leaves?"
"You see, my family, we have this tradition of racing with leavesâI would very much like to share it with you. These two in particular seem to be very lucky, thought it would be best to bring them along."
His smile melted her heart, endearing and thoughtful in the same breath. She could get used to a smile like that.
âWell⌠what are we waiting for, Mr. Bridgerton?â
#benedict bridgerton#bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton imagines#this is a doozy and i am sorry#but only a little bit!!!
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"I love you but I can't say those words":
I would drown even the stars for you.
When I look at you, I just think about how much things have changed since we first met.. my how time flies..
don't you think looking at me like that will give me the wrong impression?
oh, by the way, don't be late for dinner.
I don't think I would have rather done this with anyone else..
did you ever think we'd grow so close?
how many times have I had to nurse you back to health now?
maybe you should sit this one out, I've got it for now
why haven't you told me this before?
Please don't do anything reckless
Will you sit with me?
When was the last time you ate??
Anything that you have to say to me, you can say infront of [B]
I know you're not feeling the greatest, that's why I brought you [insert thing]
you just love to give me hell, don't you?
You're important to me.
I don't wanna lose you / I can't bare to lose you
do you need some help with that? allow me
Hidden Confessions:
I don't think you understand just how much you really mean to me.
I know how you are, and that's why I've decided that you won't do this alone.
You can't get rid of me that easily (after an argument)
don't think so low of my loyalty to you for I would burn the heavens if it mean saving the stars in your eyes.
you've always been the one person who I could never stay mad at
I cherish the memories we make together
I will never let anything or anyone hurt you
you won't take them away from me
don't you dare lay a finger on them!
if you so much as make a move on them I will kill you where you stand, you hear me?
so precious, our time together
I love whatever this is between us.
do you ever think about where we'll be in 10 years?
careful now, you just might make me blush talking like that
Sappy Sentences:
I don't think the heavens or the hells below could fathom the level of love we share.
If there were a way to bottle your love, I'd get drunk on it every day
Sometimes all I really want is to lay like this, with you in my arms forever.
For us eternity doesn't mean for the rest of time. Eternity is just for the rest of our lives together.
I don't remember giving you my heart, but I know it's safe in your hands.
Watching you get hurt is like a blade through the heart, I can't take it.
Even if I had six hearts, they'd all beat for you.
I can't blame those who stare at you, I get lost in your beauty myself.
I'd worship you as my supreme deity, bathe me in your grace
I'd do anything in the world for you. Just you name it.
Come lay with me, I want to heart your heartbeat.
Everytime I'm with you, I can't help but feel at peace with the world.
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deadpool getting jealous when youâre giving wolfie too much attention in a poly relationship!!! đ
âWade. Stop pouting.â Logan grunted from against your neck, eyes closed shut as he tried to focus back on you and tightened his grip on your waist.
âAnd how the fuck do you know Iâm pouting! Youâve got your eyes closed!â Wade exclaimed, pouting from the other side of the room, watching on in jealously as you continued to shower Logan with more affection.
âI donât need to open my eyes to know your pouting dipshit.â Logan growled but his temperament was easily faltered when he felt you run your hand through his hair and scraping at his scalp deliciously, you almost swore you heard the gruff Logan Howlett purr like a domesticated cat.
âWade whatâs wrong? Youâve been like this all week and when I go to kiss you or anything, you completely brush me off.â You said as you looked over at him in his ridiculous pink unicorn pyjamas with matching slippers, squeezing his unicorn plushie tighter and tighter that you swore the poor thing was going to pop. You didnât like it when either of your partners was upset or angry, theyâve been down those roads before and all you wanted was to love them as much as you can while you can; however you couldnât do that if one of your partners was too stubborn to tell you what was wrong.
Thankfully after a total record of fifteen minutes of sighing and huffing, Wade looks over at you with the most dramatic pout on his lips. âFine since my gorgeous, fantastic, sexy, hot pookie insists that I tell them whatâs wrong, Iâll shall.â He then takes a deep breath and points to the half asleep Logan cuddled up against you. âYou have been giving lumberjack over there far too much attention lately Whereâs my affection because I donât see it! Iâm being neglected! I want to be cuddled! whereâs my cuddles!â You couldnât help but chuckle at Wadeâs outburst, which only made him pout harder as he showed you his back which had a massive cartoon unicorn rearing on its back legs.
âGreat now my sexy, cool, gorgeously handsome partner is laughing at my pain, I must truly be in hell.â He mutters to himself as he burrows his head into his arms, only then did your laughter subsided as finally spoke. âDonât be like that, you know I love you and Logan equally.â You tell him, only to hear him scoff, which made your heart hurt a little, before you the. patted the spare space of the couch with your hand, wanting to make it up to your boyfriend. âStop it with the pouting and get your fine ass on over here handsome, weâve got room for one moreâŚif you want it that is. Iâm not forcing-â
Before you could finish your sentence, Wade bolted from his spot across the room, and clung onto your other side as he nuzzled his head against your chest, his arms latching onto you waist just beneath Loganâs own arms. âThought youâd never ask sweet cheeks!â Wade replied as he peppered kisses across your collar bones, causing your to giggle as you ran your free hand up and down his back soothingly, now feeling happy and content with both men that you love dearly being cuddled up on either side of you.
âGood. I donât want you to ever think I donât love either of you because I do.â You said as you kissed both Wade and Logan on their foreheads, noses and finally their lips as Logan sluggishly reciprocated his kiss in due to being half asleep, just as Wade almost devoured you eagerly with his own kiss.
âI think we both know that very well peanut, and we love you all the more for it.â Wade uttered softly as he made himself comfortable against your side, feeling his eyelids grow heavier. Wade knee youâd never made him feel jealous, not intentionally nor accidentally, but sometimes he felt a little lost whenever you spent just a small fraction more time with Logan over him. He just wants so time with you too! And so now as he burrows his head under your chin, ready to drift off, he couldnât help but reach a hand over to squeeze Loganâs firm ass; only to find that he was one step ahead of him and quickly gripped his wrist.
âI wouldnât think about it bub.â Logan murmured.
âHow is he doing that with his eyes closed.â Wade whispered to you as you both looked at Logan as he dropped wadeâs hand.
âItâs a mystery weâll never find out sweetheart.â You replied as you kissed Wade on the forehead, giving his ass a little pat and a loving squeeze. You knew Wade expresses his affection in rather bold ways but only did so as long as it alright with you and Logan. He didnât want to put you out of your comfort zone to accommodate him but you werenât so easily fazed by his actions, not when you have been friends with him as long as you have been partners. So needless to say it wasnât at all surprising when you suddenly picked up Wadeâs tendency to squeeze and or slap your partners asses affectionately.
Much to Loganâs dismay no less but he took it in stride for your sake and occasionally Wadeâs but mainly yours.
âThe author mustâve gotten pretty lazy or had a brain fart if this is how the fanfic ends.â Wade yawns, âi couldâve done a far better job thatâs for sure.â He adds before falling asleep. meanwhile you stayed up wondering who the fuck this âauthorâ he was on about, and what did he mean by âfanfic?â
#mcu x you#mcu x reader#mcu imagines#mcu fanfic#mcu imagine#marvel x you#marvel x reader#marvel imagine#marvel imagines#marvel fanfiction#deadpool x you#deadpool imagines#deadpool imagine#deadpool x reader#wade wilson imagines#wade wilson x reader#wade wilson imagine#wolverine imagine#wolverine x reader#wolverine imagines#wolverine x you#logan howlett x you#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett imagine#Logan howlett imagines
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I saw your Yandere!wolf x Lamb!reader and all I could think of was another wolf hybrid stumbling across our little couple OR a ram hybrid going look for our sweet reader, since she wondered to far from the flock.
Part 1
Oh my god, imagine the ram hybrid finding you sniffling, your belly swollen and pregnant with wolf pups.
You just wanna go home, but the wolf told you how dangerous and scary the outside forest is for a little lamb like you. He scooped you up and saved you from becoming someoneâs meal, the least you can do is give him a few litters.
So the ram finds you, curled up in a cave by a fire. Youâre bundled up in fine furs, shiny objects near you like an offering. The wolf does adore his pet after all, heâs just not able to show it much besides gift giving.
âLittle lamb⌠what has happened to you?â
The ram, someone youâve known since childhood settles at your side, protectively huddling by your side and warming you with his soft fleece.
âThe wolf saved me⌠I got lost.â
The ram frowned, gently nuzzling his horn against your head. âAnd he left you in this state, little one?â
You nodded, hanging your head in shame as he lifted the blanket to inspect your pregnant belly. âH-he fed me and kept me safe. Itâs um⌠the least I could do.â
This angered the ram, and he puffed out his chest before lifting you up. âThen your debt has been paid. Come, Iâm taking you home.â
He lifted you easily, carrying you out of the cave and through the forest.
You readjusted to life on the farm slowly, the other lambs making you comfortable and happy. Not a single one judged you for what had happened, and always kept a smile on their faces.
At least they did in public.
âSheâs mated to a wolf, does that not concern you? Those⌠creatures in her belly will bring about chaos to our flock!â
The ram rolled his eyes at the sheep next to him, a chatty woman who gossiped and complained constantly. âShe was lost, and itâs my fault. I should have been keeping an eye on her, and I wasnât.â
The unspoken truth was that the two had been close as little lambs, born around the same time. They he truly loved her, and felt guilty that she had been taken away and impregnated under his watch. It boiled his blood, he had always wanted to be her mateâŚ
As she settled into bed, curled up with the ram, a figure stalked towards the farm, blood and viscera in his wake.
The wolf would do anything to get his little lamb back, she was carrying his pups after all.
Want more? Should the wolf or ram prevail?
âââââââ
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#tw yandere#cw pregnancy#cw dubcon#anon ask#ask answered#wolf hybrid bf#ram hybrid#wolf hybrid smut#wolf hybrid#lamb hybrid#lamb hybrid!reader#monster fucker#monster lover#monster fudger#monster boyfriend#monster fic#chubby!reader#chubby reader#x reader#fem reader#female reader#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#monster bf#monster x human#monster fucking#teratophillia#teraphilia#terato
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â big boy ! | k.mg
â pairings; mingyu x fem! reader â genre; smut â w.c; 1.2k+ â warnings; dom! reader, sub! mingyu, jealousy, slight toxicity from both of them, possessiveness, oral (f. receiving), reader is mentioned to be smaller than mingyu, size kink, reverse size kink, mingyu is a slut â a/n; yes, and is this reverse (?) size kink. no clue lol
now, this goes two ways...
either him getting so turned on by the size difference. his cock twitching in need when he sees how deep his huge cock would be buried in your cunt. and, him casually using his strength to pick you up and continue rutting his hips into you. or,
mingyu's breath hitches with each step you take towards him, and he swallows thickly, having been cornered. he looks down at you, getting lost in your lust-swollen eyes.
his cock twitches inside his pants when you press your body against his. youâre comparatively smaller than him, but you have so much fucking power over him. so much that he forgets this is a company party, and he could probably get fired if someone caught you both in the restroom like this.
âhad fun? hmm?â you poke your cheek with your tongue, progressively getting annoyed as he continues to stay silent.
âof course, you did. I mean all those girls were practically throwing themselves at you. liked the attention?â
you can only adjust for so long. and, you couldn't care less if someone would label you as toxic. ever since he stepped in, his so-called coworkers had been flirting with and touching him. you were right there beside him. if it's this bad with you around, how bad is it without you?
your blood boils, and your dress feels too tight, rendering you breathless. your patience runs thin with every passing second. but to mingyu, this whole situation is hot.
who knew you were this possessive? and that fucking dress hugging your body isn't doing him any good. his back presses against the cold tile of the basin, and you place your hands on either side of his body, looking up at him.
he could easily overpower you, pin you to the wall, and have his way with you. but he can't even move his fingers for the life of him, and there's a voice inside his head, screaming at him to submit to you.
and he does. you pull him down by grabbing his collars and trace his jaw with your nose. the faint flowery perfume you don't use taints his scent, and your nose scrunches up in distaste.
âtch,â
you roughly pull yourself away from him. mingyu whines at the loss of contact, his hands itching to grab your waist. but you stop him by pinning his hands together at the front.
a pout forms on his pretty lips, and he stares at you with wide âinnocentâ eyes. if you lacked some self-control, you would've roughly kissed him and fucked him for everyone else to hear.
pressing a small kiss to his lips, you roughly grab his hard cock. his hip bucks into your hand, dick twitching beneath the layer of clothes. whines echo in the restroom, but you shoot him a warning glare, and he promptly shuts up.
after a few gropes and squeezes, you remove your hand, satisfied with how riled up he is now. he doesn't move but simply whimpers and whines. again, he knows he can overpower you. but there's a difference between knowing and wanting. mingyu wants you to ruin him.
âugh, i want to fuck you so bad.â he whimpers, pulling you flush against him. with a roll to your eyes, you pull away from him and sit on the sink tile.
mingyu doesn't need to be told twice when you spread your legs, inviting him. he kneels on the floor and bunches up your skirt to your waist. his hands rest on the side of your thighs, squeezing the flesh.
a curse falls from his lips, observing the wet patch on your panty. you sigh and relax as he kisses your cunt through the cotton material. carding your finger through his hair, you tug on it, promptly receiving a groan from him.
he removes the cloth, and you shiver as the cold air licks your sensitive skin. he pockets the panty and quickly nestles himself between your legs again.
he leans forward, wrapping your clit between his soft lips. he sucks on the bundle of nerves, tongue flicking at the bud softly. then, he lays his tongue flat against your cunt, licking up your arousal. he hums, savoring the taste of you in his mouth.
you try your best to control all the filthy noises you want to let out. just the sound of mingyu's mouth on your cunt is enough to drive you insane and breathless. wet noises fill the restroom, along with your muffled moans and sighs.
he slurps and sucks on your hole, tongue prodding inside now and then. his soft lips molds with your pussy, and his hair tickles your inner thigh. he whines against your cunt, whispering praises in between.
you close your legs around his head and tangle your fingers with his locks, pushing him further. his nose brushing against your clit sends shivers down your spine, and you struggle to contain your moans. your hips buck up into his face, and you lock your legs around his face.
he doesn't stop despite the lack of oxygen. he slurps and sucks on your hole like a starved man. you can imagine his boner pressing against the fabric of his boxers and slacks. his twitching cock, leaking with precum, is painfully restricted, but mingyu doesn't do anything about it. he neglects himself to please you.
and he doesn't even mind being denied orgasms. as much as you'd like to ruin him tonight, you won't. payback for flirting with all those girls right in front of you. (you know he intended to make you jealous⌠and well, two can play the game.)
you gasp for breath as the warmth pools in your stomach. mingyu senses the shift in your breathing and laps his tongue on your cunt faster. an unbridled moan escapes your lips as he pushes you off your edge.
you cum on his tongue, still holding his head in place with your thighs. your legs tremble as you loosen your lock around him. he pulls back, gasping for breath and looking dazed.
you think he looks prettier like this, kneeling between your thighs with sweat glistening on his face and lips coated with your arousal. a little out of breath and his eyes practically begging you to fuck him.
but you won't.
your breathing turns even after a few minutes, and you slip off the sink. mingyu follows you and stands up from the floor. you fix your dress and makeup while mingyu watches, dumbfoundedly.
his cock presses painfully against his slacks. you're tempted to take him into your mouth, but you resist it. you don't even offer him a glance as you refix your makeup.
mingyu doesn't protest. he stands with a painful erection, watching you get dolled up again. he doesn't try to touch himself and get you to touch him. he waits. though his eyes scream a different story, he contains himself.
you cast him a smile when you're done, and he mirrors it. he leans down, slotting his lips against yours, and whispers a praise. he melts into the kiss. into you. though he's the taller, bigger one, you never fail to make him feel so small. not in a bad way. in a good way. in this way, mingyu isn't afraid to be himself with you.
yes, even as you are actively denying him any sort of pleasure.
you strut away from him, towards the party. and he follows suit, happily (and with a painful boner). he trembles with excitement, knowing what's about to unfold when you both reach home.
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 1 - The Introduction
Summary: Captain Price has been fighting the requests to add an omega to his team until those requests become commands. You find yourself traveling half a world away to join a pack of highly trained soldiers to balance out their dynamic. Not all of them are quite so happy about your arrival, but you're a good omega who does as you're told.
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, brief moments of panic on the reader's side, scenting, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.
Author's Note: I couldn't help it and I've found myself falling into the Call of Duty brainrot once again so here I am to bless you with some poly 141 a/b/o goodness. It's just part 1, I promise things will get better as the story goes along.
MASTERLIST | Next ->
âI donât like this.âÂ
âBelieve me, John, I know. But the higher ups are putting a lot of pressure on us with this initiative and Iâve pushed back as much as I can. Theyâre convinced it will be good for morale and team dynamics.âÂ
He wants to protest, but heâs been protesting this idea for three months. âWhat more can you tell me about her?âÂ
âNot much that isnât already in her file.â Her tone is not lost on him. She can, but thatâs not a conversation to be held over the phone. âSheâs quiet and polite, a bit jumpy but she relaxes once she gets to know you. Remember, I picked her out myself.âÂ
That doesnât make him feel any better.
He flips through the file again after he hangs up with Laswell. He almost has it memorized by now, having looked through time and time again since the letter was dropped on his desk three months ago.Â
He stares at the photo, the headshot taken by the institute in her file. Sheâs cute, as most omegas are. American, but she had grown up on military bases. At least this world wasnât entirely unfamiliar to her. He grimaces as he looks over her DOB below the photo. Sheâs young, younger than he would have liked, but at least she was old enough to drink.Â
He sighs through his nose as he flips through her records. Sheâs been in the institute for nearly ten years, likely sent as soon as she presented. He flips through page after page of test results, notes from her instructors, personality and temperament analysis, essays and essays worth of information written on her and also by her. He didnât care so much about what her instructors thought, he was more interested in her.Â
âChrist.â He breathes as he pauses on the page with her statistics, rubbing his eyes. The file has everything in it, down to heat tracking and her early signs it was starting.Â
As if he doesnât have enough to worry about, now heâs going to have an omega under his care.Â
He hasnât considered taking an omega in well over a decade. Back when he had been young and reckless, he had once considered starting his own pack, but then his career in the military began to take off and he let that dream go. It became too dangerous, and he had seen many times what happened to omegas who were left behind during deployments for too long.Â
His team didnât need an omega. He had briefly considered it in the beginning as they adjusted to the new dynamics, but he knew it was too dangerous and their schedules were far too unpredictable for the sort of stability omegas needed. He had fought time and time again against the push to add an omega to the team. They had settled into their roles easily, and operated perfectly fine with the missing dynamic.Â
Then the Omega Initiative was born and he found himself with no grounds to refuse anymore. Task Force 141 was getting an omega whether they wanted one or not.Â
He canât help the tickle in the back of his mind that something else might be going on. He flips back to the first page, staring at the omegaâs photo. Theyâd be here in a week. Sheâd be flying with Laswell to London where sheâd be given a few days to adjust before theyâd fly in here and sheâll be left with her new pack.Â
Price closes the file, leaning back in his chair. He has a lot to do in the next week.Â
You stare down at the files laid out on the table. Four of them, hardly more than a single page each, most of which was blacked out. Theyâre all older than you, their birth years at least visible to you. Most of the things on the file you donât understand, and you weren't even sure how tall they were since you canât convert meters to feet in your head.Â
Youâre tired and on edge, nervous about tomorrow when you'd meet your new pack. You sit back in your seat, letting out a long breath.Â
âI know.â Station Chief Laswell, Kate as you had been told to call her, takes the seat across from you. âYouâre going to have to get used to hearing the word classified. What they tell you about themselves is, of course, up to them, but the things they do, the places they go, even with your security clearance as high as it is, that will all still be-âÂ
âClassified?â You finish for her.Â
Kate smiles. âExactly. Itâs mostly for your safety. The less you know...âÂ
The less there is to make you a target.Â
Youâd been given that speech before you left D.C. Youâd been given a lot of briefings, as Kate had called them, since you had been pulled into the directorâs office at The Institute and told to pack your bag. You remembered Kate and the interview you had done a few days prior. It hadnât been any different than the other interviews youâd done before, except that you were chosen this time.Â
What had come after was three months of intense briefings and training, for what, you hadnât really known at the time. They had told you little, at least until last week when Kate pulled you into her office and told you what was happening and why it was happening and where you were going.Â
âYou donât have anything to worry about, though.â Kate continues, something youâve been told over and over again during your briefings. âTheyâre all good men. John and I know each other well. I wouldnât have picked you if I didnât think you could handle them.âÂ
You continue to stare at the files. Two alphas, two betas. It wasnât an unusual pack, evenly balanced, except for the missing omega. If the situation were different they may have elected to have two omegas to keep the even balance. This wasnât a normal situation, though. This was a military pack, special forces at that. It wasnât unusual for packs to form on bases, especially those stationed together for long periods of time. Alphas and betas united together with one purpose, one collective goal.Â
That was why so many alphas were drawn to the military.Â
That, and the excuse for violence.Â
Omegas werenât allowed to enlist, omegas werenât allowed to hold many jobs at all. It was usually only in special circumstances, and even then, they were more likely to be assigned into a pack than be allowed to work and care for themselves. In a lot of ways you were lucky. You wouldnât have to fight to find a pack, fight to find a match, fight for one of the few decent alphas left in the world. Your road had been chosen for you as soon as you presented.Â
In a lot of ways, though, things were worse for you.Â
âHow do you feel?â Kate asks, looking you over. Youâve grown to like the beta Station Chief in the weeks youâve spent together.Â
âTired.â You run a hand across your face.Â
âThe time difference will do that to you.â Kate says, giving you a sympathetic look. âNot to mention everything else.â Kate stands, stacking the files and pushing them to the center of the table. âI have a couple more errands to run, so get some rest. Iâll pick us up some dinner on the way back.âÂ
You look nervous.Â
He canât blame you. Heâd felt a bit of a nervous twist to his stomach this morning as heâd finished ensuring everything was in place. He doesnât often get nervous anymore, years and years of experience giving him the ability to expect anything and react accordingly.Â
This is different, though. This isnât a soldier heâs greeting, this is an omega.Â
His omega.Â
As Pack Alpha he had more of a claim to you than anyone else. It was his mark youâd wear, his scent that everyone would notice first. It was his duty to protect you, to ensure you have everything you need. Youâre not another member of his team, youâre not even a soldier. Youâre just a poor civilian thatâs been thrust into this world of danger and secrecy.Â
âCaptain Price.â Laswell greets him, shaking his hand.Â
He greets her back, but he canât help his gaze as it flickers to the omega. Youâre small, as expected of an omega. Your sweatshirt hides most of your curves, but your jeans hug your full thighs. Most omegas are small and soft, designed to be held and healthy enough to bear children when cared for correctly.Â
He doesnât even want to think about that.Â
Laswell introduces you, your feet shuffling a bit as you step forward toward him. Coming from an institute, you likely hadnât had much contact with alphas before now. You try to stand taller, look braver as you stand before him, but he can smell the tangy edge of anxiety surrounding your scent.Â
âItâs a pleasure to meet you, sir.â You say, shaking his hand. Itâs small and warm in his, your skin soft and slightly clammy.Â
âThe pleasure is mine.â He says, releasing your hand.Â
You let it drop to your side, pulling your sleeve down over your fingers. You shift on your feet, your body language betraying your nervousness. Hunched shoulders, fingers tugging your sleeves over your hands, shifting your weight foot to foot as if you might take off running at a momentâs notice. Your eyes dart across the airfield taking in the movement around them. Youâre on edge, alert, and likely a little overwhelmed.Â
âIâll show you around and let you get settled.â He says, his eyes shifting to Laswell. âYou and I have some things to discuss.âÂ
You follow behind him with Laswell as he leads you towards the building that served as the 141âs home base. He points out different places you might find yourself visiting. The gym, the rec area, the mess hall, and finally their barracks. He leads you down the hallway where their rooms were located, pointing out each door before he gets to yours, sandwiched between his own and Gazâs, with Soap and Ghost on the other side.Â
He opens the door, letting you enter. He stays in the doorway, letting you explore the small space. Your bags had been brought in, the faint hint of the beta Corporal that had brought them in still lingering in the air. Thereâs four shirts folded neatly on the desk, one from each of them that theyâd slept in for the last couple days to give you a chance to get used to their scents.Â
âThe lads are still running a simulation, but theyâll be done within the hour.â He says, drawing your gaze from the bed. âWeâll let you get settled in and Iâll come get you when theyâre ready.âÂ
âThank you, sir.â You say.
Laswell steps in as he steps away for a moment, letting the two of you say your goodbyes. Youâd likely see Laswell again, and soon, but he knows after three months youâll have bonded with her just a bit.Â
Price leads Laswell to his office after she leaves your room, his ears picking up the sound of the lock clicking into place as they walk away. Heâd left it on for a reason, wanting to give you the ability to feel safe and secure as you adjusted, even though you had nothing to worry about.Â
âSo.â Price says as he sits behind his desk, reclining back in his seat. âWhat can you really tell me about her?âÂ
Laswell gives him a knowing look. âThe CIA has had their eyes on her for years now. The Omega Initiative as it is now, isnât how it started. They were going to train omegas as agents, and she was one of the first names on that list. They had FIOT put a hold on her file once she came of age.âÂ
Federal Institute of Omega Training. The name was stamped on the front of your file. It was the highest rated institute in America, the place where most omegas born to politicians, government workers, and some military went.Â
âThey had agents go in and pretend to be interested parties just to make it seem like there was interest in her.â Laswell continues. âBut, you know omegas arenât cut out for this kind of work, so they changed the Initiative. She was still at the top of the list, but there were some...hesitations as to where to place her.âÂ
âWhat sort of hesitations?â He asks.Â
âYou saw those scores, John. Sheâs a good omega. Those purebred instincts are strong, and that makes her an easy target.âÂ
Most omegas born from an alpha/omega pairing were good at listening to their instincts. That was why they carried such a high standing, even among omegas. But, being so closely intune with their instincts made them more sensitive, more vulnerable. They were more likely to give in to an alpha, if the alpha knew how to play them right.Â
Laswell pulls a file from her bag, sliding it across his desk to him. âSheâd get walked all over in a larger pack, and the last thing she needs is to get hurt by an overbearing alpha.â Thereâs something hidden in Laswellâs words, his mind filing that away for later. âI need someone I can trust with her. Sheâs smart, learns fast. She needs a challenge, but also someone that wonât take advantage of her.âÂ
âIt sounds like youâve grown rather fond of her.â He says, flipping open the first page of the file. Itâs the CIAâs data on her, everything theyâd done in the last three months to prepare her for her life as a Special Operations pack omega.Â
âLike I said, Iâm the one that picked her for your team.â Laswell leans forward against his desk. âShe knows what sheâs in for. She was well prepared for this kind of life. Sheâll let you mark her, no questions asked because thatâs what sheâs been told to do. Sheâs obedient, John, almost to a fault.â
âThat could be dangerous.â Price says.Â
âYes, it could.â Laswell says. âIâm leaving her in your capable hands. She has my number, and so do you.âÂ
Price walks her back to the airfield, his head reeling a bit as he replays their conversation over and over. The hidden messages in Laswellâs words arenât lost on him, and his gut feeling that something else was going on had been correct.
âTake care of her, John.â Laswell says. âIâm putting a lot of trust in you.âÂ
He hasnât failed her yet.Â
Your body is tingling. Youâre not sure if itâs nerves or something else. You havenât been around an alpha since the day of your presentation, when you had been pulled from your home and taken to the institute. You had nearly wanted to keel over when you came face to face with Captain Price. Your alpha. Heâs a commanding presence, the tickling at the back of your neck still not quite gone even though the door is shut and locked.Â
The bed is comfortable, not any worse than what you slept on in the institute. Thereâs extra pillows and blankets stacked at the end, likely for your nest when you finally settled enough to make one. The door to the private bathroom is cracked open, facing the end of the bed. Thereâs four shirts on the desk next under the window next to the bathroom door, and your bags are sitting in front of the dresser and closet situated on the opposite wall from the bed.
You push yourself to stand, ignoring the way your legs wobble as you stare down at the four shirts on the desk. Theyâre all olive green, folded neatly in the exact same way. You wouldnât have known any different, except for the scents gently wafting from them, and the names on the tags.Â
Price. You pick up the one that will be the most familiar, bringing it to your nose. Tobacco smoke, aftershave, something sharp like whiskey. All things you had scented on him in your short time together. Underneath you catch a whiff of his natural scent. Something woody, fresh. A tingle crawls up your spine, prickling in the back of your neck again. You drop the shirt on the desk, taking a step back to breathe in the unscented air for a moment.Â
Youâre breathing heavily as you go for the shirt next to Priceâs. Garrick. You press the shirt against your nose, inhaling. Aftershave, different from Priceâs. Some kind of lotion. Coconut oil maybe? You canât pick up more than the base scent of beta, the soothing almondy scent.Â
You take another deep inhale of it, letting the beta scent ease you before you let it drop to the desk beside Priceâs. You grab the one next to it, looking at the tag. MacTavish. You lift it to your face, scenting another aftershave. Thereâs something citrusy mixed in as well, slightly watered down compared to the scent of the aftershave. Again, you canât pick up more than the scent of beta, letting it ease the tickling on the back of your neck again before you let it drop back on the desk.Â
One more to go.Â
You pick up the last shirt. Ghost. The faceless one. You bring the shirt to your nose, wincing slightly at the sharp tang of gunpowder and metal, smoke and a lingering aftershave. You try to smell deeper, but your nose burns with scent blocker spray. You let out a huff, dropping it back onto the desk.Â
This Ghost was dedicated to his anonymity.Â
Heâs going to be a problem.Â
You sink back onto the bed, eyeing the shirts. Your senses have heightened, picking up the scents wafting off of them, mixing in the air. You pick up the sound of boots approaching, three pairs of feet making their way down the hall. You can hear them talking and laughing as they approach. Thereâs a pause outside your door and you hold your breath, sitting as still as possible.Â
Of course they can smell you. You had sprayed yourself down with scent blockers before you left the hotel, but it had likely worn off by now. Even with the blocker, the scent of unmated omega wasnât hidden easily. The entire base had probably caught a whiff of your scent by now. Caramel, vanilla, strawberries with the undertone of pure omega that made alphas go insane.Â
âComing, Si?âÂ
Your lungs burn as you hold your breath, and for a moment youâre afraid your heartbeat might be audible from how hard itâs pounding. Steps recede from your door and you donât breathe until theyâve disappeared.Â
You decide to unpack to keep your mind busy as you wait. You donât have much, mostly clothes from the institute and toiletries. You donât even have a photo of your family, that part of your life behind you. You put your clothes away, venturing into the small bathroom to put away your toiletries. Thereâs towels already inside, along with a few things like shampoo and soap. Theyâre all scentless, like the things you had brought from the institute.Â
Nothing that could dampen your natural scent.Â
You almost donât hear the knock on the door, lost in your own thoughts. You take a steadying breath, hand hesitating over the lock. What if it wasnât Price? What if it wasnât anyone from your new pack?Â
âJust me.â Priceâs voice comes through the door.Â
Of course he would notice your hesitation. Heâs a trained soldier, heâs always going to be aware of his surroundings. You unlock the door, opening it slowly.Â
Price greets you with a small smile, your nose picking up the scent of his aftershave and the lingering scent of tobacco smoke now that youâre attune to it. âTheyâre ready, if you are.â He says.Â
You nod. âYeah, I guess.â It wasnât like you had much of a choice to say no.Â
You slip out the door, closing it behind you. Youâd ditched your sweatshirt, wearing a scoop-necked shirt to give them easy access for the scenting. Price leads you down the hallway, back towards his office. Youâre not quite sure what to expect, the nervous twisting in your stomach coming back.Â
âI thought weâd do it in a meeting room.â Price says, likely picking up on the change in your scent. âSomewhere neutral.âÂ
Itâs smart, itâll keep you from getting too overwhelmed by other scents or sounds. The last thing you need to do is panic and send them all into a spiral. Talk about a first impression.Â
Price pauses outside a door, looking down at you. His gaze is kind, almost sympathetic as you take a deep breath. âReady?âÂ
Not really, but you wouldnât dare say that. You have to do this, and the sooner you got the awkward part over with, the easier things will get. You nod, hands tugging nervously at the bottom of your shirt. âYes, sir.âÂ
Price opens the door, stepping in first. Youâre glad for the few moments youâre hidden behind him as the scents in the room slam into you. Alpha and two betas, scents you recognize from their shirts. They stand as Price enters, and for a moment you want to stay hidden behind the alpha but you know you have to be brave. You were made for this. The words drilled into your brain over and over again at the institute flash through your brain. You have one job in life and this is it.Â
You can hold power over them.Â
The words from the book your bunkmate had smuggled in flash through your mind. âThe Powerful Omegaâ, it had been titled. Authored by a progressive omega, it talked all about how powerful omegas could be, even those forced into traditional roles. You can get them all wrapped around your finger if you wanted to.Â
You steady your nerves, clenching your hands into fists at your sides and step out from behind Price. Your skin prickles as three sets of eyes are set on you. Price is speaking but youâre not really listening as you take them in. You recognize the two betas from their files.
Gaz, you pick up Price doing introductions, has kind eyes. Heâs tall for a beta, almost the same height as Price. He waves to you, offering you a small smile.Â
Soap is the shortest of the four, more what you would expect from a beta. âGood to meet ya, lass.â He greets you, giving you a charming smile. Heâs going to push your boundaries, you can tell.Â
Youâre beginning to see the dynamics already.Â
âAnd Ghost.â Price says, your eyes finally moving to the place youâve been avoiding since you walked in.Â
All hulking muscle, Ghost seems to take up the entire room. Your heart flutters nervously as you meet his dark gaze, his face hidden by a balaclava with a skull painted on the front. His presence is oppressive, tickling the back of your neck. Youâre not sure if you want to run or submit to him, every inch of him screaming alpha.Â
Priceâs hand on your back nearly makes you jump, your gaze finally drawing away from Ghost and back to him. âCome on, take a seat. Tell us about yourself.â Â
Price sits at the head of the table, Ghost, Soap and Gaz to his left. You take the seat on the right, staring at the other three members of your pack. You jump into your spiel, things that they already knew if theyâd read your file. Thereâs not much else to tell, since everything about you was in that file. That was its purpose, to make you look as appealing as possible to potential alphas and packs.Â
âWhat about your family?â Soap asks, the sharp scent of your nervous energy spiking for a moment. âDo you still talk to them?âÂ
You shake your head. âNot for a few years. Institutes donât really encourage keeping ties with previous packs, but I know there were a few omegas that did. It was hard to keep track of where my family was.âÂ
âYour father was a Marine, correct?â Price, even though they already know the answer.Â
You nod. âYes, sir.âÂ
âYou lived on base?â He asks.Â
You nod again. âYes, sir. We moved a lot, but we lived in pack housing on every base. We were a family pack, and I was number four of eight by the time I presented.âÂ
âWhen did you get sent to the Institute?â He asks, almost regretting answering it.Â
Itâs a sore subject, he can tell by the change in your face and the slight souring of your scent. âThe day after I presented.â You say.Â
The tension in the room is palpable, Soap and Gazâs eyes widening in shock as Ghost's shoulders tense just slightly. Price stares at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes. He knew it was likely shortly after, but that soon? Most would wait until the presentation had finished at least, and usually there was some downtime when it came to getting into an institute as well.Â
âMy father was a traditionalist alpha.â You say, something they also knew by your status. It was printed all over your file, squeezed in every place it could be as a reminder of your worth to whomever was reading it. âIt was because we were already on base that they got to me so fast.â You explain. âIt was my dadâs status in the Marines that got me into FIOT.âÂ
âWhat was it like, in the institute?â Gaz asks, wanting to change the subject a bit, if only to ease the sourness in your scent.Â
You huff out a laugh, the corner of your lips lifting in a smile. âNot unlike the military, I think. We had strict schedules we stuck to every day. Everything was dictated for us, what we wore, what we learned, what we did with our free time and how often we got it. Even what we ate was chosen for us. We always had to be ready to be tested at any time, and we were always being observed.âÂ
âYour test scores were high.â Price remarks.Â
You shrug. âIâm a perfect omega, or so my instructors always said. It comes easily to me. I donât really have to think much about it.âÂ
âDid you really kneel for two hours straight?â Gaz asks.Â
You huff out a laugh. âYeah. There was one day...it was a couple years ago. I donât know what caused it but there was something in the air. We were all on edge and worked up. The director got tired of us and made us all kneel in the mess hall during our two hour afternoon break. No cushions, no pillows. Just all forty of us, kneeling on the marble floor for two hours. Not everyone could do it. Quite a few got too fidgety, couldnât handle the pain. Three even passed out.âÂ
âHow did you manage it?â Gaz asks.Â
Price wasnât a fan of using instinctual habits as punishment. It left a bad taste in his mouth, and he can only imagine what else you could say they forced you to do with such nonchalance.Â
âTo be honest, I donât remember most of it. I just let my mind go somewhere else and before I knew it the time was up.â You shrug.
âWe wonât make you kneel for two hours.â Price says. âAnd definitely not without a pillow.âÂ
You smile softly. âThank you, sir.âÂ
Price watches you, the way your eyes dart around the room again, the sour edge of your scent gone, but the tang of anxiety remains. Youâve relaxed some, though, your shoulders are not quite so tense and youâve stopped picking at your nails.Â
Ghost has remained silent the entire time youâve spoken, eyes glued on you. Youâve tried not to look at him, finding your words get stuck in your throat whenever you meet his gaze.Â
Heâs going to be a problem.Â
âThereâs some rules we need to go over before anything else.â Price says. âYou have freedom to roam this building as you please, but one of us will escort you if you need to go elsewhere at least until youâve been marked. Thereâs other alphas on this base and I donât want them getting any ideas.âÂ
You knew well enough omegas frequented the barracks on bases often. You donât want to be mistaken as one. Even with their scents on you, you know that wonât stop some. Youâre not even sure a mark will stop them either.Â
âI want full transparency. If something happens you come to me, or you call Kate if weâre gone. If you need anything too, the same order stands.â Youâre beginning to detect the edge to his voice, The Captain slipping through his more casual demeanor. âWe have some downtime to adjust for now, but sometimes we may leave for weeks at a time. It will be rough, I wonât lie to you, but Kate pulled some strings and thereâs an Omega Specialist thatâs been brought in for you. Youâll meet her later, Iâm sure she wants to do a full workup.âÂ
Youâve met many Omega Specialists in your time. The beta medical professionals that go through specialized training so they can assist and treat omegas better than regular doctors and medics. Most of them go through a residency at Institutes, studying and practicing on young omegas. The thought of having at least someone who might understand you on a deeper level is comforting.Â
âIâm starving, letâs get the scenting over with.â Soap nearly whines, rubbing his stomach.Â
His words strike a chord of nervous energy in you again. You had been prepared many times for the scenting. Youâd seen instructional videos and done mock practices with your fellow omegas. Yet you feel like itâs not going to be enough. These were real alphas and betas, your pack. What if you donât like the way they smell?Â
What if they donât like the way you smell?Â
âIf youâre alright with it?â Price says, looking at you.Â
Youâre taken aback by the offer for consent. You werenât expecting it, as this was something you have to do. What would happen if you said no? Would they respect your boundaries? The fact you had been asked at all is shocking to you. You wonât say no, because youâll have to do it eventually, and at least this way youâll be walking around smelling like them. If nothing else, it might make this transition a bit easier.Â
âYeah.â You nod, swallowing down your nerves. âIâm okay with it.âÂ
All five of you stand from the table, your stomach churning with nervous energy. You try to clear your head, try to calm yourself so you donât stink them out with your anxiety. You need your scent to be clear, to be as tantalizing as possible.Â
âDonât look so worried, lass.â Soap says as they gather around you. âWe wonât bite.â He winks at you playfully.Â
Your cheeks warm as Price steps up to you. He is right, that would come later. Likely during your first heat when Price would give you his mark and claim you as his. It wasnât unusual for packs with multiple alphas to let more than one claim an omega, but judging from what youâve seen of Ghost, youâre not sure thatâs going to happen.Â
He had a right to claim you too, but from the look of it, he was the least excited about your joining their pack.Â
You tense as Priceâs hands settle on your waist, lifting you up so youâre seated on the edge of the table, putting you closer to being eye-to-eye with them. Theyâre all so big, the natural consequence of genetics and their jobs.Â
âReady?âÂ
You turn to look up at Price, close enough you can see the freckles on his nose and the grey in his blue eyes. You nod, pressing your hands into the table as you bare your neck for him. Your heart is fluttering in your chest as he leans in closer, pressing his face against your neck. His beard tickles your skin as he rubs his face against your scent gland, warm breaths fanning against your skin.Â
He pulls away just slightly, baring his own neck to you. You press forward, gripping the edge of the table as you press your face against his throat. You catch the scents you had picked up on his shirt in your room, the surface level scents that were environmental. You close your eyes, inhaling deeper. Woody. Pine? Spruce? It reminds you of a candle your mother used to burn. Thereâs another scent, the one that lingers. Petrichor, you think, rubbing your face against his scent gland.Â
His hand on your side pulls you back from your scent-induced haze, and you force yourself back from him. You take deep breaths of the sterile air in the meeting room, picking up his scent more clearly now as it mixes with the others.Â
âGood girl.â He says, squeezing your side gently. Something flutters in your stomach at his praise, some deep primal part of your brain preening at the thought of making your alpha proud. âGhost.â He says, stepping back from you.Â
Youâre snapped back into reality as the hulking alpha steps up towards you, moving almost silently. You try to keep yourself calm as he stalks towards you, his sharp gaze burning into yours.Â
Heâs testing you.Â
You wonât satisfy him, holding his gaze as he reaches you, his thighs pressing against your knees. One hand comes to rest next to your hip on the table, his body leaning in towards you. Youâre enveloped by the black fabric of his sweatshirt as his other hand reaches up to tug his balaclava up. Stubble tickles your skin as he presses his face against your throat, breathing in deeply. He lets out a quiet sound as he scents you, almost akin to a growl.Â
He shifts his weight, pressing his uncovered scent gland against your face. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply. Gunpowder and metal stings your nose again, along with the scent of his body wash. You press deeper into his throat, seeking out his natural scent. Something deep and musky washes over you, like suede or leather. Thereâs something fresh in there too, almost like eucalyptus. You press your face closer, inhaling it deeply. Your head spins, and youâre sure your knees would have given out if you hadnât been sitting.Â
Something rumbles in Ghost's chest as you scent him in a daze. While all alphasâ scents carried a natural musk, Ghosts seems to shoot directly to some deep part of your brain even Priceâs scent hadnât reached.Â
You let out a quiet whine as heâs pulled from you, his mask back in place by the time you pry your eyes open. Ghost is leaning back against the wall, eyes back to their icy stare as he watches you. Your head is still spinning as someone steps up next to you, taking Ghostâs place.Â
âHow ya doing?â Gaz asks, eyes assessing you. âHanging in there?âÂ
You nod, taking a couple deep breaths to try and clear your head.Â
âYouâre halfway there.â He says, leaning in closer. âGot through the hard part.âÂ
His breath fans your neck as he leans in, the familiar scent of beta flooding your senses. He was likely doing it on purpose, trying to calm you after the intensity of being scented by two alphas. You breathe in the almondy scent, relaxing into him as he scents you. Your hands raise, gripping his shoulders as he presses his neck close to your face. You seek out the source of the calming scent, pressing your nose into his scent gland.Â
Youâre drawn from the room and to the time your family took a trip to the beach when your father was stationed in North Carolina. Salty sea air, briney and clean, and something else, something soft. Like the clean linen scented spray your mother used on the laundry. Youâre clinging to him, his arms around you as you relax into his scent. The tingling energy that had begun to build up at the proximity to the alphas fades as you melt into the calming energy of the beta in front of you.Â
âEasy.â He says, his hand on the back of your head as he pulls you away from him. You take a deep breath, trying to clear your head. âStill with us?â He asks, meeting your gaze.Â
âYeah.â You say, sounding breathless. You knew scenting could be intense, but you hadnât expected it to feel quite like this.Â
âAlmost done, hen.â Soap says, taking Gazâs place in front of you. âLucky thereâs only four of us.â
Heâs right, you think as you bear your throat for him. Youâre not sure you could have handled it had there been more of them. You already feel like youâre floating, enveloped in so many scents youâre not sure what to do. That tingling has begun at the back of your neck as Soap scents you, your eyes meeting Ghostâs. The look in them has changed, his body poised like heâs ready to strike at a momentâs notice.Â
Soap pulls back, blocking your view of him as he bears his throat to you. You press your face into his neck, pushing past the scents you knew, and that beta scent, looking for him.Â
You inhale deeply, the scent of warm spices invading your nose. It smells like the holidays, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger enveloping you. You can almost taste the apple pie, see the gingerbread houses. You cling to his shirt, holding him against you as you rub your face against his throat.Â
Youâre trembling just slightly as Soap withdraws from your hold. Itâs subtle, but to them, highly aware soldiers, itâs likely clear as day. Your skin is buzzing, like the fluorescent lights above you. You can hear it now, the buzz of electricity. Your pupils are blown, the room suddenly clearer and sharper.Â
âThere she is.â The low grumble of Priceâs voice begins to pull you from your heightened state, your eyes turning to him as his hand cups your cheek.Â
You press into the rough palm of his hand, eyes picking up the grey in his beard and hair as he stands in front of you. Heâs older than you, theyâre all older than you. Older than you, bigger than you, stronger than you. A small tickle of fear begins to itch in the back of your mind, drawing you from your daze.Â
Youâre vulnerable, entirely vulnerable and incapable of defending yourself against them. Forgetting second genders, theyâre all much stronger than you, not to mention trained fighters. Youâd be fucked if they decided to try anything, if they wanted to do anything. Youâd be entirely helpless against them.Â
They could if they wanted to.Â
It would be well within their rights. Even though you had just met, even though you bore no claiming mark, there was nothing stopping them. You couldnât stop them, and no one would help you.Â
âYou hungry, pup?âÂ
Priceâs voice cuts through your fearful daze. Thereâs a slight furrow to his brow, likely picking up the sharp edge seeping into your scent. Omega fear and distress was the one defense nature gave to your kind, aside from the omega itself. Itâs a putrid scent meant to ward off alphas and betas. Youâve heard it described as smelling like sulfur, burning coals, gasoline, melting plastic, and sometimes even the ozonic scent that accompanied alphas in a true rage. It was a warning, but it doesn't always work.Â
Pup. Price called you Pup.Â
You havenât been called âpupâ since you were a pup. Itâs a commonly used nickname for any status. You remember your father calling your older brothers pup, even after they presented. It could be derogatory, but itâs more commonly used affectionately. Heâs trying to ease your discomfort, the fear welling up inside you.Â
The door is open, the fresh air of the hallway watering down the heavy mix of scents that had become trapped in the room. Soap and Gaz have already stepped out, Ghosts hulking figure blocking the doorway for a moment as he follows them, leaving you alone with Price for a moment.Â
âAlright?â Price asks as your gaze meets his again.Â
You nod, still leaning into his touch. âYeah, âs a lot.âÂ
âI know.â His thumb strokes your cheek, a knowing glint in his eyes. He leans in closer, lowering his voice. âDonât tell him I told you this, but Soap nearly passed out when we scented him.âÂ
You cover your mouth to stifle your giggle. It wasnât unusual for scentings to become so intense that the receiver passes out. Youâre sure if there had been more than four in your new pack you would have passed out.Â
âCome on.â He says, wrapping an arm around your waist to lift you off the table and onto unsteady legs. He doesnât even grunt with the effort, moving you easily. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but itâs not entirely one of fear.Â
His hand is warm on your back as he leads you out of the room, the clean air in the hallway clearing your head further. Most bases have circulating air systems, constantly filtering out scents to keep things as neutral as possible. Theyâre less effective in smaller areas though, especially after scents were intentionally projected. Most military members wore scent blockers, at least while performing their duties. You remember your father coming home at the end of the day with the dull burn of scent blocker still on his clothes.Â
Your head is still spinning a bit as you follow them out of the barracks and towards the mess hall. They seem to almost walk in a formation, though you suppose with years of having it drilled in your head, itâs almost second nature. Youâre sandwiched between Soap and Gaz in the middle, Price in front and Ghost bringing up the rear.Â
The other personnel on the base give your group a wide berth, and even in the mess you can feel the glances, but none of the stares linger. Price guides you next to him as you get your food, adding things to your tray for you. That tickling feeling starts again at the back of your neck as he makes your plate, your omega preening happily at the knowledge of what heâs doing.Â
Heâs proving his ability as a provider.Â
In more primordial times he might have gone out and hunted for food to bring back to you to prove his capabilities. Even in more modern times, he might have hunted as some alphas still did, or he would have gone to the store to keep the fridge stocked full of food. Alphas are good at adapting to their surroundings and situations. Heâs proving his capabilities in the way he can.Â
Youâre also silently grateful to not have to think too hard about the choices in front of you. Even after a week, British food is still a bit unfamiliar to you. Itâs not entirely indiscernible, though, and youâre sure you could pick out things that sounded good if you had to. At this moment, though, with your head still reeling a bit and the unsettling energy of a new place filled with unknown alphas and betas, youâre happy to let Price do it for you.Â
He carries your tray and his to a table, sitting you next to him. Gaz takes your other side, Soap and Ghost sitting across from you. The choices in their seating arrangement donât feel quite so random to you, and you quickly realize the arrangement is similar to the room setup in the barracks.Â
A beta for each alpha, you think. Gaz and Price. Soap and Ghost.Â
Then thereâs you, stuck somewhere in the middle of them. Somehow youâll fit between them, squeezing into their perfect dynamic. Omegas are supposed to help balance packs, but as you sit with the four members of your new pack, you canât help but feel like youâre only going to make things more difficult.Â
NEXT ->
I'm willing to put together a taglist if people are interested...
#call of duty#call of duty fanfic#141 x reader#task force 141#task force 141 x reader#cod x reader#captain price x reader#john price x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#gaz x reader#kyle garrick x reader#soap x reader#soap mactavish x reader#john mactavish x reader#a/b/o
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I could't contain myself guys sorry--
Bro, do you realize how scary it would be to have Vox as a Yandere?
just imagine it. You could be one of his workers, maybe too good at your job, because not only do you do what Vox tells you without asking questions, but you also know what to say and what not to say to avoid a "tantrum" from him. or rather, when his insecurities attack with force like when Alastor returns.
Vox would probably be a somewhat condescending yandere (as seen with Val) but don't think you can't turn tables easily, if you stroke his ego enough, you can have him around your finger. but that doesn't make it any less dangerous for those around you.
He makes the typical 180 degree turn in attitude when it comes to Other Employees and when it comes to You. Damn, you may be the only one of his employees who gets paid vacations (or even vacations) or even birthday bonuses, things like that. He likes to give you his things or products with the excuse that "they are for testing" even if they have already been released on the market.
Like:
Vox: who the fuck eat My leftovers!?! WHENEVER WHO WAS I'M GOING TO-
Darling: it was me sir.
Vox:--give You the rest and take You out for lunch, You haven't eaten in the whole day AGAIN, didn't ya?
He definitely avoids conflict with you by hypnotizing you, when he starts to feel hostility, fear on your part or that you want to leave, he makes you "out of nowhere" have "ONE MORE TASK" and you can't help but do what he says.
and IT IS NOT just to avoid fights or for you to leave, it is something CONSTANT (once every two days MINIMUM), although Vox is not worried about your brain turning into mush due to its powers, it always keeps nutritious things in your diet and they come out relatively often , as you have to follow him everywhere.
Eventually he becomes more clingy and needy in this case, it's practically not that he's proposing to you or anything, he's just slowly dragging you into a relationship without you realizing it (because you're not lucid enough). Unless you develop a higher level of tolerance to his hypotonic trick, I don't think you'll notice his Red Flags.
I think it would be ESPECIALLY BAD if Darling is also a Sinner, because then they wouldn't even be able to get out of the pride ring to run away from Vox. leaving you with many fewer options and having to avoid all of Vox's technology, which you could only achieve by 1- going to the Cannibal Legion or 2- going to the Hazbin Hotel.
Running away is EXTREMELY DIFFICULT, not only because of his hypnotic trick, but because he literally has EYES EVERYWHERE, on every screen in hell. If you somehow manage to get away with it and run away, Vox would be SO ANGRY and looking for you all over hell with their screens.
Although definitely if you were gone more than a day, he would be more distraught than angry and would begin to despair. Even Val and Velvet would give him a hand because of how bad it would be.
Just imagine, thinking that you finally lost sight of Vox's search drones, without realizing that you stand in front of some store and VOX ITSELF appears on the screens :)
If you made the stupid decision to go to the Hazbin Hotel, Vox would be distraught and would even think that Alastor was somehow holding you hostage, obviously! Why would you go there if you knew his biggest enemy was there? Alastor must be using you as a bargaining chip! How dare he!?
(in this case, fortunately, the punishment is much less severe, but he would definitely monitor you for the rest of your life)
When he eventually gets you back (after a few days or even WEEKS of anguish) expect, first of all, to be in a mortal embrace that lasts AT LEAST 2 days and then receive your "punishment" which would be to be under hypnosis for AT LEAST 1 YEAR to be sure that this NEVER HAPPENS AGAIN.
Although calm down! He gives your mind breaks periodically because 1- he doesn't know if that would ultimate mess with your head and 2- it's nice to hear YOU talk instead of the robotic version.
When that year FINALLY ends, you will be a much more obedient, more terrified, sweeter version of You, according to Vox, like a frightened Deer. It was a long and hard process, but the good thing is that you don't have to do anything anymore! absolutely! Just do what he tells you and everything will be fine.
Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!
Not one of the Best yanderes to have, but Def not the worst
#headcanons#drabbles#fem reader#neutral reader#male reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hotel hazbin#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin vox#vox x reader#yandere vox#yandere hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor
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can you write a smut where the reader rides logan's abs, i mean đ
wishing this could be me right now𫡠enjoy!
riding his abs - logan howlett x fem!reader 18+
NSWF! MDNI!
Logan looked like he had been sculpted by God himself. I mean, those abs? Dude is cut.
You were currently lying in bed next time, admiring his perfect body. Your index finger traced lightly over the divots of his muscles. "God Logan, your body is unreal." No matter how long you'd been with him, his physique never fails to amaze you. Your compliment made the corners of his lips twitch up into a smirk.
"You like what you see Bub?," he teased with a flex of his muscles, putting his veins on full display. A puddle formed between your legs, the wetness seeping through the thin pair of underwear you had on. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. Cocky motherfucker.
"Holy shit Lo, you can't just tease me like that."
"Who said I was teasing?"
With one muscular arm, he lifted you easily up so that you were sitting on his abdomen. You gasped as he flexed with you on top of him, your soaking core pressed against his abs. He cocked an eyebrow up at you, smirk returning. "Is that really all it takes to get you going?," he snorted. "Dirty slut." With another swift movement, he ripped your panties off and flung them to the floor.
His confident, cocky attitude made you even hornier than you already were. Without even realizing, your hips bucked into his stomach against his rock hard abs.
"Pleasuring yourself on my muscles now?," he blew out a low whistle. You realized what you had been doing. An embarrassed blush crept up your face. "Sorry-"
"Don't apologize. I mean fuck, I could sit here all day and watch you get yourself off with my body."
His approval came as a surprise to you. "Really?"
His eyes grazed your body hungrily. "Yes, really, now get to work sugar," he ordered.
The thought of you pleasuring yourself on his abs with him sitting there and watching you brought another flood in-between your legs. Biting your lip, you began to grind on him slowly, pressing your hands against his chest for support. Fuck, even his chest was rock hard muscle.
Sure, he could just sit there and watch the show you were putting on, but come on, it was Logan. There was no way that man could keep his hands off of you. He grabbed your tits in both of his hands- his huge hands- and squeezed. "Fuck doll, you're so wet." His pet name for you made you buck your hips again, grinding your clit against his hard stomach. "Oh fuck Logan!"
The natural lubricant that seeped out of your cunt made it easy to slide back and forth on him. It was like when you were younger, an innocent, mindlessly humping a pillow, except now, it was a man beneath you, his muscles aiding you in your pleasure. Things really do come full circle, don't they?
The rough calluses of Logan's thumbs swirling around your sensitive nipples sent waves of pleasure through your body. You felt yourself climbing towards your peak.
"Getting close sweetheart?," his low, husky voice asked.
You nodded and responded with a high moan, unable to answer him with words.
"Good girl, finish yourself off on me. I want you to make a fucking mess of me."
The growl in his voice, the praise, brought you to your climax. Your hands moved to his hair and dug your fingers in, pulling at it as you lost control and came on him.
"Good girl, such a good, fucking girl," he talked you through your orgasm, somehow making you cum 10 times harder.
Once you came off of your high, you slid off of him, flopping down on the bed next time. You shivered. Then, you took in the mess you had made of his stomach. Your cum had pooled around his abs, glistening. "Oh, shit Logan, I'm so sorry-"
"Don't apologize," He cut you off, sliding a finger up his stomach to collect the mess you had just made, and stick it in his mouth to get a taste. He threw his head back and let out a throaty groan around his finger. "Y'Taste so good doll."
Logan lifted up your chin to bring his lips to yours, letting you taste yourself.
"You are the only person that could ever do that to me," you murmured.
He snorted and looked back at his toned abdomen, shining with your cum. "You did that to yourself, Bub."
#logan howlett oneshot#logan howlett smut#logan howlett x reader#wolverine smut#wolverine x you#wolverine imagine#logan howlett x you#deadpool and wolverine#smut imagine
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first kicks
batfamily x batmom!reader
word count: 1.9k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!
CW: family fluff, pregnancy NOTES: i wanted to write more batfam fluff this time with jason included. very sorry if jason is ooc, most of my knowledge of him comes from fics lol
Rainy Sunday afternoons at Wayne Manor were usually spent with you and your sons in the living room, occupying the big U-shaped sectional sofa. Sometimes Bruce would join you three, resting his feet on the coffee table as he worked on his laptop. Today was one of those days.
You were helping Dick do some research on the internet for a science school project that was due next week while Jason laid on his stomach on the other side of the couch, reading a Whereâs Waldo? book by himself. Your husband sat in the other corner of the couch, doing some research on the latest villain terrorising Gotham. You didnât mind if the work he was doing was for Batman, as long as he spent some time with the family outside of the cave, you were satisfied. Especially since the Wayne clan was about to expand in a little more than four months. Plus, with your belly growing bigger as the weeks went by, it was becoming harder for you to do some tasks around the house. Tasks that you didnât want to ask Alfred for help with since it was your husbandâs job to be at your beck and call through the pregnancy. Bruce obviously didnât mind and loved helping you, he just sometimes tended to get lost in his Batman work for long periods of time.
The television was playing in the background, a football game between two teams that you didnât really care about was taking place but you didnât mind. You couldnât work well without some sort of background noise and this was doing the job.
âSo Dick, have you chosen which natural disaster to base your research project on?â Bruce asked your eldest while closing his laptop and joining him on his other side, making the twelve year old squished between his parents.
âWeâve narrowed it down to three: the 2011 TĹhoku earthquake and tsunami, the 1906 San Francisco earthquake and Hurricane Katrina,â Dick answered, clicking on different tabs of each of the natural disasters as he named them. âI want to do my research on a popular one so I can easily find all the information I need.â
âSmart, isnât he?â You smirked at Bruce as you mindlessly threaded your fingers in Dickâs dark hair who continued scrolling on the internet.
âNever thought otherwise,â your husband said, mirroring your grin. âJay, have you found all the Waldos yet?â He leaned forward to ask Jason.
âIâm almost done,â the six year old easily dismissed Bruce, not even bothering to tear his eyes away from the pages.
âItâs best not to bother him when heâs searching for Waldo,â you informed your husband in a low volume.
Bruce nodded his head in understanding and redirected his attention back on Dick. âSo, how are you gonna make your choice, chum? You could write them down on three pieces of paper and do a draw,â he suggested, leaning his arm on the back of the couch behind Dick, his fingers playing with the neck of your tshirt.
âDad, I donât need to write it down on some paper,â Dick sighed, a little annoyed. âYou can do that on the internet now.â
âYou can?â Bruce asked, surprised. Your husband was really tech savvy when it came down to work related to Batman, but silly, random stuff like a drawing roulette was not part of his internet knowledge.
You leaned your head on your left hand that was propped on the back of the couch and soothingly rubbed your round belly with the other. You watched with a soft smile Dick showing Bruce how to generate a random picking wheel to spin on the internet. Moments like these were the ones you cherished the most, domesticity wasnât always the norm around here when you had two vigilantes living under your roof so you always tried to savour them whenever they happened.
The calmness in you was interrupted when you felt movement under your right hand.
âOh my God,â you whispered, eyes round like saucers as you looked down at your bump and raised up the hem of your shirt to make sure what you felt was right.
âWhat?â Bruce immediately turned his attention to you. âWhat is it? Is something wrong? Are you alright?â
âI think the baby just kicked,âyou said, raising your head to meet his eyes.
âThe baby just kicked?â He repeated in disbelief.
You shook your head âyesâ just as you felt more movement. âThe baby kicked again.â
Bruce rapidly stood up to sit by your side while Dick discarded his laptop before placing a hand on your belly and Jason left his book to climb on your husbandâs lap to be closer to you. All had a hand on your stomach, staring at it expectantly, waiting for another kick.
âI donât know if the babyâs gonna kick again,â you told them.
âWell thatâs just not fair,â Jason whined.
âWe just need to be patient,â Bruce said. âIâm sure the baby will do it again.â
And sure enough he was right.Â
âOh my God! I felt it! I felt the baby kick!â Dick exclaimed, though he kept the volume of his voice to a low level as if he would scare the baby away if he screamed.
âI wanna feel it too!â Jason cried.
âHere Jay, put your hand there,â you told your youngest as you gently grabbed his wrist and moved his hand to a different area of your belly, closer to Dickâs hand.
âMaybe if we keep talking, the baby will kick again,â Dick suggested.
âThatâs true, babies can hear us from inside the motherâs belly,â Bruce agreed with him.
âThey can?â Jason looked at you quizzically.
You chuckled at his confused face as you brushed his hair away from his forehead. âYeah they can, itâs not completely soundproof in there,â you answered him.
âThatâs why Dad is always talking to your belly?â Dick asked.
You fully laughed at this. âYes, thatâs why Dad talks to the belly. You can too if you wanna.â
âWe can?â Dick perked up then leaned closer to your bump. âHi baby, Iâm Dick. Your big brother,â he said.
Jason also leaned forward. âAnd Iâm Jason, Iâm also gonna be your big brother.â
âYeah but Iâm the big big brother, Iâm the oldest,â Dick argued.
âBut Iâm gonna be a big brother too!â
âBoys,â Bruce intervened. âNo arguing around your mother. The baby will hear enough of that when it joins our lives, let it have its peace while itâs in the womb.â
A series of kicks started at that moment, making Dick and Jason gasp in surprise at the movements they felt under their hands. Bruce turned to you and the two of you shared a look full of love.
âThatâs our baby,â he said to you, almost in a whisper, while Dick and Jason continued marvelling at the fact they could feel their sibling.
âThat's our baby,â you repeated in confirmation. Nothing could've erased the smiles on both of your lips.
âI love you,â Bruce said against your forehead before leaving a soft kiss there and pulling away to share a short peck on the lips with you.
âEw! Gross!â Jason interrupted your moment. Your sons werenât the biggest fans of you and Bruceâs displays of affection for each other.
You giggled at the boysâ antics but still took a second to say âI love youâ back to your husband.
âSomeone should get Alfred so we can share this moment with him,â you suggested to the kids.
âNot it!â
âNot it!â
Jason and Dick quickly shouted, the former being the fastest to say it.
Dick groaned before he stood up from the couch and jogged out of the living room. The faster he would find Alfred, the faster he would be back next to you. âAlfred! The baby is kicking for the first time!â Dick called through the manor for your butler.
âHe knows he doesnât need to scream, right?â Bruce asked you. âAlfred can hear the boys break something all the way from the other side of the house.â
âOh, let him be. Heâs just very excited about the baby kicking,â you lightly reprimanded him with the corner of your mouth pulling up in a smirk.
You detached your gaze from your husband down to Jason who now had both of his small hands on your belly, his mouth in the shape of an âOâ and his eyes round with wonder in them.
âThis is so cool,â he said, barely above a whisper.
âLooks like youâre gonna have some competition Jay, that baby sure is kicking a lot,â Bruce jokingly commented as the kicking didnât stop.
You chuckled as you remembered all the times youâd stop by the gym room to find Jason relentlessly kicking at Bruceâs punching bag. For a six year old, he already had so much anger pent up inside his little body and it worried you sometimes. But ever since Bruce brought him back to the Manor, Jay had been getting better. The amount of vases thrown at the wall had drastically decreased since then, both to yours and Alfredâs reliefs, and he instead would run to the gym room and let out his anger on the punching bag when needed.
âI canât wait to play fight with you,â Jason whispered loudly to your belly with a smile.
âNo,â you immediately said.
âBest you stick to play fighting with Dick for a couple more years, buddy,â Bruce told your son.
Jason pouted. âBut he's always pulling some acrobatic shitââ
âLanguage!â You scolded him.
âBut Ma! Dad and Dick say it all the time!â Jason cried out defensively. âThatâs not fair,â he retracted his hands from your belly to cross his arms over his chest.
âWell Dad and Dick, and you too apparently, will not be saying words like that around the baby,â you warned. âCapiche?â
âCapiche,â Jason mumbled.
âCapiche?â You repeated, now glaring at your husband.
âHey, Iâve really been refraining on the bad words ever since Dick joined us,â Bruce argued but you raised your eyebrows in a way that said this wasnât what you wanted to hear. âCapiche,â Bruce sighed out, knowing he wasn't going to win this fight.
âMaster Dick, slow down a little. Thereâs no need for running,â you heard Alfredâs voice approaching down the hall.
âBut Alfred, the baby is kicking!â Dick reiterated.
Your oldest ran in the living room, his hand firmly holding Alfredâs who tried to keep up behind him.
âI heard you the first ten times, Master Dick, the baby will still be there no matter how fast we get there,â Alfred argued.
âYeah but it might stop kicking,â Dick said and the two sat on the couch to your unoccupied left.
âDonât worry chum, the babyâs still kicking,â Bruce told him while looking fondly at your belly.
âPlease Alfred, feel the baby,â you said to your butler with an inviting smile, grabbing his hand that rested on his knee and gently squeezing it. âWe want you to be part of this moment too.â
Alfredâs hand joined the others on your bump and the old man smiled at you and Bruce as he felt the tiny bumps moving around under your skin. âThis is sensational.â
âIsnât it?â You smiled back at him, content to have everyone you wanted to share your babyâs first kicks with.
Your little family of five (soon-to-be six) remained on the couch until the baby grew tired and stopped kicking, much to Dick and Jasonâs dismay. Alfred went back to his tasks, the boys to their laptop and book, and Bruce wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you cuddled next to him, watching over your children and just enjoying the normalcy of this Sunday afternoon.
Domesticity used to be rare at the Wayne Manor, but not anymore. And you, for one, were very happy about it.
#ailis writes#requests are open#reader insert#batman fanfiction#bruce wayne x reader#batman#batman comics#batman fic#batman imagine#bruce wayne#batfamily#batmom imagines#batboys x batmom#batman x reader#batfamily x reader#batfam x reader#bruce wayne imagine#batfam#batfamily imagines#bruce wayne fanfiction#bruce wayne fic#fluff#batfamily fluff#bruce wayne x y/n#batman x y/n#bruce wayne x you#dick grayson x batmom#dick grayson#jason todd#jason todd x batmom
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â â
đđ¨đ§đđđ§đđŹ: afab!reader. dry humping. premature cumming. ok itâs his first time, heâs trying. reader is a tease. 0.8k words. MDNI. 18+ only.| masterlist
Virgin!Alhaitham who is known for being one of the brightest minds to come out of the Akademiya in years. A genius in his own right who can speak over 20 languages and executes everything he tries to perfection. But still has one thing thatâs completely out of his realm: sex.Â
He acts like itâs no big deal, shrugging off the idea of casual flings just to get his dick wet. It was beneath him, a pointless distraction from his personal goals. Instead, he turned to erotic literature, dissecting it for information like he would any other subject. Itâs still educational, he reasons, a way to learn without getting tangled in something that would just waste his time.Â
But then Virgin!Alhaitham starts dating you, and suddenly everything heâs learned doesnât seem so abstract anymore. Heâs thorough, methodicalâ he thinks he knows enough to ensure his first time with you goes off without a hitch. And yet.Â
The first time you grind on his clothed cock, he was unprepared for the intensity, the friction, the heatâ before he knew it he was already twitching and soiling his pants, his face flushing with embarrassment as he squeezes his eyes shut, white-knuckling your thighs at the realisation that he just came prematurely.Â
âDid you just cum?â You ask with a playful lilt in your voice.
âI didnât mean toâŚâ he mutters, slightly mortified.
But really, who could blame him? Youâre too much for him. Too beautiful. Too sharp. Too incredible with just the right amount of taunting. The way you look at him is overwhelming. Every touch leaves him on edge and every kiss is so sloppy because he wants you so badly, he can barely think straight.Â
It happens again and then again after that. No matter how much he tries to keep his cool, to stay calm and focused, he canât handle it. You make his brain fog up, his thoughts scatter, and he curses himself because all he wants to do is fuck you without cumming at just the sight of your pussy.Â
However, you donât let him off the hook that easily. After heâs ruined his boxers, you love to tug down the waistband and admire the mess heâs made, smearing his seed on your fingers and licking it clean with a grin. Just give it a minute and his cock will be hard as rock all over again.Â
When he finally manages to put it in you, itâs with one big, unexpected thrust. He canât help itâ the way your walls gripped the tip sent his hip jerking forward as it moved on instinct.Â
âIâm⌠sorry,â he breathes out, though there was no regret in the way his cock throbbed in you.Â
And the worst part? You know exactly what youâre doing to him. You bat those pretty lashes at him, feigning innocence while youâre driving him wild, watching him try not to nut just from groping your tits and hearing you sigh his name with that breathy, sweet voice.Â
Heâs in over his head and youâve completely flipped the script. Alhaitham has spent his whole life being the one in charge, always knowing what to do, but with you, heâs just a bundle of raw, needy energy.Â
And nowâ he burns with a desperate need to fuck you harder, faster, to feel every inch of you clenching around him that heâs completely lost in it. Youâve made him realise how much heâs been holding back and now heâs ready to give you everything heâs got.Â
So when he starts thrusting, itâs deep and unsteady, driven by hunger heâs never felt before. And poor Alhaitham, so out of his element, feels his usual self-control slipping away with each thrust. He thinks the least he can do is stay quiet, to maintain some semblance of composure. But then you whisper in his ear, telling him he can be as loud as he wants.Â
And the moment those words reach him, he breaks, unable to hold back the sounds that had been clawing at his throat. He lets out strings of groans and grunts, each one rougher than the last, filling up the room with his lewd noises.Â
Heâs determined to keep going, to fuck you senseless but youâre so wet and tight, youâre damn near milking him. Between your occasional praise and begging him for more, he finally snaps with a guttural moan, burying himself inside you. His body trembles as he spills into you but even then, he doesnât stop. He keeps moving, slower now, to savour every last second, despite the sensitivity.
When it's all over, he collapses on top of you, so utterly spent. All those late nights he allowed himself to indulge by jerking off at the thought of you, feeling a little guilty while trying to imagine what it would be like, was nothing compared to the real thing.Â
As he lays there, panting and dazed, he tells himself that this will be a problem.
Because now he canât do it any other way. If this is what he wanted, he was going to have to get better at it. And being the diligent person that he is, there is only one way to improve: practice.Â
And who better to practice on than you?
a/n: the idea of virgin!alhaitham has me breathing into a paper bag
Š 2024 grimmweepers â do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform
reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ËĘâĄÉË
#âž grimmweepers#divider by chachachannah#genshin smut#alhaitham smut#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham x you#alhaitham x y/n#alhaitham x female reader#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin drabbles#genshin alhaitham#genshin impact smut#alhaitham drabbles#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact alhaitham#al haitham#al haitham x reader#haitham x reader#al-haitham smut#haitham smut
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𧴠¡ yapper!reader x husband!Vernon , fluff
Your husband loves hearing you talk about literally anything, especially when itâs eveningâs self care time
âBaby, hold still, I canât apply the mask if you moveâ
You said, as you put on the face cream with a small spatula, your fingertips resting under your boyfriendâs chin.
âSorryâ Vernon mumbled tight-lipped, holding back a smile.
âDo you want to tell me about your day? You forgot to do so todayâ He spoke in a whisper, trying to not move his mouth as much as possible.
You smiled at his attempt to stay still, still straddling his lap as you scooped up more cream.
âToday was pretty boring, just like usual. Though my co-worker made me work overtime, as you mightâve noticed, since she forgot to do an important thing in the project that weâre working on right now. But it was okay since you were also occupied with work and werenât alone at home. Oh- and also..â
And there you went, talking about everything that came to your mind right now.
Whether it was about that show you wanted to watch, the pretty purse you saw on your way home or the food youâd crave for tomorrow evening. Vernon always listened to what you had to say.
He never minded the way you talked about your interest or whatever you wanted to say.
And heâs thankful for you being so talkative, otherwise he wouldâve never met you and would never be married to you like in this lifetime.
While he worked as a barista, heâd never seen you in the shop before. What he didnât know, though, was that you had always peeked through the glass of the cafe when youâd walk by.
Until your friend finally dared you to go inside and talk to him you wouldâve never thought youâd step foot into this comfortable and small-spaced cafe.
âAnd whatâs the order?â The kind boy asked, and oh was his voice pretty.
A small gulp and you got over it âA normal latte, pleaseâ You answered, taking in the way his pretty eyes looked into yours.
Nodding, he placed the order. âAlright, what is your name? Todayâs pretty packed, so I can easily call you overâ Liar. Yes the cafe was filled with more customers than usual, but it wasnât that packed that he had to take names.
âY/n,â you answered with a warm smile, staying quiet. But as he wrote down your name, you couldnât stop the words that flowed over your tongue.
âWould you also like my number?â Your eyes widening at your own sentence. You really dared to do it now.
Looking at the boysâ face, you couldnât tell what his thoughts were. Scared that he might decline, you tried to calm yourself by saying all he can say is no.
But that doubt was quickly replaced by his gentle smile. âSure, but maybe after I placed the other customers orders, is that okay?â He asked politely.
You quickly paid for your latte, watching as the other customers placed their order one by one. Thank god it was Saturday, otherwise you wouldnât be able to wait those unbearable 10 minutes.
âAlright, I think Iâll allow myself a small break by letting you give me your number, since I made you wait nowâ The brown eyed man spoke, introducing himself as Vernon.
Getting ready to leave the cafe, his voice suddenly called out to you. âY/n, your latteâ He chuckled. Wow, his chuckle was even prettier than his warm smile.. no both of those were equally pretty.
Before getting lost in your thoughts, you immediately smiled back, letting out a small awkward smile.
âRight, sorryâ Grabbing your coffee you made, or tried to, make your way out of the cafe, but now holding your latte that the cute guy made you in your hand you began talking to him.
Not that he minded, and his co-worker Seungkwan also didnât. Well, he bickered a bit since he had to take over, but it wasnât as bad since he knew his friend might finally get a damn love-life.
âLove, youâre telling the story like I wasnât the guy you asked for his numberâ Vernon, or different, your husband said as he was now putting the cream mask onto your face.
âItâs such a cute story though, I canât wait to tell our kids one day.â You said, slightly tired but still giggling.
Both of you, with your face masks on, continued talking in the embrace of your warm bedsheets.
It finally got more quiet as tiredness started seeping into every cell of your body, moving your exhausted body to the bathroom and finally peeling off the face masks it was time to put out the lights of your nightstands.
With a small sigh leaving your mouth, followed by Vernonâs small sigh, your eyes fell shut.
âIâll always appreciate and be thankful for your love for me, my favoriteâ You whispered, sure that Vernon was already is dreamland.
So when you finally drifted off to sleep, you didnât register the quiet response from your husband.
âItâs the least Iâll ever be able to do for you, my prettyâ the familiar warm smile following as he, too, drifted off to sleep.
â ๨ŕ§
I actually didnât think itâd end up this long and definitely didnât plan to tell how they met but Iâm pretty proud of this one. Also itâs not proofread, itâs 11:20 pm and Iâm deadly tired nowđđ Much love, and Iâm hoping youâll enjoy this fic and much as I enjoyed writing it for youđđ
#seventeen#vernon fluff#vernon x reader#seventeen fluff#svt fluff#fluff#seventen vernon#vernon svt#svt vernon#chwe vernon#vernon#hansol vernon chwe#hansol x reader
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