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avocado-writing · 8 months

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Kinktober 7

7. Anonymous Sex, Nonconsensual, Somnophilia

Aziraphale rarely sleeps.

You’re not sure if this is a good thing or not. It can be lovely to wake in the morning to find him up and waiting for you while he reads, a warm smile stretching across his face as he whispers “good morning, nightingale.” But that very same fact can be a little off putting - it’s hard to get to sleep when one of your partners just lies there awake all night.

Crowley loves to sleep. Sometimes you wonder if he’s more cat than snake, the way he finds a puddle of sunlight to lie in and dozes off. He twists his body into all sorts of contortions which you can’t imagine are comfortable but never hear him complaining about, either.

The two of you can tell Aziraphale is tired. He’s having difficulty holding conversation, isn’t as efficient at shooing customers away as he usually is. The angel needs rest, but he is as stubborn as an ox, so just telling him that will amount to nothing.

No. Aziraphale needs a carrot, not a stick.

So you and Crowley do what you do best: sweet talk him.

“I’m just saying,” you tell him, carding your fingers through his soft hair, “sleep doesn’t have to be boring, my darling. In fact it can be quite lovely. Have you ever had an orgasm someone’s given you while you’re asleep?”

This piques his interest. The angel puts down his book and looks up at you, a light dusting of pink beginning to fill his cheeks.

“I can’t say that I have, dearest.”

“Well, I’m sure that we can change that,” Crowley chimes in, a devilish smile creeping across his face, “you’ll have the best rest of your life, angel.”

He’s so easy to tempt, and he is ever so tired. So that night when you all lay down to sleep, Aziraphale is naked as a cherub and pressed between the two of you. He shuts his eyes and lays back but there’s no mistaking the rise and fall of his chest for someone who’s actually settled for the evening.

“Aziraphale, for this to work, you have to be asleep,” you tell him gently, dropping a kiss to his shoulder. He shivers in anticipation.

“But it’s so… you’re so… we could always…?”

You and Crowley exchange a look. Your angel and his earthly delights. So you tire him out, fuck him until he’s boneless, and then watch slip into sleep properly when he’s exhausted.

Crowley wipes his mouth on the back of his arm and the two of you listen out for his breathing: there it is: rhythmic, soft, dead to the world.

Time for part two to begin, then.

Ever so slowly, so as not to jostle him too much, the two of you start to take position. You help spread Aziraphale’s legs and hoist his arse into Crowley’s lap, his hole open and already used from earlier. Crowley watches you begin to stroke the angel’s cock. It only takes a couple of pumps before it reacts, beginning to grow hot and heavy in your hand, ripe for fucking. You press a kiss to his head as he gets fully there, grinning at the taste of yourself on him from where you rode him earlier.

You look up to see Crowley watching you intently. You give him a cheeky wink and press a kiss to his dick too, already so hard that he’s bobbing against his own stomach. He lets out a long, choked sigh through his nose and you press your finger up to his lips - shh. Be quiet. Don’t wake him. The demon lets his tongue, his long serpentine tongue, dip out and twist around you wickedly.

Crowley lines himself up and slides easily into Aziraphale’s hole inch by inch. The angel’s breath hitches for a second and Crowley freezes, but when his chest begins to slowly rise and fall again he carefully sheathes himself all the way to the hilt. He takes a moment to adapt to the pliancy of Aziraphale like this, how easy he is to manoeuvre, how willing even when in dreams.

Gently he pulls out and presses back in. It’s such a small rock of his hips that Aziraphale barely moves, but you do hear the little sigh of bliss he lets out.

The floodgates open.

Crowley keeps fucking him like that, shallow and careful, the head of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside. As he goes you plant your mouth over Aziraphale’s stiff member. His girth is always a lovely stretch for your lips and you think, for a moment, that it’s a shame he’s not awake - one of his favourite sights is one of you taking him down to the base.

His head hits the back of your throat and you hum around him before starting to bob up and down. You do your best to match Crowley’s pace, an unhurried lovemaking entirely meant for the receiver. And you can see it’s working, too. Even from your vantage point you can see the way Aziraphale visibly relaxes, all the tension from his muscles escaping with each thrust, each suck.

Aziraphale comes in your mouth a few minutes later, gasping quietly in his sleep. As you lick him clean and swallow you see your demon sigh, happy, and his erratic hips movements stop. He pulls out of Aziraphale gently and you admire the drip of his cum from the angel’s thoroughly used hole.

The two of you kiss, slowly and passionately, before you lay back down into bed, either side of your angel. You tangle your fingers together across his plush stomach and fall asleep tucked up against him.

The next morning Aziraphale is a little sore, but in a very good mood indeed.

@bootlmoth @elleofdragons @angelic-anarchy27 @yeethaw13 @candlewitch-cryptic @kwyn-q @rat-that-writes @buryustogether @letthenightingalessingagain @ltlthetrifecta @angiestopit @purplefrog1sblog @wereallbrokenangels @angelspathway @clarina04 @belilwen @chaospossum @eightsdoctor @oo-delallymrcrow @silcosmoke @climbingivy97 @live-logs-and-proper @project-sad @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @imagination-phantom @anonymously35 @corgis04 @peytonpenguin37 @catlynharper @unabashedgentlemenpirate @wolfe-houler @darktealrat @mxxny-lupin @willbedecided @detectiveapparatiagreen @shadowluna25 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @xquinn-bartonx @blue-bell22 @foolishprincipalitee @fandomawesomeness @eweweweewewe @latersgaters-steven @llamaproblem @night-affiliate @randompost18 @hunterispunk @jessica-laufeysdottir @uxcaran @bunnymallowo @jae-michael @jelly-terror @larkiesparkie

#aziraphale x reader x crowley #crowley x reader x aziraphale #avo's kt 23 #fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween

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scarlovebot · 11 months

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2 A.M PATIENT WHISPERS

Natasha romanoff x female reader

hiya this is my first fic <3 please be patient I am very scared

Summary: You can’t sit through a casual evening, resulting in anger and disappointment from both yourself and Natasha

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

Nothing good happens after 2 A.M, supposedly.

You should have listened.

It started as casual drinks, a simple mix of vodka lemonade and beers (to much of your disgust as cocktails were the more obvious choice). As the group of the earths mightiest heroes settle within the lounge-diner of the compound, soft tunes cascade from the speakers and scattered chatter floats from person to person.

Almost telepathically Tony and yourself look into one another’s eyes sensing boredom which can only be fixed with one solution, tamper with the drinks.

A mischievous grin is shared amongst the pair, Y/N clutches onto her almost empty glass rising from her slouched demeanour, announcing “Anyone for another drink?”.

The group declares their ever so boring orders, Tony injects himself into the situation offering a simple helping hand for the individual bartender of the evening (now declaring this role as yours for the evening).

With the plan in toe you head for the bar, standing backwards towards the group so no peeping eyes can see the chaos forming.

Unknown to you and your now presumed partner in crime, the group have already caught onto the awfully thought out organisation.

The naughty glint in yours eyes could be recognised by almost anyone, known for the light hearted tricks pulled in recent events your coworkers have become wary of almost everything you do when not in the field (somehow trusted more in the battle front than in the comfort of your own home).

The first mistake being your casual question came out more demanding, laced with hidden giggles and an attempt at a sultry tone. So when Tony and yourself made the great escape everyone’s eyes shared a similar soft eye roll - little did you know a secretive plan had been put into place when faced with this similar situation: Do not touch your drinks from this point onwards.

With all four hands full of ‘poisoned’ beverages, the former playboy and his rascal of a ‘mini me’ made their return.

And now the second mistake was the self mutation, knowing that you’ve done something that would not be approved by the captain would always result in the sudden silence of your loud, opinionated voice.

However, it’s accurate to say that your ego won’t lower to admit but Captain America wasn’t who y/n threat the most, no it was the women who showered you in flattery and possessed you as hers.

Yourself and Natasha Romanoff had been an item for a little over a year and it’s been a fever dream to say the least. The older women rarely looses her temper with your cheeky self, but the turning point in her mind is when you play games. This isn’t to say that she turns into the green gorilla, no she turns into a motherly figure which your young, tipsy self loved to egg on. And Nat was not your biggest fan during these moments.

With the drinks handed to the culprits you were ready for the games to commence. The sly looks aiming in your direction went completely through you, your drunken eyes had lost its perception of clear view - Natasha could see you slowly losing all self control which caused an internal battle in her head: choosing between the role-play of

a sympathetic girlfriend or agitated mother.

as undecided she was Nat didn’t want her cherub to completely suffer, rising from her seat in frustration the assassin strolled over with grabby hands, taking a tight grip on either side of your rib cage she hoisted the limp body which sprawled out upon her.

y/n brows furrowed with a childlike pout, suddenly overtaken with sensitivity. The realities of your actions were coming to surface. No, you didn’t cause harm but had been profusely told that casual drinking meant casual drinking (nights like this were becoming way too familiar).

with gentleness Natasha spoke “детка, bed” and with that you shook your head, whining due being sent to your room.

“y/n why do you think I’m sending you to bed?” Natasha’s voice laced with sternness, not wanting to surrender to what you saw as a ‘punishment’ y/n made an attempt to wriggle out of her tight grasp, mindlessly aiming for the bar - you can only imagine who won this game of cat and mouse.

Surprise, neither.

by the end of the evening Natasha and y/n were the only two left in the living area due to the battle y/n had put it.

Unlike before you had lost your temper, no longer finding the motherly instinct caring and instead condescending.

it had now hit 3 A.M and to say the pair was exhausted was an understatement: y/n being left with very little voice and red tear stained face, Natasha having buckets of sweat dripping from every inch of her body, and clothing that looked ten sizes too big (the reason being y/n pulling on Natasha’s clothing to remain anywhere but their shared bedroom).

the exhaustion finally took over y/n body, looking up to Natasha’s eye-line who stood towering over you, “bedtime….” You sung out in embarrassment and guilt.

taken by surprise your merely awake partner hooked her arms underneath and hoisted you up, holding by the waist and delicately grabbing your chin - oh fuck.

“тигр, this ends now! I haven’t got a clue what got into you tonight but you need to go to bed. and think about what you have done” your loves eyes narrowed with anger, yet a softness remained.

you were done playing games knowing that the line had been crossed many, many hours ago. turning away from Nat and stomping up the stairs: not in anger but frustration at your actions. slamming the door hard enough so that the sound echoed throughout the mammoth length of the corridor, not caring who awoke.

Natasha didn’t hurry up after you, this was nothing new to the red head. You would fill with rage and project the feelings onto anything, then the next day silent treatment , and to finish it off - a waterfall of tears and repeated apologies.

as the door took its attack this was your girlfriends cue to dismay the discipline approach and forth come with love.

The kind of love that holds you close through your worst mistakes, peppering you with mass amounts of kisses, and tangling yourself together with her patiently giving you a telling off.

#Natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #marvel #black widow

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don-daygamerz · 2 years

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Little Web Guest

*Image does not belong to me

Ben Barnes x Reader (Family AU)

Bonus One-shot

Summary: Ben's online interview get's interrupted by his cheeky toddler.

Alternate version: Cute Interruption

Warnings: none

Word count: 3.4K

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It was early morning and the start of a busy day like any other. Ben and his wife, (Name), began their daily morning routine but with the addition of setting up the home library for Ben’s online interview. The actor would usually make his appearance through the webcam in his office, or in the living room, but today he thought their home library would be a good place and display as his background. He’d thought to make a good but simple impression of a modest and literate environment. Overall, Ben liked to share his love of reading and the library played a good part for him to display his collection of Leigh Bardugo’s books, kept on his shelves.

“You all set up for your interview, babe?” (Name) had asked him at the kitchen table. Ben looked up from the newspaper and smiled at his beautiful wife, “Ready as I’ll ever be.” He then set his sights on the chair between him and his wife that was occupied by the family’s beloved angel, their daughter, Eleanor Tricia Barnes, Ellie for short (But to daddy…she was ‘bunny’).

“Look at you, bunny,” Ben said in pure joy and adoration as he addressed his baby girl. Little Ellie’s attention was captured by the voice that she loved hearing since in her mother’s womb; she then smiled wide as she looked at her father. “Such a good girl eating all your eggs.” Ellie was four years old and still a picky eater but (Name) and Ben managed. They both were raising a wonderful little girl.

“Did you enjoy breakfast, bunny?” Ben asked his girl. Ellie nodded back and replied, “Yeess, daddy!”

“And what do we say to mommy?” he gestured to mama bear. Ellie turned her head to face you, “Thank you, mommy! Really yummy!”

“It was?” (Name) cooed to her daughter, “Aww thank you, baby. Mommy is so happy you enjoyed your food.” Ellie giggled loud as her mother ambushed her with kisses over her soft cherub face. “Ha ha ha! Mommy! Mommy, stop! It tickles!”

Ben laughed at the hilarious and heartwarming scene in front of him. Oh, how he loved his family. They were his entire world. Breakfast was over and it was time for Ben to reconnect (virtually) with his fellow cast members now friends in preparation for the interview. With the pandemic putting filming projects on hold or rescheduled most of the time, it gave Ben the opportunity to spend more time with his family.

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“Everything good?” (Name) asked Ben as he fixed himself facing his laptop. He gave a smile and nodded, “Yeah. I am all set for the interview…all that’s left is to-” “Daddy?” a soft, young voice interrupted the two from the doorway. Eleanor leaned against the entrance, her small palm hovering over the doorknob. (Name) and Ben could see her pigtails peek out the door. She certainly looked so adorable like a curious little bunny, their little bunny, that is.

“What is it, baby?” (Name) asked. Eleanor gave no reply but ran to her father whilst clutching her stuffed bunny rabbit.

“Daddy?” she asked.

“Yes, bunny?” Ben asked.

“C-can you read to me and Floppsy a story, please?”

“Aww sorry Bunny, not now. Daddy has to work but I can read it to you and Floppsy as soon as I’m done,” he promised her as he kneeled to her height.

“You’re not going away again, are you? You just got here!” she exclaimed out of confusion with impending sadness. Ben had returned home barely a week ago from his earlier interviews with his cast members in person.

Ben and (Name) noticed their daughter was getting anxious with how jittery she became. Eleanor looked down as she clutched Floppsy tightly to her chest. The parents were quick to pull their daughter into their arms to help put her at ease. (Name) patted and rubbed her daughter’s back, “No, no, baby! Daddy’s not going anywhere.”

“He-he’s n-not?” she sniffled.

“No, my sweet. Daddy’s going to an online meeting. He’ll just be seated here and talk in the camera from the laptop,” her mother explained to her. Eleanor looked to her father who now had his palms caressing her cherub cheeks. “Is that true?” she asked him.

His thumbs wiped away the stray tears that fell from his little girl's glossy eyes, “Yes, bunny…” he whispered softly, “I’m not going anywhere. I will be right here, working on my laptop while chatting with some folks.”

The girl sniffled again and wrapped her arms tight around her daddy’s neck.

“Ok daddy.”

(Name) smiled at the sweet and heartwarming scene in front of her. Her baby girl clinging to her daddy as if he would disappear. Ben hugged back and tight. He was happy to be home and hold his daughter in his arms. A very faint smell of his bunny’s shampoo wafted in his face as he gave a big kiss on her head. She smelled of mango and orange blossom with a hint of vanilla. Ben loved his baby’s scent so much as it gave him the feeling of warmth, love, and safety. But most of all it gave him a sense of fatherhood. After all, his baby girl fell in love with the scent and claimed it as her signature scent.

“It’s almost time for the web interview, Ben,” (Name) said hurriedly.

“Oh right. Bunny, daddy is going to be busy for an hour at least. So why don’t you play with mommy in the meantime.”

“Okay!”

“Alright then, let’s leave daddy to work now, Ellie.” (Name) brought her hand out which Eleanor was quick to grasp in her own tiny ones.

“Bye, bye, daddy,” Ellie waved as she and her mother walked out the library.

“Bye, bye, bunny. I love you.”

“LUV YOU, DADDY!!” she proclaimed loudly which caused both adults to laugh.

“Good luck with the interview, my love!” (Name) wished him the best.

“Thank you.” He really was a blessed man to have such a loving family.

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Now while Ben was doing his online interview, his family occupied themselves with their own activities. (Name) was sat down on a small chair playing a game of cafe with her baby girl who was currently her baker and server at the moment. And what an adorable baker/server she was. Ellie was dressed in her pink apron with her baker’s cap that covered her pigtails.

*Image does not belong to me

(Name) and Ben set up a whole kitchen playset in their daughter’s playroom. It had a fridge, an oven, a microwave, plus some (or perhaps many) accessories, even a working sink that Ben helped install. Ben was the most doting father, Eleanor could have. He spoiled her so much that (Name) would have to intervene and place her foot down.

All in all he was a good father.

“Here you go mommy…one eh-ee-éclair!” the girl cutely struggled to pronounce the French pastry name as she placed the toy version on the table. “And two chocolate chip cookies for Floppsy!” Of course, her best-stuffed bunny had to be included. She never went anywhere nor played any game without Floppsy.

“Ooh that looks delicious, chef Eleanor, mmm…” (Name) then pretend munched on the toy éclair, “Mm! So good. You are an amazing baker. Don’t you think so, Floppsy?”

“Ha ha ha! Thank you, mommy.”

“Speaking of chocolate chip cookies, how about you and mommy head over to the kitchen for a little snack?”

“Yay! Come on, Floppsy!”

The girl grabbed her cotton-filled companion and ran to the kitchen while stomping on her little socked feet which only sounded like tiny thumps. It made the woman chuckle at her daughter's delightful sounds when she ran around in her adorable toddler-sized socks.

“No running, baby,” she called out to her softly so as to not disturb her husband.

(Name) plated some cookies and a glass of warm milk for Ellie to snack on. “And for Floppsy?” she asked for her longtime pal.

“Floppsy’s been putting on a few pounds so he’s going on a carrot diet.” With that, she placed a small plate with chopped-up carrots. She knew if she set a cookie for Floppsy, her daughter would sneak it for herself. She didn’t want to ruin little Eleanor’s appetite for lunch hour. So this was just a small treat for Ellie to keep her occupied.

Now mind you, Eleanor Tricia Barnes is a good girl, and (Name) and Ben had done themselves proud for raising a bright young girl. But with how Ben was closely overwhelmed with new projects and interviews, he’d be away from home a lot more often which has made the little Barnes miss him a lot more often as well.

“Is daddy done now?” Ellie asked with stray cookie crumbs around her mouth.

“Not yet, my love. He’ll be done once he leaves the library,” her mother informed her apologetically. (Name) knew how much she wanted to spend every moment with the man she’s adored and loved since she was conceived (a bit of an exaggeration but you get the point).

“But I want daddy to read to me now.”

“I know, I know. But he’s busy at the moment, Ellie. You can watch some cartoons if you’d like,” (Name) offered.

“Yay!”

“So what are we watching?”

“Bluey!”

“Why am I not surprised? Hahaha!” She really loved that show and her mother could not blame her… it’s a really good show.

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It had barely been 10 minutes and Eleanor was getting restless. Her mother had gone off to the kitchen to prepare lunch for the family and she was told to remain seated in the living room and to occupy herself with the TV. But you know kids, they have an acute attention span and patience. So this was her chance to sneak off without her mother looking.

And off she went with Floppsy dragged by her side. The girl reached the door to the library and stood on tippy toes to carefully open the door. She stuck her tongue out struggling to twist the knob of the door. Her ears picked up her father’s voice muffled through the door. This prompted the girl to work harder as she felt motivated to know her father was on the other side.

“Daddy…” she whispered in desperation. Eleanor loved both her parents equally but she was a daddy’s girl through and through. Since birth, Eleanor had realized a love of listening to her father read to her. Every day whenever Ben was home, there was a designated time for him and his daughter to have their own bonding session and that was storybook time. The girl was learning fast in her reading times and it benefitted her education process. (Name) once claimed they were raising a future bookworm. Like father, like daughter. But (Name) didn’t complain for she found it a beautiful trait in her family.

The doorknob clicked open which made the girl sigh in relief and in victory. She poked her head through the entrance and looked inside to find her father sitting on the couch with his Macbook on the coffee table.

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Ben heard an audible yet gentle murmur call out to him which he recognized straight away. He turned his head in the direction of the door and saw his little girl, his bunny, leaning against the ajar door. “Daddy, are you finished?” she asked with a pair of her dark doe eyes and a cute little pout. The man in question was slightly stunned but was overcome by pure glee. It didn’t matter that his little bunny interrupted him. Not at all.

“Almost, sweetie,” he smiled, “I’m sorry for keeping you long.”

The girl just gave her father a heartwarming smile as she rushed to him whilst clutching her stuffed bunny. Ben placed his daughter on her lap and gave her a kiss on her head.

“Who’s this lovely young lady?” a voice called out from Ben’s laptop which caught both the Barnes’ attention. ‘Oh right, the interview,’ Ben realized quickly. Since he and his wife had Eleanor, they made it their mission to keep their daughter away from social media platforms and secure their family’s privacy. They were just reserved and felt that their domestic lifestyle remained as it is. Private.

So maybe it wouldn’t hurt that their darling angel just makes a small appearance for an online panel interview. Besides, it was out of his hands.

“Bunny, you want to say ‘Hi’?” he said to her. Eleanor looked to the screen of her father’s laptop that he would let her play games on and watch her favorite show, Bluey, she smiled and gave a wave. “Hi!’ she shouted in excitement. Everyone said hello to her back enthusiastically.

“This is my daughter, Eleanor,” Ben told them, “I thought mommy kept her eye on you.”

“She did…but I tricked mommy! But shh…” continued the little troublemaker, “don’t tell her.” The girl added in barely a whisper which the panel found funny and her father laughed at her cheeky behavior.

Eleanor smiled and looked closely at the screen and recognized her father’s cast mates. “Hi Auntie Jessie!” she exclaimed in joy at seeing her favorite person on the screen. Jessie and Ben became close friends since they began working in Shadow and Bone, so it was natural for Ben to introduce his family to them.

“Hi, Ellie! Is that Floppsy?” the actress asked.

“Yeah! Say ‘Hi’ Floppsy. Don’t be rude!” Her reply made everyone online laugh in hysterics.

“Hi Uncle Archie! Hi Uncle Freddy! Hi Auntie Amita! Hi Uncle Kitty!” she waved to the screen.

“No, no, little Barnes, it is pronounced Uncle Kit,” Kit lectured her in a mock-serious tone.

“Don’t listen to him, lovie. Kitty suits him,” Amita chuckled her retort.

Archie decided to intervene as he managed to control and dull his laughter. “Alright, alright,” he gained their attention, “no need to bicker, you have lovely names.”

“You’re not the one called ‘Kitty’. Back me up, Carter,” Kit called to his fellow costar and friend.

The ‘Kaz Brekker’ actor just gave a nonchalant shrug and replied, “You’re on your own, mate.”

“What?!”

“I’m really sorry, haha,” Ben added, “we seem to be delaying the interview. Bunny, can you go back to mommy and wait for me a little longer?”

A wave of sadness washed over Eleanor when her father asked her to wait. “But…but, it’s story time…” she whispered to him softly.

“I will read to you when daddy is finished. I promise. How’s about mommy reads to you and I read the rest when I come back?” he offered her a proposal. He really did not want to delay the online interview nor did his daughter have too much internet presence.

The girl shook her head in disagreement. Now, Eleanor didn’t dislike her mother reading to her. She just preferred that at this hour and the book she was currently reading be read aloud by her father as it was daddy-daughter time. Mommy usually read to her before bedtime. (Name)’s bedtime stories consisted of just making up stuff right on the spot or retelling her and Ben’s past. They were funny and dorky (just like her), and her stories were one of the best, indeed. But right now, Baby Barnes was feeling slightly impatient and was in need of her father’s attention.

“Why not little one?” called out Archie.

“I-It’s about a-a-animals and mommy says it wrong.”

Oh…Oh! There was a look of realization that washed over the faces of the cast members with a touch of amusement. They knew where this was going.

Ben just smiled and shook his head at his daughter’s blunt answer. “Now, Bunny…you can’t blame mommy for how she says things.”

“But it’s true! She always says ‘zee-bruh’…but it’s ‘zeh-bruh’!”

The cast and the interviewer let out a roar of laughter at the little girl’s rant.

“Ha ha ha, I know sweetie. But mommy’s American. Believe me…I’ve tried to re-educate her. She’s a lost cause...” Ben said morbidly but in a joking way which caused everyone even Eleanor to chuckle at his joke.

“Do my ears deceive me or am I just now hearing my husband and daughter make fun of my accent?” (Name) called out from the doorway.

“Uh oh…” Eleanor was busted.

“Uh oh, indeed. And by the way, there is nothing wrong with mommy’s accent,” she told them off in a playful manner.

“Yes, there is,” Ben and Eleanor said at the same time.

“You call chips, french fries, darling…that’s just wrong,” Ben pointed out. It was one of the things he and his wife argued about, but nothing bad. They just loved to debate their cultures and languages.

“Daddy right! Chips, mommy!”

(Name) playfully rolled her eyes and scoffed out “Hmh, Red coats”.

“Okay now simmer down. Ellie bun, let your daddy finish his work.”

“Aww…”

“I made pasta.”

“Bye, daddy!” She immediately jumped off his lap and left him like he was chopped liver. “Where has the love gone?” Kit chortled which caused the others to shake their head at his playful comment.

“Hah, I’m sorry for the interruption, babe,” his wife apologized to him.

“It’s alright, love,” he said sincerely, “In fact, she just was the life of the party.” Everyone agreed to that. She helped liven up the chat with her banter and sassy behavior.

“I’m glad she didn’t cause much trouble…anyway, we’ll leave you be. Love you.”

“I love you too.”

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“That kid of yours sure loves pasta huh Ben,” the interviewer pointed out to the actor. Ben smiled and gave a nod. “Yeah, especially when her mom cooks it.”

“She’s gotten sassier since I last saw her,” Jessie asked her co-star. This prompted Ben to give the story.

“Ha ha, yes. She’s made it a hobby actually. (Name)’s American background is one of my daughter’s targets for her cheeky insults.”

“Ooh really? Now that’s an interesting tale to tell,” Amita cooed at the thought of the little Barnes scolding her mom in her cute voice.

“I can actually give an example…Uhm…It happened months ago when we picked up Ellie from nursery. She was talking with her friends and one of them asked why her mom sounds different from the other moms. Ellie then replied that Mommy was from America and over there they talk funny,” Ben could barely keep a chuckle from escaping from his lips.

“Oh my god!” Jessie exclaimed in shock filled with delight at hearing the little Barnes’ mischief.

“Savage,” Archie shook his head playfully.

“Oh and there was also a time she started calling her mom ‘Dude’,” Ben loved that memory of when their daughter started throwing that phrase around the house.

This panel interview seemed to only be filled with more and more laughter and joy from listening to everybody share their family stories with the added bonus feature of a little web guest.

“I just wanna ask Ben uhm… do you and your wife debate each other on the aspects of your differing cultures?”

“We do. It’s all in good fun and education. They’re just silly arguments, really. Like uhh… I never could get enough how my wife… when she makes a cup of coffee, but to her, it’s a cup of Joe.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Jessie laughed, “but it’s very interesting to hear that.”

“Oh remember when she made tea?” Amita asked her friends.

“Oh my days…” Archie groaned as his mind automatically replayed that ‘horrific’ day.

“I nearly cried when she showed us how it was made in her country,” Kit said in a mock-traumatized tone.

“There was also a time I brought (Name)’s sloppy joe’s to set for everyone to try,” Ben included.

“I never had a good first taste impression of the sloppy joe but when I tried (Name)’s *chef’s kiss gesture* So good!” Archie complimented.

“No argument there,” Freddy piped in.

“Americans can be weird but they do have their good qualities,” Amita said in good spirits.

“Yeah, it just means you have to look hard for the right one. Isn’t that right, Ben?” Freddy teased.

“Yeah. Without a doubt,” Ben didn’t deny his friend’s statement. Freddy was right. Ben was a slightly closed-off and private person back then. The actor preferred to reside in his home country and he didn’t predict he would settle with a beautiful, smart, kind, and American wife. Despite their differences, their qualities helped bring them closer and bring so much depth into their relationship.

Then there was their daughter, Eleanor. She was their pride and joy. Their everything, really. Little Ellie may have been raised in the posh style of the Brits but she grew to be bold and quite crazy like her American mother. She really was a perfect blend.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's note:

This is an alternate but similar story to Cute Interruption which was a request. I had accidentally typed this story that didn't adhere to the request I was given (It's important to me that I give the people what they want in their stories). So I went and redid the story and left this one abandoned until I saw how it was still good enough to be shared with all of you. It's messy but I enjoyed writing it and didn't want it to go to waste.

Taglist:

@lokimischrf @s0-theking @s1xthirty @maggie-pottah @itzzzzcookie @mandybug39 @enchantingeggslimepeanut @nana-licious @fangirlfree @rheathesimp @darlingangel-17 @edithsvoice @chrisevansmarvelmcu @calimoi @lovesssss @esther334 @rafaelakelley

#ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes x you #ben barnes imagine #ben barnes imagines #ben barnes x female reader #ben barnes fanfiction #ben barnes fanfic #ben barnes fluff #request #special requests #fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #celebrity x reader #dad!ben barnes #dad au #family au #celebrity imagines

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blueraineshadows · 11 months

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Dishes and Kisses Part 3

Part One Part Two

Garreth Weasley x F!MC (Mrs Weasley)

This week's Weasley Wednesday prompt in the discord is: Hot 🔥

Trigger: pregnancy and birth

Being a rather nice day, Garreth decided to take the kids out for a trip to Hogsmeade, where he proceeded to spoil them rotten with sugary treats and even a cheeky peruse in Zonko's Joke Shop.

As they passed the display of firecrackers, all three cherub faces looked at him, eager, pleading.

He screwed his face up with reluctance, completely understanding the gleam of excitement in their eyes, but knowing full well his balls would be in a vice if he took some home.

"You know Mummy's rules, kids," he said, with a sigh. "No more fire crackers in the house."

The youngest, Oscar, pouted, eyes looking longingly up at the colourful boxes. The eldest, Albert, gave him a cheeky smirk, eerily much like his own. "What if we didn't take them into the house? Technically, that's not breaking any rules."

Garreth opened his mouth to argue, and then closed it again. The kid had a point. But, MC would still be mad, and the baby was due any day now. He didn't want to upset her.

Unless...

"How about we strike a deal?" He said. All three sets of eyes looked up at him with interest. "We will get some firecrackers..."

All three of them proceed to jump and cheer, but Garreth held his hand up. "Let me finish," he said. "We will get the fire crackers, but, we will save them for Autumn Festival night on Friday. We can have a bonfire, some of Grandma's lovely treats, and set the fire crackers off to watch as a family. Is that a deal, Weasley's?"

"Yes, Daddy," Oscar said.

Albert and George exchanged a look, the elder of them shrugging and holding out his hand like a proper gentleman. "Deal," he said.

....*....

Over the next few days, Garreth had the boys collecting firewood to build up the bonfire at the bottom of the garden. Albert told him a funny story he had heard about Muggles making a scarecrow called a Guy they would burn on the top.

"How very Muggle," Garreth said, frowning. "Well, Bertie, there will be no scarecrow executions on our bonfire. Just good, wholesome fun."

MC waddled down the garden, her hand supporting the generous swell of her belly that was now sitting rather low. She rubbed at the small of her back as she watched them work on the bonfire. Garreth hurried to her side to kiss her cheek. "Are you alright, love? You should have your feet up."

She nodded. "Tougher than I look," she winked. "Your mother won't let me do anything in the kitchen, so I thought I would come and annoy you instead."

He nuzzled into her neck, nipping at her earlobe. "You can annoy me all you like," he growled. He rubbed his hand affectionately over her stomach, so excited to meet the little bludger. Any day now.

"Dad, that's yukky," Albert said, rolling his eyes.

MC huffed a giggle and Garreth only wrapped his arms around her more obviously. "Nothing wrong with loving your woman, Bertie," he said. "You'll understand one day."

The kid just pretended to retch and threw another log into the growing heap, his younger siblings giggling as they tried to stick twigs in each other's hair.

....*....

The sun was almost set, and Garreth took Albert and George to the bonfire to light it. He was careful to explain the dangers of fire, and he showed them how to carefully check their arranged pile for any wildlife that may have crawled in to seek shelter.

They had matches and an oil soaked rag to start the fire in true muggle fashion, however, he thought he would use a bit of magic seeing as their eldest was already beginning to show signs of his coming through. The children stood each side of him, each with a hand over his as he wielded his wand. They had stuffed the oil soaked rag into the twigs, and he made the wand movement, all their hands together, as he cast Incendio.

Their eyes glowed at the burst of flame, both of them grinning in excitement as the flames began to curl and lick around their hard work.

"This is great, Dad," George said. "It looks so pretty."

Garreth nodded. "It does, but it's also dangerous," he said. "Remember the chat we had about fire? And how we need to be mindful of it?"

His middle menace nodded solemnly. "Yep, it burns," George said.

He put a hand on each of their shoulders. "I've cast a protection charm around the bonfire so it won't spread, but we still need to keep well back from the heat of the flames," he said. He hugged them in a bit closer. "Let's go see what yummy food Grandma has got for us."

Wrapped in blankets against the chill, Garreth lit the lanterns as the whole family sat around the garden table to eat the feast Grandma had prepared. It was great to have everyone all together, and Garreth was glad to see the smile on MC's face. She had begrudgingly approved the fire crackers seeing as it was Autumn Festival season.

After the food, Garreth brought out the box of fire crackers, MC giving him a look that he returned with a wink. Grandpa Weasley had to get involved with this particular party trick, and he helped his grandchildren line up the crackers into the special pots that Garreth had set out for them.

MC came to stand with Garreth, rubbing at her lower back. He moved to stand behind her, wrapping his arms about her to keep off the chill, his hands supporting her belly. He put his head on her shoulder as they watched the children with their grandpa.

"They love things that explode," MC said, shaking her head. "Can you imagine the capers they will get up to at Hogwarts?"

He grinned. "I'm almost a little jealous. I miss that place sometimes."

She brought her hand up to ruffle his hair. "I will always be grateful for my time there, it brought me to you and some of our wonderful friends."

She winced and took a slow steadying breath, and Garreth felt the tightening of her stomach under his palms. He stilled, turning his head a little to speak quietly into her ear. "Was that what I think it was?"

She nodded, whispering back to him. "I've been getting them for a few hours now, that one pinched a bit I must admit."

He caressed the tight flesh carefully. "Our little bludger is ready to join the fun," he said. Baby number four and it still made his eyes well up. MC was a spectacular woman indeed giving him all these bundles of joy.

Garreth stood and held her, his hands gently soothing her through the contractions as Grandpa and the kids set off the firecrackers. They whizzed and popped, colourful bright sparks erupting into butterflies and shooting stars, the kids squealing and giggling, jumping about with joy.

MC smiled at them, turning to look up at Garreth. "I love you," she said.

He kissed her firmly. "Love you more," he returned.

....*....

Garreth sat in the chair by the fire, Oscar on his lap. He stroked through his soft, red hair, waiting for him to fall asleep. On the settee opposite, the other two boys were sat with their Grandpa, anxious looks lifting to the ceiling as another loud wail sounded through the house.

Grandpa relit his pipe and patted Albert on the knee. "Don't you worry Bertie boy, your mother is a strong woman. She'll be just fine, and she is in good hands. 'Tis women's business, they know what they're doing."

Garreth's face was pale, a little pinched at the sound of his wife's pain. He knew his mother was up there with MC, but he wanted to go to her, hold her. This bit was the worst part and he felt utterly helpless. He held his youngest a little tighter, awaiting the arrival of this newest Weasley.

....*....

The soft, fragile cry of the baby filled the bedroom and MC pushed herself up onto her elbows, sweat dripping off her brow, to see her mother in law hold up a squalling pink bundle.

"Oh, MC, my dear," she said, tearfully. "It's a lovely little girl."

MC felt tears well up in her own eyes. Her first girl. She held her arms out as Mrs Weasley placed her baby in her arms. She felt a kiss on her head and tore her gaze away from her baby to look up at the woman she thought of as a mum. "Thank you," she said.

Mrs Weasley nodded and squeezed her arm. "I'll go and fetch the proud father," she said. She slipped from the room and left MC to soak up the tiny precious features of her newborn.

Garreth bounded through the door, pausing to take in the sight of her with the baby. MC had got her to latch on and she was already having her first meal. MC met Garreth's gaze and smiled. "Come and meet your daughter," she said, softly.

Garreth climbed onto the bed beside them, careful not to jostle them too much as he pressed a fierce kiss to MC's forehead. He put his arm around her and stared down at his baby girl, offering her a finger which she immediately grasped.

MC heard him sniffling and looked up at her husband, smiling affectionately at the tears in his eyes.

"My little bludger is a girl," he said, quietly. "I can't believe it, and look at her hair. She is definitely a Weasley."

MC grimaced. "I know, I'm starting to feel like the odd one out."

He held her a bit tighter. "Nonsense, we'd be nothing without you," he said. "She is perfect. I love her so much, and I am absolutely going to teach her how to keep the boys in their place."

MC chuckled. "With a nickname like bludger, the boys will be running scared."

Garreth nodded. "I like the sound of that. Little girls grow up after all."

He took hold of MC's chin and pulled her in for a deep kiss. "You truly are amazing, do you know that? I fell in love with you all over again today."

MC smiled. "I should think so, this is no easy feat pushing out all these Weasley babies."

"But you do it so wonderfully," he grinned, eyes twinkling.

MC gave him a stern look. "Get that thought out of your head Mr Weasley. I am going straight on the potion until this little Weasley is at least out of her nappies."

"We can have fun practising though, right?"

At this MC couldn't help but smile. "Absolutely."

Garreth looked down and gently stroked his finger tips over baby soft skin. "What shall we call her?"

MC thought for a moment. "Well, seeing as she was born on festival day, how about Autumn? It's my favourite season too as it goes."

Garreth leant down to gently kiss his daughter's soft head. "Hello, Autumn," he whispered. "I'm your Daddy, and I'm going to love you so much you'll never, ever want to leave."

MC snuggled up against Garreth, cradling Autumn, and then Albert, George and Oscar crept into the room with Grandma and Grandpa Weasley. The boys carefully climbed up onto the bed to meet their baby sister, their hands and lips gentle as they showered her with love.

MC had what she had always longed for. A large, loving family, and she had her handsome husband to thank for all of it.

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #garreth weasley #garreth weasley x f!mc #blueraineshadows #Weasley Wednesday

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violettduchess · 1 year

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Hello! This is my first time doing this, I hope I'm doing everything right. I'm usually more of a silent visitor... I'm quite nervous, haha... So, for your 1k First Kisses Celebration, how about Leonardo and 1. „An accidental kiss“? Thank you, and I really love your writing!

A/N: Here you go @blackpawprints 💜Thank you for requesting! (No need to be nervous 🤗)

Leonardo x Reader

Word Count: 788

Evening has settled over the land, a soft blanket made of starry-night sky and gentle breeze. Outside, the world is quiet and still. The mansion is at rest, with most of its residents either already in bed or out on the prowl for various reasons. Only a few windows are illuminated, including the arched window of the mansion’s cozy library. The oil lanterns within throw soft, yellow light across the wooden shelves, glinting off the embossed spines of all the books that fill them. You are currently next to Leonardo, a heavy, gilded book bound in soft black leather open on the table in front of you, heads bowed as you both search the pages, on a mission.

Less than twenty minutes ago, you had been sitting comfortably, discussing your travels to Italy when you mentioned visiting the Sistine Chapel. Leonardo, golden eyes alight with amusement, had you dissolving into breathless laughter when he told you that Michaelangelo had painted one very cheeky angel casually making an incredibly rude hand gesture at another figure. You shook your head. “I don’t believe it….” “Cara mia, it’s true! I will prove it” which had lead to you both hurrying toward the library with matching grins on your faces. Luckily, Comte’s interests have a breadth as wide as the sea and with just a short amount of searching, you found the oversized volume that had recently been published: the first-ever photographs of the famous ceiling taken by French photographer Adolphe Braun. An expensive purchase, no doubt, but one you are happy Comte made.

Now you and Leonardo are both leaning forward over the book, searching the black and white photographs as if they were those hidden picture challenges you had enjoyed as a child. Your bowed heads are so close together, your hair brushes his and you can hear the sound of his light breathing. His brow is furrowed in concentration as his long, elegant fingers carefully trace over Michaelangelo's famous figures, his touch feather-like. He smells like crisp parchment underscored by a tantalizing hint of the earthy smoke from his cigarillos. It’s a smell you have come to know and secretly, come to love. One that warms you, though you don't question the source of that sudden heat. He turns the page, murmuring softly in Italian. “Dove sei….” And then his hand stops and he breaks into a smile that could light up the whole mansion. “I found you! Here, cara mia. Look closely.”

Bracing yourself on the edge of the table, you lean down along with him, closer to the page. It’s a section of the ceiling with a depiction of the prophet Zechariah and behind him are two little cherubs, one with his arm slung casually around the other….and then you see it: his little chubby hand is indeed making a snarky, old-fashioned hand gesture, its tiny thumb stick rudely between its pointer and middle finger.

“I can’t believe–” You turn your head, your heart light with twin wings of surprise and delight.

“I told you-” He turns his head, warm with the glow of being right and proven so.

And your lips touch.

Surprise goes from something small and fluttering to a meteor, shooting across your body and bathing you in a shower of radiant sparks, ones that send your blood fizzing through your veins and heat floods your cheeks, your neck, your décolleté.

Breaking away from him is instinctual even as your body screams at the loss of contact. You stare at one another, the motion of time stopped, suspended like a glistening raindrop on the tip of an unfurled leaf. Your breath is clutched by lungs paralyzed with shock even as your heart rattles the bones of your rib cage excitedly.

His eyes are dark pools of amber, backlit by a golden rush of desire. The longer you gaze into them, the more you feel yourself sinking slowly. They are the most beautiful quicksand, the most decadent morass.

Your name passes his lips, soft as a prayer, powerful as thunder.

The quicksand engulfs you.

The raindrop falls.

And you find yourself within the stronghold of his embrace, clinging to him as you both collapse to the carpeted library floor, kissing each other ferociously, like it's the end of world, the calm of the night disrupted by a storm of unexpected desire and booming want. You burn with the white-hot ache to touch, to taste, to feel, all of him.

He rolls on top of you, pressing the length of his long body against you, his mouth everywhere all at once, his deft fingers finding their way through a tangle of soft fabric and lace, opening buttons and hooks, seeking tantalizing patches of warm skin.

On the wooden table, the art book lays open, forlorn and forgotten. It will be hours before a hand, trembling with the aftershocks of passion, finally closes it.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @kissmetwicekissmedeadly

#ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikemen vamp #ikevamp #ikevamp leonardo #leonardo da vinci #ikemen leonardo #leonardo x reader #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #1k first kiss celebration #violettwrites

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butchyblues · 9 months

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right so i started good omens last week and since then i’ve seen it at least four times and i have some THOUGHTS about season 1 episode 6

forgive me if they’ve been said in better ways before (spoilers obviously)

the ineffable body swap is, i believe, the moment that is most revealing of aziraphale and crowley’s relationship dynamic, and, more importantly, their true thoughts about one another.

zira-as-crowley is self assured, suave, and cheeky as anything. he never falters and takes every opportunity to be a smug bastard without actually being mean-spirited. (he also looks fairly pleased with himself, as I imagine it’s the most directly aziraphale has been able to rebel in front of people that aren’t crowley - living vicariously through the freedom he perceives crowley to have… but i’ll get to that later). It’s obvious how many of the little details about Crowley he has memorised: the slight pout, his pensive eyebrows, the way his eyes go full yellow when he’s stressed or excited… he even attempts the walk for a bit, though I think Crowley may have been practicing that for millennia. This in itself shows how much love he has for crowley, the hours he’s dedicated to being with, seeing, absorbing this person he’s found kinship with. The thing that’s most devastating about this, though, is that he is clearly imitating what crowley is like around HIM. when they’re THEM. Crowley interacting with the other demons is snarky and a little smug, yes, but there’s a tension that hangs on him whenever he’s near hell or his coworkers that clearly is never present when he’s with Aziraphale. Zira gets to see him at his most relaxed, his most assured, because Aziraphale makes Crowley relax, and this is the version of Crowley he’s actually spent time with. Of course, there’s also a hazy layer of heart eyes in making Crowley a little cooler, a little softer around the edges, because that’s how Aziraphale sees him.

And, of course, as I said earlier, he sees Crowley as free. Damned, sure, but to Zira, Crowley gets to do what he likes when he likes, without the constant fear of heaven’s wrath on his back. This is a flattening of Crowley’s actual experiences and trauma with heaven AND hell - fallen doesn’t mean you don’t mind that you fell, of course, and we as the audience know this - but we have to remember that Aziraphale is currently in the grips of religious conditioning stronger than any, and he still has the threat of potentially falling. I don’t believe he registered that threat further than his subconscious until Agnes’s prophecy, but regardless, he is a little afraid, always. He sees crowley as fearless, and doesn’t understand the constant stress his dearest demon is under. So, for him, he’s using Crowley’s freedom as a shield for himself - calling michael dude, making them miracle him a towel, splashing holy water at the demons - all things he wouldn’t do as Aziraphale because he is terrified of not fulfilling his duties as “the good guys”. As crowley, the weight of his obligations seem no object.

Now, Crowley-As-Aziraphale…

David Tennant’s performance throughout the entire season and PARTICULARLY in the above described scene has been phenomenal, but this is where I truly realised the talent oozing from Michael Sheen, because this performance’s nuances gave me chills. Crowley-as-aziraphale has a face set like granite. Zira’s usual softness has left his cheeks almost entirely, and while Crowley does have his mannerisms down, as we see just before he steps into the fire, his own protectiveness over his angel makes it near impossible for him to mask his disdain and keep up the constant nervous beaming that Aziraphale tends to adopt around the angels. A tension has entered his brow, and while he flashes those cherubic smiles intermittently, it’s clear that the way Zira is treated in heaven utterly incenses crowley. He is also likely reliving the trauma of his own trial-without-a-trial, and so it’s Very likely that the only thing keeping him from expressing his true feelings is the thought of protecting Aziraphale from the fate that Gabriel was all too eager to send him to. We see how angry he is about this interaction in season 2, but it is also communicated in the micro expressions that Michael Sheen knocked out of the fucking park. Every time one of them says something unkind, his face takes on a new shade of quiet rage hidden beneath his attempts to maintain the optimistic serenity and unrelenting kindness of the person he knows and loves the most. The angels morally outrage Crowley, and if he’d had a word with them as Crowley he’d likely have tried something stupid. But the soft veneer of his friend, his love, keeps him grounded enough to limit his chastisements to things Aziraphale had already shared with him, in private.

The scene just underscores how well they know each other, how much they love each other, and how much they’re willing to risk for one another. It also reveals personal wounds; ways their experiences and traumas and fears fragment the image of the one in front of them. This is where we lead in to season 2, the season of the WORLD’S WORST COMMUNICATORS. But for season 1, they have each other, and they laugh, and the comfort that can only come with the trust they have for each other settles over them from the minute they’re reunited.

two angels dining at the ritz.

#aziracrow #ineffable spouses #ineffable spoilers #gomens 1 #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable body swap

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hedwig221b · 1 year

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sterek. hs party. outsider's angsty pov

Paige hated parties.

Suddenly she heard a loud and familiar voice.

“Oh, look, here’s the champion of the night!”

Fucking Stilinski. Still in Derek’s jacket.

Apparently, Derek had reached them and now with Erica on one hand and Stilinski on another, he was kissed by both of them on his cheeks rather enthusiastically. The crowd greeted the team captain with whoops and roars and squealing.

Derek was smiling bright and wide. It was truly a breathtaking sight.

Reyes had finally let him go and was now busy hanging off of Boyd. Stilinski had decided that it gave him the free reign over Derek, so he promptly jumped on his back, tucked his face close to Derek’s, so they were cheek to cheek and demanded to be piggy-backed to the drink’s table.

It was pathetically obvious, that Derek was used to this behavior. He rolled his eyes and brought his hands under Stilinski’s thighs to keep him from falling. They were talking about something, but the music was too loud for Paige to hear what it was about.

She convinced herself she didn’t care.

Paige spent the entire evening being a stalker. She was aware of her creepy behavior, but it’s not like anybody noticed her standing in a quiet corner. The desire to eat was never there since the beginning of the game, so she was holding her room-temperature Coke and tried to blend with the wall.

Derek and Stilinski were inseparable the entire evening. Who would’ve guessed.

They sneaked a little bit of alcohol in their drinks, which Paige disapproved of, so they were even more disgusting with each other, than usual. Well, Stilinski was disgusting, Derek was just tolerating his presence, for sure. Stilinski was a clingy mouthy brat, who had apparently glued his hands to Derek’s waist. Derek didn’t have any choice, really, but to put his arm around Stiles.

It was all Stilinski’s fault.

Paige didn’t like how Stiles looked at her boyfriend, with big eyes full of proud fondness. His laugh was loud, boisterous and contagious to all people around him. When Stiles stumbled, Derek was always there to catch him, which made Stiles giggle and cling to him even more.

Paige wanted to cry, but she knew she couldn’t. That would be beyond humiliating.

Then someone suggested a game of Spin the Bottle. And in typical jock fashion the captain was wrestled into participating immediately.

So, of course, Stilinski was brought along with him.

No. No, no, no.

Enough.

Paige unstuck herself from the wall and started to squeeze through the crowd to get to the center of the living room, where the players were sitting. But there were so many people, burly and strong and she was a rather small girl, so the whole ordeal took her awhile.

When she had finally burst through the first row of eager spectators, the game was already on.

Erica was peppering kisses all over Lahey’s cherubic face, which was puckered and wrinkled from disgust, and also bright pink from Erica’s lipstick.

“Ew-w, Erica, you’re like my fucking sister, sto—“ he didn’t get to finish the sentence, because Erica smacked a wet kiss right on his lips.

Isaac’s horrified wail was buried under the guffaws and roaring laughter.

Next rounds were spent in a similar way; Jackson absolutely refused to kiss Danny, which made Lydia Martin clip him round the ear; the girl then proceeded to kiss Danny herself, which left Jackson pink-faced and thoroughly confused.

Heather got to kiss Stilinski, but was so flustered and shy, she mastered only a dry peck in the corner of his mouth, before going red like a beetroot.

Everybody refused to kiss Greenburg, who was then quickly kicked out of the game.

Then Stilinski took the bottle and spun it with a cheeky grin.

Paige closed her eyes and prayed.

Suddenly there was a roar from the crowd along with hoots and catcalling.

“I want your luck, Stilinski!”

“Get your fucking man!”

“Don’t chicken out now, Hale!”

Horrified and close to bursting into tears, Paige opened her eyes. The bottle was pointing at Derek. She lifted her gaze at her boyfriend.

He was sitting there, looking at Stiles with such intensity and a smug smile, like the cat who got the cream.

“Come here, Hale,” Stilinski lifted an eyebrow and beckoned him with one finger, biting his lip.

“No, you come here,” Derek smiled predatorily. Stiles rolled his eyes, despite the impish grin on his lips.

“As you wish, my champion.”

“Oh, this is gonna be so hot,” Danny announced dreamily and a lot of people nodded in agreement.

Paige didn’t want to witness this, but couldn’t turn away from the trainwreck.

Stiles crawled seductively in Derek’s lap, took his face in his hands and kissed him right on the lips.

The crowd went absolutely wild.

But those two didn’t stop.

Derek put his hands on Stiles’ trim waist, not to push him away, but to pull him in even more. Their kiss, which was never innocent in the first place, turned into an open-mouthed one and even dirtier, as if encouraged by the supporting crowd.

“Somebody, spray them with a water bottle!” Jackson complained.

Stiles took one hand from Derek’s face and gave him a middle finger.

“Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying the show, Jacks,” Danny teased him. “This is a prime spank bank material, right there.”

Finally, the kiss has ended.

The boys were breathing heavily, apparently in no rush to separate from one another. They didn’t seem to notice the claps or the cheers or anyone from the roaring crowd. They stared at each other with something deep reflecting in both their gazes. Stiles’ smile soon turned into breathless giggles the longer he stared at Derek. He closed his eyes and, still giggling uncontrollably, put his hands around Derek’s shoulders to tuck his blushing face against his neck. Derek caressed his back almost reverently up and down and sighed in Stiles’ hair with a self-satisfied smile.

Nobody noticed their little touches and gazes. Or, maybe, they were used to it. Or is that how it is with jocks? All the pent-up energy spilled into homoerotic displays of affection?

Maybe they were just drunk.

Drunk, stupid boys.

Paige couldn’t watch them anymore, or she’ll be sick.

She turned around and headed for the exit through the crowd with doubled vigor.

“Hale’s turn!”

“Spin it!”

Paige started pushing people aside in a hurry.

“NO WAY!”

“Again! That’s not fair!”

“Stilinski, you’re one lucky motherfucker.”

This was a nightmare.

“HALE! HALE! HALE!”

Paige stumbled out of the house, feeling something wet slide down her cheek.

The triumphant roar of the crowd made her flinch and walk away faster.

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raspberryberetstingray · 1 year

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Susan just wants to go home

Susan had many grandchildren. Most days she finds herself surrounded by cherub faces, flashes of Peter, Edmund and Lucy in all of them. One of her youngest granddaughters is oddly reminiscent of Lucy. She’s innocent and determined and adventurous, and full of so many questions. Like who the children in the photograph were - the photograph that had been buried at the bottom of a drawer in the study.

She traced the faces of her siblings very gently. The photograph had been taken not long before the accident. Her and Lucy had fallen out that day, not that you could tell in the photograph. They all looked happy.

Perhaps she lingered a little too long on her sister’s face. Certainly long enough for all the other grandchildren to run off and her young granddaughter remain. Susan told her they were her siblings. The girl studied Lucy for a moment.

“What was she like?” She was wide-eyed and curious like her sister had once been.

Susan thought for a moment, flashes of Lucy running through her mind. She smiled, remembering one day where they were playing in a stream. Lucy had splashed her when she wasn’t expecting it. “Cheeky.”

The girl smiled, clearly enjoying the comparison.

Another memory of that moment with Lucy, sharp and blurry at once, danced across her mind. Gold and powerful, like Lucy herself embodied a lioness. “Valiant,” she said more quietly. The girl had gone by then, off to join her cousins on whatever romp they were on and no one was there to hear her revelation.

That night she dreamt of Lucy. They are playing together in the stream, shrieking and laughing. Before she can say anything to her sister though, another voice calls out. Lucy, almost entranced, grins and bounds away from the water’s edge. Susan watches her go, frowning.

She knows that voice. But it is like she cannot see. Lucy is so clear, laughing as she prances away, but someone else is there. For a moment she catches a glimpse of Him. Golden glory, honeyed eyes, a regal mane. Before she can call out to him, she wakes, and his name flees from her mind.

For a long time she lay in the dark. There was a longing in her heart but she did not know what for. Itching to move, she rolled out of bed. Her feet seemed to know the way even if her mind was lost. She was surprised that they took her to the spare bedroom.

The Wardrobe sat in the spare room, where it has been for almost forty years.

It found its way into her possession all that time ago, when her children were teenagers. The professor had left it to her, but according to his attorney, she had been a very difficult woman to track down. The coats were no longer in it, but the dark, smooth wood was the same as it had been in her childhood.

Susan had hated to look upon it. She had it moved to the spare room and avoided it as much as possible. In fact, until tonight, Susan could not remember the last time she had looked upon it. Somewhere beyond its doors was a place she had long forgotten.

She pushed past the clothes her children had stored in there, not as heavy as the fur coats that had once resided there. Her frail hands hit against solid wood and she heaved a sob.

“Oh, Lu,” she whispered. Her sister always had more faith than the rest of them, but it was Susan who had strayed so far. “I want to come home.”

She left the room, closing the door behind her. Perhaps some things were better left forgotten.

part 2 here: https://at.tumblr.com/raspberryberetstingray/susan-just-wants-to-go-home-part-2/g29lh0dpto6u

#susan pevensie #lucy pevensie #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #aslan #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #writing #the pevensies #wardrobe #i think about this a lot

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aworldofgoldfish · 2 years

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“Ah Lestrade, come in,” Sherlock said, passing him a glass of red wine, a huge smile plastered on his face.

Greg leaned against the open door out of breath. “What? I thought it was an emergency.”

“It is an emergency.”

John came out of the kitchen and took Greg by the elbow. “Come, take a seat. It’s one of those days, you know.” He sat him on the couch, took the glass, deposited it on the table, and put Rosie in his arms, his daughter turning into an international bringer of peace and calmness. Cheeky bastard. He couldn’t help but smile at the little cherub in his arms.

After a while and as his heartbeat turned to normal -maybe John was right and it was time for his annual check up- he gazed up at the two men. “So what’s the occasion?”

“Hm, nothing,” Sherlock did his best to pretend ignorance and indifference, but Greg knew him too well, so he glanced at John expecting an answer from him at least, when footsteps were heard on the stairs and Mycroft Holmes’ dark head and large body made an appearance.

Live in Confusion [G] in AO3

* this was supposed to be titled Life in Confusion, but when you post after midnight this is the kind of mistakes you make.

Written for @mystradepromptsandscenarios “Happy Birthday”

Mycroft woke up warm and comfortable. His room was dark, rain pounding on his window shutters. For a few precious moments he was peaceful and calm. Then, the events of the previous day came back full force. He grabbed the glass from the bedside table and threw it against the wall. He heard it shatter. Pieces of crystal dropped everywhere.

“Mr. Holmes,” someone inquired from his left. He turned to see DI Lestrade sitting on the armchair under the window. He was rubbing his eyes tiredly, his clothes wrinkled, his hair in disarray. “Mycroft?”

“DI Lestrade, what are you doing here?” He checked under the covers to see what he was wearing, pyjamas, the blue flannel ones he was given a gift from someone but never put on. Whom from? Christmas of 2011. Mummy, right.

“Sherlock asked me to take care of you because, and I quote, ‘you’re not as strong as you look’.”

It Starts and Ends With You [G] in AO3

Written for @mystradepromptsandscenarios “Can we always be this close?”

#MMP #mycroft holmes/greg lestrade #Mycroft Holmes x Greg Lestrade #story writing

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leh-tea-sea-uuuh · 2 years

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Happy Little Accidents

“The Swing” or “The Happy Accidents of the Swing” is one of the most recognizable paintings in history. Created by Jean Honoré Fragonard in 1767 during the Rococo period, the colours and subject matter make this one of the most fun and recognizable paintings in art history. The painting was commissioned by Baron Louis-Guillaume Baillet de Saint-Julien who wanted a picture of his mistress that included him looking up the woman’s skirt. The subject is a young woman in a light pink gown being pushed on a swing in a garden while also lightheartedly tossing her heel. In the back, viewers can see a man pushing the swing, who is often interpreted as the mistress’s husband. There is also a dog hidden within the shrubbery on the bottom right and two different statues of putti on both sides of the woman. Fragonard uses colour and light to emphasize the subject of the painting which is the woman in pink on the swing. With the background being darker and in more green tones, the artist creates a colour and light contrast to let the swinging woman stand out. Additionally, the painting creates depth by blurring the trees in the background while sharpening the details in the foreground. The texture is present in the way Fragonard paints the trees to feel full and luscious as well as the frills on the dress. There is also a certain variety throughout this painting. Viewers can inspect different parts of the artwork and find different details that add to the beauty of this painting. For example, there is a man in the bottom left corner looking up, there are two statues of cupids, and the man hiding in the bottom right pushing the swing. Lastly, the mounted colours throughout the painting create unity within the painting making it a more cohesive work of art.

This painting has a more literal meaning to it since it is a portrait. This painting has a reputation for having a cheeky meaning and heavy symbolism behind its innocent façade. While it has the playfulness and light of the rococo period, the many symbols in this painting are not difficult to see. Whether or not viewers know about the illicit affair, it is clear that there is a feeling of love and desire in both their faces that conveys the meaning behind the painting. There is also the fact that when viewers track Saint-Julien’s gaze, it cannot be possible for him to be looking at his mistress’s face if her skirt is flying up from the swinging motion. The symbols help to better demonstrate the relationship between Saint-Julien and his mistress which gives it more intrigue and complexity. Furthermore, the different elements within the painting, such as the statues and the dog, bring even more attention to the woman in the painting while having their literal meaning.

There are many symbols hidden within this painting, which makes analyzing and interpreting it quite fun. For example,the Cupid statue on the far left side of the painting is modelled off the sculpture L’Amour Mençant from 1757 made by Étienne-Maurice Falconet for Madame Pompadour, a famous mistress of King Louis XV. The nod to this particular sculpture invokes the idea of illicit love, even amongst the noblest of French society. Additionally, the sculptures are what are known as putti, which are figures depicted as chubby man-children who are typically naked and sometimes winged. This can make them easily confused with cherubs, and initially symbolized passion and love. The same putto on the far left is seen holding his index to his lips in a silencing gesture. This gesture is a sign of secrecy which once more indicates the illicit nature of this relationship and invites viewers in on this secret. Second, there is the woman’s ankle being shown which would be considered shocking considering the conservative dress and customs of the period. Lastly, there is the dog, also known as man’s best friend, which can be found by the tree and the shrubbery. It sort of looks like a white little blob and can be seen barking at the woman. The dog is typically well-known for its loyalty. In this painting, the dog’s barking is seen as it alerts its master to the affair taking place. Lastly, the swing itself is a symbol, more specifically, the ropes. It is thought that ropes symbolize restraint and the confines of marriage. With her husband holding the swing’s ropes, viewers can see how he represents this control that he has over his wife. He is essentially holding back his wife. Furthermore, the swinging motion itself is interesting in its own right. When the woman swings, she goes back and forth between Saint-Julien and her husband, similar to what she is doing with her affair

The objective meaning of this painting is simply a woman in pink being pushed on a swing by a man, who could be seen as her husband, while her lover gazes up at her in the bushes. While there are many signs present, the woman in pink is the most obvious. She would be what Saussure calls the “signifier” which means the object of the sign. The “signified”, otherwise known as the meaning of the sign, would be a flirtatious invitation. Subjectively, I see the woman as similar to the objective view. The mistress is dressed in a light pink which is known to represent femininity and love. The swinging motion gives Saint-Julien an optimal view up her skirt, and the woman’s expression shows the viewer that she is aware of his intentions. Additionally, Saint-Julien is hiding in the bushes away from the other man’s sight, demonstrating a kind of secrecy unknown to others. Clive Hart and Kay Stevensoncall, scholars and authors of Heaven and the Flesh: imagery of Desire from the Renaissance to the Rococo (1995), the painting holds a deeper, more erotic meaning than simple voyeurism. The scholars suggest that there is a “[…] thinly disguised representation of inverted sexual intercourse. Saint-Julien lies alert but at ease while his mistress moves rhythmically back and forth above him. That she, by contrast, is a very active partner is indicated not only by her lively attitude on the swing but also by the flying slipper which she has tossed from her foot to suggest a moment of hasty undressing,” (Hart, Stevensoncall 49). This suggests that the subject itself, with its positioning and composition, is suggesting sexual intercourse. Interestingly enough, there is more evidence to indicate an erotic interpretation. Hart and Stevensoncall suggest that the man’s splayed hand mirrors the woman’s hand which suggests “[…] the surprise and imminent capitulation of a man overcome by a woman who takes initiative,” (Hart, Stevensoncall 49). The man pushing the swing, assumed to be her husband, appears to have this rather unknowing expression on his face, letting viewers assume that he is unaware of the affair taking place. It adds intrigue and a sort of narrative to this painting which adds to the artwork's fame.

It is clear that Fragonard had fun during this painting’s creation, and that enthusiasm comes across when viewing it. The duality between the playfulness of the rococo period and the erotic undertones creates an interesting dynamic. In my opinion, the portrait does an effective job of communicating the message behind the painting thanks to the heavy symbolism. Not to mention the little amount of logic it takes for viewers to track Saint-Julien’s gaze and notice the “true” object of his admiration. The choice of including the dog and the putti are excellent, strategic choices that add depth to the message behind the painting. While the artwork does a good job of conveying its message and ideas, it also leaves some room for subjective viewing and a little mystery. This painting by Fragonard has a strong visual appeal and a meaning that even today’s audiences have. It is truly one of my favourite paintings from history, and the symbolism is just the cherry on top.

Works cited:

Artincontext, Artincontext. “‘The Swing’ by Jean-Honoré Fragonard - the ‘L'escarpolette’ Painting.” Artincontext.org, 17 Oct. 2022,

https://artincontext.org/the-swing-by-jean-honore-fragonard/.

Cohen, Alina. “Why Fragonard's ‘The Swing’ Is a Masterpiece of Rococo Art.” Artsy, 9 Sept. 2019, https://www.artsy.net/article/artsy-editorial-undressing-erotic-symbolism-the-swing-fragonards-decadent-masterpiece.

“The Happy Accidents of the Swing by Jean-Honoré Fragonard.” Joy of Museums Virtual Tours, 7 June 2020, https://joyofmuseums.com/museums/united-kingdom-museums/london-museums/wallace-collection/the-happy-accidents-of-the-swing-by-jean-honore-fragonard/.

Hart, Clive, and Kay Gilliland Stevenson. Heaven and the Flesh: Imagery of Desire from the Renaissance to the Rococo. Cambridge University Press, 1995.

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personalartworksuk · 2 years

Text

Portrait Drawing

Portrait Drawings

Portrait drawings have been a mainstay in the art world for hundred of years, from kings and queens commissioning the royal artist to do family portraits, through to the more contemporary artists like paul cadden adding his unique twist on contemporary pencil portraits, creating hyper-realism as an abstraction of reality.

Whichever styles of portrait drawings are of the moment, each of them will add to the rich and varied selection of

portraits that make up the global portfolio of portrait drawings around today.

Types of Portrait Drawings

There are many different types of portrait drawings, I have selected a few below to cover in a little more detail, that for me cover the 4 fundamental types and more popular portrait drawings subjects.

Portrait Drawings of Children

Going back in history, pencil portraits of children have been represented on various levels, from the simple analytical studies done by some of the greatest artists ever like Leonardo Da Vinci, to some of the most famous art pieces in the world like little boy blue by Gainsborough.

Portrait drawings of children are an extremely popular subject type in the world of drawing today. Quite often the most popular subject type for parents who want to have their favourite photo of their little cherub immortalised in graphite to adorn the walls of their home.

Children portrait drawings quite often capture the true nature of children, their innocence, purity and cheeky personality. These traits are probably what make portrait drawings of children so popular and one of the more favoured commission requests in the world of art today.

Portrait Drawings of Couples

A perfectly captured pencil drawing of a couple can be a beautiful thing, evoking such warmth and romanticism. The key to this type of pencil drawing is the subject pose. A pose of the couple holding each other, looking into each others eyes or simply holding hands can all add to the overall atmosphere of the drawing, adding subliminal elements that make the piece very personal to the couple.

That said a lot of couple prefer to have a drawing that brings back memories of fun and joy, maybe a moment when you were laughing or joking around, both smiling happily, can make for an infectious picture that brings a smile to the face of people viewing it.

Portrait Drawings of Dogs

Dog pencil portraits are one of the most popular types of pencil drawings commissioned nowadays. The UK are well known for being a nation of dog lovers, and to be fair we are generally lovers of all animals big and small.

Dog pencil portraits can make for a fabulous piece of art, from a traditional pose to a leaping action shot, there’s a multitude of different poses to make for the perfect dog pencil portrait. When you are a dog owner, your adored hound is a solid member of the family, playing an active part in everyday family life, so just like people would traditionally choose to have a family portrait, they are now even more keen to choose a picture of their well loved pet to adorn the walls of their home in the perfect pencil portrait drawing.

Portrait Drawings of Cats

The favoured feline, cats are a hugely popular choice of pets across the UK and the world. With over seventy different breeds registered with The International Cat Association, there’s every colour, shape and size of cat breeds now living in domestic environments around the globe.

Pencil portraits of cats have a very specific style and look to them when done well. The natural flow of their fur, and the natural sheen highlighted with delicate pencil tones and strokes can enhance the appearance of the cat portrait, giving it a photo-realistic finish. There is no one-size fits all for the perfect pose to make for ideal drawing reference. This can be a very personal choice and what shows of the cats best features, that said a 3/4 sitting pose is quite often the best choice as this shows the head perfectly and a great angle to show the full body of the cat, highlighting any markings or fluffy fur.

Capturing the cat in a pose that will be suitable for a portrait drawing can be the tricky part. In trying to capture a good photo of a cat, its best to be as natural as possible, just click away without being too formal as cats can often get spooked and just decide to leave the room.

#pencilportraits #pencildrawing #professionalartist #pencilartist #animalportraits #animal pencil portraits #petpencilportraits #dogdrawings #catdrawings #peoplepencilportraits

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ylly22-2 · 2 years

Photo

#ron mael #russell maell #sparks fanzine #look at his cheeky little cherub face

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yunkiwii · 3 years

Text

~23:46~ {hongjoongxgn!reader, fluff, slice of life, tattoos, wc:700}

"why did you get tattoos on your back?", you ask quietly, not worried about how dumb this kind of questions might sound anymore.

hongjoong shrugged his shoulders chuckling at your very random question. he was laying on his stomach right next to you, as you sat with your back against the headboard of his bed with his right arm resting on your thighs. the book in your hands was long forgotten as you got distracted by the black lines that drew mesmerising designs on your boyfriend’s back.

"which one is your favourite?", he retorted at you, turning his head to face you with a cheeky smile as he supported himself on his left elbow.

you let the book fall open on your lap to caress his hair, still half-wet, and with said movement a scent of sweet almonds invaded your senses.

"hm, let me look closer at them", you let your hand rest at the back of his head as he lets himself fall down on the mattress again.

"you've seen them plenty of times, jagi", hongjoong chuckles once more, his right hand tapping your hip lightely before resting there.

you, on the other hand, slid down on the bed just a little to become closer to him. your fingers tracing his skin from the back of his neck to the middle of his back, following the abstract lines that created an irregular path. you loved the unorganised organisation of that path, stopping right above his last rib, as if it was made to tell you he liked to be kissed there.

but as much as you loved the thicker lines, your eyes always diverted to the finer ones on both his shoulder blades.

"the cherubs. the cherubs are my favourites."

"and why's that?", hongjoong pulls you closer to him, placing a soft kiss on your bare shoulder.

"the design itself is very pretty, but the fact they are facing each other in such a perfectly symmetrical way, it's like the lines in the middle work as a mirror. the whole thing is very pleasing to look at."

"glad to know im also pretty from behind", your boyfriend laughs into your neck, his hot breath tickling and sending shivers down your spine.

"oh, so that's the reason why you did them!", you look down at him with a faked surprise before pouting, "cute..."

you both fall into a quiet laughter once more, partly because you found yourselves funny like that, but mostly because you felt the most content with each other.

hongjoong took the book from your lap, placing it on the nightstand only to lay his head there instead, beginning to drift in and out of sleep.

after a while, with your restless mind still hung up on his marked skin, you called his name through a whisper, almost inaudible, "hongjoongie..."

"hm.. yes?", you bite your lip at the sound of his raspy voice, mentally slapping your forehead for waking him up.

"uh, nothing... nevermind, sorry i woke you up baby.", you take his hand in yours, bringing it to your lips as he turned to face you, eyebrows furrowed and sleepy eyes.

"no, what is it? is everything okay?"

"it's kinda stupid joongie..."

"it's okay, you can say it. it's just me", hongjoong sits up, resting his back against the headboard and pulling you into his embrace.

"the cherubs aren't my favourites just for being pleasing to look at...", you hesitate a little, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, too shy to look him in the eye, "i also like to think they're there to protect you when i can't"

with the lack of verbal response, hongjoong simply holding you a little tighter and chuckling lowly, you felt your cheeks heating up.

"i told you it was stupid! its embarrassing!"

"no, no, its not! trust me, it's not stupid or embarrassing.", hongjoong lifts your chin and your eyes are met with the ones of a smiling man, one who cups your cheek before pecking the tip of your nose, "it makes me very happy to hear that. i just made them because they looked cool, but now i will forever associate them with you."

taglist: @su-lix @bobateastay @serialee @leihey ♡

⇢ let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist ♡

#ateezlovenet #ficscafe #klibrary #kdiner #hongjoong fluff #hongjoong x reader #ateez scenarios #hongjoong timestamp #hongjoong drabble #hongjoong scenarios #ateez fluff

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tothemeadow · 3 years

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Art trade with @azurenocturne

Art originally done by @ Lsjenjen on twitter

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

- Kyojuro decides to take your relationship to the next level while teaching you how utterly amazing you are, no matter what anyone else says. -

warnings: NSFW, oral sex, mentions of emotional abuse, Douma is kind of a dickhead

words: 2k

“You’re doing it again.”

Snapping away from your reverie, you nearly drop your phone as you fumble around, embarrassment heating up your insides. You hadn’t even realized you were spacing out again. Still, Douma cracks a smile. You tense as he reaches over the table, the rings adorning his fingers catching the afternoon light streaming in through the windows. He merely pats the crown of your head with a gentle touch; you know that this is all for show since the two of you are in public. While Douma has never struck you during the course of your relationship, he isn’t gentle either.

“Stupid girl,” he mutters. “There isn’t anything that important in your life to distract you this much.”

Ah, there it is.

You’re used to the biting words, the snarky comments, the endless insults. On some days, it’s like his sole mission in life is to yell at you constantly, but what can you do about it? It is your fault, after all. Maybe if you had your head on straight or weren’t so sensitive, things could be better for you in life.

You swallow dryly. The plate of half-eaten food sitting in front of you doesn’t even look appetizing anymore. “I’ve got exams coming up, you know that,” you tell him, voice low. You know better than to talk back to him, especially when you’re in public like this.

With a scoff, Douma leans back in his seat. It’s unfair that he’s still unbelievably attractive even when irritated; strong jaw set, eyes heavy lidded, and birch hair pulled up high, he looks like he’s ready to set foot out on the runway rather than be sitting here on a lunch date with you. The houndstooth material of his jacket ruffles as he crosses his arms. He’s just so pretty, incredibly so, and you’d be damned if you said you couldn’t bear to stare at him all day.

“Well, you’re with me,” he spits. “Exams be damned.”

“Douma, you know I can’t fail these courses if I want to graduate-“

“I don’t care,” Douma interrupts. “Christ, all I did was ask you out to lunch, and all you do is think about it your classes? What am I, chopped liver?”

“No,” you say frantically, “of course not. I’m sorry. Please… Please don’t be mad.”

Douma sighs. His expression softens, then; getting up from his chair, he opts to take the spot next to you instead. “I know you’re sorry, my little cherub. You know all I want to do is to be stuck in that pretty little head of yours, right?” With a gentle hum, he slings an arm around your shoulder and nuzzles the top of your head. “You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?”

It’s those simple words that makes your tummy flutter and the ice around your heart to melt. This is why you love Douma, after all. Sure, he can be mean sometimes, but he means well.

A smile blossoms across your face as you lean into his warmth. “I promise.”

When it comes to playing life, you always act the fool.

Words are cheap, enough said. It just so happens that Douma’s are practically dirt.

Although he knows you’re sorry about focusing on your studies lately, it’s almost if he never drops the subject. He has a point though – he is your boyfriend, after all. It’s just your fault that you have the improper abilities of juggling your love life and schooling at the same time. It’s when he’s attending his own classes that you’re finally able to breathe, even though you feel guilty about thinking that way in the first place.

You still can’t shake off the guilt as you venture through the school’s library, browsing for books your professor recommended for you to better understand the material. It’s a slow process, your eyes scanning over each of the exposed spines. “No… no… no… “ you say to yourself, the quiet mantra continuing on while your search comes up with nothing. “Dammit, why can’t I – ah!”

Before you know it, your body is colliding into someone else’s; as you’re about to take an inevitable tumble and land on your ass, a strong hand grasps onto your forearm while another lands on the small of your back.

“Whoa there! Sorry about that!” a deep, attention-getting voice whisper-yells.

As you open your eyes (you didn’t even realize you closed them to begin with), your met with a boy around your age, eyes bright and blond hair held back with a backwards ballcap. As he flashes you a cheeky smile, you’re struck by how white his teeth are compared to his golden skin, the sharp line of his jaw. Your heart thuds in your chest, and for good reason, too – this man is hot.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” this stranger continues. He pulls you upright, making sure you’re properly balanced before giving you a onceover to check for any bruises.

“I’m alright, thank you,” you say awkwardly. It’s incredible how quickly your body heats up under his gaze despite literally just bumping into the guy. “I wasn’t paying attention anyway, it’s all my fault-“

“Hey,” he interrupts, his eyes crinkling even further, “I wasn’t paying attention either. Don’t take all the blame for yourself, eh?” He sticks out a hand, then, the prominent veins in his forearm and hand instantly catching your attention. “Rengoku Kyojuro, at your service. You can just call me Kyojuro, though.”

Kyojuro.

The name rolls around your brain like a loose bolt. You wonder how it tastes on your tongue, how your lips feel when you say it. “Kyojuro,” you say, testing it out. You immediately decide you like it. Grasping onto his hand, you introduce yourself, an easy smile making its way onto your features before you even realize it. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Right back at ya,” he chirps.

His hand is large and warm. In fact, heat seems to radiate off his body, tempting you to lean in and hold him close.

“Say,” Kyojuro says, a hopeful glint shining in his eyes, “do you want to grab a coffee or something?”

Your heart nearly gets stuck in your throat. For a moment, you think of Douma and what he would he say if he found out about you grabbing coffee with some other guy. However, Kyojuro just seems so nice and, well, perfect.

“Yeah,” you tell him, “I’d love to.”

After that fateful meeting, things started to change.

During the free moments you had, you would meet up with Kyojuro, either to go out to eat or simply have a study session together. You quickly found yourself thoroughly enjoying his company, and all for the right reasons. Despite his excitable, bold behavior, he was kind, more so than most people you know. You craved to be in his presence, to have his pearly smile directed at you. Hell, even the thought of him made your heart throb.

Of course, it didn’t take long for Douma to start noticing your “odd” behavior. You acted distant whenever the two of you were together, so much more… closed. What really got him, though, was when he confronted you about it. I found someone else, you had told him, face and voice equally solemn. This is the end of us. Even you were shocked by the mere fact that you had dumped him; after all this time, you were finally free of his cruel words and the endless pain.

“You’re doing it again, sweetie.”

Just like that, you’re snapping back to reality and away from your thoughts. “Sorry,” you mutter, “I was just thinking of… things.”

Even after a few months of ditching Douma for Kyojuro, you still find yourself spacing out. Kneeling on the bed like this, your hand hangs in the air, absentmindedly holding a brush while the other is still holding onto Kyojuro’s blond locks. Turning around fully, Kyojuro’s thick brows furry together as a glint of worry sparks in his eyes. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he urges, taking your face into his hands. “I am not Douma. I’ll never be like him, you got it?” Gently stroking your cheek, he flashes you a soft smile. “I couldn’t bear to put you in pain like that, my sweets. You’re too special for anything like that.”

Oh god, he’s so gentle, so freaking sweet that you’ll get a toothache. As cheesy as it sounds, your heart yearns for him, for his promises, and for his loving touches. You don’t think you’ve ever met someone like this in your life.

“So please,” Kyojuro continues, gaze dropping to your mouth, “trust me.”

And you do. For the love of everything high and mighty, you trust this guy with your entire being. The kiss you two share starts off slow, yet it’s so full of unspoken feeling that it makes your heart soar. You can’t deny the fact that his hands feel good as they trail lower, brushing over your neck and shoulders before settling on your waist. Hell, you love it when he presses you onto your back, his weight hovering over you protectively. Like this, Douma can’t hurt you. Douma can’t even get near you, not when Kyojuro is around, not when he’s treating you this softly.

It didn’t take very long for you to confide in Kyojuro about how your relationship with Douma went. Appalled by Douma’s so-called methods, Kyojuro promised to treat you like the queen you are because you deserve it.

Even as you quake, Kyojuro holds you steady. And he’s always so warm, so wonderfully warm as he rids you of your shirt before following suit. Your fingers drift over the swell of his pectorals, the divots of his abs. Now, things have escalated between you two before, but nothing to this extent. The last person you slept with was Douma, and even then he would degrade you and make you feel like utter trash. But no, not with Kyojuro. Never with Kyojuro.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mutters, mouth slanting over your neck and down your chest. Your heart quickens as mouths your breasts, hands slipping around and unhooking your bra. “And you’re so soft and sweet…” Trailing off, he lifts himself back up, his eyes meeting yours. “You’re perfect, (y/n). I’ll be damned if anybody tells you differently.”

Heart leaping to your throat, you sling your arms around his broad shoulders and pull him back into a kiss. You refuse to let yourself shed any tears, but you can’t deny the dampness gathering in your eyes.

“Pretty girl,” Kyojuro says, mouth beginning its descent once more. This time, he carries on past your chest, lips brushing against your tummy as he carefully removes your pants. Your fingers comb through his hair as little gasps slip through your lips; nuzzling you through your panties, he openly gropes your thighs and ass, deep, rumbling moans vibrating in his chest.

“Kyojuro,” you breathe, back arching as he yanks down your panties and presses his mouth against your quivering pussy. His movements remain slow, but the deep stroke of his tongue inside your pussy or the strong suckling on your clit has you seeing stars. His bright eyes never leave your face, a lustful yet loving expression carved into his handsome features. A slight yank on his hair has him redoubling his efforts; easily bending your thighs to your chest, he works at your pussy vigorously, the lewd noises and his husky groans filling your ears.

“So fucking perfect,” he mutters, thick fingers slipping past your folds. You keen at the touch, your velvety walls fluttering around his digits. “You’re wonderful, my sweets,” he coos, pressing his mouth to the inside of your knee in a quick kiss. “I love you.”

“Kyojuro, please,” you pant. The tears building up in your eyes finally break free as you reach out towards him. “Make love to me… won’t you?”

Drawing away from your dripping pussy, Kyojuro hovers over you, a dazzling grin painted on his face. “Are you sure about that?”

You nod frantically. “Yes. I… I trust you, my love.”

Hearing the pet name tumble from your mouth has Kyojuro’s eyes crinkling. “Anything for you, sweetie,” he purrs, reaching down and undoing his pants. “Everything for you.”

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku #commission #art trade #azurenocturne

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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

Text

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 9 of ?, 1 of 2)

a/n: i know, i know, it's finally here!! part 9 is gonna be a two-parter and i'm so so sorry it's taken so long :( but @stxdyblr-2k and i wanted to make it perfect, she has so many ideas it's crazy and i can't thank her enough for all she's contributed. she took control of this one and it's absolutely amazing, i pretty much just edited it but i hope you guys enjoy!!!! i know i did :) ps. this part is pretty tame but the sequel is pretty angst prepare yourselves

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five six seven eight | my masterlist

prompt: john takes you to arthur's wedding. (or the one where john still can't keep his hands off you for more than 2 seconds)

warnings: fluff, john is a cheeky fuck but absolutely loves you, mentions of smut

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03, @operation-spot

Arthur's home had been meticulously decorated for the occasion. The ballroom dripped in fresh cut flowers, swathes of white silks carefully draped across the neat rows of tables. Pyramids of crystal champagne glasses were stacked in every corner, the orchestra playing something upbeat.

The pomp and excess was suffocating. Of course Arthur's bride found the wealth of the family exciting, but it was all a bit much. You glanced at John, trying to gage his reaction. Did he like all of this? Maybe it was more important to him than you realised?

"Don't go knocking ‘aught over, you little monsters will cost me a fortune." John warned the swarm of kids all ironed into their Sunday best. They'd sat well in the church service, barely a peep, but you knew his lot would be wreaking havoc the moment either of you turned your backs. Nannies were a fortunate blessing.

You'd met his brood several times, the first time all peeking over the bannister at you, eyes as wide as saucers at the strange lady in their house. John warned you that this was their master plan, that they'd play sweet and shy but would strike if they so much as smelt weakness, telling you he'd rather "negotiate with Solomons than try to get them all to have a bath and in bed before dark." The illusion of John raising a troupe of rosy cheeked cherubs was shattered on your second visit; his kids running wild through the fields, caked in mud, acting completely feral. They'd meant to be helping their dad make a picnic for your outing but they'd quickly got bored. John apologised, trying to keep his kids under control but once they'd spotted "daddy's friend" the small army had charged towards you, dirty hands pulling at your dress, begging you through gapped teeth to come and play. John watched as you smiled through it, greeting them and quickly organising a game of hide and seek, they all sprint up the grass, disappearing into the lush hedgerow to hide.

At first, John was hesitant. He didn't want his children getting attached to you on the off chance that you’d leave, but watching how easily you could command their attention and laughter, he'd warmed to the idea quickly. Now, they were accustomed to you joining them for breakfast and helping their dad and the nanny get them ready for school. Sure, it was hectic, but his kids adored you, the scratchy drawings and lumpy crafts which were once lovingly crafted for him shoved into your hands instead. Katie had even asked Ada if "daddy's friend" could come shopping with them, pulling her face when Ada suggested they also invite John, telling her aunt that her dad "wouldn't share."

The children suddenly darted off into the depths of Arthur's house, flanked by an exasperated nanny who was begging them to slow down.

John passed you a champagne flute, clinking his glass to yours and taking a swig, his free hand finding the small of your back. "Have I told you how breathtaking you are?" He murmured, tongue swiping across your earlobe. You shot him a dirty look.

"You're not fucking me in a sideroom at Arthur's wedding."

"Caught me," He teased. "You're just so fuckin' gorgeous I can't resist. When do I get to tear your dress off?"

"When the kids are asleep."

"I'll count down the minutes, they're going to hate having an early night," He smirked, pressing his lips to your cheek affectionately.

"They'll run themselves ragged, they'll be asleep in the car."

"Excellent plan, then we don't have to worry about them noticing we lock the bedroom door."

"You're such a good dad, you know? They're lucky to have you."

He affectionately ran his thumb across your cheekbone, pressing his lips to your jaw then lowering to your neck and collarbone, smirking as you pushed him away, shaking your head. He had made it his personal mission to wind you up enough to distract you from the tension that still existed between yourself and the Shelbys. He knew you felt awkward at family events so he happily embarrassed himself in solidarity, anything to make you laugh. Your John was thoughtful like that. Selfless like that.

"If I'm such a good dad, why don't you let me take you to that side room?" He teased, hand lowering to your arse as he pulled you into him. "I know it's stressful but I could cope with another eight minimum."

"I'm quietly raging that Poll's will know I'm pregnant before I do."

"If we just constantly go at it, you'll definitely know before her."

"Piss off. You'd love that though, wouldn't you?" You paused to roll your eyes at John's enthusiastic nod. "You don't know how embarrassing it is to go out with Ada and the bar staff ask if I'll be drinking alcohol or not."

"It's the John Shelby status sweetheart, they're amazed I don't have you barefoot and pregnant already." He tried to stay straight faced but broke into laughter, grabbing your wrists as you lightly slapped his shoulder, pressing his mouth to yours urgently.

"Fuck’s sake, John Shelby. You've ruined my reputation as Birmingham's Political Prodigy."

"Sweetheart, think of the value added though. You can do whatever you like and no one messes with you, do they? Not coppers, no one fucks with my girl."

"Yeah, now that rumour says I'm a future Mrs Shelby."

It was true. You no longer waited in lines even if you weren't with Ada. Everything was suddenly on the house when John wasn't with you, but it was lonely. No one really casually chatted with you anymore; almost every social interaction you had was a transaction. Your social bubble had gotten increasingly smaller, and most of your old gang of “razor chasers” were engaged or married to a Blinder. Even if they weren't so busy they wouldn't talk with you; they were loyal to Thomas after all. You were limited to John, his kids, Ada, Finn, sometimes Michael and Isaiah, but they often declined citing they had Peaky business.

He paused. "Yeah I heard that too. We're still just gonna go with it? Not rush into ‘aught."

"Yeah. Trust me, the last thing I want to do is fuck everything up by moving too fast. We've been blessed that Ada's handling this so well, imagine if we suddenly were married."

"As always, I'm glad we are on the same page, love." He rubbed his thumb across your knuckle. "Christ, Tom's coming."

You glanced up to see Thomas swaggering towards the two you, Lizzie on his arm.

"Think your Katie has kidnapped Charlie." He said in greeting, his icy eyes immediately picking you apart before skimming over you. It was obvious he couldn't care less about you, your presence meaningless to him.

"What can I say Tom, I train my lot young." John replied, chuckling lowly, resting his hand on your hip.

"Am I allowed to say hello or does that breach our agreement?" Thomas stage whispered to his brother, trying to get under his skin.

"Do what you like Tom, we're all family after all," John shot back, maintaining a friendly smile but you knew he wasn't going to let his brother win that day. You and Lizzie exchanged a glance, the dick measuring contest between John and Thomas was never ending.

Thomas smirked, switching his focus to you, his eyes trailing you up and down. Suddenly you felt self conscious in the pale pink silk gown Ada had helped you pick out, shifting under his icy stare. John, ever observant, protectively rubs your hip.

Tom leaned forwards, giving you a polite kiss to the cheek as was customary, "So glad you decided to join us, Y/N."

"Always a pleasure Thomas." You replied, offering a polite smile, refusing to break from his stare first. John tactically caught his eye by suddenly squeezing his shoulder, allowing you to win before greeting Lizzie warmly. You knew they had history, but it was irrelevant. John never gave you anything to worry about. You trusted him, but Tom's comments rang through your head: that John would get bored, find someone more submissive to him, more willing to fulfill the role of a Shelby wife, someone younger and more exciting or someone more sophisticated, more enticed by high culture and ready to settle down.

"The wedding is beautiful, isn't it?" Lizzie interjected, breaking the tension with ease. Finally, small talk. You collected your thoughts.

"Katie and Tilly never shut up about daddy's new friend." Lizzie said, catching your attention again, trying to mediate the situation. She was good for Thomas, always de-escalating his conflicts with an endearing smile. "They've taken a shine to you."

"The lads love her too, they all keep begging me to bring her out on the horses," John added proudly, linking his fingers through yours.

"Horses, eh?" Tom's eyes had met yours, softening the rest of his sharp features with a sudden thoughtful glance, "You used to spend hours up those moors with Ada and that pony - Eddie, was it?"

You were amazed he'd remembered. You barely could recall, but the happy memory of the two of you at an uncle's field flooded back. The stocky Shetland always stood patiently as the two of you weaved and braided ribbons, colourful glass beads and bells into his mane.

"Think it was Edgar."

Thomas smirked, "Of course it was. Curly got some new Shires in, you should both pay him a visit."

You traded a quick glance with John, confusion written on your face. He was grinning at least, pleased his brother was being kind towards you.

"We could make it a day out, take the kids and give Curly some free labour?" John suggested.

"I'd have a go about child exploitation, but your kids would love shovelling shit."

"Exactly my thinking, mucky pups."

You noticed Ada had drifted in and you waved her over. She hesitated upon spotting Thomas but still she came over, pressing her lips to your cheek before being greeted by her brothers. She was immediately engaged in small talk but you could see her gait stiffen, obviously uncomfortable at seeing her brother being so openly affectionate with you, his fingers caressing your upper arm thoughtlessly as Tommy dominated the conversation.

She had gotten used to your presence whenever she visited John. Although she knew you were both reluctant to move too fast, you practically lived at his. Honestly, she was completely accepting of the two of you. In fact, she thought you two were good for eachother, but it was completely different when Tom was present. Everyone seemed to hold their breath waiting for it to kick off. At least everyone seemed to be on their best behaviour tonight. Still, it was endlessly strange to witness John being so domestic and how quickly you'd absorbed yourself into his family life. You'd been back in Birmingham for nearly a year now and you were seemingly preparing to fall victim for the Small Heath Curse: marrying and getting knocked up with the first man you have a stable relationship with. Ada had brought it up with you previously, concerned about you limiting yourself but she was far more comforted when you explained how supportive John was of your desire to continue your education and pursuing your own success. As long as you knew what you were getting yourself into, she'd concluded.

You're called to your table, John had fought for weeks to get you a seat at the Shelby table, threatening his attendance if you weren't allowed to sit by his side. Thankfully Tommy and Polly had backed down, not wanting to test John's fierce loyalty to you. That was a nightmare they couldn't cope with alongside Arthur's wedding. Thomas' political career meant the attendance was mainly family and their more respectable friends; the lack of gangster presence relieved you for a couple of hours before you’d felt John's revolver on his hip when he'd pinned you to a wall while the children were having their photographs taken.

Although Thomas was trying to sanitise his public image, he was still pulling the strings of the most powerful and ruthless gang in the Midlands, now John and Arthur commanded the day-to-day operations of the criminal side of the business. Yet, you had witnessed enough late night phone calls to know Thomas was very much involved, always demanding more although John was at a breaking point. John had his limitations though, he refused to answer the phone during sex, leaving the reciever off the stand to stop the constant ringing waking up his children. Michael was more than happy to step up when John was unavailable. He noted Thomas's every move, firmly establishing a junior blinder presence, but Michael was too cunning to stop there. You could see the distinct Shelby brand of ruthless ambition glimmering in his eyes from a mile away. He was a traitor among the ranks if you were to bet on it (which you and Ada did).

The meal went by quickly, the men dominating the conversation as they usually did, Polly and Ada too concerned with their dates to bother cutting in. Good on them. John was deep in conversation with his brothers, mainly chiming in with a witty insult, but under the table he was lazily stroking your inner thigh, grazing the pads of his fingers absentmindedly over the silk of your gown. It was getting hard to follow the conversation or to use your cutlery without your hands shaking.

"John." You warned under your breath, as Arthur stood up to give a speech.

"You're killing me in that fucking dress, love," He whispered to you, "I hate that we have to behave. You sure I can't whisk you away at any point tonight?"

He looked divine in his navy blue suit, light stubble framing his cheeks, his strong aftershave deliciously overpowering you. It was difficult to resist him even when he was in various states of undress at home, let alone when he was dressed to impress. You want nothing more than to drag him to a backroom and let him mess up your hair and smudge your carefully applied makeup as he pushed himself into you, lips firmly connected to your collarbone, leaving a trail of light bruises. Yet, you couldn't.

"Only when the kids are out the way and it's in your bed. No more fucking guest rooms."

"Are hotel rooms acceptable? Business in France next fortnight."

"You know how I feel about business trips."

He sighed, nodding. You'd put your foot down over accompanying John on business trips; you weren't going to get shot through the back of the head outside of the city walls. He'd try to persuade you to join him wherever he was sent, declaring you his good luck charm, talking at length about how travelling would be good for you as a couple, that you'd experience so much for the first time together. Yet you refused to back down, bringing up the stories of the previous trip, tales of assassins in en suites, being shot at on hotel balconies overlooking the Seine. He knew you worried for his safety primarily. It wasn't until he'd started coming home and sharing the events of the trip with you post practically tearing whatever little you had on off that he even realised how turbulent his life was. It was so normal to him that it was only until you pulled yourself from his warm embrace with wide eyes that it hit him that his line of work was far more deadly than he'd thought, now the thrill was starting to fade.

"What about a holiday? Absolutely no business, I swear."

"I'm going to drag you far away from civilization then, no phone ringing in the early hours, no post office. You'll be begging to return to the smog of Brum after a few days."

"You're forgetting that I'm completely infatuated with you so that sounds like heaven."

"I was thinking the kids would be joining us? If there's strictly no business."

John was surprised; clearly the idea that you'd want his children there hadn't crossed his mind. He couldn't help but grin, his heart fluttering, unable to stop himself pressing a proud kiss to the slope of your cheekbone, clutching your hand in one of his. "We'll sort out the caravans, yeah?"

The caravans, exquisitely carved and painted by hand in a rainbow of weathered paint. You would always beg to sleep out in them as children, not noticing how cold they'd get as soon as the sun dropped, too busy caught up in the thrill of sleeping under the stars and a teenage John's cherry red painted van just metres away. When the brothers went to war you and Ada adopted their vans secretly, using them to hide out after school from your families, avoiding your chores at any cost. You'd always been so careful not to move any of John's possessions out of place, afraid that if he returned from the trenches he'd despise you for intruding into his private space. How different it was now; the first night you'd spent at his manor he'd made it clear that you could touch and use what you liked without complaint, no longer his baby sister's equally annoying friend but someone he couldn't live without.

"You gonna let me stay with you? Or are girls still not allowed?"

"My caravan has always been open to women. It's only recently that my sister's mates have been unbanned, and only one at that."

"Trust me, everyday I wake up blessed that I'm your exception." You were only half joking.

"I've never loved anybody as much as you. You’re my girl always, yeah?"

#john shelby imagine #john shelby x reader #john shelby fluff #john shelby series #john shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fluff #john shelby #john shelby x you #peaky blinders imagine

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